' 

 
 UCSB LIBRARY 
 
 X- ^13 3-5
 
 HELEN MULGRAVE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 JESUIT ' EXECUTORSHIP:" 
 
 BEING PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF 
 
 A SECEDER FROM ROMANISM. 
 
 3 n Statahii 
 
 ' The net has fallen upon me ; I shall perish 
 Under device and practice." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 NEW YORK: 
 DE WITT & DAVENPORT, PUBLISHERS. 
 
 160 AND lfi'2 NASSAU f-'TREET.
 
 IT. H. Tinxon, 1'rintfr <nuf Mfrtntyper, R . CRAIOHEAD, PRINTER, 
 
 2'2 Hprune Street, New York. 53 Ve sey st., N. Y.
 
 OR, 
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Ye household deities, whose guardian eye 
 Mark'd each pure thought ere register'd on high, 
 Still, still, ye walk the consecrated ground, 
 And breathe the soul of inspiration round ! 
 
 ROGERS 
 
 As an autobiographer is expected to say something of his 
 birth, parentage, and education, I will begin my narrative with 
 some particulars of mine, in the relation of which I shall endea- 
 vor to be brief. 
 
 My father and mother, who were Irish, were both Roman 
 Catholics by hereditary descent ; their families, for several gene- 
 rations, having been born in the Romish church. 
 
 My father, who inherited from his ancestors an ancient baron- 
 etcy, had two brothers. At the time of the opening of this nar- 
 rative, the elder of the two was a barrister residing in London, 
 where he had married an English Protestant heiress. The 
 younger was a bishop in the Roman Catholic church, living in 
 the neighbourhood of Cork. 
 
 My mother, the only daughter of an old Irish family, of high 
 descent, but of little hereditary property, had two brothers, who 
 early in life had become adventurers for fame and fortune on the 
 continent. Each had distinguished himself in his career; the 
 one as a soldier, the other as a civilian. The elder of the two, 
 the Baron de Wallenstein, resided in Vienna, and held high 
 office under the Austrian government. The younger, the Count
 
 4 HELEN MULGRAVE ; OB, 
 
 de Carryfort, lived in Paris, retired from his profession, and in 
 possession of a competent fortune. 
 
 My father, Sir William Mulgrave, occupying an old ancestral 
 castle near the lakes of Killarney, with a beloved wife and four 
 children, was for many years one of the happiest men in exist- 
 ence. 
 
 If it should be thought that want of foresight, or omission of 
 calculation,- undermined his fortune and destroyed his happiness, 
 it must be recollected that he but resembled many of his coun- 
 trymen, whose warm and generous natures seem formed for any- 
 thing but self-preservation. 
 
 My father was, in truth, a genuine Irish gentleman of the 
 ' olden times,' without his vices, but wedded, nevertheless, to the 
 habits of his class and country ; and being utterly unaware that 
 the sordid changes going on in the world were encroaching, in 
 hostile spirit, on his own domain, he perceived not the new posi- 
 tion in which they placed him, and therefore never defended 
 himself against their consequences. 
 
 Mulgrave Castle, the name of our residence, stood on a lofty 
 eminence, commanding views of surpassing beauty. It was a 
 building of extensive dimensions, exhibiting a variety of archi- 
 tecture, from the various modifications it had undergone in pass- 
 ing through a long line of possessors ; who, it appeared, had not 
 always adapted their amendments to the original character of 
 the building. But though uniformity was wanting, and its lofty 
 towers had dwindled to mere turrets, and its old fortress to 
 mutilated crumbling stones, so as to make the name of castle a 
 sort of misnomer, it had so striking a cast of reverend age about 
 it as to give dignity to its decay, and render it captivating to the 
 taste of the beholder, and dear to the hearts of the numerous 
 peasantry of the demesne, who vied with each other in rehears- 
 ing legends of its former exploits and its ancient honours. 
 
 Our extensive park, rich in large and lofty trees, was an 
 appropriate accessory to the castle and its luxuriant gardens. In 
 the latter, owing to the mild climate of the south of Ireland, 
 both flowers and fruits of the tenderest kinds flourished in the 
 open air. 
 
 The traditions of our locality were as numerous as the birds
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOESHIP. 5 
 
 that in summer months sang in its woods. As children, both 
 my sisters and myself were not only infected with this lore, but 
 deep in its mysteries. It was, indeed, a source of perennial 
 pleasure to us. We believed in fairies, and other similar beings, 
 who participated with us the occupation of the castle, and 
 glided, side by side, with us over the mountain tops, or through 
 the silent glens of our wide domain. We were thus familiarized, 
 as it were, with invisible things, and learned to recognise every- 
 where, sometimes with fluttering hearts, existences discernible 
 only by the imaginative or superstitious. 
 
 Our house had its haunted apartments, and I never crossed its 
 spacious gothic hall, lighted but by a single lamp, on a winter's 
 evening, but with a breathlessness not to be forgotten. 
 
 The mounting of the wide staircase was a still greater trial of 
 fortitude, for there life-size saints and heroes stood in niches on 
 its landings ; and painted windows sometimes imparted appalling 
 hues to the moonbeams that lit up their marble forms. 
 
 But even terror, if not intense, has charms for the volatile and 
 wonder-loving nature of childhood ; and as I recall the fleeting 
 emotions half-painful, half-pleasurable inspired by its fancies 
 and its fears, I feel a fondness for their memory, and a regret for 
 the transitoriness of their existence. Charming chimeras ! 
 whither have ye all flown ? Have ye no aifinity with the care- 
 worn heart? no mission from your dreamy world to a soul bat- 
 tling with the iron realities of life ? 
 
 My father's fortune was large, his servants numerous, and tho 
 hangers-on of the family innumerable. In addition to these 
 were many peasant and pauper families, who, though not located 
 within the limits of his domain, claimed and received from his 
 bounty a constant supply of their ever-increasing wants. 
 
 As such charities had been, time immemorial, amongst the 
 usages of the house, my father considered them as indispensa- 
 ble ; and their curtailment was never thought of, although the 
 growing indolence of their recipients increased with the amount 
 of his gifts. 
 
 There were also other drains on my father's revenues, quite as 
 exhausting as those of charity. Of their united effects I shall 
 have occasion to speak hereafter.
 
 6 HELEN MULGRAVE J OR, 
 
 "We had an old woman in the house, for many years, who had 
 been my father's foster-mother. Her daughter, a remarkable 
 character, even in childhood, had extorted from her foster-bro- 
 ther an education at a boarding-school, far superior to her condi- 
 tion, which had placed her in so false a position with all around 
 her, as to make her, on her return to her mother at the comple- 
 tion of it, the torment of the house. It became, at length, 
 necessary for the peace of the subordinate part of the household, 
 to eject both her and her mother. 
 
 They were placed in a small cottage alloted them by my 
 father, about four or five miles distant from the castle, just with- 
 out the boundary of the park. 
 
 For some years after this, the juvenile part of our houshold, 
 at least, lost sight of them. Meanwhile, they became a greater 
 torment than ever to my father, upon whose generous disposi- 
 tion they well knew how to play. But of them no more at pre- 
 sent. 
 
 My father was a man who possessed a thousand fine and 
 interesting qualities, besides the unbounded benevolence of which 
 I have spoken. He was not one of those boisterous country 
 gentlemen, who are distinguished from the rustics around them 
 by nothing but their superior garb and their despotic manners ; 
 for, though he relished field-sports, and loved the simplicity of a 
 country life, he was a polished gentleman. 
 
 He possessed sterling integrity; and the lofty tone of his 
 morals gave dignity even to the carriage of his person. A 
 deeply-rooted principle of duty, which never allowed inclination 
 to triumph over it, except in one single, though fatal point 
 expenditure was the pervading spirit of his life ; while high and 
 generous feeling, amounting almost to the romantic, shed a bril- 
 liancy over his manners that rendered him captivating and irre- 
 sistible, both in public and in private life. 
 
 He was accustomed to enter, with the ardour and the relish 
 of youth, into the occupations and pursuits of his children, tak- 
 ing the lead in their amusements,- and superintending their stu- 
 dies. How could they help doting on such a father ? He was at 
 once the head and the idol of the house. 
 
 My mother's character was one of harmony and sweetness.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 7 
 
 Without possessing any brilliant qualities, the equanimity of her 
 temper, and the consistency of her deportment, rendered her as 
 much an object of attachment in her own sphere as my father 
 was in his. She possessed both cultivation and taste, but she 
 entertained so exalted an opinion of her husband, that it was 
 her pleasure to yield to him every questioned point ; so that her 
 wishes and her will seemed ever in unison with his. 
 
 My sisters and I had for some years been under the tuition of 
 an English governess, a Miss White, who had been educated in a 
 convent in France, and was considered highly accomplished in 
 ' French, music, dancing, and drawing.' 
 
 My brother's tutor, who was also English, was a Mr. Rivers, 
 who, unusual as it may seem in a Catholic family, was a Protest- 
 ant, and an M.A. of Oxford. It was part of his duty to assist 
 Miss White in instructing my sisters and myself in the solid 
 parts of our education. 
 
 During the winter we lived as a family, very much apart from 
 the society of our neighbourhood, owing to there being but few 
 residents of our church and class within visiting distance. 
 
 The tenor of our life, at this season, was therefore uniform, 
 but never dull. My sisters and myself had been early trained to 
 horsemanship, and we rode constantly, and became so much 
 inured to the vicissitudes of weather as not to be affected by 
 them. 
 
 We partook, with my father and brother, of every out-door 
 amusement, except the chase. Sometimes we skated on waters 
 found on the summits of the neighbouring mountains, or chased 
 each other up their rocky acclivities with the swiftness of deer. 
 When the weather was too severe to be braved, we had 
 resources within doors which kept us always occupied. 
 
 Not the least of these was music, for which some of us had a 
 decided talent, and which, cultivated by Miss White, might have 
 enabled us to attain excellence. But our ambition, in this par- 
 ticular, did not lead us to do more than just enough to satisfy 
 our parents and amuse ourselves. Large and echoing apartments 
 reverberated our duets and trios, while their columned recesses 
 gave back our choruses in redoubled sound. Not unfrequently 
 we passed from music to dancing ; then
 
 8 HELEN MULGRAVE | OR, 
 
 Chased the slipper by the sound, 
 
 Or turn'd the blindfold hero round and round. 
 
 Had all this failed, by repetition, to keep ennui out of our cir- 
 cle, we had still another and different excitement, in the dis.-eu- 
 sions which occasionally occurred betwixt our governess and 
 tutor, in the school-room, on the most important of all subjects, 
 religion. 
 
 I do not mean to insinuate that their discussions on this point 
 extended their influence to the general household, although they 
 frequently disturbed the drawing-room. 
 
 Mr. Rivers was a learned and conscientious Protestant, 
 between thirty and forty, much valued in our family for his 
 gentlemanly, consistent, and un-proselyting deportment. 
 
 He knew well that the priest, who resided in the family, was 
 the teacher of its religion ; and therefore never meddled with 
 what belonged exclusively to his department. But while he 
 was rigidly negative on this point, he was scrupulous in avoid- 
 ing all conformity to our faith and forms. Nevertheless, his 
 sense of duty to the office he held, as tutor to the heir of a 
 Catholic family, induced him to abstain from adopting any course 
 of reading with him, on any subject how remotely so ever con- 
 nected with religion, until he had submitted it to my father. 
 
 He was equally exact in his choice of books for my sisters and 
 myself; which, however, were always objected to by Miss White, 
 whatever they might be. 
 
 But having once obtained my father's sanction to those of his 
 choice, Mr. Rivers strictly defended their adoption. 
 
 Miss "White, who, as a rigid Catholic, was very much confined 
 in her acquaintance with literature, considered that a general 
 knowledge, or even a smattering of it, was but a burden to the 
 female mind, or a temptation to pursuits which might lead a 
 woman out of the sphere of her duties. She therefore repro- 
 bated the idea of a young lady's poring over folios or quartos, 
 as she was pleased to call all books larger than a small octavo, 
 winch had not been sanctioned by the household priest, whom 
 she considered as the church's exponent of what ought to be 
 our intellectual, as well as our moral and religious training. 
 
 In reading general history, therefore, she took no part with
 
 JESUIT EXECCTORSHIP. 9 
 
 us ; and ecclesiastical history she considered as intolerable, as it 
 caused us to ask questions not only repugnant to her faith, but 
 beyond the sphere of her information. 
 
 Mr. Rivers never argued with her on a settled point, yet he 
 patiently listened to her oft-repeated objections to his plans, and 
 when new ones were made, stated them to my father ; while she 
 appealed to my mother, who, on her part, referred them again 
 to my father, whose decision she never attempted to influ- 
 ence. 
 
 My father was a man of varied information, who, being natu- 
 rally humane and benevolent, could not entertain with any 
 degree of heartiness the exclusive and intolerant principles of 
 Komanism. He was therefore perpetually sinning against its 
 spirit, and ever breaking through the trammels which circum- 
 scribed his social feelings, although, for the sake of external con- 
 sistency, as the head of a family, he adhered to the forms of his 
 hereditary faith. 
 
 This dubiousness of mind rendered him indifferent, where he 
 would otherwise have been zealous, and caused him to leave his 
 children to the chance training of antagonist teachers, without 
 inquiring into the j>robable consequences of such a course on 
 their religious belief, or into the fitness or unfitness of his here- 
 ditary faith for promoting the interests of an immortal life. His 
 entire freedom, however, from the intolerance of his church 
 was, no doubt, of immense importance to his children, as the 
 liberty which it afforded to them in their first crude efforts of 
 thought, as well as in their expression of it, must have greatly 
 aided the development of those faculties which it is so much the 
 object of education to unfold. My father allowed himself to 
 read argumentative works, and even bitter censures, on the 
 practices of his church, the spirit of which would sometimes 
 show itself in his conversation ; so that whatever reverence 
 might have been enjoined by Miss White, or the priest, for cer- 
 tain forms imposed on us, was undermined, if not destroyed, by 
 my father's wit, in descanting on their absurdity. With a laxity 
 of feeling towards his church such as this, my father no doubt 
 felt it difficult to maintain consistency in the control he was 
 disposed to exercise over his children's education. 
 
 1*
 
 10 HELEN MULGRAVE } OR, 
 
 But as he became more acquainted with Mr. Rivers, his con- 
 fidence in his good taste, as well as in his integrity, induced him 
 to place in his hands an unlimited discretion in the choice of our 
 books, with one exception : that exception was the Bible. He 
 was, he remarked, in the habit of reading this sacred book him- 
 self; but it was too strictly forbidden by the church for him -to 
 venture on the open use of it, by allowing it to his children. 
 
 It was impossible for Miss White to acquiesce in an arrange- 
 ment which placed so much power in Mr. Rivers' hands without 
 an attempt to neutralize it, which she endeavoured to do, by 
 proposing that the priest should have a .veto in the selection of 
 our books. Her effort was vain; and we were thenceforth 
 amply supplied with books of Mr. Rivers' choice. 
 
 My second sister, Caroline, was Miss White's favourite pupil, 
 her cast of character and her peculiar tastes alike rendering her 
 an easy prey to the superstitions of onr church and the bigotry 
 of our governess. Caroline was continually being held up to 
 Dora, the elder of our trio, and myself as our model in all things, 
 but especially in the negations of her mind, and acquirements ; 
 while she herself, naturally kind and diffident, shrank from the 
 priority thus forced on her, and only caressed us the more when 
 Miss White censured us by comparisons with herself. So that 
 although our intercourses of thought with her were somewhat 
 restricted by her limited range of mind and pursuits, our sisterly 
 affection was never impaired by it. 
 
 My brother, named after my father, William, was a very 
 eccentric character, who, with a less efficient tutor than Mr.- 
 Rivers, must have passed through the period of youth without 
 even ordinary acquirements. As it was, those he had made 
 were much below par, and his tastes unsuitable to his position. 
 Although every allowable gratification was afforded him in the 
 domestic circle, his inclination led him to the society of the 
 stable rather than to that of the drawing-room. My father's 
 anxieties respecting him were endless ; and he wearied himself 
 in vain to discover in him any bias of mind that might be train- 
 ed to his advantage. 
 
 My father's brother, the bishop, who lived about twenty 
 miles from us, was a frequent visitor at our house. He was a
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 11 
 
 tall man, of a dignified deportment, ordinarily reserved and 
 meditative; but a vigilant observer of all that was passing 
 around him. 
 
 He was fond of the style and gaiety of my father's house, and 
 on particular occasions, when distinguished guests were there, he 
 regaled us with a full display of the pomp of the diocesan. At 
 such times, I always felt afraid jf him ; but when he chose to 
 come to us in a private capacity, with a single servant, and 
 without the parade which he thought necessary at other times, 
 he demeaned himself with so much kindness and familiarity, 
 that we forgot the bishop in the affectionate uncle. 
 
 It was not often that he seemed enough at ease to make him- 
 self agreeable ; for his spirit was restless, and although the dis- 
 tinction which the mitre had conferred on him was immeasur- 
 ably gratifying, he was galled, like all his spiritual brethren of 
 his rank, at not being invested, by society at large, with the 
 titular honours of his position. 
 
 The disturbed state of the Catholic mind throughout the 
 country, at that period, no doubt contributed to increase my 
 uncle's irritation under his own peculiar privations, and to ren- 
 der him a stern claimant. for the removal of those disabilities 
 which limited his ambition and restricted the exercise of his 
 zeal. The discussions that sometimes arose at my father's table 
 on this subject were not always conducted with moderation, 
 especially if carried on with a Protestant disputant. 
 
 Mr. Rivers was an acute reasoner, but he never allowed him- 
 self to be drawn out in opposition to my uncle, if it was at all 
 avoidable ; as there existed between them a coldness, amounting 
 almost to antipathy. 
 
 On the part of my uncle, this might have been caused by Mr. 
 Rivers' omission, when addressing him, of the titles, which he 
 himself considered due to him. Or, it might have been owing 
 to the exclusive spirit of his own religious creed, as the very 
 name of Protestant was repugnant to him ; and he sometimes 
 even descended to vent the bitterness of his dislike to it in 
 denunciations little short of anathemas. My father, who was 
 mischievously fond of an extravagance that was ridiculous, 
 would on such occasions slily prompt the assailant to the very
 
 12 HELEN MULGBAVE; OR, 
 
 verge of danger, and then step in, at the critical moment, to 
 prevent a catastrophe. 
 
 Of my father's habitual licence in expressing opinions not in 
 accordance with our church, my uncle never appeared to take 
 any notice ; neither did he seem at all cognizant of what I may 
 call a singular omission of duty in our household priest, in not 
 requiring the younger branches of the family occasionally to 
 attend the confessional. 
 
 Miss White made it a subject of constant remonstrance with 
 us ; but as neither my father nor the priest had ever exhorted 
 us to it, after the event of our first communion, we continued to 
 live without even any precise idea of what were the ordinary 
 requirements of the confessional. 
 
 Reflecting on this anomaly at this distance of time, I attribute 
 it to the extreme anxiety of my father to keep our minds as 
 long as possible hi a state of purity ; and from the same cause we 
 were never put in possession of any of those Komish Manuals of 
 Devotion, or Daily Companions, which are provided, as it would 
 seem, to initiate the young in a knowledge of every possible 
 sin. 
 
 The usual system of domestic tuition amongst Roman Catho- 
 lics is unfavourable to the development of the intellect, and 
 still more so to the moral powers ; everything offered to the 
 mind being presented under false aspects, or in such mutilated 
 or fragmentary portions as to mock and deteriorate the faculties 
 they pretend to improve. 
 
 As to our religious training, if the expression be not a misno- 
 mer, it prepared us for nothing but an aptitude in performing 
 aves, reciting pater-nosters, or carefully counting the beads of 
 our rosaries. 
 
 Beyond what is implied in these requirements, and the inces- 
 sant commands of the priest to ' pay all homage to the Virgin,' 
 we were taught nothing of God. 
 
 Neither Miss White's manners, nor the spirit of her counsels, 
 invited to confidence. Yet I sometimes spoke to her of what I 
 felt to be the emptiness of my religious acquirements, and their 
 insufficiency to satisfy the longings of the soul. Sometimes she 
 laughed at my complaints ; at others, when in a captious mood,
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHII-. 13 
 
 she would say she wondered that something much worse had 
 not happened to me, since I never relieved my heart of its trans- 
 gressions by confession to the priest. 
 
 After some time, as this sarcasm had been often repeated, it 
 led to distrust and self-reproach, and I mentioned the subject to 
 my father, who said he would consider of it. 
 
 Had that prohibited book, which my father had not nerve 
 enough to bestow on us in defiance of his church, been at this 
 time permitted to me, I should have learnt from its pages the 
 requirements of its Divine author, and rested in hope on its 
 blessed provisions for time and eternity. They who have been 
 in childhood carefully instructed in a knowledge of this book, 
 can form no idea of the vacuum which unacquaintance with its 
 revelations leaves in an otherwise instructed mind. Wherever 
 it is prohibited, there ought also, in common mercy, to be a pro- 
 hibition of other books ; for reading, as it exercises the faculties, 
 leads to a knowledge of ourselves, and the wants of our nature, 
 which is ever panting after some undefined good, that it never 
 attains until it acquaints itself with God, and is at peace with 
 Him. 
 
 When my father again spoke to me of confession, he expressed 
 surprise at what I could have to confess. ' So good a little girl 
 as you, Helen, ought not to have any cause for confess ion.' 
 
 ' But I am unhappy, papa !' 
 
 ' Unhappy, my child ! Do not let me hear such words again. 
 You must be jesting!' 
 
 ' No, papa.' 
 
 ' Come, then, confess to me. I will undertake to advise you, 
 instead of the good father, who I am sure could not understand 
 your little heart as well as I can.' 
 
 'Ah, dear papa! perhaps I am unlike other people. I have 
 fancies and forgetfulnesses which distress me. My pater-nosters 
 do not interest me, and I often unintentionally omit them ; and 
 when I am addressing salutations to the Virgin, I want to know 
 why I should do so. This is my confession, papa. And now 
 that I have made it to yon, you, perhaps, can tell me what 
 penances I ought to perform, to relieve myself of that sense of 
 wrong which depresses my spirits.'
 
 14 HELEN MULORAVE; OB, 
 
 My father did not reply instantly, but took several turns in the 
 room before he said, 
 
 ' Nelly, my love, a sceptical turn of mind is a fearful evil in 
 the female character, and especially in a young heart. I am 
 afraid I must make you over to the good priest, after all, lest I 
 should add to the wrong I have already committed, in allowing 
 you an enlightenment of mind incompatible with the passive 
 faith required of you by the church. I will speak to the priest, 
 Nelly, and tell him to think of you only as an innocent, but 
 rather wayward child, who, seeing something beyond its reach 
 the moon, for instance cries to obtain it.' 
 
 Although my father said this in the most playful manner ima- 
 ginable, I was so much hurt at having opened my heart in vain, 
 since I had not made him sensible of the reality of my distress, 
 that I burst into tears. 
 
 He took me in his arms, and caressed me tenderly, until a tap 
 at the door of the room impelled me hastily to repress my 
 tears. My mother entered. 
 
 ' My dear Dora,' said my father, ' here is a penitent child of 
 yours, who accuses herself of wrong without having erred, and 
 would fain receive chastisement without deserving it. Take 
 her into your own keeping, and instruct her in her duty to 
 herself.' 
 
 Although left alone with my mother, being fully aware of her 
 repugnance to speak at all on the subject of religion, I could not 
 find courage to open my heart to her as I had done to my father ; 
 and I stood in silence, awaiting her inquiries. 
 
 But as if she had known what was passing in my mind, she 
 said 
 
 ' I fear, my love, I should prove but a poor adviser to you. 
 Had you not better consult Father Ossory ?" 
 
 I thankfully replied, ' Certainly, mamma, if you wish me ;' 
 and escaped hastily from her presence.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOftSHIP. 15 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Where there is strength of understanding, the mind can never long remain in a nega 
 live state ; that is, it cannot continue in not comprehending, in not believing, and yet in 
 tolerating, what it disdains. DE STAEL. 
 
 MY father's manner of living was a perfect specimen of that 
 hospitality of past times, which is now scarcely to be met with 
 anywhere, and rendered his house a place of chosen resort to 
 numerous friends and relations, as well as to many incidental 
 visitors, who, in summer months, were attracted to our neigh- 
 bourhood by the far-famed beauties of its Lakes. 
 
 It often happened, during three or four of the summer months, 
 that the number of our guests daily amounted to fifteen or twenty 
 persons. 
 
 As school-girls who had daily indispensable duties to perform, 
 my sisters and myself saw but little of these guests, although we 
 sometimes joined them in the drawing-room after dinner. But 
 the few hours then passed amongst strangers of various appear- 
 ance and opinions, became a source of information and improve- 
 ment inconceivably gratifying to our whole trio. The faces wo 
 scanned, the remarks we heard, and the manners we criticised, 
 constantly furnished us with new ideas, and endless subjects of 
 remark amongst ourselves, in our own room. 
 
 For two years after this, the affairs of our family went on as 
 heretofore; guests and gaiety in summer, and quiet domestic 
 life, with the customary out-door exercises, in the other seasons 
 of the year. 
 
 We had reached July, 1815. My brother, the elder of the 
 family, was within eighteen months of his majority, to which we 
 were all looking forward, as to an epoch in our family history. 
 
 My sister 'Dora was eighteen, Caroline seventeen, and myself 
 nearly sixteen. 
 
 The whole of Europe, during the greater part of this eventful 
 year, was kept in unceasing agitation by the overturnings of
 
 16 HELEN MULGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 kingdoms, and shiftings of crowns, consequent on the return of 
 Bonaparte from Elba. 
 
 It was not until this period, that my sisters and myself were 
 allowed to read newspapers. 
 
 What living, animating creatures, did we find these to be! 
 Their records of contemporary persons and occurrences were of 
 surpassing interest, and we began very soon to feel that we 
 belonged to a real world, and that we had a real part to perform 
 in it. We seemed to have attained at once the power of discern- 
 ing ' good and evil. 1 . With Avhat eager interest did we run over 
 their long columns of many-coloured thought and fact from 
 great to little, and from grave to gay. On another page, its 
 several advertisements, disclosing so many wants, and offering 
 so many boons, betrayed the private embarrassments, or the sor- 
 did schemes of adventurers on social sympathy or inexperienced 
 credulity. With what insinuating courtesy does one petitioner 
 ask for the reader's purse, and another for his patronage, until 
 the heart of the young novice aches, and deplores his incompe- 
 tency to comply with such painful and urgent requests. All this, 
 and much more than this, came daily on its broad sheet from the 
 great metropolis to our remote abode, to supply the awakened 
 intellects and satisfy the ardent curiosity of its charmed and 
 enthusiastic readers. 
 
 The two years just passed had done much towards suppress- 
 ing my complaints of the meagre information imparted to me on 
 religious subjects. I had been disciplined by the priest and the 
 governess into complete subjection to the externals of our faith, 
 which I had learned to practise with unremitting effort, although 
 without deriving any satisfaction from the performance. 
 
 My father, alarmed at what he had deemed the sceptical ten- 
 dency of my mind, and which he, influenced by Miss White, had 
 attributed to the ' folios and quartos ' in such young hands with 
 more meaning than his jest implied, exclaimed, with Festus, 
 'Much learning doth make thee mad!' Our reading had there- 
 fore been restricted, and the library became a prohibited resort, 
 for which the confessional formed a substitute, and was pressed 
 on us with a frequency which seemed intended to repair the loss 
 sustained by former omissions.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. . lY 
 
 On my own part, it was only submitted to as a duty not to be 
 evaded. And now, after years of experience and reflection on 
 this essential part of the Romish system, I am convinced that 
 the confessional, as ordinarily used, is the very nursery of sin, 
 and one of the great engines of Satan for the destruction of the 
 soul. That my sisters and myself escaped its depravity and its 
 pollutions, was owing not only to my father's influence with our 
 household priest, but also to the personal character of Father 
 Ossory himself. 
 
 He was a man who, at this distance of time and with essen- 
 tially altered views both of lus church and his office, I designate 
 a man of purity and of goodness, so far as these qualities can 
 exist founded on unscriptural views of religious truth. 
 
 Of Father Ossory, in the latter part of his life, I shall, hereaf- 
 ter, be able to speak as of one whom the ' truth had made free ;' 
 and to whom it was given to know ' the mysteries of the king- 
 dom of God.' 
 
 It appears to me that it can only be in ignorance or in over- 
 sight that any honest or intelligent mind can teach the demora- 
 lizing practices, the absurd deceits, and the criminal intolerance 
 of the Romish church. That it is possible to have been born in 
 that church, and to live in ignorance of its essential nature and 
 doctrines, under the direction of a skilful or harmless priest, my 
 dear mother was one of many thousand instances. 
 
 My sister Dora had a keen perception of the absurdity of some 
 of the tenets she was taught, but she discerned only their 
 absurdity. She saw not the intolerance of her church, for it had 
 never been unveiled to her and she knew nothing of its immo- 
 ralities, because they had been carefully hidden from her. I 
 may make the same remark of Caroline and myself; with this 
 difference, "that, owing to certain gleams of light which broke 
 occasionally on the darkness of my own mind, I became earlier 
 aware of some deplorable deficiency, of which I saw neither the 
 cause nor the extent, in the teaching which I received. 
 
 The contempt I sometimes felt for the empty forms of duty 
 imposed on me, produced indifference to the performance of 
 them ; for the sin of which I wept and humbled myself, without 
 applying to the priest. But I had it all to go over again in the
 
 18 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 confessional, where penance not repentance was the absolving 
 condition of pardon, from him who was the dispenser, in his 
 own name, of that which is solely the gift of God. 
 
 How could peace dwell in the mind thus at war with its own 
 perceptions of what was rational, and with its aspirations after 
 what was imaged in the depths of the soul as the only ' high 
 and lofty One,' to whom its homage should be paid? 
 
 Time was when I had been permitted to 'sit deep in volumes;' 
 and although that time was short, I had plucked from it immor- 
 tal fruit, which had opened my eyes to things beyond the ken of 
 sense. 
 
 When the light of books was withdrawn, I learnt to listen, as 
 I did not read; for though the spirit of inquiry had been 
 silenced, it was impossible that I could wholly suppress the aspi- 
 rations which still occasionally swelled my heart. My father's 
 lightest thoughts uttered in dinner talk, or Mr. Eivers' tempe- 
 rate refutation of the bishop's dogmas alternately kindled and 
 quenched the habitual longing of my soul for the knowledge which 
 had been placed out of my reach by the prohibition of books. 
 
 A note, which was brought by a foreign servant, one fine 
 morning in August, and which was instantly handed round our 
 private circle, became in its consequences, of immense import- 
 ance to my after life. It was from my Aunt Mulgrave, introduc- 
 ing to my father a young French marquis, who had been for 
 some weeks her own guest. The note was inclosed in one from 
 the marquis, acquainting my father that he intended himself the 
 honour of paying his personal respects to him on the following 
 day. Almost at the same moment, a letter was brought from 
 my aunt, by post, apologizing to my father for intruding on him 
 an additional guest, at a season when she knew his house to be 
 always full. 
 
 ' But you will, I am sure,' she wrote, ' pardon me, when you 
 see my young friend, who, besides his personal attractions, is at 
 present in deep grief for the loss of his mother, an intimate 
 friend of mine, very lately deceased. Change of scene, and the 
 mild air of Ireland, in your house, cannot, I trust, fail to recruit 
 him, although his depression is at present so great as materially 
 to affect his health.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 19 
 
 4 Were he not a Protestant, as well as myself, how much could 
 I write in his praise ; and how certain should I he of his finding 
 favour with your whole house. As he is, I do but commend 
 him to your ordinary courtesy: which I know, however, will 
 comprise, as it always does, everything that is benignant and 
 kind.' 
 
 My mother was charmed with my aunt's letter, and expressed 
 great interest in our expected visitor, on account of the amia- 
 bility indicated by a deep grief for the loss of a mother. 
 
 The bishop, when he heard of the expected arrival of a French 
 Protestant, was visibly disturbed ; and as my mother continued 
 to speak of him with interest, he turned short round on her, and 
 said, 
 
 4 Do you know, sister, that this young man, with whom you 
 sympathize so strongly, is not only a Protestant, but an apostate ; 
 since, as a Frenchman of rank, he must have been born in the 
 holy Catholic church?' 
 
 My mother replied, meekly, that she had no particular par- 
 tiality for a Protestant, as such, and still less for an apostate, 
 although she did not know that she was prohibited from interest- 
 ing herself in the welfare of an amiable man, though he were a 
 Protestant. 'At any rate,' she added, 'my sister's introduction 
 must not be slighted.' 
 
 ' Lady Mulgrave,' said my uncle, in a slow and authoritative 
 manner, ' toleration of heretics, under any circumstances, is a 
 sin of the deepest dye, in one who has been born in the true 
 church, and by the help of the blessed Virgin has remained 
 steadfast to it, whose laws and whose denunciations are alike 
 infallible. I have no natural cruelty about my disposition ; but 
 our holy religion conquers nature, and I cannot forbear to rejoice 
 at the destruction of any enemy of God, let me find him where- 
 soever I may ; for so our Church denominates all who are not 
 within her pale, whether " Greek or Jew, bond or free." ' 
 
 My aunt's introduction of the young Marquis de Grammont 
 had disposed us all except, perhaps, my uncle to greet him 
 cordially on his arrival. But after having seen him, we were at 
 a loss to express the kind of feeling he inspired. His fine fea- 
 tures and figure, although striking, were so much surpassed by
 
 20 HELEN MULGRAVE ; 
 
 the grace of his expression, and the captivating manner of his 
 salutation, that no ordinary expression of approbation could do 
 justice to the impression which he made on us. ' But he is 
 French,' we exclaimed, and that accounts for both his ease and 
 his grace. Still, there was something more than French about 
 him. There were lines of thought and traces of sorrow on his 
 face, and in his almost lustreless eye, penetrating and intelligent 
 as was its expression. 
 
 He was about twenty-five years of age, and having been born 
 in the most disastrous year of the French revolution, had been 
 trained, like many others of his countrymen, in the school of 
 vicissitude and adversity, and had derived from its severe disci- 
 pline that extensive knowledge of human nature and of the 
 world which, while it places a young man in advance of himself, 
 unites experience with youth, and gives him, in the intercourses 
 of life, an influence peculiar and decided. 
 
 At the time of the Marquis de Grammont's introduction to my 
 father's house, he was in possession of extensive estates, which 
 had been for the greater part of his early years sequestered from 
 his family. 
 
 His father and mother were both dead, and he was without 
 brother or sister. When he was sufficiently acquainted with us 
 to speak of his parents, he drew many tears by his affecting and 
 impassioned delineation of the fine qualities which they had dis- 
 played, especially his mother, in the varying fortunes of their 
 lives. 
 
 I had always been accustomed, as the younger and pet child 
 of my father, to sit at his right hand at dinner ; and as Monsieur 
 de Grammont handed me into the dining-room on the first day 
 of his arrival, my father beckoned us to his side. 
 
 I was glad to find the heretic marquis at so great a distance 
 from the bishop ; who, sitting by my mother, at the upper end 
 of the table, was eyeing him down the whole length of it with 
 no friendly glance. 
 
 My father was an experienced and an animating host, and 
 knew how to draw out every variety of character around him. 
 On this occasion I was happy enough to hear the marquis talk 
 without talking myself.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 21 
 
 I was, indeed, in no mood for conversation. The idea that 
 one so lately doomed, in the name of the church, to endless 
 misery in a future world, was sitting hy my side, filled me with 
 the most poignant sensations of regret and pity. All perception 
 of the right or wrong of the denunciation was heyond my ken. 
 But as this victim of the church's intolerance, unconscious of the 
 doom that had been pronounced on him, conversed frankly with 
 my father, I could not but discern in their opinions and feelings 
 something of kindred sense and goodness. I longed to learn 
 what the marquis himself could say in defence of that atrocious 
 heresy by which the attribute of immortality, bestowed on man 
 by the Divine Creator for the highest and most beneficent pur- 
 pose, became to him an eternal woe. 
 
 But this was not a subject that could be introduced in such a 
 place, even had I felt courage enough to volunteer a thought of 
 any kind to a gentleman so much a stranger to me. 
 
 As the ladies rose from the table, Monsieur de Grammont rose 
 with them, and having conducted me to the drawing-room, left 
 me there. 
 
 Miss "White was amongst the ladies, and very soon at my side, 
 expressing a hope that the handsome Frenchman had not been 
 initiating me in Protestantism ; to which, she said, she feared I 
 was naturally addicted. 
 
 While she was speaking, Monsieur de Grammont returned, 
 and immediately joined my two sisters, who were sitting toge- 
 ther in a distant part of the room. 
 
 They were both handsome at all times, but on this day I 
 thought they were unusually so. Dora was a brunette, and 
 Caroline a blonde. I observed, from Dora's subdued vivacity as 
 the marquis approached her, that she recollected his recent 
 bereavement. As this thought expressed itself on her counten- 
 ance, it evidently caused a sort of hesitation at the commence- 
 ment of their discourse, which, however, soon passed away. 
 
 When the gentlemen came up from the dining-room, they 
 began, en masse, to rally Monsieur de Grammont on his running 
 from the table with the ladies. His replies showed him to be 
 no novice in convivial banter; and although he was evidently 
 not in tune for the raciness of Irish wit, he failed not to acquit 
 himself in spirited repartee.
 
 22 HELEN MULUKAVK; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 DUEING the ensuing fortnight we all became attached to Mon- 
 sieur de Grammont in no ordinary degree. He was a character 
 who bore close acquaintance well. Frank, manly, and sincere, 
 from principle as well as from disposition, the more we saw of 
 him the more we liked him. 
 
 He would have been a dangerous person amongst so many 
 inexperienced female hearts, had not the feeling which, as a 
 heretic, he inspired, caused a perpetual effort to avoid too close 
 an intimacy with him. 
 
 This prejudice created an effectual barrier to that reciproca- 
 tion of sentiment and confidence which wins and rivets the 
 affections. 
 
 The bishop had stayed with us but two days after Monsieur de 
 Grammont's arrival, and therefore had seen but little of him ; 
 yet he left behind him a sting in almost every breast, infused by 
 his mystic warnings, which could not but work him harm. 
 
 Even my father and mother were infected with his demoniac 
 zeal for their church, and a consequent hostility of feeling for 
 one so decidedly adverse to it as our guest. 
 
 After Monsieur de Grammont's first week with us, he devoted 
 himself entirely to inform and entertain me. No doubt, as the 
 younger of the family, and too young to be dangerous, I had 
 often before this been an object of attention to other gentlemen 
 of our circle. 
 
 Monsieur de Grammont's seeming preference did not, there- 
 fore, move me. Unacquainted with my own heart, and with 
 human nature, I saw no danger in an intercourse which became 
 every day more and more delightful. 
 
 Leonce, for by that name the marquis had taught me to call 
 him, found endless subjects of conversation; on which he 
 imparted so much information, that I had a deep delight in lis- 
 tening to him. 
 
 As I became more familiar Avith him, I one day introduced the 
 almost interdicted subject between us, of our faiths, with a view
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 23 
 
 to rescue him, if possible, from the dreadful consequences of 
 being left without the pale of the Romish church. No sooner 
 was this subject hroached, and I had heard Leonce's reply to my 
 earnest exhortations, than I saw the extreme arrogance and pre- 
 sumption of my attempt, blind and ignorant as I was, to lead him 
 into truth. 
 
 I was at once convinced that I must discipline my understand- 
 ing, and greatly enlarge the sphere of my information, before I 
 again attempted to speak to him on a subject of which he knew 
 so much and / so little. 
 
 Leonce, as he spoke on this most important subject, opened a 
 new world of thought and opinion to me, in language so lucid 
 and so simple that I received impressions of divine truth which 
 became ineffaceable. 
 
 He did not offer me his Bible, but, in the confidential dis- 
 courses we held, I had inquired respecting that book. 
 
 I told him of my father's prohibition of it, in conformity with 
 the requirements of the church and the priest ; and he recom- 
 mended me to get the prohibition, if possible, withdrawn. 
 
 Though hopeless of success, I followed his advice, and to my 
 great surprise and joy, obtained the loan of a Bible from my 
 father. 
 
 I had many times before seen the exterior of this blessed book, 
 for Mary, my own maid, who had been sent to me from England 
 by my aunt Mulgrave, was a Protestant, and in the habit of 
 keeping it on her bedroom table. But she would have been 
 promptly dismissed had she presumed to lend it to any of us ; 
 and, knowing this, I never placed her in peril by request- 
 ing it. 
 
 Having now, however, obtained it, I applied myself to the 
 perusal of its sacred pages ; and although it was allowed me but 
 for a limited time, so that I became only partially acquainted 
 with it, the perusal formed an epoch in my life. 
 
 After I had made Leonce acquainted with the conflicting state 
 of my religious feelings, he devoted himself incessantly to me ; 
 and his tenderness, though not expressed in words, sank deep 
 into my soul, and became an absorbing happiness ; so that the 
 habitual tributes of family affection which had hitherto been
 
 24 HULKS MULGKAVK; OH, 
 
 reciprocated amongst us, were insipid nnd heartless in compari- 
 son with his devotion to me. 
 
 Yet his devotedness, though intensely gratifying, instead of 
 elating, humbled me ; and the coveted light, which I was con- 
 tinually receiving from his superior understanding, served but to 
 show me my own inferiority and demerits. But I could have 
 been well content to Bit ever at his feet, and owe to him alone 
 all I wished to know and to become. 
 
 As October commenced, our large party began daily to dimin- 
 ish, so that we were no longer in a crowd. I then became con- 
 scious of absorbing too much of the society of L6once. My sis- 
 ters quizzed me, and my father, I thought, looked grave and 
 anxious, whenever his glance fell on us together. There were 
 also others who seemed to think they had a right to know the 
 subjects of L6once's earnest discourse with me. 
 
 The apprehension of wrong, on my part, threw me into pain- 
 ful abstractions ; and, absorbed in my feelings, I secluded myself 
 from the social circle. Shut up in my own room, timidity and 
 self-distrust took possession of me. I became imaginative and 
 prescient to a painful degree, fearing that even L6once's regard 
 might already be diminished by the preference I had shown for 
 his society. This thought was so depressing and humiliating, 
 that, when again in his presence, I was no longer able to con- 
 verse with him frankly. I fancied that, having already occupied 
 him too much, I ought to limit our intercourse, lest I should 
 wear out his friendship. 
 
 I did not foresee the penance I was inflicting on myself by this 
 mode of repairing the wrong ; still less did I imagine it would 
 affect L6once, and draw painful observation on the change it 
 caused in his appearance and deportment. He who had 
 appeared to have been almost restored to health and happiness, 
 was now plunged deeper than ever into silence and melancholy. 
 I was perhaps more affected by this change than any one. New 
 apprehensions assailed me. I attempted, but was utterly una- 
 ble, to converse with him as heretofore. I longed to invoke his 
 aid in unravelling the web which my own fancies and fears had 
 woven, and which I had neither tact nor power to accomplish 
 without his assistance. I wept, when alone, at the coldness that
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOKSHIP. 25 
 
 Lad sprung up between us, without any apparent cause but my 
 own fastidiousness, for so I now called what at first had 
 seemed but the dues of delicacy, and respect for his good opinion. 
 
 Oh, if I might but once again make my peace with him ! 
 but once again believe that his friendship would be as eternal as 
 ray own ! It was thus I vented my anxiety and cherished feel- 
 ings, fertile in bliss and AVOC ! 
 
 While wandering about, as I often did, alone, wrapt in wak- 
 ing dreams, or lost in the regions of fancy, my uncle one morn- 
 ing arrived unexpectedly, and encountered me early in the park. 
 His presence filled me with apprehension. I feared his scrutiny, 
 and anticipated his displeasure, and soon escaped from him, 
 without learning, until some months after, that, under his con- 
 trol, events were then passing around me that fixed my fate, 
 without giving rne an option in it. 
 
 A. poetical work appeared about this time, which, though since 
 forgotten, was considered in its day an elegant and captivating 
 production. 
 
 With this poem, Mrs. Tighe's Psycfo lent me by a lady of 
 our party, I shut myself up on leaving my uncle in the park, in 
 my own room, to peruse it without interruption. I had sup- 
 posed, from its title, that it was a sort of metaphysical analysis 
 of the soul. How greatly was I surprised at finding it a tale of 
 love! With wliat eagerness I scanned every feature of a pas- 
 sion which I supposed to be utterly unknown to me. Whoever 
 has perused this gem of poetry will feel that its beautiful and 
 affecting allegory must have riveted the attention of a girl of 
 sixteen, reading it for the first time. I became so absorbed in 
 it as to be utterly unconscious of the lapse of time. Many hours 
 had passed since breakfast. Even the lunch-hour had gone by, 
 and I knew it not, although it was already time to dress for 
 dinner, when Mary, my own maid, knocking at my door, 
 reminded me that the first bell had rung. 
 
 I threw aside rny book, and observing Mary's countenance, 
 saw in it something unusual, and inquired what ailed her. 
 
 She answered by tears, which she appeared unable to restrain, 
 and, in broken words, told mo the Marquis do Grammont had 
 gone away to London. 
 
 2
 
 26 HELEN MULGRATB J OB, 
 
 ' Gone to London I When ? Why ?' 
 
 ' Oh, Miss IleLen, we do not know why he has gone. Bat I 
 myself saw him go, about an hour since. I thought you didn't 
 know of his going, as you were not with the young ladies and 
 the rest of the part}', to bid him good bye ; and I'm sure he 
 missed you, for he kept looking round every minute, as if he 
 expected you to come ; and he turned so pale when he saw you 
 didn't come, that I could hardly help crying before his face. But 
 as soon as he was gone, I went into the kitchen, and had a good 
 cry ; for he was always so condescending and so mindful of 
 everybody that did him the least service, and he " 
 
 She had proceeded thus far, when she saw me stagger and 
 sink into a chair. I was almost unable to keep life in me. My 
 breath grew shorter and shorter, when Mary thoughtfully open- 
 ed a window, and drew my chair to it. The refreshment which 
 the air afforded enabled me to recover my recollection and my 
 prudence. I told her I had been reading so closely that I had 
 forgotten the lunph-hour, and was quite exhausted. 
 
 I then dismissed her for a glass of water, and thus gained a few 
 moments to myself, during which I prostrated myself on the 
 floor in an agony of feeling. The sublime and impassioned 
 thoughts so richly scattered in the pages of Psyche, filled my 
 heart, and swelled it almost to suffocation, while its beautiful 
 personifications stood around me like ministering spirits. Their 
 voices reached my ear, and realizing the beautiful allegory of 
 Love and the Soul, as a verity whose fruition was only to be 
 attained in heaven, I devoutly prayed to die. 
 
 Could I, at that moment, have foreseen the long years of 
 sorrow betwixt me and death, I could hardly have desired it 
 more intensely 
 
 Mary returned, and in obedience to my injunction, without 
 informing any one of my indisposition. With more judgment 
 than her mistress, she had thought a glass of water no remedy 
 for exhaustion, and had brought with her substantial refresh- 
 ment. 
 
 It was in vain that I tried to swallow even _a single morsel. 
 My throat was closed. 
 
 It was necessary I should make my appearance at table, and
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 27 
 
 without being at all aware of any change in my looks, I was 
 soon, by Mary's efforts, dressed and ready to descend. 
 
 I entered the dining-room with as firm a step as I could com- 
 mand. The party was already seated, and every one turned to 
 look at me as I took my chair. The bishop in particular fixed 
 his eyes on me. 
 
 I was just able to move to my mother and him, and looking 
 up and down the table to ascertain an absence that I had not yet 
 realized, I met my father's eye, who, instantly laying down his 
 knife and fork, uttered an exclamation of alarm. A dimness 
 came over my sight, and a swelling at my heart stopped my 
 breath. I resigned myself cordially to what I supposed to be 
 death, and in a moment both sight and consciousness were gone. 
 
 When I came to life again, I was on my bed, in my own 
 chamber ; and there were so many loving faces hanging over 
 me, which at first I knew not, that I thought I was already in 
 heaven. 
 
 My dear mother was chafing my hands, my sisters applying 
 smelling bottles, and each one performing some kind office. An 
 exclamation of 'thank God!' drew my attention to my dear 
 father at the foot of the bed. 
 
 I soon prevailed on them to return to the dining-room, and 
 leave me to the tender care of Mary. 
 
 Eevived by so much kindness, I should have been quite tran- 
 quil, but vivid recollections came rushing on me, reminding me 
 how ill I had sustained the shock inflicted, and how much I had 
 yet to do to repress my feelings and keep my own secret. 
 
 That no one knew the bitterness of what I felt was all the 
 consolation that remained to me. Yet I longed for some pitying 
 friend, on whose shoulder I might lay my head, and penitently 
 reveal the folly of having trusted in Leonce's sincerity. 
 
 After some time, I became composed enough to suppose it 
 possible that I had myself been the cause of Leonce's abrupt 
 departure. Why had I been so often absent from the family 
 circle ? Had he not more reason to complain of me than I of 
 him? This thought was agony, for it created a responsibility 
 which I was not able to endure. Yet was he not privileged at 
 any moment to ask for an explanation of an apparent caprice ?
 
 28 HKUCN MUUJRAVE; OR, 
 
 I had then treated him capriciously I This possibility was the 
 climax of snffering! 
 
 But the sun rises and sets, and the moon, -with her soothing 
 light, holds her never-varying course in the heavens, whatever 
 tempests shake the terrestrial world, or whatever sorrows drain 
 the heart of its life. 
 
 Weeks passed, and no one spoke to me of Leonce. Why was 
 he thus cast utterly out of sight? What had he done to oltVnd 
 the whole house ? I dared not ask, lest I should be detected in 
 thinking of him. 
 
 At a future time, I learnt that it was by my father's express 
 commands that Leonce's name was never uttered in my hearing, 
 or myself subjected to any remark in reference to what had 
 passed on the day of his departure. 
 
 He was not unaware, it seemed, of what was passing in my 
 mind, but he had his own views in adopting the course I have 
 mentioned, as it was both my uncle's and his policy that I should 
 forget Leonce altogether. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 TIME, the great healer of sorrow, passed on, and I became 
 anxious once more to perform in the confessional what I had not 
 yet ceased to consider a duty. I felt the necessity of disencum- 
 bering my conscience of a load of wrong, which it had accumu- 
 lated in reference to a knowledge of many religious truths, which, 
 unacknowledged, seemed to be held unworthily, and as it were 
 surreptitiously. 
 
 Many weeks had passed since I last saw Father Ossory in the 
 confessional, and as I waited on him in the oratory, he rose to 
 greet me, with a kindness of manner that seemed to fay, ' It is 
 my lost child returned !' I knelt to kiss his hand, but he raised 
 me instantly, with reproofs for a homage which he disclaimed. 
 
 I had thus bent before him under the weight of various feel- 
 ings which would not allow me to meet his eye. Alas ! when I 
 had met him last for the purpose of confession, I had nover seen
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 29 
 
 Ldonce, nor did I then know myself as I now did. I had been 
 raised to the heights of happiness, and plunged into the depths 
 of grief, in that interval. I now needed advice and sympathy ; 
 yet how tell the good Father of my childish and unavailing 
 griefs ? Could I look on that discerning though benignant coun- 
 tenance, and not quail before it. Could he fail to despise the 
 childishness and yet arrogance of my assumption, in claiming 
 him as an auditor of what, to him, must seem puerile ? 
 
 I remained like a statue before him, with my head bent, until 
 tears coursed each other down my face. 
 
 'My dear daughter,' he at length said, 'have you something 
 to say to me which you find it difficult and painful to express ? 
 And Avhy is it so ? Am I not entitled, from the office I hold, to 
 your confidence ? And have I not also a right to share your per- 
 plexities, and tp support you under your difficulties ? Let us sit 
 down and converse freely together, and may the blessing of God 
 be upon us 1 
 
 As I felt myself further than ever from confession at that 
 moment, and thought only of deferring it, I sat down, and in 
 reply to him, said, 
 
 ' I have indeed much to confess to you, and to inquire of you, 
 father. But I fear it is not in my power at this time to unburden 
 my heart, though it is greatly oppressed. But there is one thing 
 which lies heavily on it. Since I last communed with you, I 
 have become acquainted with the Protestant Bible, and am very 
 anxious to learn not only your opinion of my having done so, 
 but also of the sacred book itself.' 
 
 ' Why, the Bible, my child, whether Protestant or Catholic, is 
 the book of God, and there is no such essential difference be- 
 tween the two as is generally supposed. But the Bible is not a 
 book for the ignorant or the young, except under pastoral guid- 
 ance.' 
 
 ' Yon would not then, father, approve of my having a Bible 
 in my own keeping ?' 
 
 ' Not to be entirely at your own disposal, daughter. You 
 might be allowed to read portions of it, as indeed you must 
 already have done, if I recollect rightly.' 
 
 ' I havo read very short passages from it. But they were so
 
 80 HELEN' MULGRAVE ; OB, 
 
 mixed up with other writings which did not form any part of 
 the inspired book, that until lately I had no more reverence for 
 the one than the other. Was it right I should have felt thus ? 
 and am I wrong now in making a distinction that exalts the one 
 arid, by comparison, disparages the other ?' 
 
 'My dear daughter, the inquiries you make Avill lead you into 
 deep waters. Are yon able to sound them ? What if they prove 
 unfathomable? I will endeavour to solve your difficulties, 
 although, in my weak and individual capacity, I assume no infal- 
 libility. Our church, indeed, is infallible, but it pledges not itself 
 for the infallibility of its respective ministers ; and, in truth, 
 there is strictly "none good but one, that is God." How has 
 your mind been so perturbed ? Of what are you apprehensive ? 
 You seem to think that your religious training has been defec- 
 tive. If, indeed, it has been so, it is myself alAne that must be 
 answerable for it.' 
 
 ' May I tell yon, father, what words are sounding in my ears 
 at this moment ? They are a recollection of what I read in the 
 sacred book.' 
 
 ' Speak, my child.' 
 
 ' " There is one Mediator betwixt God and man the man Christ 
 Jesus." Is there mdre than one ? The expression I have quoted, 
 and many others like it, in the Protestant Bible, seem to exclude 
 the idea of any mediator but the blessed Jesus himself.' 
 
 Father Ossory here rose in haste, saying, as he did so, ' Do 
 y<?u know, daughter, that to question the truth of any doctrine 
 incorporated in the creeds of the Church is damning heresy ? 
 And such, as in stricter times, would have sent the recusant to 
 the stake ? If my words sound harshly to you, yet reject them 
 not ; but receive them as the warning of that love which every 
 true pastor in our holy church feels in an especial degree for the 
 lambs of his flock. Yesterday, you were but as a babe, and 
 already, you have attained to a startling maturity ; and having 
 cast away that deference for what has hitherto been sacred in 
 your eyes, ypu have replaced it by a reckless curiosity, that may 
 eventually lead you beyond the saving pale of the church in 
 whose bosom you have been reared. You ask me if there is 
 more than one mediator. Do you not know that the church
 
 JB3UIT EXECUTORSIIIP. 31 
 
 recognises many ? You look surprised, dear child ! Is it then 
 " lack of knowledge" that has set thee adrift on the ocean of 
 opinion ? I must, henceforth, take thee under my own especial 
 guidance. But I cannot consent to any further perusal of a 
 Protestant Bible, not even to a single page of it. And I hope 
 shortly to learn, in a full and voluntary confession, the means by 
 which my child has been put in possession of a book, which has 
 been used to seduce -her from both duty and faith. And now, 
 farewell for a short season. I expect you to send me, without 
 delay, that bone of contention between us, the Protestant Bible. 
 Till I receive it, my anxiety will be great and unceasing.' 
 
 I told the good father that I was no longer in possession of it. 
 Our interview ended thus, and I returned from it to my own 
 chamber. I found there my mother and sisters. 
 
 My mother expressed her satisfaction at the interview I had 
 just had with my confessor. But I could not reciprocate her 
 feeling, and she looked askingly in my face for the cause, but did 
 not inquire. 
 
 My conversation with Father Ossory had shocked and startled 
 me ; on many points I cosld not but perceive that my inquiries 
 had been evaded, and that I had left him without acquiring the 
 information I needed. 
 
 In his zeal for the infallibility of his church, he had exhibited 
 a severity foreign to his ordinary habits of speaking on that sub- 
 ject, and had enumerated the claims and titles of the Virgin, 
 which appeared to me as unauthorized as they were absurd. 
 
 Much as I wished to open my heart to my mother on this sub- 
 ject, it would have been impossible to complain to her of the 
 good father ; although his advice, so ill adapted to allay the 
 anxiety and satisfy the yearnings of my heart after something 
 more than was to be found in the rosary or the aves, or even in 
 appeals to the saints, had left me more unhappy than before tho 
 interview. 
 
 My mother expressed tho most tender concern for a sadness 
 she did not inquire into, and proposed a ride before dinner, with 
 my father and brother. 
 
 I was but too happy to adopt her suggestion, and escape thus 
 from myself; and was soon in a canter on my favourite steed.
 
 32 HELEN MU1GRAVE? OR, 
 
 'Vivian Grey' tells us, that a ride on horseback is a cure for 
 every evil, and the best preparation for all enterprises, whether 
 for the conquest of the world or the conquest of oneself. I was 
 thankful for the relief which a view of earth and sky once more 
 afforded ine, in the varied forms of beauty and grace always to 
 be found in inanimate nature. My dear father's conversation, too, 
 during our ride, was so*well adapted to draw my thoughts from 
 my own griefs to the stern realities of suffering, so universal in 
 the pathway of life, that I dismounted from my horse with a 
 feeling of contempt for the sensibility which had absorbed me 
 in self. 
 
 When the family assembled at dinner, we were without visitors. 
 So unusual a circumstance, in my father's house, threw, at first, 
 a sort of loneliness over the circle. But afterwards, as an un- 
 fettered and confidential family intercourse sprang up amongst 
 us, the peculiar charm of home was without alloy. 
 
 My father's conversation, on this day, with Mr. Rivers, after 
 the cloth had been removed and the servants withdrawn, struck 
 me as exhibiting a state of mind, on the subject of his faith, re- 
 eembling my own. 
 
 Yet I dared not volunteer a thought on such a subject in the 
 presence of my mother, who, though not intolerant in her opi- 
 nions, Avas yet so tenacious of the authority of her church, and 
 so assured of its infallibility, that she shuddered at the idea of 
 resisting it in any form. 
 
 My father's wavering opinions and inconsistent practices were 
 but the natural result of his finding it impossible to reconcile 
 with reason and common sense the dogmas with which he felt 
 his mind in a state of perpetual antagonism. Yet, had he been 
 as frank with his confessor as might have been expected, it i.s 
 possible that two men so thoroughly good and intelligent as 
 Father Ossory and himself, both in spirit and in life, might have 
 succeeded in awakening each other to a knowledge of the truth. 
 
 Our school-room studies had long since been ended, but our 
 two teachers still remained, to assist in, and in some degree su- 
 perintend our pursuits and movements. 
 
 Autumn had far advanced, and nature wore her gloomiest and 
 most disordered aspect, when Miss White one day informed us,
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 33 
 
 very abruptly, that both Mr. Rivers and herself were to leave us 
 on the following day. She burst into tears as she ended her com- 
 munication, and, touched by her emotion, we wept with her. AH 
 that had ever been disagreeable in her, disappeared at once, and 
 we recollected only what was amiable in her character, and the 
 number of years she had been with us. 
 
 "We inquired why she went away, and so suddenly? but she 
 only replied by saying ' It would be impossible for me to stay 
 for ever. My duties have been some time over, and my work, 
 so far as I have been able to make it so, is, I hope, complete. 
 My departure has, therefore, been some weeks decided on. You 
 all play and sing very sweetly Caroline divinely ; and I think 
 that even in London, or Paris, no one would discover in your 
 dancing that you had not been taught by a first-rate pro- 
 fessor. 
 
 ' But I will not enumerate my achievements ; it would be more 
 consonant with my feelings to speak of what still remains to be 
 done to make you, Dora and Helen, what I could have wished 
 to see you. You must, however, bear witness for me, that it is 
 not my fault if you have been allowed to acquire, by too much 
 reading, a knowledge of many things of which it had been better 
 for you to have been ignorant. A child of our holy church needs 
 not to know more of religion or morals than her priest teaches 
 her. Alas, my dear girls ! you have been allowed to read the 
 Bible, and to see it applied by Protestant writers to the condem- 
 nation of your own infallible church. What has been the con- 
 sequence ? Certainly only what might have been expected. You 
 have fallen into the snares of heresy, and presume to think for 
 yourselves, and judge for yourselves, as though independent 
 thought and opinion were allowable and praiseworthy. Only 
 yesterday, my dear Helen, I found a book open in your room, 
 whose pages were marked all over with your pencil, indicating 
 a close attention to and approbation of their contents. 
 
 ' And what was that book forsooth ? No other than ' Newton, 
 on the Prophecies!' 
 
 'Why, my dear, if, when that book first appeared in England, 
 our church had had the power which she formerly had, the author, 
 from what I saw of its contents, would have been ofiered up, a 
 
 2*
 
 34 HELKX MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 just sacrifice to God, on the rack, or in the flames of the Holy 
 Inquisition.' 
 
 Dora and I shuddered, and looked at each other, for we had 
 both been reading this heretical book ; and although we could 
 not credit Miss White's extravagant statement of the punishment 
 which she conceived the author would have been exposed to 
 under certain circumstances, her language was so decided and so 
 strong, as to indicate 'almost a ferocity of feeling against those 
 who differed from her in religion. 
 
 Having recovered from our surprise, for we had never before 
 found her so earnest and severe in her rebukes, we attempted a 
 justification of ourselves ; not certainly, expecting to convince 
 Miss White, but because, as it led us into an examination of our 
 own views and conduct, it might not prove wholly unsatisfactory 
 to our own minds. We had no desire to oppose Miss White, 
 especially now, when her vocation was ended ; but Dora, with 
 her habitual fearlessness, inquired of her whether, if it had fallen 
 to her lot to judge Bishop Newton and assign his punishment,.she 
 could have consented to take his life for his mere exposition of 
 Scripture contrary to the received opinions of the church. 
 
 ' Most certainly,' she replied. 
 
 ' On what authority ?' said Dora. 
 
 ' On that of the church, certainly.' 
 
 ' And does the church, then, sanction human sacrifices?' 
 
 ' It disposes of its enemies, of course, Dora.' 
 
 ' By what law ?' 
 
 ' By the canon law, which is the law of the church.' 
 
 ' I hope you are mistaken, Miss White. Your report of the 
 church revolts me. Such a practice as you attribute to it could 
 only be tolerated by savages or demons, and I would fain hope 
 that you have overstated the fact.' 
 
 ' Dora,' said Miss White, somewhat angrily, ' we will drop 
 this subject. I have no hope of reclaiming you.' 
 
 'My dear Miss White,' saicl Caroline, 'do not say so, just as 
 you are leaving us. There wiL now be no one to care for Dora's 
 soul as you have done.' 
 
 ' Carry,' said Dora, ' you forget our good Father Ossory and 
 our parents.'
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 35 
 
 * I am afraid I did, for the moment,' said Caroline ; ' but it is 
 because Miss "White is going, that I thought only of her.' 
 
 At this moment Mr. Rivers entered the library, and Dora 
 expressed to him her concern and mine at having just learned 
 that it was his intention soon to leave us. 
 
 He said, he also felt deep regret at a movement which had 
 been rather suddenly decided on. ' It is impossible,' he conti- 
 nued, ' after so long a residence in a family where one has been 
 made so truly happy, not to feel that parting is a wrench intense- 
 ly painful ; but I hope that the course of reading and instruc- 
 tion with which I have furnished you for some years past, and 
 for the effects of which I consider myself responsible, will in 
 future life produce such fruits, to each of you ladies, as shall 
 cause you sometimes to think of me with approbation. It is 
 impossible to foresee what part either of you may have to per- 
 form in life. 
 
 ' Human existence is full of vicissitudes, and we are all born 
 to trouble. But good principles, and views of duty consonant 
 with truth, will, under God's blessing, conduct us through all 
 dangers and difficulties ; if not to happiness, at least to peace, 
 and quietness of mind.' 
 
 ' And you, only, Mr. Rivers,' interrupted Miss "White, angrily, 
 1 know how to teach either religion or duty eh ?' 
 
 ' That is an inference unworthy of a candid opponent, Miss 
 "White ; but permit me, once for all, to say, with the emphasis 
 of last words, that there is no mind to which the Scriptures are 
 unknown, that can be in possession of a test by which religious 
 opinions may be effectually tried. This remark for you, Miss 
 "White. As for these young ladies, they, at present, know but 
 little of the Bible; and even that little was not taught by me. 
 It was bestowed on them by a parental hand, and I have reason 
 to hope and believe that they will not be much longer unac- 
 quainted with that blessed and indispensable book ; but that 
 having it at hand, they will use their own excellent understand- 
 ings on what they are taught of religion ; and, comparing it with 
 the Word of God, bo able to ascertain whether it ia or is riot 
 consistent with the teaching of Inspiration.' 
 
 'Go on, Mr. Rivers, to the last moment,' exclaimed Miss
 
 SO HELEN MULGKAVK ; OR, 
 
 White, sharply ; ' your assumptions might be permitted to a 
 member of our infallible Church, but to no other. I am happy 
 to say/ for myself, that your teaching has never shaken my 
 faith!' 
 
 ' Nor yours mine, Miss "White. So far, we are quits,' con- 
 cluded Mr. Kivers, with a bow. 
 
 At this moment we rose to repair to the drawing-room, to 
 await the announcement of dinner. Mr. Rivers, notwithstand- 
 ing their skirmish, led Miss White, and we followed. 
 
 As we descended the stairs, we were joined by my brother. 
 We found already assembled in the drawing-room, not only my 
 father and mother, and Father Ossory, but the bishop also ; and 
 two other gentlemen, who were strangers to us, of venerable 
 appearance. 
 
 As our spirits were quite below par, the appearance* of 
 something like a party, though a small one, was very welcome to 
 ns all. 
 
 The two gentlemen proved to be no other than two of the 
 choicest spirits of the age, as we were not long in discovering. 
 
 The character of even their ordinary speaking, was riveting to 
 the ear; but when, having plunged into a subject which kindled 
 their own enthusiasm, they threw the reins on the neck of Fancy, 
 every sentence became a spell, until the entranced listener was 
 borne away captive, to do homage to their mysterious powers 
 of thought and language. 
 
 My father, who well knew how to draw them out, did not 
 slumber at his post. As the servants withdrew, he renewed his 
 imperceptible promptings, so as to lead them to climax after 
 climax ; until my mother's attention, like that of her daughters', 
 became so enchained, that we thought not of moving, or she of 
 giving the signal for it. 
 
 A moment's pause occurring, we were beginning to recollect 
 ourselves, when the elder Mr. , after contemplating my bro- 
 ther for a few minutes with a quizzical air, inquired, in a tone 
 of banter, what he was thinking of? 
 
 * I was thinking of you, sir,' replied William. 
 
 1 Oh ! I'm glad of that, as I was thinking of you. Do you 
 know that I am a fortune teller V
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP 87 
 
 4 Are you, sir?' said William, with a startled air ; but recover- 
 ing, said, ' I wish you would tell me my fortune, sir.' 
 
 ' If you wish it, you shall have it, my man,' said he, fixing on 
 him a look of scrutiny that made him quail. ' Well, then " the 
 past, the present, and the future," as Le Norman says. I pass 
 over the ordinary incantations, and begin with the " past." You 
 have already lived in the world nearly twenty years, and have 
 done nothing but eat, drink, sleep, run, ride, groom horses, and 
 talk to stable boys.' 
 
 William flushed, and looked affronted, muttering ' I've done 
 what others do, sir.' 
 
 ' Arrah ! my young buck don't forget who ye are speaking 
 
 to,' exclaimed Mr. , in a tone of exquisite jocularity. ' I can 
 
 tell you what you have not done, as well as what you have done. 
 You have not loved Greek, or Latin, or mathematics, or science, or 
 "letter-press" of any sort. But as you are come, almost, to man's 
 estate, your work is cut out, and you must now do something. 
 Your profession is determined on you are going on the road.' 
 
 ' The road sir ! What, to be a highwayman, sir ?' 
 
 * Not exactly that. A postillion, perhaps, or a mail-coachman, 
 or a waggoner. Which do you prefer ?' 
 
 ' Neither, sir.' 
 
 ' I can't untell your fortune, my boy. You must take one of 
 the three. A mail-coachman is a four-in-hand gentleman ; who, 
 if he doesn't drive the world before him, drags it after him. 
 Come, come, Willy 1 as you are a " born gentleman," keep up the 
 craft. Take up the coachman's box, for it is your fortune to be 
 an actor in 'equestrian games ; and if you break your neck, like 
 Phaeton, it will be all in your line, and easy enough, in these 
 days, for Science to direct the dovetailing of a bit of bone into 
 the vertebrae, that shall set your head again on your shoulders in 
 a twinkling. I suppose you are acquainted with Phaeton, Willy, 
 being one of your clan ?' 
 
 * Yes, sir, I suppose I am ; but I forget his sirnafcie.' 
 
 The loud laugh that followed this reply was barely restrained 
 until my mother and we, who had risen from table, made our 
 escape from the dining-room, with merry faces, though certainly 
 at poor Willy's expense.
 
 38 HELEN MULGBAVE; OR, 
 
 Onr mirth died away as the laughter of the dining-room was 
 lost in distance, and we soon found ourselves circling round the 
 fire in the drawing-room ; and with that feeling of restlessness 
 which precedes a change such as we were now anticipating, we 
 occupied ourselves with mere nothings ; more disposed to rumi- 
 nate than to read or converse. 
 
 Miss White was also meditative and silent for some time. 
 Then, turning to my mother, she inquired if she could explain 
 to her the extraordinary jest played off upon William at table. 
 My mother replied, that my father, perplexed heyond measure 
 with the uncontrollable propensities of William, had asked 
 
 Mr. , who was deeply read in human nature, if he could 
 
 advise him how to manage him, so as to give a new bias to his 
 character ; and she supposed it was in consequence of this that 
 
 Mr. had bantered William as he did T as a mere experiment 
 
 on his disposition and capacity. 
 
 ' I was not sorry,' said my mother, ' to see the boy blush ; I 
 hardly thought he would have taken it so much in earnest.' 
 
 ' It was only a flash of anger, Lady Mulgrave,' said Miss White. 
 ' I much fear you will never do anything with William, so long 
 as he is allowed to hang about the cottage of the fosterer. Mrs. 
 Brian, the daughter from Dublin, is returned a widow, and has 
 two daughters growing up. From what I have seen and known 
 of her, I should think her capable of any kind of mischief to your 
 family, Lady Mulgrave ; and as I am leaving you, I am glad to 
 have an opportunity of speaking to your ladyship on this sub- 
 ject. I do not blame Mr. Rivers for William's intercourse with 
 the Brians, because I believe that Sir WilRam, who is always 
 more kind to others than to himself, could not be prevailed on 
 to prohibit it entirely, on account of his tenderness for the feel- 
 ings of liis foster-mother ; and I fear that advantage has been 
 taken of William's visits to the cottage to introduce the daugh- 
 ters to him, and to inveigle him into some sort of connexion 
 with one of tfcjm. William's supposed "passion for the stable" 
 should be translated ' passion for the cottage-girl." ' 
 
 My mother; who never had a suspicion of William's being a 
 visitant at the cottage, became more agitated than I had ever 
 seen her. She rose hurriedly, and taking Miss White's arm, led
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 39 
 
 her away to her own room, and did not return until the gentle- 
 men were summoned to coffee. 
 
 William was not with them, and it was found on inquiry that 
 he had left the dining-room immediately after the ladies. 
 
 Mr. Elvers being informed of what had passed, went instantly 
 in search of his pupil, and returned, in about an hour, with him 
 on his arm. No reproofs were administered to him that night ; 
 but the next morning, my father was with him, before he had 
 left his room. Meantime our guests were preparing for depar- 
 ture, and immediately after breakfast, took leave of us. 
 
 My uncle then left us, taking Father Ossory and William with 
 him. 
 
 No sooner were they gone, than two cars drove up, for the 
 accommodation of Mr. Rivers and Miss White. They shortly 
 after set off, in different directions ; the one to the north of the 
 island, the other to England. 
 
 A visible weight fell on my father and mother on this occa- 
 sion, which seemed greater than was natural. They retired to 
 their private room together as soon as the cars had driven off, 
 dined there alone, and were not visible till the following 
 morning. 
 
 Meantime, as we could not apply ourselves to anything, my 
 sisters and I roamed about the deserted house, hanging upon 
 each other, and thinking, perhaps from sheer idleness, more of 
 the ghosts and fairies of former times than of ourselves. Our 
 dinner had been ordered in our own boudoir, and thither, when 
 it was announced, we repaired. 
 
 As we sat by the fire side, conversing idly, after dinner, it 
 seemed to strike each of us that the very abrupt departure of 
 Mr. Rivers and Miss White must have been caused by some sud- 
 den necessity or purpose of their own, perhaps. We all agreed 
 in thinking that my father and mother could not have contrived 
 it ; yet they parted with them in perfect friendliness, as if their 
 going was a movement in which they acquiesced. 
 
 But the seclusion of our parents immediately after they were 
 gone, without making any arrangement for the new position and 
 loneliness of their children, was so extraordinary and unlike 
 themselves, that we could augur nothing from it. Thrown out
 
 40 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 of every habit, and every species of occupation, the very cnrrcnt 
 of onr life was, as it were, suspended, and we were more dia- 
 posed to vent our complaints in tears than in words. We went 
 to the window, watched the setting sun as it dropped below the 
 horizon, and should soon have sunk into paralysing ennui, had 
 not our good father, early in the evening, sent us one of the 
 London papers, which had just arrived. 
 
 We all blessed the boon, and forming a close circle, one took 
 up rug-work, and another netting, while Dora read aloud, for the 
 benefit of all, the news of the day. 
 
 There was an unusual flush of news from foreign parts in the 
 paper. Amongst other things, the arrival of Bonaparte at St. 
 Helena, whose fallen greatness, notwithstanding the almost uni- 
 versal rejoicing it occasioned, we were more disposed to com- 
 miserate than to exult in, as some of the numerous privations 
 incident to his new position became apparent to us. 
 
 The patriotic Lavalette and his heroic wife, the narrative of 
 whose peril and escape quickened our pulses, had also their meed 
 of sympathy. Thus, with alternate reading and fancy work, we 
 contrived to finish our day, uttering now and then a thought or 
 a good wish for those who were driving fast away from a home 
 which had been so long theirs, and whom, perhaps, we should 
 see no more. 
 
 Before we separated for the night, we had resolved on apply- 
 ing to my father-for permission to use his library, and to cull for 
 ourselves from its shelves. 
 
 Carry did not participate in this application, determined, as she 
 said, not to burden her mind with a knowledge of things for 
 which she had neither use nor relish, and which had been so 
 much condemned by her dear Miss White and Father Ossory. 
 
 Dora and I did not attempt to seduce her from her self-com- 
 placency, nor did we love her a whit less for her difference of 
 taste. 
 
 On the morrow, our dear parents reappeared to our gladdened 
 sight. They were evidently sad, and on our asking my mother 
 privately if anything unusual disturbed them, she said that my 
 father had suffered very much at the necessity and the sudden- 
 ness of parting with two persons of his household so much
 
 JESUIT HXECUTORSHIP. 41 
 
 valued as Mr. Rivers and Miss White. Dora ventured to inquire 
 further, what occasioned this necessity and suddenness, but my 
 mother simply replied, ' What you, at present, would not perhaps 
 understand, and which it may never be necessary for you to 
 know.' 
 
 We obtained from my father the gratification of every wish. 
 The library had lately been weeded of its rubbish by Mr. Rivers, 
 so that the keys were only withheld from us until my father had 
 removed some few volumes which he did not think adapted to 
 our use. 
 
 After this, Dora and I speedily entered on our catering, and 
 Boon brought to hand the provision we required. 
 
 We passed the winter, which was unusually severe, in varied 
 reading, without regretting, after we had once learnt to regulate 
 ourselves, that we had been thrown upon our own discretion. 
 Caroline, who spent almost all her time with my mother, was 
 wonderfully improved, both in intelligence and sweetness of 
 manners, by her society, keeping up her music by singing and 
 playing daily, for her mother's pleasure and her own. 
 
 Our winter's reading, though highly gratifying to my sister and 
 myself, had a somewhat different effect on us individually ; per- 
 haps owing to the different tastes exercised in the selection of 
 our authors. For myself, I was more than ever convinced of the 
 errors I had imbibed in my childhood, and of the much I had 
 yet to unlearn before I could attain to any certain knowledge of 
 religious truth ; while Dora, more delighted with the arguments 
 she had acquired to aid her wit than impressed with the serious 
 nature of the topics on which she exercised it, evasively, if not 
 sceptically, still asked, ' What is truth ?' 
 
 With respect to confession, our respect for which was effectu- 
 ally undermined, Dora and I were avowedly at variance. I had 
 in my heart for ever renounced it ; but not daring to acknow- 
 ledge the renunciation, I sought to evade the practice by avoid- 
 ing the priest ; determined that, should I be compelled to account 
 for the omission, I would express my convictions, and acknow- 
 ledge the new views I had acquired. 
 
 My sister asserted her determination to continue the practice, 
 for the present at least, as she knew not how, she said, otherwise
 
 42 HELEN MULQRAVE; OR, 
 
 to relieve herself of the remorse of having so often laughed at 
 the church's solemn jugglery in many of the most holy things 
 incorporated in her creeds. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 I HAD repeatedly, during the winter, been reminded in a brief 
 and gentle remark by Father Ossory, that I was perilously omit- 
 ting the duties of the ' confessional.' To this I had never 
 attempted any reply. 
 
 One morning, as I went into the library at a very early honr, 
 I found the good father seated there, with two Bibles before him, 
 of which he was turning over the leaves. 
 
 Such an occupation surprised me, and seeing that I observed 
 what he was doing, he remarked that he was comparing the Pro- 
 testant and Catholic Bibles with each other, in order to ascertain 
 the amount of their verbal differences; but he closed the books 
 as I approached the table. 
 
 My late studies, as they were alien to his views, had created in 
 my own mind a corresponding feeling of alienation from him, for 
 which, as I now beheld him, my heart smote me, and I knelt at 
 the table which stood betwixt us, to ask his blessing. 
 
 When he had pronounced it, he buried his face in his hands, 
 and leant on the table. 
 
 I rose from my knees, and apologizing to him for having 
 unconsciously intruded on his privacy, was leaving the room, 
 when he said, ' My child, I certainly did not expect to see you 
 here at so early an hour ; but as a room open to all, there can be 
 no intrusion in your entering it at any hour, although you should 
 find another here before you. I rather think, as you are in the 
 habit of frequenting it and I am not, the apology for intrusion 
 should come from me instead of you. But let us not spend pre- 
 cious time in settling an unimportant question of etiquette; 
 rather let us avail ourselves of an opportunity which, wisely 
 used, may, with God's blessing, redound to his glory, if it but 
 awaken a soul to the sense of duty neglected and of safety 
 imperilled.'
 
 JESUIT EXEeUTORSHIP. 43 
 
 Seeing that it was now impossible to retire without, at least, 
 a conversation with Father Ossory, I endeavoured to rally my 
 thoughts, and muster courage for it. 
 
 But tears were more ready than words, and would not be 
 restrained. Though not in the confessional, the solemn thoughts 
 that filled my soul seemed to make it a duty, even to God, that 
 I should be as sincere and unreserved as though in confession 
 before him. 
 
 While I wept and scanned the task before me, Father Ossory 
 again buried his face in his hands, as if not wishing to restrain 
 my tears, but to await in patience their cessation. 
 
 ' "Will you allow me, good father,' I said at length, ' to inquire 
 whether your opinion of the Bible, as a book for my use, is at all 
 changed since I last heard your sentence on it?' He did not 
 reply, and I continued ' I find more than ever the want of that 
 book, good father ; for although I have read many volumes con- 
 taining allusions to it, and even quotations from it, yet the sup- 
 ply has been too scanty to satisfy my inquiries ; and although I 
 am aware that you consider me as having been seduced from 
 both duty and faith by the perusal of that sacred book, I find 
 myself still yearning for a further knowledge of it.' 
 
 'My child,' said the father, in somewhat of a stern voice, 
 'your words are still wilful. They are a vindication of the 
 wrong for which I have heretofore reproved you, and of that 
 swerving still further from duty which so much alarmed me in 
 our last conference. As a child of the Holy Catholic church, 
 you have no right to ask questions, or to entertain doubts, on 
 points of faith which the church has settled, and of which you 
 require no explanation, but that of your spiritual teachers. I 
 have heretofore cautioned you to beware of yourself, and to 
 suppress that wilful spirit of inquiry which you have shown, 
 and which will inevitably lead you astray. 
 
 ''Suffer again that admonition, and permit me to say, that 
 although I willingly listen to any inquiry which you may 
 address to me, I cannot allow you to give strength to your errors 
 by a too confident exposition of unauthorized opinions, except 
 in the confessional.' 
 
 4 Oh, reverend father, it would be impossible for me at thifl
 
 44 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 moment to attempt confession, but I am endeavouring to be as 
 sincere in the expression of my thoughts and feelings as though 
 I knelt before you in the actual performance of it.' 
 
 The father bent his head, and said, ' Have you been in posses- 
 sion of the Bible, or perused it at all, since I last prohibited it, 
 my child ?' 
 
 ' No, father ; I have not even seen a Bible since that interdic- 
 tion.' 
 
 4 So far, well. Yet I must believe from your own expression, 
 that the abstinence has not been voluntary. I would fain hope, 
 however, that the departure of our Protestant inmates may bo 
 beneficial to you. But if the Protestant Bible is to replace 
 them, the benefit will bo rendered nugatory.' 
 
 'Father, will you permit me to remark, that our blessed 
 Saviour says, speaking to those around him, " Search the Scrip- 
 tures." There seems to be no restriction in this precept. To 
 tae, indeed, the Bible appears to have been written for the 
 unlearned, so clear, so simple is its style, that, to use its own 
 expressive words, "A wayfaring man, though a fool, shall not 
 err therein." ' 
 
 'You seem to have perused this book with deep attention, 
 daughter. May I inquire ^if its intrinsic attraction was unaided 
 by extrinsic influence ? Had the Protestant marquis no part in 
 your sudden appreciation of the simplicity of the Bible, as you 
 have described its style to be ?' 
 
 I was so much moved at this sudden and unexpected introduc- 
 tion of Monsieur de Grammont's name in connexion with a sub- 
 ject so sacred, and yet with which he was so much associated, 
 that for a moment my mind almost lost its balance. But reco- 
 vering myself, without, as I hoped, betraying emotion, I endea- 
 voured to resume the lofty subject on which we had been dis- 
 coursing without noticing the attempt of the father to ascertain 
 the state of my feelings towards Monsieur de Grammont. His 
 tone and manner at the moment, in connexion with subsequent 
 occurrences, induced me to suspect he had been commissioned 
 to probe me on this subject. He rose from his seat, took a turn 
 round the room, and returning to it, visibly disconcerted, said 
 emphatically, ' My child, there are no disguises before "God, and
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 45 
 
 there should be none before his minister. Even that sentiment 
 which " many waters cannot quench, or the floods drown," is 
 incapable of concealment from him. Bethink you well, then, of 
 the solemnity of your position at this moment, and trifle not 
 with it.' 
 
 'From Him who sees the thoughts afar off, there can, I know, 
 be no concealment. But I had supposed myself only conferring 
 with a spiritual friend, and not a confessor, at this moment.' 
 
 He looked sternly at me, but I continued, ' As you have men- 
 tioned Monsieur de Grammont's name, father, I will not deny 
 that his superior knowledge of the Bible and of religion was 
 kindly employed to enlighten me on those subjects. Yet he did 
 not use his powers to convert me to his own particular faith, 
 although I was childish enough to attempt to proselyte him to 
 mine. But certainly I did so before I had seen that book on 
 which his faith is built.' 
 
 ' Ah, my poor child ! your awakening was, I fear, rather to the 
 love of the creature than the Creator. You have been making 
 "an idol, which you have found to be clay." This is a folly 
 committed once in their lives, at least, by most human beings. 
 But in your case, your extreme youth is some palliation of it. 
 Be more diligent in the performance of your devotions ; try the 
 efficacy of fasts on saints' days ; and above all things, forget not 
 your rosary, and you may yet be forgiven.' 
 
 ' Alas ! father, there is, I fear and yet I shudder to suppose 
 I am right no efficacy in the rosary.' 
 
 The father quickly turned his eyes upon me with a look of 
 horror. ' What do I hear 1 the ordinances of the church con- 
 temned by a child of your age! Forbear, and. sin no more! 
 When I last counselled you, I commended you to the good offices 
 of the holy Mother. Have you sought her mediation? Have 
 you read the selections and legends I sent you, to enlighten and 
 conlinn you in the faith?' 
 
 ' Yes, good father, and with an earnest desire to discern and 
 appreciate the instruction therein. But I find the legends 
 absurd, I fear I shock you, good father, but I have pledged 
 myself to speak truthfully of the new views I entertain, how 
 disparaging soever they may be to myself, or displeasing to you.
 
 46 HELEN MULORAVB; OR, 
 
 Many of the legends I find too ridiculous for belief, and the 
 offices and powers conferred by the church on the holy Mother, 
 fabulous, and unsupported by Scripture.' 
 
 'Daughter, your alienation from our holy church inaniiVsf.-; 
 itself in almost every sentence you utter. Return, I besix-rli 
 you, to the humility and deference essential to your age. Con- 
 tinue your trust in those appointed to direct you, and assume not 
 a responsibility which they are willing to bear for you. You 
 have spoken of the legends you have been taught in the 
 Catholic religion as "too ridiculous for belief, and opposed to all 
 common sense I" I shall, no doubt, be able to clear our church 
 from such imputations ; but this is not the time nor the place. 
 
 ' Before terminating our present conference, I must tell you, 
 that until you again seek my advice in the confessional, I think 
 it necessary to impose on you the penance of abstaining, not 
 only from the reading of the Scriptures, but of all other theo- 
 logical writings except those which are sanctioned by the 
 church.' 
 
 Here the good father ceased to speak. He appeared both agi- 
 tated and weary, and remained for some minutes leaning on the 
 table in silence. 
 
 lie then rose, and saying 'Farewell, my child!' hastily left the 
 room. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 the family assembled at dinner, I found amongst them 
 both Father Ossory and the bishop. My uncle had, indeed, been 
 often with us of late, and seemed to have affairs of business 
 with my father, with whom I had observed he was frequently 
 closeted. My curiosity was not excited by this; but for the first 
 time, on this day I became sensible of a very altered deportment 
 on the part of my dear father, who was indeed dearer to me 
 than I can express. 
 
 lie who had been wont at table to take part in every pleasant 
 sally of thought, and to enter with ready interest into every
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 47 
 
 subject discussed, performed the honours of his table so silently, 
 mechanically, and even negligently, that it was impossible not 
 to perceive he must either be'very unwell or greatly depressed. 
 
 I became so restless and distressed at what I saw that I could 
 take no pleasure in anything around me. It was easy to see 
 that even my uncle was making an effort to appear cheerful, 
 and to converse as usual with Father Ossory. 
 
 My mother, spoke only now and then, in under-tones, to those 
 who sat next her, while my father helped himself to different 
 dishes, sending each plate away, in succession, without tasting 
 its contents. 
 
 As my seat at table was always at his right hand, I had an 
 opportunity of observing him more than any other of the party ; 
 and being in the habit of exchanging with him, in the intervals 
 of the dinner, those little fondnesses which might be supposed 
 to pass betwixt sdch a father and a petted child, I was more 
 affected by his forgetfulness of me on this day than can be 
 imagined. 
 
 When my mother and her daughters were quitting the table, 
 my father desired us to take William, who had only returned 
 home on that morning, with us. 
 
 Of course, upon this hint he accompanied us to the drawing- 
 room, where we assembled only to sit as it were silent and spell- 
 bound. 
 
 My mother applied herself to netting, but in so languid and 
 abstracted a manner as to entangle and spoil her work ; while 
 my sisters and myself sat apart, exchanging anxious and inquir- 
 ing looks. 
 
 My brother soon left us, when I approached my mother, and 
 throwing my arms around her, coaxed her to tell me what had 
 occurred to disturb my father. She pressed me in her arms, and 
 kissed me, as she said; in a sad, low voice, ' I believe he is 
 troubled about family affairs 
 
 I observed that her eyes were full of tears, and did not inquire 
 further. But my imagination was on a wide sea of conjecture 
 in a moment. 
 
 The utter ignorance in which we had always been kept of all 
 pecuniary matters prevented them from being thought of at ttis
 
 48 HELEN MULOUAVK; OR, 
 
 Instant. What then could have occurred? My brother had 
 been absent all the winter. Could he have oflfended my 
 father ? Or was there any breach betwixt my uncle and him ? 
 'But Father Ossory will mediate,' said I, 'and make all right, 
 perhaps to-morrow, and then, the cloud will have passed away.' 
 
 The entrance of the gentlemen, when coffee was announced, 
 suspended my reflections ; and when, after it was taken away, 
 my mother and they formed a party at whist, I felt at liberty to 
 chat awhile with Dora. Caroline had absorbed herself in the 
 book she was reading, and I did not, therefore, interrupt her. 
 Advancing to Dora, who seemed to be turning over leaves with- 
 out reading, I looked over her shoulder, observing, in a whis- 
 per, ' You are a very listless reader. What is your book ?' 
 
 ' That which you recommended,' she replied. ' Nothing less, 
 forsooth ! than a ponderous ecclesiastical octavo. If you had 
 selected your ' Historical . Primer,' or the 'History of Mother 
 Bunch,' it would have better suited me ; as I am in no mood 
 for adding to the penance inflicted by the unaccountable depres- 
 sion so visible both in papa and mamma. Only look ! even now, 
 with the cards in their hands, they seem scarcely to know one 
 suit from another; but are making revokes and blunders of 
 every sort. What can be the matter ?' 
 
 I shook my head ; when she turned to me with a playful air, 
 and said, 'By the bye, little Nelly, did you recommend this 
 leaden history to me with the pious motive of making me as 
 great a heretic as yourself? I tell you what, little girl, as you 
 are going on, you will get into some dungeon or niche of the 
 Holy Inquisition some day or other, if you do not retrace your 
 fclop-s. I am your elder, remember, and have therefore a right 
 to counsel you, so take what I say, gravely.' 
 
 ' Why, Dora,' I replied, ' you sometimes seem to be as much 
 alive to what is absurd in the practices of our church as I am ; 
 although you will not consent to its being of sufficient impor- 
 tance to be resisted seriously. Perhaps you do not consider 
 that you are in any way responsible for either the right or the 
 wrong of what has been taught you under the auspices of tho 
 priesthood? But do not deceive yourself. After a certain age, 
 if we use not the talents of understanding aad judgment
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 49 
 
 bestowed on us by the Creator, we are accountable to him, not 
 only for the omission, but for the errors we fall into in conse- 
 quence of it.' 
 
 'I dare say you are right, Helen,' said my sister, resuming 
 her book. After a few minutes, she again turned to me, with, 
 1 You are a very good little poppet, Nelly, but you should not 
 forget that I am your eldest sister, and that I could talk long 
 before you could walk ; and although you rather over-top me in 
 stature, you should remember what is due to age. Come, now, 
 that is quite in your own sage and reverent style ; and while my 
 gravity lasts, let me ask you, why you did not, when you could, 
 run away with that dear, handsome Protestant marquis? Such 
 a little Huguenot as you are ought never to marry a Catholic ; 
 and I am afraid you will not again have an opportunity of get- 
 ting a Protestant husband. Hey, Nelly ! where in the world do 
 these great drops come from that are running down your 
 cheeks ? You really must compose your spirits, if you mean to 
 succeed, and not break your heart with sobs, and spoil your 
 pretty face with salt and corrosive tears. Who knows but they 
 may leave traces that can never be effaced ? Depend upon it, 
 they are prettier in poetry * 
 
 " Sweet drops of pure and pearly light 1" 
 
 as they are, than they can possibly be in practice.' 
 
 4 Oh, Dora ! how can you be so unkind and so ridiculous ! Do 
 you think tears are ever shed for effect?' 
 
 4 To be sure they are, my little greenhorn. Do you suppose 
 we are all as simple and sincere as you are? But I see the 
 shower is over now, and we may speak of husbands without 
 crying; although I am sure /have a right to cry, if I chose ; for, 
 will you believe it, papa has actually obliged me to refuse our 
 neighbour on the other side of the lake, Sir Lucius MacNeil, 
 with his fine estates and handsome figure ?' 
 
 4 Are you quizzing, Dora ?' 
 
 ' Not a bit, Nelly ; it is quite true.' 
 / 4 When did it happen ?' 
 
 4 Some weeks ago.' 
 
 4 And you did not tell mo of it ?' 
 3
 
 50 HELEN MULGBAVE J OR, 
 
 ' Why, indeed, Nelly, I was too vexed to talk about it ? But 
 I think papa should have some consideration for our feelings.' 
 
 4 Dear Dora, do you really take the thing to heart. Depend 
 upon it, papa has reasons for his refusal which we know not of.' 
 
 ' No, no, Nelly, I do not think he has any cause for it but his 
 exceeding fondness for us all. You know that neither he nor 
 mamma can bear to have us out of their sight ; but they should 
 not let pleasant people come amongst us, if we are not to like 
 them, should they ? But see, the whist party is broken up, the 
 tray is coming, and we may now retire. Come, let us go to our 
 own room ; Caroline is moving, and will go with us. " Papa and 
 mamma look very ill ; let us inquire if they wish us to stay. 
 Indeed, I feel uneasy at leaving them.' 
 
 I crept to my father's side, and putting my arm in his, asked 
 if he was better. 
 
 1 Better I Do not ask me, darling. I cannot talk to you to- 
 night. Go to bed, and sleep soundly, that you may rise in 
 health and strength to-morrow. Good night! Helen, go to 
 your uncle for a moment.' 
 
 My uncle received me kindly, but gravely ; and after a few 
 words with him and Father Ossory, we parted ; and kissing our 
 dear mother, we all left the room. 
 
 It was early in May, and the evening was chilly ; but when 
 we reached our boudoir, an apartment appropriated solely to our 
 use, we found a snug little fire, which my own maid, Mary, 
 expecting us there, had ordered to be made. Nothing coiild be 
 more comforting than this little provision of brightness and 
 warmth ; and as its light was reflected in the china tiles of the 
 fireplace, the whole arrangement presented so cozy and inviting 
 an aspect, that our trio were soon settled round it, with a feel- 
 ing of satisfaction that portended a long sitting. We remained 
 silent for some time, as if by common consent. There may be 
 cavillers who will doubt the truth of this assertion, in reference 
 to three young girls, in a place where there was no restraint on 
 their loquacity, except, perchance, the seriousness of their own 
 thoughts. Nevertheless, I must assert that it was as I havd 
 stated, a fact whiph will perhaps establish more than the mere 
 possibility of the thing, and prove that the vice of endless talk-
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 51 
 
 ing is a charge unjustly made, when fastened on the whole female 
 world. It must be admitted that the obscure and shadowy 
 aspect of the room was itself calculated to impose silence on us, 
 if we had been at all disposed to be imaginative, especially as 
 we were in the vicinity of some of the deserted, and therefore 
 haunted, chambers of the house. 
 
 But we needed not the recollection of this circumstance to aid 
 the exercise of fancy in deciphering the mystic character of the 
 objects around us. The single lamp which lighted the room 
 was hung, in accommodation to a lofty mantel-piece, so far 
 above what it was designed to illuminate, that as its feeble rays 
 fell on the objects around, they might have been supposed 
 shadows, rather than the shapes of anything either in ' heaven 
 above, or the earth beneath ;' and the fitful gleams of firelight, 
 as they flickered on their undefined forms, did but mystify them 
 the more, leaving it wholly to the imagination to decide on the 
 region or class to which they pertained. 
 
 Charmed by the scope thus afforded to idle fancies, and 
 happy, at this moment, in the society, as well as the silence, of 
 my darling sisters, I know not how long I might have continued 
 to gaze on the tapestried walls, or to invoke their speechless 
 forms, had not Dora broken the spell, by asking me what I 
 thought of the presentiments so much indulged in by French 
 people, and so often alluded to in their conversation. 
 
 ' Do not ask me, Dora, for an opinion on what I know 
 nothing. I do not wish to believe in presentiments, because I 
 fear that " sufficient for the day is the evil thereof." Perhaps I 
 may be thought too young to have arrived at such a conclusion ; 
 but I begin to think that the bright morning of life is already 
 past with me, and that I have now only to collect my strength 
 for endurance, not for enjoyment. It is the too happy, if such 
 there are, that love to shade present good with anticipated evil. 
 But I think none of us, at present, require the chastening of evil 
 portents to sober our spirits.' 
 
 As we thus talked on one subject after another, the witch- 
 ing hour approached, and still found us loath to separate. The 
 lamp was nearly spent, and the fire, burnt to a mass of red cin- 
 ders, no longer emitted a single rajywhen a sharp stroke, as of
 
 52 HELEN MULGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 some hard substance, fell twice or thrice on the window. Wo 
 all rose simultaneously, for we knew that the window was of an 
 inaccessible height from the ground, and quite unapproachable 
 OB the outside, except by ladder. Thoughts of many things, 
 which we did not then utter, rushed upon us with lightning 
 speed. 
 
 A thick lined curtain was drawn closely across the window, 
 and a Holland blind had been let down over the glass beneath, 
 so that it was impossible the light within could have been visi- 
 ble enough to attract the attention of any one without. We 
 drew back the curtain, shook out its folds, and drew up the 
 blind ; but nothing outside was to be seen except a murky sky, 
 and a forest of half-clad trees in the distance. We then exa- 
 mined the apartment, thinking it possible that wo might have 
 been mistaken, and that the sound might not have proceeded 
 from the window. 
 
 With a hand-taper, we carefully inspected a large mirror, 
 which hung from the ceiling to the floor, at the bottom of the 
 room. There was no trace of damage in it, but we shuddered 
 at the sight of our own frightened faces and attitudes, as dimly 
 reflected in it amidst the shadows of the room. 
 
 We left the window uncovered, the better to see, as well as to 
 hear, if the attack upon it should be repeated. We were scarce- 
 ly seated round the fire, when the stroke on the glass, more 
 sharp and loud than before, was again struck two or three 
 times. In a moment we were all before the window, when," to 
 our astonishment, we beheld a large bird, apparently black, 
 facing the window, and flapping his wings violently. But in 
 the twinkling of an eye he flew off with a rapidity that made 
 it impossible to discern the direction he took 
 
 All this had occurred so instantaneously that we gazed mutely 
 on each other for several minutes ; but we had, at any rate, dis- 
 covered the cause of our alarm, and so far it was satisfactory. 
 The object of the unusual visitant was not so easily ascertained 
 for although our rookery was not far off, no one of its com- 
 munity had ever before made so bold an advance to acquaint- 
 anceship. 
 
 We now thought it high time to retire, and rang for the Ber-
 
 JESUIT EXKCUTORSHIP. 53 
 
 vants, who, on hearing our recital, were blanched with terror. 
 But emotion of any sort is in some degree pleasurable, especially 
 to the untutored mind, which no doubt often grows weary of 
 the narrow bound of thought within which it is confined. 
 Almost anything, therefore, that breaks the monotony of its 
 ideas, is hailed with cordiality. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 I WAS fortunate enough, while undressing, to hear Mary's com- 
 ments on the occurrence of the evening. She was well skilled 
 in the lore of omens, and spoke solemnly on all the possible 
 indications of the mysterious visitation. I listened to her with 
 an interest which I should, perhaps, have been ashamed to own 
 on the morrow, if that morrow had risen upon us as all former 
 days had done. 
 
 In our times, when rigid research tears open all hidden things 
 scowling on whatever resists analysis there is no covert left 
 for anything " of fancy born ;" and the dreams of poets and 
 the abstractions of metaphysicians are cast away, like the idols 
 of an exploded superstition, to " the moles and the bats." But 
 I had been rocked in the cradle of legends, and reared in the 
 land of traditionary marvels, no wonder, therefore, if some of 
 its dreamy creations had established themselves in my brain. 
 
 I had just composed myself to sleep, when the door of my 
 chamber was softly opened, and my sister Caroline, with a taper 
 in her hand, came on tiptoe to my bedside, and bending over 
 me, said, in a hurried whisper 
 
 ' Helen, I could not sleep without coming to tell you that I 
 think I have discovered the cause of papa's inquietude. Do 
 you remember, one day last summer, when Dora and .1 were 
 walking in the wood, near the old Tower, how excessively we 
 were frightened by a woman of a tall and imposing figure, who 
 came suddenly upon us, with .menacing looks, and mysteriou* 
 words about papa and his estates, and her wrongs ?'
 
 64 HELEN MULGBAVB ; OR, 
 
 1 Yes, yes, I remember well.' 
 
 ' And how, in our alarm, we gave her money to get rid of 
 her ?' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, go on.' 
 
 ' And how annoyed and angry papa was when we told him 
 of it? He said he knew the " demon" well (that was his word), 
 and would have her expelled from the neighbourhood, and we 
 have never seen her since ?' 
 
 ' Yes, yes, I know.' 
 
 ' Well, I saw her again the other day ? She was prowling 
 about the lodge gates, muffled up, as if for disguise, when papa 
 and I came througli in the chariot, from our visit at Moor Hall. 
 At the first glance, I did not recognise her, although I remark- 
 ed to papa what very fierce eyes she had. He looked out of 
 the window very angrily at her, while the gates were being 
 opened.' 
 
 ' "Well, Caroline,' said I, ' is that all ?' somewhat disappointed 
 at her recital, and wondering at her hurried manner. 
 
 ' All, Helen ! "Why you seem to think nothing of the re-ap- 
 pearance of that dreadful woman, although I feel sure it is she, 
 who, in some way or other, is the cause of poor papa's annoy- 
 ance.' 
 
 ' Nonsense, Caroline 1 How can you be so fanciful ? You call 
 me fanciful, but this fancy is absurd. "What! to suppose that a 
 wild woman like this can have power to affect our dear father's 
 spirits or interests, is not to be thought of for a moment.' "While 
 I was speaking, Caroline set down her taper, and moved slowly 
 off to the window at the foot of the room, and drawing aside 
 the curtain, looked for a second or two into the park. 
 
 ' Caroline,' said I, ' you will take cold at the window, in that 
 slight dressing gown. Do return to your room, and go to bed; 
 it is already past one o'clock.' She made no answer, but beckon- 
 ing me to her, said, almost in a whisper, 'Put out the light!' 
 
 I sprang out of bed, and obeying her directions, was in an 
 instant at her side, and looking into the park in the same direc- 
 tion as herself. 
 
 'There there!' said she, 'before that large fir-tree!' I 
 looked and at some hundred paces from the castle, standing on
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 55 
 
 the open lawn, in front of the tree, I beheld a figure perfectly 
 motionless ; and was questioning with myself whether it were a 
 human being or not, when a bright moon emerged from behind 
 a heavy cloud, and its beams falling on the figure, clearly 
 revealed the outline of a very tall female, apparently gazing on 
 the castle. We clung together, in breathless curiosity. The 
 figure came forward a pace or two, and extending its long arms 
 to heaven, began to wave them up and down wildly. This 
 dumb show lasted a minute or two, during which she moved 
 slowly backwards, until we had lost sight of her amidst the 
 shadows of the trees. We continued to watch a few minutes 
 longer, gazing on the spot whence she had vanished ; but she did 
 not return. 
 
 'How strange and frightful !' said Caroline, still in a whisper, 
 as if afraid to hear her own voice. ' What can it mean ?' 
 
 ' She must be insane,' I replied. ' But if she be even the 
 woman you suppose, it is utterly improbable she can have any 
 influence upon our household. Ah, no ! Caroline, it is something 
 more serious than that which disturbs papa !' 
 
 ' I hope you may be mistaken, dear Helen ! But as for this 
 " demon," as papa calls her, be she witch or be she banshee, we 
 are united enough to defy her spells. 1 And throwing her arms 
 around me, she bade me good-night. 
 
 ******* 
 
 On the following morning my sisters and I breakfasted by our- 
 selves ; papa and mamma having ordered their breakfast in their 
 private room. We had scarcely had time to refer at all to the 
 startling occurrences of the last night, when a message by a 
 servant requested me to attend my father, in his study. There 
 was a formality in the manner of this to which I had never been 
 accustomed. Ordinarily, if my father had wished to speak to 
 me alone, he would have come himself to fetch me. 
 
 I proceeded at once to my father's study, where I found him 
 walking up and down the room with an agitated step. Deep 
 thought was on his brow ; but he immediately approached me, 
 and taking my hand, led me in silence to a chair. As he shut 
 the door, and seated himself beside me, I became agitated almost 
 to tears, but resolved on controlling myself, for I was but too
 
 50 HELEN MULORAVE; OR, 
 
 sure that my fortitude was about to be tasked to the uttermost, 
 although I had not the slightest perception of what might be the 
 nature of the communication about to be made to me. 
 
 My father paused some minutes before he spoke, but at length 
 said, in a low and feeble voice, ' My dear Helen, I have sent for 
 you here to inform you of something which it is necessary for 
 you to know without delay. I am a most wretched man, and 
 scarcely able to speak of my misfortunes!' 
 
 I had already fallen on my knees before him, and taken his 
 hand. 
 
 4 Circumstances,' he continued, ' of a painful but imperative 
 nature, compel me to part with you!' He said no more, but 
 covering his face with his hands, rose, and walked to another 
 part of the room. 
 
 'Part with me!' I exclaimed, 'part with me?' The words 
 had struck me like a thunder-bolt, and almost stupified me. I 
 loved my father tenderly and dutiously what could I have done 
 to alienate him from me ? ' Why do you part with me, my dear 
 father ?' said I, as I approached him, and again took his hand. 
 ' Have I offended you ? Oh ! what have I done ?' 
 
 I could no longer restrain my tears. My father looked like one 
 stunned and insensible. 
 
 ' It was my intention,' he continued, in slow and broken words, 
 ' to have parted with you without the pain of informing you of 
 the circumstances which have made so agonizing a resolve neces- 
 sary. But I think, my dear child, you are reasonable enough to 
 be entrusted with my confidence ; and I hope you will not dis- 
 appoint me in the expectation I have formed, either of your 
 judgment or your fortitude.' 
 
 He then proceeded to acquaint me, that having for some years 
 been living beyond his income, he had at length become actually 
 in want of funds to discharge pressing debts. His brother, the 
 Bishop, had concerted with him, he said, a plan of retrenchment, 
 which he offered to assist by taking me entirely off his hands, 
 and making such provision for me for the future as should make 
 me independent. 
 
 Alas ! what a communication for me to receive. It rendered 
 me incapable of reply, and compelled me to be silent upon every
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOK8HIP. 57 
 
 objection, which my heart was passionately making against this 
 dreadful separation. My father in debt, and unable to disem- 
 barrass himself but by my banishment, was after a little reflection 
 the sole idea that occupied me. Hope, however, sprang up in 
 my heart. It was, it seemed, in my power to assist him, and as 
 if every moment of my stay increased his misfortunes, I was 
 seized with a desire of instant flight. 
 
 I begged him to dispose of me in any way that could be ser- 
 viceable to himself, adding only one condition that when he 
 should have surmounted his difficulties, I might be permitted 
 again to return to that dear home which would ever be to me 
 the brightest spot on earth. ' We will not talk of that now, my 
 dear child!' said my father, greatly affected, 'I had confided in 
 your dutiful and affectionate sentiments in advance, and your 
 present conduct proves that my confidence was not misplaced. 
 And now, my love, we understand each other. You are not 
 required to forget those you leave, my dear Helen, although I 
 fear you must take of them a long farewell, as one part of my 
 system of retrenchment is to quit Mulgrave Castle, and spend 
 some years on the Continent, perhaps iu Germany.' 
 
 This last information was far more stunning than the first. To 
 be thus separated, by sea and land, from all I most loved on 
 earth, -to be unable to think of Mulgrave Castle but as deserted 
 of everything that had rendered it dear to me to be obliged to 
 sever it at once from its association with whatever had blessed 
 my existence, and no longer to find there an occasional home, or 
 even an asylum for my thoughts, during the cruel banishment 
 that awaited me was too much, even for the fortitude which 
 filial love had inspired. I threw myself into my father's arms, 
 speechless, and gasping for breath. I heard his deep and stifled 
 sobs as I lay on his' breast, and I know not how long these 
 moments of bitter feeling might have lasted, had not my father 
 endeavoured to shorten them by disengaging himself from me, 
 and begging me to leave him. 
 
 ' Allow me to stay but one moment longer,' said I ; 'on my 
 knees I entreat that I may accompany you to the Continent. I 
 want nothing I never shall want anything that you have not 
 to bestow. I renounce my uncle's proffered wealth, and every- 
 
 3*
 
 58 HELEN MULQRAVK ; OR, 
 
 thing else that must banish me from the society of my parents 
 and sisters.' 
 
 ' You will ruin me, Helen 1' exclaimed my father, in a tone of 
 grief and alarm. ' Do you imagine this sacrifice is greater for 
 you than for me ! There can be no comparison in our suffer- 
 ings. But it is a matter of necessity, and must be submitted to. 
 Your uncle's assistance is indispensable to save me from instant 
 disgrace, and it would be an outrage on him to decline the gene- 
 rous proposals he has made to benefit you.' 
 
 What could I reply to this? I had now wrung from my 
 father the full extent of his humiliations. I had caused him to 
 suffer more than was necessary. Yet I felt my repugnance and 
 my terrors again coming on me, and to spare for the moment 
 both him and myself, I kissed his hand in token of submission, 
 and hurried from him. 
 
 I soon reached my own room, and locking my door, aban- 
 doned myself to the agony of my feelings. But in solitude we 
 acquire courage reason and fortitude assume there their legiti- 
 mate empire ; the influence of the senses, those constant traitors 
 to the mind, is there suspended ; and the good and evil of life, 
 stripped in part of their illusions, are reduced in magnitude. 
 
 I made my appearance at dinner with far more composure 
 than I had expected. We were without guests; but it was a 
 wretched meal, where every one was absorbed in the same pain- 
 ful subject, and none of us dared to raise our eyes, lest we 
 might encounter looks that must rob us of our self-control. 
 
 When the servants had withdrawn, and iny father endea- 
 voured to break the oppressive silence by mentioning with tran- 
 quillity our approaching separation, all the assumed composure 
 of my mind forsook me, and it was fortunate for us all that my 
 mother, by instantly rising, broke up the pHrty. I saw that her 
 heart was ready to break ; tears fell from her eyes, and she 
 moved with such faltering steps that, as I endeavored to support 
 her, her appearance quite subdued me. As she seated herself 
 in an easy chair in the drawing-room, I placed myself on a low 
 stool at her feet. 
 
 She was never in the habit of leading a conversation ; but at 
 this time, as I looked up in her face, she took my hand, and
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOBSHIP. 50 
 
 said, ' I have learned what a good girl you were this morning, 
 in papa's study, and I feel proud of my daughter's heroism. I 
 wish, my darling, I had a little of your courage myself. I am 
 ashamed to think how much our family misfortunes weigh me 
 down, considering that this kind of calamity is always taking 
 place in life. But to those who suffer for the first time, I sup 
 pose it always appears as though none had ever suffered so 
 much before. Dora and Caroline, why are you so far oft ? 
 Come to this part of the room more into our circle. Let us 
 keep together while we can.' 
 
 My sisters were sitting apart, shedding silent tears at a dis- 
 tance ; but at this invitation they sprang instantly towards us, 
 and kneeling before my mother, seemed to await some commu- 
 nication from her. But no one spoke, and I broke the silence by 
 exclaiming ' Yes, we are indeed wretched I And yet you, my 
 dear sisters, have comparatively little or no cause for being so. 
 The state of papa's finances is certainly humiliating and distress- 
 ing to us all; but it is I who am the victim!' And I covered 
 my face with my hands, in deep anguish. 
 
 1 Dearest child,' said my mother, ' you must not talk thus. I 
 have but this moment praised your heroism, and has it already 
 forsaken you ?' 
 
 ' Oh, mamma ! if I had no more to lose than you and my sis- 
 ters have, you should not hear me complain. You do not lose 
 each other.' 
 
 ' What do you mean, love ?' said my mother. 
 
 ' Dearest mother, are not you and my sisters, although you 
 leave home, going away together ? You go amongst strangers, 
 and must dispense with the comforts of home ; but you will still 
 enjoy each other's society, and be introduced to new scenes, 
 under the endearing auspices of him whom we all so much love. 
 "While I, bereaved on all sides, severed at every point from 
 every thing I have loved, and left alone in the world what will 
 become of me ? Where may I turn to look for the dear lost 
 ones? Oh, mother! said I not truly, that it is I who am the 
 victim ?' 
 
 After a silence of several minutes; Caroline threw her arm 
 round me, and whispered, ' Try, dearest Helen, to forget awhilo
 
 60 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 this dreadful parting. Let us talk of something else. Mamma 
 will, I am sure, tell us something more than we already know of 
 that demon-woman, as papa calls her, who haunts his steps, and 
 is seen in the park by night as well as by day.' 
 
 My mother heard her remark, and said, ' I cannot satisfy your 
 curiosity, my dear, as I know very little of the woman. Per- 
 haps you already know that she was your papa's foster-sister, 
 and that she is suspected of having committed a robbery, from 
 a private closet, of jewels of immense value. She would not 
 for a moment be allowed to remain in this neighbourhood, were 
 it not that her mother, though yet living, is evidently approach- 
 ing her end ; and your kind father does not like to deprive the 
 old woman of her daughter's services at such a time. The sub- 
 ject has always been a disagreeable one to me, and the recollec- 
 tion of your brother's conduct in that quarter, some time since, 
 renders it doubly so.' 
 
 My mother, rising as she said this, left the room to seek my 
 father. I accompanied her to his study door, where, hearing 
 Father Ossory's voice, I did not enter, but returned to my sis- 
 ters, who were still talking of the stolen jewels. I was surprised 
 to find that although I knew nothing of the affair, Dora was 
 fully informed on it. 
 
 ' We little thought last night,' said she, ' when we were 
 exploring the boudoir for cracked glass, that until very lately an 
 invaluable casket had been enclosed in a cupboard behind the 
 tapestry. But so it was. It seems that the casket contained 
 jewels of large value, some of them in very splendid antique 
 settings. They had been treasured by our ancestors for some 
 generations, and were bequeathed by our paternal grandfather to 
 papa. At the time of his coming into possession of this casket, 
 he had an ample revenue, and therefore thought not of the 
 pecuniary value of it; but after examining its contents, placed 
 it in an iron cupboard which is within a closet behind the tapes- 
 try of our boudoir. Papa finding himself lately somewhat 
 embarrassed in his finances, thought of the casket. Indeed, it 
 would seem that he had always considered it as a sort of bound- 
 less resource, which rendered it unnecessary for him to think of 
 such economies as are wont to interest other people.'
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOKSHIP. 61 
 
 ' Oh, Dora, Dora ! can nothing make you serious ?' 
 
 4 Yes, my dear, the empty cupboard, which, when papa 
 visited it some few months since, he found utterly guiltless of 
 the casket. Nor could he recollect within a year when he had 
 last seen it, or whether he had ever changed its place of deposit. 
 Our two uncles have been consulted about it, but they can afford 
 no aid, either in information or suggestion.' 
 
 Dora proceeded to tell me that the stolen jewels were so 
 remarkable in beauty, as well as in size, that there was every 
 probability they would, some time or other, re-appear, and be 
 identified. 
 
 ' It is my father's intention,' she said, ' to proceed to the Con- 
 tinent, by way of London, in order that he may there consult 
 the higher functionaries of the police department. Meanwhile, 
 every project and movement of his, by some unaccountable 
 means, has become known to this woman ; and he is, in conse- 
 quence, continually receiving letters from her, full of mysterious 
 maledictions and prognostics, which are couched in language as 
 powerful as it is arrogant. Her talent in letter- writing is indeed, 
 I am told, quite remarkable. It is thought, from her excessive 
 daring, that she must have some legal adviser, or perhaps accom- 
 plice ; the value of the jewels being great enough to purchase 
 the assistance of any professional man unprincipled enough to 
 engage in such an enterprise.' 
 
 Keluctant to separate, my sisters and I remained together until 
 near midnight, unaware of the lateness of the hour, until we 
 rose to go to our chambers. 
 
 - The maids, when they made their appearance, looked like 
 frightened ghosts ; so faltering, so pale, and so wild, that AVO 
 perused afresh in them the calamitous disclosures of the day. 
 
 I was soon in bed, but not before hearing from Mary some of 
 the kitchen legends of the secret passages and haunted chambers 
 of the castle. 
 
 Sleep, however, is never far from the young, even under the 
 saddest feelings ; because in them the physical nature, fatiguing 
 itself with tears and lamentations, soon sinks under their 
 exhaustion.
 
 62 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 I KNOW not how long I had been asleep, when I dreamt that I 
 saw a female figure standing within the curtain, at the right 
 side of my bed. She was habited in a loose white dressing- 
 gown, and her head was muffled up in wrappers. In her left 
 hand she bore a lamp, and in her right, some glittering instru- 
 ment, which I thought was a dagger or a knife. I had but just 
 fully detected her outline, when she cowered over me ; drawing 
 up her arm, at the same instant, into a menacing attitude, as if 
 about to plunge the weapon into me. In a moment, I felt 
 myself to be in a sitting posture, and making a spring at the 
 hand which held the weapon, grasped one of its fingers, with 
 which I grappled so as to ward off the stroke. The struggle 
 lasted but a second, her arm being suddenly struck down by 
 come one at the foot of the bed. I cast a glance towards my 
 deliverer the lamp fell from the woman's hand but before it 
 was extinguished, I had discerned the features of L6once de 
 Grammont. 
 
 I instantly awoke, but in such an extremity of terror, that I 
 buried my head in the bed-clothes, lest I might, with my waking 
 sight, behold the terrific being from whom I had just escaped. 
 "When I had in some degree recovered from my agitation, I sat 
 up in bed, to assure myself that the frightful vision I had seen 
 was but a dream, and that I was safe in my own room. 
 
 The moonlight, as I had so often seen it, was streaming in, 
 through the half-open curtain, at my window. Some loose 
 branches of ivy that crept round the frame were nodding in the 
 night breeze, and their shadows dancing on the floor. While 
 thus recognising, with delight, these dear, and well-known 
 objects, together with the old oak wardrobe the picture over 
 the mantel-piece and the crucifix beneath it and stretching 
 out my hand to feel the thick crimson curtain round my bed, 
 that I might assure the sense of touch as well as that of sight I 
 was startled by a slight noise in a corner of the room, near my
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR8HIP. 63 
 
 bed. It was like the click of a lock ; but as I knew there was 
 no door there, I thought it could not be that. I then held aside 
 the curtain at the head of ray bed, and took a deliberate view 
 of the spot whence the noise had proceeded. 
 
 There was no repetition of it, and I lay down, but continued 
 watching the pretty bending and waving of the ivy at the 
 window. 
 
 Presently, I heard again, another movement in the same 
 corner of the room. I did not move, however ; but chancing to 
 cast my eyes on a large cheval-glass which stood in view, oppo- 
 site to the disturbed corner, I saw reflected in it the figures on 
 the tapestry, which appeared to me to be moving. A terrible 
 idea glanced across me, that my brain was disordered, and that 
 the frightful dream from which I had so recently escaped, was 
 but a symptom of it. I lifted my heart in supplication to God ! 
 Still, I continued gazing fixedly on the cheval-glass, and felt 
 sure that I was under no delusion, when I saw the tapestry 
 lifted up, and after the lapse of a second, a tall figure, in long 
 white garments, emerge from beneath it. My blood froze in my 
 veins but I was sufficiently in my senses to know, or rather to 
 feel, that the being I saw reflected in the glass, whether real or 
 spiritual, was actually within a few feet of me, and that I had 
 only to tear aside my curtain to be face to face with it ! 
 
 "While these thoughts paralyzed every limb, the reflection in 
 the glass disappeared, by the retreat of the figure into a deep 
 shadow, through which it glided noiselessly along the side of 
 the room, until it was lost in a recess behind the cheval-glass. 
 But in a moment, it was again in sight there crossing the 
 room, and standing in the moonlight 1 Again it moved, until 
 it came to my toilet-table before which it stood, for an instant 
 only but that instant restored to me my wandering senses, for 
 I saw the figure take up a crucifix which lay on the table, and 
 kiss it. 
 
 It was then no dream no illusion of the brain but some 
 living, real, being was in the room with me. Of that I felt 
 certain. There it was again ! retracing its steps passing 
 through the moonlight and back again behind the cheval- 
 glass, and through the deep shadow, towards the corner of the
 
 64 HELEN MULORAVE; OR, 
 
 room -where it first appeared. It was then again coming near 
 to me for the head of my hed, stood against the tapestried side 
 of my room, through which it had entered. 
 
 Unable any longer to bear the horror of my feelings, I tore 
 aside the bed-curtain, and cried out, in a loud voice, ' Who's 
 there ?' The figure paused, then moved rapidly, but still noise- 
 lessly, onwards. It had reached the corner, and raised the 
 tapestry, when I sprang out of bed, and with one bound gained 
 the spot as the tapestry fell at my feet ! 
 
 My first impulse was to lift the tapestry, and follow that 
 which had disappeared behind it ; but the recollection of my 
 dream palsied my limbs. The glittering weapon hung over me ! 
 and the figure that held it, as it appeared to me in my sleep, 
 resembled that which had just passed through my room. ' Yet 
 I was certainly now wide awake ? Shall I ring the bell? No ; 
 I will run to my father's room. There must be, behind this 
 tapestry, one of those secret passages of which Mary was dis- 
 coursing last night.' 
 
 Quick as thought, I threw on a dressing-gown that lay on a 
 chair, opened my door softly, and, changing the key to the out- 
 side, locked it after me. I felt now comparatively safe ; and 
 stood still for a moment to listen, before I entered on the long 
 dark corridor through which I had to pass. On each side of it 
 were the doors of unoccupied rooms; and at its extremity a tall 
 Gothic window, from which the moonlight was faintly visible, 
 through its coloured glass. I began to move swiftly over the 
 floor : there was no sound, save of my almost noiseless step, and 
 I longed to escape the horrible loneliness around me ; but my 
 breathing became so difficult, that I was obliged to slacken my 
 speed. 
 
 Having passed by the doors of my sisters' sleeping-rooms with- 
 out entering, I had still another gallery to pass through before I 
 could reach my father's room. But it must be done, and I 
 endeavoured to hasten on. 
 
 Before I had gone many steps, I heard a sound as of a door 
 falling gently too, in the gallery in which I was. I stood still 
 'It must be the door of the 'boudoir.' I knew well the sound 
 of it, as one of its hinges was loose. All the mystery of the
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR8HIP. 65 
 
 casket and the secret closet rushed upon my memory ; I must, 
 however, pass that door to gain my father's room, which was 
 beyond it. ' Yet some one must be at this moment in the bou- 
 doir!' I leant my head against the wainscot for support, and 
 tried to restrain my throbbing pulses. Everything was again as 
 silent as the grave; and taking fresh courage, I bounded on, 
 without daring to look towards the boudoir, and reached my 
 father's door. It was not locked ; and entering softly, I turned 
 the key on the inside, and sank, nearly fainting, on the floor. 
 
 There was a light burning, and my mother and father, whom 
 sad thoughts had kept awake, knew me instantly. They both 
 anxiously demanded what was the matter. My story was soon 
 told, and seemed to them so utterly incredible, that they 
 endeavoured to persuade me the whole affair had been a dream, 
 from first to last. But when I mentioned the sound of the 
 closing door of the boudoir, which could be no fancy, my father 
 seemed struck with a sudden thought, and desired me to pass 
 into my mother's dressing-room, and wait there while he 
 dressed. 
 
 My mother joined me there, and provided me with additional 
 clothing, for I was shivering with cold. She also hastily dress- 
 ed herself; and in a few minutes we were all moving rapidly 
 along the corridors, through which I had just passed. 
 
 Arrived at the door of the boudoir, my father fastened it by 
 turning the key on the outside, and we hastened on to my 
 room, where we found everything as I had left it. My father 
 examined every closet and recess, but finding nothing unusual, 
 said to me in an under-tone, half-smiling, ' Where did your 
 ghost disappear ?' 
 
 I showed him the spot. ' Hold the taper, love, while I lift 
 the tapestry.' 
 
 He did so, and instantly asked, ' Can there be a door here ?' 
 
 My mother and I took the tapestry from his hand, and held it 
 up, while he examined the wainscot behind it, which he found 
 pannelled with oak ; but could discern no inequality to indicate 
 a door. He took the light from me, and, passing it up and 
 down in close inspection, perceived a small round mark, resem- 
 bling a knot in the wood, which, on observing that it protruded,
 
 66 HELEN MULORAVE ; OR, 
 
 ho instantly pressed. A door flew open, disclosing a dark 
 narrow passage, apparently only wide enough for one person, 
 and the extremity of which we could not discern. 
 
 'My dear Dora,' said my father to mamma, in a whisper, 
 ' remain here with Helen : lock yourselves in, while I go and 
 search this mysterious passage, of which, I confess, I have been 
 till this moment utterly ignorant.' 
 
 ' My dear father,' said I, ' you must not go alone ; wo will 
 go with you; we cannot be separated from you at such a 
 moment.' 
 
 ' Helen is right,' said my mother. 
 
 My father yielded, that no time might be lost. Then, holding 
 the light high above his head, in order to throw a gleam on the 
 distance, went forward, my mother and I following closely, with 
 my night-taper, which I had lighted, from my own room. 
 
 We went on without any interruption or sound, save our own 
 footfalls, the passage winding about, and taking apparently the 
 outline of rooms around which it ran. The ceiling hero and 
 there was very low, so that we were obliged to stoop as we 
 went. At length we came to a point where a diverging passage 
 became visible, which was approached by a descent of a few 
 steps. Here we halted, uncertain whether to try it, or continue 
 in the one in which wo were. After a momentary debate we 
 decided on the former, and, descending the steps, had not pro- 
 ceeded many paces when we were arrested by a small door 
 across the passage, resembling that behind the tapestry in my 
 room. Already initiated in the secret of the spring, my father 
 soon opened it, and we found ourselves in a large room, the 
 dimensions of which were lost in the far-off gloom. My father, 
 after examining it in silence, said the apartment was entirely 
 new to him, as, although he remembered having heard of such 
 a chamber when he was" a child, he had never seen it; nor had 
 he known in what part of the castle it was to be found. 
 
 lie had, indeed, long accustomed himself to think that its 
 existence was a mere legend, more fictitious than real. But, 
 now that he saw it, it recalled to his memory a domestic tra- 
 gedy of which this chamber was said to be the scene. The 
 room, be believed, had been one of the principal receiving-
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR8HIP. 67 
 
 rooms of the mansion, which, indeed, the style of its furniture 
 and decorations indicated. But after the deplorable occurrence 
 which he had just mentioned, it had become so fearful to our 
 ancestors who then occupied the castle, that they had it sealed 
 up by invisible doors, so as to close it in, and entirely isolate it 
 from the rest of the building. No wonder, therefore, that in 
 the lapse of two generations, the remembrance of it had become 
 a far-off vision, that seldom recurred either to memory or fancy. 
 ' It is, however,' said he, ' but too evident that while the prin- 
 cipals of the house had lost both sight and knowledge of it, it 
 has been resorted to by some mysterious beings for purposes of 
 their own.' 
 
 Although we had not been five minutes in this chamber of 
 guilt, which the spirits of the past might be supposed to haunt, 
 we began to feel the air so damp and chilly as to thicken our 
 respiration. We nevertheless made the circuit of the room, my 
 mother and I clinging fast to my father. 
 
 We found the furniture of a style which indicated it to be at 
 least a hundred years old, the texture and fashion of the window 
 curtains and chair covers bearing also the same date. These 
 were all dropping to pieces, and their apparently once gay 
 colours all but extinct from dust and damp, while the original 
 crimson and gold hangings on the walls hung in spectral forms, 
 revealing large masses of the wainscot behind. 
 
 In short, the whole apartment was a frightful ruin, and con- 
 nected with the idea of crime, inspired thoughts that made me 
 afraid to turn my head. We were just moving towards the door 
 by which we had entered, and which my father had taken care 
 to leave open, lest the spring might prove intractable on the 
 inside, when a faded crimson cloth, that seemed to cover some 
 article which lay on a pier-table, caught my father's eye, and 
 going up to it, ho lifted the cover ; but how unutterable were 
 our feelings as we saw there the large and exquisitely-wrought 
 casket, now empty, but which had heretofore contained the 
 vanished jewels 1 Its presence hero was at once a full revelation 
 of the use which had been made of the secret passages, and of 
 this chamber. Nor was it scarcely less complete in its indication 
 of the author of the theft, and of those mysteries and move-
 
 68 HELEN MULGRAVE; OB, 
 
 ments often heard by night, which had been disturbing the 
 house and distracting my father's mind for some time past. 
 
 "We all thought at once of the ' demon-woman,' and leaving 
 the casket where we found it, quitted the apartment precipi- 
 tately, hearing, as we thought, a movement in the passages. 
 Pulling softly the door behind us as we returned to the passage, 
 we crept silently along, until we had gained the main route, 
 along which we proceeded, still as silently, until we again reached 
 a door that lay across our path. Before my father put his hand 
 upon it, he said, in a low voice, ' As I know not what this may 
 open upon, nor whom we may meet here, I caution you both 
 against surprises. Hold up your taper, Helen, that we may see 
 what is before us.' I obeyed, and he approached the door, 
 which, to our surprise, was ajar. On throwing it open, and pro- 
 ceeding a few steps, we found ourselves in a large closet, the 
 shelves of which were crowded with an immense variety of 
 articles that appeared to have been placed there for safe-keeping. 
 
 'Ah !' exclaimed my father, ' now I know where we are ! It 
 is even as we have concluded. Had I known of this entrance 
 before, and could have supposed that that demon had at any time 
 access to this house, all that has occurred might have been pre- 
 vented !' 
 
 My dear father was greatly agitated, but we did not linger ; 
 and passing through the closet to the door of exit, with which he 
 was familiar, and of which he had the key in his pocket, he found 
 it, like its opposite, by which we had entered, standing slightly 
 ajar. "We neither of us spoke, but exchanging glances, my father 
 pushed it open, when we found ourselves in a small room that I 
 seemed to recognise. I looked round it for a moment in aston- 
 ishment. It was the boudoir! our boudoir as my sisters and 
 I were wont to call it. On passing further into the room, I 
 perceived that what I had always supposed to be only a large 
 mirror, in an ebony frame, hanging from the ceiling to the floor, 
 was in fact the very door through which we had just entered ! 
 
 My mother smiled at my looks of wonder, as of course she 
 was already acquainted with this secret, and, as well as my father, 
 thought that the mirror was the only door of entrance to the 
 private closet. My mother seemed quite exhausted ; and throwing
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 69 
 
 herself into a chair, expressed a hope that our search, at least for 
 the night, was ended. 
 
 ' Indeed,' said she, ' I know not how it is possible for us to get 
 further ; for if you recollect, we turned the key of the door of 
 this room on the outside, when we passed through the gallery ?' 
 
 While she spoke, my eye glanced at the table in the centre of 
 the room ; and my attention was arrested by a group of things 
 on it not familiar to me. A closer survey revealed to us a dark 
 lantern, in which was a wax candle. By the side of it lay some 
 shavings, a bundle of matches, and a tinder-box. Here, too, 
 was my own ebony crucifix, which, by the moonlight, I had seen 
 the figure that stalked through my chamber in the early part of 
 the night take from my toilet-table and lift to its lips. 
 
 My father saw nothing of all this. He was stooping to examine 
 the floor with a light in his hand. He started and raised him- 
 self quickly up. As he did so, my attention was riveted by ob- 
 serving him cautiously move to the fire-place, and deposit the 
 candle he held on the corner of the grate. He then stood still, 
 silently gazing on the floor with clasped hands ; then, covering 
 his face, remained several seconds in silence. As he looked up, 
 he was so ghastly pale that I moved quickly towards him, to 
 inquire if he was ill. My mother, too, who had observed what 
 was passing, came across the room to us. My father threw his 
 arms around us both, and for a moment wept convulsively. 
 
 1 My dear father,' I exclaimed, ' why are you thus ? I am sure 
 you must be ill ! Let us get back, without delay, to your cham- 
 ber.' 
 
 ' Hush ! speak not,' said he. ' Life or death hangs on a sound ! 
 Oh, where are my senses ?' 
 
 I thought him seized with delirium, and felt ready to expire 
 at the idea; when he whispered distinctly and closely into my 
 ear, ' Helen, I fear the effect upon your mother of what I must 
 nevertheless speak to her, as well as to you. If you have courage 
 in your heart muster it all 1 Some incendiary has plotted to set 
 fire to the castle ; to this room in which we stand ; to the passages 
 by which alone we may be able to escape. ' How am I to tell this 
 to your mother?' 
 
 I felt as he paused that my suspicion of his delirium was con-
 
 70 HELEX MULGRAVE J OR, 
 
 firmed. But I had not a moment to ask myself "what I should do 
 for him or for ourselves, for, pointing to the floor, he again whis- 
 pered, ' See ! Helen, and do not start at what I tell you : I 
 know you have a firm heart, the floor within the passages and 
 in this room is covered thick with gunpowder, and unless wo 
 can avert it, the whole building will shortly be in flames ! Our 
 minutes are numbered ! Listen ! are there not steps ? perhaps 
 those of the incendiaries in the corridor I' 
 
 I stepped quickly to the table to get my taper, that I might 
 examine the floors, and convince myself of what he had asserted. 
 He saw my purpose, and seizing me with a rapid grasp, with- 
 held me; extinguishing at the same moment the taper in my 
 hand. 
 
 4 Do you not know that one spark would fire the whole train ? 
 See ! here are wisps of straw, and there are shavings, regularly 
 laid at intervals ! How we have already passed through those 
 passages with naked lights in our hands, and escaped destruction, 
 is indeed a miracle !' 
 
 My mother had been clinging closely to him, and had heard 
 enough of what he had said aside to me to comprehend our situ- 
 ation. She expressed no fear, she uttered not a sound, but looked 
 deathly pale, and repeatedly crossed herself. 
 
 ' This lantern and these matches,' said my father, as he surveyed 
 the table, are but accessories to the plot. ' Softly ! softly ! the 
 least sound might accelerate our destruction!' Then again he 
 covered his face with his hands. 
 
 I can never forget the feelings of that moment, standing as 
 we did on the brink of a fate so dreadful ; my mother and I 
 gazing at each other with clasped hands, and nearly lost to con- 
 sciousness. Yet it was but for a moment. My father recovered 
 his presence of mind, and assuming a look of tranquillity, spoke 
 so assuringly and so calmly as to recal our fleeting senses. 
 
 ' That lantern,' said he, ' is invaluable, it will enable us to pass 
 in safety over the destruction beneath our feet!' 
 
 It was but the work of an instant to seize it light the candle 
 within and close it. 
 
 ' Now, my brave darlings ! as we cannot escape from this room 
 by the door which opens on the corridor, and which my own
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 71 
 
 unfortunate hand locked on the outside, we must return back 
 through the secret passages.' 
 
 Familiar with the spring of the mirror-door, my father flung 
 it open. We were already in the closet. He turned the light 
 to the secret door (which we had shut after us as we came through) 
 to search for the spring. He could nowhere find it. He passed 
 his hand over every part of its surface. Nothing was there to 
 indicate it. 
 
 ' Are we shut in by this door also !' said my father, with ges- 
 tures of the most poignant distress. 'We must return! and 
 what then ?' 
 
 My mother, who had been revived by the words of hope which 
 he had previously uttered, now exclaimed, with imploring looks 
 ' Oh try ! try once again ! Oh Dora 1 Caroline 1 what will be- 
 come of you!' 
 
 My father still stood at the door, repeating his fruitless efforts, 
 when we heard a slight sound in the boudoir. 
 
 ' Hark !' said my father, in a hurried whisper, ' I hear a move- 
 ment at the door !' 
 
 There could be no mistake, the key was cautiously and slowly 
 revolving in the lock. 
 
 Quick as thought my father was in the boudoir. "We rushed 
 breathlessly after him, and saw him seize the handle of the door. 
 It was forcibly held on the outside. There was a violent struggle. 
 ' Help ! help ! Helen,' cried my father, in a tremendous voice. 
 I grasped with both hands the partly opened door. One moment, 
 success was with u the next with our adversaries ! and there 
 was gasping for breath on both sides. Life or death was in the 
 struggle ! Another superhuman effort on our side, and my father 
 and I fell back, with the door in our hands ! 
 
 In a moment he was on his feet again, and had rushed out into 
 the corridor. He called to us to follow, and we kept up with 
 him, in full pursuit of retreating footsteps, along the corridors, 
 down the back stairs through the kitchen passages, and out to a 
 door that led into a court-yard ; which, before we could reach 
 it, was violently banged to. My father wrenched it open just in 
 time to descry two figures in rapid flight through an opposite 
 doorway in the court-yard. He would have pursued them on the
 
 72 HELEN MULGRAVE ; OB, 
 
 instant, but the gunpowder track reached to the very sill of the 
 doorway at which we stood, and we knew not but some hidden 
 accomplice might yet be lying in wait, to put the finishing stroke 
 to the plot, by firing the train at its extremity. 
 
 There was a large fierce dog in the yard, furiously barking as 
 we made our appearance, and leaping about at the extremity of 
 his chain, as if he wished to take part in the fray. My father 
 stooped down, set him free, and showing him the track of the 
 flying figures, although they were already nearly lost in the 
 darkness, cried, ' Hie on, Eover ! After them ! Seize them, my 
 brave fellow, and bring them back I' Off went the noble animal 
 swift as the wind, leaping over fence, paling, and every other 
 impediment. We watched him until his outline was no longer 
 visible, although we could still hear his loud deep voice booming 
 on the morning air. 
 
 This done, we turned to look at and embrace each other, 
 which we did, with the most fervent love and gratitude to Him 
 who had preserved us through such a night. 
 
 My mother, unable to support herself any longer, was nearly 
 fainting, and my father observing it, caught her in his arms as if 
 she had been an infant, and bore her to her own chamber. 
 
 Having committed my mother to the care of Dora, my father 
 returned to me, and having done everything to secure the safety 
 of the castle for at least a few hours, I retired once more to my 
 own chamber, to lie down again, where I had so lately lain under 
 the influence of inexpressible terror. 
 
 Before I retired to rest, Rover, the dog, had returned unsuc- 
 cessful from his pursuit of the flying incendiaries, except that he 
 had brought in his mouth the skirt of a man's black coat, which 
 he must have torn off with his teeth, and which he laid down at 
 my father's feet as his trophy. 
 
 When I went to my chamber, my father, being uneasy respect- 
 ing the door behind the tapestry, wished to make it secure for 
 the instant by nailing it ; but wanting the means to do so, he 
 placed Rover in the secret passage, and desired him to guard the 
 door ; an injunction which the animal seemed well to understand, 
 for he laid himself down instantly at it. With this guard, I had 
 slept undisturbed.
 
 JESUIT EXECCTORSHIP. 73 
 
 But in the morning, the instant there "was a movement in my 
 chamber, the animal began to let me know that he was there, 
 by an occasional low bark and scratching at the door. Mary, 
 meanwhile, who had flown at the sound of my bell, was already 
 Avith me, congratulating me, with strong emotion, on the escape 
 we had all had from the dreadful fate which had been prepared 
 for us. She wondered much how I could return to sleep in a 
 room which had been the scene of such fearful occurrences ; and 
 when the dog scratched again at the door behind the tapestry, 
 she was startled to such an extremity, that to relieve her fears I 
 opened the door, and brought him into the room. The animal 
 was delighted at being released ; and wagging his tail, and looking 
 intelligently up in my face, seemed to ask me if he had done his 
 duty. 
 
 Of course, I gave him his meed of praise, upon which he frisked 
 about with such extreme vivacity, that my poor Mary was again 
 very uneasy, and I desired her to open the door and let him pass 
 down stairs. But he seemed to know that his mission was not 
 yet fulfilled ; for he turned from the open door, and taking the 
 track of the phantom of the night, walked slowly the whole 
 length of it, with his nose to the ground, uttering every now 
 and then a half bark, until he stood still at the tapestry door ; 
 then, seeing that I did not attend to his indications, he came up 
 to me, and taking me by the skirts, led me back through the 
 track, in which he had just been, where I found, not without 
 fresh terror, gunpowder strewed the whole way. Both Mary 
 and I were greatly affected, and well disposed to caress the 
 intelligent and wonderful animal, so sagacious and so useful, 
 and so little less than human. But he was too large and too 
 boisterous for a lady's chamber, and now, quite as willing to 
 go as we were to let him pass out of the room, he darted off in 
 an instant. 
 
 Mary had a thousand things to tell me when the dog was gone, 
 in Avhose presence she had seemed under some restraint. She 
 informed me that there was already a guard of soldiers patrolling 
 round the castle and grounds, with a sentinel stationed at every 
 door ; that they had come from a neighbouring barracks ; that 
 the old woman, my father's foster nurse, had just expired ; that 
 
 4
 
 74 HELEN MULUUAVK ; OR, 
 
 two constables had been sent in search of the daughter and her 
 accomplice, said to be the parish priest; that all the gunpowder 
 had been carefully swept up ; a messenger dispatched for the 
 bishop ; and, finally, that breakfast was nearly ready. 
 
 My two sisters now tapped at my door, and entered, laughing, 
 crying, deploring, rejoicing, alternately, and embracing me over 
 and over again. 
 
 We descended to the breakfast-room together, and here a new 
 scene of congratulation and tears awaited me. My mother, 
 father, uncle, confessor, all were there, with hearts so full, that 
 a sumptuous breakfast stood long untasted. 
 
 Oh joy 1 hast thou no tongue in which to speak thine own 
 ecstatic thought, that thou must still from sorrow steal her 
 tears ? 
 
 When breakfast was over, my sisters and I prevailed on my 
 father to take a turn on the lawn. Although he could bestow 
 but a few minutes on us, he answered our numerous questions, 
 and informed us that a meeting of most of the neighbouring 
 magistrates would take place in the castle at two o'clock, to con- 
 sult on the measures to be taken for getting hold of the incendia- 
 ries. He had already, himself, forwarded two scouts to Dublin, 
 where- the ' demon,' Margaret Brian, had recently resided, and 
 where it was supposed two grown-up daughters of hers might 
 still be living. ' But,' said my father, ' that woman is so well 
 acquainted with the hide-and-seek-game of this part of Ireland, 
 that I fear there is no hope of coming up with her at present. 
 Meantime, her poor old mother furnished me this morning, 
 shortly before she breathed her last, with information of a very 
 decisive nature, which leaves not a single doubt of her daugh- 
 ter's having been the perpetrator both of the theft of the jewels, 
 and of the plot to burn the castle. But she had an accomplice 
 in the parish priest, and how deplorable soever this fact may be, 
 there seems, from the testimony of the old woman, to bo no 
 doubt of it. It is unfortunate that this evidence was given to 
 myself alone, the perturbation of the moment, and the rapid 
 sinking of the dying woman, not allowing time to call in any 
 witness. My leaving home, too, at this time, is most disastrous 
 to all our plans.'
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 75 
 
 ' Is it impossible to defer your departure indefinitely, my dear 
 father ?' I inquired. 
 
 'Ah, my child, that is a sore question and from you, too, 
 whom I am to leave behind I' 
 
 At this instant, the bishop and Father Ossory appeared on the 
 lawn, and my father immediately joined them. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 SEVERED as I was about to be from my dear family, under 
 peculiar circumstances, I could not but entertain inexpressible 
 anxiety for their future safety. Our house, indeed, for the pre- 
 sent, escaped the destruction so surely meditated and so nearly 
 executed by a menial who might have been supposed without 
 power to accomplish such a purpose. 
 
 Yet, seeing what she had dared to attempt, there could be no 
 security against the repetition of the atrocity in some new form, 
 so long as she was at large. For although her vengeance was 
 professedly aimed only at my father, on account, as it was said, 
 of his having repulsed, with great indignation, claims which 
 when young she had made on his notice beyond those of a mere 
 foster-sister, yet her resentment included in it every member of 
 his family. 
 
 As I contemplated these things, I found the strongest reasons 
 for acquiescing in the departure of my family from Ireland, even 
 as a measure of mere self-preservation, in case of my father's not 
 succeeding in placing his persecutor in the hands of justice. 
 Yet resignation was far from my heart, and I still asked myself, 
 with tears, why I might not accompany them ? But this inquiry 
 had already been answered by the terms of the obligation incur- 
 red to my uncle. 
 
 'And why should I lament, though at so great a cost to 
 myself, that I am thus made useful to so dear a parent? No !' I 
 exclaimed, 'I will have no more regrets. The sacrifice of self 
 is not only a duty but a triumph, when we make it for those we 
 love.'
 
 76 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 I became more tranquil, and when the family circle met .1:1:1 in. 
 and I learnt that arrangements were already made for my 
 departure with my uncle on the following morning, I received 
 the announcement without losing my self-possession. I shall be 
 forgiven for yielding, on my return to my own room, to a flood 
 of tears, which left me no more to shed ; for in leaving the home 
 of my infancy, under circumstances so hopeless as those which 
 caused my banishment, I felt that I should be for ever sundered 
 from it, and be thus rent at once both from the illusions and the 
 realities that had hitherto charmed my existence. 
 
 Father Ossory was under the necessity of leaving us on this 
 day before dinner, and as I wished to have an interview with 
 him before my departure, I requested an audience of him in the 
 oratory, early in the day. 
 
 When I had requested his permission, in a former interview, 
 to be allowed to use the Protestant Bible, he had peremptorily 
 refused me. A few days after, he acceded to my request, by 
 sending me a copy both of that and of the Catholic Bible ; so 
 that I had an opportunity of comparing the two, my sister Dora 
 assisting me in doing so. The discrepancies in the two transla- 
 tions were numerous, and in some instances important, inasmuch 
 as they involved points of doctrine, as well as of practice. We 
 found the Catholic Bible full of copious notes in the margin, the 
 general tenor of which was in striking opposition, not to say 
 contradiction, to the obvious meaning of the sacred text. 
 
 All this I mentioned to the good old man on the occasion of 
 our present interview, and when I had done so, he seemed more 
 than usually depressed, and there was a mildness and deep 
 seriousness in his tone and manner, that rendered everything he 
 said impressive. He appeared to me like a person under some 
 mental difficulty. He made assertions, then explained them, and 
 again revised them, as if painfully anxious to be in the right. 
 
 Venerable old man ! had a gleam of light shone on his mind, 
 exhibiting the possibility of his not having yet attained to a 
 knowledge of divine truth ? Or did he regret that he had put 
 into my hands that which had led me still further from the 
 Catholic faith ? Our interview terminated by his recommend- 
 ing me to aim at humility, rather than knowledge ; and giving
 
 JESUIT EXECTTTOR8HIP. 77 
 
 me his blessing, I took leave of him, under a feeling of great 
 depression and self-distrust. 
 
 As I quitted the good father, and was slowly crossing the hall, 
 I perceived, through one of the side windows of the entrance 
 door, a carriage and four driving up the great avenue at full 
 speed. So far as the liveries were recognisable in the distance, I 
 fancied them to be those of Sir Lucius Mac Neil, and instantly 
 thought, with pain, of the rejection he had recently received 
 from my sister. 
 
 I did not quicken my steps, but rather lingered, with a feeling 
 of curiosity to ascertain who might be our new guest. I 
 thought that, having ascertained this, I could in a moment retire 
 from the hall by one of the many side doors, after the carriage 
 had reached the house. But the footmen, who must have seen 
 its approach, and perhaps identified the liveries in the distance, 
 came running in haste to the great door of entrance, and throw- 
 ing it open, were in a moment at their post, awaiting its arrival. 
 
 As the steps of the carriage were let down, a gentleman 
 sprang from it, and bounded into the hall, before I had time to 
 move. 
 
 I recognised him, and my first thought was to run away ; but 
 it was too late for this expedient, as he was already approaching 
 me. Monsieur de Grammont for it was indeed he whom I 
 beheld greeted me without a word in a sort of dumb show, 
 but with all his accustomed grace of manner ; while I, utterly 
 incapable of either word or movement, was so distracted betwixt 
 the joy of seeing him, and the pain of rushing recollections, that 
 I forgot every ordinary courtesy ; but recovering myself after a 
 few moments, proposed to conduct him to my father. 
 
 He bowed assent, and, turning to the servants, who stood in 
 a distant part of the hall awaiting his orders, dismissed them. 
 
 We were now alone. My feelings were irrepressible, and I 
 burst into tears. 
 
 The marquis was excessively distressed by my grief, which he 
 seemed not to understand, and entreated me to confide to him 
 its cause, which he probably supposed to be the state of our 
 family affairs. Taking my hand, he pressed it to his lips, and 
 supplicated earnestly for a moment's private interview.
 
 78 HELEN MULGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 'Let me not alarm you,' said he; ' I will detain you only long 
 enough to ask a single question. I know the sincerity of your 
 nature, and your answer will decide my fate.' 
 
 I could not, nor did I attempt to make any reply ; and, seeing 
 how incapable I was of doing 'so, he took silence for consent, 
 and led me across the hall to a small cabinet, the door of which 
 was open. Shutting it on our entrance, he conducted me to a 
 seat. Distracted by conflicting feelings, but thinking I must say 
 something, I expressed an apprehension that, in detaining him so 
 long from my father, I was deferring the welcome which I was 
 sure he would be impatient to express, on his return to the 
 castle. 
 
 ' Pardon me,' said he, in a sad tone, and changing colour as he 
 spoke, 'I am sorry not to be of your opinion; but if I have 
 your welcome, it will supply the lack of every other.' 
 
 He did not give me time to inquire of myself what he could 
 mean ; but gazing on me for a moment with a look of intense 
 anxiety, said, ' When I think of the hopes I peril, and the 
 visions of happiness which the question I am about to ask may 
 destroy, I am surprised at my own rashness. Nevertheless, sus- 
 pense comprises so much misery, that I cannot endure it 
 longer.' 
 
 All my reserve was giving way at sight of his suffering coun- 
 tenance, and the frankness of former times was returning, when, 
 without being aware of any object, I said, thoughtlessly, ' Ah, 
 Monsieur de Grammont, is it the custom in your country, when 
 good friends part for a long time, not to utter a word of fare- 
 well, or a wish to meet again ? Is that what is called taking 
 French leave F 
 
 As I asked this question, the palor of his countenance was in 
 a moment exchanged for a crimson hue, and he exclaimed ' Is 
 it possible that I hear aright ? Do you indeed deign to reproach 
 me for an agonizing omission, despotically forced on me ? Was 
 it not, then, your rejection which compelled me to it ?' 
 
 'Rejection!' I repeated, in bewilderment, 'what rejection?' 
 
 ' The rejection of my hand, my heart, my all proffered to 
 you through your father, on the very day I left the castle, when 
 I was last hero. I implored both Sir William and Lady Mulgrave
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR6HIP. 79 
 
 to allow me to receive that rejection from your own lips ; but 
 in vain. They were so inflexibly opposed to my wishes, as to 
 request me (with great politeness certainly) to depart without 
 even seeing you again.' 
 
 My astonishment and other feelings overpowered me. L6once 
 knelt at my feet, and again asked ' Was the rejection, then, not 
 yours ?' 
 
 ' No it was not. I never, until this moment, dreamed that I 
 had been honored by any proposal of yours.' 
 
 As I said this, all reserve seemed at once to be thrown away, 
 and his expressions of delight became too rapturous to be 
 repeated. I will therefore not attempt to record them, or to 
 describe the sounds which now met my ear. They could vibrate 
 only on hearts awaking, like mine, from a long dream of doubt 
 and desolation. In a few minutes I was fully satisfied that I 
 was loved as far beyond my deserts as my hopes, and more in 
 danger of being idolized than again forsaken. The circum- 
 stances under which our mutual confidences were made, left us 
 neither time nor power to deliberate ; and before we could think 
 of consequences, we had solemnly exchanged vows which bound 
 us to each other for ever. 
 
 It was now necessary that it should be ascertained at once, to 
 whom the power of disposing of me belonged, that Leonce 
 might no longer be kept in suspense, and that we might both 
 know our future doom. 
 
 No one could decide this point but my father that dear 
 father whom I loved so much, but who from some, at present, 
 imperceptible cause, had, perhaps, devoted both Leonce and 
 myself to endless regrets. 
 
 I learned from Leonco that he had been made acquainted 
 with the projects of my father for retrenchment, as well as with 
 the unfortunate circumstances which occasioned them, by my 
 Aunt Mulgrave, and that it was his intention, in the interview 
 he was about to have with my father, to place his house in 
 Paris at his disposal, during his stay there. His arrival at the 
 castle had been hastened by his having heard on the road of 
 the danger in which we had been so recently placed by incen- 
 diaries. He bogged me to tell him the particulars of it, and
 
 80 HELEN MULOKAVE; OR, 
 
 was deeply moved by a hasty narration of them. There was 
 much mystery, he thought, in the cause to which we attributed 
 so fearful an attempt, which seemed inadequate to the malignity 
 of it\ 
 
 ' As I take a survey,' said he, ' of the complications which 
 surround your family, and of your own position when severed 
 from them, I feel sick at heart, and tremble to again lose sight 
 of you." 
 
 I felt as he did on this subject, and spoke to him of that 
 mercy which is over all the works of God, and of the protecting 
 care which never slumbers. 
 
 A train of religious thoughts were thus introduced, and we 
 reciprocated ideas and feelings, which led me to inform him of 
 my almost avowed secession from Romanism. He listened with 
 deep attention to a detail of the circumstances and influences 
 which had led to this result, and implored me to be 'faithful 
 unto death' to the light received. 
 
 I found it so difficult to prevail on Leonce to allow me to 
 leave him, that the lunch-hour, struck by the hall clock, had 
 begun to bring the family together, before our ' moment's inter- 
 terview' had terminated. A deep sadness overspread the coun- 
 tenance of Leonce as I received the parting pressure of his 
 hand, and his million of acknowledgments for what he called 
 my condescension, hi listening to him and accepting his vows. 
 As I hastily pronounced my adieus, supposing we should meet 
 again in a few minutes at the lunch-table, 
 
 4 Helen,' said he, ' a presentiment of evil presses on me ; and I 
 much fear, your uncle being here, as on a former occasion, that 
 your father will again allow himself to be controlled by him in 
 deciding your fate. Independently of your uncle's Protestant 
 hatred, which you are aware he has hardly ever thought it 
 worth while to conceal, I am apprehensive that you are in some 
 way already disposed of by him, and he will perhaps not consult 
 your inclinations, or be moved by any resistance to his will. 
 Think me not disposed to groundless suspicion, dearest Helen. 
 Had you lived in the world as long as I have, and seen the 
 depths of as many Popish intrigues as I have, you would parti- 
 cipate in my distrust.'
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 81 
 
 ' Fear nothing,' said I, thoughtlessly ; ' with faith and 
 patience, we shall conquer all difficulties 1' 
 
 I was indeed too happy at that moment in Leonoe's tender- 
 ness and truth, and so confident of his power to control events, 
 that I could not fear anything so long as he was with me. 
 
 I left him, nevertheless, in tears ; and having made my 
 escape, flew up stairs to my own apartment, without looking 
 behind me, or encountering a single individual. 
 
 My sisters had already gone down, and being alone, I knelt to 
 thank God for the unexpected and inexpressible happiness that 
 had befallen me. As I went to an open window, and gazed on a 
 beauteous scene, mantled with more than mid-day splendours, 
 both earth and sky seemed to participate in my happiness. 
 
 I had observed, as I passed through the hall, that Monsieur de 
 Grammont's carriage was not waiting at the door, and supposed 
 it had been driven away in expectation of his remaining at the 
 castle. 
 
 Will he be invited to remain ? was a query which instantly 
 threw a dark cloud over me, as I thought on the possibility, 
 which Leonce had suggested, of a second rejection. 
 
 ' But no,' said I ; * it is impossible that my father could repeat 
 such a mistake. His circumstances and views, too, which are 
 now so different from what they lately were, must enable him 
 to see (independently of the happiness his consent would confer 
 on Leonce and myself) the advantage to us all, of such an addi- 
 tion to our family as that of Monsieur de Grammont. 
 
 ' He casts me from himself and my whole family, only that 
 through my uncle's bounty or caprice I may be provided for in 
 future life. By accepting Monsieur de Grammont's proposals, 
 who I have no doubt is generous enough not to ask a dowry 
 with me, I should be able to join the dear travelling party, of 
 which L6once would make one ; and our hearts would not be 
 torn to pieces by the cruel separation now contemplated.' 
 
 My experience of life at this time had not taught me that the 
 greater part of the misery that fills the world is owing to the 
 wrong-headedness of those who control its affairs. 
 
 As I entered the eating-room, my first glance fell on the 
 bishop and Father Ossory, who were in close conversation, 
 
 4*
 
 82 HELEN MULORAVE; OK, 
 
 apart from my mother and sisters. Until this moment the 
 oddity of Monsieur de Grainrnont's carriage having remained at 
 the door so long before he was announced, had not occurred to 
 me. Now, it flashed on me all at once, and caused me, as my 
 sisters advanced to meet me, with arch, reproachful, and yet 
 congratulatory looks, to feel as though I had been guilty of an 
 unpardonable omission in not apprising my father at first of his 
 arrival. Dora, dear Dora, whose thoughts were ever on her 
 lips, began at once to catechise me respecting Monsieur de 
 Grammont's whereabouts during the full hour, as she said, 
 although I thought it only half that time, that he was missing 
 after his arrival. 
 
 I related to her, without reserve, all the circumstances of my 
 unexpected meeting with him, and his earnest entreaty that I 
 would allow him a momentary private interview, before he pre- 
 sented himself to my father. 
 
 ' My dear Nelly,' said she, ' his sudden disappearance, and 
 eventually yours, for you were not missed at first, have been the 
 cause of a general search through the house and grounds ; and 
 my uncle' lowering her voice ' was so sure of your having 
 been run away with, in some fairy vehicle waiting out of sight 
 for you, while the marquis's was left at the door, ' as a tub for 
 the whale,' that even now, for aught I know, horsemen may be 
 out in every direction, with orders to find and force you back, 
 at every hazard, regardless of any resistance made by your 
 daring kidnapper.' 
 
 What could I reply to all this, but express my regret that 
 what was intended but for a ' moment's interview' should have 
 given rise to any pursuit on my account; while I consoled 
 myself with thinking Dora's jest to be without much ground. 
 
 Nevertheless, I replied that the light in which she had placed 
 the thing seemed to make it necessary that I should offer some 
 apology or explanation to papa ; but on hearing that Monsieur 
 de Grammont and he were together, I had no doubt Leonce had 
 already explained everything to him. 
 
 My uncle now approached the table, with Father Ossory, and 
 without noticing me, except by a very grave bend of the head, 
 seated himself at the table.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 83 
 
 My mother was already there, and we circled round her. 
 There was very little eating, and less speaking ; while all eyes 
 seemed fixed on me with an inquiring expression, very painful 
 to me. 
 
 My father had ordered refreshments for himself and Monsieur 
 de Grammont in his study, so that all hope of seeing them at 
 the table was at an end. 
 
 I became so frightened arr&dst the silence around me, that it 
 was with difficulty I withheld myself from being the first to 
 leave the table. Soon, however, my uncle rose ; and walking 
 surlily out of the room, Father Ossory followed him, and we saw 
 no more of them. 
 
 Dora and I made our retreat to our own boudoir, and shut- 
 ting the door, we sat on the sofa, while I leant on her shoulder, 
 and told her all that had passed betwixt Leonce and myself. 
 
 Her sincere and tender, though playful, sympathy, taught me, 
 more than ever, the value of sisterly love and confidence, and 
 enabled me to await, with tolerable composure, the result of the 
 conference below. 
 
 Dora soon left me, to learn, if possible, with what success the 
 suit was proceeding in my father's study. She returned in a 
 few minutes," looking fearfully pale, saying she had been bold 
 enough to knock at the study-door, which had been only half 
 opened to her by my father, with a countenance excessively 
 agitated. He waved her off with his hand, without a word; 
 but she had heard the bishop's voice in notes of thunder, and 
 was glad to get out of the hearing of it. 
 
 It was impossible not to foresee what the result must be, 
 unless my father should assert an independent opinion, and 
 prove able to emancipate himself from the control of his bro- 
 ther that brother who owned no allegiance to any principle or 
 power but that of the church, and who considered the sacrifice 
 even of natural affection if he had any as a meritorious offer- 
 ing to it. 
 
 On learning how matters stood, I cast away all my hopes ; and 
 throwing myself on the sofa, that I might hide my face in its 
 pillows, bitterly reproached myself for the folly of the security 
 which I had cherished but an hour since.
 
 84 HELEN MULGRAVE; cm, 
 
 4 L6once is right. Yes; we are now for ever separated!' I 
 exclaimed. 
 
 Dora did not answer ine, but went to the window, which com- 
 manded a view of the high road, as it ran over a rising ground 
 in the distance. A telescope on a stand, with which we were 
 accustomed to amuse ourselves, stood before the window. Dora 
 seated herself at this post of observation, while I lay in deep 
 agony, on the sofa. Very soon I heard her crying. 
 
 4 Is it, then, all over ?' I asked. 
 
 * I fear it is,' she said. ' I see his chariot driving furiously 
 over the hill, with the grooms after it in full gallop.' 
 
 She left the window, and, kneeling before the sofa, embraced 
 me tenderly. Her tears continued to fall, but I could not obtain 
 a similar relief. She felt my pulse. 
 
 4 1 am not fainting,' said I. 
 
 4 No,' said she, l but you are very cold. Shall I ring for some 
 wraps ?' 
 
 4 No, no ; do not bring people to look at me.' . 
 
 4 1 will go myself for a warm cloak,' said she ; and shutting 
 the door after her, she was out of hearing in an instant. 
 
 The next minute there was a gentle tap at the door, and my 
 father entered. As he saw me stretched on the sofa, he 
 approached it softly, saying, ' Is it you, my love, Helen ?' 
 
 Finding my throat swelling almost to suffocation at his 
 approach, I was unable to reply. He took one of my hands, and 
 finding it very cold, seemed to think I was insensible; but I 
 immediately showed signs of consciousness, and he bent over me 
 to examine my countenance. 
 
 4 Is it come to this,' said he, ' that my own darling Helen 
 averts her face from me ? Helen, speak to me reproach me, if 
 you will ; but do not look like death 1' 
 
 4 1 am only cold,' said I. 4 1 will sit up.' 
 
 4 No, no,' said he ; ' lie still.' 
 
 Dora returned with a down coverlet, and enveloped me in it. 
 "We sat perfectly mute for a minute or two, when Dora rose, and 
 left the room. 
 
 My father, without losing another moment, said, 4 Do not let 
 me hurry you, my love, although my time is short ; but tell me
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 85 
 
 what I may speak of. I have always considered you as my little 
 heroine, with courage enough for any emergency. Shall I try it 
 too much if I tell you that De Gramrnont has just left the 
 castle, and with me a message for you, which I have no option 
 but to deliver, having promised him that I would do so ?' 
 
 I felt my heart beginning to beat violently, but commanding 
 myself, said, ' I know he is gone, papa ; but he should have taken 
 leave of me.' 
 
 'It was not his fault, poor fellow, that he did not. He is 
 really a very fine fellow, and my good opinion of him ought to 
 gratify you.' 
 
 A thousand hopes sprang up in my heart at these words, 
 which brought tears that relieved me. 'Ah, papal it is but 
 natural to you to do justice ; yet Monsieur de Grammont must 
 have been treated harshly, to cause him to leave your house so 
 abrubtly.' 
 
 ' Helen, my love, I see there is no occasion for any further 
 hesitation. Your good sense and heroism are returning. As De 
 Graininont has been perfectly frank in explaining the object of 
 the interview ^hich he tells me he forced on you this morning, 
 I may speak on the subject, I hope, without paining you too 
 much. As you are aware of his pretensions, then, I need not 
 mention them ; but I trust that in declining them, at the 
 instance of your uncle to whom we must not forget that you 
 now belong, I may not have paidfully opposed your own 
 inclinations ?' 
 
 'Have I, then, no father .*' I asked, in an agony of grief. 
 
 lie turned his head away, and waving his hand to deprecate 
 interruption, continued: 'I could not extort from De Gram- 
 mont any remark indicating acquaintance with your feelings. I 
 was glad to find that you must have left him ignorant of them, 
 whatever they are. It is but a natural and essential defence of 
 woman, that she wrap herself up in impenetrable reserve until 
 the marriage-knot is tied. Yet, I hardly expected to find you, 
 who are naturally frank and sincere, and fresh to this sort of 
 sentiment, so strictly prudent, and steeled against the solicita- 
 tions of so eloquent and impassioned a pleader as I am sure De 
 Grainmout must be.'
 
 86 IIELEN MULORAVB; OR, 
 
 ' Oh 1 my dear father, do not torture me with praise which I 
 do not deserve. I am totally destitute of the prudence and 
 mental reserve you ascribe to me. I have given my whole heart 
 to Leonce, who had already given me his, and we have 
 exchanged irrevocable vows, which, if there- is truth or honour 
 in human nature, can never be broken 1' 
 
 It was now my father's turn to be moved. He threw himself 
 back in his chair with a deep sigh, covering his eyes with his 
 hand, as if stunned by surprise, or overpowered by a rush of 
 painful feelings. While I sat half up on the sofa, gazing on him 
 with the most anxious concern for the effect of my precipitate 
 acknowledgment, he suddenly rose, and left the room. I hoped 
 that he had only gone away for a moment, but he did not return 
 for half an hour. 
 
 Meantime, thoughts and regrets, and hopes and fears, were 
 chasing each other through my troubled mind ; but always end- 
 ing in the dear recollection, that however sundered for the 
 moment, Leonce and I were one ! This was an unalterable fact, 
 although we might live to old age before we met again. But 
 the message charged to be delivered by my father what could 
 that bet 
 
 When he returned, 'he looked very grave and thoughtful. 
 Taking a seat by my side, he said, 'Much as your communication 
 pained me, Helen, I am glad I know all, as I am enabled thereby 
 to offer you more useful advice. 
 
 ' I must, however, discharge myself of my commission before 
 I enter on anything else. Do not allow it to agitate yon, or 
 even render you secure, of what is always uncertain, the con- 
 stancy of an absent lover.' 
 
 I covered my face, for my father looked anxiously at me, with 
 a sadness that expressed compassion, and thus awakened fears 
 that Jiope had lulled to sleep. 
 
 ' As I walked with the marquis to his carriage,' said he, ' after 
 the storm betwixt him and your unele had, as it were, swept 
 him out of the house, he entreated me, as he could not obtain a 
 parting word with you, to be the bearer of a message from him. 
 Struck with surprise at such a request, although the mitrea 
 affront, which he had just received in my lionpe, made it seem
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOKSHIP. 87 
 
 necessary that I should make some amende I hesitated. But 
 recollecting that this civility, although a sort of trespass on 
 prudence, was the only expression of respect now in my power, 
 for the generous and noble sentiments he had professed for my 
 darling child, I consented to his request. I fear, my dear, that 
 your father is yet too inexperienced in the management of his 
 children's love affairs to perform a part in them as coldly as he 
 ought. But I will have no reserve with you, and I am sure I 
 may then entrust yon to the guidance of your own mind. The 
 message was this "Say to your and my Helen, that the senti- 
 ments I have this day professed for her will be as lasting as my 
 life!" Does this satisfy you, Helen? I feel it my duty, in 
 repeating this enthusiastic assurance, which is, I have no doubt, 
 sincere at present, to apprize you, if it has not already occurred 
 to you, that such vows are often cancelled by time and distance. 
 In one word, they are forgotten.' 
 
 'Never, by a man of honour, like De Grammont, papa I' 
 
 ' I almost envy you such faith in another, my love. But you 
 will soon acquire a knowledge of human fallibility in such mat- 
 ters. Meanwhile, we must prepare ourselves for intervening 
 trials and duties. You are aware that at this moment I owe so 
 much to my brother, that I should be a criminal of the deepest 
 dye, if I could sin against him by violating the conditions on 
 which he from the first consented to save myself and family. 
 One of the principal of these was, that I should bestow you on 
 him, and entrust you wholly to his guidance. He saw that in 
 your character which pleased him, which inspired him with 
 parental attachment, and which would, he thought, enable him 
 to place you in life advantageously to yourself and family.' 
 
 This remark grated very much on my feelings, but my father 
 continued. 
 
 ' Having thus given you to your uncle, he has accepted the 
 gift, engaging to perform to you the part of a father. There- 
 fore, never again ask me whether you have a father ; it breaks 
 my heart. And above all things, never allow yourself to 
 distrust your uncle. He will not fail yon, unless you very 
 seriously oppose his will. As regards Monsieur de Grammont, 
 you must give him up, now and for ever. You must not even
 
 88 HELEN MOLORAVE; OR, 
 
 think of him. For be assured your uncle will never consent to 
 your marrying him, being, as he is, a determined Protestant.' 
 
 ' But, papa, as I am also a Protestant, in opinion and in feel- 
 ing, would not that go far towards cancelling my uncle's objec- 
 tions to the marquis's suit ?' 
 
 4 Oli, my child I' exclaimed my father, ' what a simple creature 
 you are. Have I not told you that it would be utter ruin, both 
 to yourself and me, for the bishop to know that you were in any 
 degree swerving from the Komish church ? You have yet much 
 to learn of that allowable subtlety, essential to the successful 
 management of secular affairs.' 
 
 ' But would not sincerity in all cases better serve our interests 
 than concealment and insincerity ? Even in our affairs at this 
 moment, would it not be better that my uncle should be fully 
 informed of everything, although the so doing might require an 
 entire revision of your arrangements with him V 
 
 ' I find it very difficult, Helen, to talk to you on this subject. 
 You, who know only the right, and-nothing of the wrong which 
 is perpetually conflicting with it in the affairs of life, are utterly 
 unaware of the difficulty of holding the balance between them. 
 I said I would have no reserves with you, and I will not, although 
 I would willingly have spared you the pain of knowing the full 
 extent of your uncle's bitterness towards de Grammont. After 
 expressing to him the most violent opinions upon religious mat- 
 ters, the bishop asserted, in his ordinary strong language, the 
 absolute authority of the church, and her right to punish even 
 with death in all cases, if she so willed it, apostates from her 
 faith. " It has," said he, " only been an oversight or an omission 
 of duty from some other cause on the part of the spiritual execu- 
 tives of the church, that your own life, Monsieur de Grammont, 
 so long forfeited, has hitherto been spared. Nevertheless, to 
 terminate this discussion, if you will now renounce your errors, 
 and return to the faith of your forefathers, I will not oppose 
 your union with my niece." 
 
 ' " My lord," said de Grammont, " in what you have j ust uttered, 
 I presume that you have given me your ultimatum. I have to 
 thaiik you for the seeming sincerity, though not for the mock- 
 ery, of your decision, and I will endeavour to reply to you with
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR8HIP. 89 
 
 equal frankness. You propose to me to return to the Komish 
 church, and as a motive to it, you offer me the greatest boon 
 that earth could bestow on me. 
 
 4 " But it is necessary you should know, that never having 
 been in that church, I cannot be considered as an apostate from 
 it. My life is not, therefore, forfeited to it, even upon its own 
 intolerant and sanguinary principles. 
 
 4 " My parents had become Protestants before I was born ; I 
 was baptized in the Protestant church, and, moreover, ever 
 since reason has rendered me capable of judging betwixt the two 
 churches, I have, both from conviction and choice, remained a 
 Protestant. Were I so base as to renounce Protestantism, believ- 
 ing, as I do, that it is founded upon God's Holy Word, which I 
 hold to be the only test of right and wrong in matters of faith 
 or practice, I should be utterly unworthy of so sincere and 
 upright a being as your niece, nor should I dare to offer my 
 hand for her acceptance, while my heart, was polluted by false- 
 hood to God." ' 
 
 I had listened with breathless interest to my father's brief 
 narrative, and in the admiration I felt for Monsieur de Gram- 
 mont's brave and manly defence of his faith, almost forgot that 
 I was a party concerned. 
 
 Another moment, and tears of pride and joy were pouring 
 down my face, at the recollection that a heart so noble as his, 
 had been proffered to me that it was, indeed, mine. 
 
 'I understand your feelings, Helen,' said my father, 'but I 
 must not foster them by sympathy. My painful task is not yet 
 over. Your uncle scarcely heard the last words of the marquis, 
 when he exclaimed, " Now" we understand each other, Monsieur 
 de Grammont ; and from this moment, if you attempt to renew 
 an intercourse of any kind with my niece, by letter or by any 
 other means except through myself, I will place her out of your 
 reach for ever, by putting her into a convent for life, in a locality 
 where no human power shall ever reach her.' " 
 
 This climax was frightful, but my terror did not overpower 
 rny reason ; for I thought I saw in it an extravagance of purpose, 
 almost destructive of itself. 
 
 Yet, my father assured me that the church would uphold any
 
 00 HELEN* MULGRAVE; OK, 
 
 ecclesiastic of my uncle's rank in the exercise of such power, if 
 it were deemed advantageous to itself. ' But,' he continued, ' I 
 do not in reality think you have anything to fear from your 
 uncle's ultraism, unless, by the most undutiful resistance to hia 
 will, you should provoke him to the exercise of it. I have 
 received his most solemn promises of tenderness and indulgence 
 towards you, and I am sure he will keep those promises, 
 because I believe he really loves you with an affection almost 
 parental. 
 
 ' And now, my dear Helen, as you know your exact position, 
 you must brace yourself to an heroic submission to what has 
 occurred. As it regards the part which I have myself performed 
 in this drama, it is as useless as it is painful for me to perceive 
 that, if I could have looked into the hearts of those around me, 
 
 1 might have acted differently. But you can know nothing of 
 that imbecility of purpose and of effort which pecuniary embar- 
 rassment entails on its victims, and which becomes a deplorable 
 despotism when it coerces a man, as in my case, to the abandon- 
 ment or transfer of the dearest and most sacred duties. As it 
 is, we must make the best of it ; and if we look back to only a 
 few hours since, when your mother and we stood in this room 
 on the very brink of destruction, with numerous others in differ- 
 ent parts of the house sleping unconsciously in their beds, and 
 devoted to the same ruin, we shall find in our wonderful escape 
 from it so much cause for gratitude, that we shall not find it diffi- 
 cult to resign our future to Providence. It is my happiness to 
 know that your mind is accessible, not only to the arguments of 
 reason, but to the feelings of devotion. Let these resume their 
 empire, and you will not waste your energies in unavailing 
 regrets, but forgetting the past, devote yourself to the duties of 
 the present, whatever they may prove 1' 
 
 My father took me in his arms, and embracing me fervently, 
 left the room. 
 
 I did not remain long alone after lie had departed, but when 
 I no longer heard his voice, I sat for some time drowned in tears, 
 and lost in thought. 
 
 While he was with me, I was sustained by his kindness, and 
 the anxious part which he bore in my distresses. The manner
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHtP. 91 
 
 in which he had taken leave of me indicated that he felt it but 
 as the prelude of the morrow's parting, which, come what might 
 besides, could not be averted. 
 
 I longed for rest, for sleep in which I might not dream. I 
 had a confused perception of everything around me. It was as 
 if in one single day the world my world had been driven out 
 of its orbit, and the balance of everything in life destroyed. 
 
 Happily, Dora soon came to seek me, and bear me away with 
 her to another room. The rest of the family were occupied 
 with their own peculiar cares, and we were left to spend the 
 evening together without interruption. "We did not attempt to 
 retrace the events of the day. They were cast out of sight as 
 too painful for retrospection. Yet Dora, with her usual playful- 
 ness, reminded me that although Pandora's box had been emptied 
 on our hearth, we had not found it bereft of its fabled antidote. 
 ' For surely,' said she, ' if aught in the accidents of life could 
 form a pre-eminent ground of hope for your future happiness, 
 it is to be found in the character and sentiments of Monsieur de 
 Grammont, as they have been decidedly exhibited in the course 
 of this stormy day.' 
 
 We did not separate until a late hour ; and then again lingered 
 over our last good night. 
 
 When Mary had performed her part, and had left me, a gentle 
 tap, and an opening of my chamber door, announced my mother. 
 
 ' My dear Helen,' she said, coming to my bedside, ' I could not 
 rest without giving you my sympathy and my blessing, and 
 telling you how deeply I feel the pain of the part assigned you. 
 But we must all obey, when resistance would be criminal, as 
 well as useless ; although we may be allowed to hope for future 
 good.' 
 
 'Ah! dear mother,' said I, ' speak not of my untoward destiny !' 
 for I saw that, from her peculiar religious views, she could not 
 cordially enter into my feelings, although her natural tenderness 
 induced her to attempt to alleviate them. I thanked her with 
 tears, and lay down with a mother's kiss on my cheek. She 
 bade me good night, and crossing herself, commended me to the 
 care of the ' blessed Virgin.'
 
 92 HELEN MULGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 I PASSED the hours of darkness almost without sleep, in that 
 harrowing thought which disowns tears. Yet the day dawned, 
 and the soft light stole over hill and dale, with as sweet a pro- 
 gress and as joyous an effect as if nothing had happened to me. 
 This was succeeded by the glories of a May morning. 
 
 I opened my window, to catch the morning breeze, and con- 
 template the rich landscape before me, just as the sun made its 
 appearance above the" horizon. The tranquillity of the scene, 
 and that indescribable influence which the early morning has 
 upon the senses and the heart, operated as a moral anodyne 
 upon my whole being. As I knelt at the open window, gazing 
 on the visible heavens, which seemed but as a curtain that veil- 
 ed from human sight the radiance of the celestial world, I 
 devoted myself in deep submission to the will of God, praying 
 that Leonce also might be able to do the same. 
 
 When I descended to breakfast, I found all the family assem- 
 bled. My uncle was amongst them, but I found great difficulty 
 in greeting him with even ordinary courtesy. 
 
 We had each of us been apprised by what we had suffered in 
 anticipation of it, of the necessity of self-control, at the last 
 moment. Nevertheless, of what after all could I tell, but of 
 heart-breaking and convulsive weeping; of looks and tones that 
 must live for ever in memory's deepest cells ; of death-like dread 
 of never meeting more ; of withering thoughts of past and fears 
 for the future. 
 
 I was almost insensible as I threw myself back in my uncle's 
 carriage, though still conscious of the swiftness with which I 
 was borne away. 
 
 As my uncle sat by my side, I dared not give utterance to my 
 feelings, and therefore forebore to look back through the long 
 avenue of elms, at the grey towers of my home, lest my self- 
 controul should forsake me. 
 
 My uncle seemed to feel that the parting from my family
 
 JESUIT KXECUIORSHIP. 93 
 
 must have been very distressing . to me. He therefore did not 
 attempt to interrupt the current of my thoughts by conversa- 
 tion ; but was attentive and kind in his manner, and seemed 
 well pleased with my apparent tranquillity. I had, indeed, 
 sunk into a torpor of feeling, from which I did not attempt to 
 rouse myself, until we reached the end of our journey. 
 
 I then found that' Rover, my father's large and beautiful black 
 dog, had accompanied us all the way, in spite of every attempt 
 to drive him back. My favourite pony was also there, which 
 my father had sent with me, and a groom to take care of him ; 
 so that I was not without some mementos of home. My uncle 
 had also been prevailed on by my father to allow Mary, though 
 a Protestant, to remain in my service, which was perhaps as 
 great a comfort as I could have had, under the circumstances. 
 
 My uncle gave me a cordial welcome as he handed me into his 
 house, a very ancient and imposing mansion, in the neighbour- 
 hood of Cork. 
 
 The residence appropriated to my use was a detached build- 
 ing, inferior in size to my uncle's, but of the same antique and 
 peculiar character. Both appeared to have been built in 
 troublous times. Perhaps by some religious community, for 
 their protection against attacks. The exterior of the larger 
 building was imposing in its appearance, not only from its size, 
 but from the massy defences that were still in existence on its 
 walls, though fast losing the distinctness of their outline by the 
 crumbling of their edges. 
 
 The two residences were rendered easily accessible to each 
 other, though quite distinct, by a long covered winding passage, 
 obscurely lighted from above by glass of various colours inserted 
 In three singularly constructed domes. 
 
 Its walls were painted in light and shade, with so peculiar an 
 effect, as to produce an almost startling illusion, at first sight, of 
 passages diverging from it in long perspective; while deep 
 recesses here and there, filled with sepulchral statuary, inspired 
 feelings of awe that induced a novice in its mysteries to hurry 
 rapidly through it. 
 
 The first time that I made this attempt, I was suddenly 
 arrested by perceiving that every step I took was responded to
 
 94 IIKLEN MULORAVE; OR, 
 
 by a quiet, smothered vibration, that communicated itself 
 through its whole length ; thus giving notice, as I afterwards 
 learnt, to the porter at its invisible extremity that its precincts 
 had been invaded. The exterior of this passage was completely 
 concealed from without by its being covered with the most 
 luxuriant ivy, that extended itself over the roofs and domes, so 
 as effectually to prevent any recognition of its walls. 
 
 I had imagined, until my arrival, that I was to reside in my 
 uncle's house, not being aware that an ecclesiastic is not allowed 
 to have female inmates. I now found that a regular establish- 
 ment had been formed, and a suite of servants had been engaged 
 for my use alone, at the head of whom was a housekeeper of the 
 name of Mrs. O'Grady. The house was furnished throughout in 
 a most expensive, antique style, suitable to its peculiar architec- 
 ture, although there was enough of the modern incorporated 
 with it to afford every imaginable comfort to a young and fasti- 
 dious lady, as my uncle seemed to consider me, who required 
 some indemnity for the want of society, and the heart-breaking 
 separation from her family. 
 
 My uncle spent the first evening of my arrival in conducting 
 me through the house allotted to me, and in pointing out the 
 various conveniences that had been collected for my use ; strict- 
 ly charging me, if anything had been omitted which I might 
 desire, to order it of Mrs. O'Grady, the housekeeper. 
 
 It was not a moment in which I could feel alive to any minor 
 wants, or appreciate justly the considerate kindness that had 
 provided for the gratification of every wish. . How worthless 
 appeared to me the elegance of my accommodations, how value- 
 less even my books and musical instruments, since I had no one 
 to share them with me. My faithful Mary became everything 
 to me. With her I could talk of all we had left; of every 
 favourite tree and flower, as well as of those still dearer objects, 
 who like myself must soon be exiled from home. 
 
 But this morbid state of mind did not continue. When my 
 family had actually quitted home, and I had heard of their safe 
 arrival in London, I became more tranquil, and recovered a 
 portion of my former content. It was but natural that so 
 dreadful a wrench should cause lacerations which it required
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSUIP. 95 
 
 time to heal ; but in youth and health our sorrows are alle- 
 viated by the natural tendency of inexperience to hope. We 
 never believe that we are ' born to trouble' until we are sub- 
 dued by it. 
 
 The impossibility of my being ever able to attend a Protestant 
 place of worship while residing with my uncle, I soon ascer- 
 tained. 
 
 The nearest church was five miles distant from us; and 
 although I had a chariot and servants always at my disposal, I 
 could not have used them for such a purpose as that of driving 
 to a Protestant church bearing as they did the arms and 
 liveries of my uncle, without committing an outrage on Mm in 
 his public character. 
 
 Such an impropriety was only thought of to be at once aban- 
 doned ; and I endeavoured to satisfy my heart by an Episcopal 
 service and a sermon of Saurin's, in my own apartment, with 
 Mary, every Sunday. 
 
 I had been several weeks at my uncle's house pursuing this 
 course, without attending mass. My uncle must have had an 
 inkling of it in some way or other ; and I must have been short- 
 sighted not to have foreseen that my shutting myself up for an 
 hour or two with Mary on a Sunday morning, at church hours, 
 must attract the attention of some of the servants of the house- 
 hold. Mary had, indeed, been questioned in the kitchen respec- 
 ting her whereabout at such a time; for although it was under- 
 stood in the family that she was a Protestant, it seemed to be 
 expected, in the housekeeper's room at least, that she should do 
 as others did, by going to some place of worship. She had 
 evaded the questioning, for it was not very urgent, and she was, 
 as yet, a new-comer. 
 
 But on dining with my uncle one day, in his own apartment, 
 the servants having withdrawn, he turned sharply round on me, 
 and said ' Helen, my dear, I never see you at mass I hope 
 you do not neglect worship altogether ?' 
 
 ' No, my dear uncle, I have a service in my own apartment 
 every Sunday.' 
 
 ' Oh, you prefer private to public worship, do you ? I will 
 have an oratory fitted up for you in the house, and one of my
 
 96 HELEN MULORAVE J OB, 
 
 household priests shall do duty for you. Your abigail will, I 
 suppose, have no objection to join you in it? I presume you 
 have not been in the habit of having a service by yourself?' 
 
 I saw that my uncle was assuming an air of official dignity 
 and irony in his tone and manner. I therefore replied, gravely 
 ' No, my lord ; Mary h'as always joined me in a Sunday 
 morning service.' 
 
 ' Humph ! She is a Protestant, I think ?' 
 
 ' Yes, my lord.' 
 
 4 Well, Helen, I give you your choice, either to attend a 
 morning mass on Sundays at church, or to have a service in the 
 oratory I propose, with the assistance of a priest.' 
 
 ' My lord, I think I should prefer attending mass at church, 
 to having a priest to officiate in private.' 
 
 4 That is your decision, is it, my dear ?' 
 
 ' Yes, my lord, if that will satisfy you.' 
 
 ' Your abigail must attend you to mass. I tell you that, 
 Helen; or if she is not willing to do so, you must exchange her 
 for one that will.' 
 
 From this time I continued to attend mass once a week, 
 attended by Mary, as required, having our Protestant service in 
 the afternoon. 
 
 Our going to mass was distressing to both of us, and a source 
 of many tears ; but it caused us to keep a perpetual vigil on 
 ourselves, and to have .a higher relish for the heartfelt sincerity 
 and comparative simplicity of our private service. After some 
 time, however, I found a meagreness in this exclusive and soli- 
 tary worship, which made me long for the house of God, and for 
 that heart-stirring sympathy which can only be felt there, in 
 communion with other and true worshippers. Devotion, like all 
 sentiments of the heart, is contagious ; and it is in conformity 
 with this fact that religion requires its votaries, as one means of 
 keeping alive ' the sacred fire,' not to ' forsake the assembling 
 of themselves together.' But I yearned in vain. 
 
 At this period I had the happiness of hearing from the dear 
 wanderers, and receiving accounts of their movements and 
 enjoyments in London, which furnished me with new ideas and 
 new subjects of thought. But their stay there was short, and
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 9*7 
 
 the post thence to Cork so lingering in its progress that some 
 two or three letters did not reach me until after the departure 
 of the writers for the Continent. 
 
 My sister Dora had the happiness of meeting in London her 
 rejected lover, Sir Lucius Mac Neil, who, on renewing his suit, 
 was accepted, with my father's approbation. It had been 
 arranged for him to follow the party to Paris, where, from my 
 uncle De Carryfort's house, Dora would probably bestow her 
 hand on him. 
 
 The following letter was the last I received from my dear 
 sister Dora, before her departure from England, with which I 
 also received long and precious letters from my father and 
 mother, and my sister Caroline : 
 
 ' Hanover Square, London, June, 1816. 
 ' My own darling Nelly, 
 
 ' We have been in this wonderful metropolis three weeks, 
 and this is but my third letter to you, and must, for the present, 
 be my last. You, who are probably occupied with the pages of 
 a book in the tranquil retreat of your own apartment, or 
 absorbed in meditation, of oppressed by the quietude around 
 you, may find it difficult to believe in the never-ceasing occupa- 
 tions of a novice seeking initiation into London life. 
 
 'But if I have not written to my dear Nelly so often as I 
 have wished ; I have thought of her every hour almost, by night 
 as well as by day, for I have continually dreamt of her. Ah, 
 Nelly ! how little did we think a year ago of what has now 
 happened to us. It sometimes seems to me as though we were 
 performing parts in a charade so utterly crude and unsuitable 
 to ourselves is very frequently our new acting. Our own dear 
 home used to be our world, and we knew little of any other ; 
 for though newspapers occasionally fell under our eyes, we read 
 them idly, though for the moment, with great interest. But 
 now vague ideas, which had existed in my mind only as a dream, 
 have become a reality; and I have beheld life yes, London life 
 in a'full-length picture, with all its accessories legibly defined 
 and rendered intelligible. 
 
 'My own little Nelly, so long my pet, my fondling, why are 
 you not, herp !
 
 $8 HKi.nN- Mri.r,:; \VE; OR, 
 
 Cruel was the uncle that bore you thus away, 
 
 And cruel is the fate that still constrains your stay. 
 
 'I have not, j - ou perceive, forgotten my old propensity to 
 parody. There is a melting little chant in the above style in 
 vogue here Just now, which is sung with great effect by one of 
 the songstresses of the season. I enclose it, but entreat you not 
 tu >hed too many tears over it. 
 
 ' Papa has been unsuccessful in his pursuit of the incendiaries, 
 nor do the police functionaries here give him any hope of success 
 for some time to come. They have put their agents in Ireland 
 on the watch for them, so that if, when they may think them- 
 selves forgotten, they should turn up, they may yet he brought 
 to account. The castle is left in the care of Mrs. O'Connell, the 
 housekeeper, and the estate in that of the agent, who has orders 
 to make the lands and farms .more productive, by some new 
 modes of management and of agriculture, which are to be 
 adopted without delay. 
 
 * William, who has been desirous of remaining in England, is 
 to accompany us to the Continent, and finish his education at 
 some university there, as papa will ndfc entrust him with the unre- 
 strained freedom he would unavoidably possess if left here in his 
 absence. It is very much to be deplored that he has so strong a 
 self-will,and is so lawless and ungenial'in his feelings. He seems 
 to hate the English, and has great pleasure in being rude to them. 
 
 ' I cannot omit to mention the dear name of Leonce, whom I 
 am sure we all love, spite of the present position of things. My 
 uncle and aunt dote on him, and think he must in the end con- 
 quer the prejudice of the bishop. He is in London, but, though 
 very intimate in Hanover Square, will not, I fear, be seen' here 
 while we remain. Considering all the circumstances of the 
 affair, the senseless and bitter opposition that has been made to 
 your union with him is one of the most perverse freaks that 
 fortune ever played to disturb the " course of a true love." I 
 contemplate with admiration the beautiful resignation with 
 which you have both submitted to a sentence at once unjust and 
 cruel, rather than disturb the arrangements made for retrieving 
 our dear father's affairs. In this changing world something 
 may, and, I hope, will, yet happen to restore Leonce and you
 
 JESUIT EXKCUTORSHIP. 90 
 
 to each other ; and then, to know that your filial sacrifice has 
 been tributary to the happiness of a beloved parent, will render 
 your own blessed indeed. 
 
 ' Papa and mamma appear to be in their usual health, though 
 sadly out of their element here. "We are hurrying to Paris, in 
 the hope of being in time to witness the marriage ceremony of 
 the Due de Berri, at the Tuileries, with a Neapolitan princess. 
 
 ' I know not how we shall arrange a future correspondence 
 with you, dearest Nelly. There are so many impediments on 
 the Continent, I am told, to a safe and regular transit of letters, 
 except by our ambassadors' bags, which only in Paris or Vienna 
 could be readily obtained, that you must not be alarmed if you 
 do not hear from us regularly. Forget not our reverential 
 regards to the bishop, nor how much I am, my dearest sister, 
 
 4 Your ever devoted 
 
 ' DORA.' 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 ALTHOTTGH I knew beforehand what must take place, yet a 
 new feeling of isolation ran through my frame, when I was first 
 informed of the actual embarkation for a foreign shore of those 
 dear relatives from whom, for the first time, I had been so lately 
 severed. Every relic of them and of our deserted home became 
 doubly dear to me. Rover was caressed with tears, and the low, 
 tender whine with which he recognised them seemed comfort to 
 my heart. Even my pony, as I spoke to him of the stable and 
 manger that he would see no more, responded by a gentle neigh ; 
 while the groom, touched by the recollections of his late home, 
 patted the pony fondly, and, with solemn earnestness, promised 
 me that ' Daffy ' should be cared for like a child. 
 
 Mary my good and affectionate Mary, who entered into all 
 my home-sorrows would have been spoilt at this time, if 
 indulgence could have spoilt her. I was very thankful for these 
 remnants of happiness departed ; although I sometimes became 
 cold and inanimate as marble, if, sitting alone unoccupied, I fell 
 into retrospection of what, at that time, seemed my long life.
 
 100 TIKI.KX MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 This proneness to reverie, so baneful to health, and so subver- 
 sive of the resolutions I had formed for the government of 
 myself, I generally endeavoured, though not ahvuys with sunv-s 
 to avoid by a constant variety of occupation and exercise. Mary, 
 like most country girls, knew something of managing a ln>r<e ; 
 and with a little instruction, she soon became proficient enough 
 in riding to accompany me in this daily exercise, which I had 
 never enjoyed when attended only by a groom. 
 
 I seldom saw my uncle oftener than once a day sometimes 
 but once a week, according as his duties, which were generally 
 absorbing, occupied him. As my uncle scarcely ever dined 
 with me, my table was accustomed to be served for myself 
 alone ; and although I felt, at first, like a prisoner immured for 
 some offence, and cut off from sympathy with his kind, I 
 became at length satisfied with eating alone. At first my table 
 was luxuriantly covered, but I could not approve of this sort of 
 parade ; and by expostulation with the housekeeper, the supplies 
 were simplified, so as better to suit the taste of youth and health. 
 
 My uncle possessed an ample income, and seemed to consider 
 it due to his dignity that his niece should be surrounded by 
 profusion and show; while in his own personal gratifications, 
 the poorest priest in his diocese was not more abstinent and 
 self-denying. This trait in his character inspired me with rever- 
 ence, and induced me to aim at emulating it. 
 
 I was not long permitted to pursue without interruption the 
 quiet way of life I had proposed to myself, as no sooner were the 
 female friends of my uncle aware of my having been adopted 
 by him, than they hastened to pay homage to him by attentions 
 to his niece. He had no very near neighbours, but Cork and its 
 vicinity supplied me with a constant succession of morning 
 visitors, who, as the season for social entertainments arrived, 
 covered my table with invitations, and sought me with an ardor 
 BO flattering, that, much as I was desirous of framing excuses 
 for declining their proffered hospitalities, I felt it would be 
 ungrateful, both to my uncle and his friends, not to accept them. 
 
 The first entrance of a novice into society is always an experi- 
 ment upon herself, but an experiment also on the world around 
 her.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 101 
 
 The courtesies of the festive scene, although I had been, 
 accustomed to behold them in my father's house, were seen 
 there only with the eye of a child, who bore no part in them, 
 and who contemplated them but as a spectacle to amuse her. 
 Now that I had become, a sharer in them, I was charmed with 
 the importance they appeared to confer on me, but far more 
 with the solace they offered to my heart, so long as I construed 
 them to mean kindness. They diminished in value as their con- 
 ventional character betrayed itself, and I was compelled to 
 perceive there was nothing intrinsic in them. Only my inexpe- 
 rience could have led me into the error of believing them to be 
 indications of attachment. Nevertheless, my heart was lacerated 
 and thrown back upon itself, when the illusion was dispelled. 
 
 Eventually, I discovered that I was not formed for what is 
 called pleasure, and that the pursuit of it was but strenuous 
 idleness, which, while exciting, was unsatisfying, leaving its 
 votary without purpose, vapid, querulous, and unthankful yes, 
 and ungrateful, too, for although I was praised and admired 
 beyond all reason and moderation, I was dissatisfied. I wanted 
 something more than to be entitled one of the ' Graces,' or to 
 be pronounced a ' Psyche,' or to be told that I was an ' enchan- 
 tress.' Even sonnets to my * eyes of violet,' my ' locks of 
 auburn,' or my ' nose of more worth than a kingdom,' did not 
 interest me. I know not how it was, but these epithets 
 ungrateful as I was sounded like mockery, and I wanted some 
 one to whom, on my return from an assembly, I could relate all 
 the extravagances that had been- addressed to me, and with 
 whom I might have laughed or wept, as mirth or melancholy 
 was in the ascendant. 
 
 The day after a ball, I had so many anonymous love-letters 
 that I began to be afraid, at a succeeding party, to reply to the 
 various rattle addressed to me in dancing, lest I might get, una- 
 wares, entangled in an engagement. But there was no retreat- 
 ing until the end of the season, as it was my uncle's will that I 
 should see something of the world, as he was pleased to call 
 the assemblies of Cork. 
 
 Towards the end of the season, an incident occurred in 
 which my feelings were deeply interested.
 
 102 HELEX MULGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 A very distinguished Parisian artist had been introduced into 
 some of the circles in which I visited, who was so inu<jh lauded 
 and courted by everybody, that I could not avoid observing him. 
 He was never introduced to me, but I observed his eyes so con- 
 stantly following me, that his incessant observance became like 
 a persecution. I was sometimes on the point of shedding tears 
 at it, so much did it affect my imagination. Very soon, 
 however, he disappeared ; I did not ask whither he had gone, 
 and I forgot him. 
 
 One day, some time after, as I was driving through Cork in 
 one of my uncle's carriages, I saw a painting of a full-length 
 female figure, at a shop window, which seemed, at the first 
 glance, so familiar to me, that I looked intently at it, when, to 
 my great astonishment, I discovered it was a painting of myself. 
 A crowd of persons was standing before the picture, commen- 
 ting on it, and amongst them some young men whom I knew, 
 who, on recognising me, flew to the carriage window, exclaiming 
 sportively, that a ' divine-looking creature,' resembling me, was 
 then receiving the homage of the mob. 
 
 I was excessively annoyed, and drove on as fast as possible, 
 complaining to my uncle, on my arrival at home, of what had 
 occurred, and begging him to ascertain how such an imperti- 
 ence could have originated, as that of making me a public 
 gazing-stock, without my permission or knowledge. 
 
 How little did I suspect the author of this offence ! It proved, 
 however to be the French artist, whom I have already men- 
 tioned, and who had been sent to Cork by Monsieur de Gram- 
 mont, expressly to obtain a likeness of me for himself not 
 certainly to be exhibited to the public of Cork. 
 
 My uncle's interference for the removal of the picture from a 
 public window became unnecessary, as by the time his messenger 
 had reached the place of exhibition, both picture and painter 
 were crossing the Channel. Some of my friends had remon- 
 strated with the artist previous to his departure, for the offensive 
 publicity which had been given to the painting, who excused 
 himself by saying that he had exhibited it solely to test the 
 resc'inblance, and the experiment had satisfied him, by the 
 recognition it had obtained.
 
 JESUIT EXECCTOUSnil'. 103 
 
 When I learnt for whom this painting had been made, what 
 a rush of rapturous sensations filled my heart ! What did not 
 this incident imply of constancy in the sentiments of Leonce! 
 I blessed the accident that had made me acquainted with it, not 
 doubting that this mute resemblance would plead for me iu 
 absence, and prevent me from being forgotten ; for although I 
 confided fully in Leouce, as though I had exchanged vows of 
 marriage with him, yet, holding no kind of intercourse with 
 him, anxious thoughts would sometimes assail me for the falli- 
 bility of human memory. 
 
 I had reason to regret my too jealous pride in complaining to 
 my uncle of the exposure of my picture, as it furnished him 
 with an apparent cause for attributing ' indelicacy and imperti- 
 nence' to Monsieur de Grammont qualities which, he said, were 
 characteristic of Protestants all over the world, who never knew 
 how to reverence anything, except their own ' peculiar and 
 damning heresies.' 
 
 I did not venture to palliate or explain what he condemned, as 
 it was too painful to me to hear Monsieur de Grammont thus 
 spoken of, and I had no hope of convincing my uncle of the 
 wrong he did him. 
 
 The visiting season was not yet over, and my uncle, irritated 
 by the affair of the picture, resolved that I should not again 
 appear in public in any dress I had worn during the preceding 
 part of the season. Without my being consulted, a London 
 modiste was engaged to furnish me with new and costly dresses, 
 in which I was destined to eclipse myself, as well as my com- 
 peers, thus asserting my own superiority and my uncle's prodi- 
 gality. It was not without anxie.ty that I heard of this prepara- 
 tion for a distinction which I did not covet ; it would have been 
 more agreeable to me to have been attired simply as ^hitherto, 
 so as not to attract attention, as it always intimidated me to find 
 myself distinguished by anything strikingly ditferent from those 
 around me. In this case, the London costumes provided for me 
 were so far in advance of the newest modes "of Cork, as to be 
 very remarkable, and although it was impossible not to admire 
 their perfect elegance, I felt that I was too young to take the 
 lead in fashion, and too timid to bear the censures which an 
 assumption was certain, to bring on me.
 
 104 HE LEX MCI.GUAVB; OK, 
 
 I ventured to express somewhat of this to my uncle, but it 
 only made him more determined to distinguish rne, and show 
 the world his opinion of what was due to his neice. I suspected 
 that he had another motive : perhaps I did him wrong ; but from 
 some expressions which one day escaped him, I thought he was 
 desirous of making me conspicuous for vanity, so as to render 
 me offensive to Monsieur de Grammont, who he presumed would 
 hear of my display, and thus be rent from me by my own folly. 
 
 The incident of the painting had incensed him to a great 
 degree, and filled him with vague apprehensions, so that he 
 could not be persuaded but that Monsieur de Grammont was 
 living disguised in our neighbourhood, and keeping a perpetual 
 vigil on me. Under this impression, he gave me peremptory 
 orders never to stir* out of the house without the attendance of 
 two men servants. The restraint which this requirement 
 imposed on me put an end to my pleasant country walks with 
 Mary, and even to my saunterings in the park and garden, 
 whither I found myself constantly pursued, as though I had 
 been insane. I soon learnt that even when I attended a party I 
 was to be accompanied by my uncle, or a priest of his house- 
 hold. 
 
 I was so frightened by this perpetual parade of looking after 
 me, and so apprehensive that it might end in putting me into a 
 convent for life, that I wrote to my aunt in London, telling her 
 of my position and my fears, and begging her to invite me to 
 her house. She replied that she would, immediately do as I 
 requested her, although she feared it would prove useless, as she 
 thought the bishop's plans for me were formed, and would 
 require me to remain where I was. I never heard from her 
 again on the subject. 
 
 Every letter addressed to me, from whatever quarter, was 
 externally examined^ and inquired about, before I was allowed 
 to open it, and then only in the presence of my uncle. As I 
 had no correspondents but amongst my own dear family, there 
 were no discoveries to make ; but it mortified me to be obliged 
 to expose the many anonymous and foolish love-letters which 
 etill continued to be addressed to me, both in verse and prose. 
 
 The first time I wore one of my London dresses, my uncle 
 inspected my appearance before I went out, and informed me
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR6HIP. 105 
 
 that he should join the party to which I was going for half-an- 
 hour before it broke up, and himself bring me home. I had 
 hitherto been accustomed to be attended inside the carriage 
 only by Mary, whom I had always considered sufficient to aftbrd 
 me ample protection. However, there could be no possible 
 objection to a double guard, if it was thought necessary, and I 
 submitted with as good a grace as I could to a priest's seating 
 himself by the side of Mary. 
 
 The incident of the picture had become known to the whole 
 circle, on the evening in question, by the time I reached the 
 assembly ; so that I now appeared in a new character, every ( 
 one looking upon me as an engaged person, which delivered me 
 from much of the excessive attention that had hitherto been 
 paid me by those whom I suspected of beingthe authors of the 
 anonymous love-letters. 
 
 "When my uncle arrived, with his attendant priests, he created 
 a great sensation in the circle, and seemed in unusual health 
 and spirits. After greeting his friends, he took my arm, and 
 drawing it within his, desired me, as we walked round the room, 
 to point out to him those young men whom I supposed to have 
 written the silly letters he had seen. 
 
 I was so terrified at the idea of being called upon to turn 
 informer thus at random against those from whom I had received 
 only a ridiculous excess of homage, that it almost made me ill ; 
 for I was apprehensive that my uncle, under some impetuous or 
 eccentric impulse, might call them to account at a venture, on 
 the spot. I was so agitated as to be obliged to sit down ; and 
 drawing my uncle away to the most obscure corner I could find, 
 
 ^prevailed on,him to take a seat by my side. From this nook he 
 again required me to point out those in the assembly who had 
 
 . been most attentive to me. 
 
 I evaded his requirement by telling him that it would be 
 invidious in me to make distinctions, where every one had 
 shown me so much courtesy. He was not satisfied with this 
 reply ; and I earnestly hoped within myself never to attend 
 another of these "parties, since every frivolity was to be thus 
 scrutinized and accounted for, and perhaps impressed with a 
 
 'meaning which had never been dreamt of. 
 
 5*
 
 106 HELEN MCLGRAVE; OR, 
 
 My head was bewildered, and my ordinary perception at a 
 stand, in trying to discern my uncle's object in all his perplexing 
 questionings and embarrassing arrangements for my safety. Ob- 
 servation was ever on me, and those around me were ' taking 
 notes',' 
 
 I had not heard from my family for some time, but as we 
 arrived at home after the party I have mentioned, a letter from 
 Paris was awaiting me, from my sister Dora. It was dated four 
 months back, for although destined for the ambassador's bag, it 
 had not come by that conveyance, and had probably been mis- 
 sent, as it had been so long detained on its way. 
 
 Considering the prevalent practice at that time of break- 
 ing seals in the Paris post-office, it surprised me, when I had 
 read the saucy co^ents of my sister's letter, that it had ever 
 reached me at all ; but there was a freedom of speech in Parisian 
 society, after the second return of Louis XVIII., respecting^ tho 
 royalties of the day, which would not in ordinary times have 
 been tolerated. 
 
 My father's party had been presented at the court of the 
 Tuileries, and been very flatteringly received, as all British sub- 
 jects were at that time, by the royal family of France. Dora 
 expressed in her letter an apprehension that papa and mamma 
 were*not in their usual health. They were, she said, fatigued 
 and dispirited by perpetual movement and the discomforts of 
 change, but they were looking forward to a period of repose 
 when they reached Vienna. My sister still dated from the h6tel 
 of my uncle the Count de Carryfort, by whom the whole family 
 had been entertained, during a long visit, with true Irish 
 hospitality. 
 
 Their stay in Paris was to be continued but a very short time 
 longer, and my sister's marriage had been deferred until the 
 arrival of the party at Vienna. Sir Lucius Mac Neil had pre- 
 ceded them thither, to apprise my uncle, the baron, of the time 
 when he might expect his gtlests, and also to make arrangements 
 for his own sojourn there. 
 
 The priest suspected of being the accomplice of Margaret 
 Brian, was encountered by my father in one of the streets of 
 Paris; but as he endeavoured to seize liiiii, there was a ix-cogni-
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 107 
 
 tion on the part of the priest, which induced him to take to his 
 heels; and he being no doubt well acquainted with the hiding- 
 places of Paris, was out of sight in a moment. M. de Carry tort 
 had been already informed of the affair of the stolen jewels, 
 and of the parties suspected of abstracting them; and IIONV* that 
 one of them had been seen in the streets, he advised my father 
 to apply at once to the police, and require aid for the discovery 
 of the priest. Within a week lie was found ; but, too wise to 
 await an investigation, he took refuge in the protection of the 
 church, from which it would have been impossible, without a 
 process of law, to withdraw him. My father demanded him of, 
 his ecclesiastical superiors, on the ground of a felony having 
 been committed in Ireland, in which he was suspected of- being 
 an actor. 
 
 But they asserted their right to withhold him, and vindicated 
 the offence alleged in a way that indicated some knowledge of 
 the circumstances of the case; and concluded by telling my 
 father that, by the civil law of France there was no redress 
 there for a felony committed in another country, even if it could 
 be proved. It was therefore thought necessary to await the 
 chances of the future ; and make no further attempt, at pre- 
 sent, for the discovery of the criminals. 
 
 The terms in which Dora had spoken of the health of my 
 father and mother filled me with anxiety, nor could I persuade 
 myself but that they must be seriously unwell. On the follow- 
 ing morning, however, a very cheerful letter arrived from my 
 father to my uncle, informing him of the party's having reached 
 Vienna, and of the unbounded warmth and welcome with which 
 they had been received by my mother's brother, whom she had 
 not before seen since her marriage. 
 
 It would have been difficult for me to decide whether pain or 
 pleasure predominated, after perusing such memorials of a sepa- 
 ration which more than ever realized the certainty of the 
 distance that intervened betwixt us.
 
 108 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 _ CHAPTER XII. 
 
 \w 
 
 IT was about a fortnight after this period that I was again 
 engaged to an evening party in the vicinity of Cork. It was 
 professedly to bo a small and select party ; but rumour said that 
 it would be given with unusual splendour. 
 
 My uncle was amongst the invited guests, and I received from 
 him directions to attire myself in one of my London dresses, 
 with great care. I obeyed his directions, and succeeded in 
 dressing myself perfectly to his satisfaction. 
 
 There was some unusual parade on this occasion in the 
 arrangements for our drive, though it was not longer than five 
 miles. A new chariot and four of my uncle's, fitted with patent 
 lamps, and brilliantly lighted, was brought to the door of the 
 hall, preceded by the old coach, bearing the attendant priests of 
 the household. Mary, who was always anxious to see the wraps 
 provided for my return put carefully into the carriage with me, 
 was standing in the hall, as my uncle took my hand to lead me 
 out. 
 
 It was the ordinary time for the arrival of the post, and a 
 servant stepped quickly across the hall from an inner door, just 
 at that moment, with the accustomed salver of letters, which 
 he presented to my uncle, inquiring if he should carry them to 
 his study. As my uncle glanced at them, he observed a large 
 packet with a black seal on it, and instantly dropping my hand, 
 seized the portentous-looking letter, and hurried with it through 
 the library into his private study. 
 
 I had caught a glimpse of the black seal, and was . following 
 him without knowing that I did so. As he was cu>sing the 
 study door, he turned to me, and said, mildly, ' Be not alarmed, 
 my dear ; I will let you know if there is anything here that 
 concerns you.' 
 
 I saw, however, that ha was agitated doubtless he had 
 recognised the po^t-mark. I had waited in fearful silence many
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 109 
 
 minutes, leaning on the arm of Mary, when I heard stifled 
 exclamations and bursts of feeling from the study, which told 
 me but too truly, that whatever the contents of the letter, they 
 must be terrible to my uncle, as he was not wont on ordinary 
 occasions to suffer from immoderate feeling. 
 
 My thoughts were already in Vienna, but I tore them away ; 
 for it was not endurable to suppose there could be any connexion 
 betwixt the black seal and it. Nevertheless, my apprehensions 
 were agonising, and I knelt down, almost prostrate on the floor, 
 as if in that attitude I could better bear whatever infliction 
 might await me. Mary reminded me that my uncle had a large 
 circle of correspondents, and his lordship, she said, must have 
 many friends whom I knew not. It was therefore probable 
 that his violent emotions might be caused by some occurrence 
 wholly unconnected witti his own family. 
 
 I was willing to think that she was right, and that it was 
 indeed premature, if not ridiculous, for me to agitate myself 
 with my own imaginings. 
 
 I arose and moved across the room, nearer to the study door, 
 and again heard groans and sobs. ' Mary,' said I, softly, 'it is 
 worse than you imagine!' I leant over the back of a chair, in 
 a paroxysm of suspense and fear. 
 
 The study door opened I was full in front of it and lifting 
 up my head, I saw my uncle, pale as death, standing in the door- 
 way, in an attitude of distraction. As his eyes met mine, he 
 exclaimed, in a voice of passionate emotion, ' Go ! child of the 
 dead ! Cover thyself with sackcloth, and put ashes on thy 
 beautiful head ! for thy father " lieth down, and riseth not again, 
 until the heavens be no more !" ' 
 
 As these terrible and too descriptive words fell on my ear, 
 they pierced my soul ; my heart was rent a shriek of horror 
 burst from me I felt myself falling, and for a brief space I 
 escaped frdm consciousness. 
 
 ******* 
 
 But it too soon returned, and although in the first moments 
 of recovery I was insensible 'to what had occurred, and gazed 
 vacantly on those around me, the dreadful reality was soon 
 recalled, and with it came to my recollection a former awaking
 
 1 10 HELEN MULGRAVK ; OR, 
 
 from a similar death, when a dear mother and sisters hung over 
 me, and a beloved father's voice greeted my recovery. 
 
 Then came on the hour of quick, conscious, overwhelming 
 agony, from which I could not again escape into insensibility, 
 although I desired it as ardently as one of old, who in his anguish 
 exclaimed, 'Oh that thou wouldst hide me in the grave!' 
 
 But we cannot die when we would ; we must wait * till our 
 change come.' I refused all restoratives, all aid, whispering to 
 Mary that I would be alone. It was not without effort that she 
 succeeded in obtaining this boon for me, but after awhile I was 
 left to silence and to prayer. It is in such moments that we draw 
 near to God, in such moments that the suppliant sufferer finds 
 access to him, and that Divine compassion stoops to listen to his 
 
 sighs. 
 
 * * v * * * 
 
 Oh, how many days, and weeks, and months, must the lace- 
 rated heart continue to bleed, under such a bereavement as 
 mine, ere it can accustom itself to the loss I Amongst the many 
 afflicting events that have since marked my lot, none ever in- 
 flicted severer pangs than those caused by my dear father's death. 
 
 It was only the divine doctrine of the resurrection that sus- 
 tained me under my affliction at this period. I had never before 
 reflected on it with a feeling of personal interest in it, or attach- 
 ed to it that immense importance which it bears in the system 
 of Christianity. ' He shall rise again,' are Divine words, which 
 I repeated to my heart whenever it began afresh to sink ; and 
 although I well knew, from the tenor of the New Testament, 
 that the state of my dear father must be fixed, yet so agonizingly 
 did I desire his eternal happiness, that I could not but join in the 
 prayers that were offered for the repose of his soul, as if they 
 had been those of faith. It was not in the spirit of Popery that 
 I did this : my aspirations were but the irrepressible outpourings 
 of love and apprehension for an earthly parent, to that Almighty 
 Father in Heaven whose compassions are infinite. 
 
 The offices of religion had become far more than ever neces- 
 sary to me ; I could not live without them. I needed to be 
 brought into hourly intercourse with Him who is invisible, that 
 I might lean upon his everlasting arm, and be saved fruin myself,
 
 JESUIT KXECUTORSHIP. Ill 
 
 and from that feeling of nothingness into which I was for ever 
 sinking. Under this want of Divine aid, I often found myself 
 worshipping in a church against whose many and signal errors 
 my understanding and my conscience continued to bear the most 
 decided testimony. But in remembering the character * and 
 requirements 'of Him with whom we have to do, I became satis- 
 fied, that as I could not, at that time, worship him in any other 
 church, I might, like Naaman the Syrian, when his duty to an 
 earthly power carried him ' to the house of Rimmon,' be also 
 forgiven, and go in the assurance of that forgiveness, although no 
 prophet's voice had said to me, as to him, ' Go in peace.' 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 SEVEHAL weeks had passed, during which I received letters 
 from my sisters ; but they did not contribute to my tranquillity, 
 as they imparted none of those particulars preceding and accom- 
 panying the event of my father's death which it would have 
 been so gratifying to me to know. My sisters were, indeed, evi- 
 dently too distracted by their grief to be able to dilate on the 
 subject, or even to write tranquilly on it ; and in this I saw an 
 aggravation of the* calamity. Of my mother I learnt nothing, 
 but that she was overwhelmed by the stroke ; and Sir Lucius 
 Mac Neil almost a brother was not named or alluded to. 
 
 My uncle, meantime, began to exhibit serious symptoms of 
 declining health. He had never recovered the shock of my 
 father's death, and had, indeed, become a very altered man in 
 all respects since that event, and his present appearance and 
 symptoms inspired me with the deepest anxiety. 
 
 He frequently spent his evenings with me, and would some- 
 times converse freely respecting my family and their future pros- 
 pects. My brother was not yet of age, and accounts of a painful 
 nature respecting his health and conduct had more than once 
 been communicated by my mother, previous to my father's
 
 112 HELEN MULGKAVa; OR, 
 
 death, so that we were not without considerable uneasiness on 
 his account. 
 
 My uncle's health did not improve with the season of spring, 
 and I frequently visited his apartments, to pay him those atten- 
 tions which my affection and anxiety for him dictated. The 
 practice had grown into a habit, when one day, on entering his 
 study, I found there a gentleman who was a stranger to me. I 
 was making a precipitate retreat, when my uncle commanded 
 me to return, and at the same instant introduced Mr. Fitzgerald 
 to me, who addressed me at once with so easy an air of assurance, 
 that I could not but feel displeased. He was young and hand- 
 some, but there was an expression in his eye which made me 
 shrink from his glance. I was not long in finding a pretext for 
 withdrawing, but Mr. Fitzgerald remained with my uncle a long 
 time after I had left the room, and on the same evening, my 
 uncle formally sent to desire my attendance in his study. I 
 obeyed the summons, and found him more indisposed and more 
 serious than usual. 
 
 After recognising my entrance by a slight nod, he sat looking 
 into the fire, as if in deep and painful rumination. I did not 
 presume to interrupt him by making any inquiries, and he at 
 length broke a silence which was becoming portentous to me, by 
 saying, 
 
 ' This has been a day of events, my dear Helen, and some of 
 them of a distressing nature ; but we are not the arbiters of 
 destiny, and can neither prevent nor ward off that which has 
 been appointed for us.' 
 
 ' What has happened, my dear uncle ? Have you received 
 any intelligence from Germany ? Is my mother ill or my bro- 
 ther worse ?' I asked, with a trembling heart. 
 
 ' I have received letters,' said my uncle. 
 
 ' Are there none for me ?' 
 
 ' Yes, there are also letters for you ; but I wish to prepare 
 you for their contents. Your brother ' 
 
 My uncle paused, unable to finish his sentence. I anticipated 
 all he would say, but could not make any rejoinder. In a falter- 
 ing tone, he added 
 
 ' Your brother ia iiu more !'
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR8HIP. 113 
 
 After a short pause, he continued, ' By his death, the estate 
 goes to your uncle in London ; and your mother and sisters are, 
 by this terrible event, robbed of every pecuniary resource, 
 except your mother's small hereditary property. You see, my 
 dear Helen, and feel too, how distressing these melancholy occur- 
 rences, one after another, must be to your poor mother and sis- 
 ters. It is well, at this period of calamities, that they are with 
 your uncle the baron, at Vienna. Providence is also merciful to 
 us, in sending the good to balance the evil ; in proof of which, I 
 have to communicate to you information which, though it can- 
 not at this moment interest you as much as it might at another 
 time, will not, I hope, displease you. I have this day received 
 for you an offer of marriage, from a young man whom I greatly 
 approve, and to whom I wish almost as well as I do to you. I 
 hope, therefore, that when you become acquainted with him, you 
 will find him agreeable enough for a husband.' 
 
 My uncle paused for a reply, but I could make none; my 
 faculties were completely stunned. 
 
 ' You must excuse my announcing, in one interview, such dis- 
 cordant occurrences, my dear child ; I do not feel well, and my 
 mind is greatly affected by the adversities that have befallen 
 your family. It is my intention to do all in my power to miti- 
 gate them ; and there are circumstances in my health, which 
 admonish me, that in accomplishing this I ought to lose no 
 time.' 
 
 A painful silence succeeded this last speech, interrupted only 
 by my sobs and tears, which I had no power to restrain. I 
 know not how my uncle was occupied, for I did not uncover my 
 eyes ; but after pacing some time up and down the room with 
 an agitated step, he rang for Mrs. O'Grady, at whose appearance 
 he kissed me.tenderly, and confiding me to her care, desired her 
 to accompany me to my own rooms. 
 
 Events appeared to be conducting the fortunes of my family 
 to a frightful crisis. My father and brother both dead tlio 
 estate lost to the family and my mother and sisters reduced 
 thereby to comparative indigence ; my uncle in declining health, 
 and myself called on to make an immediate decision on a ques- 
 tion which could not but be most repugnant to me, how much
 
 114 HELEN MULGKAVE; OR, 
 
 soever insisted on by my uncle. Had I not already had some 
 experience in suffering, I should have sunk under it. 
 
 I dismissed Mrs. O'Grady, and in the solitude of my own 
 apartment gained sufficient fortitude to peruse my letters. They 
 informed me but too soon of the cause of my brother's death. 
 He had been killed on the spot in a duel, his antagonist surviving 
 him only a few hours. How much cause did I find in such a 
 death for that grief which admits of no consolation ! I dared 
 not reflect on it, and I almost equally feared to turn to the pecu- 
 niary distresses of my mother. 
 
 My uncle, like myself, passed a sleepless night ; and in the 
 morning appeared to be more indisposed than he had been the 
 day before. 
 
 He renewed the subject of the marriage proposal with an 
 earnestness of manner that made me afraid to express the deter- 
 mination I had formed to decline it, although my repugnance 
 became, if possible, stronger, when I was informed that my 
 suitor was Mr. Fitzgerald. 
 
 I now remembered to have seen him at the winter balls, 
 although he had never been introduced to me ; and in the inter- 
 val that had elapsed, he had entirely faded from my memory. 
 
 It was impossible for any suit to have been advocated with 
 more z^al, by a third person, than was Mr. Fitzgerald's by my 
 uncle ; but the state both of my affections and my family affairs 
 rendered it an odious subject to my thoughts, and nothing but 
 the too visible indisposition of my uncle could have induced me 
 to remain in his society while he made it the theme of his con- 
 versation. 
 
 I endeavoured to convince him that not only was I disinclined 
 to think at all of marriage, but that Mr. Fitzgerald was by no 
 means the man I could ever accept as a husband. . 
 
 This assertion, made perhaps in too decided terms, irritated 
 my uncle ; and he reproached me with my partiality for Protest- 
 ants and foreigners as the cause of my dislike. Then, regarding 
 me with a fixed seriousness of look, while great depression was 
 marked on his face, he addressed me in a solemn tone, as nearly 
 as I can recollect, in the following words : ' My dear Helen, 
 when your father gave you to me, I engaged to be to you what
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 115 
 
 lie had it not in his power to be the provider for your future 
 life. The misfortunes that have happened to your mother and 
 sisters in his death, and subsequently in the loss of the estate by 
 the death of your brother, have rendered the fulfilment of my 
 engagement more difficult than I had supposed it would be. 
 Had I only you to provide for, I could leave you a fortune suffi- 
 cient to secure you an ample independence, and consequently 
 your freedom on the subject of marriage. But now, situated as 
 your mother and sisters are, it is incumbent on me to divide that 
 property which was intended to have been wholly yours, 
 amongst you all. I had begun to feel a distressing anxiety on 
 account of the necessity of thus reducing your station in life, 
 when Mr. Fitzgerald made a proposal of marriage for you. I 
 hailed this occurrence as an intervention of Providence on your 
 behalf, as well as mine ; for Mr. Fitzgerald is in possession of an 
 income of ten thousand per annum, and will make a competent 
 settlement on you ; which, in addition to what I shall still be 
 able to do for you, will place you in very easy circumstances, 
 and enable you to retain that consideration in society to which 
 you are entitled. Fitzgerald is well-born, well connected, well 
 educated, and, I believe, "without vices ; and to crown all, he 
 seems to have been deeply impressed in your favour, my dear 
 Helen,' said my uncle, smiling, ' since he has cherished in gilence 
 an attachment formed two or three months since.' 
 
 ' But, my dear uncle, I do not like Mr. Fitzgerald ; and I assure 
 you I would rather live single my whole life than marry him. I 
 have no desire to marry at present : it could not increase my 
 happiness, and it would, besides, take me from you. Inform Mr. 
 Fitzgerald of my sentiments, and assure him that I am too inca- 
 pable of attachment to be worthy of "him. He has my best 
 wishes for his happiness.' 
 
 My uncle shook his head angrily. 
 
 ' How like a simpleton you talk,' said he. ' What are you to 
 do when your uncle, as well as your father and brother, is no 
 more ? Look at me, child ; do you not see disease in my coun- 
 tenance ? Do you not know that death is in its train ? Have 
 you reflected on what it would be for you to be left in this jost- 
 ling world without a male protector? To whom will you look
 
 116 HELEN ML'LGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 to stand between yon and those rapacious spirits that are ever 
 on the watch to make a prey of the defenceless? Were you 
 married to Fitzgerald, you might oft'er l>oth a protector and ail 
 asylum to your mother and sisters ; and in making the happiness 
 of an excellent man, you would become the dispenser of it to 
 your whole circle. One thing I demand of you, in the name of 
 that parent who is not here to require it for himself, that you 
 will, at least, receive the visits of Fitzgerald in my apartments, 
 and in my society, and thus give yourself an opportunity of 
 becoming acquainted with him, and of ascertaining his merits 
 that you may not throw away a gem in ignorance of its value. 
 I am quite aware of the present state of your feelings, as well as 
 of the unsuitableness of the moment for entertaining such a sub- 
 ject ; but I have already given you my reasons for my reluct- 
 ance to postpone it. Good God ! the very idea of your being 
 left without a home, and without a guide, subdues and destroys 
 me. I give you two days to reflect on what I have said. I 
 know that in a well-principled mind, duty is paramount to 
 everything, and I anticipate your acquiescence in my require- 
 ment.' 
 
 So saying, he dismissed me to my apartment. My uncle was 
 not mistaken in thinking me capable of sacrificing inclination to 
 duty, provided the duty were ascertained; but in this case I 
 could not discern how it had become my duty to barter at once 
 sincerity, delicacy, and propriety, by receiving the visits of a 
 man who was disagreeable to me, for the deliberate purpose ol 
 endeavouring to cultivate a sentiment which I felt it would be 
 impossible for me to entertain. 
 
 Besides which, although it was a long time since I had heard 
 anything of Monsieur de Grammont, except in the affair of the 
 picture, and it had wounded me deeply that he had not addressed 
 a single line of condolence, either to my uncle or myself, on the 
 occasion of my father's death, yet I doubted not of the con- 
 stancy of his attachment to me, nor could I root from my heart 
 the tenderness he had inspired. I did not then know, nor for 
 years after, that he had not omitted the dues of courtesy on this 
 occasion ; but that he had written a note to me, and with, a 
 delicacy which belonged to all he did, had enclosed it, unsealed,
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 117 
 
 in an address to ray uncle, entreating him to hand it to me. My 
 uncle had thought proper to suppress it, and to withhold from 
 me all knowledge of the occurrence. 
 
 I ruminated day and night, of the interval allotted me for con- 
 sideration, uncertain in what way to communicate to my uncle, 
 in the least offensive manner, the determination I had funned 
 from the first, to reject Mr. Fitzgerald's proposals. The more I 
 reflected, the more I was convinced that it was as incompatible 
 with honour as with inclination, and the consideration due to 
 Mr. Fitzgerald, to suffer any further intercourse to take place, 
 seeing there was no probability of my ever being able to realize 
 the object proposed by it. 
 
 I imparted this conviction to my uncle by note, hoping that 
 this mode of conveying my sentiments might prevent a renewal 
 of the subject in conversation. 
 
 The expedient proved most disastrous. My note was no 
 sooner perused, than it threw my uncle into a fit of anger, such 
 as I had until then thought it impossible for him to be liable to 
 under any circumstances. 
 
 No doubt much of the irritation was attributable to the state 
 of his health, and his extreme anxiety on my account, although 
 it was also evident that, unaccustomed to opposition, the pride 
 of authority had been wounded by my resistance to his will. 
 
 It was about an hour after I had sent my note, that a servant 
 came running into my room, in great alarm, to beg that I would 
 go instantly to 'the bishop, who, he said, appeared to be so ill 
 that he almost feared he was dying. 
 
 The recollection of my note filled me with terror ; and fearing 
 that to intrude on my uncle uncalled for, in the first moments 
 of his disple'asure, might but increase rather than appease his 
 agitation, I inquired if his lordship had sent me any message, 
 and was informed that he was unable to speak. This intelligence 
 put all my discretion to flight. Scarcely able to control my 
 fears, I flew down stairs, and passing into his house in breath- 
 less agitation, rushed into my uncle's study. 
 
 He had thrown himself into an arm-chair, and sat with his 
 head reclining on the back of it, while his left arm hung at its 
 length over the elbow of the chair, with the offensive note in
 
 118 HELEN MCLORAVE ; OR, 
 
 his hand. His eyes were closed, Lis features slightly convuK'd, 
 and his whole complexion pale as death, while his lower lip 
 quivered violently. I moderated my haste at the first glance <>f 
 him, and approached him softly. His appearance so shocked 
 me, that an exclamation of alarm, which I was not able to sup- 
 press, caused him to open his eyes. The moment he perceived 
 me, he drew himself up in his chair, and regarded me with an 
 air of such stern dignity as fixed me like a statue before him. 
 
 'Pray, Miss Mulgrave,' said he, with the most distinct articu- 
 lation, and in a sarcastic tone of voice, ' to what am I indebted 
 for the honour of your presence here? You have chosen to 
 adopt a new mode of intercourse with me, to which you should 
 be consistent enough to confine yourself.' 
 
 ' Oh, my dear uncle,' I exclaimed, throwing myself at his feet, 
 ' they told me you were very ill. How then could I coldly stand 
 on ceremony, and await your permission to visit you ? Indeed, 
 I fear you are very ill you look pale and agitated,' and as I 
 said this, I unconsciously threw a glance at the offensive note 
 still in his hand. The recognition did not escape him, but 
 seemed to renew his anger ; for with a most perturbed air, he 
 peremptorily desired me to rise and leave him. My distress on 
 his account, however, forbade my compliancej without an effort 
 to restore him to his wonted composure. 
 
 ' You are angry with me, my dear uncle,' said I, ' and you call 
 me Miss Mulgrave, as if I were no longer your affectionate and 
 devoted niece. What have I ' here my uncle 'interrupted me 
 with a sarcastic and bitter repetition of the words ' affectionate 
 and devoted.' 
 
 ' These are words of derision, I presume, Miss Mulgrave, if they 
 have any meaning at all. Persons who are " devoted and affec- 
 tionate," are not accustomed to treat with contempt the objects 
 of their affection and devotion to oppose their wishes disdain 
 their advice and set at naught their commands. But I shall 
 hold no further conference with a young lady whose acquies- 
 cence in a scheme of happiness, not of her own invention, 
 would be solicited in vain, even by a parent from another world. 
 I have nothing more to say, Miss Mulgrave ; you may retire.' 
 
 How deeply did I feel at that moment that it was not a parent
 
 SriT EZECCTORSHIP. 11& 
 
 with whom I was conversing. I arose instantly from before 
 him, and, retreating a few paces, said : ' It is perhaps impertinent 
 in me to attempt to reply to you, my lord, after having been 
 commanded from your presence. But it is necessary that I say 
 a few words in my own defence. I see that you are displeased 
 at the note I have addressed to you. I assure you it was not 
 without great pain that I yielded to the necessity of opposing 
 your wishes. It is unnecessary for me to remind your lordship, 
 that the affair on which you proffered me your permission to 
 deliberate, and on which I have endeavoured to exercise my best 
 judgment, is one-in which I am so deeply concerned, that 1 had 
 almost said, it is exclusively my own. And while I desire only 
 to live under your roof, and to devote myself to the precious 
 duties of your companion and nurse, surely you will not force 
 me from you, or witkhold that approbation, without which I 
 should live but to be wretched.' 
 
 ' Helen,' said my uncle, somewhat softened, ' you have cer- 
 tainly a woman's tongue in great perfection ; but it would please 
 me better if it were associated with a woman's sense. There are 
 few of your sex, situated as you are, who would be idiots 
 enough to refuse such an offer as Mr. Fitzgerald's ; nor can I per- 
 suade myself you can be sincere in the absurd communication 
 you have this morning made me, of what you are pleased to call 
 your decision. Am I to believe that you have determined on 
 being a beggar ? that you have calculated the distance between 
 the palace and the hovel and tlfat you think it an easy step 
 from the one to the other ? Or am I to consider the part you 
 are playing as a trial at diplomacy ? Do you think to enhance 
 the value of your compliance by the reluctance with which you 
 accompany it ? If this be your object, spare yourself the trou- 
 ble of pursuing it any further, with me at least, and reserve your 
 experiments for Fitzgerald, who will doubtless be able to institute 
 a counter-game, quite as subtle and quite as amusing.' 
 
 All this was uttered in a tone of such bitter irony, that I 
 burst into tears. My uncle was more moved by my tears than 
 by anything I had said, and, resuming his usual kindness of man- 
 ner, said, ' I see, my love, that you are sorry for what you have 
 written, and will consent to my throwing your note into the
 
 120 HELEN MULORAVB ; OR, 
 
 fire, and to meeting Fitzgerald to-day at dinner. Remember, 
 child, that your opposition will be of no use to you; although, 
 certainly, I would rather you should be convinced that your 
 compliance is but required to what is necessary to secure your 
 own happiness.' 
 
 I perceived, notwithstanding the milder language and tone of 
 my uncle, that I had approached the extremity of his forbear- 
 ance, and that a single word might exceed its bound. Yet 
 it appeared indispensable that I should make one effort more, in 
 firmness of spirit, to convince him that vacillation of mind had 
 not been the cause of my tears. . . 
 
 ' My lord,' said I, ' I am aware of the duty I owe you as my 
 uncle, and still more as my benefactor, and the representative 
 of a beloved parent, whom I shall never see again on earth. My 
 heart is deeply sensible of the ten thousand kindnesses I have 
 received at your hands, since the day I came under your roof I 
 am aware, also, that I can never repay them. But I have given 
 you all I have to give the reverence and the affection of my 
 heart. I am happy in living near you, and I want, now, no 
 other happiness, except that of seeing my mother and sisters, 
 through your bounty and goodness, as happy as I am myself. 
 If I have understood you aright, you have urged my acceptance 
 of Mr. Fitzgerald, in apprehenston of my being at sOrne future 
 time reduced below my present situation ; you will permit me to 
 say and attribute it not to a want of delicacy that I presume to 
 speak at all on such a subjdct I shall be quite satisfied with 
 whatever portion of your property you may be pleased to 
 bestow on me ; and that I shall be content, whenever necessary, 
 to contract my wants, so as neither to become destitute nor 
 embarrassed, how limited soever my future fortune may be. 
 Will not this assurance, my dear uncle, remove from your mind 
 the kind and too anxious concern you entertain respecting my 
 future lot ? And will you not kindly, and for ever, discard the 
 subject of Mr. Fitzgerald?' 
 
 ' Folly ! madness !' exclaimed my uncle, as he turned on me a 
 countenance distorted by anger. Do you suppose, Miss Mul- 
 grave, that I will suffer a young lady whom I have introduced to 
 the world as my niece and heiress, to sink down into the
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 121 
 
 obscurity you propose, and, when I am no more, blast my name 
 by the meanness of her condition, and rob my memory and my 
 ashes of the respect due to them ? No ! My resolution is taken. 
 You shall marry Fitzgerald, or I will disinherit and banish you 
 at once from my protection ; that, no longer identified with 
 me, you may not bring on me the disgrace which must arise 
 from your grovelling ideas of life and happiness ! I want no 
 reply : I will hear none. Fitzgerald dines here to-day. See 
 that you are properly dressed, and in time in the drawing- 
 room.' 
 
 Surprised and frightened, by this most sudden and violent 
 burst of passion, I remained for several minutes riveted to the 
 spot on which I stood, doubtful if I were really in my senses. 
 Was it possible that, from my uncle my pious and learned 
 uncle I had heard such an avowal of worldly feeling and per- 
 sonal pride ? 
 
 My whole sou] revolted against the despotism of his treatment, 
 and my self-love was in every way deeply wounded by it. 
 
 Henceforth, I was to consider myself as only the plaything of 
 his ambition a mere shuttlecock, crested with the borrowed 
 plumes of his dignity, and destined to be driven to and fro, in 
 any direction that might be pleasing to him or to Mr. Fitzgerald. 
 My heart swelled with indignation at the thought ; for the lesson, 
 of humility I had received had not humbled me. I felt that the 
 moment of fate had arrived, when perhaps my dear father's 
 injunction was no longer binding. I must at once, said I, 
 acquaint both my uncle and Mr. Fitzgerald that I am a Protest- 
 ant. Who knows but that such a revelation might induce the 
 latter to relinquish me? Upon second thoughts, this purpose 
 was abandoned, as the desecration of a sacred instrument to a 
 worldly purpose. No I will not make such an avowal, until I 
 can make it in a spirit of meekness and right feeling. But sure- 
 ly I may inform my uncle that my whole heart is devoted to 
 Monsieur de Grammont? Impossible that, knowing this, he 
 would compel me to utter the solemn vows of marriage to ano- 
 ther ? I must speak now, or be for ever lost. Yet how shall 
 I make such a disclosure to so severe and prejudiced an adver- 
 sary of Monsieur de Grammont ? Fears of a convent, however, 
 
 6
 
 122 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 or of its hated alternative, caused a rebound of feeling that 
 lii-jHvd my nerves. 
 
 While those thoughts had successively passed with lightning 
 speed through my mind, I was proceeding from the study 
 through the library to my own apartments. I suddenly turned, 
 and re-entered the study. My uncle, who was pacing it in hasty 
 strides, stood still as I entered, and fixed on me a stare of sur- 
 prise. Then moving towards the mantel-piece, leant against it 
 with folded arms, and a look of disdain at once cool and petrify- 
 ing. I felt that I must speak quickly, or retire. I therefore 
 said, ' My lord, if you will give me a moment's further hearing, 
 I beg to say that I think it my duty to confide to you what, per- 
 haps, it had been better you had known before.' 
 
 My uncle, with apparently quickened attention, continued to 
 gaze on me with haughty indifference, but still without a word, 
 and I stammeringly proceeded. ' I believe, my lord, indeed, I 
 think I am sure, that the Marquis de Grammont, though twice 
 
 rejected' I could get no further for several seconds, when I 
 
 again commenced ' I was endeavouring, my lord, to mention 
 to you that Monsieur de Grammont, notwithstanding his rejec- 
 tion, considers me as engaged to him, and I therefore could not 
 accept the hand of any other gentleman in marriage, without his 
 permission.' 
 
 A loud peal of mocking laughter was the response to this most 
 painful disclosure ; while I stood before him with my face 
 covered with my hands, and my heart swelling with mortifica- 
 tion. When the peal ended, he said, ' Have you anything more 
 to tell me, Miss Mulgrave ? You are perhaps married to the 
 marquis ?' 
 
 ' No, my lord, I am not married to him, but I am bound in 
 honour not to marry another. For I have accepted him, and 
 we are mutually bound to each other.' 
 
 As I paused, quite out of breath, and frightened at my own 
 rashness, my uncle approached me, and seizing my arm with a 
 rude grasp, said ' Are you mad, or wicked, Miss Mulgrave ? 
 Is it my brother's child, my own adopted, who thus speaks to 
 me of what the modesty of her sex and age should have found 
 too sacred for utterance ? Do you mean to propose yourself in
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 123 
 
 person to the Marquis de Grammont? or do you wish me to 
 write to him, and say that you are at his service ? You would, 
 it seems, marry a Protestant perhaps, become one yourself 
 place yourself out of the pale of salvation sell yourself to 
 Satan spurn everlasting life and all for a renegade, as apos- 
 tate in love as in faith; to whom you would as vainly recal his 
 crude fancy for yourself, as the former devotion of his family to 
 our holy church. But I will put a speedy end to all this ; you 
 are already the betrothed of Fitzgerald, the marriage articles are 
 signed, and only your own insignificant signature, which a proxy 
 may supply, is wanting to make them complete ; for the great 
 head of the church sanctions the union, and your resistance will 
 be in vain. Go, therefore, set your thoughts and feelings in 
 order, and meet as you ought your future husband, at the 
 appointed dinner-hour.' 
 
 My uncle had been, no doubt unconsciously, grasping my arm 
 with crushing violence during his whole harangue ; and the pain 
 lie occasioned was so acute as to diminish the power of his 
 menaces, by dividing their terror with the physical suffering he 
 inflicted ; as he tossed my arm from him, I did not wait to be 
 again commanded from his presence, but with quick step quitted 
 his study, and gained my own apartments. Taking a hasty retro- 
 spect of the disclosures just made me, I became almost frantic 
 with resentment and terror. As resentment cooled, torpor and 
 a sense of impotence succeeded, that caused me to throw myself 
 on the floor in utter despair. 
 
 Not that I believed aught of the injurious taunts respecting 
 Monsieur de Grammont, but that I could not disbelieve my 
 uncle's determination to do all that he had threatened, in the 
 disposal of myself. Wearied with reflection, in which I medi- 
 tated more than once to escape from my uncle, and throw 
 myself on the chances of the highway and the Channel, which 
 led to England and my uncle's house there, I sprang from the 
 floor, and began to make the circuit of my rooms. But I had 
 tlrere neither companion nor adviser, and the perils of an orphan- 
 age so desolate assailed me for the first time in all their terrors. 
 1 ran from room to room, to escape from the loneliness that 
 surrounded me, under an isolation of feeling scarcely endurable.
 
 124 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 If rny uncle should persist in carrying his purpose into execution 
 only one means of escape from the detested marriage vow re- 
 mained to me; and I resolved on resisting, even at the altar, 
 every effort to compel me to pronounce it. As I gazed dis- 
 tractedly around me, my eye fell on a newspaper lying on one 
 of the tables ; which, as I had not seen it hefore, must have 
 been brought there during my absence. I took it idly up, and 
 found it to be a Dublin paper of recent date ; but feeling unable 
 to read, I was throwing it down again, when the heading of one 
 of its columns bearing the name of De Grammont fastened on 
 my sight, and called back my wandering senses in an instant. It 
 announced a wedding in high life in Paris, which ran as follows, 
 ' Married, on the 19th ult., in Paris, at the Chapel of the 
 British Embassy, L6once Louis Frederic, Marquis de Grammont, 
 
 to ' I saw no more ! Leonce was married, no matter to 
 
 whom. I stood with the paper in my hand, like one petrified. 
 It was a calamity too great for me to realize. No tears came to 
 my aid, no tender regrets, but a shivering, sinking of heart, and 
 a feeling of being rent into a thousand pieces. 
 
 I had now lost all motive for flight, or for making any further 
 effort to save myself. I cared no more for life in any form, the 
 brevity of it alone was consolitary, and who could tell but mine 
 might be near its close. 
 
 If L6once was happy and, of course, he was I would en- 
 deavour to rejoice in it, and none should know how much this 
 effort cost me. 
 
 I had not long time for rumination. Long before the cus- 
 tomary hour for dressing, Mary came into my room, with a 
 message from my uncle, that Mr. Fitzgerald and he would 
 dispense with my company at dinner that day, and recommen- 
 ding me to order the chariot, and take a drive. 
 
 As I was accustomed to obey every ordinary suggestion of 
 this sort from him, and cared not, at that moment, what I did 
 or where I went, Mary and I were soon driving rapidly on the 
 road leading to Mulgrave Castle. 
 
 The retrospection awakened by this locality softened my 
 feelings, and brought relief to my whole frame, in a flood of tears. 
 "When I became calm, I inquired of Mary if she knew anything
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 125 
 
 of the newspaper that lay on my table. She said it was brought 
 there by my uncle's valet, in my absence. The sickening 
 intelligence, then, was known to my uncle, and placed before 
 me by his orders. Perhaps it was this knowledge which induced 
 him to laugh, and scoff so unmercifully, at the confidence I had 
 so simply expressed in Monsieur de Grammont's constancy ? 
 
 There are epochs in life which transform character almost in 
 a single hour. I felt during my ride that my whole nature was 
 changed, as it regarded all things in this world ; and that hence- 
 forth I should but fight my way through life, as the soldier 
 through the ranks of his adversary on the fiehi of battle. 
 
 Happy for me if I should also be enabled to fight that battle 
 which wins everlasting life ! I threw myself back in the car- 
 riage, and, lifting up my agonized, yet still proud heart to God, 
 found no acceptance with Him ; for, although they who mourn 
 are promised comfort, it is only to the humble in spirit that 
 celestial consolations are imparted. But the sense of wrong 
 that filled my soul was so bitter, that the humility of sincere 
 devotion was far from me. 
 
 As the carriage stopped on our return, at my uncle's door, 
 Mr. Fitzgerald presented himself to hand me out. I found this 
 too much for me ; and, lingering as long as I could in the car- 
 riage, sobbed from vexation and a sense of insult. He no doubt 
 had seen the Dublin paper, and was acting entirely under my 
 uncle's orders. I sprang forward, as he waited my pleasure at 
 the carriage-door, and flew by him, through my uncle's house to 
 my own. 
 
 When I sat down to reflect on this discourtesy, I could hardly 
 believe that I had been guilty of it ; but it was well done if it 
 exempted me from further advances on the part of Fitzgerald. 
 
 As I thus thought, a gentle rap at my door startled me, and I 
 was moving forward to open it, thinking it might be a concilia- 
 tory visit from my uncle, when it was opened from without, and 
 Mr. Fitzgerald walked in, with an air somewhat less confident 
 than usual, but still with the complacency of an acknowledged 
 friend, sure of a welcome. 
 
 He left me not a moment for embarrassment, but approaching 
 me with an extended hand, begged to lead me to a seat. I could
 
 126 HELEN MTILQHAVE J OR, 
 
 not again rnn away. This childish game must end. I was 
 therefore led unresistingly to a chair in a distant part of the 
 room. Then, pretending it must be the wrong one, he marched 
 me to another, and another, until I was ready to laugh and cry 
 in a breath and, snatching my hand away, I threw myself into 
 the seat which stood nearest to me. 
 
 ' We are happy, my dear Miss Mulgrave,' said he, with imper- 
 turbable gravity, ' to have got over a serious difficulty so 
 promptly.' And, dropping himself into a chair next to mine, 
 continued, ' I hope you like the seat you have chosen ?' 
 
 I turned my head to him with a repelling thought bursting 
 for utterance, but, suppressing it, looked another way, and 
 moved to a window. He followed me, and seeing there was no 
 escape, I gathered up as much forbearance as I could muster, 
 and sat quietly down in a lounging chair. He now stood before 
 me, and assuming a look of solemnity foreign to his nature, and 
 which, therefore, looked like mockery, said, ' I have had per- 
 mission from the bishop to invite myself to dine with you to- 
 day, my dear Miss Mulgrave, if you do not forbid me.' 
 
 ' I thought yon were engaged to dine with my uncle? I am 
 not in any way prepared for the honour of your company at my 
 table, nor have I ever been accustomed to receive guests in my 
 private apartments.' 
 
 ' But under so high a sanction, almost under the bishop's 
 command, you can have no objection, I hope, for once, to devi- 
 ate from the rigid rule you have hitherto prescribed to yourself; 
 especially if I may be permitted to mention it, the relation in 
 which I hope so shortly to stand to you, should obtain for me at 
 least an hour's private converse.' 
 
 ' An hour's talk ? Oh, pray say what you have to say at once. 
 I will emulate your frankness, and we shall understand each 
 other in five minutes.' 
 
 1 Frankly, then,' and he dropped on one knee as he spoke 
 'I am here to express my homage, and to offer you my hand, and 
 a devoted heart. Will you not deign to accept the offering?' 
 
 ; No, sir.' 
 
 'You will not? You are cruel, Miss Mulgrave,' said he, 
 smiling with an amused air.
 
 JESUIT EXJECUTOUSlIir. 127 
 
 Tlien rising, be drew a chair close beside me, and attempted 
 to take my band, but did not succeed. 
 
 ' Mr. Fitzgerald,' said I, coldly, ' be not offended at what it is 
 necessary for me to say to you. I have no heart to present you 
 in exchange for yours, and I therefore beg to decline your offer, 
 now and for ever.' 
 
 ' Are you so insensible ? Am I so hateful to you ? Oh, Helen ! 
 if, like your namesake, a ten year's siege may win you, you will 
 yet be mine. Are you prepared for so long a warfare? But I 
 am sure you will relent. It cannot be, that so fair a form was 
 created without a heart. What can you have done with it? 
 Only tell me whither it has wandered, and I will fly to the most 
 distant regions of the earth to fetch it back, in the hope of 
 receiving it as my reward, with this fair hand, on my return,' 
 raising my hand at the same instant abruptly to his lips. 
 
 I burst into tears at this freedom, feeling that he was indeed 
 making a plaything of me at my uncle's prompting. 
 
 He rose at sight of my tears, and said he had not courage to 
 behold them, nor could he ever forgive himself for causing them. 
 
 1 How may I obliterate the offence I have given you ?' said he. 
 
 ' By leaving me,' said I. 
 
 ' That is a cruel penance, but if you Avill say that it shall obtain 
 my pardon, and give me but a hope of being permitted to wait 
 on you to-morrow, I will relieve you instantly of my hated pre- 
 sence, and eat my morsel of bread with bitter herbs below with 
 the bishop, instead of feasting with you on the nectar and 
 ambrosia of Olympus ;' and again seizing my hand, and pressing 
 it to his lips, he flew out of the room. 
 
 I had observed more than once, while he was with me, a sort 
 of excitement in look and manner, which suggested the idea of 
 insanity or inebriety. Could it be possible that he was under the 
 influence of either the one or the other? While I was thus" 
 questioning with myself, a tap at the door announced his return, 
 and he was the next instant again in the room, shutting the door 
 after him, which when he had done, he came up to me, and 
 dropped on one knee before me, with a look of irony and 
 extravagant merriment that alarmed me. I did not wait an 
 explanation, but darting past him, was out of the room in a
 
 MULGUAVK; OK, 
 
 moment. I locked myself into my chamber, which was too dis- 
 tant for me to hear his movements, and remained there until 
 Mary announced my dinner. I inquired if any one was in the 
 dining-room ; and as she said only the footman, I descended, 
 and took my meal without disturbance. 
 
 The way in which Mr. Fitzgerald had compelled me to treat 
 him was far from satisfactory to myself, yet I could not suggest 
 any more effectual mode of quietly accomplishing an affront 
 which might possibly relieve me from any further importunity 
 on his part. As to my uncle, I dared not think of him ; but 
 there was an effort yet to be made to deliver myself from his 
 persecutions, which could not be deferred, and I wrote him the 
 following note : 
 
 My dear Uncle, 
 
 ' You told me this morning that I was betrothed to Mr. 
 Fitzgerald, and that the marriage articles were signed by ah 1 par- 
 ties except myself. You remarked that my signature might be 
 made by proxy. Of course, that could be only a jest, or an 
 hyperbole of speech. I take it for granted, then, that my signa- 
 ture, in my own hand, is essential to such a contract. That 
 being the case, I write with all duteousness of feeling, what- 
 ever may be thought to the contrary to say that nothing can 
 induce me to sign the marriage articles in question, nor can I 
 allow myself to utter false vows before the altar. Having after 
 much reflection, arrived at this decision, I hope you will not 
 again permit Mr. Fitzgerald to be put to the useless trouble of 
 making professions of attachment to me, to which my heart can- 
 not respond. 
 
 4 1 pray you to pardon the terms in which I have framed this 
 note, as it seemed to me due to all parties that I should be per- 
 'fectly explicit. Deign to believe me still, my dear uncle, hoping 
 for your indulgence, your most grateful niece, 
 
 ' H. M.' 
 
 My protest thus made, Mr. Fitzgerald and his eccentricity were 
 soon obliterated, except the conviction which grew stronger on 
 retrospection, that he was certainly in a state of partial inebri;i-
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 129 
 
 tion, when he so ridiculously intruded himself on me. The great 
 event of the day. was, and would continue to be, an irreparable 
 calamity, which must be borne in silence as best it might. It 
 was one of those sorrows which cannot be participated, and 
 which admits of no alleviation but in that resignation to the 
 Divine will, attainable only after long suffering. 
 
 On the following morning, after breakfast, I sent my note of 
 the last evening to my uncle, and learnt of the messenger who 
 carried it that Mr. Fitzgerald was with him. The two gentlemen 
 were then in council, and I endeavoured to think that I might 
 bid defiance to fate, for that I could scarcely be placed, by any 
 machinations, in a much worse position than I already was, even 
 if the determination to force me into the marriage should be 
 prosecuted with the energy of will peculiar to my uncle. I 
 hoped that Mr. Fitzgerald, as he would unavoidably see my note, 
 might, either from generosity or resentment, terminate the nego- 
 tiation. 
 
 But I was not long permitted to meditate on present or distant 
 evil. An event was at hand which subdued all my fortitude, 
 and made me an unresisting victim of the fate that awaited me. 
 Scarcely an hour had elapsed after the departure of my note, 
 before I was called to my uncle's study, to behold him under the 
 influence of an apoplectic seizure, which threatened his life. 
 Mr. Fitzgerald was with him, and on seeing me enter, approached 
 me with an alarmed expression of countenance, and said ' Alas, 
 Miss Mulgrave, I fear your note has killed your uncle.' 
 
 As he observed the shock he had inflicted, he added, in a 
 deprecating tone 'Do not take me literally. The bishop's 
 malady is constitutional ; and, most likely, could not have been 
 averted.' 
 
 I reflected on this remark afterwards, as indicative of good- 
 nature, at least. 
 
 The valets, under the direction 1 of two medical men, were 
 removing my uncle to his bed-room. He appeared quite insensi- 
 ble, and was an affecting spectacle of impotence, sufficient to 
 move any beholder. He had formerly recovered from a similar 
 attack, but it WJN IMP Irs; serious than this. As for me, fearing 
 that by ray note I had been the cause of it, I followed the 
 
 6*
 
 130 HELEN MULGRAVE; OK, 
 
 attendants to the bed-room door, in speechless, unutterable 
 agony. Never until now had I known remorse that feeling 
 which fastens on the heart like ' the worm that never dieth.' 
 What was the deepest or the tenderest grief compared with 
 this ? It was but as the cry or tear of infancy. Until we know 
 guilt until we are placed in affinity with crime, we can never 
 be said to have drunk the cup of human misery to the dregs. 
 "What was even the wretchedness of a marriage with Fitzgerald, 
 compared with the guilt of having destroyed a human life ? All 
 my estimates of right and wrong seemed at once changed. That 
 which only a few hours ago had appeared to me but a duty to 
 myself but a simple effort of self-preservation now assumed 
 the character of rebellion against paternal authority, and the 
 coercive benevolence of a father. These distracting reflections 
 disturbed my reason, as I sat in a distant corner of my uncle's 
 chamber, watching the slow processes of remedial treatment. 
 
 For some time my uncle had been getting worse, and a tempo- 
 rary suspension of experiments had left him alone in bed, while 
 the doctors retired for further consultation to an adjoining 
 room. My uncle's personal servant sat outside the door of his 
 chamber. 
 
 A solemn quiet pervaded it. Overpowered by what I beheld, 
 and fearing that all hope had been abandoned, I crept softly to 
 the bedside of my uncle, in a state little short of aberration, and 
 kneeling down beside him, took one of his cold, unconscious 
 hands, and vowed solemnly on it, in an emphatic whisper, that 
 if it might please God to restore him, and bring him back again 
 to consciousness, I would comply with all his requirements, to 
 the very letter, and marry whom he pleased. Having said this, I 
 finished solemnly with the words ' So help me God!' and kiss- 
 ed my uncle's hand. 
 
 Fitzgerald, who was sitting quite out of sight, behind one of 
 the bed-curtains, suddenly, but silently, came forward, and 
 kneeling down by my side, took my uncle's hand out of mine, 
 and in a distinct whisper said ' I also vow, on this hand, to per- 
 form every wish of its venerable owner, and marry whom he 
 may direct.' 
 
 This most unforeseen inc-ident might have been a severe trial
 
 JESUIT KXKCUTORSHIP. 181 
 
 to the sincerity of my vow ; but my heart was so emptied of 
 every feeling^except the desire of my uncle's restoration to life, 
 that the occurrence scarcely moved me. Neither did I hasten 
 to rise from the posture in which my vow had been made, but 
 burying my face in the bed clothes, addressed myself to silent 
 prayer. I know not how long I remained thus. My heart at 
 last felt relieved of part of its load, and the dying hand I was 
 holding in mine had become warm. . All at once I felt one of its 
 fingers twitch. The movement acted on me like an electric 
 shock. I sprang up, and beckoning the doctors to approach, 
 whispered what had occurred. They made no reply, but begin- 
 ning to examine the person of the patient, I retreated to my own 
 rooms. In a few hours I was apprized, by a message from 
 them, that the circulation was returning gradually over the 
 whole frame, and that there was hope of even more decisive 
 symptoms of improvement in a short time. 
 
 My thankfulness on receipt of this message, and my joy when, 
 two hours after, a return to consciousness was announced, was as 
 unbounded as my distress had been. No criminal in a court of 
 justice, unexpectedly hearing from a jury the sentence of ' not 
 guilty,' was ever relieved of a heavier load. 
 
 The wrong we do ourselves, however, has its own peculiar 
 guilt and consequences ; and is seldom expiated, but in that cru- 
 cible which, while it purifies, destroys. 
 
 In the course of a week, my uncle had regained his customary 
 health. I had seen very little of Fitzgerald since the scene in 
 the sick chamber ; but a former impression of his good nature 
 had been confirmed by several incidents in the progress of my 
 xmcle's convalescence. Yet my repugnance to marrying hjm was 
 scarcely less than it had been originally. 
 
 I soon, however, became sensible that I had forged fetters for 
 myself, which would be rivetted with a rigour and promptitude 
 exceeding my worst fears. My uncle was, indeed, in high good 
 humour; and he endeavoured to expedite the marriage, with an 
 urgency that must have been revolting to both parties. When- 
 ever I was more than usually sad, he would exhort me to ' cheer 
 up, for the happy day would soon arrive.' 
 
 On one occasion, when he was lacerating me with such antici 

 
 132 HELEN MULGBAVE; OR, 
 
 pations, I could not restrain my tears, and remarked to him, that 
 although my vow on his account, having been made to God, 
 must, if he held me to it, be fulfilled, it was yet in his power to 
 save me from the consequences of the rashness of which I had 
 been guilty, and which I had committed only under the influ- 
 ence of irrepressible terror at the thought of losing him. It was 
 in vain I thus disclosed to him the state of my feelings. I 
 appealed to his compassion, to his generosity, to the paternal 
 relation in which he stood to me. My uncle was inexorable in 
 demanding ' the bond !' Had the ' pound of flesh' been included 
 in it, he would doubtless have been equally inflexible, and thus 
 exhibited the type of a new Shylock in sacerdotal cloth. One 
 expedient yet remained. I had never appealed to Mr. Fitzgerald 
 himself on a religious ground, but I now thought it possible that 
 I might obtain from him a resignation of me on this account. I 
 therefore took an opportunity of stating to him that both in opi- 
 nion and feeling, I was what he must consider a heretic. And 
 placing before him, not only the inconveniences, but the mutual 
 bitternesses, that must arise from discordancy on so material a 
 point as that of religion, I begged him to consider before it was 
 too late, the fact of which I had informed him, in which I had 
 no doubt he would find sufficient reason for resigning me, or for 
 deferring indefinitely the contemplated solemn engagement. 
 
 As I ceased speaking, he burst into a hearty laugh, exclaim- 
 ing, ' Really, my dear Miss Mulgrave, as it is the first time yon 
 have ever condescended to ask a favour of me, I am immensely 
 miserable at not being able to grant your request. But much 
 as you fancy you would oblige yourself by jilting me, I am not 
 sure you could live without me ; and the sacrifice you demand, 
 would certainly plunge me into a premature grave; and you 
 would then, most assuredly, be offering up your own dear little 
 life to restore mine. Besides, I have not the smallest objection 
 to your Huguenotwm. You may make a conventicle of Beech 
 Park, and have your own chaplain resident in it (provided he is 
 a venerable man), so that you will allow me a quiet seat in some 
 chimney corner there, whence I may peep at you, and hear the 
 music of your voice occasionally. Pray withdraw your motion, 
 or positively I must betray your confidence, and tell the bishop
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR8HIP. 13? 
 
 of it; for I am sure he has no notion of so serious a peccadillo 
 in one whom he deems perfect in every accomplishment except 
 common sense. He sadly deplores your want of that ; and since 
 it makes you blind to my 'merits, I ought to deplore it too, if I 
 could convince myself that you really lacked it. But I do 
 myself the justice to believe that this want of common sense 
 Avould never have caused the smallest objection to me, if I had 
 not been forced on you by authority. You will forget that, 
 before we have been married a year, and will then dote on me, 
 as all the rest of your sex do. Pray don't look so grave sure- 
 ly, truth cannot be distasteful to you, and I repeat, that the 
 women everywhere worship me!' 
 
 During this extraordinary effusion, I regarded his countenance 
 with attention, and discerned the same symptoms I had observed 
 more than once before. I could not be mistaken. It was, alas! 
 an artificial exhilaration, almost amounting to inebriety. Must 
 I close my eyes to such a trait as- this in the character of the man 
 destined to be my husband ? Oh, how my heart sickened at 
 the thought ! 
 
 It was impossible for two persons to be more unsuitable to 
 each other than Mr. Fitzgerald and myself. I made the remark 
 to him more than once, in the hope of inducing him to reflect 
 on the fact. . But he held fast to his purpose, as though his life 
 or his fortune would be staked by its abandonment ; treating me 
 as a child that might be amused or conciliated by petting and 
 adulation. With what motives my uncle plied him, I know not. 
 The natural inconstancy of his tastes and pursuits would have 
 been sufficient, under ordinary influences, to have worn out his 
 penchant for me in a far shorter time than the six weeks he had 
 already devoted to it. But my uncle, as a third party, who had 
 gratuitously charged himself with my destiny, was the more 
 inexplicable person of the two. I could not but suppose him 
 solicitous for my welfare and happiness ; yet whence his utter 
 disregard of my own inclinations? His error seemed to lie in 
 the ideas that marriage was essential to happiness, and weiiltli 
 and station essential to marriage. "Fatal errors ! sweeping 
 through the land, and every day making victims of the inexpe- 
 rienced and the thoughtless in all ranks of life.
 
 134 HELEN MTTLGRAVE J OR, 
 
 My dear father had been dead but foar months, and my 
 brother a still shorter time ; but the wedding day, which had 
 been fixed without consulting me, obliged me to exchange deep 
 mourning for bridal attire. What of this ? No outrage of feel- 
 ing could be worth a thought, compared with that of extorting 
 marriage vows from an unattached and repugnant heart. ' At 
 least, dear uncle,' said I, ' permit me, for the sake of the dead, 
 to retain a slight mourning, and let the ceremony be private.' 
 
 ' I will have no private doings,' said he. ' I am marrying you 
 to a man whom all his county and connexions delight to 
 honour ; and my niece shall neither disgrace me nor herself by 
 her caprice or her sentimentality on this occasion.' 
 
 At length the dreaded morning came. When I found myself 
 a conspicuous object amongst the gay and smiling guests of my 
 uncle's drawing-rooms, it was with difficulty I retained my 
 senses. I neither recognised faces nor remembered names, and I 
 heard not the compliments addressed to me. I was an automa- 
 ton, whose machinery was deranged ; or a galvanised corpse, 
 with eyes that saw not, and ears that heard not. Yet, in spite 
 of this incapacity, I was invested with a part in the drama of 
 the hour, that bound me for life to a man with whom I had as 
 yet never been able to reciprocate a feeling, or exchange a 
 thought. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 I WAS able, in reflecting on my uncle's conduct, after the dis- 
 tress and agitation of the wedding had passed away, to make 
 many excuses for his coercive and cruel treatment of me, when 
 I considered the distracted state of his mind on pecuniary 
 accounts, arising out of the large debt which my father had con- 
 tracted to him, by whose early and sudden^ death all possibility 
 of future liquidation was precluded. From the day that I was 
 married, I entered on a career of suffering which I would fain 
 believe is not frequent in married life. But I became a dutiful 
 wife, so far as the duties of tho character may be performed
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 135 
 
 under the circumstances of an union like mine. To satisfy my 
 own mind in this respect, was, indeed, at first, the only object 
 left me in life. But wnen I found that my husband had really 
 been in earnest in offering me, before marriage, liberty of con- 
 science, and that when I proposed to avail myself of this offer, 
 he consistently acquiesced in it, I had a new and animating 
 motive, which made duty grateful, as well as exact. 
 
 Mj uncle lived but a few months after the accomplishment of 
 his object ; and, irritated to the highest degree by my husband's 
 acquiescence in my secession from the Komish church, which I 
 formally accomplished at this time, he never would see us more. 
 This indulgence on the part of my husband, whether from utter 
 indifference to religion, or a desire to conciliate me, was fraught 
 with blessings to me. 
 
 My husband was an only child impetuous and self-willed, 
 undisciplined and lawless. In seeking me for a wife, he must 
 have been influenced by public taste, and the ambition of marry- 
 ing the daughter of a man so universally popular and beloved 
 as my father. He required neither intellect nor principle, and 
 would no doubt have been better satisfied had he found me 
 without either. But there can be no excuse for a woman of 
 principle, if she do not make an infinitely better wife, as well as 
 a more indulgent one, than a woman of negative qualities. 
 
 AVe never had any domestic feuds, but my husband's impet- 
 uosity at first intimidated, and afterwards revolted me. His 
 wild caprices and irregular habits precluded any system in our 
 mode of life ; and while he professed a passionate attachment to 
 me, he seemed often to forget that I was in existence. Never- 
 theless, had I been simply indifferent to him, had I not been 
 coerced into marriage with him, that gratitude for attachment 
 which is so natural to the female heart, might possibly have 
 obtained for him some return of affection. Clear-sighted to my 
 husband's faults and vices, I became hopeless of his reform. 
 Perhaps he discerned this hopelessness, and abandoned himself 
 to his evil courses. Nevertheless, it was neither neglect of duty, 
 nor the omission of conciliation, on my part, that rendered us 
 unhappy ; but it was that vice and misery are in their very nature 
 inseparable. And how blind soever a wife may wish to be, or
 
 136 HELEN MULGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 may fancy it her duty to be, to vices for which she is not 
 responsible, there are kinds and amounts of wrong with which 
 she can make no compromise but at the peril of everything that 
 is sacred in feeling and in conscience. Nor had I been formed, 
 either by precept or example, for that temporizing morality 
 required in the wife of a man devoted to self-gratification, and 
 regardless of all claims but those of inclination. My husband 
 was naturally fond of convivial pleasures, and, from the earliest 
 period of our marriage, surrounded himself with congenial com- 
 panions. 
 
 He was also fond of music, and, possessing an exquisite voice, 
 as well as science and taste, his popularity in such society was 
 unbounded. 
 
 This popularity increased, and perpetuated the illusions of his 
 mind, fostering his errors until they became inveterate and 
 incurable. The solitariness of our mansion did not insure 
 retirement, for whenever Fitzgerald was at home, it was filled 
 with visitors, so that we were scarcely ever left a single day 
 alone in the society of each other. 
 
 Fond of the sports of the field, my husband was frequently 
 absent for weeks together; and whilst, in the acquirement of 
 essential knowledge, I endeavoured to find a remedy against 
 loneliness of heart, I but widened, by the exercise of my facul- 
 ties, the distance betwixt him and myself. 
 
 Conviviality naturally led to inebriety, and he was sometimes 
 brought home by his servants from an entertainment, at four or 
 five in the morning, in a condition degrading to human nature. 
 In his two latter years this became a frequent and almost a per- 
 petual occurrence. 
 
 We lived on for some time in a course of this sort, interrupted 
 only by those occasional indispositions which the excesses of the 
 table produced, and which kept him a short time at home a 
 patient of mine. 
 
 On these occasions it frequently happened that a transient 
 gleam of goodness would break out in his character, and a tem- 
 porary relish of home produce almost a transforming effect on 
 his manners. 
 
 But that consciousness of error which never leads to reforma-
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 137 
 
 tion, debases the mind, and even gives an impetus to its down 
 ward course. 
 
 My husband had no sooner recovered his strength and spirits, 
 than he again left home in quest of new excitements. 
 
 Meantime, a derangement in his pecuniary affairs occurred, and 
 the customary advances for the current expenses of the house 
 became deeply in arrear. 
 
 I had learnt, from the misfortunea of my dear father, the 
 perilousness of long-standing accounts, and had therefore from 
 the first, on assuming my domestic duties at Beech Park, been 
 rigid in requiring of my housekeeper punctually to settle all her 
 accounts every three months. I had never been restricted in 
 my domestic expenditure, except by my own discretion, and 
 now, becoming apprehensive that we might be living on too 
 great a scale of expense for my husband's revenues, I one day 
 proposed to him, with great deference, that I might be allowed 
 to make some retrenchments. 
 
 He impatiently replied that there was no occasion for so pal- 
 try an expedient, and expressed his displeasure at my supposing 
 that the arrears in the customary advances were anything more 
 than a temporary irregularity. It nevertheless continued until I 
 was driven to the greatest imaginable straits for the smallest 
 amounts of cash. 
 
 My housekeeper beseechingly offered me loans, for it was 
 impossible to conceal from her that I was without funds ; but of 
 course I never allowed myself to accept her assistance ; and we 
 continued to live for some time on that unbounded credit which 
 my husband's known wealth and our former habits of punctual 
 and periodical payments had obtained for us, both in town and 
 country. 
 
 Nevertheless, the day of reckoning came at last. Fitzgerald's 
 health grew worse and worse ; but this did not wean him from 
 his excesses, and he continued to accumulate debts of honour at 
 the gaming-table, until a ruined reputation caused his expulsion 
 from the circles in which he had hitherto moved, and forced 
 him on the resources of home for society. 
 
 I saw at once that he was in a state of alarming decline, both 
 in health and spirits. It was evidently s much too late to
 
 138 HELEN MULGKAVE J OK, 
 
 repair his health, as it evidently proved to be to retrieve his 
 social position and character. 
 
 All I could do for him was to nurse him with incessant care. 
 He awoke to the charm of domestic affections, when he had no 
 longer strength to endure the interesting society and caresses of 
 his children ; and very soon became so ill as to be confined, by 
 the doctor's orders, to his bed. * 
 
 There were some two or three Romish priests, one of whom 
 was a distinguished Jesuit, living in the vicinity of Beech Park, 
 who at this juncture first began to come about the house, with 
 pretexts of various kinds for obtaining access to the sick man's 
 chamber. I was in great anxiety respecting his religious state, 
 and not knowing what might be passing in his mind, I thought 
 it right to apprize him of the urgency of the priests to obtain an 
 interview with him. 
 
 But Fitzgerald had always held the priestood of his church in 
 abhorrence, and had never, since the time of our marriage, com- 
 plied with any religious requirements. 
 
 No confessions no penances and I may add, no prayers; 
 for, revolted as he declared himself to be by what he deemed 
 the hypocrisy of his church, he would have no communion with 
 it, although he made no effort openly to renounce its doctrines 
 or contend with its .practices. 
 
 One day, as he lay on his sick bed, he deplored, in strong and 
 affecting language, the dubious position in which he stood with 
 a power so formidable as that of a Popish priest armed with the 
 authority of his church. 
 
 I inquired why he did not emancipate himself from bonds 
 which were so oppressive and so abhorrent to him. 
 
 ' You know not,' he replied, ' what you advise. A real 
 emancipation is impossible, where the powers of that church 
 are protected by law. Its spiritual powers, as they are called 
 only to blind those who discern not their true character arc 
 neither more nor less than a secular and social despotism, 
 which, in concert with that serpent-like influence which the 
 priests assume and obtain over the minds of all who lend to 
 them a listening ear, becomes a leviathan with which it is 
 impossible to contend, without becoming its victim. _
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 139 
 
 ' What is life what is property in the hands of the priest ? 
 They dissolve under his very touch, and pass away, none know- 
 ing how or whither. I lie here, bereft of all my illusions, and 
 like Don Quixotte, I expire with them. The priests I Oh, had 
 I but health, or even the strength of a child, I might protect 
 you and my children from their grasp ; for be assured you will 
 fall -into it. I see you, both in my waking and my sleeping 
 dreams, led away to the niche in the wall, or to the private cell 
 of the Inquisition, where the stake is always fixed, and awaiting 
 its victims 1' 
 
 I fancied that he was slightly delirious, as he often was, but 
 he continued ' Oh, my pure and angelic wife ! my beautiful 
 children! is it I who have sold you to the destroyer?' 
 
 These expressions suggested the idea of his having already 
 been drawn into some engagement with the priests ; but I was 
 far from suspecting that he had been irrevocably tampered with 
 by them ; although, as yet, not any of them had been admitted 
 to an interview with him, so far as I knew. But this was not 
 necessary to the attainment of their objects, since any one of 
 the medical attendants belonging to the holy church was ready 
 to do their bidding, and perform for the priest, by proxy, what 
 he could not perform in person, till the dupe was moulded to his 
 purpose. As for myself, I was but an outlaw in their estima- 
 tion, who might be dealt with as best suited their policy. 
 
 As Fitzgerald sank into silence, I seated myself by his bed- 
 side, and spoke to him qnietly of that invisible future from 
 which none of us could escape, whether prepared for it or not ; 
 and begged him if there was any desire in his heart to consult a 
 spiritual adviser, that he would allow me to call in some clerical 
 man of exemplary piety, to whom he might unbosom himself. 
 
 After listening attentively to my remarks for at least a minute 
 or two, he earnestly fixed his eyes on me, saying : ' Helen, you 
 really think the soul valuable, do you? How much do you sup- 
 pose it to be worth ?' 
 
 ' Oh ! more than a world. No earthly good can be put in 
 competition with it. 
 
 4 Suppose then,' he replied, ' it were necessary, in order to 
 buy my soul out of purgatory, to bestow my estates, and all I
 
 140 HE LEX MCLGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 have in the world, on the church, regardless of any provision 
 for my children or yourself would you consent to such a sacri- 
 fice ? Is my soul of sufficient value in your eyes to enable you 
 to acquiesce in the requirements of the church ?' 
 
 1 If,' I replied, ' the price you propose could indeed purchase 
 the salvation of your soul, it would be my most sacred duty to 
 suffer cheerfully the loss of every earthly possession, for such an 
 object, not counting the cost to myself or our children. But 
 the soul is not redeemed with ' corruptible things, such as 
 silver and gold.' All the wealth of the world would be inade- 
 quate to the purchase. The precious blood of Christ has been 
 already shed for the redemption of it, and there is now ' no 
 more sacrifice for sin.' What is required of us is, to repent and 
 believe ; and without this, even the divine atonement will have 
 been made in vain for us.' 
 
 ' You are an excellent casuist, Helen,' said Fitzgerald. ' You 
 ought to have been a priest yourself. But do not attempt to 
 speak again to me on the awful subject you have chosen for a 
 theme. Hush ! There are footsteps. Oh, how quickened is 
 my hearing to the tread of a priest!' 
 
 I started as the door opened, to see, indeed, a priest enter. 
 My doomed husband became frantic at sight of him, and after 
 successive execrations and screams, fainted. 
 
 The Jesuit measured me with his eye, as my husband lay 
 before me in a state of insensibility, from which I vainly endea- 
 voured to recover him. It was a relief to me to see the doctors 
 enter at this moment. 
 
 I remained until Fitzgerald returned to consciousness, and 
 was then requested by him, in a whisper, to withdraw. 
 
 I was greatly surprised at what I had witnessed, and still 
 more at my husband's request ; but entreating him to be calm, I 
 quitted the room, with an apprehensiveness which I had never 
 before felt on leaving him. The sudden appearance of the 
 priest in the sick chamber, and his extraordinary reception 
 there, I could in no way understand. 
 
 Inquiring of my servants how the Jesuit gained admittance, I 
 was informed that he had asked for Mr. Fitzgerald, and desired 
 the servant to conduct him to his presence, with an air of con-
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 141 
 
 fidence which induced him to suppose that he had come by 
 appointment, and in this way made good his entrance, the 
 doctors shortly following him. 
 
 Having received this information, I returned to the anti- 
 chamber of the sick room, hovering about the locked door of it, 
 without being able to enter, for nearly an hour. Distrusting the 
 object of the priest, whose presence, at any rate, I knew to be 
 offensive to the suffering patient, I one moment felt disposed to 
 assemble my servants, and make my way into his room by force ; 
 but the recollection that he himself had requested me to retire 
 from it, checked my purpose, and compelled me to restrain my 
 indignation. 
 
 Every time I attempted to enter, I was prevented from doing 
 so by one of the doctors coming to the door, and telling me that 
 the patient was engaged with his confessor. 
 
 For a short time I heard only an occasional murmur of voices. 
 but suddenly Fitzgerald's tones became so loud as to rise to the 
 height of violent anger or delirium. 
 
 My knocks at the door were now unnoticed. At length a 
 loud scream reached me, followed by a violent ringing of the 
 bell. The valet appeared instantly and passed, by the priest's 
 order, at once into the room. The door of it had now been 
 thrown open by the Jesuit priest, and he stood in the gap, to 
 prevent my entrance, with a serious placid face. 
 
 ' Madam,' said he, in a gentle, touching voice ; ' the duties of 
 the confessional are painful, both to the confessor and the con- 
 fessed. But I trust that I have been able to pour balm into the 
 diseased mind, and to enlighten the dark " valley of the shadow 
 of death," to the traveller destined so soon to pass through it.' 
 
 Unable to listen any longer to him, I motioned him aside, by 
 an impatient gesture, and rushed past him to the bedside of my 
 husband, to behold him extended lifeless in a pool of blood. 
 
 Horrified at the sight, I involuntarily screamed, and unable to 
 speak, pointed to the corpse that lay before me,- and turning to 
 one of the doctors with a look of inquiry, he replied to me by 
 saying ' The excitement of the patient's feelings, when in con- 
 fession, was so great as to cause the rupture of a material blood- 
 vessel in the chest. You see the sad consequences. But we
 
 142 HELEN MULGKAVB; OR, 
 
 have examined him, and find that there still is life, and wo trust 
 that he may be recovered to consciousness. Meanwhile, allow 
 me to entreat you, madam, to spare yourself the pain of behold- 
 ing him in his present state. We have rung for the nurse, who 
 will doubtless be here in an instant, when remedial measures 
 will be tried for his recovery; and you will, I trust, if you will 
 leave him to our care, shortly see him restored to you.' 
 
 I did not, however, leave the room, for suspicions of a terrific 
 character had taken possession of me. The Jesuit disappeared 
 while I was speaking to the doctors, under the influence, as they 
 afterwards told me, of sudden indisposition. 
 
 As the hemorrhage had for the present subsided, the nurse 
 and the valet were able to perform their functions effectually, 
 under the direction of the doctors, who soon left the patient 
 entirely to -their care. 
 
 I watched over him a long time in utter hopelessness, although 
 his breathing was still perceptible. The one or the other of the 
 doctors came every hour during the day to inquire into his pro- 
 gress. As midnight approached, and there was nothing to be 
 done in the sick room, I dismissed the nurse to an adjoining 
 chamber for rest, while the doctor retired to another. 
 During the night the patient slept too soundly, and alarmed 
 me by the depth of his respiration ; but very soon awaking, he 
 fixed his eyes on me with a look indicating consciousness, but 
 also deep despair. He motioned me to stoop my ear to his 
 mouth. I did so, while in a whispered articulation, he said : 
 ' Helen, my good, my excellent wife ! But I cannot talk. You 
 will, I fear, at first, be entirely without money ; go to my desk, 
 the key is yonder in my waistcoat pocket. You will find a 
 purse in the desk, embroidered and tasselled with jewels, it is 
 full of gold, secure it. I will not offend your purity by telling 
 you for whom it was originally designed. 
 
 'May God forgive me this, and all my other innumerable 
 sins!' 
 
 ' Amen 1' I exclaimed, as I knelt by him. 
 
 He ceased speaking, and lay an hour without movement, and 
 then began to speak again in the same low indistinct whisper. 
 
 ' Helen,' he said, ' they wanted me to sign away your right
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOKSHIP. 143 
 
 ore;- cnir boy, and the whole of the property. All, all, they 
 wanted, to atone for what they called the unpardonable sin of 
 my having sanctioned your secession from the church. They 
 forced the pen into my hand, which they wanted to guide, but 
 I resisted yes, effectually ; but the violence of my resistance 
 produced the hemorrhage.' 
 
 He then sank into silence for about half an hour, when I 
 again perceived his lips moving. * You,' he said, 'my pure, my 
 faithful wife, they called a heretic and an outlaw. But I did 
 not sign, neither did I confess to the Jesuit.' 
 
 ' Were you not then in confession with him,' I asked, ' when 
 I was refused admittance to you ?' 
 
 ' No, no ; he shall never bring me to that. But, oh, Helen, in 
 his rage, he cursed me in the name of the Holy Trinity I I am 
 lost lost for ever !' 
 
 As he said this, he fainted. I administered a cordial medicine, 
 he again revived, and shortly after fell asleep. 
 
 Within an hour of daybreak, he awoke in a paroxysm of 
 weakness and terror, that touched me to the very soul. 1 1 am 
 dying,' said he, ' oh Helen, send for a priest, and give me the 
 last sacraments I' 
 
 I inquired whom I should send for ; he mentioned the village 
 priest, a harmless man, who was not long in arriving with an 
 assistant priest, who accompanied him. 
 
 As they entered the room, bearing the host, I perceived by 
 the dim lamp light which pervaded it, that the features of the 
 accompanying priest were hidden by a black hood. His figure 
 was bent like that of an aged man, and as I thought him a 
 stranger to me, I took no further notice of him. 
 
 They both approached the sufierer, and I, softly pressing the 
 hand of my husband, to indicate to him that I was retiring, 
 withdrew to an adjoining room, to supplicate in silence for the 
 departing spirit. 
 
 In about an hour the chamber door opened, and as I appeared 
 before it, the village priest beckoned me to enter. 
 
 The glazed eyes of Fitzgerald, who was evidently in the last 
 agony, were fixed upon the crucifix which was held before him 
 by the priest.
 
 144 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 As I approached to take his hand, his eye wandered to my 
 face, and rested there. Suddenly, an expression and movement 
 of the most frantic agony distorted his features he raised him- 
 self up, with a cry of piercing distress, and fell back lifeless ! 
 
 The assistant priest, who had been bending over him, now 
 stood erect by the bedside, with his hood thrown back, and as I 
 casually glanced at hhn, I encountered the fixed gaze of the 
 4 placid' Jesuit. 
 
 *The deplorable manner of my husband's death, evidently 
 accelerated by that priestly power he had so earnestly depre- 
 cated, shook me fearfully. I could not escape from the terror 
 of his last look, and the wild shriek that accompanied it, except 
 to follow the departed spirit to that world in which the illusions 
 of time are exchanged for the realities of eternity ! 
 
 The solemn mockery of that mystic cross on which the sins 
 of the world were once expiated, as exhibited in ivory miniature 
 to the sightless eye of death, contributed to the horrors of 
 retrospection, and caused me to deplore the facility with which 
 I had yielded to the command of my husband to ' leave him 
 with the priests.' I now reproached myself bitterly for having 
 ever left him with them. But it was too late for regret, and 
 tears were unavailing. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Ox the 24th of May, 1824, while the funeral obsequies were 
 being performed, and the remains of Mr. Fitzgerald consigned to 
 the silent vault where his ancestors lay, I gathered my five chil- 
 dren round me in my own room. As I viewed their sweet but 
 helpless infant forms, the eldest not having attained her sixth 
 year, and felt that I was now then* sole dependence on earth, I 
 could not but be alive to the solemnity of the charge. But 
 reflection told me there were thousands of widowed mothers in 
 the world, on whom such a charge must fall still more heavily 
 than on me. In losing my husband I had not lost a companion
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 145 
 
 or an adviser I had been accustomed to live even without hig 
 sympathy, or any of those tender cares which form part of the 
 dues of a wife. But the father of a family, even under the most 
 negative aspects of his character, is still a heavy loss, where his 
 children are young, and incapable of acting for themselves ; and 
 the widowed mother, if not secured by legal provision in the 
 possession of her accustomed competency, becomes, from the 
 moment of her husband's death, an alien not only from comfort, 
 but from family connexions, and is at once obliterated from her 
 former circle in society. 
 
 I had every reason in my own case to suppose that I was left 
 in full power to protect my children, and sustain with them my 
 own position in life ; and although I could not but be aware that 
 the personal property of Fitzgerald" might be swallowed up in 
 payment of his accumulated personal debts, I believed his 
 estates to be free from encumbrance. The ignorance in which I 
 had always been kept of his pecuniary affairs had never 
 appeared to me as an evil, but now I perceived for the first time 
 the inconvenience and danger of it. Accustomed from my 
 childhood to receive, without toil or thought, a continuous sup- 
 ply of every want, it was not until within a few months that I 
 had discerned, even partially, the value of money. It had 
 always been to me like a weed of earth, ever springing up and 
 within reach whenever my hand chose to gather it. 
 
 Recent experience had somewhat disturbed this security, and 
 laden me with a new care. Still I was very far from estimating 
 the importance of that all pervading ingredient of the social 
 structure, without which, as society is at present constitflted, the 
 whole machinery of life falls to pieces ; and money is, no doubt 
 on that account, often mistaken for the supreme good. 
 
 On the return of the funeral party, I was summoned, in the 
 name of the Jesuit, to attend the reading of my ' late husband's 
 will.' 
 
 As I knew no more of any will than what I have already 
 related to my reader, I was struck with surprise and inexpressi- 
 ble apprehension by this message, but I instantly obeyed the 
 summons, and joined the assembled auditors in an adjoining 
 drawiug-room. It did not occupy many minutes to apprize me, 
 
 7
 
 14C HELEN MCLGRAVB ; OR, 
 
 that the whole of our family property was placed in the hands 
 of the two priests who attended my husband in Ins last moments, 
 and who now assumed the office of whole and sole executors to 
 liis will. Everything was left at their disposal, except the landed 
 property inherited by my son, to whom they were appointed 
 sole guardians during his minority, as well as trustees to his 
 estates. 
 
 Not the slightest mention of myself, except in speaking of my 
 jointure, or of my four girls, or of any provision for their sub- 
 sistence, had been made in any part of this extraordinary docu- 
 ment. 
 
 Several of my husband's distant relatives were present, who 
 had a right to expect some recognition in snch a deed. But it 
 was unusually succinct where it should have been diffuse, and 
 the powers of the executors were so ostentatiously stated as to 
 fill its pages, and leave those who ought to have been more 
 interested ii? it without any part to perform, but that of silently 
 listening to its provisions. 
 
 All authority had been vested in the two priests, but how it 
 had been done, and by whom, none would now ever know, until 
 the day when the secrets of all human life shall be revealed. 
 
 Unable to sustain in the presence of others the shock which 
 the reading of this document had inflicted on me, I was assisted 
 out of the room, and left, at my own earnest request, alone, to 
 endure as I best might that view of the future which now 
 forced itself on my unprepared mind. The disrespect to myself 
 implied in the conditions of the will, and in the choice of its 
 executors, was only a secondary consideration to me. Those 
 prophetic words of the departed, ' You will fall into the grasp 
 of the priests,' uttered in such seeming agony, were already ful- 
 filled by the provisions of his own will. "When I had taken a 
 review of all that had so recently passed on this subject, while 
 my husband lay on the bed of death, and now beheld the result, 
 it was impossible to believe otherwise, than that some deep arti- 
 fices had been employed to produce it. And discerning, as I 
 could not fail to do, the state of pecuniary embarrassment in 
 which I might be placed by being left entirely dependent on the 
 will of the executors, it seemed to me that I was inextricably in
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 147 
 
 the toils of that priestly power so dreaded by the deceased, and 
 which, consistently with itself, could not fail to persecute me to 
 the latest moment of my life. 
 
 My darling boy, as heir to the patrimonial estates, would of 
 course be suitably provided for ; but for my four infant daugh- 
 ters, I should be dependant on the Jesuit-executor for whatever 
 he might deign to award me for their use. 
 
 Of him I speak as though the whole testamentary power were 
 comprised in him ; the parish priest'being a mere man of straw, 
 probably associated with the Jesuit only to divide with him 
 whatever odium might arise from the exercise of the extraordi- 
 nary powers delegated to them jointly. 
 
 While occupied in these reflections, I recollected the jewelled 
 purse, which Fitzgerald, when giving it to me, had desired me 
 instantly to secure, but which, in the momentous occurrences 
 which immediately succeeded this injunction, had entirely 
 escaped my memory. It -was. not, perhaps, yet too late, and I 
 went at once to get the key of the desk, and to obtain possession 
 of this valuable gift. Valuable indeed it would have been to me 
 at that moment, as I was then almost without money. 
 
 I found the key, and hastened to the library, where the desk 
 was always kept, only to learn that I had no power to open it ! 
 It was already under the executor's seal. I stood like one petri- 
 fied, so filled with self-reproach for my neglect, and so lost to 
 Everything around me, that I did not observe there was another 
 person in the room, until the fall of a book caused me to turn 
 my head. 
 
 As I did so, the face of the Jesuit presented itself, and his eyes 
 met mine, with an expression that neutralized the softness of his 
 placid smite. 
 
 I appealed to him at once respecting the desk, which I said I 
 meant to appropriate, as containing my husband's private 
 pape'rs, and, therefore, belonging exclusively to myself. He 
 replied, with an air of authority, that such an appropriation 
 could not be admitted, as the executors would require posses- ion 
 of all manuscripts left by the deceased, in aid of their official 
 duties. 
 
 ' At any rate,' said I, ' there is an article in the desk which
 
 148 HELEN MULOKAVE ; OB, 
 
 was given me by my husband, but a short time before his death, 
 and which I have allowed to remain there until this moment. I 
 had, indeed, forgotten it; but as it is not a manuscript, it cau- 
 not be wanted for the purpose you have mentioned.' 
 
 The Jesuit then inquired the nature of it ; and, when inform- 
 ed, remarked that an article of that kind was so essentially a 
 part of the personals of the estate, that it would be impossible 
 for the executors to relinquish their right to dispose of it. 
 
 I must have betrayed extraordinary emotion as this decision 
 was pronounced, for the Jesuit stepped hastily towards me, 
 with extended arms, as if he would have saved me from falling. 
 He stopped short, however, as I waved him off with my h.uid. 
 
 ' I am sorry, madam,' said he, ' to oppose your wishes, at my 
 very entrance on the painful duties I have allowed myself to 
 assume, at the earnest request of a dying man. But, how much 
 soever I might be disposed to place myself under your guidance, 
 I could not, as one only of the executors, comply with your 
 wishes on the point in question, without the aid of my coad- 
 jutor, especially as I know what the duty of the case must 
 be.' 
 
 ' Father Renel,' said I, with some warmth, ' you allude to the 
 testamentary duties you have arrogated, as though you had 
 assumed them from compassion to the dying. Pray let me 
 implore the extension of that sentiment to the living, by allow- 
 ing me the perusal and examination of a document so important 
 to myself and family as my husband's will.' 
 
 The Jesuit quietly replied, ' If, madam, you had been a party 
 to your husband's will, I could not have refused your request ; 
 as you are not, you must not take it amiss that I decline to 
 expose it to your cavils.' 
 
 He then bowed low, with an air of solemn mockery, and mov- 
 ing slowly, left the room. 
 
 As the door closed after him I was again alone, and at liberty 
 to resume my gloomy forebodings. The gauntlet had now cer- 
 tainly been thrown down ; and hostilities actually commenced 
 between the Jesuit and me. Had I done right in yielding to the 
 impetuous feelings inspired by the wrongs inflicted on me ? To 
 what purpose would be my resistance to a power above law,
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIi'. 149 
 
 above conscience, above public opinion, except to destroy 
 myself and family ? 
 
 Far better would it be for me meekly to sit down under evils 
 so irremediable, than to resist them. But my children how 
 should I answer it hereafter to them, if I suffered all their rights 
 to be forfeited without a single effort to redeem them. ' I will 
 write at once,' said I, ' to my uncle, Sir Felix ; he is a lawyer, 
 and he, I am sure, will help me.' 
 
 I wrote to him under this impulse without the loss of an 
 hour. 
 
 Meanwhile, I endeavoured to make an estimate of my pecu- 
 niary resources, or rather, what I supposed them to be, inde- 
 pendently of the will, 
 
 The annual income arising from my jointure I 'had always 
 understood as amounting, jointly with my uncle's settlement, to 
 five hundred pounds. A miserable pittance, certainly, for five 
 persons ! I attempted in vain, by calculation, to apply it so as 
 to cover our wants. 
 
 Another difficulty arose in regard to my jointure, viz., my 
 ignorance of the manner in which it had been secured to me. 
 
 During my married life I had never heard the subject men- 
 tioned, nor did I know where to apply for its periodical pay- 
 ments. But as it had been alluded to in the will, it was of 
 course secure ; and our man of business would be able to fur- 
 nish me with such information as I might require respecting it. 
 
 By the reading of the will, my comparatively destitute situa- 
 tion had become known to the funeral guests. They were so 
 numerous as almost to fill my spacious mansion ; for the popu- 
 larity of my husband during the better part of hia life, and until 
 very lately, had been unbounded in his province. These now 
 precipitately departed, like persons fleeing from a falling house. 
 
 In a few hours I was alone. My position on that day formed 
 an epoch in my life. I soon found myself plunging into medita- 
 tions which were maddening ; and, to divert the course of my 
 thoughts, ran wildly about my deserted house, so lately filled 
 vfltii friends, to search for some one who might have remained 
 behind. But I gazed on desolation. The whole fabric around 
 me, no longer sustained by the golden cement that had hitherto
 
 160 HELEN MULGRAVE J OR, 
 
 held it together, and which was indispensable to its existence, 
 seemed tumbling to pieces; and could I as easily have run a\v;iy 
 from it as iny lute friend* had done, I should have followed their 
 example in that moment of despair. In endeavouring to lleo 
 from myself, I visited chambers and recesses in every part oi' 
 the house, some of which I had never seen before. The ser- 
 vants, acting under relaxed authority, were moving idly about, 
 or lounging at every turn. They retired before me, frightened 
 at my unexpected appearance, or touched by my visible distrac- 
 tion, while I continued ray perambulation until I came to a 
 small room near to my own apartments, which I was accustom- 
 ed to call my boudoir. This room was my oratory my con- 
 fessional, where I was wont to pour out my heart to God my 
 sanctuary, in which I vented my domestic sorrows my read- 
 ing-room, in which I sometimes, but not often, wrapped myself 
 up in the dreams of poets, or in those of my own fancy, and to 
 which I brought my children occasionally, that I might have 
 them all to myself. 
 
 The door of my boudoir, as I reached it, was ajar, and I enter- 
 ed it abruptly at this moment, supposing it unoccupied, to seek 
 for peace in prayer. 
 
 My disordered air startled a venerable form which I found 
 there, reposing in an arm chair. It was Father Ossory. I had 
 tl;..-n .-it last found one friend, whom my sudden destitution had 
 not dViven from my walls. 
 
 ' Pardon me,' said he, as I advanced towards him, ' that I am 
 so slow in rising to apologize to you, my good friend, for my 
 being in an apartment which I know is sacred. But in the dis- 
 traction occasioned by the sudden departure of your guests, I 
 came here to get out of their way, until I could take leave of 
 you after they were gone. I will now retire and await your 
 leisure in another room.' 
 
 It is necessary that I here apprize my reader that Father 
 Ossory (for I have never called him by any other name) had two 
 years since, at more than eighty years of age, publicly 
 renounced Romanism, and^Jokied the Protestant Episcopal 
 Church. Of course, he had lost caste by this renunciation, and 
 had been ejected from every circle in which he had formerly
 
 151 
 
 moved. But he had counted the cost beforehand ; and although, 
 with a heart still capable of attachment, he could not but feel 
 such a wrench from the associates of his earlier years, yet in a 
 cause like this he considered whatever he had lost as mere dross, 
 in comparison with what ho had gained. His income, also, was 
 of course lost to him, and every other source of official gain, 
 and he had since lived on an annuity of twenty pounds, which 
 formed all the property he now possessed, so that he was in 
 poverty as well as in isolation, enduring daily that species of per- 
 secution which, in such a locality as his, could not fail to pursue 
 any man who had renounced the errors of the Romish Church. 
 He resided in a very small, but neat cabin, not far from Reech 
 Park, and had, since his conversion, been a frequent visitor to 
 me, and a friend and spiritual adviser, ever ready to serve me. 
 The meeting him at this moment, now the only friend that 
 remained to counsel and support me under the violent shock I 
 had received, was an unspeakable comfort to me. 
 
 At my entreaty, he resumed his seat, and patiently waited, as 
 he had sometimes done in former times, until my bursting heart 
 had relieved itself in tears. "When I was capable of listening to 
 him, he opened the holy book which lay before him, and in 
 which, previous to my entrance, he had been marking passages 
 for my perusal ; and now read them aloud, page after page, until 
 he had drawn my thoughts from the irritating circumstances of 
 my position, and enabled me to resume some command over my 
 feelings. 
 
 ' Oh, this blessed book,' said he, as he closed it. ' Time has 
 been when I knew it not, and when I withheld it from you, my 
 young friend. What would you now do without it ? Forgive 
 me the errors of my former advice, and my more than erroneous 
 attempts at instruction ; I can never forgive myself. At some 
 future time, if it please God, I will give you the history of my 
 mind in latter years, and show you the infinite prize I have 
 gained in a knowledge of the true God.' 
 
 As I began to weep afresh, he said, ' And you, my friend, are 
 you not al^o in possesMon of the same treasure? Even your 
 afflictions, your losses at this time, are but working out for you 
 that future happiness for which you hope, and for which, if an
 
 152 HELEN MULOKAVK; OK, 
 
 option were given you, you would willingly suffer the loss of all 
 things. You believe in God ; believe also in his power and 
 mercy. 
 
 ' The clouds that hang over you are menacing, but he can dis- 
 perse them ; or if, for your benefit, it be his purpose to permit 
 the storm to fall on you, he will sustain you jmder it. " Only 
 believe," says our blessed Saviour ; " all things are possible to 
 him that believeth." Bear this great truth in mind, my afflicted 
 friend, and supplicate for faith, as the principle above all others 
 that unites you with Omnipotence, and enables you to overcome 
 the world. I now leave you ; but I am within call whenever I 
 can be useful to you, and only too happy to be allowed to serve 
 you.' 
 
 As the venerable man departed, and the sacred words he had 
 uttered still rested on my ear, I could not but contemplate with 
 wonder and admiration the difference betwixt his present views 
 and those of former times, when the cabalistic agency of ' the 
 Virgin,' formed the chief theme of his discourse, and aves and 
 beads were his sole medicine for a mind diseased. 
 
 CHAPTER XYI. 
 
 "WniLB awaiting my uncle Sir Felix's reply to my application 
 to him, the Jesuit, one morning, about a week after the funeral, 
 sent to request that I would appoint a time when he might have 
 an interview with me, on important business. 
 
 I replied, that I was at leisure to receive him immediately ; 
 and when I had learnt that he was coming, I sent for my little 
 son to be with me during his stay. 
 
 The Jesuit entered my room with an air of seeming depression, 
 and great meekness of demeanour, which was so striking, that I 
 began to think I had misjudged him. 
 
 How seductive, how omnipotent is manner ! He who can 
 command this, is in possession of ' a key to unlock hearts.' 
 
 The humble man remained standing, even after I had begged
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR8HIP. 153 
 
 him to sit. He opened his mission with a suavity of look and 
 language that suggested so strongly the idea of benignity ,-as to 
 stagger, and almost disarm me. 
 
 He deplored, in choice and flattering terms, that perversity of 
 fate, which in his intercourse with me restricted him to speak 
 only on one subject, which he feared might be painful to me. 
 
 In the course of his official duties as executor to the will, he 
 said, he found it necessary to inquire into the amount and 
 sources of my future personal income. ' You are aware,' said 
 he, ' that there is no provision made for you by your husband, 
 in addition to the jointure settled on you at your marriage, and 
 I am sorry to inform you, that the property (which was per- 
 sonal) on which that settlement was made, has in great part dis- 
 appeared. In consequence of this, your original income is now 
 so much reduced as scarcely to amount to a hundred per annum. 
 Perhaps you have been some time aware of this ?' 
 
 I could make no reply, for the shock was so great that I felt 
 myself fast falling into utter incapacity ; but the hand of my 
 child was in mine, and the comfort of that little hand, at that 
 moment enabled me to retain my senses. 
 
 The Jesuit had paused for an instant, but he now resumed his 
 discourse. 
 
 ' Of the settlement made by your uncle, I have a still worse 
 account to give, that having been cancelled by the donor him- 
 self, immediately on your apostatizing from the church of your 
 fathers. Mr. Fitzgerald was not a man of strict business habits, 
 I find, on looking into his affairs ; and having omitted to see that 
 your uncle the bishop signed the deed at the time of your mar- 
 riage, he had left it in his lordship's power to cancel it, as he 
 had afterwards done, and for the reason which I have specified. 
 
 ' The landed property, you will be happy, madam, to learn, is 
 so little encumbered, that it is likely to produce an annual 
 income of from nine to ten thousand pounds. Of course, this 
 amount will not be required for the use of your son at present. 
 It will therefore be set aside except what may be expended in 
 masses for the soul of the deceased to accumulate until your 
 son attain his majority. Meantime, I am sorry to say, we find 
 pressing debts lying against the estate, which require to be paid 
 
 7*
 
 154 HELEN MUUJRAVE; OR, 
 
 as speedily as possibly. There is, however, no personal property 
 in existence. It has all been spent without being accounted for, 
 except an extensive stud, and the costly collections of virtu, pic- 
 tures, works of art, furniture, plate, and other valuables, with 
 which the house is stocked, and which may possibly cover the 
 debts of the deceased, if well sold. To accomplish this, it will 
 be necessary to put an immediate end to the expenses of your 
 extensive establishment. In doing this, we shall be under the 
 necessity of requesting you to withdraw with your family to 
 another residence; and as the reduced state of your income, 
 without any other consideration, renders such a step necessary, 
 you will perhaps, madam, not be disposed to regret or postpone 
 the change. 
 
 ' The debts of honour incurred by the deceased at the gaming- 
 table, and which have already been presented with an air of 
 demand, as though they could legally be sustained, we have 
 decided on repudiating. I trust, madam, your sense of honour 
 on this point is not so nice as to require us to revise our resolu- 
 tion.' 
 
 The great calamities of life, like the thunderbolt or the ava- 
 lanche, provoke no resistance. Their mission is fulfilled, and 
 their work of destruction completed, too rapidly to admit of 
 reaction. Even when the first shock is over, and consciousness 
 breaks upon us of our having been, as it were, hurled into 
 another planet, or thrown to the mercy of an element opposed 
 to the very principles of our existence, we attempt not to extri- 
 cate ourselves, but sink quietly down into ruin 
 
 Such were my feelings, as the Jesuit wound up his narrative 
 of torture with words of mockery. I lifted my child to my 
 arms, and pressed him to my cold and almost lifeless bosom ; 
 while his soft caresses, and the entwining of his little arms 
 around me, brought tears that for the moment saved me, and 
 enabled me articulately to say, ' I presume, Father R6nel, that 
 your business with me is ended ; or have you anything further 
 to communicate which it is necessary for me to know ?' 
 
 ' You are right, madam,' said the Jesuit, ' in not shrinking 
 from what still remains to be told to you. The provisions of the 
 will do not permit my colleague and myself to interfere at all in
 
 JESUIT EXECDTORSHIP. 155 
 
 your pecuniary arrangements for yourself and daughters. I can- 
 not, therefore, trouble you with any proposal or suggestion 
 respecting them. ' But as it is a part of our official duty to make 
 some immediate provision for your son, we propose, if you are 
 willing to take charge of him for the present, to place him with 
 you, and to allow you at the rate of twenty pounds per annum 
 for him. Will this satisfy you, madam ?' 
 
 Insulted beyond measure at the manner and meaning of this 
 proposal, from him who had already denuded me of everything, 
 uncler pretence of executing my husband's will, I could find no 
 words of sufficient import to reply to him ; and he resumed his 
 discourse. 
 
 ' You will not long,' said he, ' be burdened with this duty, as 
 it was not the will of the testator that his son should be reared 
 in heresy. "We are therefore instructed to remove him from you 
 on his attaining his fifth year, and to place him in some Catholic 
 college, either foreign or domestic, in which, if he live, he may 
 receive a training adapted to his future position in life.' 
 
 I know not what more the Jesuit said. I remember only that, 
 feeling my brain as it were on fire, I darted towards the handle 
 of a bell that hung near me, and pulled it violently. In a 
 moment I was- in the arms of my own maid ; and, as I was 
 afterwards told, in a delirium that continued for several 
 hours. 
 
 I had braced myself under the previous inflictions of the 
 Jesuit, determined not to give way ; but when the climax came, 
 and the very child in my arms my own child was rent from 
 me, as my property had been, by his sacrilegious hand, my self- 
 control utterly forsook me. 
 
 When reason returned, I found several letters on my table, in 
 reply to some which I had written when I first became 
 acquainted with the tenor of the will. They were, in general, 
 tenderly expressed, for I had addressed only those persons Avhorn 
 I supposed to be real friends. But they all declined to interfere 
 in my affairs, seeing they were in the hands of the Romish 
 church. Even my uncle, Sir Felix Mulgrave, my father's bro- 
 ther, and the inheritor of his estates, though a barrister of high 
 standing in London, and of course skilled in law, recoiled at the
 
 156 HELEN MULGRAVE J UK, 
 
 idea of catechizing a Jesuit, lest he might bring on himself the 
 maledictions of his church. 
 
 As I was scarcely convalescent when I attempted the perusal 
 of these letters, their contents threw me into a state of hopeless- 
 ness and helplessness as adverse to my interests as to my peace 
 of mind. Father Ossory, who spent some part of every day 
 with me, by constantly speaking of the lofty themes which filled 
 his own soul, and reminding me of Hun ' who bore our griefs 
 and carried our sorrows,' and who had invited the ' heavy laden ' 
 to cast their burdens on Him, kept me alive to a perception of 
 those divine realities, and thus moderated my distress. The fre- 
 quent contemplation of them enabled me to regain that confi- 
 dence in God, of which an excessive worldly care was defraud- 
 ing my soul, and perilling even its salvation. 
 
 I became resigned, and comparatively tranquil. It was, 
 indeed, high time that I should be so, for the new duties that 
 awaited me were every day accumulating. 
 
 Bereft as I was, on all sides, of every earthly friend, and lite- 
 rally alone in the world, with a family of children dependent on 
 me for support, and possessing only a beggarly income totally 
 insufficient to their wants, I felt it an imperative necessity that I 
 should make a last effort to avert or diminish the wrongs that 
 had been perpetrated on me. Of the possible fruitlessness of my 
 efforts I was fully aware ; but, borrowing courage from despair, 
 I resolved on remonstrating with my adversary, not only on the 
 barbarity of his robberies, but on the absence of all precedent in 
 the ordinary conduct of executors for outrages so revolting both 
 to justice and humanity. 
 
 That I might not be betrayed into any expression which from 
 its strength or bitterness should injure my cause, I decided on 
 making ray appeal by letter. Having done so, I awaited, with a 
 throbbing heart, the result. 
 
 Four days elapsed before my missive was acknowledged,, when 
 I received a message from the Jesuit, saying it was indispensable 
 that he should have an immediate interview with me. Of course 
 this message was a mandate. 
 
 The ignorance in which women are left of all business matters, 
 is an egregious error in their bringing up ; and often fatal to
 
 JESUIT EXECCTORSHIP. 157 
 
 themselves and families, when left in widowhood. Ignorant as 
 I was myself of these things, it was necessary that I should 
 endeavour to obtain some degree of information, respecting the 
 amount and position of the family property, that I might be 
 armed for the coming interview with the Jesuit. 
 
 To this end I sent for my late husband's man of business, Mr. 
 Keogh. 
 
 I had often heard Mr. Fitzgerald speak of him as an acute and 
 diligent man of business, and his deportment was that of a 
 respectful, though, perhaps, too obsequious, adviser. Know- 
 ing how thoroughly he was acquainted with my husband's 
 * aftairs, I determined on stating my whole case to him. 
 
 I had some difficulty in obtaining an appointment from him. 
 "When he at last appeared, his whole demeanour was so altered 
 from what it had formerly been, that I was on the point of dis- 
 missing him abruptly, without explanation. 
 
 Ah ! how much I had then to learn of what my own deport- 
 ment and views should be, in order to adapt myself to my new 
 position in life ! 
 
 "When I began to speak to Keogh of my affairs, instead of pay- 
 ing that defferential attention to a client's voice which had been 
 usual with him, his eyes wandered about my apartment, from 
 one object to another, until he at length rose from his seat, while 
 I was speaking to him, to handle and admire a monthly-rose 
 tree, that was blooming in one of its windows. 
 
 At this moment I ceased speaking; and when he turned 
 towards me, as if expecting me to go on, I said to him ' Mr. 
 - Keogh, you do not seem interested in my affairs.' 
 
 He replied, with the greatest familiarity and nonchalance 
 k Bless you, my dear lady, I am always interested where I think 
 I can be of use ; but I fear your case is one in which I cannot 
 act to any purpose ; especially as Father R6nel, one of your late 
 husband's executors, has desired me to reserve myself for him ; 
 and having put a handsome fee into my hand, you see I could 
 not so well act for you, unless you could, as I may say, buy him 
 out. 
 
 ' I speak plainly, dear lady, as I really Avish you well ; and I 
 do not forget how many years I acted for Mr. Fitzgerald, who
 
 158 HELEN MULGKAVE; OR, 
 
 was a generous client to me while he lived. It is unfortunate 
 for your interests, ina'am, that by turning Protestant you have 
 placed yourself in hostility with the church.' 
 
 After a few more words of strained civility, he abruptly took 
 leave ; and thus ended all ray hopes of assistance from him. 
 
 I had now only to receive the Jesuit, and to cast myself on the 
 chances of another interview with him. 
 
 Father Renel, as he entered my room, exhibited striking proofs 
 that his toilet had been more than usually attended to. It 
 would, nevertheless, have been lost on me, had not his air and 
 manner assumed so new a character as to arrest my attention. 
 His fine person and commanding features, not now disfigured by 
 the visible assumption of an artificial humility, which they 
 ordinarily bore, suggested the idea of his appearing in a new 
 guise. 
 
 He looked grave, and would have looked benevolent, but that 
 a countenance with a Jtfephistophiles cast in it, aims in vain at 
 this expression. 
 
 Completely broken down, and suffering under every species 
 of humiliation, I nevertheless felt my pulses quicken and my 
 indignation kindle at sight of him. 
 
 As he seated himself, he fixed his eyes, the expression of 
 which changed every moment, both on me and the child in my 
 lap, so as to revolt and appall me, and cause me to cling to my 
 infant for support. 
 
 After sitting a few seconds in silence, he bent his head 
 towards me, and in a low, deep tone, inquired if we were alone. 
 
 ' Certainly, Father Kenel ; but if you are in want of anything, 
 I am near the bell, and can ring it without rising?' 
 
 ' I want nothing, madam, but yourself no ear but your own 
 and what I am about to say to you requires not only your 
 closest, but your most dispassionate attention. 
 
 This exordium was so extraordinary, that as the Jesuit uttered 
 it, I was thankful that I had placed my maid, who would fly to 
 me at the first touch of the bell, in an adjoining room. 
 
 The Jesuit proceeded ' I regret, madam, with poignant feel- 
 ings, the pain which, from the tenor of the letter I have 
 received from you, I must have inflicted on you in a recent
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSH1P. 159 
 
 interview, by too abrupt a disclosure of the barbarous require- 
 ments of a will, which I have, unfortunately for myself, under- 
 taken to execute. But courageous and admirable as I had 
 always found you, I ' 
 
 ' Pardon me, father,' said I, hastily and imprudently interrupt- 
 ing him, ' I cannot allow myself to receive compliments from 
 you, neither can I listen to reproaches aimed at the dead. The 
 will in question, though attributed to my husband, I have the 
 strongest reason for believing was neither dictated nor consented 
 to by him.' 
 
 I threw out this observation at random, on the faith of what 
 my husband had said with his dying breath, and, though fright- 
 ened at my own temerity, hoped it might strike. But the priest 
 heard it without allowing a muscle of hifl face to be moved, 
 merely saying ' I am unpractised in bandying either compli- 
 ments or reproaches, madam. But had I not supposed you 
 superior to the ordinary weakness of your sex, I might have 
 been more cautious, though I dared not have been less frank, in 
 my official statements. It must be remembered, too, that there 
 are duties so absorbing as to preclude foresight, and dangers so 
 appalling as only to be averted by fearlessness. But I must not 
 forget that my object in coming here is primarily to reply to 
 your letter. 
 
 ' You express yourself, madam, as aggrieved by the conditions 
 of your husband's will, for which, of course, I cannot be respon- 
 sible. You should distinguish betwixt the will, and the execu- 
 tors of it ; instead of which, you direct your reproaches and 
 resentments against me, as though I were acting alone, in execu- 
 tion of a document which I had myself dictated. There are, 
 however, conditions annexed to the fulfilment of your husband's 
 will, of which it is time I should apprize you, as they in some 
 measure change the character of it, by placing in your own 
 hands an optional power, capable of annulling its whole pro- 
 visions. 
 
 ' Your husband well knew, for he was a true son of the 
 church, the powers of that church, and, in making his will, 
 invested his executors with a discretionary power, which, under 
 the church's sanction, is to be used for yonr benefit.
 
 160 HELEN Ml'LOKAVE \ OR, 
 
 ' Thus, an invisible, but an all-powerful hand, that can restore 
 to you all which you deplore as lost, waits to be gracious to you. 
 Your vanished wealth, your lost position, your numerous 
 friends, your beloved children, are all placed within your reach, 
 by the fulfilment of a single condition.' 
 
 I raised my eyes to the face of the speaker, doubting if I 
 heard aright. He saw my surprised and sceptical look, and 
 replied to it. 
 
 ' Yes, incredulous you may well be, of so much mercy, where 
 none could have been expected. In apostatizing from the holy 
 church, you forgot the God of your fathers, and he has now for- 
 gotten you. You have set yourself adrift on the ocean of a Pro- 
 testant heresy, and its waves are bearing you to speedy destruc- 
 tion. Disunited from the visible communion of the church on 
 earth, you are consequently disunited from the invisible commu- 
 nion of the Holy Mother, and from that of the saints and angels 
 in heaven, and from God himself. 
 
 ' Does no touch of pity for yourself agitate your heart, as the 
 foaming billows roll over you ? Or, madly and falsely heroic, 
 are you* determined on spiritual suicide ? Helen Mulgrave ! 
 "What magic still lingers round that name, and even now awakes 
 enthusiasm ! Child of the holy Catholic church ! endowed, even 
 to prodigality, with talent, with beauty, with grace, and attrac- 
 tions of every kind, to render you worthy of the name you bore, 
 and of the glorious church which developed stich powers, and 
 which is still willing to call you her own, and re-purchase for 
 you an inheritance amongst the great and the mighty, both in 
 earth and heaven. ' 
 
 I was about to impugn flattery so insulting, and to break up 
 the conference, but the Jesuit continued, with a vehemence 
 which seemed determined to sweep everything before it, ' I 
 implore you to stay your course to pause to kneel and to 
 confess your sins! Authorized to act as your deliverer and 
 confessor, I should listen to the outpourings of your heart with 
 a depth of sympathy that would divide with you your guilt. 
 You have a confession*!! in this house. Appoint a time when I 
 may meet yon there, and see jou assume again the transforming 
 duty of that sacred place. Bestow this one boon on yourself
 
 JKSU1T EXECUTOKSHfp. 161 
 
 and me, whose duty it is to attempt all things, and endure all 
 things, in bringing back such a wanderer from the church's fold, 
 to place her once more within its saving pale.' 
 
 Father Renel here ceased speaking. 
 
 The mystery of rny persecution was now unveiled. Why 
 inquire further, ? 
 
 It was not Father Renel who was my adversary : it was the 
 Romish church itself, whose inquisitorial powers, neither 
 deterred by my insignificance, nor revolted by the odium of its 
 task, had stooped to take cognizance of a female in private life, 
 and direct a siege of extermination against her, solely for having 
 dared to renounce Popery, and embrace Protestantism ! This 
 was the sum total of her offence, and in wreaking its vengeance 
 on her for that offence, the Komish church, calling itself Chris- 
 tian, would compass sea and land to force her back to its autho- 
 rity, or otherwise accomplish her destruction. 
 
 As the Jesuit paused, looking intensely but artificially earnest, 
 as though he had staked everything on a single throw, I turned 
 from his scrutinizing gaze, to arrange my thoughts, and muster 
 courage for the reply he awaited. 
 
 God and mammon had been distinctly placed before me in the 
 balance. Hence my course became happily clear, although a 
 prescience of the fearful future rose like a gaunt monster to my 
 imagination, showing up the appalling destitution to which I 
 was consigning myself, and those dearer to me than life. I 
 tried my voice several times before I was able, audibly, to say 
 1 Father Renel, I will not affect to misunderstand you, nor will 
 I sarcastically thank the church for its parental solicitude on my 
 behalf. The purpose of your mission is too obvious to be mis- 
 taken. You would restore to me the whole property of which 
 you have robbed me, on a single condition namely, that I 
 should meet you in the confessional of the Romish church, and 
 there renounce that Protestant faith which I have deliberately 
 embraced on conviction. Is it not so ?' 
 
 He bent his head, saying, ' For argument's sake, I admit your 
 statement.' 
 
 ' You are, then, the avowed master of my fate ! I attempt 
 not, at tliis moment, to penetrate the mystery which has made
 
 1G2 IlELUN ML'LOKAVK; OH, 
 
 you so. I am aware that your vocation exempts you from 
 -Utility, in whatever you may dare to attempt in the ser- 
 vice of your church, and that you hold yourself accountable 
 neither to God nor man, but only to the hierarchy you serve. 1 
 do not, therefore, suspect you of personal malice to me or mine 
 in what you have done, and are still doing, for the destruction 
 of my devoted family. I only recognise in it a practical illustra- 
 tion of the spirit and morals of the Romish church, and the 
 principles on which it is founded. 
 
 'But I did not renounce Popery without consideration; nei- 
 ther did I adopt Protestantism without examination. I am, 
 therefore, by God's mercy, steadfast in adhering to it, and total- 
 ly unprepared to accept your " thirty pieces of silver," for a 
 betrayal of that faith on which I found my hopes of everlasting 
 life. 
 
 ' Yon are a man of understanding, Father R6nel, and will not 
 infer from this that I am insensible to the value of that wealth 
 of which I have been despoiled. 
 
 ' Reared in the lap of luxury, and ignorant of the expedients 
 of want, I am bewildered and lost, as I contemplate the dreary 
 waste to which you are consigning me ; and, without faith in 
 God, I should, perhaps, when I look at my children, be tempt- 
 ed, in view of it, to barter everything for the retention of what 
 you are taking from me. But when the inspired volume which 
 the Romish church withholds, and the God whom that volume 
 reveals, are to be exchanged for Popery, the boon you offer for 
 this sacrifice becomes " unrighteous mammon," and is, in com- 
 parison, less to me than " a drop of the bucket," or " the small 
 dust of the balance." ' 
 
 As I ceased speaking, the Jesuit quickly rose, and, crossing 
 the room to obtain his hat, stood with it in his hand before me. 
 
 ' Madam,' said he, ' I take my leave ; for although, as one 
 who is devoted to the welfare of your soul, I could linger ever 
 here, and kneel but to kiss the hem of your garment, your impen- 
 itency makes it my duty to withhold any further remonstrance 
 or exhortation. If, on reflection, you should relent, remember 
 that nothing short of the cleansing power of the confessional 
 could restore you to- the good offices of the church, or reinstate
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 163 
 
 you in your relations with it. The ecclesiastical sentence thcit 
 hangs over you is yet un pronounced ; but, whenever it may fall 
 on your devoted head, it will sink you in endless perdition.' 
 
 These words of doom were uttered in solemn and vengeful 
 tones. But in a moment the placid smile returned, and, bow- 
 ing low, the Jesuit retired. 
 
 I will not conceal from the reader that my nerves were com- 
 pletely shaken by this last menace of the Jesuit. The truth, or 
 the error, which we are taught in childhood, is long-abiding, 
 and savours of immortality. The grossest delusions, and the 
 most irrational opinions, impressed on the ductile nature of 
 infancy, sink deep into it, and incorporate themselves with its 
 very life. 
 
 I had passed through years of reading and reasoning, before 
 I felt the fetters of Popery loose their grasp on my imagination ; 
 and up to the very time of which I write, the mysterious powers 
 of the spiritual world, as delegated to the Romish priesthood, 
 and exercised by them on their dupes and victims, would still in 
 hours of sleep or weakness, haunt and terrify me. 
 
 The decision which I had just expressed to the Jesuit, on the 
 base barter proposed by him, although perhaps too hastily pro- 
 nounced, I could not regret, even on reflection ; and in full view 
 of the consequences which must ensue from it, I could but cast 
 myself on the mercy of God. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 As the ejectment from Beech Park seemed to have become 
 inevitable, in conformity with the will of the destroyer, I 
 attempted to realize and prepare myself for it. 
 
 Yet I still lingered and looked back, now to one quarter, and 
 then to another, for ' help against the mighty.' But in scanning 
 the circle of my near relatives, whom death had spared, (that 
 once happy family, on which formerly the sun never rose but to
 
 104 HELEN ML'LURAVK J Oil, 
 
 bless them,) I could not find one of whom I could ask 
 tance. 
 
 My dear mother, and my younger sister Caroline, were living 
 with my uncle, the Baron de Wallenstein, at Vienna, but not in 
 circumstances to relieve me in any way ; being less happy in 
 their connexion with him than at first, owing perhaps, to their 
 almost entire dependence on him. 
 
 The property that had been left to them by my late uncle the 
 bishop, had, either through mismanagement or embezzlement, 
 never reached them. They had therefore nothing which they 
 could call their own, except my mother's small hereditary 
 income, which was scarcely sufficient to defray their personal 
 expenses, in the high society with which they mingled in the 
 baron's house. 
 
 My sister Dora was far too distant for regular correspondence, 
 and therefore knew but little of my position since my marriage. 
 She bad long been married to Sir Lucius Mac Neil, whom she 
 had been instrumental in converting from Romanism ; and who 
 had accepted, several years since, a government appointment in 
 India, notwithstanding his ample estates at home. 
 
 My uncle, Sir Felix Mulgrave, my father's successor to his 
 estates, had found them so fearfully encumbered, as to make it 
 difficult for him to raise, by mortgage, sufficient funds to support 
 his own extensive establishment in London. 
 
 There was then nothing to hope for from any quarter, if I 
 except my uncle De Carryfort, a man of fortune, without wife 
 or family, residing in Paris ; but with whom I had never had 
 any intercourse. 
 
 The relations of my husband had been for some time before 
 his death alienated from him ; and when they became acquain- 
 ted with his will, and learnt the position in which he had placed 
 his wife, they doubtless made it a pretext to themselves for 
 cutting a connexion which it was easy to foresee might become 
 burdensome to them. 
 
 Staggered by the weight of care and terror that fell on mo at 
 this period, and confused in all my perceptions, I could scarcely 
 discern right from wrong. I arraigned every action of my life, 
 to find some cause in myself for the chastisements that had
 
 JKSUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 165 
 
 fallen on me, and reproached myself for what I had hitherto 
 deemed blameless. 
 
 My passed charities appeared to me but ostentation, my self- 
 denial but the pride of endurance my humility but meanness 
 my patience but obtuseness and even my adoration of the 
 Supreme, but the natural homage of taste, for the sublime and 
 the good ! 
 
 All the established maxims of truth and reason were called in 
 question, and the opinions and cherished sentiments of happier 
 days cast from me as illusions. 
 
 My habits of acting alone remained, to guide me through the 
 labyrinth of sorrows in which I was lost. 
 
 I had not yet decided on a place to retire to, on quitting 
 Beech Park ; but my lagging purpose was quicke % ned by the 
 receipt of a note from the executors, expressing impatience at 
 my delay, and requiring me, unless I was determined to continue 
 the occupation of the Park, to remove from it as speedily as 
 possible. 
 
 They added, that they had come to the determination, not- 
 withstanding the diminution it might cause in the proceeds of 
 the sale, to allow me to select such articles of furniture from my 
 present residence as might be indispensable to me in my future 
 dwelling, provided I confined the selection to things of inferior 
 value. 
 
 I had thought my spirit sufficiently broken to receive any 
 further stroke from the Jesuit without emotion ; but I found, on 
 perusing this note, that I was still alive to insult. I failed not, 
 however, to obey its injunction at once, by hiring a small 
 cottage, not many miles distant from the park, in the vicinity 
 of the town of . 
 
 Alas ! how bewildered, how undefinable were my feelings, as 
 I wandered, on sufferance, through my own house, for the 
 purpose of collecting a few necessary pieces of furniture, to 
 place in my cottage ; and, although I had forborne I fear from 
 pride to take more than bare necessaries, and those the most 
 inferior I could find, they were still unsuitable to the lowly 
 dwelling to which they were consigned 
 
 In spite of the impatience of the Jesuit, I lingered in the
 
 106 HELEN MULGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 / 
 
 house, which had for seven years been my home, and the birth- 
 place of my children, until within a few days of the public sale. 
 Time moves with rapid wing, when he conducts us to the com- 
 mencement of a new era, on which we dread to enter. 
 
 Some days previous to the day of departure, I dismissed all 
 my servants except Mary, who had accompanied me when I 
 quitted my father's house. 
 
 She had continued in the capacity of my own maid, and had 
 been an humble, silent participator in all my sufferings. She 
 was now become my friend and consoler, attending me step by 
 step, through the dark valley of humiliation, and alleviating by 
 sympathy, and may I not also say by companionship, feelings 
 that might otherwise have destroyed me. 
 
 I did little else, the last week of our stay in the house, but 
 rove about the gardens and grounds, or wander from room to 
 room, gazing on the familiar though unconscious things that 
 surrounded me, and apostrophizing them as though they had 
 possessed intelligence. I knew not that to part with inani- 
 mate things could inflict such an excess of pain. 
 
 My mind had so long been braced to an unnatural degree' of 
 tension, by the successive efforts of fortitude which I had been 
 compelled to make, that now, when all was over, and nothing 
 more remained to be done, I sank into a sort of childish weak- 
 ness, and wept incessantly. I should, perhaps, have lost my 
 reason as well as as my fortitude, had not my younger child, my 
 darling of a year old, shown symptoms of indisposition, that 
 drew me in some degree out of myself. Yet even on an occa- 
 sion like this, my sensibility was no longer what it had been- 
 an incentive to exertion. On the contrary, one fit of crying 
 succeeded another, until I became helpless, and without any 
 recollection of what was necessary to be done. 
 
 Mary was now, in point of fact, the mistress, as well as the 
 servant of the house. But for her, the hours had passed away 
 without anything to mark their flight. I saw that the meals 
 appeared as usual, but I knew not whence they came, and 
 thought not of inquiring. On the last evening, as I passed 
 through the spacious but disordered hall, and saw corded 
 trunks, children's toys, and other things which had been placed
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORBHIP. 167 
 
 there to be in readiness for departure, and observed there, at 
 the same time, Rover, my father's dog, passing from one object 
 to another, with an occasional moan, as though he understood 
 and participated in the distress of the occasion, I lost all self- 
 control. So many thoughts of the past were awakened so 
 many deplored occurrences revived, by their association with 
 Rover, that as they rushed on my recollection, I sank under a 
 paroxysm of feeling that threatened my very existence. 
 
 Forgetful of everything, I observed not that Mary was sitting 
 the whole night by my bedside, nor did I once recollect the 
 fatigue she had gone through in the day, and the consequent 
 want of rest. 
 
 The night was one continued struggle betwixt life and death. 
 The visions of early life passed before me the fleeting joys of 
 youth and ignorance, the never-to-be-forgotten separation from 
 my parents and my home, and all the afflicting events that had 
 succeeded this beginning of sorrows. 
 
 When the day dawned, I thought that never had the sun shed 
 its beams on a more heart-stricken wretch. Mary was alarmed 
 at my symptoms, and sent very early in the morning for Father 
 Ossory. 
 
 His benignant countenance, beaming with the holiest affec- 
 tions, spoke peace to my soul, as he solemnly and devoutly pro- 
 nounced the word, on entering my chamber. I poured out my 
 heart to him in self-accusation ; and he reminded me of Him 
 who was ' wounded for our transgressions' who was ' bruised 
 for our iniquities,' and ' with whose stripes we are healed.' ' A 
 man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,' ' who bore our griefs 
 and carried our sorrows.' ' He was oppressed and he was 
 afflicted he opened not his mouth.' ' Yet it pleased the Lord 
 'to bruise him.' 'My child,' said he, "the Lord hath called tliee, 
 as a woman forsaken and grieved in spirit," and He says to thee, 
 " for a small moment have I forsaken thee, but with great mer- 
 cies will I gather thee." u Fight, therefore, the good fight of 
 faith" " lay hold on eternal life, whereunto thou art also called, 
 nnd hast prosessed a good profession, before many witnesses." 
 " If thou faint in the day of adversity, thy strength is small." 
 " Thero remaineth a rest for the people of God. Let ns labour
 
 168 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 therefore to enter into that rest." ' Then blessing me in tlio 
 name of a compassionate Saviour, I was enabled to cast myself 
 upon this all-sufficient source of strength and consolation. 
 
 No wonder that religion, which so greatly extends the sphere 
 of the mind, in showing us our relations with God, should have 
 so great power over us in the day of trouble, or that earthly 
 cares should melt away in its presence. Thoughts of eternity 
 inspire contempt for the arrogant assumptions of time, which 
 would claim for its sands of an hour an importance commensu- 
 rate with endless duration. 
 
 The murmurs of my spirit were soon hushed in listening to 
 the divine words pronounced by Father Ossory ; and observing 
 that I had become tranquil, he left the room, that I might 
 obtain rest. 
 
 Mary closed my curtains, and I enjoyed an hour of forgetful- 
 ness. When I awoke, I felt willing to submit to the will of 
 God, and to acknowledge the right of divine arbitration in all 
 my affairs. 
 
 It was well that I was thus prepared for the further chastise- 
 ments that awaited me. 
 
 What I had hitherto suffered was but a foretaste of sorrow. 
 The depths were still untried ; I had not yet plunged into the 
 ' deep mire, where there was no standing, and where the floods 
 ran over me.' 
 
 Mary and I, early in the afternoon, accompanied by my chil- 
 dren, mounted a rustic vehicle, which had been provided for 
 carrying us to our new abode. 
 
 But before setting out on our journey, I desired that we might 
 be driven round the great park ; not only that I might behold 
 for the last time the beautiful and magnificent trees there, then 
 in full foliage, but that my elder children might receive a strong 
 impression of the place, once their home, and in after years 
 learn, from the loss of it, the fleeting nature of all earthly pos- 
 sessions, and the despotic oower of a Jesuit priest.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 169 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 WE arrived at our little cottage about four in the afternoon. 
 It was a two-story building, consisting, on tbe ground floor, of 
 two small parlours and a kitchen, and over these, three decent 
 bed-rooms. There was a little flower-garden in front of the 
 house, and another, of a larger size, at the back. The site of 
 the house was somewhat raised above the level of a public road, 
 that ran along at a short distance from it in front. 
 
 The cottage was sheltered from a view of the road by a row 
 of fine chestnut-trees, in full foliage, when I. now saw them for 
 the first time ; and through their opening boughs, as I looked at 
 them from a window, I discerned in the distance a range of lofty 
 hills, on whose green sides sunbeams and shadows were sporting 
 with each other. I was touched by the scene before me, for 
 nature is always charming; but recollecting the much we had 
 to do before we could compose ourselves for the night, I turned 
 to the interior of the cottage. It had already, by Mary's 
 orders, been made delicately clean, but there were arrangements 
 to make of our scanty furniture, which Mary and I accomplish- 
 ed in a few hours, and then retired to rest. 
 
 The sleeplessness of the preceding night had well prepared, us 
 to forget, at least for a few hours, the change in our accommo- 
 dations. 
 
 I awoke early in the morning from an uneasy sleep, and found 
 my youngest child, my little darling, who lay by my side, in a 
 high fever. All my skill in curative remedies was immediately 
 exerted, but the want of our accustomed comforts had thrown 
 us all, more or less, into a state of indisposition. 
 
 It is not necessary to describe the violent contrast betwixt 
 Beech Park and the comparative hovel in which we now found 
 ourselves. I saw my good Mary's countenance pale and agi- 
 tated, as she presented herself at my bedside the next morning, 
 and observed that she wept whenever she thought herself nnno-
 
 170 HELEN MCLORAVE; OR, 
 
 tioed. My own oourago rose, as looking round on my children, 
 I felt them to be dearer to me than ever, and hoped that we 
 had reached the climax of our misfortunes. But Mary's too 
 visible struggle affected me, and I felt that, should I lose her, 
 nothing could replace her. Both she and I in a few hours wero 
 absorbed in one object. 
 
 My little one grew worse and worse, until an eruption appear- 
 ed on her skin, which I immediately recognised to be the 
 measles. It was on every account a most inauspicious moment 
 for such a visitation ; and as the next younger child had not yet 
 had the disorder, she also would probably take it, and might be 
 expected every day to sicken with it. 
 
 Mary soon recovered her elasticity, when she saw her services 
 so much needed. But in performing the duties of a nurse, how 
 often did both she and I forget ourselves, and look around in 
 vain for the alleviation afforded by the ordinary comforts of a 
 sick room 1 Neither sofa nor easy-chair was there, to form a 
 change of bed for my child, or a resting-place for myself; nor 
 had I a curtain to defend the dear infant's head at night, or to 
 screen her swollen eyes from the oppressive light of day. 
 
 I might have brought such necessary articles with me, had I 
 foreseen my wants, and my pride had allowed me to do so ; but 
 I had not been sufficiently subdued to accept as a gratuity what 
 I considered as my own property. 
 
 Unskilled in contrivances suggested by want, I was long in 
 learning to make the most of the means in my possession. 
 Mary was a far better manager ; but even she had been from her 
 youth so accustomed to the plenty of an affluent establishment, 
 that neither our separate nor our joint contrivances were at all 
 equal to the demands made on our ingenuity by the want of 
 essential things. 
 
 For two or three days after the appearance of the eruption on 
 my child, there were no symptoms of danger, nor had I the 
 slightest apprehension of the disorder's terminating fatally, 
 althqugh I was fully aware how unfavourable to the safety of its 
 progress were the circumstances I have mentioned. 
 
 On the morning of the fourth day I first observed those 
 symptoms which excited my alarm ; before the termination of
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 1*71 
 
 the fifth my lovely infant was a corpse. In one week more, my 
 next younger child was taken from me, in the same disease. 
 
 On these events I dare not, even at this distance of time, suf- 
 fer myself to dwell. Only a mother who has hung over the 
 sick pillow of her expiring infant, can understand the amount of 
 agony included in those moments, when, watching the convul- 
 sive respiration, or gazing on the last ray of expression in the 
 glazed eye, impotent to relieve, she waits for the sigh that 
 announces all is over. 
 
 I saw my two little ones laid in one grave, and returned from 
 their simple obsequies with a heart dead to all earthly things. 
 
 My soul refused to he comforted, and the oppression on it was 
 so great as to paralyze my faculties. I no longer contended 
 with fate, or struggled with my despair no longer reasoned, no 
 longer wept. The fountain of my tears those silent interces- 
 sors for us with God was dried up, and I wilfully tore from my 
 heart every tender affection and every hope of happiness. 
 
 The sight of my surviving children, and their frightened, 
 inquiring looks, were an insufferable annoyance to me. They 
 appeared like spectres, with hideous features, resembling those 
 phantoms which in a disordered state of the nerves pass before 
 our sight in the darkness of the night. 
 
 Mary, whose tenderness and attentions kept pace with the 
 increasing bitterness of my feelings, was equally repugnant to 
 me, and in a few days a delirious fever relieved me from all 
 sense both of the past and the present. 
 
 When we look back upon our conduct in such moments of 
 trial, we ask witli surprise and humiliation, what had become of 
 those religious principles, of which, untried, we were so sure ; or 
 of that faith in God, which should sustain us, under every 
 calamity ? 
 
 Man is so seldom thrown upon the strength of his principles, 
 so seldom severed from the adventitious supports that surround 
 him, his real power of mind, or his faith, so seldom put to the 
 test, that he may well be pardoned for overrating it, though not 
 for condemning those who have failed in a combat which he has 
 never tried. 
 
 I quitted the sick chamber with diminished sensibilities. The
 
 172 HELEN MULORAVE ; OR, 
 
 physical languor and weakness that remained with me, con- 
 tinued to relax the energies of my mind, and complete what dis- 
 ease had begun its entire subjugation to those external circum- 
 stances, which, in the plenitude of my powers and my posses- 
 sions, I might have vaunted myself of being able to control. 
 
 Although a medical friend had attended both my children and 
 myself without accepting a fee, the expenses of our illness, and 
 those of the funeral, amounted to an alarming sum in the then 
 state of my finances. While these events were taking place in 
 my cottage, the public sale at Beech Park had been going on. 
 It was now over, and the proceeds, it was said, amounted to far 
 more than had been expected. 
 
 One morning, before I was scarcely convalescent enough to 
 meet strangers, I received a visit from two of my late husband's 
 creditors, who formed a deputation from a body of our former 
 tradespeople. They came to inform me, they said, that they had 
 taken the liberty, at the sale of my furniture, to buy for me a 
 selected lot of articles, which they thought adapted to be useful 
 to me, and which they begged to present a.s an offering of respect 
 for myself, as well as of gratitude for favours formerly received 
 from Beech Park. Amongst them were various articles of plate, 
 which they hoped I would not consider as superfluous. 
 
 I was more affected than I wished to be by this unexpected 
 sympathy and .kindness, from a quarter in which I might least 
 have expected to find it, for I was yet unable to bear emotion. 
 
 Our afflictions have done much for us when they have 
 reduced our pride, and taught us lowliness of heart. But a very 
 short time since, I could not have accepted such an offering 
 without doing violence to my nature ; but now I was able to 
 receive it with feelings of gratitude which I was incapable of 
 expressing. 
 
 When my bounteous present arrived, Mary and I found that it 
 produced a delightful addition to our comforts, as, amongst many 
 other things, were a sofa and two easy-chairs. The plate was 
 especially welcome to me, as I was able to turn it immediately 
 into money, and thereby discharge those debts which had been 
 incurred by my illness. 
 
 As the agitation and suffering arising from our new position
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR8HIP. 173 
 
 subsided, and grief had Settled itself into a sort of composure, I 
 began to breathe more freely, and to look around me with a 
 degree of fortitude, which I had not expected ever to feel again. 
 I recollected the lonely situation of Father Ossory, who, in visit- 
 ing me during my illness, was so much exhausted every time he 
 came to my cottage, by the walk of two or three miles, that I 
 became very desirous of bringing him nearer to us. 
 
 After Mary and I had consulted together, we thought that we 
 might, without any material inconvenience to ourselves, offer 
 him an asylum in our little cottage. 
 
 The addition which I had received to my furniture, enabled 
 me to fit up a room for him in tolerable comfort. 
 
 "When the invitation was given to him, he accepted it with so 
 much gratitude as to indicate that he must ha*e suffered greatly 
 from the loneliness and want of comfort in his own cabin. He 
 came to us without loss of time. Indeed, if he had lingered we 
 might never have had the comfort of receiving him at all, as he 
 appeared to be in a state of rapid decline. It was a great plea- 
 sure to me to entertain, under my humble roof, my father's 
 friend, and one so long an inmate of our house. 
 
 On his arrival, the greetings of Rover, and the fond caresses 
 of the children, excited him so much that I was obliged to put a 
 speedy termination to them, by leadhig him to the quiet of his 
 own room, in which, as his books and personals were already 
 arranged, he found himself instantly at home. 
 
 Mary had become very skilful, though the occupation was new 
 to her, in small cookeries, and proved herself so good a nurse, 
 that in about ten days Father Ossory had so far recovered his 
 strength as to look like a new man, and feel himself able to take 
 the lead in our family worship. I never ceased to be thankful 
 that I had been able to number him amongst us. 
 
 He had never yet made me acquainted with the immediate cir- 
 cumstances that had led him to a formal renunciation of the 
 Catholic faith ; but he one day spontaneously entered upon a 
 relation of them. 
 
 ' You must, I think,' said he to me, ' have been aware, before 
 my functions as your confessor and spiritual adviser ceased, that 
 I had become doubtful, on many points on which it had been my 
 habit to be dogmatical.
 
 174 HELEN MLLUHAVK; OK, 
 
 'It is to you, my young friend, that I owe the beginnings of 
 a conversion to that Protestant truth in which I hope to rejoice 
 through all eternity. After I had been severed from your 
 family, by distance and other circumstances, I was much alone, 
 and had great leisure for reflection. 
 
 'Examining myself, I became very unhappy and di&satisfu-d, 
 in the performance of my accustomed routine of religious duty. 
 I was as one that moved without knowing whither my path led ; 
 and every step I took seemed upon such dubious ground, that 
 what I rested on appeared to sink from under me. You will 
 doubtless be surprised, when I tell you that it had not, at any 
 period of my life, been my practice to read the Scriptures. 
 
 1 In short, I was scarcely at all acquainted with them, or I 
 think it would net have been possible for me to have remained 
 so long in errors so flagrant as those I had always held. It was 
 when I heard you, a mere child, whose intellect was but in its 
 dawn, speak of the enlightening power of the Scriptures, that 
 my sluggish conscience first awoke to a sense of my guilty 
 omisMon, as a teacher of religion, in having never made myself 
 acquainted with them. 
 
 ' Weighed down by a sense of the sinfulness of this omission, 
 I feared, at first, that I had thrown away the" salvation offered 
 in the Gospel to him who believes. I began, however, to study 
 the inspired volume in good earnest; but the more I did so, the 
 more I felt myself in the wrong, and the less able was I to 
 reconcile it with the Romish commentaries on it, or with the 
 traditions, assumptions, and doctrines of our church. 
 
 4 1 could find no scriptural ground on which to base these 
 things, and our most pious and erudite writers failed to prove to 
 me, that our church was ' built npon the foundation of the 
 Apostles and Prophets.' 
 
 ' I will not weary you with a detail of my first steps in repen- 
 tance and faith, or relate the struggles I had with myself, before 
 I could determine on making known the change that had taken 
 place in my views. I was, for some time, short-sighted enough 
 to suppose that I mi^ht bind truth to my heart, and yet continue 
 to hold the office of a Romish priest. I saw not, that by retain- 
 ing this office, I should be continuing to teach, and to uphold 
 the errors of Romanism ; and that to do so, with the convic-
 
 JKSUIT EXECUTOB8HIP. 175 
 
 tions I had of their nature and tendency, would be a perilous 
 offence against God. 
 
 ' It happened, at length, that a crisis arrived, which impelled 
 rue to a decision. 
 
 ' The immediate cause of this was an occurrence which was, 
 perhaps, not unusual, but its character was new to me. 
 
 ' A man, who was a stranger, applied to me one day to confess 
 him. I felt a particular reluctance to comply with his require- 
 ment, as there was something in his look and manner so indica- 
 tive of extreme depravity, that I was afraid of learning what 
 I might afterwards regret to know. I endeavoured to put him 
 off, but he would not be diverted from his purpose, and I 
 allowed him to enter the confessional. 
 
 ' I there learnt from him, that, aided by an accomplice, he 
 had engaged to take the life of an individual, whom he named. 
 
 ' The intended victim was a gentleman whom I knew ; and 
 this circumstance heightened the shock of the communication. 
 I remonstrated with the man on the heinousness of his purpose, 
 and pressed forcibly on him the danger in which he would place 
 his soul by the perpetration of it. He told me, it was to avert 
 such a consequence that he had confessed his intention of com- 
 mitting the deed, and that he had brought money with him to 
 buy off the guilt of it offering me, at the same time, a hundred 
 pounds. The affair, he said, was one of -hire, and not of per- 
 sonal malice ; and he, therefore, thought the sum he offered a 
 very handsome one. 
 
 ' Never having been placed in similar circumstances, by any 
 confessing party before, I became more indignant than was 
 compatible with the perfect self-possession essential to my office. 
 
 ' I replied, that as a being amenable to God, who had said, 
 " thou shalt not kill," I could listen to nothing further, in relation 
 to his atrocious purpose, unless he would enter into an engage- 
 ment to relinquish it. 
 
 ' He answered, doggedly, that he was sworn to do it, and he 
 wt)uld do it; but, as money was no object to his employer, he 
 would double the amount he had offered, if that would satisfy 
 the church. 
 
 ' I replied, that no amount could induce me to sanction so
 
 176 HELEN MULQRAVB ; OR, 
 
 monstrous a purpose, by ra&king it a matter of barter, and that 
 I would liear no more from him. He forgot himself pr a 
 moment, and became so violent, both in language and demean- 
 our, that had I not succeeded in overawing him, the confessional 
 might have been desecrated by personal outrage. 
 
 ' We parted thus. 
 
 ' As the nature of my professional vows did not permit me to 
 give any warning to the doomed victim, I was obliged to lock 
 up the corroding secret in my own breast. I examined every 
 possible evasion of my vow, but could find none that would not 
 have done violence to my conscience, and branded me with 
 perjury of the most awful, and in Catholic verbiage, of the most 
 damning kind. 
 
 ' I have said that the intended victim was a gentleman of my 
 own acquaintance. I was one day sent for, hastily, to confess 
 him. Alas ! the bloody deed had been accomplished. I found 
 him but just alive ! 
 
 ' On retiring from this awful duty, I was so filled with horror 
 at my participation in the atrocity, by my omitting to warn the 
 victim, that I fled into the mountains, away from every human 
 eye, for many hours, to give vent to my agony. 
 
 On returning home I was seized with an acute disease that 
 scarcely left me with life. During my illness, my mind was 
 emancipated from its thraldom, and I resolved to renounce for 
 ever, before God and man, that infallible church whose laws 
 compel its ministers to unholy vows, under the guise of faithful- 
 ness to the confessional ; and whose authorities connive at the 
 violation of every moral obligation, as expediency or its own 
 interests may dictate.' 
 
 As the good old man ceased speaking, he sank back in his 
 chair, and remained for some time apparently in meditation. 
 At length, he exclaimed, with a fervour of manner foreign to his 
 habits, ' The Romish church I consider to be the great despot- 
 ism of the world, which is supported by the power it obtains 
 over the souls of men, through the agency of its confessional. 
 In the scrutiny it exercises there, it aims at emulating the omni- 
 science of the Most High, by endeavouring to " discern the 
 thoughts afar off; 1 ' while, by barbarously dragging to light every
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 177 
 
 latent passion, and every half-formed evil purpose, which 
 might otherwise have expired in embryo, the confessional 
 becomes the nursery of crime. 
 
 ' The Romish church asserts, in effect, " all souls are mine," 
 thus arrogating to itself that which belongs to God alone. 
 Hence, its persecution unto death, whenever it has power, of 
 those who dissent from its creeds, stigmatising them as heretics, 
 and consigning them, with religious solemnities, to an eternal 
 damnation, under the blasphemous pretence of doing service to 
 God! 
 
 ' This practice of human sacrifices, which is distinctly recorded 
 as a doctrine in its creeds, is, in a church nominally Christian, so 
 notoriously adverse to the precepts and spirit of Christianity, as 
 to render the assumption of its name a revolting misnomer ; and 
 to reduce it by its hypocrisy below the level of the most barba- 
 rous paganism of the ancient world ; and even below the thug- 
 gery of modern India ! Oh, what have I been doing for more 
 than eighty years, that I have discerned these things only now !' 
 
 I was alarmed at the vehemence with which he uttered this 
 lamentation, and approached him to inquire if he was ill. 
 
 ' No, my good friend,' he replied, ' not ill in body, but broken- 
 hearted, and bewildered by the old things which I now view in 
 so new a light. I am like a man who, having been born blind, 
 is late in life endowed with sight. The light of truth over- 
 powers me, and the magnitude and prominence of those things 
 which I was wont to consider as nothing, overwhelm me by 
 their importance, and their relation with eternity. 
 
 1 Having been born in the Romish church, it was the cradle of 
 my intellect ; and in that cradle I was taught those complicated 
 dogmas, and those specious falsehoods, which were as little 
 understood by me in subsequent years, as then. It is in the 
 nature of the teaching of that church to stultify the intellect, as 
 it is also the natural tendency of its sophistries to destroy the 
 perception of truth. 
 
 ' As the first and most indispensable of its doctrines, I was 
 despotically taught the infallibility of the church. In that doc- 
 trine it was my duty to rest without inquiry ; and I became, 
 what all Romish individuals become, more or less, an automaton, 
 
 8*
 
 178 HELEN MULGBAVE; OR, 
 
 actuated neither by reason nor by instinct, but coerced by an 
 external agency, which, while it fetters the outer man with 
 forms, and surrounds him with mimicries of sacred things, leaves 
 the inner man to "perish for lack of knowledge." Knowledge 
 is the antidote to popery. Alas, how great has been my guilt of 
 ignorance!' 
 
 As he ceased speaking, he arose, and went to his own apart- 
 ment. 
 
 It was a dull, cold afternoon. The very cattle on the hill- 
 sides, opposite our windows, moved sluggishly ; and no human 
 form had been visible for some time, when I saw passing along 
 the road a tall stout female figure, -very much muffled up, as if 
 she too felt the cold. She moved with a hurried step, as 
 though impelled by some urgency: but I should not perhaps 
 have noticed her, had she not appeared to be a stranger. 
 
 Father Ossory returned to the room, while I yet stood at the 
 window, which I immediately quitted, and took a seat by him 
 near the fire. We sat for some minutes in silence, which he 
 broke by saying, ' You are aware of the persecution from all 
 quarters which I endured at first, on my secession from the 
 Romish church, and by which even my life was occasionally 
 endangered. But I have to thank God, that these things did not 
 shake my faith in those divine truths, with which I had so lately 
 become acquainted ; and, believing that I had exchanged a false 
 for a true worship, and being, as I trusted, under the scriptural 
 banner of the cross, I had no anxiety respecting my personal 
 safety, of even my life. I rather hoped that I might be found 
 worthy to suffer unto death, in a cause to which I could now 
 devote but a worthless fragment of my life; and my deep feel- 
 ings of repentance for the past led me to court danger rather 
 than to avoid it, in the performance of the few public duties 
 that remained to me.' 
 
 As he ceased speaking, Father Ossory rose from his seat and 
 stood in the front of the fire, when instantaneously a shot was 
 fired through the window of the room, which, passing close by 
 his head, penetrated an opposite panel in the wainscot. 
 
 I started from my seat, forcibly drawing him at the same 
 moment out of the line of the window, towards which I had not
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 179 
 
 time to turn my head, before a second shot passed through the 
 room, from the same quarter, and in the same direction as the 
 former. 
 
 We both stood for a second, speechless, and then retired pre- 
 cipitately, to a room on the other side of the Cottage, where the 
 children and Mary were. 
 
 It was already dusk, and the increasing darkness of evening 
 soon enabled us to close the window-shutters, without exciting 
 any suspicion of our apprehensions in those who might be 
 watching our movements from without. 
 
 In our little circle, those of us who comprehended our peril- 
 ous position were in no enviable state of feeling. Kot one of 
 the least affected by the incident was Rover, who, chained with- 
 in his own house, kept up an incessant growl, interrupted only 
 by furious barking, which, by drawing attention to his where- 
 abouts, might have provoked an attack upon him. 
 
 The good father was exceedingly distressed at the occurrence, 
 because he considered it to have been on his account that we 
 were placed in so much danger. Under this impression, he pro- 
 posed that on the morrow he should leave us, and commit him- 
 self alone to the haArds of his own position ; but of course I 
 would not listen to such a proposal for a moment. Indeed, I 
 was not at all certain, denounced as I had often been from the 
 altars of different parish chapels in the county, when first I 
 abjured Popery, that I was not as much the aim of the assassin 
 as Father Ossory. 
 
 The children, without being informed of what had occurred, 
 saw that there was some unusual anxiety amongst us, and 
 became restless and uneasy. They were kept up, too, beyond 
 their usual hour of going to bed, for I could not under such cir- 
 cumstances suffer them to be a moment out of my sight. Rover 
 still continued growling and barking, and Father Ossory and I 
 reconnoitred from the windows of his room, which commanded 
 the public road, the appearance of things without ; but the dark- 
 ness was so extreme that nothing could be seen. 
 
 Our .neighbourhood was utterly destitute of protection ; so 
 that had we been venturous enough to seek assistance for the 
 night, from the small town in our vicinity, there would havo
 
 180 HELEN MULGRAVE; OK, 
 
 been little chance of obtaining it ; while there would have been 
 a certainty of our being watched and waylaid in the attempt. 
 Father Ossory was, indeed, earnest in a desire to find his way to 
 the town by the light of a hand-lantern, but we would not 
 allow it. 
 
 After sitting up unusually late, we assembled round our 
 family altar, and commended ourselves to God with fervent 
 supplication that he would be our guardian through" the hours 
 of darkness. 
 
 It is certainly worth remembering, that we all slept as sound- 
 ly as usual on that cold, dark, January night, and that we 
 awoke.on the morrow to hail a bright and cheerful morning. 
 
 The warm greetings with which we met on that morning, as 
 we counted up our little household, and assured ourselves that 
 not one was missing, formed an epoch, upon which I have often 
 looked back with strong and grateful emotion. 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 WHILE I was conversing with Father Ossory after breakfast, 
 Mary, who had been into the town, returned. As she came 
 into the room, she approached me with extraordinary earnestness 
 and agitation; saying, that in her walk through the town, she 
 had seen Margaret Brian, who was so handsomely and fashion- 
 ably dressed that she should not have known her, had not her 
 face been perfectly familiar to her. No recognition had taken 
 place on Brian's part, and Mary was in doubt whether she had 
 even seen her, as their eyes did not meet. 
 
 This information was sufficiently alarming to occasion a new 
 source of anxiety ; but after some reflection, it appeared to me 
 more than probable that Brian herself might have been the 
 party who aimed at playing the assassin on the preceding 
 evening. 
 
 It was certainly corroborative of this suspicion, that tho 
 female figure, muffled up, which I had seen pass the window,
 
 JKSCIT EXECUTORSHIP. 181 
 
 just before the shot was fired into it, answered precisely to the 
 description which I had always heard of the size and height of 
 Brian. If it was so, there was small chance of averting her 
 purpose, although she had failed in her first attempt, as she was 
 always inflexible in pursuit of her objects. But as she had been 
 charged with felony by my father, and had only escaped the 
 prosecution of the charge by flight, it might prove an effectual 
 mode of defending ourselves against farther outrage, to seize 
 her by legal authority on that ground. 
 
 In pursuance of this idea, I immediately wrote to a magis- 
 trate whom I had formerly known, and who was one of those 
 who had held a council at Mulgrave Castle, at the time of the 
 incendiary attempt to destroy it. 
 
 As I began to address this gentleman, who was a man of 
 rank, I shrank from the task I had assumed ; for, how will my 
 appeal be received ? was an inquiry which I could not but make, 
 and which entirely unnerved me. It is always difficult for the 
 poor and the obscure in life to interest their superiors in their 
 difficulties, and still more so for those who having sunk very 
 far below themselves, are no longer recognisable by their 
 former associates. 
 
 But I pursued my object, in spite of my timidity, alluding as 
 slightly as possible to my former self, and merely placing before 
 
 the Marquis of the perilous situation of my family, in a 
 
 cottage half a mile distant from a.nf other habitation, thus fired 
 into, as I believed, by a woman, who was known to have 
 plotted the destruction of Mulgrave Castle. 
 
 As the marquis lived five miles off", I was totally at a loss how 
 to convey my letter to him; and as it was necessary that he 
 should have it without delay, I seriously lamented the diffi- 
 culty. 
 
 When Father Ossory understood the impediment, he insisted 
 on being himself the bearer of the letter. It seemed almost 
 barbarous to allow him to undertake such a commission; but 
 he would not be diverted from it by any remonstrance I could 
 make, on the impossibility of his reaching a place five miles 
 distant, without a conveyance. Assuring me that he should 
 easily and speedily find one, he set out on his errand.
 
 182 HELEN MULGRAVE J OR, 
 
 Although I was well aware of the importance of not losing an 
 hour in my application to the magistrate, and knew how much 
 more effectual it would be through an agent like Father Ossory, 
 I was tilled with inquietude during his absence, lest, if any 
 enemy should be in pursuit. of his life, he might be assassinated 
 before he could return to us. 
 
 When, therefore, we saw his bent and wasted form, in the 
 dusk of the evening, entering the wicket, we were all rejoiced 
 beyond measure ; and the children, clapping their hands, ran out 
 to lead him in. 
 
 He had been so fortunate as to obtain a conveyance ; and yet 
 he was so weary and exhausted, that J could not but reproach 
 myself for every languid symptom he exhibited. 
 
 Nevertheless, it was a joyful re-union, and we felt afresh how 
 valuable he was to us in our loneliness ; while he described him- 
 self as feeling like the dove sent out of the ark, nntil he found 
 himself again in the cottage, in his accustomed easy-chafr. 
 
 His mission had been very successful, the marquis of 
 
 having promised him, that Brian should be immediately looked 
 after, and ' a bailiff sent to pay his respects to her.' After she 
 was secured, it would, he said, be the part of some of the family 
 to appear against her. 
 
 I had not hitherto been aware, that after she had been com- 
 mitted to legal keeping, I should have anything further to do 
 with her ; but now, in being obliged to appear against her I saw 
 myself involved in serious consequences, if I should not be able 
 to prove her the criminal I suspected her to be. 
 
 I was becoming very anxious, lest, by the movement I had 
 made, I had rendered our position more insecure than ever, 
 when I heard the wicket-gate move on its hinges, and turning 
 my head towards the window, saw a gentleman enter the 
 garden. It was my uncle from London ! Oh, what unexpected 
 joy ! But he looked so jaded and worn, that my joy was 
 instantly dashed with pain. 
 
 But he was there, and that was an event of itself to inspire 
 gladness in our whole household. He had left his carriage and 
 servants at the neigbouring town, and walked thence to the 
 cottage.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 183 
 
 I had seen my uncle but once since my father's death, when 
 he paid a visit to my husband and myself soon after our mariage, 
 and remained with us several days. Since then, I had had but 
 little intercourse with him; his affairs in London, and the 
 encumbered estate of which he had come into possession, absor- 
 bing his whole time and attention. 
 
 He was visibly and excessively shocked at the situation in 
 which he found me, and declared with great energy, that he had 
 no idea of my having been left in such utter destitution. Fitz- 
 gerald, he said, assured him in the last interview he had with 
 him, that my jointure was well secured, whatever might be the 
 consequences to his estate or himself, of any irregularities he 
 might fall into. 
 
 ' I knew,' said he, ' that he was a gambler, but I did not sup- 
 pose him to be so utterly unprincipled as I now find he was. 
 What a will !' He lamented in the most affectionate terms his 
 own inability to afford me aid against the executors, or to ame- 
 liorate my condition, except he could do so by any influence ho 
 might have in society. I then inquired if he thought it possible 
 that I could in any way place myself more advantageously in 
 London, where I should be near him, who would then be able 
 to protect me. 
 
 I saw his whole countenance change, and assume an expression 
 of strong emotion, as this proposal was made, and many minutes 
 elapsed before he attempted a reply. When he did so, he hesi- 
 tated and faltered, in a voice that was dry and husky, and in 
 words that I did not at first quite understand. But I finally 
 discovered, that it required more moral courage than my uncle 
 possessed, to identify himself with a reduced and almost desti- 
 tute relative, in the immediate vicinity of his own sphere. 
 
 Sir- Felix Mulgrave, after sitting silent a few minutes, looked 
 at his watch, and pleaded the lateness of the hour, and his 
 expected immediate return to the inn, where he had ordered 
 dinner, as an excuse for his instant departure. But I could not 
 let him depart without speaking to him of Brian, and the ex- 
 treme peril in which we considered ourselves from the occur- 
 rence of the preceding day, with the discovery of her being in 
 the neighbourhood.
 
 184 HEI.KX vn.GKAVE ; OR, 
 
 I therefore begged him to indulge me a few minutes longer, 
 as it was necessary that he should be informed of that in which 
 the family of Mulgrave at large were interested. As he was of 
 course already acquainted with Brian's former delinquencies, he 
 saw at once the importance of securing her, as well as the strong 
 probability of her being the party who had fired into my cottage. 
 When he further learnt that, in case of her being arrested at my 
 instance, it would be necessary for me to appear against her, he 
 said at once that he would take that part on himself, and also 
 adopt measures for the future exemption of my cottage from her 
 attacks. 
 
 He then hastily rose, and .without any apparent pain at 
 leaving me in so forlorn a condition, gave me a finger for his 
 farewell, and hurried off. 
 
 Thus ended an interview that in its first moments had given 
 rise to glowing hopes, which drooped and expired before he dis- 
 appeared from the tearful gaze with which I watched him out 
 of sight. It is difficult to satisfy the requirements of such poor 
 as myself, who are more galled by the contumely of their former 
 equals, than by the deprivations of poverty, and would rather 
 forego a benefit coldly or haughtily rendered, than obtain it at 
 the cost of wounded feelings. 
 
 But a shower of tears after my uncle's departure cleared 
 my mental vision, and enabled me to see and to acknowledge 
 that he had in reality been more kind than I could reasonably 
 have expected him to be. 
 
 As we had taken measures for our safety, we lay down on 
 this night with rather less anxiety than on the preceding. 
 Before retiring, we let loose the dog, that we might further 
 secure ourselvs, by the exercise of his fine and faithful instincts 
 in our defence. He had been, indeed, so restless under his chain 
 from the first moment of the attack upon the cottage, that had 
 we not feared for his life, we should have given him his liberty 
 then. Now that he had obtained it, he seemed half frantic 
 with delight ; running round the house in every direction, and 
 snuffing the ground as he went, to find out the track of the 
 enemy. 
 
 The moon was only in her first quarter, and the sky was
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 185 
 
 cloudy; but there was enough of light, as we examined appear- 
 ances without, from an upper window, to discern any object that 
 might have been in motion, but none was visible. 
 
 Rover's terrific voice, which must have been heard a long way 
 off, as he dashed about in all directions, was of itself a 
 protection. 
 
 We were happy enough on the following morning to find him 
 unharmed, and reposing in his own house. 
 
 In the course of the day, I had a note from my uncle, to tell 
 me that he was of opinion we had nothing more to fear from 
 Margaret Brian ; as before any legal authority could be made 
 available against her, she had disappeared, under the alarming 
 rumour, which had circulated like wildfire, that a process was 
 being instituted to secure her person on an old charge of felony, 
 and a new one of attacking a cottage by firing into it. 
 
 The currency which my uncle found it easy to give to this 
 rumour would, he thought, be found sufficient to deter her from 
 being again seen in our vicinity. Thus ended an alarm which, 
 had it continued, must have entirely destroyed the tranquillity of 
 our little household. As it was, indeed, we could not at once 
 regain the same degree of security that we had been accustomed 
 to feel previously. 
 
 But having done all that we could do, we felt that we might, 
 without presumption, confide our future to the Almighty. 
 
 Rover, after this, was regularly installed as our nightly guard, 
 and well did he perambulate our little territory and its neigh- 
 bouring grounds, from the close until the dawn of the day ; so 
 that under his guardianship we enjoyed three months of undis- 
 turbed security. 
 
 The more we reflected on the probability that it was Brian 
 who had fired into our cottage, the stronger was our belief in it. 
 
 She had always been a notorious zealot of her church, even in 
 her early days, and an active and successful persecutor of Pro- 
 testants, in proportion to the irresponsibility of her social posi- 
 tion. She was, in fact, a true child of the Infallible Church 
 crafty and fatal in her machinations, and more dangerous than 
 an individual who has either character or station to lose by the 
 detection of an enormity.
 
 186 IliiLEN ML'LUUAVK J OR, 
 
 CHAPTEK XX. 
 
 IT was now the month of May that sweetest and most inspir- 
 ing season of th&year when the promises of hope are written 
 on every smelling bud, and an atmosphere vital and buoyant 
 wakes every sense to pleasure, and renders even our sigh.s rap- 
 turous. 
 
 Can it be, that the rushing joy of a world springing into new 
 life, thus showered upon it by the Creator's own hand, is 
 prepared only for material nature? May not the spirit of man 
 drink of it and live ? Are the movements of the sweet spring, 
 in its opening leaves, and its soft tints, advancing daily to the 
 perfection of beauty, to be contemplated without participation 
 in their triumphs ? The manifestation of that renovating power 
 which, from analogy, promises so much to man, should lift him 
 above the depressions of a transient life, and enable him to see, 
 though afar off, his own future, radiated with the glorious hopes 
 that are .written on it. Yet, the first flush of this inspiration 
 o ver, and my hopes evaporated in sighs ; and exalted thoughts 
 found a grave in earthly care for to whatever point of the com- 
 pass I sent an inquiring glance, the future was to me a barren 
 waste a wilderness of spectres from which I was glad to 
 shrink back, even on the perplexing, unsatisfying present. 
 
 Father Ossory was still in his usual health, living very much 
 in the solitude of his own room, in far higher communion than 
 that of earth, and awaiting his dismissal from it. 
 
 Although he never reviewed his earthly career but with sor- 
 row for the unconscious error in which he had lived, yet he had 
 attained to that peace with God which enabled him to rejoice in 
 hope of a blessed future. He several times attempted a written 
 protest against the errors and practices of the church which he 
 had renounced ; but his sight had lately failed him, and the 
 state of his nerves made it impossible for him to pursue any sub- 
 ject closely. 
 
 I therefore prevailed upon him to relinquish this design, as I 
 feared for the consequence to himself of his persisting in it.
 
 18Y 
 
 Oil the evening of the fifteenth of May, he took a walk with 
 my children and myself round our garden. The sun was still 
 above the horizon, but declining fast ; and its setting rays were 
 strikingly beautiful. The sweet notes of some invisible bird, 
 which sang amongst the trees, were so touching as to arrest my 
 attention, and almost abstract me from the scene. The children 
 plucked polyanthuses and lilies of the valley, and placed them in 
 every button-hole of Father Ossory's coat within their reach ; 
 thus dressing him in flowers, and 'then dancing before him, 
 delighted with their achievement and the gaiety of his appear- 
 ance. He was unusually serious, and did not enter into the 
 spirit of their frolics as he was accustomed to do, but seemed 
 faint and abstracted. 
 
 I shortened our saunter, and returned with him to the house. 
 After sitting about five minutes, he rose abruptly, and bade me 
 and the children good night, kissing each of them, and begging 
 them to take care of his bouquets, by putting them into water 
 until the morning. 
 
 After he had dismissed the children, by giving them something 
 to do, he asked me if I would take one more turn with him in 
 the garden. 
 
 Of course I accompanied him ; and when he found we were 
 alone, he said to me, in an under-tone, ' Did you observe the 
 notes of the bird that was singing while the children were 
 dressing me in flowers ?' 
 
 ' Yes ; I thought they were very sweet. But I fear the chil- 
 dren prevented you from enjoying them.' 
 
 4 1 heard the song,' said he, almost in a whisper ; ' it was my 
 requiem.' 
 
 ' Oh no, no, not yet!' said I. 
 
 Ah, my friend ! " The night is far spent the day is at hand." 
 Rejoice for me! Yet I have still much to say to you, and 
 therefore I intend rising early in the morning. "Will you be up 
 at six ?' 
 
 ' Yes, certainly, if you wish it.' 
 
 ' Oh ! I would not die without telling you what I feel of grati- 
 tude, of anxiety, of hope, of fear for you. But I cannot talk 
 now. May God Almighty bless you ! I must go to rest.'
 
 188 IIKLKN MLI.GRAVK ; OR, 
 
 His thoughts seemed to wander, as he said to himself, ' Hark ! 
 they whisper; angels say, sister spirit, come away !' And then 
 he quickened his step ; while I, seeing him totter, endeavoured 
 to assist him into the house. He bade me ' good night ' at the 
 foot of the stairs. I wished to help him up, but he would not 
 permit it. 
 
 After the children had gone to bed, I conversed some time 
 with Mary, who used to call the hour when she and I were left 
 alone, ' her holiday.' On this occasion, we both shed tears in 
 anticipation of an event, which I felt could not be far off. 
 
 At a late hour we retired softly to our different chambers. I 
 lay long awake, and saw the dawn creeping in at the window 
 before I fell asleep. Shortly after, I was again awake, and steal- 
 ing with noiseless step to Father Ossory's chamber door, listened 
 there awhile, to learn if he was stirring, or if I could hear any 
 sound that might assure me of his welfare. But everything 
 around us was as still as death. 
 
 I feared to open his door lest I might disturb him; and 
 retreating to my own room, I lay down, and again fell asleep. 
 
 When I next awoke, I heardthe sweet voices of the children, 
 and Mary's quiet movements below. I arose immediately, and 
 dressing myself hastily, hurried to Father Ossory's room. But 
 all was still silent there ; and I was reluctant, though it was now 
 near eight, to tap at his door, and perhaps awake him from 
 sleep, to ask how he was. 
 
 I awaited another half hour in my own room, and still hearing 
 no movement in his, I tapped at his door. No answer a 
 second tap and still no reply. I then softly opened the door, 
 and could discern, as I stood at it, the extreme paleness of his 
 face, as he lay in bed. Walking slowly to his bedside, I saw at 
 once what I had feared- -the angel of death had been there his 
 spirit had departed. 
 
 * * * * * * 
 
 Although the circumstances of the preceding evening had cer- 
 tainly prepared me to think his death might be near, yet I was 
 not willing, when I saw it, to believe in my own prescience. 
 Neither was I, as I ought to have been, prepared for the shock 
 of the event. No ; I stood breathlessly gazing, and wept, and
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 189 
 
 touched his cold hands, and marked his fine open forehead, now 
 without its usual look of care, and his whole countenance, placid 
 and tranquil as a face of marble. It was death. 
 
 On looking around the chamber, I observed that the custom- 
 ary refreshments which had been placed for him were untouch- 
 ed. But he had evidently been occupied after he had retired ; 
 for on a table in the middle of the room his writing desk was 
 open, and on his dressing-table lay three small packages in writ- 
 ing paper. One of them was inscribed, 
 
 ' For Frederic William Fitzgerald, a gift from his friend, 
 
 'W. OSSORY.' 
 
 Another, ' For Mary Walter, a gift from her friend, 
 
 'W. OSSORY.' 
 
 The third, ' For my funeral expenses, being all the money I 
 have.' 
 
 Inside the package addressed to my son, which contained 
 a gold watch of ancient workmanship, was a note in the follow- 
 ing words : 
 
 ' The enclosed watch was given me, more than sixty years 
 since, by Marie The>ese, Empress of Austria, as a mark of her 
 approbation of a slight service which I, then a student in 
 Vienna, had been so fortunate as to render her. As an ancient 
 relic of a Royal personage so illustrious as the donor, I would 
 fain hope it may not be wholly unacceptable to Frederic, 
 although its pecuniary value is too insignificant to render it 
 worthy of the grandson of Sir William Mulgrave.' The packet 
 addressed to Mary contained the silver watch of the donor, which 
 he had been accustomed to wear constantly. 
 
 He must have wound it up before going to bed, as it was still 
 ticking when we opened the parcel. 
 
 The third packet contained ten guineas. In a short note 
 addressed to myself, which lay on his desk, and which was full 
 of the most affecting acknowledgments, and earnest aspirations 
 for my family at large, he begged that his funeral might be per- 
 formed at the smallest possible cost ; and that, if the ten guineas 
 which he had left for that purpose should prove insufficient, the 
 better part of his wardrobe might be sold to cover the defi- 
 ciency. The remainder of his apparel he requested me to give
 
 i90 HELEX MUJ.CRAVE; OR, 
 
 to the poor of the neighbourhood, in such proportions as I 
 might think best. 
 
 There was a postscript at the end of the note in the following 
 words : 
 
 ' Time, or rather eternity, presses on me ; and I had forgotten 
 that I intended offering my books to you, my most kind and 
 generous friend. I beg you to accept them, for it is, even at 
 this solemn moment, a thought of passing pleasure, that your 
 hands will sometimes turn over those pages on which mine have 
 so often rested ; and that the reasoning which once instructed 
 me, or the delineations that delighted me, may have a similar 
 effect on you. Farewell ! I go to rest perchance to meet you 
 in the morning at six. Yet no ; I shall not see another morning 
 
 until that of the resurrection, for I arn, even now, dying. 
 
 x 
 
 Strange that a harp of thousand strings 
 Should keep in tune so long.' 
 * # * '* * * 
 
 While his corpse remained in the house, it was distressing to 
 observe the uneasiness of the children. They spoke to each 
 other in whispers, and clung together even as they stood by my 
 side. Nor was Mary or I, perhaps, less affected than they, by 
 the feeling that death was again amongst us. 
 
 Severed as we were by our peculiar circumstances from the 
 ordinary sympathy of neighbours and friends, the desolation of 
 that consciousness became paralyzing. I found the only effec- 
 tual mode of rousing myself from torpor, was to visit the corpse, 
 and contemplate closely that which in absence so much affected 
 my imagination. In these visits, the children never attempted 
 to join me after having once seen the dead ; nor do I think they 
 recovered from the shock of that sight until after the funeral of 
 the deceased. 
 
 We buried him on the afternoon of the twenty-first of May, in 
 a small, obscure burying-ground, belonging to some Methodists 
 in the neighbourhood, in which my two infants had been laid, 
 about twelve months before. An itinerant minister of that 
 most kind and pious sect performed the funeral service over the 
 venerated dead; our little household comprising the only 
 mourners that stood round his grave.
 
 JESCIT EXECCTORSHIF. 191 
 
 In the immediate vicinity of that grave was the small mound 
 that covered my little infants, and which at that time was 
 blooming with fragrant flowers that had been planted by Mary 
 the preceding year, and since tended by my dear children. 
 
 When we returned home, we were greeted by Rover, who 
 had been left to guard the cottage in our absence, with the most 
 decided, though not boisterous joy. He seemed to understand 
 the whole affair, having, like the children, so l9ng as the corpse 
 remained in the house, gone about with a dejected air, occasion- 
 ally moaning as he met with anything that had belonged to the 
 departed. 
 
 We were many days, and even weeks, before we were able 
 to return to our ordinary pursuits with any feeling of interest in 
 them ; and as I reflected on the singular piety, amiability, and 
 intelligence of our departed friend, I could not but feel that his 
 loss to us, as an inmate, was real, and must be lasting. 
 
 It is true he had fallen, ''Like a shock of corn, fully ripe in its 
 season,' and his death had been foreseen and expected. But 
 this did not diminish our grief. The good are taken from the 
 evil to come ; and this was literally and strikingly true in 
 Father Ossory's case. Nevertheless, I was not as resigned as I 
 ought to have been to the event, for at the domestic altar we 
 had sustained an irreparable loss, where his venerable form and 
 serious countenance gave force to every sentiment and exhorta- 
 tion he uttered, and impressed his hearers with the reality of 
 those invisible things, which, depicted by a less intelligent and 
 earnest speaker, might have seemed but as words of course. 
 Our distance from any Protestant place of worship had also ren- 
 dered him invaluable to us as a minister of the Gospel, when, as 
 our little group were wont to assemble round him on the 
 Sabbath, the devotional feelings with which he was accustomed 
 to inspire his auditors made me often exclaim, mentally, in 
 fervour of feeling, ' Surely, this is" none other but the House of 
 God !' Now, we saw him no more in the arm-chair he had so 
 often filled, and we listened in vain to catch the accents of affec- 
 lion that fell from his lips. But we knew the consoling fact, 
 that although he would ' not return to us, we should go to him.'
 
 192 HELEN MULORAVE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 IN looking into my pecuniary affairs now, at the end of my 
 first year of widowhood and of poverty, I found that I had not 
 duly estimated the cost of sustaining my family. 
 
 "While Father Ossory lived, I continually put off the day of 
 reckoning, apprehensive that the results might be so alarming 
 as to cause me to betray to him the actual state of my position, 
 which, as it was utterly out of his power to amend it, would 
 have made him wretched. 
 
 Now, however, it was necessary that I should begin a new 
 course, for I was in advance of my miserable pittance ; and as 
 my children's wants would be daily increasing, it was 'necessary 
 that I should observe a more rigid economy than I had hitherto 
 practised. How I should be able to provide for the future, was 
 still more perplexing than for the present, as I had no prospect 
 in life for my daughters, except I could teach them to live by 
 their own exertions. 
 
 My eldest girl, Dora, was just seven years of age, and Caroline 
 not yet six. 
 
 My youngest child, ray son, already four and a half, was but 
 nominally mine, and destined to be torn from me in the course 
 of a few months. Yet so long as I saw him under my roof, and 
 folded him in my arms, I was wont to cherish hope that that 
 cruel destiny might yet be averted. If not, I dreaded to think 
 of tlie consequences of seeing him borne away. 
 
 But as we have no prescience sufficient to inform us of what 
 a day may bring forth, so we are not permitted to create 
 phantom griefs, and incapacitate ourselves for present duty, 
 by anticipations of future evil that may never arrive. Mean- 
 while, I read and wept, and prayed with my child, in labouring 
 to trive him scriptural ideas of God and divine truth, inducing 
 thereby almost a precocity in such knowledge, which I well 
 knew, like the forced plant of the hot-house, might perish under 
 a single blast, by an untimely removal from its native soil and
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 193 
 
 atmosphere. Nevertheless, it was my duty to continue my 
 labour, and though it was not in my power to mitigate the 
 hardships which my son was now enduring on the very thresh- 
 old of his existence, I hoped they might at least prove a salu- 
 tary discipline for whatever lot awaited him. 
 
 After much painful rumination, I resolved on bringing up my 
 daughters for private governesses. They were both very intel- 
 ligent girls, and until a year ago had been instructed, so far as 
 children of their age could be, by an English governess, and 
 were sufficiently advanced in the elements of knowledge when 
 they came out of her hands. 
 
 My son, also at four could read first books, and perform with 
 ease those little tasks given to children of his age. I regret to 
 say that during the past year very little progress had been made 
 under my own tuition in book-knowledge; but I had taught 
 them many practical and useful matters of fact, and had endea- 
 voured to imbue them with common sense. 
 
 Ornamental education is often imposed on the young, before 
 any foundation has been laid in the mind of useful and essential 
 knowledge. I dreaded this course of proceeding with my chil- 
 dren, as I was fearful of producing a result that might be fatal 
 to their future success, in the sphere of life which I had chosen 
 for them, and which might retard the development of that 
 sound common sense, which can alone form a durable basis for 
 every human acquirement. I wished also to avoid the common 
 error in private education, of prematurely refining the charac- 
 ter ; as it appeared to me that refinement should be the natural 
 offspring of taste, and not the graft of cultivation. And for the 
 very humble sphere in which my children were destined to 
 move, to aim at refinement would have been a cruel error ; as 
 all courage, short of moral heroism, must be insufficient to ren- 
 der their career successful, and fence off from them the innume- 
 rable lacerations incident to their destined profession. 
 
 I had already lost much time in the process of preparation ; 
 and before I could proceed further, without interruption, it was 
 necessary that the amount of my future family expenditure should 
 be reduced to rule. 
 
 Mary, who had originally been brought up somewhat
 
 194 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 delicately, and whoso occupation as a lady's inaid had been of 
 the lightest kind of labour, had, since we had been living at the 
 cottage, voluntarily assumed, and succeeded in performing, all 
 kinds of household work with the most admirable nicety. For 
 this she had received no higher wages than heretofore ; but even 
 this amount, if she remained with me, I should be obliged to 
 reduce. As this was a species of injustice against which my 
 mind strongly revolted, I found it for many days impossible to 
 speak of it. At length, I explained to her my pecuniary diffi- 
 culty, requesting her to take her own time, but to seek another 
 situation, in which she would be more worthily recompensed for 
 her valuable services.- 
 
 "When I had given utterance to this proposal, it proved so bar- 
 barous an outrage both on my own feelings and on poor Mary's, 
 as almost to create a scene. 
 
 For myself, overpowered by conflicting fears and emotions, I 
 nearly fainted. 
 
 Mary, more heroic or less responsible, though she wept, 
 declined, with great modesty but with immovable firmness, my 
 proposal to part with her. It was useless to remonstrate ; she had 
 determined, she said, never to leave me until the wheel of for- 
 tune came round ; and of this she was so sure, that with genuine 
 credulity, which often assumes the character of prescience, she 
 perpetually told her dreams and accumulated omens to cheer my 
 spirits and convert me to her faith. It would have been an 
 insult to urge any further, on so generous a creature, a point of 
 interest. 
 
 I therefore forbore to do so ; and constructed my plans for {he 
 future upon the certainty of her remaining with me. 
 
 The daily education of the children became henceforth an 
 absorbing occupation for me; while Mary took upon her the 
 whole management and labour of household affairs. The sum 
 on which we were all to be subsisted was so limited, that only 
 the extremest frugality could enable me to live without debts. 
 
 "We reduced ourselves to the coarsest fare, which, though at 
 first a great trial, and often productive of languor and suffering, 
 was persevered in until the difficulty was conquered; and my 
 children became such little philosophers as to be almost per
 
 JESUIT EXKCUTORSHIP. 195 
 
 suaded that pain was no evil, or at least, that the pleasure of 
 conquering themselves was greater than the pain attending the 
 conflict. My heart tasted again of pleasure as I discerned the 
 development of their faculties, and saw principles taking root in 
 their hearts which I considered more valuable than an inheri- 
 tance. Stripped as they were of what should have been their 
 hereditary possessions, I persuaded myself that I was placing 
 within their reach a species of wealth far more their own, and 
 less accessible to the accidents of fortune, than that which they 
 had lost, when I taught them experimentally that internal power 
 over themselves, which is the most precious of all attainments. 
 
 I found the instruction of my children a labour of infinite 
 rewards ; and could I have made any provision for them that 
 would have survived myself, I should now have enjoyed content, 
 in spite of the meanness of my condition. But to know that if 
 I were removed, my dear and innocent children might sink down 
 to companionship with the paupers of the land, was a contin- 
 gency I could not endure to look on ; and yet it was ever in my 
 thoughts. It was thus I was perpetually haunted with anxie- 
 ties ; and while cherishing and recording my griefs, my unregis- 
 tered joys took flight and were forgotten. 
 
 But all is not bitterness even in poverty ; there are sources of 
 pleasure over which it has no empire, else were its iron hand as 
 deadly to the soul as to the sense. The companions of my 
 retreat never failed me, whether I speak of the little circle that 
 formed my domestic society, or of the philosophers and poets 
 that graced my rustic shelves. Nevertheless, when, after 
 another year of pecuniary experiment of laborious exertion and 
 life-destroying privations I found myself again in debt,*I was 
 plunged into despair. 
 
 I found, upon looking into my affairs, that I could no longer 
 retain even my little cottage ; and the two years of experiment 
 which I had made in the education of my daughters convinced 
 me that, in a place so remote from masters, it would be impossi- 
 ble to give them those accomplishments, even had my income 
 been adequate to doing so, which were necessary to prepare 
 them for their future lot in life. It was impossible that I could 
 make any additional retrenchment where I was, without endan-
 
 196 HELEN MULGRAVK; OR, 
 
 gering the health of my family. It therefore became a matter 
 of necessity that we should remove to some less expcii-ivr 
 locality. But whither? Ah! what a dreadful question is this 
 for any human being who has no pecuniary resource adequate 
 to his wants ! 
 
 Had I possessed at this time any industrial art by which I 
 could honestly have gained money, I should have blessed the 
 hour that disclosed it, whatever effort it had exacted of me. 
 But of any tiling of this sort I was as ignorant as my children 
 themselves. 
 
 In this moment of extreme anxiety I received a communica- 
 tion from the executors, reminding me that my son was nearly 
 five years of age, and that the day was close at hand when it 
 would be necessary to remove him from my protection, in pursu- 
 ance of his father's will. ' It was their intention,' they added, 
 * to place him at once in the Irish College at Paris, where he 
 would receive an education suitable to the church in which he 
 was born, and to his future prospects in life.' 
 
 The sword which had so long been suspended over me, had 
 then, at last, fallen ! 
 
 That I survived this shock was, perhaps, owing to a sudden 
 thought, which, after some moments of agony, darted into my 
 brain, and which was nothing less than that I would follow my 
 child to Paris ! Could any mother do less than this for her only 
 son, and the heir of her house ? But how accomplish such a 
 purpose ? The unavoidable expense of the experiment seemed 
 at the first glance insuperable, as it would be impossible to 
 create adequate funds, but by sacrifices so great as to absorb 
 everything of disposable value which remained to me ; leaving 
 no resource for any future emergency, how urgent soever it 
 might prove. 
 
 But to watch over my child, and occasionally to see him, 
 though bereft of all power to serve him, was surely an object 
 of sufficient importance, not only to him but to his sisters to 
 justify the sacrifice of every hoarded superfluity. 
 
 Deliberate thought, it is true, showed me the perilousness of 
 thus transporting myself and daughters to & foreign land ; but 
 though I shuddered in contemplating the experiment, I did not
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR8HIP. 197 
 
 abandon it. There had once, indeed, been sentiments associated 
 with France which made its very name dear to me ; but these 
 had been effaced by the tears of many years, and I now only 
 thought of it as the place which would henceforth contain my 
 son. I should be an alien in Paris, and my lot would thus be 
 cast among strangers. But what mattered it? "Was I not a 
 stranger in my own land, and is not ' the poor man,' every- 
 where, ' separated from his neighbour ?' 
 
 I had, it is true, one relative in Paris ; but it was not very 
 likely that he would recognise me in the lowliness of my present 
 condition. Yet there was a feeling of security in knowing that 
 one of my own blood would be near me, though I must never 
 approach him. 
 
 ***** * 
 
 When, at length, my child had been actually wrenched from 
 me, I reasoned, I hesitated no more ; and every lion that had 
 hitherto been in my way, disappeared before the impetuous 
 impulse with which, sleeping and waking, my heart followed 
 him, and I entered upon my preparations for departure with a 
 sort of desperate energy. 
 
 But although every impediment seemed thus removed by the 
 ardour of my own purpose, there was still one, which though 
 last considered, had ever been first in my heart viz., the una- 
 voidable dismissal of my excellent Mary. Not to wound her 
 unnecessarily, I made her the confidant and the judge, both of 
 my embarrassments and my projects ; and as her feelings were 
 almost as deeply interested in the welfare of my children as my 
 own, she perfectly acquiesced in the decision I had formed ; and 
 to lessen my anxiety at the responsibility incurred by it, she 
 reminded me of all the possible advantages which might arise 
 from our removal ; and in her quiet modest way, enumerated 
 the benefits that must accrue to my daughters from an education 
 in Paris. 
 
 She had- already spent all her earnings in my service, or 
 nothing could have deterred her from accompanying us, at "her 
 own cost. As it was, this proof of her attachment was imprac- 
 ticable, and she buried her regrets in her own heart in silence, 
 that she might not augment mine.
 
 198 UELEN MULGRATE | OR, 
 
 It was not until I had sold both my furniture and plate, that I 
 found it would be necessary also to dispose of the jewelry and 
 trinkets that still remained to me. After these steps had been 
 taken, it was too late to retreat. But when I found that every- 
 thing I possessed had been actually disposed of, and no reserve 
 made for any of the contingencies of a perilous experiment, fears 
 and misgivings began again to haunt my pillow, and phantoms 
 of distress to people my dreams. I found it necessary to call up 
 in review every encouraging circumstance that might enable me 
 to sustain the responsibility I had imposed on myself. If I asked 
 the opinion of others, it was in the hope they would applaud 
 my project, rather than remind me of the possibility of its 
 failure for on this I dared not trust myself to think. 
 
 I was quitting my own dear native land, and my family con- 
 nexions. But what were my connexions to me ? me ! whom 
 as a heretic they had cast away as a withered branch from my 
 family tree, and whose very existence many of them seemed to 
 have forgotten. On the Continent I had a mother and sister ; 
 and though, like me, they were fettered by the iron hand of 
 poverty, yet, by lessening the distance between us, was I not 
 rendering it possible for me to meet them once more on earth ? 
 My two bachelor uncles were men of fortune, who, though they 
 had yet shown no kindness to me, and very little to my mother 
 and sister since my father's death, might, perchance, bestow 
 on my sweet and blooming children that recognition from 
 which my humiliations had debarred myself. 
 
 It was thus I endeavoured to fortify my courage, and keep 
 alive hopes of success, which fluctuated with every varying huo 
 of a changing sky. 
 
 Until my child had actually been transported to Paris, I 
 thought it not prudent to suffer my intention of following him 
 thither to transpire. I have reason, therefore, to believe that 
 the Jesuit was taken by surprise when I wrote a note to apprize 
 him of it, and to request an introduction to the Governor of the 
 College, in proof of my identity, that I might occasionally be 
 admitted to see my child, and satisfy myself of his welfare. 
 The Jesuit's reply was, perhaps, such as I ought to have 
 expected, but I was not prepared for the full extent of its bar-
 
 JE6UIT EiECUTOHSHIF. 199 
 
 barity. lie called on me, and coolly told me, that knowing tlie 
 passionate fondness of my maternal feelings, he had deemed it 
 necessary to provide for the child's future welfare by placing an 
 effectual barrier to my intercourse with him, except by letter. 
 . He presumed not, he said, to suggest any advice respecting 
 my own movements ; although, as one of my husband's execu- 
 tors, he could not but desire to see me sustain a deportment 
 suitable to my own superior character, and the dignity of my 
 family and connexions. 
 
 I made him no reply ; and, seeing me thus inflexible to his 
 admonitions, he quitted me abruptly. 
 
 Instantly after his departure, I wrote to a maternal relative, 
 whose ancestors had, some sixty years since, given large bequests 
 to the Irish College in Paris, in" virtue of which their descendants 
 were entitled to certain privileges in their admission to it. My 
 son was, of course, one of those descendants ; and I hoped to 
 learn that this fact might obtain for me the desired occasional 
 interview with him. 
 
 My relative replied, that as a parent himself, he could well 
 understand a parent's feelings for so young a child. But he 
 feared that my secession from the Eomish church might prove 
 an insurmountable barrier to the indulgence sought ; especially 
 as it would be, if granted, a violation of the condition imposed 
 on the college by the executors. 
 
 Nevertheless,' he added, ' I will furnish you with a letter of 
 identity, which may do something for you, and if you be able to 
 get it signed also by your two maternal uncles, the baron at 
 Vienna and the count at Paris, you may possibly obtain your 
 object, although perhaps under stringent conditions.' 
 
 As I knew the influence which my two uncles on the Contin- 
 ent possessed with the officials of the college, I thought myself 
 now in possession 'of a document that might counteract the influ- 
 ence of the Jesuit. 
 
 I therefore entered, with something like hope, upon my final 
 arrangements for my journey, in a small and wretched apart- 
 ment in the town of , my cottage having been resigned to 
 
 another tenant. Let not my reader suppose that, while I was 
 taking ponusol of myself and my few friends, I omitted to ask
 
 200 HELEN MULGBAVK | OR, 
 
 counsel of God. To what purpose are our efforts to learn and 
 to do his will, if we seek not his divine aid, and obtain not of 
 him by supplication, that inspiration, so uudefinable, so imper- 
 ceptible, yet so certain, that, like the dew on the grass, it ferti- 
 lizes and sustains the tender blade, which yet exhibits no recog- 
 nisable proof of its influence. 
 
 The expenses incurred in the lodging which I occupied had 
 not been foreseen, and were therefore not included in my esti- 
 mates ; and as I was unexpectedly detained here a fortnight, I 
 had reason to fear that this drain on the little fund provided for 
 my adventurous journey, might hereafter prove a serious incon- 
 venience to me. But there was no avoiding this expense, or 
 many others not foreseen. Postage at this time was a formidable 
 cost to the poor ; and those to wiiom I had occasion to write, 
 had no idea that the cost of a letter could be an amount not 
 only to inconvenience, but to embarrass me. 
 
 A day or two before our departure, I visited with my children 
 the graves of our household. I had been obliged to leave those 
 of Father Ossory and my infant children without a memorial to 
 indicate their locality ; but how gratifying soever it would have 
 been to me to erect such memorials, it would in my circum- 
 stances have been a robbery of the living for the dead. With- 
 out the indication of a tomb-stone, however, we found both 
 graves sufficiently marked and defended, by the groups of flowers 
 growing on them, of which the children gathered a large nose- 
 gay from the infants' grave, to strew on the tomb of their 
 father. Precious children! In the filial sentiments they 
 cherished for him, of whom they knew nothing, they were at 
 once dutiful and happy. The humble grave of the infants, and 
 the splendid tombs of their father and uncle, were some miles 
 apart; but we accomplished a visit to each. Although I had 
 visited the latter, from a feeling that it was a due which I owed 
 to the dead, previous to what might prove a final banishment 
 form my country, I suffered so much in the fulfilment of it, from 
 the retrospects which it naturally awakened, that I regretted the 
 infliction I had imposed on myself. 
 
 It was not grief or tenderness that filled my soul, but a chaos 
 of thoughts, appalling as the spectres of the dead, and revolting
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR8HIP. 201 
 
 to every instinct of my nature. Alas ! I fear they were but 
 impulses of resentment, and that I was not yet subdued to resig- 
 nation. But nothing creates so much bitterness of heart as a 
 long continued and unsuccessful struggle with the difficulties of 
 a position into which we have been impelled by the coercion of 
 authority. 
 
 As I meditated over my uncle's ashes, now harmless as the 
 dust under my feet, I gazed around for some attesting relic of 
 that resistless power which had wrenched me from the fairest 
 prospects and the dearest ties, to hurl me into an abyss of 
 misery ! But it was nowhere recognisable, except in the debase- 
 ment of my own condition. I had passed, as had been scorn- 
 fully foreshadowed, ' from the palace to the hovel,' spite of the 
 costly sacrifice which had been made at my own expense to 
 avert such a fate! Now, the arbiter of my destiny lay in 
 nothingness, within the marble that enshrined him, unconscious 
 alike of himself and of her whose feelings of grief and destitu- 
 tion were wild enough to evoke compassion from the senseless 
 tenant of his tomb. 
 
 If I felt bitterly, as I hung over that tomb, it was that my sor- 
 rows traced themselves to him as their source, and my shudder- 
 ing fear of the future was at that moment stronger than reason, 
 for I was not fancifully, but actually adrift, with two children, 
 on the stormy sea of Adventure. Bound thus to the unknown, 
 and far-off port of Subsistence, without compass to guide, or 
 -rudder to steer my frail bark, it was already pitching about, 
 amidst rocks on one hand and shoals on the other ; while the 
 clouds and darkness that hung over my horizon obscured the 
 future and bewildered my senses. 
 
 I returned to my lodging weary and sick at heart, and found 
 a letter there from my uncle Sir Felix, in answer to a farewell 
 which I had addressed to him and my aunt. It informed me 
 that my aunt was suffering from a mortal disease, and was so ill 
 as to require constant attendance both night and day. 
 
 He added, that her personal attendants, as it annoyed her to 
 have strangers about her, had been for some time so perpetually 
 with her as to be nearly worn out. As 1 had been exerting 
 myself in vain in Ireland, to get Mary into a family of distinc- 
 
 9*
 
 202 HELEN MULORAVE ; OR, 
 
 tion, I wrote to my ancle by return of post, to beg that he 
 would allow her to come to Hanover Square, where I pledged 
 myself she would prove a treasure to my aunt. 
 
 My proposal was promptly assented to, and I had the satisfac- 
 tion in this arrangement of securing for Mary all that I could 
 desire, and at the same time of gratifying her affectionate heart 
 by continuing her in the family. She was speedily ready for 
 her new undertaking, but resolved on not setting out for Lon- 
 don, so long as there was anything which she could do for us. 
 She therefore remained to assist our departure. 
 
 Rover was left in her care, and my uncle had given her per- 
 mission to bring him with her to his house, together with what- 
 ever else I might wish to entrust to his care. 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 AT length the moment of departure arrived ; but the parting 
 with Mary had nearly proved fatal to my fortitude: the affec- 
 tionate creature had pined herself ill beforehand. After we had 
 mounted the vehicle which was to convey us away, she hung on 
 the door of it, crying so bitterly that no one had resolution to 
 remind her she was detaining the carriage. The long-patient 
 driver was at length obliged to use gentle force, to disengage her 
 from her hold. We heard her voice for many minutes after we 
 had moved off, and saw her slender figure rivetted to the spot 
 where we had left her, with her hands in an attitude of invoca- 
 tion, until a turn in the road rendered her no longer visible. 
 
 I then sank back in the carriage, almost annihilated by the 
 griefs and fears that came rushing on my heart like a torrent. It 
 was in vain I endeavoured to throw them off; the whole pro- 
 ject, at that moment, seemed like an outrage on myself, and the 
 children still left, and still so dear to rne. I thought all was lost, 
 and that by a presumptuous stake of things which should have 
 been sacred in my eyes, and exempt from experiment, I had cast
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOESHIP. 208 
 
 away the last consolation of my heart that of not having been 
 the author of my own and my children's wretchedness. 
 
 The enterprise in which I had engaged required a sternness 
 of fortitude that was scarcely in my nature. Yet now, at the 
 moment of commencing it, the ordinary courage of my mind 
 failed me. But I was carried on, in spite of myself, to plunge 
 into untried exile. 
 
 Our first stage was to Cork, where I parted, perhaps for ever, 
 with my dear native land, whose every grain of earth and weed 
 on the highway became precious in my eyes as I gazed on them 
 for the last time. Ireland beloved and beautiful farewell! 
 Thy history, like mine, is but a record of suffering. Ob, when 
 will the sun of happiness dawn on thee or on me ! 
 
 We reached Bristol by steam. Everything in England was 
 new to me ; but my attention would not be arrested by anything 
 short of my final destination, otherwise I could not have gazed 
 on the scenery of the Avon, as we sailed up that river to Clif- 
 ton, without admiration. 
 
 We went from Bristol to, Southampton, and thence by steam 
 to Havre. The heavens certainly smiled on our landing in 
 France, and I seized on this circumstance as a happy omen ; for 
 ' trifles light as air' are sometimes ministers of hope or despair. 
 
 Although I had slept while crossing the Channel, I had no 
 difficulty in believing, when I first beheld the quay and streets 
 of Havre from the deck of the boat, that I was looking on a 
 foreign land. Parrots screaming at open doors and windows ; 
 gens cTarmes stationed at every turn ; and women moving about 
 the streets without hats or bonnets, in high Normandy caps, 
 with long lappets, convinced me of thie to demonstration. I 
 had, nevertheless, some difficulty in persuading myself that 
 this was France that country once the theatre of my youthful 
 dreams, and the Arcadia of my imagination. 
 
 Often as I had seen it in my mind's eye, and familiar as I had 
 fancied myself with its peculiarities, a single glance falsified all 
 my conceptions of it, and convinced me that no description can 
 impart to the mind adequate and accurate ideas of a country wo 
 have never seen. 
 
 Havre did not interest me; and having passed through tho
 
 204 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, ^ 
 
 formalities of the custom-house without impediment, wo 
 embarked on the day after our arrival, in the steamboat La 
 Duehesse cPAngouUme, for Rouen. Fanned by gentle gales, and 
 Bailing under skies of benignant aspect, everything around me 
 fostered the hope that at least I had not committed a fatal error 
 in throwing myself and family on the chances of a foreign land. 
 
 The scenery of the Seine is beyond description beautiful and 
 varied, and almost inspired me with a feeling of pleasure. The 
 great features of nature, like those of man, are everywhere simi- 
 lar, and the eternity of mountains and valleys speaks to us in a 
 language which the soul can everywhere understand, while it 
 proclaims truths which we discern and reverence. 
 
 The sympathy that exists between nature and the soul is more 
 cordial than that betwixt man and man. To this benign and 
 silent listener we unfold our deepest and most passionate griefs ; 
 and though she answers not with condolences, she beholds our 
 tears without reproaching our weakness, infuses peace into the 
 troubled breast, and when we sink under our sorrows, receives 
 us into her bosom, and blends our being with her own. 
 
 We reached Rouen late in the evening, and the interval of 
 repose which during our passage I had stolen from habitual 
 anxiety, vanished before the crowd that rushed on board the 
 boat as it reached the quay. 
 
 I encountered at Rouen, as everywhere else, a thousand diffi- 
 culties and inconveniences incident to my inexperience, my 
 poverty, and the unprotectedness of my coud||i0n ; but these I 
 pass over, as well as the impertinences, not the smallest of my 
 trials, to which I was exposed from the youthfulness of my 
 appearance. 
 
 On the following evening I pursued my journey to Paris by 
 diligence, and arrived there at mid-day. Notwithstanding the 
 fatigue attendant on travelling every day, and the weariness of 
 my spirit, the beauty of the approach to Paris by the Barriere 
 de 1'Etoile could not fail to arrest and absorb, for the moment, 
 every faculty. 
 
 A refreshing rain, which had fallen during the night, had so 
 renovated both fields and foliage, that in the morning they 
 
 Dked as fresh as in the early spring.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 205 
 
 Scenes of beauty were everywhere around me ; but when, 
 after quitting Nanterre, we were placed by a sudden turn of the 
 road in full view of that imposing object, the Barriere de 
 1'Etoile, at the extremity of an avenue some miles in length, my 
 admiration was unbounded. 
 
 The vehicle stopped as we arrived at the barriere for the cus- 
 tomary examination ; it was but the business of an instant, and 
 then driving swiftly through the gateway we were in Paris. 
 Paris ! What a thousand undefinable thoughts came over me 
 as I uttered the name, and first raised my eyes to its domes and 
 steeples, holding their lofty heads in sunbeams. Not such sun- 
 beams as those even of our dear little Emerald Isle ; but bright 
 and golden rays unclouded by smoke or fog. The visions of 
 years were in an instant realized ; and could I have taken account 
 of myself at such a moment, I had described feelings as new as 
 the scenes before me. 
 
 Whether I gazed on the objects of nearer interest in the 
 Avenue de Neuilly and the Champs Elysees, or, looking 
 onwards, descried in the distance the forest of trees which indi- 
 cated the garden of the Tuileries, all was enchantment. As we 
 passed by the Place Louis Quioze, other objects broke in sue-- 
 cession on my view ; and the chamber of Deputies, with its con- 
 tiguous edifices on the south of the Seine, were, as we drove 
 rapidly on, instantly exchanged for a near view of the noble 
 west gate of entrance to the Tuileries, the horses in Avhito 
 marble by whi^jpit was at this period surmounted, wild with 
 animation, and almost leaping from their pedestals, forming a 
 fine contrast to the automaton figures of the Swiss guards on 
 iduty below. It struck me that, for the first time in my life, I 
 beheld city views which more than equalled in beauty the pic- 
 tures that are made of them. 
 
 The artist, by his command of light and shade, and clear 
 atmosphere, and cloudless skies, often throws a degree of beauty 
 over his delineations which destroys resemblance, and excites 
 anticipations that make a mockery of truth. But here, the 
 original surpassed its fairest copy, looking like a land of glorious 
 dreams. Ah ! little know 1 then how much I was destined 
 both to suffer and to enjoy in this region of romance I
 
 206 HELEN MULORAVB ; OR, 
 
 My dream of delight was soon at an end. We were driven 
 rapidly through the streets, and set down in the yard of the 
 Messagerie Royale. When I found myself and my little girls 
 surrounded and gazed upon by a crowd of strangers, whose lan- 
 guage, though I thought myself a tolerable French scholar, was 
 enunciated with a rapidity that rendered it, at first, unintelligi- 
 ble to my distracted senses, I would gladly have shrunk away 
 out of sight. 
 
 And as, on a hasty glance over the group around us, I dis- 
 cerned not a single face that I could recognise, nor amongst the 
 many voices a single tone of welcome to me, a shivering feeling 
 of fear came over me that was almost paralysing. My children 
 looked anxiously and askingly in my face, as I endeavoured to 
 collect my thoughts, and decide on the locality to which I should 
 direct my steps. 
 
 I was lost in these thoughts as I stood by my luggage and 
 them, assailed by a dozen porters at once, demanding whither I 
 would have the luggage carried. They endeavoured to under- 
 stand my wishes, but without success ; for although I spoke to 
 them in their own language, my timidity and my foreign accent 
 rendered me unintelligible. 
 
 They then quarrelled with each other, and the rival candidates 
 for my favour increased in number. I looked around me in dis- 
 pair, and saw at a short distance, standing in the yard, a respect- 
 ably and somewhat fashionably dressed female, gazing on me 
 with an intensity of look that startled me. Ba^the instant my 
 eyes met hers, she turned away, and my attention being at the 
 moment diverted, I lost sight of her. 
 
 In the hope of finding some one among the clerks in the 
 coach-office who might be able to speak to me intelligibly, I 
 entered it, and looking round, thought myself fortunate in per- 
 ceiving an Englishman. 
 
 Of course I addressed myself to him in preference. Having 
 gained his ear, he bestowed on me, in reply, that sort of super 
 cilious, examining look with which Englishmen of his class are 
 accustomed to greet a stranger of dubious rank who requests 
 their civilities. Having surveyed me and my children from head 
 to foot, and I presume found our exterior below his standard of
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 207 
 
 gentility, he answered my inquiries in a vague and negligent 
 manner, so as to afford me no assistance whatever. Meanwhile, 
 one of the French clerks, who had been attending to what was 
 passing, politely addressed me, and inquired of what I wished 
 to be informed. 
 
 I made him understand, and he instantly desired a porter to 
 lift my luggage into the office ; and having superintended the 
 placing of it, told me that it should be taken care of until I sent 
 for it. The Englishman, unabashed by the reproof which had 
 been given him in the Frenchman's superior courtesy, smiled 
 affectedly, and went on with his business of the quill. 
 
 I then left the coach- yard, and trod for the first time the 
 streets of Paris. I was in possession of the address of but one 
 person in Paris besides my uncle ; and to the residence of this 
 person I now anxiously made my way, hoping that, as she was 
 in an humble rank of life, she might be induced to accommodate 
 me and my children, at least for the moment. I had obtained 
 dire'ctions to find the street of her residence from the obliging 
 clerk of the coach-office. It was at a considerable distance 
 from the Rue Notre Dame, in which we had been set down, but 
 having purchased a map of Paris on my way, I had little diffi- 
 culty in finding it. 
 
 Having done so, however, my distress was indescribable on 
 finding the person I sought absent from home, and not expected 
 to return for several months. It would have been madness for 
 me to incur the expenses of a public hotel ; and it was impossi- 
 ble that I could present myself and family, uninvited and 
 unknown, at the h6tel of my uncle, the Count de Oarryfort, who 
 belonged to a class in society which admitted not of such a 
 freedom. 
 
 I clasped my hands in bitter agony, as I turned from the por- 
 ter's lodge of the house in which I had sought, and hoped to 
 have found shelter. 
 
 "We had been travelling the preceding night, and for many 
 days had been irregularly supplied with meals, and my children 
 looked wretchedly pale and ill. "We were in the Rue St. 
 IIonor6, near the Rue Royale. The shops of the restaurateurs 
 and confectioners presented their inviting viands at the win-
 
 208 HELEN MULGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 dows ; but I dared not enter them, as I had no money to spare, 
 although the looks with which my children surveyed them 
 touched me to the heart. A few biscuits was all I could afford 
 them. For myself, I could not eat a morsel ; a corroding 
 sense of anxiety had taken possession of me, which superseded 
 hunger. 
 
 The day, which in September is not long, was wearing fast 
 away, and what might become of us, should night come on 
 before we had found an asylum, was a question which I asked 
 with such vehemence of terror as frightened my children, and 
 caused the elder, who was old enough to feel something of its 
 import, to burst into a fit of crying, that increased my own dis- 
 tress. I knew not which way to turn in the street, but was 
 obliged to move on, as our appearance attracted attention from 
 the passers by ; and a crowd was forming round us just as we 
 approached the church of the ' Assomption.' Its doors were 
 open, and terrified to an excessive degree, I took refuge in it with 
 my children. 
 
 As I approached into the interior of the building, I observed 
 a few humble worshippers devoutly kneeling on the pavement. 
 
 The sight of them inspired a feeling of devotion in my own 
 heart that was irrepressible. They, like me, were perhaps in 
 sorrow, and ' had no comforter ;' but, ' God is no respecter of 
 persons,' and he is everywhere ' waiting to be gracious.' Their 
 garb, denoting even greater poverty than mine, awakened sym- 
 pathy in my heart, and quieted the murmurs of my spirit. I 
 retired to a deep recess, and prostrating myself on the floor with 
 my children, poured out the sorrows of my heart in a torrent of 
 tears and supplication. 
 
 Happiest of all human privileges is that, which in the day of 
 trouble permits us to call upon God ! 
 
 I left the church with a composure of mind, which I have 
 always found to succeed sincere and fervent devotion. As my 
 children and I descended the steps, I observed the same female 
 whom I had seen in the cour of the Messagerie, and again her 
 gaze was fixed on me. I returned her look ; and thought, as I 
 examined her features, there \vas something Irish about them. 
 
 Occupied, however, with my own feelings, I was turning
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 209 
 
 from her, when she abruptly approached me, and uttered my 
 name. 
 
 My surprise was very great, as I was sure she was a stranger 
 to me. But in such a moment of isolation, only to hear my 
 name uttered was a circumstance to cause emotion. The reflec- 
 tion of an instant caused me to recoil, until the stranger men- 
 tioned the name of one of my Dublin relatives, and informed me 
 at the same time, that she was acquainted with him. The pre- 
 occupied state of my mind prevented me from discerning at the 
 moment the extreme singularity of this rencontre, and the 
 seeming interest of a stranger in my concerns. 
 
 Miss Murphy, for that was her name, nothing revolted by my 
 shrinking manner, inquired if I had engaged lodgings ; to which 
 I replied that I had not, and that I should be much obliged to 
 her if she could recommend me to any that were suitable for 
 me. Miss Murphy appeared to ponder for a moment on njy 
 request, and then, with an air of hesitation, said, 'Perhaps rny 
 mother might be able to recommend you to some place. Our 
 residence is not far distant, and if you will favour me with your 
 company thither, I shall be most happy to introduce you to her. 
 You will find her a countrywoman of your own.' 
 
 As we passed along, I learned that she was acquainted with 
 the whole history of my family ; and through her correspond- 
 ence with Ireland, as she said, she had been apprized of every- 
 thing that had befallen myself. 
 
 She was making an attempt at condolence when we stopped 
 at the gate of an hotel in the Rue St. Florentin. She conducted 
 us through a gloomy court-yard, and up a staircase equally 
 gloomy, of which I thought I should never reach the top. The 
 exertion was so painful to me, that I was obliged repeatedly to 
 stop and take breath, while the children were amusing them- 
 selves with pointing out to each other the cobwebs and dirt on 
 the walls and stairs. We at length stopped at a little low door, 
 on the fifth story. It was opened at the ring of a bell, and 
 passing through a small antechamber, we were carried through 
 a suite of three or four rooms, very showily furnished. We were 
 requested to seat ourselves in the last, and Miss Murphy left us 
 alone when, casting m'y eyes on a brilliant clock on the man-
 
 210 HELE5 MULGBAVE ; OB, 
 
 tel-piece, I perceived that it was already four o'clock, and as 
 there were only two more hours of daylight, my impatience for 
 the return of my conductress became extreme. She re-appear- 
 ed, with her mother on her arm. 
 
 Mrs. Murphy was a tall woman, about sixty years of age, with 
 a daring, haughty countenance, and an imperious carriage, that 
 bestowed something of dignity on mean and negligent attire. 
 She approached me with an air of graciousness, as if it were her 
 object to conciliate me ; while a look of rude scrutiny, from a 
 pair of prominent black eyes, made me quail before her. 
 
 I checked my rising repugnance, and addressed to her the 
 same inquiry as that which I had already addressed to her 
 daughter. 
 
 Without replying to me, she continued surveying me and my 
 children, with so sinister and calculating an expression of coun- 
 tenance, that it was a relief to me when she proposed retiring 
 to consult her daughter. 
 
 They withdrew together, and I was again left to survey the 
 apartment, and form vague surmises respecting the apparent 
 incongruity betwixt it and its occupants. 
 
 During their absence, my anxiety respecting where we were 
 to find shelter for the night again returned in all its agony, and 
 I felt a momentary wish to remain where we were; yet dreaded 
 lest they should propose it, for a strong and singular repugnance 
 to both mother and daughter had taken possession of me. They 
 were aware of my reduced circumstances, and had mentioned 
 that they personally knew the Count de Carryfort. All this was 
 very'unaccountable to me ; and, while I was bewildering myself 
 with conjectures, they returned with smiling faces, and, with au 
 air of doing me a great favour, proposed that I should remain 
 with them, until I could be more suitably accommodated. I had 
 but a moment to decide, for hesitation, I clearly saw, would be 
 an offence, and the thought, where else shall I find a shelter for 
 the night ? induced me to accept this offer with as much cour- 
 tesy as I could command. 
 
 They took care to remark, that although they were on the 
 fifth story, there was still a floor betwixt them and the roof, and 
 that in Paris the higher stories were considered more healthy,
 
 JK8UIT EXECUTOR6HIP. 211 
 
 and quite as genteel as the lower. This remark did not interest 
 me, or I should have smiled at its attempt to dupe me. I felt an 
 almost invincible repugnance, without being able to account for 
 it, to becoming an inmate with Mrs. Murphy and her daughter. 
 But my situation admitted not of the indulgence of fastidious 
 feeling; it was a case of necessity, which abrogated even the 
 ordinary laws of prudence ; and having once made up my mind 
 to it, I dismissed all my fears, in commending myself to Divino 
 protection. 
 
 Mrs. Murphy had proposed terms which I could not object to. 
 They were, indeed, much lower than I had expected, though 
 still not low enough for my limited resources. 
 
 A porter was speedily despatched for my luggage, and at six 
 o'clock we were summoned to dinner. As this was my first 
 introduction to domestic life in Paris, and I was utterly unac- 
 quainted with the usages of any class of its inhabitants, I 
 paid some attention to the quality and arrangement of the 
 dinner. 
 
 It was composed of very inferior and ill-cooked food, served 
 with an affectation of ceremony that to me seemed ludicrous ; 
 as did also the now gaudy apparel of the mother and daughter, 
 from whom I eagerly escaped, as soon as propriety would allow 
 me, to the chamber appropriated to my use. 
 
 Had I been less absorbed in serious cares, I should have found 
 this chamber dreary and comfortless in the extreme. It was a 
 large room, and the discoloured walls and ceiling, from which 
 hung cobwebs of all lengths and breadths, implied that it must 
 have been unoccupied many months, if not years. A small case- 
 ment window, so thick with accumulated dust as to render a 
 blind superfluous, and a dark and dirty floor, that seemed not to 
 have been either washed or polished for years, presented a strik- 
 ing contrast to the glittering furniture that I had observed in the 
 salons. 
 
 I became gloomily perplexed by the strangeness and want of 
 congruity that evidently reigned throughout the establishment. 
 
 But as yet I knew not what to ascribe to local peculiarity, and 
 what to individual taste. A few weeks explained some of the 
 mysteries of the place. I had long been accustomed to the com-
 
 212 HELKN MILOKAVK; OH, 
 
 fortlessness of poverty, or the wretched beds destined to our 
 use would have produced anything but repose. 
 
 But we were all to weary to be sensible of our privations ; and 
 our sleep for the first night, at least, was sweet. 
 
 On the following day, by bringing into use a few articles 
 which I had brought from home, I was enabled to improve our 
 accommodations. 
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 I WAS now, then, at last in Paris, and for the moment in suffi- 
 cient quiet to take a survey of my position, my resources, and 
 my principal object in coming there, and I lost neither time nor 
 effort in endeavouring to expedite its attainment. 
 
 As I had provided myself with vouchers to attest my iden- 
 tity, and substantiate the 'claims of my family on the college, I 
 wanted but the signatures of my two uncles to render them per- 
 fectly presentable. 
 
 For that of the Count de Carryfort, it was necessary that I 
 should apply in person. Not to alarm him by an abrupt intru- 
 sion, I addressed a note to him, informing him of my intended 
 visit, and the object of it. Although I had every imaginable 
 claim on my uncle, and nothing had ever occurred to produce 
 alienation betwixt us, my note was answered with a coldness bor- 
 dering on incivility. All recognition of our relationship was 
 carefully avoided, and my request for his signature granted only 
 on condition that I should not importune him for anything more. 
 
 My heart swelled with emotion on the first reading of this 
 note in a foreign land, but my indignation was transient, and I 
 quickly sank into that submission which long continued suffering 
 and repeated disappointment had rendered almost habitual. I 
 had not now to learn that the mere want of assistance is insuffi- 
 cient to obtain it. Nevertheless, my uncle's nnkindness deprived 
 me of one of the few remaining resources on which my mind, 
 in speculating on future disasters, had been wont to rest.
 
 JESUIT EXKCUTORSHIP. 213 
 
 I .accepted his signature to my Irish testimonial on the condi- 
 tion prescribed, without being admitted to an interview with 
 him, and was thus prevented from making such inquiries 
 respecting the Murphys as he could only have satisfied, since I 
 knew no other person in Paris to whom they were known if 
 indeed they were known to him, a point which must now 
 remain in doubt. 
 
 Before I could proceed a step further in obtaining access to 
 the college, I was obliged to apply to the Murphys for such infor- 
 mation as only a resident well acquainted with Paris could fur- 
 nish. I thus unavoidably revealed to them my anxiety respect- 
 ing my son, which it had been better to conceal ; although 
 indeed I soon found that every attempt at concealing my per- 
 sonal circumstances and anxieties was utterly useless, as, by some 
 unaccountable means, they obtained information of the precise 
 posture of my affairs, and appeared to know almost every 
 intended movement and project of my thoughts. Yet I could 
 never discover that my locks had been forced, or that any of my 
 papers were missing. I had written to my uncle at Vienna, and, 
 through my dear mother's interposition, had obtained from him 
 an attested document, in aid of that which I had brought from 
 Ireland, and was then enabled by the assistance of the Murphys, 
 which I afterwards found to be treacherous, to present my testi- 
 monials to the president of the Irish College, who, having 
 examined them, admitted they were entitled to investiga- 
 tion. 
 
 With what anxiety did I await the result of that investiga- 
 tion ! Meanwhile, ' thick-coming fears of fondness ' often repre- 
 sented my child as languishing for want of a mother's care ; and 
 .1 wandered round and round the walls that I supposed to enclose 
 him, silently invoking protection and blessings on him. 
 
 I lost much time in importuning the college officials for the 
 decision, which I supposed would have been immediate, and for 
 permission in tl?e interim to behold my child, if it were but for 
 a moment. 
 
 I was at length informed, in reply to my entreaties, that cir- 
 cumstances of a formidable, and, it was feared, of an insur- 
 mountable character, had been laid before the council, which
 
 214 HELEN MULORAVB; OR, 
 
 rendered it a duty on their part to interdict any intercourse 
 betwixt mo and my son. 
 
 Nevertheless, it was added, that being unwilling to decide 
 hastily, they had resolved on deferring any further considera- 
 tion of the case, and even to wave any mention of what formed 
 the impediment to my wishes, unless the Count de Carryfort 
 should personally interest himself in an application for it. 
 
 I was quite aware that this amounted to a decided negation of 
 my suit, unless I could prevail on my uncle to comply with the 
 condition prescribed. But how might I find courage again to 
 intrude upon him with a petition. In debating this question, I 
 discovered that all I had hitherto suffered had been ineffectual 
 to empty my heart of its native pride. 
 
 It was bitterness and gall, after my uncle's interdiction, in 
 which I had tacitly acquiesced, to endeavour again to force 
 myself upon his notice. But there was no alternative, unless I 
 relinquished altogether the only object that had brought me to 
 Paris. 
 
 I had never seen my uncle, which increased the difficulty of 
 applying to him ; nor was it possible for me to think of the 
 unkindness of so near a relation, without great diffidence of 
 myself, and a desponding appreciation of that personal influence 
 with which I was to attempt obtaining his sympathy in my 
 maternal gviefs. I recollected 'having once been told that the 
 count resembled my mother. This recollection heightened the 
 dread I had of encountering him ; for how could I endure dis- 
 dain from a countenance resembling my mother's? Yet this 
 dreaded visit must be made. As I arrived at this conviction, I 
 made instant preparation for it, and was soon on my way to the 
 Rue d'Anjou. 
 
 When I reached the count's hotel, the saddest apprehensions 
 filled my heart; and on hearing from the porter that his master 
 was at home, I was seized with a panic that almost induced me 
 to run away without my errand. Nevertheless, I suffered 
 myself to be led to a superb saloon, in which, as the servant shut 
 the door, I found myself alone. As I caught a glimpse of my 
 pale and terrified face in one of the large mirrors that hung on 
 the walls, I thought it must of itself insure my failure, for it was
 
 JESDIT EIECUTORSHIP. 215 
 
 so ghastly as to startle myself. I chose first one seat, then 
 another, endeavouring in vain to put myself at ease. Too soon 
 I heard approaching footsteps ; and starting up, ran forward, not 
 knowing what I did, and met a gentleman near the door, as it 
 was thrown open by a servant to admit him. One glance told 
 me who he was, and I exclaimed, with irrepressible emotion, 
 'My uncle!' 
 
 Before he could reply, I had thrown myself at his feet, and 
 seizing one of his hands, unconsciously bathed it with the tears 
 that happily came to my relief. 
 
 A brief explanation followed, for I had omitted giving my 
 name to the servant. But my uncle, in his turn, had recognised 
 lineaments, which he frankly owned were not to be mistaken. 
 I had, however, taken him by surprise, and thrown him off his 
 guard ; and his second thoughts, I instantly perceived, had made 
 an offence of this freedom. He disengaged his hand, and desir- 
 ing me to rise, motioned me to a seat. 
 
 'You are Mrs. Fitzgerald, I presume, madam, from whom, 
 some weeks since, I received a note, whose request I promptly 
 complied with, but on one condition which, I think, your pre- 
 sence here has violated. I know not what your business may 
 be in Paris, madam ; it is a long way from Ireland, for an 
 unprotected woman to come with a family of children, and your 
 debut in this gay city has been "made under dubious circum- 
 stances. I presume not, however, to call you to account. I am 
 not invested with any right to do so ; and you must consider 
 what I have said rather as a soliloquy extorted by surprise, 
 than as anything meant for your ear.' 
 
 ' My dear uncle,' said I but seeing him frown, I added ' I 
 beg your pardon, Monsieur de Carryfort, will you permit me to 
 mention to you, briefly, the causes and the objects of my coming 
 to Paris !' 
 
 ' No, madam. You need not give yourself the trouble. I 
 have already heard of the Marquis de Grammont ; and can ima- 
 gine everything you may choose to tell me.' 
 
 ' The Marquis de Grammont I Oh ! what has he to do with 
 my coming to Paris ? I know not even if he is in existence, 
 find it is many years since I have heard the mention of his
 
 216 HELEN MULGRAVE; OK, 
 
 name. Nor has it, in those years, ever once passed my lips 
 until this moment!' 
 
 My uncle smiled contemptuously. * But I am told you are 
 mistress of the pen, Mrs. Fitzgerald ; and that little magical 
 instrument is often endowed with convenient potency.' 
 
 ' I know not what you would say, sir ; but it is evident to 
 me, that you have in some way been misinformed respecting 
 me and mine. Shall I intrude too long on you, if I recount the 
 principal events of my wretched life ? You appear to know 
 something of my early years,' here he abruptly interrupted 
 me with 
 
 ' "Where are you living, Mrs. Fitzgerald ?' 
 
 1 With persons of the name of Murphy an Irishwoman and 
 her daughter, residing in the Eue St. Florentin ; who tell me, 
 they have the honour of being known to you.' 
 
 ' Known to me ?' repeated he, fiercely and disdainfully. 
 ' May I trouble you to mention your business here with me 
 this morning, Mrs. Fitzgerald ; and I must request you to do 
 so quickly.' 
 
 He looked at .me, while saying this, with an expression so 
 severe, that I saw there was no possibility of extending my stay 
 a moment longer, unless I instantly complied with liis require- 
 ment. My business was soon Jold, and as soon disposed of; for 
 he abruptly and decidedly declined any further effort for me 
 with the college ; adding, he knew not but that in coupling his 
 name with mine he had already compromised its respectability. 
 This observation fell on me so crushingly, and with so myste- 
 rious an air, as to inflict a species of distress stunning and 
 entirely new to me. I rose to go, but trembled so exceeding- 
 ly, that without asking permission, I again sat down. Not a 
 tear came to my aid; nor could I force a syllable from 
 my lips, for my heart swelled almost to suffocation. The 
 count, seeing the overwhelming effect of his last remark, said, 
 in a milder tone- 1 -' There are mysteries in your life, madam, 
 I wish there were not. It is too late to bid you beware of your 
 associates, or to tell you that a woman is judged of by her 
 domestic and chosen inmates. I beseech you to believe, that I 
 have no intention whatever to interfere at all in your concerns;
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 217 
 
 otherwise, I should say, that a young woman of character and 
 delicacy, as your appearance is specious enough to imply, is 
 generally prudent in the choice of her residence. I have been 
 told that you fell into poverty in Ireland and poverty is, I 
 allow, a palliation for many omissions, both to ourselves and 
 others. But there are wrongs to ourselves, which not even 
 poverty may palliate. 
 
 ' Excuse me, madam, I can hear no reply. The information 
 on which I have been induced to make these remarks is of too 
 indubitable a nature for me to hesitate a moment in giving cre- 
 dence to it. I therefore ought not to have said what I have 
 said ; and lest your appearance and your visible distress should 
 lead me into further wrong, I will bid you adieu. .When you 
 are sufficiently composed to depart, you will ring the bell.' 
 With these cutting words, and a manner at once stern and 
 gloomy, he rose to go. 
 
 Wrought up almost to madness by the dishonour with which 
 his mysterious words seemed to cover me, and unable to speak, 
 I sprang forward, making supplicating gestures to detain him. 
 With a repulsive wave of the hand, he darted out of the room, 
 closing the door after him. 
 
 I did not remain long where he had left me, but, with as 
 much speed as I could make, regained my wretched chamber 
 on the fifth floor. Fortunately, I found myself alone there ; for 
 at that moment I could not have endured the sight even 
 of my children without an increase to my suffering. I fastened 
 my door, and, with a feeling of unutterable anguish, threw 
 myself prostrate on the floor. 
 
 It was neither in humility nor in resignation that I did this, 
 but my whole sonl was filled with a sense of wrong so oppressive, 
 that I was an insupportable burden to myself. 
 
 I had been long inured to adversity, but dishonour had never 
 in any shape been mingled with it. Its tainted breath had 
 never before poisoned my respiration, or uttered my name. I 
 had made a league with Poverty, and taken Sorrow to my 
 arms. Neglect was my familiar, and Humiliation my sister. 
 But with an evil like this, I could make no compromise, nor 
 knew I how to deal with it ; for in taking a survey, as I had 
 
 10
 
 218 HELEN MCLORAVE ; OR, 
 
 sometimes done, of the mortifying possibilities of my future lot, 
 I had never thought of this. 
 
 What bad I not hoped from this interview ! The ties of 
 blood can never be broken, and as we advance in life, and death 
 diminishes the circle of our relatives, we cling closer and closer 
 to those that remain. I had never seen my uncle until now, 
 still I felt that he was mine that he was my mother's brother ; 
 and although his unkindness on my first arrival had destroyed 
 all dependance on him as a friend, the thought of seeing him 
 had inspired the hope of awakening him to a sense of what he 
 was to me, and what was due to himself, in his unfortunate 
 niece. 
 
 Hopes and recollections that had for years slumbered in my 
 soul r had been awakened. But to what purpose, except to 
 sharpen the pain which his most mysterious and offensive words 
 Lad inflicted on me? The more I aimed at discovering his 
 meaning,, the more 1 was- bewildered Why had Monsieur do 
 Grainmont's name been introduced? Still more, why was it 
 offensively introduced ? But these queries could only be replied 
 to by the bewildering suggestions of fancy, for which, in the 
 impenetrable darkness that surrounded me, there was no sphere. 
 A review of the cruel part which my uncle had borne in our 
 interview, drew at length bitter tears from me ; and, compelled 
 
 I now was to resign,, perhaps for years, if not for ever, all 
 hop\? of ministerisg to the welfare of a beloved child, and los- 
 ing tfl*s the object for which I had become an exile, I would 
 fain haro returned to Ireland, and buried myself and my griefs 
 in my panfint earth. But this was impossible ; and after many 
 frours of almost suspended life, I revived to a sense of the pres- 
 sing duties thro remained to me, and to a new perception of the 
 treasures still lefts, me in my little girls. 
 
 In recurring to ti^e mysterious words of my uncle, it was quite 
 evident that something must be wrong ia the residence which I 
 had chosen, and It was some relief to me to arrive at certainty 
 on any point. Efitherto I had lived so much apart from the 
 Murphys that I scarcely k^ew more of their pursuits than on 
 the first day of becoming ^beir inmate. I had, indeed, no 
 leisure for observing their movements. Bnt it was now a duty 
 
 
 
 \
 
 JESUIT EXKCUTORSHIP. 219 
 
 to myself to learn what was passing around me. Thus occupied, 
 I became a perpetual prey to misgivings, and suspicious of 
 every movement that took place. Very soon I had an opportu- 
 nity of observing occurrences in the salons of Mrs. Murphy, 
 which I now began occasionally to enter, that explained in some 
 measure the vague and alarming insinuations of my uncle. 
 There were, I knew from the first, frequent assemblies there ; 
 but I supposed them to be simply reunion* of her friends and 
 neighbours ; and as I dreaded nothing so much as growing into 
 familiarity with my hostesses and their acquaintances, I always 
 secluded myself at such times strictly within the precincts of my 
 own chamber. 
 
 Now, however, I paid a diligent attention to everything that 
 was passing, and soon discovered that the evening amusement of 
 the house consisted in gambling ; and I had reason also to sus- 
 pect, that the parties were frequented by persons of disreputable 
 character. 
 
 In the first moments of my surprise and alarm, I imprudently 
 expressed to the Murphys themselves the horror that I felt at tho 
 discovery, and decidedly told them I could no longer remain in 
 their house. They replied with disdain and defiance, demand- 
 ing of me immediate payment of the debt I had incurred for my 
 board and lodging with them. This demand, though of small 
 amount having paid my first month in advance touched me 
 sorely, as I was unable to comply with it, in consequence of not 
 having received from Ireland a remittance which had been due 
 several weeks. 
 
 In my next interview with Mrs. Murphy, she insultingly 
 offered to compromise with me, on condition that I would join 
 her evening assemblies. Stung to the quick by such a proposal, 
 I declined it with too visible a contempt. After this the 
 Murphys threw off all restraint on their manners ; every cour- 
 tesy was abandoned, and their resentment of the stand I had 
 taken was visible in every part of their demeanour. Under 
 these circumstances, as my remittanca did not arrive, I saw com- 
 plete destitution marching on me with giant strides. My nights 
 were passed without sleep, my days in that sickness of heart 
 which arises from ' hope deferred.'
 
 220 HELEN MVLORAVE ; OR, 
 
 In the streets I saw persons of all ages and conditions pursu- 
 ing their respective objects, and I envied even the menial 
 labourer his lot. How gladly wonld I have cast off every ves- 
 tige of a superior condition, could I by so doing have gained an 
 exemption from the corroding cares which an uncertain subsist- 
 ence entailed. I doubted not that my hands might be taught to 
 do whatever others' had done before me ; but I had not yet 
 arrived at the point which constrained me to the experiment of 
 manual labour. 
 
 I subsequently discovered that even this was an art, all easy 
 as it seemed untried, that required early initiation, and that it 
 "would be less difficult for me, who had been reared in deplora- 
 ble ignorance of it, to die of want, than to acquire a successful 
 knowledge of it. The discovery which I had made of the hate- 
 ful character of Mrs. Murphy's house, kept me in a perpetual 
 fever of desire to leave it ; but no remittance came, and I was 
 compelled to stay until I could discharge my debt there. 
 
 Both mother and daughter made frequent remarks, reminding 
 me how much I was in their power. Indeed, I began to think 
 that I ought to feel obliged to them, for their forbearance in 
 allowing me to remain, after the affront they had received from 
 me respecting their evening amusement. 
 
 To give myself occupation, and divert my thoughts, I began 
 to put into some form a diary, which I had kept for many years, 
 but which hitherto consisted of loose fragments, that had been 
 written at various periods, to shorten the hour of suffering or 
 fill up an interval of leisure. 
 
 My uncle's mysterious hints had shown me, in a new and 
 strong light, the isolation of my lot, and the defencelessness of 
 my position, in some of their worst consequences. By arrang- 
 ing a history of my early life, I should not only be making a 
 record of its occupations and pursuits, in an accessible and 
 durable form, which would protect me against misrepresentation, 
 but it would afford me at this trying period a sphere of thought 
 that would remove me from the scenes and occurrences around 
 me. I entered on it without delay, that I might not be wanting 
 to myself in efforts to preserve some composure of mind, 
 although I continued under the most distracting apprehensions.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 221 
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 THE Murphys now kept no measures with me, but practised a 
 systematic persecution, which daily revealed some new source 
 of disquiet and alarm. Still the postman brought me no advice 
 of my draft, and being almost entirely out of funds, I had 
 nothing to oppose to any outrage offered me, except unavailing 
 remonstrance for what they considered they had a right to inflict, 
 or an occasional show of courage that had no existence in my 
 heart. 
 
 In making my pecuniary estimates before I left Ireland, I was 
 not aware that the practice in Paris, botjj in schools and lodging- 
 houses, was that of payment in advance. I had paid a month 
 in advance to Mrs. Murphy on my first arrival, and not being 
 prepared for this call, I had been embarrassed by it ; the more 
 so as my remittance from Ireland had been so long delayed. 
 
 Except occasionally, I had never, since I had been with the 
 Murphys, accustomed myself to go out even to the Protestant 
 church, without being accompanied by one of them, or inform- 
 ing them where I was going ; and they had made it a point that 
 I should not do so, under pretence of its being dangerous to me 
 as a stranger. But as I was no longer a stranger, there was no 
 reason for this restraint, and I resolved on going out, for the 
 future, without previously giving any account of my intended 
 movements. 
 
 My children and myself were accustomed to be narrowly 
 watched ; but we were so fortunate one fine morning as to quit 
 our prison without being seen to depart. Being resolved to 
 extricate myself if possible from my present position, I made 
 my way with rapid steps to a boarding-school not far distant, 
 where I had been informed that English pentionnaires en cham- 
 t>res were received on very moderate terms. I soon made an 
 agreement, satisfactory to myself, with Madame de Corbiere, 
 the mistress of the establishment, and engaged to enter on my
 
 222 HKl.KN MULGKAVE J OR, 
 
 term with her as soon as I was in possession of the necessary 
 funds. 
 
 To facilitate this, I went, instantly on quitting her house, to 
 call on the banker, to whom I had been apprized that my letter 
 of credit would be addressed. I should have taken this step 
 before, had I not been dissuaded, and even prevented from it, 
 by the Murphys. 
 
 On making my inquiries at the bank, I was informed that the 
 letter of credit in question had long since been received, and 
 paid to the person in whose favour it had been drawn. It is 
 impossible for me describe my surprise and consternation at this 
 intelligence. I immediately demanded an audience of the prin- 
 cipal of the bank, who showed me a receipt for the amount of 
 the draft, to which my name was affixed. 
 
 His astonishment was not much less than my own, when I 
 assured him that I hadnever employed any one to receive the 
 money, and that the name affixed to the receipt, though mine, 
 was not of my writing. I moreover told him that the draft had 
 never been at all in my possession , it having never come to 
 hand'; in short, that I knew nothing whatever of the transac- 
 tion. The questions of the banker were close and shrewd, and 
 although a countryman of my own, a sort of distrust hung on 
 his brow, which augmented my panic, for I thought myself at 
 once irretrievably ruined. 
 
 The frankness of my communications appeared to dispel his 
 first doubts ; but on learning my place of residence his counten- 
 ance again clouded, the name of the Murphys seeming to have 
 a disagreeable effect on him. I saw that I was disparaged, if 
 not even condemned, by the very mention of it. The principal 
 object for me, however, was to ascertain who had done me this 
 wrong. As there was no one in Paris who could have had the 
 kowledge or the power to do it except the Murphys, my suspi- 
 cions naturally fell upon them. But I had self-command enough 
 to suppress any mention of them at this moment ; nevertheless, 
 the banker himself at the close of our interview, appeared to 
 have arrived at the same conclusion as myself, and telling me 
 that I might expect a visit from him in the course of the follow- 
 ing day, withdrew to his private room.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 223 
 
 I hastily quitted the office to return to the Kue St. Florentin. 
 My dread of meeting the Murphys, after the information I had 
 acquired, was great, and was only controlled by the conviction 
 of its immediate necessity, and the terror of soon finding myself 
 and family houseless and destitute. It is impossible for any one 
 unacquainted with destitution such as mine, to listen with inte- 
 rest to the mention of the many fearful fancies that haunted me, 
 as I retraced my steps with my two children from the detested 
 habitation of the Murphy s. 
 
 When I reflected that I had it not in my power to confront 
 them with any proof of the wrong, which I had no doubt they 
 had done me, or to claim from them a restitution of what was 
 so essential to my existence, while it was so easy, and would be 
 so gratifying to them, to inflict on me the penalty of a debtor, I 
 saw no escape from their power. What if I should be taken 
 from my children and immured in a debtor's prison ? But this 
 was a contingency so hideous, that I would not allow myself to 
 contemplate it. A crisis was certainly approaching, and come 
 what might, perhaps I ought to feel hope rather than despair, 
 and reversing the maxim, 'All change is evil,' exclaim, any 
 change for me must be a benefit. 
 
 It was one o'clock before we found ourselves mounting the 
 long flights of stairs to our fifth etage. As we reached the top, 
 we saw two ill-looking men in the act of taking leave of the 
 Murphys, at the exterior door of their ante-chamber. As the 
 men retreated down the stairs, I encountered the mother and 
 daughter, whose countenances exhibited a consternation which 
 at first sight made me suspect they had already heard from the 
 banker. I was aware that I met the glance of Mrs. Murphy with 
 too visible an agitation ; but I had never been successful in the 
 art of concealing my emotions, and my mind was at that 
 moment on the rack of apprehension. 
 
 Both mother and daughter stood in the doorway as we 
 attempted to pass, without yielding an inch; and as I was 
 exhausted by mounting the stairs, I retreated, and leant on the 
 balustrade for support, ur having gone out without the know- 
 ledge of the Murphys, was evidently an event which they were 
 determined to resent, and formed an addition to the numerous 
 transgressions already registered against me.
 
 ;.'_' 4 HELEN MULGRAVE; OK, 
 
 Their looks were menacing, as Mrs. Murphy said, ' You have 
 been abroad this morning, inadam you are really growing 
 very independent. What a mortification it must be to you that 
 you cannot sustain your independence by paying your debts ! 
 Take care I know all you are doing ; but you will not be able 
 to escape me. You are not yet out of my house, nor shall you 
 go, but by my leave ; and if you do not wish to find yourself in 
 the hands of a jailer, you will make no further attempt at it. 
 You and I can never be friends, Mrs. Fitzgerald ; but I do not 
 yet wish to go into extremes with you, unless you provoke me 
 to do so.' 
 
 These words seemed to give substance to the shadowy forms 
 of evil that were hovering over me, and my nerves were in 
 some degree braced, by the necessity of contending with a stern 
 reality. It was evident that Mrs. Murphy intended to exert 
 such power over me as a creditor might lawfully use over a 
 debtor ; but what I had just learnt at the banker's, if it could be 
 proved against her, might rescue me from her grasp, and place 
 her as a criminal in the power of the law. 
 
 This thought, amounting almost to certainty, passed hurriedly 
 through my mind, and enabled me to say to her, though in fal- 
 tering voice, ' I am certainly your debtor, madam, for nearly a 
 month's board and lodging, which, according to the custom of 
 Paris, should have been paid in advance. That it has not been, 
 is my misfortune, not my fault. Why I have been disappointed 
 of the remittance I have so long expected, and which would 
 have enabled me to cancel my debt, you perhaps know better 
 than I do.' 
 
 I was able, as I uttered these words, to look full at Mrs. Mur- 
 phy, and to perceive that her countenance fell under my glance, 
 with a consciousness so decided as not to be mistaken. 
 
 She turned away with a quick movement, took her daughter's 
 arm, and they walked off together, without a word of reply 
 
 I made way to my own chamber, and threw myself on the 
 bed, where I remained some time, so lost in vague terrors as to 
 be nearly insensible to the presence of* my two dear little chil- 
 dren, who were hovering about me, and wiping away the tears 
 which happily came to my relief. 
 
 ' To-morrow,' it is said, ' is nowhere to be found, except per
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 225 
 
 chance, in the fool's calendar;' and yet on this contemned 
 to-morrow, all my hopes of respite from destruction were now 
 built for had not the banker promised to come ' to-morrow' in 
 person, to search out perhaps to rectify, the wrong that had 
 been done me ? I endeavoured to dismiss the thought of this 
 eventful ' to-morrow' by caressing and playing with my chil- 
 dren, who responded to my feelings with a sweetness that fell 
 like the dew of heaven on my heart* But they wanted their 
 brother Frederic, they said, that mamma might kiss him too, 
 and that they might tell him what he ought to do for her when 
 he was a man. 
 
 Thus reminded of my lost child, and dubious of what the next 
 hour might produce, I took my two girls in my hand, and went 
 towards the Irish College, that I might afford to them and 
 myself the gratification of imagining that we were near the little 
 prisoner within its walls. 
 
 As we walked round the building, I observed, not far from 
 us, a person whose outline so resembled that of the ' Jesuit 
 Executor,' that I hastened to come up with him, resolved to 
 implore him on the spot, for a sight of my child. 
 
 As he looked behind him, I fancied he must have recognised 
 me, for he instantly quickened his pace, and turning a corner, 
 was out of sight in a moment, so that I was left unable to ascer- 
 tain his identity. 
 
 "When we returned to the Rue St. Florentin, it was nearly six 
 o'clock, and the Murphys as usual, at the ringing of the door- 
 bell, were at hand to ascertain who entered. They did not fill 
 the doorway as in the morning, but scowled at us terrifically as 
 we passed, though without any verbal discourtesy. 
 
 My children were suffering from want of something to eat, 
 and as there were no visible preparations for dinner, I began to 
 fear that I was to be starved into submission to my persecutors. 
 At seven, however, an hour later than usual, we were summon- 
 ed to the dinner-table. Not a word of greeting passed on 
 either side as we met ; but I moved to them as I took my seat 
 at the table, a courtesy which they did not acknowledge, and 
 we soon dispatched a very unsavoury dinner. 
 
 When the cloth had been withdrawn, Miss Murphy rose, and 
 10*
 
 226 HKLKN Ml'LUKAVK ; OK, 
 
 my children rose to amuse themselves elsewhere. Mrs. Murphy 
 and 1 were left alone. I had been in a deep reverie for some 
 minutes, -with my eyes cast to the ground, when, on raising 
 them, I met a full and piercing stare from my opposite companion. 
 She looked as though she would destroy me with a glance, and 
 trample me under her feet afterwards. I was roused by the 
 frightful expression of her face, into a sense of some immediate 
 danger ; and gathering up the fragments of my courage, looked 
 at her calmly, but inquiringly. 
 
 She understood my look, for she ejaculated, ' By Jupiter, 
 what daring ; for you, indeed, most wonderful ! You wish to 
 know, no doubt, how much longer I will house and feed you, 
 without payment of costs ? Your time is short ; nor can you 
 now hide from my vengeance in secret passages, or haunted 
 rooms, or whistle dogs or soldiers to your rescue, or call ' 
 
 When she had proceeded thus far, she stopped short, with a 
 sudden jerk of the voice, rose from the table, nearly overturned 
 it with a shove, and strode out of the room. 
 
 While she had been thus speaking, in tones and gestures cer- 
 tainly unusual to her, I received so strong an impression of her 
 identity with Margaret Brian, that I was nearly petrified by 
 the discovery. I had never seen Brian, and only remembered 
 that a description of her person, which had been once made to 
 me, answered so exactly to Murphy herself, as she appeared on 
 this occasion, that I could arrive at no other solution of the 
 enigma she presented, than that she was Brian herself. The 
 difference of names seemed an impediment to this conclusion ; 
 but the assumption of a feigned name was easy to a person like 
 her. Besides, had she not recurred to the incendiary plot 
 against Mulgrave Castle ? And who but Brian could have 
 known of its ' secret passages,' and ' haunted rooms,' and 
 other particulars which she had alluded to ? The inference from 
 all this was too strong to be resisted. 
 
 Was I then under the roof, and in the power of a woman who 
 for years had hung like a vampire on my father's life, and who 
 had so often threatened destruction to his whole family? A 
 burglar, who had haunted and robbed our house of its most 
 eortly treasures ? An incendiary, who had plotted its destruc-
 
 JESUIT EXKCUTORSHIP. 227 
 
 tion, and that of its whole household, by fire ? Was it to this 
 being I had entrusted my life, and the lives of my children? 
 Oh! in such keeping, who could count on safety? Not a life 
 amongst us was worth a twelve hours' purchase. And yet we 
 were in her power, so fast, there seemed to be no possible 
 escape for us, except that ignis-fatuus of ' to-morrow ' should 
 bring a rescue. 
 
 I rose from my seat in haste, to seek my children, and retire 
 with them to my own chamber. It was now eight o'clock, and 
 in another hour, perhaps, the accustomed guests, from whom I 
 shrank as from a horde of basilisks, might be assembled in the 
 salons. 
 
 I locked and bolted myself into my room, and put my chil- 
 dren to bed. Believing as I did, even more firmly as I con- 
 tinued to reflect on its proofs, that I had discovered Brian in my 
 hostess, I commended myself and my children to God with a 
 throbbing heart, and lay down without taking off my clothes, 
 fearing that the consciousness which Murphy herself must on 
 reflection feel, that she had divested herself of all disguise, 
 might induce her to commit some immediate outrage on us. 
 
 I continued long awake ; and thought made its usual circuit 
 through the troubled regions of both past and present, labouring 
 to trace to its real cause my calamitous lot. 
 
 Could it lie amongst the compulsory and false vows that had 
 been uttered at the altar? Perchance the guilt lay there ? 
 
 Yet as the soft breathing of my lovely sleeping children 
 reached my ear, did I not bless the Divine Giver of such gifts ? 
 Did I not pray, and strive to live for them ? What greater 
 boon, had I been alone in the world, could I have received, at 
 this most frightful crisis of my life, than death ? Yet I desired 
 intensely still to live, that I might shield them from the evil 
 world around them ! 
 
 As the night wore on I must have fallen asleep, for all at once 
 I was roused to consciousness by the distant sound of voices in 
 the remote salons, which rose and fell, in stifled harshness, 
 through the closed doors. 
 
 As they occasionally opened, the raised tones of one discord- 
 ant voice, louder than all the others, arrested iny attention as a
 
 J28 HELEN MULUKAVE ; OK, 
 
 reminiscence of one I had heard before. "While memory was 
 busy in endeavouring to recall the original, I fell into a troubled 
 sleep and dream, from which I awoke trembling and gasping for 
 breath. I sat up to recover myself, when a door suddenly burst 
 open, and a rush of feet was heard entering the ante-chamber of 
 my room. 
 
 Then, voices rose in loud tones of passion, and rang around 
 the walls a fierce struggle followed outside my door, which 
 threatened every moment to burst it open. As, however, I 
 knew it to be securely fastened, I kept myself tolerably tranquil. 
 Amongst various other sounds, I heard distinctly the hard and 
 peremptory tones, and the distinct articulation of Mrs. Murphy. 
 She was endeavouring to control the tempest around her ; but 
 her efforts were vain. 
 
 Over the top of my room-door there was a range of glass 
 panes, through which, on the opposite wall of my chamber, 
 nickered the moving lights outside, and then the shadows 
 of human heads, in quick succession traversing each other, fell 
 on it for a moment, and were gone again. Amongst these, was 
 an outline so like that of the Jesuit, as to add to the mysteries 
 around me. Suddenly the struggle of personal violence ceased, 
 and an instant after the confused vociferation also ceased, leav- 
 ing only a low moaning sound from a single voice, close at my 
 door, which said 'I'm not dead I shall yet avenge myself! 
 Give me back my gold I say, give it me back or take the con- 
 sequences.' This was followed by a deep groan and a moment 
 of silence. As the words, though in a gasping and feeble tone, 
 had been uttered in English, I detected the peculiar enunciation 
 of the Irish parish priest. 
 
 No doubt now remained with me of who were my inmates ; 
 but, as if to make assurance doubly sure, I heard Mrs. Murphy 
 say, * Patrick Connor, you are under my roof, and I will teach 
 
 you ,' the remainder was said in a whisper ; but the moaning 
 
 man replied, in a sharp, broken tone, ' Jewels ! did you say ? 
 jewels? By St. Patrick himself, but you shall answer for 
 that!' 
 
 As this last menace spent itself on the air, an outbreak 
 of voices succeeded, in French, some of which proposed to bear
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 229 
 
 the priest into an interior room, and lay him on a bed. He 
 protested against it, but his resistance was vain, although he 
 swore that, as he did not want to die, he would not remain 
 under Mrs. Murphy's roof. 
 
 But the ruling spirit was there, and he was carried off. In a 
 minute after the ante-chamber was forsaken, and the lights had 
 departed. 
 
 The night seemed very long, although it had been thus broken, 
 and I did not sleep again until worn out with thought. 
 
 The discovery of the preceding evening had shown me a mine 
 under my feet, and revealed the causes of that blight which had 
 fallen on every effort I had made for the benefit of my family 
 since I had been in Paris. From the first moment of my 
 arrival, and long before, this (would-have-been) assassin of the 
 inmates of my cottage was keeping close vigil on me, and 
 spreading toils for my feet, into which my exigences and my 
 inexperience led me blindfold. 
 
 Since then, her intrigues for my ruin had been going on with 
 headlong success. My funds embezzled by her myself her debtor 
 and my name dishonoured ! Where might all this end ? I 
 had now no doubt that the mysteries at which my uncle had 
 hinted were written fabrications of hers, to prevent his acknow- 
 ledgment of me. That she could never have been admitted to 
 his presence was evident. But with her notorious talent for let- 
 ter-writing, it was easy to believe that she had assailed both my 
 uncle and the council of the college with statements and forge- 
 ries of atrocious import respecting me and mine, so that neither 
 the one nor the other cared to divulge them. 
 
 The outline of the Jesuit, which I had seen shadowed on the 
 wall through the glass panes, was an appalling fact ; and recol- 
 lecting that I had, as I believed seen the Jesuit himself, when 
 walking with my children in the precincts of the Irish college, I 
 had not a doubt but that he was living in Paris. A new and 
 fearful mystery was thus created to augment my terrors, for if it 
 was indeed he who was one of the revellers of the night,*there 
 must be some intimate connexion betwixt him and the Murphys, 
 and I was again, when least prepared to defend myself, ' in the 
 grasp of the priests.'
 
 230 HKI.KN MULUKAVK J OK, 
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 ABOUT eight in the morning, I awoke at the sound of a loud 
 ring at the exterior door of the dwelling. When it was opened, 
 high words were heard, but they were not intelligible. I was 
 very anxious to despatch the business of the toilet for myself, 
 that I might be able to perform it also for my children, for I 
 felt that we ought to be roady for any contingency that might 
 occur. 
 
 As I opened my door to receive from the servant an article 
 which I had rung for, I perceived that everything in the ante- 
 chamber was in great disorder, and some deep stains, apparent- 
 ly of blood, near my door, had been recently attempted to be 
 washed away from the floor. 
 
 The exterior door of this room, which led out of it to the 
 stairs, stood partially open, and through the opening I saw two 
 men, having the appearance of policemen, stationed outside, as 
 if on service. At the sight of them my heart died within me, 
 for it struck me that they might be there on my account. 
 
 Oh, how I longed for some ear into which I might have pour- 
 ed out my anxieties and whispered my fears. My eldest child 
 was indeed eight years of age, but it was impossible to think of 
 torturing her young heart with the feelings of mine. No ; in 
 such an extremity there is but One, to whom we may utter 
 all the extravagance of our terrors. 
 
 I had so often proved the efficacy of imploring Divine aid, 
 that after having again sought it, I wondered I had deferred for 
 a moment to do so. 
 
 t was the month of November, and though the weather had 
 been up to this period unusually fine for nearly two months that 
 I had % been in Paris, it now began to feel chilly, and the atmos- 
 phere was dark and heavy. On this morning especially, the 
 day seemed so reluctant to advance, that one might well have 
 feared it would never return. 
 
 Immediately on retiring to my room after breakfast, without
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 231 
 
 having seen the Murphys or heard anything of them, a servant 
 tapped at my door, to tell me that a gentleman waited to speak 
 with me. I hoped and supposed it might be the banker, and 
 immediately went to him in the salle d manger. 
 
 It was not the banker, but a little mean-looking man, thongh 
 tolerably habited, who, on asking if I were Mrs. Fitzgerald, 
 without waiting for an answer, advanced, and seized me by the 
 wrist. I naturally recoiled, and endeavoured to withdraw my 
 hand ; but his grasp was so violent and painful that I burst into 
 tears at the insult. Kecovering myself, however, in a moment, 
 I said ' I am so unfortunate as not to know you, sir ; why do 
 you thus grasp my arm ?' 
 
 ' Madam, I beg your pardon, it is my duty only that could 
 induce me to make myself disagreeable to you. But I see that 
 you are a lady, and will therefore not take advantage of me if I 
 leave you free.' 
 
 So saying, he let go my arm, which was already swollen with 
 the violence of his pressure. He stood before me with a scruti- 
 tinizing look for several minutes, while I endeavoured, by call- 
 ing every motive to my aid, to brace my nerves, and be pre- 
 pared for whatever might follow. As he continued to look at 
 me without speaking, I said to him ' May I inquire your busi- 
 ness with me, sir ?' 
 
 ' My business, madam, is an unpleasant one ; and the more 
 so, as I did not expect to meet with exactly such a person as 
 yourself. However, I must do my duty.' 
 
 ' And what is that, sir ?' I asked, despondingly. 
 
 ' Why, indeed, madam, you must excuse me for the present. 
 Mrs. Murphy will, no doubt, soon be here, and perhaps she will 
 answer your question. It is her affair ; but I may perhaps ask 
 you if you are not her debtor, and whether 'she has not many 
 times asked you fcr payment of a small amount due to her, 
 without success ?' 
 
 I made no reply, but these questions revealed at once the 
 measure of my calamity. It was evident that I was about to be 
 incarcerated. I did not, however, suffer myself to sink ; but 
 still hoped for the arrival of the banker, and at every sound 
 turned to look for him.
 
 'J'52 IIKI.UN MULQRAVB ; OK, 
 
 But my questioner did not forget that I had not replied to his 
 inquiries. They were, therefore, repeated in another form, and 
 I related to him the exact position in which I stood with Mrs. 
 Murphy. 
 
 Having been thus frank with him, I thought I might venture 
 to ask his name ; for as yet I had no idea whom he might be. 
 
 ' My name, madam,' he said, ' is Le Soutein,' and he handed 
 me his card. 
 
 I again inquired, ' Are you the attorney, sir ?' 
 
 ' I am, madam.' 
 
 ' Are you, then, employed in that capacity to demand the 
 debt I owe Mrs. Murphy ?' 
 
 ' I am, madam.' 
 
 ' And if I cannot pay it what then, sir ?' 
 
 Having said this, I burst into tears. 
 
 ' Oh, do not weep, madam. Your debt must be a very small 
 affair. Surely you have something which you could turn into 
 money for the discharge of it ?' 
 
 ' I fear not, sir.' 
 
 ' How long have you been with Mrs. Murphy, madam ?' 
 
 ' Not quite two months, sir ?' 
 
 ' And you have never paid her anything since you have been 
 with her ?' 
 
 ' Only for one month's board, sir ; which I paid in advance, 
 on my first arrival here.' 
 
 "My instructions, madam, are for two months' board for 
 three persons. If you have your bill and receipt for the month 
 you have paid, perhaps you would be good enough to show it to 
 me?' 
 
 I turned to fetch the document from my own chamber, when 
 he again seized my wrist, saying ' I must not lose sight of you, 
 madam,' and thinking it unavailing to resist, I suffered him to go 
 with me as far as the door of my room. I there paused, saying, 
 as I did so ' This is my sleeping-room, you cannot, therefore, 
 enter here. But I will return to you in a moment.' 
 
 To which he replied, sharply ' If you will not let me enter 
 with you, madam, neither can I let you enter alone.' 
 
 4 Am I then your prisoner?' I inquired.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 233 
 
 'Not precisely that. But the moment that forbearance is at 
 an end, there are two policemen on the outside of that door,' 
 pointing to the onter door, ' to whose protection I shall be 
 obliged to commend you, unless yon can avert it by propitiating 
 Mrs. Murphy.' 
 
 As he said this, I could forbear no longer, but in spite of all 
 my efforts to avoid it, a smothered scream of horror burst from 
 me. At this critical moment, a loud ring at the entrance door 
 startled the lawyer. He instantly loosed his hold, and at the 
 same instant I rushed into my chamber, and locked myself in 
 with my children. They had heard my scream, and seeing my 
 tears, threw themselves crying into my arms. 
 
 I remained thus for several minutes, in an embrace too agonis- 
 ing for me to write of, without feeling afresh the worse than 
 deathlike anguish of a mother about to be torn from her chil- 
 dren, under such circumstances as mine. 
 
 But there seemed no pause in the action of events; for 
 before we had become at all tranquil, a tap at my door 
 announced that another gentleman, Mr. O'Callaghan, the 
 banker, waited to see me in the salon. 
 
 I instantly disengaged myself from my children, and rose to 
 attend him, although trembling with an undefinable mixture of 
 hope and fear, as though, in doing so, I were either about to 
 consummate my evil destiny or to emancipate myself from the 
 power of Mrs. Murphy. 
 
 I entered the salon with a timidity more like that of a crimi- 
 nal than an accuser. No fixed purpose was in my thoughts ; 
 nor could I conjecture what part I might be called to bear. 
 
 The Murphys were already there, looking with fierce astonish- 
 ment and ill-concealed anxiety. They occupied a sofa at the 
 upper end of the room, and the banker was sitting at a table in 
 the centre of it, with ink and paper before him, while a clerk 
 i stood at his elbow, awaiting his commands. He rose at my 
 entrance, and advancing towards me, said in a low voice 
 'Before I can proceed in the business which brings me here, 
 madam, it is necessary that I should have a few minutes' conver- 
 sation with you in private.' 
 
 I moved, scarcely knowing whither, towards the salU d man*
 
 234 HELEN MULGRAVE; OK, 
 
 ger, where, encountering my would-be jailer, M. Le Soutien, I 
 was at a loss to know what to do with him, as the banker had 
 requested to speak to me alone. But Mr. O'Callaghan disposed 
 of him very summarily, by saying 'are you here, Le Soutien? 
 be good enough to retire for a few minutes to the ante-chamber.' 
 As Le Soutien left the room, Mr. O'Callaghan closed the door 
 after him, and handed me to a chair. He then took a seat, and 
 addressing me with a courtesy of manner quite unexpected, 
 said ' After you left my office, madam, two days ago, your name 
 struck me as one that I ought to be acquainted with. I hope 
 you will- pardon the liberty I take, when I beg to know if you 
 are related to the late Mr. Frederic Fitzgerald, of Beech Park, 
 in the county of , Ireland ?' . 
 
 ' I am the widow of Mr. Fitzgerald, of Beech Park.' 
 
 He started from his seat, exclaiming ' Can it be possible I 
 Mr. Fitzgerald married a daughter of the late Sir William 
 Mulgrave 1' 
 
 ' I am that unhappy person. 1 
 
 4 Have I then the honour of addressing a daughter of Sir "Wil- 
 liam Mulgrave, and Mrs. Fitzgerald, of Beech Park ?' 
 
 He clasped his hands together, and looking round the room, 
 exclaimed ' How is it possible, madam, that a lady of your con- 
 dition can have lived in this house.' 
 
 Eecollecting what Monsieur de Carryfort had said respecting 
 the dubious character of the Murphys, I felt it necessary, in 
 order to defend myself from probable injurious inferences, 
 frankly to mention my reduced circumstances, and to state with 
 what views I had come to Paris my disappointment on the day 
 of my arrival, and the pressure of difficulties under which I had 
 been compelled to accept a temporary shelter in Mrs. Murphy's 
 house. 
 
 ' I had imagined,' said I, ' that as my hostess was a country- 
 woman of mine, her house would at least be reputable and safe, 
 whatever else it might not be. When I discovered my mistake, 
 it was too late to rectify it, and I have since been detained here 
 by compulsion, But from having lived entirely apart from the 
 principals of the house, I know so little of them, that I could 
 hardly dare to pronounce sentence on them from anything I hava
 
 JESUIT JSXECUTORSHrP. 235 
 
 seen. I have, however, apprehensions respecting them too 
 alarming to be expressed. Yet, alas ! I cannot get away.' 
 
 ' Madam,' said Mr. O'Callaghan, ' I had the honour to know 
 Sir William Mulgrave, from his having banked with me when he 
 Avas in Paris, a few years since, and the very great respect with 
 which he inspired me makes me desirous of being useful to his 
 daughter. If there is anything in which I can serve you, 
 madam, I beg you to command me. Shall I be deemed imper- 
 tinent, if, after your obliging frankness with me, I inquire 
 whether you are in debt to Mrs. Murphy ?' 
 
 I explained to him my exact position in that respect, not omit- 
 ting to state what had just passed on the part of M. Le Soutien, 
 and the terror in which he had put me by his menaces of a 
 debtors' jail. 
 
 'Good God!' he ejaculated, 'the man must be mad! But 
 you must leave this " den of thieves," madam, and that without 
 delay. It is no place for you to remain in another hour the 
 Murphys are notorious for a swindling transaction, which took 
 place here not long since, and which was reported in all the 
 journals of the day. As by the forgery of your name to a 
 document passing through my house you have been most 
 seriously inconvenienced, you must allow me at once to advance 
 the amount of your draft.' 
 
 I had begun to reply, but he stopped me by saying ' Do not 
 concern yourself, madam, on my account, I will take care to 
 refund myself, and, as I have no doubt, by discovering the 
 author of the forgery. Excuse me for a moment ; I must speak 
 to M. Le Soutien, who occasionally does business for me.' 
 
 He went into the antechamber to him, and on returning, 
 inquired if I knew of any house to which I might remove, on 
 leaving Mrs. Murphy's. I informed him of Madame de Corbiere's 
 pension. He inquired if I knew anything of her, and when I 
 said nothing, but as the mistress of a boarding-school, he replied 
 ' I recollect her now, and I believe you may trust yourself 
 there.' 
 
 ' And now, madam,' he continued, ' I hope you will not con- 
 sider me presuming, if I advise you to let me settle with the 
 Murphys the amount of your bill. Le Soutien tells me, that in
 
 236 HELEN MULURAVE; OR, 
 
 the memorandum they have furnished him of your debt to them, 
 they have overcharged you, as he has learnt from yourself. But 
 if you will inform me precisely how much you owe them, I will 
 take care they shall not be paid more than their due.' 
 
 I explained the account to him, and after thanking him with 
 heart-felt gratitude for his services, which he would not acknow- 
 ledge as such, I returned with him to the salon in which we had 
 left the Murphys. Pausing on our way to it, he said, ' As my 
 time must necessarily be short here, I beg to say a word respec- 
 ting your departure, which I hope may be immediate, as I could 
 hardly consider you personally safe, after what may perhaps 
 occur in the coming interview. If it would be agreeable to yon 
 to remove within an hour, I will leave my clerk here to assist 
 your departure. Meantime, lest Madame de CorbieVe should 
 not be prepared to receive you so promptly, I will call and 
 inform her of your coming.' 
 
 Oh, how grateful to me was this kind consideration ! how 
 unexpected, too 1 My whole being seemed changed. I attempted 
 once more to thank Mr. O'Callaghan, but he would not allow me. 
 
 "When we re-entered the salon, the Murphys were precisely in 
 the same position as we left them. As Mr. O'Callaghan enter- 
 ed with me, and handed me to a chair, they looked aghast at 
 each other. He resumed his former seat at the table, and the 
 clerk placed himself at his elbow as before, to whom he said, l M 
 Venier, request M. Le Soutien, who is in the next room, to 
 walk in here.' 
 
 As Le Soutien entered, he cast a sort of sheepish, mortified 
 look at me, and a glance of affright at the Murphys. Mr. 
 O'Callaghan motioned him to a seat; then, turning to Mrs. 
 Murphy, he said sternly, ' You, madam, I presume, answer to 
 the name of Murphy ?' 
 
 She bent her head with supreme hauteur. 
 
 ' You have, perhaps, yet to learn,' he continued, ' that a for- 
 gery has been committed in a draft that has passed through my 
 house, in which this lady; Mrs. Fitzgerald, has been defrauded 
 of upwards of twelve hundred francs. Is this information now 
 communicated to you for the first time, or have you heard of 
 the affair before ?'
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 237 
 
 The querist looked from the mother to the daughter, while 
 Mrs. Murphy became deadly pale, and her daughter busy with a 
 smelling bottle. An appalling silence of a few minutes ensued ; 
 but recovering themselves, they both exclaimed, that it was 
 insulting to put such questions to them ; what had they to do 
 with the forgery ? were they to be treated thus in their own 
 house ? and, with a violent movement on Mrs. Murphy's part, she 
 rose from her seat, her daughter following her example, and 
 both attempted to leave the room. 
 
 This was not permitted. A whisper from the clerk had fixed 
 the attention of the banker on Miss Murphy, and in a tone more 
 authoritative than courteous, he desired them both to resume 
 their seats. The little lawyer had sprung up to open the door 
 for them ; but he also was commanded to return to his seat. 
 
 The clerk then, addressing Miss Murphy, inquired if she did 
 not remember to have seen him, some weeks before, in his office 
 at Mr. O'Callaghan's bank. She first hesitated, then denied, 
 and at last told him that he was ' an impertinent fellow.' 
 
 The clerk then, without further circumlocution, told her he 
 was ready to make oath to her having received, from his hands, 
 the amount of the draft in question ; for which he had taken a 
 receipt from her, which she had signed in his presence, ' Helen 
 Fitzgerald.' 
 
 As the clerk ceased speaking, Mr. O'Callaghan exclaimed, 
 ' Your evidence, M. Venier, is decisive ; but it must be given in 
 a different court. Our path is now clear. Miss Murphy must 
 appear before the proper authorities. You, M. Le Soutein, as a 
 man of law, in my service, must direct the proceedings, and 
 adjourn with us to a legal tribunal. We have police officials 
 already on the premises ; I found them on duty here, on my 
 arrival, awaiting Mrs. Murphy's orders; they are now under 
 mine.' 
 
 Mr. O'Callaghan had scarcely uttered these words, when both 
 mother and daughter, looking wildly round, fell at the same 
 instant on their knees before him, uttering a vociferous and pas- 
 sionate entreaty for mercy, so much at variance with their looks 
 of defiance, as to give a tragi-comic air to the part they were 
 performing, and render their deprecatory denials and their prof-
 
 238 HELEN MULORAVE ; OR, 
 
 fers of restitution at once contradictory and ludicrous. As Mr. 
 O'Callaghan continued, in spite of all this, to look severe and 
 firm, tears, faintings, and hysterics were tried, but iu vain, 
 either to excite his sympathy or obtain his civility. 
 
 Coolly allowing them to exhaust themselves after their own 
 fashion, he awaited a pause, which at length enabled him to 
 say, ' Mrs. Murphy, yon kneel to me as if I had the power to 
 pardon your daughter's offence, or remit the punishment of it. 
 I have no such power. I would have the affair carried into a 
 court of justice, and let the law take its course ; but if you 
 would avert that proceeding and its consequences, you must 
 kneel to Mra. Fitzgerald not to me. She is the injured party, 
 and the only one whose province it is to decide on the next step 
 to be taken. If you can prevail on her, by confession and resti- 
 tution, to obliterate the wrong you have done her, I certainly 
 will not impede the exercise of her clemency; but you must 
 decide quickly, as I have no more time to waste on your inde- 
 cision.' 
 
 After waiting their reply some minutes longer, Mr. O'Calla- 
 ghan's forbearance was exhausted, and he desired M. Le Soutien 
 to call in tihe police. Frightened at his vehemence, the Mur- 
 phys turned themselves round on their knees towards me, and 
 with their faces covered with their hands, howled out a jargon 
 of words, utterly unintelligible. 
 
 Mr. O'Callaghan, perceiving that this mode of. procedure was 
 but an evasion of his requirement, exclaimed impetuously, that 
 he would have no mincing of the matter, and that if they were 
 not prepared to offer at once a suitable and satisfactory submis- 
 sion and acknowledgment of the wrong they had done, he would 
 terminate the scene. 
 
 Then, turning to Miss Murphy, he said, ' Allow me to be your 
 prompter, in this one act of your drama. You must say to that 
 lady, that although you have committed the forgery, you are 
 sorry for it ; but that if she will allow the affair to be settled, 
 without carrying it into a court of justice, you will make any 
 reparation that she may dictate. If you are unable to speak, 
 said he, bow your heads, ladies (in acquiescence in my demand), 
 to Mrs. Fitzgerald.'
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 239 
 
 They both bent their heads lowly, though not to me. But 
 Mr. O'Callaghan, seemingly still dissatisfied with their conces- 
 sion, turned to me, and assuming the air and verbal form of an 
 officer in a court of justice, said, 'How say you, madam ? Pro- 
 secution, or no prosecution ? Shall I hand these respectable 
 ladies to the police officers or not, madam ?' 
 
 There was something irresistibly ludicrous in the whole scene, 
 but especially in Mr. O'Callaghan's manner and look, as he thus 
 apealed to me ; but I briefly replied, that I left the affair entire- 
 ly in his hands, without the remotest wish to require more than 
 he might think due to me. 
 
 4 You do me much honour, madam,' said he, and turning to 
 the Murphys, who still remained on their knees, he said, ' It is 
 now for you and your daughter, Mrs. Murphy, to accept or 
 reject the umpire proposed by that injured lady. "What say 
 you ? will you abide by my sentence or not ? Yes, or no ?' 
 
 They both replied, faintly, ' Yes.' 
 
 4 You and your daughter may rise, then, Mrs. Murphy, and 
 take your seats. I have no more to say to you at this moment, 
 as it will be necessary for me to consider, before I can decide 
 on what terms I shall advise Mrs. Fitzgerald to obliterate the 
 wrong that has been done her, and to suffer your daughter to 
 escape its consequences. Meantime, I shall leave the police, 
 whom I found at your door, in charge of your premises and of 
 yourselves, until my return.' 
 
 Mr. O'Callaghan then wrote me a cheque on his bank for the 
 full amount of my draft, and handing it to me, said, ' I shall 
 have the honour of calling on you, madam, as soon as I have 
 despatched the affair here.' 
 
 He then took his leave, leaning on Le Soutien's arm, whom 
 he took with him, saying aloud to his clerk, that he' was to await 
 Mrs. Fitzgerald's commands in the antechamber. 
 
 Their departure was the signal for a change of characters. 
 No sooner was the door closed, than Mrs. Mnrphy, with a 
 ghastly look of rage and bitterness notwithstanding her recent 
 abjectness rose, and, striding across the room before I had 
 time to get out of it, attempted to fasten the door. Not suc- 
 ceeding in her attempt, she placed herself full before it, exclaim-
 
 240 HELEN MULORAVE ; OR, 
 
 ing, in one of her fiercest tones ' Murderess, by inheritance, 
 of all my fame and fortune ! Destroyer of my daughter ! Why 
 am I thus become your victim at the moment, too, when fate 
 had made you mine ? What are your powers, or those of all 
 your race combined, that /should thus be foiled by you ? You 
 a moping, spiritless, and fair-faced heretic and beggar; void 
 of all energy and enterprise, which might have made you wor- 
 thy of the hate I bear to every drop of your proud father's 
 blood! We fed at the same breast we grew together; he at 
 first was kind, and afterwards disdained me. For this, 'twas 
 joy to see his house destroyed his offspring blighted like 
 untimely fruit and every one of his once worshipped name 
 withered, or withering, beneath my vengeance ! For I had 
 power to undermine your haughty father ay, and your witless 
 husband, too I I have a sphere unknown to you. And bliss it 
 was to see my prospects prosper to see Fitzgerald loathe the 
 joys of home, and a soft wife, so dutiful, she knew not how to 
 resent her own deep wrongs ! And Fate, to crown me with a 
 final triumph, sent you to Paris threw you and yours within 
 my walls. If I have griped you hard, say, Margaret Murphy 
 has a constant heart, that never yet forgot an injury, or shrank 
 to do the bidding of her church. Call up your hated father 
 from his grave bid him, too, answer, for what you have suffer- 
 ed. His haughty nature spurned me and my faculties ay, I 
 was scorned and in such sort, that my last breath shall still be 
 hot with the remembrance ! My deep revenge was well-nigh 
 sated ; you and yours were in my toils, whence you had never 
 made escape, but for those paltry francs, which for their own 
 sake I disdained, and only saw in their embezzlement your ruin ! 
 What angel, or what demon, taught you to traverse thus my 
 schemes ? thus' to arrange inquisitorial plans, and brand my 
 daughter with the hangman's mark on my own hearth ? But 
 you shall pay for this. Go where you seek to go take your 
 own course ; I will pursue you still, and still with fiercer hate, 
 because in your own person you have become my evil genius ; 
 and in this foreign land, where I was living in a sort of peace, 
 with an habitual and composed revenge, awaiting but my 
 moment, you have disturbed my plans, and turned a victory all
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 241 
 
 but won, to a defeat that wakes the demon in me ! Look to 
 yourself for wheresoever you direct your steps, my curse is on 
 you, and my spirit near, to wake the elements of destruction 
 round you, and set them into play. Why do you gape, and 
 look in wonder on my words ? they are but faint precursors of 
 the deeds that soon shall follow. Those looks of yours would 
 seem to say, you pity me. I am not mad. Take back your 
 boon, detested as yourself! If I was formed with powers of 
 highest soaring, and disdained the low condition of my race, 
 why was it so ? What had I done, that they whom nature made 
 inferior, should take a stand above me? 'Tis but the natural 
 course of power pressed down and caged in iron poverty, to 
 break the bounds that circumscribe its energies, and level it 
 with the dust. But why talk thus to you? You, who know 
 not lofty thoughts you, in sweet humility and resignation, 
 yield to every hand that strikes, with hateful meekness ; kissing 
 oppression, to bribe the angels of your pious dreams I Begone ! 
 I say; nor ever blast me with your sight again. 'Twill bo 
 enough for me to hear of your extinction : to see it, were a plea- 
 sure that would kill me with its joy !' 
 
 In giving utterance to this last sentence, with an increased 
 exaltation of tone, the speaker had thrown into it such an 
 excess of rage as to exhaust herself of breath ; and as she stood 
 with her right arm extended, and her form drawn up, panting 
 for respiration, in an attitude of impassioned execration, she 
 looked like some fabulous impersonation of Evil, in a moment 
 of frenzy. Although I had been penetrated with terror by the 
 import and violence of her harangue, wondering how it would 
 end, I was fully alive to the sort of demoniac grandeur which 
 marked her commanding features and figure, as she stood before 
 mo, suggesting thoughts of an unearthly and irresistible power. 
 
 But in the next moment, the Pythoness was reduced to the 
 level of ordinary mortals, by throwing herself into the arms of 
 her daughter, in a screaming paroxysm of hysterics. As. this 
 movement left the door unguarded, it afforded me an opportu- 
 nity of escaping out of the room ; and I was in a moment after 
 in my chamber, with my deserted children. 
 
 As I clasped them in my arms, and recalled all that had 
 
 11
 
 242 HELEN MULORAVK; OR, 
 
 occurred within the last hoar, I scarcely believed in my own 
 identity. To have been rescued from the destruction prepared 
 for me, after having approached the very brink of an evil so 
 fearful as that of imprisonment, and an inevitable separation 
 from my children, seemed incredible, or miraculous. And yet it 
 had been effected, and by an agency which I had not foreseen. 
 
 This deliverance was the sweeter to me, that it had originated, 
 though remotely, from the influence of my dear father's charac- 
 ter. I was not the less indebted, however, to the justice and 
 the courtesy of Mr. O'Callaghan, to whom I must feel for ever 
 bound, by sentiments of the deepest gratitude. 
 
 My children were delighted at the idea of leaving so horrid 
 an abode, and eagerly lent me such assistance as was in their 
 power. With the additional aid of the servant, my packing was 
 soon effected ; while the presence of Mr. O'Callaghan's clerk, in 
 the ante-chamber, no doubt preserved me from outrages which 
 might otherwise have been offered me. I deputed him to carry 
 my farewell to the Murphys, and to inquire if there was 
 anything which they desired of me, before nay departure. But 
 they would not vouchsafe him a reply ; and without further 
 delay, my children, and myself, passing by the police officers on 
 the landing, descended those long flights of stairs, which I never 
 saw again. 
 
 As the gate of the h6tel closed after us, I felt like a bird 
 escaping from the snare of the fowler. I was once more in pos- 
 session of myself; even the phantoms conjured up by the 
 menaces I had so lately heard were, for the moment, all left 
 within the gate. 
 
 I had sent my baggage forward in a fiacre to Madame de 
 Corbiere's residence, in the Rue d'Angouleme, under convoy of 
 Mr. O'Callaghan's clerk, myself and children, with some small 
 parcels in our hands, following after as quickly as we could. To 
 shorten the distance, we had turned into the Allee des Veuves, 
 intending to proceed by the Rue Ponthieu. As we made a 
 short turn of the Allee, we came in sight of a figure which 
 painfully arrested my attention, and which could not be mis- 
 taken. It was that of Father Renel, the Jesuit executor. As 
 he was walking- before us, he knew not that we were in his rear ;
 
 JESDIT EXECUTORSHIP. 243 
 
 bnt turning his head, he recognised us, and shot at once into a 
 narrow path leading towards the Rue St. Honore, where we lost 
 sight of him. Although I could have wished, at this moment, 
 to importune the Jesuit respecting my son, the sight of him, and 
 the certainty of his identity, palsied my limbs and curdled my 
 blood, as the rushing recollection of his deeds, and the ruin he 
 had brought on my house, came over me with a crushing feeling 
 of their ever-increasing reality. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 WHEN we arrived at Madame de Corbiere's residence, I found 
 that Mr. O'Callaghan had not forgotten to apprize her of our 
 coming ; and we were welcomed by her with more kindness 
 than I had expected. As we were too late for the dinner of the 
 refectoire, we were invited to dine in the aalle d manger, at six 
 o clock, where I was to meet the whole family party, consisting 
 of both French and English ladies, who were living in the 
 establishment as pensionnaires en cJiambres. I employed the 
 interval, until dinner time, in arranging my own apartment, in 
 which I found so many comforts of which I had been destitute 
 at the Murphys, that I felt myself, in comparison, almost luxu- 
 riously accommodated. 
 
 The fatiguing events of the day brought sweet sleep to my pil- 
 low that night ; and when I awoke next morning, and beheld 
 the sun peeping, though faintly, into my chamber, I had a feel- 
 ing of happiness that had been long unknown to me, in which 
 my children evidently participated. 
 
 At the Murphys, without ever complaining of the discomforts 
 around them, they seemed always in a state of subdued feeling, 
 Avhich caused them to repress every childish sally, and keep a 
 fnrt of terrified vigil on the looks and movements of the princi- 
 pals of the house, whenever they were in sight. On this morn- 
 ing, they were full of frolic and fun, pointing out and remarking 
 on the new objects around them.
 
 244 HELEN MULGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 The events, if I may so call them, of the last twenty-four 
 hours, had so completely changed not only my position, but 
 myself, that I was joyfully bewildered by the transforma- 
 tion. 
 
 I felt once more the exhilaration of hope, and, under its influ- 
 ence, imagination leaped over difficulties which yesterday 
 seemed insurmountable. I had been put into possession.of funds 
 which I had thought lost ; and I had now the means of at least 
 a temporary subsistence. 
 
 This was too great an occurrence to be cast into shade, even 
 by the discovery that had been made, in Mrs. Murphy's revela- 
 tions of herself, of the identical ' demon-woman ' who had so 
 long been the evil spirit of my father's house. As fancy recalled 
 her, in all the strength of her unprincipled power, with a 
 vaunted confidence in herself of an ultimate triumph over me, 
 my heart indeed sickened again ; for I could not but foresee that 
 whatever might be the final result of a malevolence without 
 bounds, my path must henceforth be incessantly haunted by 
 imaginary as well as real evils, and all my efforts to sustain 
 myself and family might still be perpetually thwarted by an 
 unseen hand. 
 
 Stranger as I was, in a strange land, she might already have 
 organized means for my destruction, of which it was impossible 
 for me to make myself cognizant by any vigil that I could keep ; 
 even in removing to a distance from her, might I not have given 
 greater scope to her fierce and unwieldy vengeance ? If while 
 living in affluence in the bosom of my family, in my native land, 
 herself unknown to me, and without any visible connexion with 
 rne, she had been able to penetrate into the sanctuary of my 
 domestic circle, and to exercise there an influence so destructive 
 as that of which she had boasted, what might not now be 
 apprehended from her resentment, on account of that personal 
 offence which I had committed in bringing to light her daugh- 
 ter's criminality ? 
 
 I was so utterly defenceless, that if she should be in league 
 with the Jesuit, and attempt what she threatened, I should bo 
 irretrievably lost. How entirely different would have been now 
 my position, had I obtained from Monsieur de Carryfort the ser-
 
 JESUIT EXKCUTORSHIP. 245 
 
 vices he could so easily have rendered me, without effort 
 and without cost to himself. 
 
 In my first interview with Madame de Corbiere, I perceived 
 that my name was well known to her, yet I could discern no link 
 between the two families. Madame de Corbiere had made no 
 objections to receive me, yet I now recollecte'd that she was cold 
 and brusque in her manner, as though my becoming her 
 boarder was not an arrangement perfectly cordial to her. Mr. 
 O'Callaghan's interest in my welfare must doubtless have influ- 
 enced her ; but what prejudices might she not already have con- 
 ceived against me ? All this was but conjecture, still, perhaps, 
 short of reality, as nothing seemed too extravagant or too atro- 
 cious for the Murphys to commit. 
 
 Had we more faith in the invisible world, our souls would 
 not be without anchor when the storms of life are passing over 
 us. In the events of the past day, I had been made, in some 
 measure, the avenger of my own and my family's wrongs, with- 
 out the guilt of contriving or desiring such a triumph. Might I 
 not consider this to be an omen of good to me, and an instance 
 of that unseen influence in human affairs, of which, in contem- 
 plating the events of life, we see such frequent proof? 
 
 Before entering upon the course of occupation which I had 
 prescribed for myaelf in my new domicile, I wrote to Monsieur 
 de Carryfort a simple relation of the discoveries I had made 
 respecting the Murphys, and of the identity of Murphy herself 
 with Brian, my father's foster-sister. I entreated him to allow 
 me one more interview, that I might be able to discuss with 
 him, whether or not any steps should be taken against Murphy, 
 and the Irish priest connected with her, relative to the burglary 
 with which they had been formerly charged by my father. 
 
 I carried my note myself to the porter's lodge of my uncle's 
 hotel, that I might be certain of its safe delivery. On presen- 
 ting it, I was informed that he had gone, a week since, to the 
 south, for the winter. I obtained his address, but ascertaining 
 that he was not likely to remain stationary in any place, it 
 appeared useless to forward my letter to him. 
 
 As it was impossible for me, without my uncle, to attempt 
 any chastisement of Murphy and her accomplice, I dismissed
 
 246 HELKN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 the subject, for the present, from my thoughts, with the full 
 purpose of devoting myself unreservedly to the pressing duty 
 of advancing my children's education. Being in a house of 
 education, I had, of course, many accessories to aid me in 
 attaining this object. 
 
 There were several English ladies, with their children, living 
 at Madame de Corbiere's with the same object as myself. But 
 I had not the advantage of intercourse with them, being severed 
 from their society by having been received on lower terms than 
 they, in consideration of my eating in the refectoire, with the 
 pupils of the establishment, instead of in the salle d manger, 
 with the principals of the house, as is customary with the pen- 
 sionnaires en chambres. 
 
 On the second day of my residence with Madame de Corbi^re, 
 I received a visit from Mr. O'Callaghan, who came to give me 
 an account of the terms on which he had settled my affair with 
 the Murphys. They had promptly paid him the amount of the 
 draft, in consideration of which he had withdrawn the police 
 from their house, and left them free. They had also readily 
 deducted the overcharge they had made on me, amounting to 
 considerably more than half the sum they had at first demanded, 
 and I was really happy to have had this affair settled without a 
 prosecution. 
 
 As Mr. O'Callaghan had performed the part of a real friend, 
 and proved himself in every respect worthy of my confidence 
 as well as my gratitude, I made a short recital to him of Mrs. 
 Murphy's real history ; on hearing which, he expressed strong 
 regrets that he had not known it before ; as it was, he said, an 
 omission of duty to society, to suffer, such a wretch to escape 
 the vengeance of the law. Nevertheless, on reflection, he feared 
 that although by a prosecution the daughter would have been 
 disposed of, and prevented from committing further mischief, 
 yet the mother, being left at large, might have continued to be a 
 perpetual, and more incorrigible annoyance than ever ; so that 
 perhaps, it was best as it was, and he fervently hoped I might 
 hear no more of them. 
 
 I could not conclude our interview without some expression 
 of gratitude for the debt I owed him, as my deliverer from the
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR8HIP. 247 
 
 den in which he found me. But he declined all acknowledg- 
 ment, assuring me that he should feel eternally indebted to the 
 chance that had enabled him to be of service to so near a rela- 
 tive of the late Sir William Mulgrave. 
 
 We were usually summoned to the dinner in the refectoire 
 by a bell, at one o'clock. After I had been about a week at 
 Madame de Corbi6re's, I one day entered this cold and com- 
 fortless room, with my two children, and was motioned by the 
 female at the head of the table, a person whom I had never seen 
 before, to a seat reserved for me. As I was taking possession of 
 it, I looked round the circle to discover my children, who had 
 been separated from me, when, to my inexpressible surprise and 
 horror, my eyes fell on that very being who, in the whole crea- 
 tion, I least wished to see. It was Mrs. Murphy, seated direct ly 
 opposite to me! 
 
 My sight almost failed me ; but mustering courage, I moved 
 to her slightly, a courtesy which she returned with a look that 
 nearly petrified me. Her commanding form was evidently 
 swelling with feelings that sought no concealment from me. 
 They were, nevertheless, chastened by her habitual self-com- 
 mand and regulated violence, so that she omitted nothing which 
 was due either to the place or the companions of her meal. 
 
 But her presence recalled so many mystical terrors, that all the 
 sunshine of my thoughts instantly disappeared. It was with 
 difficulty I could sustain an appearance of decent composure. 
 
 During dinner, Madame de Oorbiere came into the room, and 
 very coldly recognised me ; while, as if to make me sensible of 
 her indifference, she lavished on Mrs. Murphy an ostentatious 
 courtesy. All this was a portentous preface to my new residence. 
 
 Before the meal ended, I had the additional pang of learning, 
 that the stranger at the head of the table was a daughter of Mrs. 
 Murphy's, just installed as the English teacher of the establish- 
 ment. Of her I had never heard before ; and her being brought 
 into the house at this time, so immediately after my arrival there, 
 was so deliberate an hostility to myself, that I could not but fear 
 everything which had been menaced by the mother. I had but 
 just cleared one pitfall, when I found myself falling into 
 another.
 
 248 iiKusN MULGRAVK; OH, 
 
 Madame de Corbi6re appeared to be in strict friendship with 
 my avowed enemy; and if so, I was more than ever in the 
 power of that enemy, since she had now the assistance of others, 
 to aid her in the accomplishment of her purposes ; and they, the 
 persons with whom I had deposited my safety and my comfort. 
 
 In ruminating on my position during the hours of darkness, I 
 shuddered at the perpetual recurrence . of those evil chances 
 which pursued me everywhere, and which no foresight seemed 
 able to avert. But day returned to suspend reflection; for 
 though Time is sometimes taunted as a lingerer, nothing stays 
 his flight. I lived on as I could, endeavouring to shut my eyes 
 against the future, and absorbing myself in occupation, as the 
 only remedy against despair. 
 
 Self-preservation, as well as neighbourly duty, seemed to 
 require that I should speak to Madame de Corbi6re respecting 
 Mrs. Murphy ; as she could not surely know with whom she had 
 connected herself and her school. But another question then 
 occurred to me, of, Whom may Madame de Corbiere herself be ? 
 After entertaining all the pros and cons of the question, I decided 
 on not interfering for the present with the natural course of 
 things. 
 
 Some two or three weeks had passed without any new occur- 
 rence, or any direct communication with the Murphys, except 
 such as was unavoidable with her who daily sat at table with 
 us. 
 
 One day, on entering the refectoire at the customary dinner- 
 hour, I found the table without its usual head,' and the little 
 community there in a state of great excitement. Inquiring the 
 cause, I learnt that the mother of the English teacher had been 
 missing from her home two days. 
 
 Shortly after dinner I met with Madame de Corbi6re, who, 
 with unwonted courtesy, stayed to converse with me, and to 
 inform me more particularly of what had befallen Mrs. Murphy ; 
 for whose safety, she said, her daughters entertained the most 
 serious apprehensions. She further told me, that the unhappy 
 woman, the night before her disappearance, had had a bitter 
 quarrel with a man who was an Irish priest, and who, in conse- 
 quence of heavy losses from time to time at her ecarte tables,
 
 JESUIT KXECUTOKSHIP. 249 
 
 had complained openly and menacingly of fonl play. Madame 
 de Corbiere expressed a becoming sympathy in the distress of 
 the daughters, but professed to be greatly shocked at learning 
 as she said, for the first time that Mrs. Murphy's residence was 
 notorious as a rendezvous for ecarte players. 
 
 As I had unfortunately been an inmate of that residence, I 
 felt it necessary, in self defence, to say, that during the time I 
 had been under Mrs. Murphy's roof, I had confined myself so 
 entirely to my own apartment, as to know nothing of what 
 passed in the salons, until a short time before I left. 
 
 On the following day, the wretched woman was found in the 
 fearful ' Morgue.' The hand of violence had been visibly on her 
 she was frightfully mutilated; and a considerable sum of 
 money that she had about her person when she left her house 
 had been abstracted. 
 
 Her destruction caused the downfall of her daughters, who, 
 now that their way of life was known, were obliged to hide 
 themselves from the few respectable persons who had hitherto 
 countenanced them, in ignorance of what they were. 
 
 For me, it was an event of immense moment. I saw myself 
 at once delivered from a fiend, who believed herself to hold the 
 very cord of my destiny. For many weeks, almost months, her 
 appalling, mysterious form had been crossing my path, both in 
 my sleeping and waking hours, now assailing me in one shape, 
 and then in another. But all at once the hideous phantom dis- 
 appears, and is seen no more. 
 
 Human existence may truly be called a vapour; and when it 
 is passed away, what an illusion seems that power, which 
 appeared to have been embodied in it ! 
 
 That I was not, at this moment of horror, under the roof of 
 the Murphys, compelled unavoidably to see and to hear the 
 details of the bloody tragedy, and perhaps to testify to the most 
 revolting facts, was a cause of inexpressible rejoicing. My heart 
 was filled with gratitude, and I lived in comparative happiness for 
 many weeks, often meditating on that strange influence which the 
 wretched Mrs. Murphy must have had in the house of Madame 
 de Corbiere, since her removal had changed the aspect and spirit 
 of the whole family, towards my children, as well as myself. 
 
 11*
 
 250 HELEN MULGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 MY eldest daughter, Dora, was between eight and nine years 
 of age, and Caroline between seven and eight. Their characters 
 had begun to assume a definite cast ; and it was with joy unut- 
 terable that I observed also a development of mind beginning to 
 manifest itself, full of promise for the future, by which I might 
 hope to be restored to a companionship as precious as that from 
 which I had been wrenched in my early years. ~ 
 
 In this delightful anticipation, the sordid cares of my life were 
 sometimes forgotten, and every thought was suppressed, except 
 such as my children's happiness and amiability inspired. 
 
 They began to bear a resemblance to my dear father. There 
 was about them something of the same benignant look and air, 
 and, alas ! also the same fatal disposition to give away whatever 
 they possessed indiscriminately. Had I not been so straitened 
 in my pecuniary circumstances as to make the most minute and 
 odious parsimony a duty, how beautiful, under suitable regula- 
 tion, might this trait of character have become, at an age when 
 selfishness and covetousness are often paramount. 
 
 The worn and mean attire of my children seemed unperceived 
 by them, although they sometimes counted the number of visi- 
 ble darns on some article of their dress, as a pretext for bestow- 
 ing on mamma an equal number of kisses. They knew not that 
 she waked at night, to meditate on how that mended attire was 
 to be replaced, when it had become too shattered for further 
 repair. The grovelling nature of incessant pecuniary cares 
 debases the mind, and contracts its powers ; and that hydra- 
 headed evil, embodied in the little word want, so unmeaning on 
 the ear of plenty, acts like a torpedo on the morbid sense of him 
 who has long breathed its pestilent atmosphere, and struggled 
 with it on his own hearth. But I had not yet experienced all 
 that poverty is capable of inflicting. I had never been a house- 
 ]t-s wanderer had never literally wanted bread to satisfy my 
 hunger. My privations had principally consisted in the lack of
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 251 
 
 those things which the habits of affluent life had rendered neces- 
 saries. Now, however, I approach a period in my history on 
 which I cannot look back without shuddering, although it has 
 long passed away. 
 
 When I first entered upon a residence at Madame de Cor- 
 biere's, the funds arising from my recently cashed draft had*ena- 
 bled me to discharge Mrs. Murphy's debt, and also to pay 
 Madame de Corbiere a quarter's board in advance for myself and 
 children. These disbursements, together with some other una- 
 voidable expenditures, had now nearly exhausted my purse. 
 
 But as my next remittance would become due within a 
 month, my anxiety for the future arose principally from a con- 
 viction, that in Paris, as well as in Ireland, my income was, and 
 would continue to be, too insufficient to supply my children and 
 myself with the bare necessaries of life, whatever frugality 
 might be exercised or privations imposed. I had, indeed, 
 already carried experiments on these points to the extremest 
 severity, so that there was no further aid to be expected from 
 them. 
 
 Nevertheless, when I balanced my half year's account, I found 
 a deficit, which, though trifling in itself, afforded sufficient evi- 
 dence that, with the increasing wants of my children, as they 
 grew older, it must in no long time bring me into debt, and con- 
 sequently to ruin. I had already offered my services to Madame 
 de Corbiere, as a teacher in her establishment, but she had 
 demonstrated to me by calculation, that I should save more by 
 continuing, as I had hitherto done, to instruct my children 
 myself, in my own apartment, and avoid the expenses of the 
 school-room, than I should gain by filling any department in her 
 house as a teacher, the salary she gave being very small. 
 
 I then consulted her respecting another plan that I had form- 
 ed ; which was to give lessons out of the house, in private fami- 
 lies : but this she did not approve ; and as without her recom- 
 mendation I should be unable to carry such a scheme into prac- 
 tice, I was compelled to relinquish it. 
 
 Had Mr. O'Callaghan been a married man, I would have soli- 
 cited of him an introduction to his family ; but as he was not, I 
 could not apply to him for any advice or assistance, considerate
 
 252 HELEN Ml LUKAVE ; OR, 
 
 and generous as ho bad been in arranging my affair with the 
 Murphys. Although I was thus compelled, for the moment, to 
 relinquish every project I had formed, I still hoped that some 
 new occurrence might, ere long, enable me to increase my 
 resources by my own exertions. 
 
 At the termination of my first quarter, I was reminded, by 
 note from Madame de Corbiere, that the ensuing quarter became 
 immediately due in advance ; but as it was not possible for me 
 to make the advance until I received the remittance now due 
 from Ireland, and which I every day expected, I explained to 
 Madame de Corbiere my exact pecuniary position. She accept- 
 ed the explanation, with great courtesy, as a sufficient apology 
 for my not complying immediately with the rule of her house. 
 A few days afterwards, I received a letter from my agent in 
 Ireland, containing, as I joyfully supposed, my expected remit- 
 tance. 
 
 But on opening it, and perusing with eagerness its contents, 
 I soon learnt that the property on which the fragment of my 
 jointure had been secured, was destroyed by an incendiary fire ; 
 and that, as an omission had been made by my agent in the 
 payment of the insurance on it when last due, all I had in the 
 world was swept away. I read this letter over again and again, 
 before I was able to comprehend the extent of my calamity. 
 When I did understand it, although an habitual feeling of ruin, 
 and a constant expectation of a final stroke had become a 
 chronic affection of my mind, ever since the Jesuit had 
 announced his power over me, I fell under the shock as one who 
 is taken by surprise. 
 
 But the first moments of a real calamity are less terrible than 
 its effects. These come slowly and silently on us, from day to 
 day, reducing us gradually to extinction. The mariner whose 
 bark the storm is rending from under him, seeing that all expe- 
 dients are exhausted, silently lashes himself to a top-mast, and 
 awaits his fate. I had not yet arrived at this entire negation of 
 effort, for I had children to save ; and so long as the ' wasting 
 barrel' and the newly-drained ' cruise of oil' retained but a sin- 
 gle meal, I dared not yield to the despair that would have ren- 
 dered me impotent.
 
 JESUIT BXECUTOBSHIP. 253 
 
 While I ruminated on the course I should take, my children 
 came running into the room, and all lonely and lost as they 
 appeared to me at that moment, I pressed them to my heart, 
 and abandoned myself to the transports of an unutterable terror 
 and tenderness. I could not speak to them of what had hap- 
 pened ; but it was essential that, without loss of time, I should 
 inform Madame de Corbiere of it; for of course I could no 
 longer shelter myself under her roof. In an interview with her, 
 shortly after, I related to her all that had occurred, without 
 reserve ; and having done so, found no difficulty in prevailing on 
 her to allow me and my children to remove from her house 
 without delay. Knowing, as she did, that I had two uncles in 
 affluent circumstances, she no doubt expected that I should be 
 assisted by them, and expressed a hope that I should shortly be 
 able to return to her. 
 
 I made no allusion to them, however, although a new hope 
 had sprung up in my heart, that the extremity of my circum- 
 stances might now, perchance, move their compassion. To my 
 uncle at Vienna I had never yet made any application for pecu- 
 niary assistance, lest I might thereby unsettle the security of my 
 mother's dependence on him. But I now wrote to him without 
 delay; and stating the destitute circumstances of my family, 
 besought him to bestow on me only enough to support us for a 
 few weeks, so as to give me time to organize some means where- 
 by I might earn, at least, enough to prevent our perishing of 
 hunger. I knew well that I had an advocate near him, who, if 
 he should apprize her of the object of my letter, would plead 
 zealously for me. With her I was unable to communicate, on 
 account of the postage. I had, indeed, never been able to keep 
 up any correspondence with her or my sister since my arrival in 
 France, on that account; and on the same account, my faithful 
 Mary was also lost to me. 
 
 While my letter was on its way to Vienna, I made arrange- 
 ments with a woman of the name of Fanchette, who for the last 
 three months had been my laundress, to receive me and my 
 daughters into her house as lodgers. 
 
 Fanchette occupied a small and mean entresol near the Made- 
 laine, which was then in progress of erection. She had but one
 
 254 HKLEN MULQRAVE; OR, 
 
 room to spare, and for that she asked me only the small sum of 
 two francs per week. I was, of course, to provide myself with 
 what I might want of furniture ; but having no bed, and scarcely 
 anything except personals, I requested Fanchette to purchase 
 Borne clean, dry straw, in sufficient abundance to enable me to 
 make beds for us all. I was in possession of a few francs, and 
 was therefore able to pay for this at once, and to cover it with 
 sheeting, which I had by me. 
 
 When I came to take possession of my room, I found, besides 
 my straw-bed, which looked invitingly clean, a table, aud two 
 chairs, and a pot of artificial flowers on my mantel-piece garni- 
 ture de cheminee being essential to a Frenchwoman's ideal of 
 comfort. 
 
 Fanchette could neither read nor write; but it is not neces- 
 sary to do these to be intelligent and amiable, for she was both 
 to a remarkable degree, and showed besides, so much tact and 
 delicacy in arranging and contriving for our convenience, that I 
 almost fancied I had found Mary. How merciful is Providence ! 
 how visible its interposition, even in our meanest affairs ! I had 
 always associated the idea of extreme poverty with vice, igno- 
 rance, or, at least, vulgarity ; but in my illiterate hostess I found 
 a mind full of intelligence, a heart overflowing with goodness, 
 and a defferential delicacy of manner in her intercourse with us, 
 who she knew had fallen in life, that might shame the hard de- 
 portment of many a Lady Bountiful in the hovels of the wretched. 
 
 After paying Fanchette for my straw, I had only from ten to 
 twelve francs left, for my lodging and food, for such time as I 
 might be able to keep myself and my children alive. In full con- 
 sciousness of this fact, I frequently lost the power of thought, 
 and sat for hours together in speechless imbecility. Without 
 just such a kind and benificent creature as Fanchette, I believe 
 I should have yielded at once to my despair, and expired. 
 Shocked as she was at our actual condition, of which she soon 
 became cognizant, she retained her cheerful air and tone ; and, 
 gpite of her own poverty, and the fear she entertained of appear- 
 ing to know too much, she repeatedly brought into our room 
 some eatables for the children, which she affected to be a super- 
 fluity that she knew not what to do with.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 255 
 
 I had been under*the necessity of confining our diet to bread 
 and water from the first day of our residence with Fanchette, 
 who burst into tears when she first made a discovery of this fact, 
 and ran hastily out of the room, in an undisguised paroxysm of 
 feeling. 
 
 The desolation of my heart, at this time, made sad ravages on 
 me, and a few days reduced me almost to a spectre ; but the 
 hope I had founded on my letter to Vienna kept me from sink- 
 ing. Meanwhile, I lost all power of conversing ; there seemed 
 to be a great gulf betwixt me and every one I knew, or met, 
 which I had neither the power nor the desire to pass. The mag- 
 nitude of my affliction thus plunged me into a frightful solitude, 
 in which I felt crushed by the weight of my own impotency. 
 The expected letter from Vienna at length arrived, with the 
 postage paid ; a circumstance that at the first moment flushed 
 me with joy, as I knew that my children's bread must otherwise 
 have been curtailed to defray it. I thought, besides, that it was 
 a good augury. The contents of the letter were, nevertheless, 
 such as the poor may generally expect, in circumstances like 
 mine, from their rich relatives. My uncle actually pleaded 
 poverty ; and explained himself by saying that his whole income 
 being absorbed by his habitual expenses, it was not in his power 
 to make me a remittance, but advised me to apply to my uncle 
 De Carryfort, who, being on the spot, was better able to judge 
 of my wants, and to supply them. He was even zealous enough 
 (in his desire to serve us by his pen) to write a note to the count, 
 which he requested I would deliver in person. I saw my dear 
 mother's hand in the advised mode of procedure, but I doubted 
 the efficacy of the experiment. 
 
 Yet I went once more to the residence of Monsieur de Carry- 
 fort, and finding him at home, sent in the baron's note, inclosed 
 in one of my own, in which I told him that my children and I 
 were dying of want. But I was not permitted to see him ; a 
 verbal answer by the servant informed me that ' Monsieur le 
 comte begged I would not trouble myself to call again, as he 
 was going immediately out of town.' 
 
 The sacred fable, that represents the dog of the rich man as 
 having more compassion than his master for the beggar that lay
 
 256 HELEN MULQRAVE ; OR, 
 
 in want and disease at the gate of his mansion, is as applicable 
 as ever to the class whom it was intended to warn. Could my 
 uncle, but for one hour, have suffered the wretchedness which I 
 was then suffering, and the almost greater misery of asking 
 relief from him, how deeply would he have felt that ' it is more 
 blessed to give than to receive!' 
 
 My present visitation had come upon mo so suddenly, and with 
 so exterminating a power, that, without assistance from friends, 
 nothing short of a miracle could save us from being swept away 
 by it from the face of the earth. There had been neither time 
 nor scope for effort : what I could do, I had done, but it had 
 been utterly unavailing ; and now, with my children dying by 
 inches before my eyes, I cried out, in agony of spirit, ' Where 
 are the ravens that fed Elijah ? and where, above all, is the God 
 of Elijah?' But in this tempest of feeling, the 'small still 
 voice ' was not heard to answer ; and nothing remained, but that 
 we must die. After all, said I as my heart, emptied of hope, 
 became too sick for further resistance to die of want is no un- 
 usual occurrence. Why does this doom affect me so deeply ? 
 What am I, or what is my father's house, that the visitations of 
 the Almighty should pass us by, more than others ? How many 
 thousands of God's creatures die daily of want, or of disease 
 arising from it, in spite of the bountiful provisions of both nature 
 and society to avert it ? Yet little know we of the evil we have 
 never felt. How often have I glanced at the stinted obituary of 
 the wretch who had died of famine, on the pavement of the 
 street, or on the floor of the hovel, and, washing away the im- 
 pression of it in a few tears, have turned from the record, and 
 forgotten it ! 
 
 But now ' mine eye hath seen all this, mine ear hath heard 
 and understood it ;' therefore ' my face is foul with weeping, and 
 on my eyelids is the shadow of death !' 
 
 Paris, filled with the products of wealth, exhibits everywhere, 
 Avith prodigal hand, a profusion of inviting viands ; covering her 
 stalls and filling her shop windows with the varied aliments, 
 garnished to invite the appetite of the epicure, while they tempt 
 to evil the poor and hungry wretch who gazes on them. Such 
 is the constitution of society, that in a city thus glutted with
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR8HIP. 257 
 
 food, the famishing wretch who cannot buy becomes another 
 Tantalus, doomed to endless hunger and thirst, while surrounded 
 by the elements of life. 
 
 I had been about five months in Paris, when I returned from 
 Monsieur de Oarryfort's h6tel, under the full conviction that our 
 death-warrant was now signed, and that there remained scarcely 
 anything more for me to do on earth. But the smallest transac- 
 tion becomes great to the imagination when it is consciously 
 performed for the last time. The mere payment of my week's 
 rent to Fanchette, the only debt I owed in the world, was ac- 
 companied with tears. It was with difficulty I prevailed on her 
 to take it ; for although she was not aware that I was paying 
 her my last franc, she persisted in it that she did not want it. 
 The balance that remained to me was only sufficient to buy bread 
 for the morrow; so that I very naturally considered our hours 
 to be numbered. 
 
 Fanchette had informed me that she was unavoidably going 
 into the country until Monday ; and when, at about five in the 
 afternoon of Saturday, she closed the door, to leave us alone for 
 two days, I had no expectation of living to see her return, for I 
 already felt as if I were dying. But at the age of twenty-seven 
 when the constitution is naturally good, the physical nature 
 makes great resistance to death. Had it been otherwise, I 
 should not have survived this crisis. 
 
 My children and I made our accustomed preparations for the 
 Sabbath morning of the morrow, and then eating our morsel, 
 lay down for the night. The children were soon asleep, but the 
 loneliness of Fanchette's entresol, now that it was bereft of her 
 light, quick, step, and her occasional low chant, as she moved 
 about at late hours in her own room, in performance of her 
 occupation, became so oppressive to my fancy as to keep me 
 awake ; or, if I closed my eyes for a few minutes in forgetful- 
 ness, I fell into dreams from which the terror they inspired soon 
 roused me. At one time, I saw skeleton infants gnawing their 
 own limbs ; at another, my children were being tumbled into a 
 grave, without shroud or coffin. 
 
 After repeated suifering of this kind, I rose, about three in the 
 morning, and looking out of the small window of my room,
 
 258 HELEN MULGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 observed, for the first time since I had been there, a large private 
 hotel within view of it. 
 
 As the bright moonbeams fell on the court of the mansion, I 
 saw there a moving female figure apparently that of an upper 
 servant whose gestures exhibited feelings of an agonizing 
 character. 
 
 In Paris, the dwellings of the poor are often in close con- 
 tiguity with those of the rich. This was the case with Fan- 
 chette's entresol. Even under the same roof with me and mine, 
 who were perishing of want, on different floors there resided 
 persons of independence and of wealth, who enjoyed every day 
 the pre-eminent luxuries of Paris. But I am wandering; I 
 meant only to speak of the suffering individual whom I saw 
 traversing the cour within sight of my window. 
 
 A rumour reached rne in the morning, that a suicide had been 
 committed in that cour during the night ; and I felt, on hearing 
 it, that I must have seen the wretched perpetrator of that 
 hideous crime, perhaps at the very moment when she was hover- 
 ing on eternity. It was not until many months afterwards, that 
 I knew myself to be at all connected with this occurrence. I 
 then learnt that the wretched suicide, whose agonies I had wit- 
 nessed previous to the deed, was Miss Murphy. The magistrates 
 of the locality in Ireland where the destruction of my property 
 had taken place, when it was known that an act of incen- 
 diarism had occurred in their own immediate neighbourhood, 
 left no stone unturned to discover the perpetrators of it. Their 
 researches were successful, and although the act proved to be 
 but the work of one hand, it was discovered to have been pro- 
 jected by Mrs. Murphy and her daughter, and performed under 
 their direction. 
 
 Mrs. Murphy's death, indeed, had taken place previous to its 
 actual accomplishment ; but letters were found in her hand, 
 darkly interlined by another, and a male hand, enforcing it on 
 the tool selected for their purpose, and offering him Miss 
 Murphy's hand, and a home in her mother's establishment in 
 Paris, as soon as the destruction should be accomplished, thus 
 aiming at a fulfilment of the vindictive and mysterious threats 
 uttered by Mrs. Murphy, on the day I left her house.
 
 JESUIT BXECUTOR8HTP. 259 
 
 Another letter was also found, of a subsequent date, in Miss 
 Murphy's hand, urging the criminal to promptitude, and confirm- 
 ing the conditions on which he had been engaged to perform 
 the deed. 
 
 These particulars had been disclosed in the judicial examina- 
 tions made in a court of justice. The wretched Miss Murphy, 
 just at the time they were taking place, had entered on the 
 service of the family occupying the h6tel within sight of my 
 window. Her connexion with this affair became known to her 
 employers through an application made to them by the officers 
 of justice employed in it in Ireland : and she, being apprized of 
 the charges against her, committed the suicide I have related. 
 
 CHAPTER XXVIII. 
 
 THERE are calamities in life of which no adequate account can 
 be given by the sufferer, not only because language is incapable 
 of depicting them, but because the pain which they inflict 
 renders the mind too feeble to take note either of itself or of 
 them. 
 
 The acute agony that accompanies the waking from sleep of a 
 wretched being, whose intense suffering has been awhile suspen- 
 ded by it, surpasses all words of torture, and can bo understood 
 only by those who have felt it. 
 
 When I awoke on Sunday morning, it was from a sound and 
 deathlike sleep the sleep of exhaustion, in which every reality 
 around me, and every thought within me, had ceased to exist. 
 The pangs inflicted by returning consciousness, with all its fear- 
 ful perceptions, were greater than I could bear ; and I started 
 up, to meet and grapple with the new horrors that rushed on 
 my view. Not that our situation was materially different from 
 what it had been for some days past, except that we were more 
 exhausted, and that this day, unless we could survive the entire 
 want of food, must be the beginning of the end. Fanchette 
 would, indeed, return in the morning, and I should again hear
 
 260 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 her pleasant voice ; and she would, perhaps, again force on my 
 children her gift of what, to make it accepted, she was wont to 
 call her superfluous food. But could I allow my children to be 
 fed by her who could scarcely support herself? By to-morrow 
 however, the force of gnawing hunger might perchance bear 
 away all sense of what was due to another, and leave me but 
 with a single thought that of saving my children's lives. 
 
 Oh, ye who sit in judgment on the thefts of the starving 
 wretch, whose bewildered sense no longer discerns the sacred 
 barrier that stands betwixt him and another's bread, have mercy 
 on him when he ' steals but to satisfy his hunger !' Yet, better 
 for me and mine to die, than to put forth the hand to evil. Oh, 
 Life ! Death ! what are ye ? Even the possession of life does 
 not teach us what it is. What then can we know of death ? 
 None that have passed through its dark valley return to tell us 
 what it is. Nevertheless, with my senses wide awake, and with 
 quickened perceptions of the incorporeal world around me, I 
 saw Death marching on us with rapid strides ; and if in watching 
 his advance, I could have believed all which had been given me 
 to do, was done, how joyfully should I have hailed his approach ! 
 But he came not alone to me ; my children, too, must die ; and 
 though the youngest, being awhile provided for, would perchance 
 survive us, yet he would be left alone in the world, undefended, 
 unprepared for the accidents of life, and, as a natural conse- 
 quence of such an isolation, would perhaps die an early death 
 by the hand of violence and cruelty, or from a course of sin. 
 How could I persuade myself that the natural deterioration 
 arising from the want of parental care could be averted from 
 him ? My own life was as nothing in the balance with that of 
 my children, whose never-dying spirits had been entrusted to 
 me by the only Bestower of life. The deep truths of our com- 
 plicated being slumber in the soul during our quiet hours ; but 
 awake like giants, to crush us with their strength, in moments 
 of weakness and terror, when nothing is left to us but our des- 
 pair. Overwhelmed with appalling doubts and cares, and with 
 that sorrow of earth which worketh death, I scarcely dared 
 inquire whether my spirit, so soon, perhaps, to appear before 
 God, were meet for his presence. I attempted to peruse the
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR8HIP. 261 
 
 sacred pages, but they were a sealed book to me. Every 
 moment I was compelled to retrace what I had read, and force 
 myself back upon passages once luminous to me, but which now 
 conveyed nothing to my distracted mind. I knelt, and endea- 
 voured to pray ; but thought vacillated, my brain reeled, and I 
 could no longer realize the divine idea of a Father in heaven. 
 It seemed as though the portals of that world were closed against 
 me, and that the Omnipotent had ' covered himself with a cloud, 
 that my prayer should not pass through.' 
 
 My children, shrunken and withered, lay half-dead before 
 me ; and the state of listless immobility in which they were, 
 rendered it impossible to rouse, or to interest them in anything. 
 They were every moment overpowered by sleep, or awaking 
 out of it with a frightened start. After some time, a similar 
 stupor crept over myself; and life stood still, both with them 
 and me, .until the afternoon, when we gathered round the frag- 
 ment of bread that remained ; and, as ' the widow of Zarephath 
 and her son, had done before us, we prepared to eat it together, 
 and die. I divided it amongst us with a solemnity of feeling 
 that overwhelmed me, and clasping my children in my arms, 
 shed over them a torrent of tears. 
 
 We had now arrived at a point in time which touched eter- 
 nity ! Yet we might still live many hours, perhaps days. I 
 had so long been counting the pulsations of my children, watch- 
 ing their deathlike appearance, and listening to their shortening 
 respiration, that, absorbed in those fearful symptoms, no thought 
 of possible relief occurred to me. But suddenly I became im- 
 pressed with a sense of criminality, in thus sitting still, without 
 making an effort, or raising a cry for help. An impulse seized 
 me to seek God in his sanctuary ; for although my prayers 
 seemed no longer to reach the skies, yet perhaps, in concert 
 with other worshippers in the temple of God, my voice might 
 once more ascend to heaven ; and I resolved to go, as one of old 
 went to the pool of Bethesda, to wait for ' the coming of the 
 angel there.' 
 
 The pallid cheeks of my children, flaccid and faded as .the 
 leaves of a rose verging on decay, inspired no hope of their 
 being able to walk to the English church, in the ' Avenue do
 
 26'2 HELEN MULGHAVE ; OR, 
 
 Neuilly ;' yet, like myself, they desired to do so when it was 
 proposed to them. We left our entresol about four, and although 
 the distance was not greater than that of a quarter of an hour's 
 walk to the Champs Elysees, through which lay our direct path, 
 we did not get there until five. We had then still a distance of 
 another hour to accomplish before we could reach the church, ns 
 neither of us was able to move more than a step or two at a time. 
 
 The avenues on which we were entering were already 
 crowded with every varied class of society. Amongst them 
 many beggars, on whose countenances no want was visible, yet 
 they solicited alms with success. As I observed that success, 
 the question flashed across my brain like an electric shock, why 
 may not / beg ? And yet, as I hastily and unconsciously raised 
 my hand to a passer by, my arm fell as if palsied by the attempt. 
 The crowds around us little thought of the misery that mingled 
 that night with their mirth I 
 
 There was everything on that fine February evening to charm 
 the senses even mine if a single earthly hope had been latent 
 in my soul. The weather was mild and the air soft ; the sun 
 was sinking in beauty to the edge of the horizon, while the moon 
 was rising in the opposite heaven ; and as the greater light 
 departed, the lesser shone resplendently through the leafless 
 branches of the trees, prolonging day, and courting the willing 
 crowds to linger in their walk. Flower-girls were there with 
 snowdrops and crocusses the first I had seen in this foreign 
 land and green-house flowers were also there in rich abun- 
 dance, and music and song, to lend their aid to the enchantment 
 of the hour and the scene. 
 
 Numerous carriages, ranged at the edge of the outer avenue, 
 awaited the orders of those who had left them, to mingle with 
 the joyous multitudes in the Grande Promenade. 
 
 In the more retired walks, the customary amusements of a 
 Parisian Sunday were everywhere going on, with an eagerness 
 and an excitement that seemed to mock the misery of a group 
 like ours. But the actors in those scenes saw us not. Panto- 
 mime and play whirling-machines and monkeys puppets and 
 conjurors were too absorbing to leave a thought for anything 
 but themselves. These things, which ministered pleasure to
 
 JESUIT EXKCUTORSHIP. 263 
 
 such crowds of human beings, impeded our feeble progress so 
 materially, that we scarcely advanced at all. 
 
 The children were so much exhausted that they hung on each 
 other and on me for support, before we had gone half the length 
 of the Avenue. As I was unable to sustain or assist them for 
 want of strength to support myself, I found it would be impossi- 
 ble for us to reach the church ; and I bitterly regretted that 
 thoughtlessness and over-estimation of our strength, which had 
 brought us so far from our entresol. 
 
 We had withdrawn to one of the most retired avenues to 
 escape the jostling crowd, and my limbs entirely failing me, I 
 sank on the grass, where I remained for several minutes, with 
 my children clinging to me and weeping beside me, without 
 attracting the slightest attention from any one of the occupied 
 multitudes in our vicinity. 
 
 All at once, I heard a sound which seemed familiar to me. 
 It was the playful bark of a dog, repeated two or three times. 
 His rich, full tones struck me as resembling those of Rover; and 
 shaking off the lethargy that had fallen on me, I looked around, 
 gazing into the deep shadows of the wood, almost expecting to 
 discover him there, while I breathlessly listened for a repetition 
 of his bark. It was at length repeated, but the sound was evi- 
 dently retreating into distance. The weakness of a child was 
 on me, and I wept at my disappointment. But looking at my 
 children, who now lay quietly beside me on the grass, I saw in 
 them a new source of alarm. Their faces were changed, and 
 presented an appearance that startled me. I felt there was not 
 a moment to be lost, and that if we did not return at once to 
 our domicile, we might never reach it more, but might be 
 carried in a state of insensibility to some public place, to die 
 amidst a crowd. 
 
 Arousing and caressing my poor children, I explained to them 
 that we must return home immediately. They understood me 
 sufficiently to rise from the ground, with my assistance, and 
 each taking a hand of mine, clung to it, and crept feebly by my 
 side, until we came at length in view of the 'Madelaine,' when 
 a faint exclamation of joy broke from them both, at being so 
 near home.
 
 2G4 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 Home ! what a home ! but still ' sweet home.' We reached 
 the porter's lodge, and were soon within the gate of entrance. 
 As we crossed the court-yard, a bright moonbeam fell on our 
 path. I gazed on its silvery light, and thought it was the last 
 time I should look upon it. The cares of earth seemed leaving 
 my heart, and I felt with joy that the journey of life was nearly 
 ended. 
 
 The porter offered me a lighted candle, which I accepted, 
 and after closing and locking the door of our room as we entered 
 it, my children sank down at once upon their bed on the floor, 
 and became in a moment so utterly motionless, that I doubted 
 whether all were not over with them. I did not attempt, how- 
 ever, to pry into the fearful secret of their deathlike stillness. 
 The time was past for affording them relief. I had nothing 
 with which to revive them, and not physical strength enough 
 to render them corporeal aid of any sort. 
 
 A far greater duty pressed itself on me. Their spirits wero 
 returning to God who gave them. I tried to kneel, while I com- 
 mended them to his mercy ; but, unable to sustain myself, sank 
 on the floor by their side. A few moments of rest had a 
 wonderful effect on my mind. My soul seemed to wake out of 
 its late stupor, and I realized the promise, ' at even-tide it shall 
 be light.' Yes, all things assumed a new aspect. The spiritual 
 nature expanding itself, and throwing off the dull mortality of 
 an earthly life, mounted as ' on eagles' wings' towards its divine 
 source, while the quickening words of the Saviour, ' he that 
 believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live,' awa- 
 kened every glorious hope, every vision of faith my soul had 
 ever known, and I blessed with fervent adoration, in these (as I 
 then thought) my last moments, that knowledge I had derived 
 from Scripture, of ' God in Christ, reconciling the world to him- 
 self, not imputing their trespasses unto them.' A sense of sin 
 forgiven enabled me to approach, confidingly, Him ' who is the 
 same yesterday, to-day, and for ever,' and to lay my children 
 and myself prostrate before his throne in hopeJ If for a moment 
 I afterwards thought of the Jesuit priest as the destroyer of my- 
 self and family, it was but to feel that I forgave him. How 
 lung I lay after this, I know not. As my eyes closed, I became
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 265 
 
 unconscious. A movement outside the door of my room dis- 
 turbed me, and the short, half-bark of a dog, roused me to 
 recollection. 
 
 It was the same bark I had heard in the Champs Elysees. la 
 a moment, the bell of the apartment pealed startlingly through 
 the silent rooms, and in the next instant, a gentle tap at my 
 door was heard. Though scarcely a step from the bed to the door, 
 I was so long in rising from the floor, that a second tap was 
 given before I could reach it. As I opened it, a large dog rushed 
 in, and nearly threw me down with the fierce joy of his greeting. 
 It was Eover ! That I did not fall to the floor, was owing to an 
 arm that was thrown round me to prevent it. I turned to look 
 at my supporter, and recognised, in deep mourning, my own 
 Mary ! In the surprise and joy of the moment, I became utterly 
 speechless. 
 
 ******* 
 
 Mary discerned the helplessness of our whole party, although 
 she was far from imagining the cause. The candle was still 
 burning, and I was not so unconscious but that I observed her 
 wondering and distracted look, as she threw around a glance of 
 inquiry ; and I uttered, as articulately as I was able, ' Mary, we 
 are dying for want of the necessaries of life ; take us where we 
 can obtain them.' She looked aghast ; but with her accustomed 
 tact, soon procured assistance, and placed us in a fiacre. The 
 children, unable to sustain themselves, sank on the floor of the 
 carriage, while Mary supported me in her arms. I had become 
 insensible before we reached the Hotel Montmorency, whither 
 she took us, and where she had occupied an apartment since her 
 arrival in Paris. 
 
 When I returned to life, I was in a comfortable bed, with Mary 
 attending on me, and another person sitting by my bedside. 
 Everything around, except herself, was strange to me ; and I had 
 lost all recollection of how I came there. 
 
 As I endeavoured to raise myself, that I might take a survey 
 of the place, I found I could not move. In awnoment Mary 
 sprang to me, and taking my hand, kissed it passionately 
 exclaiming, ' Oh, my dear mistress, thank God, you are yourself 
 again!' 
 
 12
 
 266 HELEN MULGRAVE J OR, 
 
 A doctor, who was waiting in an adjoining room, immediately 
 entered and felt my pulse, but he said nothing. Although 1 
 was quite sensible of everything that was passing, I was unable 
 to speak ; but in a short time, after several attempts, I articulated 
 'my children.' The doctor replied, 'They are asleep in bed, 
 madam, they shall be taken care of; do not allow any thought 
 of them to disturb you.' Some kind of refreshment having been 
 administered, under the doctor's direction, I shortly after became 
 restless and bewildered to a fearful degree. I no longer saw 
 Mary, or any one but the doctor, and I thought that what I had 
 lately seen and heard must have been a dream. Even the 
 present appeared like a scene in a dream, and I shrank from the 
 piercing eyes of the doctor, who looked fixedly at me, and 
 attempted to escape from him, but could not move or utter a 
 sound. I then closed my eyes, and horrid visions of all kinds 
 appeared before me, mingled in a confused mass, and in endea- 
 vouring to run away, I fell into a deep pit. After passing 
 through the several stages of a nervous fever, I was once more 
 by degrees in possession of my faculties. 
 
 My first object of recognition was Mary, and as I uttered her 
 name she burst into tears, but immediately checked herself, and 
 assumed an air of tranquillity. I was at this time so weak as to 
 be borne in the arms of my nurses, whenever there was a neces- 
 sity for moving me. I found Fanchette often associated with 
 Mary in her attendance on me, and thought myself supremely 
 happy with two such attendants. But where was I ? at whose 
 cost ? were questions I was impatient to ask ; yet, could not 
 muster strength to utter. At length the power of speech 
 .returned, and my first inquiry was of ray children. A door was 
 opened, through which I saw the two girls standing at a table, 
 Dora and Caroline, each with a doll. 
 
 As I uttered an exclamation of joy, the door was again softly 
 closed, and the vision departed. I wept myself to sleep for joy 
 and thankfulness, and when I again awoke, darkness and silence 
 reigned around, except that, in a distant corner of the room, a 
 light shaded by a screen sent forth its soft pale rays, which 
 rather composed than disturbed me. I looked round, and saw 
 Fanchette in an arm chair, wide awake, and looking anxiously
 
 JESUIT EXECUTOR8HIP. 267 
 
 towards me. She approached, and offered ine delicious fruit, 
 which I ate with eagerness, then again fell asleep ; and after this 
 I began to recover. I was soon allowed to listen to a recital of 
 the wonderful -coincidences that had occurred so opportunely, to 
 save my children and myself from a death of famine. I was 
 told that a month had elapsed, and my children were so far 
 recovered as to have almost attained their usual healthful 
 appearance. I was allowed to see one at a time, every day, for 
 a few minutes at intervals, until all restraint was taken off. 
 
 As soon as I found myself able to talk, I began to question 
 Mary, ' Why are you in mourning ? and how came you to 
 arrive at our entresol at a moment so critical to us ?' 
 
 ' I fear, my dear mistress, that you are not able to know all 
 yet.' 
 
 ' Fear not, Mary ; tell me what angel brought you to France, 
 and why you came at a point of time when another hour might 
 have been fatal to us all. Tell me every particular ; it will do 
 me good.' 
 
 ' I must begin then, my dear mistress, with the death of your 
 good aunt, Lady Mulgrave, for whom I am wearing mourning. 
 She lived only two months after I, through your goodness, went 
 into her service. She was a great sufferer, and became very 
 helpless soon after I went to her ; and she took such a fancy to 
 my way of doing for her, that she would never willingly have 
 any one else about her person. As her own maid and the other 
 servants were almost worn out with night and day watching, 
 when I first arrived to help them, they were glad to see me, and 
 I lived good friends with them, until they found that their lady 
 preferred my services to theirs. But that is nothing to the pur- 
 pose. I used to be left alone with my lady, sometimes for hours 
 together ; and it was at such times that she was accustomed to 
 ask me questions about the dear mistress I had left. She seemed 
 so much interested in what I told her, that she sometimes wept, 
 till I got frightened, lest I might be doing wrong in telling her 
 what so much moved her feelings. But she continued to ques- 
 tion me, until I had told her everything about your dear family, 
 and Father Ossory too. You know, ma'am, that Lady Mulgrave 
 was a Protestant, and she clasped her hands together in joy, as
 
 268 HELEN MULORAVE ; OR, 
 
 she heard of Father Ossory's conversion, and constancy till death. 
 And when I told her how much you suffered, at not being able 
 to put a tombstone over him or your own dear infants, she got 
 Sir Felix to write off by the first post, to order a suitable tomb 
 for the good father, and one also for the infants.' 
 
 When Mary had got thus far, she was alarmed at my tears, 
 and could not be prevailed on to resume her narrative until the 
 following day, nor even then without the doctor's sanction. 
 
 ' Lady Mulgrave,' she then continued, ' was not only kind in 
 life, but in death ; and even to the last moment continued to 
 ppeak of you, ma'am, so affectionately that she quite won my 
 heart. She used to say, she wondered how your relations could 
 let you go wandering about the world, as she called it, by your- 
 self, so young as you are, too ; and she said she felt great regret 
 that she had not known what she did about you long before. 
 You know, I suppose, ma'am, that she did not come into full pos- 
 session of her large property as an heiress until seven or eight 
 months before her death, when her father died. She was very 
 rich after that, and everything was at her own disposal. Have 
 you heard how Lady Mulgrave made her will, ma'am ?' 
 
 ' No, Mary ; I have heard no news of my family since I left 
 Ireland.' 
 
 " Well, ma'am, then I have the pleasure of telling you that 
 she has left you five thousand pounds in cash ; and in her good- 
 ness, she has left me also the sum of five hundred ; and the 
 whole remainder of her fortune, except a few remembrances to 
 friends and charities, she has left to Sir Felix. She was so 
 anxious for his conversion from popery, ma'am, that she used to 
 talk to him on the subject every day, and even in her last 
 moments. 
 
 ' Her mortal remains, ma'am, were carried by Sir Felix to 
 Mulgrave Castle, and laid in state there, and then buried in the 
 family vault. Of course, ma'am, I came down with the family 
 to Ireland, and had the pleasure of seeing the dear old castle, 
 and feeling myself once more at home in it. Mrs. O'Connell 
 was still there, and we found everything in beautiful order ; but 
 it was very dreary Avithout them that were gone, and I did 
 nothing but cry for the first day or two.'
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHII'. 269 
 
 On this subject I could not restrain my own tears, but was 
 soon able to say, ' How did the place look, Mary ? You know 
 all my favourite spots, and trees, and arbours, did you take 
 notice of their appearance ?' 
 
 ' Oh, ma'am, I was for ever running to look at them, for I was 
 always thinking of you when we got to the castle. And though 
 the trees had lost all their leaves before we arrived there in De- 
 cember, I noticed particularly the two that were planted by you, 
 ma'am, and the Marquis de Grammont, on the mound in the 
 park. They are very much grown ; but yours the acacia, ma'am 
 overtops the oak. They say that is because the oak tree is a 
 tree slow in growing ; but the marquis said, when he saw the 
 difference, that he was proud of the ascendancy of the acacia 
 that was his word, ma'am, to Sir Felix ; and that it would ever 
 be the pride of his life to render homage to it.' 
 
 ' The marquis, did you say, Mary ? What marquis ?' 
 
 ' Monsieur de Grammont, ma'am.' 
 
 4 You bewilder me, Mary. Are you not confounding the past 
 with the present ?' 
 
 ' No, ma'am. The Marquis de Grammont came on a visit to 
 Sir Felix while I was at the castle, immediately on his return 
 from India. But I beg your pardon, ma'am. I forgot that you 
 had not, perhaps, heard of the marquis's travels in foreign 
 lands.' 
 
 I could not resist the temptation to inquire if the marchioness 
 was with her husband. 
 
 4 1 don't know of any such lady, ma'am,' said Mary. ' Cer- 
 tainly, the marquis has nd wife.' 
 
 4 Is the marchioness, then dead ?' 
 
 ' He has never been married, ma'am.' 
 
 A silence ensued ; after which, I said to Mary, ' Do you recol- 
 lect that we heard of the marquis's marriage, and saw it an- 
 nounced in a Dublin paper, at the bishop's house, before I was 
 married, or had consented to be so ?' 
 
 ' It was a false report, ma'am. The marquis's gentleman told 
 me, that when his master heard of your marriage, ma'am, he 
 was at his hotel in Paris, and had so long an illness on account 
 of it, that they all thought he would never recover. "When he
 
 2?0 HELKN MULGRAVE ; OB, 
 
 was able to leave his room, he set off for Italy, where he re- 
 mained for two or three years. After that, he returned to 
 France to look after his estates for a little while, and then set 
 off to the Holy Land. After that he went to the East Indies, 
 and visited Sir Lucius and Lady Mac Neil ; and his gentleman 
 tolls me, ma'am, that Lady Mac Neil is handsomer than ever.' 
 
 I was so much affected by what I had heard, that in spite of 
 every effort to prevent it, I fainted. When Mary had restored 
 me, by the customary remedies, I lay long in silence, and in a 
 state of feeling that seemed to shatter my whole frame. It 
 touched me to the very soul, that I should have been the cause 
 of so much suffering to Monsieur de Grammont. The falsehood 
 respecting his marriage, that had been played off on me, to per- 
 suade me that he was false, must have been perpetrated by those 
 who were interested in deceiving me. What an odious wrong 
 had I been compelled to commit against him ! How could I 
 ever be reinstated in his good opinion ? And how could I en- 
 dure, though I might never see him more, that I must for ever 
 remain, in his estimation, a perjured, faithless creature, who 
 feared not God, nor regarded man ! It is true that I had been 
 sacrificed, at last, by my own vow of obedience to my unc"le, 
 extorted by fears for his life ; and that vow was not uttered 
 until after I had heard of the marquis's marriage. But who 
 could now obtrude this subject on him, so as to make him ac- 
 quainted with the exonerating facts of the case ? 
 
 These ruminations were deeply distressing to me, and threw 
 me back so much in my progress towards recovery, that my 
 doctor perceived their effects at his next visit, without being 
 able to discover the cause. I was again forbidden all conversa- 
 tion and excitement of every kind. I submitted willingly. I 
 had no wish to learn more about the marquis from Mary, having 
 already food and facts for reflection, that seemed inexhaustible 
 in their power to torment me. But the past, as it can never be 
 recalled, can only become useful by being rendered tributary to 
 the future ; and I resolved, as some atonement for the uncon- 
 scious wrong I had done Monsieur de Grammont, to cherish a 
 never-ending regret. It was some satisfaction to find that he 
 was not entirely alienated from me. Yet I could not understand
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 2*71 
 
 how he could be otherwise, without knowing all the circumstan- 
 ces attending my marriage, and the barbarous coercion that had 
 been used to accomplish it. I resolved, however, not to allow 
 my imagination to deceive me, by the supposition that monsieur 
 de Grammont could now entertain any other sentiment for me 
 than that of compassion for the sufferings I had been compelled 
 to endure. I turned from this subject, to contemplate, with 
 unmixed satisfaction, the income created by my aunt's bequest. 
 This was a substantial good, that inspired me with boundless 
 gratitude, both to God, and the immediate bestower of it. It 
 was more than double the amount of the pittance I had just lost, 
 and would enable me to live in comfort and competency with 
 my two children. 
 
 Almost to the present hour I had been ignorant of how the 
 expenses of my illness, and of the hotel, were to be defrayed, 
 and feared I might be living at Mary's expense. In short, my 
 position was a mystery, which I was afraid to pry into, but tho 
 perpetual recurrence of which to my thoughts kept me anxious 
 and restless, and no doubt materially retarded my recovery. 
 But now, thanks for ever to my bounteous aunt, and to her who 
 had moved her to such kindness, I should be able to pay all 
 my expenses, and to thank God with sincere gratitude for pre- 
 serving my life. Yet I was still lost in wonder at the extraor- 
 dinary and rapid change in my affairs, the immediate causes of 
 which it was impossible for me fully to understand, until I had 
 been further enlightened by Mary, who seemed to have been the 
 chief agent in a Divine hand of producing it. 
 
 My dear boy, however, still continued a source of abiding and 
 unspeakable disquietude, for no one about me could afford the 
 slightest information respecting him, and I was as yet unable 
 to make any new effort to recover him. It was long before I 
 had nerve enough to utter even his name to Mary, who had 
 received some imperfect account of him from his sisters, and 
 who had too much feeling to broach a subject which she knew 
 must be painful. She was well informed of what had passed 
 betwixt the Jesuit and myself respecting my access to. the child, 
 before I left Ireland, and was therefore able to form her own 
 silent conjectures, and to participate in the disquietude to which 
 ehe saw that I was occasionally a prey.
 
 272 HELEN MULORAVB; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XXIX. 
 
 IT was now April, and since I had been last abroad, every- 
 thing in nature must have advanced so much as to make the 
 public gardens and walks look like a new world. I saw proofs 
 of this in the small, well-arranged parterre, overlooked by my 
 chamber window, and in the constant supply of flowers which 
 appeared every morning fresh on my table. 
 
 I longed to breathe the air of the Tuileries or the Bois de Bou- 
 logne, but my doctor was so much afraid of a relapse, that he 
 still required perfect quietude, to restrain, he said, the action of 
 the too rapid pulse. But Mary's information was the remedy 
 for ' a mind diseased,' and I now felt assured that I should not 
 much longer need the doctor. Yet I had lived so long in a state 
 of perpetual agitation and startling vicissitude, that it was diili- 
 cult for me to believe in pecuniary security, or feel assurance of 
 permanence in any arrangement of life. 
 
 But this was a morbid state of feeling, which I might hope 
 would pass away as I became habituated to comfort, and felt an 
 abiding exemption from the bitterness and gall of that uncertain 
 subsistence which had so long preyed on my vitals. 
 
 On the following week Mary resumed her narrative, beginning 
 again where she had left off, with Monsieur de Grammont. 
 
 ' The marquis,' said she, ' when he heard that I, who had been 
 so long in your service, ma'am, was in Mulgrave Castle with Sir 
 Felix's people, sent for me, to inquire whether you were in 
 health, and what was your place of residence ; and after a while 
 he Avas so earnest, ma'am, that he got everything out of me 
 which happened to you before you left Ireland, and sorry I was 
 that I could tell him no more, for I was miserable myself to 
 know how France suited you and the dear children.' 
 
 ' You told the marquis everything, Mary ?' 
 
 ' Yes, ma'am, I told him all about your marriage, and the loss 
 of your property, and Father Ossory's conversion and death, and 
 a great deal more ; but I hope I didn't tell him more than I
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 273 
 
 ought, he seemed so very unhappy about you, that when once I 
 hegan, I couldn't stop. As soon as he heard that you had gone 
 to Paris, he was for setting out there the next day; hut as I 
 could not give him your address, he sent me off in his own car- 
 riage, five miles, to get it from your agent, ma'am. When I got 
 to the agent's house, he was not at home, and I was obliged to 
 come away without the address. The marquis then said he 
 must see the cottage where you had lived, and I must show him 
 the window into which the shot had been fired. After that he 
 drove to the burying-ground, where the little infants and Father 
 Ossory lie ; and I went on the box with the coachman, and 
 showed the marquis everything. I couldn't help crying at sight 
 of the graves, and the beautiful tombs placed over them by Lady 
 Mulgrave. Monsieur de Grammont walked away by himself, 
 after he had looked at them, and I didn't see what he thought 
 of them. Next day, he sent me again to your agent, ma'am ; 
 and then I got your address, and was informed at the same time 
 that all your remaining property, on which your income 
 depended, had been burnt by an incendiary fire ; and that, 
 owing to neglect of the insurance on it, all was gone. It was 
 this dreadful news, ma'am, that made me, with Sir Felix's leave, 
 set out to Paris to seek you, and I have brought from him a 
 draft on Mr. O'Callaghan's bank here, for money for your imme- 
 diate use, ma'am.' 
 
 Mary here suspended her narrative, as she saw that I was 
 unable to bear more at that moment. 
 
 After all, thought I, as I was left to myself, it is to Monsieur 
 de Grammont's solicitude about me, that the discovery of my 
 loss was made known to Sir Felix in time to save me ! The 
 dream which I had at Mulgrave Castle, in which Monsieur de 
 Grammont became my deliverer, by striking down the arm of 
 the phantom that held the dagger over me, was now so strongly 
 brought back to my recollection, that at this moment I might 
 easily have been persuaded to subscribe to Mary's creed of omens 
 and dreams. 
 
 1 But, Mary,' said I, when I again felt able to listen to her, 
 'you have not told me when you left Ireland, or when you 
 arrived in Paris.' 
 
 12*
 
 274 HELEN MULORAVK; OR, 
 
 1 1 left IreTand, ma'am, immediately after we had heard of 
 your loss by the fire; and arrived in Paris on the very day 
 before I met with you. On the same evening, Saturday, I went, 
 according to the address 1 had received from your agent in Ire- 
 land, to the house of Madame de Corbiere, in the Rue d'Angou- 
 leme; but not being able to see madame herself, I could not 
 obtain the name of the place which you had removed to on 
 leaving her house, until Sunday, the following day. And even 
 then, ma'am, I was several hours in finding Fanchette's place ; 
 because she was known, at Madame de Corbiere's, only by her 
 Christian name. When I did at last find the place, Fanchette's 
 entresol was locked, and the porter at the lodge told me that she 
 was out of town, and the lady living with her gone out with her 
 children to walk. It was then, ma'am, that I went to the 
 Champs Elysees to look for you ; but not meeting with you, I 
 returned to the entresol, where I was so happy as to find you, 
 ma'am.' 
 
 4 But how came the dog to be with you, Mary ?' 
 
 ' Sir Felix allowed me to bring him as a companion, ma'am ; 
 as I felt rather timid about travelling alone.' 
 
 'Ah, Mary,' said I, as I held out my hand to her, ' you imist 
 be a happy creature, to have saved three human beings from 
 death. And I am not less happy in owing my life, and that of 
 my children, to your attachment and exertions. But you have 
 still much more to tell me. Where did you leave the marquis ?' 
 
 ' I thought, ma'am, that I had left him at the castle ; but 
 when I got to Paris, I found him here. And what surprised me 
 more than this was, that I was told he had crossed the sea in 
 the same vessel as myself, and had been all the way caring for 
 me, and seeing that I had my due. I was certainly a little sur- 
 prised when I found everything go so smoothly everywhere, 
 especially at the Custom house, and at Rouen, where my trunks 
 were opened and examined a second time. But one of the mar- 
 quis's grooms, who met him on his arrival at' Havre, was a 
 stranger to me, and, by his master's orders, did everything, 
 without my knowing that any one was acting for me. The 
 marquis himself I never saw. till I got to this hotel, where I 
 ciunc through the advice of the same groom, whom I found at
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 275 
 
 the coach-office waiting for me, and who seemed so very civil to 
 me, though he spoke but very little English, that I took his 
 advice ; and an hour after I got here, his noble and kind master 
 called to speak to me, and to urge me to lose no time in looking 
 for you, ma'am.' 
 
 'Ah, Leonce !' I exclaimed, mentally, ' why are you so kind 
 to one who has caused you so much suffering ? And where is 
 Monsieur de Grammont now, Mary ?' I resumed , ' and when 
 did you see him last ?' 
 
 4 1 have seen him this very morning, ma'am ; he calls here 
 every day to inquire after you. It is he who sends the fresh 
 flowers and the fine fruit, and who sent the dolls to the young 
 ladies.' 
 
 ' Do not tell me any more of the marquis, Mary ; what you 
 tell me gives me pain.' 
 
 ' I am sure, ma'am, I don't think he would do anything wil- 
 fully to give you pain.' 
 
 ' Oh, no, Mary, I am sure of that. But my strength is unequal 
 to the weight of gratitude I feel for what he has done, for you as 
 well as for me. But let us drop this subject for the present. 
 You have not given me any information respecting Sir Felix's 
 health.' 
 
 ' He was very ailing for some time, ma'am, but he grew much 
 better after we arrived at the castle ; and Mrs. O'Connell told 
 me that the great property he got at his lady's death would 
 enable him to disencumber his estates, and sit down at ease for 
 the remainder of his life.' 
 
 Just at this moment, two letters were brought in from Ireland, 
 one for me and the other for Mary. As I saw her eagerness to 
 peruse hers, I desired her to go to her own room with her letter, 
 and leave me to read mine. It was from my uncle Sir Felix, 
 and it was the first time I had attempted to read since my illness, 
 having so far lost the power of sight, as not to be able to read 
 even print, when I first began to recover. As my uncle always 
 wrote like a lawyer a very illegible hand it was not without 
 difficulty that I could pick out the meaning of his letter ; nor 
 did I fully understand it, after half an hour's poring over it. 
 
 When Mary retu.rnea, I desired her to read it to mo. As she
 
 276 HKI.KN MULOUAVE J OR, 
 
 liad grown familiar with his hand while in attendance on my 
 aunt, she found but little difficulty in deciphering it. The 
 letter contained a most cordial invitation to myself and children 
 to visit Mulgrave Castle at the earliest possible time. The pre- 
 sent season my uncle thought a charming one for reviewing my 
 former home, and he hoped I should find everything in as good 
 order as when his dear brother presided there. To render the 
 visit more agreeable to me, he said, he had already invited my 
 mother and my sister Caroline, and also his old friend and mine, 
 Monsieur de Grammont ; and he hoped that in such society I 
 might be able to renew all the delights of my childhood. 
 
 Oh, what a vision of bliss did this invitation open to me ! It 
 was too much of happiness ! My fever returned for a few hours, 
 but so slightly, as to indicate a great increase of strength. Yet 
 I was not allowed to see my children for two days after. 
 
 When they were again permitted to come into my room, 1 
 found them habited in entire new suits of apparel, in the sweet- 
 est taste imaginable, d la Fran$aise. It was well this surprise 
 did not occur earlier, for, as it was it almost turned my brain, 
 thus to see my dear little ragamuffins so caparisoned, and trans- 
 formed from skeletons to cherubs. ' Who has done this, Mary ?' 
 was my instant inquiry. 
 
 * I hope, ma'am,' said she, in her most deferential and modest 
 manner, ' you will not be offended. But Monsieur de Gramraont 
 thought the season had changed so much since your illness, that 
 the children must be suffering for want of a suitable change of 
 dress ; he therefore desired me to order whatever was necessary 
 for the season, at a house which he named, saying that he would 
 himself settle the bills for the present, as it was impossible for 
 you to attend to them in your present state of health, and he 
 could easily arrange the affair with you, when you were suffi- 
 ciently recovered to receive him. I think he must have been at 
 the shop and left orders beforehand ; for when I got there, I 
 found everything had been chosen and laid by, and several 
 changes ordered of each article.' 
 
 My heart was so full, that I was unable to make any comment 
 on what I heard ; and after caressing the children, who were in 
 boisterous spirits, I desired Mary to take them away.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 27*7 
 
 It was not surprising that what I have related of the daily 
 part performed by Monsieur de Grammont, for the comfort of 
 myself and children, should affect me deeply, or that, after con- 
 templating the metamorphoses of my children, I wept inexplica- 
 ble tears as soon as I found myself alone. Oh, how I longed to 
 be able to receive Monsieur de Grammont, and to thank him in 
 person for his surpassing kindness ; and yet not surpassing for 
 him, it was his nature to be kind, and to do everything in the 
 most perfect manner ; and although his attentions were of the 
 most zealous and extraordinary kind, I was resolved to consider 
 them only such as he would have bestowed on any human being 
 who needed them as much as I. I would not allow a single 
 reminiscence to agitate me, or one tender thought to mingle with 
 my gratitude, for did I not know that tenderness 
 
 Is bliss, but to a certain bound ? 
 
 I therefore endeavoured to wrap myself up in a cold and calcu- 
 lating gratitude, which should adjust the balance so nicely, as 
 that nothing should be omitted that was due to Monsieur de 
 Grammont for his zeal and attentions, and yet nothing offered 
 in return, that could be construed into an appeal to our former 
 relations. How truly are human beings ' Spirits, hid in veils !' 
 
 The deep and enduring sentiment at the bottom of my heart, 
 that rendered all expression impotent, was to be thus converted 
 into cold and tranquil expressions of acknowledgment, which 
 must check any awakening of dormant affections. And was not 
 this prudence ? For how could I be so presumptuous as to 
 imagine that the varied conflicts of life and death which I had 
 passed through during a period of eleven years had touched me 
 so lightly as to leave me unscathed, and essentially the same, 
 and still capable of inspiring those sentiments which could alone 
 justify me in cherishing my own? 
 
 "While I was thus playing the casuist, with throbbing pulses 
 and a shrinking heart, I received a small, externally elegant, note, 
 which, as I recognised the hand of the writer, was soon torn 
 open, and I read as follows : 
 
 ' Monsieur de Grainmont presents his most respectful regards
 
 278 HKLEN ftl'LGKAVK ; OR, 
 
 t Mrs. Fitzgerald, and begs to offer her his fervent felicitations 
 ou the progress which lie is informed she is making towards 
 health. He would be most happy to be indulged with an inter- 
 view with her for a few minutes, as soon as it may be permitted 
 without injury. But although he has urgent reasons for this 
 request, he entreats that it may not be granted, if there be the 
 slightest apprehension of its proving hurtful to Mrs. Fitzgerald, 
 in whose sufferings he has deeply participated, and in whose con- 
 valescence are wrapped up so many interests and hopes unut- 
 terably dear to all connected with her. 
 
 ' Hotel de Grammont, 
 May, 182T. 1 
 
 The receipt of this note was an event which I at once felt to 
 be replete with consequences, and yet such a request might have 
 been expected even earlier. It was but a natural movement of 
 courtesy to acquit itself of a conventional obligation. Why, 
 then, not let it pass for what it was? But at least an answer 
 must be returned, and after much effort, for I had not used my 
 pen for two months, and had scarcely regained rny sight, I 
 wrote thus 
 
 ' Mrs. Fitzgerald begs to acknowlege the receipt of Monsieur 
 de Grammont's note of this morning, and to assure him, that she 
 could not allow any consideration for her health to deprive her 
 of the pleasure of receiving his proposed visit at his first leisure. 
 She owes him too much not to desire such an interview far 
 more, perhaps, than he can do ; and although she is fully aware 
 how little she will be able, in her present state of weakness, to 
 do justice to the sentiments of gratitude which animate her, 
 she feels that it will be the highest gratification to her to have 
 an opportunity of expressing them. 
 
 ' Hotel Montmorency.' 
 
 The morning of the morrow was fixed for this redoubted visit. 
 Yes, that was the time that was to decide my fate for ever; 
 either by filling the heavens with sunbeams, or by covering both 
 earth and sky with ' a darkness that might be felt !' As my feel- 
 ings arrived at this conclusion, I was startled at myself, for I
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 279 
 
 could not but observe that common sense was falling asleep ; and 
 that instead of the mere visit of courtesy, or perhaps of busi- 
 ness, which had been arranged, imagination was converting it 
 into an incident of doom. Where was that tranquil future that 
 I had sketched for myself and my children, with which I was so 
 lately satisfied, and which comprised but the simplest and most 
 attainable objects? What had become of my thankfulness for 
 the competent income that was now mine, and which was to 
 obtain for me that which brought me originally to Paris ? All 
 this was for the momenfforgotten, and the future was staked on 
 the cast of a die on a word a look a tone ! 
 
 In such a world of nothings, imagination delights to revel ; 
 and while writing horoscopes in air, or tracing their shadows on 
 the sands of the earth, fulfils its own peculiar vocation. 
 
 While tormenting myself thus with the vagaries of both fate 
 and fancy, Fanchette, my late kind hostess of the entresol, was 
 ushered into my room by Mary. 
 
 As she had never seen me since my illness but in bed, she 
 approached the sofa on which I was reclining, with warm greet- 
 ings and congratulations on finding me there. Her joyous tone, 
 which in far different circumstances had been wont to infuse a 
 momentary cheerfulness into my heart, was so associated with 
 the suffering endured under her roof, that now, as it struck on 
 my ear, it affected me like the touch of the torpedo; and I 
 shivered as I sent a fearful glance of retrospection on the straw 
 beds, and famishing diet, which had brought me face to face with 
 death in a most fearful form. 
 
 Fanchette, with her accustomed quick perception of the feel- 
 ings of others, saw the shock that passed over me, and 
 exclaimed, ' Ah, madame I the sight of me pains you ! But I 
 shall never forgive myself, if I am so unfortunate as always to 
 remind you of the past. I assure you, madame, I am unable to 
 sleep at night, even now, when I happen to think of you and 
 your sufferings in my poor entresol. 1 I was soon able to reassure 
 Fanchette, and to thank her for all her kindness to me; not 
 without a secret hope, that at some future and not distant time, 
 I might be .able to offer her something more valuable than 
 words.
 
 280 HELEN MULOKAVE ; OK, 
 
 The retrospects which the sight of this good creature led me 
 to make, again recalled to me the miraculous deliverances which 
 had been wrought for me by that unseen hand, in which are the 
 issues of life. For while I owed far more than I could ever 
 repay, in gratitude and affection to the immediate instruments 
 of my rescue from death, yet that surprising conjunction of 
 events, by which thfe great results in human life are produced, 
 can only be accomplished by Him who holds equal empire over 
 the visible and invisible things of our complicated existence. 
 
 CHAPTER XXX. 
 
 I HAD been kept awake during the greater part of the night 
 by harassing thoughts and conflicting feelings, and rose at a later 
 hour than usual, unrefreshed and feverish ; for did I not know 
 that, with a skeleton form too weak to hold itself erect, and 
 with the paleness of death on my cheek, and ' the shadow of 
 death ' on my eyelids, I was rushing on fate in that .coming 
 interview ? 
 
 Mary, with her accustomed interest, was endeavouring to 
 invigorate my nerves, by placing me in my chair before an open 
 window, when a gentle rap at the door of the ante-chamber 
 announced Monsieur de Grainmont. 
 
 Mary ushered him into the room, and withdrew. As I had 
 determined to conceal my feelings, I endeavoured to assume a 
 tranquil exterior. But it would not do. The smothered 
 anxiety became a paralyzing oppression. As Monsieur de 
 Grammont entered, I falteringly rose, and moved forward to 
 receive him. Our eyes met and in that look of unutterable 
 tenderness and deep sympathy, with which we had been wont to 
 meet so many years since. 'Helen!' was his only word of 
 greeting; and though scarcely audible, the magic of his voice 
 had reached my soul. I staggered, and should have fallen, but 
 for the supporting arm that prevented it. Leonce led me to my 
 chair, and, kneeling before me, buried his face in his hands for
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 281 
 
 some minutes in silence ; during which we were both lost in 
 feelings of tumultuous joy and sorrow. For had we not already, 
 in a single glance, recognised in each other a record of those 
 years of absence and of suffering to which we had both been 
 consigned ? And were we not once more restored to each other, 
 and to those sentiments of deep and imperishable attachment 
 which had been so long suppressed? And yet, when we 
 attempted to speak, in what language were our feelings uttered ? 
 Not in words of love, or even of friendship ; but in tears that 
 Avould not be repressed. 
 
 As some degree of tranquillity returned, Monsieur de Gram- 
 mont once more offered me his hand ; that hand which had been 
 twice offered before, and which was now accepted with unut- 
 terable gratitude, though I felt that I yet fluctuated betwixt life 
 and death. An interval of many years was thus obliterated; 
 yet I still struggled with an irrepressible emotion, which only 
 tears could assuage. For what a miserable gift was I bestowing, 
 in myself, on Leonce ! Though our fate was now in our own 
 hands, instead of in those of a prejudiced and inflexible uncle, we 
 had still mutual misgivings of what our future might prove, and 
 almost feared again to separate, lest some untoward occurrence 
 might intervene, and prevent a reunion. Leonce, who knew 
 much more of the mysterious power that had coiled itself around 
 me than I could know, was well aware that I lived but on the 
 sufferance of the Jesuit. 
 
 He looked very pale, and deep lines of thought and suffering 
 were stamped on his fine face, rendering it, if possible, more than 
 ever interesting to me. There was also an air of delicate health 
 about him, which alarmed me ; but when I inquired respecting 
 it, he assured me it was occasioned only by the anxiety he had 
 so long felt, for my restoration to health and to himself. 
 
 ' For what did I know of your feelings towards me ?' said he. 
 ' Time and circumstance, which wear out so many hearts, might 
 not have spared yours. You had become a mother. Had 
 maternal affection exhausted your heart of other affections? or 
 might not sorrow and suffering so unparalleled as yours, have 
 bereaved you of the power to love? It was thus I questioned ; 
 knowing, however, that an interview would decide my fate ; for
 
 HELEN MULORAVK *, OR, 
 
 I felt myself as exigeant as ever of that sympathy you had once 
 bestowed on me, and which could alone satisfy my heart, and 
 which, if wanting now, must leave me in an eternal isolation. 
 JUit your unchanged heart averts that wretched fate. Oh, 
 Helen!' he continued, in a suppliant voice, ' you must recover, 
 that you may bless me ; you must recover, that you may also 
 bless your children, and that we may return together to that dear 
 home of your infancy where we first met, and where you taught 
 me first to love.' 
 
 Dreams of early life thus awaKened, all the sorrows of our 
 past lives were for the moment buried in forgetfulness ; and we 
 began to realize the idea that we might once more find happi- 
 ness on earth, spite of the power that, walking in darkness, still 
 pursued me. 
 
 We turned our thoughts from this menacing evil to Him who 
 is the well-spring of life, and in whom are treasured up all the 
 sources of human felicity, both for time and eternity. 
 
 ******* 
 
 On the following morning, by order of Monsieur de Grammont, 
 an invalid carriage was brought to my door, in which I was 
 placed on a bed, under a canopy of green silk, and taken out to 
 the Bois de Boulogne, Mary accompanying me, and Monsieur de 
 Grammont riding on horseback by the side of my carriage. 
 
 The sweet zephyrs of May that month of all others which 
 wakes the heart and inspires happiness fanned my brows, and 
 infused into me new life. Meanwhile, L6once, as my escort, 
 was flitting backwards and forwards before my charmed sight, 
 and words and tones of magic import were addressing themselves 
 to my listening ear. All heaven and earth seemed bathed in 
 bright beams of light and beauty. 
 
 In about a week, I was able to dispense with the invalid-car- 
 riage, and to ride out in an ordinary chariot, with Le"once by 
 my side. In another week, a furnished house was hired at ' St. 
 Germain-en-Laye,' for my family and myself; near which, at 
 the Hotel d'Angleterre, Monsieur de Grammont took apart- 
 ments for himself. This experiment formed the last of a series, 
 which had been successfully arranged for my recovery. In the 
 charming air of this salubrious Ideality we lived from morning
 
 JESCIT EXECUTORSHIP. 283 
 
 till night, as the weather permitted, in the open air ; now ram- 
 bling through the cool paths of its beautiful wood, or sauntering 
 in the shades of its park, or contemplating the expanded and 
 varied views, stretched out in distance, in the valley before its 
 elevated terrace. The children grew far handsomer and stronger 
 than I had ever seen them ; and Mary and Rover also seemed to 
 be as much benefited as Monsieur de Grarnmont and myself. 
 
 In a few weeks, a wonderful change had taken place in my 
 appearance and health ; and I was able to accompany Monsieur 
 de Grammont on horseback every day, and to employ the inter- 
 vals of this exercise in attentions to my children, and other long- 
 neglected duties. At other times I listened to the reading of 
 Leouce, whose volume, however, was only made tributary to 
 our pleasure, by furnishing thoughts and themes for the endless 
 conversation with which we every moment interrupted the 
 enunciation of its pages. Happy as I had been at my first res- 
 toration to an intercourse that had always been blissful, it was 
 not until strength had returned to my frame, and health to my 
 pulses, that I was capable of understanding the full value of that 
 blessedness which awaited, me in becoming the wife of Leonce. 
 I had now no care left, except that of regaining such an amount 
 of firm health as should enable me to enjoy the blessings of my 
 lot. What a change ! No wonder that, on looking at the past, 
 I sometimes trembled for the permanency of that cloudless sky 
 which now shed its heavenly brightness on everything around 
 me. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXI. 
 
 MOXSIEUK DE GRAMMO.NT availed himself of my improved 
 health to return to Paris for a few days, in order to complete 
 the arrangements preliminary to our marriage. 
 
 His Majesty Charles X , whose formal consent to the marriage 
 of a peer of France was indispensable, had already signified his 
 approbation of our union, but the documents remained to be 
 signed.
 
 284 HELEN MULGRAVE J OB, 
 
 Although I brought Monsieur de Grammont no dower, ho 
 insisted on settling a jointure on me, suitable to his own rank 
 and fortune. The legacy of five thousand pounds sterling, left 
 me by my aunt, he prevailed on me to settle irrevocably on 
 my eldest daughter, Dora; while he himself settled on Caroline 
 a similar amount. He thus became a father to my children, in 
 advance, investing and securing the property bestowed on them 
 with all the precision and precaution of a practised man of 
 business. 
 
 In becoming the wife of Monsieur de Grammont, I felt it 
 necessary to myself that Monsieur de Carryfort should be called 
 upon for an explanation of the insinuation so injurious to my 
 honour and character which he had allowed himself to make in 
 the only interview with him which I had ever had. 
 
 The Murphys, who, I had no doubt, were the authors of all 
 the wrong I had sustained in his opinion, were both dead ; and 
 before this, it must surely have been made known to Monsieur 
 de Carryfort that they and the Brians were identical. 
 
 This latter fact ought to have led him to inquire into the jus- 
 tice of statements, influencing his opinion of me, which rested 
 solely on their authority. 
 
 To make Monsieur de Grammont perfectly aufait on this, to 
 me, important subject, I had placed in his hands, at his going to 
 Paris, the journal of my life, so far as it had proceeded. It is 
 unnecessary for me to say how much he had been affected by its 
 perusal ; but bis indignation at the conduct of Monsieur de Car- 
 ryfort was extreme ; and he agreed with me, in the necessity of 
 requiring from him an explanation of it. 
 
 Meanwhile his devotion to me and mine in absence was 
 expressed daily to me by letter, in terms far stronger, and if pos- 
 sible more tender than ever. In one of his later letters, he gave 
 me the following account of an interview which he had sought 
 and obtained of Monsieur de Carryfort, agreeably to our mutual 
 resolve. 
 
 ' After I had been at the Irish College, and extorted from the 
 president information respecting those calumnies which had been 
 foisted on your uncle as verities, I waited by appointment on 
 Monsieur de Carryfort, yesterday morning, at his h6tel.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 285 
 
 'On arriving there, I was ushered into a charming salon on 
 the ground floor, opening upon the lawn at the back of his house. 
 Perhaps, my love, the same room as that in which you were 
 once so disdainfully and cruelly treated by your uncle. He did 
 tnot keep me waiting an instant; but, entering with a cordial 
 Jair, walked straight up to me, with an extended hand, as if con- 
 fident of my friendly grasp. 
 
 ' I had forgotten, that in requesting this interview, I had said 
 nothing of its object, or I might have been more tolerant of the 
 confidence with which he assured himself of my cordiality. 
 
 ' As he closely approached the spot on which I stood, like an 
 automaton, to await his advance, his proffered, but unrecognised 
 hand, fell to his side. After exchanging bows of courtesy, we 
 stood before each other with cynical looks, and a rising hos- 
 tility of expression. Monsieur de Carryfort broke the silence, 
 by saying " Am I to understand your request of an interview 
 with me, Monsieur le Marquis, as one of business, or of 
 courtesy ?" 
 
 ' "Neither, Monsieur le Comte unless justice may come 
 under the category of business." 
 
 ' We were both still standing, and growing each moment more 
 and more erect. 
 
 'Monsieur de Carryfort drew a chair towards me, aad took 
 one himself. He was evidently dubious of my object, and, 
 determined not to commit himself, awaited what I had to say. 
 
 '"Monsieur le Comte," I began, "perhaps I owe you an 
 explanation of the bearing which your presence inspires, and 
 which I could not have allowed myself to assume, without the 
 conviction that I should betray the cause which brings me here, 
 were I to yield but for a moment to that natural reverence for 
 age and distinction, which otherwise were so much your due. 
 
 ' " I, however, confess fhyself in a singular position, when I 
 demand of you redress for a wrong which you have done to one 
 of your own blood, without first exhibiting the authority on 
 which I act. But you must give me credit in advance for a 
 right to make the demand." 
 
 ' " Monsieur le Marquis," said the count, as he rose hurriedly 
 from his chair, " your language is of a kind which I am not
 
 286 HEI.KN- MCLGRAVE; OR, 
 
 accustomed to hear. Nevertheless as you have proffered an 
 explanation of a brusquerie, which I am aware is foreign to your 
 character, I will give you a hearing ; for as yet, I have no idea 
 of your drift." 
 
 ' 1 had risen at the same moment with the count, and we stood 
 before each other in a state of feeling not very favourable to 
 explanation. But it was necessary to proceed, and I said to him 
 " As a preliminary to my embassy, Monsieur le Comte, I beg 
 to say, that I am here at the request of your niece, Mrs. 
 Fitzgerald, to obtain of you an explanation of some offensive 
 words addressed by you to her, some months since, to this house. 
 And having uttered a name rendered sacred by the virtues and 
 sufferings of its possessor, I have probably recalled to your recol- 
 lection, Monsieur le Comte, the interview in question. 'Is it 
 necessary that I delineate that interview, or do you recollect the 
 sentiments and language you addressed to Mrs. Fitzgerald on 
 that occasion ?" 
 
 4 " Monsieur le Marquis, your application to me on behalf of 
 my niece for such an object as you profess, is, permit me to say, 
 somewhat singular. Why has not iny niece applied to me 
 herself? Can it be supposed that an intercessor is necessary 
 betwixt relatives so nearly connected ? And on what grounds 
 do you, sir, take upon yourself a service so Quixotic as that of 
 demanding justice of me, in the name of my niece, for wrongs 
 of which I am accused towards her ?" 
 
 ' " I wave the sarcasm, Monsieur le Comte, with which you 
 have embellished your demand of the grounds on which I have 
 presumed to act in an affair so delicate. I have, however, 
 already had the honour to inform you that I am here at the 
 request of Mrs. Fitzgerald ; and I beg to add, that I am hero 
 also on my own account, as the affianced husband of Mrs. Fitz- 
 gerald ; for the honour of whose hand* I should sue in vain, until 
 the wrong that has been done her by you, sir, shall have been 
 redressed. For although his majesty has already signified his 
 approbation of our union, Mrs. Fitzgerald's keen sense of what 
 is due to female honour makes it necessary to herself that the 
 wrong in question be explained." 
 
 'Monsieur de Carryfort here advanced towards me, again with
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 287 
 
 an extended hand, which I could not a second time decline, 
 saying, as he did so, "Monsieur le Marquis, the character in 
 which you have now announced yourself gives you so undoubted 
 a right to make the inquiries you have addressed to me, that I 
 cannot a moment longer maintain a hostile feeling towards you 
 on their account, or a reproachful thought of my niece for 
 prompting you to make them. Question me as you please, 
 therefore ; I will answer you frankly." 
 
 ' " Ah, Monsieur le Comte, it is easy for me to question you 
 of the injury w,hich Mrs. Fitzgerald was compelled to endure I 
 would it were as easy to believe that it can be satisfactorily 
 redressed. But how will you now atone to that lacerated heart, 
 which, in want and sorrow, supplicated you in vain only to be 
 heard in her own defence? What explanation can you offer to 
 a pure and high-minded woman, whom you accused of making, 
 forsooth, 'a dubious debut in the gay city of Paris?' How will 
 you explain that contempt for your kneeling and broken-hearted 
 niece, which caused you to spurn her from your presence, 
 expressing at the same time, a fear that in coupling your name 
 with hers in an official document, for the benefit of her son, you 
 had compromised your own respectability ?" 
 
 ' The count exhibited much agitation while I was thus forcing 
 on him a retrospect so mortifying to himself. But endeavouring 
 to carry it off with an air of nonchalance, he said, " Monsieur le 
 Marquis, it is well that, having given you unbounded license in 
 questioning me, I have also promised you perfect frankness in 
 reply. Nevertheless, I fear it may be somewhat difficult to 
 exculpate myself completely, either in your opinion or my own, 
 from a charge of precipitancy in the judgment I formed of my 
 niece. I cannot but regret the very serious mistake, under 
 which I assumed that part towards her which you refer to, and 
 which, I am now willing to acknowledge, was adopted on falla- 
 cious grounds. But I will endeavour, in extenuation of my 
 mistake, to state to you briefly what those grounds were. Pray, 
 Monsieur, do me the honour to resume your seat, and give me a 
 hearing. You are, I presume, aware, being in the confidence of 
 Mrs. Fitzgerald, that her object in coming to Paris was to claim 
 access to her son; and that she had supplied herself with tho
 
 288 HELEN Ml l.l.KAVK ; OR, 
 
 necessary documents to prove her right to make that claim. 
 While these were in course of examination by the Council of the 
 Irish College, and advancing rapidly towards success, several let- 
 ters were received by the Council, from some one who must 
 have been aware of the residence of the claimant, informing 
 them that she was associated and living with notorious female 
 swindlers. More than this, she was charged in these letters with 
 having obtained fraudulently various sums of money from some 
 friends of the Marquis dt Grammont, whose name was influen- 
 tially used in obtaining them." At this point I lost all self-com- 
 mand, and interrupting the count with irrepressible vehemence, 
 exclaimed, "Stop, sir! I can hear no more. Answer me but 
 one question, and I will exempt you from any other Who was 
 the writer of those iniquitous accusations? You do not reply, 
 Monsieur le Comte." In fact, your uncle stood like one petrified 
 by a sudden conviction of his own infatuated credulity, and a 
 third time I 'asked who was the author, before I obtained the 
 damning avowal that he was indeed anonymous. " Anony- 
 mous ! Was it, then, Monsieur, on anonymous assertion that you 
 suffered the name and honour of your niece, a young, beautiful, 
 and defenceless woman, to be prostrated in the dust ? Had you 
 forgotten the noble stock from which she sprang, and the pure 
 blood that flowed in her veins? Was the daughter of such a 
 mother as Lady Mulgrave and, I will add, was the niece of Mon- 
 sieur de Carryfort, to be thus accused and condemned, without 
 evidence, without inquiry, and unheard, by a calumniator with- 
 out a name ? And yet, when she would have defended herself 
 when she would have explained to you every circumstance of 
 her life you spurned her from your presence, and commanded 
 her from your house, with bitterness and insult that must have 
 broken any female heart less heroic or less conscious of 
 innocence than that of your transcendent niece!" 
 
 ' The Count de Carryfort quailed under this additional retro- 
 spect of his injustice and inhumanity but made no reply. 
 
 4 At length, excessively irritated, I moved towards the door, 
 saying, as I did so, " What message do you authorize me to bear 
 from you, Monsieur le Comte, to Mrs. Fitzgerald ?" 
 
 ' " Monsieur le Marquis," said the old man, 41 you have been
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 289 
 
 severe ; but I will not complain of yon, since you have placed in 
 its proper light the neglect for you must not call it by a 
 harsher name of which I have been guilty. But I was 
 annoyed disgraced by Mrs. Fitzgerald's place of residence; 
 for it is quite true that the women in whose house she was 
 domiciled, were recognised swindlers. 
 
 ' " Was it, then, so very incredible, that the plausible charge 
 of being leagued with them should have found countenance 
 with me, after the credence which had been given to it by the 
 college council ?" 
 
 ' " Monsieur le Comte, as it was an impossibility that such a 
 charge against Mrs. Fitzgerald could be founded in truth, I 
 cannot admit of any excuse for giving it credence, for a single 
 moment, on the ground of probability. What is impossible, can 
 never become probable. If you had condescended to listen to 
 the explanation which Mrs. Fitzgerald offered you, of her position 
 in the Rue St. Florentin, you must of necessity have exculpated 
 her from even the knowledge of any impropriety in the resi- 
 dence into which she had been thrown by accident. But, sir, 
 you seem not yet to know that the woman who called herself 
 by the name of Murphy, was but the Margaret Brian, who for 
 so many years persecuted the late husband and family of your 
 sister Lady Mulgrave ; the suspected assassin who fired into- the 
 undefended cottage of your widowed niece; the blood-hound 
 who pursued her everywhere; and finally, the fiend who 
 defamed her name and honour, when she was severed from the 
 protection of society by her poverty, without even giving offence 
 to her only relative, and natural defender, in this (to her) foreign 
 land. There cannot be," I continued, " a single doubt that Mar- 
 garet Brian was the author of at least some of the defamatory 
 letters in question. For though criminating in them her own 
 name, she could not injure it, having already attained that noto- 
 riety in evil courses which rendered it impossible for any 
 additional infamy to damage her further, in a place where 
 she is so well known as in Paris. But I have reason to 
 believe that, besides Margaret Brian, another defamer, far more 
 potent than she, was employing his influence, in conjunc- 
 tion with her efforts, to ruin your niece's reputation with the 
 
 13
 
 J90 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 college, mid defeat her in her maternal object of obtaining un 
 occasional sight ol' her son. You will pardon me, Monsieur le 
 Comte, if I point out the Jesuit executor of the late Mr. Fitz- 
 gerald's will ns this atrocious colleague of Margaret Brian; and 
 when I further say that this individual was the prompter of 
 Brian, goading her for his own purpose, to gratify her personal 
 revenge, by making the daughter answerable for the fictitious 
 wrongs of which she accused the father, I am but suggesting 
 Avhat I shall be able hereafter to prove to yon. It was undoubt- 
 edly this Jesuit who, by communicating habitually with Brian, 
 informed her of the .progress of that adversity of which he had 
 been the sole author. It was he who employed Brian, to watch 
 the moment of Mrs. Fitzgerald's arrival in Paris, and to entrap 
 her into her own house he who prompted her daughter to the 
 commission of a Torgery, by which your niece was so impover- 
 ished as to be placed at the mercy of both her persecutors and 
 he, through whose secret agency the last remains of her property 
 in Ireland were destroyed by fire. 
 
 ' " Brian, though thus apparently a tool in the hands of the 
 Jesuit, was acting, con amore, on her own account, while she 
 supposed herself meritoriously fulfilling the behest of her church 
 in the destruction of a distinguished heretic." 
 
 4 When we meet, my dear Helen, I will inform you of the 
 grounds (which will be new to you) on which I made these con- 
 fident assertions. Your perturbed uncle, as I ceased speaking, 
 said solemnly. 
 
 ' " Monsieur le Marquis, your suspicions of those wretched 
 individuals as the calumniators of my niece never suggested 
 themselves to me before. Can it be possible that such monsters 
 have had any influence over my feelings ! But I will atone for 
 the wrong I have done Mrs. Fitzgerald. Pray mediate with her 
 for me, Monsieur le Marquis, that she may be induced to receive 
 me, and accept from me an apology, and an atonement also, 
 which I have already resolved on making. I am but little 
 acquainted with her I hope she is not implacable, although I 
 own it is but natural for her to entertain resentment against me." 
 
 ' " You will have no difficulty," I replied, " in making your 
 peace with Mrs. Fitzgerald, Monsieur le Cointe. She knows not
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 291 
 
 the meaning of the word resentment. She is no ordinary cha- 
 racter; for while possessing the highest endowments of mind, 
 she is a perfect child of nature, frank, forgiving, sincere, and 
 pure. What, indeed, could have preserved her untarnished, in the 
 atmosphere of a residence like Margaret Brian's, but that halo 
 of innocence which encircles and defends the pure in heart?" 
 
 'The Count de Carryfort was either touched by a sense of 
 wrong, or humbled by the conviction of it, I know not which. 
 "We parted with many expressions of regret on his part, and a 
 promise of visiting you, my beloved Helen, within a week, at 
 your present residence.' 
 
 The' day after I received the foregoing, Monsieur de Grani- 
 mont returned to his apartments in the Hotel d'Angleterre, and 
 in a few minutes after his arrival, was at my house in the park. 
 
 As ten days had passed since we met, he greeted me with 
 excessive emotion, telling me I was so much improved in 
 appearance, that I was Helen Mulgravo again, not only to the 
 heart but to the eye, and that I must have been imposing on 
 him when I called myself by another name. 
 As he had read my journal during his absence, Phad a feeling 
 of apprehension at meeting him, after all that its pages had dis- 
 closed of my devotion to himself. It seemed to me that my 
 heart had now been so entirely laid, open to him, that nothing 
 remained to be revealed, and that we should both sink into 
 vapidity. 
 
 But it was not so. The beaming confidence of an undoubting 
 attachment, which now displayed itself in his every look and 
 word, fell on my heart like the dew of morning on the parched 
 earth. 
 
 Leonce, while commenting with me on the statements which 
 he had made to my uncle, informed me, to my utter astonish- 
 ment, that during his stay in Paris, he had had an interview 
 with the surviving daughter of Brian (alias Murphy), who, for a 
 valuable consideration which he offered her, had been induced 
 to place in his hands the letters of her mother's Irish correspon- 
 dents, amongst which he found many of the Jesuit's letters ; and 
 though there was a visible break in the sequence, enough of it 
 remained to justify much more than he had asserted respecting
 
 292 HELEN MULGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 the part which the Jesuit had borne, in conjunction with Brian, 
 relative to myself. The revelations of these letters, he said, dis- 
 closed a plot of the most diabolical kind, and damning to its 
 author, although wrapped up in an obscure and ambiguous 
 phraseology, which could only be deciphered by a man of the 
 world. 
 
 ' But it is my intention,' he said, ' as soon as we are indissolu- 
 bly united, to take Renel in hand, and deliver him over to 
 judicial investigation, on the ground of that apparently forged 
 will, which has been made the instrument of your persecutions. 
 The experiment might prove unsuccessful ; but it would show to 
 the world at least one instance of the nature and extent of that 
 unhallowed power which the Romish church confers on her 
 priests ; and while thus serving the cause of a secular justice, 
 would also exhibit the desecration and mockery which are made 
 of a religion called Christian, by the practices of its own priests.' 
 
 CHAPTER XXXII. 
 
 MT uncle arrived at St. Germain, as he proposed, and in an 
 interview which I had with him alone, he made the most ample 
 acknowledgments of the injustice he had done me ; and placing 
 in my hands the letters on which his erroneous impressions had 
 been founded, he exclaimed, ' Burn them, when you have satis- 
 fied yourself of their author. I wish it was as easy to obliterate 
 the wrong they have done, as it is to destroy them.' On exam- 
 ining the letters, I found it impossible to believe otherwise than 
 that Murphy herself, and the Jesuit, had been the writers of 
 them. As I traced these proofs of a malignity so inhuman, 
 I wondered that I had survived its effects ; and still more, that 
 the damage of it, which had so nearly destroyed both myself 
 and family, should have been so speedily repaired. Murphy's 
 end was untimely ; and the universal history of crime proves 
 that there is a retribution, even in this life, which is seldom, if 
 ever, evaded by the criminal.
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSUIP. 293 
 
 "When my uncle had been apprized of the horrid manner of 
 Mrs. Murphy's end, he exclaimed, that it galled him to the 
 heart to reflect on his having been made the tool of such a 
 fiend ; and that he could no otherwise atpne to me for the 
 wrong of which he had been guilty, than by making me his 
 heiress, and leaving his whole property to me which, indeed, 
 he said he had already done, by his will, a copy of which he 
 placed in my hands for perusal. 
 
 ' You will find,' said he, ' that I have encumbered my estates 
 with only an annuity of twelve thousand francs per annum 
 to your sister Caroline, making no provision for my sister, Lady 
 Mulgrave, because I know that the Baron de ."Wallenstein, my 
 brother, has already provided for her, in case of her surviving 
 him.' 
 
 As he ceased speaking, I felt a painful oppression on me, and 
 could not help saying, ' My dear uncle, I am for ever indebted to 
 you for your kind intentions ; but do not thus crush me with 
 your bounty. Take back your estates ; I shall not want them ; 
 and it seems to me that so immense a donation will cause me to 
 feel as though it had been exacted of you. Take back your gift, 
 therefore, my dear uncle, and let me have the pleasure of feeling 
 that we are reconciled friends, without so costly a pledge of it.' 
 
 It was in vain I thus expressed the pain I felt at the greatness 
 of the obligation imposed on me. My uncle replied that what 
 he had done was irrevocable, and that he hoped it could not but 
 be a satisfaction to me, on reflection, to know that thereby my 
 son, to whom hereafter his estates would pass, would be thus 
 provided for, if the Jesuit should fail to restore to him his 
 father's estates. 
 
 ' I know well,' he continued, ' the excellent man who is about 
 to become your husband, and how much he is above all sordid 
 views. Nevertheless, it ought to be some little gratification 
 to you to know that you do not come entirely portionless to 
 him.' 
 
 I then told him of the settlement which Monsieur de Gram- 
 inont had made on my daughters, at which my uncle shed tears, 
 as he congratulated me on my happy, prospects. 
 
 In spite of all this, I had still a consuming anxiety at my
 
 294 HELEN MULOKAVK ; OR, 
 
 heart for a sight of my son, whom I had never yet been allowed 
 to see. Sometimes I fancied he might be dead, or rained in 
 health, or mind, by the severity of the discipline through which 
 I knew he must JMISS. 
 
 When Monsieur de Grammont returned, I of course related to 
 him what had passed between my uncle and myself. He was 
 very much impressed with the magnanimity of my uncle, in the 
 ample and unhesitating regrets he had expressed. But I fancied 
 he would rather I had been without his estates, which, he said, 
 had come too late ; and that for himself, he must drink deep of 
 the waters of Lethe, before he could think of those sufferings, 
 without bitterness, which it had been so much in my uncle's 
 power to alleviate, but which he had preferred to aggravate. 
 'Nevertheless,' he continued, ' man must not sit in judgment on 
 his fellow. We know not the peculiar organization of that mind 
 which, without becoming actually criminal, unconsciously falls 
 short of virtue and humanity.' 
 
 Monsieur de Grammont had consulted Mary respecting" the 
 position and circumstances of my good Fanchette ; and having 
 informed himself thereon, settled an annuity on her, which left 
 to her option the continuance or relinquishment of her present 
 laborious occupation. She was overwhelmed with gratitude 
 at this provision for her old age having already attained 
 her sixtieth year and she came to St. Germain expressly to 
 thank her benefactor; when, with her own characteristic viva- 
 city, she wept, and laughed, and wept again, in endeavouring to 
 express her gratitude. 
 
 It was thus that Monsieur de Grammont relieved me of every 
 worldly solicitude, for others as well as for myself; and I had 
 the prospect of being able to assume the beloved name that 
 awaited me, almost without a care. I had lived so many years 
 in loneliness of heart, that to be again in possession of that 
 felicity which arises from a reciprocation o'f thought and feeling 
 with a companionable mind, was of itself happiness. Yet thus 
 surrounded almost overwhelmed, with happiness both in pos- 
 session and in prospect, undefinable anxieties sometimes assailed 
 me, which I could only relieve by prayer, or conciliate with 
 tears. The storms of my life had indeed apparently subsided,
 
 EXECUTORSHIP. 295 
 
 but ' the cloud returned after the rain,' and the shadows of the 
 past often fell on my path. Even in my brightest moments, in 
 the society of him whose fine taste embellished every thought 
 he nttered, and whose ardent spirit infused energy into the very 
 nothings of discourse, the question, 'Can this last?' would whis- 
 per itself to my soul, and quicken enjoyment to agony. But 
 how can he be expected to step firmly who has for years been 
 doomed to walk over quicksands, or tread the brink of an abyss ? 
 
 I had been inured to feel the supports of earth so often sink- 
 ing from under me, that I had not yet learnt to plant my foot 
 securely on a rock, and hardly to repose in peace, under the 
 blessed ' Gourd,' which celestial hands had reared around me, 
 and which, as yet, had disclosed no ' worm at its root.' 
 ***** 
 
 As there was still much preliminary business to be attended 
 to before our marriage could take place, Monsieur de Grammont 
 returned again to Paris. The day after his arrival there, 
 Monsieur de Carryfort waited upon him at his hotel, in duo 
 form to announce to him his having made me his heiress, and to 
 express his fervent approbation of his becoming his nephew ; 
 proffering, at the same time, to perform the service at the wed- 
 ding ceremony of giving me away, in case my uncle, Sir Felix, 
 who had volunteered to perform it, did not arrive in time. 
 
 It had been proposed by my uncle, that the marriage should 
 take place from his house ; and my mother and sister had been 
 invited to meet me there, with the Baron de Wallenstein, 
 who had expressed himself desirous of assisting at the ceremony, 
 although his official duties at the court of Vienna rendered 
 it doubtful whether he might be able to accomplish his wish. 
 
 My dear children had not yet been informed of the coming 
 event ; yet their chief subject of thought, of talk, and of 
 inquiry, was their ' cTier Monsieur de Grammont,' as they called' 
 him. It seemed, indeed, as though he were the very object and 
 impulse of life to our whole household Mary not excepted. 
 
 To add to our accumulating joys, Sir Lucius Mac Neil and my 
 sister Dora were expected daily in England, and it was hoped 
 they might arrive there in time to reach Paris, and assist at tin* 
 ceremony so anxiously anticipated.
 
 290 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 CHAPTER XXXIII. 
 
 WE were already in July, and only a few days remained 
 betwixt us and the wedding day, when as I sat at a window of 
 my house at St. Germain, a carriage at full speed drove up to 
 my door. Leonce sprang out of it, and, absorbed in him, I saw, 
 for the first instant, only him ; but as, instead of entering with 
 his usual bound into the hall to meet me, he turned to speak to 
 eoine one whom he had left in the carriage, I peered into it to 
 see whom it might be, and beheld my mother, my sister Caroline, 
 and my own dear lost child I In a moment we were locked in 
 each other's arms I 
 
 This restoration of objects so long lost and so dear to me, was 
 like a resurrection from the dead ; for until very lately, I had 
 cast away every hope of seeing them again in this world. And 
 now, to meet them under the circumstances in which they found 
 me was an event to dream of, but scarcely to realize. 
 
 Still, here we were, once more together ; and though he who 
 had been the key-stone of the arch on which everything that 
 constituted our family felicity had once rested, was no longer 
 amongst us, he had been replaced by another, who had become 
 a pillar of our house, and was no less a centre of attraction, 
 round which our affections congregated almost in idolatry. 
 
 My son had been torn from me about a year ago, at a time 
 when I could least spare anything I loved. Since then, I had 
 passed through the severest trials, and attained the highest 
 earthly happiness of which our nature is capable. As crowning 
 events to this, the restoration of my son, and the sight of my 
 dear mother and sister, left me for the moment nothing more to 
 wish for. My happiness was so great, that as I passed from the 
 embraces of nay mother and child to those of my sister and 
 Leonce, I felt as the patriarch Jacob had once felt, and 
 exclaimed with him, ' Now let me die !' 
 
 My little Frederic was at first formal and timid, and scarcely 
 seemed to remember me ; but after I had caressed him awhile,
 
 J26UIT EXKCUTORSHIP. 297 
 
 he looked earnestly in my face, and began to cry. When his 
 sisters appeared, there was again a little dubiousness about him ; 
 but the vivacity with which they clasped him in their arms soon 
 awakened recollection, and the young trio were not long in 
 becoming boisterously happy. 
 
 L6once then gave me a history of the efforts by which at 
 length, unknown to me, he had circumvented the Jesuit execu- 
 tor, but which had not been accomplished without applying to 
 Charles X. himself. Fortunately, the application was made at 
 a time when all Paris was in a ferment respecting Jesuit intrigue, 
 which, it was universally asserted, was making its way into 
 private families, as well as public bodies, and destroying their 
 peace. A project was proposed, even in the Chamber of Depu- 
 ties, for expelling the Jesuits from Paris, which was rendered 
 nugatory, just as it was expected to pass into law, by the dis- 
 cov,ery that, as the law of France ignored the existence of the 
 Jesuits, it was a practical solecism to propose to expel them. 
 
 "When L6once had left the room, and I was able to contem- 
 plate, with undivided attention, the traces of time on my mother 
 and sister, they both seemed to be somewhat impaired by it ; 
 but before an hour had passed, I had become so familiar with 
 the slight shades of difference, that I no longer saw anything 
 in them at all at variance with my doting recollection of what 
 they had formerly been. 
 
 My mother expressed a hope, that a bank-note which she had 
 sent by post, at the time I applied to the Baron de Wallensteiu 
 for pecuniary assistance, had been useful to me. She had sent 
 it, she said, unknown to her brother, who had grown parsimoni- 
 ous, and could not be prevailed on to believe that my destitution 
 could be literal. ' I hoped,' said she, ' that the baron's incredu- 
 lity might be well-founded ; but I knew the veracity of my dear 
 Helen, and dared not doubt, though I shuddered in believing, 
 her statement.' 
 
 Thus carried back to those fearful sufferings which had passed 
 away, I could answer but by tears, and only told my mother, 
 while I thanked her for her bounty, that I had never received 
 her remittance. 
 
 My mother was very much affected at recognising Mary as 
 13*
 
 298 HiaKN MULGRAVE | OK, 
 
 one of the household, who, on her part, shed tears, as she kissed 
 my mother's hand. 
 
 When Rover was brought to her, the dog instantly recollected 
 both her and my sister, and gave them eo hearty a greeting in 
 his own way, that laces and silks were placed in no small peril 
 by him. But my mother was so delighted with his honest joy, 
 th'at she would not allow it to be checked. 
 
 In a few hours I was again alone, for even my darling boy 
 had departed, to return to the college for the present; with a 
 proviso, however, secured by Monsieur de Grammont, that he 
 should be allowed to visit me occasionally. 
 
 There is a peculiar feeling of isolation immediately succeeding 
 the departure of those we love, how sure soever we may fancy 
 ourselves of meeting them again soon. On this occasion, I had 
 not been able, as Leonce whispered his parting words of tender- 
 ness, to withhold my tears. It was a childishness for which I 
 gravely remonstrated with myself, as soon as he was out of sight. 
 Almost sated with happiness, I was already spoilt by it, and could 
 not endure a moment's suspension of it. I am ashamed to 
 record that my weakness so affected Leonce, that although it 
 was too late, after escorting my mother and sister to the Rue 
 d'Anjou, to return to me again that evening, he was at my break- 
 fast table at eight o'clock on the following morning 
 
 There were no railroads in those days, or this would not have 
 been a remarkable feat of locomotion. But a ride of twelve 
 miles on horseback before breakfast, on a scorching July 
 morning, for so paltry an object as that of drying the tears, not 
 of sorrow, but of weakness, would have put me ill at ease with 
 myself, had I not been so great a gainer by the enterprise. 
 Monsieur de Grammont brought with him an invitation to me 
 from my uncle De Carryfort, to join my mother and sister 
 immediately at his house, and to remain there until my wedding 
 day. 
 
 As my arrangements for leaving my children for a few weeks 
 with their governess at St. Germain were already made, I was 
 soon prepared for removal. But L6once and I did not set out 
 for Paris together without lingering looks at a place to which I 
 was so much indebted for the treasures of health which I was
 
 JESUIT EXKCTTOU.SIIIP. 'J!!',) 
 
 bearing away with me, aud in which we were leaving our chil- 
 dren. 
 
 It was not possible for me to enter ray uncle De Carryfort's 
 house, shadowed as it was by dark memories, without deep 
 emotion. Yet, after the first few hours, I found it a delightful, 
 and an affecting change to be in Paris, and in a family circle of 
 near relatives. 
 
 I was now already within the vestibule of happiness ; yet my 
 experience of life had taught me, in speculating on the future, to 
 be more fearful of failure than hopeful of fruition. Is not the 
 Jesuit still on my track ? I shudderingly asked myself. Perhaps 
 Leonce had similar feelings ; for as I met his serious gaze, he 
 exclaimed, with anxiety, ' After the twentieth, it will no longer 
 be a hope a vision but a reality. Life w r ill be spared till then. 
 Let us not doubt it ! After that, we will brave the Jesuit in 
 concert!' 
 
 The day of fate was so near, that we began to feel impatient 
 for the arrival of the distant guests invited to its celebration ; 
 but we approached its very eve without hearing anything of my 
 sister's arrival from India, or of the Baron de Wallenstein's, or 
 Sir Felix Mulgrave's. 
 
 Happily, at eleven o'clock on that evening, a hasty messenger 
 from Meurice's h6tel came to announce to Monsieur de Carryfort, 
 that Sir Lucius Mac Neil and his family had arrived there. The 
 Baron de "Wallenstein, from Vienna, was announced shortly 
 after, and our party now only wanted Sir Felix ; but as 
 Monsieur de Carryfort had offered to officiate in his stead, we 
 were able to proceed without him, if he should not arrive before 
 morning. 
 
 CHAPTER XXXTV. 
 
 I ROSE at the dawn on the following morning, to look out on 
 the eastern sky for prognostics of the weather. It had a lower- 
 ing appearance, but the dew was heavy on grass and flower, 
 which was a favourable indication ; and the birds were singing
 
 800 HELEN MULGRAVK J OR, 
 
 so merrily in the garden overlooked by my chamber window, 
 that I returned to my bed again, in full hope of sunshine, to 
 gild the day so full of promise to the future. I fell asleep so 
 soundly as not to dream, and only awoke at seven, roused by a 
 band of music under my window. Amongst other airs that 
 were performed, was that of, ' Now, with grief no longer bend- 
 ing,' &c. As it struck on my delighted ear, I heard in it the 
 voice of Leonce, who, I knew, must have specially ordered it for 
 the occasion. 
 
 The words of the song naturally led me to contrast the 
 present with the past, and the antithesis was so violent as to 
 inspire distrust of the future ; for the idea of the Jesuit still 
 haunted me like a spectre, although happiness had never before 
 hailed me under circumstances so promising. But under the 
 influence of sweet sounds, I passed from this distrust to joyous 
 hope ; and as my heart waked to devotional gratitude, I adored 
 him who delivers us out of the furnace of affliction. 
 
 As Mary answered my bell, she informed me that Monsieur de 
 Grammont was already in my boudoir, awaiting me there ; and 
 anxious to see me as soon as possible. I was not long in making 
 my appearance. As I entered the room, he was pacing it up 
 and down with quick steps. I was struck by the expression of 
 his countenance, and feared that some untoward occurrence 
 must have taken place. Trembling, I knew not why, I looked 
 inquiringly at him. 
 
 ' Fear nothing,' said he, ' I am the messenger of frightful 
 intelligence, which, though it must shock, will not afflict you. 
 The last of those fearful beings, that for years have haunted 
 your path, has vanished for ever. The Jesuit is no more.' 
 
 He paused as I covered my face, overcome by the unexpected 
 intelligence. In a few seconds he proceeded. 
 
 'A horrible mystery hangs over this apparently premature 
 death, which seems to have been produced by poison, received 
 in the sacramental wafer at the bed-side of a dying man. The 
 name of that man, you will hardly guess. It forms a singular 
 coincidence with past events. 
 
 ' The man is said to be the parish priest, who formerly, in 
 league with Brian, carried off your father's jewels, and was sup-
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 301 
 
 posed eventually to have murdered her. You are aware that 
 the homicide had been under the protection of the church, ever 
 since that occurrence, in a quarter of Paris inaccessible to the 
 police. Finding himself dying of an incurable malady, but still 
 capable of crime, he contrived, in receiving the last sacraments 
 from the hands of Father Benel, whom he had solicited to 
 administer them, to introduce poisoned wafers, both for himself 
 and his victim, so that they are both dead. This is all that has- 
 yet transpired on the subject. I have had a moment's interview 
 with your uncle De Carry fort, this morning, respecting it ; and 
 he is of opinion, with me, that Frederic may now be easily 
 released from the guardianship of the remaining executor ; when 
 both the dear child and his estates will come under our own 
 immediate guardianship.' 
 
 I was so much stunned by the suddenness of the information 
 I had received, that I did not at the first moment perceive all its 
 momentous consequences to myself. But an instant's reflection 
 showed me that, by the death of the Jesuit, I was at once res- 
 cued both from Popery and the 'grasp of the priests.' The 
 galling chains that had so long fettered my very soul fell off as 
 by an angel's touch, and the profoundest joy would have taken 
 possession of my heart, if it had not been checked by the horrid 
 manner in which my deliverance had been effected. Leonce and 
 I sat awhile in silence, and forgetfulness that it was our wedding 
 morning. 
 
 As the recollection of it recurred, the coincidence of the day 
 and the deliverance increased our happiness. The striking of a 
 clock reminded us that time was advancing, and that we might 
 be too late for the appointed hour. I was therefore compelled 
 to insist on L6once's instant departure, who, while he affected to 
 rebel, after blessing and thanking me for the part I was about to 
 assume, in words never to be forgotten, hurried away. 
 
 Scarcely had the door closed after him, when my sister Dora 
 entered. What a meeting was ours, after so many years of 
 absence, and so much suffering ! When the first transports of 
 our greeting were over, Dora, with all the juvenile gaiety of 
 former years, exclaimed, ' And so, my little Nelly, after having 
 been so long in the crucible, you are come out of it alive, and
 
 r-'t'j IIKI.I:N MULGRAVK; on, . 
 
 are really going to marry your first, if not yonr only lovo ! 
 (.'harming! Your kusband, too, a knight of romance m>m the 
 realms of fancy, if he were not so decidedly and visibly a 
 reality, that one is delighted to acknowledge the supremacy of 
 fact over fiction. You must permit a little effusion of nonsense, 
 my darling Nelly, on this happy morning, as a measure of safety 
 to my heart, which is so full of joyous agitation at this happy 
 termination of your sorrows, that I must either faint or cry, if 
 obliged to suppress its emotions. I have so long doted on 
 Leonce, that now he is about to become my brother, my love for 
 him exceeds all bounds. When he first arrived amongst us in 
 India, he was in a most deplorable state of melancholy, and 
 beset at the same time by many captivating young women, whom 
 only such a preoccupied heart as his could have resisted. At 
 that time, seeing how wretched he was, I should have been 
 happy had he been able to make choice of one of them. Only 
 think, dear Nelly, what a world of mischief I should have occa- 
 sioned, had I succeeded in my little innocent offorts to make 
 him forget you ! I tremble to think of it. Oh, how much bet- 
 ter Providence orders our affairs than we could order them for 
 ourselves ! 
 
 ' When he had been with us about two months, we heard of 
 your having become a widow, and of your utterly ruined for- 
 tunes, both at the same time, but almost two years after the 
 death of Mr, Fitzgerald. The news agitated us all to an exces- 
 sive degree, but Monsieur de Grammont was so changed by it 
 that we hardly knew him. He was like one raised from the 
 dead. The chronic maladies of mind and health, which had so 
 long been depressing him, all disappeared at once, and he 
 became active and energetic, in spite of the climate. Within a 
 week after this news, he was on his way to England. I should 
 like to hear an account of your first meeting, Nelly, but this is 
 no time for retrospect.' 
 
 While listening to my dear Dora, and gazing on her bright and 
 charming face, I had forgotten time : but recollecting ourselves, 
 we abruptly terminated our interview. 
 
 After a short interval in my own chamber, I returned again to 
 the boudoir, and found Leonce waiting there to take me to the
 
 JESUIT EXKCUTORSHIP. 303 
 
 breakfast-room, where we joined our family circle, amongst 
 whom was the Baron de Waileustein, whom I had never before 
 seen. 
 
 My two uncles were most affectionate in their reception of me, 
 and seemed to vie with each other in the magnificence of their 
 wedding gifts to the bride of the Marquis de Grammont. Why 
 did thought wander, at the moment of receiving them, amongst 
 the frightful spectres of the past ? 
 
 My dear mother was of the breakfast party, looking pale and 
 serious. 
 
 As L6once and I bent before her, to ask her benediction, she 
 joined our hands, and blessed us in her own quiet tender man- 
 ner, saying that if it were permitted to the departed to revisit 
 earth, she had no doubt the spirit of another parent was hover- 
 ing over us, with blessings as fevent as her own. This sweet 
 flight of fancy and of hope elevated our thoughts to a higher 
 sphere, while the affecting reminiscence, awakening thoughts of 
 him we had lost, made us feel anew how much, even in the 
 midst of happiness, we had still to deplore. 
 
 Sir Lucius Mac Neil, whom I had not yet greeted, was at my 
 side, as my mother ceased speaking, with an offering of warm 
 and brotherly wishes for L6once and myself. As our guests 
 were beginning to arrive, my uncle De Carryfort led me to the 
 saloon, the remainder of the family immediately following us, 
 I was so happy as to observe amongst the first arrivals, my old 
 friend Mr. O'Callaghan, and to receive from him the warmest 
 felicitations of his kind heart. 
 
 Many other charming persons crowded round me, to offer, with 
 an empressement and a grace peculiarly French, the compliments 
 of the occasion. 
 
 The carriages were soon announced, and we were, in a few 
 minutes, at the Ambassador's Chapel. 
 
 Our marriage had been arranged in the English fashion, but at 
 the entrance to the chapel I found an avenue formed of young 
 French girls, dressed in white, with chaplets on their heads, 
 each bearing a basket of flowers, which, as I passed along, they 
 strewed in my path. 
 
 This is an ordinary French practice, but being unexpected by
 
 304 HELEN MULGRAVE; OR, 
 
 me, it affected me so much, that had not my uncle, De Carryfort, 
 been at my side, I should not have been able to preserve my 
 composure, as the harsh contrasts of my life rushed on my 
 memory. 
 
 Bishop L , at that time chaplain to the embassy, awaited 
 
 our arrival in the chapel, and in a few minutes Leonce and I 
 stood together before the altar of God. 
 
 The ceremony was soon performed, when I had the tearful 
 felicity of being hailed by Leonce as ' his own dear wife.' 
 
 Shortly after our return to the Hue d'Anjou, we took leave of 
 our family and friends there, and set off towards an ancient 
 family chateau of Monsieur de Grammont's, near Auxerre, on 
 the Yonne, about twenty miles south of Paris, accompanied 
 only by Mary and a personal servant of my husband's. 
 
 As we cleared the outskirts of the city, the sun shone resplen- 
 dently on the fields and foliage that sprang into view, and we 
 bowled along in a trance of unutterable delight. 
 
 It was the anniversary of the day on which we had first met, 
 at Mulgrave Castle, twelve years before ; and as we looked back 
 and recalled that day, so eventful to us both, we were led to 
 glance at the sufferings and the happiness of which it had been 
 the fruitful source. 
 
 In doing so, my own attention was especially arrested by the 
 effect which our family intercourse with Leonce had had on the 
 religious opinions of so many of our circle. For although he 
 was both an unproselyting and tolerant Protestant, yet the depth 
 of his information, the force of his arguments, and the modera- 
 tion of his statements, brought so much inquiry into play, that 
 to him might be traced the secession from the Romish church 
 of at least four persons in our family, whom the truth had made 
 free. What a trophy for him to incorporate with his family 
 honours, if, indeed, it may be permitted to speak of associating 
 Buch a triumph with the perishing distinctions of earth ! 
 
 Monsieur de Grammont and myself, now that our personal 
 anxieties had subsided, began to feel the blessedness of union of 
 opinion and feeling in the great and paramount concerns of 
 religion. L6once was no idle talker on sacred things; he felt 
 too deeply their importance to speak of them, or even to allude
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 305 
 
 to them, without reverence. He had nothing about him of 
 what is ordinarily understood by 'religious cant.' A mere 
 verbal, conventional, and ostentatious piety, as foreign to the 
 sincerity and simplicity of an humble faith in divine truth, as to 
 good sense and good taste. If religion consisted in the mere 
 adoption of its dialect and its technicalities, it would be easy to 
 become pious. But if ' pure and undefiled religion' is our aim, 
 and we descend into the deep of the heart as the temple of it, 
 we shall find that we have a daily, hourly battle to wage with 
 ourselves, which is as humiliating as it is difficult of achieve- 
 ment ; and in which we are conquerors only through faith in 
 Him ' who giveth us the victory.' 
 
 French Protestantism had, at the period of which I am speak- 
 ing, a peculiar character, which I hardly know how to describe 
 faithfully. There was in it a latitude of charity, an absence of 
 exclusiveness, and yet a fervour of zeal in its professors, which, 
 while it laboured, like the disciples of a new faith, to establish 
 and extend itself, was yet so unassuming and tolerant that you 
 at once recognised in it the spirit of Him who came not to 
 judge, but to save. The true Christian feeling seems indeed 
 everywhere to be that of forbearance with mere error of opinion, 
 rather than persecution of it. . 
 
 Monsieur de Grammont had been for years a sincere disciple 
 of the Protestant faith in France, which, though countenanced 
 at this time by the government of Charles the Tenth, and assisted 
 by annual supplies from its treasury, was nevertheless, in various 
 localities, 'persecuted, afflicted, and tormented.' 
 
 L6once's absence from his native land for many years, had pre- 
 vented him from lending his name and influence to its promotion. 
 But now, as he was about to live at home, he traced out for 
 himself extensive projects of usefulness to it, in which, feeling 
 that we should be ' labourers together,' he promised himself the 
 happiness of assisting its growth ; for he considered the cause of 
 Protestanism to be the cause of civil and religious liberty, the 
 cause of morals, and the cause of truth. 
 
 In views and feelings such as these, L6once and I were per- 
 fectly in unison ; and while we hoped and cherished the belief 
 that we were heirs together of eternal life, we deeply felt that
 
 306 HELEN MULGRAVE ; OR, 
 
 we were but pilgrims and strangers upon earth, journeying 
 towards a tinal home. As we poured out our hearts to cacii 
 other during our journey, we felt that we were entering on a 
 m-\v era, and a happier world; and had not the adversities of 
 the past been written ineffaceably in our hearts, we might have 
 forgotten the tenure on which all the felicity of the earth is 
 held. But, although a chastening perception of it mingled with 
 our feelings and restrained our joy, we dared not repine at that 
 tenure ; for is not life itself transient as a vapor that ' appeareth 
 for a little while, and then vanisheth away ?' Yet the conscious 
 eternity of our spirits inspired deathless hopes, as we discerned 
 afar that future world, in which there ' shall be no more death, 
 neither sorrow, nor crying.' 
 
 [The following letter by MART, as it forms somewhat of a 
 sequel to the foregoing tale, will not, perhaps, be wholly unac- 
 ceptable to the reader. EDITOR.] 
 
 < 
 
 Ch&teau de Grammont, 
 
 July 22d, 183T. 
 
 Dear Mrs O'Connell, 
 
 I hope, ma'am, you have not thought me negligent 
 in being so long in writing to you the account you asked me for 
 in your last kind letter. 
 
 I hope Sir Felix is well, though from his not arriving in time 
 to my dear lady's wedding, I am afraid he is not. Please, give 
 my best duty to him. 
 
 Great and happy changes here, dear Mrs. O'Connell 1 Our 
 dear Miss Helen, that once was, after suffering worse than any 
 martyr ever since her first marriage with a gentleman quite 
 unsuitable to her, is at last married to that dear Marquis dc 
 Grammont, who ought to have been her husband from the first. 
 As I have very little time at present, I do not intend to write a 
 long letter, but only just to give you an idea of how our troubles 
 have at last ended. The Count de Carry-fort, after treating my
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 307 
 
 dear lady, his own niece, worse than an impostor, and only 
 because she was poor, turned about on seeing that the marquis 
 had offered her his hand, and actually made her his heiress. 
 I never saw such a regular turn-about in my life. I wonder he 
 was not ashamed of himself; but he seemed to forget himself 
 entirely in the grandeur of the match, although the marquis 
 was a Protestant ; and on the wedding morning he presented 
 such a magnificent present of diamonds to the bride, that I 
 couldn't help crying at sight of them, when I was packing them 
 up, to think how glad she would have been, when she and the 
 dear children were starving to death, to have had but the small- 
 est amongst them to buy bread with. But this is a strange 
 world, Mrs. O'Connell, where the love of money makes people 
 forget what is so far before it the love of their neighbour. 
 But when people forget their own flesh and blood, it is quite 
 unnatural and monstrous ! The Baron de Wallenstein, another 
 nncle of my lady's, gave her a complete set of emeralds ; and 
 rings, and bracelets, and coronets without end, came in from all 
 quarters. My heart swells while I write this, to think that 
 none of these uncles and bountiful givers came to her help when 
 she wanted it. My lady herself, dear blessed creature, cares 
 nothing about ornaments ; nor is her beauty of a kind to require 
 them. She is more handsome now, I do assure you, than she 
 was when she was sixteen, though she has a very sad look at 
 times, as she always had, you kn6w. I had myself the pleasure 
 of dressing her for her bridal ; and a sweet dress it was ; white 
 and silver, as simple as hands could make it, by a French modiste, 
 and a splendid gossamerlike lace veil, falling from the crown of 
 her head over her beautiful shoulders, with a tiara of large 
 pearls (the marquis's gift) mixed with orange blossoms. Oh, I 
 shall never forget the sight, when I saw her and the marquis 
 standing before the altar both so handsome 1 
 
 The day before the wedding, a party was made from the - h6tel 
 of the Count de Carryfort, to the h6tel of the marquis, in the 
 faubourg, and I was allowed to attend my lady there. It was a 
 most splendid day, and when our carriages arrived at the hotel, 
 we were received in great state. All the men-servants were in 
 rich liveries, and so many of them, and so polite.
 
 308 . HELEN MULQBAVK; OR, 
 
 After we bad gone over the house (I say we, for though I 
 did not, of course, walk into the rooms with ray lady, I walked 
 after her, and saw everything she saw) well, as I was saying, 
 after we had gone over the house, we came to the picture 
 gallery, at the upper end of which was a whole length picture, 
 with a curtain of crimson velvet before it, lined with white 
 satin. 
 
 When it was drawn aside, what should I see, but a life-size 
 painting of rny lady, which the marquis had had taken of her 
 by an artist he sent to Ireland, some years since, expressly for 
 that purpose. I remember hearing of it at the time, and my 
 lady had reason not to forget it, though I had quite forgotten it, 
 till I saw the painting uncovered, and Miss Helen Mulgrave, 
 in white muslin and myrtle blossoms, looking just as she did 
 when I put her on that dress to go to a ball at Cork. 
 
 I was never tired of standing before it ; and it was so like her, 
 that I almost dropped my curtesy to it when I first looked at it. 
 My dear lord, as he now is, has an apartment fitted up in his 
 hotel for my lady's children and their governess five or six 
 most pleasant rooms, overlooking one of the gardens. I thought 
 there was no end to his kindness ; and indeed there is not. T 
 cannot tell the half of what I have seen of his fondness for my 
 lad} T , and her children, too. But I must not forget to tell you 
 that the Jesuit Executor is dead they say of poison. But no 
 matter what it was ; the world is well rid of him now, and the 
 consequences to my dear lady will be very great, and she is 
 likely to get Master Frederic out of the college ; and all the 
 family are likely to have their own again. Besides this, my 
 lady will now be made, through the interest of the marquis, 
 guardian to her son. What a beautiful thing power is, when it 
 is used to do good ! May God long continue to my lord and 
 lady all their possessions and fine qualities, till they are ready for 
 a better world ! I am sure you will say amen to that, and I 
 must soon write finis to my letter, which is getting too long. 
 
 I have laid down my pen a bit, just to read an English Paris 
 paper, Galignani' l s, and I learn from it, that the Jesuit and the 
 priest, I mean the Irish parish priest, were both poisoned ; but 
 it is thought that the Jesuit, who was in full health while the
 
 JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 309 
 
 priest was already a dying man had no thought of dying. But 
 the parish priest, a cunning sort of fellow, found out that the 
 Jesuit had a design upon his life, in order to get hold of some 
 jewels which the priest had, and would not give up to him : and 
 he thought he would be up with him, and secretly provided a 
 poisoned wafer, which he contrived, by some sleight of hand, to 
 exchange for the one which the Jesuit had got for himself. Of 
 course, the Jesuit died in great agonies ; the priest lived an hour 
 or two after him. 
 
 It has just come into my head, that the jewels must have 
 oeen my master's, Sir William Mulgrave's. It makes my blood 
 run cold, to think of the two wretched men, both deliberate 
 murderers, receiving their death through the sacrament, that, 
 according to their pretensions, was to save their souls I 
 
 But I have not yet told you anything about our beautiful 
 Chateau de Grammont, where we are at present staying that is, 
 my lord and lady and myself, and one town servant, my lord's 
 valet. 
 
 All the servants here are old-fashioned, and all Protestants, as 
 my lord will have no others upon his estates, for the sake of 
 peace and harmony in the kitchens. They are all simple coun- 
 try people ; and, although they are clever servants, can neither 
 read nor write, except the housekeeper and the butler, who read 
 the Scriptures in the housekeeper's room to them daily; and 
 they are so fond of their lord, although they never give him his 
 title, but call him Monsieur de Grammont, or notre cher Mon- 
 sieur. Titles are quite out here but I shall always call my lady 
 the marchioness, for I like the sound of it, and she is so well 
 entitled to it. I was always sure, from my dreams and other 
 tokens, that she would some time or other have her due. 
 
 The chateau is a beautiful house, though a very ancient place, 
 and, like our Mulgrave Castle, has haunted rooms in it. 
 
 I have such a beautiful chambre d coucher that means a bed- 
 room with curtains, and every comfort ; and it is so near to my 
 lady's room, that I can answer her bell in a moment, when she 
 rings. The house is very large, and has been lately fitted up for 
 a great party, which is expected here in about a fortnight. 
 First, there are my lady's two uncles, the count and the baron,
 
 310 HKLEN MULGRAVE ; OK, 
 
 and next, Lady" Mulgrave and Miss Caroline ; then, Sir Lucius 
 Mac Neil and his lady and four children, and last, though not 
 least, the two Fitzgeralds and their governess ; and as every one 
 will bring servants with them, there will be a fine housefull of 
 us, when all are assembled ; besides Fanchette, who is coming to 
 visit the servants, and Mr. O'Callaghan to my lord. I ought 
 to have mentioned him first, but I am sure he is too good to care 
 for it. 
 
 But we are to have a fortnight to oarselves first, for I heard 
 the marquis say to my lady, that till his own dear fortnight was 
 passed, he would not receive Charles X. himself. My lady and 
 he walk about the park and grounds every day, and ride out 
 together, and have their evenings to themselves, as they have 
 caused it to be announced in the neighbourhood that they do 
 not receive company until the arrival of their friends from 
 Paris. 
 
 When we arrived here on the wedding-day, we were received 
 with bands of music, and we entered the chateau under a 
 triumphal arch, and my lady stepped from her carriage into the 
 house on roses and myrtles. The butler and the housekeeper 
 are both elderly people, and were in the service of my lord's 
 father and mother before the revolution ; and it would have 
 done your heart good to see how they were dressed, when they 
 stood at the door to receive us. I thought, to be sure, some of 
 the court had got to the chateau before us ; though, on second 
 thoughts, I was sure none of the court of Paris dressed in their 
 fashion. I wish I had time to describe to you, dear Mrs. 
 O'Connell, how their silver-white hair was disposed of round 
 their dear old wrinkled faces ; the butler with a long queue, and 
 the housekeeper with a high cushion on her head. 
 
 I am afraid I am very straggling in my account; but you 
 must excuse me, I have been here so short a time, and my head 
 is almost turned with happiness. 
 
 On the wedding morning, just before my lady went down to 
 breakfast, after fhad dressed her, and was standing looking at 
 her ; she came across the room to me, and with tears in her 
 eyes, put into my hand the sweetest little pocket-book I ever 
 saw, full of beautiful prints, and with silver clasps. Inside was
 
 JESUIT KXECCJTOR8HIP. 311 
 
 a bank bill for a thousand francs, which I never saw till this 
 morning, for I did but just open it on the day I received it, and 
 was so taken up with the pictures, that I looked no further ; so 
 I knew nothing of the bank note, and I have not yet thanked 
 my lady for it. I must now wait till her bell rings before I can 
 go to her, and I am sure, I shall never be able to thank her as I 
 ought. 
 
 I hope Sir Felix will come here, and meet his many relations 
 while they are at the chateau ; although to be sure, it is a long 
 journey for him ; but as he was not at the wedding, my lady 
 has written to invite him here, and she and my lord both intend 
 to return his visit at Mulgrave Castle. I have just been to the 
 window, to look out for them, as they have been out for several 
 hours, and I see the chariot at a distance, driving very fast home, 
 followed by Rover. Although they do not receive visitors, or 
 make visits in the neighbourhood at present, I'll warrant you 
 they will be well acquainted with all the sick and poor people 
 for miles round. 
 
 We have, a beautiful little Protestant chapel, that is to be, 
 erecting here on the grounds ; it is but just begun, but the mar- 
 quis says he means to spend all his summers here, as long as my 
 lady likes the place. And I am sure she will like any place he 
 likes and where he is. What a blessing for people to marry 
 those they love ! But the carriage stops at the door, and the 
 servants are already there, to receive my lord and lady, so they 
 will be upstairs in a moment. There it is-^-my bell rings, and I 
 fly to my lady. 
 
 I remain, dear Mrs. O'Connell, hoping this will find you 
 well, as it leaves me, 
 
 Your affectionate friend and former fellow-servant, 
 
 MAET WALTER. 
 
 P.S. Oh, -my dear Mrs. O'Connell, my lady has just told me 
 that the opposition to the Protestant chapel we are building is 
 so great from the Roman Catholics here, that the labourers on
 
 31'2 HKLKX MULGKAVK ; OR, JESUIT EXECUTORSHIP. 
 
 it do ilieir work in peril of their lives. The marquis, however, 
 says that Frenchmen are not assassins, except under priestly 
 influence, and that he will probe this persecution to the bottom ; 
 for he is sure of finding some wretched priest or other working 
 up the ignorant country-people against his chapel; and if ho 
 cannot check this persecution otherwise, he will carry the 
 matter before the highest tribunal in France. I should not say 
 all this to you, dear Mrs. O'Connell, if I did not believe that in 
 your heart you are a Protestant, although, for the sake of peace 
 and security, you conform outwardly to the Komish church. I 
 know, at any rate, that you read the Scriptures daily. May 
 God give us both grace to learn from their perusal the way to 
 heaven, though it should be a narrow and thorny road. Think 
 of what our dear marchioness has suffered for the cause of the 
 Bible, and let us also be steadfast, and labor to endure unto the 
 end, that we may be saved. 
 
 MABT. 
 
 THE END.
 
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