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B E R K E t E Y 
 LIBRARY 
 
 UNIVERSITY Of 
 CALIFORNIA J 
 
MYDDLETON POHFBET. 
 
 BY 
 
 WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH, 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 
 "THE TOWER OF LONDON," 
 "LEAGUER OF LATHOM," 
 
 " WINDSOR CASTLE/ 1 
 
 "CARDINAL POLE," 
 
 TC. 
 
 LONDON : 
 CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193 PICCADILLY. 
 
 1878. 
 
 \The tight of Translation is reserved.'} 
 
BY THE SAME AUTHOR, 
 PRICE is., PICTURE BOARDS. 
 
 Tke Spanish Match 
 Cardinal Pole 
 Chetwynd Calverley 
 The Constable of the Tower 
 The Lord Mayor of London 
 
 The Constable \te Bourbon 
 
 Old Court 
 
 The Leaguer of La thorn 
 Myddleton Pom/ret 
 Hilary Sf. Ives 
 John Law 
 
 LONDON: CHAPMAN AND HALL. 
 
MYDDLETON POMFRET. 
 
 PROLOGUE. 
 A SAD HONEYMOON. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 JULIAN CURZON. 
 
 |OME of my readers must recollect Julian Curzon. 
 
 A few years ago Julian was accounted one of 
 the handsomest men about town, and was very 
 popular, owing to his agreeable manners. His 
 brilliant career in the world of fashion was cut short by an 
 imprudent marriage. Beyond doubt he might have won a 
 rich heiress or a wealthy widow, but he threw himself away 
 on a penniless girl. The only excuse that can be offered 
 for his folly is, that he was madly in love, and certainly a 
 more charming creature than Sophy Leycester, whom he 
 married, cannot be imagined. 
 
 Sophy was the daughter of a Yorkshire gentleman of very 
 moderate means, who could give her no portion. When 
 Julian first beheld her, she was just nineteen, and a marvel 
 of beauty. She had a ravishingly fair complexion, a grace- 
 ful slender figure, a swan-like throat, features cast in the 
 loveliest mould, large soft blue eyes shaded by long silken 
 lashes and overarched by pencilled brows, a forehead 
 smooth and white as Parian marble, and a cloud of light 
 
 1 ' 28-1 
 
2 Myddleton Pom/ret. 
 
 fleecy locks. Despite her want of fortune, Sophy Leycester 
 might have married well. She had many admirers, some of 
 whom were rich. But she preferred Julian Curzon to any 
 of them. 
 
 His daughter's choice was far from agreeable to Mr. 
 Leycester. He had made sure of marrying her to Lord 
 Cranley or General Sir John Hawkesbury, both of whom 
 were captivated by her charms, but finding her deaf to his 
 representations, he gave way, though not without consider- 
 able reluctance. No settlements were made on the marriage, 
 for Julian had nothing to settle, and Mr. Leycester, in giving 
 his consent to his daughter's marriage, gave nothing more. 
 
 In order that their bliss might be wholly undisturbed, the 
 young couple determined to spend their honeymoon at the 
 English lake's, and immediately after the performance of 
 the ceremony proceeded by rail to Bowness. For a few 
 weeks they seemed to be in Paradise. The weather was 
 enchanting. Windermere displayed all its beauties mirror- 
 like expanse, lovely islands, woody promontories, mountain 
 and fell. The happy pair passed almost all their time upon 
 the lake, admiring the surrounding scenery, or moored in 
 some sequestered bay, where they seemed shut out from the 
 rest of the world. 
 
 During all this time, Julian scarcely took up a newspaper. 
 The world might go on as it pleased for aught he cared 
 about it. He wrote no letters, and received none, and this 
 is not surprising, since, in order to ensure perfect privacy, 
 he had given out that he had gone with his bride upon the 
 Continent. 
 
 Mrs. Curzon was almost as indifferent about news as her 
 husband. She had brought a lady's-maid with her on the 
 wedding trip, but Julian had dispensed with the attendance 
 of his valet. Nevertheless, though they occupied private 
 apartments in a wing of the hotel overlooking the garden, 
 and secluded themselves as much as possible, their move- 
 ments were curiously watched by the other guests, and 
 whenever Julian went out with his lovely bride to embark 
 in the little skiff which was kept constantly in readiness for 
 them, many an eye followed them, and many a glass tracked 
 their passage across the lake. 
 w One morning they were proceeding, as usual, to the place 
 
Julian CurzolL 
 
 of embarkation, followed by a boatman carrying a hamper 
 containing materials for an excellent luncheon. The beauti- . 
 ful Mrs. Curzon looked perfectly bewitching in her straw 
 hat and batiste dress, and Julian showed to advantage in a 
 cool Nankin summer costume and Panama hat. They were 
 hastening towards the strand, not expecting interruption, 
 when a person, who had been evidently on the look-out, 
 stepped forward. He was a middle-aged man, in a short 
 Oxford grey coat, and with nothing particular in his ap- 
 pearance, except that he had sharp features and keen grey 
 eyes. 
 
 "Good-morning, Mr. Curzon," he said, raising his hat as 
 he approached. " I am surprised to see you here. I fancied 
 you were in Switzerland." 
 
 " I have changed my plans," replied Julian, who was per- 
 ceptibly embarrassed. " I did think of going to Switzerland, 
 but my wife is so charmed with this place that we have 
 stayed here. My love, give me leave to present to you my 
 old friend, Mr. Stonehouse," he added to Sophy. 
 
 The newly married lady rather superciliously acknow* 
 ledged the obsequious bow addressed to her by the gentle- 
 man in the short Oxford grey coat. 
 
 " What brings you to this part of the world, may I ask, 
 Stonehouse ? " said Julian. 
 
 "Business. I had business at Kendal, and I thought I 
 would come on here," replied the other. " I should like to 
 have a word with you, if you will spare me a few minutes." 
 
 "Not now, Stonehouse," replied Julian. "You're not 
 going away to-day, I'm sure. Dine with me quietly at 
 seven, and then we can have a chat over our wine." 
 
 "I didn't intend to stay so long," rejoined the other, 
 " but I really have something important to say to you, so I 
 accept the invitation." 
 
 " Delighted to hear it," returned Julian. " You'll have 
 no difficulty in amusing yourself. Plenty to see here. We 
 shall expect you at seven." 
 
 So saying, he moved off with his wife. Mr. Stonehouse 
 looked after them for a few moments with a very peculiar 
 expression of countenance, and then entered the hotel. 
 
 " Why did you ask that horrid man to dinner, Julian ? " 
 remarked Sophy, as they walked along, 
 
 I 2 
 
4 Myddteton Pomfret. 
 
 "I couldn't help it, my dear," he replied. "He's an 
 awful bore ; but I must be civil to him, and so must you, 
 darling. I didn't expect to see him here." 
 
 They then embarked in the boat, and were rowed slowly 
 towards one of the islands. Julian was so full of thought 
 that he found it impossible to keep up a lively conversation. 
 
 " Apparently Mr. Stonehouse has cast a gloom over you," 
 remarked his wife. " Who is he ? I never heard you speak 
 of him." 
 
 " He's a money-lender, my love, and really not a bad 
 fellow. He has helped me out of many a scrape. I wish 
 he hadn't come here though, for I fear I shall find it hard 
 to get rid of him. After all, I wish we had gone to Switzer- 
 land, or to the Italian lakes." 
 
 "It's not too late to do so yet," she rejoined, "though I 
 am certain we shan't find anything so charming as Winder- 
 mere. Oh ! how happy we have been here." 
 
 " I never knew what real happiness was till now. But 
 we will go to Switzerland that is, if I can shake off this 
 troublesome fellow." 
 
 "Shake him off!" exclaimed Sophy, in surprise. "You 
 can easily get rid of him, I suppose." 
 
 " Not so easily as you imagine, my love, There's only 
 one way of getting rid of him paying what I owe him." 
 
 " Well, pay him then." 
 
 " It would be rather inconvenient to me to do so now, 
 my dear. But say no more on the subject. It bores me to 
 talk about him." 
 
 Sophy, however, was not to be put off in this way. Pre^ 
 sently she inquired, 
 
 "Do you owe Mr. Stonehouse much, Julian?" 
 
 "I forget the exact amount," he replied, evasively; "but 
 it's more than I can manage just now." 
 
 " I was not aware you were in debt," she remarked. 
 
 " I haven't troubled you much with my private affairs, 
 darling, and I don't care to discuss them now. I've no 
 doubt I shall be able to settle matters with Stonehouse. 
 But to enable me to do so you must be civil to him. You'll 
 find him tolerably agreeable when you know him better.' 7 
 
 Sophy looked grave graver than Julian had ever seen 
 her look before. Finding all his efforts to enliven her 
 
Julian Curzon. g 
 
 futile, he became moody and silent in his turn. This was 
 the first day since their union that had not passed off de- 
 lightfully. They came back earlier than they intended, and 
 Mrs. Curzon immediately retired to her own room. 
 
 At the hour appointed Mr. Stonehouse made his appear- 
 ance. Sophy received him very coldly, but he did not 
 seem put out by her manner. A very nice little dinner 
 was served including char from the lake. Exhilarated by 
 the champagne, Mr. Stonehouse talked pleasantly and well, 
 but Mrs. Curzon could not overcome her dislike to him, 
 and did not care to conceal it. Almost immediately after 
 dinner she disappeared. 
 
 " Evidently your wife does not like me," remarked Mr. 
 Stonehouse, helping himself to a glass of claret. " She is 
 a very charming creature, I must own. But circumstanced 
 as you are, you ought not to have married her. I always 
 counselled you to marry a fortune." 
 
 " So you did, Stonehouse so you did, but you see I 
 have married to please myself." 
 
 " Well, I'm afraid you'll repent it. I can't help feeling 
 sorry for the poor young lady." 
 
 "Spare your pity, Stonehouse," rejoined Julian, rather 
 sharply. "You are the only person likely to cause her 
 anxiety. If you don't trouble me she'll be all right." 
 
 "That's just it. I don't want to trouble you. It will 
 distress me greatly to interfere with the last few days of 
 your honeymoon, and I shall be grieved beyond measure to 
 cause your wife distress, but what am I to do ? " 
 
 " Wait patiently, my good fellow, till it suits me to pay 
 you," replied Julian, indifferently. 
 
 " I shall have to wait long enough if I wait till then," 
 replied Stonehouse. " No, no, Mr. Curzon, I must speak 
 out plainly. You've not behaved honourably. You've 
 tried to swindle me." 
 
 " Swindle you ! Come, come, Stonehouse, that's a little 
 too strong." 
 
 "Swindle's the word, and no other. You've not met 
 your engagements. I won't be trifled with any longer. 
 If you don't settle with me I'll clap you in Kendal jail. 
 That's flat. Any appeal to my feelings in regard to your 
 wife will be useless. You ought not to have placed thq 
 
6 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 young lady in such a position. Why didn't you marry Miss 
 Lake, or the other heiress, Miss Glenlyon ? or, better still, 
 the wealthy Mrs. Dundas ? You might then have set your- 
 self straight. But you have been fool enough to throw 
 away your last chance." 
 
 " Never mind what I've done, Stonehouse. It is nothing 
 to you." 
 
 "It is everything to me, Sir. By your folly you have 
 deprived yourself of the sole power left you of paying me. 
 And for what ? You can't live with your charming wife 
 now you've got her, for I suppose you won't take her to jail 
 with you." 
 
 " Harsh language, Stonehouse harsh language. But I 
 know you don't mean to put your threats into execution." 
 
 " Don't I ? You'll see. There's no use wasting time in 
 idle talk. I'll leave you in peace to-night, but I shall come 
 back in the morning, and, unless you are prepared to settle, 
 I'll lock you up. I will, by Jupiter ! " 
 
 Having delivered this menace, he was about to depart, 
 when Mrs. Curzon entered the room. 
 
 " What has happened ? " she exclaimed, startled by her 
 husband's looks. 
 
 " Til tell you, Madam," replied Stonehouse. " It's proper 
 you should know the truth." 
 
 "For Heaven's sake if you are a man, spare her feelings ! " 
 implored Julian. 
 
 " Whatever it may be, let me hear it," said Sophy, closing 
 the door. 
 
 "Well, then, the case is simply this," rejoined Stonehouse, 
 totally disregarding the imploring looks thrown at him by 
 Julian. " Your husband has given me a bond for a large 
 sum of money. The bond has been dishonoured. For your 
 sake, I assure you, I shall extremely regret if I am forced to 
 adopt unpleasant measures." 
 
 " What is the amount of my husband's debt, Sir ? " asked 
 Sophy, quietly. " I have some jewels and ornaments which 
 cost more than two hundred pounds. You shall have them." 
 "Your husband owes me upwards of two thousand 
 pounds, so that your offer of jewels to the amount of two 
 hundred won't go very far towards paying me j but \ thanfe 
 ygu ? nevertheless/ 
 
Julian Curzon. y 
 
 "You must not shall not give up your jewels, Sophy," 
 said Julian. " Leave me to bear the consequences of my 
 folly." 
 
 "Don't mind what he says, Sir," she cried to the money- 
 lender. " I don't care about my jewels. I'll fetch them 
 for you at once, if you'll promise to be lenient to him." 
 
 " I can give no promise just now," rejoined Stonehouse, 
 coldly. " Much will depend upon what he offers to- 
 faorrow." 
 
 "You see you can produce no effect upon the flinty- 
 hearted rascal," said Julian. 
 
 " Give him time, Sir ; he will pay you I am sure he 
 will," implored Sophy. 
 
 " I have just said, Madam, that I cannot be content with 
 mere promises," rejoined Stonehouse. " Your husband has 
 disappointed me so often that I can no longer trust him. 
 I give him till to-morrow at noon for reflection. If he is 
 then prepared to satisfy me, well and good. If not, he 
 knows what will ensue. I wish you a good-evening, 
 Madam." 
 
 So saying, he bowed to her and left the room. 
 
 For some minutes not a word was uttered. During this 
 interval, Sophy continued to regard her husband, who re- 
 mained at the table with his head buried in his hands. At 
 last she broke the painful silence. 
 
 " And so it has come to this already ! Our brief dream 
 of happiness is over." 
 
 Julian looked up as she spoke, and gazed vacantly at her. 
 The blow appeared to have partially stunned him. 
 
 " Have you any means of paying this man ? " she con- 
 tinued. " Tell me frankly." 
 
 " None whatever," he replied. " I am hopelessly ruined." 
 
 She became very pale, but did not lose her composure. 
 Fixing her fine eyes steadily and compassionately upon him, 
 she said : 
 
 " I won't reproach you, Julian ; but if you really loved 
 me as devotedly as you professed, I cannot understand how 
 you could conceal your difficulties from me." 
 
 " Love for you, Sophy, was the motive for concealment. 
 Had I confessed the truth, I should have lost you. I there- 
 fore practised the deception." 
 
8 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 " You have acted cruelly very cruelly, Julian, and have 
 placed me in a most painful position. Should Mr. Stone- 
 house put his threat into execution, and imprison you, what 
 is to become of me ? " 
 
 " Go back to your father. It will be your best plan." 
 
 "And you coolly recommend me to do this, Julian?" she 
 rejoined, somewhat contemptuously. "You appear to care 
 little for the humiliation and annoyance I must necessarily 
 experience in taking such a step. But I am rightly served. 
 I would not listen to papa's counsel. I would have my own 
 way, because I believed you. I now know what your love 
 is worth. I now thoroughly understand you. I pity you, 
 but at the same time I despise you." 
 
 " Despise me ! oh, recal that word, Sophy ! " 
 
 " Julian, you must not expect that I can ever more love 
 and respect you. Had unforeseen calamities overtaken you, 
 I would have stood faithfully by your side, and have helped 
 you to the best of my power. But you have acted dis- 
 honourably. You carefully concealed your embarrassed 
 circumstances from me and from papa. Conduct like this 
 cannot be pardoned. Henceforward it is impossible that 
 we can live together. To-morrow I shall return home." 
 
 " I didn't mean what I said, darling. I won't consent to 
 your return. You shall not leave me." 
 
 " You cannot help yourself. Mr. Stonehouse will prevent 
 all interference on your part. Good-night. I shall occupy 
 Charlotte's room." 
 
 So saying, she went out, leaving him in a state bordering 
 upon frenzy. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 A DESPERATE ACT. 
 
 JJURN which way he would, there seemed no escape 
 for the luckless Julian. He was in the clutches 
 of an inexorable creditor. Pay him he must, 
 either in purse or person. His lovely young wife, 
 to whom he was passionately attached, had announced her 
 determination to leave him, and he entertained no doubt 
 that she would execute her threat. Dark thoughts swept 
 through his brain, and he almost yielded to the promptings 
 of despair. 
 
 Julian Curzon was by no means devoid of good qualities. 
 Though reckless and extravagant, he was warm-hearted and 
 generous. To such an extent had he practised self-deception 
 as really to persuade himself that in marrying Sophy 
 Leycester, a girl without money, he had acted a very dis- 
 interested part. Blind to the consequences of his im- 
 prudence, he succeeded for a time in stifling all self- 
 reproach. But he was now rudely and unexpectedly 
 awakened from his dream, and compelled to look his 
 frightful position fully in the face. 
 
 Pacing to and fro within the room, he tried to reflect. 
 But his brain was on fire, and he could not assemble his 
 thoughts. At last he became more composed, and the 
 changed expression of his countenance denoted that he had 
 formed some resolution. Whatever his design might be, he 
 set about it at once. Opening the door gently, he proceeded 
 with noiseless footsteps to his dressing-room. The apart- 
 ments which he occupied, as we have already stated, were 
 in a private part of the hotel, so he encountered no one on 
 the stairs. After remaining in his dressing-room for nearly 
 half-an-hour, he descended in the same quiet manner, with 
 a small bundle in his hand, wrapped in a, silk handkerchief, 
 
IO Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 He had also changed his attire, and had put on a morning 
 dress. Re-entering the room, he opened the window softly, 
 and stepped out upon the lawn in front of the hotel, taking 
 the little bundle with him. 
 
 Noiselessly as he did this, his movements were overheard 
 by his wife, who was in a room above, the window of which 
 commanded the garden and the lake. The night was 
 cloudy, but there was light enough to enable her to dis- 
 tinguish her husband as he crossed the lawn. She saw him 
 pass through the garden gate, and proceed towards a wood 
 skirting the lake. Then he was lost to view. 
 
 Long before this, Sophy's anger had subsided. She was 
 filled with terrible misgivings. Had he left her ? Had she 
 driven him away by her reproaches ? She had worked her- 
 self up to a fearful state of anxiety when Julian suddenly 
 reappeared. He had now got rid of the bundle. On 
 beholding him a fresh revulsion took place in her feelings, 
 and she blamed herself for the weakness she had exhibited. 
 Listening intently, she heard him enter the room and close 
 the window softly, and then, believing her fears groundless, 
 retired to rest no, not to rest. 
 
 With Julian, however, the business of the night was not 
 ended. On re-entering the room he sat down and wrote a 
 long letter to his wife. The composition was extremely 
 painful to him, and he several times abandoned his task. 
 After many ineffectual efforts, he finished the letter, but on 
 reading it over he was so dissatisfied, that he tore it up, and 
 burnt the fragments. 
 
 At this juncture a sleepy-looking waiter entered the room 
 to inquire whether Mr. Curzon had any further commands 
 for the night, and being answered sternly in the negative, 
 departed. 
 
 Julian then flung himself upon a sofa, and fell into a 
 troubled sleep, which lasted till daybreak. The first beams 
 of the sun shining in through the window aroused him, and 
 he started up. All the painful thoughts which had been 
 suspended during slumber rushed upon him at once with 
 added poignancy. 
 
 Again he rushed up-stairs to his dressing-room. He was 
 an admirable swimmer, and accustomed each morning to 
 bathe in the lake. Snatching up the towels laid out for 
 
A Desperate Ad. 1 1 
 
 him, he went down-stairs, and once more threw open the 
 . window, but just as he was about to issue forth his wife 
 appeared. She had risen an hour ago from a sleepless 
 couch. 
 
 " Stay a moment, Julian," she said. " I want to speak 
 to you/' 
 
 " Not now not now," he rejoined. " I am about to cool 
 my fevered brow in the lake. On my return I will talk to 
 you." 
 
 " You will kill yourself, if you bathe now. I am sorry for 
 what I said last night. I have come to tell you so." 
 
 He looked hard at her. His breast was torn by con- 
 flicting emotions. 
 
 " You were quite right in what you said," he cried. " My 
 conduct has been infamous unpardonable. I know I have 
 forfeited your respect perhaps your love." 
 
 " No, no, I love you still I shall ever love. you, Julian." 
 
 He looked as if he would have strained her to his heart, 
 but he controlled the impulse. 
 
 " Sophy," he said, in broken accents, " you must forget 
 me. I do not deserve your love. I am a worthless fellow, 
 who ought never to have aspired to the hand of an angelic 
 being like you. I see my folly too late, and can find no 
 excuse for it none J I fully comprehend the baseness of 
 which I have been guilty. I would make reparation if I 
 could. But since that is impossible, I won't be a further 
 encumbrance to you." 
 
 " Your looks and words seem to point to something 
 dreadful, Julian. I was wrong to reproach you so sharply. 
 Don't let misfortune overwhelm you. Think not of the 
 sombre present, but of a bright future. Whatever may be 
 your lot I am prepared to share it with you." 
 
 " It must not, cannot be, Sophy. We must part this day 
 for ever. You have nothing to regret in the separation. I 
 could not make you happy." 
 
 "Oh yes, you could, Julian," she cried, bursting into 
 tears. 
 
 "I once thought so," he rejoined. "But I must not 
 make another mistake." 
 
 " You will make a second mistake worse, far worse than 
 the first, if you act as I fear you intend ? Julian f PQ not 
 
12 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 yield to the promptings of despair. Struggle manfully 
 against your difficulties, and you will overcome them." 
 
 " Had you spoken thus last night, Sophy, I might have 
 listened to you, but all hope is now crushed within me. I 
 can only see one way out of the frightful labyrinth in which I 
 am involved, and that way I shall take. Forgive me the 
 wrong I have done you. Think of me charitably, and may 
 Heaven bless you ! " 
 And he turned to depart. 
 
 " Stay, Julian, I conjure you. You must not shall not 
 go ! " she cried. 
 
 But he dashed through the window, and hurried across 
 the lawn in the direction of. the lake. She called to him 
 again and again, but he paid no heed, and never once 
 looked back. 
 
 A fearful sickness of heart deprived her for a minute or 
 two of strength, but as soon as she recovered she ran out. 
 She saw him enter the boat, and again called out, but he 
 heeded her not, and before she reached the strand he was 
 rowing swiftly towards a woody and secluded bay about half 
 a mile off. 
 
 In vain she renewed her cries in vain she waved her 
 handkerchief, hoping to attract his attention. He continued 
 his course unmoved. 
 
 The morning was exquisite, and the glassy surface of the 
 lake reflected the objects on its banks, and even the 
 mountains around it. Nothing was heard but the dip of 
 oars as the boat speeded away, or the plash of some large 
 fish as it rose. The lovely islands studding the lake seemed 
 invested with magical beauty. But at that early hour no 
 boat except Julian's could be descried on the water. 
 
 But what was the splendour of the morning, what was the 
 beauty of the lake to Sophy ? She was insensible to every- 
 thing save her anguish. She had long ceased to call to her 
 husband, for he was now too distant for her cries to reach 
 him, even if he would have attended to them. 
 
 By this time he had gained the further side of the bay, 
 and approached so close to the shore that she fancied he 
 was about to land. But no! when within about thirty 
 yards from the wood-fringed bank he ceased tp row^ and the 
 became mpUQnless, 
 
A Desperate Ad. 13 
 
 For some minutes, during which she watched him with 
 intense anxiety, he did not appear to stir. Then hastily 
 divesting himself of his apparel, he sprang over the side of 
 the boat and dived into the lake. She looked anxiously for 
 his reappearance on the surface of the water, but he did not 
 rise again. 
 
 Several minutes elapsed minutes of frightful agony ! 
 and still she could see nothing of him. 
 
 But he might be hidden from her view by the boat. Ten 
 minutes had now flown, and yet he had not reappeared. 
 Her fears had almost become certainties. Still she clung to 
 hope. 
 
 But time went on five minutes more and the placid 
 surface of the lake was still undisturbed. 
 
 Yielding now to despair, she made the place echo with 
 her shrieks. The attention of two men who had just put off 
 in a boat from Bowness, being attracted by her outcries, they 
 rowed towards her. As soon as they drew near, she made 
 them understand what had happened. At her solicitation 
 they took her on board, and rowed swiftly towards the scene 
 of the accident. 
 
 Ere long they neared the boat, which by this time had 
 drifted further from shore. In it could be seen the 
 unfortunate man's clothes. The boatmen scanned the 
 smooth surface of the water, thinking he might have swum 
 to a distance. But he could not be distinguished. They 
 shouted loudly, but no answer was returned. 
 
 Poor Sophy, who looked as pale as death, perceived that 
 they had lost all hope ; but she scarcely dared to question 
 them, and they did not proffer a remark, but muttered a 
 few words to each other. 
 
 " You think I have lost him ? " she gasped, at length, in 
 accents that pierced their hearts. "You think he is 
 drowned ? " 
 
 " I daren't give you any hope, Ma'am," replied the elder 
 boatman, in a tone of deep commiseration. " I'm awmost 
 afeared your husband has been seized by cramp. The lake 
 is very deep hereabouts, and the water icy cowld owing to 
 the springs." 
 
 "Ay, there were a genTman drownded ,in this very bay 
 about six years ago you mind it, Isaac ? " 
 
$4 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 " Ay, ay. But don't talk about it now, Mat. Don't you 
 see how you frighten the poor lady ? Do let us take you to 
 the hotel, Ma'am. We'll then go and get the drags and 
 search for the body." 
 
 " No, put me on board the other boat, and then lose no 
 time in fetching the drags." 
 
 "Take my advice, Ma'am," remonstrated Isaac. "Go 
 ashore. You can do no good here." 
 
 But she refused to quit the spot, and the boatmen, 
 finding her resolute, assisted her into the other boat, and 
 then pulled vigorously towards Bowness, where they knew 
 they could obtain drags. 
 
 Left to herself in the little bark lately occupied by her 
 husband, the miserable lady gave vent to an outburst of 
 grief, which she had restrained while the boatmen were 
 present. Mingled with her heart-bursting sobs were 
 self-reproaches of indescribable bitterness, for she felt 
 assured that Julian had destroyed himself, and that she was 
 the cause of the dreadful act. What would she have given 
 to recall her words? Julian's difficulties now appeared as 
 nothing. Willingly would she have shared his adverse 
 fortune, if he could only have been restored to her. But 
 he was gone gone for ever ! The deep blue waters of the 
 lake hid him from her. And if she ever beheld him more, 
 she shuddered to think it would be in death. 
 
 How ill did the lovely scene assort with her distress. The 
 smiling lake seemed to mock her with its beauty. How 
 often had she admired this enchanting picture with Julian. 
 How often had she listened to his rapturous admiration of 
 the scene. All these recollections crowding upon her 
 increased her anguish tenfold. But even the faintest sound 
 the cry of a bird the plash of a fish roused her, and 
 she started up as if expecting to behold him. Alas ! alas ! 
 she was ever disappointed. 
 
 After a frightful long interval, as it seemed to her, shouts 
 were heard, and a number of boats were seen approaching. 
 Several of the boats were crowded tidings of the disastrous 
 occurrence having spread like wildfire through Bowness. 
 Foremost amongst the throng of little barks were the boat- 
 men with the drags. On arriving at the spot, the men at 
 once commenced operations, and dragged the lake some 
 
A Desperate Ad. lg 
 
 fifty yards nearer the shore where they supposed the 
 unfortunate man had sunk. The search was made with 
 great care, and long persevered in, but the body could not 
 be found. 
 
 Owing to the presence of the unhappy lady, the scene was 
 of the most painful kind. Looks of deep commiseration 
 were directed towards her as she sat in the boat anxiously 
 watching the operations. All wondered how she could 
 sustain so severe a trial. Among the spectators was the 
 iron-hearted Stonehouse, and even he was touched. 
 
 After continuing the search for several hours, the men 
 desisted from their fruitless toil. Poor Sophy entreated 
 them to go on, but they shook their heads, saying it was 
 useless, and finding that nothing more could be done, she 
 consented to go ashore. The boat in which she sat was 
 then taken in tow, and as soon as it reached the landing- 
 place, she was carefully and considerately lifted out, and 
 carried in a state of half insensibility to the hotel, where 
 every attention was shown her. 
 
 Later on in the day, the portion of the lake in which the 
 ill-fated man had sunk was again dragged, and every 
 expedient resorted to to recover the body, but without 
 success. 
 
 Next day the efforts were renewed, but with a like 
 unsatisfactory result. The lake never yielded up its prey, 
 and the notion propounded by the boatmen was confirmed 
 namely, that the body had got lodged in a deep hole, from 
 which it was impossible to extricate it. Subsequently a 
 skilful diver was employed in the search, but he made no 
 discovery. 
 
 of 
 
BOOK I. 
 
 AN ILL-OMENED MARRIAGE. 
 
 -*- 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 HOW JULIAN'S DEBTS WERE PAID, AND HOW SOPHY 
 OBTAINED A THOUSAND A YEAR. 
 
 JONG did Sophy mourn her unfortunate husband. 
 Though she never confided the dread secret to 
 any one, she felt convinced that his death was not 
 accidental; and she ceased not to reproach 
 herself with being the cause of his untimely end. 
 
 She returned to her father's residence in Yorkshire, where 
 she lived in complete retirement for nearly four years. At 
 the end of that time an event occurred which produced an 
 important change in her circumstances. 
 
 One day a letter, bearing her address, arrived from 
 Madras. Sophy had no correspondent in India, and the 
 handwriting, which was bold and business-like, was perfectly 
 strange to her. So she examined the letter carefully, 
 wondering whom it came from. At last she opened it, and 
 read as follows : 
 
 "Madras, May 10, 186 . 
 
 "MADAM, You will be surprised to receive a letter 
 from an entire stranger, with whose very name you are 
 probably unacquainted. I must premise, therefore, by 
 explaining who I am, as well as my motive for venturing to 
 address you. 
 
 " I am a Madras merchant, junior partner of the house of 
 Bracebridge, Clegg, and Pomfref, and I may as well state 
 
Lw firfiads Delis were Paid. tj 
 
 that 1 have been very successful in business. Your late 
 husband, Julian Curzon, was my intimate friend, and 
 rendered me a most important service, which I have never 
 forgotten, and which at length I trust I may be able 
 partially to requite. 
 
 " It is no secret from me that poor Julian, at the time of 
 his death, was greatly in debt, and I can easily conceive how 
 much he must have suffered from inability to set himself 
 straight. I do not think I can show greater respect for his 
 memory than by acting as he would have desired to act. I 
 mean to pay the whole of his debts, with interest up to the 
 present time. With this design I have placed to your 
 credit at Drummonds' the sum. of six thousand pounds, 
 which I beg you will apply in the liquidation of your hus- 
 band's debts. If the sum should prove insufficient. I trust 
 you will unhesitatingly apply to me for more." 
 
 " I feel sure it will be an agreeable task to you to free 
 your husband's name from reproach, and I therefore make 
 no apology for requesting you to act for me in the matter. 
 I will only beg you to kindly let me know that my wishes 
 have been complied with. 
 
 " I remain, Madam, 
 
 " Your obedient servant, 
 
 " MYDDLETON POMFRET." 
 
 This letter, which filled Sophy with the greatest astonish- 
 ment, was quickly followed by another from Drummonds', 
 informing her that six thousand pounds had been deposited 
 with them in her name by Messrs. Bracebridge and Co., of 
 Madras ; thus removing any lingering doubts from her mind 
 as to the genuineness of Mr. Pomfret's communication. 
 
 Sophy did not -hesitate. Her desire to clear Julian's 
 name from reproach was paramount to every other con- 
 sideration. It was not necessary to make any inquiries as 
 to his debts, for she had a complete list of them, all his 
 creditors having applied to her. None had been paid, and 
 of course they had long since abandoned expectation of re- 
 payment. The total amounted to somewhat more than four 
 thousand pounds. To this four years' interest had to be 
 added, raising the amount to nearly another thousand 
 pounds. Mrs. Curzon confided the arrangement of the 
 
i8 Myddleton Pom/ret. 
 
 affair to her father's man of business, Mr. Blair, of Throg- 
 morton Street, and in less than a week every account was 
 paid. When forwarding her the receipts, Mr. Blair informed 
 her that nothing could exceed the gratitude of the creditors. 
 Mr. Stonehouse declined the interest, but Mr. Blair forced 
 it upon him. 
 
 ^ All having been settled, Sophy wrote a letter overflowing 
 with gratitude to Mr. Myddelton Pomfret, informing him 
 that his instructions had been fully carried out, and at the 
 same time mentioning that he had sent her a larger sum 
 than required. A thousand pounds belonging to him was 
 left at Drummonds' to be returned, or applied as he might 
 direct. In conclusion, she assured him she should never 
 forget his kindness never cease to pray for his welfare. 
 
 Nearly three months elapsed before Sophy again heard 
 from her generous correspondent. She then received 
 another letter, which we proceed to lay before the 
 reader : 
 
 "MADAM, I am at Ootacumand, on the Neilgherry 
 hills, where I have come to recruit myself after a sharp 
 attack of illness which brought me almost to death's door. 
 Though much better, I am still not very strong. Nothing 
 but inability to write would have prevented me from 
 thanking you for your kind attention to my wishes. You 
 have given me inexpressible relief, for poor Julian's debts 
 weighed upon me as heavily as if they had been my own. 
 But I do not yet feel quite easy, and I trust you will accede 
 to the request I am now about to make as readily as you 
 did to my former proposition. 
 
 " The circumstances in which you have been placed by 
 Julian's untimely death have caused me great distress. 
 You ought to have an income sufficient to enable you to 
 maintain your proper position. This income it is my wish 
 to provide ; and I trust you will not thwart my intentions. 
 
 " Julian's debts have turned out less than I expected. A 
 thousand pounds, you tell me, is still left at Drummonds'. 
 This sum, then, will constitute the first year's allowance, 
 and I pledge myself that a like amount shall be regularly 
 continued to you, and secured after my death. 
 
 " In confirmation of what I state, let me mention that 
 
tiow Jutiarts Debts were Paid. 19 
 
 \vhen seized with the dangerous illness to which I have ad- 
 verted, I made my will, and bequeathed you a sum sufficient 
 to provide you with an ample income. I consider myself 
 justified in doing this, since I have no near relatives. 
 
 " My conduct may appear singular, and you will deem 
 perhaps, that I am influenced by over-strained feelings. It 
 is not every man, I admit, who would act in this way. But 
 I claim no merit, because I am simply performing what I 
 hold to be a sacred duty. 
 
 "After this explanation, you will not, I am sure, oppose 
 my wishes. 
 
 " Yours very sincerely, 
 
 "MYDDLETON POMFRET." 
 
 " What unheard-of generosity ! " exclaimed Sophy, as she 
 read this letter. " Would you believe it, Celia ? " she added 
 to her sister, who was with her at the time. " This kind- 
 hearted Mr. Myddleton Pomfret means to allow me a 
 thousand a year. He has fully explained his motives for 
 his extraordinarily liberal conduct, and I can perfectly 
 understand and appreciate them." 
 
 " Well, you are lucky, indeed ! " cried Celia. " I con- 
 gratulate you upon your good fortune. Why, Mr. Pomfret 
 must be a prince." 
 
 " No, he is only a Madras merchant," replied Sophy ; 
 " but he certainly has a princely disposition. Really the 
 circumstances are so extraordinary that I can scarcely credit 
 them. Through the instrumentality of this noble-hearted 
 man, whom I have never seen, I have been enabled to pay 
 off poor Julian's debts, and now he provides me with a 
 large income. But I don't think I ought to accept it." 
 
 " Is the offer clogged by any disagreeable conditions ? " 
 inquired Celia. 
 
 " On the contrary, it is made in the handsomest manner 
 possible. Mr. Pomfret considers himself under deep ob- 
 ligations to my poor dear husband, which can only be 
 discharged by the course he proposes to pursue." 
 
 " Since it is put in that way, I do not see why you should 
 decline the offer," observed Celia. " I wonder what Mr. 
 Pomfret is like? He can't be very old, since he was 
 Julian's friend." 
 2 2 
 
>o Myddleton Pom/ret. 
 
 " I know nothing whatever about him, beyond what his 
 letters communicate," said Sophy ; " but Mr. Blair informed 
 me that the house to which he belongs is one of the first in 
 Madras." 
 
 "Is he a bachelor?" 
 
 " How can I possibly tell, you silly creature ? I fancy 
 he is unmarried, because he expressly states in his letter 
 that he has no near relations." 
 
 " Indeed ! what a nice man he must be very rich, since 
 he can afford to give away a thousand a year to a friend's 
 widow and no relations. Perhaps he will follow up his 
 present proposition by an offer of his hand." 
 
 " Don't tease in this way, I beg of you, Celia," said Mrs. 
 Curzon, the tears starting in her eyes. " I shall never 
 never be faithless to my dear Julian's memory. You shake 
 my design of accepting Mr. Pomfret's offer. I would never 
 lay myself under such great obligations to him if I thought 
 he would presume upon his liberality." 
 
 "Nay, I was but joking," said Celia. " Don't be such a 
 goose as to refuse this wonderful offer. I hope your mag- 
 nificent friend will soon come back from Madras. Be sure 
 to tell him how charmed we shall all be to see him, and put 
 in a word for me if you can manage it," she added, laughing. 
 
 "I shall not come to a hasty decision in the matter," 
 said Sophy. " The proposal is so singular that it requires 
 consideration." 
 
 "I don't think it requires a moment's consideration," 
 cried Celia. " What ! you who haven't got fifty pounds a year 
 who have scarcely enough for your milliner's bill who 
 are completely dependent upon papa you refuse a thousand 
 a year a fortune ! Think what such a sum implies. A 
 thousand a year will give you a nice little establishment in 
 town, in a fashionable quarter. A thousand a year will give 
 you a pretty little brougham or a pretty phaeton, servants, 
 charming dresses, every luxury. A thousand a year will 
 enable you to live well, dress well, and keep up society. 
 A thousand a year will do wonders. You'll soon be thought 
 a charming young widow, for you are still young, Sophy, 
 and haven't lost your good looks. Oh, I wish I had a 
 thousand a year! Shouldn't I be happy? Shouldn't I 
 know how to spend it? " 
 
How Juliarfs Debts were Paid. 2tj 
 
 And she clapped her hands and laughed joyously. 
 
 " I shall lead a very quiet life," remarked Sophy. 
 
 " No you won't," cried Celia. " You've lived in 
 retirement quite long enough. You'll live in town, I say, 
 and let me live with you." 
 
 Mrs. Curzon shook her head. 
 
 " I have not spirits enough for society," she said. 
 
 "Then I'll find spirits for you," cried the gay Celia. 
 " Live in town you must, and shall. Write by the first 
 Indian mail to Mr. Myddleton Pomfret, and accept his 
 proposition." 
 
 " Only if papa approves," said Sophy. 
 
 Papa, on being consulted, did approve, and thus enun- 
 ciated his opinion. 
 
 " This is an extraordinary circumstance," he said, " and 
 quite passes my comprehension. Such an instance of 
 friendship is of very rare occurrence in these degenerate 
 times, and proves Mr. Pomfret to be no common man. 
 The delicacy and good feeling manifested by him in making 
 the offer to you will enable you to accept it \ and I must 
 sincerely congratulate you upon your good fortune in finding 
 such a friend. You ought to look upon the income you 
 will receive as a legacy from poor Julian. In reality you 
 owe it to him." 
 
 "I shall look upon it in that light, dear papa," she 
 replied. "You have removed all the scruples I felt in, 
 accepting the offer." 
 
 " You need have no scruples, my dear," he returned. 
 " You richly deserve your good fortune, and I again con- 
 gratulate you upon it." 
 
 Satisfied that she could, with propriety, accept his offer, 
 Sophy thus wrote to her benefactor : 
 
 " MY DEAR MR. MYDDLETON POMFRET, I accept your 
 noble offer, and fully appreciate the motives that have 
 induced you to make it. But really the large income you 
 are generous enough to allow me is more than adequate to 
 my wants. Ever since the irreparable loss I have sustained, 
 I have lived a life of perfect seclusion, and scarcely desire to 
 emerge from it. Hence society can have few attractions for 
 me, and were it not for my sister, I should prefer remaining 
 
22 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 as I am. Celia, however, is eager to mix with the world, 
 and ever since she has heard of your generous intentions 
 towards me, has not ceased to urge me to live in town. 
 Perhaps I may yield to her entreaties, but as yet I am un- 
 decided. I should like to have your opinion. Pray give it 
 me frankly, and be sure I will be guided by it. 
 
 " I feel utterly incapable of thanking you as I ought for 
 your great generosity, and if I fail in doing so, you will not 
 impute it, I am sure, to want of gratitude. 
 
 "That you should have thought of me during the 
 dangerous illness with which I grieve to hear you have been 
 afflicted, affords another proof of the depth of your friend- 
 ship for Julian. Need I say how deeply I am touched by 
 the manifestation ? Only the noblest natures are capable of 
 such exalted feelings. To ordinary minds your conduct 
 would be unintelligible, but believe me / comprehend it. 
 Long before this reaches you, I trust you will have entirely 
 recovered. 
 
 " Again thanking you from my heart, 
 " I remain, 
 
 " Your very grateful, 
 
 " SOPHIA CURZON." 
 
 Before changing her abode, though strongly urged to do 
 so both by her father and sister, Sophy awaited Mr. Pomfret' s 
 reply. After the lapse of a couple of months the ensuing 
 letter came : 
 
 " MY DEAR MRS. CURZON, As you are good enough to 
 express some anxiety about my health, I will relieve you at 
 once by stating that I am now much better. All I suffer 
 from is debility, but that I owe to the climate. Were it 
 possible, I would return to my native country without 
 delay; but I must, perforce, remain here for a couple of 
 years longer, when, if I am spared, I shall leave India 
 altogether, and then I trust I shall have the pleasure of 
 making your personal acquaintance. By that time you will 
 have come, I hope, to consider me in the light of an old 
 friend. 
 
 "I am rejoiced to find that you have allowed no scruples 
 to interfere with the acceptance of my offer. You. would 
 
How Julians Debts were Paid. 23 
 
 have hurt me greatly if you had. Never consider yourself 
 under any obligation to me, but regard the gift as coming 
 from Julian. The estimation in which you hold his memory 
 gratifies me inexpressibly. 
 
 " You flatter me very much by asking my advice as to 
 your future plans. I should not have presumed to say a 
 word on the subject; but since you request my opinion, I 
 declare at once that I agree with your sister. Society, I 
 hope, will not be much longer deprived of one of its 
 brightest ornaments. Take a suitable house in town, and 
 live as your tastes and inclinations dictate. Julian, I am 
 sure, would not have wished you to seclude yourself. 
 
 "I have heard your sister Celia, who, I believe, is un- 
 married, described as lively and light-hearted, and I shall be 
 glad to hear she is living with you. You could not have a 
 more agreeable companion. 
 
 " One word more. Though I have limited your allowance 
 to a thousand a year, if your expenses should, at any time, 
 from unforeseen circumstances, exceed that amount, do not 
 hesitate to apply to me. 
 
 " Naturally I shall feel a lively interest in your proceedings, 
 and I trust I am not asking you too much in begging you to 
 write to me frequently. 
 
 "Write confidentially and without reserve. Make me 
 the depository of your secrets, if you have any to com- 
 municate. Ask my advice on any subject, and I will give 
 it you sincerely. 
 
 " IB your next letter I hope to hear that you have taken a 
 nice little house somewhere in the neighbourhood of Hyde 
 Park. Pray make my compliments to Mr. Leycester and 
 your sister, 
 
 " And believe me, dear Madam, 
 " Sincerely yours, 
 
 "MYDDLETON POMFRET." 
 
 Mrs. Curzon communicated the contents of this letter to 
 her father and sister, both of whom agreed that the writer 
 must be the most amiable of men. Celia was enchanted 
 with the allusion to herself, and declared it was quite 
 wonderful how thoroughly Mr, Pomfret understood her 
 character. 
 
24 Myddleton Pom fret. 
 
 " Julian must have described me to him," she said. " Oh, 
 how I wish he would come back from India ! What a pity 
 he is obliged to remain there for two years longer, and he 
 seems to suffer so much from the climate." 
 
 In less than a month afterwards Mrs. Curzon was able to 
 inform her generous correspondent that she was installed 
 with her sister at a charming little house in Hertford Street, 
 May Fair. She only wished Mr. Pomfret could see how 
 elegantly it was furnished. Nothing was wanting. Her 
 little establishment was complete, and she had a well- 
 appointed brougham. In pursuance of his recommendation, 
 though contrary to her own inclinations, she had made up 
 her mind to enter into society once more,, and had, con- 
 sequently, called upon several old friends. Invitations were 
 showering upon her on all sides. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 CAPTAIN MUSGRAVE. 
 
 JNE morning in June two tall and handsome 
 young men, both of very distinguished appear- 
 ance, were walking slowly along Pall Mall in the 
 direction of Saint James's Street, engaged in 
 earnest converse. One of them was Captain St. Quintin, of 
 the Grenadiers ; the other Captain Scrope Musgrave, of the 
 Bengal Rifles, lately returned from India. Very handsome 
 they both were, as we have just intimated, though in 
 different styles. St. Quintin had a slight, elegant figure, 
 features of almost feminine delicacy, relieved by a pale 
 mustache, and loosely flowing whiskers of the same hue. 
 His companion, on the contrary, who though equally well- 
 proportioned, possessed a more muscular frame, was so 
 exceedingly swarthy, that he was nicknamed by his intimates 
 u Black Musgrave." Skin, beard, hair, eyes were dark as 
 those of a Hindoo. Captain Musgrave's physiognomy was 
 very marked and striking more striking, perhaps, than 
 pleasing. His features were regular, his eyes large and 
 brilliant, and his dazzling white teeth contrasted with a jetty 
 beard. His expression, however, was haughty and disdain- 
 ful, and marred the effect which must have been otherwise 
 produced by his good looks. He was a few years older 
 than his companion, but still under thirty. The two young 
 men were going to make a call at the house of a lady in 
 May Fair, and were talking about her as they sauntered 
 along. 
 
 "And so you are struck by the lovely widow, Scrope?" 
 remarked St. Quintin. 
 
 " Struck all of a heap," replied Musgrave. " She's a 
 charming creature precisely the sort of a woman I have 
 been looking for all my life, but have never seen till last 
 night, when I met this enchantress at Lady Northbroke's, I 
 
26 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 lost my heart to her the very moment I beheld her, and 
 yet, as you well know, St. Quintin, I'm not exactly the man 
 to fall in love at first sight." 
 
 " I should never have suspected you of the weakness if 
 you hadn't owned to it," remarked the other, laughing. 
 
 " To my mind, I have never seen so charming a face as 
 Mrs. Curzon's," continued Musgrave. " I studied it for 
 more than an hour, as if contemplating a beautiful picture, 
 and the longer I looked the more enamoured I became. I 
 was just considering how I could manage to get presented 
 to her, when you kindly performed the office for me." 
 
 " Only too happy to oblige a friend," returned St. 
 Quintin. " And let me tell you that no one could have 
 served you better than myself. I paved the way for your 
 introduction by saying the right thing to Mrs. Curzon, for 
 she is monstrously particular, and won't know everybody. I 
 think you must have contrived to please her, for she appeared 
 more than usually gracious to you. In a general way, she is 
 exceedingly cold and reserved.' 1 
 
 "I certainly did not find her cold," said Musgrave, 
 displaying his white teeth. " On the contrary, she appeared 
 to me remarkably amiable, in proof of which she did not 
 object when I ventured to ask permission to call upon her 
 this morning. And now, my good fellow, tell me something 
 more about her. How long has she been a widow ? And how 
 about her jointure? I hope she is well endowed. She 
 deserves to be." 
 
 " You mustn't raise your expectations too high in regard 
 to her jointure," returned St. Quintin. "Put it down at a 
 thousand or twelve hundred a year, and you won't be far 
 wide of the mark." 
 
 "Twelve hundred a year is not so bad. It will do very 
 well with such a charming person," said Musgrave. " I 
 would rather have her with twelve hundred than another 
 with twelve thousand." 
 
 " But I J m not quite clear that it won't go away in the 
 event of her marriage," rejoined St. Quintin. " So you must 
 look well before you leap. In reply to your first inquiry, I 
 may tell you that she has been a widow nearly four years. 
 Her matrimonial fetters did not hold her long, and were 
 severed before the honeymoon was over." 
 
Captain Musgrave. 27 
 
 "The deuce! what happened to her husband?" cried 
 Musgrave. 
 
 "Drowned one fine morning while bathing in Winder- 
 mere," replied St. Quintin. 
 
 "Ah, I now recollect the circumstance. It occurred just 
 before I went to India. So she was the wife of Julian 
 Curzon. There was something strange about his death, if 
 I'm not mistaken." 
 
 " Some people fancied he made away with himself because 
 he was desperately in debt at the time," replied St. Quintin ; 
 " but there was nothing to justify the supposition, I believe. 
 The strangest part of the story is that the body was never 
 found, though every search was made for it" 
 
 " That's strange indeed," said Musgrave, reflectively. " If 
 Curzon died in debt, how happens it that his widow has so 
 good a jointure?" 
 
 " She doesn't derive her income from him," returned St. 
 Quintin. "Julian made no settlement upon her, for the 
 best of all reasons, that he had nothing to settle. For a long 
 time after his death she had nothing and was obliged to live 
 in absolute retirement Then a turn came for the better. A 
 Madras merchant, Mr. Myddleton Pomfret, who had been 
 under considerable obligations to Julian though what they 
 were I can't say took upon himself to pay the poor fellow's 
 debts, and insisted upon making a handsome allowance to 
 the widow." 
 
 "Oh, that's how she gets her income, is it?" cried Mus- 
 grave. "I know Myddleton Pomfret He's a partner in 
 Bracebridge's house at Madras. Is he Julian's relative ? " 
 <r No, he seems merely actuated by friendship." 
 " Hum ! " exclaimed Musgrave. " If this is really the 
 
 case, and I suppose there's no mistake " 
 
 " No mistake whatever. I had it all from Mrs. Curzon's 
 sister, Celia." 
 
 " In that case," pursued Musgrave, " it is quite clear that 
 the fair widow's income will cease if she marries again. 
 Rather a bad look out, eh ?" 
 
 " Draw your own conclusions, Musgrave. I can't help 
 you further." 
 
 This conversation brought them to the pretty little house 
 in Hertford Street, in which Mrs. Curzon was established 
 
28 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 with her sister. They found Celia alone in the charmingly 
 furnished drawing-room. Exquisite flowers were in the 
 balcony, and their odour came through the open windows, 
 which were screened by flowing white curtains. 
 
 Celia received the visitors with smiles, and at once 
 entered into a lively conversation with them. She was two 
 years younger than Mrs. Curzon, and there was a strong 
 family likeness between them, though Celia was a beauty 
 on a small scale. She had the smallest feet, the smallest 
 hands, the largest eyes, and the daintiest little figure 
 imaginable. Her rich auburn tresses, taken back from her 
 polished brow, were gathered in a magnificent chignon. An 
 arch expression of countenance, a lively and somewhat 
 coquettish manner, added to her attractions. Whenever she 
 laughed and . she was constantly laughing she displayed 
 two splendid ranges of pearls. On the present occasion she 
 was attired in vapoury tarlatane, which made her look like a 
 fay. 
 
 Presently Mrs. Curzon entered, and both gentlemen rose 
 to salute her. If Scrope Musgrave had been captivated by 
 her beauty overnight, he thought her ten times more lovely 
 now. A light silk dress of the latest Paris mode displayed 
 her graceful figure to admiration. Since her first introduction 
 to the reader, Sophy was somewhat changed, and if possible, 
 improved. She was now four-and-twenty, and in the full 
 perfection of her beauty. Her figure was a little fuller than 
 before. A slight shade of melancholy heightened the 
 interest of her features, and gave additional sweetness to her 
 smile. 
 
 On entering, she apologised for not making her appearance 
 sooner. 
 
 " I have been writing to India," she said, " and could not 
 delay my letter, as the mail goes out to-day." 
 
 " You have not been in India, I suppose, Mrs. Curzon ? " 
 inquired Musgrave. 
 
 " No ; and I have not the slightest wish to go there. I 
 don't think the climate would suit me." 
 
 " The heat is formidable, I own ; but then we have many 
 contrivances to render it supportable. Generally ladies like 
 India. They are made much of, and contrive to pass their 
 time very agreeably. In all the chief towns there is 
 
Captain Musgrave, 29 
 
 delightful society. Having been in most parts of India, 
 I can speak positively on the point." 
 
 " If you have been in Madras, you may possibly be 
 acquainted with the gentleman to whom I have just been 
 writing Mr. Myddleton Pomfret ?" remarked Mrs. Curzon. 
 
 " Oh yes, I know him. A merchant. He has a first-rate 
 cook, and gives capital dinners." 
 
 " What sort of person is he ? " inquired Celia quickly. 
 " Do tell me, please, Captain Musgrave. Describe him as 
 accurately as you can." 
 
 " I'll do my best to paint his portrait," replied Musgrave, 
 laughing, " but I've no particular talent in that line. There 
 really is nothing very remarkable in his appearance. In age, 
 as well as I can guess, he must be nearly fifty." 
 
 "Dear me !" exclaimed Celia, with a look of disappoint- 
 ment. "Is he so old? I fancied he was under thirty. I 
 hope he is good-looking." 
 
 " I should not call him so," replied Musgrave. " He's 
 short and stout, with a brick-dust complexion, light grey 
 eyes, a snub nose, and " 
 
 " Stop ! stop ! Captain Musgrave. I'm sure you are 
 caricaturing him," cried Sophy. " It is impossible Mr. 
 Pomfret can be such a fright." 
 
 " If you wish me to flatter, I'll do it, but if I am to speak 
 truth I must describe him as what he is a common-place, 
 good-humoured, jolly fellow." 
 
 " Not in the least sentimental?" cried Celia. 
 
 " Not a grain of sentiment in his composition. He is a 
 very good man of business, as I understand, and knows how 
 to turn over the rupees." 
 
 " I find it extremely difficult to reconcile your description 
 of my unseen friend with his letters," observed Mrs. Curzon. 
 "They appear to emanate from a person of great refinement 
 and sensibility. I pictured to myself a younger man than 
 you describe not handsome, perhaps, but with a thoughtful 
 intelligent countenance, and a frame somewhat worn and 
 wasted from the effect of the climate. I know he has been 
 suffering from illness lately." 
 
 " A touch of liver, no doubt," replied Musgrave, showing 
 his fine teeth. " Not surprising from his mode of living. 
 I'm sorry to dispel an illusion, Mrs. Curzon, and substitute 
 
3& MyMleion Pomfret. 
 
 reality for fancied ideal. Myddleton Pomfret is not a bad 
 specimen of an English merchant, and is popular enough at 
 Madras on account of his dinners. I never drank better 
 claret than at his bungalow, and he don't stint it." 
 
 During this description the sisters had exchanged looks of 
 disappointment, and Sophy exclaimed : 
 
 " Whatever Mr. Pomfret may be personally, he has an 
 excellent heart. Of that I have had ample proof. He is a 
 true friend, and generous in the highest degree." 
 
 " He can easily be generous, for he has lots of money, and 
 nothing to do with it," replied Musgrave. 
 
 " You are reluctant, I perceive, to allow him any merit," 
 said Mrs. Curzon, " and I shall believe just as much as I 
 please of your description of my excellent friend." 
 
 " I hope I haven't incurred your displeasure, Mrs. Curzon, 
 for my frankness," said Musgrave ; " but as you will probably 
 see Mr. Pomfret one of these days, you will then be able to 
 judge of the accuracy of my description." 
 
 Shortly afterwards, an interruption was offered by the 
 entrance of some ladies, and the two gentlemen rose to 
 depart When they got out of the house, Captain St. 
 Quintin remarked to the other, with a laugh : 
 
 " I suspect you have been mystifying the fair widow with 
 this description of her friend. Come ! tell me candidly. Is 
 it not so ? " 
 
 " Don't ask me," rejoined Musgrave, with a singular smile. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE ENGAGEMENT. 
 
 |ROM that day forward Captain Musgrave was un- 
 remitting in his attendance on the fair widow, and 
 contrived to make himself so agreeable to her and 
 to Celia that they could scarcely dispense with 
 his society. He provided them with stalls at the theatres, 
 and boxes at the Opera Houses, gave frequent pleasant little 
 dinners at Richmond and Greenwich, and escorted them to 
 Ascot. Though he never breathed a word of love, he was 
 so devoted in his manner to Sophy that no doubt could be 
 entertained of the nature of his sentiments. But so 
 cautiously did he act, and so imperceptible was the progress 
 he made in her regard, that she was quite unaware that she 
 took any real interest in him, until one or two trifling 
 circumstances revealed it to her. When she made the 
 discovery it was almost too late to retreat, but she persuaded 
 herself that she could shake him off, if necessary. 
 
 Sophy did not allude to Musgrave in the first letter she 
 wrote to Myddleton Pomfret after making the captain's ac- 
 quaintance, because she had an instinctive feeling that 
 allusion to him would not be agreeable to her corres- 
 pondent; but when the acquaintance had ripened into 
 intimacy, she thought it only proper to refer to her new 
 friend. 
 
 " I have lately seen a good deal of Captain Scrope Mus- 
 grave," she wrote. " He tells me he knows you, having 
 partaken of your hospitality at Madras. Both Celia and I 
 like him much. He speaks very highly of you, as he could 
 not fail to do." 
 
 Fully two months elapsed before an answer to this letter 
 arrived, and before that time the handsome and captivating 
 Scrope Musgrave had declared his passion for the fair 
 widow, and was accepted. Yes, we grieve to say, he was 
 
$2 Myddleton PomfreL 
 
 accepted. She, who had proclaimed herself inconsolable, who 
 had almost vowed she would remain faithful to the memory 
 of her dear Julian, had engaged herself to another. It was 
 not certainly without much persistence that assent was 
 wrung from her, and she reproached herself for giving it, 
 but Captain Musgrave prevailed. By the next mail she 
 announced her engagement to Myddelton Pomfret, and 
 trusted he would approve of the step she had taken. 
 
 " I daresay the intelligence will surprise you," she wrote, 
 " after my professions of unalterable attachment to Julian's 
 memory, but you see what inconsistent creatures women 
 are." 
 
 Captain Musgrave was strongly averse to this letter being 
 sent. It would be time enough, he said, to announce the 
 marriage after it had taken place. But Sophy would not be 
 dissuaded. Her letter was crossed by another from 
 Madras. It was shorter than any communication she had 
 as yet received from Myddleton Pomfret, and quite startled 
 her. 
 
 "Your letter has caused me the greatest uneasiness. 
 Captain Musgrave is a person whom I hold in the utmost 
 abhorrence. I will not characterise him as strongly as he 
 deserves, but he is dangerous, and I cannot help dreading 
 that he has a base object in view in obtaining an introduction 
 to you. So anxious do I feel on this score, that, were it 
 possible, I would come over to England. This I cannot do, 
 but I entreat you at once to break off the acquaintance." 
 
 Captain Musgrave was with her when she received this 
 letter. He saw by her emotion how profoundly she was 
 affected, and took the letter from her trembling hand. She 
 watched his countenance as he perused it. He muttered 
 a deep execration, and his eyes flashed fire as he looked 
 up. 
 
 " I wish the fellow would come to England," he cried. 
 " He should answer to me with his life for his vile impu- 
 tations. But I must not allow his slander to produce any 
 effect upon you, sweet Sophy. From motives, for which I 
 am sure you will give me credit, I have forborne to speak of 
 him as he deserves, but I must now tell you that he and I 
 were mixed up together in an unfortunate affair in Madras, 
 in which a lady's reputation was implicated implicated by 
 
the Engagement. 33 
 
 him, iiot by me and I had to chastise him for his conduct 
 towards her. I have often intended to mention this 
 circumstance to you, but have been deterred by fear of 
 giving you pain. You will now comprehend the fellow's 
 object in writing this calumnious letter. Fearing I should 
 unmask him, he seeks to discredit my assertions. I am 
 sorry you have ever had anything to do with such a 
 scoundrel." 
 
 " If he is such a person as you represent him, Scrope, the 
 sums which he has advanced me must be repaid. I ought 
 not to be, under any obligation to him." 
 
 " Don't give yourself any trouble about him. He 
 deserves to lose the money. You knew nothing about him 
 when you accepted his bounty, and should have known 
 nothing had he not rendered exposure necessary." 
 
 " Had I been aware of his character, I would not have 
 accepted the slightest favour from him. I am placed in a 
 very painful position, and scarcely know how to act." 
 
 " Leave me to deal with him. If I deem it necessary, 
 the money shall be returned. In your last, you told him of 
 our engagement. Did you mention when the marriage was 
 likely to take place?" 
 
 "I told him it would take place speedily probably 
 before the end of the month as you were very anxious 
 there should be no delay. That was exactly what I 
 stated." 
 
 " I wish you had said nothing about it. But it doesn't 
 signify. Since he is in India, he can give us no trouble. 
 And now dismiss all thoughts of him from your mind." 
 
 Sophy strove to obey the injunction, but found it quite 
 impossible. She could not help thinking a great deal about 
 her singular correspondent; neither could she reconcile 
 Musgrave's statements respecting him with her own pre- 
 conceived notions, or even with Pomfret's conduct. 
 
 Celia, to whom she confided all her doubts and fears, was 
 almost as much infatuated as herself by Musgrave, and did 
 not attach any importance to Myddleton Pomfret's warning. 
 He could only have been actuated by jealousy to write such 
 a letter, she declared. It was quite certain he didn't want 
 Sophy to marry at all, but meant to offer her his own hand 
 on his return to his native country. 
 3 
 
4 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 Captain Musgrave could not have found a better advocate, 
 had he needed one, than Celia proved. She successfully 
 combated any objections raised by her sister, and quieted 
 her qualms of conscience. 
 
 When consulted, Mr. Leycester, though he was not alto- 
 gether satisfied, offered no opposition to the match. He would 
 have been better pleased if his daughter had united herself 
 to a wealthier man, and of higher position; but as he himself 
 ,was not required to do anything, he raised no objection. 
 " Sophy was her own mistress, and could do as she pleased. 
 Captain Musgrave was a very handsome fellow, and if she 
 liked him she was quite right to marry him. For his own 
 part, he should have preferred a plainer man, with more 
 money ; and if graced with a title, so much the better. 
 However, Sophy was the person chiefly interested, and must 
 please herself. He only hoped her second marriage would 
 turn out more prosperously than the first." 
 
 This was all he said. The allusion to her first marriage 
 brought tears to Sophy's eyes ; but Celia, who was present 
 at the time soon chased them away. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE. 
 
 CAPTAIN MUSGRAVE'S impatience increased for 
 the speedy celebration of his marriage with the 
 lovely widow. Sophy would have preferred a 
 little longer delay, but suffered herself to be over- 
 ruled, and the day was at last fixed, and at no distant date. 
 The interval, which was about three weeks Musgrave 
 would have abridged even this if he could was spent in 
 preparations for the happy event. 
 
 Throughout this period Sophy's irresolution continued. 
 Her spirits drooped. One morning she informed Celia that 
 she had dreamed of Julian, and that he had regarded her 
 with a sad and reproachful countenance. But Celia only 
 laughed at the relation. 
 
 As the day approached which was to link her fortunes for 
 ever with those of Captain Musgrave, instead of becoming 
 more cheerful Sophy became more melancholy. If she had 
 possessed sufficient moral courage she would have broken 
 off the engagement even then, but she had not firmness 
 enough for the effort. Again she mentioned her mis- 
 givings to her sister, and again was laughed at for her 
 wavering. No word, therefore, was uttered by her. 
 
 Captain Musgrave had not failed to remark her melan- 
 choly looks, and attributed them to the right cause ; but he- 
 feigned not to notice them, and allowed her no opportunity 
 of explanation. 
 
 Strange to say, when the .expected day arrived, Sophy 
 recovered her cheerfulness. She had passed an excellent 
 night, and arose in good spirits. The day was splendid, 
 and all looked bright and smiling. 
 
 An incident, however, occurred which at once threw a 
 cloud over her liveliness, and re-awakened all her mis- 
 givings. She had just entered her boudoir, arrayed in thq 
 32 
 
36 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 exquisite bridal-dress which had been prepared for her by 
 one of the first modistes. Celia, who of course was one of 
 the bridesmaids, had likewise just completed her toilette, 
 and the two sisters were admiring each other's dresses, when 
 the lady's-maid brought in a letter for her mistress. Sophy 
 changed colour as she caught sight of it, and exclaimed : 
 
 " Why, it's from Myddleton Pomfret ! " 
 
 " Never mind. Don't read it now," cried Celia. 
 
 But Sophy hurriedly opened the letter, and on perusing it 
 became deadly pale, and appeared ready to sink. 
 
 " I'm sorry you would read it," said Celia, picking up the 
 letter, which Sophy had dropped in her agitation. " Let us 
 see what the troublesome creature has to say for himself." 
 
 The letter was dated Marseilles, and ran as follows : 
 
 " This letter will serve as an avant-courriere, to announce 
 my arrival this morning at Marseilles. Within a few hours 
 I hope to see you. I shall start for Paris by the night 
 express, and proceed thence, without stoppage, to London. 
 
 "The intelligence conveyed in your last letter of your 
 engagement to Captain Musgrave, caused me such intense 
 anxiety that I embarked by the first packet. Heaven grant 
 I may be in time to save you from the peril by which 
 you are threatened ! Ceaseless misery would be your 
 portion if you were to wed this man. I have cautioned you 
 against him ; but even if he were high-principled, and worthy 
 of your love, as he is base and dishonourable, the marriage 
 must not, cannot be. Unsurmountable obstacles to it exist. 
 These you will learn when we meet, and you will then 
 comprehend the frightful risk you have incurred. I need 
 not be more explicit, since I shall see you so soon. 
 
 " I have a strange and startling disclosure to make, and 
 my principal object in writing is to prepare you for the 
 surprise, and perhaps shock, which the disclosure is likely to 
 occasion. 
 
 "All my plans have been disconcerted by this unexpected 
 and disastrous occurrence. I have hurried away from 
 Madras at the greatest personal inconvenience. But my 
 presence in London seems absolutely necessary, and may be 
 the only means of averting irreparable mischief. 
 
 " Again I implore you to prepare yourself for our meeting. 
 
The Marriage. 37 
 
 When you know all, you may blame me ; but I am per- 
 suaded you will pardon the deception I have practised. 
 
 " MYDDLETON POMFRET." 
 
 "What can he mean? What terrible disclosure can he 
 have to make ? " gasped Sophy. 
 
 " I'm sure I can't tell," replied Celia, who was much 
 alarmed by the letter. " If he has any revelations to make, 
 why not speak out at once ? I'm afraid there's something 
 wrong, as well as mysterious about him. I firmly believe 
 he only wants to break off your marriage with Scrope in 
 order to secure you for himself. But he'll be disappointed 
 in that anticipation." 
 
 " The marriage must be delayed, Celia. I'm too much 
 upset to go through the ceremony. Besides, I cannot 
 neglect the warning given me. I am bound to hear Mr. 
 Pomfret's disclosure before I take an irrevocable step, 
 against which he so solemnly warns me. Where is 
 Scrope?" 
 
 " In the drawing-room, I suppose." 
 
 " Come with me to him." 
 
 They found Captain Musgrave in the drawing-room, 
 capitally got up for the occasion, and looking superbly 
 handsome. 
 
 "What is the matter?" he inquired, startled by Sophy's 
 appearance. " You have just received a letter, I am told. 
 Has it put you out ? " 
 
 " Read it," she replied. 
 
 Musgrave read the letter deliberately, and his coun- 
 tenance darkened. When he had finished, he laughed 
 bitterly. 
 
 "Didn't I tell you he was an infernal hypocrite?" he 
 cried. " He confesses he has deceived you, but dares not 
 tell you for what purpose. I could tell you, but I won't. 
 His effrontery, however, exceeds any notion I had formed 
 of it. I never supposed he would come to England on such 
 a fool's errand. However, he will take nothing by the 
 move," he added, again laughing bitterly. " He'll be rather 
 too late to hinder the marriage., even if he had the power." 
 
 " The ceremony must be postponed," said Sophy. " I 
 panuot go through with it until after I have seen him." 
 
38 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 " Postponed ! " exclaimed Musgrave. " You cannot 
 seriously mean what you say, Sophy." 
 
 " I could not approach the altar with such a weight on 
 my breast. I am bound to hear what Mr. Pomfret has to 
 say, Scrope. His warning is so earnest, so impressive, that 
 I cannot refuse to listen to it. He will be here in a few 
 hours.' 1 
 
 " I will consent to no delay on his account or on any 
 other," rejoined Musgrave, angrily. "If the marriage does 
 not take place to-day, it cannot take place at all. But wait 
 for him, if you please. I shall be here to confront him on 
 his arrival, and you may rely upon it," he added, fiercely, 
 " that he will repent his audacity." 
 
 " Do consider what you are about, Sophy dear," inter- 
 posed Celia, in a low persuasive tone. " If the marriage is 
 postponed, it will infallibly cause a vast deal of unpleasant 
 comment ; and Scrope is evidently so irritated and, as I 
 think, so justly irritated that if a meeting takes place 
 between him and this provoking Mr. Pomfret, I tremble to 
 think of the consequences." 
 
 "Have you decided, Sophy?" said Musgrave in an 
 authoritative tone. " Will you be ruled by this fellow or by 
 me?" 
 
 "By you, Scrope," she rejoined, gently. "Come good, 
 come ill, I am yours for ever." 
 
 " You are an angel/' he cried, embracing her tenderly. 
 " How delighted I am that all is satisfactorily settled ! " 
 cried Celia. ''-Give me that horrid letter. I'll burn it as 
 soon as possible." 
 
 "It's lucky for Pomfret that he didn't come a day 
 sooner," observed Musgrave, " or he would have met with 
 a reception that he didn't expect. As it is, we shall be on 
 our way to Paris before he turns up." 
 
 " If you should happen to meet him, Scrope, there must 
 be no quarrel between you. Promise me this," said Sophy, 
 earnestly. " And now," she added, on receiving the required 
 assurance from him, "you must leave me. I must be alone 
 for a short time in order to recover myself." 
 
 Despite the warning she had received despite her own 
 misgivings Sophy was united that morning at St. George's, 
 Hanover Square, to Captain Musgrave. She could scarcely 
 
The Marriage. 39 
 
 support herself through the ceremony, and her agitation was 
 so visible that it attracted the attention even of the clerical 
 dignitary who officiated on the occasion. But her emotion 
 was attributed solely to nervousness. A slight noise oc- 
 curred when the awful charge was delivered, requiring the 
 pair to confess if either of them knew of any impediment to 
 their union, and the bride glanced round in terror, almost 
 expecting Myddleton Pomfret to appear. But he came not. 
 Captain Musgrave stood proudly beside her at the altar, 
 and had quite an elated look when the ceremony was con- 
 cluded. 
 
 After the nuptials there was, of course, a sumptuous 
 breakfast; but the newly married couple did not remain 
 long at the repast, it being their intention to proceed to 
 Folkestone, and cross on the same evening to Boulogne. 
 From Boulogne they proposed to proceed to Paris, and 
 thence to the south of France. This plan, arranged by 
 Scrope, was not altogether agreeable to Sophy, who pre- 
 ferred a tour in England, but she acquiesced in it. 
 
 Quitting the wedding breakfast early, as we have stated, 
 the bride and bridegroom, accompanied by Celia and a 
 lady's maid, crossed that evening to France. About mid- 
 way in the Channel they met another steamer coming from 
 Boulogne, and watched her as she passed by. 
 
 "I wonder whether Myddleton Pomfret is on board that 
 boat ? " remarked Musgrave to his bride. 
 
 She turned pale at the observation, but made no reply. 
 
 There was more truth in Musgrave's remark than he 
 thought. The person alluded to was among the passengers 
 in the steam-boat. 
 
 Next morning, a hansom cab drove up to the house in 
 Hertford Street, and a tall, well-dressed man alighted from 
 it. Though he could not be much more than five-and- 
 thirty, this gentleman's profuse beard was tinged with grey, 
 as were his locks. When he inquired for Mrs. Curzon, the 
 footman who answered the door smiled. The gentleman 
 could not be aware, he said, that she was only married 
 yesterday to Captain Musgrave. 
 
 "They are gone to Paris to spend the honeymoon," con- 
 tinued the man, who did not notice the effect produced by 
 his communication urjoii the stranger, 
 
4o Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 The gentleman walked away without a word, but his 
 strength suddenly deserted him, and he caught at an iron 
 rail for support. 
 
 "Too late!" he groaned ; "I have arrived too late to 
 prevent the dire calamity. She has neglected my warning. 
 What will become of her ? " 
 
 of If)* tfiwt ISooft. 
 
BOOK II. 
 
 THE FLIGHT. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 A DINNER AT THE HOTEL DES RESERVOIRS. 
 
 j|APTAIN MUSGRAVE, with his wife and Celia, 
 had now been nearly three weeks in Paris. They 
 had charming rooms at the Grand Hotel. 
 
 Neither of the ladies had been in Paris before, 
 and both were astonished by the magnificence of the peer- 
 less city. Captain Musgrave being very well acquainted 
 with the French capital, took care they should see the best 
 of its multitudinous sights. One day, having ascertained 
 that the Grandes Eaux would play, he conducted them to 
 Versailles. After inspecting the galleries of the palace, and 
 admiring the superb terrace, the party descended to the 
 Alle du Tapis Vert. It was thronged by a large and gaily 
 dressed assemblage, a portion of which was promenading 
 to and fro, while others were seated near the quinconces on 
 the left, listening to the strains of an admirable military 
 band. 
 
 Sophy thought the scene enchanting. The general air of 
 gaiety pervading the groups, the exquisite toilettes of the 
 ladies, and the varied uniforms of the numerous officers, 
 conspired to give a lively character to the picture. 
 
 Both sisters, from their beauty, attracted considerable 
 attention, though the remarks of the Parisian belles were 
 not very complimentary to them. From what cause we will 
 not pretend to say, but certain it is, that English ladies, 
 however beautiful, do not appear to advantage among a 
 
42 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 crowd of French dames, even though the personal charms 
 of the latter may be inferior to their own. The stiffness of 
 our fair countrywomen, of which the French justly com- 
 plain, becomes more conspicuous when brought into contrast 
 with the graceful and easy movements of the French dames, 
 and brilliant complexion's, rich tresses, and regular features 
 do not please so much as expressive countenances, animated 
 looks, and piquant manner. 
 
 It is certainly rather a trying ordeal to be exposed to the 
 sarcastic looks and not always whispered remarks of a crowd 
 of sharp-eyed, sharp-tongued Parisian dames while passing 
 in review before them, and to feel conscious that every 
 particle of your dress, from boot to bonnet, is commented 
 upon ; that your looks and gestures are mercilessly ridiculed, 
 and every movement derided. Celia stood this fire with 
 wonderful intrepidity, but Sophy shrank from it. Though 
 opinions might differ as to the charms of the English women, 
 it was universally agreed that their companion was remark- 
 ably handsome probably because he did not look like an 
 Englishman. 
 
 Though Celia's beauty was not of the same high order as 
 her sister's, she was more admired than Sophy, simply from 
 her vivacity of manner. The severest female critic could 
 not deny that Sophy's features were regular, that her eyes were 
 fine, her tresses of a beautiful blond-dore, her figure perfect, 
 and her toilette irreproachable. But all these attractions 
 were neutralised by want of expression and rigidity of 
 movement. Poor Sophy, it must be owned, had a sin- 
 gularly triste air for a bride. Yet there were some at 
 least among the male portion of the beholders who thought 
 that the gentle melancholy pervading her countenance was 
 not without a special charm. 
 
 After walking down the allee as far as the Bassin 
 d'Apollon, our friends returned to the assemblage collected 
 around the band. Having procured chairs for the ladies, 
 Captain Musgrave left them to themselves for a short time. 
 It was at this juncture that Celia, whose attention had been 
 occupied for a moment by what was going on around her, 
 remarked that her sister had become deadly pale, and was 
 gazing eagerly into the adjoining bosquet, as if in search of 
 some object, 
 
A Dinner at the Hotel des Reservoirs. * 43 
 
 "You look alarmed," cried Celia. "What is the 
 matter ?" 
 
 " I have seen him," replied Sophy, with an irrepressible 
 shudder " there, among those trees." 
 
 " Seen whom ? " 
 
 "Him I have lost to whose memory I have proved 
 faithless. I have seen Julian. He was there among the 
 trees not fifty yards off. I saw him quite distinctly, and 
 the reproachful look he cast upon me went to my very 
 heart. I could not bear it ; but when I raised my eyes 
 again he was gone. You look incredulous, but I saw him 
 as plainly as I see you.*' 
 
 "Absurd!' 1 cried Celia. "You will never have done 
 thinking of Julian. You have seen some one resembling 
 him, that is all. This is neither the time nor the place for 
 the indulgence of such silly fancies. Dismiss the notion at 
 once, and compose yourself before Scrope returns, or he 
 will wonder what has happened." 
 
 Shortly afterwards Captain Musgrave came back with a 
 chair, and seated himself beside them. Sophy stole an 
 occasional timorous glance towards the bosquet, but no 
 spectre could be descried within it. Occupied by what was 
 passing around, Captain Musgrave paid little attention to 
 her. By-and-by the assemblage dispersed in various direc- 
 tions to look at the fountains, which had begun to play. 
 
 After witnessing this magnificent display, our friends re- 
 paired to the Hotel des Reservoirs, where dinner had been 
 ordered. Many guests, numbering among them people of 
 all nations, English, Americans, Germans, Spaniards, and 
 Italians, were already assembled in the airy and agreeable 
 salle-^-manger. At a large table near the door were seated a 
 party of Americans of both sexes, well supplied with cham- 
 pagne. Next to them were some Germans, who had 
 likewise made some progress with their dinner, and who were 
 laughing and talking loudly. In the centre of the salon were 
 collected a party of English excursionists, who were making 
 themselves a nuisance to all the other guests by their 
 continuous clamour to the gargons. More English folks 
 were scattered about the room ; but there was one party 
 seated near an open window, which afforded a glimpse of 
 pther tables set beneath the trees of the garden^ and to tW 
 
44 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 party we must direct attention. It consisted of five persons, 
 and an experienced eye would have at once decided, from 
 their looks and manner, that they were Londoners, and 
 belonged to the eastern side of Temple Bar. There was an 
 air about the principal personage that proclaimed him a 
 citizen. He was no other than Mr. Flaxyard, the well-known 
 and wealthy draper of Cheapside, who had brought his 
 family to Paris. Mr. Flaxyard himself was 'short and stout, 
 in age between sixty and seventy, with a bald shining head, 
 white whiskers, ruddy complexion, common-place features, 
 impossible to describe, because possessing no particular 
 character, and only to be adequately represented by a 
 photograph. Mrs. Flaxyard, of the Acacias, Clapham 
 Common (for she wholly ignored Cheapside), was taller, 
 and perhaps stouter than her lord, and had been accounted 
 a very fine woman, and perhaps was so still, though rather 
 on a large scale. She had the advantage over Flaxyard 
 of some twenty years in point of age ; and this was some- 
 thing. Mr. and Mrs. Flaxyard were accompanied by their 
 only son, Hornby, a young civic swell, who was rather above 
 the business to which he was compelled by his governor 
 to attend, and who was dressed in rather a loud style, 
 especially in regard to necktie and vest, wearing a superfluity 
 of chains, breast-pins, and rings, and boasting a pair of light 
 Dundreary whiskers, of which he was excessively vain. 
 
 To complete the character Hornby had assumed, he 
 thought it indispensable to wear an eye-glass, except when 
 engaged in business. Theophania Flaxyard (Tiffany she 
 was called by the elderly parties, and Tiff by her brother) 
 was described by Hornby as a very jolly girl. Saucy-looking 
 features, a retrousse nose, bright blue eyes, which she used 
 pretty freely, sunny locks, and splendid teeth, constituted 
 Tiffany's charms. She was very fast in manner much too 
 fast for old Flaxyard, who frequently called her to order, 
 but she paid very little attention to what he said, and always 
 laughed at him. Tiffany had been brought up at a cele- 
 brated boarding-school at Clapham, and the finishing graces 
 were imparted to her at a fashionable institution des 
 demoiselles in the neighbourhood of the Champs-Elysees. 
 Thus she considered herself a perfect Frenchwoman, and 
 imagined she could talk, walk, and dress like a Parisian. If 
 
A Dinner at the Hotel des Reservoirs. 45 
 
 she had learnt nothing else, she had learnt to flirt and to base 
 her notions of morals and conduct upon those expounded 
 by French novels and French plays, to sigh for the most 
 extravagant dresses, magnificent equipages, and a sumptuous 
 mansion. But in spite of all the French varnish she had 
 acquired, and which only brought out the defects of her 
 native character more strongly, Tiffany Flaxyard was nothing 
 more than a fast English girl. 
 
 With them was Mr. Rufus Trotter, the only son of a 
 wealthy corn-broker, residing somewhere in the neighbour- 
 hood of Mark Lane. Rufus was the bosom friend of 
 Hornby, and, like that young fellow, was an astonishing 
 swell, wearing much the same style of attire, and embellish- 
 ing his countenance with splendid beard of a glowing hue. 
 Rufus was a very sharp fellow in his own estimation, as 
 well as good-looking, and had rather ambitious views, being 
 determined to get into the best society not the best City 
 society, but the best society to be found in Belgrave Square 
 or Eaton Square and he was also determined to get into 
 the House of Commons (as several of his City friends had 
 recently done), where he fondly persuaded himself he should 
 cut a figure, but he had been prevented from doing so by 
 heavy railway losses recently sustained by Mr. Trotter, 
 senior. 
 
 Rufus was an admirer of the bewitching Tiffany. Not 
 that he did not raise his eyes far higher not that he did 
 not feel sure he could marry an earl's daughter or a duke's 
 sister, but somehow or other Tiffany had ensnared him. On 
 her part, the fast young lady had by no means made up her 
 mind to accept him, but liking admiration, she encouraged 
 him. Still, she would have thrown him over without a 
 moment's hesitation, if any one more eligible had turned up. 
 The Flaxyards had been in Paris about a fortnight, on the 
 way to Switzerland, and were staying at the Grand Hotel, 
 where they had seen Captain and Mrs. Musgrave and Miss 
 Leycester at the table d'hote, and constantly encountered 
 them in the court-yard and in the public rooms. The 
 younger folks were anxious to make the acquaintance of such 
 very stylish-looking people, and Captain Musgrave, who 
 thought something might be made of them, and who, 
 besides, was rather pleased with Tiffany's appearance, con- 
 
PomfreL 
 
 descended to meet them half way. He first talked to the 
 young men, then to Tiffany, who was quite ready to flirt 
 with him, though she knew he had only just been married, 
 and next presented his wife and sister to Mrs. Flaxyard and 
 her daughter, so they all presently became good friends. 
 The elder people were charmed with Sophy's beauty and 
 amiable manner, and from various causes the younger folks 
 got on very well together. Though not quite so fast as 
 Tiffany, Celia was just as fond of flirting as that intrepid 
 young woman, and she very considerately divided her 
 attractions between Hornby and Rufus ; but Sophy pleased 
 them best, and young Flaxyard secretly regretted to his 
 friend that he had not known Mrs. Musgrave before the 
 captain was accepted. The new acquaintances had done 
 St. Cloud, and St. Germain, and talked of doing Fontain- 
 fcleau, but meantime they had agreed to dine together at 
 Versailles, after witnessing the Grandes Eaux. 
 
 The ordering of the dinner had been entrusted to Hornby 
 and Rufus, and with the aid of the host they had contrived 
 to make out a tolerably good menu. After many greetings 
 and explanations as to why they had not met before, the 
 whole party took their places, Sophy being seated between 
 old Flaxyard and his son, Celia next to Rufus, and Captain 
 Musgrave between Tiffany and her mother. 
 
 The dinner was excellent, quite as good, old Flaxyard 
 declared, as one they had partaken of a few days before at 
 Durand's, and the champagne soon did its duty, and 
 loosened their tongues. Celia laughed and chattered gaily 
 with her two neighbours now raising the hopes of one, now 
 of the other. Old Flaxyard did his best to amuse Sophy, 
 and Tiffany talked with a freedom to Captain Musgrave that 
 almost surprised him, accustomed as he was to fast girls. 
 They talked of all sorts of things ; of the charming toilettes 
 and superb equipages they had seen in the Bois, declaring 
 they preferred the Bois a thousand times to Hyde Park ; 
 they talked about the galleries of Versailles and the charms 
 of the Trianons they talked of the grande-monde and the 
 demi-monde, of high-born dames and actresses, of the 
 fountains they had just seen, comparing them to those of the 
 Crystal Palace, much to the disadvantage of the latter ; the 
 young men talked of Mabille and the Jardin des Fleurs, the 
 
A Dinner at the Hotel des Reservoirs. 4^ 
 
 jbouffes, and the cafes chantants, and Tiffany laughed at 
 what they said; and as the dinner went on, and more 
 champagne bottles were opened, the merriment of the party 
 increased. There was one person, however, who, amid the 
 general gaiety, continued absent and sad, ate little, declined 
 champagne, and smiled not at the liveliest sallies. 
 
 A party of excursionists from the other side of the 
 Channel, as we have said, occupied a central table in the 
 salle. They likewise drank a good deal of champagne, and 
 being probably unaccustomed to such potations, rather too 
 lively an effect was produced upon them, and they soon 
 became boisterous, talking and laughing so loudly as to be- 
 come an annoyance to the rest of the room. The gargons 
 looked aghast ; the guests at the surrounding tables stared 
 in astonishment, and shrugged their shoulders ; and our 
 young friends were so disgusted at this display of bad 
 manners on the part of their compatriots, that they seriously 
 proposed to eject the noisy fellows from the room, and were 
 only dissuaded from the attempt by old Flaxyard who was 
 apprehensive that a tremendous row would ensue. 
 
 " It is owing to the misconduct of such fellows as these 
 that we have acquired such a bad name on the Continent," 
 remarked Captain Musgrave. "No wonder the French 
 call us a nation of shopkeepers." 
 
 " Such fellows as those ought to stay at home, since they 
 don't know how to behave," remarked Hornby. "They 
 make one ashamed of one's country*" 
 
 "Not so loud," cried old Flaxyard. "They'll hear what 
 you say." 
 
 " I don't care whether they hear or not," cried Hornby. 
 " They are quite welcome to my opinion about them." 
 
 " And what may be your opinion about us, Sir, I should 
 like to know?" demanded one of the excursionists, with a 
 fierce look. " Not that it's of much consequence. Still I 
 should like to know it. What say you, J enhings ? and 
 you, Blewjones?" 
 
 "Yes, Jack Wigglesworth," rejoined the others, scowling 
 at Hornby. "We should both like to know the fellow's 
 opinion." 
 
 "Well, then, I've not the slightest objection to oblige 
 you," replied the young man, in an impertinent, tone, and 
 
48 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 totally disregarding his father's looks. " My opinion of you 
 is, that you are an infernal set of " 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Hornby ! " cried old Flaxyard. 
 " I'll have no more of this. You'll get into a brawl." 
 
 "You were about to tell us what we are, Sir," said 
 Wigglesworth, rising and approaching the table. "Pray, 
 what are we ? " 
 
 "Yes, what are we?" added Blewjones, and Jennings 
 following him. 
 
 "Infernal snobs, since you want to know," rejoined 
 Hornby. 
 
 " Perhaps a stronger term might suit you better, and if so 
 I have one at your service, 7 ' supplemented Musgrave. " It's 
 quite clear you don't know how to conduct yourselves in 
 public." 
 
 " We didn't come to Paris to be taught manners by fools 
 like you," rejoined Wigglesworth, snapping his fingers. 
 " If our society ain't agreeable, you can easily rid yourselves 
 of it." 
 
 " We mean to do so," said Musgrave, significantly. " The 
 sooner you make yourself scarce the better. Pay your bill 
 and go, Wigglesworth. Gargon," he added, raising his 
 voice, "1'addition pour ces messieurs." 
 
 "A 1'instant, Messieurs," cried the gargon, enchanted at 
 the prospect of getting rid of the troublesome guests, while 
 all the rest of the company seemed highly diverted by what 
 was going on. 
 
 "What does he say?" cried Wigglesworth to his friends. 
 " By Jove ! I believe the fellow has ordered our bill." 
 
 " He's a cool customer, I must say," remarked Blewjones. 
 
 " Voila, 1'addition, Messieurs," said the gargon, presenting 
 it to them. 
 
 " Perhaps you'll pay it, since you have taken the trouble 
 to order it," remarked Wigglesworth to Musgrave. 
 
 " Let's look at the amount ? " cried the captain, snatching 
 the bill from him. "Just sixty francs. Not dear for so 
 much champagne, Wigglesworth. Give the gargon three 
 naps and as much more as you please, and then you'll be 
 free to depart," he added, tossing back the bill. 
 
 Disconcerted by Musgrave's assurance, and finding himself 
 and his companions the laughing-stock of the whole room, 
 
A Dinner at the Hotel des Reservoirs. 49 
 
 Wigglesworth paid the gargon, and the whole party of 
 excursionists beat a hasty retreat. 
 
 " I hope nothing will come of this ridiculous incident," 
 remarked old Flaxyard, as soon as they were gone. 
 
 "You needn't give yourself a moment's thought about it, 
 my dear Sir," remarked Captain Musgrave, with a smile. 
 " They're not the sort of men to fight. They'll think twice 
 before they send us an invitation to the Bois de Boulogne." 
 
 Another bottle of Larose was ordered, and when the 
 gargon brought it he made an observation to old Flaxyard, 
 which was not quite intelligible to that simple Briton. 
 
 "What does he say, Tiffy?" he called out to his 
 daughter. 
 
 " He says that a gentleman outside desires to speak with 
 you, papa," she replied. 
 
 " Bless me ! that's strange. Won't the gentleman come 
 in?" 
 
 The gargon replied that the gentleman would not come 
 in. 
 
 " Are you quite sure there's no mistake ? " 
 
 The gargon being quite sure there was none, old Flaxyard 
 went out with him, and remained away so long that the 
 Larose was finished before his reappearance. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 MR. FLAXYARD IS MADE USEFUL. 
 
 j]OW to see what old Flaxyard had been about. 
 On going forth, in compliance with the summons 
 he had received, he found in the court-yard of the 
 hotel a tall personage, attired in black, whom the 
 gargon indicated as the gentleman who had sent for him. 
 The person was an entire stranger, but on seeing Flaxyard 
 he advanced, and bowing gravely, addressed him by name, 
 apologising for the liberty he had taken in sending for him. 
 The stranger then led the way through an archway at the 
 back of the court-yard communicating with the gardens of 
 the palace, where they could converse without fear of 
 interruption. 
 
 " You will think it odd that I should be acquainted with 
 your name, Mr. Flaxyard," he said, " but I ascertained it at 
 the Grand Hotel. I have seen you with Captain Musgrave 
 and his wife." 
 
 It was only by a great effort that he could force himself to 
 pronounce the last word. 
 
 Flaxyard merely bowed assent, not knowing exactly what 
 to say. 
 
 " It is in reference to Mrs. Musgrave" and the stranger 
 again paused, and put his hand to his side " it is in 
 reference to Mrs. Musgrave, I say, that I desire to speak to 
 you." 
 
 " Perhaps you will permit me to know whom I have the 
 honour of addressing ? " asked Flaxyard. 
 
 " When I tell you that I am named Myddleton Pomfret, 
 and am a Madras merchant, I shall have conveyed very 
 little to you, I fear." 
 
 " Pardon me, Sir. If you are of the well known house of 
 Bracebridge, Clegg, and Pomfret, I have heard of you." 
 
Mr. Plaxyard is Made Useful. 5 1 
 
 "I belong to that house," replied the other, with .a 
 melancholy smile. " And now, Mr. Flaxyard, you can 
 render me an important service, and though I have no title 
 whatever to ask it of you, yet I am persuaded you won't 
 refuse me." 
 
 " You pay me a compliment, Mr. Pomfret. Let me hear 
 what you require." 
 
 "You can serve another as well as me, Sir. You can 
 most materially serve a lady in whom I think you feel some 
 interest." 
 
 " If you refer to Mrs. Musgrave, as I fancy you do, Mr. 
 Pomfret, I can only say that I shall be delighted to be of 
 service to her." 
 
 " I do refer to her. Before proceeding further, I must 
 entreat you not to misconstrue what I am about to say. I 
 must also entreat you not to ask for an explanation, which I 
 cannot give, but to be content with my statement." 
 
 " This is asking a good deal," remarked Flaxyard, staring 
 at him. 
 
 " I know it," rejoined Pomfret. " It is impossible for 
 me to hold any communication with Captain Musgrave. 
 Consequently, the message which I desire to convey to his 
 wife through you must be made without his knowledge." 
 
 " Without the captain's knowledge, did you say, Sir ? " 
 cried Flaxyard, startled. " This appears to me an under- 
 hand proceeding a very improper proceeding, Sir, in which 
 I must decline to take part." 
 
 " Don't mistake me," rejoined Pomfret, almost sternly. 
 " Circumstances render it necessary. Were a meeting to 
 take place between myself and Captain Musgrave, it would 
 be attended by fearful consequences. He has wronged me 
 wronged me deeply. I would call him to account, but 
 my hands are tied." 
 
 " Whew ! here's a pretty business ! " thought Flaxyard. 
 " I begin to perceive how matters stand. The poor gentle- 
 man has been jilted by a more fortunate rival. Well, I'm 
 sorry for you, Mr. Pomfret extremely sorry, I'm sure but 
 what do you want me to do ? " 
 
 " I want you to give this letter to Mrs. Musgrave privately. 
 You will easily find an opportunity." 
 
 *' Very, likely I might. But I decline to do it, Sir," re* 
 42 
 
$2 Myddteton Pomfret. 
 
 joined Flaxyard, with an offended air. " What do you take 
 me for, Mr. Pomfret ? " 
 
 " For a sensible, good-natured man, or I should not 
 apply to you." 
 
 "Well, you are right so far," said Flaxyard. "I am 
 sensible and good-natured, but I can't allow my good nature 
 to drag me into a difficulty. I can't countenance an im- 
 proper act. I can't deliver a letter to a married woman 
 behind her husband's back." 
 
 " Perhaps I may remove your scruples, when I tell you it 
 is not a letter, but simply an envelope enclosing bank- 
 notes." 
 
 " Worse and worse ! " cried Flaxyard, now really horri- 
 fied. " Upon my word, Mr. Pomfret, you must have a very 
 extraordinary opinion of me to venture to make such a 
 proposition. Give a lady money secretly. Nothing of the 
 kind, Sir." 
 
 " Yes you will, when I tell you that the money which you 
 will thus convey to Mrs. Musgrave is indispensable to her. 
 If you refuse, I must find other means. But I rely on your 
 secresy. I know I am dealing with a man of honour. You 
 won't betray the lady." 
 
 " Betray her, certainly not," cried Flaxyard. " I shan't 
 utter a word. But I don't choose to be made a go-between 
 in an affair of this sort." 
 
 " Hear me before you decide. A moment may come 
 nay, most assuredly will come when it may be necessary, 
 as I have just hinted, that Mrs. Musgrave should not be 
 without resources, and that her resources should be un- 
 known to her husband. That is why I wish to send her 
 this money. That is why I wish to employ you." 
 
 The energy of his looks and manner forced conviction of 
 his sincerity upon his auditor. 
 
 "You seem to insinuate a great deal against Captain 
 Musgrave," remarked Flaxyard. "Is he in difficulties?" 
 
 " Don't ask me," rejoined the other. " It is my business 
 to protect the woman he has deceived, and I am obliged to 
 adopt this course to accomplish my purpose." 
 
 " Well, I would willingly help you if I felt quite sure you 
 are acting in a straightforward manner. But you must 
 allow that your proposition is singular, to say the least of it." 
 
Mr. Flaxy ard is Made Useful 53 
 
 " You will regret hereafter, if you don't accede to my 
 request." 
 
 " Well, I'll run the risk. Something in your manner 
 satisfies me of your sincerity." 
 
 u I felt I could not be mistaken in you," said Pomfret, 
 with a look of profound gratitude. " Here is the packet. 
 Tell her she need not fear that I will intrude upon her, but 
 shall ever be ready to aid her in case of need." 
 
 " I will give her the packet in the manner you enjoin, 
 Sir, and will not fail to deliver your message at the same 
 time." 
 
 They then separated. Myddleton Pomfret walked 
 rapidly towards the great gates opening upon the Boulevart 
 de la Reine, and Flaxyard returned to the hotel. 
 
 " I see by your looks that you've got something strange 
 to tell us, papa," cried Tiffany, as the old gentleman entered 
 the salle. " Out with it." 
 
 "Something very odd and unexpected has happened to 
 me, I must own," replied Flaxyard. "But I can't explain it 
 just now. Indeed, I'm not sure that I can explain it at all." 
 
 " Why, what a provoking old body you are ! " cried 
 Tiffany. " I thought you had brought a challenge from Mr. 
 Wigglesworth, or one of those polite excursionists." 
 
 " I've seen nothing of Mr. Wigglesworth, or any of his 
 crew," he replied. " But depend upon it I won't let you 
 into my secret, Tiffy. Order some more Larose, Hornby. 
 This bottle is empty, I perceive. I've something for your 
 private ear by-and-by, Ma'am," he added in a low voice to 
 Mrs. Musgrave. 
 
 " For me ? " she replied, startled. 
 
 Sophy had become so nervous of late that the slightest 
 thing startled her. 
 
 "Yes, to you, Ma'am/' he replied, in the same under 
 tone. " The gentleman who called me out sent for me in 
 reference to you." 
 
 " Who is he ? What can he possibly have to say to you 
 about me? You excite my curiosity very strongly, Mr. 
 Flaxyard." 
 
 " Excuse my answering any questions just now," replied 
 the old gentleman, aware that Captain Musgrave was 
 looking fixedly at him. " Don't give way to any emotion if ^ 
 
54 Myddleton Pomf/ei. 
 
 you can possibly help it. The person who sent for me just 
 now, and who has been talking about you, is Mr. Myddleton 
 Pomfret, of Madras." 
 
 "Gracious Heaven! Is he here? Has he followed us 
 to Paris?" 
 
 " Be calm, I entreat of you," whispered Flaxyard. 
 " Your husband is watching you. You needn't be afraid 
 of encountering Mr. Pomfret. He has returned to Paris." 
 
 But Sophy found it quite impossible to control her 
 agitation, and presently rose from the table, and Mrs. 
 Flaxyard and the other ladies withdrew with her. Captain 
 Musgrave did not manifest any great uneasiness, but merely 
 remarked, 
 
 " My wife is subject to nervous attacks, but she soon 
 gets over them, and I have no doubt she will be better 
 presently." 
 
 And so it proved. In less than a quarter of an hour the 
 ladies reappeared, and though Sophy still looked very 
 pale, she seemed to have recovered from her sudden 
 indisposition. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 MR. FLAXYARD'S SUSPICIONS ARE AROUSED. 
 
 jjHE bill being paid, the party proceeded in a couple 
 of carriages to the station appertaining to the 
 Rive Droite, and shortly afterwards they were 
 speeding towards the terminus in the Rue Saint- 
 Lazare. 
 
 Mr. Flaxyard took charge of Sophy, and by a dexterous 
 little manoeuvre, which did the old gentleman infinite 
 credit, contrived to place her in a carriage separate from the 
 rest of the party. All the other occupants of this carriage 
 appeared to be French. They were thus enabled to con- 
 verse without restraint; and almost as soon as they had 
 started the old gentleman hastened to relieve her anxiety, 
 by explaining what had passed between himself and 
 Myddleton Pomfret. On concluding his recital he delivered 
 the packet to her. 
 
 " I don't want to ask an impertinent question, Ma'am," 
 he said. " But I suppose Mr. Pomfret is an old friend ? " 
 
 " I have never seen him merely corresponded with him," 
 she replied. " He was a friend of my first husband, Julian 
 Curzon, and as such took a strong interest in me. But I 
 imagined his interest would cease now that I have married 
 again and contrary to his wishes." 
 
 " How am I to understand you, Ma'am ?" 
 
 " I owe you a full explanation, Mr. Flaxyard, and you 
 shall have it. Mr. Pomfret returned from India for the 
 express purpose of preventing my marriage with Captain 
 Musgrave but he arrived too late." 
 
 "Very strange ! And you say you have never seen 
 him?" 
 
 " Never. From a letter which I received from him I 
 knew he was on his way to London, but I have heard 
 
56 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 nothing since. I have no idea what sort of person he is 
 whether young or old and I have reason to believe that 
 some descriptions given me of him were incorrect." 
 
 " I don't know how he has been described to you, but, 
 according to my notion, he has a very interesting counte- 
 nance. Though his beard is tinged with grey, he cannot, I 
 conceive, be above five-and-thirty. But he appears to have 
 suffered much, and looks out of health. He is tall and thin, 
 and bears himself like a gentleman. Altogether, he is a 
 very striking-looking person." 
 
 " It must be he ! I have seen him ! " exclaimed Sophy, 
 who had grown pale at this description. "I caught a 
 glimpse of him among the trees in the gardens of Versailles 
 this morning. I only beheld him for a moment, but I 
 was struck by his countenance, because I thought him so 
 like " 
 
 And she paused. 
 
 " So like whom, Ma'am?" 
 
 " My first husband," she replied. " He is the very image 
 of poor Julian Ctirzon." 
 
 " That's strange ! " exclaimed Flaxyard. " And you say 
 they were bosom friends. Odd they should be personally 
 alike very odd, ain't it ? " 
 
 " I tell you 1 only saw him for a moment, for he disap- 
 peared in the bosquet. I thought it was Julian risen from 
 the dead." 
 
 "Pray excuse me for alluding to the subject, but I have 
 heard, I think, that your first husband met his death by 
 accident ? " 
 
 " You have heard the truth, Sir," she rejoined. " He was 
 drowned while bathing in the lake of Windermere." 
 
 " God bless me ! yes, now I remember the circumstance 
 very shocking indeed ! " 
 
 " I witnessed the dreadful occurrence," said Sophy. " I 
 saw him sink never to rise again, but I was denied the sad 
 satisfaction of laying him in the grave." 
 
 "Am I to understand that the body was never re- 
 covered ? " inquired Flaxyard. 
 
 " It was never recovered," she replied. 
 
 The old gentleman evidently wished to ask a few more 
 questions, but he did not like to pursue the painful theme j 
 
Mr. Flaxy ar d j s Suspicions are Aroused. 57 
 
 and Sophy, whose thoughts were occupied by the past, 
 maintained a mournful silence. At last, Flaxyard spoke. 
 
 " Will you allow me to ask you. Ma'am, and believe that I 
 am influenced by no idle curiosity in putting the question 
 but are you acquainted with Mr. Myddleton Pomfret's 
 history?" 
 
 " I never heard of him until about a year ago," she 
 replied, " when he wrote to me from Madras explaining that 
 he had been poor Julian's intimate friend, and offering to 
 pay his debts." 
 
 " Oh ! then your husband was in debt at the time of 
 the accident ? " inquired Flaxyard. 
 
 " Deeply in debt," she rejoined. " But all his debts were 
 discharged by Mr. Pomfret." 
 
 " An extraordinary act of friendship," remarked the old 
 gentleman, dryly. 
 
 "You would indeed think Mr. Pomfret a devoted friend, 
 if you knew all he has done for me for no other reason save 
 that I was Julian's widow. The interest he has taken in my 
 welfare seems unaccountable." 
 
 " Not quite unaccountable," muttered Flaxyard. " You say 
 Mr. Pomfret came from Madras in order to prevent your 
 union with Captain Musgrave, but arrived too late. Didn't 
 he write? Didn't he assign any reason for his objection to 
 the marriage ? " 
 
 " He warned me against it, but reserved all explanations 
 till his arrival." 
 
 "And you would not wait for him !" exclaimed Flaxyard, 
 sharply. " Madam, you were wrong very wrong." 
 
 " I now feel that I ought to have waited. But Captain 
 Musgrave was impatient, and I yielded. The marriage was 
 hurried on." 
 
 "Ah ! it's a sad business ! " cried the old gentleman. "I 
 mean, it's a thousand pities you didn't await Mr. Pomfret's 
 arrival. You might then have been saved from " 
 
 "Saved from what? You quite frighten me, Mr. 
 Flaxyard." 
 
 " You cannot doubt for a moment that so true a friend 
 as Mr. Pomfret has shown himself must have had some 
 very powerful motive to induce him to come all the way 
 from India for such a purpose," 
 
5S Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 "Indeed I thought so. But his motive was quite 
 unintelligible, unless he had a personal interest in me." 
 
 " Well, what's done can't be undone, and you must make 
 the best of it. But pray satisfy me on one point. Has 
 Captain Musgrave any acquaintance with Mr. Pomfret ? " 
 
 " Yes ; they met in Madras, where Scrope was stationed. 
 But they were not upon very good terms in fact, they 
 quarrelled. And it is certain that they entertain a strong 
 antipathy to each other. This may account in some degree 
 for Mr. Pomfret's objection to my union with one whom he 
 regards as an enemy. Scrope was equally bitter ; but I felt 
 he was prejudiced, and my heart refused to believe all the 
 ill he said of my benefactor. 51 
 
 " Have you reason to suppose, Ma'am, that Captain Mus- 
 grave and Mr. Pomfret met for the first time at Madras ? " 
 inquired the old gentleman, after a pause. " Had they no 
 previous acquaintance ? " 
 
 " I believe not," replied Sophy. " Indeed, I feel certain 
 that Scrope knew nothing whatever about Mr. Pomfret, till 
 he met him at Madras ? " 
 
 " Knew nothing of his antecedents ? " 
 
 " I fancy not. I never heard him say so. Latterly I have 
 never ventured to speak to Scrope about Mr. Pomfret, for he 
 detests the mention of his name." 
 
 " Madam," said Flaxyard, " I cannot disguise from you 
 that you are placed in an embarrassing position. You ought 
 not to have married Captain Musgrave until you had heard 
 what Mr. Pomfret had to say. That is the mistake you have 
 committed, and I am afraid it may prove a grave mistake. 
 I cannot acquit Mr. Pomfret of blame. He ought to have 
 spoken out ; but I can understand why he hesitated, and I 
 feel persuaded that he has acted with the best intentions. I 
 would rather not say what I think of Captain Musgrave's 
 conduct. Though Mr. Pomfret has more reason to complain 
 than any one, I think you have nothing to apprehend from 
 him. Unless I greatly misjudge him, his sole desire is to 
 serve you, and he will submit to any annoyance rather than 
 injure you. No, no ; you have nothing to fear from him. 1 ' 
 
 11 Mr. Flaxyard, you have made some discovery which you 
 are unwilling to impart to me I am sure you have." 
 
 " Do not press for any explanation, Ma'am, I may be 
 
Mr. Flaxy ard^s Suspicions are Aroused. 59 
 
 wrong in my suspicions, and I trust in Heaven I am so. 
 But whatever comes and goes, I will serve you as a friend, 
 and do my best to extricate you from difficulties, should any 
 unhappily arise." 
 
 " You fill me with alarm. Speak plainly, I entreat of you. 
 I would rather know the worst than be kept in suspense." 
 
 " Madam, I know nothing. Therefore I can tell you 
 nothing. I have felt it necessary to caution you, because 
 I have some vague suspicions, but they may amount to 
 little." 
 
 Sophy asked no further questions, and scarcely another 
 word passed between them till they reached the station. 
 
 The whole party drove to the Grand Hotel, but the high 
 spirits of the younger people were too much for Sophy in her 
 present frame of mind. Pleading fatigue, she retired at 
 once to her chamber. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 CAPTAIN MUSGRAVE SHOWS HIMSELF IN HIS TRUE COLOURS. 
 
 JERRI RLE fancies, excited by the hints thrown out 
 by Mr. Flaxyard, disquieted Sophy and banished 
 sleep. One strange and painful notion possessed 
 her. She felt as if she had unintentionally 
 committed some crime, for which a fearful penalty would be 
 exacted. At last, towards morning, worn out by agitation 
 and fatigue, she fell into a profound sleep, from which she 
 did not awaken till a late hour. 
 
 The Musgraves, as we know, occupied a charming set of 
 apartments on the second floor of the Grand Hotel, and on 
 issuing forth into the principal room, Sophy found her sister 
 alone, and seated at a table on which materials for breakfast 
 were laid. 
 
 "Why, how late you are!" cried Celia. "Scrope has 
 breakfasted long ago, and has gone out to see the guard 
 relieved at the Tuileries." 
 
 " Did he leave any message for me ? " inquired Sophy. 
 
 " Only that he shouldn't be back before noon. I fear, 
 from your looks, you must have had a wretched night. Sit 
 down, dear," she continued, anxiously ; " if you can manage 
 to eat a little breakfast it will do you good. I fear these 
 French dinners don't agree with you. Take a cup of tea, if 
 you can take nothing else." 
 
 Sophy drank the tea poured out by her sister, but she was 
 quite unable to eat anything, and after a time the breakfast 
 equipage was removed by the gargon. 
 
 About a quarter of an hour later a tap was heard at the 
 door, and Mrs. Flaxyard and her daughter came in. As we 
 know, they were staying at the same hotel. They had got 
 on their bonnets, and being about to order new dresses from 
 a fashionable modiste in the Rue Vivienne, they wanted Mrs. 
 Musgrave and Celia to accompany them. Sophy excused 
 
Captain J\fns grave in his Trite Colours. 6l 
 
 herself on the plea of indisposition, so they did not press her. 
 But Celia was enchanted at the idea. Nothing she liked so 
 much as a visit to a milliner's, so she got ready without a 
 moment's delay. The three ladies then sallied forth, leaving 
 Sophy alone quite alone, indeed, for the lady's-maid she 
 had brought from London had been sent back, and she was 
 now without an attendant. 
 
 Half-an-hour passed by, and Sophy was still undisturbed. 
 She was reclining on a fauteuil, vainly essaying to read 
 Galignants Messenger. All at once she was roused by the 
 entrance of her husband. Their greeting was not like that 
 of a recently married pair, and there was far more of fear 
 than of love in the look which Sophy threw at her lord as he 
 stalked into the room. Evidently something had displeased 
 him. He merely nodded, and .then, without bestowing 
 another look upon her, deliberately took off his gloves and 
 placed them inside his hat on the table. This done, he 
 flung himself upon a sofa opposite the fauteuil on which she 
 was seated. For some minutes he kept silence, but at last 
 he addressed her in an angry voice : 
 
 " How long is this sort of thing going to last? Because 
 I don't mean to stand it, I can tell you." 
 
 " What sort of thing, Scrope?" she inquired, meekly. 
 
 "You know well enough what I mean your sulkiness. 
 I'm getting confoundedly tired of it. I didn't come to Paris 
 to pass my time with a peevish and fretful woman, but to be 
 amused. Ever since you've set foot in France you have 
 become totally changed changed for the worse, both in 
 looks and manner. You don't make an attempt to be 
 agreeable to me. Perhaps you haven't got the inclination. 
 It appears like it. But I wouldn't advise you to carry the 
 thing too far. I'm not the easiest-tempered fellow in the 
 world, and may chance to retaliate." 
 
 " I've not the slightest intention to offend you, Scrope, 
 and am pained to think I have done so," she rejoined, 
 gently. " I know I have been dull and triste, but you must 
 forgive me. Unhappily, my spirits are not under my 
 control, and to-day I am far from well." 
 
 " It's a confounded bore to have married a complaining 
 woman," said Musgrave, harshly. " I can't understand why 
 you should be in low spirits, unless you regret the step 
 
6 2 Myddteton Pom/ret. 
 
 you've taken. Most women, I fancy, contrive to look 
 cheerful during the honeymoon." 
 
 "I don't deserve these reproaches, Scrope indeed I 
 don't," she rejoined, unable to repress her tears. 
 
 "No use whimpering," he said, almost savagely. "It 
 won't have the slightest effect on me. I've told you I can't 
 stand low spirits. To please me you must smile." 
 
 " How can I possibly smile at this moment, Scrope ? You 
 really frighten me by your looks." 
 
 " Do I ? Then you're very easily frightened. Why can't 
 you borrow a little of Celia's sprightliness ? She's never 
 peevish or out of spirits." 
 
 " Celia has not the sad things to think of that I have, 
 Scrope," sighed Sophy. "She is thoughtless and light- 
 hearted, and I hope may long continue so." 
 
 " Well, I can see very plainly that you expect to have 
 your own way but you're mistaken, I can promise you. If 
 you have been disappointed, so have I. But we may, 
 perhaps, get on together if we can come to a proper under- 
 standing. Of one thing you may be certain. I won't have 
 any more nonsense." 
 
 "If you call my illness 'nonsense/ Scrope, I'm afraid I 
 shan't be able to obey you. But I will do my best." 
 
 " I know what has caused this fit of sullens," he said, 
 regarding her fixedly. "You have had some communication 
 with Myddleton Pomfret. It is useless to deny it. I know 
 you have." 
 
 She made no response, but cast down her eyes to avoid 
 his searching glances. 
 
 " He is in Paris 1 Have you seen him ? " he demanded, 
 after a pause. 
 
 . " I have not exchanged a word with him. But I fancy I 
 beheld him yesterday in the gardens of Versailles.' 1 
 
 " Ah ! you own to seeing him. Of course you have 
 heard from him. Give me his letter, I command you." 
 
 This was too much, and Sophy roused herself. 
 
 "You forget yourself, Captain Musgrave, in addressing 
 me thus. I have received no letter from Mr. Myddleton 
 Pomfret. But if I had, I would not show it you." 
 
 " Ah ! you defy me. Well, we shall see how long you 
 will hold out. This equivocation won't pass with me. I 
 
Captain Musgrave in his True Colour 3. 63 
 
 am certain you have had some communication with the 
 fellow curse him ! I insist upon knowing what message he 
 has sent." 
 
 " I decline to give an answer to the question. And I 
 think it better we should have no further conversation 
 together till you are in a better temper." 
 
 And she made a motion of retiring, but Captain Musgrave 
 sprang suddenly to his feet, and detained her. 
 
 " Stop ! I have not done with you yet. We must finish 
 what we have begun. What do you know about this 
 person?" 
 
 " Nothing more than I have told you," she replied, 
 trembling. 
 
 " It is an infernal lie," cried Musgrave, fiercely. " You 
 know who he is." 
 
 " I saw him only for a moment," she cried, distractedly. 
 
 " But that was enough. You could not fail to recognise 
 him. I read your guilty knowledge in your looks. It is in 
 vain to hide it from me. You recognised him, I say." 
 
 " Then it was not a mere fancied resemblance," she cried. 
 " It was Julian ! and living ! " 
 
 " Ay, it was Julian," rejoined Musgrave. 
 
 " Oh," she exclaimed, in a tone of indescribable anguish, 
 " this is more than I can bear. I shall go mad. But no ! 
 no ! it cannot be. Julian perished before my own eyes. 
 I saw him plunge into the lake, and disappear for ever." 
 
 " Not for ever," rejoined Musgrave, with a sneer. "Was 
 the body found? I ask you that. No ; it was not likely to 
 be found. The catastrophe which you thought you had 
 witnessed, and which filled you with desolation, was nothing 
 more than a clever device, by which Julian hoped to escape 
 from his creditors and from his wife. It succeeded to a 
 marvel. No one even suspected the trick. While you 
 were weeping while others were searching for him he 
 was far away, chuckling at his escape. If the affair were 
 not too serious, it might move one's laughter." 
 
 "No more say no more," she cried. "The frightful 
 truth becomes clear. I see it all now. I ought to have 
 seen it from the first. Oh, into what an abyss has my fatal 
 blindness plunged me ! By the irretrievable step which I 
 have taken I have condemned myself to ceaseless misery. 
 
64 Myddkton PomfreL 
 
 My breast will never know peace again. Scrope, you have 
 much to answer for. You knew the truth, but concealed it 
 from me. No consideration for two innocent persons 
 moved you. You allowed me to commit a crime in 
 ignorance which you were bound to prevent. And what 
 have you gained by your wicked act ? You have destroyed 
 my happiness for ever. You have destroyed poor Julian's 
 happiness. If you have any feeling left, you must shudder 
 at your own work." 
 
 "You ask me what I have gained," replied Musgrave, 
 who remained perfectly impassive during this address. " I 
 will tell you. I have satisfied my revenge." 
 
 "Revenge for what? What injury has the unfortunate 
 Julian done you that you should avenge yourself upon him 
 in this dreadful manner ? " 
 
 " I sha'n't gratify your curiosity by explaining the cause 
 of my vindictive feeling towards Myddleton Pomfret, as I 
 shall still call him," he rejoined. "Suffice it that he 
 affronted me deeply affronted me and as I never forgive 
 an injury, I determined on revenge. No opportunity for 
 executing my purpose occurred while I was in India. But 
 I abided my time. Not long after my return to England, 
 chance threw in my way what I so eagerly longed for. I 
 saw you, and was struck with your beauty for you were 
 beautiful then." 
 
 " Oh, that we had never met ! " she exclaimed, in accents 
 of despair. 
 
 "It was written that we should meet," continued Mus- 
 grave. " I saw and loved you. I knew nothing whatever 
 about you then, and no other feeling was kindled in my 
 breast save admiration of your charms. But next day I 
 learnt more, and soon obtained a clear insight into your 
 position. On my way to call upon you, St. Quintin 
 acquainted me with your history, and, to my surprise, I 
 learnt your singular connection with the detested Myddle- 
 ton Pomfret. From the first my suspicions were aroused, 
 and though I had never heard a hint breathed on the 
 subject while at Madras, I became convinced, on reflection, 
 that your correspondent could be no other than Julian 
 Curzon, whom the rest of the world yourself among the 
 number supposed to have been drowned in Windermere. 
 
Captain Mus grave in his True Colours. 65 
 
 Was it likely that a man would pay his friend's debts 
 without some extraordinary motive ? Was it likely he 
 would make a friend's widow so large an allowance from 
 purely disinterested motives? I understood his motives at 
 once. But there was proof conclusive. Myddleton 
 Pomfret's arrival in Madras was nearly coincident with the 
 date of Julian Curzon's supposed death, just allowing time 
 for the voyage out to India. All doubts, therefore, were 
 removed from my mind. The revenge for which I thirsted 
 was in my power. My enemy was delivered into my hands. 
 Not only had I penetrated his secret not only did T 
 comprehend his motives, but I divined his plans, and I 
 determined to defeat them to defeat them so effectually 
 that the mischief done should be irreparable. I saw that he 
 intended to return to England when he had made a fortune, 
 and avow what he had done. But he had not calculated 
 upon what might happen in the interim. It was a pretty 
 project a kindly project and deserved to succeed; but 
 there were difficulties in the way. He had not taken my 
 animosity into account. To be sure, he didn't think it 
 probable that I should cross his path. But you will re- 
 member how his fears were excited when he learnt that you 
 knew me." 
 
 "Ah! I now perceive the justice of his fears. I ought 
 to have paid attention to his caution. But had you no 
 compunction ? " 
 
 "None. I have told you I never forgive an injury. 
 When my enemy was in my power, was I to let him escape ? 
 Moreover, love with me is just as strong as hate ; and loving 
 you passionately, as I did at the time, I would never have 
 surrendered you to another. These mingled feelings 
 either of which was strong enough to cause me to disregard 
 all consequences determined me to make you mine. I 
 had no fear of a refusal on your part, for I felt sure that I 
 had gained a sufficient influence over you, and that I had 
 only to go on to triumph. My sole apprehension was, that 
 Myddleton Pomfret should arrive in time to thwart my 
 project. He nearly did so, but his evil genius stopped him 
 on the way. My revenge was complete." 
 
 There was a pause, during which Sophy appeared over- 
 come by emotion. At last she spoke. 
 5 
 
66 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 " You have acted infamously, Scrope. You have led me 
 into the commission of a sin which can only be expiated by 
 a life's penitence. My own wretchedness is increased by 
 the thought of the hopeless misery into which your vin- 
 dictive cruelty has plunged a noble-hearted man. Better 
 have killed him than inflict such pain. Had I been the 
 only sufferer my anguish would have been more tolerable, 
 but it is heightened by the knowledge of his suffering. Your 
 plan has succeeded. The evil agents you have summoned 
 have served you well. But your triumph will be short- 
 lived. The ill you have done will recoil on your own head. 
 Be sure that a terrible retribution awaits you." 
 
 " Bah ! I laugh at such talk ! " he rejoined, carelessly. 
 " It may tell upon the stage, but it won't do in private life. 
 If you imagine I have any fear of Myddleton Pomfret, you 
 are egregiously mistaken. But I peremptorily forbid 
 you to grant him an interview on any pretence, or to 
 hold any communication with him. Take care you obey 
 me." 
 
 " I do not desire to see him," she cried. " Of all men 
 on earth, I would most avoid him." 
 
 " Still he may attempt to see you, and I would have you 
 be on your guard. You need apprehend no trouble from 
 him. Very shame will restrain him from resuming his 
 former name. Myddleton Pomfret he must remain, and no 
 other. Julian Curzon is dead to the world." 
 
 " I have no fear of him," she rejoined. " He is too good 
 too generous to molest me." 
 
 "Talk of him no more," cried Musgrave, impatiently. 
 " His name sickens me. I have said enough, I think, to 
 warn you. My stay in Paris will be brief. I shall proceed 
 almost immediately to Nice." 
 
 " You will go where you jplease, Scrope," she rejoined. 
 " But you must not expect me to accompany you." 
 
 "Not expect you to accompany me! But I do," he 
 cried, sharply. "Do you suppose I mean to leave you 
 behind ? Don't think it." 
 
 "I am not your wife, Scrope," she rejoined. "You have 
 convinced me that my first husband is alive." 
 
 " You are a fool ! " he cried, furiously. " If I choose to 
 consider you as my wife, and to treat you as such, that 
 
Captain Musgrave in his True Colours. 67 
 
 ought to be enough. Your secret is in safe keeping. It is 
 only known to me and to one other, and for good reasons 
 he will never betray it. You are my wife, I tell you, so let 
 us have no more nonsense on the subject. Go to your own 
 room. Dry your eyes and compose yourself. Celia will be 
 back presently, and she mustn't find you in this state. 
 Away, I tell you." 
 
 Sophy looked at him as if she had something to say, but 
 she left it unsaid, and withdrew into the inner room. 
 
 "I'm deuced glad it's got over," mentally ejaculated 
 Musgrave as he was left to himself. " If I hadn't stopped 
 the matter at the onset, there would have been no end of 
 bother with her. Sooner or later she must have learnt the 
 truth, and now she is aware that she is entirely in my power 
 she'll be more manageable. If not well, I won't think of 
 that just yet." 
 
 Half-an-hour afterwards, when Celia returned, accom- 
 panied by Mrs. Flaxyard and Tiffany, they found him 
 lounging on the sofa, smoking a cheroot and reading 
 Galignani. To judge from his looks, no one would have 
 suspected that anything had disturbed him. All traces of 
 anger had disappeared from his handsome countenance. 
 Little recked he of the anguish endured by poor Sophy, 
 who was on her knees in the next room, praying fervently 
 for strength and guidance. Once, feeling curious, he had 
 gone to the door, but finding it fastened, he gave himself no 
 further concern about her. 
 
 On the entrance of the three ladies, he entered into a 
 lively chat with them, and listened to the details of their 
 visit to Madame Frontin's with the greatest apparent 
 interest Rather surprised that Sophy did not make her 
 appearance, as she must have heard their voices and 
 laughter, Celia went in search of her, and, after a little un- 
 expected delay, obtained admittance to the inner room. 
 Here she remained some minutes, during which Captain 
 Musgrave continued his discourse with Tiffany. When 
 Celia came forth again her countenance was changed in its 
 expression. 
 
 "My sister hopes you will excuse her," she said. "She 
 feels very unwell quite unequal to conversation." 
 
 " Dear me I I'm excessively sorry to hear it," cried Mrs. 
 
68 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 Flaxyard, in a commiserating tone. " Is there anything we 
 can do for her ? " 
 
 " Let me go in to her," said Tiffany. " I'm sure I can 
 manage to cheer her up." 
 
 "Thank you, my love, no," rejoined Celia. "She will 
 be best kept perfectly quiet." 
 
 " Well, say all that's kind to her from us," observed Mrs. 
 Flaxyard. " I hope we shall see her again later on in the 
 day." 
 
 Hereupon the two ladies took their departure. 
 
 " Scrope," said Celia, as soon as they were gone, " I fear 
 you and Sophy have had a quarrel." 
 
 "We have had a few words," he replied, carelessly. 
 " That confounded Myddleton Pomfret is in Paris, and I 
 spoke to her rather angrily about him. I hate the fellow, 
 as you know. Go and see what you can do with her." 
 
 " Shall I tell her you're very sorry for being so cross ? " 
 remarked Celia. 
 
 "Yes, do. You had better have dinner in your own 
 room to-day, for I'm sure Sophy won't go out. I am going 
 to Vincennes. On my return I shall dine at Brebon's. I 
 may look in at the Palais Royal, where they have a laugh- 
 able piece. Au revoir /" 
 
 Putting on his hat and gloves, and lighting another 
 cheroot, he went out, while Celia re-entered her sister's 
 room. 
 

 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MR. FLAXYARD IS AGAIN MADE USEFUL. 
 
 |HE sisters had been alone together nearly an hour, 
 during which scarcely a word had passed between 
 them, when a tap was heard at the door of the 
 principal room, and going to see who was there, 
 Celia found Mr. Flaxyard. It was evident from his manner 
 that the old gentleman had something important to com- 
 municate, and without preface he told Celia that he wished 
 to see her sister. 
 
 " I am afraid you can't see her just now, Mr. Flaxyard," 
 Celia replied. "She is very unwell. Can I convey a 
 message to her ? " 
 
 "No, thank you. I have a word to say to her in private. 
 Pray tell her I am here. She will see me." 
 
 " I'm by no means sure of it. But we can but try," re- 
 joined Celia, wondering what he could have to say. 
 
 With this she went into the inner room, and the result 
 proved that the old gentleman was right, for almost 
 immediately afterwards Sophy came forth. She looked 
 pale as death, and it was easy to perceive she had been 
 weeping. 
 
 " I am very sorry to intrude upon you, Mrs. Musgrave," 
 said Flaxyard, in accents of profound commiseration, "but 
 I know you will excuse me. I have just seen " 
 
 A glance of caution from Sophy caused him to lower his 
 voice, and he added : 
 
 " I have just seen Mr. Myddleton Pomfret." 
 
 " Has he said anything further to you ? " cried Sophy. 
 
 It was now the old gentleman's turn to enjoin caution. 
 
 Glancing significantly towards the inner room, he replied, 
 in a low voice : 
 
 " He has charged me to give this letter to you, Madam." 
 
 Sophy trembled so violently that she could scarcely hold 
 the letter which he placed in her hand. 
 
70 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 "I promised to bring him an answer," said the old 
 gentleman, watching her with deep interest. 
 
 With trembling fingers Sophy opened the letter, but a 
 film gathered before her eyes, and prevented her for a 
 moment from distinguishing the writing. At last she read 
 as follows ; 
 
 " I beg you to grant me an interview, and without delay. 
 It is absolutely necessary that I should give you some 
 explanation before leaving Paris. To-morrow I shall be far 
 away. 
 
 " It might compromise you were I to present myself at 
 your apartments, and there would be risk of an unpleasant 
 encounter were I even to enter the hotel. I have therefore, 
 made such arrangements as I trust will prevent accident, 
 and save you trouble. 
 
 " In the court-yard of the hotel you will find a carriage 
 waiting for you. The coachman will drive you to the Bois 
 de Boulogne, whither I shall precede you, and will set you 
 down at a spot in the Ale'e cle Longchamps, which I have 
 described to him. Arrived there, you will alight. Enter 
 the wood on the left, and you will find me. 
 
 "Do not refuse my request, It is the last I shall prefer 
 to you. We shall only meet to exchange an eternal adieu ! " 
 
 There was no signature to the letter. 
 
 So much was Sophy overcome by its perusal/ that she 
 would have given vent to her distress if the old gentleman 
 had not checked her. 
 
 " Recollect that your sister is in the next room," he 
 said, " and that there is a very thin partition between us." 
 
 When Sophy had in some degree mastered her emotions, 
 he inquired : 
 
 " What answer shall I return to him ? " 
 
 "I cannot write," she replied. "But tell him," she 
 added, with a great effort " tell him I will come." 
 
 " I am glad you have, so decided," he replied earnestly. 
 " I am sure you need not fear to meet him. I will convey 
 your message to him instantly." 
 
 So saying, he bowed and withdrew. 
 
 The noise caused by shutting the door announced his; 
 
Mr. Flaxy ard is again Made Useful. 7 1 
 
 departure to Celia, who at once issued from the inner 
 room. The liveliest curiosity was painted on her counte- 
 nance. 
 
 "Well, am I to learn the meaning of this mysterious 
 visit ? " she cried. 
 
 " I am going out immediately that is all I have to tell 
 you," rejoined Sophy. 
 
 " Going out ! " cried the other, in astonishment " Where 
 to?" 
 
 "To the Bois de Boulogne, to meet Mr. Myddleton Pom- 
 fret," replied Sophy, calmly. 
 
 " Well, I declare I never heard of anything so shocking ! " 
 exclaimed Celia, staring at her with the utmost astonish- 
 ment. " And you look as innocent as if wholly unaware of 
 the impropriety of the proceeding. What will Scrope 
 say ? " 
 
 " He will know nothing about it." 
 
 " There you are mistaken. I shall make a point of telling 
 him." 
 
 " Do as you think proper. I shall go. You may 
 accompany me if you choose." 
 
 " That renders the step less objectionable. Mind, I 
 protest very strongly against it. But since you are resolved 
 to go, you shan't go alone. I may as well tell you that 
 Scrope is gone to Vincennes, and won't return till late, 
 as he means to dine at Breton's, and go to the theatre 
 in the Palais Royal afterwards, so you needn't fear meeting 
 him." 
 
 Scarcely noticing what was said, Sophy hastily made the 
 necessary preparations for going out. Celia used equal des- 
 patch, and both sisters were ready at the same moment. 
 
 Though she had screwed her courage to the sticking- 
 point, Sophy felt considerable trepidation as she descended 
 the great staircase. As usual, a number of persons were upon 
 it, but there was not an acquaintance among them. 
 
 On gaining the court-yard she perceived a handsome dark 
 coupe, standing a little in advance of the other equipages, 
 and the coachman, who was evidently on the alert, seemed 
 at once to recognise her. As she approached, he called 
 out to a page in the livery of the hotel to open the carriage 
 door. 
 
72 Myddleion Pomfret. 
 
 No sooner were the two ladies seated inside the coupe, 
 than without waiting for orders the coachman drove through 
 the broad porte cochere, and then along the boulevart in the 
 direction of the Madeleine. There is scarcely an hour in 
 the day when this part of the Boulevart des Capucines is not 
 crowded with carriages, omnibuses, and vehicles of all sorts, 
 but the ladies met with no interruption, and were soon 
 speeding along the gay Champs Elyse'es. Numberless 
 carriages and equestrians were here to be seen, but Sophy 
 was too much absorbe'd by her own painful reflections to 
 pay any attention to them. She sat as far back as she could 
 in the carnage. Celia, however, enjoyed the brilliant 
 spectacle, and kept continually calling her sister's attention 
 to some splendid equipage or to some marvellous toilette. 
 But in vain ; Sophy never raised her eyes. 
 
 At length the superb Avenue de I'lmpe'ratice was 
 traversed amid an undiminished throng of carriages, and 
 passing through the Porte Dauphine, the ladies entered the 
 crowded Bois. 
 
 Skirting the lower lake, they took a winding road on the 
 right, which soon brought them to the Alle'e de Longchamps, 
 along which they proceeded. 
 
 Presently they reached a thick part of the wood, and the 
 coachman stopped at a spot on the left of the road. 
 
 "Here I am to meet him," said Sophy, looking very 
 pale, but very determined. " This is the place of rendez- 
 vous." 
 
 " Are you going to alight ? " inquired Celia. 
 
 " Yes," replied Sophy, opening the door of the carriage. 
 
 Both got out, and striking into a little path which lay 
 before them, entered the wood. 
 
 They had not proceeded far, when the tall dark figure of 
 a man could be distinguished among the trees, about fifty 
 yards off. It was evident that he had seen them, but on 
 perceiving that Sophy was not alone, had retreated. 
 
 "Wait for me here," said Sophy. "You cannot be 
 present at the interview." 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE MEETING. 
 
 jjHE person whom Sophy expected to meet had re- 
 tired into a side-path on the right, leading into a 
 thicker part of the wood, and on reaching this 
 path she beheld' him about twenty or thirty paces 
 off, moving slowly on in the opposite direction. The light 
 sound of her footsteps caught his ear, and he turned. 
 
 It was he ! 
 
 Yes, it was he, whom she had so long mourned as lost ; 
 whom she never expected to behold again on earth ; and 
 who was brought back only to be taken away. 
 
 Yes, it was he. Anxiety and the influences of a fierce 
 climate had done their work upon him. He looked full ten 
 years older than when he had disappeared. His lofty figure 
 was wasted, but still symmetrical; his countenance bore 
 traces of suffering, and seemed stamped with settled gloom, 
 but it had not lost its noble outline. Changed he might be 
 to others, but to her he was unaltered. While gazing at his 
 features, and feeling those well-remembered eyes fixed upon 
 her with an unutterable expression of tenderness, pity, and 
 reproach, she ceased almost to breathe, and must have fallen 
 to the ground if he had not flown to her assistance. 
 
 Return to entire consciousness, which did not take place 
 under a couple of minutes, was evidenced by a profound sigh 
 proceeding from the very depths of her breast. For a 
 moment only did she -look into his face. For a moment only 
 did she feel the contact of his arm. A thrill of horror then 
 pervaded her frame, and collecting all her energies, she 
 withdrew from his support. 
 
 It seemed as if the unhappy pair had only come together 
 to mingle their tears. He had much to say, but his voice 
 was suffocated by emotion. Sophy spoke first. 
 
 " I dare not ask your forgiveness, Julian/' she said 3 in 
 
74 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 accents that pierced his heart like points of steel, " for the 
 irreparable wrong I have done you, thought it was done 
 unwittingly. I well know that forgiveness for a fault like 
 mine is impossible, but as I know you to be just and 
 generous, I feel you will not utterly condemn me." 
 
 " Condemn you, Sophy ! " he cried. " I do not even 
 reproach you. How can I do so when I alone am to blame ? 
 I do not attempt to exculpate myself. I am the cause of all 
 the misery that afflicts us both. Had it been possible, the 
 terrible truth should have been concealed from you. But it 
 is necessary you should be made aware of the exact position 
 in which you are placed, in order that a worse calamity may 
 be avoided." 
 
 " What worse calamity can there be than that which I now 
 endure ? For me there is no more hope in this world. I must 
 expiate my offence in tears and penitence. Oh, why were 
 you not more explicit ? Why did you allow me to remain 
 so long in ignorance of the truth ? Why did you allow me 
 to commit this crime ? " 
 
 " I can offer no excuse," he rejoined, in a sombre tone. 
 " As I am the author of the crime, so ought I to bear the 
 punishment, and I hope Heaven will spare you, however 
 severely it may afflict me. But I will try to explain the 
 motives of my conduct, though I feel it to be wholly in- 
 defensible. The history of the last few years of my life will 
 be quickly told, and it is proper you should hear it, Else 
 you cannot judge me rightly." 
 
 He paused for a moment and then went on : 
 
 " On that dread night which you cannot fail to remember, 
 and which it pains me to recal, when I was environed by 
 difficulties, and when I thought I had forfeited your love, 
 my first desperate impulse was to end my woes by self- 
 destruction. What, indeed had I to live for ? But suddenly, 
 and as if by some merciful interposition, my ideas changed, 
 and I was spared this crime at least. Picturing to myself 
 how I would act if I could begin life anew, I came at last to 
 the determination of carrying out the plan I had con- 
 ceived. You know how I executed the project, or can 
 guess, so it is not needful to enter into details." 
 
 "You executed it so well, that you imposed upon me as 
 upon all others," she remarked, " But if you had taken mQ 
 
The Meeting. 75 
 
 into your confidence, Julian, you would have spared me 
 frightful suffering." 
 
 " Had I done so, my project would have failed. It was 
 owing to your entire ignorance of the scheme that it suc- 
 ceeded so well. But do not imagine that I did not feel for 
 you profoundly. I did. Nevertheless, my resolution re- 
 mained unshaken. I had taken all necessary precautions, 
 and concealed a change of attire in the copse bordering the 
 lake. I had also a sufficient sum of money for any purpose. 
 Within three hours after my plunge into the lake, I was 
 seated in an express train, and on the way to London." 
 
 u And I had given you up for lost, and was with those 
 who sought for your body," she rejoined. " Oh ! Julian, if 
 you had seen me then, you would have pitied me. You 
 would not have left me." 
 
 "I should not. Therefore I fled. The plan I had 
 conceived was to go out to India to Madras where I had 
 a near relative, Mr. Bracebridge, a prosperous merchant, on 
 whose friendship I could depend. I was obliged to halt for 
 a day in London, in order to procure the necessary outfit 
 for my journey, but I took care to keep out of the way of my 
 old acquaintances. I put up at the hotel near the London 
 Bridge station, and assumed the name of Myddleton 
 Pomfret, which I have ever since retained, and which I shall 
 now never discontinue. As soon as I had made all 
 preparations, I crossed the Channel, and proceeded, without 
 stoppage, to Marseilles. If I had laid out my plan before- 
 hand, it could not have been better contrived. All fell out 
 well. Within twenty-four hours after my arrival at Marseilles 
 the Overland Mail started for Alexandria. Again I was 
 favoured. Not one among my fellow-passengers knew me. 
 But the Times had been brought on board, and in it I read 
 the account of my own ' accidental death/ and heard some 
 comments upon it, which made me laugh bitterly. I learnt 
 the estimation in which I was held. The voyage was speedy 
 and prosperous, and in due time I arrived at Madras. I 
 had not miscalculated my influence with Mr. Bracebridge. 
 I concealed nothing from him. At first he was very angry, 
 pointed out the consequences of the rash and inconsiderate 
 step I had taken, and insisted upon my immediate return, 
 but in the end he yielded to my entreaties, and consented 
 
76 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 to aid my plan. This he did most effectually by making me 
 a partner in his house. His confidence in me was not mis- 
 placed. I wanted knowledge and experience, and, above 
 all, habits of business, but I made up for these deficiencies by 
 untiring industry, and soon mastered my new position. Mr. 
 Bracebridge had reason to congratulate himself on possessing 
 a good working partner, for in a couple of years I had helped 
 him to double his business." 
 
 " During all this time did you bestow no thought on the 
 unhappy wife you had deserted, and who mourned you as 
 dead ? " asked Sophy. 
 
 " You were never absent from my thoughts," he rejoined. 
 "It was for you that I toiled for you that I sought to realise a 
 fortune. And as my endeavours promised to be successful, 
 I persuaded myself that we should not long be kept apart 
 Fool, madman that I was to suppose you could, or would, 
 wait for me ! I should have returned sooner, but cir- 
 cumstances delayed my departure. Mr. Bracebridge was 
 carried off suddenly by cholera, and the entire management 
 of the business devolved upon me, for my other partner took 
 no active interest in it. But though I could not return, I 
 resolved no longer to defer the execution of my scheme 
 the first step being the payment of my debts. From a trusty 
 correspondent, who, however, was wholly ignorant of my 
 motives for making the inquiry, I had obtained constant in- 
 formation respecting you, and knew that you were residing 
 in Yorkshire with your father in perfect retirement. I there- 
 fore wrote to you, and since you received my letters, it is 
 not necessary to enter into further details respecting them. 
 Neither will I attempt to describe my transports of delight 
 at the sight of your well-known handwriting. Had you seen 
 me press your letter to my lips, you could not have doubted 
 my love for you." 
 
 Here he paused, and a minute or two elapsed before 
 he could resume his narrative. 
 
 " I now come to a painful portion of my story," he said, 
 evidently speaking with great effort; "but it must be told. 
 At the time of his death, Mr. Bracebridge was a widower, 
 having lost his wife some years before. He had only one child, 
 a daughter, to whom he was devotedly attached, and he left 
 her all his property, appointing me her guardian, and with 
 
Meeting. 77 
 
 his last breath committing her to my charge. I promised to 
 watch over her, and I have kept my promise." 
 
 Sophy uttered a slight exclamation. 
 
 " When she sustained this heavy bereavement, Eva 
 Bracebridge was not much more than seventeen, but in 
 appearance and manner she was a woman. She had not 
 long arrived from England, where she had been educated, 
 and her surprising beauty created an extraordinary sen- 
 sation at Madras. Already she had received many offers 
 for her hand, but she declined them. Naturally, I was 
 thrown much into her society, and her vivacity served to 
 dispel the gloom that frequently beset me. She often rallied 
 me upon my melancholy, declaring that I looked like the 
 Corsair or the Giaour, or some other of Lord Byron's moody 
 heroes. ' Come, confess, what have you done, Mr. Pomfret ? ' 
 she would say playfully. ' Something dreadful, I'm certain.' 
 It may sound like vanity, but I know you will acquit me of 
 any such feeling, when I say that a suspicion sometimes 
 crossed me that, most unintentionally, I had excited a 
 tender interest in this fair young creature's breast. Had not 
 my heart been engaged I could not have resisted her 
 fascinations." 
 
 " Did you resist them, Julian ? " said Sophy. 
 
 " You need not ask the question," he rejoined, coldly. 
 " Prepare yourself. You will have need of all your courage 
 for what I am about to relate. At this juncture the Bengal 
 Rifles were quartered at Madras. Among the officers was 
 one who was accounted exceedingly handsome, and who 
 plumed himself upon his successes with your sex. He had 
 already caused two or three serious scandals, which were 
 much talked about, but which he fancied redounded to his 
 credit. Mr. Bracebridge, who was very hospitable, like 
 every Indian merchant, naturally invited him, and he was 
 introduced to Eva. He could not fail to be struck with 
 her beauty, and was at no pains to conceal the impression 
 it produced upon him. Mr. Bracebridge kept almost open 
 house, and having been once invited, the enamoured officer 
 came when he pleased, and had abundant opportunities of 
 practising all the arts he was a master of to win Eva's 
 affections. But she cared nothing for him, and mortified 
 Jiim /bitterly by her indifference." 
 
7 8 Myddldon Pomfret. 
 
 "Oh, she did well," cried Sophy. "Would I had acted 
 so!" 
 
 " In spite of Eva's manifest coldness to him a coldness 
 almost amounting to aversion he persevered," pursued 
 Pomfret, becoming still more sombre as he proceeded. 
 " He was unaccustomed to defeat, and persuaded himself 
 he should triumph in the end. How was an inexperienced 
 girl to resist him when so many artful women had succumbed? 
 He was still occupied in the fruitless attempt when Mr. 
 Bracebridge died, and, as I have already stated, Eva became 
 my ward. Up to this point her beauty alone had influenced 
 her admirer, but now she had the additional attraction of 
 wealth, a large fortune being assured to her on coming of 
 age, or on marriage, by her father's will. The prize must 
 be won, but his chances of gaining it were even slighter 
 than before, and at Eva's solicitation I begged him to desist 
 from his suit, telling him it was utterly hopeless. He was 
 very angry, and said, in an insolent tone, ' I see through 
 your design. You don't like to part with the girl. You 
 flatter yourself she loves you. But you're mistaken. I'll 
 have her yet.' It was with difficulty that I controlled my- 
 self, but desiring, for Eva's sake, to avoid a quarrel with 
 him, I made no reply to his taunts, and perhaps attributing 
 my forced calmness to cowardice, he went away with a 
 menacing and contemptuous look. I thought I had done 
 with him. But the worst was to come. What I have now 
 to tell will prove that I was justified in writing of him as I 
 did to you." 
 
 " I doubt it not," said Sophy, sadly. 
 
 "Though Eva had seen but little of her father, she 
 suffered much from his death, and I suggested her return to 
 England, but she declined, saying she liked India, and 
 would remain out for another year, or till such time as I 
 could take her back, for I had often spoken to her of my 
 own wish to return. To this I could offer no objection; 
 but as I thought change of scene really desirable for her, 
 I advised her to go to Ootacumand, on the Neilgherry Hills, 
 where her poor father had possessed a charming retreat, 
 which now, of course, belonged to her. She consented, but 
 on the express understanding that I would shortly join her. 
 Next day she set out on the journey, which was to occupy 
 
The Meeting. fy 
 
 about a week. As it turned out, I could not have acted 
 more unwisely than in recommending the journey. A 
 detachment of the Bengal Rifles was stationed at a fort on 
 the Neilgherry Hills, and the officer who had so long 
 persecuted Eva with his addresses was proceeding in the 
 same direction as herself, and at the same time. They 
 travelled by the -same route, stopped at the same places, but 
 though they met daily, Eva would never exchange a word 
 with her importunate admirer. He hovered about her 
 palanquin, volunteered assistance when she crossed the 
 deep bed of some mountain nullah, halted when her 
 bearers halted, toiled up the steep ghaut by her side, but 
 he did not succeed in winning a smile from her. On 
 arriving at her destination she wrote to me complaining 
 bitterly of the annoyance to which she had been subjected, 
 and entreating me to come to her, as she did not like 
 remaining at Ootacumand without my protection. Thus 
 urged, I could not refuse, and set out at once, with the 
 fixed determination of calling the obnoxious personage to 
 strict account." 
 
 Sophy made a low and inaudible remark. 
 
 " I made so much haste on the journey, that, late on the 
 fifth day after quitting Madras, I arrived at Ootacumand. 
 As it was past midnight, I left my attendants to shift for 
 themselves, and went on alone to the bungalow in which 
 my ward was lodged. It was beautifully situated in the 
 midst of a large compound, or enclosure, overlooking steep 
 mountain precipices clothed with a thick jungle, which at 
 this hour resounded with the prolonged howls, fierce yells, 
 and savage roaring of various wild beasts. A glorious moon 
 was shining such a moon as can only be seen in that 
 resplendent clime and on entering the compound I paused 
 to look around and admire the beauty of the scene, rendered 
 doubly beautiful at that magic hour. I knew the place well. 
 Twice before I had been there to seek health from the 
 bracing air. On either side there were mango-groves, and 
 nearer the bungalow, with its white walls and green 
 verandahs glittQring in the brilliant moonbeams, grew some 
 tall palm-trees. The house was surrounded by a garden 
 laid out in the Eastern style. The profound stillness of the 
 night was only broken, as I have said, by the ceaseless 
 
8o Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 howling of the wild beasts in the jungle ; but I was too 
 familiar with such sounds to allow them to disturb me. I 
 remained standing under a tree for a few minutes, placidly 
 contemplating the lovely scene. Suddenly my ear caught a 
 slight sound, and I perceived a tall figure issue from the 
 grove and proceed quickly towards the house. In another 
 moment, and before I could recover from the surprise into 
 which I was thrown by the unlooked-for incident, the 
 person in question had gained the verandah and entered 
 the house by an open window. I could not be mistaken in 
 him. Instinctive dislike would have told me who he was, 
 even if his military attire, tall stature, and peculiar bearing 
 had not betrayed him. What was his object? I did not 
 dare to ask myself, but I felt sure he was an unlicensed 
 intruder. A thrill of fierce indignation shot through my 
 frame. Speeding towards the bungalow, I passed through 
 the open window and entered a room, which bore evidence 
 from a hundred eloquent trifles that Eva had been there 
 before retiring to rest. An inner door was open. In 
 another instant I was in a gallery communicating with the 
 sleeping-chambers. Hitherto I had seen no one, but the 
 sound of my footsteps had alarmed the intruder, and just as 
 I reached the gallery he came from out an ante-room. 
 There we were face to face. The villain's countenance, 
 made ghastly by the white moonlight, showed how terribly 
 he was disconcerted by the interruption. 'For what 
 infamous purpose have you come here ? ' I cried, in a voice 
 hoarse with passion. ' Speak at once.' ' I have no ex- 
 planation to give to you,' he rejoined. ' Put any con- 
 struction you please on my presence. I did not come here 
 uninvited.' Exasperated beyond all endurance by this vile 
 insinuation, I rushed towards him, meaning to fell him to 
 the ground. 
 
 But he was not unprepared for the attack. Stepping 
 back he drew a small pocket-pistol, and threatened to fire if 
 I advanced. But I threw myself upon him, and in the 
 struggle the pistol went off, the ball grazing my arm, and 
 inflicting a slight hurt, which added to my fury. Seizing 
 him by the throat, I should probably have strangled him if 
 the report of the pistol had not alarmed the house, and 
 brought several native servants instantly to the spot. In 
 
The Meeting. i 
 
 another minute, Eva, wrapped in a robe de chamber, 
 appeared on the scene. 'Let me go/ cried the villain, 
 trying vainly to free himself from my grasp. 'I will give 
 you any satisfaction you like to-morrow/ ' You shall not go 
 till you have apologised for this outrage/ I replied. And I 
 forced him down to Eva's feet. What he said, while in this 
 abject posture, I know not. But she entreated me to let 
 him go, and I released him. As he rose to his feet he 
 turned on me with an aspect of fiercest menace, and said, in 
 a deep voice, ' We shall have an account to settle.' c It shall 
 be settled now/ I replied. ' Drive this fellow forth/ I added 
 in Hindostanee, to the native servants who were standing 
 around. ' He is a scoundrel, and does not deserve to be 
 treated like a sahib.' Several of them were armed with 
 bamboos, and no sooner was the order given than a shower 
 of blows drove him from the place." 
 
 " How could he survive this degradation ? " cried Sophy. 
 
 "He bore it meekly enough/ 7 rejoined Pomfret, with 
 stern contempt, "for, despite his threats, I heard nothing 
 more of him. Not one of his brother-officers would have 
 supported him. But he felt that his secret was safe, because 
 he knew that consideration for Eva, whose name was not to 
 be mixed up in such an affair, would keep me silent. I 
 thought I had done with him for ever. Bat I was wrong. 
 Chance gave him an opportunity of vengeance." 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! " cried Sophy, " I, who would have laid 
 down my life for you, have been made the instrument of his 
 revenge. Oh, what a revelation you have made to me, 
 Julian ! Oh, what a weak, contemptible creature I appear 
 in my own eyes! Oh, that I could have been the dupe of 
 such a man ! " 
 
 " Knowing what you now know, Sophy, imagine what my 
 feelings must have been when you first informed me that 
 you had made the acquaintance of one whom of all men I 
 would have kept from your sight. Till then I was not 
 aware that Captain Musgrave had returned to England, for 
 after that night I had not concerned myself about him. A 
 foreboding of ill struck me, but, though alarmed, I would 
 not attend to it. Eva was unwell. The villain's infamous 
 conduct gave her a great shock, and she had not recovered 
 from it. Otherwise, I should have come to England a.t 
 6 
 
82 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 once. But I had no serious apprehension, for I had too 
 much confidence in you." 
 
 " How wofully was your confidence misplaced, Julian ! " 
 she cried. 
 
 "Your next letter tore the bandage rudely from my eyes, 
 and showed me the imminence of the danger. My helpless- 
 ness to avert the dire calamity added to the intensity of my 
 suffering. I would almost have bartered my soul to 
 annihilate the space between us. All my plans were 
 destroyed in a moment, and by the hand of him I most 
 detested. Eva chanced to be with me at the time, and was 
 all anxiety to learn the cause of my distress, but I could not 
 satisfy her. I told her I had received bad news that a 
 terrible peril threatened one very dear to me and that my 
 sole chance of averting it was by immediate return to 
 England. I should start at once. She besought me to 
 allow her to accompany me ; but in that case I must have 
 confided the secret of my life to her, and I was obliged 
 to refuse. She taxed me with cruelty. But I was firm. I 
 started by the first mail, and left her behind, half broken- 
 hearted.' 1 
 
 " She loves you, Julian," cried Sophy, with a pang keener 
 than any she had previously experienced. 
 
 " I need not tell you of my anxieties during the voyage," 
 he continued. " Alternately I was buoyed up by hope, or 
 plunged into the depths of despair. My excitement was so 
 great that I suffered from a nervous fever, which increased 
 as I travelled from Marseilles to London. All the way I 
 was constantly asking myself one question, 'Shall I be in 
 time to save her?' Arrived at last at Hertford Street, 
 I received the fatal response, and learnt that I was too 
 late." 
 
 " Yes, too late ! too late ! " cried Sophy, distractedly. 
 "All this crushing misery might have been spared if you 
 had but told me the truth in the letter which you sent me 
 from Marseilles. What am I to do, Julian? In pity 
 counsel me ! " 
 
 "I dare not cannot counsel you," he rejoined. "You 
 must act as your own feelings dictate." 
 
 " Oh, this is cruel, Julian ! I know that I am nothing to 
 you now. I know that the fault I have committed is irre- 
 
The Meeting. 83 
 
 parable ; but you loved me once, and by that love I conjure 
 you to help me." 
 
 " My heart bleeds for you, Sophy," he rejoined. "But I 
 repeat, I cannot advise you. Think well before you take 
 any desperate step." 
 
 " I understand," she cried, bitterly. " You fear that 1 
 am about to throw myself upon you, and you repulse me. 
 The suspicion is unworthy of you, Julian. I have no such 
 thought. I shall never seek to pass the bar that separates 
 us. But in this frightful extremity I have no one to appeal 
 to but you. You see before you a poor, bewildered, terri- 
 fied creature, who supplicates you on her knees for aid, and 
 yet you will not help her." 
 
 " Rise, Madam," said Pomfret, with forced coldness, and 
 raising her as he spoke. " It is not fitting you should kneel 
 to me." 
 
 " You rebuke me justly, Julian," she said, in a tone of 
 resignation. " Heaven help me ! I have no friend left." 
 
 " There you are wrong," he rejoined. " You have a true 
 friend in mej and always will have one. But even / shrink 
 from the awful responsibility of counselling you at a 
 juncture like the present.'* 
 
 " My resolution is taken," she said. " I have left Captain 
 Musgrave for ever." 
 
 " I neither approve the step, nor attempt to dissuade you 
 from it. But whatever course you resolve upon, act with 
 prudence. A terrible fault has been committed. Do not 
 add another to it. You will inflict no punishment upon 
 Captain Musgrave by leaving him. He is too heartless 
 to feel your loss, and may be glad to be freed from the 
 restraint." 
 
 " Not even to punish him would I remain with him," she 
 cried. " I shall try to find out some secure retreat. You 
 have furnished me with the means of flight, and I thank you 
 for doing so." 
 
 "The crisis has come sooner than I anticipated," he 
 said. "But on one point you need feel no uneasiness. 
 You shall never want resources. The income you have 
 recently enjoyed shall be continued." 
 
 " Impossible ! " she exclaimed. " I cannot accept it. 
 Without the money you have so generously sent me, t 
 62 
 
fp4 Myddtetoft Pomfret. 
 
 might be unable to carry out my design, therefore I will 
 avail myself of it. But I can be under no further pecuniary 
 obligation to you." 
 
 "As you will. But should occasion arise, you may de- 
 pend on me. It is my intention to return almost im- 
 mediately to India ; but you know how to address me there, 
 and can easily communicate with me." 
 
 "And you mean to go back to India at once?" she* 
 cried, unable to conceal her disappointment. " I thought 
 you would have remained in England." 
 
 u What have I to do in England now ? " he exclaimed, 
 with mournful bitterness. " I have no longer any interest 
 in the country. All whom I have known there, suppose me 
 dead, and I do not design to undeceive them. They have 
 long since forgotten me, and would feel little pleasure at my 
 resurrection. Could the dearest friend we have lost come 
 to life again, we should accord him but a cold welcome. 
 However, I shall not try the experiment. Doubtless the 
 change is in myself, and something may be owing to my 
 frame of mind, but London seems strangely altered altered 
 for the worse since I left it. I felt like an utter stranger in 
 its streets. I have business to transact there which may de- 
 tain me for a week or two, and then I shall set out for India 
 never, I think, to return. 
 
 " May you be happy there, Julian ! " she sighed. 
 
 " I do not expect much happiness, unless I can purchase 
 oblivion," he rejoined. 
 
 " But you have Eva to care for," she remarked, trembling 
 as she spoke. 
 
 "She will leave me soon, and then I shall be utterly 
 desolate. But this painful interview must be brought to an 
 end. Have you aught more to say to me ? " 
 
 " Nothing," she rejoined, sadly. " I will not ask you to 
 think of me, for it were best to forget me. But be sure I 
 shall never cease to think of you." 
 
 " You are quite resolved to leave Captain Musgrave ? " 
 
 "Quite," she rejoined firmly. "I shall go I know not 
 whither but I shall not return to him." 
 
 " You ought not to abandon Celia. Take her with you." 
 
 "Such is my intention," she replied. "When she is 
 made acquainted with my sad position, I am sure she will 
 
The Meeting. 85- 
 
 attend me in my flight. She owes me some reparation ; 
 since, but for her persuasion, I should not have made this 
 fatal marriage." 
 
 He heard not what she said. Without a look without 
 a farewell wbrd he was gone. 
 
 A few minutes elapsed before Sophy found her way back 
 to her sister, who was impatiently awaiting her. 
 
 A long and earnest conversation then took place between 
 them. At first, Celia strenuously opposed her sister's 
 design, but eventually she yielded, and consented to 
 accompany her. 
 
 A certain plan being agreed upon, they returned to the 
 coupe, and, entering it, bade the coachman drive to the 
 Pare de Monceaux. Arrived there, they alighted and dis- 
 missed him. 
 
 After remaining for a short time in this exquisite garden, 
 they proceeded to the gates opening upon the Boulevart 
 Malesherbes, where they engaged another coupe', and drove 
 to the Hotel du Chemin de Fer du Nord. 
 
 ISnfc of tf)? 
 
BOOK III. 
 EVA BRACEBRIDGE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THAT NIGHT. 
 
 ] HAT night Captain Musgrave did not re-enter his 
 rooms at the Grand Hotel till late. 
 
 An evening to himself had convinced him that 
 a bachelor's life was far more congenial to his 
 tastes than that of a Benedict After dining well at Brebon's, 
 and passing two or three hours very much to his satisfaction 
 at the lively little theatre of the Palais Royal, he repaired by 
 way of the Rue Richelieu to the boulevarts, and thinking it 
 too soon to return to his hotel, as the night was extremely 
 fine, and the boulevarts still crowded, he extended his 
 stroll. 
 
 While passing the Cafd Napolitain, he was hailed by our 
 young acquaintances, Hornby and Rufus, who were seated 
 outside the cafe, refreshing themselves with ices, so he 
 stopped and took a chair beside them. They had just come 
 from the Concert Musard, which did not offer them half as 
 much attraction as Mabille, and then they began to narrate 
 their adventures during the day, to which Musgrave 
 vouchsafed to listen, while smoking an excellent cigar 
 supplied him by Hornby. 
 
 " After all, there , is no place for amusement like Paris," 
 remarked the captain; "but a married man is cut out of so 
 many pleasant things that he might as well be anywhere else. 
 I shan't prolong my stay beyond a day or two, but be off to 
 the shores of the Mediterranean/' 
 
That Night. 87 
 
 "Awfully dull work there, I should think. Won't suit 
 you," said Rufus. 
 
 " It will suit my wife," replied Musgrave. " Paris don't 
 agree with her." 
 
 " I was glad to see her out this afternoon," observed 
 Hornby. " I had heard from Tiff that she was unwell." 
 
 " I've been at Vincennes, and wasn't aware she had been 
 out," rejoined Musgrave, surprised. ft But I'm glad to hear 
 it. Where did you see her ? " 
 
 "In the Bois, with Miss Leycester," replied Hornby. 
 "They were in a dark coupd. They didn't see us, but we 
 saw them plainly enough, and tried to attract their attention, 
 but the coachman was driving rather quickly, and had gone 
 by in a minute." 
 
 "Later on we caught sight of them in the Pare de 
 Monceaux," said Rufus. " But, unluckily, we were unable 
 to join them." 
 
 The trio occupied their seats for some time longer, but 
 neither of Captain Musgrave's companions guessed from his 
 manner that he was angry at what they had told him. 
 
 When they returned together to the Grand Hotel it was 
 not far from midnight. Having made some arrangements 
 for sight-seeing on the morrow, to conclude with a dinner at 
 Riche's, they separated on the second landing of the great 
 staircase, Hornby and Rufus mounting to a higher story, 
 and Captain Musgrave proceeding to his own apartments. 
 
 No presentiment of ill crossed him as he unfastened the 
 door and let himself in. He was rather surprised to find 
 the room buried in darkness, but concluding that his wife 
 and Celia had long since retired to rest, he struck a match 
 and lighted a candle, when his eye fell upon a letter lying 
 on the table. 
 
 It was addressed to himself, and in his wife's handwriting. 
 He opened it with some misgiving. The very first words 
 startled him, as well they might. Thus he read : 
 
 " We have parted for ever. 
 
 " After what passed between us this morning, when I 
 learnt from your own lips the frightful position in which you 
 have placed me, you could not expect me to remain with 
 you longer. Were I to do so, I should be equally criminal 
 
88 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 with yourself. I have sinned in ignorance, but now that my 
 eyes are opened, I will sin no more. 
 
 " The exultation which you manifested at the success of 
 your vindictive scheme, changed the feelings which I had 
 previously entertained for you into horror and aversion. 
 Henceforth, I can only regard you as the destroyer of my 
 earthly happiness. 
 
 " Since it is impossible you can make reparation for what 
 you have done, you can never hope for my forgiveness. 
 Still, for the sake of another who is yet more deeply injured 
 than myself, I shall keep silence as to your infamous 
 conduct, unless forced in self-defence to speak out. 
 
 " Every present, however trifling, that you have made me 
 is left behind. I wish to have nothing to remind me of a 
 period of shame and dishonour. Would I could wholly 
 obliterate it from my memory ! 
 
 "It will be useless to follow me, or to attempt to discover 
 my retreat. Were you to find me, you would gain nothing. 
 Neither prayers nor threats will induce me to return. I will 
 die rather than hold further intercourse with one who has so 
 wickedly, so cruelly betrayed me. 
 
 " If I can, I will hide my sorrows and my shame 
 from the eyes of the world, and will strive by a life of 
 penitence to make my peace with Heaven. 
 
 " I know it is idle to appeal to your compassion, but 
 regard for yourself may prevent you from troubling me 
 further. Though cruelly used and deeply wronged, I nourish 
 no vindictive feelings against you. But desperation 
 may make me dangerous. 
 
 " Celia knows all, and accompanies me in my flight." 
 
 Captain Musgrave read this letter with mingled emotions 
 of alarm, vexation, and rage. Anger, however, predominated 
 over the other feelings. 
 
 Throwing down the letter, he gave vent to a deep 
 imprecation, which he levelled against the heads of his 
 unfortunate wife and Myddleton Pomfret ; entertaining not 
 a doubt in his own mind that the latter was the instigator of 
 Sophy's flight. 
 
 " This is an infernally vexatious occurrence," he exclaimed, 
 pacing to and fro within the rQom a " a^id upsets all my plans. 
 
That Night. 89 
 
 Were it not for this cursed Myddleton Pomfret, she might 
 have gone away and welcome, for I have quite lost my 
 liking for her. In the lesson I gave her this morning I 
 rather overdid it. I meant to frighten her, but it appears 
 that I roused the little spirit she possesses. A worm, they 
 say, will turn, and I suppose it will. Women are so difficult 
 to understand. My influence over her has been coun- 
 teracted by Pomfret, now she has found out who he is. She 
 has left me to return to him that's the long and the short 
 of it. My only surprise is that he should be idiot enough to 
 take her back. That Celia should have accompanied her 
 surprises me more than all the rest. I didn't think the girl 
 had been such a confounded fool." 
 
 It then occurred to him that he ought to ascertain that his 
 wife and her sister were really gone. Accordingly, he went 
 into the inner room. Subsequently to Sophy's hasty 
 departure, the chamber had been put in order by the 
 servants of the hotel, but several dresses hanging from the 
 rails, various articles/)f feminine requirement on the toilette- 
 table, trinkets, caskets, boxes, large and small, piled up in a 
 corner all plainly told that she had taken nothing with her. 
 Captain Musgrave was not easily affected by trifles. But 
 the sight of these objects gave him a sharp pang. 
 
 " Why the devil did she leave me ? " he cried. " Or, if she 
 must go, why couldn't she take her dresses with her? The 
 sight of them makes me sick." 
 
 After enduring another pang, and persuading himself that 
 his sensibilities were over-acute, he repaired to the chamber 
 latterly occupied by Celia, and found it in much the same 
 state as the other dresses lying about, articles on the 
 toilette-table, shoes and brodequins of most diminutive size. 
 She, too, had left all her things behind her. 
 
 " It's plain they've gone off in a desperate hurry," thought 
 Musgrave, as he gazed around. "I'm sorry to lose Celia," 
 he added, heaving a sigh; "she was an uncommonly lively 
 girl. I fancied she would have kept her sister right. But 
 women are all alike." 
 
 With this sage reflection he returned to the principal room, 
 and in order to calm his nerves and assist in the con- 
 sideration of the best course to be pursued, he lighted a 
 cheroot. After weighing the matter over, he came to the 
 
QO Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 conclusion that it was not worth while disturbing the house 
 at that time of night. So prudently resolving to defer any 
 steps he might deem it proper to take till the morrow, 
 he sought his couch and fell asleep much quicker than 
 most men, similarly circumstanced, would have been able 
 to do. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 NEXT MORNING^ 
 
 |HAT do you think, my dear?" cried Mrs. 
 Flaxyard, as her husband entered the room* 
 He had gone out before breakfast to take a 
 bath at one of the floating establishments on 
 the Seine. " What do you think ? I'm almost afraid to 
 tell you. Our charming friend, Mrs. Musgrave " 
 
 " Well, what of her ? " interrupted Flaxyard, impatiently. 
 
 "Let me finish, and you shall hear. You'll scarcely 
 believe it, though, when I tell you, for she's the very last 
 person one would have expected to commit such a foolish 
 act." 
 
 " What the deuce has she done ? " 
 
 " Nothing to make such a fuss about," interposed Tiffany, 
 with a laugh. " Only eloped from her husband-^- that's all." 
 
 "The deuce she has ! Well, I'm not surprised at it. ?? 
 
 "If you're not surprised, Mr. Flaxyard, I am, ? * said his 
 lady. "I thought them the happiest couple I ever met. 
 Why, they haven't been married a month ! ?? 
 
 " It's a thousand pities they were ever married at all," 
 cried old Flaxyard, dryly. 
 
 " That's easy to say now, pa," remarked Tiffany, " but I 
 have heard you express a very different opinion. You said 
 Mrs. Musgrave was a most lovely and amiable creature ? and 
 the captain a most fortunate man. ? ' 
 
 " That was before I learnt before I perceived, I mean 
 that they were not quite so happy as they appeared." 
 
 "I'm sure Captain Musgrave is very fascinating," said 
 Tiffany, "and deserves a better wife than he has found. 
 The faults must have been entirely on her side. Don't 
 you think so, ma ? " 
 
 " I'm not quite prepared to say that, my dear. But it 
 shows how one may be deceived by appearances/' 
 
92 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 " You don't know what you are talking about, you silly 
 girl," cried Flaxyard to his daughter. " My belief is that 
 Mrs. Musgrave has only left her husband." 
 
 " Well, ain't that eloping from him ? " 
 
 " Not exactly. She may have had good reasons for the 
 step she has taken. Mind, I don't attempt to justify her, 
 but it may be so. What has happened to Miss Leycester ? " 
 
 " That's the strangest part of the affair," rejoined Tiffany. 
 *' She has gone with her sister." 
 
 " What, Miss Leycester eloped too ! Now I'm satisfied. 
 That confirms my view of the case." 
 
 " If I'm not greatly mistaken, pa, you could give us some 
 explanation of this mysterious affair if you thought proper." 
 
 " Perhaps I might, but I don't choose." 
 
 Just then there was a tap at the door. 
 
 " Entrez ! " vociferated the old gentleman. 
 
 Conceive his astonishment, when, in answer to the 
 summons, Myddleton Pomfret stepped in. 
 
 The two ladies had never seen Mr. Pomfret before, but 
 were both greatly struck by his distinguished appearance, 
 and wondered who he possibly could be. He bowed 
 gravely to them, but did not advance far into the room. 
 
 " Bless my soul, Sir, is it you ? " cried Flaxyard. " You 
 are the very last person I expected to see." 
 
 " I must apologise for intruding upon you at this hour," 
 said Pomfret, again bowing to the ladies, "but I have 
 something important to say to you." 
 
 "We'll leave you with the gentleman, my dear," said 
 Mrs. Flaxyard, rising. 
 
 " Ay, do," replied her husband. " Go down to break- 
 fast in the salle-k-manger, and I'll join you as soon as I 
 can." 
 
 "Who is it, pa?" whispered Tiffany, who had never 
 removed her eyes from the handsome stranger. 
 
 But no notice being taken of the inquiry, she was obliged 
 to leave the room with her curiosity ungratified. 
 
 "Well, Sir," cried Flaxyard, as soon as they were alone, 
 " I needn't tell you what has happened. She's gone. But 
 pray understand that I won't stir another step in the matter. 
 I am sorry I have had anything to do with it." 
 
 "You won't object, perhaps, to my assuring you that I 
 
Next Morning. 93 
 
 am not an accessory to Mrs. Musgrave's flight," rejoined 
 Pomfret. " I shall also take it as a favour if you will 
 signify to Captain Musgrave that I am at the Hotel 
 Wagram, should he desire to communicate with me." 
 
 " Sorry I can't oblige you must decline. I won't affect 
 to deny that I have some idea who you are. Don't be 
 alarmed. Your secret is perfectly safe with me. I sym- 
 pathise with your unfortunate position, and I sympathise 
 yet more strongly with poor Mrs. Musgrave, but I won't be 
 dragged into the affair. It doesn't concern me in the least. 
 Allow me to say that I came to Paris with my family for 
 recreation, and not to be mixed up in a painful case with 
 which I have no concern. A fortnight ago I knew nothing 
 whatever of Captain and Mrs. Musgrave. And you, Sir, 
 are a still more recent acquaintance. I should like to be 
 of service to you if I could but I can't. However, I may 
 tender you a little friendly advice, and since it is well meant, 
 I hope you won't take it amiss. You're wrong to come here 
 at this juncture. Keep out of Captain Musgrave's way, 
 No need to provoke a quarrel you understand." 
 
 " Keep out of his way ! " cried Pomfret, so fiercely that 
 he made the other start. " It is for him to keep out of my 
 way. I came here for no other purpose than to let him 
 know, through you, where I am to be found. I won't allow 
 him to assert, as he might do, that I shun him. I will take 
 care that he shall know where to find me if he is so 
 inclined." 
 
 With this he turned to depart. Just then, a key was 
 heard in the lock, the door opened, and in came Hornby, 
 followed by Musgrave. 
 
 The latter recoiled for a moment, but quickly recovering 
 himself, sprang towards Pomfret, and a collision must have 
 occurred if Flaxyard had not thrown himself between 
 them. 
 
 " Keep the peace, gentlemen ! keep the peace ! " he cried. 
 "No fighting in this room. Shut the door instantly, 
 Hornby," he added to his son. 
 
 " How comes it that I find this person in your room, 
 Sir?" said Musgrave to Flaxyard. " I did not know you 
 were acquainted with him." 
 
 " I have only recently made Mr. Pomfret's acquaintance," 
 
94 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 replied the old gentleman, with a puzzled look, "and he 
 has done me the honour to call upon me." 
 
 " For what purpose ? " 
 
 " Really, I cannot answer that question, Captain." 
 
 " Tell him," interposed Pomfret. 
 
 " Well, then, since I must speak, I believe Mr. Pomfret's 
 principal object in coming here was to beg me to let you 
 know where he is to be found." 
 
 " He need not have taken the trouble. I am aware that 
 he is staying at the Hotel Wagram, and I am about to send 
 a friend to him." 
 
 "Perhaps I may be permitted to observe that I am 
 charged with the message," remarked Hornby. "I shall 
 be happy to wait on Mr. Pomfret at any hour that may suit 
 his convenience." 
 
 " Hold your tongue, Sir," said Flakyard to his son. 
 " Gentlemen," he added to the others, " for the poor lady's 
 sake for your own sakes this matter must not proceed 
 further. You will both understand why I urge a pacific 
 arrangement. If you desire it, I am ready to act as umpire 
 between you. But I must insist that the discussion be con- 
 ducted temperately." 
 
 " It's all very well to talk about conducting a discussion 
 temperately," said Hornby to his father. " Some allowance 
 ought to be made for the feelings of an injured husband. 
 No wonder Captain Musgrave should feel exasperated when 
 he sees before him the individual whom he supposes to have 
 been the instigator of his wife's flight." 
 
 "I have yet to learn that Captain Musgrave is an injured 
 husband," said Flaxyard. "I hope not. I believe not." 
 
 "I don't know what you consider an injured husband, 
 Sir," cried Musgrave, fiercely. "I feel certain that Mr. 
 Pomfret is the contriver of my wife's flight, and I am almost 
 equally certain that she has taken refuge with him." 
 
 " I shall content myself with saying that I neither 
 counselled Mrs. Musgrave's flight, nor aided it," said 
 Pomfret, sternly. 
 
 "Are we to understand, Mr. Pomfret, that you are 
 entirely unacquainted with Mrs. Musgrave's retreat ? " in* 
 quired Hornby. 
 
 " I am entirely ignorant of it," was the reply. 
 
ftext Morning. 95 
 
 " There, Captain, I think you ought to be satisfied," 
 remarked Flaxyard. " You have Mr. Pomfret's distinct 
 denial that he knows anything about Mrs. Musgrave's 
 disappearance." 
 
 " Pardon me, Sir, I am far from satisfied," rejoined 
 Musgrave. "I attach little credit to the denial. Perhaps 
 Mr. Pomfret will explain the nature of the interest that he 
 takes in my ill-advised wife ? I understand that he represents 
 himself to be a friend of her first husband." 
 
 "Pray favour us with an explanation on this point?" 
 added Hornby. 
 
 "Will you be quiet, Sir, and not make mischief?" said 
 his father, in a low tone. 
 
 " I could give such an explanation as would confound him 
 who ventures to ask for it," said Pomfret, in reply to 
 Hornby. " He may thank me for the restraint I put upon 
 myself." 
 
 "You talk of restraint," cried Musgrave, furiously. 
 " What prevents me from tearing the mask from your face, 
 and showing you as what you are ? " 
 
 "Self-consideration prevents you," rejoined Pomfret, 
 sternly. 
 
 " Pray have done with these bitter taunts and provocations, 
 gentlemen," interposed Flaxyard. " I don't ask you to 
 make friends. I don't ask you to do so. But consider the 
 sad consequences of any indiscretion, and let silence be 
 observed." 
 
 "You counsel well, Sir," said Pomfret. "And as I 
 cannot command myself, I will withdraw." 
 
 " I applaud your determination, Sir," said Flaxyard, 
 attending him to the door. " For Heaven's sake not 
 another word ! " he added, gently pushing him out. 
 
 "You flatter yourself you have put an end to this dispute, 
 Mr. Flaxyard, by getting rid of the fellow ? " said Musgrave, 
 as the old gentleman re-entered the room. 
 
 " Yes, Captain, I rather think I have^ Take my advice, 
 and don't make any more fuss about the matter. Reconcile 
 yourself to the loss of your wife as well as you can. I dare- 
 say you'll get over it in time." 
 
 " Very likely I may. There's philosophy in your counsel, 
 at all events." 
 
96 Myddkton Portifret. 
 
 " Then my services are no longer required ? " remarked 
 Hornby, with a slight look of disappointment. 
 
 " Of course not," replied his father. " There are cogent 
 reasons why the matter should not proceed further." 
 
 "I don't quite see them," rejoined Hornby. "Were I 
 in Captain Musgrave's place, I shouldn't feel inclined to let 
 Mr. Pomfret walk off so easily." 
 
 " Captain Musgrave has come to a very wise deter- 
 mination." 
 
 "Then if I should ever marry, and my wife should 
 happen to run away, you would advise me to take it 
 patiently ? " 
 
 " Don't trouble me with any nonsensical questions, Sir." 
 
 " Mr. Flaxyard, you are a wise man," said Musgrave, 
 after a moment's reflection. "If I can help it, I won't 
 furnish any paragraphs for the newspapers ; and as to the 
 Divorce Court, that's the very last place in which I should 
 like to figure." 
 
 "I felt sure you would come to that conclusion," 
 remarked Flaxyard. 
 
 Just then the door opened, and Mrs. Flaxyard and 
 Tiffany came in. On seeing Captain Musgrave, they both 
 set up a cry. 
 
 " Oh dear ! " exclaimed Mrs. Flaxyard. " How sorry we 
 are for you, to be sure ! " 
 
 " Never was there anything so dreadful ! " cried Tiffany. 
 " I haven't half recovered from the shock." 
 
 "You needn't be sorry at all. Nothing dreadful has 
 happened," said Flaxyard, winking at Musgrave and 
 Hornby. "An absurd story has got about which I know 
 you've heard. Nothing can be further from the truth. 
 Yester-afternoon, while Captain Musgrave was at Vincennes 
 at Vincennes, wasn't it, Captain? Mrs. Musgrave 
 received a telegraphic message, requiring her presence in 
 London this morning. It was a matter of life and death. 
 What was she to do?" 
 
 " Consult her husband, of course/' replied Mrs. Flaxyari 
 
 " But she couldn't consult him. He wasn't in the way. 
 He wasn't expected back till late. To be in time, she must 
 go by the night mail. So she went and took her sister with 
 her." 
 
Next Morning. 97 
 
 "A very independent step. I rather approve of it,'' 
 remarked Tiffany. " But didn't she leave any message ? " 
 
 " Of course she did ! " cried Flaxyard, again winking at 
 Musgrave. "But the gargon didn't deliver it. Those 
 gargons are so abominably stupid and dilatory." 
 
 " She left a letter in the room, but I didn't chance to 
 find it," said Musgrave. " She and Celia went off in such 
 a hurry that they scarcely took anything with them. They 
 gave me a terrible fright, and I passed a dreadful night, as 
 you may suppose." 
 
 " No wonder at it," cried Tiffany. " Pa would have gone 
 wild if ma and I had left him in such a manner. Wouldn't 
 you, you dear old darling ? " 
 
 " Don't try me," said the old gentleman. 
 
 "Well, I'm truly rejoiced at this satisfactory explanation," 
 cried Mrs. Flaxyard. " I must own that it did appear to me 
 inconceivable that so superior a woman as Mrs. Musgrave 
 could act in such a way. But when do you expect the dear 
 lady back?" 
 
 " I can scarcely say," rejoined Musgrave. " Her return 
 depends on circumstances." 
 
 " How we shall laugh at the mistake when we see her ! " 
 cried Tiffany. " The idea that she should have eloped ! 
 How droll it seems ! I shall never get over it." 
 
 " Well, Captain, since you're left quite by yourself, I hope 
 you'll pass the day with us," said Mrs. Flaxyard. 
 
 Musgrave bowed, and said he should be delighted. And 
 so it was settled, in spite of the significant looks of old 
 Flaxyard and Hornby. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 SIR NORMAN HYLTON. 
 
 g| F the many admirably-conducted hotels that now 
 accommodate the herds of tourists who flock to 
 Switzerland, commend us to the Beau-Rivage at 
 Ouchy. 
 
 With its great central hall, cool on the hottest day in 
 summer ; its broad stone staircases ; its airy chambers, the 
 windows of which look upon the broad expanse of Lake 
 Leman and the stupendous range of Alps on the opposite 
 shore ; its internal comforts of all kinds, amongst which the 
 capital cuisine and capital cellar ought to be enumerated ; 
 its gardens sloping down to the lake ; its shady walks which 
 lead you to baths, where you may plunge into Leman's 
 dark blue waters ; its ever lively little port ; with all these, 
 and many more attractions in the way of balls, concerts, 
 sailing-matches, and the command of all sorts of excursions 
 either by steamer or rail, to Geneva or Coppet, to Vevay or 
 Chillon, no more delightful sejour can be found than is 
 offered by this splendid establishment. 
 
 Generally, the Beau-Rivage is full to over-flowing. Russian 
 princes, German nobles, wealthy Spaniards and Americans, 
 to say nothing of our own compatriots, take possession of 
 the best apartments, and remain there* Thus you may 
 esteem yourself fortunate if you can secure an upper room, 
 the casements of which command the glorious view of lake 
 and mountain to which we have just adverted. 
 
 At the time when we are about to visit the Beau-Rivage, 
 the Swiss season was at its height, and never had such 
 an army of tourists invaded that picturesque country. They 
 came from all parts, but the English far outnumbered the 
 others, for the great Mr. Cook had marshalled his legions 
 and led them on from Chamouni to Lucerne, from the foot 
 of Mont Blanc to the kulm of the Rigi. The .managers and 
 
Sir Norman Hylton. gq 
 
 proprietors of the vast hotels at Zurich and Lucerne, at 
 Basle and Geneva, were driven half frantic by the countless 
 hosts that besieged their doors. That year Germany being 
 out of favour with Englishmen, Switzerland reaped the 
 benefit of the stream thus diverted from its channel. Had 
 the Beau-Rivage possessed thrice its number of rooms it 
 would still have been unequal to the demands upon its 
 space. But though there were necessarily frequent de- 
 partures, the hotel was always full too full, in fact. 
 Crowded were all the breakfast-tables, crowded was the 
 early table d'hote dinner, crowded the later repast. 
 
 Gay groups thronged the wide verandah in front of the 
 hotel on those fine summer evenings, or wandered about the 
 grassy slopes till it was time to take coffee, or collect 
 together to hear an impromptu concert got up by some 
 musical amateurs in the reading-room. Plenty of pro- 
 fessional music there was besides. Almost every evening 
 an excellent band enlivened the visitors, and twice a week 
 a ball took place in the great hall. 
 
 Bathing betimes in the blue lake to repair the fatigues of 
 the evening, and procure an appetite for the ferraz and 
 trout and white honey that awaited them at breakfast; 
 boating on the lake during the day, fishing, sketching by 
 such as were of an artistic turn, excursions in the steamers 
 to either extremity of the lake, or across it to Evian, to 
 visit the jewellers' shops on the Grand-Quai or the Rue de 
 la Corraterie at Geneva, or the secluded beauties and grand 
 scenery of Vevay and Villeneuve. Returning in time for an 
 excellent table d'hote dinner, strolling afterwards on the 
 gazon, or under the trees, with no end of flirting, singing, 
 and dancing such was the pleasant life led by the company 
 at the Beau-Rivage. 
 
 Of course, the society was a good deal mixed. Amongst 
 the three hundred persons brought together in this way, 
 there must naturally be specimens of various classes, but 
 the majority, if not exactly of the higher ranks, consisted of 
 such persons as one is in the habit of meeting during a 
 Swiss tour lately married couples, who were spending 
 the honeymoon on the Continent; English parsons with 
 their spouses; English country gentlemen with their wives 
 and blooming daughters; rich merchants with ditto, the 
 
ioo Myddleton Pomfrei* 
 
 daughters not quite so blooming ; M.P.s just set at liberty; 
 young men of all kinds and all professions, young barristers, 
 young officers, young mercantile men, civil engineers, clerks 
 in government offices, and others. 
 
 The ladies, however, outnumbered the men in the pro- 
 portion of three to one. Paterfamilias on his travels seems 
 always accompanied by more daughters than sons. 
 
 Prince and Princess Woronzoff were staying at the hotel, 
 and these illustrious personages conducted themselves with 
 remarkable affability, dining habitually at the table d'hote, 
 and without the slightest form and ceremony, mixing on 
 equal terms with the other guests, and not unfrequently 
 taking part in the little musical soirees. The princess was 
 an accomplished musician, and sang divinely. The prince 
 spoke all languages, and conversed with equal ease with 
 German, Frenchman, or Englishman. 
 
 Besides these, there were some German nobles, who were 
 not distinguished by equal affability. Of course there were 
 many Americans among the company, the most noticeable 
 of whom was the great Mr. Sankey, of New York. Mr. 
 Sankey, who was reputed to be enormously rich, was a 
 widower, and possessed a daughter of extraordinary beauty. 
 To all the bachelors staying at the Beau-Rivage, Melissa 
 Sankey was an object of great attraction, and wherever she 
 appeared she drew after her a crowd of admirers. She was 
 attended by Mrs. Sharpe, an elderly lady, who watched her 
 with the vigilance of a duenna. If Melissa could be said 
 to have shown a preference for any one, it was for Sir 
 Norman Hylton, a young English baronet, who had been 
 staying at the Beau-Rivage for about a fortnight, having 
 been detained there, it was thought, by the charms of the 
 lovely American damsel. 
 
 Sir Norman was about four or five-and-twenty, and had 
 succeeded to the baronetcy about a year ago, on the death 
 of his uncle, Sir Langley Hylton. His property, situated in 
 one of the most beautiful parts of Surrey, had been very 
 much encumbered, so that he was only in possession of a 
 very moderate income ; but though by no means rich, and 
 quite unable to maintain his title in the way he desired, Sir 
 Norman was a perfect gentleman, pardonably proud of his 
 ancient lineage, high-spirited, liberal-minded, and generous 
 
Sir Norman Hylton. 101 
 
 as far as his means would allow. Perhaps he might have 
 some idea of repairing his fortunes by marriage. We won't 
 pretend to say. Certes, he had a very graceful person as 
 well as a title to offer to any heiress in exchange for her 
 wealth. 
 
 Sir Norman Hylton was tall very tall, indeed, for he 
 stood above six feet exceedingly well-proportioned, and 
 sufficiently good-looking. He had a lofty forehead, keen 
 grey eyes, and well-cut features. A dark brown beard 
 heightened the manliness of his expression. Sir Norman 
 was a keen sportsman, and fond of all athletic exercises, a 
 bold horseman, and a first-rate shot ; he had stalked deer in 
 the Highlands, and killed salmon in Ireland, Scotland, and 
 Norway. For a few years he had been in a crack cavalry 
 regiment, but had sold out on the death of his uncle. Out 
 of the wreck of his family possessions Sir Norman had 
 contrived to preserve a decayed old mansion, situated on a 
 woody eminence overlooking some of the loveliest scenery 
 in Surrey, and surrounded by a park full of magnificent 
 timber, which its owner refused to cut down. Sir Norman 
 was not a member of the Alpine Club, but he had come to 
 Switzerland with the intention of doing something in the 
 way of an ascent before repairing to the moors of Scotland 
 to shoot grouse ; but he got detained, as we have shown, at 
 the Beau-Rivage, and gave up scaling mountains for the 
 present. 
 
 Sir Norman being the best-looking Englishman that 
 Melissa had seen, she was determined to captivate him, and 
 she succeeded. The mode of life at the Beau-Rivage was 
 favourable to flirtation. Sir Norman was as much with 
 Melissa as Mr. Sankey and Mrs. Sharpe would permit. He 
 made excursions with her in the morning, sat next her or 
 opposite to her at the table d'hote, flirted with her in the 
 garden, or listened enraptured to her melodious strains. 
 
 But after all this display in public, he found he had 
 made little real progress in her regard. When he asked 
 her if she would like to be lady of Hylton Castle, she 
 only laughed at him, and said she never intended to 
 leave New York. 
 
 " What is your old castle like?" she asked, with an air of 
 languid interest. She had not been in England, and fancied 
 
102 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 that all old castles must resemble those described in 
 romance. 
 
 Sir Norman told her that the old mansion stood upon a 
 woody eminence, at the base of which flowed a river. The 
 park was not extensive, but it was picturesque and beautiful, 
 and boasted some of the finest chestnuts in England trees 
 four centuries old. Moreover, there was a long double 
 avenue of limes planted in the time of Henry VIII. He 
 could not say much for the house. It was partly in ruins. 
 But it had the recommendation of being haunted. 
 
 " Of course you intend to rebuild your old mansion ? " 
 said Miss Sankey. 
 
 " Probably, when I marry," he replied. " But I don't 
 mean to fell my trees to repair my house." 
 
 " Then you expect your wife to find the means to do it, I 
 suppose?" 
 
 " I don't think she could lay out her money better. I 
 wish you could see the old place, Miss Sankey such great, 
 crazy, unfurnished rooms, and such a terrace overlooking 
 the river. You'd be delighted with it." 
 
 " I should be frightened to death. I wouldn't sleep in a 
 haunted house for the world. Your description of Hylton 
 Castle doesn't tempt me in the least. I prefer a house in 
 Fifth Avenue." 
 
 " Ah ! but you should see my old chestnuts ! and my 
 grand avenue of limes ! " 
 
 " I don't care for old trees," she replied, shaking her 
 charming head. " And I don't mean to build up an old 
 house." 
 
 Sir Norman perceived that he had made no impression, 
 and concealed his disappointment with a laugh. From that 
 moment he gave up all hopes of winning the fair American 
 girl, and he afterwards learnt that several other aspirants to 
 her hand had been treated in like manner. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 AN ARRIVAL. 
 
 J1EXED with himself for the time he had lost in 
 this unprofitable chase, Sir Norman made up his 
 mind to start for Interlachen, when, as he was 
 standing in the great hall, looking on the bustling 
 scene caused by the departure of certain guests and the 
 arrival of others, he noticed a large number of trunks and 
 boxes being brought in, which he felt certain, from their 
 shape and size, had come from India, and he was wonder- 
 ing whom they could belong to, when his speculations 
 were set at rest by the appearance of the owners of the 
 luggage. 
 
 These were a tall, distinguished-looking man, and a 
 young lady of remarkable personal attractions. She was a 
 brunette, with a rich southern complexion, eyes of Oriental 
 splendour, fringed with long silken lashes, splendid jetty 
 tresses, ruddy lips, and pearly teeth a perfect contrast, in 
 all respects, to the late object of Sir Norman's idolatry, 
 who was a blonde, with pale yellow hair and blue eyes. 
 The new comer's figure was rather petite, but faultless in 
 its symmetry, and Sir Norman, who scanned it critically as 
 her companion was talking to the host, thought he had 
 never beheld such tiny feet. He was puzzled to make out 
 her relationship to the gentleman with her. She cauld 
 scarcely be his daughter, for though his beard was grey, he 
 could not be much above thirty. She might be his wife, 
 but Sir Norman doubted it. 
 
 While traversing the hall the new comers passed near Sir 
 Norman, who now felt almost certain that he had seen the 
 gentleman before, though he could not recollect under what 
 circumstances. He therefore bowed, and said : 
 
 " Your features are quite familiar to me ? Sir, though J 
 
io4 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 cannot give you a name. If the dead could come to life, I 
 should say you were my uncle's old friend, Julian Curzon. 
 You are certainly wonderfully like him." 
 
 " I am not aware that I had the pleasure of your uncle's 
 acquaintance, Sir," replied the stranger. "I am Mr. 
 Myddleton Pomfret, of Madras." 
 
 " Never heard the name before. Pray excuse my pre- 
 suming to address you. Your astonishing likeness to a 
 departed friend must plead my excuse. But since I have 
 gone so far, allow me to introduce myself as Sir Norman 
 Hylton." 
 
 Pomfret bowed courteously, and in return presented Sir 
 Norman to the young lady, describing her as his ward, 
 Miss Eva Bracebridge, who had just returned from Madras. 
 
 " Miss Bracebridge only arrived at Marseilles a few days 
 ago," said Pomfret, " and I brought her on to Switzerland 
 to recruit after the voyage." 
 
 " You could not have come to a more charming place 
 than this," remarked Sir Norman, delighted to have 
 achieved an introduction to the young lady. " But 
 perhaps you are familiar with all the beauties of Lake 
 Leman ? " 
 
 " No, I am half ashamed to confess that I have never 
 visited Switzerland before," she replied, smiling. " I asked 
 Mr. Pomfret to bring me here, and though I believe he has 
 business which ought to take him to London, he kindly 
 consented." 
 
 "I never refuse your requests, my dear," observed 
 Pomfret. 
 
 " Don't say that," she cried. " Sir Norman shall hear 
 what you did, and then he will be able to judge whether 
 you are as amiable as you pretend to be. Would you 
 believe it?" she added to the young baronet. "My 
 guardian, who is bound to take care of me, left me behind 
 at Madras, though I begged and prayed of him to take me 
 to England. Even now I can't understand why I was thus 
 abandoned but so it was and you may imagine how 
 forlorn and disconsolate I felt when deprived of my best 
 friend. He had talked of corning back, but I wouldn't 
 wait for him, so I started by the first mail ? and here I am ? 
 as you perceive," 
 
An Arrival. 105 
 
 "I am quite sure your unexpected arrival must have 
 been a great gratification to Mr. Pomfret," remarked Sir 
 Norman. 
 
 "I am not quite sure of that," rejoined Eva. "He 
 happened to be at Marseilles when the Delta arrived, and 
 you may conceive his astonishment when he discovered his 
 deserted ward among the passengers." 
 
 "Nothing astonishes me that you do, my dear," said 
 Pomfret, smiling kindly at her. "You are giving Sir 
 Norman a very erroneous notion of the affair, and he ought 
 to know that I half suspected you would arrive by the 
 Delta, and I therefore went to Marseilles under the convic- 
 tion that I should meet you and so I did." 
 
 " Well, I believe that's the correct version of the story," 
 she said. "You can have no idea, Sir Norman, of the 
 awful responsibility my guardian has incurred, and how 
 happy he would be to be relieved of it. You see, he 
 doesn't contradict me. He'll give me a shocking bad 
 character, if you ask him." 
 
 "Not worse than you deserve," said Pomfret, smiling, 
 " But come ! The landlord is waiting to conduct us to our 
 rooms." 
 
 "I hope you have got good rooms," remarked Sir 
 Norman. 
 
 " The best in the house," interposed the landlord, who 
 spoke English perfectly. "The apartments are on the 
 ground floor. You know them, Sir Norman. They have 
 just been vacated by an Austrian general." 
 
 " Oh, then you are well off," cried the young baronet. 
 
 Splendid rooms they proved, exquisitely furnished, lofty, 
 spacious, with windows opening upon the verandah, and 
 commanding a view of the lake and the Alps. Eva was 
 enchanted, and ran first to the windows to look out at 
 the view. Then surveying the charming salon a she 
 exclaimed, 
 
 " I cannot fail to be happy here." 
 
 Though Mr. Pomfret, as may be supposed from what we 
 know of his history, would have preferred a secluded life, 
 he thought it necessary, on Eva's account, to mix with 
 society, and he therefore informed the host that they would 
 dine that day at the table d'hote, . 
 
io6 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 As usual, the dinner was very numerously attended, two 
 long tables being required by the guests. But very good 
 places had been reserved for the new comers. Eva's 
 appearance created a decided sensation. It had already 
 been rumoured that a remarkably pretty girl had arrived at 
 the hotel, and as she came in, leaning on the arm of her 
 guardian, all eyes were directed towards her, and it was 
 universally admitted that her beauty had not been over- 
 rated. 
 
 "Who is she?" was the general inquiry. The answer 
 was, that she was Miss Bracebridge, and that the gentleman 
 with her was Mr. Myddleton Pomfret, but beyond these 
 points little information could be obtained. However, her 
 beauty was so transcendent, that it excited universal 
 admiration, and she at once eclipsed Melissa Sankey, who 
 had hitherto reigned supreme. 
 
 Prince Woronzoff, who, like all the rest of the company, 
 was struck with Eva's beauty, and who formed her vis-d-vis, 
 paid her particular attention. Sir Norman, who had 
 contrived to secure a place near her, held a very animated 
 conversation with her, and announced his intention of pro- 
 longing his stay at the Beau-Rivage. 
 
 Totally unconscious of the sensation she had caused, 
 and of the triumph she had achieved, Eva could not fail to 
 be gratified by the attentions shown her, and she thought 
 Prince Woronzoff and the princess charming, and Sir 
 Norman extremely agreeable. The only person who did 
 not, or would not, admire her, was Melissa. Eva, on the 
 contrary, inquired the name of the fair American damsel 
 from Sir Norman, and declared she was the loveliest 
 creature she had ever beheld. 
 
 The effect produced by Eva on her first appearance was 
 not lessened as the guests at the Beau-Rivage saw more 
 of her, and became more familiar with her beauty. She 
 joined in all the amusements that were going on, not 
 perhaps because she cared for them though she was of a 
 very lively turn, and not indisposed to gaiety but because 
 Mr. Pomfret wished her to take part in them. It was 
 soon found out that her tastes were musical, that she 
 played on the piano quite as well as Princess Woronzoff, 
 and her talents were called into requisition. She valsed 
 
An Arrival. 
 
 107 
 
 admirably, but she would have no other partner but Mr 
 Pomfret. She strolled about the gardens in the evenings 
 but Mr. Pomfret was always with her, and she neve 
 quitted his side. Still, his manner towards her was such 
 that it did not even excite Sir Norman's jealousy. Before 
 a week had elapsed, the young baronet had become 
 tremendously spoony. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 MORE ARRIVALS. 
 
 J1EANTIME, there had been other arrivals at the 
 Beau-Rivage. Amongst these were our acquaint- 
 ances the Flaxyards, who had been making 
 excursions among the mountains and valleys of 
 the Bernese Oberland. Rufus Trotter, having sprained his 
 ankle, had been left behind at Thun. Tiffany took a 
 prodigious fancy to Eva, and an intimacy soon sprang up 
 between the two girls, in spite of their dissimilarity 
 of character. Tiffany spent half her time with her new 
 acquaintance. 
 
 One morning, when they were alone together in the 
 charming room we have described as opening upon the 
 verandah, and looking upon the lake, Tiffany thus broke 
 out: 
 
 " I'm sure you must be the happiest person in the world, 
 dearest Eva. I was only observing yesterday to Hornby 
 who, by-the-bye, has lost his heart to you, though you don't 
 care a pin for him that if there is anybody I should like to 
 change places with, Eva Bracebridge is the person. Those 
 are the very words I used. I won't praise you to your face, 
 sweet girl. I won't repeat all the pretty things I hear said 
 of you by everybody, from Prince Woronzoff downwards. 
 I won't tell you how much you are admired. But I will 
 tell you why I think you the happiest person in the 
 world." 
 
 " Well, do tell me," replied Eva, smiling. " But before 
 you begin, I may remark that you are quite mistaken. I 
 am not so very, very happy as you seem to imagine." 
 
 " Then you ought to be, dearest. You know I'm a very 
 freespoken girl, and don't mind what I say. It isn't because 
 you are young, and rich, and beautiful enough to turn men 
 crazy, that I set you down as the happiest person I know, 
 
More Arriva h. 109 
 
 but because you have got such a very handsome fiance. 
 Nay, don't blush, dearest, or look cross. I'm not going 
 to take him from you. I only meant to convey to you my 
 opinion that in choosing Sir Norman Hylton you have 
 chosen well." 
 
 "You surprise me more than I can express," cried Eva. 
 " How can you have got such an absurd notion into your 
 head ? I havn't the least idea of choosing Sir Norman. I 
 never gave him a serious thought." 
 
 "Oh, indeed," exclaimed Tiffany, with a look that 
 seemed to imply, "You expect me to believe this, don't 
 you?" 
 
 " I see you are incredulous," said Eva. " But I cannot 
 allow you to continue in so strange a misapprehension. I 
 like Sir Norman very much. He is very gentlemanlike and 
 agreeable. But as to marrying him, that is another question 
 entirely." 
 
 " Are you serious, dear ? " 
 
 " Perfectly so." 
 
 "Then I must tell you that everybody thinks you are 
 engaged to him." 
 
 "Everybody is wrong; and I beg you will contradict 
 them on the best possible authority." 
 
 " Well, I can't say I'm glad to hear it. But perhaps an 
 engagement may come about yet." 
 
 " Don't think so for a moment," rejoined Eva, gravely*, 
 " What you have said convinces me that I have allowed Sir 
 Norman to pay me too much attention." 
 
 " Oh, a little innocent flirtation is of no consequence. I 
 shall never forgive myself if anything I have said should 
 occasion a coolness between you and Sir Norman ." 
 
 " I certainly would break off his acquaintance if I didn't 
 fear that I should displease Mr. Pomfret. He is extremely 
 partial to Sir Norman, and might be hurt if I treated him 
 coldly." 
 
 "Well, let us change the subject. How fortunate you 
 are in your guardian ! Generally speaking, one's notion of 
 a guardian is of a stout old party, awfully ugly and ill- 
 tempered. Now, your guardian is exceedingly handsome. 
 I shouldn't object to be a ward under such agreeable con- 
 ditions*" 
 
1 1 o Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 "Mr. Pomfret was poor dear papa's partner," said Eva; 
 "and when papa died he appointed him my guardian. 
 You may praise him as much as you please, and you can't 
 praise him too highly. You don't know half his good 
 qualities. I'm sure I cannot be sufficiently grateful for his 
 unwearying kindness to me. I was never vexed with him, 
 except when he left me behind at Madras. But I quickly 
 followed him." 
 
 " Quite right He had no business to leave you. As 
 your guardian, he is bound to watch over you till you are 
 fairly settled." I daresay he wants to get you married." 
 
 " Perhaps he may, but I don't intend to oblige him." 
 
 " Is he a widower ? He has the air of one." 
 
 " Oh no, he has never been married. But I fancy from 
 the melancholy to which he is subject, and which he finds 
 it impossible to shake off, that he must have met with some 
 great disappointment. Knowing him as well as I do, I can 
 hardly imagine that any woman could jilt him, but I suppose 
 something of the sort must have happened." 
 
 " Well, he's very foolish to take such a matter to heart. 
 Pride would make me despise a man who jilted me." 
 
 " Mr. Pomfret has very acute sensibilities. I know that 
 he suffers, but I don't know the cause of his suffering. And 
 I am also quite sure that he does not deserve to suffer." 
 
 "Well, it's a great pity, seeing he is so amiable and 
 handsome, and all that sort of thing, that he can't find 
 somebody to take compassion upon him, and cure him of 
 his griefs." 
 
 " Where there has been a profound attachment, such as 
 Mr. Pomfret may have experienced, there can be no second 
 love. A wounded heart cannot be healed." 
 
 " Excuse me if I doubt the truth of that adage, dear. 
 Mr. Pomfret, I am persuaded, is capable of loving again. 
 He looks like a man to inspire a great passion." 
 
 " He ought to have some one to love him. But I fear 
 he has suffered too cruelly ever to trust our sex again. 
 Mind, I never heard a word escape him of reproach or 
 complaint. He is not embittered. But his heart is 
 steeled." 
 
 "Still, I don't think his case incurable," rejoined Tiffany, 
 with an arch look. " Somebody, I am persuaded, will find 
 
' More Arrivals. j 1 1 
 
 out the true remedy. And now just let me mention a cir- 
 cumstance, which I think you ought to know, though pa 
 bade me not to allude to it. When we were in Paris, a few 
 weeks ago, we made acquaintance with a newly married 
 couple, Captain and Mrs. Musgrave, who were staying at 
 the same hotel with us. Without the slightest reason given, 
 they separated or rather Mrs. Musgrave left her husband. 
 Some explanation of the occurrence was attempted by 
 Captain Musgrave, but I am certain that his wife left him. 
 However, he didn't seem to mind it at all. One would 
 almost have thought he was glad to get rid of her." 
 
 " Poor thing ! How could she have married such a 
 man ? " cried Eva, who had listened with painful astonish- 
 ment to this story. 
 
 " I don't think he ill-treated her," pursued Tiffany. " He 
 seemed very fond of her ; but something extraordinary must 
 have happened to cause such a sudden separation." 
 
 " I daresay the poor lady made some discovery. If you 
 are not aware of it, I must tell you that Captain Musgrave 
 has a very bad reputation in India. He has caused un- 
 happiness in more than one family." 
 
 " Oh dear ! what a dreadful man ! No doubt, as you say, 
 something shocking came to his poor wife's ears, and caused 
 her to take this foolish step. But what I was going to tell 
 you, dear, is, that somehow your guardian was mixed up in 
 the matter, though in what way I can't tell. I fancy he 
 wrote a letter to Mrs. Musgrave at all events, Hornby told 
 me that Captain Musgrave attributed his wife's flight to Mr. 
 Pomfret's interference." 
 
 " Indeed 1 " exclaimed Eva. " Mr. Pomfret has not 
 mentioned the matter to me." 
 
 "Then don't say anything about it to him, dear. I know 
 I ought not to have told you." 
 
 " But since you have told me so much, pray tell me how 
 the matter ended ? " 
 
 " Why, it began and ended with the separation. There 
 was a terrible row between Captain Musgrave and Mr. 
 Pomfret, at which pa and Hornby assisted : but nothing 
 came of it. I can't give you any more particulars, or 1 
 would. But both pa and Hornby thought that Mr. Pomfret 
 came off with flying colours. Don't you think he must 
 
i i a Myddtetott Pomfret. 
 
 have had a powerful motive thus to espouse Mrs. Mus- 
 grave's cause ? " 
 
 " Who was she ? " 
 
 "A Mrs. Curzon a young widow. Her sister, Miss 
 Leycester, was with her at the time of the occurrence." 
 
 " I never heard of her, but I sincerely commiserate her; 
 and I am quite sure Mr. Pomfret had good grounds for his 
 interference." 
 
 "Oh, there can be no doubt about it. It is to be 
 hoped that Captain Musgrave won't find his way here. 
 When we left him in Paris, about ten days ago, he talked of 
 coming on into Switzerland, but I daresay he has changed 
 his plans." 
 
 " I hope so," said Eva, with a look of alarm. 
 
 An interruption was here offered to the conversation by 
 the entrance of Pomfret and Sir Norman, who came to ask 
 the girls to take a stroll in M. Haldiman's ground, and they 
 readily complied with the invitation. 
 
 Just as the little party issued forth into the garden, the 
 loud quick ringing of a bell proclaimed the approach of a 
 steamer, and they walked down to the little port to witness 
 the arrivals. Before they could reach the landing-place, 
 the Leman was half-emptied of its occupants. 
 
 There were tourists of all ages, all classes, and all 
 countries ; ladies in. dust-coloured dresses and hats with 
 green veils, and men in all sorts of travelling costumes, 
 most of them provided with alpenstocks and umbrellas, 
 gibecieres, or haversacks, and shod with stout mountain 
 boots. Besides these, there was another class of travellers, 
 attended by couriers and ladies'-maids, and who brought 
 ashore with them piles of boxes and trunks. Most of them 
 hurried off to secure seats in the omnibuses to Lausanne, 
 though a few shaped their course to the Beau-Rivage. 
 
 Almost all the passengers had gone by, the engines had 
 begun to work again, and the Leman was preparing to cast 
 off, when a traveller, who had been giving some directions 
 about his baggage to a porter, came forward and approached 
 the group. 
 
 It was Captain Musgrave. 
 
 He had seen the party, and would have avoided them if 
 he could, but since that was impossible, he marched 
 
More Arrivals. 113 
 
 haughtily on. Up to this moment Musgrave had not been 
 aware of Eva's return from Madras, but he instantly 
 recognised her, and her presence added to his confusion. 
 On noticing him, Eva instantly turned aside and addressed 
 Tiffany, who pretended not to observe him, though she 
 glanced at him furtively. A dark cloud gathered over 
 Pomfret's brow as the detested personage approached. 
 
 Musgrave raised his hat slightly while passing the group, 
 but took no other notice of them. Curious to ascertain 
 what he would do, Pomfret kept his eye upon him, and 
 remarked that he mounted the garden-path leading to the 
 hotel, and that the porter followed him with his luggage. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 A DECLARATION. 
 
 [NTERING M. Haldiman's delightful grounds ad- 
 joining the hotel, our friends took their way 
 along a shady path, which ever and anon afforded 
 them glimpses of the broad expanse of the lake 
 and the mighty range of Alps beyond it. The shade of 
 the trees was delightful after the glare of the sunshine. Sir 
 Norman paused for a moment to point out a lovely view to 
 Eva, and while she was contemplating it the others passed 
 on. 
 
 Here was an opportunity which the young baronet would 
 not let slip. It is said that it requires more courage in a 
 man to propose unless perfectly certain of being accepted 
 than to mount a breach, and Sir Norman felt a most un- 
 wonted trepidation assail him, but he was determined to 
 ascertain his fate. 
 
 " Forgive me, Miss Bracebridge," he said, abruptly, and 
 in faltering accents, very different from his usual mode of 
 address " forgive me if I venture to put a question to you. 
 You cannot fail, I am sure, to have observed the effect 
 produced upon me by your charms. When I first beheld 
 you I was struck by them, and the admiration then kindled 
 has become passionate love." 
 
 She made no reply, but moved on. 
 
 " For pity's sake stay a moment, and hear me out," he 
 cried, now growing really impassioned. "I love you to 
 distraction, Eva I must venture to address you by that 
 adorable name you alone can make me happy, and if I 
 should be fortunate enough to win you, the business of my 
 life shall be to prove my sense of the prize I have obtained. 
 I have not the vanity to suppose that I have produced 
 
A Declaration. 115 
 
 any Such impression on you as your charms have produced 
 on me, but I hope you are not entirely indifferent to me." 
 
 " I cannot allow you to delude yourself, Sir Norman," 
 she said, with a seriousness that almost froze his blood. 
 " Your love is thrown away upon me. Highly as I esteem 
 you, you can never be more to me than a friend." 
 
 Again he stopped her. 
 
 " Stay ! one word more, I implore you, and I have 
 done,". he cried. " Pardon me if I venture to ask the 
 question, but are you are you engaged to another ? " 
 1 " This is not a fair question, but I will answer it. I am 
 not." 
 
 "Then you do not condemn me to utter despair. If 
 there is no obstacle in the way, let me try to win your love 
 Your guardian approves of my suit." 
 
 " Indeed ! " exclaimed Eva. " Have you spoken to him 
 on the subject?" 
 
 " I have. And he has afforded me this opportunity of 
 making a declaration. Since you refuse to listen to me, I 
 must get him to plead my cause with you." 
 
 At this moment Mr. Pomfret and Tiffany were seen 
 returning along the walk in a very leisurely manner. 
 
 Eva flew towards them, followed more slowly by Sir 
 Norman, whose countenance, notwithstanding his efforts to 
 conceal it, betrayed profound mortification. 
 
 An indefinable smile passed over Tiffany's face, showing 
 that she suspected what had been taking place, and a 
 significant glance was exchanged between Pomfret and the 
 young baronet. 
 
 "What have you been about?" cried Tiffany, archly. 
 " We thought we had lost you." 
 
 "An enchanting view of the lake detained us for a 
 moment," remarked Sir Norman. 
 
 " Oh, do point it out to me ! " said the young lady. 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure," he replied. 
 
 So they walked on together, leaving Eva and her 
 guardian alone. 
 
 " I fear from appearances that Sir Norman has been un- 
 successful," he said. Finding she did not contradict him, 
 he went on. " I fancied you liked him. I know all about 
 him, and consider him very eligible. He is of a very old 
 82 
 
1 1 6 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 ^amily, and though not rich, has quite enough. He is far 
 above the average of young men, and well calculated, I 
 firmly believe, to make you happy." 
 
 "He told me you would advocate his cause," she re- 
 joined, in a tone of pique. "To please you, Sir mind, 
 merely to please you I have tolerated his attentions, but I 
 always intended to refuse him; and if you had thought 
 proper to consult me, I should have told you so." 
 
 " I did not desire to influence your decision, and there- 
 fore left him to take his own course. But I am really 
 concerned to find you have refused him." 
 
 " I suppose I am able 'to judge what sort of person is 
 likely to suit me," she rejoined. " I agree with you that 
 Sir Norman is very gentlemanlike and agreeable amiable, 
 indeed but I don't care enough for him to marry him." 
 
 " You are a strange, wilful creature, and I begin to think 
 will give me a vast deal of trouble," said Pomfret, with a 
 half smile. " A most unexceptionable person accidentally 
 turns up, and without a moment's consideration, is rejected. 
 I despair of meeting with another with half Sir Norman's 
 recommendations. I may possibly find a wealthier man, 
 but as you yourself have money enough, that is im- 
 material." 
 
 " Why are you in such a hurry to get me married ? " she 
 cried, reproachfully. " Are you tired of me ? " 
 
 " It was your father's dying wish, when he committed you 
 to my charge, that I should see you married to some worthy 
 man, and I am anxious to fulfil the injunction." 
 
 " You needn't give yourself any more trouble about me. 
 I don't intend to marry at all." 
 
 " Nonsense ! " he cried. " You are far too young to come 
 to any such determination. All that can be said is that you 
 have not yet met with the man whom you could rnarry." 
 
 "I am not so certain about that," she rejoined. "But I 
 have no desire to change my present state, and I may well 
 be deterred from doing so when I hear of so many unhappy 
 marriages. Apropos of unhappy unions, I have just heard 
 of one that has excited my sympathies. I allude to the 
 case of the unfortunate lady who was rash enough to wed 
 that dreadful Captain Musgrave. Pray what led to the 
 separation? I know you can inform me.' ? 
 
A Declaration. 117 
 
 "I would have kept this painful matter from you if I 
 could," he rejoined, becoming deathly pale, "but since you 
 have learnt that I was forced to take some part in it, I am 
 bound to give you an explanation. It was to prevent this 
 ill-starred union from taking place that I hurried from 
 Madras; but before I reached London the mischief was 
 beyond repair. Foreseeing what would inevitably happen, 
 and still desirous of aiding the unfortunate lady, I followed 
 her to Paris, and communicated with her through the 
 medium of Mr. Flaxyard. Subsequently, I had an interview 
 with her, when she announced to me that she had de- 
 termined to leave her husband for ever. I did not attempt 
 to dissuade her from the step, but left her to act as she 
 deemed proper. On ascertaining that she had carried out 
 her purpose, I placed myself in Captain Musgrave's way ; 
 but little came of the meeting, and the affair was hushed up. 
 I cannot tell you what has become of the unfortunate lady. 
 I have made no inquiries about her. In regard to her 
 previous history, and my own connexion with her, I must 
 remain silent. Never again, I beg of you, let the subject be 
 referred to." 
 
 He spoke with such unwonted sternness, that Eva felt 
 quite frightened, regretting that she had sought the ex- 
 planation. 
 
 " Forgive my indiscretion," she said. " I will never seek 
 to penetrate your secrets. But I may breathe a prayer for 
 the unfortunate lady, 11 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 EVENING. 
 
 |LL sorts of stories were circulated about Captain 
 Musgrave, but though few of them were to his 
 advantage, he managed to get on very well with 
 the general company at the Beau-Rivage. His 
 remarkable coolness and assurance some people went so 
 far as to call it impudence stood him in good stead. He 
 made himself conspicuous at the table d'hote dinners, 
 rattled away in conversation, flirted with everybody who 
 would flirt with him, assisted at the musical soirees, and 
 valsed admirably at the balls. He was the horror of the 
 elderly parties, but the admiration of the young folks, with 
 some of whom, we regret to say, his bad reputation lent him 
 a certain charm. Mr. Flaxyard tried to fight shy of him, 
 but this was not an easy matter, and the old gentleman was 
 obliged to give way, since his wife and family were against 
 him. Musgrave, indeed, had contrived to ingratiate himself 
 with Mrs. Flaxyard, and she refused to see any harm in him. 
 Tiffany liked to flirt with him, and Hornby felt quite proud 
 of being intimate with such a tremendous swell. 
 
 Ever since Musgrave's arrival, Mr. Pomfret and his 
 beautiful ward had ceased to dine at the table d'hote, or to 
 take any part in the public amusements of the house, 
 confining themselves entirely to their own rooms, where they 
 received such society as was agreeable to them. Eva's 
 seclusion, whatever might be its cause, was a* source of great 
 regret to the general company. They missed her charming 
 face at the table d'hote, they missed her graceful figure in 
 the garden, but, above all, they missed her at the concerts 
 and balls. None knew the exact cause of this sudden 
 disappearance of their brightest luminary, but everybody 
 connected it with Captain Musgrave. 
 
 To Eva this change was no great deprivation, for she had 
 
Evening. 119 
 
 grown rather tired of the incessant gaiety and racket of the 
 place. She had a piano in her own room, with plenty of music 
 and plenty of books, and quite as much society as she cared 
 for. Indeed, if we are not greatly mistaken, she would have 
 been quite content with no other society than that of her 
 guardian. Poor Sir Norman had not been altogether 
 banished from her presence. Notwithstanding his rejection, 
 he still persevered in his suit, probably because he received 
 secret encouragement from Pomfret. 
 
 It was a lovely evening. After a burning hot day, the 
 sun had set gloriously behind the mighty Alps, dyeing their 
 snowy peaks with crimson ; and rosy patches still lingered 
 on the summits of some of the loftiest of the range, though 
 their sides looked spectrally white. A gentle breeze was, 
 stirring just sufficient to fill the lateen sails of the barks which 
 were winging their way like butterflies to the little port. A 
 steamer was seen in the distance, and the sound of its 
 paddle-wheels could be heard in the stillness. Nearer to 
 Ouchy, aud yet perhaps a league from shore, a crowd of gay- 
 looking little barks might be seen decking the waters. At 
 the rear of the hotel might be seen the cathedral and castle 
 of Lausanne, crowning the vine-clad slopes. Numerous 
 modern chateaux, with here and there a feudal tower, 
 embellished the woody landscape. The background formed 
 by the magnificent range of the Jura offered a picture 
 wholly different, but little less beautiful, than that presented 
 by the Savoyard shore. Mirthful talk and light laughter 
 arose from the various groups scattered about the garden, or 
 collected in the bosquets, or under the trees, and these were 
 the only sounds, except distant shouts on the lake, that 
 broke the stillness. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A SLIGHT DISTURBANCE. 
 
 /"A was alone. 
 
 Her guardian had gone that day to Geneva, 
 and had not yet returned. 
 
 She had been contemplating the splendid sun- 
 set, and had noted all the wonderful changes which the 
 giant mountains had undergone, from rose to ghastly white ; 
 had gazed upon the wide glistening expanse of the lake, 
 had admired the picturesque effect of the old round tower 
 near the little port, and then, satiated with these beauties, 
 had taken up a book and seated herself in a fauteuil near 
 the window. She had not been thus employed long, when 
 she heard a footstep on the balcony, and the next moment 
 the light and pretty figure of Tiffany appeared at the case- 
 ment 
 
 They had not met there before that day, and a cheerful 
 greeting took place between them. 
 
 " Why are you standing there ? " cried Eva, noticing that 
 Tiffany did not enter. " Come in ! " 
 
 " Not just now, darling. I want you to step out for a 
 moment. I've something to tell you." 
 
 "Then you must contrive to tell it here," laughed the 
 other. " I shan't go out till Mr. Pomfret returns." 
 
 " How silly you are!" cried Tiffany. "What are you 
 afraid of? I tell you I've something particular to say to 
 you." 
 
 " Well, what is it ? " asked Eva, rising and approaching 
 the window. 
 
 " I desire to be a peace-maker, dearest," rejoined Tiffany. 
 " There is a person in this house who has offended you, and 
 I have promised to intercede for him. He is deeply peni- 
 tent, I can assure you, and will beg pardon on his bended 
 knees, if allowed. May I tell him you forgive him ? " 
 
A Slight Disturbance. 121 
 
 " On no account," replied Eva. " I did not suppose you 
 would undertake such an errand. I cannot be mistaken as 
 to whom you allude, since there is only one person in this 
 house who has offended me. With him I will never 
 exchange another word." 
 
 "Don't be very cross with me, darling," said Tiffany, 
 coaxingly. " Captain Musgrave really is very sorry for 
 what he has done. I couldn't resist his piteous entreaties 
 and so consented to bring him here." 
 
 " You have done very wrong ! " cried Eva. " But I 
 won't see him," she added, in a determined tone. 
 
 "Grant me only a moment, angelic girl!" cried Mus- 
 grave, springing forward. He had been standing on the 
 balcony at a short distance, listening to what was said. 
 " Let me try to exculpate myself." 
 
 " I won't listen to a word, Sir," rejoined Eva, with a spirit 
 that could scarcely have been expected from her. " By this 
 inexcusable intrusion on my privacy you have added to 
 your previous offences. I insist upon your immediate 
 departure." 
 
 " I refuse to go till I have obtained your forgiveness ! " 
 he cried. "You cannot conceive how wretched I have 
 been." 
 
 " Do be good-natured, darling. Say you forgive him, and 
 I will take him away at once ! " cried Tiffany. 
 
 "Never !" rejoined Eva. " If you persist in remaining 
 here, I shall ring the bell for assistance." 
 
 "Don't be foolish, dearest!" cried Tiffany. "Say a 
 kind word, and he shall go." 
 
 Most opportunely the door opened at this juncture, and 
 Sir Norman came in. 
 
 " Oh ! you are just in time," cried Eva, springing towards 
 him. u I claim your protection." 
 
 "Against this fellow?" demanded the young baronet, 
 glancing fiercely at Musgrave, who, though greatly discon- 
 certed, still stood his ground. " What is he doing here ? " 
 
 " He has come to ask Miss Bracebridge's pardon that's 
 all," responded Tiffany. 
 
 "Then let him go at once," cried Sir Norman, in a 
 menacing voice, " or I will throw him out of window." 
 Stepping up to Captain Musgrave, he added, in a low 
 
122 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 determined voice, "Don't compel me to use violence before 
 these ladies," 
 
 "Come away!" cried Tiffany, who was now greatly 
 alarmed. " I've been the cause of all this." 
 
 "Before I go, will you hear my explanation, Sir Nor- 
 man ? " said Musgrave. 
 
 " Explanation is impossible. No gentleman would act 
 thus. You are unworthy the name." 
 
 Musgrave's dark eyes flashed fire, and he raised his hand 
 with the intent to strike Sir Norman, but the latter, who was 
 a most powerful man, caught the uplifted arm, dragged him 
 to the open casement and thrust him forth. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 A DUEL. 
 
 j]BOUT an hour after the occurrence just related, 
 Sir Norman was quietly reclining on a divan in 
 the large and well-appointed smoking-room of 
 the hotel, enjoying a cup of coffee and a cigar, 
 when Hornby Flaxyard came in. As there chanced to be 
 no one else in the smoking-room at the time, Hornby was 
 able to enter upon his business without difficulty. 
 
 " You can guess my errand, Sir Norman," he said, after 
 formally saluting the young baronet, who rose at his 
 approach. "I confess that it is not a very agreeable 
 one to myself, but perhaps I may be able to arrange 
 it." 
 
 " I don't see how, Sir," rejoined Sir Norman, haughtily. 
 " I conclude you are sent to me by Captain Musgrave. I 
 expected a message from him. Let me say at once that I 
 refuse to make any apology." 
 
 " I am sorry for it," said Hornby. " I hoped a little 
 reflection " 
 
 "Don't force me to make any remarks upon Captain 
 Musgrave's conduct," interrupted Sir Norman, sternly. " I 
 have treated him as he deserved." 
 
 " Since that's your opinion, Sir Norman, the difference 
 can only be settled by an appeal to arms. Captain Mus- 
 grave, though grossly outraged, under the peculiar cir- 
 cumstances of the case would have been content with an 
 apology, but since you refuse him that amende, he will 
 require another sort of satisfaction and with the least 
 possible delay. A meeting must take place between you 
 and my friend to-morrow morning." 
 
 " Be it so, Sir. Any hour and place will suit me the 
 sooner the better. To-night, if you wish it. Fortunately, I 
 have a case of pistols with me." 
 
124 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 " My principal is equally well provided. In regard to 
 the place of rendezvous, we propose, if quite agreeable to. 
 you, to cross over into Savoy, where the ordinances are less 
 strict in regard to duelling than here. A steamer to Eviaifc 
 leaves Ouchy at nine to-morrow morning. Will that be too 
 early for you, Sir Norman ? " 
 
 "Not a whit," he replied. " It will give me plenty of 
 time for my accustomed swim in the lake, and I can 
 breakfast on board the steamer, or at the Hotel des Bains, 
 at Evian, when this little affair has been adjusted. I shall 
 ask Mr. Pomfret to accompany me, and I don't think he 
 will refuse. You may count upon me." 
 
 Hornby then bowed and left the room. 
 
 Having finished his cigar, Sir Norman was just going 
 out in quest of Mr. Pomfret, when that gentleman entered 
 the smoking-room. When informed of what had oc- 
 curred, he was not at all inclined to allow Sir Norman to 
 act as principal in the affair. 
 
 " This is my quarrel," he said. " I am the person 
 affronted. It is for me to punish the offender not 
 you." 
 
 "Pardon me," rejoined the young baronet. "I have 
 clearly the priority. If I fall, you can avenge me. Meet 
 him I must, and shall. And I calculate upon your 
 presence." 
 
 . Pomfret made no further objection, and shortly afterwards 
 they separated for the night. 
 
 Next morning, Captain Musgrave, who, according to 
 his own account, had passed an excellent night, and who 
 seemed perfectly unconcerned, breakfasted at eight o'clock 
 in the salle-a-manger with Hornby, and did ample justice to 
 the delicious ferraz and the other good things set before 
 him. Hornby was not half so cool, and not feeling quite 
 up to the mark, was obliged to fortify his coffee with a tea- 
 spoonful of cognac. 
 
 Having finished breakfast, they went forth into the 
 garden, taking with them a small bag, which contained a 
 case of pistols. 
 
 As the steamer in which they intended to embark could 
 now be descried about a mile off, coming up from Vevay, 
 they lighted their cigars, and walked towards the landing? 
 
A Duel. 125 
 
 place. To watch them, and listen to their laughter as 
 Tiffany did from an upper window of the hotel you would 
 have thought they were bound on a pleasurable expedition. 
 
 Scarcely had they passed through the gates than Sir 
 Norman and Pomfret came forth. The former carried 
 a haversack, which answered the same purpose as his 
 adversary's carpet-bag. Pomfret's countenance wore a stern 
 and sombre expression, but the young baronet seemed 
 perfectly easy and unconcerned. He had been up for more 
 than a couple of hours, and had invigorated himself by a 
 bath in the cold waters of the lake. 
 
 While crossing the gazon, Sir Norman cast a glance 
 towards the room where the incident of the previous night 
 had occurred, and he fancied he could discern a figure 
 partially screened by the white muslin persiennes. By the 
 time they had reached the place of embarkation the steamer 
 had come up, and they immediately went on board. 
 Captain Musgrave and his friend had posted themselves in 
 the fore-part of the vessel, where they could smoke their 
 cigars, so our friends went aft, and sat down beneath the 
 awning. There were a great many passengers on board 
 many of whom were coming from Italy and a lot of 
 luggage. 
 
 The steamer having little to do at Ouchy, was soon off 
 again, and as it rapidly receded from the shore, a beautiful 
 view was obtained of Lausanne, with its terraces and vine- 
 covered slopes. Sir Norman's gaze was not directed 
 towards this charming prospect, but to the casement we 
 have just alluded to, in front of which Eva could now be 
 clearly distinguished. It was a lovely and most enjoyable 
 day. The Alps were entirely free from cloud, and the 
 snowy peaks of the Dent de Jaman, the Dent du Midi, and 
 the more 'distant Mont Velan, stood out sharp and clear. 
 
 The surface of the lake was smooth and bright as a 
 mirror, and the deep blue waters, when showering down the 
 paddle-wheels, took most exquisite hues. On all sides the 
 view was enchanting, and the noble Jura mountains, 
 clothed to their summits with woods, and with their sides 
 covered with vineyards, offered a charming contrast to the 
 snow-crowned Alps. The only person, indeed, whose 
 sombre looks did not harmonise with the scene, and upon 
 
126 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 whom the bright sunshine and clear atmosphere did not 
 produce an exhilarating effect, was Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 Never before had his features worn so stern an expression. 
 He looked not around neither towards the stupendous 
 Alps, nor to the riant Jura mountains but kept his eye 
 fixed upon the blue waters through which the vessel was 
 speeding, as if he would pierce their depths. 
 
 What were his thoughts? Was he thinking of another 
 lake far away amid the bleak northern hills a lake that 
 could not compare in size, or beauty, or grandeur, with this 
 lovely inland sea, but which had charmed him in days gone 
 by, when his heart was light? Was he thinking of the 
 happy hours he had passed on that far-off lake with one 
 now lost to him for ever? In the bitter disappointment 
 caused by crushed hopes, did he now regret that when 
 plunging into that lake, he had only simulated self-des- 
 truction ? Did he feel half prompted to throw himself into 
 the blue waters on which he now gazed, and so end his 
 woes ? We shall not examine his breast, but to judge by 
 his looks, such might have been his thoughts. 
 
 The steamer was now half way across the lake, and the 
 Savoy shore was beginning to display its beauties more fully. 
 The picturesque little town of Evian, with its tall spire, its 
 garden-terraces^ its chestnut-groves, its vineyards, and its 
 hotels near the landing-place, was now clearly distinguish- 
 able. In places the banks of the lake were rocky and 
 precipitous, and on the right could be seen a fine mediaeval 
 chateau amidst its woods. Sir Norman now thought it 
 necessary to rouse his friend from the reverie into which he 
 had fallen. 
 
 Shortly afterwards, Hornby Flaxyard came up, and after 
 formally saluting them, led Pomfret to the stern of the 
 vessel. Here they continued in earnest discourse till the 
 steamer was within a short distance of Evian, when Hornby 
 rejoined his principal. 
 
 In the conference which had just taken place, it was 
 arranged that the selection of a spot adapted to the purpose 
 required should be left to Hornby. 
 
 Accordingly, when the parties landed, Hornby and 
 Musgrave at once marched off, arid the others followed 
 them, Instead of mounting the eminence on which Evian 
 
A Duel. 127 
 
 is built, they pursued a road on the banks of the lake, and 
 ere long came to a footpath leading inland. Without 
 hesitation they took this path, which conducted them to a 
 fine grove of chestnut-trees. Having passed through this 
 grove they came upon the exact spot they sought a 
 secluded meadow watered by a clear mountain stream. 
 
 In another minute the parties had gained a retired part of 
 the field close to the brook, and shaded by trees, and the 
 seconds at once proceeded to make the needful preliminary 
 arrangements. The pistols were produced, and after some 
 little discussion it was agreed that those belonging to Sir 
 Norman should be used. The ground was then carefully 
 chosen, and the distance measured. 
 
 During these proceedings the principals had looked 
 calmly on, but had scarcely made an observation. Captain 
 Musgrave continued to smoke his cigar, and merely bowed 
 his head in assent when his adversary's pistols were 
 selected. Sir Norman manifested equal composure. At 
 last, the arrangements were completed. 
 
 Then, and not till then, did Musgrave fling away his 
 cigar, and address himself seriously to the business in hand. 
 Taking the pistol, which was delivered to him by Hornby, 
 he placed himself as directed. His dark frock-coat, 
 buttoned up to the throat, displayed his fine figure to 
 advantage. 
 
 Like formalities had been observed on the other- side, 
 and the two antagonists stood face to face. Throughout, 
 Sir Norman had maintained an undaunted demeanour, un- 
 marked by the levity and affected nonchalance that 
 characterised Musgrave's deportment. On receiving his 
 pistol, he glanced significantly at Pomfret. 
 
 The seconds then retired. It had been arranged that the 
 signal should be given by Hornby, and that the antagonists 
 should fire when the handkerchief was dropped. 
 
 Never, perhaps, on a similar occasion were the feelings of 
 a second more deeply interested on behalf of his principal 
 than were those of Pomfret in regard to Sir Norman. 
 Willingly would he have exchanged places with him. In 
 expectation of the signal, Sir Norman had now drawn him- 
 self up to his full height, and his lofty figure and gallant 
 bearing excited Pomfret's admiration. 
 
1 2 8 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 The handkerchief fell, and both pistols were discharged. 
 
 At first, the lookers-on thought that neither was hit, but 
 they presently discovered their mistake. For a moment 
 Sir Norman maintained his erect position. Then dropping 
 his pistol, he put his hand to his side, and fell heavily to the 
 ground. 
 
 Almost as much pained as if he himself had been struck, 
 Pomfret hurried with Hornby to the young baronet's 
 assistance. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 AFTER THE DUEL. 
 
 pR NORMAN HYLTON, we are happy to state, 
 was not dangerously hurt. 
 
 His adversary's bullet grazed his side, inflicting 
 a painful wound, but fortunately did not touch a 
 vital part. By the care of Myddleton Pomfret he was 
 transported to the Hotel des Bains at Evian, where, later on 
 in the day, his wound was dressed by a skilful surgeon 
 summoned by Pomfret from Lausanne, and in less than a 
 week he had sufficiently recovered to allow of his removal to 
 the Beau-Rivage. 
 
 Naturally, the duel caused a vast deal of talk at the Beau- 
 Rivage. None except those immediately concerned in it, 
 who kept their own counsel, knew exactly how the affair 
 originated, but everybody knew that Sir Norman had acted 
 as Eva's champion, and by common consent agreed that she 
 must reward him with her hand. 
 
 Much interest was felt for Sir Norman. Daily bulletins 
 were brought from Evian by the captain of the steamer; 
 and though these were always favourable, and showed rapid 
 progress towards recovery, several persons crossed the lake 
 to make inquiries at the Hotel des Bains. Such was the 
 curiosity excited by the affair, that a large party, under the 
 conduct of Hornby Flaxyard, visited the scene of the 
 encounter, and listened to that gallant young gentleman's 
 description of the meeting. 
 
 Old Flaxyard, however, was anything but pleased by the 
 part played by his son in the affair, and would fain have 
 broken off all intimacy with Captain Musgrave, but such a 
 course was no longer practicable. Wife, daughter, son were 
 against him. They all liked Musgrave, and would not hear 
 for a moment of giving him up. So the poor old gentleman 
 yielded, though with a very bad grace. He grumbled 
 9 
 
130 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 incessantly, and often wished himself back at Cheapside and 
 Clapham, vowing internally that he would never again bring 
 his family to the Continent. 
 
 Though Musgrave had come off triumphantly, and though 
 his conduct throughout the affair was unimpeachable, the 
 circumstances that led to the meeting, so far as they were 
 known, were not very creditable to him, and many of the 
 company at the Beau-Rivage began to look shy upon him. 
 Not knowing how to resent such treatment, he thought it 
 prudent to retreat. So he proposed a visit to Baden-Baden 
 to the Flaxyards, and though the old gentleman was 
 decidedly averse to the plan, he was overruled in the end, 
 and the very next day the party started for that grand resort 
 of gamblers and demireps. 
 
 Musgrave's departure was an immense relief both to 
 Myddleton Pomfret and Eva. During the captain's stay at 
 the Beau-Rivage, Eva had almost been kept a prisoner in 
 her own apartments, and so obnoxious was he to Pomfret^ 
 that that gentleman would have quitted the hotel if anxiety 
 for Sir Norman had not detained him. Till the young 
 baronet was completely reinstated, Pomfret would not leave 
 him. The kind-hearted fellow crossed over daily to Evian, 
 accompanied by the surgeon from Lausanne, and ere a week 
 had elapsed his care was rewarded, and he had the 
 satisfaction of bringing back with him his friend. 
 
 Sir Norman's arrival by the steamer being expected, a 
 crowd had collected at the landing-place to offer him a 
 welcome, and congratulations on his recovery. A wounded 
 man is sure to excite the sympathy of the gentle sex, and 
 Sir Norman, feeble, pallid, and unable to walk without 
 assistance, was far more interesting in the eyes of the young 
 ladies than he had been when full of health and vigour. 
 
 Followed by the surgeon, and leaning on the arm of 
 Myddleton Pomfret, he gratefully acknowledged the many 
 kind inquiries addressed to him, and while doing so looked 
 around but looked in vain for one whom he hoped might 
 be there to greet him. Not perceiving her, he moved slowly 
 on to the carriage which was waiting to convey him to the 
 hotel. 
 
 His anxiety to behold Eva was not long ungratified. As 
 soon as they alighted, Pomfret led him to those pleasant 
 
After the Duel 13! 
 
 rooms which we have already described. There he found 
 her, and the meeting was far more agreeable than if it had 
 taken place amid a throng of curious spectators. 
 
 Eva's reception of her champion was so cordial, so unlike 
 ' her previous manner towards him, that Sir Norman per- 
 suaded himself that her heart was at length touched. Never 
 before had she addressed him with so much warmth, never 
 had she regarded him with so much interest. It was worth 
 while to be wounded, he thought, to obtain such a com- 
 pensation. 
 
 The interview was brief, for the surgeon, who was present, 
 thought proper to abridge it, but it was in the highest degree 
 satisfactory to Sir Norman. Pomfret also entertained the 
 impression that a favourable change had been wrought in 
 his lovely ward's sentiments towards the young baronet. 
 
 Both were wrong. Undoubtedly, Sir Norman's gallant 
 conduct had raised him in Eva's estimation. He had risked 
 his life in her behalf, had bled for her, and she could not 
 be insensible to so much devotion. She felt profoundly 
 grateful to him, but that was all. This she told him frankly 
 at another interview, when, emboldened by her change of 
 manner towards him, he ventured to renew his suit. The 
 blow being unexpected, came upon him with the greater 
 force. His distress was so evident that she could not help 
 compassionating him. Yet she could not possibly excite 
 hopes that could never be realised. 
 
 Pomfret, who had stepped out upon the verandah, in 
 order to leave them alone together, now returned. A glance 
 at the pair sufficed to show him how unsatisfactorily matters 
 had been going on, and he looked reproachfully at Eva. She 
 did not, however, stay to be questioned by him, but, making 
 some slight excuse, hastily withdrew. 
 
 Seating himself on the sofa beside Sir Norman, Pomfret 
 expressed his annoyance at the unexpected turn which the 
 affair had taken, and earnestly besought his friend to desist 
 from a pursuit which seemed certain to end in mortification 
 and disappointment. 
 
 "It is plain I have failed," rejoined Sir Norman, sighing 
 deeply, " And yet I do not see why I should have failed 
 so signally. Without vanity, I may say that I have generally 
 contrived to make myself agreeable to any girl whom I have 
 
432 tfyddleton Pomfret 
 
 particularly desired to please. But all my efforts to win Eva's 
 love have proved ine'ffectual. I am just where I was when 
 I began a friend, but nothing more. There must be some 
 one in the way. Tell me frankly, my dear fellow, has she 
 an attachment ? " 
 
 " I have no reason to suppose so. I have been constantly 
 with her since her father's death even before that sad 
 event and have never known any one who has seemed to 
 engage her affections. She has had many admirers, and 
 has refused several advantageous offers made her at 
 Madras." 
 
 " Still I adhere to my opinion. She may have formed an 
 attachment, and have concealed it from you." 
 
 " Why should she do so ? There can be no motive for 
 concealment from me. I am not a flinty-hearted father, but 
 a good-natured guardian, whose consent could be easily 
 obtained, for I will not suppose for a moment that she would 
 fix her regards on any person whom I could not approve. 
 I have always encouraged her to consult me. If she had 
 any secret attachment, I must have detected it." 
 
 " My dear fellow, you give yourself credit for far more 
 penetration than you really possess. Take my word for it, 
 your ward is in love. That is the reason why she is 
 insensible to my suit. Think again. You say you are 
 constantly with her. Some one, I am convinced, has 
 forestalled me. Who is it ? " 
 
 As he put the question, he looked fixedly at Pomfret, 
 but the latter bore the scrutiny unmoved. 
 
 "You tell me I am wanting in discernment," said 
 Pomfret, with a half smile, " and very likely I am, for I have 
 seen no one for whom Eva has shown a marked preference. 
 However, whether you have a rival or not in her affections, it 
 is clear that she does not appreciate you as she ought, and 
 as I would have her do. Since I cannot force her 
 inclinations, the only course left me is to take her away. I 
 have stayed longer at this place than I intended, chiefly 
 on your account." 
 
 " Don't let me drive you away," cried Sir Norman. " I 
 promise you not to intrude further on Eva, or attempt to 
 renew my hopeless suit. If I were able to travel, I would 
 relieve you from any uneasiness on my account by instant de- 
 
After the Duel. 13 3 
 
 parture, but I must, of necessity, remain here a few days 
 longer." 
 
 "I am anxious to be off," said Pomfret. "I have 
 business in London which ought to be attended to, and 
 which I have neglected. I hope we shall meet again at no 
 distant date, and under happier circumstances. It is idle 
 for me to say that I should have been delighted to give my 
 ward to you, but since she is obstinate, and will have her 
 own way, my little matrimonial project, which I am certain 
 would have tended to her happiness, must fall to the ground. 
 Don't be downcast, my dear fellow. After all, yours is a 
 very mild case." 
 
 u A mild case ! Few men, I fancy, could suffer more 
 than I do now. What can be harder to bear than un- 
 requited love ? What more painful than to discover that 
 another is in possession of the heart you seek to win ? " 
 
 " You are wrong, Sir Norman. There is suffering far 
 harder to bear than that which you are compelled to 
 endure. What is unrequited love to the loss of one bound 
 to you by sacred ties who has been snatched from your 
 arms by a villain ? Your suffering, I grant, may be sharp 
 for the moment, but it will pass away, and leave no trace 
 behind. But wrongs such as I have described for ever 
 torture the heart, and stir the brain almost to madness." 
 
 He betrayed so much excitement, and spoke with such 
 passion, that it was evident the case he described was his 
 own. 
 
 Sir Norman looked at him earnestly, and said, 
 
 " I can conceive the misery of one who has been deeply 
 injured, but at least he may have the satisfaction of 
 revenge." 
 
 " Even that satisfaction may be denied him," cried Pom- 
 fret. " But let us not pursue the subject further. 'Few 
 men escape without some laceration of the heart, and he is 
 happiest who has least sensibility." 
 
 "Do you mean to remain in London, may I ask?" 
 inquired Sir Norman. 
 
 " My plans are uncertain. Much depends on Eva. I. 
 am perplexed how to act for the best in regard to her. A^ 
 marriageable ward is as great a plague as a marriageable 
 daughter/ 6 
 
134 Myddleton Pomjret. 
 
 " The easiest way of getting rid of the difficulty would 
 be to marry her yourself," said Sir Norman, with a certain 
 intention. " Pardon me, I did but jest," he added, startled 
 by the effect produced by the suggestion. " I am exces- 
 sively sorry that I have pained you." 
 
 " Your remark has pained me," said Pomfret, " but I am 
 not sorry you have made it, because it affords me the 
 opportunity of stating positively that I look upon Eva as a 
 daughter. I have no other feeling towards her. And she 
 regards me in the light of a father. I need scarcely add, 
 that I should never dream of marrying her. But if none 
 of these obstacles existed, there is yet another, to which I 
 will not refer, but which would be sufficient to prevent my 
 union with her." 
 
 " Say no more, my dear fellow," cried Sir Norman. " I 
 am sorry to have forced this explanation from you. The 
 slight insight that you have given me into your history 
 interests me deeply, but I will make no further inquiries 
 about it. On one point only I should like to be satisfied, 
 but do not answer me if you have any objection to do so. 
 Is Captain Musgrave connected with the painful circum- 
 stances to which you have adverted ? " 
 
 " He is the cause of all my misery," replied Pomfret, 
 sternly, " And you would have done me a good turn if 
 you had shot him." 
 
 " I meant to kill him, but his hour, I suppose, was not 
 come, or the devil befriended him. But if he has wronged 
 you, \vhy do you not avenge yourself upon him ? " 
 
 " My hand is tied," rejoined Pomfret. " Don't ask me 
 why. I cannot explain. The time will come when I shall 
 be able to settle accounts with him, and I will then pay 
 him off in full." 
 
 " Don't put off the settlement too long," said Sir 
 Norman. "But we have had enough of him. Let us 
 turn to something else. I will now explain why I asked 
 whether you are going to stay in town. You have often 
 heard me speak of my old tumble-down house in Surrey ? " 
 
 "Yes. Hylton Castle. I have seen it. It is just the 
 sort of place that would suit me." 
 
 " That's lucky. I was about to offer it to you for two or 
 (three mpnths, if you chpoe to occupy it, I shall probably 
 
"After the Duel 135 
 
 remain upon the Continent for some time. You will find 
 two or three old servants there who will attend to you, but 
 I cannot promise you first-rate accommodation. I think 
 Eva might like the place, and I should wish her to see it, 
 though I sha'n't be there to welcome her." 
 
 " Will you let me the house as it stands till Christmas ? 
 If so, I'll take it on your own terms." 
 
 " I would far rather lend it you, but since you won't be 
 under an obligation to me, I agree to your proposal. I'll 
 let it you till Christmas. But before deciding, had you not 
 better consult Eva ? She mayn't like the notion." 
 
 " We'll hear what she says," replied Pomfret. 
 
 With this he summoned the young lady, and acquainted 
 her with the plan. She looked quite surprised, and asked 
 Sir Norman if he was really serious. 
 
 " Serious ! to be sure I am," he replied. " I have agreed 
 to let my house to Pomfret, and he may consider that I have 
 conferred a great favour upon him, for I wouldn't let it to 
 any one else. Don't fear any intrusion on my part I 
 sha'n't come near the place unless you choose to invite me, 
 but as I have just told Pomfret, I think you will like the 
 old house." 
 
 " Oh, I can't fail to like it. It's very kind in you to give 
 us the opportunity of passing a few months in such a 
 charming old place as Hylton Castle." 
 
 " I feel quite sure the park will please you, for it has 
 great beauties a fine grove of old chestnuts, and a 
 magnificent double avenue of lime-trees but you mustn't 
 expect too much from the house. It's in a sad ruinous 
 state." 
 
 " I don't mind that. I daresay some portion of it is 
 habitable." 
 
 " A few rooms are in tolerable repair. But I ought to 
 warn you that one of them is haunted." 
 
 " Delightful ! " she exclaimed. " You couldn't have con- 
 ferred a greater favour upon me. I shall now be able to 
 indulge my romantic notions to the full. I have always 
 longed to live in an old ruined castle." 
 
 '.' I must not allow you to deceive yourself. This is not 
 exactly an old castle merely an embattled mansion." 
 
 f ' Well it's picturesque, I'm quite sure, And then there 
 
136 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 is a ghost that's enchanting ! Where is the haunted 
 chamber ? " 
 
 " I should spoil your pleasure if I were to give you any 
 information on that point. I won't even tell you in what 
 form the ghost appears." 
 
 " Have you ever seen the ghost yourself? " 
 
 " More than once ; but I must positively decline to give 
 you any particulars. I won't frighten you too much before- 
 hand." 
 
 "You won't frighten me at all," she rejoined, gaily. 
 " Of all things I should like to be the heroine of a ghost 
 story. Unfortunately, I am not at all superstitious, and, 
 therefore, am unfitted for the part" 
 
 " Perhaps your incredulity may be shaken at Hylton 
 Castle." 
 
 " We shall see. If I should have a mysterious adventure 
 there, Mr. Pomfret shall send you an account of it." 
 
 " And you really think you can pass a few months in 
 quiet seclusion in the country ? " remarked Pomfret 
 
 " Certainly I can," she replied. 
 
 " Oh, you will find plenty of society in the neighbour- 
 hood if you choose to cultivate it," said Sir Norman. i 
 
 " Not on my account," said Eva. " I prefer seclusion. 
 I don't care for town-life in the country. I don't want 
 dinners, visitors, and balls. I can amuse myself very well 
 in the garden if there is a garden and by roaming about 
 the park." 
 
 "Just the sort of life I should like to lead I" said Sir 
 Norman, gazing at her tenderly. 
 
 " But you never have led it, I suppose ? " she rejoined. 
 "You never have remained for six months at your old 
 house, I will venture to say." 
 
 " Very true ; but I could be perfectly content to remain 
 there under certain circumstances." 
 
 With this he arose, bade adieu to Eva, and begging 
 Pomfret to give him his arm, returned to his own room. 
 
 He did not see her again before she left the Beau* 
 .Rivage, 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 AN EXPLANATION. 
 
 a few minutes Pomfret came back. 
 
 As he entered the room, Eva ran towards him, 
 exclaiming, " Oh, I'm so charmed with this idea 
 of the old house ! " 
 
 "I'm glad you think the prospect of a secluded life 
 agreeable. If you are tired of it, you can easily make a 
 change by moving up to town. It will be a great satis- 
 faction to me that you should be quietly settled during my 
 absence." 
 
 " Your absence ! What do you mean, Sir ? " she cried, 
 quickly. "Surely you are not thinking of returning to 
 India ? If you have any such design, I beg you will let 
 me know it. I won't be left behind. I now begin to 
 suspect that this arrangement in regard to Hylton Castle is 
 nothing more than a device to keep me quiet. But I 
 won't be so taken in. If you return to Madras, I shall go 
 with you." 
 
 " My dear child, that would be ridiculous, and I can't 
 possibly allow it," returned Pomfret. " I shan't be away 
 more than six months, and a considerable portion of that 
 time will be occupied by the voyage out and the voyage 
 back. If you don't like Hylton Castle, I will make other 
 arrangements for you, but I can't consent to your return 
 with me to Madras unless you will promise to stay 
 there." 
 
 " No, I won't give any such promise. You know very 
 well that I don't want to live in India. I prefer England. 
 But I think you are treating me very unkindly in not allow- 
 ing me to do as I like." 
 
 *' Qnly a few moments ago you declared that nothing 
 
138 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 would please you so much as to have a few quiet months 
 at Hylton Castle. Now you have suddenly changed your 
 mind." 
 
 "But I didn't imagine I was to be left quite alone 
 there." 
 
 " I don't mean that you should be left quite alone. 
 I will take care you have an agreeable female com- 
 panion." 
 
 " Some stupid old lady, I suppose. I would rather be 
 alone than have such a companion." 
 
 " Well, you have relations. Invite some of them." 
 
 "I don't want to invite them. I have seen nothing 
 of my relations. As you know, when I left school I 
 came out at once to India, so I had no time to become 
 acquainted with any of them. They are quite strangers to 
 me." 
 
 "Still it is only right and proper that you should 
 keep up an intimacy with your own family. There is no 
 reason for estrangement. On your arrival in London you 
 must call upon them, and then you can select some one 
 among them to whose charge I can commit you during my 
 absence." 
 
 " I will do whatever you desire. But I should infinitely 
 prefer going with you. You seem to care nothing for leav- 
 ing me behind," she added, in a reproachful tone. 
 
 " You do me an injustice. I shall be very sorry to part 
 with you. But it cannot be helped. I am obliged to 
 return to Madras. I have many business matters to 
 settle there. Indeed, I have your poor father's affairs to 
 arrange." 
 
 "You are quite sure you will come back in six 
 months ? " 
 
 " It is my fixed intention to do so now, and unless I am 
 prevented by unforeseen circumstances shall certainly return 
 at that time." 
 
 " I shall be wretched while you are away. I was never 
 so miserable as when you left me at Madras, and now you 
 are going to abandon me again. I have been so much 
 accustomed to be near you, that I cannot bear the thought of 
 separation. A secluded life at Hyiron Castle would have 
 delightful to me if you had been there j but left with 
 
An Explanation. 139 
 
 people whom I care nothing about, I shall be dreadfully 
 moped." 
 
 "This is mere childish fancy," said Pomfret, gravely. 
 " Since I cannot always be with you, you must look to 
 others to supply my place. I really think this separation 
 will be serviceable to you, and prepare you for the part 
 which, ere long, you must play in life. Perhaps on my 
 return I may find you married ; or at all events, engaged to 
 be married. I promise my consent beforehand." 
 
 " You are very cruel to tease me so," she cried, the tears 
 springing to her eyes. " You know very well that I shall 
 not be married, or even engaged. If you wait till I ask 
 your consent, you will have to wait a long time." 
 
 " You think so now, and mean what you say," he rejoined, 
 with some bitterness ; " but I have little faith in a woman's 
 resolutions. However, you are perfectly at liberty to 
 change your mind, and, indeed, I hope you will speedily 
 change it. Now attend to me," he added, taking her 
 hand. " I have a delicate question to put to you, but as 
 your guardian I may be permitted to ask it. Sir Norman 
 accounts for your indifference to him by the supposition 
 that you are attached to another. I told him that I 
 was quite sure he was mistaken, but he adhered to his 
 opinion." 
 
 As the words were uttered, Eva flushed deeply, and then 
 became deathly pale. 
 
 " You display unwonted emotion, my dear child," he said, 
 regarding her with tenderness. "I begin to think Sir 
 Norman is right in his conjecture." 
 
 " He is right," she rejoined, casting down her eyes, and 
 speaking in low tremulous tones, " and I am surprised you 
 have not made the discovery before." 
 
 " I must, indeed, have been blind. But I had no sus- 
 picion of anything of the kind. How long have you had 
 this attachment?" 
 
 " How long ? Ever since I cannot tell when it first 
 
 began." 
 
 " Why did you keep it a secret from me ? I have ever . 
 been anxious for your happiness, and I persuaded myself 
 that I had your entire confidence." 
 
 have always had my confidence, except on thj 
 
140 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 point," she replied, still without raising her eyes, "and I 
 did not dare to disclose it to you." 
 
 " I look in vain for a motive for such constraint." 
 
 " The motive is not hard to find. But now that I have 
 spoken," she cried, summoning up all her courage, and 
 looking at him stedfastly, " shall I make a full confession to 
 you ? shall I lay bare the secret of my heart ? " 
 
 " No," he replied, hastily checking her. <c No. I would 
 rather not be the depository of such a secret. You say you 
 had a motive for restraint. The motive must still exist. 
 Do not allow yourself to be carried away by a sudden im- 
 pulse to make a disclosure which you may hereafter 
 regret Keep your secret. I can counsel you just as well 
 without knowing more, and I would say to you, if you have 
 fixed your affections on some one who is unworthy of your 
 love " 
 
 " Oh no ! he is not unworthy of my love," she inter- 
 rupted " far from it. He is only indifferent to me." 
 
 "In that case you must conquer your passion. To 
 nourish affection for one who is indifferent to you is a 
 weakness of which I should not have deemed you capable, 
 if you had not confessed to it. Whatever the effort may 
 cost you, stifle the feeling. Summon feminine pride to 
 your aid. You need not despair of a cure, if you are 
 resolute." 
 
 " Have you found it easy to pluck out a passion that has 
 taken deep root in your breast ? " she cried. " I think not. 
 Can you assure me that you are perfectly cured ? Your 
 looks convince me to the contrary. Yet you bid me do that 
 which you cannot yourself perform." 
 
 " I advise you for your own happiness," he said in a 
 broken voice. "My case is not your case. I cannot 
 obliterate the past. I cannot forget that I have loved ay, 
 and been beloved in return ; but I love no longer." 
 
 "Are you quite sure of that?" she demanded, scepti- 
 cally. 
 
 " Quite sure," he replied. But there was something in 
 . his tone that contradicted the assertion. " Promise me you 
 will follow my advice, and conquer this silly passion," he 
 added. 
 
 *'I will do my best, At all events, I promise that you 
 
An 
 
 141 
 
 shall hear no more of it. I regret that I have said so 
 much." 
 
 " Nay, it is well that you have spoken," he said, re- 
 garding her with tender compassion. " When the heart is 
 too full there must be an outlet. You will be all the easier 
 for this partial disclosure. Whoever has unconsciously won 
 your heart and I do not desire to know his name he 
 deserves pity, for he has lost a priceless treasure. But 
 enough has been said on the subject. This is our last day 
 at this lovely place. Do not let us waste it." 
 
 And he led her out. 
 
 For some time they stood upon the balcony, gazing on 
 the magnificent scene in silence. During that interval 
 calmer thoughts succeeded to the tempest that had just 
 agitated either breast. At last Pomfret spoke : 
 
 " To morrow we must bid adieu to this enchanting lake, 
 and to those mighty mountains. Perhaps I may some 
 day return hither, but if not, the beauties of the spot are 
 not likely to be effaced from my recollection. I shall 
 always be able to conjure up this glorious picture in my 
 imagination." 
 
 " Since you like the place so much, why not remain 
 here?" said Eva. 
 
 "Because I am not destined to know repose," he 
 rejoined. "I cannot remain inactive. Were I to do so, 
 my thoughts would kill me. Much as I love this place 
 much as I admire its beauties I cannot stay here. I 
 should tire of that lovely lake, of those stupendous moun- 
 tains of all about me of myself most of all. I must mix 
 with active life. I must forget myself in the turmoil of 
 business. As I have said, the recollection of these 
 scenes will cheer me and delight me, but I must quit 
 them." 
 
 That evening Pomfret passed an hour or two alone with 
 Sir Norman, during which they came to a perfectly satis- 
 factory understanding as to the rent to be paid by the 
 former for Hylton Castle. 
 
 Sir Norman gave Pomfret a letter which he had written 
 to his bailiff, Mr. Beecroft, and another addressed to his 
 housekeeper, Mrs. Austin, in which he informed them both 
 that he had let his house, grounds, and park to Mr. Myddle- 
 
f 4* Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 ton Pomfret till Christmas, and enjoined them to obey Mr. 
 Pomfret's orders, and do all in their power to contribute to 
 his comfort during that term. 
 
 Next day, Pomfret and his fair ward proceeded to Geneva. 
 Thence they travelled on to Paris, breaking the journey by 
 a night's rest at the old capital of Burgundy. Three days 
 sadly too little, Eva thought were devoted to Paris, and 
 then they went on to London. 
 
 ISnti jrf tlje 
 
BOOK IV. 
 
 THE FLAXYARDS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 MR. BOOTLE BROOKE SHELMERDINE. 
 
 j|HEN the Flaxyards arrived at Baden-Baden, 
 certain Mr. Bootle Birooke Shelmerdine was 
 staying at the Hotel de FEurope, where they put 
 up. A few words must be devoted to this young 
 gentleman, who is destined to play a little part in our story. 
 Bootle Brooke Shelmerdine was the only son the only 
 child, in fact of a Lancashire cotton-spinner. Fifty years 
 ago, John Shelmerdine, Bootless worthy sire, had been a 
 factory lad in Manchester, but he had now got a large mill 
 of his own at Bury, with a noble mansion and grounds in 
 the neighbourhood of that thriving but ugly town. 
 
 John Shelmerdine kept a large establishment, men* 
 servants in livery, carriages and horses, and lived like a 
 prince. Why should he not ? He could well afford to do 
 so, for though not exactly a millionaire, he was rich, and 
 had only one son. Many men who have risen from nothing, 
 and have not had the advantage of a liberal education, are 
 narrow-minded, and don't know how to spend their mone), 
 but John Shelmerdine was an instance to the contrary. In 
 early life he had received little or no education, but he 
 contrived to make up for his deficiencies to a certain extent 
 as he went on, and he fortunately possessed good sound 
 common sense, and remarkable judgment and acuteness. 
 He saw clearly the road that would lead to success, and 
 steadily pursued it. Everything prospered with him. 
 
144 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 Before he was fifty he was a wealthy man, and had puf- 
 chased a large estate on the road to Haslingden, and 
 erected the mansion called Belfield, to which we have just 
 alluded. 
 
 In point of birth, Mrs. Shelmerdine was very superior to 
 her husband, and rather looked down upon him. She 
 belonged to the Booties and Brookes of Cheshire, and had 
 married plain John because he was rich, and could make a 
 good settlement upon her. John Shelmerdine was very 
 proud of his wife because she was a lady, and submitted 
 humbly to all her whims and caprices ; and he was also 
 proud of his son, because he thought him a very fine gentle- 
 man, and because he resembled his mother. 
 
 Very lucky was Bootle in having some one to make a 
 fortune for him, for we doubt if he would have made one 
 for himself. He had not a tithe of old John's natural 
 ability, and was totally wanting in the judgment and dis- 
 crimination that had conduced to his father's eminent 
 success. Bootle had no taste for business of any kind. He 
 did not care even to have a profession. He would not go 
 into the church, though urged to do so by his father, nor 
 into the army to please his mother. Law and medicine 
 equally repelled him : the first was too dry and laborious, 
 to the second he entertained a decided aversion. He was 
 quite content to be a cotton-spinner, provided his father 
 would look after the business, so he was taken into the 
 concern, and allowed to do as he pleased. 
 
 He went to the counting-house now and then, talked to 
 the book-keepers, who laughed at him in their sleeve, and 
 after passing an hour or two in doing little more than read- 
 ing the newspapers, or conducting some stranger over the 
 mill, he rode back to Belfield, or made some calls in the 
 neighbourhood. But as Bury and Manchester John 
 Shelmerdine, being closely connected with the latter 
 ' important city, was constantly there offered no great 
 attractions to Bootle, he passed a considerable portion of 
 his time in town. Indeed, he might be said to live in 
 London during the spring and early summer. He had 
 three or four clubs to which he could resort for society. 
 When the London season was over, he yachted ; and when 
 tired of yachting, he went to Scotland ; when he had had 
 
Mr. Sootle Brooke Shehrterdine. 145 
 
 enough of the moors, he went upon the Continent ; and, 
 returning tofrards winter, took up his quarters at Brighton, 
 where he ro4e out with the harriers. 
 'Thus it wll be seen that he did not spend much of his 
 time at Belfield, nor bestow much of his society upon his 
 worthy father. He saw more of his mother in London in 
 the spring, and at Brighton in the winter, than he did at 
 home in Lancashire. Bootle Brooke Shelmerdine had 
 received the education of a gentleman, and had been at 
 Eton and Oxford. But he had as little ambition as energy, 
 and did not desire to distinguish himself. Anything that 
 gave him trouble, bored him. He would not go into 
 parliament, because attendance at the House was a bore ; 
 he would not join the volunteers, because rifle practice was 
 a bore. So little capable was he of mental exertion, that he 
 thought it a bore to write a letter. Yet he was not a bad 
 fellow, and had few of the vices into which idle young 
 fellows are apt to fall. He was not extravagant, and his 
 demands on the paternal exchequer were never excessive. 
 In personal appearance, Bootle differed as much from his 
 father, who was short, stout, and hard-featured, as he did in 
 character. Some people thought him good-looking, and he 
 would have been so but for the vacant expression of his 
 features. His manner was languid and indifferent, and he 
 spoke in a drawling, affected voice. He was rather tall 
 than otherwise, and stooped slightly, as if it was too much 
 trouble to hold himself erect, and sauntered rather than 
 walked. With his blonde locks and fair complexion he 
 looked exceedingly juvenile almost boyish the only 
 evidence of his manhood being a slight silken mustache. 
 
 Within a very few weeks of his introduction to the reader, 
 Bootle Shelmerdine had never for a moment entertained the 
 idea of a wife. Marriage was a frightful bore, and he 
 shuddered at the bare notion of it. He had seen plenty of 
 pretty girls in town, at Brighton, and even at Manchester, 
 but none of them had produced the slightest impression 
 upon him. 
 
 It was reserved for Tiffany Flaxyard to cnvince him that 
 
 he was not so indifferent as he supposed to the attractions 
 
 of the fair sex. He saw her on her arrival, and was at once 
 
 taken by her perhaps because she was so fast, and he him- 
 
 10 
 
146 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 self was slow. There was something about her that struck 
 his fancy. Gazing at her at the table d'hote, and listening 
 to her converse, he thought her an amazingly fine girl. 
 
 At the same time he became a little jealous of Captain 
 Musgrave, who sat next her. He afterwards beheld her at 
 a ball at the Conversations Haus, charmingly dressed, full 
 of spirit and fun, waltzing and flirting with Musgrave. He 
 grew more in love, and more jealous. His jealousy stirred 
 him on, and roused him from his wonted listlessness. Thus 
 Musgrave unintentionally aided Tiffany in her conquest. 
 Quickly perceiving that she had found a new admirer, she 
 put in play all her little artifices to lure him on. Bootle 
 was entangled in her meshes before he had even exchanged 
 a word with her. For the first time in his life he took a 
 little trouble. He introduced himself to Hornby, and very 
 soon got introduced to Hornby's sister. Finding that the 
 young man was really smitten, and having ascertained that 
 he had very good expectations, Tiffany laid herself out to 
 complete her conquest. 
 
 As Musgrave spent all his time at the gambling-tables, 
 the field was left open to Bootle, who was now constantly 
 with the Flaxyards, breakfasted with them, sat next his 
 charmer at the table d'hote, and accompanied her to 
 Lichtenthal, Eberstein, and the Alte Schloss, During these 
 excursions many favourable opportunities for a declaration 
 occurred, and Tiffany was at all times quite prepared to give 
 it due consideration. But Bootle being a slow man, could 
 not make up his mind. He seemed always on the point of 
 proposing, but never did propose. Tiffany, who did not 
 like such " shilly-shally work," as she termed it, was 
 determined to bring him to the point ; and while they were 
 at Eberstein, gazing at the beautiful valley of the Murg, and 
 he was hesitating in his usual style, she quite disconcerted 
 him by laughing in his face, and telling him plainly that she 
 knew what he meant to say. 
 
 " No use in being bashful with me," she said. " If I 
 didn't like you I'd tell you so in a moment. But I do like 
 you so there's an answer to the question which I know 
 you're dying to ask me." 
 
 " Then I may consider myself " stammered Bootle, 
 
 whose confusion prevented him from going on. 
 
Mr. Bootle Brookt Shelmerdine. 147 
 
 11 Consider yourself the happiest of men," supplied the 
 young lady. " Speak to pa as soon as you please. Ah ! 
 here he is," she added, as the old gentleman came up, and 
 broke out into raptures about the picturesque beauties of 
 the Murg-thal. 
 
 " Never mind the Murg-thal just now, pa," said Tiffany. 
 "Your consent is wanted to make two young people happy. 
 Be so good as to perform the part of an amiable parent at 
 the close of a farce join our hands, and give us your 
 blessing." 
 
 "Bless my soul! what does the girl mean ?" exclaimed 
 Flaxyard, staring at Bootle. "Am I to understand " 
 
 " How exceedingly dull you are, Sir," said his daughter. 
 " You are to understand that Bootle has proposed. But of 
 course I couldn't say 'yes' without your consent." 
 
 " I haven't exactly made the proposal in due form, Sir, 
 but " 
 
 "It comes to the same thing," said Tiffany. "All now 
 rests with you, pa. What have you to say ? " 
 
 "Why, that I give my consent with all my heart," he 
 replied. " I won't say that the announcement has taken me 
 by surprise, because I have noticed what has been going on 
 ha ! ha ! Since you have succeeded in gaining my 
 daughter's affections," he added to Bootle, " you shall have 
 her. I'm sure you'll make her happy, and from my own 
 experience, I can confidently affirm that there is no true 
 happiness except in the married state." 
 
 " That's the correct thing to say on the occasion, but it's 
 rather hackneyed," laughed Tiffany. "Tell Bootle you'll 
 come down handsomely. That will be more to the purpose 
 than a common-place observation on conjugal felicity." 
 
 "Well, so I will come down handsomely, my dear," 
 replied her father. " I hope the arrangement will be as 
 agreeable to your own family as it is to mine," he added to 
 Bootle. 
 
 "I daresay it will," replied the young gentleman. "I 
 suppose I must write and tell them about it. But it will be 
 a confounded bore. I hate writing letters of any kind." 
 
 " I can't take this trouble off your hands, or I would/' 
 said Tiffany. " Stay ! I have it. Send them a telegram, 
 That will do as well." 
 
 IO 2 
 
148 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 "A brilliant idea, upon my soul!" exclaimed Bootle. 
 *' I should never have thought of it. By Jove ! you're a 
 wonderful girl." 
 
 " Yes, I flatter myself I am," she rejoined. 
 
 Brilliant as the plan appeared to Bootle, neither old 
 Flaxyard nor his wife approved of it ; but, in spite of their 
 objections, it was acted upon. A telegraphic message was 
 sent to Bury. It was necessarily brief, but to the purpose, 
 and ran thus : 
 
 "Engaged. Fine girl. Lots of tin. Handsome settlement 
 expected. 11 
 
 To this came a prompt reply : 
 
 " Glad to hear it. Who is she ? How much tin ? No 
 difficulty as to settlement" 
 
 So far as it went this was satisfactory, but further in- 
 formation being required, Bootle was obliged to send 
 another message, and enter a little more into detail. 
 
 Old Flaxyard, who was delighted with the proposed 
 match, undertook to give his daughter thirty thousand 
 pounds, and this liberal offer being communicated to John 
 Shelmerdine, he telegraphed the following decisive res- 
 ponse : 
 
 "All right. Choice approved. Will make corresponding 
 settlement. Love to the young lady? 
 
 Thus the preliminary arrangements of the intended 
 marriage of the slowest man going were settled with light- 
 ning-like rapidity. Had Bootle employed the post instead 
 of the wires of the telegraph, he would have been a month 
 about it. We recommend a like course to other contracting 
 parties. Besides its expedition, the telegraph saves a world 
 of discussion. In the present instance, we will almost 
 venture to say that if long letters had passed between 
 Bootle and his mother, the engagement would have been 
 interrupted, if not broken off altogether. 
 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine did not at all like the choice made by 
 
Mr. Booth Brooke Shelmerdine. 149 
 
 her son. The very name of Flaxyard repelled her, though 
 she admitted that Shelmerdine was not much better. And 
 she was astonished that Bootle had not looked higher than 
 a draper's daughter. The girl might have money, but in his 
 case that was not half so important as a good connexion. 
 With Bootless expectations he might have married into a 
 titled family. She could easily have arranged such an 
 alliance for him, and would have done so, if he had consulted 
 her, but she had never supposed he would marry in such a 
 hurry. Tiffany Flaxyard (was there ever such a dreadful 
 name !) must be vulgar and underbred. How could Bootle, 
 whose tastes were refined, be captivated by such a person ? 
 The thing was inconceivable. The girl must be artful, and 
 no doubt the girl's mother was a designing woman. Poor 
 Bootle ! he had been nicely taken in. 
 
 In such terms as these she gave vent to her disap- 
 pointment, and in such terms, though probably more at 
 length, she would have written to her son had time been 
 allowed her. But the electric telegraph did the business 
 before she could interfere. John Shelmerdine did not take 
 the same view of the arrangement as his wife. He as- 
 certained that Flaxyard was a highly respectable, wealthy 
 man, and saw no reason why Flaxyard's daughter should 
 not suit Bootle. So he gave his consent, as we have seen, 
 and this done, no more could be said. Mrs. Shelmerdine 
 had to reconcile herself to the match as best she could. 
 
 To save himself the trouble of description, Bootle sent 
 his mother a photograph of his intended, taken at Baden, 
 and very like the original. On seeing it, Mrs. Shelmerdine 
 almost screamed. 
 
 " What a pert, disagreeable-looking creature ! " she cried 
 " I told you she must be underbred. Look at her and judge 
 for yourself. There, Sir there's your precious daughter-in- 
 law, and a nice creature she is ! " 
 
 And she tossed the portrait to him. 
 
 "Well, I can't find any fault with her," said John. 
 " She's a smart, saucy-looking lass, and looks as if she had 
 plenty to say for herself." 
 
 " She has talked Bootle into making her an offer, that's 
 what she has done. I will never believe he qan admire such 
 an impudent piece of goods as this," 
 
150 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 "Why not?" cried John. "I'm sure the girl's un- 
 commonly pretty." 
 
 " Mere vulgar beauty. One of your odious fast girls. 
 Talks slang, I'll be bound. I shall never be able to endure 
 her. She's not a lady, and Bootle ought to marry a 
 lady." 
 
 " Well, my dear, I can't say whether she's a thorough-bred 
 lady or not, as I have never seen her ; but I must maintain 
 that she's pretty. She'll do all the talking for Bootle, and 
 that's some recommendation.' 1 
 
 " Yes, there's no fear of that," replied Mrs. Shelmerdine. 
 
 While this arrangement was going on, Captain Musgrave 
 had come to grief at the roulette-tables, as will be seen from 
 the following letter addressed by Hornby to his friend Rums 
 Trotter: 
 
 "On our arrival at Baden-Baden, Musgrave could never 
 
 keep away from the rouge et noir and roulette tables, and 
 
 being rather lucky at first, talked of breaking the bank, and 
 
 all that sort of thing. But ere long all his winnings 
 
 vanished, and every stiver he possessed went with them. 
 
 Being in a desperate fix, he begged me to lend him a few 
 
 hundreds till he could get a remittance from England. I 
 
 got him what he wanted from the governor, and off he set 
 
 at once to the Conversations Haus, and lost the whole of 
 
 it. Again he applied to me, and I was fool enough to lend 
 
 him three hundred more. This was swept away in no time 
 
 by the croupier's rake, and as I chanced to be standing 
 
 near the table, watching his game, he asked me for twenty 
 
 pounds. Moved by his desperate looks, I emptied my 
 
 pockets for him, to give him a last chance but he lost it. 
 
 Next day, he tried it on again, but I had now had enough, 
 
 and refused point blank, adding that I must trouble him to 
 
 repay me the money I had already lent him. He replied 
 
 very coolly that he should suit his own convenience, and 
 
 walked away. Knowing he was regularly cleaned out, I 
 
 fancied he couldn't leave Baden-Baden, but he did contrive 
 
 somehow to discharge his bill at the Hotel de 1'Europe, 
 
 and started that very night for Paris. People say that a 
 
 petite dame took compassion upon him, and helped him out 
 
 of his difficulties. As far as I am concerned, I have heard 
 
Mr. Booth Brooke Shelmerdine. 151 
 
 nothing of him since, and conclude that I have lost my 
 money. 
 
 "P.S. I must tell you another thing, old fellow. You 
 have lost your chance with Tiff. She is engaged to Mr. 
 Bootle Brooke Shelmerdine, of Belfield Hall, Lancashire." 
 
 On his return from Baden-Baden with the Flaxyards, 
 Bootle took the trouble to run down to Belfield, and then 
 discovered for the first time how strongly his mother was 
 opposed to his engagement. Her objections, however, 
 weighed little with him, though he listened quietly enough 
 to them. Eventually Mr. and Mrs. Shelmerdine came up 
 to town, for the purpose of making the acquaintance of the 
 family with whom they were to be connected, and put up 
 at the Palace Hotel, Buckingham Gate, where rooms had 
 been engaged for them by Bootle. 
 
 Here Mrs. Shelmerdine sat in state, and received her 
 intended daughter-in-law and the Flaxyard family. 
 
 Sorry are we to say that the unfavourable notion that 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine had formed of Tiffany was not removed 
 by the young lady herself, but rather confirmed. Tiffany's 
 manner, we may infer from the effect she produced, was 
 better calculated to please men than women, for when Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine asked her spouse what he thought of Bootle's 
 choice, he replied that she was an uncommonly fine girl, 
 and that Bootle was a lucky dog. 
 
 On the whole, John Shelmerdine was very well pleased 
 with his new connexions, and the Flaxyards, especially the 
 head of the family, were equally well pleased with him. 
 The two elderly gentlemen talked over matters in a 
 straightforward, business-like manner in the back room of 
 the shop in Cheapside, and soon came to a perfect under- 
 standing. Old Flaxyard was delighted to learn that his 
 son-in-law's expectations were much greater than he had 
 supposed. If all went well, John Shelmerdine said, Bootle 
 would one day be a rich man, and, meantime, he would not 
 be badly off. 
 
 As a matter of course, the Shelmerdines were invited to 
 dine at the Acacias. But the description of the entertain- 
 ment must be postponed to another chapter. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 A DINNER-PARTY AT THE ACACIAS. 
 
 jjHE country residence if Clapham Common can 
 be properly styled the country of our worthy 
 friend Mr. Flaxyard was a good-sized respect- 
 able-looking house, deriving its name from a 
 couple of fine acacia trees with which the smooth-shaven 
 lawn in front was ornamented. 
 
 The Acacias was not remarkable for beauty of architec- 
 ture, but was plain, rather old-fashioned, and roomy; reared 
 we should conjecture, about fifty years ago, when Clapham 
 was not so much over-built as it is now, standing a little 
 back, defended by a low wall from the road, and ap- 
 proached by a couple of gates with a broad gravel drive 
 leading to the door, having stables and out-buildings at the 
 side, and a good garden at the back. 
 
 Such was the external appearance of the Acacias, and 
 we may add that the internal accommodation of the house 
 more than answered to its outward promise. The house 
 was larger than it looked, and contained better rooms than 
 might have been expected, and those rooms were hand- 
 somely, not to say splendidly, furnished. 
 
 On the day after the arrival in town of the Shelmerdines, 
 and about five o'clock in the afternoon, an omnibus 
 stopped at the gate of the Acacias and set down the owner 
 of the house. Now, Mr. Flaxyard had more than one 
 carriage he had a well-appointed phaeton for the ladies, 
 and a brougham for himself and Hornby had a dog-cart 
 in which he always drove to Cheapside but the old 
 gentleman generally used the 'bus. He had peculiar 
 notions, and did not like either phaeton or brougham to 
 stand at his shop door. On the day in question he had 
 come home earlier than usual, as he expected the Shel- 
 merdines, to dinner, zuid though he had an excellent and 
 
A Dinner-Party at the Acacias. 153 
 
 trustworthy butler, Mr. Burgess, he liked to look after his 
 wine himself. The door was opened for him by a stout, 
 respectable man-servant, not in livery Mr. Burgess, in fact 
 and, after saying a few words to him in the hall, he 
 proceeded to the drawing-room, which was on the ground 
 floor, and here he found his wife and daughter. 
 
 " Well, ladies, what do you think ? " he cried. " I've a 
 surprise for you. I've made a slight addition to our 
 dinner-party, and have invited a gentleman whom we met 
 on the Continent." 
 
 " We met so many gentlemen on the Continent, that I 
 can't pretend to guess whom you mean, my dear," remarked 
 Mrs. Flaxyard. 
 
 "I'll tell you who it is, ma," said Tiffany. "He has 
 invited Mr. Myddleton Pomfret. I heard Hornby say he is 
 in town." 
 
 " Quite right, Tiff," said Flaxyard. " Mr. Pomfret is the 
 identical person I have asked." 
 
 "And is he really coming?" inquired his wife. "I 
 fancied, since the unpleasantness at the Beau-Rivage " 
 
 " Oh, that's all got over," interrupted Flaxyard. " I saw 
 Mr. Pomfret on business to-day, and he was so very 
 friendly that I couldn't help inviting him, and he promised 
 to come. I told him all about your engagement to Bootle, 
 and that he would meet your intended and his family, and 
 at the same time I took good care to explain that we had 
 no longer any acquaintance with Captain Musgrave. So 
 he promised to come." 
 
 "Well, I'm very glad of it," said Tiffany. "I like Mr. 
 Pomfret. But why didn't he bring Eva with him? I 
 should have been delighted to show her my darling little 
 Bootle. I wonder what she would think of the dear boy ? 
 Perhaps she would be one of my bridesmaids." 
 
 " Write and ask her. She is in the country at Hylton 
 Castle, near Dorking." 
 
 " Hylton Castle ! Why, that's Sir Norman's place ! " 
 exclaimed Mrs. Flaxyard. "What on earth is she doing 
 there ? Is she married to Sir Norman ? " 
 
 " Not yet, my dear. Mr. Pomfret, it appears, has taken 
 Hylton Castle till Christmas, and that's the yeason why his, 
 ward happens to be there*'* f 
 
154 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 "Well, it's the oddest thing I ever heard of," cried 
 Tiffany. " I shouldn't wonder if she and Sir Norman do 
 come together after all." 
 
 " Sir Norman is still on the Continent, and not likely to 
 return. I asked Mr. Pomfret the question myself. Pray 
 what have you done with darling Bootle? I thought I 
 should find him here." 
 
 " The dear boy has been here all the morning, but he 
 went up to town after luncheon," replied Tiffany. " Hornby 
 will bring him back in his dog-cart. By-the-bye, pa, some 
 people are coming in the evening. We mean to get up a 
 little dance." 
 
 " Very well, my dear ; it's all right." 
 
 " I shall be very glad when it's all over," said Mrs. Flax- 
 yard. " I do feel so dreadfully nervous about Mrs. Shel-. 
 merdine." 
 
 " How silly you are, ma ! " cried Tiffany. " Why need 
 you trouble yourself about her? I know you think she 
 snubbed you yesterday ; but I'll take good care she shan't 
 snub me.' 1 
 
 Wishing to avoid a discussion, Flaxyard betook himself 
 to the cellar ; and from the liberal preparations which he 
 there made, it was evident that he did not intend to stint 
 his guests. He next took a walk round his garden, visited 
 his greenhouses, conferred with his gardener, and then 
 returned to the house. 
 
 Meanwhile, Hornby and darling Bootle had arrived in 
 the dog-cart, and after a little chat with the ladies, had 
 gone up-stairs to dress for dinner. 
 
 At a little before seven the sound of carriage-wheels on 
 the drive in front of the house, and the loud ringing of the 
 door-bell, announced an arrival, and shortly afterwards Mr. 
 and Mrs. Shelmerdine were ceremoniously ushered into the 
 drawing-room by Burgess, where the host and hostess, with 
 Tiffany, now attired in a charming dress which she had 
 brought from Paris, were waiting to receive them. 
 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine was very richly arrayed, and it was 
 rather amusing to see in what a stately manner she 
 comported herself towards her new connexions. She did 
 not even kiss her intended daughter-in-law, and made Mrs. 
 Flaxyard feel more nervous than ever. John 
 
A Dinner-Party at the Acacias. 155 
 
 manner offered a marked contrast to that of his wife. He 
 was cordiality itself, shook hands warmly with Mrs. Flax- 
 yard, clapped old Flaxyard on the back, and did not 
 neglect to kiss Tiffany, and very heartily too. 
 
 Other guests followed quickly, most of them being 
 denizens of Clapham. There were Alderman and Mrs. 
 Cracknall, the Rev. Mr. Barker and Mrs. Barker, Tom 
 Titterton, a distinguished member of the Stock Exchange, 
 Mrs. Pritchard and Miss Celsia Pritchard, Mr. Stone- 
 house, an old acquaintance of the reader, and Rufus 
 Trotter. 
 
 All these were presented to Mr. and Mrs. Shelmerdine, 
 and felicitations of course were offered on an approaching 
 happy event, and these felicitations were renewed when 
 darling Bootle made his appearance with Hornby. 
 
 At last Mr. Myddleton Pomfret was announced. His 
 fine figure and striking countenance could not fail to attract 
 attention, but there was one person upon whom he 
 produced a remarkable effect. This was Mr. Stonehouse. 
 His keen grey eyes followed Pomfret with an expression of 
 the strongest curiosity, and he watched him narrowly while 
 he was talking to Mrs. Flaxyard and Tiffany, and telling 
 them how much delighted Eva was with Hylton Castle. As 
 soon as he could manage it, Stonehouse drew his host aside, 
 and said to him : 
 
 "Who is the tall gentleman just come in? I didn't 
 exactly catch his name." 
 
 " He is Mr. Myddleton Pomfret," replied Flaxyard. 
 "We met him when we were abroad." 
 
 " Are you quite sure ? " 
 
 " Why on earth do you ask such a question, Stonehouse ? 
 Do you think I can be mistaken on the point? Mr. 
 Pomfret is a Madras merchant, a partner in the well-known 
 house of Bracebridge, Clegg, and Pomfret." 
 
 " Bless my life ! that makes it still more extraordinary," 
 said Stonehouse. " I tell you what, Flaxyard, but for the 
 assurance you have given me, I could have sworn that this 
 gentleman was no other than Julian Curzon, who was 
 drowned some years ago in Windermere. I shall take it as 
 a particular favour if you will introduce me to him." 
 
 The mtrpduction took place, Pomfret bowed courteously 
 
156 Myddldon Pomfret. 
 
 but distantly. When he spoke, Stonehouse absolutely 
 started, and exclaimed : 
 
 "The very voice of Julian Curzon ! " 
 
 Pomfret's admirable self-possession did not desert him at 
 this trying juncture. 
 
 " I see you are struck by my likeness to my poor friend 
 Julian Curzon," he said. " I have often been mistaken for 
 him." 
 
 " I don't wonder at it," cried Stonehouse, looking quite 
 stupefied. " The likeness is astonishing. Excuse me, Mr. 
 Pomfret. I knew Julian very well I may say intimately 
 and I knew most of his friends at least by name. But I 
 don't recollect hearing him speak of you." 
 
 "Perhaps not," rejoined Pomfret, haughtily. "But I 
 have often heard him speak of you, Mr. Stonehouse, and in 
 no very complimentary terms." 
 
 " Ha ! ha ! ha ! " laughed Flaxyard, who was listening to 
 the discourse; "you've brought this upon yourself, Stone- 
 house." 
 
 " Well, that wasn't particularly grateful of him," remarked 
 Stonehouse, u seeing he was under considerable obligations 
 to me. He always applied to me when he was in diffi- 
 culties ; and as he was generally in difficulties, that was 
 pretty often ; and I never refused him assistance. I lent 
 him a good deal of money, Mr. Pomfret." 
 
 "I am quite aware of it," rejoined the other; "but I 
 fancy you received good interest for the loans." 
 
 " Oh yes, I can't complain of that," said Stonehouse. " I 
 had to wait some time for my money, but I got it in the 
 end. I believe I have to thank you for the payment, Sir." 
 
 " I do not desire your thanks," said Pomfret, sternly. " I 
 had my own reasons for paying you." 
 
 " I should like to be informed of them," observed Stone- 
 house. 
 
 " No, no not now," interposed Flaxyard, uneasily. 
 " Some other time, if you please, gentlemen." 
 
 " Mr. Stonehouse shall be welcome at any time to my 
 explanation," said Pomfret ; " but I think, if he reflects a 
 little, he will easily understand why I thought proper to pay 
 him." 
 
 So saying, he turned abruptly away. 
 
&r me Acacias* 157 
 
 "You have offended him, I fear, Stonehouse," said Flax- 
 yard. 
 
 " Can't help it if I have," rejoined the other. " He has 
 been deucedly rude to me." 
 
 Very opportunely at this moment, dinner was announced 
 by the butler, and each gentleman leading out the lady 
 assigned him, the whole party repaired to the dining-room. 
 
 As a matter of course, the host took Mrs. Shelmerdine, 
 and Mr. Shelmerdine had the honour of conducting the 
 hostess to her chair. Alderman Cracknall brought out Mrs. 
 Barker, and was placed on the left of the hostess. It is 
 almost superfluous to say that darling Bootle sat next to 
 dearest Tiffany. With the disposition of the other guests 
 we do not concern ourselves. 
 
 The dinner was excellent, but served in the exploded 
 style of some twenty years ago. Had the ladies been 
 allowed to have their own way it would have been served 
 \ la Russe; but Flaxyard, who yielded to his wife and 
 daughter on most points, was firm in this, and would not 
 consent to the innovation. He would not have flowers on 
 the table ; he would see his dinner ; he would compel Mr. 
 Shelmerdine to dispense the turtle soup, and to carve the 
 boiled turkey and the game. He would have all the entries 
 and the side dishes ranged before the guests, and horror 
 of horrors in Mrs. F.'s eyes ! he would have the cloth 
 removed in order that the brilliancy of his table, which 
 reflected every countenance like a mirror, might be 
 admired. 
 
 Nevertheless, the dinner, though somewhat heavy and 
 substantial, was excellent of its kind, and admirably cooked. 
 The clear turtle soup, coming as it did from Mr. Paynter, 
 was perfect ; the turbot and smelts were equally good ; and 
 the saddle of mutton was in the finest possible order, done 
 to a turn, and carved, we are bound to say, in most efficient 
 style by the host. 
 
 Old Flaxyard piqued himself on his carving, and it was 
 pleasant to watch him during the process. He declared 
 that he did not like to be at the mercy of a butler. Servants 
 never help you properly, and either give you too much fat 
 or too little, he said. Undoubtedly, there is something to 
 be said in favour of having the joint before you, and carving 
 
158 Mydettdon Pom/ret. 
 
 it yourself, provided you are a dexterous hand, and know 
 what you are about If the wing of a chicken with a slice 
 of Montanches ham is brought you from the sideboard it is 
 all very well, but not quite so satisfactory if you get only a 
 drumstick. Still worse, if you are badly helped to mutton. 
 
 Excellent as were the viands, we must say that the best 
 part of our old friend's dinner was the wine. The Johan- 
 nisberg was superb, and came from the cellars of Prince 
 Metternich; the sherry was marvellous it had belonged 
 to Marshal Soult, and cost three guineas a bottle; and 
 what shall we say of some rare old Madeira, which Mr. 
 Burgess handed round just before the sweets ? Words are 
 wanting to praise it sufficiently. 
 
 Throughout the repast, Mr. Stonehouse, whose curiosity 
 had been strongly excited, kept his eye upon Pomfret. 
 He was favourably placed for this scrutiny, being seated 
 opposite to him, and could hear all he said. The more 
 closely he observed Pomfret, and the longer he listened to 
 him, the more certain he became that it must be Julian 
 Curzon. Impossible, he thought, that two persons could 
 be so much alike. And yet how to account for Julian's 
 reappearance ! Determined to unravel the mystery, he 
 commenced by addressing a few inquiries to Tiffany, who 
 happened to be next him, but she was so much occupied 
 by darling Bootle, that she scarcely attended to what he 
 said, and the little he gleaned from her rather perplexed 
 him than otherwise. Pomfret was by no means un- 
 conscious that he was the object of this scrutiny, but he 
 did not seem to heed it, and regarded Stonehouse with 
 haughty contempt. 
 
 " If he should turn out to be Julian Curzon, I'll expose 
 him," thought Stonehouse. " His insolence deserves 
 punishment." 
 
 Watching his opportunity, he called across the table, 
 " We were talking just now of poor Julian Curzon, Mr. 
 Pomfret. His widow seems to have been more unfortunate 
 in her second marriage than in her first. I understand she 
 was separated from Captain Musgrave within a month. 
 One might almost say that a fatality was attached to 
 her." 
 
 "Dear mel I hope not, Mr, Stonehouse/' said Mrs. 
 
A Dinner-Party at the AcactaL l$ 
 
 Flaxyard. " I had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Musgrave 
 in Paris, and a more charming person I never beheld." 
 
 " So I thought her," said Stonehouse, keeping his eye 
 upon Pomfret as he spoke. " I saw her at Bowness just 
 before the sad occurrence that deprived her of her first 
 husband, and most beautiful she looked, I can assure you. 
 I can almost fancy I see her as she embarked one morning 
 upon the lake with poor Julian. That was the very day 
 before the accident." 
 
 "Perhaps you won't dwell too much upon that, Mr. 
 Stonehouse," remarked Pomfret "The subject is painful 
 to me." 
 
 " Then I'll drop it, of course," said Stonehouse. " But 
 pray can you inform me what has become of Mrs. Mus- 
 grave ? I understand she has not returned to her father." 
 
 " I can give you no information concerning her," replied 
 Pomfret, coldly. 
 
 " Mrs. Musgrave is greatly to be pitied," remarked Mrs. 
 Flaxyard. " But I must say she was lucjcy in getting rid 
 of the captain. He's a confirmed gambler. Have you 
 heard that he lost all his money at the gaming-tables at 
 Baden-Baden, Mr. Pomfret?" 
 
 " Yes, I have heard something about it," he replied. 
 
 " Everybody abuses Captain Musgrave now," said 
 Tiffany, "but I can't help taking his part. I must say 
 that I thought him very agreeable." 
 
 " I rather think you did," remarked darling Bootle, in a 
 low tone. " I thought you would have broken your heart 
 when he went away. For my part, I shouldn't have 
 grieved if he had blown out his brains, as that German 
 baron did." 
 
 " He had too much sense for that," laughed Tiffany. 
 "You are still jealous of him, I perceive, darling boy." 
 
 "Jealous! not I. But I could never understand what 
 you could find to admire in him. To my thinking, he is 
 about as handsome as a nigger, though not half so well 
 bred." 
 
 " He has acquired the art of pleasing, and practises it 
 with tolerable success," rejoined Tiffany. But seeing that 
 her lover looked annoyed, she added, " I won't tease you 
 about him any more, darling boy. So far from caring for 
 
160 j/y&tictok Potnfret. 
 
 his society, I thought him a bore, and I shouldn't have 
 tolerated him at all if he hadn't been Hornby's friend." 
 
 " I'm glad to hear you say so," returned Bootle. " I 
 certainly didn't like his attentions." 
 
 " He wouldn't be kept at a distance. But if you hadn't 
 been as blind as a bat you would have perceived that I 
 was only amusing myself with him. I couldn't have a 
 serious thought about him. It was a very different case 
 when a certain person addressed me," she said, significantly ; 
 " then I felt serious enough, because I knew tie was in 
 earnest." 
 
 " I should never have proposed to you at Eberstein if 
 Musgrave had been there. Perhaps you recollect that 
 occasion ? " 
 
 "Perfectly," she replied, with a secret laugh. "My 
 pleasantest memories will always be associated with Eber- 
 stein. After that pretty speech, I hope you'll be content, 
 and not exhibit any more jealousy." 
 
 Just then Mrs. Flaxyard made a move, and the ladies 
 arose and prepared to withdraw. 
 
 "I wish you would take me with you," said Bootle, 
 gallantly, to Tiffany. "I shall count the minutes till I 
 rejoin you." 
 
 " Amuse yourself by thinking of Eberstein and the 
 Murg-thal in the interim, darling boy," she said, as she 
 retired. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 A WALTZ, AND ITS CONSEQUENCES. 
 
 jjHEN the gentlemen reappeared in the drawing- 
 room, they found it full of company. Tiffany 
 had just played a brilliant piece on the piano, 
 but she sat down again to please Mr. Shelmer- 
 dine, who was enraptured by her performance, though Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine told him she played too much like a pro- 
 fessional. The rest of the company, however, were loud 
 in their applause. After a little more music, vocal as well 
 as instrumental, Hornby proposed a waltz, and the motion 
 meeting with general concurrence, Miss Celsia Pritchard 
 sat down at the piano, and played a lively little prelude, 
 while Hornby, Rufus, and several other young gentlemen 
 were engaging their partners. 
 
 It was at this juncture, when a buzz of lively conversa- 
 tion, intermingled with light laughter, resounded though 
 the room ; when old Flaxyard and John Shelmerdine 
 both of whom had drank a good deal of '34 port were 
 expressing the warm regard they felt for each other ; when 
 Mrs. Flaxyard was vainly trying to conciliate the haughty 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine, who did not attempt to conceal her 
 weariness, and had just inquired whether her carriage was 
 come; when darling Bootle was standing by the piano 
 chatting to Tiffany, and looking supremely happy it was 
 at this moment, we say, that the butler announced Captain 
 Musgrave. 
 ii 
 
tit 
 
 Captain Musgrave! Impossible! Old Fiaxyard, his 
 ife^ Tiffany, above all, Hornby and Boode, thought -they 
 could not have heard aright But their doubts were 
 dispelled die next moment, as Musgrave entered the room. 
 His appearance caused an extraordinary sensation among 
 
 the company, as weU it might Luckily, Mvddleton Pom- 
 fret was not exposed to the annoyance, having left earlier 
 in the evening. Mr. Stonehouse also was gone. The cup 
 of happiness was dashed in an instant from Bootless lips, 
 and bitter rage succeeded 
 
 Musgrave did not seem in die slightest degree em* 
 banrassed by the glances of astonishment directed towards 
 him, or by the observations made. He was got up in fault- 
 less style, and looked exceedingly well. With inimitable 
 coolness he crossed die room and made his bow to the 
 hostess, who was so confounded that she could hardly find 
 words to address him. 
 
 **I am afraid you will think this visit an intrusion on my 
 part, Mrs. Flaxyard," he hastened to say, " and perhaps I 
 have presumed too much upon our intimacy at Baden- 
 Baden, where you were good enough to receive me at all 
 hours; but I have only just returned from Paris, and 
 having accidentally learnt that you had friends dining 
 with you, I ventured to present myself in Continental 
 fashion." 
 
 "Your visit is certainly unexpected,** she rejoined, 
 scarcely knowing what to say. 
 
 Having gone through this ceremony, Musgrave ap- 
 proached die piano, bowed to Tiffany, smiled at Boode, 
 who replied by an angry scowl, and then proceeded to 
 shake hands with old Fiaxyard, who was so astounded that 
 he was unable to draw back* 
 
 < What confounded assurance the fellow must have," 
 remarked Boode to Tiffany. "I hope Hornby will kick 
 him out" 
 
 "I don't know what brings him here, 19 she replied, 
 laughing. " But I think it great fun." 
 
 4 1 can't see the slightest tun in it," rejoined Boode. t I 
 think it an internally impudent trick. 9 * 
 
 By this time Hornby had recovered from the surprise into 
 which he was thrown by Musgrave's unlooked-for appear- 
 
A Wailz, and it* Consequences. 1^3 
 
 ance, and now advanced towards him. But even he was not 
 prodf against the captain's coolness, 
 
 armed to see you, my dear Hornby ! " said Musgrave. 
 " I owe you ten thousand apologies. You know why I left 
 Baden so abruptly? Couldn't help it Quite ashamed to 
 have been so long in your debt My chief object in coming 
 here this evening is to repay you." 
 
 j deed I' 1 exclaimed Hornby, still more surprised, and 
 quite disarmed by the other's wonderful assurance. 
 
 " Yes, indeed ! I called at your place of business this 
 morning, but wasn't fortunate enough to find you within. 
 Hearing that you would certainly be at home in the 
 evening, and being most anxious to discharge my debt, 
 which has really weighed on my conscience, I came here. 
 In this pocket-book," he added, giving him one, "you 
 will find bank-notes to the amount of the sum I owe 
 you." 
 
 Hornby was now quite overcome. 
 " Upon my soul, my dear fellow, I have done you a great 
 injustice," he cried. 
 
 " I know you have looked upon me as a swindler," 
 -laughed Musgrave, "but I am not quite so bad as you 
 thought I never left a debt of honour unpaid.' 1 
 
 " Well, I am bound to say you have acted most honour- 
 ably in my case/' said Hornby. 
 
 Proceeding to the piano, Musgrave then addressed him- 
 self to Tiffany, who, in spite of Bootle's dark looks, received 
 him very smilingly, and began to laugh and chat with him 
 as of old. 
 
 Darling Bootle had now become frightfully jealous. He 
 walked away from the piano, and sat down beside his 
 mother. Apparently, Tiffany was so much amused that 
 she paid no attention to the dear boy. 
 
 " Do let me have the pleasure of waltzing with you once 
 more," said Musgrave to Tiffany. 
 
 " I don't know what to say," she replied " I should like 
 it. But Bootle is very jealous." 
 
 " Oh, you must teach him betimes what he may expect 
 as a married man." 
 
 Several couples now began to whirl round the room. 
 Tiftany enjoyed a waltz of all things, and she was so excited 
 
 II 2 
 
164 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 by the spectacle that she yielded to Musgrave's solicitations. 
 His arm had just encircled her waist, and they were about 
 to start off, when Bootle came up, looking very red and very 
 angry. 
 
 " Sit down, Tiff," he said, authoritatively. 
 
 But the injunction was disregarded, and he was driven 
 aside by Musgrave, who had started off with Tiffany. 
 
 " That girl will never suit you, Bootle," said his mother, 
 as he returned to his seat. 
 
 " I don't think she will," he rejoined. " I wish I hadn't 
 gone so far with her." 
 
 " If she cared for you, she wouldn't dance with that 
 man," continued Mrs. Shelmerdine. 
 
 " I won't stand it. She knows I hate him. The fellow 
 has a mocking grin upon his countenance. I believe they're 
 laughing at me. I was a fool to propose to her." 
 
 "It's not too late to retreat," said Mrs. Shelmerdine, 
 "And it's the wisest step you can take. Seize the 
 opportunity given you. Leave the management of the 
 matter to me. I'll get you out of the scrape." 
 
 As soon as the waltz was over, Musgrave, who foresaw 
 that a scene was likely to occur, bade good-night to his 
 partner, bowed to Mrs. Flaxyard, nodded to Hornby, and 
 disappeared. 
 
 Seeing Mrs. Shelmerdine rise with the evident intention 
 of taking her departure, Tiffany hurried towards her, and 
 said : 
 
 " Dear me ! you're not going to run away ? It's quite 
 early. I must have a galoppe with you, Bootle." 
 
 "Not to-night," he rejoined, sternly. "I'm going." 
 
 "Why, you silly fellow, you're not angry with me for 
 waltzing with Captain Musgrave, surely? You shan't go 
 till we have had a dance together of some sort." 
 
 But Bootle would not be appeased. 
 
 By this time Mrs. Flaxyard had come up, and vainly 
 sought to induce Mrs. Shelmerdine to stay a little longer. 
 Mr. Flaxyard was then summoned, and offered his arm to 
 the lady to conduct her to her carriage. 
 
 "Well, this is very naughty of you, Bootle," said Tiffany, 
 detaining him. " I shan't forgive you, unless you make a 
 very humble apology to-morrow." 
 
A Waltz, and its Consequences. 165 
 
 "I don't know that you will see me to-morrow," he re- 
 joined, with a cutting look. " I should say it's not very 
 likely." 
 
 "Do you hear that, ma?" cried Tiffany. "Darling 
 Bootle says we shan't see him to-morrow." 
 
 " Good gracious ! Why not ? " cried Mrs. Flaxyard. 
 
 "I fear I shall be obliged to detain him during the 
 morning," remarked Mrs. Shelmerdine. 
 
 " But you'll all come and dine here," said Flaxyard, 
 " quite in. a friendly way." 
 
 "I see nothing to prevent it," said John Shelmerdine, 
 with a cheery laugh. " We shall be very happy shan't we, 
 dear?" 
 
 " I hope Mrs. Flaxyard will be kind enough to excuse us. 
 We have an engagement." 
 
 "An engagement!" cried John, surprised. "I know 
 nothing about it." 
 
 "Oh yes we have," rejoined his better-half. "You've 
 forgotten it. I'll remind you of it presently." 
 
 " But Bootle won't like to stay away." 
 
 " The darling boy has just said he can't come," remarked 
 Tiffany. 
 
 " Can't come ! How's this ? " cried his father, looking at 
 him in surprise. 
 
 " My "dear, the carriage is waiting," observed Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine. 
 
 " Let it wait," rejoined John, bluntly. " Something is amiss, 
 I perceive. . What is it, my love ? " he added to Tiffany. 
 
 " I really can't tell, Sir. You had better ask Bootle." 
 
 "Well, Bootle, my boy, what is it?" said his father, 
 turning to him. 
 
 " Nothing material," he replied. " I've changed my mind, 
 that's all. I don't mean to be married just yet." 
 
 " Oh ! good gracious, Bootle ! what have I done to 
 deserve this ? " cried Tiffany. " How have I incurred your 
 displeasure, darling boy ? " 
 
 "By waltzing when I told you not," he rejoined, in a 
 severe voice. 
 
 "Don't make yourself ridiculous, Sir," said his father. 
 " This is the silliest lovers' quarrel I ever heard of. Make 
 jt up directly." 
 
1 66 Myddleton Pomjret. 
 
 " I don't think it a silly quarrel/' observed Mrs. Shelmer- 
 dine, in her stateliest manner. "I entirely approve of 
 Beetle's conduct. He objected to Miss Flaxyard's waltzing 
 with a particular gentleman, but, in spite of his objection, 
 she persisted. I don't wonder he is offended.' 1 
 
 " Yes, I am deeply offended," said Bootle. 
 
 "You are a fool," cried his father. <; Go and waltz with 
 her yourself, and let us hear no more about it. " 
 
 " Excuse me, Mr. Shelmerdine," said Tiffany, in a faint 
 voice. " I don't feel equal to another waltz even with 
 darling Bootle." 
 
 " Be firm," whispered Mrs. Shelmerdine to her son, 
 fearing he might give way. " I must wish you good-night, 
 Mrs. Flaxyard." 
 
 "Stay a minute, my dear Madam," said old Flaxyard. 
 " Do let us set these young folks right. A word will do it. 
 I'm sure Tiff's very sorry." 
 
 " Well, if she will admit that," said Mrs. Shelmerdine. 
 
 " No, I won't say I'm sorry, simply because you ask me," 
 rejoined the young lady, sharply. "I think if any one 
 ought to beg pardon, it's Bootle, not me." 
 
 " I think so too," laughed John Shelmerdine. 
 
 " If Bootle does, he's no son of mine," said Mrs. Shel- 
 merdine, with dignity. 
 
 " Bootle has no such intention," said that young gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " Well, I'm exceedingly sorry that an evening so pleasant 
 as I have found it should terminate in this manner," said 
 John Shelmerdine ; " but let us hope that all will be 
 amicably settled in the morning." 
 
 " I entirely echo that wish," said old Flaxyard, "and I 
 only regret that we cannot arrange the little difference now. 
 But I daresay they both will have come to their senses in 
 the morning." 
 
 Poor Mrs. Flaxyard was very much distressed by the 
 occurrence, and tried to interfere, but in vain. Hornby 
 was equally unsuccessful in the attempt he made to pacify 
 Bootle, who was as obstinate as he was stupid. 
 
 While taking leave of Tiffany, John Shelmerdine told her 
 that his son was a silly fellow, but ,she needn't have the 
 slightest uneasiness ; he was sure to come round. Old 
 
'A Waltz, and its Consequences. 167 
 
 Flaxyard conducted Mrs. Shelmerdine to her carriage, and 
 Bootle, after making a formal bow to Tiffany, followed them 
 out of the room. 
 
 No sooner were the Shelmerdines gone than Hornby 
 observed to his sister : 
 
 " I tell you what it is, Tiff that waltz with Musgrave has 
 lost you a husband." 
 
 " Don't think it," she replied. " I shall have him here 
 to-morrow morning to beg pardon." 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TWO NOTES FROM TIFFANY. 
 
 JN the morning after the untoward event describee, 
 in the last chapter, Mr. and Mrs. Shelmerdine 
 sat at breakfast in a private room at the Palace 
 Hotel. The lady looked elated, but John was 
 evidently much put out by the occurrence of the previous 
 evening. 
 
 Always late, Bootle had not yet made his appearance, nor 
 did he turn up until long after his father had finished break- 
 fast, and got deep into the leading article of the leading 
 journal. John scarcely returned his son's salutation, but 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine was all smiles and sweetness, and begged 
 Bootle to ring for hot toast, hot coffee, and a broil. Bootle 
 complied with the suggestion ; but as there were plenty of 
 other things on the table, he set to work at once upon the 
 wing of a chicken and a slice of tongue. While he was 
 thus employed, his father, who had been watching him for 
 some time with suppressed, wrath, at last broke out : 
 
 " A pretty business you made of it last night, Sir. You 
 placed me in a most unpleasant position. Never in my life 
 did I hear of so silly a quarrel ! What was it all about ? 
 A mere trifle, of which no sensible man would have taken 
 the slightest notice. The whole thing would have been 
 absurd, if it had not ended seriously. I felt heartily 
 ashamed of you, Sir. I fancied you were really attached to 
 Miss Flaxyard, but I can scarcely believe so after your 
 ridiculous conduct. Even admitting that you had some 
 
Two Notes from Tiffany. 169 
 
 reasonable grounds for annoyance and I can't admit 
 anything of the sort you ought to have acted like a gentle- 
 man." 
 
 "I hope I did act like a gentleman, Sir," pleaded 
 Bootle. 
 
 " Your father did not see all that passed, and refuses to 
 lend credence to my explanation," said Mrs. Shelmerdine 
 with an approving smile at her son. " I watched Miss 
 Flaxyard narrowly, and highly disapproved of her manner 
 towards that impudent Captain What's-his-name. Since 
 she was foolish enough to waltz with him, after your 
 prohibition, delivered, I must say for I heard it in a very 
 gentlemanlike, proper manner, I think you were perfectly 
 justified in the course you pursued perfectly justified, I 
 repeat. Your father takes a widely different view of the 
 matter, but never mind. You are in the right. Now that 
 the thing is over, I may candidly confess that I could 
 never have tolerated Miss Flaxyard as a daughter-in-law." 
 
 " Ha ! well ! I don't exactly like giving her up," said 
 Bootle. " I was in a deuced passion last night, but a little 
 soda and brandy has calmed me this morning. Perhaps I 
 was rather too impetuous. What do you think, Sir ? " he 
 added to his father. 
 
 " Don't appeal to me. I've already given you my 
 opinion," replied John, gruffly. " I think you behaved 
 absurdly." 
 
 "Be ruled by me, Bootle," said Mrs. Shelmerdine, be- 
 ginning to be alarmed. "In a case of this kind, a mother 
 is the best judge ; in fact, the only judge. Having got en- 
 tangled by a vulgar, designing girl, you may esteem yourself 
 singularly fortunate that she has furnished you, by her 
 conduct, with a pretext for breaking off the engagement. 
 As soon as you have finished breakfast, write to inform her 
 that the affair is at an end." 
 
 " Think twice before you take that step, my boy," said 
 his father. "Recollect that this designing girl, as your 
 mother describes her, happens to have thirty thousand 
 pounds." 
 
 At this moment the waiter came in with a broiled 
 whiting, and at the same time placed a note in a pink 
 envelope before Bootle, 
 
170 Myddieton Pontfret. 
 
 " Just been left for you, Sir." 
 
 "Any answer required?" asked Bootle, turning pale as 
 he recognised Tiffany's handwriting. 
 
 The waiter replied in the negative, and withdrew. 
 
 "From Miss Flaxyard, I presume?" remarked Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine, glancing scornfully at the note. " Give it to 
 me, and I'll read it aloud, while you go on with your break- 
 fast." 
 
 Bootle not venturing to make any objection, she opened 
 the note, and read as follows : 
 
 " ' DARLING BOOTLE, How very, very sorry I am that I 
 annoyed you. It was very thoughtless in me to valse with 
 that horrid Captain Musgrave, but I have been sufficiently 
 punished for my folly. I couldn't sleep a wink last 
 night/ " 
 
 " D'ye hear that ? " cried John. " She couldn't sleep a 
 wink.'" 
 
 " Neither could I," added Bootle, sympathetically. 
 " ' I am the more vexed with myself, because I feel that, 
 besides annoying you, I have offended dearest Mrs. Shel- 
 merdine. I should be grieved, indeed, if I thought that I 
 had forfeited her good opinion. But you must set me right 
 with her, dearest boy. Though awfully afraid of her, as 
 she must have perceived, I love her and respect her ; and 
 you may confidently assure her, dearest boy, that she will 
 ever find me a dutiful daughter.' 
 
 " Well, if I felt certain she would act up to this I might 
 change my opinion of her," remarked Mrs. Shelmerdine. 
 " I fancy she does stand in awe of me.' 1 
 
 "She thinks you a very superior woman/ 7 observed 
 Bootle. " But finish the letter." 
 
 " * As to dear Mr. Shelmerdine, I am not the least bit 
 afraid of him. He's the nicest man I ever met, not ex- 
 cepting my own darling Bootle. Pray tell him so.' " 
 Here Mrs. Shelmerdine coughed rather incredulously. 
 " ' What I have said will convince you of my earnest de- 
 sire to render myself agreeable to your family. It won't be 
 my fault if they don't like me. Dearest Mrs. Shelmerdine 
 shan't have to complain of me again neither shall you, 
 dearest bq>y. Dear Mr. ,, I am sure, has forgiven me 
 
Two Notes from Tiffany, 171 
 
 already. So let the silly affair be forgotten. Bring them 
 both to luncheon, and we will drive afterwards to the 
 Crystal Palace. Adieu, dearest boy ! 
 
 " ' Your ever affectionate 
 
 " ' THEOPHANIA FLAXYARD.' " 
 
 " A very nice amiable letter," said John, as his wife con- 
 cluded. "Of course we must go to luncheon, my dear. 
 We can't do otherwise." 
 
 " Hum ! I don't know about that ! " cried Mrs. Shelmer- 
 dine. "The letter appears creditable to the girl, but I 
 think it has been written with an eye to effect. Eh day ! 
 here's more of it," she added, as a thin leaf of paper, which 
 had been placed inside the note, dropped out. 
 
 " Better let Bootle read that to himself, my dear," said 
 John, rather uneasily. " That's private." 
 
 But his wife's quick eye had caught a few words that 
 incited her to go on. After scanning the letter for a few 
 moments with looks that scared both Bootle and his father, 
 she read it aloud with bitter emphasis, pausing occasionally 
 to make a sarcastic observation. 
 
 " ' This is your letter, dearest boy. The other, as you 
 will readily guess, is for the benefit of the elderly party, 
 who has the enviable privilege of calling you her son. If 
 mischief has been made, that malicious old woman I am 
 sorry to speak so disrespectfully of my darling Bootle's 
 mamma, but I can't help it if mischief has been made, I 
 say, she is the cause of it. I valsed with that odious man 
 merely to show how little I cared for her, and for no other 
 reason. You had prepared me for the sort of person I 
 should find her, but I didn't expect ' 
 
 " What have you been saying of me, Bootle ?" demanded 
 his mother, pausing, and looking severely at him. / 
 
 Very much confused, Bootle made no direct reply, but 
 merely begged her not to read more. 
 
 " I shall gQ on," she observed, with lofty scorn. " It is per- 
 fectly immaterial what such a girl as this may say of me, but 
 it is not immaterial that I should be disparaged by my son." 
 
 Clearing her voice, she continued : 
 
 " I didn't expect such a terrible old Tartar. She soon let 
 
172 My d diet on Pomfret. 
 
 us see that she looked down upon us all, and didn't think 
 me half good enough for you. I fancy I have a little spirit. 
 At all events, I can't stand this sort of thing. So, when she 
 sent you to bid me sit down, I wouldn't. Now you have 
 the truth, dearest boy.' 
 
 " A very nice young lady, I must say," remarked Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine in a contemptuous parenthesis. " * As to your 
 governor, I dote upon him. Hornby calls him a regular 
 brick, and so he is. After this explanation, darling Bootle 
 I am sure, will forgive his devoted and truly penitent Tiff, 
 and come to luncheon.' 
 
 " Come to luncheon, indeed ! " exclaimed the incensed 
 lady, throwing down the letter. " After, indulging in all this 
 vulgar slang, after calling me ' a terrible old Tartar, 7 does 
 she suppose I will ever enter her father's doors again ? " 
 
 " Consider, my dear," said John, who had been laughing 
 to himself, "that the letter you have just read was not meant 
 for your eye. She would have never called you a terrible old 
 Tartar to your face." 
 
 "I trust not," rejoined Mrs. Shelmerdine. "But I 
 suppose you are gratified by the elegant epithet she has 
 applied to you ? You like being called a ' regular brick/ I 
 make no doubt ? " 
 
 " I don't mind it in the least, my dear," he replied, 
 laughing. " But whether we approve of slang or not neither 
 you nor myself can take umbrage at anything contained in 
 that second letter, which was not meant to be shown us. 
 And allow me to add, that there is a good deal of force in 
 what Miss Flaxyard says namely, that you yourself have 
 been the cause of this disturbance. You were certainly 
 very rude to her family, and no wonder she should resent 
 such treatment." 
 
 " I dislike her. I dislike her family, and I made no 
 attempt to dissemble my feelings. They are a vulgar set, 
 but she is worst of all, and it would have been an in- 
 expressible grief to me if Bootle had been linked to her for 
 life. How he could ever have engaged himself to such a 
 creature passes my comprehension. I can really discover 
 nothing in her, either in mind or person." 
 
 " I thought her and, for that matter, still think her 
 remarkably pretty/' said JBootle, 
 
Two Notes from Tiffany. 173 
 
 "So she is," observed his father. "A little fast, and 
 rather too fond of slang, but she'll mend when she's 
 married. I'll warrant she has the making of a good 
 wife." 
 
 " Good or bad, she shall never be Bootless wife with my 
 consent. Luckily, the engagement has been broken off. 
 There must be no renewal of it. Bootle shall immediately 
 despatch a note, which I will dictate for him, informing Miss 
 Flaxyard that we cannot possibly have the honour of taking 
 luncheon at the Acacias this morning, since we are leaving 
 town at once for Lancashire." 
 
 John uttered an exclamation of disapproval, and, getting 
 up from his seat, moved towards the window. 
 
 " Do as I tell you, Bootle," said his mother, in a low 
 voice, and with a significant look at him. " She won't suit 
 you." 
 
 "Well, I don't know that," he rejoined doubtfully. "I 
 rather think she would." 
 
 Here John turned round, and, leaning against the back 
 of a sofa, addressed his wife. 
 
 " Why won't you allow Bootle to please himself, my dear? 
 He doesn't regard the girl and her family with your eyes. 
 You allow your prejudices to interfere with your judgment. 
 The lass is not half so bad as you represent her. In fact, 
 I can't find any fault with her, except that, as I just now 
 observed, she is rather fast. But she'll soon lower the pace, 
 especially if you will take the reins in hand," 
 
 u / take the reins in hand ! " exclaimed Mrs. Shelmerdine, 
 scornfully. " Don't expect it, Sir ! " 
 
 " Well, she would go quieter if you did. But allow me to 
 finish what I have begun. If you deny Miss Flaxyard every 
 other recommendation, you must at least admit that she has 
 an important one a good fortune. Bootle will do well to 
 consider that before he writes the letter you suggest." 
 
 " Her fortune need be no temptation to Bootle. Let him 
 marry a lady, even if she has nothing." 
 
 " He cannot honourably retreat from the engagement he 
 has entered into ; neither can I support him in withdrawing 
 from it. However, he must decide for himself. What do 
 you say, Bootle ? " he demanded, almost sure, from his son's 
 looks, of the answer he should receive. " Will you be guided 
 
174 Myddleton PomfreL 
 
 by your mother or by me ? Are you for the train to Bury, 
 or for luncheon at Clapham ? " 
 
 " Upon my soul, I can't make up my mind," replied 
 Bootle, glancing undecidedly from one to the other. 
 
 At this moment the waiter entered the room, and, to 
 the surprise of all present, announced Mr. Flaxyard. 
 
 " Mr. Flaxyard ! Good gracious ! " exclaimed Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine. " Let me get out of the room." 
 
 But a graceful retreat being impossible, she kept her 
 seat. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 BOOTLESS DECISION. 
 
 jjR. FLAXYARD was ushered in, and his manifest 
 nervousness was not dissipated by the looks of 
 the haughty dame. 
 
 John, however, shook hands with him, and 
 inquired after the ladies, and so did Bootle, though less 
 cordially. 
 
 " Have you breakfasted ? " asked John, pointing to the 
 table. 
 
 " Thank you ! yes," rejoined Flaxyard. " I must apologise 
 to you, Ma'am, for this early visit," he added to Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine, " but we have all been so much distressed by 
 what took place last night, that I could not rest till I had 
 seen you. I am charged by my daughter to say how much 
 she regrets the occurrence. She would not offend you for 
 the world." 
 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine, who looked very dignified, inclined her 
 head slightly, but made no reply. Poor Flaxyard was rather 
 abashed, but recovering himself, he went on : 
 
 "Without meaning to flatter, you, Ma'am, I must take 
 leave to state that my wife and myself, impressed by your 
 distinguished manner, have recommended you as an object 
 of imitation to Tiffany, and she has promised to take you as 
 a pattern. May I be permitted to tell you what she said of 
 you this morning ? " 
 
176 Myddteton Pomfret. 
 
 "No, I thank you," rejoined Mrs. Shelmerdine, 
 haughtily. " I am quite aware of Miss Flaxyard's opinion 
 of me." 
 
 " She entertains the very highest opinion of you, Ma'am : 
 that I can unhesitatingly declare," said Flaxyard. " Over 
 and over again, with tears in her eyes, did she reproach 
 herself in such terms as these : ' What will dear Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine think of me ? How shocked she must be at 
 conduct so different from her own ! How thoughtless and 
 silly I was, to be sure but I meant no harm ! I shall never 
 feel happy till I obtain her forgiveness. Darling Bootle 
 understands me, and will overlook my fault but his 
 mother, whose standard of propriety is so very high, will 
 condemn me, I fear, without listening to my defence/ These 
 were her exact expressions, Ma'am, and I think they will 
 convince you of the sincerity of her regret, as well as of her 
 anxiety to please you." 
 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine listened with a smile of incredulity. 
 
 " Either you are trifling with me, Mr. Flaxyard, or your 
 daughter has imposed upon you," she said. " I have proof, 
 under her own hand, of the opinion she entertains of me. 
 Read that, Sir, and you will see in what respectful terms I 
 am mentioned." 
 
 And she gave him the enclosure which had just caused 
 so much confusion. As he cast his eye over it, he turned 
 crimson, and glancing angrily at Bootle, said, 
 
 " Did you give this to your mother, Sir ? If so, I consider 
 you have been guilty of " 
 
 "Hold! my dear Mr. Flaxyard," interposed John. "I 
 must exculpate Bootle. The letter fell accidentally into 
 my wife's hands. I am very sorry she has read it that is 
 all I can say." 
 
 " Well, Ma'am, the most sensible plan will be to treat the 
 matter as a bad joke," remarked Flaxyard. " Men of 
 business like Mr. Shelmerdine and myself always write in a 
 plain straight-forward way; but ladies especially young 
 ladies are not so guarded, and sometimes, as in this case, 
 mistake smartness for wit. Bootle must accept some of the 
 responsibility of this unlucky letter, since it evidently 
 represents his sentiments quite as much as Tiffs. But I 
 regard it as a mere joke, and if he were to write about me 
 
Decision. 177 
 
 in the same style, and describe me as a stout old party, I 
 should merely laugh." 
 
 " I never write letters," remarked the young man. 
 
 "I cannot accept your explanation, Sir," said Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine, maintaining a haughty and inflexible look, " if 
 your daughter can speak of me in such terms " 
 
 "Why, my dear Madam," interrupted Flaxyard, "your 
 son must have spoken of you in precisely similar terms. 
 Ask him. He can't deny it." 
 
 Bootle offered no contradiction. 
 
 Here John, much to his wife's disgust, burst into a hearty 
 laugh, in which Flaxyard could not help joining. 
 
 "Mr. Shelmerdine," said his wife, reproachfully, "I 
 think you might show a little more consideration for my 
 feelings. I have been grossly insulted." 
 
 " Pardon me, Madam, I do not think so," rejoined 
 Flaxyard, becoming suddenly grave. "We have all the 
 greatest regard and respect for you." 
 
 "Your daughter has a strange way of showing her 
 respect." 
 
 " Come, my dear, you have said quite enough," remarked 
 John. " When no offence is intended, none should be 
 taken. Bootle is the cause of it all." 
 
 " I ! " exclaimed the young gentleman. 
 
 "Take it upon your own shoulders," whispered his 
 father. 
 
 " Well, I am certainly bound to admit that Tiffany wrote 
 that letter to amuse me ; and no doubt it would have 
 amused me, if " 
 
 "Enough," cried his mother. "You are just as bad as 
 ' she is." 
 
 "Well, then, they'll make a nice pair," laughed John. 
 " I think the difficulty is got over," he whispered to Flax- 
 yard. But he was mistaken. 
 
 "Mr. Flaxyard," said the lady, "it would be improper to 
 disguise from you that I disapprove strongly disapprove 
 of my son's marriage with your daughter. You may 
 imagine that my dislike to the match originated in Miss 
 Flaxyard's conduct last night, and has been increased by 
 her letter this morning. No such thing. All along, as Mr. 
 Shelmerdine will tell you if he speaks the truth, I have been 
 
 12 
 
178 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 opposed to the union. On what particular grounds, it is 
 unnecessary for me to say. But, foriear of misapprehension, 
 I will state plainly that I think the match in every respect 
 unsuitable to my son." 
 
 " My dear, do, pray, consider," said John. 
 
 " I will not qualify my expressions in the slightest 
 degree," rejoined Mrs. Shelmerdine. "I think the match 
 wholly unsuitable to Bootle." 
 
 Poor Mr. Flaxyard looked confounded, and utterly at a 
 loss what to say. 
 
 "I wish Tiff were here to answer her," he mentally 
 ejaculated ; " I cannot." 
 
 However, he roused himself, and said, with some spirit, 
 
 " I must at least admit, Madam, that you are plain- 
 spoken. No mistaking what you mean. But I should like 
 to hear what Bootie has to say on the subject." 
 
 " Bootle will write to your daughter," said Mrs. Shelmer- 
 dine, apprehensive lest the young gentleman should commit 
 himself by a reply. 
 
 "No, that won't do," said Flaxyard, encouraged by a 
 slight wink addressed to him by John. " I must have an 
 answer now. I will say nothing of my daughter's feelings 
 of her mother's feelings of my own feelings since they 
 appear to be entirely disregarded. An engagement is 
 formed, carried on almost to the last point, and then on a 
 trivial pretext is to be broken off. Permit me to say, 
 Ma'am, that it is now too late to signify your disapproval. 
 Mr. Shelmerdine, who ought to have some voice in the 
 matter, has given his full consent, and only yesterday we 
 discussed and agreed upon the terms of the settlements. I 
 was perfectly satisfied with Mr. Shelmerdine's intentions, as 
 I believe he was with mine. Our solicitors are to meet at 
 noon to-day in Lincoln's Inn Fields. Am I to tell them that 
 their services are not required? that the affair is at an 
 end? I trust not. I cannot think that Bootle, who has 
 professed so strong an attachment for my daughter, to 
 whom she is so much devoted, and whom I and my wife 
 have begun to regard as a son I cannot think, I say, that 
 he will attempt to retreat frooi his engagement. Naturally, 
 I am sorry to learn, Ma'am and I learn it now for the first 
 jirne that the engagement which has met with Mr. Shel- 
 
Decision* 
 
 179 
 
 merdine's sanction has not met with yours ; but though that 
 circumstance may cause me deep regret, I cannot allow it to 
 weigh with me. My daughter's happiness is at stake and 
 she must be my first consideration." 
 
 A series of winks, delivered from time to time, conveyed 
 to Mr. Flaxyard John's entire approval of this speech. 
 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine was far from impressed by the oration, 
 but perceiving, to her dismay, that it had produced an 
 effect on her son, she held up her finger to him. But 
 Bootle disregarded the hint. 
 
 " Now, Bootle, speak out like a man," said his father. 
 16 Do you mean marriage ? " 
 
 " Yes, I do," he replied, firmly. 
 
 On this, Mrs. Shelmerdine instantly quitted the room. 
 
 Both the elderly gentlemen complimented him on his 
 courage, and told him he had done right. 
 
 "I have got myself into a nice scrape," remarked John, 
 laughing. " But I don't mind that." 
 
 " I may now tell you that the ladies are in the carriage 
 below," said Flaxyard to Bootle. " They'll drive you to 
 the Acacias at once, if you like to go with them." 
 
 "Go, my boy go," urged his father. "You will be 
 better out of the way." 
 
 Bootle required no second bidding, but taking up his 
 hat, hurried down-stairs. 
 
 He found Tiffany and her mother seated in the phaeton, 
 which was drawn up at the door of the hotel. Tiffany 
 uttered a little cry of delight as she beheld him. She 
 looked so bewitching, that he wondered how he could have 
 quarrelled with her. 
 
 Needless to say, he was rapturously received. After a 
 few exclamations of delight,, he got into the phaeton, and 
 his mother, who witnessed the scene from an upper window 
 of the hotel, saw him carried off in triumph. 
 
 Mrs. Flaxyard was dreadfully shocked when she heard 
 that her daughter's private letter had fallen into Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine's hands, but Tiffany screamed with laughter, 
 and thought it the best joke possible. 
 
 " Oh, how I should have liked to see her when she read 
 the letter," she exclaimed. 
 
 " I don't think you would," rejoined Bootle. " Neither I 
 
 12 2 
 
i8o Myddldon Pom/ret. 
 
 nor the governor found the situation agreeable, I can tell 
 you." 
 
 " I'm afraid she'll never forgive you, Tiff," remarked Mrs. 
 Flaxy ard. 
 
 " Well, I must bear her displeasure as well as I can," 
 said the young lady. " Since I've got my darling boy back 
 again, I don't care for anything else." 
 
 Meanwhile, the two old gentlemen remained laughing 
 and talking together. At last Flaxyard took out his 
 watch. 
 
 " By Jove ! " he exclaimed, " it only wants a quarter to 
 twelve. We mustn't forget our appointment with the 
 lawyers. We must be off to Lincoln's Inn Fields at once." 
 
 "A word to the old 'lady, and I'm with you," replied 
 John. 
 
 He disappeared, but presently returned, looking rather 
 blank. Flaxyard, however, made no observation. 
 
 The two gentlemen then got into a hansom cab, and 
 drove to Lincoln's Inn Fields. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 HOW MR. STONEHOUSE WAS CONVINCED OF HIS MISTAKE. 
 
 I 
 
 IJFTER a very satisfactory interview with the 
 lawyers, who undertook that no delay should 
 occur on their part, John drove off to Clapham 
 to join the party at luncheon, and Flaxyard pro- 
 ceeded to the City. Arrived at his place of business, he 
 found Myddleton Pomfret waiting for him in his back 
 room. 
 
 " I want to have a word with you, Mr. Flaxyard," said 
 Pomfret, " in reference to a gentleman whom I met at your 
 house last evening." 
 
 " Mr. Stonehouse ! Yes, I understand. I am very sorry 
 I invited him, but I had not the slightest idea there was 
 any risk in doing so. He declares you are no other than 
 Julian Curzon, and that he will prove his assertion." 
 
 "In what way can he prove it? None of Julian's 
 relations can be produced. At the time of his dis- 
 appearance, I don't think he had a single near relative. 
 He was an orphan, left to the care of an uncle, who brought 
 him up, provided for him, and died some years ago, leaving 
 his nephew a considerable sum of money, all of which, I 
 am sorry to say, the careless fellow spent. Julian had 
 plenty of friends, or persons calling themselves friends, but 
 they have long since forgotten him." 
 
 " Let me ask you a simple question. Are you able to 
 prove that you are actually Myddleton Pomfret ? If so, 
 the point can be disposed of without difficulty," 
 
i8i Myddldon Pomfrd. 
 
 "I am not required to give any such proot And I 
 shall certainly not furnish it at the instance of Mr, Stone- 
 house." 
 
 a You do not consider, my dear Sir, that he may place 
 you in such a position that you will be compelled to rebut 
 the charge. Of course, if you can show conclusively that 
 you are the person you represent yourself there will be an 
 end of the matter. But, I repeat, can you do this ? " 
 Pomfret made no reply. 
 
 "You wfll believe that I am influenced by the most 
 friendly feelings in giving you this caution," pursued Flax- 
 yard. " I do not ask to be taken into your confidence, 
 though you may place the most perfect reliance on my dis- 
 cretion. But I have an opinion on the matter and I see 
 danger. Stonehouse can do you personally no harm ; but 
 if he can persuade people that you are really Julian Curzon 
 that the story of your death was fictitious see what a 
 position your unfortunate wife will be placed in. For 
 her sake if not for your own this disclosure must be 
 prevented" 
 
 "I could frighten him into silence, but I don't like 
 resorting to that method," said Pomfret 
 
 " There is one way of silencing him," observed Flaxyard. 
 u Convince him that you are not the supposed defunct 
 Julian Curzon. A plan has occurred to me, that, success- 
 fully carried out, might mystify him. Are you aware that 
 Mr. Leycester is in town ? " 
 
 " Sophy's father 1 * exclaimed Pomfret. " No, I was not 
 aware of it" 
 
 "Stonehouse intends calling upon him this afternoon, 
 and has asked me to accompany him." 
 
 "Where is Mr. Leycester staying? at an hotel?" 
 "No, at No. So Upper Baker Street His daughter 
 Celia is with him. Thus much I learnt from Stonehouse. 
 Now, my notion is that you should see Mr. Leycester be- 
 forehand, and prepare him for our visit" 
 
 "I don't think the scheme practicable," said Pomfret, 
 after a short consideration. " I could not impose upon 
 Mr. Leycester, and it would be a most painful task to me 
 to enter into explanations with him. Besides, I do not 
 know what effect the disclosures might have upon the poor 
 
Mr. Stonehouse Convinced of his Mistake. 183 
 
 old gentleman, who, I understand, is in a very infirm state 
 of health, and nearly broken by the last calamity that has 
 befallen him. Wkat will he say when he learns the cruel 
 position in which his unfortunate daughter is placed ? " 
 
 " Her position may be made still worse if care be not 
 taken," said Flaxyard. " However painful it may be to 
 make the necessary avowal to Mr. Leycester, and however 
 much distressed the poor old gentleman may be by what 
 you will have to tell him, the disclosure must be made. 
 Better anything than that the real facts should come 
 out." 
 
 " Well, I will follow your advice. I will see him without 
 delay. Celia, you say, is with him ?" 
 
 " So Stonehouse informed me. I am glad you have 
 come to this determination. There is no other way of 
 saving one, who I feel notwithstanding all that has passed 
 must be still dear to you." 
 
 " She is still dear to me," exclaimed Pomfret, in broken 
 accents, "and for her sake I will endure this trial." 
 
 " Where is the unfortunate lady ? " said Flaxyard. " You 
 know that I take a deep interest in her, and will allow me, 
 therefore, to make the inquiry." 
 
 " I cannot answer the question," replied Pomfret. " I am 
 wholly unacquainted with her retreat. She has not written 
 to me since her flight from Paris. Possibly she may be still 
 in France, though I should conjecture, from the fact of 
 Celia having returned to her father, that she must be in 
 this country. I told her to address me at my bankers', in 
 case she had any communication to make to me, but I have 
 not heard from her. If I thought she was with her father, 
 I would not hazard a meeting. But no ! no ! I am quite 
 sure she has not returned to him." 
 
 " I am also of that opinion," said Flaxyard. "About 
 the business at once. There is no time to lose. I will take 
 care of Stonehouse." 
 
 Warmly thanking the old gentleman, Pomfret left him, 
 and getting into a hansom cab told the driver to make the 
 best of his way to Upper Baker Street. 
 
 Not without trepidation did Pomfret knock at the door 
 of the house to which he had been directed. The summons 
 was answered by a female servant, who informed him that 
 
1 84 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 Mr. Leycester was very unwell suffering from his eyes 
 and she didn't think he would like to be disturbed, but 
 Miss Leycester was within, and would probably see him if 
 he would be good enough to send up his name. 
 
 Pomfret complied with the request, and was presently 
 conducted to the drawing-room, where he found Celia. 
 She was alone, and as soon as the servant disappeared, 
 gave vent to her feelings of astonishment and delight on 
 beholding him again. Of course she had been made ac- 
 quainted by Sophy with all the particulars of his strange 
 story but prepared as she was, she could scarcely believe 
 that he stood before her. 
 
 Pomfret hastened to explain the nature of his errand, 
 and she saw at once how important it was that his incognito 
 should be preserved. And she was of opinion that this 
 might be readily accomplished, so far as Mr. Leycester was 
 concerned. 
 
 " Had poor papa the perfect use of his eyes, he could 
 not fail to recognise you, Julian," she said. " But at 
 present he is suffering from a severe attack of opthalmia, 
 and, indeed, has come to town to consult an oculist, so 
 that he will not be able to distinguish your features. I am 
 sure you may safely pass with him for Myddleton Pomfret. 
 Shall I tell him you are here ? " 
 
 "Yes. But before you go, one word about Sophy. 
 How is she ? where is she ? " 
 
 " I can give you no information," she replied sadly. 
 "I have heard nothing from her since we parted at 
 Dover." 
 
 With this she quitted the room, and shortly afterwards 
 returned with her father, whom she led by the hand. 
 
 Mr. Leycester had once been a tall, fine-looking man, but 
 he now stooped a good deal. Over his eyes he wore a 
 large green shade. Pomfret was very much moved at the 
 sight of him, and advanced to meet him as he entered the 
 room. 
 
 " Mr. Pomfret, papa," said Celia. 
 
 "Very happy to make your acquaintance, Sir," said Mr. 
 Leycester, warmly grasping the hand which the other ex- 
 tended to him. " Pray be seated, Sir. Set me a chair next 
 Mr, Pomfret, Celia, " This being done, he went on.; "J 
 
Mr. Stonenouse Convinced of his Mistake. \ 1 85 
 
 am beyond expression indebted to you, Mr. Pomfret, for 
 your unparalleled generosity to my daughter Sophy. It 
 distresses me to allude to her, as you may conceive, but I 
 would not appear waiting to you in gratitude. You were a 
 great friend of poor Julian Curzon, Sir. Poor fellow ! I 
 felt his loss very severely and so must you, Sir, to judge 
 by your noble conduct. I always cite you as a model of 
 friendship." 
 
 "You very much overrate what,.! have done,' 1 remarked 
 Pomfret. 
 
 " Actions like yours cannot be overrated," said Mr. 
 Leycester. " I am very sorry the condition of my eyes 
 prevents me from distinguishing the features of a gentleman 
 whom I so much esteem, but I can imagine what you are 
 like." 
 
 " Indeed, Sir ! " exclaimed Pomfret, glancing at Celia. 
 
 " Mr. Pomfret is very like poor Julian, papa/' observed 
 the cunning young lady. 
 
 "Then he is like a very handsome fellow," rejoined Mr. 
 Leycester. " But it is odd you should resemble my ill-fated 
 son-in-law in features, Mr. Pomfret, for your voice is so like 
 poor Julian's that I could almost fancy I was talking to him.' r 
 
 " My resemblance to Julian has given rise to more than 
 one curious incident," remarked Pomfret, with a slight laugh. 
 " At dinner yesterday I met a Mr. Stonehouse, who insisted 
 upon it that I must be Julian come to life again." 
 
 " Ah ! that's very droll," cried Mr. Leycester, laughing. 
 
 " Did you succeed in convincing Mr. Stonehouse of his 
 error ! " inquired Celia. 
 
 "Scarcely, I think," replied Pomfret. "But it matters 
 very little to me whether I convinced him or not." 
 
 "I hope he won't propagate the ridiculous story," 
 remarked Celia. " It is calculated to do a deal of harm." 
 
 "In what way, my dear?" said Mr. Leycester. "What 
 possible harm can it do Mr. Pomfret to be thought like his 
 poor friend Julian Curzon ? " 
 
 " Why, the world is prone to believe strange stories, and 
 the more improbable the story, the more easily will it obtain 
 credit. If Mr. Stonehouse asserts publicly that Mr. 
 Myddleton Pomfret is no other than Julian Cu^pn, people 
 will be sure to believe him.,' 1 
 
i86' Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 "Well, suppose they do. Mr. Pomfret will laugh at them 
 that's all." 
 
 " He may laugh at them, papa. But it will be a serious 
 matter to us. What will people say if they believe that 
 Sophy's first husband was alive when she married again ? " 
 
 " Bless me ! that did not occur to me. We must stop 
 such mischievous talk. Such a report would give me the 
 greatest annoyance. Already I have endured affliction 
 enough on poor Sophy's account," he added, with a groan. 
 " This would be more than I could bear. Ah, Sir, do you 
 recollect Sophy before her marriage with Julian ? " 
 
 " I do," faltered the other. 
 
 " How beautiful she was, and how greatly she was admired ! 
 She might have made a splendid match, but she wouldn't be 
 advised " 
 
 " Never mind that, papa," interrupted Celia. " She loved 
 Julian, and of course wouldn't marry any one else." 
 
 " More's the pity ! Nothing but calamity has attended 
 her ever since. Julian lost within a month years of 
 grief, during which she appeared inconsolable. Then 
 a brief season of happiness, for which she was entirely 
 indebted to you, Mr. Pomfret. Then a second marriage, 
 luckless as the first, and a sudden separation from a worth- 
 less husband. Can a woman be more unfortunate than 
 Sophy has been ? Twice unlucky in marriage ! And 
 now what would she be if Mr. Stonehouse's notion were 
 correct ! " 
 
 "Don't think of that, papa. Mr. Pomfret is here to 
 contradict it." 
 
 " I have never seen her since the separation from Captain 
 Musgrave," pursued Mr. Leycester, addressing Pomfret, 
 "for she refuses to return to her family, and won't even 
 acquaint me with her retreat, so that I am unable to write to 
 her. I sometimes think Celia knows where she is, but 
 won't tell me." 
 
 " Indeed I don't, papa. Before we parted at Dover, 
 Sophy exacted a promise from me, which, as you know, I 
 have religiously kept, that I would say nothing about her. 
 I would willingly have remained with her if she would have 
 allowed me, but she was resolved to live alone." 
 
 "I trust I shall embrace her once more before I die/ 1 ' 
 
Mr. Stonehouse Convinced of his Mistake* 187 
 
 ejaculated Mr. Leycester. " I am sure her separation from 
 Captain Musgrave was occasioned by no fault of her own. I 
 never liked the man, and would not have consented to her 
 marriage with him, had it not been for Celia's re- 
 presentations." 
 
 " We were all completely deceived by him," said Celia ; 
 
 "and if I had had the slightest idea But let us 
 
 change the conversation. It can't be very agreeable to 
 Mr. Pomfret." 
 
 Making a great effort to control his emotion, which 
 would infallibly have betrayed him to Mr. Leycester if that 
 gentleman could have perused his countenance, Pomfret 
 turned the discourse into another channel, and began to 
 talk about Miss Flaxyard's approaching marriage. In this 
 event, owing to her acquaintance with Tiffany, Celia took 
 the liveliest interest, and wanted to know all about Bootle. 
 They were still occupied with the subject, when a knock 
 was heard at the door. Celia flew to the window and 
 exclaimed : 
 
 " Why, I declare there is Mr. Flaxyard himself getting out 
 of a cab, and another gentleman with him." 
 
 "It is Stonehouse," said Pomfret, reconnoitring them 
 through the window. "No doubt he has come to tell 
 you of the discovery he has made," he added to Mr. 
 Leycester. 
 
 " I am glad of it," rejoined the old gentleman. " He 
 shall have my opinion as to his sagacity." 
 
 u Pray step into papa's room," said Celia to Pomfret. 
 " It will be best that Mr. Stonehouse should not find you 
 here. If necessary, I will summon you." 
 
 Pomfret assented, and Celia showed him into a back 
 parlour, and then returned quickly to her father. Next 
 moment the new comers were ushered in by the servant. 
 
 After presenting Mr. Flaxyard to her father, who received 
 him with great cordiality, Celia took the old gentleman aside 
 to make inquiries about his family, and especially about 
 Tiffany's approaching nuptials, while Stonehouse seized the 
 opportunity of opening his business. 
 
 " I have a very singular circumstance to relate to you, Mr. 
 Leycester," he said, " and I think it right to prepare you 
 for 'a great surprise. I had the pleasure. of dining yesterday 
 
1 88 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 with my old friend Mr. Flaxyard, and among the guests was 
 a gentleman whom I certainly did not expect to meet." 
 
 " Ah, who was it ? " asked Mr. Leycester. 
 
 " You shall hear anon. But before proceeding, let me 
 remind you that I was extremely intimate with your son-in- 
 law, Julian Curzon." 
 
 " I am quite aware of that, Mr. Stonehouse. I fear his 
 intimacy with you led him to the commission of the rash 
 act which deprived my daughter of a husband." 
 
 " My dear Sir, the rash act, as you call it, was never 
 committed at all. That's the very point I'm coming to. 
 What will you say when I tell you that Julian Curzon is still 
 alive?" 
 
 " Alive, ridiculous ! Is this the great surprise you have 
 been preparing for me ? " 
 
 " I solemnly declare to you that I saw him last night, and 
 conversed with him. Julian Curzon is no more dead than 
 you and I are, Mr. Leycester. He is living and flourishing, 
 and has made a fortune at Madras. He goes by an assumed 
 name, of course ; but any one who knew him as intimately as 
 I did, cannot fail to recognise him. You would know him 
 in an instant. I have thought it right to tell you this, Sir, 
 that you may take such steps as you may deem proper 
 under the circumstances. Rest assured he is alive." 
 
 "All a mistake, Stonehouse. You met Mr. Myddleton 
 Pomfret last night." 
 
 " Yes, that is the name Julian goes by but it won't pass 
 with me." 
 
 " But it must pass with you, Stonehouse, since it happens 
 to be the gentleman's real name. Myddleton Pomfret is 
 Myddleton Pomfret, and no other. He is no more Julian 
 Curzon than you are." 
 
 " Well, if he is not Julian, his resemblance to him is 
 marvellous," said Stonehouse, rather staggered. "Am I to 
 understand that you know this self-styled Mr. Pomfret ? " 
 
 " Yes, we know all about him," interposed Celia, quickly. 
 " We know who he is and what he is all his pedigree 
 and can satisfy you in every particular. He is one of the 
 Pomfrets of Burton Constable, in Yorkshire. The Pomfrets 
 are neighbours of ours in that country. Myddleton is a 
 younger 5QP? tf^t is why fre has gone into Business, HQ 
 
Mr. Stonehouse Convinced of his Mistake. 189 
 
 has just been here in fact he is. still in the house and 
 came purposely to tell us what occurred last evening at Mr. 
 Flaxyard's dinner. He is extremely offended with you, Mr. 
 Stonehouse, and I think with good reason." 
 
 " I told Mr. Stonehouse that he was entirely mistaken," 
 remarked Flaxyard. But he wouldn't believe me. Now, 
 perhaps, he's satisfied." 
 
 "Not exactly satisfied, but a good deal shaken," said 
 Stonehouse. 
 
 At this moment the servant brought in a piece of folded 
 paper, saying, as she delivered it to Celia : 
 
 " From Mr. Pomfret, Miss." 
 
 Celia glanced at the note. It contained only a couple of 
 lines, and ran thus : 
 
 " Have you anything further to say to me? I am unable 
 to stay longer. M. P." 
 
 " Tell Mr. Pomfret I'll come to him in a minute," said 
 the young lady. Then turning to Stonehouse, she added, 
 " Did you know poor Julian's handwriting ? " 
 
 " Perfectly well. I've seen it often enough." 
 
 " Is that like it ? " she inquired. 
 
 " I can't say it is," he rejoined, examining the note. 
 
 " All doubts must be removed," said Celia. 
 
 And she hurried out of the room, but returned the next 
 minute accompanied by Pomfret, who very haughtily saluted 
 Stonehouse. 
 
 "Now, Mr. Stonehouse, what do you say?" cried Celia. 
 " Do you still maintain your opinion ? " 
 
 " Look me in the face, Sir," cried Pomfret, sternly ; " and 
 declare before this company whether you really believe me 
 to be Julian Curzon." 
 
 " I'm rather puzzled about it," replied the other, uneasily. 
 
 " It is lucky for you, Sir, that my poor friend is no more," 
 continued Pomfret. " Had he been living he would have 
 had an account to settle with you. Some documents in my 
 possession prove that your transactions with him were not 
 quite straightforward." 
 
 " My dealings with him were all strictly correct, and will 
 bear investigation," interrupted Stonehouse, evidently 
 alarmed. 
 
*9 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 " I am inclined to think that if Julian wre alive, he 
 could and would give you trouble," said Pomfret, with stern 
 significance. " If you doubt what I say, I will show the 
 documents in question to Mr. Flaxyard." 
 
 " That is not necessary, Sir," said the gentleman referred 
 to. "I am sure Mr. Stonehouse will not persist in his 
 assertion." 
 
 "No, I am ready to admit that I was in error," said 
 Stonehouse. " I now discern a great difference between 
 Mr. Pomfret and my late friend Julian. I beg to apologise 
 for my mistake." 
 
 " This is something, but not enough," rejoined Pomfret. 
 " Wherever this erroneous statement has been made, there 
 must be a contradiction. I insist upon that." 
 
 "I have said nothing as yet," rejoined Stonehouse. "I 
 came here first, wishing to talk over the matter with Mr. 
 Leycester." 
 
 " Lucky for yourself you did," observed that gentleman. 
 " However, I think you have behaved very properly in 
 owning yourself in the wrong." 
 
 Stonehouse, who felt himself in a very humiliating 
 position, bowed around, and made his way to the door. 
 Flaxyard followed him, and, while passing Pomfret, 
 observed, with a laugh, 
 
 " That was a very dexterous manoeuvre. You have 
 silenced him effectually." 
 
 Pomfret did not remain long after the others. He 
 dreaded further conversation with Mr. Leycester. 
 

 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE MARRIAGE AT CLAPHAM. 
 
 jjARLING BOOTLE now reigned supreme at the 
 Acacias, and was supremely happy. No more 
 jealousy; no more quarrels ; constant smiles from 
 Tiffany; lively talk and merry laughter with 
 Hornby ; cheerful discourse with the elderly folk; drives 'to 
 Wimbledon, Richmond, Kew, Hampton Court, in the 
 morning ; nice little dinners, and very often a private box 
 at a theatre in the evening. 
 
 Tiffany had received a lesson, and profited by it. The 
 Flaxyard family generally being fully sensible of the 
 advantage of the match, did their best to further it. Hornby 
 was assiduous in his attentions to Bootle, and took care that 
 he should experience no further annoyance from Musgrave. 
 Even Hornby's bosom friend, Rufus Trotter, was kept away, 
 lest his presence should prove detrimental. Mr. and Mrs. 
 Flaxyard likewise studied all Bootless peculiarities, and made 
 an extraordinary fuss of the young man, consulting his 
 tastes upon all points, and bowing to all his opinions. 
 
 Meantime, preparations were actively made for the 
 approaching nuptials. The bride's trousseau, on which one 
 of the most fashionable West End modistes was employed, 
 was almost completed. The wedding-day was fixed, and the 
 bridesmaids were chosen. Eva was asked to be one of them, 
 but declined. Her refusal was no great disappointment to 
 Tiffany. She had plenty of young friends, who would be 
 
192 ' Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 delighted to assist on the occasion, and she selected the 
 prettiest among them. Bootless best man was Captain 
 Standish, a relation of his own on his mother's side. The 
 captain had been introduced at the Acacias, where every- 
 body found him particularly gentlemanlike and agreeable. 
 Business matters, to which old Flaxyard attended, had like- 
 wise been completed. The settlements had only to be 
 signed. 
 
 But what about Mrs. Shelmerdine ? What was she doing 
 all this time ? After signifying her strong disapproval of the 
 match, and her firm determination not to countenance it 
 with her presence, she returned to Belfield. There she 
 remained ; but John came up to town again for the express 
 purpose of attending the wedding. 
 
 At last the auspicious day arrived. 
 
 All Clapham was astir to see the lovely bride drive to 
 church from her father's house. The young couple would 
 have liked to be married at St. George's, or St. James's, or 
 some fashionable church, but they were overruled by Tiff's 
 mamma, who was quite resolved that the marriage should 
 take place at their own church on the Common. The Rev. 
 Mr. Barker must perform the ceremony, and no one else. 
 This was the only point on which Mrs. Flaxyard made a 
 decided stand, and as she was supported by her husband, 
 the young people were compelled to give way. Better be 
 married at Clapham than not be married at all, thought Tiff; 
 and so reconciled herself to the arrangement. Moreover, 
 it was settled that the display should be just as grand as if 
 the marriage had taken place at the most aristocratic church 
 in town. Two new carriages were brought out on the 
 occasion, one of which was presented to the bride by Mr. 
 Shelmerdine. Besides these, there were several other 
 handsome equipages, which, when drawn up in a long line 
 after setting down their occupants, excited the admiration 
 of the beholders. The Common road was quite in com- 
 motion. Omnibuses and all other vehicles went slowly 
 past, and a crowd collected in front of the Acacias was 
 with difficulty kept out by the policemen stationed at the 
 gates. 
 
 The marriage of old Mr. Flaxyard's daughter, a reputed 
 heiress, and considered the belle of Clapham, had been 
 
The Marriage at Clapham. 193 
 
 much discussed among the tradesfolk of that populous 
 suburb, and everybody wanted to see how she was dressed, 
 how she looked, and what sort of person she was about to 
 espouse. Rumour asserted that the fortunate youth who 
 had won the prize was handsome as well as rich. It 
 remained to be seen whether rumour was correct. 
 
 At last the carriages were called, and the excitement of 
 the crowd became intense. The omnibuses would not 
 move on despite the shouts of the police, and numerous 
 butchers', bakers 7 , greengrocers', and fishmongers 1 carts 
 blocked the way. Boys climbed the walls, gazing through 
 the iron railings at the scene taking place at the door, and 
 screaming information to those below. The bridesmaids, 
 we have said, were chosen for their beauty, and, as they all 
 belonged to Clapham, Clapham, as represented by the little 
 boys at the railings and the crowd at the gates, hailed them 
 with shouts. Opinions varied as to the bridegroom. 
 Captain Standish rode with Bootle in a brougham belonging 
 to the latter, and some uncertainty prevailed as to which of 
 the two was the fortunate individual. When it became 
 known that the boyish-looking personage with the blonde 
 mustache was the hero of the day, some foolish people 
 shook their heads, and said Miss Flaxyard had chosen the 
 wrong man. 
 
 Bootless demeanour towards the throng did not improve 
 their opinion of him. Yet Bootle flattered himself he 
 looked remarkably well, and no doubt he was remarkably 
 well got up. However, nobody thought more about him 
 when the bride appeared. Tiffany never looked prettier 
 than she did in her charming bridal attire and veil of 
 Honiton Jace. Excitement imparted brilliancy to her 
 complexion and lustre to her eyes, and as she smiled 
 complacently at the crowd, and displayed her pearly teeth, 
 there was a genuine burst of admiration. 
 
 A host of little boys and grown-up people ran across the 
 Common to have another look at her. At the church door 
 a scene almost similar to that we have just described took 
 place ; only the bridal party could be better seen as they 
 descended from their carriages. Again an audible titter 
 pervaded the throng as Bootle marched slowly towards the 
 church door, and a fresh burst of admiration greeted Tiffany 
 
194 Myddleton PomfreL 
 
 as she alighted from her carriage and was conducted into the 
 sacred edifice. 
 
 The church was full, and the presence of so many 
 spectators, instead of agitating the timid bride, inspired her 
 with confidence. She went through the ceremony admirably. 
 Her worthy old father was much affected when he gave her 
 away, but his real feeling was not so effective as her feigned 
 sensibility. John Shelmerdine was completely imposed 
 upon, and thought his son had, indeed, got a treasure. Ah ! 
 if he could have read Tiffany's breast ! If he could have 
 seen what emotions were really passing within it ! If he 
 could have perceived how, under that guise of timidity, she 
 secretly exulted, he would have formed a very different 
 estimate of her character. 
 
 The ceremony was over, and Tiffany was now what she 
 had long desired to be, a married woman. She was Mrs. 
 Bootle Shelmerdine. She could not repress her delight. 
 Bootle remarked her triumphant look, and was gratified 
 rather than displeased by it. It seemed perfectly natural to 
 him perfectly natural to his father perfectly natural to 
 everybody who witnessed the ceremony, that she should be 
 elated. 
 
 There was a splendid wedding-breakfast at the Acacias. 
 But we cannot assist at it, and shall merely mention that the 
 happy pair proceeded to Folkfitone, on their way to Paris. 
 
 ISntr of $* 
 
BOOK V. 
 
 HYLTON CASTLE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE ARRIVAL AT THE CASTLE. 
 
 MORE picturesque old structure than Hylton 
 Castle cannot be imagined. Standing upon a 
 hill, the slopes of which are clothed with treeSj 
 only the upper part of the ancient edifice, with its 
 mullioned windows, embattled roof, and lofty chimneys, can 
 be discerned from the charming valley that lies at the foot 
 of the eminence. The mansion, however, cannot be 
 approached on this side. The proper entrance will be 
 found at the farther end of the park, nearly two miles off* 
 
 But before quitting the valley, through which wanders a 
 lethargic little river, not unknown to fame, and dear to the 
 angler, let us bestow another look on the antique mansion. 
 Not much of it can be seen, as we have intimated, for it is 
 literally buried in trees, and its broad terrace is screened 
 by a row of yew-trees that cast a funereal shade on the walk, 
 and darken the lower windows of the habitation ; but a good 
 idea can be gained of the place, and imagination will 
 132 
 
1 96 Myddleton Pomfrei. 
 
 readily complete the picture. Those grand old trees oak, 
 chestnut, ash, elm, beech impart a romantic character to 
 the pile, which would be lost if they were removed. The 
 timber, indeed, is magnificent, and constitutes the chief 
 beauty of the picture. . Nobler groves cannot be seen than 
 crown the summit of the hill, and extend over the whole of 
 the lordly domain. The mansion, when examined as we 
 propose to do anon, is the mere wreck of its former 
 grandeur, neglected, decaying, desolate ; but thus seen, the 
 ravages are hidden that time and neglect have caused. 
 The mighty trees that have grown old with the building, but 
 yet exult in their full strength, stretch their arms lovingly 
 around it, and shield from observation its gloomy terrace, 
 its crumbling walls, its deserted courts, and dilapidated 
 chambers. Shrouded by these contemporaries and friends, 
 it looks haughty as of yore haughty as when reared by the 
 first Hylton, upwards of three centuries ago. 
 
 And what a matchless situation did that proud Hylton 
 choose for his castellated mansion ! Heights overlooking a 
 region of almost unequalled beauty a lovely vale shut in 
 by chalky downs, with a castle and priory in the distance ; 
 on the right, a wide expanse of heath, forest, and fertile 
 plain ; on the left, and divided only from the eminence by a 
 valley, another hill clothed with mysterious and im- 
 memorial groves. Such was the view commanded by 
 Hylton Castle in former days, and the main features of the 
 scene are still unchanged. But the builder of the castle 
 heightened the natural beauty of the spot ; converting the 
 forest land into a park, opening glades, and thinning the 
 timber, but carefully preserving all the finest trees among 
 others, a grove of chestnuts, even in his time of great size 
 and age and planted a long avenue of lime trees in triple 
 rows, which has now not its equal in the kingdom. 
 
 Eva was charmed with the old mansion, as she first 
 caught a glimpse of it, while flying past on the railway, 
 which conveyed her to a small station close to the farther 
 end of the park. Nor was she less delighted when, passing 
 through the lodge gates, and entering on the domain, she 
 came at once upon a row of gigantic chestnut trees, with 
 enormous twisted trunks and fantastic branches. None of 
 these remarkable trees were exactly alike some being so 
 
The Arrival at the Castle. 197 
 
 strange in shape that they looked like antediluvian monsters 
 reared on end but each tree in succession excited her 
 wonder and almost awe. She counted more than fifty of 
 the giants. Who planted those enormous trees ? Pomfret, 
 who was in the carriage with her, could not answer the 
 question could not even guess at their age. 
 
 Independently of the fine timber which it disclosed to 
 their view, the drive through the lower part of the park was 
 striking. Immediately beneath, on the left, through breaks in 
 the trees, could be seen the river to which we have alluded 
 now crossed by an ancient stone bridge with pointed arches 
 now dammed near picturesque water-mill, so as to form a 
 large pool, while beyond it rose a down, the summit of 
 which was covered with ancient box-trees. Eva was quite 
 enchanted by the beauty of the scene. On whichever side 
 she gazed fresh, points of attraction caught her eye. The 
 slopes and hollows were clad with gorse and ferns, and 
 studded with ancient thorns, and the uplands crested with 
 noble trees. 
 
 But the incomparable avenue had yet to be seen. In 
 order fully to enjoy its beauty, Pomfret alighted with his 
 ward, and sent the carriage on by a lower road. On 
 entering the avenue they both stood still, almost in awe. 
 Graceful and majestic trees, springing like slender columns 
 from the ground, and forming a lofty arch overhead, 
 extended in long lines to the brow of the eminence on 
 which stood the ancient mansion, its grey portal being just 
 distinguishable. Marvellous was the beauty of those lime- 
 trees. Lofty, straight, clean-stemmed, vigorous, not a single 
 tree manifested the slightest symptom of decay. As the 
 eye swept along the beautiful and extensive arcade, regular 
 as the aisle of a cathedral, not a single vacancy could be 
 described. The picture was perfect in all its details. 
 Exquisite was the effect of the sunshine on the overarching 
 boughs delicious the screen they afforded. Not a single 
 ray penetrated through the foliage, and yet there was no 
 gloom. The stillness, though impressive, did not awaken 
 melancholy thoughts. On the contrary, the mind was 
 completely absorbed in admiration of the grace and lightness 
 of the trees. 
 
 Such was the impression produced by this glorious 
 
198 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 avenue upon Pomfret and his ward as they slowly tracked 
 it, ever and anon pausing to look back. 
 
 When they emerged from the avenue, and approached 
 the mansion, evidences of neglect became manifest. The 
 road was grass-grown and almost obliterated. The iron 
 hurdles, which ought to have defended the lawn, were rusty 
 and broken ; the lawn itself was ragged, and unconscious of 
 the scythe. The parterres had become a wilderness of 
 weeds. Flowers were choked; shrubs had grown wild; 
 and roses had become little better than briars. The 
 mansion, which at a distance looked so stately and im- 
 posing, had a strange deserted look. No guest, it was 
 clear, had lately entered by that porch, the rich decorations 
 of which were encrusted with lichens and moss. 
 
 Still, in spite of all this neglect, the aspect of the 
 mansion was exceedingly striking. Quadrangular, solidly 
 constructed of stone, parapeted and embattled, with turrets 
 at the angles, a superb portal in the centre, large projecting 
 bay-windows with stone transoms, the structure presented a 
 grand fagade. Unluckily, the turrets and battlements were 
 ruinous, and the noble portal sadly dilapidated. 
 
 Though Pomfret and Eva had been prepared for a 
 partially dismantled neglected house, they scarcely expected 
 to find it in such a lamentable condition, and they were con- 
 templating it with some feelings of dismay, when an elderly 
 woman, of very respectable appearance, issued from the 
 portal. 
 
 This was Sir Norman's old housekeeper. Mrs. Austin 
 had heard of their arrival from the coachman who had 
 brought them from the station, and now came forth to greet 
 them. Apologising for the state of the place, she explained, 
 as indeed was only too apparent, that it had been greatly 
 neglected, but promised to make them as comfortable as 
 circumstances would permit She then ushered them into 
 the mansion, and Pomfret expected they would be taken 
 into one of the large rooms with bow-windows, but Mrs. 
 Austin told him that this part of the house was disused, and 
 conducting him and Eva across a court, which did not 
 appear so much neglected as the external part of the 
 mansion, brought them to a suite of apartments, fitted up 
 with old oak furniture. This wing, Mrs. Austin observed. 
 
The Arrival at the Casth. 199 
 
 was the only part of the castle that had been occupied of 
 late years. Sir Norman, she said, talked of furnishing the 
 other rooms, and of repairing the place generally, but 
 nothing had been done as yet. 
 
 Pomfret now began to take heart, especially when he 
 found that Eva was perfectly satisfied with the place. 
 Later on in the day, when the young lady's own attendant 
 arrived, with other servants, and when general arrangements 
 both for Eva's comfort and his own were made, he became 
 quite reconciled to the house ; but he promised his ward 
 that before many weeks had elapsed a transformation should 
 take place in its appearance. 
 
 And he fulfilled his promise. In a marvellously short 
 space of time the old place underwent a change ; the garden 
 was put in order, and a considerable portion of the interior 
 of the mansion rendered not only habitable, but agreeable. 
 The superintendence of these changes afforded Eva occu- 
 pation and amusement, and this was what Pomfret desired, for 
 during the greater part of the time he was necessarily absent. 
 
 There was a strange interest attached to the old man- 
 sion, which perhaps in its palmier days it did not excite. 
 Accompanied by the housekeeper, Eva visited all the 
 deserted rooms. Many of them were noble apartments, 
 with deep bay-windows and richly carved chimney-pieces, 
 but all were dismantled and dilapidated. One entire wing 
 was shut up. All the old furniture had been removed many 
 years ago, Mrs. Austin said, and there was not even a 
 picture left upon the dark oak panels. 
 
 After they had inspected all the upper rooms, she asked 
 the young lady if she would like to see the prison-chamber, 
 and, upon being answered in the affirmative, conducted her 
 to a vault of considerable size, the solid stone walls, grated 
 windows, and ponderous door of which seemed to indicate 
 that it might have been used as a strong-room. Were no 
 legends connected with the vault ? Tiresome Mrs; Austin 
 could relate none. And the old lady rather destroyed the 
 romance of the place by declaring it would make an 
 excellent beer-cellar, and that she had recommended Sir 
 Langley Hylton to use it for that purpose. 
 
 Now was the opportunity for questioning the old house- 
 keeper about the haunted room. Eva seized it. 
 
200 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 " Sir Norman told me there is a haunted room," she said. 
 " Show it me, please." 
 
 " You have seen it already, Miss," replied Mrs. Austin, 
 after some hesitation. 
 
 " Indeed ! Is it one of those deserted chambers which 
 we have just visited? I fancied so at the time." 
 
 " No, I won't tell you an untruth, Miss ; it is not one of 
 those rooms. I would rather you didn't ask me where it is 
 not that I believe in ghosts or anything of the sort, but 
 you yourself might be frightened." 
 
 " I must insist upon knowing," cried Eva. " I don't 
 believe in ghosts any more than you do, so I shan't 
 be alarmed if you tell me that mine is the haunted 
 chamber." 
 
 "A very good guess, Miss," replied Mrs. Austin, a smile 
 lighting up her wintry features. "Yours is the haunted 
 room. But you needn't trouble yourself about the ghost. 
 Many a night have I slept in that room, and have never seen 
 it. It's the best room in the wing; but you can have 
 another, if you desire it." 
 
 " Oh dear no ! I am perfectly content with the room. 
 It is charming. But don't say a word to Susan. She is 
 dreadfully timid, and I'm sure she won't sleep in the 
 dressing-room if you tell her about the ghost." 
 
 " Don't fear me, Miss," said the austere dame. " I know 
 what ladies'-maids are." 
 
 The chamber occupied by Eva, and correctly described 
 by Mrs/ Austin as the best bed-room in the house, was 
 spacious, situated at an angle of the edifice, and commanded 
 the lovely valley we have described. The room retained 
 much of its original character ; it was wainscoted with oak, 
 and had furniture to correspond. Its most noticeable 
 feature was a massive bedstead, with curiously carved posts, 
 black as ebony from age, and richly embroidered silk 
 curtains, though now, of course, faded and tarnished. Ad- 
 joining the chamber, and communicating with it by a side- 
 door, was a small room, in which Susan slept. 
 
 Never since she occupied it had Eva heard the slightest 
 sound to occasion alarm. But on the first night after she 
 had obtained this piece of information from Mrs. Austin, 
 she was too much excited to sleep. No spectre, however, 
 
The Arrival, at the Castle. 201 
 
 appeared no noise was heard. And after a few more 
 tranquil nights, she forgot all about the ghost. 
 
 But though Eva liked the old mansion, neither Susan nor 
 any of the other servants, who had been engaged in town 
 by Pomfret, liked it, and would greatly have preferred a 
 mansion similar to those adorning the neighbouring hills. 
 
 Eva had everything to make the country enjoyable 
 saddle-horses, carriage-horses, a well-appointed barouche, 
 and a pony-carriage, which she herself could drive. In 
 other respects her establishment was complete, and she had 
 Mrs. Austin to manage the servants, and take all trouble off 
 her hands. 
 
 With such an establishment, and with all else conducted 
 upon a corresponding scale, a country residence could not 
 fail to be pleasant, even though that residence should be as 
 tumble-down as Hylton Castle. But the dilapidations did 
 not annoy Eva. Half such a large old house was enough 
 for her, and more than half was now habitable. Ample 
 room, and to spare, was there for her household and for her 
 guests, for she had always some of her relatives staying with 
 her, and her aunt, Mrs. Daventry, a very agreeable, well- 
 informed person, had agreed to reside with her for a few 
 months. Thus she was never alone, and she might have 
 had plenty of general society if she had cared for it. 
 
 There was one material drawback to her happiness. 
 Hylton Castle was charming, the yew-tree terrace sombre 
 and mysterious, the park delightful, the avenue exquisite, 
 the neighbourhood beautiful, the rides and drives in- 
 exhaustible, but the one person whose society she preferred 
 to all other was rarely far too rarely with her. 
 
 Pomfret was chiefly in town, occupied by business, he 
 said, and only ran down now and then, and never stayed 
 more than a day when he did come. Besides, he was 
 making arrangements to return to Madras, and then she 
 should lose him altogether for a time. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 A LETTER AT LAST FROM SOPHY. 
 
 j|ONG had Pomfret been without any intelligence of 
 Sophy, but calling one day at his banker's to 
 inquire for letters, a bulky packet was delivered 
 to him. 
 
 He recognised the handwriting at once, and, hurrying to 
 his hotel, repaired to his own room, fastened the door, and 
 broke open the seals of the packet. 
 
 Enclosed was the following letter. It was closely written, 
 in Sophy's beautiful hand, and occupied several sides of 
 paper. 
 
 " Perhaps this letter may never meet your eyes, but it will 
 relieve my heart to write it. Mental torture could scarcely 
 be more acute than that which I experienced after my 
 interview with you in the Bois de Boulogne. I felt that I 
 was on the verge of madness. Unavailing regret for the 
 happiness I had for ever lost, horror at my dreadful position, 
 and despair of escape from it, these were the feelings that 
 beset me. Hope I had none. For a time Heaven seemed 
 deaf to my prayers, and denied me the relief rarely refused 
 to the heart-broken. 
 
 "A fearful night was that on which I fled from Paris, 
 hoping, but vainly, to leave my cares behind me. The 
 train was crowded, and the carriage in which Celia and I 
 were placed was full. Perhaps this was fortunate^ since it 
 
A Letter at Last from Sophy. 203 
 
 compelled me to restrain my emotion. None of those with 
 me, except Celia, could have been aware of the anguish I 
 endured ; but they must have thought me unsociable, for I 
 uttered not a word. 
 
 " The night was wild and tempestuous, and soon after 
 quitting Amiens a terrible thunderstorm came on, ac- 
 companied by vivid lighting, but though usually terrified by 
 a storm of this kind, I felt no terror then. Celia afterwards 
 told me that she was alarmed at the expression of my 
 features, as revealed by the flashes of lightning. I know that 
 I felt fearfully excited, though I did not betray myself by a 
 single exclamation. 
 
 " Before we reached Calais the thunderstorm had ceased, 
 but the wind was still violent, and Celia was very unwilling 
 to cross, but I would not remain another hour in France, 
 and of course she went with me. It was an awful passage, 
 but we got safely to Dover, and as Celia, who was utterly 
 prostrated, was unable to proceed farther, we stopped 
 there. 
 
 "Next day, the excitement, which had given me false 
 strength, forsook me. I could not leave my bed, and was 
 slightly delirious, but Celia kept careful watch over me. A 
 large and bustling hotel like the Lord Warden is ill suited to 
 a nervous sufferer. I was removed to quiet lodgings, where 
 I was undisturbed, and where I speedily began to recover 
 strength. 
 
 " One fear had assailed me during my illness, and 
 increased my nervous irritation. It was the fear lest he who 
 had been guilty of such infamous perfidy towards me should 
 follow me, and find me out. I constantly expected him to 
 appear, and the sound of a footstep filled me with dread. 
 Before leaving Paris I had written to him, forbidding him 
 to come nigh me, but he might not regard my injunctions. 
 
 "My alarm, however, was groundless. He came not, 
 and I now do not think he had any intention of following 
 me. Without consulting me, Celia had written to him, 
 requesting him to send to Dover all the wearing apparel and 
 other articles that we had left behind at the Grand Hotel. 
 They were sent without a word. 
 
 " Celia was most anxious that I should return to my poor 
 father, but I refused, I could not return *o him a 
 
2O4 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 time now not a widow, not a wife. I could not explain 
 my frightful position to him. I could not look him in the 
 face with such a secret in my breast. I was determined to 
 live in absolute retirement, among strangers who could 
 known nothing of my sad story and who neither would shun 
 me nor condemn me. In such a plan it would be impossible 
 that Celia could take part. A life of seclusion was unsuited to 
 her. She would be speedily tired of it. Besides, her 
 presence would infallibly lead to a discovery, which I was 
 anxious to avoid. 
 
 "It was therefore agreed that Celia should leave me and 
 return home, and give such explanation as she might deem 
 proper to my dear father. It was a painful parting with her, 
 and she tried to make me change my resolution. But I 
 remained firm. I was left alone. 
 
 " I must now pass over a week; 
 
 " While seeking a retreat, I chanced upon a pretty little 
 old-fashioned village, which I will try to describe to you. The 
 village in question has a large green, such as you rarely meet 
 with now-a-days, round which quaint old houses are gathered, 
 intermingled with magnificent elm-trees. At one end of the 
 green stands a picturesque little inn, with an extraordinary 
 chimney, a fine porch, a bay-window, and a charming garden. 
 An artist would fall in love with that little inn. 
 
 " Close to the inn is a smithy also a picture. Nothing 
 prettier or more peaceful can be conceived than this out-of- 
 the-way little village. It seems to belong to the middle of 
 the last century. Not a modern house in it, or near it. 
 Not one of the habitations would rank above a farm-house 
 or a cottage, yet many of them have crofts and large apple- 
 orchards, and all have gardens. The country around is 
 beautiful. Close at hand there are hills and heights 
 covered with timber. Large mansions, surrounded by parks, 
 crown some of these eminences. 
 
 "I had never heard of this sequestered little village 
 before had never been in this part of the country. Chance, 
 or some beneficent power that took compassion upon me, 
 brought me hither. I was going farther much farther, 
 indeed but T at once decided upon remaining here, and 
 alighting from the vehicle which had brought me from thQ 
 
A Letter at Last from Sophy. 20$ 
 
 railway station, a few miles off, caused my luggage to be 
 taken into the little inn I have described, and went in 
 search of lodgings. 
 
 " Thinking I might find some retired cottage, I took a 
 path which led me, through a meadow skirted by enormous 
 oak-trees, to the church a grey and ancient pile, almost 
 surrounded by trees, with a little avenue of clipped lime-trees 
 conducting to the porch. A churchyard full of rounded 
 hillocks, headstones, and old monuments, showed how many 
 generations were resting there. 
 
 " The church door being open, I entered. The interior 
 presented such an aspect as might be expected from an old 
 country church. In partsit bore traces of great antiquity, 
 but many reparations had been made, and not always in the 
 best taste. Still, there were vestiges of the original stained 
 glass in the pointed windows, and some fine brasses in the 
 nave that belonged to the fifteenth century. 
 
 "Noticing some monuments in the chancel, I walked 
 down to look at them. Almost all belonged to one family. 
 Amongst them was a little tablet of white marble that fixed 
 my attention. It bore the name of Sophia, and recorded 
 her death at the early age of seventeen. As I read the 
 simple but touching inscription, I envied the fate of the 
 poor girl, who, though cut off like a flower, was perhaps 
 saved from much sorrow. 
 
 " ' Would I had died at seventeen ! ' I murmured. 
 
 " So engrossed was I by painful thoughts, that I did not 
 remark that an elderly lady had silently approached me, 
 and had overheard the exclamation. On perceiving her, I 
 was about to retire in some confusion, but she stopped me 
 gently, and said, in a low voice : 
 
 " ' She was my daughter, and a sweeter creature 
 never blessed a mother. I have never ceased to mourn for 
 her." 
 
 " We then quitted the church together, and as we stood 
 outside the porch, she questioned me in the kindest manner 
 possible as to the cause of the exclamation she had over- 
 heard. 
 
 " I could not enter into particulars, but I told her that I 
 had endured so much imhappiness of late, that I was almost 
 weary of life, and that my own name being Sophia had led 
 
2o6 Myddkton Pomfrei. 
 
 me into a train of thought that had given rise to the ex- 
 clamation. 
 
 " Her interest was evidently excited in me, and we had a 
 long conversation together, in the course of which I ex- 
 plained that I was looking out for a quiet retreat, and 
 thought I might find one in the adjoining village. On 
 hearing this, she reflected for a short time, and then said : 
 
 " l You have inspired me with a strong interest in you, 
 for which I can only account by the circumstances under 
 which we have met. You tell me that your name is the 
 same as that of my lost child, and had she lived she would 
 have been about your age. My house is not far hence. 
 Come and see it. If you like the place, I will ask you to 
 stay with me. The house is quiet and secluded enough to 
 suit any taste.' 
 
 "I could not refuse an invitation given with so much 
 kindness. From the moment I beheld her I had been 
 attracted as by a potent mesmeric influence towards Mrs. 
 Carew. I had learned her name from the tablet. I never 
 saw a more pleasing countenance than hers, nor one more 
 strongly indicative of goodness and genuine kindness of 
 heart. Her manner is pleasing, and the tone of her 
 voice delightful. I have no doubt she was once beautiful, 
 for her features are still good, and her eyes fine, but time 
 and sorrow have left their traces. 
 
 " As we walked together in the direction of her house, 
 along a charming road skirted by fine trees, and passed 
 several homesteads, each boasting a large apple-orchard, she 
 gave me an outline of her history. 
 
 " Mrs. Carew had been a widow for several years. She 
 was the second wife of Mr. Morton Carew, a country gentle- 
 man of good property, but whose estates went to his son by 
 a former marriage. She herself has no family. Her 
 daughter, who bore the luckless name of Sophy, died early 
 of consumption. 
 
 "Ere long we came in sight of her house, and she had 
 not prepared me in the least for the singular structure that 
 met my view. Nothing more curious and picturesque can 
 be imagined. It is an old house, but in excellent preser- 
 vation, and the walls, roof, and chimneys the latter being 
 of immense size are covered with ivy. But the singularity 
 
A Letter at Last from Sophy. $b) 
 
 Of the place, and that which constitutes its chief charm in 
 my eyes, is, that it is entirely surrounded by a wide deep 
 moat, and can only be approached by a drawbridge. I 
 have dreamed of such a romantic habitation, but never 
 saw one before. Outside the moat there is a large garden, 
 laid out in the old style, and house and garden are buried 
 in a grove of trees tenanted by rooks. 
 
 " Mrs. Carew read my surprise and delight in my looks, 
 and smiling kindly asked me how I liked the old place. I 
 told her I was enchanted with it, but all seemed so strange 
 that I was not quite sure that I was not in a dream. 
 
 " As we crossed the drawbridge, I paused for a moment 
 to gaze at the moat, which lost none of its beauty on closer 
 inspection, being supplied with clear water from a brook 
 hard by. Mrs. Carew showed me over her house. None 
 of the rooms are very large, or very lofty, but they are all 
 comfortable, and fitted up with old furniture. One bed- 
 room, with windows looking across the moat upon the 
 garden, particularly took my fancy, and remarking that I 
 was pleased with it, she said : 
 
 " ' This room shall be yours if you like to occupy it. Do 
 not hesitate. I make the offer with all my heart. But I 
 ought to tell you,' she added, an the tears sprang to her 
 eyes and her voice faltered as she spoke, ' that this was my 
 dear Sophy's room. In it she passed the last few months of 
 her brief life, and never quitted it till she was taken to the 
 churchyard we have just visited.' After a pause, she 
 pointed to a few books on a shelf near the fireplace. 
 6 There is her little library. And that is her portrait over 
 the chimney-piece/ 
 
 "Glancing in the direction indicated, I beheld the 
 portrait of a beautiful fair-haired girl, whose frame and 
 features bespoke extreme delicacy. 
 
 " ' Perhaps you may prefer another chamber,' pursued the 
 kind old lady. * But despite its melancholy associations, I 
 am fond of this room, and it is close to my own chamber." 
 
 " I told her that I liked the room better than any I had 
 seen. 
 
 " 'Then take possession of it at once/ she cried. 'Nay, 
 I will have no denial. 1 
 
 "Need I say that I gratefully accepted the offer. No 
 
2o Myddleton Pomfrei. 
 
 time was lost in making me at home in my new abode. 
 My luggage was brought from the little inn where I had 
 left it. 
 
 "Before leaving Dover, I had taken the precaution of 
 putting the name of Mrs. Montfort on the trunks, and by 
 that denomination I am now known. The initials on my 
 linen could betray nothing. Mrs. Carew's establishment 
 consists of old and attached servants. They believe me to 
 be a niece of their mistress, and are perfectly satisfied, for 
 they are not inquisitive. 
 
 " The extreme kindliness of Mrs. Carew's disposition is 
 manifested in a hundred ways not merely to me, but to all 
 with whom she comes in contact. I do not think there can 
 be a more amiable person. Benevolent almost to a fault, 
 she seems to live for others rather than for herself. She is 
 profoundly religious, but hers is a cheerful, hopeful faith. 
 Without knowing the cause of my sorrow, she affords me 
 the greatest consolation. I shall never be happy again, but 
 she has chased away the despair that haunted me. 
 
 " Such is the friend I have obtained ! such the asylum I 
 have found ! Ought I not to esteem myself fortunate ? 
 Ought I to repine ? 
 
 " Behold me, then, in the little chamber assigned to me 
 by dear Mrs. Carew ! There is nothing gloomy about the 
 room, though it has witnessed sad scenes. On the contrary, 
 it has an air of great cheerfulness. From the window, 
 which would be darkened by ivy were not the intrusive 
 leaves carefully trimmed, I enjoy the prettiest prospect 
 imaginable. Immediately beneath me is the moat ; beyond 
 it the garden ; and beyond that a grove of splendid trees. 
 I might be in a convent, shut out from all the world. The 
 quietude is indescribable. To some people the place might 
 appear lonely, but to me it is delightful. Mrs. Carew loves 
 tranquillity, and her servants carry out her wishes. All goes 
 on regularly and systematically, but there is no bustle, not 
 the slightest disturbance of any kind. 
 
 "We have rarely any visitors, for Mrs. Carew has almost 
 given up society since her daughter's death, but occasionally 
 the vicar and his wife dine with her. Both are elderly 
 people, and both very agreeable. On such occasions I am 
 allowed to remain in my own room. The calmness I have 
 
A Letter at Last from Sophy. 209 
 
 described a calmness almost monastic, as I have stated 
 has produced a beneficial effect upon me. Allowed to do 
 just what I like, I pass most of my time in reading and 
 meditation, and seldom or ever stray beyond the precincts 
 of the place. On her return from a walk or drive, Mrs. 
 Carew generally finds me in the garden. 
 
 " Thus time flows on, and if it will only continue to flow 
 on thus tranquilly, I shall be content. My mode of life is 
 so uniform, that in describing one day I describe all. 
 
 " I have not taken up my pen for some days, but an 
 event has just occurred which I must relate. 
 
 " Yester-afternoon I was walking in the garden with Mrs. 
 Carew, when a remarkably beautiful girl made her appear- 
 ance. Old Nathan presented her to his mistress, but he 
 mumbled so that I could not catch the name of the lovely 
 visitor. However, I understood that she had recently come 
 to reside in the neighbourhood, and was now returning a 
 call made upon her by Mrs. Carew. I was greatly struck 
 by the young lady's appearance. Her beauty was not of 
 a common order, and her manner graceful and refined. As 
 she addressed me occasionally, I was forced to join in the 
 conversation. She spoke in raptures of an old mansion 
 which her guardian had taken in the neighbourhood, and 
 pressed me to come with Mrs. Carew to see it. 
 
 " Pursuing the conversation, she informed me that she 
 had only recently returned from India, and mentioned that 
 she had been at Madras. My suspicions being then excited, 
 I put some questions to her, though with caution, and soon 
 found out that she was no other than Eva Bracebridge. 
 
 " Here, then, was an unlooked-for meeting ! A girl whom 
 I would have shunned whom I supposed was in India 
 stood before me. 
 
 "Instantaneously I felt a revulsion of feeling towards 
 her. I did not now think her so lovely as I had done 
 previously. I fancied I could detect faults in her which I 
 had not perceived before. I almost forgot myself, and gave 
 impatient answers when she spoke to me. Yet I was wrong 
 to indulge such feelings. Eva Bracebridge is charming 
 charming alike in person and manner but I regarded her 
 with a jaundiced eye. 
 14 
 
210 Myct diet on Pomfret. 
 
 " She stayed some time, and during that time I learned 
 much, for she talked a great deal about you, and about cir- 
 cumstances that had occurred at the Beau Rivage at Ouchy, 
 all of which were of the most painful interest to me. 
 During this part of the conversation I was on the rack, but 
 I bore it with firmness. But you will understand the effect 
 which these details produced upon me. 
 
 " At last, to my inexpressible relief, she took her 
 departure. While bidding adieu, she again pressed me to 
 visit Hylton Castle, which she told me is the name of the 
 place you have taken for her, but I declined. 
 
 "This visit quite upset me, but I pleaded sudden in- 
 disposition to account to Mrs. Carew for my changed 
 manner, and retired early to rest. The calmness that had 
 surrounded me in my retreat seemed violently disturbed. 
 All my anxieties were revived. I had a sleepless night, and 
 thought over all the occurrences that had been related to 
 me. Nothing distressed and distracted me more than the 
 thought that I should have to flee from this place. Mrs. 
 Carew is so kind to me, and would grieve sorely at my de- 
 parture. But is it necessary that I should go ? Now you 
 know where I am, you can avoid me. 
 
 " Some days have elapsed, and Eva Bracebridge has been 
 here again. 
 
 " This time she came accompanied by her aunt, Mrs. 
 Baventry, who is staying at Hylton Castle. There is no 
 resisting Eva, she is so extremely amiable and ingenuous, 
 and my unreasonable dislike has vanished. You can read 
 her heart like a book. She has now no secrets from me. 
 I did not seek to learn her secrets, but she would make me 
 her confidante. She spoke to me about you, and told me a 
 great deal more than I choose to repeat. She says you are 
 rarely at Hylton Castle, and are soon about to return to 
 Madras. The thought of losing you for so long a period 
 seems to distress her much, and she says she shall be quite 
 disconsolate when you are gone. 
 
 " Poor girl ! I pity her from my soul. I offered her the 
 best consolation in my power. Little does she dream that 
 I am the main obstacle to her happiness. 
 
 " She spoke of Sir Norman Hylton, and told me why she 
 
A Letter at Last from Sophy. il 
 
 had refused him. I do not think she will ever marry, un- 
 less but we cannot penetrate the future. When you go to 
 Madras, I shall probably see a good deal of this charming 
 girl, in whom I begin to take a warm interest. Perhaps we 
 have been brought together in this unaccountable manner 
 for some mysterious purpose. 
 
 " Eva sat with me in my little room for several hours, 
 while her aunt partook of luncheon with Mrs. Carew. She 
 seemed as if she could not tear herself away. She evidently 
 wished to know something of my history, but finding it 
 pained me to talk about it, she desisted. I daresay she has 
 many speculations about me, but I trust they are all wide 
 of the truth. I now tremble more than ever lest she should 
 learn who I am. She left me far happier than she found 
 me. At all events, she has succeeded in strongly exciting 
 my sympathies towards her. Heaven grant I may be of 
 some service to her ! I would make any sacrifice in my 
 
 power to ensure her happiness. 
 
 
 " Again I must pass by some uneventful days without 
 notice. I should have little but my own feelings to record. 
 Eva has been here again, and again has passed a few hours 
 tete-a-tete with me in my little room. But it is not of her I 
 am now about to speak. A strange and most unpleasant 
 incident has occurred. This place is no longer a secure 
 asylum for me, and I fear I shall be obliged to quit it. But 
 you shall hear what has happened. 
 
 " Last night I sat up late, writing this very letter. All 
 the house had been long since at rest, but, feeling no in- 
 clination for sleep, I occupied myself as I have mentioned. 
 It was a calm moonlight night, and from time to time I 
 looked out at the exquisite scene before me. A thin gauzy 
 mist hung over the surface of the moat, and partially 
 obscured the shrubs in the garden, but the summits of the 
 larger trees were silvered by the moonbeams. The dreamy 
 beauty of the picture enchanted me. It was like a fairy 
 vision. The drawbridge was scarcely distinguishable 
 through the vapour. I fancied however, that a figure was 
 standing upon it, but, as the person remained motionless, I 
 concluded I must be mistaken. 
 
 "After contemplating the ravishing scene I have de- 
 142 
 
2t2 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 cribed for some minutes, I sat down, and again occupied 
 myself with my letter. I was thus employed when I heard a 
 rustling noise among the leaves of the ivy with which, as I 
 have said, the walls of the house are completely covered. 
 Instantly springing up, I flew to the window, which 
 unluckily, I had left open. But before reaching it, I 
 recoiled. A man's head appeared at the casement. I 
 should have shrieked aloud at the sight, but the white 
 moonlight revealed well-known features, and terror struck 
 me dumb. 
 
 " He was there the dreaded, the detested ; he from 
 whom I had striven to hide myself, had found me out. The 
 next moment he had gained the room, and closed the 
 window. I was so paralysed by fright that I could not stir. 
 But he seemed perfectly easy, and said, with a slight laugh, 
 but in a low voice, 
 
 " ' Ivy serves as well as a rope-ladder to gain a fair lady's 
 chamber/ 
 
 " Before I could prevent him, he stepped lightly and 
 quickly to the door, fastened it, and took out the key. 
 
 " ' Don't make a row, my charmer you will gain nothing 
 by it,' he said, as he came back, fearing, perhaps, that I was 
 about to alarm the house by my cries. 'Sit down quietly. 
 We must have a little chat together. You will be surprised 
 that I have found you out, after the precautions you have 
 taken, but in reality I had no difficulty. I quickly dis- 
 covered your lodgings at Dover, and followed you, step by 
 step, to this place.' 
 
 " ' What do you want ? ' I gasped, sinking into the chair 
 to which he pointed. ' Why do you add to the misery you 
 have inflicted upon me by thus invading my retreat ? ' 
 
 " ' Pooh ! pooh ! I am not come here to annoy you/ he 
 rejoined. 'Had such been my design, I should have 
 knocked at the door, and insisted upon seeing my wife, Mrs. 
 Musgrave. Not wishing to betray you, I have sought 
 admittance in this way. After studying the premises, I 
 found your room accessible by means of that good-natured 
 ivy. Plan instantly adopted. Me voila ! How very con- 
 siderate in you to leave the window open ! ' 
 
 " I said nothing, but I bitterly reproached myself with 
 my want of caution. 
 
A Letter at Last from Sophy. 213 
 
 " * Allow me to congratulate you upon your quarters,' he 
 remarked, looking complacently round. * What a charming 
 little room you have got, and how nicely furnished ! You 
 could not possibly be more comfortable. And then the old 
 house how quaint it is, with its ivied walls and chimneys. 
 To-night it looks wonderfully picturesque. I've seen 
 nothing better on the stage. I'm glad they don't think it 
 necessary to raise the drawbridge, or I should have had to 
 swim the moat. Your friend Mrs. Carew, I'm told, is quite 
 as pleasing a piece of antiquity as her house. How on 
 earth did you contrive to make her acquaintance ? ' 
 
 " ' Torment me no more,' I cried ; ' or, at all hazards, I 
 will alarm the house. If you have any business with me, 
 state it ' 
 
 " ' You are in a desperate hurry, my charmer. Consider 
 how long it is since we met,' he rejoined, with the same 
 provoking calmness. ' I suppose you have no particular 
 desire to return to me ? ' 
 
 " ' Return to you ! Never ! ' I exclaimed. 
 
 " ' Well, I think you are very well oif where you are,' he 
 said. 'Your reluctance to leave old Madam Carew is 
 natural. I won't disturb you, provided we can come to an 
 understanding.' 
 
 " ' To what kind of understanding ? ' I asked. ' What 
 do your require ? " 
 
 " ' Money money, my charmer that's the burden of 
 my song. After you so cruelly deserted me, I sought dis- 
 traction in play, and lost heavily at Baden-Baden. I'm 
 hard up. I am sure you have money, and equally sure you 
 can get more if you require it.' 
 
 " I felt so indignant, that I was determined to refuse him, 
 and I suppose he divined my attention from my looks, for 
 he hastened to add, in an altered tone : 
 
 " ' Refuse and you shall see me to-morrow under a very 
 different aspect.' 
 
 "At his sudden change of aspect, my courage quite 
 forsook me, and gave place to abject terror. 
 
 " ' I will give you all I possess,' I said, ' if you will 
 go instantly, and promise sacredly never to molest me 
 again.' 
 
 " ' How much have you got ? ' he inquired, 
 
214 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 "'A few hundreds. I don't exactly know how much. 
 But you shall have all.' 
 
 u ' Ah ! now you are reasonable. If I have good luck on 
 the turf, or in any other way, I will repay you.' 
 
 " ' Never come near me again. That is all I ask. It will 
 oe useless to repeat the visit. You now deprive me of all 
 my resources." 
 
 "I unlocked a drawer, and taking out a little pocket- 
 book containing the greater part of the money which you 
 sent me through Mr. Flaxyard, gave it to him. I know that 
 I ought not to have done this, but I could not help it. I 
 was so terrified, that I wished to get rid of him at any 
 price. 
 
 " ' Bien oblige', ma belle,' he said securing the pocket- 
 book. 'Voici le clef de la porte. Maintenant pour 
 1'echelle de lierre. Adieu, pour toujours ! ; 
 
 " Opening the window noiselessly, he passed out. He 
 accomplished his descent quickly and carefully, and, 
 hurrying towards the drawbridge, almost instantly dis- 
 appeared. 
 
 " I remember nothing more distinctly, but when I awoke 
 next morning, I thought I must have had a hideous dream. 
 The truth soon dawned upon me, and all my terrors 
 returned. 
 
 " How shall I act ? Shall I disclose what has occurred to 
 dear kind Mrs. Carew ? Shall I tell her all my sad story ? 
 I feel sure of her sympathy. But no I cannot do this 
 without betraying your secret. I cannot fly from the place 
 I cannot seek another asylum all my resources are 
 gone." 
 
 Mingled emotions agitated Pomfret during the perusal of 
 this letter sympathy, surprise, indignation, exciting him by 
 turns. That Sophy should have accidentally found an 
 asylum near Hylton Castle, and have formed an ac- 
 quaintance with Eva, filled him with astonishment and 
 perplexity. But when he learnt that the unhappy fugitive's 
 retreat had been discovered by her betrayer when the base 
 motives that had incited Musgrave to the quest were 
 revealed to him he became fearfully incensed. Conduct 
 so infamous could not be tolerated, and he determined at 
 
A Letter at Last from Sophy. 215 
 
 any cost to call the villain to immediate account. But how 
 could redress be obtained ? Musgrave would laugh at any 
 threats of exposure. But poor Sophy must not be left with- 
 out resources. At the same time she must be guarded 
 against further plunder. Pomfret was long occupied in 
 considering how this could be effected. 
 That night he left town for Hylton Castle. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 AN ACCIDENT. 
 
 jjEXT morning, after breakfast, he walked out on the 
 terrace with Eva, and at once brought up the subject 
 of Mrs. Montfort. 
 
 " I have heard that the poor lady is in great 
 distress," he said. " I mean to assist her, but it must be 
 through you." 
 
 " I do not know that she requires aid," replied Eva. " I 
 have no idea that her distress arises from pecuniary 
 misfortunes." 
 
 " I will tell you what has happened to her," he rejoined. 
 " She has been stripped of her all by a worthless husband. 
 Imagine the distress of a lady under such painful and 
 humiliating circumstances. And there are frightful com- 
 plications in her case that prevent her from seeking assistance 
 from her own relations." 
 
 " A light suddenly breaks upon me ! " exclaimed Eva. 
 " I think I know who is her husband. I did not intend to 
 mention the circumstance to you, feeling sure it would 
 annoy you, but about a week ago, as I was driving through 
 the pretty village near which Mrs. Carew resides, I saw 
 Captain Musgrave. He was standing at the door of a little 
 inn, and as soon as he perceived me hurried into the house. 
 But I am certain it was he, And now I feel convinced tha,t 
 
An Accident. sif 
 
 this poor lady of whom we have been speaking is his un- 
 fortunate wife. The strange and inexplicable interest I felt in 
 her is accounted for. I now understand why she exhibited 
 such aversion when I spoke of Captain Musgrave and 
 why her colour changed when I spoke of you. The so- 
 called Mrs. Montfort is no other than Mrs. Musgrave. I 
 am sure I have divined the truth." 
 
 "You have. It is the unfortunate lady you suppose. 
 Since her flight from her unprincipled husband, she had 
 found a safe asylum, as she believed, with good Mrs. 
 Carew, who, I must warn you, is totally unacquainted with 
 her history. Unluckily, Musgrave discovered her retreat, 
 and, managing to obtain a secret interview with her, forced 
 her to give up all her funds. She is now without 
 resources." 
 
 "But not without friends," cried Eva. "I will help 
 her." 
 
 " Assistance must be given with caution, or she will again 
 become a prey to her infamous husband." 
 
 " Cannot she be freed from his toils ? " 
 
 " I see not how her deliverance can be accomplished. 
 But let her find a friend in you." 
 
 " She shall," cried Eva, earnestly. 
 
 At this juncture, a man-servant appeared on the terrace 
 bearing a note, which he delivered to the young lady; 
 stating, at the same time, that the messenger waited for an 
 answer. 
 
 Eva glanced at the note, and then, without a word, 
 handed it to Pomfret, who turned pale as he perused it. 
 
 " DEAR Miss BRACEBRIDGE, If Mr. Pomfret should 
 have returned, pray tell him that I have something 
 important to communicate to him, if he will kindly favour 
 me with a call this morning. You may think this a strange 
 request, but I trust Mr. Pomfret will comply with it, if it 
 should be in his power to do so. 
 
 " Yours sincerely, 
 
 " SOPHIE M." 
 
 "What shall I do?" he said, consulting Eva with a 
 look, 
 
Myddletoti Pomjrei. 
 
 "Go, of course," she replied. "Say that Mr. Pomfret 
 will come," she added to the servant. 
 
 "And tell Bilton to bring round the horses," said 
 Pomfret. 
 
 Charged with these messages, the footman returned to 
 the house. 
 
 " I could not refuse this summons," said Pomfret, in a 
 sombre voice. " But it shall be my last interview with 
 her." 
 
 " Why the last ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Do not ask me to explain," he rejoined. " Enough 
 that I dread the meeting, and would avoid it were it possible. 
 Hereafter you must take my place." 
 
 Half an hour later the horses were brought to the door. 
 Mounted on a splendid bay horse, almost thorough-bred, and 
 full of fire and spirit, and followed by a groom also very 
 well mounted, Pomfret rode slowly down the lime-tree 
 avenue, and when he had gained its extremity he indulged 
 his horse with a gallop across the park. Under other 
 circumstances, he would have enjoyed the ride, but he was 
 too much occupied by his own sombre thoughts to heed 
 the beauty of the landscape. 
 
 On reaching Mrs. Carew's picturesque residence, he 
 was about to alight, when his horse started, dashed through 
 the open gate, clattered across the drawbridge, and then 
 stumbling, threw his rider at the very threshold of the house. 
 Sophy, who witnessed the accident from her window, uttered 
 a piercing shriek. 
 
 At first it was thought by old Nathan and the gardener, 
 who, alarmed by the noise of the fall and by Sophy's 
 screams, rushed to the spot, that the unfortunate gentleman 
 was killed outright, since he did not move; but this 
 supposition was contradicted by the groan that burst from 
 him when an attempt was made to raise him. Whether his 
 skull was fractured the men could not, of course, decide, but 
 it was clear that he had sustained very severe injuries, since 
 his head had come into violent contact with the post of the 
 drawbridge. The horse was uninjured, and after dashing 
 back over the drawbridge, was caught by the groom. Poor 
 Sophy was in such a state of distraction that she could give 
 no directions, and, indeed, could scarcely command herself $ 
 
An Accidem. 219 
 
 but Mrs. Carew fortunately did not lose her presence of mind, 
 but enjoining the servants to bring the unfortunate gentle- 
 man into the house, sent the groom in quest of a surgeon. 
 
 As the old lady's directions were obeyed, and Pomfret 
 was carefully raised from the spot where he had fallen, and 
 carried into a room on the ground floor, where there was a 
 bed on which he was laid, a very painful scene occurred. 
 Sophy, who had witnessed the proceeding with indescrib- 
 able horror, crept after the men into the room, and when 
 they withdrew, flung herself on her knees beside the bed, 
 and gave way to frenzied exclamations of despair, anguish, 
 and self-reproach, which, had they been intelligible, must 
 have betrayed the innermost secrets of her heart. But 
 though her language was wild and incoherent, Mrs. Carew 
 easily gathered enough from it to learn that deep attach- 
 ment to Pomfret was the cause of her distress ; and 
 apprehensive lest the servants should make the same 
 discovery, she closed the door, and strove to calm the 
 distracted lady. 
 
 Shortly afterwards the surgeon made his appearance, and 
 yielding to Mrs. Carew's earnest entreaties, Sophy with- 
 drew to her own chamber, and promised to remain there 
 till the old lady should come to her and bring her the 
 surgeon's opinion. Sophy passed the time in prayer, and 
 was still on her knees when a tap was heard at the door. 
 Mrs. Carew's looks reassured her. 
 
 " I bring you good news, my dear," said the old lady. 
 "Mr. Pomfret will recover. He is very much hurt, but 
 there is no serious injury. At the same time, Mr. South- 
 wood says that it will not be safe to move him at least, 
 for some days so of course he will remain here, where he 
 can have every attention. I have despatched the groom 
 with a note to Miss Bracebridge, acquainting her with the 
 surgeon's opinion, and telling her that all possible care 
 shall be taken of her guardian, and everything done that 
 can conduce to his speedy recovery. There seems a 
 fatality in this accident." 
 
 " If you knew all, you would indeed think so," rejoined 
 Sophy, with a shudder. "Many strange things have 
 happened to me, but the strangest of all is, perhaps, this 
 last occurrence," 
 
220 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 " Let us hope that it may lead to good/' said kind- 
 hearted Mrs. Car ew. " Indeed, I believe that in the end 
 it will be conducive in some way to your happiness. 
 Without wishing to penetrate your secrets, and without 
 seeking for any information beyond what you may desire to 
 impart, I may say that I am certain, from some expressions 
 which you let fall just now, that you take the deepest 
 interest in Mr. Pomfret," 
 
 " It is true," she rejoined. " Had this accident proved 
 fatal, I could not have survived it. But I neither hope nor 
 expect that the feelings that he once entertained for me 
 can be revived." 
 
 " There is no saying. It cannot be denied that you are 
 brought together in a most mysterious manner, and it will 
 surprise me very much if a reconciliation should not ensue. 
 You must not shrink from the task before you. You may 
 have to go through a painful ordeal, but I retain my 
 opinion that all will come right in the end. But let us go 
 down-stairs, and ascertain how he is going on." 
 
 Notwithstanding Mr. Southwood's favourable prognostica- 
 tions, Pomfret had a hard struggle for life, and for several 
 days even the surgeon despaired of his recovery. 
 
 During the access of the fever which came on, he talked 
 so wildly, that Sophy, fearing he might betray himself, 
 remained constantly with him, hovering about his couch 
 like a ministering angel. She soothed him by all means in 
 her power during his delirium, and though he could give 
 no distinct expression to his thoughts, he seemed to be 
 conscious of her presence. 
 
 So far as Sophy could gather, various scenes of his 
 troubled existence passed confusedly before him, but his 
 disordered brain could not fix them. Her own name was 
 constantly on his lips. Sometimes he spoke of her with 
 passionate tenderness, that recalled their brief season of 
 happiness, and touched her to the heart. Sometimes he 
 spoke of her with a fierceness of indignation that showed 
 how terribly his feelings had been outraged. At other 
 times he mourned her as dead. 
 
 It is almost needless to say how acutely Sophy suffered 
 while listening to these ravings. They convinced her of his 
 undying love, but the conviction only sharpened her anguish, 
 
An Accident. 221 
 
 As the. fever abated, apprehensions of a different kind 
 began to assail Sophy. What would he say when he 
 recognised her? Should she leave him? No, she could 
 not abandon her post now. Be the consequences what 
 they might, she would remain near him. 
 
 After several nights and days of restlessness, during 
 which his brain had been in a ceaseless turmoil, he enjoyed 
 a few hours of placid slumber, and when he awoke, his 
 eyes rested upon the gentle watcher near his couch. She 
 neither spoke nor stirred, and he gazed at her long and 
 earnestly, as if he beheld a vision which he thought would 
 disappear. At last, he murmured her name, but not in 
 accents of displeasure, and she rose and went nearer to 
 him. 
 
 " Yes, I am here," she said. " Can I give you any- 
 thing?" 
 
 " Where am I ? " he inquired, trying to regain his 
 faculties. " What has happened ? " 
 
 "You have been ill very ill," she replied. "But al 
 danger is now over." 
 
 " Raise me a little," he said. 
 
 But as she endeavoured to obey him, the pain caused by 
 the movement was so great that he sank back with a groan. 
 
 "You have had a severe accident a fall from a horse," 
 she remarked, in answer to his inquiring looks. 
 
 " How long ago ? " he asked. " I can recollect nothing 
 about it. Where am I ? " 
 
 She answered his questions briefly, and then motioning 
 him to be silent, sat down again. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 PROGRESS TOWARDS RECOVERY. 
 
 |N obedience to Sophy's injunctions, Pomfret re- 
 mained for some time silent. He then made an 
 effort to raise himself, and fixed his eyes 
 inquiringly upon her. 
 
 "I now remember what brought me here," he said. 
 " You had sent for me. You had some communication to 
 make to me. What is it ? " 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself about me," she replied. " Let 
 your first thoughts be directed to Heaven, for the merciful 
 preservation of your life." 
 
 "It might have been a greater mercy if Heaven had 
 taken me," he rejoined. " I have no desire to live." 
 
 " Oh, say not so ! " she cried. " Much happiness may 
 yet be in store for you. Brighter days, I cannot doubt, will 
 soon dawn upon you. Can you forgive me for causing you 
 this accident ? It was in compliance with my request that 
 you came here to meet this dreadful disaster, which might 
 have proved fatal." 
 
 " I have nothing to forgive you," he replied. " On the 
 contrary, I ought to feel deep gratitude, since no doubt I 
 owe my life to your watchfulness. I now begin to com- 
 prehend who it is that has been constantly near my couch. 
 But tell me," he added, after a pause, " why you sent for 
 me ? What are your plans ? Do not fear agitating me. I 
 shall suffer more from my own thoughts than from anything 
 you can say." 
 
Progress Towards Recovery. 2$ 
 
 "I have no plans," she replied. "All my notions have 
 been scattered by the accident that has befallen you, and I 
 have not yet been able to collect them again." 
 
 " But in your note to Eva you said you had an important 
 communication to make to me. What is it ? " 
 
 " I would rather defer the explanation till you are better 
 able to listen to it. I may be the means of causing you 
 further mischief." 
 
 " Speak ! You will do me no harm." 
 " I shall stop instantly, if I perceive any excitement My 
 object in sending for you was to consult you before taking 
 another decisive step. But my position is now worse than 
 it was, and explanation to Mrs. Carew is unavoidable. 
 When you were brought into the house, dangerously injured, 
 I quite lost my presence of mind, and gave utterance to 
 expressions that betrayed the state of my feelings in regard 
 to you. Mrs. Carew believes you to be my husband she 
 supposes we have been separated but she is utterly un- 
 acquainted with my real history. She must now know all. 
 She must know exactly how I am circumstanced." 
 " Tell her all. I authorise you to do so." 
 " Oh ! thank you for the permission. However she may 
 act in regard to me, you may be sure she will keep your 
 secret inviolate. It may be, when she learns how I am 
 situated, that she will no longer think it right to offer me 
 an asylum. In that case I must go." 
 
 " Do not take any step till I am able to counsel you and 
 assist you. As yet, I do not feel equal to the effort. But 
 you have not spoken to me of Eva. Has she been 
 here ? " 
 
 "No. I have written to her fully. She knows who I 
 am." 
 
 He alarmed her, and she again enjoined silence. 
 He had just got composed when the door was gently 
 opened, and the surgeon came in, followed by Mrs. Carew. 
 As Mr. Southwood approached the bed, Sophy whispered to 
 him, 
 
 " He is better- much better." 
 The surgeon proceeded to feel the patient* s pulse. 
 " Yes, a great improvement has taken place since yester- 
 day," he said. "The fever is quite gone. You will do 
 
24 My d diet on Pomfret. 
 
 now, my dear Sir," he added, in a cheerful voice to Pomfret. 
 "You will soon be out of my hands." 
 
 Mrs. Carew, who was standing near, uttered an excla- 
 mation of satisfaction which attracted the patient's attention. 
 
 "Is not that Mrs. Carew ? " he inquired. 
 
 Mr. Southwood replied in the affirmative, adding, in a low 
 voice, 
 
 " The good lady has been unremitting in her attentions to 
 you since your accident." 
 
 " I am quite aware of it," replied Pomfret. " Pray accept 
 my heartfelt thanks for the extraordinary kindness you have 
 shown me, Madam/' he added to her " kindness which I 
 shall never forget." 
 
 " Your gratitude is not due to me," she rejoined, " but to 
 the lady who has nursed you. If any one has preserved 
 your life, it is Mrs. Montfort." 
 
 " Yes, I don't know what we should have done without 
 her," observed the surgeon. "Mrs. Montfort has been a 
 most excellent nurse." 
 
 "Say no more, if you please, Sir," interposed Sophy. 
 " Mr. Pomfret has already expressed his gratitude to me." 
 
 Pomfret again addressed himself to Mrs. Carew. 
 
 " If you decline to accept my thanks, Madam," he said, 
 " you must allow me, at least, to express my concern for 
 the inconvenience to which I have put you. A wounded 
 man is a great trouble in a house." 
 
 " You have been no trouble to me, I can assure you, Sir," 
 she replied. " My only anxiety has been for your recovery. 
 You must not think of leaving me till you are quite well." 
 
 "What do you say, Sir?" inquired Pomfret of the 
 surgeon. "I fancy I am strong enough to be moved to 
 Hylton Castle to-day." 
 
 Mr. Southwood shook his head. 
 
 "You are not so strong as you imagine, my dear Sir," 
 he replied. "I hope shortly to authorise your removal. 
 Meantime, you must keep quiet. You cannot be better off 
 than here." 
 
 Signing to the ladies to follow him, he then left the room. 
 
 " Mr. Pomfret has talked rather too much, and is some- 
 what over-excited," he observed to Sophy, as they gained 
 the passage. " He will be best left alone awhile." 
 
Progress Towards Recovery. 225 
 
 " Is there still any danger ? " she inquired, anxiously. 
 . " None whatever. He is doing as well as possible. In a 
 few days I shall be able to send him home perfectly cured." 
 
 From that day Pomfret gradually but slowly mended. 
 His recovery would have been more rapid, but he missed 
 Sophy's attendance at his couch. She came near him no 
 more. 
 
 He learnt from old Nathan, the butler, who supplied her 
 place, that she was not well, and confined to her room. 
 
 He did not even see Mrs. Carew, and this circumstance 
 added to his uneasiness. 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 
 SIR NORMAN AGAIN APPEARS ON THE SCENE. 
 
 | HE groom who brought intelligence of the accident 
 to Hylton Castle, said that he believed his master 
 was killed, or, at all events, so seriously injured 
 that he could not survive many hours. 
 
 On receiving this alarming news, Eva fainted away, and 
 continued in such a nervous excitable state for some time 
 afterwards, that neither her aunt nor Mrs. Austin liked to 
 'leave her for a moment. 
 
 Very little improvement took place in her condition until 
 Mr. Southvvood himself came to inform her that the 
 dangerous crisis was past, and that Mr. Pomfret would 
 recover. Her nervous excitement then subsided. The 
 surgeon had assured her that his patient was most carefully 
 nursed by Mrs. Montfort, and was doing as well as could be 
 expected. Though rejoicing that her guardian was so well 
 tended, Eva could not repress a slight feeling of jealousy 
 that another should occupy the place which she would have 
 given worlds to fill. 
 
 A long explanatory letter, which she subsequently 
 received from Sophy, cause a complete revulsion of feeling, 
 and satisfied her that her guardian ought to be left entirely 
 to the care of that devoted lady. 
 
 Thenceforward, she was content with the surgeon's daily 
 report, and with the frequent messages which she received 
 . from Mrs. Carew. 
 
Sir Norman again Appears on the Scene. 227 
 
 During this trying time, her walks were restricted in the 
 park, which was now in its full autumnal beauty. Beneath 
 the gigantic chestnuts the yellow leaves lay thick, and the 
 Jong glades were carpeted in like manner. The red leaves 
 of the beeches contrasted with the embrowned tints of the 
 oaks, the bright gold of the chestnuts, and the paler yellow 
 of the limes. Fresh contrasts were offered between the 
 russet hue of the fern clothing the sides of the hill and the 
 lively green of gorse. Perhaps the avenue had been robbed 
 of some of its beauty by the loss of a portion of its delicate 
 foliage, but if the leaves were gone, the exquisite tracery of 
 the overarching branches was fully displayed. 
 
 One morning, after a lengthened stroll in the park, Eva 
 and her aunt were returning homewards through the avenue, 
 when a sound arrested their attention, and looking back, 
 they descried a horseman riding in the direction of the 
 mansion. On seeing them he quickened his pace, and Eva 
 soon perceived, to her great surprise, that it was Sir Norman 
 Hylton. 
 
 In another moment the young baronet came up. In- 
 stantly dismounting, he explained to Eva that he was staying 
 in the neighbourhood with his friend Lord Huntercombe, 
 and having accidentally learnt that very morning, to his 
 great regret, that Mr. Myddleton Pomfret had met with a 
 serious accident, he had ridden over to inquire after him. 
 
 Eva was able to give him the very satisfactory assurance 
 that his friend was recovering rapidly indeed, was almost 
 well. 
 
 She then introduced him to her aunt, and felt constrained 
 to invite him to enter the house. 
 
 The party then moved on in that direction, Sir Norman 
 leading his horse, and conversing with Eva as he walked by 
 her side. 
 
 " I hear you have done a great deal to the old place," he 
 remarked, "and I am sure much was needed to render it 
 habitable. There was a sort of understanding that I should 
 not come here during your stay, but my anxiety about 
 Pomfret must plead my excuse for breaking the compact. 
 If I had not chanced upon you, I should merely have made 
 inquiries at the door." 
 
 " Your old housekeeper would never have forgiven my 
 152 
 
328 Myddleton Pomjret. 
 
 niece if you had done so, Sir Norman," observed Mrs. 
 Daventry. " She is constantly wishing you could see the 
 place." 
 
 " I hope you like it," he rejoined, smiling. " I am very 
 proud of this avenue. I believe it to be the finest in 
 England. But all the timber in the park looks to advantage 
 just now, with the autumn tints upon the leaves. Don't 
 you think so ? " 
 
 "I am enchanted both with the park and the castle," 
 replied Eva. " I was perfectly happy here till this disaster 
 befel my guardian." 
 
 " Mr. Pomfret's accident was a great shock to my niece, 
 Sir Norman," remarked Mrs. Daventry. 
 
 " It must have been," he rejoined. " Miss Bracebridge 
 is not looking quite so blooming as when I last saw her in 
 Switzerland. But the roses will soon return, I make no 
 doubt." 
 
 They seemed to return at once, for Eva's pale cheek 
 flushed at the observation. 
 
 They were now approaching the mansion, and as Sir 
 Norman gazed around, he acknowledged that a wonderful 
 improvement had been made in the place. Perceiving a 
 man at work in the garden, he gave his horse to him, and 
 entered the house with the ladies. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 MRS. AUSTIN'S ADVICE TO HER YOUNG MASTER." 
 
 IJREAT was Mrs. Austin's delight on beholding her 
 young master, and he appeared equally well 
 pleased to see the good old dame, and shook 
 hands with her very cordially. Eva then desired 
 the old housekeeper to take Sir Norman over the house, 
 adding, that by the time he had completed the survey, 
 luncheon would be served. 
 
 Needless to say that the young baronet would much rather 
 have stayed with Eva. However, he resigned himself to the 
 old housekeeper, and commenced an inspection of the 
 place. 
 
 While looking over one of the lower rooms, and showing 
 him what had been done, Mrs. Austin, who had been 
 accustomed to make free with Him when he was younger, 
 began to descant on Eva's amiability and beauty, and found 
 the young baronet a very willing listener. 
 
 " Ah ! Sir Norman, I wish you would cast your eyes in 
 this direction," she cried. " Miss Bracebridge has every- 
 thing to recommend her. Of her beauty I need say nothing, 
 and she must be rich, for you see what an establishment she 
 keeps up.. I say she keeps up, for Mr. Pomfret takes good 
 care to let the servants understand that she is their mistress. 
 Now, Sir Norman, with all these recommendations, don't 
 you think she would suit you ? " 
 
 " Most certainly she would, Austin," he replied, with a 
 forced laugh. "Unluckily, her affections are otherwise 
 engaged," 
 
230 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 " I think you must be mistaken. Ever since she has been 
 here I have not seen a single suitor, or heard of one ; nor 
 has her maid Susan and we've had a little confidential chat 
 on the subject." 
 
 " And you have both come to the conclusion that Miss 
 Bracebridge has no attachment, eh ? " 
 
 " Well, I can't say that exactly, Sir Norman. Susan will 
 have it that the young lady is in love with her guardian, but 
 I'm sure she's wrong." 
 
 " Susan is more quick-sighted than you, Austin," said Sir 
 Norman gravely. "Sit down for a moment," he added, 
 flinging himself into a chair. "I want to have a little 
 confidential chat with you, myself. So Susan thinks Miss 
 Bracebridge is in love with her guardian, eh ? " 
 
 " I can't see it, Sir Norman," rejoined the housekeeper, 
 taking a seat as requested. " But if it is so as I very much 
 doubt her affection is not reciprocated. Mr. Pomfret is a 
 very handsome gentleman, and likely enough to win a young 
 lady's affections if he were inclined, but his manner towards 
 his ward is quite that of a father. Susan herself has made 
 the same remark. You needn't fear him. He has no idea 
 of marrying his ward. He is very seldom here, and leaves 
 the management of the house entirely to Miss Bracebridge 
 and to me." 
 
 "She must have been greatly shocked by the accident 
 that has befallen him ? " remarked Sir Norman. " She still 
 looks ill." 
 
 "Yes, we heard that the poor gentleman was so dan- 
 gerously hurt that he couldn't survive, and the shock was 
 too much for her. Poor dear young lady ! she took on 
 sadly. If her guardian had been really killed, I believe she 
 would have died." 
 
 " What does that prove, Austin ? " 
 
 " That she loves him like a daughter." 
 
 " Not exactly. Has she seen him since the accident ? " 
 
 " No. Circumstances have prevented her. She prefers 
 keeping away from the house." 
 
 "Indeed!" exclaimed Sir Norman, surprised. "Why?" 
 
 " I can't tell you," she replied. Though she looked as if 
 she could. 
 
 He then desired her to give him full particulars of the 
 
Mrs. Austiris Advice to her Young Master. 231 
 
 accident, and listened to what she told him with deep 
 interest. He was well acquainted with Mrs. Carew, but had 
 never heard of Mrs. Montfort. The old housekeeper, how- 
 ever, could give him no information respecting the latter. 
 
 The questions he asked about Eva, combined with his 
 manner, convinced Mrs. Austin that he was greatly interested 
 in the young lady. 
 
 " I am quite sure you need not despair of winning Miss 
 Bracebridge's hand, Sir Norman/* she said. 
 
 " Shall I let you into a secret, Austin ? " he rejoined. " I 
 know I can trust you. I have been refused already. And 
 the cause of my refusal, I ascertained beyond a doubt, was 
 that Miss Bracebridge is attached to her guardian." 
 
 u When did this occur, Sir Norman, may I venture to 
 ask ? " she inquired. 
 
 " When I was in Switzerland only six weeks ago," he 
 replied. u So you see my case is hopeless." 
 
 " I don't think so," she returned. " I advise you to 
 renew your suit. You have a much better chance now. 
 Possibly, Miss Bracebridge may have been secretly attached 
 to her guardian at that time. I won't pretend to say. But 
 of this I am certain, she had no encouragement from him. 
 He is far too honourable to have deceived her." 
 
 " What on earth do you mean, Austin ? " 
 
 " I can't explain myself more clearly. Whatever Miss 
 Bracebridge's sentiments towards her guardian may have 
 been at that time, they have changed since." 
 
 " Are you quite certain of what you state ? " 
 . " Quite certain. Since Mr. Pomfret's accident she has 
 made a discovery that must have completely extinguished 
 any foolish notions she may have entertained. I call them 
 'foolish notions/ because, as I have just said, she could 
 never have had the slightest encouragement from Mr. 
 Pomfret. You must not ask me to give you any further 
 explanation. But circumstances have come to my know- 
 that enable me to declare positively that Miss Bracebridge 
 can never think of Mr. Pomfret as a husband. If your sup- 
 position, therefore, is correct, and he is the person who 
 stood in your way, you need have no fear." 
 
 " You amaze me ! " cried Sir Norman, unable to conceal 
 his satisfaction. " I fancy I understand the discovery that 
 
231 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 Eva has made. No doubt her sentiments have undergone 
 a complete change. You have indeed revived my hopes. " 
 
 " You must act with caution, and on no account allow 
 Miss Bracebridge to suspect that you have obtained any 
 information from me. I am betraying no confidence, but 
 still " 
 
 " Fear no imprudence on my part, Austin," he interrupted, 
 joyfully. " When I came here I had not a hope, but I now 
 feel sanguine of success. You can serve me most materially 
 in the matter." 
 
 " You know that you can calculate on me, Sir Norman ; 
 and I hope I may be instrumental in obtaining you a 
 charming wife. You have certainly come at the right 
 moment." 
 
 " Yes, I begin to think that this time fate will befriend 
 me," he cried. 
 
 Here their conference was interrupted by the entrance of 
 a servant, who came to inform Sir Norman that luncheon 
 was served. 
 
 The young baronet immediately arose, and with a sig- 
 nificant look at Mrs. Austin, proceeded to the dining-room, 
 where he found Eva and her aunt. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MRS, DAVENTRY'S ADVICE TO HER NIECE. 
 
 j|HILE Sir Norman was occupied with the old house- 
 keeper, as described in the foregoing chapter, 
 Mrs. Daventry was sounding his praises to her 
 niece. 
 
 " I was not prepared to find him so agreeable as he turns 
 out," remarked the elder lady. "As I looked at him just 
 now, when he joined us in the avenue, and thought of his 
 gallant conduct in your behalf, I could not help wondering 
 how you could possibly have refused so very handsome a 
 man." 
 
 " I refused him simply bee ause I did not like him well 
 enough to a-ccept him, aunt. I admit that he is very hand- 
 some, remarkably well bred, spirited, agreeable even clever 
 but I can never think of him as a husband." 
 
 " Well, my dear, I can only express my surprise. But 
 perhaps you may now change your mind. Unless I am very 
 much mistaken, he still cherishes a regard for you/' 
 
 " If I thought so, aunt, I would not see him again, but 
 leave you to entertain him at luncheon. There is no like- 
 lihood whatever that my sentiments towards him will 
 undergo a change, and that he perfectly understands." 
 
 " But it is impossible you can dislike him, my love." 
 
 " I don't say that I dislike him, aunt. I am simply 
 indifierent to him. But please don't tease me any more 
 about him, or I shall positively carry out my threat, and not 
 appear at luncheon." 
 
234 Myddleton Pomfrct. 
 
 " You will never do so rude a thing as that, my dear. If 
 Sir Norman has not been able entirely to conquer his 
 passion for you, as I think is pretty evident, you ought to 
 feel pity for him, not anger." 
 
 "He has no business to come here at all," said Eva, 
 affecting a displeasure which she really did not feel. " He 
 has done so contrary to his promise made at the Beau- 
 Rivage, when he distinctly said that he wouldn't come near 
 the house while we occupied it, unless invited. He knew 
 very well that he would never be invited." 
 
 " He came to inquire after Mr. Pomfret, my love, and for 
 no other reason, as he expressly stated. I am convinced 
 there was no design of intrusion on his part. The tell-tale 
 blood mounted to his cheek and proclaimed the state of his 
 heart when he first spoke to you, but I am sure he did not 
 utter a word of which you can justly complain. Really, he 
 is such a charming man, that I wish I could prevail upon 
 you to look upon him more kindly." 
 
 ' My dear aunt, you are more pertinacious than Mr. 
 Pomfret, who pleaded Sir Norman's cause so warmly." 
 
 " Did Mr. Pomfret plead his cause ? " inquired Mrs. 
 Daventry, rather surprised. 
 
 "To be sure. I thought you understood that. Mr. 
 Pomfret was most anxious to make up the match. He 
 gave me no peace during the whole time we were at the 
 Beau-Rivage, but was perpetually dinning Sir Norman's 
 praises into my ear." 
 
 " And why didn't you listen to what your guardian said, 
 my love ? 'He gave you excellent advice. Any one having 
 your welfare really at heart would have given you similar 
 counsel. Now that I have seen Sir Norman, I think it a 
 thousand pities you should have rejected him. But it is 
 not too late to retrieve the error. Very little encouragement 
 on your part will bring him round again." 
 
 Eva shook her head, as much as to say she couldn't do it. 
 
 "Can you find any fault with him?" pursued Mrs. 
 Daventry. "Is he not young, spirited, handsome, 
 distinguished-looking? Is he not of a good old family? 
 Has he not a title? Is he not owner of the very 
 mansion in which you are residing, and which you like so 
 much? Do not the noble domains which we view from 
 
Mrs. Dav entry's Advice to her Niece. 235, 
 
 these windows belong to him? In a word, has ne not a 
 hundred recommendations, and not a single drawback, that 
 I can perceive ? " 
 
 "All this is very true, aunt. Sir Norman is un- 
 exceptionable. But I don't care for him." 
 
 "But you will care for him. Give him a chance of 
 winning your affections. But if you behave coldly to him 
 now, you will* chill him effectually, and he may retire 
 altogether." 
 
 " I hope he has retired, aunt." 
 
 " Now be a good girl, and do as I tell you. You may 
 have had reasons for your former refusal of him, which don't 
 exist now." 
 
 " What do you mean, aunt ? " cried Eva, turning crimson. 
 
 "Nay, I really meant nothing particular, my dear. I 
 want you to consider well before you entirely throw away 
 this charming young baronet. I should dearly like to see 
 you Lady Hylton," 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 REVIVAL OF THE FLAME. 
 
 |T was quite evident, from the young baronet's 
 manner during luncheon, that the fire which had 
 been smouldering in his bosom was called into 
 fresh activity. 
 
 Without loss of time, and to the great delight of Mrs. 
 Daventry, who proved a most useful auxiliary, he began to 
 lay siege to Eva. Though twice repulsed before and with 
 serious loss, he thought now that the most important 
 obstacle was removed that he should succeed in storming 
 the citadel. It was impossible, however, as he soon 
 discovered, to take it by a coup de main. 
 
 Whether Eva was really influenced by her aunt's counsel 
 while feigning not to heed it, or whether Sir Norman had 
 at last seized a more favourable moment than had hitherto 
 been presented to him, he certainly did not meet with a 
 decided rebuff. The young lady listened to him with more 
 interest than she had ever previously manifested, and 
 whenever a word could be advantageously thrown in, Mrs. 
 Daventry supplied it. The enamoured young baronet took 
 care to make the idol of his affections understand that she 
 had been the cause of bringing him back to England. 
 
 " When you left the Beau-Rivage," he said, " the place 
 appeared so dull that I could not remain there. So, as 
 soon as I was able to travel, I moved off to Paris. There I 
 found lots of acquaintances, and all sorts ol distraction, and 
 
Mcvival of the Flame. 237 
 
 tried desperately hard to conquer the ennui that had taken 
 possesion of me, but in vain. I got tired of the boulevards, 
 tired of the Bois, tired of the cafes, tired of the theatres, 
 tired of my friends, tired of myself." 
 
 " You must have been in a desperate plight, Sir Norman," 
 remarked Mrs. Daventry. " I wonder you are here to tell 
 the tale." 
 
 " Yes, it is a marvel that I was not found in the Morgue. 
 I had serious thoughts of throwing myself into the Seine. 
 Finding Paris do me no good indeed it made me worse, 
 for such noisy gaiety was intolerable in my then frame of 
 mind I considered where I should go next : to Vienna, 
 St. Petersburg, Madrid, or Seville ? Unable to decide, in 
 a fit of despair I hurried off to London." 
 
 "A change for the better, I hope?" remarked Mrs. 
 Daventry. 
 
 " I didn't find it so, and was just on the point of starting 
 for Scotland, when I got a letter from Huntercombe, asking 
 me to come down to his place for a week's shooting. For 
 certain reasons, this suited me better than Scotland, and I 
 accepted the invitation. I found the house full of company. 
 Huntercombe's preserves are famously stocked, he is a 
 delightful host, and Lady Huntercombe: who, by-the-bye, 
 is a near relative of my own is a charming person, lively, 
 spiritual, witty. You ought to know her, Miss Bracebridge. 
 She would be enchanted to make your acquaintance. Well, 
 with good shooting, with an agreeable host and hostess, 
 with so many pleasant people about me, so many pretty 
 girls to flirt with, if I wanted to flirt, I ought to have 
 regained my spirits, but I didn't. Just as melancholy as 
 ever. Nothing amused me. Huntercombe noticed my 
 gloom, and rallied me unmercifully upon it, and her lady- 
 ship said I must be suffering from a heart complaint. I had 
 unmistakable symptoms, she declared, of a very severe 
 attack." 
 
 "Well, if her ladyship's opinion of the case is correct, 
 and I suppose it must be," remarked Mrs. Daventry, "it is 
 to be hoped that the malady won't terminate fatally." 
 
 " Little fear of that, aunt," observed Eva. ."Sir Norman 
 gives a very deplorable account of himself, but his looks 
 scarcely bear out his statement," 
 
638 Myddkion Pom/ret. 
 
 "I mustn't be judged by my present appearance,*' he 
 said. " Had you seen me at breakfast, you would have 
 commiserated me. I had no end of sympathy from the 
 young ladies present, expressed in the most flattering 
 terms." 
 
 "lean scarcely add my sympathy to theirs," rejoined 
 Eva. "You seem to have recovered very quickly." 
 
 " No wonder. I have at last found a specific for my 
 malady." 
 
 Mrs. Daventry smiled, but Eva affected not to understand 
 him. 
 
 " I see you don't believe that I have been so wretched as 
 I have stated," he continued. " On my honour for the last 
 six weeks ever since you quitted the Beau-Rivage, in fact 
 life has been a burden to me. As I have told you, I 
 could not amuse myself either in Paris or London. Nothing 
 interested me or excited me. Till I came here to-day I 
 was a prey to despair. I am better now ; and shall get 
 quite well, if I don't have a relapse." 
 
 " I trust you are in no danger of that, Sir Norman," re- 
 marked Mrs. Daventry, with a smile. " Since this visit to 
 Hylton Castle has been of service to you, I hope you will 
 ride over frequently while you are in the neighbourhood. 
 We shall always be delighted to see you." 
 
 " May I come ? " said Sir Norman, with a supplicating 
 look at Eva. 
 
 " Certainly, if it will do you good," she replied. " My aunt 
 will always be glad to see you, and I hope poor Mr. Pom- 
 fret will be back in a few days," 
 
 "Then you still think my illness imaginary ? I would 
 rather have had poor Pomfret's accident than suffer as I 
 have done. How fortunate he was to find so excellent a 
 nurse ! Pray, who is Mrs. Montfort, who has devoted her- 
 self so much to him ? " 
 
 Perceptibly embarrassed by the question, Eva merely 
 replied, 
 
 " A very amiable lady, who is residing with Mrs. Carew." 
 " Very interesting young, and extremely pretty," added 
 Mrs. Daventry. 
 
 " A young widow, I suppose ? " inquired Sir Norman. 
 " I cannot say," replied Mrs. Daventry. " J have only just 
 
Revival of the Flame. 239 
 
 seen her when we have called on Mrs. Carew. But I was 
 greatly struck by her appearance." 
 
 " Mrs. Montfort has had many misfortunes," said. Eva. 
 " She is in a position of most painful perplexity, and it 
 seems as if ill luck constantly attended her. Mr. Pomfret 
 rode over one morning to offer her aid and advice, and met 
 with this dreadful accident. 3 ' 
 
 " That is strange indeed," remarked Sir Norman, gravely. 
 " From what you say, a fatality seems to attend the poor 
 lady. It is evident that you take a strong interest in her. 
 Can I be of any service to her ? " 
 Eva shook her head. 
 
 " She had found a home with Mrs. Carew," she said ; 
 " but I fear she will be obliged to leave it." 
 
 " How so?" inquired Sir Norman. But he checked him- 
 self, and added, " Excuse me. Don't answer the question, 
 unless you like." 
 
 " You may be quite sure that Mrs. Montfort has good 
 reasons for leaving so kind a friend as Mrs. Carew," said 
 Eva. " But though I know her motives for the step, I cannot 
 explain them." 
 
 There was a slight pause. In order to change the 
 subject, Sir Norman said : 
 
 " Does Pomfret still adhere to his design of returning to 
 Madras?" 
 
 " I cannot say. He has postponed his departure from 
 time to time. And now, perhaps, he may postpone it al- 
 together." 
 
 " Well, you will be glad of that ? " 
 
 " I shall be very sorry, of course, to lose him ; still, I think 
 
 he ought to go. He has important affairs to attend to there." 
 
 "Aha! here's a change indeed!" thought Sir Norman. 
 
 "Mrs* Austin was quite right. Do you still wish to go 
 
 back with him ? " he asked. 
 
 " No. I have changed my mind. I no longer desire to 
 revisit India. Mr. Pomfret dissuaded me from accompany- 
 ing him, and now I wouldn't go if he would let me." 
 
 " Well, I think you are quite right. But may I venture 
 to ask what has caused this change of opinion ? " 
 
 " I don't know what has caused it. But I certainly shall 
 not return to Madras with Mr. Pomfret." 
 
240 Myddldon Pomfrtf. 
 
 "Come!" thought Sir Norman. "That's decisive. 
 Well, I hope he won't start for a month or so," he added, 
 aloud. " I have some arrangements to make with him." 
 
 " About this house ? " she inquired. 
 
 " Partly," he rejoined, with a certain significance that did 
 not escape Mrs. Daventry. " But let me say at once," he 
 hastened to add, " if you have the slightest desire to pro- 
 long your stay beyond Christmas, the place shall be at your 
 disposal." 
 
 " You are excessively kind. But I may be keeping you 
 out of the house. What will you do ? " 
 
 " Oh ! never mind me," he rejoined. "You must let me 
 come and see the place occasionally that's all." 
 
 Mrs. Daventry smiled, and her countenance wore an 
 expression that implied a good deal, though she made no 
 remark. 
 
 "I shall hear what Mr. Pomfret has to say when he 
 comes back," observed Eva. " I must be guided by him." 
 
 " If you desire to stay," said Sir Norman, looking fixedly 
 at her, " I don't think there will be any difficulty on your 
 guardian's part, and certainly none on mine." 
 
 Eva cast down her eyes, and made no reply to this re- 
 markably gallant speech. 
 
 Matters seemed to be going on so well, that Mrs* 
 Daventry thought it best not to interfere. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 THE LEGEND OF DAME ALMERIA. 
 
 SlOU have not told me one thing, Miss Brace- 
 bridge," remarked Sir Norman, after a pause. 
 " Have you seen the ghost ? " 
 
 " The ghost ! " exclaimed Mrs. Daventry. 
 " You don't mean to say the house is haunted ? " 
 
 " Don't be alarmed, aunt," remarked Eva, smiling. " I 
 sleep in the haunted chamber, and have never been 
 disturbed. Sir Norman pretends that he has seen the ghost 
 more than once, but I can't believe him. I suppose there 
 is some story connected with your castle spectre?" she 
 added, glancing at him. 
 
 "A story that forms the darkest page in our family 
 annals," he replied. " You shall hear it. My ancestor, Sir 
 Digby Hylton, who flourished in the time of James I., and 
 enjoyed the favour of that monarch, had a remarkably 
 beautiful wife, of whom he had the misfortune to be jealous. 
 It cannot be denied that] Dame Almeria gave him cause for 
 jealousy, for he intercepted a billet to her from the Earl of 
 Southampton, which appeared to confirm his worst sus- 
 picions. But this cannot extenuate his conduct, though it 
 may explain it. Much against her will, and sorely to the 
 16 
 
242 Myddleton Pom/ret. 
 
 annoyance of her numerous admirers, and of the ena- 
 moured Earl of Southampton in particular, the lovely 
 Almeria was removed from court, brought down to this 
 castle, confined to her chamber, and rigorously watched 
 by her lord." 
 
 "Served her quite right, I think," remarked Mrs. 
 Daventry. 
 
 " Yes, if that had been all, Sir Digby's conduct might 
 perhaps be excusable," returned Sir Norman, " but he went 
 a little too far. Not unnaturally, Dame Almeria tried to 
 escape from her thraldom, but she could not elude Sir 
 Digby's vigilance, and he threatened, if she made another 
 attempt, to shut her up in a dungeon, which still exists in 
 the lower part of the castle." 
 
 " I have seen the dungeon," said Eva, with a shudder, 
 " and a dreadful place it is. Surely Sir Digby could never 
 have had the barbarity to carry out his threat ? " 
 
 " You shall hear," replied Sir Norman. " Failing in her 
 attempts to escape, Dame Almeria was indiscreet enough to 
 write a letter to the Earl of Southampton, detailing her 
 sufferings, and imploring him to liberate her from her tyrant 
 lord. The letter fell into the hands of Sir Digby, and so 
 incensed him, that, with the aid of a devoted groom, he tied 
 a sheet round her face in order to stifle her cries, and then 
 dragged her down a secret staircase to the dungeon. There 
 he left her alone, as he said, to commune with herself and 
 repent. I won't harrow your feelings by attempting to paint 
 the frightful anguish which she must have endured. Enough 
 to state the result. When Sir Digby visited her next day, a 
 terrible spectacle was presented to him. The unfortunate 
 lady had attempted to lay violent hands upon herself, but 
 she still lived. Her senses, however, were gone, and her 
 raven locks had become white. Filled with remorse, Sir 
 Digby instantly conveyed her to her own room, and would 
 have tended her in person, but his presence inspired her 
 with such horror that he did not dare to come near her. 
 To make an end of this tragical story, I must state that the 
 ill-starred dame never recovered. After lingering for a few 
 months, bereft alike of reason and of her personal charms, 
 death released her." 
 
. The Legend of l)ame Almeria. 243 
 
 "A tragical story indeed," said Eva. "But what 
 happened to Sir Digby ? I hope he was properly punished 
 for his cruelty." 
 
 "He was killed at the battle of Naseby. His com- 
 punction, however, does not appear to have been lasting. 
 He married again, but took care to choose a wife whose 
 personal attractions should not cause him disquietude. But 
 I now come to the supernatural part of my story. Shall I 
 proceed ? " 
 
 " By all means," cried both ladies. " Pray go on." 
 
 "After Dame Almeria's death, Sir Digby caused the 
 apartment in which the sad occurrence took place to be 
 shut up. A report soon spread among the household that 
 the chamber was haunted. Strange noises were heard 
 within it at dead of night, and those who were bold enough 
 to watch declared that they had seen the door, which they 
 knew to be locked, fly open, and a female figure, draped in 
 a white garment that looked like a winding-sheet, glide 
 forth, and pass down the secret staircase. Following the 
 phantom, they saw it reach the door of the dungeon, and 
 then disappear. Such is the legend. The secret staircase, 
 I may say, has been long walled up, so that Dame Almeria 
 has had no opportunity of late years of continuing her 
 midnight rambles in that direction. But a fruitless attempt 
 was made to lay the ghost with the other restless sprites in 
 the Red Sea. The spirit could not be exorcised. Not one, 
 I believe, of Sir Digby's male descendants, myself included, 
 who has slept in the haunted chamber, but has seen Dame 
 Almeria. I have seen her twice. On both occasions I 
 beheld or fancied I beheld, for of course I might have 
 been dreaming a female figure swathed from head to foot 
 in a winding-sheet." 
 
 "How dreadful!" exclaimed Mrs. Daventry. "I 
 declare I wouldn't sleep in the room for the world." 
 
 " I am not the least afraid," observed Eva. " While 
 professing to have seen his ancestress, Sir Norman admits 
 that he might have been dreaming at the time." 
 
 " You want to spoil my ghost story," he rejoined, 
 laughing. " But I can assure you it is a veritable family 
 legend." 
 
 16 2 
 
244 
 
 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 " I suppose my maid Susan has heard of Dame Almeria, 
 though I charged Mrs.' Austin not to tell her about the 
 ghost," said Eva. " She positively refuses to sleep in the 
 dressing-room." 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 ON THE TERRACE, 
 
 j|LMOST immediately afterwards they quitted the 
 dining-room, and walked out upon the yew-tree 
 terrace. 
 
 By a lucky accident, Sir Norman was left alone 
 with Eva for a few minutes, Mrs. Daventry being obliged to 
 re-enter the house for some trifling matter that she required. 
 Of course the opportunity was not neglected by the young 
 baronet. 
 
 " Do not be angry with me, Miss Bracebridge," he said, 
 " if I once again entreat you to listen to me. In what I 
 have just said there was not the slightest exaggeration. I 
 have found it utterly impossible to conquer my passion for 
 you. I love you as devotedly as ever, nay, do not check 
 me, I entreat. Do not cast me off without a word. Do 
 not condemn me to hopeless misery. Give me a chance of 
 winning your affections." 
 
 " Were I to grant your request you would gain nothing by 
 it," she rejoined. "Best forget me. You have suffered, no 
 doubt. But the worst is over. Unrequited love may be 
 conquered. Of that I am quite sure." 
 
 ' You speak as if from conviction," said Sir Norman, 
 
246 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 unable to repress a pang. " My own experience proves the 
 contrary. Love, deeply rooted, cannot be torn from the 
 heart. I have made the attempt, and failed. Forgive me 
 if I venture to allude to what you have just said. I trust I 
 shall not give you pain or displeasure if I say that I guess 
 the import of your speech. Love like mine is quick-sighted. 
 When you rejected me, I felt certain you nourished a secret 
 passion. I told your guardian so." 
 
 " You told him ! " she cried, turning crimson. 
 
 " I did not know as much then as I know now, or I 
 should not have been so indiscreet. But since you confess 
 that your heart is free, let me have the chance of winning 
 it" 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " I will not allow my affections to be again fettered, if I 
 can help it. I am much happier as I am, and mean to 
 continue so." 
 
 " Remember that the love you felt was unrequited. 
 That makes all the difference. I ask only to become your 
 suitor. At any time you can dismiss me." 
 
 " But will you take a dismissal ? " she cried, laughingly. 
 " It would seem not." 
 
 " I will retire at the slightest word. But I am sanguine 
 enough to believe that you will never utter that word." 
 
 " One stipulation I make before assenting, and I expect 
 rigorous adherence to it. You are not to talk to me of 
 love." 
 
 " Rather a hard condition that. But I agree." 
 
 "Another stipulation. You are not to speak to my 
 guardian on the subject without my express permission." 
 
 "Why not?" 
 
 " Don't ask me for a reason. Do you agree ? " 
 
 " Oh, certainly. I will agree to anything you impose." 
 
 " Since you agree generally to obey my behests, I need 
 not make any further conditions. But understand. I hold 
 out no hopes, and if you are disappointed as very likely 
 you may be, notwithstanding your sanguine expectations of 
 success you will have no right to complain." 
 
 " That is perfectly understood. If I fail now ? I won't 
 complain/ 1 
 
On the Terrace. 247 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Daventry was seen descending the 
 steps leading to the terrace. They went to meet her. 
 
 "The groom has just returned from Mrs. Carew's, 17 she 
 said. "Mr. Pomfret is going on most favourably. We 
 shall soon have him back." 
 
 Naturally, this satisfactory report gladdened the hearers. 
 The party then took a few turns upon the terrace. The 
 conversation that occurred is scarcely worth repeating, but 
 the young baronet's animated manner and joyous expres- 
 sion convinced Mrs. Daventry that he had not been 
 repulsed. At last the ladies re-entered the house, and then 
 Sir Norman felt that he must tear himself away. 
 
 Mrs. Austin had a word to say to him on his departure, 
 and was enchanted to learn that he was coming over again 
 next day. With a lightened heart he rode back through 
 the avenue. 
 
 " Well, my dear," said Mrs. Daventry to her niece, as soon 
 he was gone, " I am now quite sure that it will be your 
 own fault if you are not Lady Hylton. Shall I tell you 
 what passed through my mind when I watched you and the 
 handsome young baronet as you were walking on the 
 terrace just now?" 
 
 " No, don't, aunt. I won't listen to it. I am sure it's 
 some silly nonsense." 
 
CHAPTER XL 
 
 SOPHY TAKES REFUGE AT HYLTON CASTLE. 
 
 JOW Eva spent the rest of the day, and how she got 
 through the evening, it boots not to inquire. 
 She retired to her room early. She had made 
 light of the grim legend of Dame Almeria, but it 
 now recurred to her, and caused a sensation of something 
 approaching to terror. 
 
 Susan, having performed her duties, had withdrawn and 
 left her mistress alone. The chamber looked unusually 
 gloomy, and as Eva gazed around it, superstitious fears, 
 such as she had never before experienced, began to assail 
 her. She was only deterred by very shame from recalling 
 her maid. 
 
 All at once a slight sound caught her ear, and she 
 almost ceased to breathe while listening to it. The door of 
 the dressing-room, which had been recently occupied by 
 Susan, was locked, and as she had every reason to believe, 
 no one was there. But she now distinctly heard a slight 
 noise within the room, as if some one was trying to open 
 the door. 
 
 She was dreadfully frightened. Her superstitious fears 
 
Sophy Takes Refuge at Hylton Castle. 249 
 
 had given place to well-founded alarm. Some one must be 
 concealed in the chamber. Still, she felt safe, for the door 
 was locked, and the key was on her side. She could see it 
 as she held up her taper. 
 
 As she listened, there was a tapping against the door. 
 After a while it ceased. She was then about to quit the 
 chamber, when the tapping recommenced, and she fancied 
 she could distinguish a voice. 
 
 She paused, and again listened. 
 
 The tapping became louder and more importunate, and 
 she felt certain that she heard her own name pronounced 
 by a female voice. 
 
 Instantly her courage was restored. Stepping towards 
 the door, she called out in firm accents, "Who is it?" 
 
 "'Tis I ! " rejoined the voice. " Pray open the door." 
 
 Eva recognised the voice, and, though surprised beyond 
 measure, did not hesitate a moment. 
 
 She unlocked the door, and there stood Sophy. 
 
 The poor lady was in walking attire, and her looks 
 showed that she was in great distress. 
 
 " Is it really Mrs. Montfort ? " cried Eva. 
 
 " Yes, it is really your unhappy friend," replied Sophy. 
 " You will think it strange that I should appear before you 
 in this manner, but, for reasons which I will proceed to 
 explain, I wished my visit to the castle to be secret. I 
 came here this evening, saw Mrs. Austin, and was con- 
 ducted by her privily to the room from which you have just 
 liberated me. She left me there, promising to return, but I 
 suppose she has been prevented." 
 
 " I have seen nothing of her," replied Eva. " But I 
 retired much earlier than usual. Possibly she may yet 
 come. But now let me know the motive of this secret 
 visit. Has anything happened? Can I help you? Put 
 my friendship to the proof. You shall not find me want- 
 ing. If you require another asylum, you shall have it 
 here" 
 
 " Your kindness quite overcomes me," said Sophy, in 
 accents of profound emotion. " It is more than I deserve." 
 
 " How can I do otherwise than pity you, now that I 
 know your history ? " cried Eva" now that I know the 
 
250 Myddleton Pomfrtt. 
 
 full extent of the wrong you have endured of the perfidy 
 of which you have been the victim? How can I do other- 
 wise than feel for you, when I know whose wife you have 
 been whose wife you are ! " 
 
 " You may imagine the effort it cost me to detail to you 
 the whole of my miserable story," replied Sophy. "But 
 after Julian's accident I felt it was absolutely necessary you 
 should know the entire truth, and then you could act as 
 you might see fit. I think I was justified in revealing his 
 secret to you, even without his consent being first obtained, 
 because without such knowledge you might have continued 
 in a declusion. After the confidence you had unwittingly 
 reposed in me, I could not allow you to remain in 
 ignorance of the truth." 
 
 " I thank you a thousand times," cried Eva. " You have 
 enabled me most effectually to crush a foolish passion, in 
 which you were aware I had indulged. Poor Mr. Pomfret 
 I dare not call him Julian I pity him from the bottom 
 of my heart but I love him no longer." 
 
 "Would he could be released from the ties that still 
 unhappily bind him to me ! " ejaculated Sophy. " His 
 freedom would be cheaply purchased by so miserable a life 
 as mine. But Heaven will not listen to my prayers, and 
 take me hence ! " 
 
 " Do not talk thus," cried Eva. " But tell me why you 
 have come here." 
 
 " Dear Mrs. Carew's house is no longer a secure asylum 
 for me, and I am compelled to fly from it. You are aware 
 that Captain Musgrave has discovered my retreat, and has 
 stripped me of all my resources?" 
 
 "Yes. What more?" 
 
 "He promised me solemnly, when I gave him all I 
 possessed, that he would never molest me again. But 
 what is a promise to him? 'He has written to say that he 
 must see me, and that if I decline to receive him secretly, 
 as before, he will force himself into my presence. After 
 this, what was left me but flight ? Were I to remain with 
 Mrs. Carew, I should never be free from his persecution. 
 I took counsel with her. I told her all. I showed her 
 Musgrave's last letter, and she agreed with me that there, 
 
Sophy Takes Refuge at Hylton Castle. 251 
 
 was no other alternative but flight. But she advised me to 
 see you before putting my plan into execution, and it is at 
 her suggestion that I have come here to-night. I came 
 here secretly, so that my movements may not be traced 
 but I have been obliged to make a confidante of Mrs, 
 Austin. Indeed, I found that she was already acquainted 
 with my unhappy story." 
 
 "I have related it to her," replied Eva. "She is 
 perfectly trustworthy. Mrs. Carew was quite right in 
 advising you to come to me. Here you can have a safe 
 asylum. No one but Mrs. Austin need know that you are 
 in the house. If you can reconcile yourself to such an 
 arrangement for a time, you can easily be concealed in 
 some out-of-the-way room. There are plenty to spare. 
 Indeed, more than half the house is unoccupied. No one 
 visits these deserted rooms but Mrs. Austin, so that, I 
 repeat, you will be perfectly safe." 
 
 " Nothing can suit me better than such an arrangement," 
 replied Sophy. 
 
 At this moment the door openedf. and Mrs. Austin 
 entered the room. 
 
 "You have released the prisoner, I see, Miss," observed 
 the old housekeeper. " I should have been here long ago, 
 but I have been preparing a little room in the untenanted 
 wing of the house, and I couldn't get it ready sooner. I've 
 not been able to fit it up properly, but it may serve for to- 
 night, and I'll make it more comfortable to-morrow, if Mrs. 
 Montfort stays with us." 
 
 " She will stay," replied Eva. " But no one but yourself 
 must know that she is an inmate of the castle." 
 
 " Oh, I'll take care of that," said Mrs. Austin. " No 
 danger whatever of discovery, if proper precautions are 
 taken. No one can enter that wing of the house without 
 coming to me for the keys. Mrs. Montfort, I'll engage, will 
 be quite safe there. But, if she were to pass the night in 
 your dressing-room, Susan would be sure to find it out, and 
 then the story would be all over the house directly." 
 
 " No doubt," said Sophy. 
 
 "We will do the best we can to alleviate your con- 
 finement/' observed Eva. " I will spend as much time with 
 
252 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 you as possible, and bring you books and newspapers, 
 and everything I can think of, calculated to cheer your 
 solitude." 
 
 " The thought that I am free from the persecution to which 
 I have been subjected, will make me feel quite happy," said 
 Sophy. " I shall not heed the confinement. It will afford 
 me plenty of time for meditation." 
 
 " Somewhat too much, I fear," remarked Eva. 
 
 " No, not too much," she rejoined. " I have renounced 
 the world, and therefore solitude suits me. I shall look 
 upon myself as a recluse." 
 
 "Let us go to the room at once," cried Eva. "lam 
 impatient to see it." 
 
 " With your permission. Miss, I'll just put together a few 
 things which Mrs. Montfort may require for the night," 
 observed Mrs. Austin. 
 
 "Take whatever you think proper," cried Eva. "My 
 wardrobe is entirely at her service." 
 
 Mrs. Austin, having made all preparations she thought 
 needful, and put together a tolerably large bundle of things, 
 went out to reconnoitre, but returned almost instantly to say 
 that nobody was stirring, and that Mrs. Montfort might 
 proceed to her room with perfect safety. 
 
 The old housekeeper did not carry a light, nor would she 
 allow either of the ladies to take one, lest it might betray 
 them, so they had to move along in total darkness. 
 
 To Eva this did not much signify, since she was familiar 
 with the place ; but Sophy was glad to take the hand 
 extended to her by her companion. 
 
 After proceeding to some distance slowly and cautiously 
 along the corridor, they turned into a passage on the left, 
 leading, as Eva was aware, to the deserted wing. 
 
 Unlocking a door at the end of the passage, the old 
 housekeeper admitted them into a vast but totally dismantled 
 room. The windows being without curtains or blinds, the 
 prudence of Mrs. Austin's injunction became apparent, as, 
 if they had carried a light, their movements might have been 
 discerned from without. 
 
 Hastily traversing a suite of unfurnished rooms, they en- 
 tered another passage, mounted a short spiral staircase^ ancj 
 
Sophy Takes Refuge at Hylton Castle. 253 
 
 then reached the little chamber destined for Sophy's 
 occupation. 
 
 The walls were panelled with black lustrous oak, and 
 reflected the radiance of a cheerful fire that burnt in the 
 grate. The chief furniture consisted of a small table, a 
 couple of chairs, and a sofa, on which a bed had been 
 extemporised. In other respects the room was sufficiently 
 furnished for the purpose to which it was put. 
 
 " This was Sir Norman's room when he was a boy," 
 remarked Mrs. Austin, " and I sleep in it occasionally 
 myself. I can reach it without going through the dismantled 
 rooms we have just traversed, but I thought it safer to take 
 that course to-night. You needn't be afraid of damp linen, 
 Ma'am," she added to Sophy. " The sheets are perfectly 
 well aired, and the blankets are from my own bed. To- 
 morrow I will make you more comfortable. You will find 
 wine and biscuits in that basket, and I will come betimes in 
 the morning to prepare your breakfast." 
 
 The old housekeeper then busied herself in arranging and 
 spreading out the various things which she had brought 
 from Eva's room, and while she was thus employed, the two 
 ladies, who had sat down near the fire, conversed together 
 in a low tone. 
 
 At last Mrs. Austin's task being completed, Eva thought 
 it time to depart. Affectionately embracing Sophy, she 
 bade her good-night, promising to come and see her in the 
 morning. While taking her departure, the old housekeeper 
 pointed out that the door could be bolted inside. 
 
 Sophy was then left alone, and making fast the door, 
 knelt down beside her couch to pray. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 WHAT PASSED BETWEEN POM FRET AND MRS. CAREW. 
 
 j[OMFRET was now so much better that the surgeon 
 told him, one morning, that he might return to 
 Hylton Castle when he pleased. On receiving 
 this permission, the wounded man made im- 
 mediate preparations for his departure, and had just 
 completed them, when Old Nathan informed him that his 
 mistress would like to see him. He at once obeyed the 
 summons, and accompanied by the butler, proceeded to the 
 drawing-room, where he found Mrs. Carew alone. His 
 changed appearance and extreme debility could not fail to 
 excite the kind old lady's compassion. His attire hung 
 loosely upon him, and the ghastly pallor of his visage was 
 heightened by the black silk skull-cap which covered his 
 head. 
 
 Mrs. Carew rose to meet him as he entered the room, and, 
 after assisting the old butler to place him in an easy-chair, 
 sat down beside him. This arrangement made, Nathan 
 quitted the room. 
 
 After expressing in a very earnest manner his deep 
 obligations to the old lady, Pomfret said, " I hoped to have 
 found Mrs. Montfort with you, Madam, but as I may not 
 
What Passect between Pom/ret and Mrs. Carew. 253 
 
 see her before my departure, I must beg you to express my 
 gratitude to her, and in the strongest terms." 
 
 " You owe a far deeper debt of gratitude to her than to me, 
 Mr. Pomfret," said Mrs. Carew, gravely. " Under Heaven, 
 she has been the means of saving your life." 
 
 " I am quite aware of it," he replied, deeply moved. 
 
 After a short pause, he added : 
 
 " May I venture to ask, Madam, whether Mrs. Montfort 
 has made any communication to you ? " 
 
 " She has told me all," replied the old lady, regarding him 
 steadfastly. 
 
 Unable to bear her searching looks, Pomfret averted his 
 gaze. 
 
 " She has fully explained her cruel situation to me," 
 pursued Mrs. Carew. " Need I tell you that I pity her 
 from the bottom of my heart ? Before that explanation, I 
 took a wholly different view of the matter. I had learnt 
 enough from Sophy's wild expressions, when she thought you 
 mortally hurt, to be sure that you were her husband, and 
 I hoped that^the differences which I fancied might exist 
 between you would be reconciled. It was a vain hope. I 
 now know the whole truth, and am aware that reunion is 
 impossible." 
 
 A deep groan broke from Pomfret. 
 
 " It is a sad business indeed," pursued the old lady; "but 
 you must forgive me if I say that you are to blame. The 
 miserable position in which poor Sophy is placed is 
 attributable entirely to your conduct." 
 
 " You judge me severely, Madam," said Pomfret. 
 
 " Not too severely," she replied. " I love Sophy as dearly 
 as a daughter, and my language is such as a mother would 
 employ. You are the main cause, I repeat, of her misery. 
 You put her to a trial to which no woman. ought to be 
 subjected. You led her to believe that you had destroyed 
 yourself nay, more, she was persuaded that you bad 
 committed the fatal act before her own eyes. It is wonder- 
 ful to me that she survived the shock. For years you 
 allowed her to mourn you as dead. Was such conduct 
 consistent with good feeling or affection? Was it justifiable 
 on any ground ? What might have been the consequences ? 
 
2;6 Myddteton Pomfret. 
 
 True, Sophy performed the part of a devoted wife, and really 
 remained faithful to your memory, but you had no right to 
 count upon such fidelity. How many years of needless and 
 profitless anxiety would a few words have saved her ? Yet 
 they were never uttered. You allowed her to consume her 
 young life in unavailing grief." 
 
 " Spare me, Madam in pity, spare me ! " cried Pomfret. 
 
 "Your excuse is, that you were engaged in making a 
 fortune for the wife whom you had thus abandoned," 
 pursued the unrelenting old lady. " I can perfectly under- 
 stand the peculiar feelings by which you were actuated, but 
 I consider your conduct as in the highest degree re- 
 prehensible. Morally, you are responsible for all the sad 
 consequences that have ensued. When you first wrote to 
 her from Madras you ought to have avowed the truth ; but, 
 instead of doing so, you resorted to further mystification, and 
 created the very difficulties in which she became involved. 
 To you the consequences are calamitous enough, but to 
 poor Sophy they are fatal. She is placed in the power of a 
 villain, from whom there is no escape. Great as is her 
 wrong, she is without hope of redress." 
 
 "The wrong cannot be redressed, but she can be 
 protected from further annoyance," said Pomfret. "And 
 this must be done effectually. You say you love her as a 
 daughter. Will you allow her to remain with you ?" 
 
 "This house is no longer a secure asylum for her," 
 rejoined Mrs. Carew. 
 
 " She is safer here than elsewhere," cried Pomfret. " Let 
 me see her. I can easily convince her of that." 
 
 " I will not keep you longer in suspense," rejoined the 
 old lady. " She is gone." 
 
 " Gone ! " exclaimed Pomfret, as if a violent blow had 
 been dealt him. " Gone ! without consulting me. But no ! 
 I cannot believe it. She would not leave you her best 
 friend." 
 
 "The step is taken, and by my advice," rejoined Mrs. 
 Carew. " She has left this house. I would not allow her 
 to consult you, lest her resolution might be shaken." 
 
 "You did wrong, Madam," cried Pomfret, sternly. 
 " You blame me, and justly, for what has already occurred, 
 
What Passed between Pom fret and Mrs. Carew. 257 
 
 but if any fresh misfortunes arise, you will be responsible for 
 them. Whither is she gone ? " 
 
 " You must excuse my answering that question," rejoined 
 the old lady. 
 
 " But she has no funds ! " cried Pomfret " She has been 
 plundered by Musgrave of all her resources." 
 
 ' 'You need have no anxiety on that score, Sir," said 
 Mrs. Carew. " She is not without funds. If I had thought 
 she could remain here safely, I should not have parted with 
 her." 
 
 "Has anything happened to cause her further un- 
 easiness ? " asked Pomfret, anxiously. 
 
 " Yes. She has received a letter from Captain Musgrave. 
 You shall see it. She left it with me." 
 
 With this she took a letter from a drawer, and gave it to 
 Pomfret. Not without repugnance he opened the letter, 
 and read as follows : 
 
 " * I must have another interview with you. I am going 
 abroad. You may expect me on the third night after the 
 date of this letter. I shall appear at the same hour and in 
 the same way as before. I must, and will see you. There 
 are other ways of entering the house than by the window, 
 and if you thwart my plan, I shall present myself at the 
 door. 
 
 " ' SCROPE MUSGRAVE/ 
 
 " Is she never to be free from this persecution ?" groaned 
 Pomfret. 
 
 61 That letter decided me," said Mrs. Carew. "I would 
 no longer allow Sophy to remain here. This is the 
 appointed night. If Captain Musgrave comes, he will find 
 me in Sophy's room." 
 
 " No, Madam," said Pomfret, sternly. " He must not find 
 you, but me. I will be there." 
 
 " No meeting between you can take place in my house," 
 cried Mrs. Carew, alarmed. 
 
 "I promise you there shall be no violence; but see him 
 
 I must," said Pomfret. " No provocation shall force me to 
 
 assail him ; and, indeed, I have not strength for a personal 
 
 encounter with him. But it is important to Sophy's future 
 
 17 
 
258 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 peace that I should see him. He has some object in 
 seeking this interview, which he will not disclose to you, but 
 which I may be able to extort." 
 
 " Since you promise me there shall be no violence, I 
 assent to the plan. Under these circumstances, I presume 
 you will postpone your departure till to-morrow." 
 
 " I must needs do so," rejoined Pomfret. " I must 
 trespass a little more upon your kindness." 
 
 " I will go at once and countermand the carriage which 
 has been ordered for you," said Mrs. Carew, rising. " And 
 as this sudden change in your plans might surprise Nathan, 
 I will tell him that I have prevailed upon you to remain till 
 to-morrow. That will quite satisfy him. But it will be best 
 that you should return to your own room. When the 
 servants have retired to rest, I will conduct you to Sophy's 
 chamber." 
 
CHAPTER X II 
 
 MUSGRAVE KEEPS HIS APPOINTMENT. 
 
 table. 
 
 SIIGHT came. Midnight. Pomfret was alone in 
 the chamber recently occupied by Sophy. 
 
 His preparations had been made. The window 
 was left partly open, and a light placed upon the 
 But he himself was concealed behind the curtains of 
 the bed. 
 
 All the servants had long since retired to rest, and 
 no one was astir in the house but Mrs. Carew, who had 
 brought him privily to the room. Her windows com- 
 manded the drawbridge, and she now and then looked 
 cautiously forth, but the night being dark, and a dense 
 mist brooding over the moat, she could not distinguish any 
 object. 
 
 Pomfret did not quit his position for a moment, but 
 patiently awaited Musgrave's arrival. Listening intently for 
 any sound that might announce the coming of that hateful 
 personage, he at last distinctly heard footsteps on the draw- 
 bridge. His heart beat quick at the thought that his foe 
 was at hand. A rustling among the leaves of the ivy next 
 warned him that Musgrave was climbing up to the window. 
 
 17 2 
 
Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 In another moment the visitor sprang boldly into the room, 
 and glanced around it in search of Sophy. He did not 
 detect Pomfret in his hiding-place. 
 
 "Where the devil is she?" he exclaimed, in tones 
 bespeaking anger and uneasiness. " She evidently expects 
 me, since she has left the window open and a candle 
 burning. But why is she not here ? " 
 
 Then stepping towards the door, he tried it, but found it 
 fastened. 
 
 " Locked ! " he exclaimed, with a fierce oath. " Is this 
 some trick? No, she would not dare to play me false. 
 She will be back presently." 
 
 He then turned, and to his astonishment and dismay 
 found Pomfret standing between him and the window. So 
 ghastly were the looks of the latter, that Musgrave for a 
 moment doubted whether a living man confronted him. 
 However, he speedily recovered his composure. 
 
 " A devilish clever manoeuvre, upon my soul ! " he 
 cried, with a jeering laugh. "But it won't answer with 
 me, I can promise you. I beg to observe, that I have 
 come here on a peaceful errand, and merely to see my 
 wife, who expects me. In order to avoid a serious 
 disturbance for serious it assuredly will be, if you attempt 
 to molest me I request that you will be good enough to 
 send her to me without delay. Understand that I wish to 
 see her alone. For obvious reasons I must decline any 
 conference with you. We can have no business to settle 
 together." 
 
 " Pardon, me, Sir," rejoined Pomfret, sternly. "We have 
 a very important business to settle, and till it is settled, 
 satisfactorily to me, you do not quit this room." 
 
 " Judging by your haggard looks, you are scarcely in a 
 condition to oppose my departure," rejoined Musgrave. 
 " But I have no intention of going till I have seen my wife ; 
 and I must again beg that you will do me the favour to send 
 her to me." 
 
 " You cannot see her," rejoined Pomfret, peremptorily. 
 
 " I rather fancy you are mistaken, Sir," sneered Musgrave, 
 " and I would recommend you, for her sake, and indeed for 
 your own, not to force me to extremities. The right, as you 
 will find, if you provoke me too far, is on my side, and not 
 
Mus grave Keeps his Appointment. 261 
 
 on yours. I shall be glad to be informed why you are here ; 
 and on what pretence you meddle in an 'affair in whch you 
 are noway concerned? Your presence and conduct are 
 alike damaging to the reputation of the lady whose cause 
 you affect to espouse. How is it, I repeat, that I find you 
 here, in her chamber, at this hour? As the guardian of 
 my wife's honour, I am entitled, I think, to ask that 
 question." 
 
 " Since you desire to know why I am here, I will tell you/' 
 rejoined Pomfret, his pallid features flushing, and his eyes 
 blazing. " I am here to protect your unhappy victim. Do 
 not imagine I am unacquainted with your errand. Not 
 content with your previous robbery for I will use no 
 milder term you have come again to attempt further 
 extortion. But I am here to tell you on the part of the lady 
 whom you have so foully wronged, that she will hold no 
 further communication whatever with you, but if you 
 persist in your infamous attempts, she will seek legal 
 redress/' 
 
 "I laugh at such idle threats," rejoined Musgrave, 
 scornfully. " No one knows better than yourself that she 
 dares not resort to legal redress." 
 
 " Do not presume too much on her forbearance," said 
 Pomfret. " There are limits to her patience which you have 
 already passed." 
 
 "I shall be better able to judge of that when I see 
 her ; and see her I will even if I stay here till morning. 
 If you want to get rid of me, you will acquaint her 
 with my determination. I am unwilling to make a dis- 
 turbance in the house, or I would go in search of her 
 myself." 
 
 To prove that he was in earnest, he coolly seated himself, 
 and proceeded to light a cigarette which he took from a 
 case. 
 
 So indignant was Pomfret, that if he had had 
 sufficient strength, he would have thrown him through 
 the window; but he contented himself with saying, "I 
 did not suppose that any one, with the slightest pre- 
 tensions to the character of a gentleman, could act 
 thus." 
 
 "Ah, indeed, A person who goes about under a 
 
262 Myddleton Pomjret. 
 
 feigned name is not likely to have very correct notions as 
 to what constitutes a gentleman. At all events, the opinion 
 of such a one does not weigh much with me." 
 
 " Dastard ! " cried Pomfret, trembling with rage. " You 
 know that you can safely provoke me." 
 
 " Since you are unwell, I would advise you, for your own 
 sake, to terminate this interview," rejoined Musgrave. 
 " Let me see my wife." 
 
 ' I have already told you that you cannot see her. She 
 has left this house." 
 
 "Are you speaking truth?" demanded Musgrave, looking 
 hard at him. 
 
 " She is gone, I tell you. Your intolerable persecution 
 has driven her hence." 
 
 "She was a fool to go," cried Musgrave, "as even you 
 would admit, if I cared to enter into explanation with you. 
 If she and her advisers would only act with a little common 
 sense, a great deal of unpleasantness might be spared. 
 However, she must take her own course. I shan't trouble 
 myself further about her. Some one^I make no doubt," 
 he added, significantly, " will take good care of her." 
 
 " I repel your infamous insinuation with scorn," said 
 Pomfret. " I know not whither she has fled." 
 
 " I daresay I should find her at Hylton Castle," rejoined 
 Musgrave. " But whether or not you have constituted 
 yourself my wife's protector is a matter of utter indifference 
 to me, provided, as I have just said, that I am no more 
 troubled." 
 
 " Be sure she will not trouble you if you will leave her 
 alone," rejoined Pomfret. "But what faith can she have in 
 you ? On the promise that you would never again molest 
 her, she gave you all she possessed, and now you threaten 
 her with fresh extortion." 
 
 " It is false ! " cried Musgrave, fiercely. " My letter to 
 her has been entirely misinterpreted. I came here for no 
 such base purpose as you impute to me." 
 
 "If not for that, for what purpose did you come?" 
 demanded Pomfret. 
 
 " I owe it to myself to offer an explanation, or be sure I 
 would render you none, Sir," answered Musgrave. " My 
 Object in coming here was to repay the money borrowed 
 
Musgrave Keeps hi$ Aff ointment. 26' 
 
 from her for a temporary purpose. I told her I was goin^ 
 abroad." 
 
 " You cannot be surprised if I refuse credence to thi< 
 statement ? " remarked Pomfret, sceptically. " It is scarcel} 
 consistent with your previous conduct. 7 ' 
 
 " Will this convince you ? " cried Musgrave, taking from 
 his breast-pocket a rouleau of bank-notes, and tossing il 
 towards him. " There is the precise sum she lent me, 
 Give it to her. You will easily find an opportunity of doing 
 so, I make no doubt" 
 
 " This is more than I expected from you," said Pomfret, 
 surprised. 
 
 " Spare me further remarks, Sir," rejoined Musgrave. " I 
 desire to go away quietly." 
 
 " Go, then," replied Pomfret, stepping aside. 
 Hereupon, Musgrave strode deliberately to the window. 
 Before passing through it, however, he looked out, and 
 after a moment's scrutiny, came back. 
 
 "I fancy there is a man on the drawbridge," he said. 
 " Is he set there to waylay me ? " 
 
 " Dismiss the notion at once," rejoined Pomfret. " No 
 one is on the drawbridge." 
 
 "Well, I may have been deceived by the fog. Since 
 you assure me that a guet-k-pens is not intended, I will 
 go." 
 
 And he passed through the window. 
 But he had only partly accomplished his descent, when a 
 rough voice called out to him. 
 
 The person who called was the gardener. Thinking 
 there were robbers on the premises, the stout old fellow 
 had armed himself with a fowling-piece, and taken up a 
 position on the drawbridge, with the design of cutting off 
 their retreat. 
 
 Receiving no answer to the challenge, he repeated it more 
 lustily, with an emphatic warning which, being disregarded, 
 he let fly at the supposed robber. 
 
 The shot rattled amongst the ivy-leaves, but whether 
 much damage was done to Musgrave, Pomfret, who rushed 
 to the window, was unable to determine. If hit, Musgrave 
 was clearly not disabled, for, on reaching the ground, he at 
 made for t^e drawbridge* 
 
264 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 Here a struggle took place between him and the gardener, 
 but the old man released him on hearing Pomfret's 
 vociferations, coupled with those of Mrs. Carew, who threw 
 up her window on hearing the shot ; and Musgrave, with a 
 furious oath, hurried^ away. 
 
 of 
 
BOOK VI. 
 BELFIELD. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 BOOTLE RECEIVES A LETTER FROM HIS MOTHER, AND A 
 TELEGRAPHIC MESSAGE FROM HIS FATHER. 
 
 j]R. AND MRS. BOOTLE SHELMERDINE, 
 whom we conducted as far as Folkstone on their 
 wedding-day, spent their honeymoon, and another 
 month besides, at Paris. They were quartered at 
 the Grand Hotel. 
 
 The pretty little Englishwoman, who dressed so charm- 
 ingly, and who had such fine eyes, which she knew so well 
 how to use, soon became an object of attraction in the 
 Bois. The incense offered her by the cavaliers whom she 
 daily encountered in her drives near the lakes, was far from 
 displeasing to her. The young Parisian elegants stared very 
 hard at her, but did not abash her. Neither did she return 
 their audacious looks with the disdain they deserved. Bootle, 
 who always accompanied his wife in her drives, was flattered 
 by the admiration sfys excited, persuading himself that the 
 
266 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 possession of such a treasure made him an object of envy 
 to all who beheld her. 
 
 Bootle was really very fond of his pretty little wife, and 
 very proud of her. He liked to see her well dressed, and 
 he liked her to be admired. This may seem odd in one 
 who was constitutionally jealous, like our friend ; but there 
 are unaccountable contradictions in human nature, and 
 Bootless was by no means a consistent character. No 
 doubt there was something very piquant in his wife's 
 coquettish manner, for she always contrived to surround 
 herself with admirers; and where many a far handsomer 
 woman of a quieter turn would have been passed by with 
 very little notice, she succeeded in attracting attention. 
 Love of admiration was Mrs. Bootle's ruling passion. She 
 had long desired to attach a number of captives to her car, 
 and she was now gratified. With her the aim and end of 
 wedded life was not quiet domestic bliss. Of that she 
 never dreamed for a moment. Quietude and domesticity 
 would have been no bliss to her. She never would have 
 given her hand to Bootle if she had imagined she would be 
 condemned to live in seclusion with him. Her notions of 
 married life, founded upon many examples that had come 
 under her own observation, and fortified by the precepts 
 enunciated in her favourite French novels, were that, as a 
 married woman, she would only have her own inclinations 
 to consult, and she felt quite sure that Mrs. Bootle 
 Shelmerdine would be far more admired, far more sought 
 after, than Miss Flaxyard. The result proved she was 
 right 
 
 During their stay at Paris the newly-married couple made 
 many acquaintances, both French and English; and so 
 much attention was paid to Bootle by his new friends, that 
 he began to think there was considerable advantage in being 
 a married man. Sometimes he felt a little jealous, but his 
 wife soon laughed him out of such ridiculous notions. 
 
 After a couple of months spent very pleasantly in the 
 French capital, they were still undecided in their plans. 
 Bootle, who was rather surfeited with gaiety, wished to 
 return to England, and if matters could have been made 
 comfortable with his mother, he would have liked to pass 
 the, winter at Belfield. Mrs. Bootle had no sort of objection. 
 
Bootle Receives a Letter and a Telegram. 267 
 
 to this plan. Bury would be a change, and she had a natural 
 curiosity to see a house of which she expected one day to 
 be mistress. 
 
 Mrs. Bootle had written several times to her mother-in- 
 law, but had failed to propitiate her. The letters were 
 handed over to Mr. Shelmerdine and answered by him. 
 
 At last Bootle nerved himself to the task, and wrote to 
 his mother, saying that he and his wife were returning to 
 England, and proposed to come at once to Belfield. A 
 prompt reply was sent, couched in the following terms : 
 
 " MY DEAR BOOTLE, I think you had better defer your 
 proposed visit to Belfield until the spring, when I trust I 
 may in some degree have recovered from the mortification 
 and disappointment which you have inflicted upon me by 
 your marriage. At present, a meeting between me and your 
 wife could not be agreeable to either of us. Deeply hurt as 
 I have been, I feel I could not put a constraint upon my 
 feelings, and my daughter-in-law might have reason to 
 complain of her welcome. I will not invite her till I can 
 receive her properly. 
 
 " I am bound to state that your father is ill pleased with 
 me for taking this course, but I must bear his displeasure, 
 knowing that I am right. 
 
 " You tell me that your wife is greatly admired in Paris, and 
 that whenever she drives in the Bois de Boulogne, or is seen 
 in the Champs Elysees, or on the boulevards, her personal 
 charms and elegant toilette attract general attention. 
 
 "I can only say in reply, that I sincerely hope all this 
 admiration won't turn her head. In my opinion, you ought 
 not to expose her to it ; but knowing advice to be useless, I 
 shall not offer it. Men's notions in regard to beauty seem 
 to have vastly changed since my time. What appears to be 
 admired now, would not have been so then. Mere charms 
 of person, unaccompanied by breeding, refinement, and 
 grace, would not have been admired in former days, except 
 by a certain class of men, whose admiration was considered 
 a very poor compliment. 
 
 " You say that if you do not come to Belfield you will 
 spend the winter in Rome. You will find plenty of society 
 there, and I daresay your \yife will be quite as miicli 
 
268 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 admired in Rome as in Paris. I am not so sure that she 
 would produce the same effect here, as we are father old- 
 fashioned folks in this part of Lancashire. 
 
 " Say whatever you think right from me to Mrs. Bootle. 
 That you may not repent your choice, is the heartfelt wish 
 of 
 
 " Your affectionate mother, 
 
 " ELIZABETH SHELMERDINE." 
 
 " By Jove, Tiff! here's a stinger!" cried Bootle, handing 
 her the letter. 
 
 " What a dreadful old termagant ! " cried Mrs. Bootle, 
 after she had scanned it " But never mind, dearest boy, 
 We'll go to Belfield in spite of her." 
 
 " There'll be a jolly row if we do," he rejoined, laughing. 
 " But I don't like this sort of thing. I don't approve of the 
 tone of her letter. You shan't be affronted in this way." 
 
 "Who cares for what she says?" cried his wife, 
 snapping her fingers. " I don't. To Belfield we will go, 
 dear boy ! to Belfield we will go. We're safe of the 
 governor's support" 
 
 " That's not much," observed Bootle. " It won't do to 
 count upon him. In a dispute with the old lady he in- 
 variably shows the white feather. He's not master of 
 Belfield, I can tell you." 
 
 " High time he should be, dearest boy," remarked Mrs. 
 Bootle. " If s important to us to establish ourselves there. 
 We must do so without delay." 
 
 "If I felt quite sure of the governor I shouldn't hesitate," 
 rejoined Bootle. " But you see he daren't write." 
 
 Just then a ga^on entered the room. 
 
 " Une depkche tdldgraphique, pour Monsieur," he said, 
 giving him a letter. " Arrived a Tinstant" 
 
 " From the governor, I'll bet a hundred 1 " cried Bootle. 
 " Now we shall know how to act Here, read it," he added, 
 handing it to his wife. 
 
 Mrs. Bootle tore open the envelope, and with a scream 
 of delight read the following message : 
 
 " ' Never mind what your mother says. Bring your wife 
 to Belfidd. The sooner the better* 
 
Bootte Receives a Letter and a Telegram. 269 
 
 " There ! what do you say to that, darling boy ? Wasn't I 
 right?" 
 
 "Of course, my love. You're always right. I fancy the 
 old lady will meet her match in you, Tiff." 
 
 " I flatter myself she will, darling boy," responded Mrs. 
 Bootle, confidently. " As you say, it's a great point to have 
 the governor with us. The old lady has had her own way far 
 too long. A little opposition will do her good, and she shall 
 have it from me, I can promise her, as soon as we're fairly 
 settled in the house. She has set her face against my 
 family, but I'll have them all at Belfield before I'm many 
 weeks older." 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 
 CONTAINING MRS. BOOTLE SHELMERDINE's LETTER TO HER 
 MOTHER-IN-LAW. 
 
 FEW days after this determination had been come 
 to, Mr. and Mrs. Bootle Shelmerdine quitted Paris, 
 and proceeded to London. 
 
 Everything was prepared for them at the 
 Acacias, and it is almost superfluous to say that they were 
 warmly welcomed. Both Flaxyard and his wife had missed 
 their daughter sadly, and though anxious to get her married, 
 as we have shown, they felt quite lonely when she was gone. 
 The Acacias seemed quite changed without the lively 
 Tiffany, and was given up in a great measure to Hornby and 
 his friends* The delight of the worthy couple at having her 
 back again may therefore be imagined. 
 
 Mrs. Bootle Shelmerdine was now a very important 
 member of the family indeed, and treated with proportionate 
 respect. Hornby thought his sister wonderfully improved, 
 though he couldn't exactly tell how, and he was greatly 
 amused by finding that she had got what he called, "the 
 upper hand of her caro sposo." Bootle, however, seemed 
 perfectly contented and happy, and if -his wife "could turn 
 him round her little finger," as Hornby insinuated, the 
 
Mrs. Bootte Shetmerdints Letter. 2?! 
 
 process did not appear to be disagreeable. It must be 
 owned that Tiffany ruled her husband in a very agreeable 
 way. If she occasionally took him to task, and exacted 
 implicit obedience to her will, she was, on the whole, very 
 good-natured, petted him, amused him by her drollery, 
 allowed him to smoke any number of cigars, and never 
 reproved him for drinking too much claret. 
 
 But the thing that astonished Hornby most of all in his 
 brother-in-law was, that Bootle had entirely got rid of his 
 jealousy. When young Flaxyard had heard of the ad- 
 miration excited jby his pretty sister at Paris, he had pic- 
 tured to himself all sorts of stormy scenes between her and 
 her husband. He now learnt that Bootle had been en- 
 chanted by the homage paid his wife, and what was still more 
 surprising, that Bootle did not object to the presence of any 
 of her former admirers. On making this discovery, Hornby 
 of course invited Rufus Trotter and all his bachelor 
 friends, who had been tabooed before the marriage, and 
 many a jolly dinner-party they had. 
 
 Cheered by these dinners, Bootle passed a very pleasant 
 week at the Acacias, and would willingly have prolonged 
 his stay under his father-in-law's hospitable roof, but his 
 wife was eager to commence her projected campaign. 
 Bootle had written to announce his return, conveying a 
 cordial invitation from old Flaxyard, and hoping his father 
 would run up to town ; but John excused himself on the plea 
 of business. 
 
 Naturally, Mrs. Bootle had confided her scheme to her 
 family. Old Flaxyard had many misgivings about it. He 
 thought the plan very hazardous, and calculated to make 
 matters worse. At all events, he said, a little conciliatory 
 correspondence ought to take place first 
 
 Mrs. Flaxyard was quite of a different opinion, and in 
 favour of a bolder policy. She had perfect faith in her 
 daughter's management. Had she not succeeded with 
 Bootle ? Could she fail now ? 
 
 Flaxyard argued that Mrs. Shelmerdine and her son were 
 two very different persons, and required very different 
 management ; but he admitted that his daughter had spirit 
 and cleverness for anything, and he would not, therefore, 
 dissuade her from the attempt. 
 
Myddldon Pomfret. 
 
 Acting upon her papa's suggestion, Mrs. Bootle resolved 
 to try the effect of a preliminary letter, so she sat down and 
 penned the following : 
 
 "The Acacias, Clapham, Nov. 20, 186 . 
 
 "Mv DEAREST MAMMA, We have just returned from 
 our delightful Continental trip, and are spending a few days 
 here with papa and mamma before proceeding to Lancashire. 
 You may expect us very shortly. I shall not feel at all 
 like a stranger in my new home, for darling Bootle has 
 talked to me so much about Belfield, that I seem familiar 
 with every room in the house. 
 
 "I should think that the large room with the French 
 furniture, and the dressing-room attached to it, would 
 suit us best. If we don't like it, we can easily make a 
 change. 
 
 " I am looking forward with the greatest pleasure to a few 
 months' residence in Lancashire. Darling Bootle tells me 
 that you have many very agreeable neighbours noted for 
 their hospitality, and that in Manchester they have ex- 
 cellent concerts and assemblies. I have no doubt I shall 
 contrive to get through the winter very well. 
 
 " I must now tell you, dearest mamma, what Bootle and 
 I have decided upon. We must have a grand ball to 
 celebrate our arrival at Belfield. That will set every- 
 body going. Darling Bootle says there can be no diffi- 
 culty in getting dancing men, since there is a cavalry 
 regiment in Manchester. Cards, I think, ought to be 
 sent out at once. I fear our proposed ball may put you 
 to a little inconvenience, but you won't mind that, once 
 in a way. Perhaps it might be well to have a dinner- 
 party, followed by a musical soiree, a few days before the 
 ball. If you approve of this suggestion, ask the nicest 
 people you know to the dinner, including the colonel of the 
 regiment and three or four of the officers, with lots of 
 refreshers for the evening. As we mean to be very gay 
 this winter, a dinner and ball will ensure us plenty of 
 invitations. 
 
 " And now, dearest mamma, a word in conclusion. 
 If J understand myself at all, I am of a very amiable clis- 
 
Mrs. Bootle ShehnerdinJ s Letter. 273 
 
 position, and remarkably forgiving. In referring for a 
 moment to the little misunderstanding which occurred 
 before my marriage, I do so merely to say that I desire to 
 think no more about it. It must be satisfactory to you 
 to hear that darling Bootle and I get on together 
 famously. He adores me at least, he tells me so, and 
 I am bound to believe him. When you know me better, 
 I am quite sure you will like me, or you will be an ex- 
 ception to the general rule, for everybody does like me. 
 Mrs. Malaprop, as you know, says it is well to begin 
 with a little aversion, and, as you disliked me at first, 
 so I feel certain you will end by becoming excessively 
 fond of me. 
 
 "With our united best love to dearest papa and 
 yourself, 
 
 " Believe me, 
 " Your very affectionate daughter, 
 
 " THEOPHANIA SHELMERDINE." 
 
 Before despatching this letter, which she considered a 
 masterpiece, Mrs. Bootle read it to her husband and her 
 mother. Bootle was greatly amused by it, but Mrs. 
 Flaxyard, though equally amused, expressed her dis- 
 approbation. 
 
 " You mustn't send such a letter as that, my love," she 
 said. " If you do, you'll never enter Belfield." 
 
 " We shall see," replied Mrs. Bootle, confidently. 
 "I must take the high hand with the old lady. If I 
 were to write in a humble strain, she would think 
 nothing of me probably decline to receive me. This 
 letter will bring her to her senses. She will perceive 
 that I won't stand any nonsense that I mean to be 
 treated properly as her daughter-in-law should be treated 
 and she will give way." 
 
 " I sincerely hope she may. But I own I feel rather 
 nervous about it." 
 
 "You are always nervous, mamma. I have no mis- 
 giving. What will you say if I ask you and papa and 
 Hornby to the ball ? " 
 
 " I shall say that you have worked wonders. But I 
 shan't believe it till we get the invitation." 
 18 
 
274 
 
 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 "She'll do it if she sets about it," remarked Bootle. 
 "The little woman is equal to anything. I hope you will 
 all come to Belfield. We shall have a jolly time of it 
 if you do." 
 
 "Little chance of it, I fear," rejoined Mrs. Flaxyard. 
 
 " Every chance, mamma," said Mrs. Bootle. " This is 
 the first step towards it. See this letter posted, darling 
 boy," she added, giving it to her husband 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 SHOWING THE EFFECT OF THE LETTER. 
 
 jjHE letter was sent, and reached its destination next 
 morning. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Shelmerdine were at breakfast in 
 the spacious and well-furnished dining-room at 
 Belfield when it was delivered. Glancing at the direction, 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine laid it down, but curiosity getting the 
 better of her disgu^x she opened it 
 
 A perfect explosu>^ of rage succeeded the perusal. 
 " What's the matter, my dear?" inquired John, who had 
 some suspicion of the truth. 
 
 "Read that, and you will learn," rejoined his wife, 
 tossing the letter to him. "This is of a piece with her 
 previous conduct, though I must say that it goes beyond 
 any notions I had formed of her." 
 
 After scanning the letter, John laughed very heartily. 
 " So she wants to give a dinner and ball on her arrival," 
 he remarked. " Not a bad idea, eh ! " 
 
 " Before she gives a dinner and a ball at Belfield she 
 must first get into the house," rejoined the lady, haughtily. 
 " This is not a laughable matter, Mr. Shelmerdine. It is 
 18 2 
 
276 Myddleton Poiiifret. 
 
 very serious, at least, to me. If you were not a party to 
 the scheme, you would be shocked, and not laugh. All 
 things considered, there never was a more impudent 
 proceeding. After I had positively declined to receive 
 her, she coolly writes to say she is coming, selects her own 
 room, and enjoins me to issue invitations for a dinner and a 
 ball to announce her arrival to the neighbourhood. Can 
 impudence go beyond that ? " 
 
 " Take a more good-natured view of the matter, my dear, 
 and comply with her request. This letter I believe to be 
 written at Beetle's suggestion." 
 
 " Maybe so," she rejoined, sharply. " But that does not 
 alter my opinion of it. If Bootle had married a lady, I 
 should have been delighted to have his wife with me as long 
 as she chose to make this house her home. But here is a 
 vulgar creature, who tries to force herself upon me whether 
 I will or not, who dictates to me what I am to do, and 
 almost intimates that she means to take the reins out of my 
 hand." 
 
 " No such thing is meant, my dear," said John, in a 
 deprecatory tone. " However disagreeable it may be, you 
 cannot refuse to receive Bootle and his wife, and to give 
 them a home in this house as long as they choose to stay 
 with us. Indeed, it is my express wish that you should do 
 so. And I think you will do wisely, as well as kindly, to 
 carry out their suggestions. Before Bootless marriage, 
 opposition might have answered some purpose, but now 
 that the step has been taken, you must reconcile yourself 
 to it." 
 
 " Since it is your express wish, Mr. Shelmerdine, that I 
 should receive her, I will do so," replied his wife, after a 
 little reflection, which she aided by a cup of tea. " I should 
 very much prefer waiting till the spring, to see how she goes 
 on ; but if you desire to have them here now I will obey, 
 however repugnant compliance may be to my own feelings." 
 
 " Kindly and sensibly resolved, my dear," said John, 
 " and just what I expected from you. I am sure you will 
 like our daughter-in-law." 
 
 "To like her is an impossibility," she rejoined, in a 
 scornful voice. " But I will strive to tolerate her. Belfield 
 will be no longer Belfield when she sets foot in it." 
 
Showing the Effect of the Letter. 277 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear ; the house will be a great deal 
 livelier, that will be the only difference. We want a little 
 stirring up. I am of opinion that you will find Mrs. Bootle 
 an exceedingly agreeable companion. Everybody seems to 
 like her. Bootle, as you know, says she has been greatly 
 admired on the Continent, and I feel convinced she will be 
 very popular here." 
 
 "Amongst men, perhaps. But to me her manner is 
 detestable. I wish I could correct it." 
 
 " Pray don't make the attempt, my dear. And since you 
 have so kindly consented to waive your objections, let me 
 entreat you to go a little further, and make up your mind 
 not to meddle with our daughter-in-law. This is quite 
 necessary for Bootless sake. Interference with married 
 people always makes mischief. However, I need say no 
 more. Your own good sense and feeling will prompt the 
 right course to be taken. Will you answer her letter, or 
 shall I ? " 
 
 " I could not trust myself to answer it at least in the 
 spirit you desire." 
 
 " Then I will," cried John. " Shall I say anything about 
 the dinner and the ball ? " 
 
 " Just as you please," she rejoined, heaving a deep sigh. 
 " I may as well resign myself at once. If anything goes 
 wrong, the responsibility will rest on your shoulders." 
 
 "They are quite wide enough to bear it," he rejoined, 
 cheerfully. 
 
 So he wrote a letter to his daughter-in-law, which caused 
 her the most extravagant delight. 
 
 " You see what I have accomplished," she cried, 
 triumphantly, after reading it to her mother and Bootle. 
 "All difficulties have vanished before the stroke of my 
 magical pen. Mrs. Shelmerdine has eaten humble pie. 
 We shall be made heartily welcome at Belfield, and are to 
 have the dinner and the ball. So far well. But my triumph 
 will be incomplete," she added to her mother, " unless you 
 are all present at the ball. I will have you there." 
 
 Mrs. Flaxyard lifted up her hands. 
 
 "And she'll do it, too, since she says so," remarked 
 Bootle, who was lost in admiration of his wife's generalship, 
 *' Never was such a wonderful little wonian, \ " 
 
278 
 
 Myddleton Pomfret? 
 
 When old Flaxyard and Hornby came home from the 
 City, and the good news was imparted to them, they could 
 scarcely credit it. 
 
 That night there was great rejoicing at the Acacias, 
 and an immense deal of Lafitte was knbibed by the 
 young men. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE ARRIVAL AT BELFIELD. 
 
 J|ELFIELD whither we now propose to conduct 
 the reader is pleasantly situated on the slope of 
 a hill, about a couple of miles to the north of 
 Bury, on the road to Haslingden. It is a large 
 white mansion, of formal, but imposing appearance, and 
 overlooks a country agreeably diversified with hill and 
 valley, with brown bleak moors, and a bolder and higher 
 range of hills in the distance. The view from the terrace, 
 comprehending the adjacent town of Bury, with Bolton on 
 the one hand, and Rochdale on the other, would be very 
 striking, but for the evidences afforded to the beholder that 
 he is in the midst of a populous manufacturing district. 
 Cotton-mills the ugliest structures ever devised by man 
 offend the gaze on all sides, and darken the air with the 
 smoke from thejr tall chimneys. The fields are converted 
 into bleaching-grounds, and the once clear rivulets, coursing 
 through the once charming valleys, are polluted by dye- 
 works, and empty themselves into the Irwell, which flows 
 past the grounds of Belfield on its way to Manchester. 
 Our worthy friend Mr. ghelmerdinej we are quite aware, 
 
280 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 differs from us most materially in regard to the charm of the 
 prospect commanded by his residence. In his eyes the 
 picture has no blemish. He does not dislike cotton factories 
 not he ! neither does he object to print-works nor to 
 bleach-works. The dingy colour of the Irwell does not 
 offend him, and he rather likes to look upon the cloud of 
 smoke hanging like a pall over distant Manchester. His 
 earliest associations being connected with this district, it 
 still retains a strong hold upon his affections. Nothing to 
 his mind can be more beautiful than the neighbourhood of 
 Bury, and he would not change his large formal mansion, 
 with its uniform ranges of windows, its stately Ionic 
 columns, its rustic stone basement, and broad double flight 
 of steps, leading to the principal entrance, for the oldest 
 and most picturesquely situated hall in Cheshire. 
 
 From the stately terrace of Belfield our worthy friend can 
 distinguish a miserable row of cottages such cottages as 
 are only to be seen in a manufacturing district. In one of 
 the poorest of those hovels dwelt his mother he never 
 knew a father's care and she has long since been released 
 from toil and misery. John's eye often wanders in the 
 direction of that lowly hut, and he thinks of his early 
 struggles and aspirations. His ambition was to become a 
 mill-owner, and by prudence and indomitable perseverance 
 he has realised the dream. 
 
 While making his way to wealth, Mr. Shelmerdine often 
 said that when he had sufficient means he would build the 
 handsomest mansion in the neighbourhood of Bury. He 
 kept his word, and built Belfield, which he flatters himself is 
 the handsomest and best-situated house in the neighbour- 
 hood. 
 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine, whose associations are different from 
 those of her husband, and who likes old mansions and well- 
 timbered parks, and abominates factories and dye-works, 
 would fain have had him purchase a place in Cheshire. 
 But John would not listen to the suggestion. Having built 
 Belfield, he resolved to stay there. 
 
 We must not find fault with Belfield, or we shall forfeit 
 Our friend's good opinion ; but we confess that, like Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine, we should prefer a place in Cheshire. How^ 
 eyer, that is. mere matter of taste. Beyond cjispute, Belfif J(J 
 
The Arrival at Belfield. 281 
 
 is a very fine mansion, and possesses a vast number 
 of spacious apartments. The magnificent entrance-hall is 
 adorned with busts .statues, and groups of marble, executed 
 by modern Italian sculptors. The dining-room, which 
 will accommodate no end of guests, has a coved ceiling, 
 supported at one end by pillars, and its walls are covered 
 by the best specimens of modern art. Then there is a vast 
 saloon, gorgeously fitted up in the style of Louis XV. 
 Another and somewhat smaller morning-room has a con- 
 servatory attached to it. Besides these, there are several 
 other apartments on the same floor namely, a library, a 
 billiard-room, and a smoking-room. A splendid staircase 
 conducts from the entrance-hall to the upper story. Here 
 many of the rooms are spacious, and all lofty and well 
 furnished. Owing to the number of windows and the width 
 of the passages, the house has a remarkably light and 
 cheerful air. 
 
 The grounds of Belfield, though not very extensive, are 
 nicely laid out. The shrubberies, which of course were 
 planted by our friend, are getting on tolerably well, but 
 unquestionably the place looks too new. It wants timber ; 
 and something, perhaps, besides timber. The tallest trees 
 among the plantations are poplars, and these add to the 
 formal character of the edifice. A large lawn, smooth and 
 soft as velvet, is spread out in front of the mansion, and in 
 summer the parterres and borders are embellished by the 
 choicest flowers. There is also an excellent walled-in 
 garden, with hothouses and greenhouses. The slopes on 
 the further side of the hill are skirted by the Irwell, which 
 bounds our friend's property in this quarter ; but the river, 
 owing to its Stygian hue, does not enhance the beauty of 
 the scene. 
 
 About half-past nine, on a fine frosty day towards the end 
 of November, Mr. and Mrs. Bootle Shelmerdine left the 
 Euston station for Bury. The young couple were accom^ 
 panied by two French servants, whom they had brought 
 with them from Paris namely, Monsieur Emile Pochet, a 
 very fine gentleman, who condescended to serve Bootle in 
 the capacity of valet, and Mam'selle Ldontine Latrompette, 
 Mrs. Bootle's pretty and extremely coquettish femjrje. d 
 Charnbre, 
 
28 J s Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 Mam'selle L^ontine, a lively brunette, whose chief 
 personal attractions consisted in a pair of remarkably fine 
 black eyes, capable of any expression, and two ranges of 
 small pearly teeth, which she took frequent occasion to 
 display, and Monsieur Emile, whose jet black hair was 
 cropped close to the head, and whose sallow cheeks were 
 so carefully shaven that they looked perfectly blue these 
 two personages, we say, who knew nothing more of England 
 than had come under their observation between Dover and 
 London, were tolerably well pleased with the country 
 through which they travelled till they reached Stockport. 
 Then the forest of tall, chimneys that burst upon them as 
 they crossed the viaduct that carries the railway over the 
 town, the smoke-begrimed buildings, and the reeky atmos- 
 phere rilled them with intense disgust. 
 
 " Mon Dieu ! what a frightful town ! " exclaimed Ldon- 
 tine. " A thousand times worse than Lille." 
 
 Monsieur Emile never had had the misfortune to see Lille, 
 but he felt sure it could not possibly be so bad as Stockport. 
 
 Manchester, which seemed almost to begin when they got 
 out of Stockport, heightened their disgust, and they gazed 
 almost with horror at the huge, black, many-windowed piles 
 that rose before them on all sides. 
 
 " What a city ! what buildings ! what a populace ! " ex- 
 claimed Emile, piteously. " Till now, I had no idea what 
 perfidious Albion was like. Execrable country ! We must 
 go back to Paris, Mam'selle. I cannot exist in an infernal 
 region like this." 
 
 Leontine quite concurred with him in opinion, and they 
 continued to abuse everything they beheld till they arrived 
 at Bury, when the necessity of attending to their master and 
 mistress turned their thoughts in another direction. 
 
 Mrs. Bootle had shared the sentiments of her suivante. 
 Stockport and Manchester, as seen through the windows of 
 the coupe occupied by herself and darling Bootle, had 
 positively appalled her. Never having been in this part of 
 the country before, she had but a very imperfect notion of 
 what a large manufacturing town is like. Nothing so ugly 
 as those clusters of factories, with the surrounding dingy 
 habitations, had entered into her ideas. With a sickening 
 heart she turned to her husband, and said, 
 
The Arrival at Bdfield. 283 
 
 " I hope Bury is not like this, dearest boy." 
 
 " Ten times worse," replied Bootle, who was tranquilly 
 enjoying a cigar. "At Bury there are twice as many 
 cotton-mills, five times as many chimneys, and the air is so 
 full of smoke that you can't swallow it." 
 
 "I can't swallow your description, dear boy," she re- 
 joined. " But if it really is worse than this, I shall soon bid 
 adieu to Belfield.". 
 
 " Well, you'll see what it's like presently." 
 
 The aspect of the country improved as they went on, and 
 by the time they reached their destination Mrs. Bootle had 
 quite recovered her spirits. Attired in a most becoming 
 toilette de voyage, of which a blue velvet mantle trimmed 
 with sable formed the most conspicuous feature, and wearing 
 the prettiest little chapeau rond that ever came from the 
 Rue Vivienne, she looked charming in the eyes of Papa 
 Shelmerdine, who was waiting her arrival on the platform. 
 Kissing her very heartily as he helped her out, he at once 
 conducted her to a well-appointed barouche which was 
 drawn up close by, and while doing so attempted some 
 apologies for the absence of his wife. Mrs. Bootle, how- 
 ever, quickly relieved his embarrassment by saying that she 
 didn't in the least expect to see her. 
 
 Having bestowed his daughter-in-law safely in the 
 barouche, John then returned to Bootle, who, with the aid 
 of his own valet and his father's footman, Broadbent, was 
 getting sundry cloaks, wraps, and other articles out of the 
 coupe. Mam'selle Le'ontine was standing by, and per- 
 ceiving that she could be of little use, John good-naturedly 
 took her to the barouche, and placed her opposite her 
 mistress. A discussion next took place between father and 
 son in regard to the enormous quantity of boxes which Mrs. 
 Bootle had brought from town ; the result being that Broad- 
 bent, " a very intelligent chap," according to John, was left 
 in charge of a van-load of milliners' boxes and trunks. 
 This important matter settled, Mr. Shelmerdine and Bootle 
 got into the barouche, the old gentleman seating himself 
 beside his pretty daughter-in-law, of whom he felt not a 
 little proud, and Bootle taking the only vacant place, which 
 of course was next to Leontine, while the gentleman-like 
 Emile mounted to the seat erstwhile occupied by Broad* 
 
284 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 bent. In this manner they drove off, exciting the admira- 
 tion of a number of persons on the platform, who had 
 lingered to witness their departure. 
 
 Whether it was that she was gratified by her reception, or 
 determined to see everything en beau, Mrs. Bootle appeared 
 delighted with Bury. John pointed out his mill to her, and 
 though it exactly resembled one of the large factories she 
 had seen at Manchester, boasted as tall a chimney, numbered 
 as many windows, smoked just as much, and made just as 
 great a din with its machinery and engines, she professed to 
 be wonder-struck by it, and told her dearest papa that he 
 must take her over it one of these days, which he readily 
 promised to do. Even Ldontine was in ecstasies at the 
 sight of the grand bailment, Bootle smoked his cigar 
 quietly and said nothing, but a twinkle in his eye betrayed 
 his thoughts. 
 
 A splendid pair of horses being attached to the barouche, 
 and Pollard, the coachman, putting them along as soon as 
 he got out of the town, which was crowded with waggons, 
 the party soon reached the rather ostentatious lodge that 
 guarded the entrance to Belfield. The gate was thrown 
 wide open, and the good dame who occupied the lodge 
 with her daughter the latter being a fair specimen of a 
 Lancashire lass curtseyed respectfully to Mrs. Bootle, and 
 said something which that young lady did not understand, 
 though she guessed its import. The mansion, now coming 
 full in view, elicited a genuine burst of admiration from 
 Mrs. Bootle, and sundry exclamations of rapture from the 
 irrepressible L^ontine. 
 
 " Ah ! quelle jolie campagne ! c'est ddicieuse superbe!" 
 exclaimed the soubrette. " Madame doit etre bien heureuse 
 ici et moi aussi." 
 
 Mr. Shelmerdine did not talk much French. In fact, he 
 didn't speak the language at all, but Ldontine's looks and 
 gestures were so expressive that he could not fail to under- 
 stand her. Her enthusiasm gratified him. Whether 
 Ldon tine's raptures were feigned or not, we won't pretend to 
 say, but Mrs. Bootle really was struck by the appearance of 
 the mansion. It was a much finer place than she expected, 
 and she told Mr. Shelmerdine so with a frankness that 
 charmed him, {* Qt being called upon, to. express any opinion^ , 
 
The Arrival at Belfidd. 285 
 
 Bootle never took his cigar from his lips, but laughed to 
 himself at what was said. The drive to the house was 
 skirted by a plantation, and fenced off from the meadows by 
 iron hurdles, and, the gentle ascent being at length sur- 
 mounted, the carriage drew up at the foot of the nearest 
 flight of steps. Mr. Knowles, the portly butler, and two 
 footmen in the Shelmerdine livery, were on the steps, but no 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine could be seen. 
 
 John alighted first, and conducted his daughter-in-law into 
 the house the swing-doors being thrown wide open by the 
 bowing servants. He detained her for a short time in the 
 entrance-hall, under pretence of pointing out the various 
 objects to her, and hoping his wife would appear; but being 
 disappointed in the expectation, he took his daughter-in- 
 law to the drawing-room. 
 
 The only person who went with them . was Bootle, Mr. 
 Knowles no doubt comprehending that his presence at the 
 meeting might not be desirable. 
 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine was seated in a fauteuil near the fire at 
 the farther end of the spacious saloon, and was too much 
 engrossed, we may suppose, by the newspaper she was 
 reading to notice their entrance. At all events, she did not 
 look round, or change her posture in any way, till ad- 
 monished- by her husband, who called out rather loudly, 
 " My dear ! Bootle and his wife ? " 
 
 She then arose, deliberately laid down the newspaper, and 
 advanced with a slow and dignified step to greet her 
 daughter-in-law. Bootle watched the proceedings through 
 his eye-glass, prepared to support his wife if occasion should 
 require it. 
 
 Nothing daunted by her mother-in-law's cold and 
 repelling looks, and feeling that something must be done, 
 Mrs. Bootle sprang forward, and flinging her arms round 
 the proud lady's neck, kissed her affectionately. The 
 embrace, we may be sure, was not returned, and as soon as 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine could release herself, without offering a 
 word of welcome, she prayed her daughter-in-law to be 
 seated, and addressed herself to Bootle, probably intending 
 to favour him with a maternal salute, but the irate young 
 gentleman drew back. 
 
 " No, thank you, Ma'am ! " he cried. " Much obliged to 
 
286 Myddleton PomfreL 
 
 you all the same. If you won't kiss my wife, you shan't 
 kiss me. I didn't bring her to my father's house to be 
 treated in this style, I can tell you. Let us have no more of 
 it, if you please." 
 
 Never before having been addressed in such language by 
 her son, Mrs. Shelmerdine was quite taken aback. 
 
 " How silly you are, dearest boy ! " cried Mrs. Bootle. 
 " What would you have dear mamma do ? She has given 
 me a most cordial reception." 
 
 " Has she ! " cried Bootle. " Then I don't know what a 
 cordial reception is." 
 
 " I'm sure I'm delighted to see you, my dear," observed 
 his mother. 
 
 " Bother ! " cried Bootle. " Behave properly to my wife. 
 Say you're glad to see her, and I shall be satisfied." 
 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine did not say this, but seated herself in a 
 stately manner beside her daughter-in-law, expressing a hope 
 that she had had a pleasant journey from town expressing 
 a further hope that she had left Mr. and Mrs. Flaxyard and 
 Mr. Hornby quite well. 
 
 "All quite well. Nothing could be pleasanter than the 
 journey. Darling Bootle and herself had occupied a coupd, 
 and he smoked all the way." 
 
 " Very agreeable," remarked Mrs. Shelmerdine, dryly. 
 
 " Yes, I don't mind the odour of a cigar in the least. I 
 never interfere with my darling boy's enjoyments. I'm afraid 
 you will think I spoil him sadly, for I let him do just what 
 he likes. The old people are in capital preservation, and 
 desire all sorts of kind messages to you. They are longing 
 to see Belfield." 
 
 " I hope they will soon run down, and have a look at us," 
 remarked John. 
 
 " Of course they will," said Bootle, greatly to his mother's 
 horror. 
 
 But her dismay was increased when Mrs. Bootle 
 added, 
 
 " If quite agreeable to you, dear mamma, I should like to 
 ask them and Hornby to the ball." 
 
 "We'll talk about that by-and-by," rejoined Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine, evasively. 
 
 "Well, to tell you the truth, dearest mamma, I have 
 
The Arrival at Belfietd. a7 
 
 already invited them," said Mrs. Bootle. "I thought I 
 might venture to do so." 
 
 " Invited them ! without my sanction ! " cried Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine. " You have taken an unheard-of liberty. I 
 shall put off the ball." 
 
 " No, no, my dear. The ball cannot be put off," said 
 John, gravely and firmly. " It is quite proper that our new 
 relations should he invited, and as I have just said, I shall be 
 very glad to see them. In the presence of my daughter-in- 
 law, whom I am proud and happy to welcome here, I 
 declare that I like her family, and am better pleased that 
 my son has connected himself with them than if he married 
 a duchess. Mr. Flaxyard cannot object to me on the score 
 of my humble origin, neither can I object to him for a like 
 reason. We have both made pur own way in the world. 
 The match, therefore, between our children, is perfectly 
 suitable. Don't let family pride stick in your throat, my 
 dear, but gulp it down as you would a bitter draught, and 
 have done with it." 
 
 The draught was too bitter for Mrs. Shelmerdine. She 
 made a wry face, but could not swallow it. 
 
 " I must stand up for papa and mamma, at the hazard of 
 giving you offence, Ma'am/' said Mrs. Bootle. " They are 
 very nice people though perhaps I ought not to say so 
 
 very much liked in their own society " 
 
 "And not in the least vulgar," supplied Mrs. Shelmerdine. 
 " Not half so vulgar as many other people who are proud 
 of their musty ancestors," retorted Mrs. Bootle. " If not 
 well born, they are well bred, and always show proper 
 consideration for the feelings of other people. If I am to 
 remain in this house, papa," she added to him, "they must 
 not be excluded from it." 
 
 " They shall not be excluded," said John, emphatically. 
 "They shall come to the ball." 
 
 " Oh ! thank you, dearest papa ! thank you ! " cried his 
 daughter-in-law. 
 
 " Mr. Shelmerdine, you are master here, and can do as 
 you please," said his wife j " but I beg that the invitation 
 may not be sent in my name." 
 
 " It has already been given in mine," observed Bootle. 
 " I knew the governor wouldn't object." 
 
28 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 "You judged him quite right, my boy," said John. 
 " Your wife shall ask anybody she pleases anybody." 
 
 " Oh ! you are the dearest and best papa in the world ! " 
 cried Mrs. Bootle, with effusion. "But I shall always 
 consult dear mamma if she will let me." 
 
 " Consult me! That is quite unnecessary, after what Mr. 
 Shelmerdine has said. I am no longer to have a voice in 
 my own house, it appears." 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear," said John. " No interference 
 whatever with you is intended. But I wish my daughter-in- 
 law to feel perfectly at home here, and to do exactly what 
 she likes." 
 
 "Then she is mistress, and not I, and I may as well 
 resign my authority at once." 
 
 " Papa does not mean anything of the sort, dear mamma," 
 cried Mrs. Bootle. " Be sure that I have no intention of 
 usurping your authority. Perhaps I resented your remarks 
 upon the elderly parties at home rather too strongly, but I 
 trust you will forgive me, on reflection." 
 
 " You were quite right to stick up for them, Tiff," said 
 Bootle. " I won't allow them to be run down." 
 
 " You are a degenerate boy, Bootle, and have no proper 
 pride," rejoined his mother. 
 
 "Yes I have," he retorted. "lam proud of my little 
 wife, and I fancy before long you will become proud of her 
 too." 
 
 " Never was such infatuation," muttered Mrs. Shel- 
 merdine. 
 
 " Infatuated or not, I'm perfectly happy, and that's the 
 main point," said Bootle. 
 
 " Come, there must be an end of this," interposed John. 
 " We must contrive to live together in peace and harmony. 
 You must concede certain points, my dear," he added to his 
 wife, " in order to make your daughter-in-law comfortable. 
 And you, my love," he continued to Mrs. Bootle, "must 
 study your mother-in-law, and take all she says in good 
 part. These things attended to, we shall go on very 
 smoothly." 
 
 " I'm quite agreeable," said the younger lady, readily. 
 
 " You don't answer, my dear," observed Mr. Shelme ? rdine 
 to his spouse. 
 
The Arrival at Belfield. 289 
 
 "Before answering, I should like to know what con- 
 cessions I am expected to make," she rejoined. 
 
 " Only such as your own good feelings will prompt," said 
 John. "Mrs. Bootle is to be quite at home here to do 
 what she likes, without the slightest interference from either 
 of us and may ask whomsoever she pleases." 
 
 To prevent any further rejoinder, he then proposed to 
 show his daughter-in-law over the house, and hurried her 
 out of the room, rejoicing that the dreaded meeting had 
 been got over so well. 
 

 CHAPTER V. 
 
 MRS. BOOTLE'S LETTER TO HER MAMMA. 
 
 SIRS. BOOTLE'S impressions of Belfield will, we 
 think, be best conveyed by a letter which she 
 addressed to her mamma about a week after her 
 arrival. 
 
 Belfield, Bury, Dec. , 186 . 
 
 " I sent you a hurried letter, dearest mamma, to announce 
 our arrival here ; but I have purposely delayed writing again 
 till I could tell you exactly what I think of the place. I am 
 delighted with Belfield, and with all belonging to it with 
 one important exception. 
 
 "Darling Bootle is not half so attentive to me as his 
 papa, who makes the greatest possible fuss of me, and never 
 likes me to be out of his sight. With madame la mfcre I 
 am now on tolerably good terms. We hate each other just 
 as heartily as ever, but have agreed to keep the peace, and 
 though we have now and then a little sparring, in which I 
 am sure to get the best of it, being the lighter and quicker 
 of the two, we never come to actual fisticuffs. What we 
 may do one of these days I won't say, for my angelic temper 
 is often ruffled ; but, if there should be a fight, it will be a 
 good one, I can promise you. 
 
Mrs. Booties Letter to Jier Mamma. 291 
 
 " Immediately after our arrival we had a slight set-to, w 
 which both Bootle and the governor backed me up, and, as 
 you may suppose, with so many against her, the old lady 
 was obliged to give in. This acted as a caution. However, 
 I am never alone with her if I can help it, and I always 
 make Bootle accompany us in our drives. The darling boy 
 displayed as much spirit as Mr. Moor of Moor Hall in our 
 first encounter with this terrible old dragon of Wantley. 
 
 " Our preliminary breeze had one effect, not exactly 
 anticipated by the old lady. It completely established my 
 position in the house. I am to do just what I please to 
 invite whom I please and am not to be interfered with in 
 any way whatever. Such was the governor's emphatic 
 declaration in the presence of his spouse. Oh ! he is such 
 a dear good old fellow, and I am so very, very fond of him. 
 
 " My first invitation is to you. You must all come down 
 to the dinner on the 5th and stay over the ball, which will 
 take place on the loth. Both will be very grand affairs, I 
 can tell you, and I think you will like Belfield. It will also, 
 I fancy, gratify you to see your daughter at the head no, 
 not quite, but nearly at the head of such a splendid 
 establishment. It is astonishing how well things are done 
 here. The cuisine is first-rate, as it ought to be, for 
 Marcellin, our chef, is a veritable cordon bleu. Emile, 
 Bootless valet, declares he has never seen such dinners out 
 of Paris. Hornby, who likes French cookery, will be 
 enchanted. 
 
 "The establishment is immense at least, it appears 
 immense to me but it is remarkably well ordered, and goes 
 as smoothly as the spinning-jennies in the governor's cotton- 
 mill, but without their noise. Unwilling as I am to admit 
 it, I really think the old lady deserves some credit for her 
 management. She makes an admirable housekeeper, and 
 on no account would I deprive her of the place. Leontine 
 attends to me, and Emile to Bootle. Bring Charlotte with 
 you, if you like, but don't let Hornby bring his valet. 
 
 " Though I delight in Belfield, I can't say that I like the 
 neighbourhood, it is so different from anything I have been 
 accustomed to, but I daresay I shall get reconciled to it in 
 time ; but whatever you may think, be careful to admire the 
 view, for the one point on which Mr. Shelmerdine is sensitive 
 
 *9 2 
 
29 2 Myddteton Pomfret. 
 
 is the situation of his house. Give papa and Hornby a hint 
 on this subject. 
 
 " You will be glad to hear that I have the most delicious 
 little boudoir imaginable, where I am writing this letter, and 
 where I can converse freely with Le'ontine, who is really 
 indispensable to me. You know how indulgent I am to 
 darling Bootle, but I won't allow him to smoke in my 
 boudoir, so he rarely troubles me, and his mother never 
 troubles me at all. Tell Hornby we have a famous billiard- 
 room, and a regular smoking divan. He can hunt four or 
 five times a week with the Cheshire fox-hounds, if he is so 
 inclined. 
 
 " Since our arrival has been made known in the neigh- 
 bourhood, we have had lots of morning visitors. Everybody, 
 who is anybody, I believe, has called upon us. As we have 
 had to return all these calls, our time has been fully 
 occupied, and we have naturally seen a great many houses 
 and a great many people. I like best the Huncoats of 
 Coldcoats, and I expect Hornby to fall in love with Milicent 
 Huncoat, the youngest daughter, who is uncommonly pretty 
 and lively. The Booth Bacopes of Hawbrook Hall, the 
 Oswaldtwistles of Chaidley, the Accringtons, the BrierclifFes, 
 and the Walmsleys, are also nice people. But you will soon 
 see them, and judge for yourself. All our friends are 
 wealthy, have got large houses, and live in very good style. 
 We have dined with the Huncoats, and Oswaldtwistles, and 
 have had very sumptuous entertainments. Almost every 
 day we have a little dinner-party at home. Mr. Shelmerdine, 
 I believe, is rarely without company. 
 
 " I flatter myself that I have caused a sensation. Nothing 
 like my toilettes, I am sure, have been seen in these parts, 
 and I can make myself agreeable, if I like, to men. Women 
 are so jealous of each other, that they won't admire you if 
 you are at all out of the 'common run. Some antiquated 
 dames, and a few not quite so antiquated, I can see, think 
 me too fast, but their better halves and sons don't share the 
 opinion. Milicent Huncoat, who is the prettiest girl I have 
 seen here, has taken to me amazingly. 
 
 "And now, dearest mamma, I am about to astonish you. 
 Yesterday we all drove over to Manchester in the barouche. 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine had some shopping to do in St. Ann's 
 
Mrs. Booth's Letter to her Mamma. 293 
 
 Square, so we drove there at once and set her down. 
 Bootle and I were left in the carriage, amusing ourselves by 
 quizzing the natives, when who should come up but Captain 
 Musgrave. There ! are you not astonished ? Yes, it was 
 Musgrave himself, and looking particularly handsome. 
 Wasn't it droll ? He was sauntering along listlessly, but the 
 moment he beheld your pretty little daughter in her French 
 chapeau and redingote, he sprang towards the carriage. 
 Recollecting the scene that had occurred at the Acacias, I 
 felt rather uneasy, not knowing how Bootle might take it, 
 but the darling boy behaved charmingly, as you shall hear. 
 
 " ' Ah, Captain Musgrave, is it really you ? ' I cried, as he 
 came up and shook hands, bowing at the same time to 
 Bootle. 'Who would have thought of seeing you in 
 Manchester ! " 
 
 " ' It is an unlikely place to see me at,' he rejoined, 
 laughing. ' But I have some friends in the 4oth Dragoons, 
 who are quartered here, and I have been spending a day or 
 two with them. I should have been equally surprised to 
 see you, had I not heard that you are at Belfield. I 
 intended to do myself the pleasure of calling on you to offer 
 my felicitations. Pray accept them now.' 
 
 " He then addressed Bootle, whose placid looks showed 
 him it was all right, and said : 
 
 " ' For the last fortnight I have been staying at Peovor 
 Hall, in Cheshire, with your uncle, Mr. Egerton Bootle, and 
 an awfully jolly time I have had of it good hunting, good 
 shooting, good society, good living, good everything/ 
 
 " l Bravo ! ' exclaimed Bootle. ' Peovor is a capital house 
 to stay at. Madam has not yet made her uncle's ac- 
 quaintance. That's a pleasure to come eh, Tiff? ' 
 
 " ' Does he resemble his sister ? ' I whispered. 
 
 " ' Rather/ replied my husband. 
 
 " Captain Musgrave guessed what I had said, even if he 
 didn't overhear the remark, for he immediately gave me a 
 very amusing picture of the old gentleman, which made us 
 both laugh immoderately. We were in the very midst of 
 our merriment, when Mrs. Shelmerdine, whom I had quite 
 forgotten, came out of the shop. Captain Musgrave must 
 be a striking-looking person, for she immediately recognised 
 him, though she had only seen him, once before for a few 
 
294 Myddlcton Pomfrd. 
 
 minutes, as you know, at the Acacias. Never shall I forget 
 her look of surprise. It was truly comical. Not in the 
 least abashed, Musgrave made her a most respectful bow, 
 and Bootle hastened to inform her that the captain had been 
 staying with her brother at Peovor. This altered matters in 
 a moment Musgrave, you may be quite sure, saw the right 
 line to take, and his praises of Mr. Egerton Bootle, and 
 enumeration of the county people whom he had met at 
 Peovor, acted like the softest of sawder. Mrs. Shelmerdine 
 thawed at once. Didn't raise the slightest objection when 
 Bootle asked the captain to come and spend a few days at 
 Belfield, but graciously added, as he assisted her into the 
 carriage, that she should be very glad to see him. So it was 
 settled that he should come next day, and come he did. 
 Indeed, he is here now. 
 
 " But I have not quite done with Manchester. Just as 
 we were about to drive off, and Musgrave was bidding us 
 adieu, two of the officers of the 4oth came up. These were 
 Major Fullarton arid Captain Frere, both beaux gardens, as 
 you will own, for you will see them at the dinner and ball, 
 and Musgrave's particular friends. The carriage was 
 instantly stopped. Presentations and a vast deal of 
 babillage took place, in the course of which many pretty 
 things were said to me by the officers ; the result being that 
 Bootle was invited by Major Fullarton to dine that day at 
 the barracks at Huime, or some such place. The major 
 apologised for taking my husband away, but I said I could 
 spare him, arid the dear boy accepted the invitation. This 
 is the first time he has dined out alone, but I am hot sorry 
 that I let him go ; for though, by his o\vn account, he got 
 rather screwed, he became better acquainted with Musgrave, 
 who, of course, formed one of the party. He slept at the 
 Queen's Hotel in Manchester that night, and Came over 
 next morning with the captain. 
 
 " You won't wonder that Musgrave has made his way 
 rapidly at Belfield, when I tell you that he pays the most 
 deferential atteiition to the old lady, arid has quite 
 succeeded in gaining her good graces. Mr. Shelmerdine 
 was rather surprised when he learnt that Bootle had invited 
 the captain to the house; but he -made no objection, though 
 I heard him mutter that his son was a fool, I daresay 
 
Mrs. Booth's Letter to her Mamma. 295 
 
 Musgrave would like to flirt with me, if I would allow him, 
 but I won't. Quite right, I know you will say. Darling 
 Bootle and the captain are the best friends possible. 
 
 "As I naturally feel some curiosity about poor Mrs. 
 Musgrave, I have questioned the captain about her, but can 
 learn very little from him. Whatever her faults may have 
 been, and I fear she must have had great faults, she is much 
 to be pitied. How beautiful we used to think her ! There 
 is something very strange in their sudden separation that I 
 never can make out, and Musgrave declines to enlighten me 
 on the subject. To say the least, the poor lady must have 
 been excessively foolish. The worst feature in the case, it 
 appears to me, and the circumstance that tells most against 
 her, is that she has not returned to her family, but is t living 
 somewhere in absolute retirement. I am sure papa kn9\vs 
 the whole truth of the story, if he would only tell it. But 
 he is so very close. Can't you get it out of him ? I don't 
 know why I take so much interest in the matter, except that 
 I should like to know positively whether she was to blame, 
 or Musgrave. This, at least, you can ascertain for me. You 
 will naturally ask, what does this signify to me? Not much; 
 but I am curious. 
 
 u Having full permission to ask whom I please to Belfieldj 
 I have exercised my privilege in favour of Eva Bracebridge, 
 and have invited her to stay with me. I think she will come, 
 though she has only accepted the invitation conditionally. 
 I like her, thotigli we differ on so many points, and I want 
 her to see how well I am married. I am sure she will be 
 impressed by Belfield. She is still residing at Hylton Park 
 Sir Norman Hylton's place and, as she could not reside 
 there alone, her aunt, Mrs. Daventry, performs the part 
 of" gouvernante, and takes care of her. She said she didn't 
 like leaving her aunt, so I have begged her to bring the 
 duenna with her. It will be good fun if they come. Her 
 guardian, Mr. Myddletqh Pomfret, who was thrown from his 
 horse and much injured, has quite recovered, and has gone 
 to Madras. I am sure she had a secret tendresse for him, 
 but he didn't appear to return it. My belief is that she will 
 marry Sir Norman. She can scarcely do less than give him 
 her hand after taking possession of his house. I hear he is 
 
 hnncril hp Vine K<=>/=>r twir/=k v^fnc^rl Tli^ thirr? 
 
2 $6 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 time will pay for all. She cannot do better, for he is 
 exceedingly handsome, gentleman-like, and agreeable. He 
 is a great friend of Major Fullarton, who, as well as Captain 
 Frere, dined with us yesterday, and the major talked to me 
 a great deal about him. He says that Sir Norman was quite 
 au de'sespoir when Eva left the Beau-Rivage, but his hopes 
 were unexpectedly revived during a morning call which he 
 made, contrary to his convention with mademoiselle, at 
 Hylton Park. Eva permitted him to become her suitor, but 
 would not give any promise of ultimate acceptance took 
 him on trial, in fact 
 
 \ " Major Fullarton was staying at Lord Huntercombe's, 
 where Sir Norman was a guest at the time, and heard all 
 about it Things still remain precisely in the same state. 
 Eva won't be hurried into a decision, and Sir Norman dares 
 not be too urgent, for fear of dismissal. The major hears 
 frequently from his friend, who has taken up his quarters at 
 a small place in the neighbourhood of his own castle. I 
 have such a strong sympathy for a despairing lover, that if 
 Eva decides upon coming to me, I shall get Bootle to invite 
 Sir Norman at the same time. 
 
 " There is one little obstacle in the way of this, and that 
 is Captain Musgrave. But perhaps he may be gone before 
 the others arrive. 
 
 " What a long letter I have written. I am afraid you will 
 never have patience to read it But I have entered into 
 these details to make you au fait with everything before your 
 arrival here. 
 
 "I don't know what papa will say about Captain 
 Musgrave being here, but you must keep him quiet 
 Hornby, I know, will be delighted. Tell him he will be 
 able to get up a rubber, but the governor won't stand lans- 
 quenet or ecarte'. Musgrave and Bootle spend half the day 
 in the billiard-room. They are there now. 
 
 " But I must bring this interminable letter to a close. 
 
 " With dearest love to papa, Hornby, and yourself, 
 
 " Believe me, 
 " Your very affectionate daughter, 
 
 " THEOPHANIA SHELMERDINE. 
 
 "P.S. Darling Bootle and Musgrave have just entered 
 
Mrs. Booties Letter to her Mamma. 297 
 
 my boudoir, but their habiliments exhaled such a powerful 
 odour of tubac, that I turned them out, after sprinkling them 
 liberally with eau-de-Cologne. Musgrave descried my 
 voluminous despatch to you, and wanted to read it. Of 
 course I wouldn't let him. Dearest B. desires to be 
 remembered to you all." 
 
 In acknowledging her daughter's letter, which she did 
 very promptly, Mrs. Flaxyard expressed the great grati- 
 fication it would afford them all to visit her at her new home, 
 where they were rejoiced to learn she was so happy, and to 
 take part in the proposed festivities. She also expressed her 
 satisfaction at the good understanding that subsisted 
 between her daughter and Mrs. Shelmerdine, to whom she 
 begged the united kind regards of herself and her family. 
 
 But she made no allusion to Captain Musgrave, and 
 concluded a rather brief letter singularly brief and guarded, 
 in comparison with the letter she had received by saying 
 that she had already begun to make preparations for the 
 anticipated pleasurable visit. 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 
 IN THE BILLIARD-ROOM. 
 
 jjOOTLE and Musgrave had been playing billiards 
 all morning, as was their wont ; Emile, who could 
 play a first-rate game himself if he had the chance, 
 acting as marker, when Bootle, who had won two 
 games running, and who was, consequently, in excellent 
 spirits, declared that he must go and have a look at his 
 wife, and throwing his cigar into the fire, left Musgrave 
 alone with the valet. 
 
 For a few minutes after his departure, Musgrave continued 
 knocking the balls about for his own amusement, making 
 some wonderful strokes, and showing Emile, who was 
 looking on in admiration, what he could do. 
 
 " Monsieur le Capitaine plays superbly," observed the 
 valet. " He can do what he likes with the balls." 
 
 " Your master plays better than I do, Emile," rejoined 
 Musgrave, with a peculiar smile. "He has beaten me 
 .wice this morning. In fact, as you know, he generally 
 Deals me." 
 
 " There may be a reason for that," said Emile. " But if 
 [ am not mistaken, M. le Capitaine could give him thirty, 
 ind still win," 
 
In the Billiard-Room. 299 
 
 " You think so, Emile ? " 
 
 " tf I were in a position to do so, I should like to make 
 a bet upon it, provided monsieur would engage not to give 
 away the game." 
 
 " You are a sharp fellow, Emile," cried Musgrave, laugh- 
 ing, and going on with his play. 
 
 " Billiards is not the only game at which M. le Capitaine 
 is habile; but he cannot hide his play from me. I am 
 quicksighted, but other people are quick-sighted too, and 
 I would recommend extreme caution. Monsieur will excuse 
 me. It is in his interest that I venture to offer this advice. 
 There are people capable of opening my master's eyes." 
 
 16 But you are not one of them, I am sure, Emile," said 
 Musgrave, leaning upon his cue, and regarding him stead- 
 fastly. 
 
 " Moi ! M. le Capitaine ! I despise such cowardly 
 infamy. I would never betray a gentleman who in- 
 advertently placed himself in my power, but trust entirely 
 to his generosity. I might make more perhaps by a 
 contrary line of conduct, but that would not suit me. Je 
 puis me rendre tres utile, Monsieur." 
 
 " Ou bien dangereux, n'est ce pas, mon ami ? " remarked 
 Musgrave. 
 
 " Monsieur has said it," rejoined Emile, bowing. 
 
 " Well, then, you may count upon my generosity, Emile." 
 
 " Mdilsieur has adopted the wisest course, and may 
 perfectly rely upon my zeal and fidelity," said Emile, placing 
 his hand on his heart. " I am not to be bought at any 
 price. But it will be necessary to secure Leon tine, whose 
 suspicions are already awakened. A French fenime de 
 chambre is endowed with wonderful acuteness, and can 
 detect an affair of this sort in a moment. But if acute, 
 Leontine is also loyal, and would scorn to betray her 
 mistress. The very first day that M. le Capitaine arrived at 
 Belfield, she observed to me, * Je vois bien que ce beau 
 monsieur est 1'amant de madarce." 
 
 " Votre Leontine a joliment menti," rejoined Musgrave. 
 
 " No doubt she was too free with her tongue ; but as she 
 only made the remark to me, it did not much signify. I 
 will answer for her, if " 
 
 6< I make it worth her while tn he silent. Well, her 
 
300 Myddldon Pomfrct. 
 
 mouth must be stopped, Emile. Here is wherewithal to do 
 it." he added, taking out his purse, and giving him all the 
 gold it contained. 
 
 Emile quickly pocketed the shiners. 
 
 "Henceforth Leontine and myself are entirely devoted 
 to Monsieur. A little message or a billet can be securely 
 delivered at any time. Ah ! voici monsieur et madame." 
 
 Flying to open the folding-door, he 'admitted Bootle and 
 his wife, and withdrew. 
 
 Mrs. Bootle, who was fresh from the hands of Ldontine, 
 and charmingly dressed as usual, looked in such good 
 spirits that Musgrave could not help asking the cause. 
 
 " I'll tell you what it is," said Bootle. " She has just had 
 a letter from her dearest mamma, to say they will all be here 
 to-day." 
 
 " Isn't that delightful ? " cried the young lady. 
 
 Musgrave didn't think it delightful, but he tried to look 
 pleased, and said what was proper to the occasion. 
 
 " Who else do you think is coming? " said Mrs. Bootle. 
 
 " Haveu't the least idea," 
 
 " Guess. No, you'll never guess, so 111 tell you. Eva 
 Bracebridge." 
 
 " Eva Bracebridge ! " exclaimed Musgrave, in astonish- 
 ment. " May I inquire when you expect her ? " 
 
 " On the Qth the day before the ball. She is bringing 
 her aunt, Mrs. Daventry, with her. I suppose you know 
 that Sir Norman Hylton is renewing his suit ? " 
 
 " Yes, I heard so from Fullarton, who corresponds with 
 him. I hope he will be refused for the third time." 
 
 " What a shocking wish ! You ought to conquer your 
 dislike to him. I must make you friends." 
 
 " I don't think that very probable, after our meeting at 
 Evian." 
 
 " That's the very reason why you ought to be friends. I 
 must bring it about. Bootle is going to invite him here at 
 the same time as Eva. I hope to have them both at the 
 ball." 
 
 Musgrave's brow darkened. 
 
 " I am afraid I shall not have the pleasure of appearing at 
 the ball," he said. 
 
 " Nonsense ! " she cried. " I won't hear of your de- 
 
In the Billiard-Room. 301 
 
 parture." Then, turning to Bootle, she added. " Do go 
 and write the invitation to Sir Norman, dearest boy, and 
 I'll enclose it in my letter to Eva." 
 
 "I wish you wouldn't send the invitation," remarked 
 Musgrave. " Sir Norman won't like to find me here. It 
 will be a bore to both of us but to me especially." 
 
 " Sorry for that, but I must adhere to my arrangement." 
 
 " Don't you see, she has got some scheme in her head," 
 observed Bootle. "When that's the case, the little woman 
 always will have her own way." 
 
 " Never mind my scheme, but go and write the note 
 there's a dear boy." 
 
 So Bootle left the room. 
 
 " You look displeased," she said to Musgrave, as soon as 
 they were alone. 
 
 "I may well look so," he rejoined, moodily. "You 
 seem to have taken every step to make my stay here 
 impossible. To-day your family arrive, and I feel almost 
 certain Mr. Flaxyard will object to my presence. This 
 perhaps was unavoidable, though I wish their visit could 
 have been postponed ; but you have gone out of the way to 
 invite Eva and Sir Norman, and I shall be compelled to 
 leave the house before they come." 
 
 "No. I won't allow you to go," she rejoined. "I see 
 no difficulty whatever in the matter." 
 
 " Well, I will remain if you desire it coute que coute. 
 You have now such absolute power over me, that I must 
 obey all your behests. I begin to wish that I had never 
 come here at all." 
 
 "Why so?" she cried. "You told me yesterday you 
 had never been so happy as now." 
 
 "I told you the truth. But to-day I am wretched. All 
 my dreams are dispersed all my hopes crushed by what 
 you have just told me." 
 
 " You ought not to indulge any such hopes, and I am 
 very glad they are crushed." 
 
 " You are a heartless coquette. You give me encourage- 
 ment for the mere pleasure of disappointing me." 
 
 " Call me what names you please, but I forbid you 
 positively to make love to me any more. You see how fond 
 darling Bootle is of me." 
 
302 Afyddldon Pomfret. 
 
 " He does not love you half so well as I do ! w cried 
 Musgrave, passionately. 
 
 " I know better. I don't mind a little innocent flirtation, 
 but I cannot allow any serious love-makipg." 
 
 And she prepared to leave the room. 
 
 " You cannot be insensible to a passion like mine," cried 
 Musgrave, detaining her. " You must listen to me." 
 
 " Release me instantly," she cried. " I won't listen to a 
 word more." 
 
 Musgrave still retained her hand, when the door opened, 
 and Emile entered. The discreet valet, however, appeared 
 to see nothing. 
 
 " Monsieur would like to speak to Madame for a moment 
 in the library," said Emile, without raising his eyes. 
 
 " Say I will come to him instantly," she replied. 
 
 And the. valet departed. 
 
 " You have compromised me with that man," she said, in 
 a reproachful voice. " What must he think of me ? " 
 
 " Heed not what he thinks," replied Musgrave. " He is 
 perfectly safe. Forgive me if I have offended you." 
 
 " Only on the assurance that you never presume to 
 address me in this strain again," she rejoined. 
 
 " You are without pity," he cried. 
 
 " pntirely so," she rejoined. " You will find it in vain to 
 move me, so I would recommend you not to make any 
 further attempt" 
 
 Musgrave uttered an ejaculation of despair. But he 
 laughed aloud as the door closed upon her. 
 
 " I shall win the game yet," he mentally exclaimed, as 
 he took up a cue and returned to the billiard-table. 
 

 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MRS. BOOTLE'S BOUDOIR. 
 
 IN the afternoon of the same day the Flaxyard 
 arrived at bury, and were met at the station by 
 the young people. Mrs. Bootle took charge of 
 papa and mamma and the lady's-maid ; Bootle 
 conveyed Hornby in his brougham ; and the luggage was 
 sent up to Belfield in the van. 
 
 It would be useless to describe the raptures of the elderly 
 folk as they approached the mansion. Mr. Shelmerdine 
 was waiting for them on the terrace with Captain Musgrave, 
 and greeted them most cordially. A disagreeable ordeal 
 had to be gone through within doors, but it was got over 
 better than might have been expected, and without any oi 
 the unpleasantness that attended Mrs. Bootle's entrance 
 into the mansion. 
 
 Luncheon was ready for the new comers, but they 
 declined it. Contenting themselves with a glass of sherry, 
 which was pressed upon them by their host, the two gentle- 
 men went out to take a survey of the premises, and visited 
 the gardens, the hot-houses, and the stables. Old Flaxyard 
 thought everything perfect. Hornby, who was not a bad 
 judge, declared that he never saw finer horses than those 
 
304 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 exhibited to him. Both father and son took care to praise 
 the view, though they could not see it very distinctly, but 
 the factories, being already lighted up, produced rather a 
 brilliant effect. 
 
 While the gentlemen were thus employed, Mrs. Bootle 
 showed her mamma over a portion of the house, with which 
 the elderly lady was enchanted, and then took her to the 
 boudoir, that they might have a quiet chat together. 
 
 "Well, mamma!" cried the younger lady, laughing, 
 " who was right you or I ? Here you all are at Belfield. 
 Own that you have got a very clever little daughter." 
 
 "Yes, I do own it," said Mrs. Flaxyard, kissing her 
 affectionately. " I am delighted to see you in this charming 
 mansion. My only anxiety is that you should maintain your 
 position." 
 
 " Maintain it, mamma ! No fear of that. You will soon 
 find out what a favourite I am with Mr. Shelmerdine. 
 Besides, I have managed to put down all opposition." 
 
 " Not quite, I fear. I did not trust myself to write on 
 the subject especially as we were to meet so soon but I 
 was excessively sorry to find Captain Musgrave installed in 
 the house. He is very agreeable, I own very fascinating 
 but I know something of his character, and he is not the sort 
 of person who ought to be here. On no account, my dear 
 child, must you get talked about; and talked about you 
 will be, depend upon it, if he remains here long." 
 
 "You alarm yourself very unnecessarily, dearest mamma. 
 As far as I am concerned, I have no desire that Captain 
 Musgrave should remain an hour longer; but I can't 
 exactly turn him out. As I explained to you in my letter, 
 he was invited by Bootle, not by me." 
 
 "Excuse a mother's uneasiness, my love. You are so 
 delightfully circumstanced, and have obtained such an 
 enviable position, that I wouldn't for the world you should 
 forfeit it by an indiscretion. Not that I fear anything wrong 
 don't misunderstand me for a moment but the world is 
 very censorious. Captain Musgrave is notoriously a mauvais 
 sujet you are very pretty and very lively and his attentions 
 to you are certain to be commented on." 
 
 " But, dearest mamma; he pays me no attention as you 
 will find." 
 
Mrs. Bootless Boudoir. 305 
 
 "That only convinces me he has a dangerous design. 
 His attentions to Mrs. Shelmerdine his attentions to 
 Bootle are part of a fixed plan. However he may seek to 
 disguise it, you are his real mark. Belfield would have very 
 little attraction for Captain Musgrave without you, my 
 dear." 
 
 " I don't at all agree with you, mamma ; but if you think 
 it necessary, I can easily give him a hint to go. But please 
 let him stay over the ball. I hope you admire my boudoir," 
 she added, in order to change the subject. " Isn't it 
 pretty? There is such a delightful look-out into the 
 garden." 
 
 " So I see," replied Mrs. Flaxyard, rising, and advancing 
 to the window. 
 
 Just at this moment, Le'ontine entered. Not perceiving 
 Mrs. Flaxyard, who was concealed from her by the window- 
 curtains, she exclaimed : 
 
 " Un billet pour Madame de la part de M. le Capitaine." 
 
 "From whom?" cried Mrs. Flaxyard, coming back 
 quickly. " From the captain, did you say, Le'ontine ? " 
 
 " I said so, Madame," rejoined the soubrette, made aware 
 of her indiscretion, and eager to repair it, " but I know 
 nothing about it. The billet was given me by^Emile. Most 
 likely he was mistaken. He is very stupid." 
 
 "The note is not for me, but for Mrs. Shelmerdine," 
 said Mrs. Bootle, with perfect composure. " Most likely an 
 answer to an invitation. Take it to her at once, Le'ontine. 
 I hope Emile will make no more such mistakes." 
 
 Mrs. Flaxyard was on the point of asking to see the note, 
 but the soubrette darted off instantly. 
 
 "This is a matter of frequent occurrence," pursued Mrs, 
 Bootle. " Mrs. Shelmerdine's letters are constantly brought 
 to me. But it is strange the mistake should occur just at 
 the time we were speaking of Captain Musgrave." 
 
 " Almost too strange to be credible," rejoined Mrs. 
 Flaxyard, who looked by no means satisfied. " You are 
 sure you are not deceiving your mother, darling ? " 
 
 "Why these unjust suspicions, dearest mamma? Have 
 I ever deceived you ? " 
 
 " I hope not. But I am more than ever anxious about 
 you now, because I know that the slightest error would be 
 
306 My d did on Pomfret. 
 
 irretrievable. The explanation you have given seems 
 perfectly natural, but Le'ontine's manner was extremely 
 suspicious. I am sorry you brought those French servants 
 with you. I don't like either of them." 
 
 "Why mamma, you are a great deal more nonsensical 
 than Mrs. Shelmerdine. You seem to forget that I am 
 married. If you take me to task in this way, I shall never 
 let you into my boudoir again. Nobody is allowed to scold 
 me here." 
 
 " I wish you would never let Le'ontine enter your boudoir, 
 my love," rejoined Mrs. Flaxyard. "But I hear your 
 papa's voice outside. I must go to him." 
 
 " Not a word about Captain Musgrave, please, mamma," 
 
 " Don't be afraid," rejoined Mrs. Flaxyard, as she went 
 out. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 THE DINNER. 
 
 |HE grand dinner took place next day. \ 
 
 A little before eight, which was the hour 
 appointed, the guests began to arrive, and were 
 received in the drawing-room by Mrs. Shel- 
 merdine ; and Mrs. Bootle, who was exquisitely dressed, and 
 looked remarkably well, was stationed a little behind her. 
 Presentations next took place to the Flaxyard family. 
 The party was large above thirty. There were Colonel 
 Lancefield of the 40th Dragoons, Major Fullarton, and 
 two other officers ; several wealthy manufacturers, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Booth Bacope, Mr. Thornley Bacope, and the 
 Misses Bacope; Mr. and Mrs. Oswaldtwistle ; Mr. and 
 Mrs. Huncoat, Miss Huncoat and Miss Milicent Hun- 
 coat; the Rev. Mr. Rasbotham and Mrs, Rasbotham; 
 Dr. and Mrs. Molyneux of Bury; the Accringtons, the 
 Orrells, the Briercliffes, and several others. Some of the 
 persons we have enumerated occupied large houses in the 
 neighbourhood, and others came from a distance. Colonel 
 Lancefield and the officers drove over from Manchester, 
 as did the Orrells. For the most part, the younger 
 20 2 
 
3o Styddldon Pomfret. 
 
 ladies were extremely pretty, and very well dressed, though 
 their toilettes could not vie with Mrs. Bootle's. 
 
 All the guests having arrived with commendable punc- 
 tuality, the gong sounded, and Mr. Knowles announced 
 the important and agreeable fact that dinner was served ; 
 whereupon Mr. Shelmerdine offered his arm to Mrs. Flax- 
 yard, and led her through the hall, which was lined with 
 servants, to the dining-room. They were followed by the 
 company, Mrs. Shelmerdine being brought in by Colonel 
 Lancefield, and Mrs. Bootle by Major Fullarton. Mr. 
 Flaxyard had to take charge of Mrs. Bacope, and Bootle 
 escorted Mrs. Oswaldtwistle. As a matter of course, the 
 fair Milicent was assigned to Hornby, his sister having 
 specially introduced him to her friend. 
 
 The repast was served a la Russe, the table being 
 ornamented with corbeilles of the choicest fruits and flowers, 
 all of which came from Mr. Shelmerdine's hot-houses and 
 conservatories. 
 
 The dinner was admirable, and impressed all who 
 partook of it all, at least, who understood what a good 
 French dinner ought to be with the skill of Mr. Shel- 
 merdine's chef. Colonel Lancefield, who was something of 
 a gourmand, told Mrs. Shelmerdine that he had never eaten 
 so good a dinner even at St. Petersburg. 
 
 Having seen the menu, we are able to state that there 
 was a tortue claire a FAnglaise as well as a potage a 
 rimpe'ra trice, a superb turbot, sauce Holland aise, rougets 
 grilles, lamproies de Bordeaux, a dinde truffee from 
 Strasbourg, a jambon de Montanches glace', a quartier de 
 chevreuil, sauce poivrade, a gigot de mouton braise'e, a 
 pate chaud a I'Allemande, a timballe a la Toulonnaise, 
 becasses, bardees, bavaroises, soufflets, compotes, -gele'es, 
 glaces, and a hundred other good things. The wines 
 were roederer and clicquot in the way of champagne, 
 rudesheimer and cabinet johannisberg, Xerez au retour 
 de 1'Inde, incomparable serchial madeira, with bordeaux 
 for those who preferred it. After quaffing a few glasses 
 of the cabinet johannisberg, which suited him exactly, 
 Mr. Flaxyard felt supremely happy, and regarded his pretty 
 daughter with an air of great contentment. 
 
 Some people assert that less wine is drunk now-a-days 
 
The Dinner. 309 
 
 than formerly. No doubt very little, comparatively speaking, 
 is drunk after dinner, but during the repast, if the wine be 
 as excellent as our friend Mr. Shelmerdine's, a good deal, 
 we venture to say, will be drunk. 
 
 On the present occasion there was a tolerable consump- 
 tion of hock and champagne, to say nothing of sherry and 
 madeira, and -Mr. Knowles, the best and most intelligent 
 of butlers, kept the glasses constantly filled. The effect of 
 these agreeable wines was soon manifested by the increased 
 animation of the company, and a great deal of lively 
 conversation ensued. 
 
 But neither clicquot nor johannisberg seemed to have 
 much effect upon Musgrave, for though he drank freely 
 enough, his spirits did not rise in proportion, and he sadly 
 neglected Miss Bacope, next whom he sat. 
 
 Could he be jealous of the smiles bestowed by Mrs. 
 Bootle upon the handsome Major Fullarton ? 
 
 Hornby, as his sister anticipated, was charmed by the 
 bright eyes and blooming cheeks of Milicent Huncoat, and 
 began to debate with himself whether it would not be 
 advisable to take a wife out of Lancashire, and he resolved 
 to make some inquiries of his sister as to the fair girl's 
 expectations. Meantime, he gave her several amorous 
 mottoes, culled from bonbons. 
 
 A large dinner, such as we have described, takes some 
 time to get through, and before the ladies had retired, the 
 guests invited to the musical soiree had begun to arrive, 
 and consequently the gentlemen were not allowed to sit 
 long over their wine. The spacious saloon, being now 
 brilliantly lighted up and filled with company, presented a * 
 very gay appearance. Several of the girls played and sang 
 remarkably well, so that the musical part of the entertain- 
 ment was a decided success. Mrs. Bootle, of course, took 
 a prominent part at the piano, and was much admired. 
 After the concert there was a little dancing. Mrs. Bootle 
 valsed with Major Fullarton and Captain Frere, but she 
 would not dance with Musgrave. By this time Hornby's 
 head was completely turned by Millicent Huncoat, who 
 valsed delightfully, and he was on the very verge of 
 proposing. Before committing the rash act, he resolved to 
 cpnsult Bootle., but he found him engaged in a rubber with 
 
310 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 Musgrave, Mr. Oswaldtwistle, and Mr. Huncoat. Precisely 
 at midnight supper was served, and a great deal more 
 champagne was drunk. This concluded the entertainment. 
 There was no more dancing, and immediately after supper 
 the guests prepared to depart prepared, we say, for they 
 did not get away quite so soon as they expected. 
 
 Mr. Knowles brewed the strongest ale in the neighbour- 
 hood a fact well known to the butler's intimates. This 
 being a particular occasion, all the footmen were regaled in 
 the servants'-hall, and many a foaming glass of bright 
 October was drained to the health of the young couple. 
 Nor did Mr. Knowles forget his friends outside, but sent a 
 liberal supply to the coachmen far too liberal, indeed, for 
 the potent ale got into their heads. Before the hour ol 
 departure arrived, there was scarcely one among the set, 
 footman or coachman, who was not powerfully refreshed. 
 The first carriage called up was Mr. Booth Bacope's; but 
 Mr. Oswaldtwistle's coachman being nearest the steps, 
 refused to move on, whereupon Bacope, without the 
 slightest hesitation, drove right across the lawn, with the 
 intention of taking up at the farther flight of steps. But 
 his design was frustrated by the surly Oswaldtwistle, who, 
 just touching his horses, blocked up this entrance, and all 
 the long line of carriages in the rear moved on, in the 
 midst of a tremendous roar of laughter from the various 
 half-intoxicated footmen gathered round the steps. All 
 laughed except one, and this was Mr. Bacope's footman, 
 who immediately endeavoured to remove the obnoxious 
 Oswaldtwistle. While he was engaged in this attempt, the 
 whip descended upon his head and shoulders, and the 
 porch, in which stood Mr. Booth Bacope with his wife and 
 daughters and three or four young men, resounded with 
 furious imprecations. Twenty footmen at least, all shouting 
 and swearing, rushed to the scene of action, and a battle- 
 royal seemed imminent. But though menaced on all sides, 
 and though his horses kicked and plunged, the dogged 
 Oswaldtwistle would not move on. 
 
 While this took place outside, the entrance-hall was filled 
 with young ladies, with their mammas, all enveloped in 
 very pretty hooded mantles and cloaks, prepared for their 
 departure. With them were Major fullarton. Captain 
 
The Dinner. 311 
 
 Frere, Musgrave, Hornby, and others, talking and laughing, 
 when the noise reaching their ears, most of these young 
 fellows rushed out to ascertain the cause of the row, and 
 being amused by the disturbance among the flunkies, 
 encouraged it by their laughter. Presently, Mr. Oswald- 
 twistle, having been summoned by Knowles, ordered his 
 coachman authoritatively to move on ; but even thus en- 
 joined, the obstinate fellow refused. His master then 
 directed the footman to take his place, but on hearing this 
 command, the coachman lashed his horses, and scattering 
 the flunkies on either side, drove furiously across the lawn, 
 calling out, with an oath, that his master might get home 
 how he could. However, he was eventually stopped at the 
 lodge gates, and compelled to come back. 
 
 A fresh scene of confusion followed this contumacious 
 act. Other coachmen at once started out of the line, and 
 tearing across the lawn, which seemed destined to be cut to 
 pieces that night, strove to get into his place, while the 
 others, shouting and swearing, filled up just as quickly 
 behind. Collisions took place in consequence, and lamps 
 were smashed. Half-a-dozen coachmen were discharged by 
 their masters on the spot, but, like the first mutineer, they 
 refused to give up the reins, and the ladies, naturally much 
 alarmed, hesitated to enter their carriages. For a few 
 minutes the storm raged with unabated fury the coachmen 
 continuing to swear and cut at each other with their whips ; 
 but eventually, by the combined efforts of Mr. Shelmerdine 
 and Knowles, three or four carriages were got off, and then 
 the rest went away more quietly. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MATERNAL ANXIETIES. 
 
 |LD FLAXYARD and his son enjoyed their visit 
 to Belfield immensely. Almost every day there 
 was a dinner-party on a grand scale at some 
 large house in the neighbourhood. What with 
 hunting with the Cheshire fox-hounds, and flirting with 
 Milicent Huncoat, whom he met at every house where he 
 dined, Hornby passed his time very agreeably. Not less 
 happy was old Flaxyard. He liked good dinners, and 
 never had his tastes been more thoroughly gratified than 
 they now were. What struck the jolly old boy with 
 astonishment was, that everybody seemed to have an 
 extraordinarily fine cellar of port. Having made this 
 remarkable discovery, he drank a good deal, and the wine 
 must certainly have been very good, since he seemed none 
 the worse for it. John always took charge of him in the 
 morning, and the old gentleman was quite content to sit 
 down in the counting-house, or to take part in any con- 
 versation on business. Occasionally they went over by 
 train to Manchester, and passed an hour or two on 
 'Change, and then had luncheon at the club of which Mr. 
 Shelmerdine was a member. Brought thus closely together, 
 and having abundant opportunities of exchanging their 
 ideas, the two old gentlemen, who had always entertained a 
 Strong regard for each fltlier, became fast friends. There 
 
Maternal Anxieties. 313 
 
 were many points of resemblance between them, both 
 being shrewd, sensible, warm-hearted men. On all occa- 
 sions John spoke with the greatest affection of his daughter- 
 in-law, who, it was evident, had quite won his heart. He 
 had not a single fault to find with her, and his commenda- 
 tions brought tears into old Flaxyard's eyes. 
 
 The anxiety which Mrs. Flaxyard felt about her daughter 
 somewhat damped the pleasure of her visit. Feeling how 
 much was at stake, she exercised the utmost vigilance over 
 Mrs. Bootle, and took care that she should never be alone 
 with Musgrave. That cautious personage paid Mrs. 
 Bootle very little attention, but the vigilant mother was 
 not to be duped by this mode of proceeding. When they 
 sat apart, she had often surprised a glance of intelligence 
 between them, and she could not be blind to the jealousy 
 exhibited by the captain at the encouragement given to the 
 handsome Major Fullarton. Though Mrs. Flaxyard had 
 never succeeded in detecting anything further, she felt 
 almost certain that communications passed between her 
 daughter and Musgrave through the medium of Leontine. 
 Had she dared to do so, she would have insisted upon the 
 immediate dismissal of the artful soubrette ; but she feared 
 that some esclandre might ensue. Bootle was the most 
 unconcerned of the whole party. Not a suspicion seemed 
 to enter his head. 
 
 But the ball was at hand, and fresh guests were expected. 
 Eva and her aunt were certainly coming; but no answer 
 had as yet been received from Sir Norman. 
 
 One morning, Mrs. Bootle and her mamma were again 
 closeted together in the boudoir, when Bootle burst in upon 
 them with a letter in his hand. He had likewise a cigar in 
 his mouth, but it was immediately taken out and tossed 
 into the fire by his wife's orders. 
 
 " Here's a letter from Sir Norman!" he cried. "He's 
 coming. I thought he would." 
 
 " I'm very glad of it,' 1 responded madame. " Have you 
 told Captain Musgrave about it ? " 
 
 " I showed him the letter. He means to leave us to- 
 day. He won't meet Sir Norman. I'm deuced sorry that 
 he should be driven away. Perhaps you can persuade him 
 to stay, Tiff? Try" 
 
314 Myddleton Pom/ret. 
 
 " I have tried, darling boy, but without success," she re- 
 joined. " I think he'll come back to us when Sir Norman 
 leaves." 
 
 " I wish you hadn't made me invite that young baronet. 
 He will be a confounded bore." 
 
 " Sir Norman is exceedingly gentleman-like and agree- 
 able, and will give dclat to the ball," remarked Mrs. Flax- 
 yard. " Pray when does Captain Musgrave leave?" 
 
 " Not till after dinner," replied Bootle. " He means to 
 remain for a few days in Manchester." 
 
 "In Manchester!" exclaimed Mrs. Flaxyard. "Why 
 not go back to town at once ? " 
 
 " I'm sure I can't say. You had better put that question 
 to him yourself, Ma'am." 
 
 " I think I shall," said Mrs. Flaxyard. 
 
 "Why on earth should you interfere with Captain Mus- 
 grave's movements ?" cried Bootle. "What can it possibly 
 matter to you if he does stay in Manchester ? " 
 
 Mrs. Flaxyard was about to make an angry reply, but she 
 checked herself. 
 
 "Well, I must go back to him," said Bootle. "I left 
 him with Hornby in the billiard-room. We shall drive out 
 after luncheon." 
 
 No sooner did the door close on him than Mrs. Flaxyard 
 said to her daughter, in a serious tone, 
 
 " My dear, Captain Musgrave must not remain in Man- 
 chester, and I am really surprised he should think of doing 
 so. People will wonder why he has left so suddenly why 
 he is not at the balland why he is staying in the 
 neighbourhood. All the officers are coming from Man- 
 chester. Some sort of explanation must be given them." 
 
 " Major Fullarton will give all the explanation that may 
 be requisite to his brother-officers, mamma." 
 
 "Well, I am rejoiced that Captain Musgrave is going. 
 But we must get rid of him effectually. Either you or I 
 must give him clearly to understand that he can never enter 
 this house again, and that it will be useless, therefore, to 
 remain in the neighbourhood. The last thing I desire to 
 do is to warn Bootle but I will warn him, if necessary." 
 
 Mrs. Bootle at first looked angry, but he now became 
 excessively gale. 
 
Maternal Anxieties. 315 
 
 " I will do exactly what you tell me," she said, with a 
 quivering lip. " He shall never return never ! " 
 
 " You are a dear good child ! " 
 
 " You have judged me shamefully, mamma shamefully ! 
 but I shall not attempt to defend myself." 
 
 " My darling, I don't judge you at all. I am merely trying 
 to protect you from the designs of a roue'. Your papa will 
 be as much rejoiced as I am that you have done with Mus- 
 grave for ever, for he has been a source of great anxiety to 
 both of us." 
 
 " Don't say any more," cried her daughter, pushing her 
 from her. " I will do as you wish. Leave me to my- 
 self." 
 
 Mrs. Flaxyard quitted the boudoir, and went to her own 
 room, which was not far off. She left the door ajar, and 
 remained on the watch. 
 
 Shortly afterwards a bell rang, and Leontine was seen 
 tripping towards the boudoir. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 IN THE CONSERVATORY. 
 
 |HE soubrette did not remain long with her mis- 
 tress, but, on coming out of the boudoir, hurried 
 away. Feeling convinced that she was charged 
 with a message to Captain Musgrave, Mrs. Flax- 
 yard waited the result. Leontine, however, did not 
 reappear, but after the lapse of a few more minutes, during 
 which the anxious mother did not quit her post of ob- 
 servation, Mrs. Bootle issued from the boudoir, and went 
 down-stairs. Presently Mrs. Flaxyard followed her. On 
 reaching the entrance-hall she encountered Knowles, and 
 asked him if her daughter was in the drawing-room. The 
 butler replied that his young mistress had gone to the 
 conservatory; whereupon Mrs. Flaxyard hastened in that 
 direction. 
 
 We will precede her. 
 
 The conservatory, which was full of the choicest plants, 
 opened out from the morning-room, and of course had an 
 entrance from the garden. As Mrs. Bootle went in, 
 Captain Musgrave, who was walking by himself outside, 
 caught sight of her though the glass, and immediately 
 joined her. Her looks showed that she was agitated and 
 uneasy. 
 
 "Emile has just delivered the. message which you sen? 
 
In the Conservatory. 317 
 
 me through Leontine," he said. "You want to speak to 
 me. What is the matter ? Nothing wrong, I hope ? " 
 
 "I have just gone through a very painful scene with 
 mamma." 
 
 "About me, I suppose? Well, I am going away. 
 Won't that content her? " 
 
 "She insists that you shall not return. You must not 
 remain in the neighbourhood. I promised her that I would 
 give you an absolute dismissal." 
 
 " Quite right," rejoined Musgrave, laughing. " Make 
 any promise she may require. As to keeping it that's 
 another question." 
 
 " I shall keep my promise. I don't mean to see you any 
 more neither will I receive any more messages from you, 
 nor any more billets. When you leave this house to-day, 
 we part for ever, and must henceforward be strangers. 
 Mamma has convinced me that my reputation is in danger. 
 I have been very silly and thoughtless, but you have pre- 
 sumed a great deal too much on my amiability. You don't 
 believe that I love my husband " 
 
 "I can't believe it," he interrupted. "I think it utterly 
 impossible that any woman, constituted like yourself, can 
 love such a person. He is incapable of inspiring a great 
 passion in a breast like yours. But I cannot obey your 
 injunctions. I cannot -will not be thus dismissed. I will 
 consent to anything you propose, but not to utter dismissal. 
 As well condemn me to death at once better, indeed.' I 
 will wait patiently till your family have left till Sir Norman 
 and Eva Bracebridge are gone but then you must recal me." 
 
 " I dare not recal you, even if I would. Mamma 
 declares that if you ever enter this house again she will 
 warn Bootle." 
 
 " An idle threat. Not worth thinking abo ut. She is far 
 too fond of you to do anything of the sort. Don't be in 
 the least afraid of her." 
 
 " I am not afraid. I don't think she would execute her 
 threat. But she has completely opened my eyes to the 
 danger to which I have exposed myself. You have built 
 hopes on an entirely baselecs foundation." 
 
 " Then you have been merely trifling with me all this 
 time ? " he cried, bitterly. I said you were a heartless 
 
318 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 coquette. But I will not be cast off thus. You have gone 
 too far to retreat. You have more reason to be afraid of 
 me than of your mother." 
 
 "Ah, you threaten ! Now I see what a fearful risk I 
 have run. But don't fancy for a moment that I am in your 
 power." 
 
 " You forget that you have sent me notes that might be 
 misconstrued. But forgive m'e. I know not what I say. 
 I would not injure you for the world. You are dearer to 
 me than life itself." Then, perceiving by her looks that his 
 passionate language had made a certain impression upon 
 her, he added, " I know you are not happy here. Fly with 
 me. My existence shall be devoted to you." 
 
 " You have said this to a dozen others No persuasion 
 shall induce me to leave my husband." 
 
 At this moment voices and laughter were heard outside in 
 the garden. 
 
 " Ah ! " she exclaimed. " BootJe is coming here with 
 my brother." 
 
 " They must not find me," cried Musgrave. 
 
 And he flew to the door communicating with the morning- 
 room. But his exit was stayed by Mrs. Flaxyard. 
 
 " You here, Madam ! " he cried, drawing back in con- 
 fusion. 
 
 " Yes, I have been here all the time that you have been 
 in the conservatory," she returned. " I have heard all that 
 has passed between you and my daughter, and I rejoice that 
 she has behaved so well. For her sake, I will screen you 
 from the indignation of the husband whose friendship and 
 hospitality you have abused ; but no consideration shall 
 deter me from exposing you, if you ever seek to renew your 
 infamous addresses. When you leave this house, all further 
 intercourse between you and my daughter between you 
 and the friend you have sought to wrong must cease. 
 You are warned." 
 
 Musgrave attempted no reply, and, indeed, had no time 
 to make a reply, for at this juncture Bootle and Hornby 
 entered the conservatory by the garden door. 
 
 " Holloa ! what are you all doing here ? " cried the fore- 
 most young man. " I thought you were gone to pack up 
 your traps, Musgrave ? " 
 
In the Cotistrvatory. 319 
 
 "I have Stopped Captain Musgrave," interposed Mrs. 
 Flaxyard. " I want him to execute a commission for me in 
 town to-morrow." 
 
 " In town ! " exclaimed Bootle. " Is he going up on 
 purpose ? " 
 
 " Of course I am," replied Musgrave. "I would do any- 
 thing to oblige Mrs. Flaxyard. She has engaged me on a 
 confidential mission." 
 
 " What the deuce is it ?" cried Hornby, astounded. 
 
 " Don't ask, Sir," interposed his sister. " Don't you hear 
 that it is a confidential matter ? " 
 
 " Well, you are a wonderfully good-natured fellow, I must 
 say," observed Bootle. " Catch me undertaking such an 
 errand for my mother-in-law, or for any one else. When 
 are you coming back ? " 
 
 "Upon my soul, I don't know," rejoined Musgrave. 
 " My return will depend upon circumstances." 
 
 " Over which you have no control," laughed Hornby. 
 
 " Exactly," rejoined Musgrave. " But, as I shall travel 
 by the night-train, I must go and put up my things." 
 
 And he quitted the conservatory. 
 
 " There is some mystification in this," cried Hornby, as 
 soon as he was gone. " Why has he changed his plans so 
 suddenly? As to the commission, that's all bosh." 
 
 " Don't you be so inquisitive, Sir," said Mrs. Bootle. 
 " Captain Musgrave is obliged to go to town." 
 
 " Obliged, eh? It's my opinion he has had a telegraphic 
 message from his wife." 
 
 " That would send him in the opposite direction," 
 laughed Bootle. " More likely he wants to get out of the 
 way of Sir Norman. But let us go and look after 
 luncheon." 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE PLAN IS ARRANGED. 
 
 JN entering his own room, Musgrave found Emile 
 there arranging his things. 
 
 Scarcely noticing the valet, he flung himself 
 into an easy-chair near the fire. Emile waited for 
 a minute or two before addressing him. 
 
 " Monsieur le Capitaine is really going away to-day ? " he 
 inquired. 
 
 " Going away for good," rejoined Musgrave, without 
 looking up. 
 
 " I do not quite understand," observed the valet. 
 " Monsieur will not return is that it?" 
 
 " That's it. Monsieur can't return. His plan has been 
 thwarted by Mrs. Flaxyard. She has thought it necessary 
 to interfere." 
 
 " Diable ! that's unlucky. Le'ontine told me that the old 
 lady's suspicions were awakened. I hope she has not made 
 mischief." 
 
 " She has succeeded in frightening her daughter ; that's 
 bad enough." 
 
 " Oh ! if it's no more than that, monsieur need not be 
 uneasy. The alarm will speedily pass. Le'ontine will 
 
The Plan is Arranged. 321 
 
 easily reassure her mistress. After all, there is no real 
 danger from Madame Flaxyard. But there is danger great 
 danger from another person." 
 
 " You don't mean Mrs. Shelmerdine ? She likes me." 
 
 "Monsieur thinks so. Perhaps she does. But if she 
 likes monsieur, she hates her daughter-in-law, and would not 
 scruple to destroy her. Since monsieur has done me the 
 Tionour to employ me, I have studied the affair ; looked at it 
 carefully on all sides. The real danger is from Madame Shel- 
 merdine. I have watched her ; and Leontine, so far as she 
 could, has watched her. In fact, to tell you the plain truth, 
 Monsieur, she would willingly have employed Leontine 
 as a spy upon her mistress ; but, as I have already observed 
 to you, the girl is honest." 
 
 " This is indeed a danger which I did not foresee," said 
 Musgrave. " But a number of little circumstances convince 
 me that you are right, Emile. The old lady has com- 
 pletely taken me in. I thought myself quite safe in that 
 quarter." 
 
 " You did well to employ me, Monsieur. I can serve you 
 effectually. Madame Shelmerdine meditates a vilain tour 
 towards her daughter-in-law. Sooner or later, if you had 
 remained here, she would have made some discovery, and 
 then " 
 
 " There would have been the devil to pay ! " cried 
 Musgrave, with a forced laugh. "I am glad you have 
 told me of this, Emile. It reconciles me to my departure." 
 
 " Will monsieur permit me to inquire his present plans ? 
 Surely he does not mean to abandon the game ? " 
 
 " There is no help for it, Emile. All the chances are 
 against me. It would be sheer madness now to think of 
 returning to this house.' ' 
 
 " Monsieur need not return. I do not for a moment 
 advise it. But he has friends who can serve him in his 
 absence." 
 
 " The game's up, I tell you, Emile. I made a desperate 
 attempt this morning, but failed. I proposed flight to 
 madame, but she indignantly rejected the proposition." 
 
 "You were too precipitate, Monsieur. You need not 
 despair. Madame is a great prize such a prize as does 
 not often turn up in the lottery of life, and pains must be 
 
322 , Myddktm Pom/ret^ 
 
 taken to win her. If I am rightly informed and it is the 
 common talk among the servants here, who ought to know 
 the truth she has a large fortune settled upon herself?" 
 
 " She has thirty thousand pounds which cannot be taken 
 from her, do what she will. Madame is very pretty, and 
 very captivating; but I will own to you, Emile, that her 
 money is the grand attraction with me. An elopement with 
 her has been always my idea, but' as I have^told you, she 
 derides the proposition." 
 
 " If I enable you to carry her off, what will you give ? " 
 
 " Whatever you choose to ask,' 7 cried Musgrave, eagerly. 
 " Thirty per cent, on the thirty thousand. I will make your 
 fortune. But though you are a deuced clever fellow, Emile, 
 I have no great faith in your achieving an enterprise like 
 this." 
 
 " Monsieur has yet to learn what I can do. But I shall 
 work through the agency of Leontine, who must likewise be 
 considered. In fact, the success of the scheme will mainly 
 depend upon her." 
 
 " She shall have a handsome dot. You shall have enough 
 between you to set up business together in the Boulevart 
 des Capucines. You should have something on account, but 
 I am not in funds just now." 
 
 " Monsieur's word will suffice. We do not desire to be 
 paid beforehand. Monsieur can send his full instructions 
 to me, and they shall be attended to. All his letters shall 
 be safely delivered to madame, and her answers forwarded 
 as he may direct." 
 
 " You quite raise my spirits, Emile. I fancied the game 
 was up, but now I begin to think I shall still win." 
 
 " Monsieur has everything in his favour. Madame is 
 certainly in love that is the main point. Leontine will 
 take care to sharpen her regrets at his absence, and to 
 keep his image constantly before her. Next will come 
 his letters ardent, of course. More persuasion from 
 Leontine. At last, at the right moment, the plan will be 
 proposed ; the decision made ; and the elopement will take 
 place." 
 
 Musgrave laughed. After some further discussion of their 
 infamous project, he directed the valet ^to pack up his 
 portmanteau, and prepared to go down-stairs. 
 
The Plan is Arranged. 323 
 
 " Mind one thing, Emile," he said. " Before I leave I 
 shall say something to your master that will make him 
 jealous furiously jealous of Sir Norman." 
 
 " I will attend to the hint, Monsieur." 
 
 Luncheon being over, Musgrave proceeded to the 
 drawing-room, where he found the whole party. Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine, who had only just heard of his intended 
 departure, expressed her great regret, and tried hard to 
 induce him to stay over the ball. Failing in this, she ex- 
 pressed a hope that he would soon pay them another visit, 
 and the invitation was warmly seconded by her son. 
 
 "Mrs. Bootle will be quite disconsolate at your de- 
 parture," remarked the old lady. " Out of consideration 
 for her feelings you ought to come back soon." 
 
 " You will make Captain Musgrave a great deal too vain, 
 mamma," said the younger lady. " I shall be sorry to lose 
 him, of course, but I don't think I shall quite break my 
 heart if he doesn't come back." 
 
 Captain Musgrave felt greatly flattered by the observations 
 of both ladies, but feared it would be utterly impossible that 
 he could return. 
 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine's unmistakable disappointment and 
 ill-concealed annoyance convinced him of the correctness 
 of the information he had just received from Emile. 
 
 The two old gentlemen did not make their appearance 
 till dinner-time, and whatever they might assert, we don't 
 think that either was particularly sorry to lose the captain. 
 The only person among the men who really regretted 
 Musgrave's departure, was the one who had most reason 
 to rejoice at it. 
 
 What Mrs. Bootle felt on the occasion we shall not 
 inquire, but Mrs. Shelmerdine, who watched her carefully, 
 could detect no emotion, neither could she intercept a 
 significant glance, when the captain took leave* The pair 
 were perfectly on their guard. 
 
 Musgrave's last words to Emile were, " I have done Sir 
 Norman's business with your master." 
 
 So Musgrave quitted Belfield, and travelled up to town 
 that night. He fixed his quarters, as he had told Emile 
 he would, at the Charing Cross Hotel. 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE BALL AT BELFIELD. 
 
 | EXT day the expected guests arrived at Belfield. 
 
 The carriage, of course, met them at the Bury 
 station, and brought them to the mansion. A 
 general introduction took place in the entrance 
 hall, where Mr. and Mrs. Bootle and John, surrounded by 
 a grand array of servants, received them. Even Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine was present on the occasion, though she had 
 declined to pay such a compliment to her daughter-in-law. 
 
 Mr. and Mrs. Flaxy ard did not assist at the ceremony, 
 thinking they were better away, and Hornby could not, 
 having gone out that morning with the Cheshire fox-hounds. 
 The manner in which Mrs. Bootle greeted Eva was a thing 
 to see. She flew towards her as she entered, embraced 
 her, and told her how enchanted she was to see her. 
 Having introduced her darling boy and her darling boy's 
 papa, she then led Eva to the stately Mrs. Shelmerdine, 
 who, being very favourably impressed by the young lady's 
 personal charms and refined manner, received her most 
 graciously as she subsequently did Sir Norman, for pretty 
 much the same reasons. Even Mrs. Daventry had no 
 
The Ball at Belfield. 3 2 $ 
 
 cause to complain of the cordiality of her reception, for 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine was unusually affable. Indeed, she was 
 very well pleased with the party, offering, as they seemed 
 to do in her eyes, a marked contrast to the vulgar 
 Flaxyards. 
 
 " Oh, if Bootle had married a girl like this, how happy I 
 should have been ! " she mentally ejaculated, while regard- 
 ing Eva. " She has the air and manner of a lady." 
 
 John, who did not stand upon much ceremony, had already 
 shaken hands heartily with Sir Norman and welcomed him 
 to Belfield, and Bootle followed suit, though in a far less 
 cordial manner Musgrave as we know, having contrived to 
 prejudice him against the handsome young baronet. 
 
 A great many obliging things having been said, which it 
 would be tedious to repeat, Mrs. Bootle took the two ladies 
 up-stairs and showed them their rooms, with which they 
 could not fail to be pleased. Nothing, indeed, could be 
 more striking than the contrast offered by the gaily furnished 
 and cheerful-looking rooms of Belfield to the sombre apart- 
 ments of Hylton Castle, and Mrs. Daventry did not hesitate 
 to say that she greatly preferred the modern mansion. If 
 her niece could not agree with her, she at least admitted 
 that Belfield was a most delightful place. 
 
 Mrs. Daventry's opinion was shared by Susan, who shortly 
 afterwards made her appearance, and declared with an air 
 of the most perfect sincerity, that these were the sort of 
 rooms she liked, and that she shouldn't be at all afraid of 
 sleeping in that pretty little French bed in the nice dress- 
 ing-room. 
 
 Sir Norman had the room assigned him lately vacated by 
 Musgrave, and Bootle, who introduced him to it, told him 
 that his own valet, Emile, should attend to him, and with 
 this assurance left him. Presently Emile tapped at the door, 
 and the young baronet, having confided the keys of his 
 malles to him, went down-stairs. 
 
 Finding that his host and Mr. Flaxyard were in the 
 garden, he joined them, and passed an hour or so in 
 inspecting the hot-houses, the stables, and the grounds. By 
 this time Sir Norman had seen enough of the place to 
 satisfy himself that he was in excellent quarters, and he 
 was further satisfied that Mr. Shelmerdine was a very good 
 
326 Myddkton Pomfrd 
 
 sort of fellow. Bootle did not please him so much, and 
 he felt it would be rather difficult to get on with that young 
 gentleman. On returning to the house, they found Bootle 
 by himself in the billiard-room. Sir Norman played a game 
 with him, and did not exalt himself in Bootle's opinion by 
 the ease with which he beat him. They had just finished 
 the game when Hornby came in, and taking Bootle's place, 
 proved a much better match for the young baronet 
 
 There was a very agreeable dinner that day. In addition 
 to the party staying in the house, there were the Huncoats, 
 with Major Fullarton and Captain Frere, the major having 
 been specially invited to meet his friend, Sir Norman. Mrs. 
 Shelmerdine's impressions in regard to both Sir Norman 
 and Miss Bracebridge were confirmed by further acquaint- 
 ance with them. Eva's beauty was of a kind that com- 
 pelled admiration, and she entirely eclipsed both Mrs. 
 Bootle and Milicent Huncoat But it was her manner 
 more than her beauty that delighted Mrs. Shelmerdine, and 
 the old lady again sighed internally as she thought that so 
 charming a person had not fallen to Bootle's lot. 
 
 Eva's accomplishments, as we have heretofore had 
 occasion to remark, were of a very high order. She played 
 and sang delightfully, and Mrs. Shelmerdine declared 
 emphatically that she had never before heard so good u 
 private performer never enjoyed so great a musical treat. 
 
 Sir Norman, who possessed the art of pleasing in an 
 eminent degree, made himself extremely agreeable to every- 
 body, except Bootle, who regarded him with growing dislike. 
 Strange to say, our young friend was quite indifferent to the 
 attentions paid to his wife by Major Fullarton and Captain 
 Frere ; put when Sir Norman Jaughed and chatted with her, 
 which he did as a matter of course, the silly fellow looked 
 angry and jealous. 
 
 Not a word was said about Captain Musgrave either to 
 Sir Norman or Eva. He might never have been in the 
 house. The young baronet would not have been aware of 
 his visit if Major Fullarton had not alluded to it as they were 
 talking together. Greatly surprised by the information, Sir 
 Norman took his friend aside, and put several questions to 
 him. While they were thus conversing, the young baronet's 
 brow darkened and his eye wandered towards Mrs. Bootle, 
 
The Ball at Belfield. 327 
 
 who was chatting in a very lively manner at the time with 
 Captain Frere. 
 
 "You really think he had a design in that quarter?" 
 observed Sir Norman. 
 
 " I'm sure of it," replied the major. " Luckily, he's gone; 
 and, for her sake, I hope he won't come back. He's a 
 deuced dangerous fellow, as you know." 
 
 Nothing more passed between them, for Bootle at the 
 moment conducted Eva to the piano, and they both moved 
 in that direction. 
 
 The party broke up early, as there was the ball on the 
 morrow at least the Huncoats went away betimes, for all 
 the others were staying in the house. 
 
 When the ladies had retired, Bootle and the other young 
 men adjourned to the billiard-room, where they had seltzer 
 water and cognac, and smoked and played to a late hour. 
 Emile, as usual, officiated as marker, and attended to their 
 requirements. The wily valet, who had his eyes about 
 him, remarked JBootle's sullen manner towards the young 
 baronet, and felt sure that Musgrave's insinuations had 
 taken effect He also caught a few words that passed 
 between Sir Norman and the major. These set him think- 
 ing, and gave rise to a subsequent consultation with 
 Ldontine, the result of which will be shown anon. 
 
 On the next night, as the reader is aware, the ball was 
 to take place, and as it was to be on a grand scale, con- 
 siderable preparations had to be made for it. These had 
 been going on, as far as practicable with a house full of 
 company, for a week beforehand. 
 
 The large and well-ordered establishment at Belfield, 
 though equal to most emergencies, was totally inadequate 
 to the demands upon it on the present occasion. Waiters 
 had to be hired by the dozen, as well as other assistants. 
 Throughout the day the house was a scene of great con- 
 fusion, and the usually imperturbable Mr. Knowles, to 
 whom the arrangements were entrusted, was in a positive 
 state of distraction. Very properly, we think, Mrs. Shel- 
 merdine would not allow the grand saloon, with all its 
 splendid furniture and ornaments, to be disturbed ; so the 
 morning-room, which was not half the size, but which, 
 however, was quite large enough for the purpose, was 
 
328 Myddldon Pomfret. 
 
 allotted to the dancers. The substantial part of the supper 
 was prepared by Marcellin, but the glaces and some other 
 things were furnished by a renowned Manchester confiseur. 
 The band, which was an admirable one, came from the 
 same city. 
 
 By dint of almost superhuman exertion on the part of 
 Mr. Knowles and his assistants, among whom the most 
 active and most intelligent was Emile, all was got ready in 
 time, and when the guests began to arrive about ten o'clock, 
 they found the magnificent entrance-hall filled with hot- 
 house plants and flowers, and the spacious saloon into 
 which they were first ushered, and where they were received 
 by Mrs. Shelmerdine and Mrs. Bootle, lighted up by a 
 thousand tapers. The guests arrived so quickly, that very 
 shortly afterwards a general move was made to the salon de 
 danse, which was likewise very brilliantly illuminated, the 
 band being placed in the conservatory, which, as we know, 
 opens out of that room. The ball commenced by a 
 quadrille, in which the home party chiefly figured, Sir 
 Norman having the honour of dancing with Mrs. Bootle, 
 with Eva and Bootle vis-a-vis. Hornby of course had 
 secured Millicent Hun coat. Opposite them were Major 
 Fullarton and Miss Bacope. 
 
 Four prettier persons are not often beheld than those who 
 took part in that quadrille, but the palm was unquestionably 
 borne off by the belle demoiselle whom Bootle was lucky 
 enough to obtain for a partner. He did not, however, 
 sufficiently appreciate his happiness, but looked so moody, 
 that his wife whispered, as she took his hand : 
 
 " What's the matter with you, darling boy ? " 
 
 To this question he made no response. 
 
 Mrs. Bootle was lively enough, exquisitely dressed 
 indeed, there was no toilette in the room at all comparable 
 to hers and if she thought at all of the absent, it was not 
 apparently with regret. Her features were radiant with 
 pride and delight. This fete, at which all her family were 
 present, and of which she was queen, was the completion of 
 her triumph. The exultant look that she gave her mother 
 as she stood up with Sir Norman, conveyed a great deal. 
 Influenced by her vanity, caring very little what people 
 might think, caring just as little for Eva's feelings, she. 
 
The Ball at Belfield. 329 
 
 wished to produce an impression that Sir Norman admired 
 her, and talking to him in a very sprightly manner, forced 
 him to adopt the same tone. This it was that darkened 
 Bootle's brow, and ravaged his heart. Eva likewise was 
 annoyed, and for the first time began to understand that she 
 really liked Sir Norman. 
 
 " My dear little husband is quite jealous of you, I can 
 see, Sir Norman," laughed Mrs. Bootle. "If I can only 
 make Eva jealous, your business will be done in that 
 quarter. Ask me to valse with you. I can give you 
 number four. Will that do ? " 
 
 Sir Norman replied very gallantly that she had only just 
 anticipated him ; declaring that he had meant to ask her for 
 that very valse, and adding, rather mysteriously, as she 
 thought, that he had a word for her private ear. 
 
 "What could it be?" she thought to herself. Could she 
 have captivated him. That were indeed a triumph. 
 
 Sir Norman had previously engaged Eva for the first 
 valse, and of course they danced it together, but it was 
 evident that she was piqued, and some of her observations 
 were so pointed, that Sir Norman became piqued in his 
 turn, and a slight very slight disagreement ensued. 
 
 Eva's annoyance was increased when she saw her suitor, 
 who seemed to her to be completely enthralled, lead the 
 syren out for a valse. Bootle did not dance after the first 
 quadrille his role being to provide people with partners 
 and furnish them with programmes and he, too, was 
 highly incensed at the proceeding, though he did not make 
 himself ridiculous by noticing it. 
 
 Mrs. Bootle greatly enjoyed the valse with Sir Norman, 
 but declared, when it was finished, that she must have a 
 little repose. So she threw over Major Fullarton, who 
 came to claim her for the Lancers, promising him another 
 dance later on, and, still retaining the young baronet's arm, 
 took him to the library, which, like all the rooms, except 
 the dining-room, where supper was to be served, was thrown 
 open. 
 
 There were a few couples in the library when they 
 entered it amongst others, Hornby and Milicent Huncoat 
 but these soon disappeared, and, by the time they had 
 seated themselves on a sofa, they were left alone, 
 
33 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 Mrs. Bootle laughed as she looked round the large 
 empty room, and said, 
 
 "People will think we are going to have a desperate 
 flirtation but never mind ! I am dying with curiosity to 
 learn what you have to tell me, Sir Norman." 
 
 " I hope I sha'n't offend you by what I have to say," he 
 rejoined, looking very serious, "but I must run the risk." 
 
 " Oh no ! I'm not easily offended," she cried. " Speak ! 
 I am ready to listen." 
 
 " I am about to undertake a part which I have no right to 
 assume," he said. " I am going to put you on your guard 
 against the designs of a villain. I will not breathe his 
 name, but, for Heaven's sake, beware of him ! " 
 
 " I won't for a moment affect to misunderstand you, Sir 
 Norman," she returned, with a look of displeasure ; " but I 
 fancy I am able to take care of myself." 
 
 " Do not be angry with me," he said. " I feel so strongly 
 the peril in which you are placed by this man, that I must 
 point it out to you. To a certain extent you are aware of 
 the misery he has caused, but I could tell you things of him 
 that would make you abhor him." 
 
 " You are not quite unprejudiced, Sir Norman." 
 
 " I am well informed. What I say to you I would say to 
 his face, and would have so said it, had I found him here. 
 If you care to know aught of his deeply injured wife, ask 
 Eva, who will give some particulars concerning her that 
 cannot fail to excite your profound commiseration. You 
 knew her, I think, when she was in Paris ? " 
 
 " Yes, and was greatly charmed with her. Where is she 
 now?" 
 
 "I am not at liberty to tell, but she has found a secure 
 retreat. Poor lady ! she is in a very precarious state of 
 health, and I think her troubles will soon be over. This is 
 a sad tale, and I would not have told it at such a moment, 
 but I feel that you ought to know it. I cannot relate Mrs. 
 Musgrave's history, nor is it needful. But the villain who 
 now dares to raise his eyes towards you has behaved with 
 the blackest perfidy towards her, and has for ever destroyed 
 her happiness." 
 
 "You need not alarm yourself about him, He is not 
 likely to return here/' 
 
The Ball at Belfield. 33 1 
 
 "That assurance might relieve my uneasiness did I not 
 know him. But if he has once formed a design, he will not 
 easily abandon it. Though banished, he may find means of 
 secretly communicating with you. But do not answer his 
 letters. Be sure his object is to ensnare you." 
 
 While he was addressing her thus earnestly, neither of 
 them remarked that Bootle and Mrs. Shelmerdine had 
 entered the library. Mother and son exchanged significant 
 looks. They could not, of course, hear what Sir Norman 
 was saying, but his manner almost warranted the construc- 
 tion they put upon it, and the way in which Mrs. Bootle 
 agitated her fan showed that she was greatly excited. She 
 was just about to answer the young baronet's last observa- 
 tions, when she caught sight of the intruders, and, mistress 
 as she was of herself, could scarcely hide her confusion- 
 Sir Norman himself appeared slightly embarrassed. 
 
 An explosion of jealousy on the part of Bootle would 
 infallibly have taken place if a glance from his mother had 
 not restrained him. 
 
 " Were you looking for me, darling boy ? " inquired Mrs. 
 Bootle, getting up, while Sir Norman arose at the same 
 time. 
 
 "Yes, we have been looking for you everywhere," re- 
 plied Bootle, sharply. " Emile told us you were in the 
 library." 
 
 " I came here for a few minutes to rest myself after the 
 valse, and have been listening to a deeply interesting story 
 from Sir Norman." 
 
 " But you ought not to have run away with Sir Norman 
 from the ball-room, my dear," remarked Mrs. Shelmerdine. 
 w The young ladies won't forgive you." 
 
 " Well, I'll take him back at once, and make them happy," 
 cried Mrs. Bootle. " They have only lost him for a single 
 dance." 
 
 And taking Sir Norman's arm, she hastened with him to 
 the ball-room. On their way they passed Emile, who was 
 standing near the door of the library. 
 
 After resigning Mrs. Bootle to Major Fullarton, Sir 
 Norman sought out Eva in order to make his peace with 
 her, but was rather coldly received. 
 
 The spirit and gaiety of the ball were m no wise affegted 
 
332 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 by these incidents, which, indeed, were unnoticed. Bootle 
 had to conceal his anger under a smiling exterior, but fresh 
 fuel was added to his jealousy when Sir Norman took his 
 wife to supper. 
 
 A splendid supper it was, with no end of champagne, and 
 for two or three hours afterwards dancing was continued 
 with unabated spirit. 
 
 Long before this, Eva had begun to feel a little weary ; 
 but as she was staying in the house, she could not very well 
 retire till the ball was brought to a close. 
 
 To the guests generally the party afforded unmitigated 
 satisfaction. All the young ladies had plenty of partners, 
 and several of them made conquests. The elderly people 
 certainly enjoyed the supper. Mr. and Mrs. Flaxyard, who 
 were playing a rubber at the time when the little incident 
 occurred in the library, and were entirely ignorant of it, 
 thought the ball had gone off admirably. So did Mr. 
 Shelmerdine, who heard nothing but praises of his daughter- 
 in-law. So did Hornby, who had proposed to Milicent, 
 who was accepted, with a reference, of course, to papa. 
 
 If Mrs. Bootle wore a mask, it was so pretty, so bright, so 
 natural, that no one could have suspected what was beneath 
 it. Throughout the evening she seemed full of spirit and 
 enjoyment, and exhibited no symptoms of flagging even at 
 the close. There must have been a certain witchery about 
 her, since all her partners thought her enchanting. 
 
 The only malcontent was Bootle. 
 
 Late as it was, the young men who were staying in the 
 house repaired to the smoking-room to talk over the events 
 of the evening. 
 
 Hornby got a good deal chaffed, but didn't mind it. 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 MACHINATIONS OF LEONTINE. 
 
 |EARLY a week had elapsed since the ball, and the 
 whole party were still staying at Belfield. Mr. 
 and Mrs. Flaxyard had begun to find themselves 
 quite at home, and did not like to move. Be- 
 sides, the old gentleman had now another matrimonial affair 
 to arrange Mr. Huncoat having given his consent to 
 Hornby's union with Milicent. Eva Bracebridge and her 
 aunt still remained, and of course Sir Norman tarried like- 
 wise. 
 
 As we have seen, there was a good deal of society in the 
 neighbourhood, and what with a concert, and an assembly 
 at Manchester, and three large dinner-parties, the week was 
 almost filled up. The mornings were got through in various 
 ways riding, driving, lounging about, and billiards. 
 
 All this time Bootle's jealousy of Sir Norman was on the 
 increase, and he had perpetual quarrels in private with his 
 wife on the subject of the young baronet. His mother's 
 remarks, too, had materially aggravated the feeling. 
 
 One morning Mrs. Shelmerdine was passing along the 
 gallery towards her own room, when she saw Leontine come 
 
334 Myddldon Pomfret. 
 
 out of her mistress's boudoir, and being struck by the 
 soubrette's expression, took her to her dressing-room. 
 
 " Shut the door, Leontine," she said. "You look as if 
 you wished to speak to me ? " 
 
 " I have been anxious to speak to you for some time, 
 Madame, but have not had the courage," replied the artful 
 soubrette. " Some things are very painful to relate still 
 more painful to hear. You will understand what I mean, 
 Madame," she continued, with a remarkably expressive look 
 and gesture. 
 
 "Yes, I fancy I do," replied Mrs. Shelmerdine. "But 
 pray be explicit, Leontine. Don't mind giving me pain, if 
 you have anything to tell that I ought to learn." 
 
 " You will remember, Madame, that you put some ques- 
 tions to me relative to Captain Musgrave. At that time I 
 was able to relieve your anxiety but now " 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 " I think there is a certain gentleman who is how shall 
 I say it? epris de ma maitresse. M. Bootle est tres jaloux. 
 Madame laughs at him, but he takes the matter seriously. 
 I fear there may be a great quarrel between them. Monsieur 
 est tr&s violent.' 7 
 
 Mrs. Shelmerdine did not seem at all pained by this 
 narration. 
 
 " Do my son and his wife frequently quarrel, Leontine ? " 
 she asked. 
 
 " Sans cesse, Madame. They have quarrelled ever since 
 the ball, when something occurred I know not what to 
 excite M. Bootless suspicions. Madame aime a faire la 
 coquette, vous savez. No harm in that. All the same, 
 these constant quarrels may have ill consequences. Madame 
 Bootle has great spirit. She may resent such treatment." 
 
 " Does she complain to you, Leontine ? " 
 
 " Mais oui, Madame souvent. I fear she may do some- 
 thing rash. That is why I venture to speak to you. Can 
 you not advise M. Bootle ? He will assuredly listen to you 
 - his mother. By his present conduct he may provoke his 
 wife beyond endurance. He may bring about the very 
 result he dreads. Ma foi ! that is the way with men." 
 
 "You are quite in your mistress's confidence, I know, 
 Leontine. I won't ask you to betray it. But " 
 
Machinations of Leontine. 333 
 
 " It is my zeal for my mistress that induces me to speak, 
 Madame. She is so young, so pretty, so captivating, that 
 she cannot" fail to be admired. Madame must allow that 
 M. Bootless jealousy of Sir Norman is absurd causeless." 
 
 "Humph!" ejaculated Mrs. Shelmerdine. "Not alto- 
 gether causeless, Leontine. My son, I think, has grounds 
 ior jealousy. I cannot bid him shut his eyes, or hold his 
 tongue. If your mistress would cease to flirt with Sir 
 Norman, her husband would cease to be jealous." 
 
 "But I try to point out to you, Madame, that there is 
 danger in the course pursued by M. Bootle ; and if he per- 
 sists in it, he will drive my mistress to extremities." 
 
 ".No fear of that, Leontine. Your mistress is far too 
 discreet." 
 
 " But perhaps a word might prevent mischief. Will not 
 Madame utter it ? " 
 
 " I cannot interfere in a matter so delicate, Leontine," 
 replied Mrs. Shelmerdine, decidedly. " Nevertheless, I am 
 greatly obliged to you for the information you have given 
 me. You must allow me to make you a little present. If 
 you have anything more to communicate, pray come to 
 me." 
 
 So the soubrette departed, having accomplished her pur- 
 pose, and leaving Mrs. Shelmerdine delighted at the 
 prospect of a rupture between Bootle and his wife. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MACHINATIONS OF EMILE. 
 
 5ORE than once had it occurred to Bootle to put 
 some questions to Emile in regard to Sir Norman, 
 but he did not exactly know how to set about the 
 matter. However, the wily valet, who seemed to 
 divine his intentions, saved him the trouble by broaching 
 the subject. 
 
 Thus he remarked one morning while assisting Bootle to 
 dress, 
 
 " Will Monsieur allow me to to ask him if Sir Norman is 
 a pretendant to the hand of Mademoiselle Eva ? " 
 
 " So I understand ^ Emile. But why the deuce do you 
 ask ? Do you think he pays more attention to some one 
 else than to Miss Bracebridge eh ? " 
 
 " I dare not exactly tell Monsieur what I think," replied 
 the valet, with a demure look. 
 
 " But I will have it out of you, Emile." 
 
 " Has not Monsieur some notion of what I mean ? '* 
 
 "Well, perhaps, I have. I have fancied but never 
 mind what I have fancied I may be wrong." 
 
 " No, Monsieur, your conclusions are correct. You can- 
 
Machinations of Eiriite. 337 
 
 not disbelieve your own eyes. Impossible to mistake the 
 scene in the library on the night of the ball I sent Mon- 
 sieur there on purpose. I do not like him to be duped." 
 
 "What do you mean by c duped/ Emile?" cried 
 Bootle, fiercely. " Explain yourself. Do you dare to in- 
 sinuate that my honour has been outraged by this cursed 
 baronet ? " 
 
 " Oh no, Monsieur ! I insinuate no such thing. But I 
 am sure he pays court to madame. Besides things that 
 have come under my own observation, the questions he asks 
 me prove the interest he takes in her." 
 " Then he talks to you about her ? ha ! " 
 " His passion renders him indiscreet but, after all, there 
 is no harm in it. Madame merely amuses herself with him, 
 and his vanity is flattered by the trifling encouragement she 
 gives him. Voila tout." 
 
 " No, it's 'not all. He's an infernally dangerous fellow. 
 Captain Musgrave cautioned me in regard to him. I ought 
 never to have let him into the house. But I cannot get rid 
 of him just now without a disturbance. I tell you what it 
 is, Emile. You must play the spy upon him." 
 
 " It is not a part I like, Monsieur, but I am ready to do 
 anything you may desire. I think you could at once put a 
 stop to the affair." 
 
 "In what way, Emile ? " 
 
 "By telling madame decidedly very decidedly that 
 you won't allow it." 
 
 " I have told her so, Emile, but she only laughs at me. 
 She denies most emphatically that Sir Norman does make 
 love to her." 
 
 "What does she say to the interview in the library ?" 
 " She scarcely condescends to give any explanation at all 
 but she pretends that Sir Norman had some communi- 
 cation to make to her." 
 
 " That is what I meant by saying that monsieur is 
 duped." 
 
 " But you are wrong, Emile. I am neither duped by my 
 wife nor by Sir Norman. I see plainly what they are both 
 about, and I constantly tell her so. It is that which so 
 much provokes her. Last night she threatened to leave 
 me, if I continued to annoy her." 
 
Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 " A silly menace. Monsieur need not mind it. He 
 should be still more energetic dreadfully energetic. That 
 is the only way to put a stop to the affair." 
 
 " I'll follow your advice, Emile put myself in a towering 
 passion. I'll frighten her." 
 
 " That's it, Monsieur. Frighten her." 
 
 Later on in the same day, the valet and the femme de 
 chambre met to compare notes. Evidently, their plan was 
 to disgust Mrs. Bootle with her husband, and induce her to 
 elope with Musgrave, three or four impassioned letters from 
 whom had already been delivered to the infatuated lady by 
 Leontine. 
 
 The plot was most unintentionally assisted from another 
 quarter. Naturally, Mrs. Flaxyard was made the receptacle 
 of her daughter's complaints of Bootle's absurd jealousy of 
 Sir Norman, and as, in this instance, the good lady was con- 
 vinced that her son-in-law's suspicions were groundless, she 
 was highly indignant. From many things which she herself 
 noticed, and from the artful representations of Le'ontine, 
 she felt certain that Bootle was incited by his mother, and she 
 therefore added her own opposition to what she believed 
 to be an insidious attack on her daughter's happiness, and 
 counselled vigorous resistance on the part of Mrs. Bootle. 
 
 Of course Mrs. Flaxyard was in complete ignorance of 
 the real state of affairs, and had no idea of the web in 
 which her daughter was entangled. She knew nothing 
 whatever of the letters which Mrs. Bootle had received from 
 Musgrave, and had not the slightest suspicion of the snares 
 contrived by the French servants who were in his pay. 
 She did not even comprehend Mrs. Shelmerdine's sinister 
 designs, but merely fancied that the malignant old lady was 
 endeavouring to foment a quarrel between the young 
 couple. Deluded by this belief, Mrs. Flaxyard upheld her 
 daughter in her disputes with Bootle. 
 
 The effect of these various circumstances, we regret to 
 say, was highly prejudicial to Mrs. Bootle. Musgrave 's 
 letters quite unsettled her. As yet she had returned no 
 answer to them ; but he was promptly informed by Emile of 
 the effect they had produced, and wrote again and again, 
 and with increasing ardour. Still, though shaken and 
 wavering, the infatuated lady came to no decision. 
 
Machinations of Emite. 339 
 
 How, during this struggle, she maintained her usual gay 
 demeanour we can scarcely pretend to say, though we know 
 that she was an accomplished actress. But none of those 
 around her except, perhaps, Sir Norman suspected the 
 truth. 
 
 Little more than a puppet in the hands of the designing 
 valet and of his vindictive mother, Bootle acted just as they 
 chose to pull the strings. His jealousy was constantly ex- 
 cited by the false statements of Emile, and his resentment 
 kept alive by the remarks of his mother. Never before had 
 he made himself so disagreeable to his wife as by his present 
 conduct. 
 
 Thus aided, the contrivers of the infamous plot felt cer- 
 tain of success. 
 
 Our worthy friends Mr. Shelmerdine and Mr. Flaxyard 
 were entirely ignorant of what was going on, and never 
 dreamed of the serious misunderstanding between the young 
 couple. They both, however, perceived that Bootle disliked 
 Sir Norman ; but this circumstance did not trouble them, 
 and only made John more attentive to his guest. 
 
 We have intimated that Sir Norman had fcome suspicion 
 of the trutho But it was merely suspicion. From his 
 knowledge of Musgrave's character he felt almost certain 
 that he would try to keep up a clandestine correspondence 
 with Mrs. Bootle, and he discerned the means of doing so 
 through the agency of the French servants. But he knew 
 not how to act. Having ventured, one day, to make a few 
 observations about Musgrave to Bootle, they were taken in 
 extremely bad part, and produced the opposite effect from 
 that intended. Bootle became quite warm in the captain's 
 defence. On another occasion, when Sir Norman sought 
 an opportunity of a little private conversation with Mrs. 
 Bootle, they were interrupted in their tete-a-tete by the 
 jealous husband ; so no good result ensued. 
 
 Though he had thus surmised the truth, the young 
 baronet failed to perceive that he himself was merely used 
 as a tool to excite Bootless jealousy. Sir Norman, indeed, 
 was rather awkwardly circumstanced. Eva was as jealous 
 of Mrs. Bootle and as unreasonably so as Bootle was 
 jealous of him. If he sat next the charming coquette at 
 dinner, all his looks and words were sure to be misinter-v 
 22 2 
 
340 
 
 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 preted. Mrs. Bootle, who had a little malice in her 
 composition, liked to tease her friend, and so made matters 
 worse ; but, on the whole, we are inclined to think she as- 
 sisted Sir Norman's suit. Eva could no longer affect to be 
 indifferent to the young baronet. Still, her manner did not 
 encourage him to make a fresh proposal. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A LAST ADIEU. 
 
 j|VA had made more than one attempt to terminate 
 her visit, but she was prevailed upon by Mrs. 
 Bootle to prolong her stay, and good-natured Mr. 
 Shelmerdine would not allow Sir Norman to take 
 his departure. During all this time, Eva had heard nothing 
 from Hylton Park ; but one morning she received a couple 
 of letters, which she reserved for perusal in her own room. 
 
 The first she opened was from her guardian. It had 
 been sent on by Mrs. Austin. Its contents greatly surprised 
 and distressed her. She learned from it that Mr. Pomfret 
 had been seriously ill. On reaching Suez, en route to 
 India, he had been seized by fever, consequent, no doubt, 
 on his recent severe accident, and had been utterly unable 
 to proceed to Madras. After a long detention at Suez, he 
 recovered sufficiently to move to Cairo, where he had a 
 return of fever ; but he was now better, and having aban- 
 doned his intended voyage to India for the present, meant 
 to return immediately to England. 
 
 " J have heard nothing from you, or from any one since 
 
34 2 Myddletoto Pomfret. 
 
 I left," he wrote In conclusion, " but I have a strange pre- 
 sentiment of ill which I cannot shake off. Having 
 experienced the same sort of feeling before, and found it 
 justified, I cannot despise the warning. T have therefore 
 postponed my voyage to Madras for a time, and shall return 
 at once to England, where I trust to arrive very shortly 
 after this letter. 
 
 " Heaven grant that I may find you all well, and that my 
 foreboding of calamity may prove groundless ! When I 
 thought myself dying at Suez and I was nearly at death's 
 door my chief desire was to see Sophy to bid her an 
 eternal adieu. And now I fear I shall never have that 
 consolation, for something tells me she is no more. 
 
 " It will rejoice me to find that you have at last consented 
 to bestow your hand upon Sir Norman. If this should be 
 so, may you long enjoy the happiness which has been 
 denied to 
 
 "YOUR UNFORTUNATE GUARDIAN." 
 
 The perusal of this letter, as we have said, occasioned 
 Eva great distress, and she remained for some time 
 reflecting upon the series of disasters that had befallen her 
 guardian. 
 
 She then opened the other letter, which was far more 
 bulky than the first. It was from Sophy, though the address 
 was not in her handwriting, but in that of Mrs. Carew, 
 
 " I cannot tell you how much I have missed you, dearest 
 Eva. When you were near me, you sent constant 
 messages by Mrs. Austin, and never failed to visit me 
 morning and evening, and sometimes more frequently in 
 my little cell, as you designate my chamber. I never then 
 felt the solitude in the slightest degree irksome. When I 
 used to wander with you over those vast dismantled 
 apartments, and look out upon the park, I never wished to 
 quit this retreat never wished for other society than yours ; 
 but now that you have left me, dearest girl, I sometimes 
 feel that I am quite alone. 
 
 41 Yes, quite alone! I ought not to indulge the feeling, 
 and blame myself for it, because I have kind, good Mrs f 
 
A Last Adieu. 343 
 
 Austin with me, and she is even more attentive tha n here- 
 tofore. But I cannot talk to her, as I can to you. I am 
 really a recluse now. All my time is passed in meditation 
 and prayer. I rarely quit my cell during the daytime ; but 
 at night for I sleep indifferently I wander like a ghost 
 about the great deserted rooms. How weird they look 
 when flooded by moonlight, and how well-suited to such a 
 thin, shadowy, phantom-like object as I have become ! It 
 will not be long, I think, ere I shall have entered the world 
 of spirits. 
 
 " Do not let anything I may say about myself, dearest 
 Eva, cause you the slightest uneasiness, or interrupt your 
 happiness for a moment. To me withdrawal from this 
 world can only be a merciful release from trouble. There- 
 fore, if I am suddenly taken, you must not grieve, but 
 rather rejoice that I am at rest. Come when it may I hope 
 to be prepared for the blow. My repentance has been deep 
 and sincere. Certain symptoms convince me that the end 
 is not far off. I grow daily feebler, and am wasting so 
 rapidly, that I shall soon be fully qualified for the part of a 
 phantom. Austin implores me to have medical advice; but 
 I steadily refuse. What good can medicine do me ? What 
 surgeon can cure a broken heart ? 
 
 " A thousand thanks for your amiable letter, conveyed to 
 me through Austin. I am glad to learn that you are so much 
 pleased with Belfield, and trust you will continue to enjoy 
 the visit. Little as I now care for society, your description 
 of the Shelmerdine family interested me and for the moment 
 diverted me. You place them all before me. I can see 
 the worthy and warm-hearted cotton-spinner, his stately wife, 
 and the silly young couple. From your account of her, 
 Mrs. Bootle Shelmerdine does not seem to be much changed, 
 or at all improved by marriage. Coquetry is too much part 
 of her nature to be ever eradicated. Her conduct to her 
 husband foolish as he is appears to me inexcusable, I 
 hope she will go on well ; but I have great fears, and you 
 will guess why, since you tell me that a certain person 
 whom I will not name, has been visiting in the house. Ah 1 
 if she only knew him as I know him ! If she could only 
 understand his falsehood and perfidy if she could discern 
 
344 Myddkfon Pomfrct. 
 
 the black heart that lurks beneath his breast she would not 
 be beguiled by him. 
 
 " One word on another matter with which that silly 
 coquette is mixed up. Out of my love for you, out of my 
 earnest desire for your happiness, dearest Eva, I must tell 
 you that you are wrong to entertain even a momentary 
 doubt of Sir Norman's fealty. From all you have told me 
 of him, I am certain his nature is loyal and chivalrous. Do 
 not mistrust him. That a coquette like Mrs. Bootle may 
 try to captivate him does not surprise me ; but her lures 
 will be vain. She will never detach him from you, for I am 
 certain that he loves you profoundly. You do not posi- 
 tively confess that you requite his passion, but the uneasiness 
 you display in regard to this silly creature convinces me that 
 you do love him. Forgive me if I say that you have trifled 
 with him too long. Having tested his devotion, you ought 
 now to reward it. He will make you happy ! He will grace 
 you with a title, and in return you will restore his fallen 
 fortunes. I shall not live to see this ancient mansion 
 restored, but I foresee that it will be so. 
 
 " You know that you have confided to me the secrets of 
 your heart, and that I am aware you long indulged a hope- 
 less passion. The obstacle to the realisation of that dream 
 will soon be removed. But even when Julian is free, I do 
 not think he will take another bride. None could be 
 worthier of your love than he no man, under certain 
 circumstances, could have made you happier. But his 
 heart is seared. He will never love again. Therefore, I 
 rejoice to find that you have transferred your affections to 
 a high-born honourable man who loves you devotedly, 
 and who will be to you what your guardian never could 
 be! 
 
 " As I offer this heartfelt aspiration for your happiness 
 for the most unhappy woman in the world may wish 
 happiness to another the thought crosses me that I shall 
 never behold Julian again. He is far away, and cannot 
 return before all is over. My lips will then be mute. But 
 say to him, I implore you, dear girl, that which I would say 
 with my last breath were he near me that I have never 
 ceased to regret the wrong I have done him. If penitence 
 qau expiate the 'offence, mine i expiate^," 
 
A Last Adieu. 345 
 
 " I have a horrid event to relate, but it must be told. I 
 have mentioned that I have lately been in the habit of 
 wandering at night through the suite of disused rooms 
 contiguous to my cell. I have never been alarmed during 
 these nocturnal rambles, for I have no superstitious fears j 
 but last night I was greatly terrified, as you shall hear. 
 
 " I had completed my walk, and was slowly retracing my 
 steps through the long room, occasionally pausing to look 
 out upon the park, which was beautifully lighted up by a 
 full moon, when I distinctly heard a sound in the apartment 
 I had just quitted. 
 
 " I listened intently, thinking I must be deceived. The 
 next moment a figure appeared at the door. It was he 
 my eternal persecutor. I screamed, but no one could hear 
 me, and fear rooted me to the spot. He was beside me 
 instantly. 
 
 " < You cannot hide yourself from me, you see/ he cried. 
 < I am sure to find you out. You fancied yourself safe here, 
 but I have managed to reach you. You wonder how I 
 discovered your retreat, and how I obtained admittance. 
 I don't mean to enlighten you on those points, but I will 
 tell you thus much I didn't make use of a window. My 
 last experience in that line was not pleasant. That cursed 
 Myddleton Pomfret caused me to be shot at by a fellow 
 whom he had planted on the bridge. Luckily, the bungler 
 missed his aim. I hope Pomfret gave you the money I left 
 with him ? " 
 
 " You may be certain that he did,' I rejoined. ' Is it to 
 satisfy yourself on the point that you have come hither ? If 
 so, you are answered, and may depart/ 
 
 " ' Not just yet,' he replied. ' I am glad to learn that you 
 got the money. You cannot have spent much of it, for you 
 can be at no earthly expense here. You must lend it me 
 again for a short time a month at the outside.' 
 
 " ' For what wicked purpose do you require the money P 1 
 I asked. 
 
 " ' For no wicked purpose at all/ he replied. ' I have a 
 chance, and don't want to throw it away. 7 
 
 " Something prompted me what to say to him. 
 
 " * A chance of running away with some foolish woman, 
 Mrs. Bootle Shelmerdine, perhaps is that it?' 
 
346 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 " He recoiled ; proclaiming by his surprise and confusion 
 that I had guessed the truth. 
 
 " ' I will never assist your infamous schemes, 1 1 continued. 
 6 Begone ! ' 
 
 " i Not without the money,' he rejoined, recovering 
 himself. ' You have it, I know. Fetch it at once ! ' 
 
 " On my firm refusal, he seized me by the arm, and strove 
 to drag me along. I resisted; but the little strength I 
 possess soon failed me, and I fell to the ground. He 
 looked at me as I lay in an almost fainting state, but with- 
 out a trace of compassion on his countenance ; and then 
 despairing, I suppose, of obtaining his object, quitted the 
 room as he had entered it. How I regained my cell I 
 scarcely know, but my first impulse was to make fast the 
 door. 
 
 " When Austin came to me in the morning she was quite 
 alarmed by my appearance, and declared that I looked so 
 ill that I must have advice. My malady indeed has been 
 greatly aggravated by the shock I have received. My 
 sufferings have been severe, but I will not pain you by a 
 description of them. They cannot endure much longer. 
 
 " Feeling certain of this, and that I ought not to remain here, 
 I have again and for the last time appealed to dear Mrs. 
 Carew's motherly affection, and entertain no doubt that she 
 will come for me in the course of the day. You may there- 
 fore conclude that I have been removed to her house, and 
 that I am lying in the little couch in which her daughter 
 died. 
 
 " It has cost me a great effort to send you this narrative, 
 but I wished you to know precisely what has happened, 
 since I feel that the scene I have just gone through will 
 hasten the inevitable catastrophe. 
 
 " In all probability, these lines are the last I shall ever 
 address to you. Farewell, dearest Eva farewell for ever ! 
 I embrace you in the spirit. Think tenderly of me. When 
 you see Julian, console him, for my heart now tells me he 
 will need consolation. 
 
 " A last adieu ! 
 
 SOPHY," 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A BROKEN HEART. 
 
 j]ITH eyes well-nigh blinded with tears Eva con- 
 cluded the foregoing letter. 
 
 But there was an enclosure from Mrs. Carew, 
 and to this she anxiously turned, as soon as she 
 could master her emotion. 
 
 MRS. CAREW'S LETTER. 
 
 " I have sad tidings to relate, my dear Miss Bracebridge, 
 but I will write as firmly as I can. 
 
 " Poor dear Sophy entrusted the accompanying letter to 
 me, giving me an injunction in regard to it with which I 
 felt bound to comply. 
 
 " I brought her here two days ago on the afternoon of 
 the day mentioned in her letter and as Austin came with 
 us in the carriage, the removal was effected without much 
 distress to the dear sufferer. At all events, she bore it 
 without a murmur. 
 
 " As we passed the little church adjoining my residence, 
 she looked towards it, and then, turning to me, whispered : 
 
 *' ' Lay me in that churchyard, near your daughter/ 
 
348 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 " I pressed her hand gently, and she understood me, for 
 her wan features were lighted with a smile. It consoles me 
 to recal these slight circumstances now. She smiled again 
 as we approached the house, and remarked : 
 
 " ' How pretty it looks. I feel as if I were coming home. 
 
 I shall never cross this drawbridge again, except ' And 
 
 her voice failed her. 
 
 " The servants were all collected at the door, gazing at 
 her wistfully. The gardener displayed most emotion, 
 though I did not imagine the rugged old man could shed a 
 tear. But the sternest heart might have been melted. We 
 carried her up-stairs, poor dear, for she was far too feeble to 
 walk, and those who bore her said she was light enough. 
 She was conveyed to her own room, and when placed in her 
 little bed by Austin, seemed easier than she had done 
 before, and murmured : 
 
 " ' My prayer is granted. Here I wished to die ! ' 
 
 " You know the bereavement I have endured, dear Miss 
 Bracebridge. At that moment Sophy looked so like my 
 own lost child that I felt as if the sad scene were being re- 
 enacted, and was obliged to rush out of the room to give 
 vent to my distress. 
 
 " While I was away, Mr. Southwood saw her, and after- 
 wards informed me that there was not a hope of recovery. 
 She was in the last stage of a deep decline. The case must 
 have been hopeless from the first, but the progress of the 
 disease had been accelerated by the shock she had just 
 undergone. The crisis could not be far off. 
 
 " ' I can do little for her,' he said, ' except to ease her 
 sufferings. She is perfectly aware of her condition, and, in 
 all my professional experience, I have never seen any one 
 more resigned, or apparently better prepared. 7 
 
 " As soon as I had got my feelings under control and 
 this was no easy task I went back to her, and the sight 
 almost upset me again. Austin was sitting beside the bed, 
 and rose to give me her place. Never shall I forget the 
 angelic smile bestowed upon me by the 'sweet sufferer. 
 How beautiful she looked ! but her beauty was no longer of 
 earth. Her features were wasted, but the delicate outline 
 was preserved, and the large eyes had even more than their 
 former brilliancy. 
 
A Broken Heart. 349 
 
 " 6 You have heard what Mr. Southwood thinks of me ?' 
 she said. ' He tried to disguise his opinion from me, but I 
 soon induced him to speak frankly.' 
 
 " I could not trust myself to make any direct reply, but 
 she tried to cheer me by her looks, and becoming more 
 composed, though my voice still faltered, I inquired whether 
 she wished to have any of her relations summoned. 
 
 " She answered in the negative, alleging that the presence 
 of her sister, for whom she felt the greatest affection, but 
 whose character differed essentially from her own, might 
 disturb the tranquil frame of mind she had arrived at, while 
 her father's state of health was such that he could not 
 support the sneering. She charged me to write to them, but 
 not till all was over. She wished all her money to be given 
 to her sister, and, indeed, everything she possessed, except a 
 few trifles, about which she gave special directions. To my 
 inquiries whether I should write to you, she simply re- 
 plied : 
 
 " ' Not yet. I have told you when to send her my 
 letter.' 
 
 " She spoke much of her dear Eva, and always with 
 heartfelt gratitude and affection. Very fervent were her 
 wishes for your happiness, and more than once she ex- 
 claimed : 
 
 " ' I hope she will marry Sir Norman.' 
 
 " Austin, who is greatly attached to her young master, 
 assured her that she might rest easy on that score. 
 
 "With a tranquillity that was really surprising, though 
 inexpressibly affecting, she spoke to me of a great many 
 matters, and gave me particular directions, which of course 
 I shall attend to. She has left a ring for you, given her by 
 Julian, which she hopes you will wear for her sake, as well 
 as for his sake. 
 
 " After she had been talking for some time she became 
 silent, and her eyes being closed, I thought she slumbered. 
 I noticed many changes in her countenance, and at last, 
 fancying something pained her, I gently touched her, and 
 she at once opened her eyes. 
 
 " ' I have been thinking over my past life,' she said. ' I 
 have known so little happiness during my brief career that 
 I can bid the world farewell with scarcely a regret. Yes, I 
 
Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 have one regret/ she added, with an irrepressible pang, 
 which showed itself in her countenance. ' I should like to 
 see Julian again if only for a moment.' 
 
 " I did not dare to give her a hope, because J feared she 
 would never again behold him on earth. 
 
 "That night Austin watched by her couch. The dear 
 patient slept little, and appeared disturbed and feverish. 
 
 " Next day, Mr. Southwood again visited her, and, finding 
 her very feeble, gave her some slight stimulant, which 
 revived her ; but she was evidently rapidly sinking. 
 
 " An eager desire to see Julian had now taken possession 
 of her, and she asked me if I thought he would come. But 
 before I could reply, she exclaimed : 
 
 " How unreasonable I am to put such a question, when I 
 know he is in India.' 
 
 " Just then, Austin, who had left the room a short time 
 previously, returned. I could see from her looks that she 
 had something to communicate. As she came up she said, 
 in a low voice, that I was wanted down-stairs. 
 
 Softly as she spoke, Sophy, whose sense of hearing was 
 preternaturally quickened, caught the words, and fixing her 
 eyes inquiringly on the old housekeeper, said : 
 
 " ' Is he come ? ' 
 
 " I was terrified by the excitement she displayed, fearing 
 it might prove fatal. 
 
 " ' What is to be done, Austin ? ' I said. ( Try and calm 
 her.' 
 
 "'Go down-stairs at once, Macjam,' rejoined the house- 
 keeper, in a low voice. ' I will prepare her.' 
 
 " Not a word was lost by Sophy, who exclaimed with a 
 look of agonised impatience : 
 
 " ' Ah, he is come ! I knew it. Oh, let me see him ! 
 Bring him instantly, or I shall die ! Go, I adjure you ! ' 
 
 "I needed no further exhortation, but hurried down- 
 stairs. 
 
 " There indeed, was Julian. 
 
 " He had just returned not from India, but from Egypt, 
 where he had been detained by illness, and had arrived, 
 almost providentially, before it was too late. He had been 
 to Hylton Park, and, learning what had taken place, had 
 
A Broken Heart 351 
 
 come on at once to my house. He appeared fearfully 
 changed, and his looks betokened the most intense anxiety. 
 After exchanging a few hasty words with him, I led him 
 up-stairs, beseeching him, as we went, to maintain his com- 
 posure. 
 
 " I want words to describe the scene that followed as I 
 opened the door. A cry, such as I never heard before, but 
 that thrilled to my very heart, burst from Sophy as she 
 caught sight of him. While I was absent, Austin had 
 propped her up with pillows. On entering the room, 
 Julian stood still for a moment as if transfixed. He then 
 rushed forward, and threw himself on his knees by the bed, 
 while she clasped her arms round his neck. In this attitude 
 they remained for a short space, and nothing could be heard 
 but half-stifled sobs. 
 
 " At last she raised herself, and said : 
 
 " ' Look up, dear Julian look up ! Let me gaze on 
 your beloved features once more before my eyes grow dim/ 
 And as he complied, she added, 'You look ill very ill! 
 What ails you, dearest Julian ? ' 
 
 " ' Waste not a thought on me, 7 he replied. ' Have you 
 aught to tell me ? Is there aught I can do ? ' 
 
 " < You can make rny last moments happy by a Word/ 
 she rejoined. ' Say you forgive me 1 ; 
 
 " ' I do forgive you, from the bottom of my heart, my 
 ever dear Sophy/ he rejoined. * I have never ceased to 
 love you.' 
 
 " ' Oh ! this is too much bliss ! ' she cried. ' It suffocates 
 me. Yet say it once more. Say you love me, Julian and 
 kiss me ! ' 
 
 " He repeated the words, pressed his lips to hers, and 
 received her last breath. 
 
 " He laid her gently on the pillow, and remained gazing 
 in mute despair on her angelic countenance, which wore a 
 smile even in death. Not a groan escaped him. 
 
 "We allowed him to remain thus for some little time, but 
 at last I took his hand with the intent of leading him 
 away. 
 
 " He offered no resistance ; but just as we reached the 
 door, he turned round, and, with a fearful cry, rushed 
 towards the body, and clasped it to his breast." 
 
CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 SIR NORMAN MAKES A DISCOVERY. 
 
 j]IR NORMAN, with Bootle and Hornby, were out 
 that day with the Cheshire foxhounds. They 
 had some famous runs ; killed three foxes Sir 
 Norman was in at the death of two of them 
 and only just got back in time to dress for dinner. They 
 were all much surprised to learn that Eva and Mrs. Daven- 
 try had left Belfield that afternoon. The cause of their 
 sudden departure was the receipt by Miss Bracebridge of 
 very distressing intelligence, which 'completely unfitted her 
 for society, and necessitated this abrupt termination of her 
 visit. 
 
 Such was the explanation afforded by Knowles, while 
 delivering to the young baronet a letter which Eva had left 
 for him. Sir Norman hurried with this letter to his own 
 room, and, fastening the door that he might not be dis- 
 turbed, read as follows : 
 
 EVA'S LETTER. 
 
 " I have just learnt from Mrs. Carew that poor Sophy's 
 
Sir Norman Makes a Discovery. 353 
 
 sorrows are over. As I could neither indulge my grief un- 
 restrained in this house, nor answer the questions that 
 would naturally be put to me, I shall hurry away as soon as 
 possible, and get my aunt to make my excuses and adieux. 
 If I can help it, I shall not see Mrs. Bootle before my de- 
 parture. There are circumstances connected with this sad 
 event which would make any conversation with her, at this 
 juncture, excessively painful to me. 
 
 " I have much to tell you much that will surprise and 
 afflict you, but I am so overwhelmed with grief that I can 
 scarcely write. There are one or two things, however, that 
 I must mention. Poor dear Sophy, as you know, when 
 I left her how could I leave her? was in a most 
 precarious state. But her death was accelerated by another 
 nocturnal visit from the perfidious villain who betrayed her. 
 He came to her, as before, for money, and when she refused 
 him for she guessed the base purpose for which he sought 
 the loan his violence killed her. I say killed her; for 
 though she lingered for two days, she never recovered 
 from the terrible shock. I look upon Musgrave as her 
 murderer. 
 
 " I shall ever regret that I was not with her at the last. 
 Yet she was most carefully tended by Mrs. Carew and 
 Austin, and she had a consolation which my presence could 
 not have afforded her. AS if in answer to her supplications, 
 some pitying angel brought Julian to her at the last moment. 
 He had been detained by illness in Egypt, and was unable 
 to prosecute his voyage to India. A warning voice seemed 
 to call him back, and he obeyed the summons. It is well 
 he did so. He arrived in time. A few moments later, and 
 all would have been over. But she still lived, though the 
 spirit was ready to take its flight. She saw him. She knew 
 him. She heard his well-known voice. She received his 
 forgiveness. They were re-united in death ! 
 
 " She is gone. Her errors, I doubt not, will be forgiven 
 by her Supreme Judge, as they were forgiven by her un- 
 happy husband. 
 
 '{ With this sad scene before me, and with poor Sophy's 
 
 last injunctions fresh in my mind, I will no longer attempt 
 
 to disguise the feelings I entertain for you, dear Sir 
 
 Norman. You have won my heart. My hand shall be 
 
 23 
 
354 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 yours whenever you choose to claim it, and my life shall 
 prove the depth of my affection for you. 
 
 " I have written this because I shall not see you before I 
 leave, but I should not have shrunk from the avowal. 
 Though I. ought not to think of myself at this moment, I 
 feel that I ought to think of you. 
 
 11 Having thus unburthened my heart, let me refer to 
 another matter. I am very uneasy about a certain charming 
 person of our acquaintance, whose thoughtlessness may 
 cause her to fall into the snares which, I fear, are laid for 
 her. I cannot help connecting that villain's secret visit to 
 Hylton Castle with some dark design against her happiness. 
 I may be wrong, but such is my distinct impression. Even 
 if I should see her before I leave, I cannot warn her. 
 But you may warn her you may save her. Leave no 
 means untried to foil the villain's schemes. Do not let 
 another victim be added to his list. 
 
 "By your love for me, I charge you to do this. If 
 plot there be, and you can detect it, thwart it at any hazard. 
 But, for the sake of the infatuated lady, for the sake of all 
 connected with her, do not let exposure take place. I 
 tremble to think of her peril, but I trust you will rescue her 
 from it. Do not abandon your post till this is accomplished. 
 You will be doubly welcome at Hylton Castle when you 
 can relieve my anxiety. Adieu ! 
 
 " EVA." 
 
 Sir Norman was standing beside the fire thinking over 
 this letter, which had filled him with so many opposite 
 emotions some sorrowful, some joyous, some wrathful- 
 that he quite forgot that it was necessary to dress for dinner, 
 when a tap was heard at the door. This roused him from 
 his reverie, and he admitted Emile, who had come to help 
 him to take off his hunting habiliments. While he'was thus 
 employed, the valet espied Eva's letter, which the young 
 baronet had laid upon the table, and he contrived to push 
 it out of the way, though he did not venture to abstract it. 
 
 Having hastily made his toilette, Sir Norman went down- 
 stairs, and had just reached the drawing-room door, when 
 suddenly recollecting that he had left Eva's letter on the 
 table, he flew back to his own chamber to secure it. Emile 
 
Sir Norman Makes a Discovery. 355 
 
 was still there, as he burst suddenly into the room, and Sir 
 Norman almost fancied that he saw the valet take the 
 letter quickly from his breast-pocket and lay it down. But 
 the manoeuvre was so quickly executed that he could not 
 feel quite sure, and, snatching up the letter without a word, 
 he hurried down-stairs again. 
 
 Rather a dull dinner that day. The sudden departure of 
 Eva and her aunt, or some other circumstance, had 
 damped Mrs. Bootle's spirits. Tired with his day's work, 
 Bootle looked sullen and stupid. Later on in the evening 
 the young men adjourned to the billiard-room, and when 
 preparing to play, Sir Norman took off his coat, and told 
 Emile, who was there as usual, to hang it up. While doing 
 so, the valet felt the pockets ; but perceiving that his move- 
 ments were watched by Sir Norman, he did not venture to 
 take out the letter, and shortly afterwards the young 
 baronet^ whose suspicions had been excited, put on the 
 coat again. 
 
 On retiring to his own room, Sir Norman took out the 
 letter with the intention of reading it before he sought his 
 couch. To his great surprise, he found that he had 
 obtained possession of a missive from Musgrave to Emile, 
 which the valet, in his haste, had inadvertently substituted 
 for Eva's letter. Hence the rascal's uneasiness. 
 
 Sir Norman had not the slightest scruple in reading the 
 letter, which was in French, and to the following effect : 
 
 "You tell me that Madame still continues undecided, 
 but exhibits signs of yielding. Why will she not write? 
 She appears awfully afraid of committing herself. Not a 
 ' single line in answer to all my letters. Cannot L. induce 
 her to send me a few words ? Then there could be no 
 retreat. Now she may throw me over at the last moment. 
 
 " But a truce to these misgivings. L. is so clever, and 
 has such influence over her mistress, that we cannot fail. 
 It makes me laugh to hear that Madame and her spouse 
 quarrel so much. I felt sure I had sown the seeds of 
 discord between them. How well Monsieur helps our 
 plan. We could not have a better ally. Madame will not 
 Stand such treatment long. She has too much spirit. 
 There must be no reconciliation. L. must take care of 
 that. 
 
 232 
 
356 Myddleton Pomjret. 
 
 " Now, for fear of mistake, I will recapitulate my instruc- 
 tions. We will suppose that all goes well that Madame 
 consents. No step must be taken until three days after 
 her family have left Three days, mind. Precision is the 
 soul of an enterprise like ours. You will inform me when 
 the time of the departure of the Flaxyards is fixed, so that 
 I may have all ready. On the third day, then, Madame 
 will come up to town by the morning train. A pretext for 
 the journey will easily be found perhaps a short visit to 
 mamma. But Madame will arrange this better than I can. 
 You and L. will come with her. I will meet her at the 
 Euston station. Then hey for Dover ! The next news of 
 us shall be from Paris. 
 
 " There must be no change in this plan, or it may mis- 
 carry. I will propose it in a letter to Madame. L.'s per- 
 suasions, combined with other circumstances, will ensure 
 its accomplishment. I count upon L. and you, because 
 you have both as much interest in the success of the 
 scheme as I have myself." 
 
 Chance seemed to have placed this letter in Sir Norman's 
 hands, in order that the infamous scheme which it revealed 
 might be defeated. Yet how could it be defeated, without 
 fearful consequences to the lady against whom the machi- 
 nations were directed? Not merely must she be saved, 
 but her reputation must be screened. This might be done, 
 Sir Norman thought, since he was in possession of the 
 details of the scheme. But an apparently insuperable 
 difficulty at once presented itself. Emile's uneasiness had 
 shown that he was aware of the mistake he had made in 
 regard to the letter. How deceive him? Determined to 
 trust to chance, which had so far befriended him, Sir 
 Norman left the letter in his coat pocket, certain that the 
 valet would find it in! the morning, and might suppose it 
 had not been read. And it turned out exactly as he 
 anticipated. Emile, who had passed a sleepless night, 
 came as usual to attend to him in the morning. The valet 
 was full of uneasiness, but was quickly reassured by Sir 
 Norman's manner, and lost no time in carrying off the 
 clothes. By-and-by he reappeared, and, while placing the 
 carefully folded habiliments on a chair, he observed : 
 
Sir Norman Makes a Discovery. 357 
 
 "You left a letter with your cigar-case and handkerchief 
 in your coat-pocket last night, Sir Norman. Shall I lay 
 them on the table ? " 
 
 "Yes," replied the young baronet. "I forgot to take 
 out the things. I was tired last night, and went to bed 
 immediately." 
 
 The careless and half-sleepy tone in which this was 
 uttered disarmed the valet's suspicions, and he left the 
 room quite easy. When Sir Norman got up shortly after- 
 wards, he found Eva's letter on the table. 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 MRS. BOOTLE'S DECISION is MADE? 
 
 'S sudden departure seemed to be the signal for 
 a general dispersion of the company at Belfield. 
 The Flaxyards had intended to remain a little 
 longer, but letters which came by that very 
 morning's post informed the old gentleman and Hornby 
 that their presence in town was required on matters of 
 business ; and as such a summons could not be neglected, 
 it was settled that they should leave on the following day. 
 Old Flaxyard would fain have started sooner, but there was 
 a dinner, that day, at the Huncoats, which Hornby would 
 not forego. How could he disappoint Milicent ? Though 
 very sorry to lose his friends, John allowed them to do as 
 they pleased, and we may be sure Mrs. Shelmerdine made 
 no attempt to detain them. Mrs. Bootle said she could 
 not possibly part with dear mamma; but dear mamma, 
 who, if truth must be told, was rather tired of her visit, and 
 had had more than enough of Mrs. Shelmerdine, declared 
 that she must go. 
 
 This discussion occurred during breakfast, and while 
 listening to it, Sir Norman thought Mrs. Bootle rather over- 
 
Mrs. Booties Decision is Made. 359 
 
 acted ner part. Notwithstanding her professions to the 
 contrary, it was evident to him that she wanted to get rid 
 of her family. Since everybody else was going, Sir Norman 
 felt he had no excuse for remaining longer, and he there- 
 fore announced that he, too, should be obliged to leave on 
 the following day. The intimation was received with ill- 
 disguised satisfaction by Bootle. 
 
 After breakfast, Sir Norman tried to obtain a few words 
 in private with Mrs. Bootle. But she was never alone. At 
 last, he contrived to whisper that he had an important 
 communication to make to her, and she told him to come 
 to her boudoir in an hour. Unluckily her reply, though 
 uttered in a low voice, was overheard by Mrs. Shelmerdine, 
 and immediately reported to her son. 
 
 At the appointed time Sir Norman proceeded to the 
 boudoir. Mrs. Bootle was* there, but her mother was with 
 her. Mrs. Flaxyard, however, immediately arose. 
 
 " I understand, Sir Norman, from my daughter, that you 
 have something to say to her about Eva," she remarked. 
 
 " Nothing, I hope, has occurred " 
 
 "Nothing adverse to my happiness," he interrupted. 
 "I have the great satisfaction to inform you that I am 
 accepted. The young lady's decision was made yesterday, 
 and was conveyed in a letter which she left for me on her 
 departure." 
 
 "I am truly rejoiced to hear it," cried Mrs. Flaxyard. 
 " Pray accept my sincere congratulations. You have 
 indeed won a prize. I can quite understand now what you 
 have to say to my daughter. 
 And she quitted the boudoir." 
 
 " I felt sure this would come to pass, Sir Norman," said 
 Mrs. Bootle, as soon as they were alone. " I flatter myself 
 that I have assisted your suit, though whether I have acted 
 a friendly part towards you in doing so time alone can 
 show. But I really think you have a good chance of happi- 
 ness with Eva, if married people ever are happy, which, 
 from my own experience, I almost begin to doubt." 
 
 " I am sorry to hear you speak thus bitterly of married 
 life," he rejoined ; "but I trust you are merely jesting with 
 me." 
 
 ^ I speak in sad earnest/ 7 she replied, " I will not say 
 
360 My d diet on Pomfret. 
 
 that I am wretched but I am far from happy. I look gay 
 enough in society ; but when alone, and the mask is taken 
 off, I am what you see me now." 
 
 " How is it possible situated as you are ! that you can 
 be unhappy ? " 
 
 " Becausebut I will not complain. Perhaps the fault 
 is mine no doubt it is. Everybody, at least, would say so 
 would blame me. Apparently, I have everything to 
 make me happy. I ought to be happy. Yet you see how 
 wretched I am ! " 
 
 And she burst into tears* 
 
 "Command yourself, I entreat," cried Sir Norman, "and 
 listen to what I have to say ! I am at no loss to under- 
 stand by what perfidious arts you have been brought to your 
 present unhappy state. I see, only too clearly, the mischief 
 that has been wrought. But be counselled by me. Do not 
 let your fancied grievances for fancied they are induce you 
 to take a false step which will plunge you into real misery." 
 
 " A false step ! What mean you, Sir Norman ? " 
 
 " All is known to me. I have discovered the villain's 
 deep-laid design, and would aid you to defeat it. Struggle 
 resolutely against the evil that environs you. Rouse all the 
 good within you. You will then be strong enough to resist 
 him. Yield, and you are lost for ever ! " 
 
 She hung down her head, and attempted no reply. Amid 
 the silence that prevailed, the door softly opened, and 
 Bootle and his mother entered the boudoir. 
 
 " You will not betray me ! " murmured the unhappy lady 
 on perceiving them. 
 
 " Fear nothing," he replied in a whisper. " You are safe 
 with me." 
 
 " Ha ! how's this ? " cried Bootle, stepping towards his 
 wife. " In tears ! What's the matter ? " 
 
 " I'll tell you some other time," she replied. " I'm not 
 in the mood to give you any explanation now." 
 
 " But I insist upon an explanation," he cried. " That is, 
 if you have any to offer. I ask you again how it is that I 
 find you in tears ? No use in denying the fact. Your eyes 
 are quite red. What's the matter, I say ? " 
 
 " Will you permit me to offer you an explanation ? " re 
 parked Sir Norman. 
 
Mrs. Booties Decision is Made. 361 
 
 " None appears to be necessary," interposed Mrs. Shel- 
 merdine. " It is not customary for my daughter-in-law^ to 
 manifest so much emotion. I have never known her shed 
 a tear before. No doubt she is grieved at your departure, 
 Sir Norman." 
 
 " Madam, you are entirely mistaken, I can assure you." 
 
 "If she is grieved because Sir Norman is going, I am 
 not," observed Bootle, with a discordant laugh. "I should 
 be glad if he would hasten his departure." 
 
 " It will be impossible for me to remain longer after these 
 observations," said the young baronet. " But, at least, let 
 me explain " 
 
 " Useless quite useless ! I am not to be imposed 
 upon ! " cried Bootle. " I am not so blind as you suppose. 
 I have seen what has been going on. This is not the first 
 time that I have surprised you making love to my wife. 
 You forget the scene in the library on the night of the ball. 
 Explain that, if you can." 
 
 " It is easily done, Sir, if you will only dismiss your un- 
 founded and, I must say, ridiculous suspicions." 
 
 " My unfounded and ridiculous suspicions ! ha ! When 
 I find my wife closeted with a person whom I know to be 
 in love with her when I find her profoundly agitated and 
 in tears I am told that my suspicions are ridiculous and 
 unfounded ha ! ha ! " 
 
 " You are behaving most unwisely, Sir," said Sir Norman, 
 sternly. " I have always acted as your friend." 
 
 " I don't desire your friendship," cried Bootle. "In those 
 confounded French comedies, 'mon meilleur ami' always 
 plays the traitor." 
 
 " Then you refuse to listen to me ? " said Sir Norman. 
 
 " I decline to be made a dupe," rejoined Bootle. 
 
 With some difficulty Sir Norman restrained himself. 
 Turning to Mrs. Bootle, he said, 
 
 " Pray make my excuses to Mr. Shelmerdine, coupled 
 with my best thanks for his hospitality. I leave my defence 
 in your hands. Adieu ! " 
 
 Coldly saluting Mrs. Shelmerdine and Bootle, he then left 
 the boudoir. Proceeding to his own room, he rang the 
 bell, and directing Emile to pack up his trunks, and send 
 them after him to the station, quitted the house. 
 
363 Myddkton fomfret. 
 
 Leaving him to proceed to Bury, we shall return to tne 
 boudoir. 
 
 " I shall not endure this any longer, Bootle," cried his 
 wife, as soon as Sir Norman was gone. 
 
 " Do as you please," he cried. " If you are for a 
 separation, I sha'n't oppose it." 
 
 " A separation ! Oh, darling boy ! is it come to this ? 
 so soon!" 
 
 " I am no longer a darling boy ! " he retorted, savagely, 
 " I am an injured husband that's what I am." 
 
 " You have gone crazy, I believe," said his wife. 
 
 " I may well be crazy v after what I have seen and heard 
 in this boudoir. Have you any explanation to give ? " 
 
 " None ! I won't make any." 
 
 " My son has a right to be satisfied," said Mrs. Shelmer- 
 dine. 
 
 " I will be satisfied, or " 
 
 "Don't say any more now," interrupted his mother. 
 "Come along!" 
 
 And she forced him out of the boudoir. 
 
 They had not been gone more than a minute when Ldon- 
 tine, who had been on the watch, made her appearance. 
 She perfectly understood what had happened, and felt that 
 the moment was propitious to the execution of her scheme. 
 
 "Ah, Madame!" she exclaimed, in accents of profound 
 commiseration, " what frightful usage you have to submit to!" 
 
 " I will submit to it no longer, Leontine," rejoined Mrs. 
 Bootle. " He has threatened me with a separation. Be it 
 so. Dear mamma leaves to-morrow. I shall go with her." 
 
 " That would give a complete triumph to Madame Shel- 
 merdine. To send Madame back to her family, beaten, 
 humiliated, is precisely what that dreadful megere desires. 
 Her task will then be accomplished. In my poor judgment 
 you ought to take no such course, Madame. Either remain 
 here, and defy your vindictive belle-mere, or fly. Were I 
 in your place, Madame, I would unhesitatingly embrace the 
 latter alternative." 
 
 " I cannot remain here, that is certain, Ldontine. That 
 frightful megere, as you call her, will kill me. She has 
 regained all her influence over mv husband, and has quite, 
 set him against me." 
 
Mrs. Hootle's Decision is Made. 363; 
 
 " That is perfectly true, Madame. Monsieur is a totally 
 changed man. Emile and myself have both remarked it. 
 It will be impossible for Madame to maintain such an un- 
 equal contest. She must yield." 
 
 " Never, Leontine ! I will fly rather than yield ! " 
 
 " Then Madame decides ! " cried the soubrette, with irre- 
 pressible satisfaction. 
 
 " Yes no ! I cannot decide now. I am bewildered." 
 
 " But the moment is come when the decision must be 
 made, Madame. Pardon me, if I say you can no longer 
 hesitate. The plan proposed by your adorer must either be 
 carried out or abandoned. Will you write to him ? " 
 
 " No. Let Emile write." 
 
 " To what effect, Madame ? " asked Leontine, trembling 
 with anxiety. 
 
 " To say I will come," replied the other, in a low voice. 
 
 " Madame has decided well/' cried the soubrette, joyfully. 
 " It shall be done at once." 
 
 And she hurried away, fearing lest her mistress should 
 change her mind. 
 
 The fatal step was taken. No, not yet taken. Leontine 
 might be recalled. The struggle between good and ill was 
 still going on in the infatuated lady's breast, when her 
 mother entered the boudoir. 
 
 " On what errand is Leontine gone ? " cried Mrs. Flax- 
 yard. " She looked exulting as she came out, but became 
 greatly confused on beholding me. I fear there is some- 
 thing wrong going on." 
 
 " Don't trouble yourself about Leontine, dear mamma, 
 but direct your attention to me. I require your sympathy 
 your counsel. I am quite prostrated by a terrible scene 
 which I have just had with Bootle and his mother. Their 
 unjust suspicions have well-nigh distracted me. Will you 
 believe it ? Sir Norman has been sent away ! Bootle talks 
 of a separation, and I don't know what." 
 
 "This is dreadful! But it must be set right without 
 delay. I will speak to Mr. Shelmerdine myself." 
 
 " No, mamma, don't. Perhaps the storm may subside, 
 now that the cause of it Sir Norman is removed." 
 
 " There is something beyond Sir Norman in the quarrel, 
 I fear," remarked Mrs, Flaxyard, " Has Captain MusgravQ 
 
364 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 nothing to do with it ? I must own that I thought Ldontine 
 was charged with a secret message to him when I met her 
 just now. If a face ever expressed detected guilt, hers did. 
 I shall always feel uneasy while you retain those French 
 servants. But never mind them now. Do let me try and 
 make up this quarrel between you and Bootle. With Mr. 
 Shelmerdine's aid, I am sure I can do so." 
 
 " No, dear mamma, you must let me battle it out. I 
 cannot will not humble myself to the old lady. Any- 
 thing rather than that. If she and Bootle persist in 
 annoying me, I will run up to town, and pass a short time 
 with you at the Acacias." 
 
 " Not a bad plan, my dear. Go up with us to-morrow." 
 
 " No, thank you, mamma. I would rather wait a few 
 days. Bootle may improve when we are left to ourselves. 
 But in order to spare dear Mr. Shelmerdine's feelings for I 
 don't want him, or papa, or even Hornby, to know of this 
 quarrel you can ask me to come to you. This will serve as 
 an excuse, in case I should find it necessary to take the step." 
 
 " I will do as you desire, my dear, though I had far rather 
 have you under my own charge. That dreadful Musgrave 
 haunts me for ever. Don't deceive me. He is not privy to 
 this plan, I trust ? He has not suggested it ? Mind, 
 won't allow him to visit at the Acacias." 
 
 " He won't even know that I am there, mamma. It is 
 by no means certain that I shall come." 
 
 "You have no arrikre-pense'e in what you have just 
 proposed ? " 
 
 " Not the slightest, dear mamma. How frightfully 
 suspicious you are ! " 
 
 " I cannot help it," groaned her mother. " I am full of 
 uneasiness. Do nothing imprudent, my dear child." 
 
 " Mamma!" 
 
 " Well, I will say no more ! " cried Mrs. Flaxyard. 
 
 And with a look at her daughter full of maternal anxiety 
 and affection, she left the boudoir. 
 
 Leontine was not recalled, and did not reappear till later 
 on in the day. She then informed her mistress that a letter 
 to Captain Musgrave had been sent off by Emile; 
 
 So the fatal step was taken. 
 
CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 MRS. BOOTLE LEAVES BELFIELD. 
 
 JJHOUGH Mrs. Flaxyard had by no means shaken 
 off her misgivings, and did not feel sure that 
 she was doing right, she complied with her 
 daughter's suggestion, and urged her very strongly 
 to run up and spend a few days at the Acacias. If Bootle 
 did not choose to accompany his wife, he could come and 
 fetch her back. Bootle, who fancied he understood why the 
 proposition was made, offered no objection, but said his 
 wife might please herself; and so the plan was settled. 
 Mrs. Bootle promised to write to dear mamma as soon as 
 she could fix a day for the visit. Hornby, who, as we 
 know, had an attraction in the neighbourhood, said he 
 should soon run down again, and Mr. Shelmerdine told him 
 to come when he liked he would always have a room at 
 Belfield. So the Flaxyards took their departure; the old 
 gentleman and his son enchanted with their visit, but Mrs. 
 Flaxyard full of anxiety about her daughter. 
 
 As she drove back alone from the station, whither she 
 had accompanied them, Mrs. Bootle felt more wretched 
 than she had ever done in her life. She had parted with 
 
366 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 her family for ever, for she could not, and did not, expect 
 they would ever see her again, after the fatal step was taken. 
 Her mother's anxious looks and whispered words of counsel 
 filled her with remorse. How fond her mother was of her ! 
 how proud her father was of her ! how was she requiting 
 their affection? And then Mr. Shelmerdine, who was 
 almost as fond of her as her own father who had always 
 sided with her who had steadily refused to believe any ill 
 of her what would he think of his little pet when he found 
 out how wickedly she had deceived him ? He would never 
 allow her name to be breathed in his hearing again. She 
 did not care what Mrs. Shelmerdine might think of her. 
 That implacable woman could not judge her more harshly 
 than she did now. But poor Bootle ! he certainly loved 
 her, and how infamously she was acting towards him ! If 
 he would only thrown himself on his knees, and own he 
 was wrong, she would stay with him. She could not find a 
 single excuse for her conduct. On the contrary, it assumed 
 the darkest dye. She was deceiving and abandoning all who 
 loved her a father and mother who idolised her a hus- 
 band who, foolish as he was, loved her a splendid home 
 numberless friends and for whom ? She did not dare to 
 ask herself that question. Yet she had not power to resist 
 the temptation held out to her. 
 
 All these feelings of compunction, we regret to say, were 
 dissipated when she found herself once more closeted with 
 Leontine, and subjected to the evil influence of that designing 
 creature. Le'ontine, who well knew what mischievous 
 arguments to employ, soon laughed her out of her irre- 
 solution, and kept her steady to her purpose. But the weak, 
 misguided lady had now a difficult part to play, and, clever 
 actress as she was, it was almost beyond her powers. If 
 she could have ventured to do so, she would not have left 
 her boudoir; and she almost thought of feigning in- 
 disposition, but Leontine discouraged this course. She did 
 not, however, appear till dinner-time, and as there were three 
 or four guests, as usual, she got through the evening tolerably 
 well. 
 
 Was it fancy, or did Mr. Shelmerdine really regard her 
 with anxiety ? His kindness almost overcame her. 
 
 For the first time John seemed to discover that ther^ was 
 
Mrs. Booth Leaves Belfield. 367 
 
 some misunderstanding between her and Bootle, and strove 
 to set it right. Mrs. Shelmerdine was colder and more 
 repelling than ever. Perhaps in consequence of what his 
 father said to him, Bootle showed a slight disposition to 
 make up the quarrel ; but his mother checked him, and it 
 came to nothing. 
 
 Next day, Mrs. Bootle had more remorseful qualms, but 
 they soon yielded to the remedies applied by Leontine, and 
 the bitter tonic administered by her mother-in-law. 
 
 Poor Bootle was certainly coming round. No doubt 
 about that. Very little encouragement might have brought 
 him round altogether. But he got none. When Mrs. 
 Bootle announced her intention of going up to town on the 
 following day, he seemed half inclined to offer to go with her ; 
 but his mother frowned at him, and the words stuck in his 
 throat. Mrs. Bootle begged to be allowed to take Emile 
 with her, as well as her femme-de-chambre ; and Bootle, 
 having the most perfect confidence in the valet, readily 
 assented. Subsequently he gave some private instructions 
 to Emile, to which the valet, laughing in his sleeve, promised 
 careful attention. 
 
 Again there was a little dinner-party, so that the evening 
 passed off tranquilly. John told his daughter-in-law that he 
 quite understood why she was going to visit her mamma, 
 but he would engage that all should be right when she came 
 back. 
 
 The eventful day arrived. Mrs. Bootle showed no 
 wavering. All preparations had been made by Leontine, 
 who had been secretly employed in packing up the trinkets 
 and other matters that her mistress desired to take with 
 her. 
 
 When the time for departure came, and Knowles an- 
 nounced that the carriage was ready, Mr. Shelmerdine asked 
 Bootle if he did not intend to take his wife to the station ; 
 whereupon the foolish fellow, acting upon his mother's 
 advice, replied, 
 
 " No, Sir, I leave that office to you," and without a wor'd 
 more, marched off to his own room. 
 
 The parting between Mrs. Bootle and her mother-in-law 
 was cold enough, and Mrs. Bootle was glad to hurry away 
 to the carriage, for at that moment she could scarcely repress 
 
368 Myddleton Pomfret. 
 
 her emotion. Emile and Leontine were there, and all the 
 boxes having been got in, there was nothing to wait for. So 
 Mrs. Bootle, having taken leave of Belfield for ever, as she 
 supposed, took her seat ; John followed ; and the carriage 
 was driven off to the station. 
 
 No sooner was his wife gone, than Bootle repented his 
 conduct, and, ordering out the dog-cart with the utmost 
 despatch, hurried after her to the station. Perhaps he was 
 too late, for neither she, nor the vigilant Emile, nor the 
 sharp-eyed Leontine saw him before the train started. 
 Even if he had been there, it was not likely that Mrs. 
 Bootle would have seen him, for her eyes were full of tears. 
 She clung to her father-in-law as if she could not tear her- 
 self from him, and when he had assisted her into the coupe', 
 which was reserved for her and Ldontine, and bade her an 
 affectionate adieu, she sank back in the carriage in an 
 hysterical state. 
 
 John felt very uneasy, but Le'ontine assured him that her 
 mistress would be better presently ; but, in spite of all the 
 soubrette's assiduities, and the application of a powerful 
 vinaigrette, Mrs. Bootle had not recovered when the train 
 started. 
 
 Just at that very last moment a person, who had arrived 
 late, with the assistance of the guard managed to spring into 
 a back carriage. 
 
 of tlje S 
 
BOOK VII. 
 
 SAVED. 
 
 Mrs. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 LAST SCENE BUT ONE OF THE DRAMA. 
 
 J1FTER many fruitless attempts to enliven her 
 mistress and engage her in conversation, Leon- 
 tine gave up the attempt in despair, and amused 
 herself as best she could. 
 
 Bootle continued silent and abstracted till Stafford 
 was reached, when, raising herself for the first time, she let 
 down the window, and, hearing the name of the place 
 bawled out by the railway porters, expressed her surprise 
 that they had got so far. 
 
 While she looked out, her attention was drawn towards a 
 
 tall, striking-looking personage, habited in deep mourning, 
 
 whose handsome but wasted features and long grey beard 
 
 seemed familiar to her. This gentleman was looking 
 
 24 
 
370 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 eagerly into the different carriages as if in quest of some 
 one. All at once he caught sight of her, and his glance of 
 recognition told her it was Myddleton Pomfret. In another 
 instant, and before she could draw up the glass, he was 
 beside the coupe. 
 
 "I have been looking for you," he cried. "Will you 
 permit me a little private conversation with you strictly 
 private ? " he added, glancing at the soubrette. " I have 
 something of the last importance to say to you." 
 
 His manner was so earnest, that, though much frightened, 
 Mrs. Bootle did not hesitate, but desired Leontine to get 
 into another carriage. Upon which Pomfret immediately 
 opened the door to let out the femme-de-chambre. But 
 Leontine did not seem inclined to obey, and addressed 
 some very determined remonstrances to her mistress, and it 
 was not until Pomfret ordered her in an authoritative tone 
 to descend that she complied. 
 
 Just at this moment Emile ran up with the greatest alarm 
 depicted on his sallow countenance. Instead of interfering 
 with the strange gentleman, as Le'ontine expected, he 
 hurried her oft to his own second-class carriage, and left 
 Pomfret to get into the coupe without hindrance. In 
 another moment the door was shut by the guard, and 
 shortly afterwards the train quitted Stafford. 
 
 " I ought to offer you a thousand apologies, Madam, for 
 this extraordinary proceeding," he began ; " but the motive 
 that has induced me to take it will, I hope, plead my excuse." 
 
 " I am quite sure you would not act in this manner 
 without adequate reason, Mr. Pomfret," she rejoined. "No 
 apology, therefore, is necessary. But do, pray, tell me by 
 what magical process you knew that I was travelling by this 
 
 tain." 
 
 " From whatever source I obtained the information, 
 Madam, it would appear to be correct, since I have found 
 you," he rejoined. " You must not forget that your journey 
 to town has long been planned." 
 
 " Ah ! you learnt it from Sir Norman ? " she cried. 
 
 "You have guessed rightly," he rejoined. " But I must 
 pray you to listen to me." His voice became sterner as he 
 proceeded : 
 
 " You were in Paris when Captain Musgrave was there 
 
Last Scene but One of the Drama. 37! 
 
 with his unfortunate bride. You believed he had married a 
 widow, did you not ? " 
 
 " I was told he had married the widow of Julian Curzon." 
 
 " Not the widow. Julian was alive at the time of the 
 marriage alive, I repeat but she supposed him dead, and, 
 having mourned him long, deemed herself free to take 
 another husband. She gave her hand to Musgrave, who , 
 had practised the blackest treachery to win her. He knew 
 that Julian lived. He knew that Julian was returning from 
 India but that knowledge only made him hurry on his 
 devilish scheme. Julian arrived too late. The marriage 
 had taken place. He followed them to Paris. He saw the 
 unfortunate victim. Horrified at the unintentional wrong 
 she had committed, she fled from the wretch who had 
 betrayed her." 
 
 " Oh! did he do this ? " cried the listener. 
 
 " You know with what levity he treated the affair, feeling 
 sure that the terrible secret would be kept by both those 
 whom he had so deeply wronged. But you do not know 
 how he subsequently persecuted his victim, driving her 
 almost to madness by forcing himself into her presence. 
 His last visit to her was to obtain money for a purpose 
 which you will easily conjecture, and the violence which he 
 used upon that occasion hastened her death." 
 
 " Oh, horror ! Can I have loved such a man ? I com- 
 prehend your object in giving me these dreadful details. 
 You have opened my eyes to the abyss that was yawning 
 before me. Heaven be thanked, it is not too late to 
 retreat ! You have come to my rescue. Do not desert me. 
 I may need your support. I will not meet him." 
 
 " Can you give me the assurance that you have torn the 
 villain from your breast that you sincerely repent the step 
 you have taken and that henceforward you will devote 
 yourself to your husband ? Can you answer these questions 
 from your heart, and without mental reserve? " 
 
 " I can, 7 ' she replied, with an earnestness that carried 
 conviction of her sincerity. " I am fully sensible of my 
 folly my wickedness but I will err no more. I know not 
 how I could be infatuated by him, but I despise myself for 
 yielding to his arts. You shall find how 1 will treat him 
 anon." 
 
 24 2 
 
37 2 Myddldon Pomfret. 
 
 " You will not see him," said Pomfret, almost solemnly. 
 
 " You think he will not keep his appointment ? " 
 
 " He cannot keep it," he rejoined, in the same solemn 
 tone. After a pause, he added, " You cannot doubt who I 
 am." 
 
 " You are Julian Curzon are you not ? " 
 
 "Yes. I am the unhappy man whose wife was torn from 
 him by that villain whose existence has been blighted by 
 him. You will wonder why I did not avenge the injury I 
 received ; but, while Sophy lived, I could not avenge it. I 
 was forced to bear my wrong in patience. Fate has .been 
 kinder to me at the last than it had been before. I had 
 been detained by serious illness in Egypt, and hurried back, 
 incited by a presentiment of ill. I arrived in time to pro- 
 nounce the forgiveness which she sought to receive her 
 latest sigh. She expired in my arms. Oh ! the agony of 
 that moment ! But I will not recal it or I shall be utterly 
 unable to proceed. My heart seemed crushed ; but when I 
 partially recovered from the shock, I felt some consolation 
 in reflecting that her troubles were over. As I gazed upon 
 her inanimate features so placid ! so beautiful ! so 
 angelic in expression ! I would not have called her back, 
 even if I had possessed the power. I never quitted her till 
 she was laid in her coffin and I then bade her an eternal 
 adieu. But I distress you by these details." 
 
 " Heed me not ! go on ! go on, I entreat you ! " she 
 cried. " These tears will do me good." 
 
 His voice changed as he proceeded : 
 
 " It was a simple funeral, yet most touching to all who 
 witnessed it. She was buried in a pretty country church- 
 yard, in a spot which she herself had chosen. There were 
 few mourners, but they all mourned deeply. Chief among 
 them were an elderly lady, who loved her as a daughter, 
 and an old female servant, who loved her little less. Eva 
 and her aunt were there, and at a little distance stood two 
 old men-servants weeping yes, weeping! Her gentleness, 
 her patience under suffering, had won their hearts." 
 
 " She was indeed an angelic creature ! " exclaimed the 
 listener. 
 
 A moment elapsed before Pomfret could control his 
 emotion. He then went on : 
 
Last Scene but One of the Drama. 373 
 
 "All was over. The mourners were gone. The 
 assistants at the sad ceremony had departed. One person 
 alone lingered in the churchyard. When the coffin, 
 containing all he loved, was lowered into the ground, he 
 felt that his heart would burst, if he longer repressed his 
 grief, and he hurried away. He now returned to the grave, 
 but with very different emotions. Grief had given place to 
 the fierce desire of vengeance. His eyes were dry. Fire 
 burnt within his breast. As he stood by her grave, he 
 raised his hand to heaven, and vowed never to rest till he 
 had avenged her. With one last look into the grave, he 
 quitted the churchyard." 
 
 "And this is your present purpose?" she cried. "He 
 justly merits death at your hands for the foul wrong he has 
 done her and you. But do not let the thirst of vengeance 
 lead you to throw away your own life. He is a skilful 
 duellist. I dread the result of .the encounter.' 7 
 
 A singular and almost terrible smile played upon Pom* 
 fret's pallid features. 
 
 " Hear what I have to tell," he said, in a sombre voice. 
 "Having formed -the resolution I have mentioned to you, I 
 entered the carriage that was waiting for me, and drove to 
 Hylton Park, with the intention of taking leave of Eva. I 
 found Sir Norman with her. He had just returned from 
 Belfield. Though the fire of vengeance, only to be 
 quenched by blood, was raging fiercely as ever in my 
 breast, I could not but rejoice to learn that she had at last 
 consented to make him happy." 
 
 " And they will be happy," cried Mrs. Bootle. " I am 
 sure of it." 
 
 "They will," said Pomfret, emphatically. ^ "But to 
 proceed. My purpose must have been written in my looks, 
 for Sir Norman instantly divined it. Eva too suspected it, 
 though she did not seek to deter me from its execution. 
 Presently she quitted the room with her aunt, and left me 
 alone with Sir Norman, who added fresh fuel to my wrath 
 by acquainting me with the villain's infamous designs in 
 regard to yourself. Had I not determined to act, Sir 
 Norman himself would have taken measures to defeat them. 
 But he entirely approved of my plan, and, tearing himself 
 from Eva, hurried off with me to town. 
 
374 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 " Immediately on our arrival, he proceeded to the hotel 
 at which Musgrave was staying, and found him there. A 
 meeting was arranged to take place next morning at Calais. 
 As my enemy had the choice of weapons, and was a master 
 of fence, he chose the sword. This was immaterial to me. 
 All I desired was to have him before me. Mine was the 
 righteous cause, and Heaven, I felt sure, would strengthen 
 my arm. Swords were procured. We started by the French 
 mail train, and crossed on a calm starlight night to Calais. 
 Musgrave was accompanied by his friend, Captain Saint- 
 Quintin. During our passage the seconds conferred to- 
 gether, and all was arranged. 
 
 " On arriving at Calais, Sir Norman and myself repaired 
 to Quillac's Hotel, as agreed upon. We neither of us re- 
 tired to rest, but passed the time in conversation, and I 
 gave my friend full instructions as to how he should act in 
 case I fell. 
 
 "As soon as it became light, we entered the coach which 
 was waiting for us in the court-yard of the hotel, and drove 
 to the place of rendezvous a retired spot, outside the walls, 
 on the road to Boulogne. We were accompanied by a 
 surgeon, and alighting at a little distance from the ground, 
 which was screened from observation by low sandhills, 
 proceeded to it on foot. Sir Norman carried the swords, 
 wrapped in a cloak, and the surgeon a case of instruments. 
 
 "Shortly afterwards, my adversary and his second 
 appeared on the ground. Both were smoking, but they 
 threw away their cigars as they came up, and formally 
 saluted us. The seconds then stepped aside to consult, 
 and while they were engaged, we, the principals, prepared 
 for the conflict. It was a sharp frosty morning, and the 
 ground was quite hard, but my breast still burnt like fire, 
 and I did not feel the cold. 
 
 "As soon as we were ready, Sir Norman offered the 
 swords to Musgrave, who bowed, took one, and, as he did 
 so, glanced significantly at his second. He felt sure of 
 killing me. 
 
 " Taking the other sword, I advanced to meet him. We 
 saluted, and in an instant were engaged. Apparently he 
 was determined to make short work of it. After a few 
 jrapid passes, he made a feint, and then, with the quickness 
 
Last Scene but One of the Drama. 375 
 
 of lightning, delivered a thrust, which I successfully parried, 
 and before he could recover, my sword passed through his 
 heart." 
 
 "He is dead!" 
 
 " He is dead," echoed Pomfret. " Sophy is avenged." 
 
 A pause succeeded. The lady sobbed audibly. Pomfret 
 waited till she became calmer, and then said, sternly, 
 
 "He does not deserve your pity. He had but one 
 redeeming quality courage. He would have betrayed you, 
 as he betrayed all others. Had he lived, you would still be 
 in danger. Yet I must admit that he made a slight attempt 
 at reparation. As he sank into the arms of Saint-Quintin, 
 who rushed to his assistance, he made an attempt to speak, 
 but failing to do so, pointed to his coat, which was lying on 
 the ground. Searching it, I found this packet. It contains 
 some letters, which may be of consequence to you." 
 
 And he delivered the packet to her. 
 
 " Alas ! alas ! " she cried. " Was I wrong in pitying 
 him?" 
 
 " I have no more pity for him than for a wild beast ! " 
 cried Pomfret. " But to finish my narration. Seeing he 
 was dead, we left the body to the care of Captain Saint- 
 Quintin and the surgeon, who undertook to make the 
 necessary depositions before the authorities that the man 
 was fairly killed in a duel We returned by the first packet 
 to Dover. All that then remained for me to do was to 
 acquaint you with the event, and give you the letters. So 
 rapid had been my movements, that I was fortunately in 
 time to accomplish this before any step likely to com- 
 promise you could be taken. And as it was important that 
 I should see you before your arrival in town, I came on to 
 Stafford." 
 
 " Oh ! how can I thank you ! " she cried. " You have 
 indeed, saved me ! " 
 
 "You owe no thanks," he rejoined. "I thought only of 
 avenging Sophy, when I slew him. But since I have been 
 instrumental in saving you, I am entitled to give you a piece 
 of counsel." 
 
 " I will obey you implicitly. What is it you enjoin ? " 
 "Immediately on your arrival in town, dismiss those 
 French servants, who have aided Musgrave's base design,. 
 
376 Myddleton Pomfrd. 
 
 Fear nothing from them. They are harmless now their 
 employer is gone. Sir Norman came with me to Stafford, 
 and is in another part of the train. We shall see him at the 
 Euston station. Leave him to deal with them." 
 
 " It had already occurred to me to act as you suggest. 
 But I felt afraid to take so decisive a step, knowing how 
 completely I am in the power of the perfidious wretches." 
 
 " Get rid of them. I repeat, you have nothing now to 
 fear. Proceed at once to your father's house, and then 
 write to your husband." 
 
 " I will I will ! " she cried. " I will acknowledge all 
 my faults make my peace with him and entreat him to 
 come for me." 
 
 Pomfret showed no disposition to continue the conversa- 
 tion, and his stern expression as he sat back in his corner 
 almost alarmed his companion. The silence was prolonged 
 till they were nearing London, when she addressed him. 
 
 " Forgive me if I venture to ask what you now propose 
 to do ? " she inquired, glancing at him timidly. 
 
 "I shall proceed without delay to India," he rejoined, in 
 a sombre tone. " All my arrangements are made. I have 
 no further business here. Nor shall I return. The last tie 
 that bound me to this country is sundered." 
 
 " Time will soften your affliction, and then you will think 
 differently," she rejoined. " Fresh feelings will be awakened 
 in your breast. You are yet young enough to love again," 
 
 " Love again ! " he exclaimed, bitterly. " Never ! My 
 only desire is to rejoin her I have lost." 
 

 CHAPTER II. 
 
 THE LAST SCENE. 
 
 jjHEN they arrived at the Euston station, Pomfret 
 got out first, and assisted his companion to alight, 
 At the same moment Sir Norman and Bootle 
 yes, Bootle himself, to his wife's amazement ! 
 descended from a back carriage, and hastened towards her. 
 It was evident from their manner that a perfectly good 
 understanding subsisted between them. 
 
 "What ! darling boy, is that you?" she cried. "This is 
 indeed an agreeable surprise. Have you really travelled in 
 the same train with me ? " 
 
 "Yes, I have," he rejoined. "I was so miserable when 
 you left me, that I hurried off to the station, and just got 
 there in time to spring into one of the hind carriages. I 
 should have joined you at Stafford, but Sir Norman stopped 
 me, as he wished to give me some explanation. I now 
 know all." 
 
 The young baronet gave her a reassuring look, which 
 informed her that the darling boy did not quite know all. 
 
 " I've been a great fool to quarrel with you," pursued 
 Bootle. "But I'm very sorry, and promise never to be 
 jealous again." 
 
278 \ Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 "And I'll never give you cause to be jealous again, dearest 
 boy, be sure of that," she rejoined. " I ought to ask for- 
 giveness. I'm far more in fault than you." 
 
 " Well, I won't attempt to justify my conduct. I know 
 it's inexcusable," said Bootle. " But I may say that my 
 absurd jealousy of Sir Norman for I now know how absurd 
 it was was entirely caused by some remarks made by that 
 diabolical Musgrave, who, I am glad to learn, has met with 
 his deserts." 
 
 "Yes, he'll trouble you no longer," said Sir Norman. 
 " Mr. Pomfret," he added, presenting that gentleman, " has 
 freed you from a designing villain." 
 
 " I am greatly obliged to you, I am sure, Mr. Pomfret," 
 said Bootle. " I should have been obliged to take him in 
 hand myself if you had not got the start of me." 
 
 " I had deep wrongs to redress," observed Pomfret. 
 
 " Of course I don't mean to compare my wrongs with 
 yours," said Bootle, "But the scoundrel behaved in- 
 famously in setting me against Sir Norman. Shall I tell 
 you what he said, my dear ? " he added to his wife. 
 
 " On no account, darling boy. It would be useless to do 
 so now. I am only surprised that you could lend an ear to 
 his base insinuations, since you knew how passionately Sir 
 Norman is attached to Eva." 
 
 " I was an idiot, as I have already owned," said Bootle. 
 
 " Then since you are perfectly convinced of your error in 
 regard to Sir Norman," remarked Pomfret, " let me have 
 the satisfaction of hearing that all your doubts are dissi- 
 pated. Of Musgrave you had cause to be jealous but he 
 is gone." 
 
 " And' with him every doubt has vanished," said Bootle. 
 " I must own that I felt a little jealous of you, Mr. Pomfret, 
 when I beheld you get into the carriage with my wife. But 
 Sir Norman soon dispelled my fears. And to prove the 
 opinion I entertain of you, I beg to say that there is no 
 person not even Sir Norman himself whom I shall be 
 more delighted to welcome at Belfield than you." 
 
 " I am starting at once for India," rejoined the other. 
 "Consequently, I cannot have the pleasure of visiting 
 you." 
 
 Well, when you return, then.'^ / 
 
TJie Last Scene. 379 
 
 " I shall never return." 
 
 While this conversation took place, Emile and Leontine 
 had been occupied in getting together the things. Both 
 were exceedingly uneasy, wondering what would happen. 
 They now came forward, and Emile enquired of his master 
 if he should engage a cab. 
 
 " For yourself and the drolesse with you, if you think 
 proper, malheureux, but not for me and Mrs. Bootle," re- 
 joined our young friend, haughtily. He had been cautioned 
 by Sir Norman. 
 
 " Comment, Monsieur!" cried Emile. "Perhaps you 
 will be good enough to express yourself more clearly." 
 
 " Allez au diable ! You are both discharged. Is that 
 clear ? " 
 
 " Discharged, at a moment's notice ! Monsieur cannot 
 mean what he says ! " 
 
 " But I do mean it, gredin. I have no further occasion 
 for your services. Here's payment for your wages," he 
 added, taking out a pocket-book, and giving him a couple 
 of bank-notes. " Ten for yourself a fiver for Ldontine." 
 
 " You will interfere, Madame ? You will not permit this 
 injustice to be done ? " cried the soubrette, rushing up to 
 Mrs. Bootle, 
 
 " I shall not interfere at all," returned the lady, coldly. 
 " I entirely approve of the proceeding. You can both go 
 about your business." 
 
 " Not yet, Madame. I have some revelations to make to 
 Monsieur. I shall show him how he has been duped." 
 
 " No, you won't," said B6otle. " Monsieur refuses to 
 listen to any of your revelations. He is quite aware of all 
 your tricks." 
 
 " Shall I take any message from Madame to Captain 
 Musgrave ? " inquired Emile, spitefully. 
 
 "Yes, if you can find him," rejoined Bootle. "But 
 you'll have to seek him below. He was killed in a duel 
 yesterday." 
 
 "Milles diables ! tud!" ejaculated Emile, recoiling, 
 " Allons done, Leontine ! " 
 
 And he hurried away with the soubrette. 
 
 While the scene just described took place, Myddleton Pom- 
 fret stood apart ; but at its termination, and when the French 
 
380 Myddldon Pontfrd. 
 
 servants were gone, he advanced towards Mrs. Bootle, with 
 the evident design of bidding her farewell. But before he 
 could offer his adieux, she flew towards him, and yielding to 
 her impulsive nature, seized his hand, and cried, 
 
 "You must not shall not leave us in this manner. 
 Do remain with us for a month even for a week and if 
 no change takes place in your feelings during that time, I 
 will no longer try to prevent your departure. But give me 
 an opportunity of proving the gratitude I owe you. We 
 will do all we can to soothe your affliction. Stay with us, I 
 entreat you ! " 
 
 "I am fully sensible of your kindness," he rejoined, 
 gently, but firmly. " But my resolution is taken." 
 
 " I am afraid your efforts to induce my poor friend to 
 change his purpose will be as ineffectual as my own," said 
 Sir Norman, coming towards them with Bootle. " I have 
 employed every argument but in vain. Though, as you 
 are aware, he is Eva's guardian, and ought to give her away, 
 he will not remain for our nuptials." 
 
 " My presence at your marriage would be ominous," said 
 Pomfret. " You are better without me." 
 
 " Still, neither Eva's happiness nor mine will be complete 
 unless you are present," urged Sir Norman. 
 
 "Stay, and make us all happy !" cried Mrs. Bootle. 
 
 "Time was when I could not have resisted such an 
 appeal ; but I must resist it now," said Pomfret. " My 
 task is ended. I rejoice to think that I have removed some 
 few thorns from your path, so that henceforward your course 
 will be unobstructed. Heaven keep you in it ! Farewell, 
 Madam ! farewell for ever ! " 
 
 Pressing her hand gently, he bowed to her husband, and, 
 taking Sir Norman's arm, quitted the platform with him. 
 
 She continued gazing after him till he was lost to sight, 
 and then sighed deeply, feeling sure she should never behold 
 him again. 
 
 Shortly afterwards Bootle came to hand her to a cab, in 
 which her luggage had been placed by a railway porter. 
 They then drove to. the Acacias, where, though quite un- 
 expected, they were most warmly welcomed by Mrs. Flax- 
 yard, who was truly rejoiced to find that a reconciliation 
 had taken place between them. 
 
The Last Scene. 381 
 
 The news imparted by her daughter astonished and de- 
 lighted Mrs. Flaxyard. She had no fears for the future, 
 since the French servants were discharged, and Captain 
 Musgrave effectually removed. On his return from the City 
 with Hornby, old Flaxyard, who knew nothing about the 
 quarrels of the young couple, was immensely delighted to 
 see them, and laughed very heartily when he learnt that 
 Bootle would not be left' behind, but had come up with his 
 wife, though in a separate carriage. He, too, was glad that 
 Emile and Le'ontine were gone. Hornby was of the same 
 opinion, and both father and son thought it a good job that 
 Musgrave had been disposed of. 
 
 There is generally a tolerable dinner at the Acacias, go 
 when you will, and invariably good wine. Bootle felt so 
 comfortable after emptying a bumper of his father-in-law's 
 unexceptionable claret, that he wondered how he could ever 
 have been such a fool as to quarrel with his pretty little 
 wife, who smiled at him so bewitchingly from the opposite 
 side of the table. 
 
 But we have been getting on too fast, and must go back 
 for a moment to Pomfret and Sir Norman. On quitting the 
 station they proceeded to the Euston Hotel, and on the 
 way thither Pomfret remarked : 
 
 " All is arranged in regard to Eva's property. I have 
 given full instructions in writing to my solicitor, Mr. Wilson, 
 of Lincoln's Inn Fields, and have appointed Mr. Flaxyard 
 and Mr. Shelmerdine trustees under the marriage settle- 
 ment, with Mr. Wilson. I hope this meets with your 
 approval. 
 
 " Entirely so," said Sir Norman. 
 
 "One word more, and I have done," pursued Pomfret. 
 " My will is lodged with Mr. Wilson. You and Eva have 
 an interest in it. Therefore, if anything happens to me, 
 apply to him. It may not be long before the application 
 will be necessary." 
 
 " I wish I could remove this melancholy impression from 
 your mind," observed Sir Norman. 
 
 "Impossible," rejoined the other. "My release cannot 
 be far off. When you hear of it, rejoice." 
 
 At the door of the Euston 'Hotel a carriage was drawn 
 
382 Myddkton Pomfret. 
 
 up, in which sat Eva and her aunt. Expecting to find his 
 ward there, Pomfret was fully prepared, as he thought, for 
 a short parting interview with her. But all his firmness now 
 deserted him. 
 
 As he approached the carriage with Sir Norman, Eva 
 would have alighted, but he motioned her to sit still. 
 Straining her hand, he gazed at her for a moment with in- 
 expressible tenderness, and the look was never effaced from 
 her memory. 
 
 Quite overcome by emotion, he then murmured in broken 
 accents : 
 
 "All my wishes are known to Sir Norman. He will 
 explain them to you. Heaven bless you, and grant you 
 years of uninterrupted happiness ! Farewell for ever ! " 
 
 He then plunged into the hotel. Sir Norman did not 
 attempt to follow him, and neither he nor Eva saw the un- 
 happy man again. 
 
 EPILOGUE. 
 
 A few words will suffice to complete our Tale. 
 
 The ill-fated Julian Curzon (for we will now restore to 
 him his rightful name, though he himself never resumed it) 
 died on his voyage to India, and is buried at Madras. 
 
 On reference to the will, which was deposited with Mr. 
 Wilson, and, indeed, had been prepared by that gentleman, 
 it appeared that Julian had bequeathed a lac of rupees to 
 Eva, and a like sum to Sir Norman. The residue of his 
 property, which amounted to nearly six thousand pounds, 
 was left to Celia Leycester. 
 
 Before the sad tidings came of the death of their friend, 
 the nuptials of Sir Norman and Eva had been solemnised. 
 They are now residing at Hylton Castle, which has been 
 completely restored, and is now what it used to be in the 
 days of Sir Norman's progenitors one of the finest places 
 in Storey. 
 
 Another wedding, which took place about the same time 
 as that just mentioned, has to be recorded. Hornby Flax- 
 yard was united to Milicent Huncoat, and the marriage 
 promises well. Hornby may be considered a lucky fellow, 
 for he got a very good fortune with his wife. They have 
 
The Last Scene. 383 
 
 fixed their residence in Westbourne Terrace, and live in 
 capital style. 
 
 Bootle is darling Bootle still, and idolises his pretty little 
 wife, who has left off flirting, and has become very fond of 
 him. They are now at Belfield. 
 
 Mrs. Bootle gets on better than she did with her austere 
 mother-in-law though they have an occasional wrangle 
 but the little lady still retains as firm a hold as ever upon 
 the affections of worthy Mr. Shelmerdine. 
 
 PRINTED BY W, H, SMITH AND SON, 186 STRAND, LONDON, 
 
 ai z 78 
 
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 (510)642-6753 
 
 1-year loans may be recharged by bringing 
 books to NRLF 
 
 Renewals and recharges may be made 4 
 days prior to due date. 
 
 DUE AS STAMPED BELOW 
 SENtONILL 
 
 AU6 1 2001 
 
 U. C. BERKELEY 
 
 12.00001/955 
 
YB 72890 
 
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