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 THE HEIRESS; 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 '' She walks in beauty, like the night 
 Of cloudless climes and starry skies; 
 
 And all that's best of dark and bright 
 
 Meet in her aspect and her eyes."— B^row. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 RICHARD BENTLEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
 (successor to henry colburn.) 
 
 1833,
 
 J. B. NICHOLS AND SOX, 'Jo, PARI.I AMHXT-STRF FT.
 
 
 V 
 
 ^ 
 
 THE HEIRESS 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 _ She walks in beauty, like the night 
 
 Of cloudless climes and starry skies ; 
 *» And all that's best of dark and bright 
 
 O Meet in her aspect and her eyes : 
 
 ^ Thus mellow' d to that tender light, 
 
 Which heaven to gaudy day denies. 
 
 One shade the more, one ray the less, 
 Had half impair'd the nameless grace 
 ''*" Which waves in every auburn tress, 
 
 •o Or softly lightens o'er her face ; 
 
 Where thoughts serenely sweet express 
 How pure, how dear their dwelling-place. 
 
 >' 
 
 /vj And on that cheek, and o'er that brow, 
 
 4i So soft, so calm, yet eloquent, 
 
 ;^ The smiles that win, the tints that glow, 
 
 >^^ But tell of days in goodness spent — 
 
 ^- A mind at peace with all below, 
 
 A heart where all is innocent ! 
 
 Byron. 
 
 It was towards the end of May ; not 
 sufficiently warm to occasion a dislike to 
 motion ; not one of those still and noiseless 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 evenings, whose almost death-like silence fills 
 the mind with a feeling resembling awe, if not 
 awe itself ; when the heart, ashamed of its own 
 emotion amid such an unearthly calm, pelds to 
 the dreamy softness of the scene — or, wretched 
 and repining itself, quarrels with the rebuking 
 calm, and 
 
 * ' To stillness gives 
 The cold, harsh names of brutal apathy." 
 
 IVo 1— it was an evening the very reverse of 
 such an one. It was, like life, all change— half 
 hope — half fear— minghng and mixing, till it 
 would have been difficult to tell which had the 
 mastery. It seemed formed to delight : 
 
 " Who would not view 
 The green earth always green. 
 Or the blue sky always blue ?'^ 
 
 True it was an azure sky ; but then there 
 were clouds of fantastic shape, careering o'er 
 its sea of blue, and changing the shadows and 
 the shades of all beneath. It was warm, but 
 then there was a light fresh breeze playing 
 around, and rustling the bright green leaves. 
 The bustle of the day was over, but the birds 
 were not yet weary of singing ; the labourer 
 whistled as he sought his humble but happy 
 home ; the mother sat at her cottage door.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 singing to the crowing baby in her lap; and the 
 merry children laughed and shouted as they 
 joined in the animated game of cricket, or 
 chased each other across the common. 
 
 Perhaps I should coax few to agree with me, 
 were I to say I consider this scene of childish 
 merriment to be in strict accordance with the 
 shifting shade and sunshine on the surrounding 
 woods and fields ; and yet to my mind such is 
 the fact. I dote on children, but I never see 
 them playing, that the thought of their future 
 trials and sorrows does not cause the sigh to 
 mingle with the smile, and shadow the bright- 
 ness of that which is, by anticipating the 
 gloom of what may be. I might, were I so 
 incUned, appeal to the frowns and sullen looks 
 of more than one urchin, as proofs that even 
 the dawn of life is not without its storms, and 
 that the infant of seven may, comparatively 
 speaking, sufFer as much from wounded pride 
 and disappointed ambition as the elder of 
 seventy : — but I am not so inclined. 
 
 The hours of childhood are, perhaps, the 
 brightest portions of our existence, and in most 
 minds the season of purer thoughts and more ge- 
 nerous feehngs than our after-lives exhibit. Jack 
 may frown, and Jane may look sullen ; the one 
 may cry to lose his top, the other to break her 
 B 2
 
 4 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 doll ; but the frown, and the sullen look, and 
 the grief for the lost plaything, will pass away, 
 and be seen no more ; even as yon tiny dark 
 cloud, gliding across the azure sky, will dis- 
 appear in the west, " and leave not a shadow 
 behind." Alas ! alas ! it is not so in after- 
 life ; and it is this that makes the chief dif- 
 ference between the sorrows of childhood and 
 the sorrows of manhood; the sorrows of the 
 child are fleeting, the grief of a moment ! — the 
 sorrows of the man are lasting, the grief of 
 years ! The storm of an hour, though furious, 
 may be forgotten, and its trace effaced ; for the 
 storm of years there is no Lethe ! it is the con- 
 stant dripping that wears the stone ; it is the 
 last feather that breaks the camel's back. 
 
 But why pursue the subject ? We shall 
 meet with enough of sorrow in our way through 
 life, without stepping out of our path to seek 
 it. If men and children look happy, let us 
 believe them to be so ; and if we know them to 
 be not happy, then let us think : 
 
 " Earth has its pangs for all ; its happiest breast, 
 Not his who meets them least, but bears them best." 
 
 For my part, I mean to write as merry a 
 book as my own rather gloomy temperament 
 and the fashion of the times will allow ; that
 
 THE HEIRESS. 5 
 
 is, like the evening I have tried to describe, a 
 tale made up 
 
 " Of hopes and fears, and gloom and shine." 
 
 What can have happened ? There is neither 
 a shout nor a laugh to be heard. The labourer 
 has ceased to whistle in the middle of a bar ; 
 the mother forgets to play with her infant, and 
 heeds not its waihng cry; the curs bark un- 
 chidden; the ball, discharged by a careless 
 hand, bowls down the middle wicket, unchecked 
 and unmarked by the staring batter. What can 
 be the matter ? and why do men, women, and 
 children, ay, even cats and dogs, look towards 
 that dusty road ? " Sister Anne, sister Anne, 
 what do you see coming ?" 
 
 "An open landaulet and four, with two 
 ladies inside, a man and a maid in the rumble- 
 tumble, and a beautiful black and white setter 
 behind." " Who are the ladies, and what are 
 they like ? " " Time will show." 
 
 The carriage approached 3 bats and balls 
 were flung down, and all sought to gain a dis- 
 tinct view of the travellers. Two of the boys, 
 encouraged by the smiles of one of the ladies, 
 and the good-natured looks of the servant, 
 clung to the carriage behind ; whilst another 
 parted with a portion of his supper to make 
 friends with the handsome setter. Every hat
 
 6 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 was off; bows and curtsies, for in this se- 
 cluded village such things still were, became 
 universal, save in one or two instances, where 
 an excess of curiosity occasioned a forgetful- 
 ness of manners. The homage was at first 
 silent^ a murmur was heard, and then arose 
 a long, loud, deafening shout. 
 
 A gate at the end of the common delayed 
 the progress of the carriage for a few moments, 
 and before it could proceed again, men were 
 at the horses' heads, and it was surrounded by 
 most of the inhabitants of the village of Hurle- 
 stone. The welcomes were loud and fervent. 
 " Long hfe and happiness to our dear young 
 lady ! " sounded from every tongue ; all 
 crowded to catch a glimpse ; aU strove to win 
 a word. Their young lady, evidently unpre- 
 pared for the recognition, leant back for a 
 moment to subdue her feelings ; and, having 
 succeeded in some slight degree, proceeded to 
 acknowledge the courtesies of the crowd, and 
 answer their eager inquiries and congratula- 
 tions. The tears stood in her dark blue eyes, 
 and struggled with the smile on her bright lips, 
 as she bent forward to speak to the villagers. 
 They hstened to her tremulous but sincere 
 thanks in perfect silence, answered by another 
 shout, and then intimated their intention of
 
 THE HEIRESS. 7 
 
 releasing the horses, and drawing the carriage 
 themselves to the house. The idea distressed 
 her, and, repressing her emotion, she spoke 
 firmly but kindly to those around her. 
 
 " I thank you most warmly for your good 
 wishes and kind intention, but you will, I am 
 sure, allow me to proceed quietly and unat- 
 tended at my earnest request. I left Hurle- 
 stone blessed with parents — I return an or- 
 phan ; rejoicing and congratulation, therefore, 
 ill suit the first day of my arrival. Though 1 
 decline your attendance at present, I am not 
 the less grateful for your friendly purpose, and 
 hope to be always welcomed home with equal 
 warmth ; and to prove I have not forgotten 
 the precepts and examples of those we have 
 lost. And now good evening, and a happy 
 morrow to all." 
 
 The people saw the tears in her eyes ; felt 
 for her sorrow, and respected her wishes. The 
 hands were taken from the horses' reins ; re- 
 spectful good evenings were uttered by all, 
 and the carriage again proceeded on its way, 
 each one among the crowd feeling convinced 
 that the young lady's words, and bow, and 
 smile, were directed particularly to himself. 
 As the carriage arrived at a turn in the road 
 that would hide it from their sight, three
 
 b THE HEIRESS. 
 
 cheers were given for their young lady, and 
 then the confusion of tongues recommenced. 
 
 Some thought her thinner, some thought 
 her paler ; each one had something to say and 
 to think, but all agreed she was a perfect 
 beauty, and nothing less than an angel. The 
 confusion of Babel could but have slightly 
 exceeded the confusion of Hurle stone, as all 
 claimed the honour of having first recognised 
 the Heiress ; but the causes of the confusion 
 were widely diiferent. The former was the 
 murmur of sinful men, who had rebelled against 
 a just but merciful Creator : the latter was 
 the gratitude of kind, though humble hearts, 
 towards one who, absent or present, still had 
 them in her thoughts, and held her riches as a 
 precious deposit for the good of others. 
 
 Meanwhile, the carriage passed on, and the 
 elder lady tried to rouse her companion, who, 
 with tearful eyes bent on the surrounding 
 woods, was too much absorbed in her own 
 thoughts to heed the remarks of her friend. 
 
 " Helen," she said at length, placing her 
 hand on her niece's arm, and thus forcing 
 attention, "is this keeping your promise to 
 your parents ? And where is the pleasure 
 with which you talked of revisiting your 
 home?"
 
 THE HEIRESS. 9 
 
 Helen started, was silent for a moment, and 
 then spoke, though without turning round. 
 
 " Forgive me, dear aunt, the promise shall 
 be kept ; but I overrated my firmness when I 
 talked of seeing Hurlestone with pleasure. 
 These words have roused feelings of anguish 
 and regret, which I had vainly hoped were laid 
 at rest for ever. Give me my way for the next 
 two hours, and then I hope you will complain 
 of me no more. If you will excuse my play- 
 ing hostess for the present, and proceed to the 
 house alone, where all is ready for your re- 
 ception, I will walk through the woods, and 
 join you in time to preside at the tea-table. 
 Nay, no remonstrance, dear aunt ; it must be 
 so for this once." 
 
 The carriage was stopped; Helen had de- 
 scended, and, smiling through her tears, kissed 
 her hand as she disappeared among the trees, 
 ere Mrs. Hargrave could oppose her wish. 
 Her faithful ally and petted favourite, the 
 setter, was as delighted as his young mistress 
 at her leaving the carriage, and wooed and won 
 her caresses as he bounded round her. 
 
 The woods through which she passed were 
 beautiful. The interweaving branches formed 
 a bright and leafy canopy above her head, and 
 the rich moss and lovely flowers furnished a 
 soft and luxurious carpet for her tread: occa- 
 B 5
 
 10 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 sional breaks showed her ghmpses of a placid 
 lake, and verdant slopes, and mossy dells, mth 
 detached clumps of stately trees of every vari- 
 ety, beneath whose shade groups of deer calmly 
 reclined, whilst the sportive fawns frolicked 
 around in grace and confidence. All was 
 dressed in summer's livery; bright, but not 
 gaudy ; and not a faded leaf, or withered branch, 
 whispered of chill or change. There was no 
 sublimity in the scene, no towering rocks, no 
 fearful precipice, no barren shore, or stormy 
 wave; but there was rich and peaceful beauty. 
 It was a scene to be loved still more than ad- 
 mired. A Byron might have said it was tame ; 
 a Scott would have felt it was his home; the 
 home of high and generous feelings, and the 
 best and holiest affections of the heart. But 
 beautiful as it was, though Helen gazed on its 
 beauties, it was evident her heart, rather than 
 her eyes, was engaged in the survey. The 
 falling tear and the gentle sigh told that she 
 viewed all as connected with some melancholy 
 remembrances; and that the past, and not the 
 present, occupied her thoughts. 
 
 The village clock striking seven roused her 
 from her reverie, and she stopped no more till 
 she entered the humble church-yard. Here 
 she paused for a few moments, then approached, 
 and looked through one of its gothic windows.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 11 
 
 The one through which she gazed, overlooked 
 a large square pew, whose well-conditioned 
 green lining, soft hassocks, and splendidly- 
 bound prayer books, bespoke it the possession 
 of the great family of the village. Every thing 
 in the pew looked comfortable and weU ar- 
 ranged, as though it had been occupied the last 
 Sunday; and the sun glancing through an op- 
 posite window, gave it a bright and cheerful 
 look. And yet the sight was a shock to the 
 fair and delicate being whose looks were bent 
 upon it. 
 
 At first she shuddered, and veiled her eyes 
 with her slight hands, whilst the tears fell fast 
 through her long slender fingers, as she leant 
 against a buttress for support. But this mood 
 soon passed away. The hands were withdrawn, 
 and si e looked again. She thought of her 
 promis e to those who were gone. She thought 
 of their happiness, of the sinfulness of wish 
 ing to recall them to a world of pain and 
 suffering. She thought of the equal guilt of 
 shrinking from her appointed trials, and deem- 
 ing herself unchastened fit for heaven. She 
 thought of aU this, and her sighs werehushed, 
 and her tears fell no longer. Her thoughts 
 were turned from earth to heaven, and her eyes 
 took the same direction :
 
 12 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 "The tears 
 Still linger' d in her eyes of deepest blue, 
 As dew-drops on the hyacinth's azure bell ; 
 Whilst the soft pink that flush' d her cheek, so rich, 
 And yet so delicate, was like the dawn 
 Of early morn, when mist withdraws her veil." 
 
 There was a something so pure, so spiritual, 
 about her at that moment, that an enthusiast 
 might have thought her an inhabitant "of 
 upper air." 
 
 Her four-footed favourite, not having the 
 power to indulge in her high thoughts, became 
 impatient of delay, and, looking up in her face, 
 whined imploringly. It was a bright and beau- 
 tiful chain he had broken, but she patted and 
 soothed him, looked once more into that hum- 
 l)le church -yard, and then turned away. 
 
 "What, Bran, are you impatient for your 
 supper, or affronted at my want of attention? 
 Both ! WeU then, one walk round the church- 
 }ard, one look at Hurlestone greathouse, as the 
 villagers call it, ' and then to supper with what 
 appetite you may.' " 
 
 She reached her favourite corner as she spoke, 
 and became so absorbed in her own reflections, 
 that the motions of the dog were unnoticed, till 
 ?i loud bark startled her. 
 
 "What is the matter. Bran? Cannot you 
 wait a few moments? " 
 
 StiU the barking continued. The noise was
 
 THE HEIRESS. 13 
 
 not in accordance with her thoughts or the 
 place, and she spoke in a more commanding 
 tone, as he continued to bark and bay round a 
 large square tombstone. 
 
 " Be quiet, Bran, be quiet. Bran ! Bran, 
 come here." 
 
 To her surprise, her usually obedient fa- 
 vourite actually rebelled, and paid no attention 
 to her commands. Annoyed at the disturb- 
 ance, she walked towards the tomb, still 
 speaking to her dog. 
 
 " Bran, my own pet, why don't you come 
 when I call you? What are you teasing? 
 Some half-starved cat, or miserable hedge- 
 hog ? " 
 
 At this moment rose to her view a pair of 
 lustrous dark eyes fixed full upon her, sur- 
 mounted by a profusion of curling black hair. 
 Bushy whiskers and moustachios almost con- 
 cealing a mouth, the mischievous curve of 
 whose lips spoke full enjoyment of her dis- 
 may, completed the portrait of this alarming 
 spy. For some moments she stood looking 
 at him, too much surprised to move ; but as 
 the head, rising above the tomb, showed that 
 it belonged " to a proper man and tall," 
 blushing deeply at the awkwardness of her 
 situation, she turned abruptly away, passed 
 round an angle of the old building, sprang 
 lightly over the stile, and disappeared among
 
 14 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 the trees ere the stranger seemed fully aware 
 she had passed from his sight. A caU, in a 
 clear sweet voice, brought her dog to her 
 side, whose barking "vexed no more the calm 
 of silent eve." 
 
 Helen had not gone far, ere a rustling behind 
 showed she was foUowed; and, having seen no 
 one else, she concluded her pursuer was the 
 owner of that pair of lustrous and impertinent 
 eyes. Vexed and annoyed at having had an 
 observer of her emotion, and in no humour to 
 play guide to the stranger, and such she con- 
 cluded was his purpose in following her, she 
 availed herself of a turn in the path to glide 
 behind the trunks of two stately trees, 
 
 '* That twin -like grew of equal size and shape," 
 
 and pursuaded Bran to crouch quietly by her 
 side. In a few minutes she had the pleasure 
 of seeing the stranger pass her retreat, and 
 pursue his way nothing doubting. The next 
 moment she turned into an opposite path, and 
 soon after came in sight of the home of her 
 childhood. As she ascended a rising ground, 
 a horseman appeared in sight just leaving the 
 house, and riding towards her apparently more 
 intent on speed than safety. Her first feehng 
 was vexation, thinking it the stranger, though 
 that could scarcely have been; but a second 
 glance told her it was one well-known and
 
 THE HEIRESS. - 15 
 
 rarely unwelcome. On he came, his slight 
 blood-horse hardly appearing to touch the 
 ground, so hght and winged its motion, whilst 
 the carelessness with which he held the bridle, 
 and the eagerness with which he bent forward, 
 till his forehead almost touched his horse's mane, 
 spoke the eagerness and impetuosity of the 
 rider. Nothing impeded his course. An iron 
 fence was cleared without an effort, or a break 
 in his speed; a deep and broad ha-ha proved as 
 slight a barrier; and, ere Helen had time to 
 tremble for his safety, he had flung his bridle 
 loose, thrown himself from the saddle, and was 
 standing before her with his eyes fixed on her 
 face, and both her hands clasped in his. 
 
 A duller eye than his might have seen the 
 traces of tears, and the sight called a cloud to 
 his brow, though her smile of welcome, and 
 her " I am glad to see you, dear Robert," might 
 have banished the cloud from any brow but 
 his. No reception could be more cordial or 
 sincere, and yet there was a something in it 
 that did not please him. Perhaps it was too 
 cordial, too frank ; or he was vexed that her 
 ramble had delayed their meeting, though but 
 for a few moments ; or he was out of humour 
 with himself, and inclined to lay the blame upon 
 another — no very unusual proceeding with 
 him, or others. To blame her openly for the
 
 I'G THE HEIRESS. 
 
 delay, he was aware, notwithstanding his usual 
 impetuosity, would be a fatal departure from 
 prudence, certain of reproval ; but he might 
 blame her for indulging in melancholy thoughts 
 to the destruction of her peace and health : 
 that was another matter, and such solicitude 
 could only arise from the friendly regard of a 
 cousin. 
 
 " Helen," he said, " I was distressed to hear 
 from Mrs. Hargrave that your good resolutions 
 were all forgotten, and that in spite of her 
 Avishes you had left her to indulge unrestrained 
 in sorrowful remembrances ; I had missed " — 
 
 " Nay ! nay ! Robert," interrupting him half- 
 playfully half seriously, and withdrawing her 
 hands from his grasp, "if you chide thus at 
 your first visit, Watson shall say ' not at home ' 
 at your second. You may find yourself able to 
 keep your good resolutions ; I have not always 
 the power. The kind welcome of the villagers 
 recalled the past; but, I hope, I have returned 
 from my lonely ramble better and happier, and 
 if I have wept, surely such a day as this, when 
 a return to a sohtary home! must unavoid 
 ably awaken sorroA\^ul thoughts, I should 
 have been met with the kind soothings of a 
 friend, not the chiding of a censor. Shall I 
 retaliate, and blame you for being here when 
 you ought to have been installed as an attache
 
 THE HEIRESS. l7 
 
 at Vienna, according to your purpose when we 
 parted some time since at Hastings ? " 
 
 Robert was confused as he met her grave 
 look, conscious he should greatly prefer turning 
 an attache at Hurlestone, and tried to stammer 
 forth something in explanation or vindication ; 
 of which the only intelligible words were " intri- 
 cate diplomacy, detestable policy, and ministe- 
 rial intrigues." There was a silence of some 
 moments, painful to both, since each saw the 
 sentiments of the other must prove a source of 
 future pain and anxiety ; but it was broken by 
 Helen's frankly extending her hand, sapng as 
 she did so, " We must not quarrel on such a day 
 as this, but you must ever be to me as you have 
 promised, a kind and gentle brother ; so we will 
 have no more disquisitions on good resolutions, 
 but ' Fool it to our humour's bent.' " 
 
 Though inclined to quarrel with the emphasis 
 laid on the word brother^ he found it impossible 
 to resist her sweet smile and sweeter tone, and 
 the extended hand was received as warmly as it 
 was given. Conversing on indifferent matters 
 they soon reached the house, and long ere tea 
 was concluded, the frown had passed away from 
 Robert Euston's brow, and he felt that his 
 cousin's smile could make him forget every 
 thing but his love. 
 
 Anxious to avoid all recurrence to the past,
 
 18 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 Helen asked him if their neighbours, the Mars- 
 tons, were come down, and what changes had 
 taken place among the inhabitants lately. 
 
 " I have half a mind to mislead you, that I 
 may laugh at your mistakes -, you always look so 
 distressed when you have asked a mal-apropos 
 question !'* 
 
 " Instead of doing that," said Mrs. Hargrave, 
 " give me a correct sketch of our neighbours, as 
 they are all strangers to me." 
 
 " Pray do not ask him, aunt, for he is the 
 most satirical gossip that ever abused elderly 
 single ladies, or frightened sentimental young 
 ones, or would-be blues." 
 
 "No scandal of Queen Elizabeth, an' you 
 please. Miss St. Maur ! Do not believe her, Mrs. 
 Hargrave. The truth is, my gentle cousin Helen, 
 despite her demure looks, winning tones, and 
 dove-hke eyes, sees, hears, and observes every 
 thing ; and she only wishes to silence me, that 
 she may furnish you with some of her own 
 graphic sketches. I do not dispute her talents 
 in that line, but as I have taken the field first, 
 she must yield me precedence." 
 
 " I have not the slightest wish, I assure you, 
 to dispute precedence ; but, before you begin, 
 allow me to warn my aunt, that the ink you 
 employ is the juice of the lemon ; that your 
 burin is too rarely blunted by good qualities in 
 others, or too much charity in yourself."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 19 
 
 " You are severe, Helen," biting his lips, and 
 inwardly owning the truth of her remark. 
 " What are we to do, if we may not laugh at 
 the follies of our neighbours ? " 
 
 "Praise their virtues, and throw a pitying 
 veil over their foibles." 
 
 "Pick wheat out of chaff, and throw your 
 ChantiUy veil over the Atlantic ! " 
 
 Helen smiled, but shook her head. 
 
 "If you will assert, ma belle cousine, with 
 unblushing cheek and unfaltering tongue, that 
 you have no taste for the ridiculous, I wiU never 
 again sketch maid, wife, or widow." 
 
 " Boy, bachelor, or dotard ? " asked she 
 archly. 
 
 " Ha ! thou most gentle of reprovers ! I 
 suspect half of our quarrel is because I ridi- 
 cule certain favourites of yours, and that it is 
 but a thing of party after aU." 
 
 " If you can really assert it to be so, when 
 you recollect the many beardless youths, and 
 bearded senators, old young ladies, and young 
 old ladies, over whom I have thrown my pro- 
 tecting shield, I will allow the truth of your 
 position; and own I did you wrong, when I 
 imagined that, like the barbarians of old, you 
 carried on an exterminating warfare, sparing nei- 
 ther age, sex, or condition." 
 
 " I will assert nothing till you have answered 
 my question. Does any thing that approaches
 
 20 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 the verge of the ridiculous escape your obser- 
 vation^ from the high-flown lengthiness 'of a 
 maiden speech, to the ultra-exclusiveness of a 
 nouvelle parvenue ? No turning away ; a ques- 
 tion I have asked, and an answer I wdll have." 
 
 '^ I fear I must, in candour, plead guilty to 
 the charge, though rather broadly stated -, 1)ut 
 I do not own the pleasure of companionship in 
 wrong, and have yet to learn how the proving 
 the guilt of a second person lessens the crime 
 of the first. Moreover, I own my error, and 
 regret it, whilst you glory in your guilt ; then 
 even you must acknowledge, that, however 
 strong my perception of the ridiculous, I have 
 an equally strong perception of the good and 
 great." 
 
 " Oh, certainly ! no one can deny that you 
 combine the good sense and clear observation 
 of Brenda, with the high-souled grandeur of 
 Minna." 
 
 " Thanks for your ironical compliment," said 
 the laughing Helen ; " methinks I would change 
 cousins to resemble either. After such a speech 
 I must own myself vanquished, and quit the 
 field, 
 
 * So now cry havoc, and let slip the dogs of wai' ! ' 
 
 — for as for staying the rush of your satire, if 
 your will be set upon it, I might as well attempt
 
 THE HEIRESS. 21 
 
 to still the Niagara. I shall study ^ Detraction 
 Displayed' in this quiet corner." 
 
 " Victory ! victory ! The day is mine ! But 
 do not run away, you may as well study ' De- 
 traction Displayed' from spoken words as from 
 printed ones ; and if you will remain I will be 
 as merciful as my nature will admit." 
 
 " Then I am to sit quietly by, hear all ridi- 
 culed, and defend none ? " 
 
 " Just so ; and now commen^ons. No inter- 
 ruption, if you please, but you may say what 
 you like at the close of my sketches." Then 
 turning to Mrs. Hargrai^e, " Where shall I 
 begin. Kings, Lords, or Commons?" 
 
 " Oh, give rank its due precedence, by all 
 means." 
 
 " So it shall be then ; and now for the Mar- 
 ston family." 
 
 " * And Murder bared her arm, and rampant War 
 Yok'd the red dragons to her iron car ;' " 
 
 repeated Helen, looking archly at her cousin. 
 
 " Agreed, fair Helen ; you have broken the 
 bond of our agreement by this interruption, 
 and I no longer promise to be merciful -, not 
 one of your favourites shall be spared, despite 
 that imploring look. First, I shall present 
 you with a full-length portrait of the noble 
 head of the house, Henry James George Ed- 
 ward Beauchamp Alfred, Earl of Marston, of
 
 22 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 Marston Hall, in the county of , Viscount 
 
 Alfred, Baron Beauchamp of the kingdom of 
 Ireland, one of the members of his Majesty's 
 most honourable Privy Council, Gustos Rotu- 
 lorum of the aforesaid county, &c. &c. &c. I 
 hope I have not wearied you with this enumera- 
 tion of half his titles ; but I entertain too high a 
 respect for him and his dignities to think of 
 offending him by omitting any of his distinc- 
 tions unnecessarily. He is descended, on both 
 sides, from tolerably ancient families, that is, 
 his father and mother can both prove they had 
 grandfathers ; vide Debrett's Peerage, p. 9973 ; 
 though the present Earl's parent was the first 
 of the name ennobled. Whether Mr. Alfred's 
 control of three boroughs, and the wisdom of 
 the votes of himself and nominees, had any 
 thing to do with his elevation, or whether he 
 won the honour by his talents, we will leave for 
 the decision of politicians, suffice it, that the 
 first Lady Marston had not recovered from her 
 almost incredulous surprise on finding herself 
 a Countess ere his present Lordship was born ; 
 born too, in a doubtful time, just as the last 
 stroke that proclaimed the hour of midnight 
 reverberated through the ancient hall, as the 
 novelists would say, so that whether night or 
 day had the honour of his birth, is still a dis- 
 puted point. Whether this doubtful moment
 
 THE HEIRESS. 23 
 
 of his birth had really, as some think, any in- 
 fluence in forming his character ; or whether he 
 owes the being a man of doubts to a large pro- 
 portion of the organ of cautiousness; or a 
 descent on the maternal side from the renowned 
 Wouter Van Twiller, as otliers contend ; or 
 from an early education in the diplomatic circles, 
 I shall not pretend to determine, but I should 
 think, and imagine, and conclude, that one and 
 all of these causes must have combined to make 
 him what he is. In person he is neither tall 
 nor short, fat nor thin, fair nor dark, pale nor 
 florid. His eyes are neither grey nor hazel, but 
 have a greenish tinge something between the 
 two; his nose neither Grecian, Roman, nor 
 retrousse, but a mixture of all ; his hair neither 
 black, red, nor light, but of a doubtful l^rown ; 
 most neutrally straight, with a due horror of 
 waving to the right or to the left. His friends 
 arranged his marriage for him, or it might never 
 have been concluded; as it is said he was 
 doubtful even as he walked up the centre aile 
 of St. George's. His darling plan is the ba- 
 lance of power ; that source of declamation and 
 deceit from the time of Henry VHI. to that of 
 George VI. and the cause of innumeral>le alli- 
 ances, holy and unholy, ofi'ensive and defensive; 
 yet so fearful is he of affording hints to others 
 on this momentous subject, that it is the one
 
 24 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 on which he is most scrupulously silent. To 
 make a long tale shorty he is one who asserts 
 nothing and doubts every thing, from the mam- 
 moth down to the ant. The powers that be, are, 
 in his eyes, 'wisest, Yirtuousest,discreetest,best.' 
 Ask his opinion, — he is not aware, he has not 
 thought on the subject, and it is one that re- 
 quires the deepest consideration. Ask him to 
 dinner, to the best of his belief he has no en- 
 gagement, but something may occur to prevent 
 his having the pleasure ; if not he shall be most 
 happy. Nay, it is said that on a stranger's 
 once asking if he had not the honour of address- 
 ing the Earl of Marston, his Lordship looked 
 dreadfully alarmed at such a downright ques- 
 tion, and (not till after a great deal of stammer- 
 ing and hesitation) admitted that it was possible 
 it might be so, but that he was not prej^ared to 
 speak decidedly on the subject, or in the habit 
 of being so closely questioned. With all this 
 no one talks more of decision, and all in his 
 house may be certain of having their due places 
 assigned them, as to seat the hundredth cousin of 
 a viscount below the hundredth cousin of a baron, 
 would, in his eyes, be even a more horrifj^ng 
 event than the Autocrat of all the Russias taking 
 a fancy to a province of the Turkish empire, or 
 entertaining a particular affection for Ports- 
 mouth or Plymouth. All these, from his supe-
 
 THE HEIRESS. 25 
 
 rior capacity of foreseeing great ends from little 
 beginnings, would alike portend the downfall of 
 the constitution in church and state, the 
 triumph of popery, and the anarchy of Europe. 
 On one point only is he decided, — plead a 
 distinguished precedent for any act, however 
 ridiculous, and notwithstanding his veneration 
 for the aristocracy, he will scarcely allow the 
 power of appeal to rest in the House of Lords ; 
 and for a commoner to dispute the point Vv^ould 
 be rank rebellion — quite a Wat Tyler aifair. 
 Now, having disposed of the father to Helen's 
 satisfaction, we will pass on to the son, the 
 young Viscount Alford. His personal ap- 
 pearance is well enough for the eldest son of an 
 Earl, and his talents not despicable. What his 
 father doubts he asserts; both what is and 
 what is not. W^hile his father imagines he de- 
 termines. His horror of diplomacy and policy 
 is so great, that he refused to try for honours, 
 lest his talents being rendered more clear, lie 
 should have found himself forced to comply 
 with his father's wishes, and take a part in 
 public affairs. Obliged to become a member 
 for one of his Lordship's boroughs, his maiden 
 speech was so perfectly undiplomatic, to use a 
 favourite expression of the Earl's, sparing 
 neither side, that with his parent's full per- 
 mission, or rather at his recommendation, the 
 
 VOL, I. c
 
 26 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 next Gazette announced his acceptance of the 
 Chiltern Hundreds. Nature made him gene- 
 rous, high-spirited, and honourable ; a contempt 
 for his father's indecision and meanness, and 
 the base intrigues for wealth and power which 
 have come to his knowledge, have rendered him 
 somewhat cynical and satirical in his grave 
 moods, wild even beyond the verge of le\^ty in 
 his gay ones. His talents are wasted in saying 
 lively things and witty criticisms, and he is fast 
 degenerating into a quizzer. Had he applied 
 to his studies, and afterwards exerted his powers 
 of mind for the good of his country, instead of 
 the amusement of liimseK and triflers far be- 
 neath him, his name might have been honoured 
 in the annals of his country, whilst a steady 
 perseverance in the path of duty, and an ho- 
 nourable co-operation with whichever party in 
 the state he might think most worthy, could 
 not have more distressed his wavering sire than 
 the daring truths and bitter sarcasms he now 
 scruples not to utter against all. Acting thus 
 he would have won respect and esteem for 
 himself, and some portion of his own merit 
 w^ould have been reflected on his father, gi^Hing 
 him that consideration wdiich he cannot gain 
 himself. As it is, all must regret that one so 
 gifted should have associated early wdth cha- 
 racters meriting contempt, and that as an
 
 THE HEIRESS. 2^1 
 
 almost necessary consequence, he should now 
 look upon mankind as divided into the cheating 
 and the cheated ; those to be laughed at, and 
 those to be laughed with. Under other cir- 
 cumstances, he might have tried to become 
 good and wise, as earnestly as he now tries to 
 be gay and unthinking. He is a moral kalei- 
 doscope, delighting the eye with its variety and 
 briUiancy, but unsatisfying to the mind. How 
 does Helen look, Mrs. Hargave ? for Alford is 
 such a superlative favourite of hers, that I dare 
 not even glance her way." 
 
 ^' She looks most triumj^hant, as she consi- 
 ders you an irresistible pleader against yourself, 
 and hopes hereafter to see you become all that 
 you have blamed AKord for not being," said his 
 cousin. 
 
 Mr. Euston turned away to hide his dis- 
 pleasure ; and before he could reply to a remark 
 whose justice he felt, Mrs. Hargrave said pet- 
 tishly, " I wish, Helen, you w^ould not interrupt 
 your cousin, but let him finish the account of 
 our neighbours." 
 
 Helen made no reply, and the gentleman had 
 the prudence to continue his descriptions with- 
 out a reference to the rebuke. 
 
 "For fear of wearying you, I will dismiss 
 the rest of this family in a more summary way. 
 My next portrait shall be liis lordship's daugh- 
 C 2
 
 28 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 ter ; one^ who under other circumstances, might 
 have been thought by some plain Miss Alford, 
 but now stands both as the fashionable and hand- 
 some Lady Catherine Alford. You shall have 
 Mr. Delton's description of her, as I wish to be 
 impartial: 'She is stylish, clever, piquante, 
 would go to the right if ordered to the left ; 
 expects flattery, yet half despises it ; a warm 
 but indiscreet friend ; a bitter but imprudent 
 enemy; and a cool and skilful player with 
 dangerous weapons — the fabled tomb of Ma- 
 homet suspended between earth and heaven.' 
 Her mother is almost all that woman should 
 be, only deserving blame for marrying such 
 a bore as his lordshi]3, and for ha^dng had 
 
 too dehcate health to control her children. 
 
 From Marston Hall let us proceed to Woodbine 
 Cottage, which you must picture to yourself a 
 square bright red brick house, over which the 
 fair and romantic, or to use her own expressions, 
 ' the dehcately nerved and exquisitely sensitive 
 Susan Jones has endeavoured for the last nine 
 months to solicit the tender tendrils of the fan- 
 tastic woodbine to throw its shadow and its 
 perfumed veil.' You must imagine this being 
 of a higher sphere, fat, fair, and fubsy, resting 
 her glowing cheek upon her ungloved hand, and 
 chiding her fidgetty mother, ' that gossip Mrs. 
 Jones,' for teasing her for the key of the tea-
 
 THE HEIRESS. 29 
 
 chest, and thus disturbing the dehcious reverie, 
 awakened by the tender beaming of the star of 
 eve and dewy mist of twilight. I am no extra- 
 vagant Umner, I assure you, though you look 
 incredulous ; but the dewy mist of twilight has 
 long since passed away I see, and I am keeping 
 you from your repose after your journey. 
 Farewell ! 
 
 * To each, to both, a fair good night, 
 
 And pleasi.*-j dreams, and slumbers light.' " 
 
 " Stay, I charge you, at a lady's bidding. In 
 another hour the moon will be up, and you are 
 scarcely prudent enough to ride in the dark 
 alone ; or rather, rest here to night, and you 
 shall ramble with me to-morrow through my 
 native woods. 
 
 " A thousand thanks ! Are you indeed so 
 anxious for my safety, my own dear Helen, 
 faulty as I am ? " and he pressed her hand, 
 whilst his looks said even more than his 
 words.'' 
 
 " We may wish a brother to be perfect, and 
 yet love him as he is ; not for his faults, but 
 despite them ; " and she withdrew her hand 
 coldly, and then added gaily, "besides, some 
 of my lands are held on your life, and my 
 steward says I must begin to be thrifty."
 
 30 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " You are too kind ; but, I have an appoint- 
 ment, and must return/' 
 
 " At least take my horse and groom ; Bayard 
 is too wild for the dark." 
 
 "You give yourself too much trouble for 
 one so hateful, Miss St. Maur. I ride on 
 Bayard, and on no other, and require no attend- 
 ance. Should an accident happen, my will is 
 in your favour, and I have learnt no lessons of 
 thrift.*' 
 
 " Good night ! since it must be so." 
 
 He snatched her hand as she turned away 
 displeased, and the tear that stood in her eye 
 calmed him instantly. 
 
 " Forgive me, Helen ! I have been vexed and 
 irritated, and not myself to day. You shake 
 your head ; well then, I will be myself no more, 
 but you shall make me what you will. My own 
 groom is here, and I will ride quietly, and come 
 to-morrow and show you I am safe. Are you 
 contented ? " 
 
 "More than contented. Once more good 
 night, and remember you dine and sleep here 
 to-morrow. I have a hundred things to consult 
 you about, and a thousand to tell you, and 
 will hope to have the happiness to see you all I 
 could wish." 
 
 " Realy Helen," said Mrs. Hargrave, looking
 
 THE HEIRESS. 31 
 
 very stately, as soon as the door had closed on 
 their visitor, " I cannot at all approve of your 
 conduct toward Mr. Euston. You seem the 
 only person blind to his virtues."' 
 
 " You wrong my affection for him, dear 
 aunt ; I am fully sensible of all his virtues, or 
 I should not be so anxious lest he allow his 
 faults to overpower them." 
 
 " In my time young ladies did not think 
 it decorous to reprove young gentlemen for that 
 for which their elders had allowed them to pass 
 unreproved : but old customs are changed now 
 it seems. I saw no harm in what your cousin 
 said of Lord Alford, or I should have checked 
 him. And, had strangers been present, they 
 might have attributed your remark to strange 
 motives." 
 
 "Alford is too kind to be given up to Ro- 
 bert's jealousy. To defend myself from your 
 open charges, dear aunt, would be useless, as 
 I should still remain wrong in your eyes. 
 Allow me therefore to plead guilty to the crime, 
 of which, in your heart, you accuse me. My 
 affection for my cousin is the warm, open, sin- 
 cere affection of a sister, and it never can, and, 
 with my will, it never shall partake of another 
 character. He understood me perfectly when 
 we parted at Hastings : why his opinion and 
 conduct have changed since then, perhaps you
 
 32 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 can tell, as he may have explained his reasons 
 to you in his letter of last month, or his 
 interview of this evening. I am perfectly 
 innocent of such a change, and deeply regret 
 it. No true friend will encourage hopes which 
 can never be realized, but will join with me in 
 persuading him to follow some profession. To 
 urge him on this point was one of my principal 
 reasons for asking him here to morrow, as well 
 as to show by my open conduct, that we could 
 never be more than relations. You will, I am 
 sure,' see with me the propriety of such an 
 active mind engaging in some pursuit ; and I 
 hope, ere his visit to us shall have ended, our 
 united pursuasions will have induced him to 
 decide on becoming ' tinker, tailor, sailor, apo- 
 thecary, plough boy, or thief,' as the nurses 
 say. Now, aunt, having finished my disqui- 
 sition, I trust to the satisfaction of both, let me 
 assist you up the slippery oak staircase." 
 
 Either the allusion to the letter and the 
 interview was too home a stroke to be parried, 
 or the playful smile with which she oiFered her 
 arm was too sweet to be resisted; for the old 
 lady said no more, but kissed her and took 
 her arm.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 33 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Yet, e'en in yon sequester' d spot, 
 May worthier conquest be thy lot, 
 
 Than yet thy life has known : 
 Conquest, unbought by blood or harm, 
 That needs nor foreign aid, nor arm, 
 
 A triumph all thine own. 
 
 Such waits thee, when thou shalt control 
 Those passions wild — that stubborn soul — 
 
 That mars thy prosperous scene. 
 Hear this from no unmoved heart ; 
 Which sighs, comparing what thou art 
 
 With what thou might' st have been. 
 Scott. 
 
 Je pref^re, sans hesiter, I'ane qui porte sa charge, au lion 
 qui devore les hommes. 
 
 "What a gad-about! you are, my gentle 
 cousin," said Robert Euston, as he handed 
 Miss St. Maur from her httle pony carriage 
 the next day about one. "Not at home 
 twenty-four hours, before you start on a 
 round of visits, and cheat me out of my ram- 
 ble with you. I have been waiting for you 
 these two hours." 
 
 c 5
 
 34 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " Your watch goes by steam, I calculate, thou 
 most impertinent of cousins! You were not 
 here at half-past twelve, and I shall be ready in 
 ten minutes. Could I have imagined you so 
 changed as to wish to visit Suky Watts and 
 Jenny Jenkins, I would have waited for you." 
 
 " Thanks, gentle lady ! But I hate morning 
 visits, and neither admire dirty children nor 
 smoky huts." 
 
 "No, you never had much taste for the 
 picturesque." 
 
 '^ How well and happy you are looking, 
 Helen," said her aunt, or rather great-aunt, for 
 such she Avas. ^'Has any thing very delightful 
 occurred this morning?" 
 
 " Yes, a great many things." 
 
 " Pray let us hear some of these delightful 
 things." 
 
 "Hear them ? Impossible ! They are things 
 to be felt, not told. The whole of the village 
 was in an ecstacy at the sight of me. The 
 women curtsied, laughed and cried; the child- 
 ren shouted ; the curs barked and wagged their 
 tails; and the very cats purred with delight. 
 Nay, I even fancied the woods looked greener 
 for my presence; and the waterfall greeted me 
 with a softened murmer. They who say the 
 poor are ungrateful wrong them, unless they 
 exempt Hurlestone from the general censure. In
 
 THE HEIRESS. 35 
 
 short, Robert, I wanted you there to describe 
 the scene, as you did the dehcate-nerved Miss 
 Jones last night/' 
 
 "Did I describe Woodbine Cottage other 
 than it was ? " 
 
 " I beheve not ; but I could not bestow on 
 it the observation it deserved, for a blue-eyed 
 damsel was sitting at an open window below, 
 breathing the balmy air of morn; whilst a pair 
 of twinkling grey eyes, that seemed as if they 
 could see what was, and what was not, sur- 
 mounted by a cap of novel form, were peeping 
 over the blind at the wdndow above/' 
 
 " The mother and the daughter ! Before 
 the hour of five the former will have tramped 
 over half the county, describing the heiress, 
 and boasting of having had the first sight. So 
 tremble, lady fair ! and the latter will have 
 looked you out a lover, and woven the romance 
 of your future fate." 
 
 " Are you sure she is not too busily engaged 
 in weaving the web of fate for herself to think 
 of me?" 
 
 " Why should you imagine it : has she al- 
 ready been whispering a tale of love into your 
 sympathising ear ? ' 
 
 " No ! but I saw her watching a stranger, 
 who, in manners and appearance, might figure 
 as the hero of a romance/'
 
 36 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " Whom do you mean ? " inquired Mr. 
 Euston rather hastily. 
 
 " That is more than I can tell ; but Bran 
 seems to have taken a dishke to him, and as 
 he quieted my refractory pony, and insisted 
 on his passing the stream at the end of the 
 village, even I felt there was something rather 
 awful and sublime about him." 
 
 " Impertinent fellow ! I '11 teach him to in- 
 terfere," muttered Mr. Euston. 
 
 " Great impertinence, certainly^ most gal- 
 lant cousin ! to assist a lady in distress. The 
 sex will thank you, if you instruct all imper- 
 tinent strangers, that ladies prefer being over- 
 turned in the mud, or drowned in a brook, to 
 having to say, ' Thank you,' for a service done, 
 lest it should chance to displease a moody 
 cousin." 
 
 He felt the rebuke, though playfully con- 
 veyed, but was little inclined to submit to it. 
 
 " You seem to rate his ser\dces somewhat 
 highly. Hurlestone brook would scarcely 
 drown, and a shght accident might teach you 
 in future to take some one with you." 
 
 " One thousand and one thanks for wishing 
 me a shght accident, and know James had left 
 my pony's side but an instant before to de- 
 liver a message. But as my preserver seems 
 no favourite of yours, let us talk no more 
 about him."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 3/ 
 
 " Some strolling player^ who enacts Othello 
 in a barn, and stabs Desdemona to the heart 
 with his own hand -, some scrawler of rhymes 
 fawning for a subscription ; or some destroyer 
 of the human face divine ; or dauber of land- 
 scapes with red and yellow skies, rich green 
 fields, and bright blue lakes, booing for an 
 order. And to call such a creature your pre- 
 server ! Miss Jones herself could not say more 
 of him. I suppose he must be feted at the 
 Park to convince him of your eternal gratitude. 
 Pray let me know his name and abode, that I 
 may — " 
 
 " Instruct him in playing the part of Othello ? 
 or assist him in writing a sonnet on good 
 temper ?" asked she archly. 
 
 He coloured, and the cloud on his brow 
 became heavier. She was sorry to see it, as 
 she had hoped her hint to Mrs. Hargrave would 
 have induced that lady to have retracted any 
 encouragement she might have given before ; 
 and that his promise of the preceding night 
 would not have been broken so speedily. Both 
 were silent, till Helen said, 
 
 "You cannot be sorry, Robert, that I was 
 saved from accident ; and, though I called the 
 stranger my preserver, I have no idea of fete- 
 ing him, or the shghtest wish ever to see him 
 again j unless, indeed, you could prove him to
 
 38 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 be player, poet, or painter, and then I would 
 willingly purchase his tickets, subscribe to his 
 rhymes, or patronise his paintings, as bound 
 in gratitude. I am now ready for my ramble, 
 and if you can better keep your promise of last 
 night, I shall have pleasure in your company ; 
 but if we can never meet without the chance 
 of a quarrel, I shall be obliged to confine my- 
 self to the bare limits of politeness. Am I to 
 have the pleasure of your company or not ? " 
 
 He took her extended hand, drew^ it within 
 his arm without speaking, and in a few minutes 
 they Avere walking through the wood. The 
 gentleman would have taken the path that led 
 to the village, but the lady said she had been 
 there in the morning, and turned in a contrary 
 direction. 
 
 When they returned, it was evident some 
 explanation had taken place between them. 
 The trace of tears was visible on Helen's cheek, 
 yet were her smiles more free and joyous, and 
 her whole manner to her cousin more frank, 
 more warm, and more endearing, than she had 
 ventured to be in the morning. On Robert's 
 part, every vestige of ill-humour had vanished, 
 but he looked paler and more melancholy, 
 though evidently strugghng to subdue every 
 appearance of sadness ; and his demeanour to 
 Helen, though kind and attentive, had nothing
 
 THE HEIRESS. 39 
 
 of the lover-like tenderness of the night be- 
 fore. 
 
 Both exerted themselves with success to 
 render the conversation gay and animated ; 
 and before the close of the evening, Mrs. Har- 
 grave had the surprise of hearing her favourite 
 announce his intention of consultina; Lord 
 Hunsdon, his cousin and one of the secretaries 
 of state, about procuring some official situa- 
 tion. 
 
 The old lady seemed as much displeased as 
 surprised at this new arrangement, and spoke 
 at some length against the toils of public men, 
 the intricacies of diplomacy, the intrigues of 
 secretaries, &c. and ended by wondering why 
 he could not remain as he was, as he had a 
 fortune of two thousand a-year at least, and 
 might increase it by marriage ; or, if he must 
 have an occupation, let him become a magis- 
 trate, or a clerg}mian, or even a lawyer, and 
 then he might still live near Hurlestone. 
 
 He coloured with indignation as he rephed, 
 ^' You know me but little, if you can suppose 
 I would allow sordid motives to influence me 
 in a union which must decide my future fate. 
 Why should you believe me capable of sucli 
 baseness ? As for becoming a magistrate, I 
 have no taste for committing ragged beggars, 
 starving poachers, or crying women. I enter-
 
 40 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 tain the horror of a culprit towards 'Burn's 
 Justice/ and the terror of a rogue toAvards 
 ' Blackstone's Commentaries.' I am too bad 
 or too good to become a clerg^anan. Too 
 volatile, 1 fear, to perform the duties of a good 
 minister, and too conscientious to undertake 
 such an awful charge lightly. There may be 
 labyrinths of intrigue, and depths of chicaner)^ 
 in some political characters ; but shame on the 
 heart that could think, and the tongue that 
 will say, Britons cannot be governed by honest 
 men ! " 
 
 " Mighty fine ! " said the old lady, who, 
 besides seeing that she stood alone, could not 
 but be aware that her allusion, situated as the 
 cousins were, was both indelicate and impolitic. 
 "The time may come when you may wish you 
 had consulted the aunt instead of the niece ^ 
 but old people are supposed to know nothing 
 now." 
 
 She left the room as she finished speaking, 
 and Mr. Euston paced the apartment in wrath 
 for some minutes, and then flung himself into 
 a seat in a distant window. His eyes were 
 turned on the lovely prospect before him, but 
 his mind was engaged on other matters, and his 
 gloomy silence seemed hkely to continue. 
 
 " Dear Robert ! " said Helen, approaching 
 him and playfully fanning him with a rose, " do
 
 THE HEIRESS. 41 
 
 not let my aunt's words chafe you thus ; you 
 know full well her expressions, when angry, are 
 never guarded, and you should not heed them. 
 Think no more of the past, but come and sing 
 with me." 
 
 He made no reply, he did not even turn 
 towards her. She spoke still more kindly, 
 and displaced the hand that shadowed part of 
 his face, still he neither moved nor spoke. 
 
 " Robert ! dear Robert ! why is this ? If 
 you already repent your morning's plan, there 
 are none to hold you to it." 
 
 " I do not repent Helen ; but leave me, I 
 cannot brook your contempt;" and he with- 
 drew his hand from her touch, and again shaded 
 his face, but not before she had been startled by 
 his pale and haggard look. 
 
 " I cannot, I will not leave you thus. Surely 
 you cannot hold me responsible for the anger 
 of another ! And why do you dread contempt 
 from me ? Tell me, Robert, for I will not quit 
 you without a reply." 
 
 "Then take it," he rephed, remo\dng his 
 hand and looking full upon her. " It can mat- 
 ter little that the tongue should say what it 
 wrings the heart to feel. Though your words 
 may not be like your aunt's, are not your 
 thoughts the same ? Did she not brand me as 
 base and sordid? and do you not deem me
 
 42 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 such even at this moment ? Do not deny it," 
 he continued wildly; "it would be in vain, I 
 see it all, and we part to night for ever." 
 
 I will not deny it, dear Robert, since you will 
 not believe me. But look upon me, and if you 
 see one shadow of mistrust, then fly me if you 
 wiU." 
 
 He took both her hands in his, and by the 
 light of the pale moon looked deep into her eyes. 
 She did not speak, but as he met her sweet con- 
 fiding smile, and read in her eyes nothing but 
 kindness, the cold chill of despair passed away, 
 and hope once more beamed upon him. 
 
 " I am but a poor Avavering creature ; the 
 denial I refused so lately, I gasp for now. 
 Those Hps ncA^er breathed a falsehood. Can you, 
 will you, tell me you never once doubted the 
 purity of my affection ? " He grasped her hands 
 more firmly, looked more intently in her face, 
 and scarcely breathed as he awaited her answer. 
 It was given in a firm but feehng tone. 
 
 " I can, I will. Should the whole world 
 beside prove base, I could feel no doubt of 
 you." 
 
 " Heaven bless you, Helen ! now I am a man 
 again. I know I am not worthy of you, and 
 yet I cannot yield you to another ; and could 
 not live under your contempt." 
 
 "You are more than worthy of any, when
 
 THE HEIRESS. 43 
 
 you yield not to passion, and possess all the 
 esteem and affection the fondest sister could 
 bestow; besides, Mrs. Hargrave holds no in- 
 fluence over me." 
 
 " So I find to my sorrow ! Yet, not so ! I 
 would not owe even my happiness to the influ- 
 ence of another, at least not in my better 
 moods ; but pass we that, I will not again dis- 
 tress you by referring to that subject, if I can 
 command myself; but you must make allow- 
 ances at times. Will you proclaim an amnesty 
 for the past, and permit me to advise ?" 
 
 " Where no offence has been felt, no amnesty 
 is needed. We sovereigns must keep those 
 things for grand occasions. Now speak, and I'll 
 obey you." 
 
 " Do not think me actuated by pique then, if 
 I hint at your finding some annoyance from 
 Mrs. Hargrave's becoming a fixture at Hurles- 
 tone. Though she has stood my friend till to 
 day, and though I believe she is as much at- 
 tached to you as she can be to any one, still I 
 cannot but think her ill-tempered, weak, and 
 injudicious." 
 
 " Weak and injudicious she certainly is, and 
 not always in good-humour ; but I think she is 
 fully aware I have been too long accustomed to 
 act for myself to allow her a hope of ruling 
 me. A temporary embarrassment in her affairs
 
 44 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 induced me to invite her here for the summer, 
 in return for kindness shown to my dear mother 
 in former days. As I shall visit some friends 
 in winter, we shaU then of necessity separate. 
 I shall certainly act in accordance with your 
 kind hint, as her affairs wiU by that time be 
 arranged. In the meantime, with a little 
 management, I think I can contrive to keep 
 in good humour, and yet have my own way, 
 which you were once impertinent enough to say 
 was indispensible to my happiness." 
 
 " I have half a mind to repeat the imperti- 
 nence. Your own way you alwaj's will have ; 
 for you never yield, but quell opposition by the 
 fascinating smile and tone with which your 
 most peremptory commands are conveyed. If 
 I could put you in a passion, I should hope to 
 rule." 
 
 " I shall consider all this as complimentary, 
 though rather doubtful, and prove its truth by 
 commanding you to come and sing with me." 
 
 Before Mrs. Hargrave returned to the room, 
 Helen had prevailed on her cousin not to allude 
 to what had passed, and the sound of their 
 voices mingling together, had. the power to 
 banish aU her former iU-humour. 
 
 " Do you know the people who are living at 
 my cottage ?" inquired Helen of her cousin the 
 next morning, as he was assisting her to arrange 
 some plants in the conservatory.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 45 
 
 " We do not visit, but I have heard of them ; 
 they are a Captain DanA^ers, his wife, and a 
 tribe of the Uttle Danverses. The Captain is 
 a man who dehghts in cant terms ; talks httle 
 or big according to his company, and is in ecs- 
 tacies at ragouts and Rhenish, in hopes such 
 ecstacies will again enable him to put his feet 
 under his 'friend's mahogany,' as he himself 
 expresses it. His lady shows equal discri- 
 mination in admiring poodles and pates, con- 
 serves and conservatories, argand lamps and 
 asparagus ; and deems it so rude to make any 
 difficulty about accepting a present, that it has 
 been said, were any one to offer her an ele- 
 phant, but hint at the trouble of getting it 
 home, she would say, ' Oh ! dear, no trouble at 
 all, she could put it into her bag very easily.' 
 
 " Her eldest daughter is rather pretty, quiet, 
 and pleasing ; the sons great gawky boys, too 
 old to play marbles, too young to play men ; 
 so, generally speaking, playing the fool. Mrs. 
 Jones says, Mr. Douglas, their next neigh- 
 bour, a sickly East Indian, with a hver com- 
 plaint, who talks of nothing but mulligatawny, 
 Nullahs, and Punkas ; shews some inchnation 
 to appropriate the gentle Emma, and hints that 
 they will soon leave you at liberty to select 
 more agreeable tenants. But then, Mrs. 
 Jones will say any thing. Parle du citable
 
 46 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 et il se montre /" starting up ; " here she 
 comes, and, Helen, you must say, '^not at 
 home," for I want you to ride with me, and give 
 your opinion of my new lodge." 
 
 " ' Here she comes ! and you must ride wdth 
 me !' Who comes ? and who says I must?" 
 
 " Mrs. Jones comes ; and I never can be in 
 her company, or that of her daughter, mthout 
 being guilty of some piece of wickedness ; so 
 that, if you have any regard for my morality, 
 spare me the tempation." 
 
 " I have no time to discuss the propriety of 
 resisting temptation, rather than from fleeing 
 from it, as she must, I think, have seen us, and 
 I cannot be rude on such hght evidence. Why 
 is this aversion of yours ? and is there suffi- 
 cient reason for refusing her visits ? as I never 
 deny myself on shght grounds." 
 
 " She is the widow of the celebrated Doctor 
 Jones, who killed the poor gratis, and robbed 
 the rich to support the widows and orphans of 
 his own making. None but an undertaker 
 could think of patronising his rehct. Then, 
 for herself, she is the arrantest gossip in all 
 Europe, and her daughter — " 
 
 " ' Stop, Robert, stop ! lest even now 
 
 Your words the bounds of truth o'erflow.' 
 
 The memory of such a man as Doctor
 
 THE HEIRESS. 47 
 
 Jones throws a radiance around his descend- 
 ants^ and his widow and child must, for his 
 sake, meet with civiUty at Hurlestone. His 
 skill once saved my father." 
 
 " Then, farewell ! for once admit her, and 
 there wiU be no time for our ride." 
 
 "A compromise then. Order the horses round 
 in half-an-hour, and my habit shall counsel a 
 brief visit. In the mean time," she added, 
 laughing, " do you entertain the ladies." 
 
 As Miss Stv Maur was entering the draw- 
 ing-room in her hat and habit, she was joined 
 by her cousin. 
 
 " Is this obeying my^ orders," she asked, 
 laughing. 
 
 " I was too timid to enter the room without 
 your protection, and left your aunt to amuse 
 them." 
 
 " * On Heaven, and on your lady call, 
 And enter the enchanted hall,' " 
 
 was her playful reply^ throwing open the door 
 as she spoke. 
 
 The usual bows, curtsies, and introductions 
 having passed, and the company being duly 
 seated, Robert as far from Mrs. Jones and as 
 near his cousin as circumstances would allow, 
 a short dissertation on the weather followed. 
 Notwithstanding the great respect of Mrs.
 
 48 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 Jones for the heiress of Hurlestone Park, she 
 could not refrain from fidgetting, and taking 
 surs^eys of the room and its contents; whilst 
 the reproving looks of the sentimental Susan, 
 the mischievous glances of Mr. Euston, and 
 the sometimes mal-apropos answers of the 
 lady heiress, when she chanced to be deeply, 
 though slyly, engaged rating the worth of a 
 silver vase, formed a combination almost too 
 ludicrous for Helen's gravity to withstand. 
 But withstand it she did, most heroically; 
 and played the courteous hostess to per- 
 fection, little dreaming of the mischief her 
 prying visitor was to occasion. Having satis- 
 fied her curiosity about the inanimate occu- 
 pants of the room, nearly as much as she 
 could expect in a first \dsit of a quarter of* an 
 hour, she began to speak on what had in eflfect 
 caused that first visit to be paid so soon; her 
 silly gossiping manner giving importance to 
 what had intrinsically nothing important in it. 
 
 '' I should not have thought of intruding 
 so soon, before you had been to church either; 
 only I was afraid you might have been 
 frightened yesterday, so I said to Susy this 
 morning — " 
 
 " Susannah, mamma, if you please," said the 
 young lady interrupting her, colouring highly 
 as she added, "my darhng mamma's total obli-
 
 THE HEIRESS. 49 
 
 vion of denominations, is most nervously dis- 
 tressing sometimes." 
 
 This was said in an apologetic tone to Helen, 
 who smiled goodnaturedly, and remarked, that 
 Mrs. Jones had doubtless many more import- 
 ant things to think of. 
 
 "Indeed, ma'am, you are quite right; for 
 Susy, as her poor dear father used to call her, 
 though she will be called Susannah now, never 
 thinks of every thing. There have I all the 
 trouble about the preserves, and the pickles, 
 and measuring out the sugar and pej)per, and 
 giving out the soap and candles, and ordering 
 the dinner, and every thing; and, would you 
 believe it! she has pulled up all the sweet mar- 
 jorum, and camomile, and thyme, out of the 
 garden, and will have nothing but useless 
 flowers." 
 
 " Miss Jones only shows her wisdom, in 
 following the advice of the immortal Swan of 
 Avon, by 'taking time by the forelock,'" said 
 Mr. Euston, assuming a most sentimental air. 
 
 La belle Susanna, as she liked to be desig- 
 nated, had penetration enough to perceive 
 that irony was intended, as well as the amuse- 
 ment her mother's detail of family affairs 
 and grievances had occasioned, and to hide her 
 mortification proposed instant departure, on 
 the plea of not detaining Miss St. Maur from 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 her ride; but Helen, pitying her distress, as- 
 sured her the horses would be announced when 
 ready, and then paying high yet dehcate com- 
 pliments to her late father, acknowledged her 
 debt of gratitude. 
 
 The feelings of the child triumphed over 
 affectation, and Susan's looks and tearful eyes 
 spoke her sense of the virtues of her lost 
 parent. Even Mr. Euston was half ashamed 
 of his conduct. Had they departed then all 
 would have been well, but Mrs. Jones had 
 something to learn, as to depart as ignorant as 
 on her entrance was not to be thought of. Ro- 
 bert's speech puzzled her, as she could neither 
 comprehend how a swan could give advice, or 
 thyme have a forelock; but, finding the riddle 
 too hard to solve, she gave up its solution in 
 despair, and again began her attack on Helen. 
 
 "As I was saying, I hope you were not 
 frightened yesterday. I was coming out to 
 ask you to come in, when you drove off. 1 
 asked the gentleman if you were hurt, and a 
 few other questions, but he only looked very 
 grand, and would not say who he was, but 
 stalked away muttering something I could not 
 hear. He seemed very close 1 thought; but 
 perhaps he had good reasons;" and here she 
 looked very mysterious. " Well, I thought, as 
 I said to Susy this morning, it would be but
 
 THE HEIRESS. 51 
 
 civil to come and ask if you were frightened, 
 and who the gentleman was ? '' 
 
 " Oh yes ! " interrupted Miss Jones, '^you 
 cannot think how dreadfully nervous I felt, 
 when I saw your palfrey rear, and beheld the 
 gallant stranger rush forward to your rescue. 
 My whole frame trembled, and my heart re- 
 fused to beat, when I considered that life or 
 death depended on the next fleeting moment. 
 A cry of rapture escaped me, when I saw you 
 placed beyond the thrill of danger. Then the 
 expression of ardent devotion, that gleamed 
 from his luminous eyes, as you returned your 
 tenderly grateful acknowledgments " — (things 
 which she could neither have seen or heard, 
 but only imagined) — and the enraptured, and 
 soul-absorbing attention, mth which he stood 
 gazing after you as you vanished from his 
 sight, must have deeply interested every heart 
 illumined with one ray of sympathetic feehng. 
 I can well imagine what you felt during the 
 whole scene, and I hope he has not suff'ered 
 from his heroic bravery. Tell me his name, 
 that it may ever live bright in my memory." 
 
 "Why Susy," said her mother, "you told me 
 it was Mr. Valentine St. Valorie, an artist, 
 though I said I would ask Miss St. Maur, to 
 make sure." 
 
 " I beg your pardon, mamma," replied the 
 D 2
 
 52 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 young lady, colouring ; " I only said the no- 
 ble stranger answered to the bewitching de- 
 scription of Valentine St. Valorie, in the ' Un- 
 forgotten ; ' and I had no doubt, from the 
 highly intellectual expression of his counte- 
 nance, he had a taste for the fine arts." 
 
 " Well versed in some of the arts, at least," 
 said Mr. Euston bitterly, as he fixed his 
 searching eyes on his cousin's blushing face, 
 giving to the mysterious look of Mrs. Jones 
 a meaning she had scarcely intended. " Pray 
 Miss Jones favour us with a description of 
 this sublime stranger, as my cousin might be 
 supposed to be partial. Is he tall? " 
 
 " Tall ! Ah yes ! Far above the middle 
 height, of a majestic presence; stately and 
 commanding ; a fine roman nose; so pale, so 
 interesting ; a mouth hke a Grecian statue ; 
 eyes whose radiance would be too dazzling, 
 w^ere not their brilliancy shadowed by long 
 dark lashes; above these a lofty brow, over 
 which falls, in wild and graceful disorder, a 
 rich profusion of glossy ebon curls. 
 
 * His stature manly, bold, and tall, 
 Built like a castle's battled wall, 
 Yet moulded in such just degrees 
 His giant strength seems lightsome ease. 
 Close as the tendrils of the vine. 
 His locks upon his forehead twine. 
 But 'tis his dignity of eye ! 
 There, if a suppliant would I fly
 
 THE HEIRESS. 53 
 
 Secure, 'mid dangers, wrongs, and grief, 
 
 Of sympathy, redress, relief; 
 
 That glance, if guilty, would I dread 
 
 More than the doom that spoke me dead ! ' " 
 
 "Oh certainly! I understand perfectly," 
 said Mr. Euston in a still more fierce and 
 bitter tone, as she finished her declamation. 
 "Tall, hook nose, sallow complexion, ebon 
 locks, hawk's eyes. I see it all; I have him 
 before me now ; one of Salvator's banditti ; a 
 youthful Mahmoud; an ancient Horatius; a 
 superb specimen of the heroic and sublime ! 
 In short, one of your Werter sort of fellows, 
 so irresistible among the ladies ; Childe Harold 
 the second ! If it be not presuming too far, 
 Miss St. Maur, may we request to be favored 
 with the name of this devoted hero of yours. 
 I am dying for an introduction." 
 
 Vexed and distressed at the turn the con- 
 versation had taken, Helen had hitherto sat 
 silent ; blushing and confused, either from the 
 stern looks of her cousin, or from the remem- 
 brance of the interview with the stranger; but 
 now Robert's unkind and ungenerous conduct 
 gave her courage to answer his question, meeting 
 his full gaze calmly and j^roudly as she spoke. 
 
 "I am not acquainted with the stranger's 
 name, and only know him as one to whom I 
 am indebted for an act of courtesy and pohte-
 
 54" THE HEIRESS. 
 
 ness, no gentleman similarly situated would 
 have hesitated to perform. My life was never 
 in danger ; but^ had it been, I have no doubt 
 he would have been man enough to have en- 
 deavoured to save it. Should an opportunity 
 of introduction occur, the stranger's wishes 
 must be consulted.'' 
 
 Mr. Euston's eyes sank beneath the calm 
 reproving look of his cousin, who, to change 
 the conversation, proposed a visit to the con- 
 servator)^ To this Mrs. Jones and her 
 daughter gladly assented, and soon after took 
 their leave. The horses were announced at 
 the same moment; and to avoid a discussion 
 with her aunt, which seemed hkely to ensue, 
 Helen obeyed the summons instantly ; and 
 contrary to custom, when Robert was present, 
 was handed to her saddle by the old grey- 
 headed groom. She struck into a canter im- 
 mediately, and continued riding at a quick pace, 
 till a hiU obhged her to breathe her horse. Her 
 cousin varied his pace in accordance wdth hers, 
 but " spake never a word." 
 
 On they rode parallel, but a httle space 
 apart, neither uttering a syllable ; the one too 
 indignant, the other too angry with himself and 
 others to converse, tiU the road branched off in 
 two opposite directions — the one leading to Mr. 
 Euston's lodge, the other returning by a cir-
 
 THE HEIRESS. 55 
 
 cuitous route to Hurlestone. Helen turned into 
 the latter, and her cousin, after a moment's 
 hesitation, followed her lead for a few paces in 
 silence, but seeing her prepare to increase her 
 speed, he intimated, in rather a surly tone, that 
 she had mistaken the road. 
 
 " I have not mistaken the road," she replied 
 calmly, as she continued her way. There was 
 another brief silence, and then Mr. Euston, 
 with a flushed cheek and frowning brow, bade 
 her, " Good morning." " Good morning, Mr. 
 Euston," she replied, bowing gravely, and 
 passed on. 
 
 There was a pause, a struggle, and in an in- 
 stant more he was again at her side. 
 
 " How am I to understand this conduct. 
 Miss St. Maur ? " and he laid his hand on her 
 horse's rein, and looked full in her face. 
 
 " How do you wish to understand it, Mr. 
 Euston?" said the lady, in the same calm tone 
 she had used before, and without shrinking from 
 his look. 
 
 " This is mockery, for my wishes have lost 
 their influence. Tell me, is it your intention 
 we should part thus for ever ? " 
 
 " I have no intention of the sort at present." 
 
 " No ! you would throw all the blame of the 
 intention upon me. But I can read the riddle. 
 I can see the truth. The companion of child-
 
 56 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 hood must yield place to the acquaintance of 
 yesterday. But this upstart shall pay the 
 penalty of his presumption, and shall not wdn 
 the prize so easily. The introduction you re- 
 fuse shall be obtained through other means; 
 and ere we meet again he shall have defended 
 or relinquished his claim;" and he flung her 
 bridle fiercely from him. 
 
 " This may not be ! molest this stranger, 
 and, as you say, we meet no more." 
 
 " Ha ! is it come to this then ? Was the 
 riddle truly read ? " 
 
 "Is it come to what, Mr. Euston ? And how 
 read you a riddle, when there is none to read ? " 
 
 " If there were no riddle why that blush ? 
 The heiress of Hurlestone is no timid country 
 maiden, to colour at a look and tremble at a 
 word ; she has been noted for her self-posses- 
 sion. You may look coldly and proudly now, 
 Helen, but you cannot deceive me. You have 
 met that stranger before." 
 
 " I have." 
 
 " I knew it, I knew it;" and the bridle fell 
 from his hand, whilst his pallid cheek and 
 quivering Up bespoke his agony. Helen was 
 softened ; but before she could sooth him his 
 anger broke forth again. 
 
 " I knew you had met before. I saw it ; I 
 felt it. But you shall meet no more. You may
 
 THE HEIRESS. 57 
 
 refuse my love, but you shall wed no wandering 
 beggar." 
 
 Helen could not but feel alarm at his wrath- 
 ful look, but she also felt this was no time to 
 show it ; to yield now would be to become the 
 slave of his passions. She felt this interview 
 must decide the point of her free agency : col- 
 lecting herself, therefore, she rephed, in as calm 
 a tone as she could assume, 
 
 " By what right, and on what plea would Mr. 
 Euston interfere in my concerns, and how dare 
 he thus heap insult upon insult?" 
 
 " Helen ! Helen ! can you ask such a ques- 
 tion in such a tone ? Is all that has passed 
 between us thus forgotten ? Speak warmly, 
 speak angrily, any thing but that cold and chill- 
 ing tone ! " 
 
 " To speak angrily were to bring tempest to 
 tempest ; to think on the past were but to 
 dwell on promises made only to be broken, of 
 indignities repented of only to be repeated." 
 
 The young man writhed beneath her words 
 and looks, for even in his passion he could not 
 deny their truth. He paused a moment, then 
 laid his hand upon her arm, whilst his cheek 
 changed from pale to red each second, as he 
 said: "Answer but one question! make but 
 one promise !" 
 
 " I make no promise, for then I should 
 D 5
 
 58 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 keep it; I answer no question, for you have 
 no right to ask it/' 
 
 " You do right, lady! Oh! that I could but 
 acquire such calm cold prudence ! " 
 
 " You shall have my best mshes for success 
 in such an attempt." 
 
 " Doubtless ! it would save you fears for 
 your minion's safety. You will not answer, 
 for you love him ! You will not promise, for 
 you will wed him ! " and he pressed more close- 
 ly to her, and grasped her arm more firmly. 
 
 " Stand back, sir ! " said she indignantly, 
 extricating her arm from his grasp, and back- 
 ing her horse till the bank, that bounded the 
 road, prevented her putting a further space 
 between them. 
 
 " How dare you use such language to me ? 
 What levity have you seen in the conduct of He- 
 len St. Maur that you should tax her wdth yield- 
 ing heart and hand, unwooed, unasked, to one 
 seen but twice ? Where is your promise of 
 yesterday? Where is the manly feehng that 
 should make you scorn to insult a woman? 
 Shame! Robert, shame! You but degrade 
 yourself, not me, by such suspicions. I have 
 borne your reproaches too patiently, or you had 
 not dared to insult me thus; you had not 
 dared, this morning, to waken blushes by your 
 looks, and then give gossips a right to tattle of
 
 THE HEIRESS. 59 
 
 my confusion. Your pardon if I guard against 
 such insults for the future. Henceforth we 
 meet but rarely; bring my name still more 
 before the public by seeking this stranger, and 
 the doors of Hurlestone Park are closed against 
 you for ever. Farewell ! " She bowed, with 
 flushed cheek and flushing eye; and before 
 he could answer her horse was many paces 
 before him, proceeding at no gentle speed. 
 
 It was not the first time he had justly 
 offended his cousin by his violent conduct; 
 but as he had never insulted her so far before, 
 so had he never before seen her so decided and 
 indignant. He had tried to catch her bridle as 
 she passed, but the effort had been vain ; and 
 he made no further attempt to stay, or follow 
 her. The warmth and sincerity of her indig- 
 nation at his suspicions, convinced him of their 
 incorrectness despite that tell-tale blush; and 
 he felt, if innocent, he could never expect her 
 to forgive him. He thought not of his horse ; 
 he thought not of standing thus strangely in a 
 pubhc road, exposed to the gaze and wonder of 
 passers-by ; he thought of nothing but Helen 
 —of her indignant looks — of her indignant 
 words. He sat pale and motionless on his 
 horse, who, unrestrained, fed on the grass and 
 wild flowers growing by the side of the road. 
 So completely was he lost to all around hiro,
 
 GO THE HEIRESS. 
 
 that he knew not he was an object of observa- 
 tion to any, till a voice close beside him said, 
 " I am afraid you are ill, Master Robert." He 
 started, and then first perceived Helen's grey- 
 headed groom was by his side. The first 
 thought was that Helen had sent him. 
 
 " Did my cousin send you to inquire ? " he 
 questioned eagerly. 
 
 " No, Sir ! Miss Helen is on before, but 
 seeing you look so pale, I could not ride after 
 her without stopping to ask if you were ill.'" 
 
 ^' No, James, quite well ! " said Mr. Euston, 
 angry at having asked the question, since the 
 answer had not been as he wished ; snatching 
 up the reins as he spoke, and turning his 
 horse's head in the contrary direction. 
 
 "Ah, Master Robert," said the old man, 
 who having grown grey in the service of the 
 family, thought himself entitled to take fiber- 
 ties now and then, "it's many's the time I 
 have nursed you, and Miss Helen too. Heaven 
 bless you ! and pretty children you was both 
 of you ; and this is not the first time I have 
 seen you quarrel: for I am sure 'tis that makes 
 you look so pale. We old folks see a great 
 deal, though we don't say much." 
 
 An angry flush and an impatient movement 
 showed that the young man thought the old 
 groom could talk more than enough.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 61 
 
 " Now don't be offended, Master Robert," 
 he continued ; do but ride after my young lady, 
 and say you are sorry, and she wiU look as 
 sweet as ever. I never knew her refuse to 
 forgive any one in my life; and see, she is 
 waiting for you now on the top of the hill. 
 Now do. Master Robert, do ! " 
 
 "Peace, fool!" cried the irritated young 
 man, angry at being supposed to be in fault, 
 and that too by an inferior, and allowing pas- 
 sion again to master every better feeling. 
 " Peace, I tell you ! If your young lady be 
 offended, she must get pleased again ; I am 
 not one to dance attendance on her humours. 
 Ride on ! she is waiting for you." 
 
 The servant did as he was ordered in silence, 
 with a reproachful shake of the head, and Ro- 
 bert was again alone. Helen loitered on the 
 hiU for her attendant, but before he could reach 
 the due distance in the rear, a horse dashed 
 past him at fuU speed, and Mr. Euston again 
 rode by his cousin's side. She took no notice 
 of his approach, but appeared intent on guid- 
 ing her horse down the steep descent, and 
 nothing but a deeper flush upon her cheek told 
 she was aware of his presence. 
 
 Unable longer to endure this silence, he at 
 length said, in a deep and earnest voice, 
 " Helen, can you forgive me ? "
 
 62 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 Unprepared for such a sudden change of 
 conduct, she checked her horse, looked in his 
 pale face, and then replied in a calm and soft, 
 but melancholy tone, " You have wounded me 
 deeply, Robert; ought you to expect forgive- 
 ness?" 
 
 " No ! and I cannot forgive myself ; yet if 
 you knew the misery your anger occasions, you 
 would pity me. I can make no apology for 
 the past ; I dare make no promise for the 
 future. I only ask, can you forgive me ? " 
 
 If his conduct had been more violent than 
 usual, his sorrow seemed in hke proportion, 
 and Helen's was no heart to w^ound unneces- 
 sarily one whom she loved, by coldness or dis- 
 trust ; frankly giving him her hand therefore, 
 she said, " I can and do forgive you 5 and, 
 instead of pledge or apology, trust for the 
 future to your native generosity." 
 
 The hand was taken, and warmly pressed; 
 but neither spoke for a few minutes : words 
 were not needed. 
 
 " Robert," said Helen, " there is still time 
 to visit your lodge ; this short cut mil take us 
 thither;" and she turned up a narrow lane as 
 she spoke, which in due time brought them to 
 the building. The lodge being duly seen and 
 criticised, remarks made, and advice given, 
 Helen prepared to return home. The groom
 
 THE HEIRESS. 63 
 
 gave place to the cousin in handing her to her 
 saddle, and in gallantry and gratitude he in- 
 sisted on escorting her part of her way back. 
 After some time, during part of which the 
 gentleman seemed absent, Helen turned play- 
 fully to him, saying, " Now you shall hear all 
 I know of the stranger." 
 
 " No, no ! not one word ! " he replied has- 
 tily, colouring with shame at her having thus 
 divined his wishes. " Let me show I can keep 
 a good resolution for one day." 
 
 "You shall show that by hstening; other- 
 wise I see clearly you will still imagine a thou- 
 sand strange things. The only difficulty is, to 
 know how to make a tale out of nothing. You 
 doubtless guessed that I had visited the church- 
 yard on the day of my return before I met you, 
 and the thoughts of the past came over me as 
 
 I stood there, and but that matters not ! 
 
 you can well imagine I was in no mood to wish 
 for an observer, for sad thoughts will come 
 sometimes despite our will : but to my tale. 
 Bran's loud bark disturbed my meditations, 
 and turning towards him, I saw, to my sur- 
 prise, and at first terror, a black bushy head 
 rising above one of the tombs near me. Vexed 
 at having had a spectator of my weakness, I 
 kft the place immediately, and saw no more of 
 the stranger till yesterday, when happening to
 
 64 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 pass just as my pony pretended fear of the 
 bridge over the village stream, with common 
 politeness he compelled the refractory animal 
 to obedience. My thanks were as brief as the 
 service required, and here ends what, wdth A^-ild 
 actors, might have turned out the tragedy of 
 'The Stranger!'" 
 
 This frank and unembarrassed explanation 
 one would have thought must have proved 
 quite satisfactory ; but one doubt still re- 
 mained, and this was not lost on our heroine, 
 who said, " What, not satisfied now ? On my 
 vrord, you are unconscionable ! " 
 
 " Forgive me ! I am ashamed of myself. I 
 had no right to expect an explanation, and 
 your account is quite satisfactory; but — " 
 
 " But you are not satisfied. Away with the 
 ugly word, it mars CA^ery sentence in which it 
 finds a place. You hear of perfection, and 
 give up yourself heart and mind to love it, and 
 then at the end comes in a 'but,' and you learn 
 your love has been thrown away, and that per- 
 fection is not perfection. Give me no more 
 buts then, and you shall ask three questions, 
 if there be need for so many ? " 
 
 Ashamed to avail himself of her permission, 
 and yet too jealous to act the generous part 
 and decline it, he at length stammered C)ut 
 "Your blush?"
 
 THE HEIRESS* 65 
 
 " My blush ! " she said^ colouring as she 
 answered. " If Robert ' gave this cheek a little 
 red/ how could I help it ? Have you known 
 me so long, and yet not discovered that, de- 
 spite aU the adulation which, as an heiress, et 
 par conseque7ice a beauty, I have received, I 
 have never conquered that very silly and in- 
 convenient habit of blushing ? The flatterers 
 say, 
 
 * My mantling blood, in ready play, 
 Rivals tlie blush of early day.' " 
 
 " Then the stranger had the impertinence to 
 offer adulation ? I thought as much." 
 
 " I should hope my general conduct is such 
 as to warrant the conviction that I should 
 neither receive or suffer impertinence from a 
 stranger, however I may bear with it from a 
 relation." 
 
 " You are severe, but I may not resent your 
 severity, for I deserve it." 
 
 " Then is it not severity." 
 
 " Nay, but you bade me ask a question, and 
 yet give it not frank answer." 
 
 " Ask it again then, if you will be so bold, 
 and my pledge shall be redeemed." 
 
 He hesitated : to decline putting the ques- 
 tion he felt would be to take a higher place in 
 her esteem, yet did jealousy overpower liis
 
 66 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 better feelings, and he again asked, in a hurried 
 tone, and with averted face, what had given 
 rise to her blushes and confusion. 
 
 She answered coldly, " Your suspicions and 
 violence." 
 
 " And was that all ? " he said, in a freer but 
 inquiring tone. 
 
 "Mr. Euston!" 
 
 " Pardon ! pardon, Helen ! The thought of 
 this stranger rendering you a service drives 
 me distracted ; you think so much of grati- 
 tude." 
 
 " You wish me to forget all due to yourself, 
 I must conclude, since you persist in such un- 
 worthy conduct." 
 
 " It is unworthy ; I know it ; and yet can I 
 not avoid it. Your coldness to my suit — your 
 very perfections, urge me to it ; and I cannot 
 resist the impulse." 
 
 " Say rather ' will not ;' I am no believer in 
 fatahsm." 
 
 " Word it as you please, the feeling is still 
 the same, Helen." 
 
 " And ever must be, if you strive not to curb 
 it." 
 
 "They can talk wisely who feel calmly." 
 
 " Say rather, they can act wisely who strive 
 earnestly ; but it is lost time to bandy words
 
 THE HEIRESS. 67 
 
 with you. Farewell! for I must increase my 
 speed to reach Hurlestone by dinner, or Mrs. 
 Hargrare and the cook will grumble." 
 
 "Stay one moment; I have not asked my 
 third question, and even I feel, if you depart 
 now, I can never touch on the subject again." 
 
 " I am glad you see the impossibility, and 
 will answer, though I am sorry you should 
 require it ; but remember, it is the last time 
 you ask, or I answer questions on this subject, 
 refer they to whom they may.^* 
 
 " I may not dispute your will, yet must ask 
 now, for I feel this stranger will prove my 
 rival. How looked he ? and what said he ?" 
 
 " Two questions in one ! In good truth you 
 are a thrifty questioner ; but my answers will 
 scarcely pleasure you — so do, good Robert, rest 
 contented in your ignorance for once." 
 
 " Not so ! Not so ! How looked he, and 
 what said he ? Let me know my fate at once," 
 he continued with vehemence. 
 
 " ' He that will to Cupar, maun to Cupar,' " 
 she replied, half in anger half in merriment. 
 "The stranger looked as Mr. Euston looks 
 when Miss St. Maur's curls are arranged rather 
 more becomingly than usual ; and his words 
 bore import that he considered the day on 
 which he had succoured your poor cousin, as 
 the brightest in his life. There now; said I
 
 68 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 not truly that my answer would bring you no 
 pleasure?" she continued, as she marked his 
 contracted brow. It ill suits you to be too 
 curiotis, as you cannot expect a patent for 
 making civil speeches." 
 
 He was angry, ashamed, and for a moment 
 silenced by her arch look and merry answer; 
 she saw her advantage and proceeded, though 
 rather more gravely and earnestly than be- 
 fore. 
 
 " Here let this matter rest, and for ever. I 
 am grieved it has been discussed so long, since 
 that discussion has shown me some things in 
 my cousin's temper I had little wish to see. 
 It will prove a warning for the future, and 
 since frankness and confidence have not saved 
 me from suspicion and mistrust, I must hence- 
 forth take higher ground, and resist the first 
 appearance of interference. It is true there is 
 no chance of my meeting this stranger again, 
 but remember my words apply to future occa- 
 sions, though the actors may be different. I 
 wiU be free to speak and act as I please. It 
 rests with you to decide if we part now as 
 friends." 
 
 He liked not her determination; but the 
 assertion of the improbability of her again 
 meeting the stranger ; the real kindness of her 
 manner, even when indignantly blaming his
 
 THE HEIRESS. 69 
 
 interference, joined to the conviction of his own 
 conduct having been highly improper, made 
 him gladly avail himself of her oifer to part on 
 friendly terms, and before he took his departure 
 he stood pledged to a more peaceable line of 
 conduct for the future ; and she in return had 
 promised to take Mrs. Hargrave over the next 
 day to show her his house and grounds.
 
 70 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Oh ! lady dear, fair is thy noon, 
 But man is like the inconstant moon ; 
 Last night she smiled o'er lawn and lea ; 
 That moon will change, and so will he. 
 Thy time, dear lady, 's a passing shower ; 
 Thy beauty is but a fading flower : 
 Watch thy young bosom and maiden eye, 
 For the shower must fall, and the flow' ret die. 
 
 Hogg. 
 
 Nor vice nor virtue has the power, 
 
 Beyond the impression of the hour. 
 
 And oh ! when passion rules, how rare 
 
 The hours that fell to virtue's share. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 To make matters more clear, and to free my 
 heroine from a suspicion of acting Avith more 
 than necessary severity towards her cousin, it 
 may be as well perhaps to recur a httle to the 
 past. The marriage of Mr. St. Maur and his 
 amiable and lovely wife, though desirable in a 
 worldly point of view, as healing an ancient 
 enmity, and uniting two adjoining properties, 
 arose wholly and solely from the jourest affection 
 on both sides. Their happiness was as perfect 
 as highly religious feehngs, a union of mind and
 
 THE HEIRESS. 7l 
 
 hearty and a congeniality of tastes, could render 
 it. Helen was their only child, and though they 
 were, as might be supposed, most devotedly 
 attached to her ; still, if with so much happi- 
 ness, they dared strongly to desire any thing, it 
 it was that a son might be granted to them, to 
 keep up an ancient name, and inherit their large 
 property. The delicate health of both ren- 
 dered old age an event scarcely likely to occur to 
 either, and having no near male relative on whom 
 they could rely, they felt all the dangers and dif- 
 ficulties to which one so lovely and so rich as 
 Helen would be exposed, should she lose them 
 ere old enough to guide herself. Too sincerely 
 pious to murmur at the denial of their wishes, 
 as each day rendered the possession of a son 
 more doubtful, they applied themselves the 
 more assiduously to fit their daughter for the 
 important station in life it would be her fate 
 to fill. Self-denial, enforced by precej^t and 
 example, and her being but as a steward, who 
 would be required to give an account of the 
 talents committed to her charge, were the ear- 
 liest lessons taught her. From her days of 
 childhood, Helen was known to and blessed by 
 the inhabitants of every cottage on her father's 
 estate. Naturally charitable and warm-hearted, 
 benevolence was to her a delight rather than a 
 duty ; but she owed it to her parents that her
 
 72 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 benevolence was judiciously exercised, and that 
 her charity was founded on the pure motive of 
 love to God, and not on the mere instinctive 
 desire of a warm heart to reheve itseK from 
 the pain of beholding suiFering. Nor were the 
 sterner virtues forgotten in her education. 
 
 To render her firm and decided, where such 
 conduct was fitting, was desirable for one who 
 was likely to stand alone the uncontrolled 
 heiress of thousands ; and to be enabled to look 
 into her own concerns, and thus prevent the 
 temptation to peculation in some, or the risk of 
 injustice to others, was no less a duty for one 
 placed in her exalted situation. The quickness 
 of her perception ; the enthusiastic warmth of 
 her disposition; the powers of her mind, al- 
 most amounting to genius; her unbounded 
 confidence in those she loved ; her indignation 
 at every species of oppression ; and the strength 
 and intensity of her feelings, rendered her a 
 being who would repay judicious culture a thou- 
 sand fold ; but who likewise stood in need of 
 that culture, to repress, encourage, and amalga- 
 mate a thousand-fold more than would a mind of 
 a meaner stamp. The sweetness of her temper, 
 the tenderness of her heart, though precious as 
 native gold, still, like that metal, required the 
 mixture of some sterner alloy to render it truly 
 valuable. This her parents saw, on this they
 
 THE HEIRESS. 7^ 
 
 acted, and it remained for her after-life to 
 prove the good or ill success of their earnest 
 endeavours. 
 
 For one so situated and so educated — an 
 only child, an heiress, and a beauty — to be shy 
 and timid, was what could not be, and what in 
 her situation would not have been desirable, if 
 possible ; but to make her humble, trusting to a 
 Higher Power than her own, and as far as might 
 be free from vanity, and despising adulation, 
 had been their first and chief endeavour. We 
 will not say that she was perfect, nay more, we 
 will allow that she was not ; but, at seventeen, 
 she was a being in mind and person, on whom 
 loving parents might almost dote. 
 
 It was about this period that her father's 
 symptoms of consumption became so strong 
 and confirmed as to alarm all who loved him, 
 and to render change of air desirable ; and as 
 he was unwiUing to leave England, the mild air 
 of Devonshire was recommended and tried. 
 For a time he rallied, and repaid, by the hope 
 of his recovery, the fond and unceasing atten- 
 tions of his wife and child. But the hope 
 proved false, the disease gained ground, the 
 colour on the cheek grew brighter, and the eyes 
 shone with more than their usual brilliancy. 
 The cheek and the eye of the gentle and aifec- 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 tionate wife waxed brighter in sympathy, and 
 ere Helen had attained her nineteenth year she 
 stood alone an unprotected orphan; for the 
 hearts so closely united in life, could not be 
 parted in death, and the husband and mfe 
 slept side by side in the same calm grave. I 
 shall not attempt to describe her feehngs, they 
 who have felt such a loss need no description, 
 and they who have not could not understand 
 it. With such parents it is unnecessary to say 
 their last earthly thoughts, their last earthly 
 prayers, were for her ; nor need w^e say of one 
 so good and dutiful, that their advice was 
 treasured up as the rule of her future conduct. 
 
 To leave a female so young in full possession 
 of a landed property of upwards of ten thou- 
 sand a-year, would, under other circumstances, 
 have been as unwise as unusual ; but, educated 
 as she had been under this expectation, they 
 deemed it better to entrust her with the charge 
 at once, large as it was, and confide in her pru- 
 dence, than fetter her with any restrictions. 
 Aware of her anguish at their loss, and unwil- 
 hng to sadden her young mind, or connect 
 Hurlestone with any painful remembrance, they 
 gave up the idea of resting in their family 
 vault, and by their own express desire were 
 buried in the humble churchyard of the village 
 where they died. Besides this, they won from
 
 THE HEIRESS. 75 
 
 her a promise not to }deld to her sorrow, but to 
 mingle with others, however painful the first 
 effort might be. Her fragile form, and the 
 extreme delicacy of her whole appearance, had 
 more than once alarmed them lest consumption 
 should yet claim another victim ; and the medi- 
 cal men more than hinted, that the spirit's 
 strife would most probably prove fatal. The 
 promise once given was religiously kept ; and 
 though, in losing her parents, Helen had lost 
 almost all that in her eyes then rendered life 
 valuable, the good seed that had been sown 
 brought forth its fruit, and feeling deeply, 
 she yet bowed in resignation to the stroke. 
 There was another point on which her father 
 had felt and spoken strongly. Robert Euston 
 was the only child of his half sister, who, early 
 left a widow and the guardian of her son, 
 allowed her doting fondness to degenerate into 
 folly ; and, seeing no faults in her darhng boy, 
 of course she attempted to check none. Stan- 
 more being only five miles from Hurlestone, 
 Robert spent almost as much time at one 
 as at the other; and Mr. St. Maur, admiring 
 his many noble quahties, took infinite pains to 
 curb his violence, and give him fixed principles ; 
 but the silly indulgence of the mother marred 
 the wise plans of the uncle, and he grew up, 
 though generous and forgiving, yet wavering,
 
 75 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 unstable, and violent in the highest degree. 
 With many virtues, so great was his impetuo- 
 sity, so violent his passions, that all who loved 
 him trembled too. His could be no even 
 course through life ; he might pass from one 
 extreme to the other, tossed to and fro as 
 reason or passion held the temporary rule; 
 but the pole star of rehgion was wanting 
 to guide him aright. The magnet that could 
 alone pilot him through the rocks and quick- 
 sands of the sea of life, was to him as yet an 
 undiscovered thing ; at least, if its powers were 
 knoAvn they were unfelt. 
 
 Brought up so much with his cousin they 
 were as brother and sister, and next to their 
 parents each was the person most beloved by 
 the other. To this feeling they had no objec- 
 tion, and saw with pleasure that Helen's gentle 
 yet firm temper gave her the rule over her 
 cousin, sometimes even in his wildest moods ; 
 but they were too anxious for the happiness 
 of their child not to see, that, when the girl 
 should pass into the woman, and the boy ex- 
 pand into the man, the quiet affection now 
 subsisting between them might melt into a 
 warmer feehng. Besides that, they wished no 
 closer union between cousins ; they felt that 
 their nephew's temper would risk the happiness 
 of any woman connected with him, however
 
 THE HEIRESS. 77 
 
 tenderly he might be attached to her, and it 
 rested with the future to decide his character 
 for good or ill. With such ideas on the sub- 
 ject, and with a vague fancy that they could 
 even then trace in Robert's conduct the dawn- 
 ing of a more tender feeling, Helen received 
 from her parents, but a short time before their 
 death, earnest warnings and strong advice as to 
 her future behaviour. Whilst they left her 
 free, should time or any alteration in Robert's 
 character make her feelings towards him other 
 than that of sister, and only stated their dis- 
 approval of a marriage between cousins as 
 an objection and not a prohibition, they still 
 urged her to consider well ere she should unite 
 her fate to one so vehement and unsteady. It 
 was from a consideration of these defects in 
 his disposition, that, though her nearest relative, 
 they gave him no charge to watch over the 
 interests of their child, as they saw he was 
 neither a safe guide or mse counsellor; and 
 bade her rather trust to her own sense and 
 fortitude, or the advice of older friends, in all 
 affairs of importance, than by appealing to him, 
 sanction his control. " Helen," said they, we 
 know you will not marry an immoral man ; 
 but beware how, relying on your own sweet- 
 ness, you allow yourself to be dazzled by bril- 
 liant qualities, and unite yourself with a violent
 
 78 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 temper. Who shall stay the tide of passion ! 
 Not the arm of man ! not the smile of 
 woman ! and the habitually passionate man is 
 no christian. Genius and heroism may dazzle 
 for awhile, but if they have no firmer base- 
 ment, and no purer hope, than the power of 
 man's proud mind, or the yearnings of man's 
 proud heart for popular applause, rule, or 
 wealth, they are but little better than the 
 comet's glare ; and woe to those who come 
 within its influence." She hstened to this ad- 
 vice, as she did to all from those she loved, 
 with delightful attention ; yet, it must be owned, 
 she thought it would prove unnecessary; as 
 judging from her feelings, she saw no proba- 
 bility of Robert's ever being to her other than 
 he was then. Unhappily for her, time showed 
 the advice had not been vainly given ; and 
 within a year after the death of her parents, 
 she found it necessary to assert her independ- 
 ence. At first, without hinting his own wishes, 
 he allowed his jealousy of all who approached 
 Helen under the age of fifty, and even some 
 above, to shew itself in satirical remarks and 
 affronts ; so that, despite all her prudence and 
 perfect indifference to the crowd who surrounded 
 her, she was more than once on the point of 
 becoming the innocent cause of a quarrel. 
 At first she remonstrated in gentle terms,
 
 THE HEIRESS. 79 
 
 then more strongly ; till^ finding entreaties and 
 remonstrances alike vain^ and indignant at the 
 little regard he showed for her delicacy or feel- 
 ings, she threw off the yoke to which he would 
 fain have subjected her; and, veiling her fear 
 of his threats under the appearance of firm- 
 ness, she insisted on her right to act as she 
 pleased, and hinted at being obliged to de- 
 cline any further communication with him, 
 should he persist in his present improper line 
 of conduct. It was then, that staggered by 
 her firmness he openly avowed his love, and 
 pleaded his cause with unmanly and ungenerous 
 violence. 
 
 Shocked at finding her worst fears realized, 
 and alarmed at his fearful threats against any 
 one who should obtain her hand, she refused to 
 listen to his protestations of affection, and left 
 the room. 
 
 In vain he called day after day ; she refused 
 to see him ; till, hearing she was ill, in an 
 agony of shame and repentance, he sent her 
 the most ample apologies for the past, and the 
 most unbounded promises for the future. The 
 apologies and the promises were accepted, and 
 to outward appearance the feehngs of the cou- 
 sins were as before ; but each had learned a les- 
 son, and each put that lesson in practice. The 
 gentleman showed less violence in acts and
 
 80 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 words, if not in feeling ; and the lady was vigi- 
 lant to check the slightest interference. 
 
 This calm was not to last long. Robert 
 could only exist in alternate storm and shine ; 
 and poor Helen found, that even the possessor 
 of ten thousand a year could not pass through 
 life without some vexations. One day he would 
 be all she could desire ; the next, not a gentle- 
 man could approach her without a chance of 
 insult; and then again he would introduce 
 every one they met, apparently to mark their 
 first impression. Again she spoke firmly and 
 decidedly ; and again the gentleman promised, 
 and for a short time kept his promise ; nay, in 
 compliance with Helen's persuasions, or won 
 by the bright eyes of Lord Hunsdon's niece 
 and his own third cousin, he consented to 
 accept his lordship's offer of an official situation. 
 It was in the hope and belief that he would, by 
 winning her cousin, free her from aU further 
 importunity, that Helen bade him adieu a 
 short time before her return to Hurlestone, 
 Great therefore was her surprise and disappoint- 
 ment at finding such hope was vain. 
 
 His manner at their meeting was svifficient 
 instantly to show the change in his views and 
 feelings since they parted, whilst the way in 
 which he spoke of Lord Alford in the evening, 
 made it clear to her experience his lordship
 
 THE HEIRESS* 81 
 
 was at present the object of his jealousy. It 
 was then that remembered hints from Mrs. 
 Hargrave convinced her she owed the present 
 annoying change to that lady. Having hoped 
 never to be subjected to his violence again, she 
 was the more hurt and wounded at his unmanly 
 vehemence, and again dreaded the future. 
 
 His conduct about the stranger distressed her 
 more than she could understand, or probably 
 would have liked to have told ; and her indig- 
 nation was in proportion. What rendered his 
 conduct the more galling and unpardonable was 
 that, when the jealous fit was oiF, he would 
 amuse himself with the beauty of the hour, 
 and she sometimes doubted whether an appa- 
 rent compliance to his wishes would not free 
 her from his importunities : but to this Helen 
 could not, and would not stoop ; and she had 
 only to hope, that some eyes brighter than her 
 own might succeed in releasing her from further 
 inconvenience. Hitherto, from her perfect 
 indifference to all pretenders to her hand, liis 
 outrageous behaviour had only pained her, as 
 exhibiting the errors of his character, and 
 placing her in more than one awkward situation ; 
 but this indifference might not always continue, 
 and what simplypained now, might agonize then. 
 Sorry to be obliged to treat with coldness and 
 apparent severity one to whom, despite all 
 E 5
 
 82 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 his faults, she was sincerely attached, she was 
 delighted to hear, when she took Mrs. Hargrave 
 to Stanmore, that urgent business would call 
 him to town the next day, and detain him there 
 some time ; but what dehghted her still more, 
 were his voluntary and reiterated assurances of 
 shame at his violence of the preceding day, and 
 his renewed promise of seeking to procure some 
 situation through Lord Hunsdon's interest. 
 Need it be said, the cousins parted friends ; and 
 again Helen hoped peace for the future ? 
 
 When the carriage had driven off, Mr. Euston 
 flung a sovereign to James, who was in attend- 
 ance, saying with a flushed cheek but a light 
 laugh, " Your advice was good, my friend, but 
 he stands in peril who would guide a wild bull." 
 
 The honest old man thanked his favourite 
 with tears in his eyes, and hoped he should yet 
 live to dandle another Master Robert. Whe- 
 ther Mr. Euston' s good humour had any thing 
 to do with having received proof, as he beheved, 
 of the departure of this dreaded stranger from 
 the neighbourhood, we will not trouble ourselves 
 to enquire; nor whether this same stranger 
 ever occurred to Helen's thoughts during the 
 day. We will leave both questions to be 
 decided by those who pique themselves on 
 being able to see farther into a millstone than 
 their neiojhbours.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 83 
 
 We hate explanations ; so one more^ and we 
 shall have done. It has been seen that Mrs. 
 Hargrave's first wish was to bring about a mar- 
 riage between the cousins ; and, should any one 
 ask the reason, we must answer, that which 
 influences a full half of the world — love of 
 self ! In that case she trusted to living with the 
 young couple. Failing |;o accomplish this union, 
 her next wish was to keej) Helen single, under 
 the idea of residing with her. That the hope 
 will, in either case prove fallacious, may be 
 guessed from what has been said ; but, in the 
 meantime, the old lady will doubtless plot and 
 hope.
 
 84 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 His was the port — the distant mien — 
 Tha tseems to shun the sight, and awes when seen 5 
 The solemn aspect, and the high-born eye, 
 That checks low mirth, but lacks not courtesy. 
 
 Byron. 
 
 With reverence be it spoken, I will try 
 To overcome the lightness of my nature ; 
 Our course you know, is generally zig-zag. 
 
 Jgnis Fatuus — Faust. 
 
 The library at Marston Hall was, in its noble 
 owner's opinion, all that an EarFs library 
 should be. Tliat is, there were books in hand- 
 some bindings; the writings of every Lord who 
 had deigned to WTite from the time of Noah, 
 down to that of George IV., save some few, 
 whose opinions his Lordship thought, or ima- 
 gined, had been a httle (a very httle) too 
 -strongly expressed. To mention any of these 
 rejected addresses was painful to the Earl, who 
 possessed that high-minded esprit de corpse, 
 that would fain to be blind to the peccadillos of 
 the peerage, be the sinner Whig or Tory. Nor
 
 THE HEIRESS. 85 
 
 were the distinguished works of many com- 
 moners absent. But the books formed not the 
 half of the excellencies and attractions of this 
 temple of study. There were gold inkstands, 
 and bronze inkstands, and china inkstands; 
 flanked by portfolios of scarlet morocco, and 
 purple morocco, and green morocco; resting 
 on tables, to give an accurate account of whose 
 shapes might have puzzled the most learned 
 geometrician; some with three legs, and some 
 with one leg, and some with no leg at all. Here 
 a richly ornamented easy chair, filled with air, 
 moved, at the slightest touch, from one side of 
 the apartment to the other, with the gentle but 
 rather hurried motion of a flattered member of 
 opposition gliding into a ministerial measure ; 
 and there its ponderous and old-fashioned rival, 
 immoveable as the prejudices of fourscore, 
 seemed frowning in contempt on its modern 
 neighbour's facility of movement, and airy love 
 of change. These two chairs might pass as 
 models of the old and new schools, now waging 
 sometimes cruel, sometimes playful warfare: 
 but we wiU leave it to wiser heads and graver 
 pens to reconcile or elucidate the diflierence 
 between them, only hoping, as all true patriots 
 should, that the wisdom of the old will calm 
 the vivacity of the young, and the activity of 
 the young impart fresh vigour to the old.
 
 86 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 Having no auctioneer's list at hand, I shall 
 omit the description of couches, rtposoirs, 
 chaises longues, &c. that encumbered the room, 
 with its various other ornaments of fanciful 
 steps, busts, casts, &c. and pay my devoirs to 
 the occupant of the recess of one of the large 
 sash-windows, composed of twelve enormous 
 panes of plate glass; for being completely a 
 modern mansion, Marston Hall boasted neither 
 oriel or casement, stone muUion or tracery. 
 
 An elegant muslin curtain shaded the win- 
 dow, lest, as Lord Alford said, the light of 
 nature should put out the light of science, 
 or unravel the depths profound of political 
 intrigue 3 and shadowed by its folds, lounged 
 on an airy couch Mr. Percy Dormer. 
 
 Have words been wasted on chairs and 
 tables, and shall no speech be found to tell of 
 Percy Dormer ? the talented ! the briUiant ! 
 the dazzling ! the cynosure of bright eyes ! 
 winning even by his stateliness. Tlie admired 
 of aU admirers ; the embryo premier ; the heir 
 of the earldom and estates of his uncle the 
 Earl of Trevanian ? Not so ! As Sir Thomas 
 Lawrence might have delighted to paint him, of 
 course I shaU find pleasure to write him. 
 
 His stature was six feet three, but of such 
 manly proportions, that his great height was 
 only remarked when brought into comparison
 
 THE HEIRESS* 87 
 
 with others. His pale complexion contrasted 
 strongly with a profusion of glossy black hair, 
 whose well yet negligently arranged curls, 
 showed that, if he could have stooped to have 
 exhibited anxiety about his personal appear- 
 ance, it was there his pains would have been 
 employed. But in truth there was not one 
 particle of puppyism about him. He seemed to 
 act up to Lord Chesterfield's advice, " Despise 
 dress, but do not show your contempt for it." 
 Every thing about him was gentlemanly and 
 elegant ; nothing foppish or trifling. 
 
 His dark penetrating eyes, " that wad'na 
 let a body be," shadowed, yet scarcely soft- 
 ened, by lashes as dark as the eyes themselves : 
 The fine aquiline nose, with its expanding 
 nostrils; the thin, curled, and strongly defined 
 upper lijD ; every feature, every movement, told 
 of a lofty spirit, and of a mightier ambition 
 than the being considered the most fashionable, 
 the best drest, or the handsomest man in Eng- 
 land. His great personal beauty set upon him 
 like the robe of an ancient statue in light and 
 graceful ease : a thing belonging to, and yet 
 unthought-of by the bearer. A brilliant ima- 
 gination might have fancied him an antique 
 statue modelled by the most skiful art, and 
 animated by the Promethean fire of ambition. 
 
 The Times, containing a long and interesting
 
 88 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 parKamentary debate, had fallen at his feet; a 
 clever political pamphlet lay open before him, 
 half conceaUng one of the most briUiant pas- 
 sages in the fourth canto of Childe Harold ; 
 but the pamphlet, though open, was turned 
 topsy-turvy, and a glance served to show that 
 politics held no part in the present thoughts 
 of this highly-gifted personage. His age ap- 
 peared about twenty-seven ; his attitude was 
 thoughtful ; his eyes were turned on outward 
 objects, but his thoughts followed not the 
 same direction. A shght but transient flush- 
 ing of the cheek, and a hght contraction of 
 the brows spoke a mind not quite at ease. 
 
 At length he made a rather sudden move- 
 ment, as if to rise, and at that moment Lord 
 Alford burst unceremoniously into the hbrar)\ 
 
 " Dormer," said he, " I have ordered the 
 horses round directly, and we will have a gallop 
 to put me in a good humour again." 
 
 Mr. Dormer, who had half risen, calmly re 
 seated himseK, apparently by no means pleased 
 at the proposition ; and told his friend he had 
 better take his gallop alone, as, not having 
 finished a pamphlet of which Lord Marston 
 had requested his opinion, he could not accom- 
 pany him. 
 
 "Never mind the pamphlet. Some silly 
 pohtical thing I suppose, to prove by demon- 
 stration plain —
 
 THE HEIRESS. &9 
 
 * That the ins should be out, and the outs should be in.' 
 
 What is it?" approaching the table as he 
 spoke. '' Just as I said/' he continued taking it 
 up, "and read as it should be, backwards I see. 
 Throw politics to the dogs ! and now come with 
 me quietly, for it would be useless to pretend 
 any longer you had been reading this trash." 
 
 His friend's pale cheek flushed with displea- 
 sure, and for an instant he looked confused, 
 but immediately recovering himself, rephed : 
 "the pamphlet is a very clever one, throws 
 light on the subject concerning which it treats, 
 and if you — " 
 
 " No more, Dormer, an 'you love me ! I have 
 just patiently endured one lecture on politics, 
 and another would quite annihilate me. Ay, 
 you may well looked surprised at my having 
 patiently endured such penance, but what 
 could I do ? My good mother thinks I may 
 as well enact the part of politician as that of 
 idler; so to pleasure her, I promised to think 
 about it; nay, after some debate I consented, 
 like a good boy, to listen to papa's arguments 
 on the subject for one quarter of an hour. Not 
 that I had the slightest intention of becoming 
 your rival for the premiership, I assure you, or 
 doing any thing more than think of the matter; 
 but, to quiet my mother, I played politic for
 
 90 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 once, and;, having suffered the penalty, shall 
 forswear loolicy for the future. As my evil 
 star would have it, just before this appointed 
 conference took i^lace, a letter arrived to an- 
 nounce that the most immaculate town of T 
 
 had to deplore the untimely death of Mr. Pen- 
 ton, one of its pure and patriotic members; 
 that is, a gentleman who had spent thousands 
 to come in, and then always voted for minis- 
 ters, 'were they black spirits or grey;' con- 
 scientiously of course. Further, the precious 
 epistle stated, that as only one gentleman had 
 offered himself, and only two others were talked 
 of, there was no doubt, if I started with the 
 determination to promise and pay sufficiently, 
 that I should prove the successful candidate. 
 Well might they call his death untimely ! but 
 there are some people who never do any thing 
 at the right moment. This was making it 
 a closer argument than I had reckoned on, as 
 my wise papa finds his other members so easy 
 to manage, that he thought he might undertake 
 the tutelage of another; and perhaps the \dsion 
 of a marquisate floated before him. However, 
 I hstened eighteen minutes and a quarter; 
 fifteen, to keep my promise to my mother, and 
 the other three and a quarter because I could 
 not extricate my coat from his grasp before." 
 " Well ! and you stand for T ?"
 
 THE HEIRESS. 91 
 
 " Do you take me for a fool, or a madman, 
 Dormer ?" 
 
 "Can none but such characters represent 
 their countrymen ?" 
 
 " He must be both combined to stand a con- 
 tested election." 
 
 " I thank you," said his friend smiling, who 
 had been returned three months before for the 
 
 town of D , after a violent contest of eight 
 
 days, and at no slight expence. "What said 
 your father?" 
 
 "Turned, fidgeted, and fretted — hoped, be- 
 lieved, and imagined." 
 
 " Hush, Alford ! remember you speak of a 
 parent." 
 
 His friend blushed at the rebuke. " Right, 
 Dormer, but what can I do? If my father 
 would but be an open foe, or an earnest friend, 
 an outrageous Tory, or a violent Whig, I could 
 respect him for sincerity at least ; but, trim- 
 ming and shifting ! My bark should outride 
 the storm, or sink with every sail set." 
 
 " Who would be the fool and the madman 
 then, Alford ? Take care how you confound 
 prudence with pohcy." 
 
 "I should scorn the man, Dormer, who 
 uttered such a sentence, were he one shade less 
 noble and disinterested than yourself: but you 
 know too w^ell my father's conduct is pohtic, 
 not pru(Jent."
 
 92 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 Mr. Dormer was silent for a moment, as he 
 could not, and therefore would not deny the 
 truth of the assertion, he then said: — 
 
 " But if your father will allow you to enter 
 Parliament free and unshackled, why not run 
 the race of honour? Come, Alford! let us sit 
 side by side at St. Stephen's as we have done 
 at St. Mary's." 
 
 The hands of the friends met with a fervent 
 grasp, and the eyes of both glistened. 
 
 " It may not be. Dormer," said his friend 
 softened ; "it may not be. Such conduct on my 
 part would but occasion more disputes between 
 my father and myself." Then his wild mood 
 broke forth again, and he continued as reckless 
 as before. " What will become of your Uto- 
 pian scheme, when I tell you, no sooner had 
 my silence given my father reason to fancy I 
 might become an M. P., than instead of leaving 
 me unshackled, he began to counsel the embryo 
 member how to be absent at one time, present 
 at another; now to swell a majority, then to 
 increase a minority ; when to smile, and when 
 to frown. I had rather be the veriest idler 
 that ever cumbered the earth, than, under the 
 mask of patriotism, sell my country for vanity 
 or gold." 
 
 " How ended the conference?*' 
 
 " Why, well nigh in my committal for high
 
 THE HEIRESS. 93 
 
 treason. A command was issued that I should 
 
 become a member for T : I acquiesced, and 
 
 begged to state what would be my two first 
 motions, unmindful of his horror at any thing 
 so decided. Aware of my own deficiency; and 
 indeed convinced by observation, that a wise 
 son seldom succeeds a wise father, and yet 
 deeming whilst a Lower House should exist an 
 Upper one a necessary balance, I should move 
 that the House of Lords, and indeed the whole 
 peerage, should henceforward be elective instead 
 of hereditary. If defeated in thus ensuring 
 wisdom to the legislators of the land, considering 
 that the government of one fool would be less 
 oppressive than the government of many, as in 
 the former case at least there would be unani- 
 mity, I would move that both Houses should be 
 swept away, and his most gracious Majesty be 
 requested. Sultan-like, to reign without con- 
 trol, and that magna charta, habeas corpus, 
 and the bill of rights, should be burnt at 
 Smithfield, and an order in council issued to 
 obliterate their memory." * 
 
 "What said he to this?" 
 
 "Oh! I left him, ere surprise and horror 
 
 * This was written long before the French had even hinted 
 at agitating the question of doing away with an hereditary 
 Peerage. Of course, Lord Alford is alone answerable for the 
 wild folly of his jest.
 
 94 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 could permit him speech. As the door closed 
 after me the storm burst forth, but so incohe- 
 rent from its violence that I could distinguish no- 
 thing but lese majesty, sedition, and rebellion; 
 high treason, the Tower, and beheading. And 
 now I have half a mind to start for T in- 
 stantly, win over the electors, take the oaths, and 
 make my motions, ere my father can well know 
 I am an M.P. Methinks then I should be 
 free from all further persecution. What say 
 you, Dormer? will you come and canvass for 
 me, second the motion, and then soften the 
 dreadful news to my father ? " 
 
 " Willingly ! " said his friend, no longer able 
 to control his mirth, at the idea of Lord 
 Marston's dismay. Alford joined in the laugh, 
 and in a moment the cloud passed from his 
 brow, and he was the same light thoughtless 
 being as before. 
 
 "Well, Percy, let us discuss the subject 
 during our ride, for I do not wish to encounter 
 the Peer again just at present." 
 
 Dormer hesitated, and then said : " Tell me 
 which road you take, and I will meet you, for 
 I cannot conveniently ride with you yet." 
 
 " Why not ? Never mind the pamphlet, you 
 can give your opinion of it just as well without 
 reading it. Only listen to all my father says, 
 and deal in general or rather complicated
 
 THE HEIRESS. 95 
 
 terms, and you will pass for a clever critic. 
 What more objections? Are you anxious to 
 run another tilt with my wild and wilful sister ? 
 who, like the merry monarch, 
 
 * Never says a foolish thing, 
 And never does a wise one.' 
 
 Or are you inclined to hold a discussion on 
 morals with my lady mother ? 
 
 " For shame, Alford! " 
 
 "Well, then! I'll make amends, and say my 
 dear mother is all that woman should be, and 
 dsserves a better son. And you prefer that 
 horrid brocJmre to riding with me ? Adieu 
 then, for I hear the Earl's aristocratic tread in 
 the passage, and the sound conjures up the sea 
 of heads below, and the axe of the executioner 
 gleaming above." 
 
 What Alford's entreaties could not effect, was 
 gained by the horror of a political dissertation 
 from his Lordship, and Dormer signified his 
 assent to the ride. 
 
 " No thanks ! " said his friend archly, attri- 
 buting his compliance to the right cause : " but 
 follow me, or we shall be too late ; a moment 
 more, and I shall be committed to the Tower." 
 
 He rushed to the window as he spoke, and 
 leapt out, closely followed by Dormer. Too 
 eager for flight to be very courteous to any 
 impediment in their path, one or other of the
 
 96 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 young men, in his passage to the window, came 
 in violent contact with the moveable chair 
 mentioned before, and dispatched it on its tra- 
 vels with no common force. Away dashed the 
 chair across the room, overturning in its pro- 
 gress two small tables, vnth their inkstands, 
 &c. ; putting one or two other pieces of furni- 
 ture in motion, and never staying its riotous 
 course till Pitt and Fox, Wyndham and Sheri- 
 dan, thrown from their pedestals lay side by 
 side upon the floor. The Earl opened the door 
 just in time to hear the crash, and see the 
 guilty author of this mischief standing quietly 
 and demurely against the wall. 
 
 The grief and horror of the Earl at such 
 sacrilegious devastation, deprived him of utter- 
 ance. The fall of those master spirits could 
 portend nothing less than the destruction of 
 the constitution, the downfall of church and 
 state, and the complete confusion of all former 
 pohtical opinions and sub-divisions. Who 
 could be the author of such a fearful crime? 
 A loud laugh, and a clatter of horses' hoofs 
 drew him to the window in time to see his 
 guest and his son riding across the park 
 at full speed, and clearing every impediment 
 with the ease of eager sportsmen. 
 
 As the Earl of Marston is never in our opi- 
 nion a very dehghtful companion, even when in
 
 THE HEIRESS. 97 
 
 good humour, now that he is in rather an aw- 
 ful mood, we will leave him to recover his dis- 
 may as he best can, and accompany the horsemen 
 on their excursion. 
 
 " Why did you decline riding with me, Percy?" 
 asked Alford, as after a long gallop they al- 
 lowed their horses breathing time. " I am not 
 so blind but that I could see something more 
 than common in your refusal. Confess ! " 
 
 "I am not philosopher enough always to 
 have my inchnations under my own control," 
 said his friend, rather angrily and haughtily, 
 hoping to end the conversation. 
 
 " Oh ! I cry your mercy ! if you mean to 
 rage. I am too cowardly a seaman to seek to 
 weather Cape Wrath ; but ' I thinks what I 
 thinks !' as old Jane Smith says," looking slv 
 and mischievous as he spoke. 
 
 " You and old Jane Smith may think what 
 you please; but, wild as you are, even you 
 must feel there are times when one would 
 rather be alone." 
 
 " Humph ! a polite hint delicately conveyed ! 
 But are you sure you wish to be alone ? quite 
 alone ? Ah ! a blush on Percy Dormer's cheek ! 
 Why such a thing is more rare and precious 
 than the great diamond of the Queen of Portu- 
 gal. No denial ! no protestations ! I know a 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 blush when I see it ; and when Mr. Percy Dor- 
 mer looks red, other men should look white. 
 But what is the matter," he continued, looking 
 more earnestly at his friend's angry and con- 
 fused countenance. " I never knew you so 
 annoyed at my wild badinage before. Has 
 any thing really happened to distress you ? tell 
 me and I will cease instantly." 
 
 " Nothing particular," repUed his friend in a 
 Imrried yet rather softer tone ; " but my head 
 aches, and I wish to be alone. Which way are 
 you going ? " 
 
 " Oh ! only a headache ! and you wish to be 
 alone ! two rather suspicious symptoms. Save 
 that I am convinced no mortal could be found 
 to satisfy Percy Dormer's fastidious taste, I 
 might imagine Romeo had found his JuUet; 
 and, now I think of it, I fancy it must be so ; 
 for Miss Juliana Waitman assured me yester- 
 day, when I rode over to escort you to Mars- 
 ton, that she really believed you were in love ; 
 for you wandered about all by yourself, sighed 
 most piteously, and read all the tender pieces 
 in her Album. Now these proofs are conclu- 
 sive. Who is the sighed-for mortal or spirit ? 
 Egeria or Undine ? " 
 
 " Nonsense ! " said his friend angrily. " What 
 could Miss Juliana Waitman mean by talking 
 about me ? or what can you mean by repeating 
 suchfoUy?"
 
 THE HEIRESS. 99 
 
 " What, indeed ! as I told her. You are a 
 person to be admired and reverenced, but never 
 talked of. ' Oh, no ! ' she said, sighing, ^ she felt 
 that;' and you reminded her of some of 
 Byron's heroes : Lara, or GiafFar, or Conrad, 
 or Don Juan, or Beppo, or some of those, I 
 forget which." 
 
 " Alford," said his friend still more angrily, 
 though scarcely able to forbear laughing at the 
 enumeration of heroes to whom he bore resem- 
 blance, " which road do you take ? for I choose 
 to ride alone." 
 
 "Such a brilliant thought has just entered 
 my head," replied his friend with provoking 
 gravity. " You shall be king of Greece ! the 
 very person for it! That frown would tame 
 into submission Capo D'Istria, Mavrocordato, 
 Botzaris, Canaris, and Robbehna herself: nay 
 I verily believe, one look would annihilate the^ 
 Sultan Mahmoud, and demolish the Holy Alli- 
 ance." Mr. Dormer's horse was reined back 
 violently, and then urged to various curvetings, 
 to conceal and dispel his rider's ill humour. 
 
 "Which way do you take?" he repeated at 
 length, in a stern and repressed voice. " There 
 has been more than enough of this folly." 
 
 " So it seems ; seeing you have allowed it to 
 ruffle your temper. I take this road, as I have a 
 note to deliver from my mother ; and if you will 
 ■*. F 2
 
 100 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 accompany me, you shall have an introduction 
 to one of the lions or lionesses of our neigh- 
 bourhood : a lady under age, rich, lovely, and 
 amiable ! " 
 
 " I detest heiresses ! They balance the merits 
 of others in golden scales, and are themselves 
 only fit to be sold to a goldsmith by weight. 
 Though Gorgons, yet gilded by their riches, 
 younger brothers and politic papas, hold them 
 possessed of a hundred thousand charms; if 
 really beautiful so much the worse ; a woman's 
 head, or rather heart, might by chance with- 
 stand the dangers of riches or beauty; but, 
 united, there is not one could remain unconta- 
 minated by the flatteries she would receive. 
 As to Amiability, she is but a handmaid in the 
 train of Riches and Beauty, or a hacknied word 
 to be used when no other presents itself. I 
 will have no introduction ; there is your road, 
 and we meet again somewhere on this ; or each 
 finds his way home as he can." 
 
 " Whew ! what a tirade against heiresses ! 
 Now would I wager my wisdom you have been 
 refused by the plump daughter of some wealthy 
 cit. You shall have no introduction from me, 
 I assure you ; and beware ! there is not a 
 young man in all the shire would allow your 
 remarks to remain unnoticed, if he knew they 
 applied to Miss St. Maui:. For my part I love
 
 THE HEIRESS. 101 
 
 Helen as a sister, and will never stand by 
 patiently and hear her abused ; " so saying, he 
 put spurs to his horse, and left Dormer to reco- 
 ver his good-humour. 
 
 " My young lady has driven out with Mrs. 
 Hargrave, my lord," was the answer at Hurles- 
 tone to Lord Alford's question, " Is Miss St. 
 Maur at home ?' " 
 
 "Then perhaps I shall meet her on my 
 return ; if not, give her this note, and say I am 
 sorry not to have seen her." 
 
 " Yes ! my lord ;" and away rode his lord- 
 ship. 
 
 "How glad I am to see you, Helen," said 
 Lord AKord, as he met her carriage on his re- 
 turn to Marston ; " do walk up this hill with 
 me, for I have a thousand things to say to you." 
 
 She comphed instantly with good humoured 
 readiness, and enquired kindly after his family. 
 
 " My mother, I am sorry to say, is as great 
 an invalid as ever ; and Catherine has a sore 
 throat, which, though it prevented her calling 
 on you to-day, has not tamed her in the least. 
 My father is in a rage ; with or without reason, 
 I shall not take upon myself to decide." 
 
 Helen shook her head, but could not for- 
 bear smiling at his ludicrous account of the 
 morning's fracas. 
 
 " And now, Helen, you really must come to
 
 102 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 Marston, and put us all in good-humour. My 
 mother and Catherine are too unwell to visit 
 you, but send their very best love, with a re- 
 quest that you will come to us on Monday, and 
 remain till we have wearied you." 
 
 " Is this true ? " asked she laughing ; " for 
 you recollect, you have ere now shown a talent 
 for inventing pretty messages, and I am not 
 inclined to play the part of the ' Uninvited.' " 
 
 " Will you never forget or forgive that prank 
 of mine ? But I am reaUy and truly the bearer 
 of such a message now, so do not deny me." 
 
 "Very weU then; tell your dear mother I 
 shall be with her on Monday, but must return 
 on Saturday. It is so long since I have seen 
 her I shall quite dream of my visit." 
 
 " Victory ! victory ! " cried he, waving his 
 hat. 
 
 " What do you mean ? I favour no tricks." 
 
 " There is no trickery ; only my sage mother 
 and mad-cap sister had the impertinence to 
 declare you would not come on my bidding, so 
 insisted on loading me with a note, which 1 
 left at Hurlestone lest I should not meet you ; 
 but now I shall have the triumph of announcing 
 you come on my invitation alone." 
 
 '• And more ; you may tell them I will come 
 on your invitation any day, for I have not for- 
 gotten that you were always my protector and 
 defender in my childish days."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 103 
 
 He pressed the hand that rested on his arm, 
 as he said, " Thank you ! Helen ; beheve me 
 you shall never find your confidence misplaced. 
 Wild and reckless as I may be to others, you 
 shall find me a steady and perhaps not unwise 
 friend, though it is Alford who'says so. I know 
 all the folly of endeavouring to win a warmer 
 interest in your regard, and shall not attempt 
 it ; but you must in return ever look upon me 
 as a brother, for Euston is at times too violent 
 to be a safe counsellor." 
 
 "And thank you, my new brother but old 
 friend;" said she half playfully, though the 
 tear glistened in her eye as she spoke. 
 
 There was a short silence till they reached 
 the top of the hill, and then she said : " Now 
 I think of it, suppose you play courteous and 
 invite my aunt. I know she will decline, but 
 the invitation will please her." 
 
 " Willingly ; but you will come still." 
 
 " Oh yes ! we are no tie on each other ; indeed 
 she often prefers being left. I hope your house 
 is not full, as usual, for I want to have your 
 mother all to myself." 
 
 " We have no visitors but a friend of mine, 
 Percy Dormer." 
 
 " What the person you used to rave about ? 
 till I dreamt a second time there was such a 
 thing in the world as a perfect man."
 
 104 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " The same ; but I rave about him no more, 
 for he positively refused to be introduced to 
 you, and declares he detests heiresses." 
 
 " Alas, poor me ! " 
 
 There was no time for further explanation, 
 as the carriage came up at the moment. The 
 invitation to Mrs. Hargrave was given, and de- 
 cUned, wdth courtesy on one side, gratified pride 
 on the other ; Helen was handed into her car- 
 riage by Alford, andthe next moment it drove on. 
 
 As he stopped and looked round for his 
 friend, he saw a horseman on the summit of 
 an opposite hill coming quickly in a direction 
 to meet the carriage. " It must be Dormer,"' 
 thought Alford, and he hngered to watch his 
 approach. The horse dashed down that hill 
 and up the next, pro\dng the recklessness or 
 speed of its rider, and met the carriage half way 
 up the ascent. Could he be mistaken ? It cer- 
 tainly was Dormer ; but he and Miss St. Maur 
 were strangers to each other; yet, as he had 
 nearly passed the carriage, a start and curvet 
 told of some sudden emotion; and, to his 
 utter astonishment, a low and profound bow 
 from Dormer suceeded. 
 
 The carriage proceeded rapidly. Dormer 
 stopped his horse, and looked after it, Avhilst 
 ALford dashed down the hill to learn the mean- 
 ing of this, to him, strange scene. He reached
 
 THE HEIRESS. 105 
 
 his friend just as he was in the act of following 
 the carriage. 
 
 ^' No ! no ! Percy," laying his hand on his 
 arm, "you have had enough of riding alone 
 for one day. Why you look wilder than ever I 
 What is the matter ?" 
 
 " Nothing \ b\it I must follow that carriage, 
 and stop it." 
 
 " What Percy Dormer ! the refined ! the 
 lofty ! the elegant ! turned highwayman. Leetle 
 Paul, or Turpin, or Jonathan Wild ! Well, 
 this will make a pretty tale. Let me see, ' Percy 
 Dormer, or the Gentle Bandit.' A romance in 
 three volumes, by ." 
 
 " Let me pass !" said Mr. Dormer, interrupt- 
 ing him, and trying to free himself from the 
 firm but friendly grasp. 
 
 " Not I, indeed ! those ladies are under my 
 protection, and I cannot think of allowing them 
 to be robbed of their rings and watches." 
 
 " Folly ! " cried his friend, fretfully and an- 
 grily ; then recollecting himself he added : " but 
 you can tell me, for I saw you speak to them. 
 Who is the lady in that carriage ? " 
 
 " The one you bowed to ? " 
 
 "Of course?" 
 
 " Mrs. Hargrave." 
 
 " Mrs. Hargrave ! " repeated Dormer, laying 
 great stress on the first word, and turning 
 F 5
 
 away. " Is she a widow ?** he asked again in 
 an earnest voice. 
 
 " Ah ! sits the wind that way," thought Al- 
 ford j "since he will not trust me, it shall go hard 
 but I find or make some sport. " Yes, she is a 
 widow," he repHed carelessly ; and then, mark- 
 ing the sudden pleasure expressed in his friend's 
 manner, he added archly : " and if you feel 
 inclined to woo and wed, I'll be your brides- 
 man ; though I never could have believed Percy 
 Dormer would have chosen to be second to 
 auy man : mais chacun a son gout J' 
 
 Man of the world as he was, Mr. Dormer's 
 cheek flushed crimson, whilst he turned his 
 horse's head, and proceeded towards Marston 
 at a brisk pace, to avoid all further conversation 
 on the subject; but Alford, seeing there was 
 some mystery in the aifair, was not inclined to 
 let the matter rest ; and, as they walked their 
 horses up the next hill, he endeavoured to learn 
 more. 
 
 " By the way, Dormer, I fear you must meet 
 this detested heiress, as she comes to us on 
 Monday ; but you shall not be introduced." 
 
 " There will be plenty to flatter her without 
 my troubUng myself," said he, coldly and haugh- 
 tily. " Besides, I shall be particularly engaged 
 this next week." 
 
 "What! riding alone ? " 
 
 " No !" he rephed very sternly.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 107 
 
 '^ Oh ! I beg your pardon, I thought it might 
 have been/' 
 
 There was a silence of some moments, but 
 the hill was a long one, so he began again. 
 " Where did you meet this Mrs. Hargrave ? " 
 He paused for an answer. 
 
 " I saw her at S — " said Dormer at length, 
 mastering his anger and confusion. 
 
 "At S — you say. Did you see much of 
 her ? or could she have any reason for shunning 
 you ? I ask because she refused to visit us, 
 though I urged her, and she knew you were 
 with us." 
 
 "Impossible! It cannot be!" burst forth 
 Dormer, surprised, hurt and angry. " She 
 cannot wish to shun me. Her brow spoke con- 
 fusion but not dishke. She shall, she must meet 
 me I What did she say ? how did she look ? 
 when she heard my name." 
 
 Alford bust into a loud laugh. "Well I 
 never could have beheved this possible ! I really 
 thought an earthly being was too material for 
 you, and that nothing less aerial than a rainbow 
 could have won you. What will Catherine 
 say ? I must gallop to tell her." 
 
 Away he went; but, gallop as he would. 
 Dormer was still at his side. A spiked gate, 
 too high for a leap, must be passed through. 
 " Open Sesame !" was useless ; the spell was 
 powerless, and Alford was obliged to dismount.
 
 108 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 Mr. Dormer dismounted also -, and when the 
 gate was closed, took his friend's arm and pro- 
 posed a walk. Alford, revelling in mischief, 
 would have declined the invitation, but his 
 friend's half-earnest, half-haughty look, produced 
 a burst of laughter, during which he allowed 
 himself to be led quietly forward. Neither 
 spoke, for Alford enjoyed the mischievous 
 pleasure of increasing his friend's awkwardness 
 by his silence ; and Dormer felt as if appealing 
 to Alford's forbearance would be beneath his 
 dignity, yet to have his feelings and her name 
 become the subject of jest and merriment was 
 not to be thought of. Too proud to stoop with 
 a good grace he at last said abruptly : 
 
 " As my friend, Alford, you will never men- 
 tion this subject again to me or to another." 
 
 " Is concealment a proof of friendship r" 
 said his friend, bending on him an enquiring 
 look. 
 
 " Pshaw ! I have other things to talk to you 
 about." 
 
 " Indeed ! then make haste and discuss them, 
 and we will talk about this matter afterwards. 
 Who knows but it may contain the elements 
 of high treason, or murder, or felony, or some 
 such heinous crime ; and, as my father would 
 say, 'eternal shame would rest on the eldest 
 son of a peer and a Privy Councillor, should 
 he fail to sift such a matter to the bottom.' So
 
 THE HEIRESS. 109 
 
 explain ! explain ! What^ shy about it ? Nay, 
 never colour; you are not the first wise man 
 who has lost his heart, and his senses too, to a 
 pretty foot, or a well-turned ankle, or a good 
 jointure. Which doth this gentle dame pos- 
 sess?" 
 
 " I tell you," said Dormer, worked up to a 
 passion by this raillery, "it were degradation 
 to think of her, much more to name her, in 
 your presence. Do you think that Percy 
 Dormer would give a second thought to the 
 loveliest face or the finest foot and ankle in 
 Christendom ? or that his heart would stoop 
 to court a jointure ? As well might you 
 think he would seek to rule for the gauds 
 of pomp or the fawning of slaves. Lovely as 
 she is, others may equal her in the material 
 part of her beauty. Other forms may be as 
 slight, other eyes as deep and blue, other 
 cheeks as rich and downy. But where can 
 you find all these lit up, and sulilimed by 
 such a mind? One while soft, timid, shy, 
 gentle, as the dawn of early morning in all 
 its misty loveliness, or the first sweet hopes 
 of childhood's happy years : and then bright as 
 our manhood's brighter dream, before the 
 spirit's blight ; glowing and l^rilliant as the sun.- 
 set hour — that time, when hojje and memory 
 mingle so wildly sweet together. With just 
 enough of earth to teach us to love, not wor-
 
 110 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 ship ; and yet, so much of heaven, as to repine 
 and purify the thoughts that rest upon her." 
 
 " Hear ! hear ! hear ! Hear ! hear ! hear ! 
 One while she is hke a misty morning or a 
 child's hoop or top. Which was it ? let me 
 remember ! Do repeat it, there is a good fellow ! 
 or, perhaps, you will write it down for me. It 
 is the very thing for Miss Juhana Waitman's 
 album. A misty morning and a glowing sun- 
 set ! Beautiful contrast ! I declare, I thought 
 I was listening to the maiden speech of a first 
 classman, praising his college. You really must 
 have written those ' Lines to a Lady ' in one of 
 the Annuals^ beginning — 
 
 ' Tliose eyes, sweet lady, glistening through their lashes, 
 Gleam like the mid-day sun when rain around us splashes.' 
 
 But who is this thing of poetry ? this woman 
 with a mind so marvellously balanced between 
 earth and heaven ? When we young men talk 
 of a woman's mind, we mean a lovely form 
 and a sensitive heart; but, of course, you 
 mean something more. May I presume to 
 enquire if Hargrave is the name this morning's 
 mist bears in this earthly world of ours ?" 
 
 " You are incorrigible ! and I am a fool to 
 heed or answer you," said his friend in a wTathful 
 tone, who had been writhing under the banter. 
 " On ! Proclaim my folly ! and hold mock at 
 it. I will delay you no longer."
 
 THE HEIRESS. Ill 
 
 " I thank you ; I am in no hurry," said he 
 in a careless tone. " In truth I am half tired 
 of laughing at folly, and have thought some- 
 times of looking grave at wisdom; but, just 
 now, I think I shall moralize on the blindness 
 of lovers. This Mrs. Hargrave, in my mind, 
 is tolerable, but nothing to make a fuss about ; 
 a very respectable-looking lady, but no more. 
 Now, my heiress is worth looking at. I tell 
 you what, you had better not make up your 
 mind till you have seen her ; for I will wager 
 my favourite hunter, after having been one 
 hour in her society, you will be for transferring 
 this aerial description from the widow to the 
 heiress. What say you ? " 
 
 " Hang the heiress ! " cried Dormer, in a 
 towering passion. 
 
 Alford shrugged his shoulders, in pretended 
 horror, and asked if all her admirers were to 
 share the same fate, as in that case the county 
 would be depopulated. 
 
 His friend was too angry to deign a reply, 
 but, mounting his horse, rode on ; and Alford, 
 thinking he had carried his raillery too far, 
 apologised and made his peace by promising 
 silence towards Catherine, guidance to Mrs. 
 Hargrave's on Monday, the day after the next, 
 and a sly declaration at the end, that he would 
 be sure and not introduce him to the heiress.
 
 112 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 She was a phantom of delight, 
 
 When first she gleamed upon my sight : 
 
 A lovely apparition, sent 
 
 To be a moment's ornament. 
 
 Her eyes like stars of twilight fair, 
 
 Like twilight too her dusky hair ; 
 
 But all things else about her, drawn 
 
 From May-day and the cheerful dawn. 
 
 A dancing shape — an image gay — 
 
 To haunt — and startle — and way-lay. 
 
 I saw her upon nearer view, 
 
 A spirit, yet a woman too I 
 
 A countenance, in which did meet 
 
 Sweet records, promises as sweet. 
 
 A perfect woman, nobly planned. 
 
 To warm, to comfort, to command ; 
 
 And yet a spirit still — and bright 
 
 With something of an angel light. 
 
 Wordsworth. 
 
 Parting day 
 Dies like the dolphin, whom each pang imbues 
 With a new colour as it gasps away ; 
 The last still loveliest, till 'tis gone and all is grey. 
 
 Byrok, 
 
 That Miss St. Maur, instead of Mrs. Har* 
 grave, was the real object of Dormer's pane- 
 gyric, Alford did not for one moment doubt ; 
 but how the mistake had arisen was beyond
 
 THE HEIRESS. 113 
 
 his comprehension. His love of mischief, not 
 always very justifiably gratified, made him cau- 
 tious of asking many questions, lest in acquiring 
 knowledge himself, he should likewise enlighten 
 his friend, and thus spoil his own sport. 
 
 About two o'clock on Monday, that time 
 having been fixed for the visit to Mrs. Har- 
 grave, Mr. Dormer entered the drawing room 
 at Marston HaU, thinking of the coming 
 meeting, and most heartily weary of the com- 
 pany of his noble host, who, from a sly sug- 
 gestion of Alford, had insisted on showing 
 him some improvements in his farm. Helen 
 had arrived a short time before, and was too 
 much engaged in an animated conversation 
 with Catherine to notice the opening of the 
 door. Alford, who had insisted on her taking 
 off her bonnet, that he might see the full 
 effect of Dormer's salutation, was seated nearly 
 opposite. 
 
 Dormer entered the apartment with an air in 
 which weariness at what had been, and antici- 
 pation of what was to be, were equally min- 
 gled ; and, thinking only of his visit, won his 
 way between chaises longues, and ottomans, 
 fauteuils, and footstools, till he stood beside 
 Alford. 
 
 "Have you ordered the horses?" he en- 
 quired, quite unconscious of the presence of 
 the ladies.
 
 114 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " Not yet ; but, if Miss St. Maur will excuse 
 my leaving her to Catherine's entertainment so 
 soon after her arrival, 1 will do so directly." 
 
 The name of the heiress was no inducement 
 for Dormer to look round, and he pretended to 
 be intent on a newspaper lying on the table, 
 till startled by a sweet and musical voice play- 
 ftdly releasing Alford from the trouble of 
 amusing her, he turned quickly round and 
 beheld before him the lovely being whose 
 charms had rendered him so eloquent two days 
 before. 
 
 Surprised at a sight so unexpected, and vexed 
 at Alford's smile, he stood for one minute look- 
 ing at her with flushing cheek, and in awkward 
 silence ; the next, he was by her side, pouring 
 forth in a less dignified and connected strain 
 than was his wont, his pleasure at this meeting : 
 in short, a whole torrent of hopes, fears, apolo- 
 gies, and congratulations. If the unexpected 
 surprise, and the looks of Alford, had confused 
 the gentleman, how could they do less than 
 have the same efl'ect on the lady. When she 
 saw those brilliant eyes fixed full upon her, 
 saying in the plainest manner the most flattering 
 things ; and heard him claim her aquaintance 
 with a warmth that would admit of no denial ; 
 and thought of the scene with her cousin, and 
 their previous meetings, her confusion became
 
 THE HEIRESS. 115 
 
 Still greater than that of Mr. Dormer ; and, for 
 almost the first time in her life, she lost all self- 
 possession, and listened with changing cheek 
 and downcast eyes to all his expressions of 
 pleasure at this meeting. 
 
 To Lady Catherine this scene was strange, 
 and, to all appearance, any thing but pleasing ; 
 whilst to her brother it afforded great amuse- 
 ment, mixed with some surprise, as even his 
 penetration failed to make the riddle quite 
 clear. Determined to amuse himself still more, 
 without the slightest pity for their confusion, 
 he began to "make confusion worse con- 
 founded." 
 
 " Why, what is the meaning of all this. 
 Dormer ?" looking provokingly from one to 
 the other. On Saturday, you declare you 
 detest heiresses, and positively refused to be 
 introduced to this lady ; yet on Monday, you 
 claim her acquaintance with an ardour that will 
 admit of no doubt as to your sincerity." 
 
 "What do you mean? "said Mr. Dormer, 
 turning angrily towards his friend. " You 
 know very weU, far from declining an introduc- 
 tion to this lady, that it was my first wish, and 
 that you had promised to take me to her resi- 
 dence to-day." 
 
 " I am sorry to contradict, but indeed I know 
 no such thing. I am certain I heard you
 
 116 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 declare that you would not be introduced to 
 Miss St. Maur; that you detested her, and 
 that she was only fit to be sold to a goldsmith 
 by weighty and, on my urging you farther, 
 you said, ' Hang the heiress ! ' and favoured 
 me with a most subhme and lover-hke descrip- 
 tion of Mrs. Hargrave ; in which you compared 
 her to the mist of the morn, and the glow of 
 the sunset — with just enough of earth to be 
 loved, yet sufficient of heaven to be adored. 
 If you deny all this, then shall I ' doubt truth 
 to be a har ! ' Miss St. Maur, you shall judge 
 between us." 
 
 The anger and confusion of Dormer, during 
 this ea^pose, might have satisfied a more mah- 
 cious trickster than his lordship. To have his 
 feelings thus thrown open to the public gaze ; 
 to find that he had uttered disparaging things of 
 the only woman who had at all equalled his 
 ideas of what woman should be ; to have those 
 things brought against him in her presence ; to 
 feel himself an object of ridicide ; to read in 
 the eyes of Lady Catherine a mahcious plea- 
 sure at his confusion 3 nay, even to fancy a 
 something arch in the look of Miss St. Maur 
 herself ; all these were things to wound and 
 gall a proud man : and Mr. Dormer was very 
 proud : too angry and too proud to deign an 
 explanation, since Helen's half smile spoke her
 
 THE HEIRESS. Il7 
 
 in his eyes a partner in the conspiracy. Un- 
 fitted by nature and education to conquer rail- 
 lery with raillery — aware, from experience, 
 that to appeal to Alford's forbearance would 
 be worse than useless — and still retaining suffi- 
 cient tact to feel the ridicule of giving way to 
 the passion which consumed him — he turned 
 away with a wrathful look, and with consider- 
 able difficulty controlled the expression of his 
 rage. 
 
 On Helen the eifect of Alford's words had 
 been diiferent. Surprise, confusion, soon 
 yielded to a feeling of woman's wounded dig- 
 nity. Her confusion passed away ; and, though 
 she could scarcely refrain from smiling at the 
 charges brought against Mr. Dormer, and his 
 vexation at them, yet her penetration left her 
 little doubt as to the true state of the case ; 
 and, feeling for his embarrassment, as well as 
 her own dignity, she considered it high time 
 to put a stop to Alford's merriment. 
 
 It is astonishing, considering man's superior 
 control over himseK on grand occasions, how 
 much quicker and better a woman's tact and 
 feeling will enable her to extricate a whole 
 party from embarrassment on minor ones. 
 Men, at least such men as Mr. Dormer, who 
 had been an idol from his birth, are too proud 
 and too lofty to turn or be turned. They would
 
 118 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 face danger with an unblanching cheek; they 
 are not weak enough to yield an opinion to a 
 laugh ; and yet raillery is death to them : and 
 that, not from their weakness, but from their 
 strength. Accustomed to quell impertinence by 
 one withering look, or the stateliness of their 
 carriage, should some one, with almost more 
 than mortal daring, presume to continue the at- 
 tack, the proud man feels he has no weapons fit 
 to carry on the pigmy strife. The impetuous 
 burst of indignation that on an occasion worthy 
 of it would appear sublime, would here be only 
 ridiculous. It would be like an elephant waging 
 war with a monkey ; a mailed hero of ancient 
 time, careering with an effeminate dandy of the 
 present; a steam vessel of a thousand horse 
 power, engaging in a combat with a paltry 
 fishing yawl. 
 
 The course through life of a really proud and 
 lofty man, one of your veritable sultans, is a per- 
 petual steeple chace : he will bear down all before 
 him, or perish in the attempt. Fortunately 
 for the more common-place beings who people 
 the earth, there are but few who from nature 
 and situation can enact the sultan, else might 
 crowds be trampled down in the stern chace 
 unnoted and unmourned. 
 
 The power of woman is widely different:
 
 THE HEIRESS. 119 
 
 more accustomed to contradiction, without the 
 brute force that can win her will ; obliged to 
 yield to husbands, brothers, and circumstances ; 
 educated more for indolent enjoyment than 
 active exertion ; shrinking with feminine deli- 
 cacy from attracting the pubHc gaze ; she wins 
 lier way gently and silently through all impedi- 
 ments — rules by her sweetness, and governs by 
 her helplessness. She can meet raillery with 
 raiUery as playful 5 disarm passion with her 
 smiles ; and, should the chance of war be 
 likely to turn against her, she can shelter her- 
 self beneath the woman's dignity, or the capri- 
 ciousness attributed to her sex. Man is like the 
 st^am vessel, holding on its course under bare 
 poles against wind and tide, with all the pride 
 of power. Woman is Uke one of the beautiful 
 vessels of the R. Y. C. veering, tacking; her 
 white sails glistening in the sun; her red 
 burgee floating in the breeze ; shifting her 
 course as wind and tide obstruct her path, yet 
 ever steering for the same desired haven ; and 
 winning her way, if with less swiftness, with 
 more of beauty and of grace. 
 
 Helen had even more than a woman's usual 
 tact; had been accustomed to encounter Alford 
 from childhood ; and had little doubt one 
 word from her would silence him. Feeling for 
 the awkwardness of the situation in which his
 
 120 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 fooling had placed Mr. Dormer, she was anxious 
 to relieve him from all further annoyance as 
 soon as possible. 
 
 Had she marked his wrathful look, as he 
 turned away ; or could she now have guessed 
 the passion which raged wdthin him, she might 
 have left him to amend his humour as he 
 could ; but, as she had no opportunity of 
 judging of his present mood, and felt she had 
 been in some measure the innocent cause of 
 his annoyance, she hastened to play pacificator. 
 
 " Alford," said she, " you appealed to me as 
 judge, and I accept the office. Now, hear your 
 sentence. That you, being the cause of all 
 this mischief, shall forthwith make most humble 
 apologies to Mr. Dormer and myself for your 
 late ill-conduct; which apologies shall be 
 couched in general terms, to avoid all further 
 discussion. Moreover, you shall bind yourself 
 to keep the peace towards all now present for 
 the space of three months ; shall be banished 
 my presence till dinner time ; and shall be 
 grave and silent for the whole evening. What 
 say you, Mr. Dormer?" smihng sweetly, "do 
 you think we may venture to be so merciful to 
 such an incorrigible offender ? " 
 
 The cloud on his brow passed at the sound 
 of that musical voice ; even Alford was forgiven, 
 and in a moment more he stood beside her.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 121 
 
 " ' Oh most righteous sentence ! a second 
 Daniel come to judgment ! ' " he repUed, catch- 
 ing for once her spirit of playfulness. 
 
 '' Stop," said Alford, " you have heard no- 
 thing. I demanded a fair trial." 
 
 " No, you demanded a fair judge, and that 
 you had." 
 
 " A pun from Percy Dormer ! Nay then, 
 I yield me to my fate. But first let me ex- 
 plain." 
 
 "No explanation is required ;" replied Helen, 
 colouring slightly. 
 
 " That is unjust," said Lady Catherine pet- 
 tishly; ^'explain, Alford, by all means : it will be 
 vastly entertaining ; besides, I do not see how 
 you are to blame. In my view, the guilt rests 
 with Mr. Dormer; though Helen, with her 
 usual magnanimity, seems incHned to pardon 
 him the putting her on a par with old fashioned 
 plate, and only to punish you for repeating it. ' 
 
 " I shrink from no explanation. Lady Ca- 
 therine Alford," said Mr. Dormer proudly. 
 " Alford knows what I said applied to heiresses 
 in general, not to the one bright exception ; 
 and that my remarks were wrung from me by 
 persecution. Why he chose to name Mrs. 
 Hargrave intead of Miss St. Maur, as the lady 
 to whom I bowed, he alone can explain." 
 
 Lady Catherine drew back in haughty silence, 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 for she too was an heiress, though on a small 
 scale, and received the remark as personal; 
 but in this she did Mr. Dormer injustice. 
 
 " In giving Hargrave instead of St. Maur I 
 acted in perfect innocence, as, beheving you 
 unacquainted with Helen, I concluded Mrs. 
 Hargrave must have been the lady to whom 
 you bowed ; that I have been equally innocent 
 in the rest of this adventure, I am aware it 
 would be useless to assert before two such 
 prejudiced judges. As you will neither hear 
 me in my defence, nor allow Catherine to plead 
 for me, I can but throw myself on your mercy. 
 Come Helen, remember what your pet Shak- 
 speare says about mercy, and do not banish me 
 from your presence." 
 
 " What think you, Mr. Dormer ? May we 
 venture on a free pardon ?" 
 
 '^ Why, yes ! I think even I would be his 
 surety that he could never offend you again." 
 
 Helen blushed at the emphasis on the word 
 you, and pronounced a full pardon. 
 
 " Thanks, noble judge 1" said the culprit, bow- 
 ing low and then adding archly, '^But I 
 think Dormer should stand a trial." 
 
 "Is this the way our mercy is repaid ? You 
 lead your friend into a labyrinth, and then take 
 advantage ot his entanglement. We will hear 
 no more of this matter."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 123 
 
 The look and tone, though half playful, were 
 sufficient, and Alford was silent. 
 
 " What is this matter you will hear no more 
 of? " asked Lady Marston, entering the room at 
 the moment ; " has Alford been at his pranks 
 again ? '' 
 
 " It is very hard, mother! there is no mischief 
 done but all think I have some share in it : do 
 pray, Catherine, stand up in my defence, and 
 relate what has passed." 
 
 " After my mercy ? " said Helev. 
 
 " Oh ! it was nothing at all," said Catherine 
 bitterly; " but Miss St. Maur and the gentlemen 
 have been playing the first part of ' Much Ado 
 about Nothing,' and the finale will doubtless be 
 enacted hereafter, in a spirit worthy the au- 
 thor." 
 
 Lady Marston and Mr. Dormer looked sur- 
 prised, Alford annoyed, and Helen blushed for 
 the lady and herself. 
 
 " You do not state the thing correctly, Ca- 
 therine," said her brother gaily, to relieve all 
 parties. 
 
 " It was ^All's Well that Ends Well,' and I 
 found the play very entertaining,'^ he added 
 archly. 
 
 " It may have been sport to you and death 
 to others," said Catherine, as she left the 
 room. 
 
 G 2
 
 24 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 "I am ready now, my dear/' said Lady 
 Marston to Helen. 
 
 " Where are you going?" inquired her son. 
 
 "To my school; and Helen, dear child, goes 
 to assist me." 
 
 " Now this is very unfair, taking Helen away 
 when I have scarcely spoken to her ; I have 
 half a mind to join the party." 
 
 " Agreed, if Helen will be surety^for your not 
 disturbing the gravity of the children." 
 
 " That will I not, dear madam. Your son is 
 so incorrigible, and presumes so much on our 
 childish friendship and certain pretty speeches 
 he made me the other day, that I see I must 
 assume more dignity, and be Miss St. Maur, 
 instead of Helen." 
 
 " Not so," he replied, taking her hand as he 
 spoke, to lead her to the donkey chaise; "let us 
 always be Helen and Alford, and I really will 
 be a good boy : but stop," pausing abruptly, 
 " Dormer will insist on my conducting him to 
 Mrs. Hargrave. Have you any message for 
 your aunt ? " 
 
 " Yes ! that she will be kind enough to detain 
 you till the conclusion of my visit." 
 
 "And Dormer also?" looking archly from 
 one to the other. 
 
 "That must be at her pleasure. I have 
 nothing to do with Mr. Dormer's movements." 
 
 ^' There Dormer ! you may come or go as you
 
 THE HEIRESS. 125 
 
 please ; Miss St. Maur cares no more for you 
 than for Cathy's poodle! " 
 
 Mr. Dormer looked displeased, and Helen 
 adjusted her shawl to conceal blush, or smile 5 
 which is not known. 
 
 " Pity me, Helen," said her ladyship, " for 
 having such a mad son. I wonder how you 
 ever did him the honour of admitting him to 
 your friendship, Mr. Dormer ? " 
 
 ^^ I have ever lived in hopes he would amend." 
 
 '^ That hope is vain, I am convinced," cried 
 Helen, drawing back and colouring highly at 
 something he had whispered in her ear. ^' Take 
 my arm, dear lady Marstonj and, with your 
 leave, we will forbid all further attendance." 
 
 But the gentlemen pleaded hard; their plead- 
 ings prevailed, and they were allowed to hand 
 the ladies to the carriage, Alford playing don- 
 key boy, and in obedience to a whispered com- 
 mand from Helen, making no more allusions to 
 the past. 
 
 Wild and wreckless as Lord Alford was, there 
 were many redeeming points in the character. 
 The lower classes ever found in him a warm, 
 and, strange to say, a judicious friend: his tem- 
 per was rarely ruffled, and it was beautiful to 
 see his attention to his mother. Aware that 
 even the gentle motion of a donkey was almost 
 too much for her delicate frame to endure, his
 
 126 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 whole attention was engaged in taking care that 
 no stone or piece of rough ground should occa- 
 sion a ruder action : arrived at the school he 
 was equally careful in helping her out, and in 
 placing her in a comfortable arm-chair. The 
 mother's ghstening eye spoke her estimation of 
 his attentions, and the son thought if both pa- 
 rents had been like this one, what a different 
 character he might have been. 
 
 On ordinary occasions a village school-room 
 would not have been a place calculated to afford 
 much pleasure to either of the gentlemen, yet 
 now, though the visit was by no means short, 
 neither had wished it shorter. The calm gentle 
 manner of Lady Marston, with her sweet look 
 of patient suffering, contrasted, yet harmonized 
 even in its contrast, with the glowing beauty 
 and witching smiles of Helen; who won the 
 most timid to boldness, and the most silent to 
 speech. The clearness and simphcity of her 
 questions, the patience with which she explaned 
 to the stupid, the pleasure with which she lis- 
 tened to the intelligent, and the warm praise she 
 bestowed on the deserving, threw a spell over 
 the labours of the school-room, of which, we 
 fear, such scenes are sometimes destitute; and 
 visitors and visited felt regret when the fear 
 of fatiguing Lady Marston warned them to 
 return.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 127 
 
 " You must come and assist me in my school 
 sometimes^ dear Helen, for I am seldom able 
 to do much; and Catherine, I am sorry to say, 
 complains the children are so dirty and ugly 
 and stupid, that she cannot bear to attend 
 them." 
 
 "Catherine's talents are so great, and she 
 has so many accomplishments, and so much 
 refinement, that one cannot be surprised she 
 should find the village children dirty and stu- 
 pid; but she is very liberal with her contri- 
 butions, and we must not expect too much/' 
 rephed Helen. 
 
 Her ladyship felt her kindness, and pressed 
 her hand in return ; but sighed deeply, for even 
 the fondness of a mother could not blind her 
 to the defects of her child. 
 
 " Yes, Helen ! " said Alford gaily, " you and 
 I wiU attend to the school, for you have quite 
 given me a taste for it; and even Dormer, 
 though a refiner, has decided that the future 
 Mrs. D. may superintend the learning of A B C, 
 provided she resembles you, and never makes 
 an intended visit to the school an excuse for 
 thick leather shoes, cotton stockings, and wear- 
 ing a two-year old gown." 
 
 Dormer bit his lip, for, had his friend pos- 
 sessed the ring of the fairy tale, he could have 
 scarcely defined his feelings more clearly.
 
 128 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " Agreed/' said Helen, laughing, and answer- 
 ing only to the first part of the speech, though a 
 sly glance had made her aware of the annoyance 
 its termination had occasioned. "You shall 
 teach the boys, and I the girls/' 
 
 ^' No, indeed ! we teach together." 
 
 " And, 'make confusion worse confounded,' as 
 you did not long since. But the school seems 
 already so well managed that I doubt if our as- 
 sistance wiU be required." 
 
 " Oh ! that is due to Annie Grey.'* 
 
 "To Annie Grey ! And who is Annie Grey? 
 for her name alone is a romance." 
 
 " So it is," said Alford, answering for his mo- 
 ther, "and Miss Jones would give her ears, and 
 her mother's tongue to boot, for the change : 
 and now I wiU teU you who Annie Grey is, for 
 she deserves a description. She is the gentlest, 
 the sweetest, the best: a lily of the valley! 
 a violet ! a primrose ! the extract of a tear ! the 
 essence of a sigh ! the spirit of an adieu ! a 
 dew-drop on a rose ! " 
 
 " Beautiful ! I shall send for an album with 
 an embossed border of hlies, \dolets, and prim- 
 roses, and you shaU write this in the first page. 
 But I must apply to your mother for more 
 reasonable information, since you only tell me 
 what she is, and not who she is." 
 
 " She is the orphan grandchild of the Nor-
 
 THE HEIRESS. 129 
 
 tons, has resided with them about two years, 
 and may almost warrant Alford's description. 
 I want to interest you for her, as she needs a 
 friend, and I know your warm heart. Mr. 
 Norton our vicar is now so old as to be scarcely 
 able to perform the pubhc duties of his profes- 
 sion, yet is too poor to keep a curate ; and Mrs. 
 Norton, from paralysis, is almost helpless. Poor 
 Annie's parents died about three years since at 
 her father's curacy in the north, leaving their 
 child about eight hundred pounds, all their 
 little saving. Though delicate, she never com- 
 l^lains, but is all that the most precious child 
 could be to the Nortons, and as far as is in her 
 power, supplies her grandfather's place in the 
 parish. Poverty and old age prevent his mix- 
 ing in society, and Annie is so shy she can 
 scarcely be persuaded to go any where. I 
 fancy her lonely life wears on her spirits, and I 
 want you to win her from herself. I know she 
 is afraid of Catherine, but I have taught her to 
 love you." 
 
 " Poor thing ! to be an orphan, and so young ! 
 We must be sisters," said Helen, and the tears 
 stood in her eyes as she thought of her own loss. 
 " When shall I call on her ? " 
 
 " Suppose you go to-day. Catherine will go 
 with you, I have no doubt, as I heard her say 
 she meant to call." \ 
 
 G S '^
 
 130 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 Lady Catherine agreed to the plan, and es- 
 corted by the gentlemen the young ladies set 
 off for Marston Vicarage, with which and its 
 inhabitants Helen was delighted. 
 
 Mr. Norton, whom she had known before, 
 W^as one alive to all the dignity of his profession, 
 cheerfully pious, charitable in pecuniary matters 
 to the utmost of his means, still more charitable 
 in matters of the mind ; one of those beauti- 
 fully simple and single-hearted beings, who win 
 the love and respect of even the most worldly. 
 Annie had much of her grandfather's character. 
 Half child, half woman; with her soft blue 
 eyes ; her light curls falling over her fair brow ; 
 and her full cheek, that changed its colour with 
 a feehng or a thought ; and her small but 
 delicate and fragile figure, she seemed almost 
 to realise our fancies of a being from a higher 
 world. Though shy, she was not awkward, and 
 ere the visit was ended, she had consented to 
 spend some days at Hurlestone, and felt in 
 Helen she had found a new object to love. As 
 they passed through the little garden, gay \nth 
 innumerable flowers. Lady Catherine remarked 
 an old moss rose tree with only one bud. " Why 
 do you allow that shabby old tree to encumber 
 the ground ? " asked she. " Dig it up, and the 
 gardener shall bring you a better one, for your 
 garden is really very neat."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 131 
 
 "Thank you, Lady Catherine/' said Miss 
 Grey, colouring deeply, and bending over the 
 rose tree ; " but I prize that more than any 
 flower at Marston Hall : it was planted by my 
 mother/' 
 
 " Why it has but one poor bhghted flower, 
 child ! " remarked her ladyship contemptuously. 
 
 "And even that may be gone soon," said 
 Annie sorrowfully, whilst a tear feU on the rose 
 over which she was bending. 
 
 " Most likely," said Catherine carelessly. 
 
 Miss Grey started, and the colour left her 
 cheeks ; the words seemed a confirmation of 
 her half prophecy. Helen saw in an instant 
 what was passing in her mind. " You are wrong, 
 Catherine," she said, " with a little fresh mould, 
 I have little doubt the bush will soon flourish 
 again. You must let me prescribe for it, my 
 dear Miss Grey," and she took her hand kindly. 
 *' I have a passion for moss-roses ! And now good 
 bye, for we must not detain you any longer." 
 
 "I wonder what the people see in Annie 
 Grey, as they all choose to call her, to like so 
 much ? " said Lady Catherine, as they returned 
 home. A mere stupid, simple, country girl, 
 
 * With hair that is lint-white. 
 And skin that is milk-white ! ' 
 
 Give her red eyes, and she might equal in
 
 132 THE HEIRESSf. 
 
 beauty a French rabbit. The mind seems of the 
 same colour as the hair, cold, and insipid, and 
 only fit to superintend a dairy, a poultry-yard,^ 
 and a nursery/* 
 
 " She is young and shy," replied Helen 
 warmly, " and has lived retired ; but she is one 
 of the sweetest, most winning beings I ever 
 beheld." 
 
 " And you think her beautiful ? " 
 
 " More than beautiful ! I think her almost 
 angelic." 
 
 "Stylish?" 
 
 "If she has not the style of a woman of 
 fashion, she has at least none of her imperti- 
 nence," said her brother quickly. 
 
 " Oh ! is it so ? ^ I cry your pardon ! ' " and 
 bowing ironically, she entered the house before 
 he could reply. 
 
 " Poor Annie Grey ! " remarked his lordship ; 
 " I shaU not give up your defence from dread 
 of Cathy's taunts. She is much to be pitied." 
 
 " To be envied rather," said Dormer warmly, 
 "for she has won Miss St. Maur's love and 
 regard." 
 
 Helen was standing alone at an open window, 
 admiring a beautiful sunset, when Mr. Dormer 
 entered from the dining-room. So noiseless 
 was his step, that she knew not he had intruded 
 on her soHtude, nor did he wish her to know it.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 133 
 
 Silent and still he stood beside her, watching 
 her lovely face, and scarcely breathing lest it 
 should disturb her. At that moment, he felt, 
 or thought he felt, that the lowliest lot, if shared 
 with her, would be happiness : the proudest, if 
 unshared with her, but misery ! 
 
 She sighed, and tears stood in her dark blue 
 eyes. Why that sigh ? and why those tears ? 
 He looked at her as he would read their cause. 
 A slight noise startled her, she turned hastily 
 round and met his gaze. There was a some- 
 thing so penetrating, so lustrous, and withal so 
 flattering, that blushing she turned again abrupt- 
 ly to the window ; he stood beside her, and his 
 rich deep voice fell on her ear. 
 
 " There is a spell about the evening hour — an 
 enchantment in its glory or in its quietude, whicli 
 no other time can boast ; it is to me the happiest 
 or the saddest hour in all the day. The cold 
 mist of morning speaks of what will soon be the 
 present, and prompts to exertion. The hero 
 holds his sword with a firmer grasp, and, ex- 
 ulting in the power of his strength, sees in fancy 
 the field of battle won, and hears the shouts of 
 victory : the statesman, glorying in his mighty 
 mind, bursts through the toils of his opposers, 
 and rules all meaner things, his countrj^'s pride ! 
 The mid-day heat has something of the languor 
 of satiety ; the unsatisfaction of long possession ;
 
 134 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 the querulousness of the present. The gloom of 
 night disperses the dreams of day, and whispers 
 of the grave ; or aifords time and clearness to 
 calculate coldly the chances and worth of suc- 
 cess. It points to the bloody field, the widowed 
 wife, the orphaned child, and dulls the blaze 
 of glory, or it tells of deceitful friends, of early 
 friendships broken, of mean and base sup- 
 porters, of selfish and intriguing opponents; 
 and twines the stateman's wreath mth thorns. 
 But evening has none of these things ; or all, 
 and a thousand more besides. The mind may 
 trace in all its gorgeous splendour the history 
 of its own glory, setting in brilliant majesty the 
 object of sympathy and of admiration to all 
 kindred souls ; a giant reposing for a time, to 
 rise again in greater strength, and power, and 
 splendour. Yes, for once, perhaps for twice, 
 the mind may have these thoughts, and then 
 it can never dream such things again ; at other 
 times, it only seems to mock at all these things. 
 Long dark shadows fall over the brightest hues ; 
 all looks weary — a chill creeps over the spirit, 
 and the wreath of glory withers beneath its 
 touch. Then for its moment of delight, if such 
 it can be called, what is it ? The intensity of 
 feehng, the agonised delight, the passionate 
 tenderness with which we bend above the dead, 
 vowing our hearts to theirs.**
 
 THE HEIRESS. J35 
 
 He paused. Helen, won by his passionate 
 tones, had drank in every word, had watched 
 every feature expand, the whole face take a new 
 character, and even when he had ceased, she 
 withdrew not her eyes, but stood expecting him 
 to continue. There was a strong expression of 
 surprise on her countenance, which his dread 
 of being ridiculous made him interpret wrong- 
 fully. The character of his countenance changed 
 instantly, and a slight smile of self derision 
 curled his lip. 
 
 " I beg your pardon. Miss St. Maur, for 
 wearying you with this rhapsody. I saw a tear, 
 and I heard a sigh ; but it seems I read such mat- 
 ters ill. I forgot, for a moment, that the sexes 
 are not more different in their beauties than in 
 their thoughts." 
 
 There was a hauteur in his tone that piqued 
 Helen, though she scarcely knew why. 
 
 " May not the difference of education have 
 almost as much to do with the diiFerence of 
 feeling as sex itself ? " she asked ; " and is it 
 not, in some instances, rather a difference in 
 degree than in substance? I could admire 
 and understand your description, though I did 
 iiot quite agree with you." 
 
 " I had no right to expect you should : sighs 
 and tears have as many objects as there are 
 objects to gratify them. The child cries for its
 
 136 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 play-things ; the maiden weeps — but no ! " he 
 added, checking himself, her sweet smile re- 
 buking his churlishness, — " the maiden should 
 weep for nothing, for all things should be given 
 her; her sighs and tears should only be for 
 others." 
 
 " Are maidens so very selfish, then, that 
 you think to lighten their sorrow by bidding 
 them weep for others rather than themselves ? 
 And talk not of giving us every thing ; I never 
 yet heard a gentleman say that ladies should 
 have all they desire ? but what that man was 
 the veriest tyrant in existence." 
 
 " Can you dread a tyrant ? " 
 
 "Not much;" and she turned away from 
 his gaze as she spoke. " Alford has the im- 
 pertinence to say I could out-Herod Herod. 
 But you evade my question. Do you deem us 
 so very selfish ? " 
 
 " I spoke of our wishes, not of your merits. 
 We would save you from all other griefs, that 
 your tears might flow only for us. We alone 
 would awaken anxiety; thus the selfishness 
 rests not with you but with us." 
 
 " And you would take care the weU of our 
 affections should not stagnate. There is more of 
 gallantry than sincerity in your answer, I sus- 
 pect. And now one question more. We are to 
 have aU for wliich we wish ; what if we wish 
 for power ? "
 
 THE HEIRESS. 137 
 
 " That cannot be : none wish for what they 
 have. You would but weary with excess." 
 
 His comphmentary tone displeased her ; it 
 neither suited the loftiness of her own charac- 
 ter, or what she had imagined of his, and she 
 proceeded more gravely. 
 
 " WiU you define our power ? " 
 
 "I feel it!" 
 
 " I ask in earnestness, and am answered in 
 levity ; but you judged rightly in thinking the 
 truth would be distasteful. I will define our 
 boasted power. It is to win flattery and atten- 
 tion by a bright eye, a glowing cheek, a grace- 
 ful form— to lose both when these things fade. 
 If we resent compliments, held churlish ; if we 
 accept them, frivolous and vain. Followed, 
 courted, flattered, while young, rich, and beau- 
 tiful ; despised and unnoticed when old, poor, 
 and plain ; and rarely in our brightest hours 
 deemed worthy of participating in the high 
 things and noble dreams of men. Such is, in 
 most instances, our power ; ever frail, fleeting, 
 evanescent, and based on unworthy senti- 
 ments !" 
 
 He was surprised : there was an indignant 
 force in her language, and a depth in her tone, 
 which showed she had read his thoughts. Ti'ue, 
 he had talked of her mind, but then, as Alford 
 said, what do men generally mean by talking
 
 138 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 of the mind of a beautiful woman ? If she have 
 animation and feehng, so as to amuse by the 
 one and flatter by the other, then she has 
 mind, and quite as much as most people desire. 
 Weak men dread a superior ; wise men like a 
 play-thing : not quite a fool perhaps, but cer- 
 tainly not very wise. We speak of the majo- 
 rity, and appeal to experience to acquit us of 
 falsehood. What startled him most was the 
 quickness with which she had penetrated his 
 estimate of women; and he doubted if he 
 understood the lovely being before him. "When 
 next he spoke it was with more of respect and 
 less of gallantry. 
 
 " Such a definition is unjust to all. If beauty 
 win us, it is beca\ise we judge of the jewels con- 
 tained within the casket, by the exquisite work- 
 manship lavished on the exterior. It is the 
 diamond of the mind to which we pay our 
 homage, through the fretted beauty of its case." 
 
 " Oh ! the marvellously new discoveries that 
 are made every hour ! " and she raised her 
 hands in astonishment. 
 
 " There is no deceiving that woman," thought 
 Dormer : " now for a last eifort." 
 
 " May we never see and own an error ? 
 When the real pole-star rises on our view, may 
 we not worship it, take it for our guide, though, 
 during the days of our delusion, we bowed be- 
 fore some meaner thing?"
 
 THE HEIRESS. 139 
 
 Helen's laughing eyes were turned full upon 
 him, and so filled were they with their own 
 archness, that, for once, they stood the deep 
 gaze of his unblenchingly. There needed no 
 words, and she spoke none ; but, as she again 
 turned from him, a shade passed over her fea- 
 tures. It was regret that he should have 
 stooped to deceitful compliments, but he read 
 it as displeasure; and he was angry mth 
 himself at being, for the first time in his life, 
 ashamed to avow his low estimate of female 
 understanding, and angry with her for dis- 
 covering his feelings. 
 
 " Miss St. Maur, I have offended you," he 
 said with a mixture of pride and impetuosity. 
 " Remember! it is no easy thing to throw off 
 the prejudices of years ; it is no shght triumph 
 to overthrow them." 
 
 " It is a task you have not accomplished, 
 Mr. Dormer; it is a triumph I neither expect 
 or desire. We will change the conversation, if 
 you please. I am in no mood to run a tilt for 
 the wisdom of the sex; the evening is too 
 peaceful for such warlike deeds." 
 
 " I will respect your wishes, though I can- 
 not own myself defeated." 
 
 " I never expected that," she said archly, 
 and then added, to change the subject : — " Let 
 us talk of the beautiful skies of Italy. Tell me.
 
 140 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 are they really so much more beautiful than 
 ours ? I fancy I should think they wanted 
 variety." 
 
 He thought of wandering over Italy with 
 Helen by his side^ and forgot all his displeasure 
 at her rebukes. 
 
 *^ You must pardon my disobedience, and 
 allow me to describe an evening in England, 
 more beautiful, in my eyes, than any I ever 
 beheld even in la belle Italie. It was the first 
 time I saw you." 
 
 " Oh ! I pray you to forget that meeting ! " 
 half-blushing half-laughing; " or I shall be 
 obHged to apologize for Bran and myself too." 
 
 " It was not very flattering certainly," re- 
 turning her laugh with perfect good-humour, 
 "to be taken either for a hedgehog or a starveUng 
 cat; but I suspect I ought to apologize for 
 having frightened you, and I sought you for 
 that purpose, though in vain. But it is not of 
 that evening I mean to speak. I had seen you 
 twice before. Do you remember an evening at 
 
 , when the rain forced you to take shelter 
 
 in a cottage ? It was then I first beheld you ; 
 bending over the sick-bed of the old grand- 
 mother, and soothing her querulous complaints; 
 stilling the shrill cries of the sickly baby; or 
 assisting the elder child to make up the fire, 
 and breathing hope into the heart of the faint-
 
 THE HEIRESS. 141 
 
 ing mother. That scene can never be for- 
 gotten." 
 
 " I remember the evening perfectly ; but had 
 no idea our acquaintance had commenced so 
 early. Where had you found the magic belt 
 to make you invisible, for I never suspected I 
 had a spectator ; and where was your gallantry 
 that you did not offer to assist. What with 
 the outrageous merriment of the children at 
 my inefficient blowing, and the wetness of 
 the wood, I thought the fire would never have 
 kindled." 
 
 " I was in an out-house adjoining, in which 
 the shower had induced me to seek shelter, and 
 through a chink in the wall, watched your cha- 
 ritable exertions, so selfishly lost in admiration 
 that I could not make up my mind to break the 
 spell by offering assistance. Before the rain 
 had ceased your carriage drove up. I hastened 
 from my retreat to learn your name, but in my 
 hurry fell over a faggot, and when I reached the 
 door the carriage was out of sight. I made 
 inquiries that night, but could learn nothing; 
 and the next morning urgent business obhged 
 me to proceed to London. Once again I saw 
 you, and it seemed as if some act of kindness 
 was ever to mark our interviews. As my friend 
 Tyrrel was driving me through a small town in 
 Dorsetshire, a child, in crossing the road, fell
 
 142 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 just before the horses. Tyrrel was attending 
 to something else, and the child might have 
 perished, had not you sprung forward and 
 snatched the little thing almost from under the 
 horse's feet. I just caught your look of deUght 
 as you gave the child to its mother -, met your 
 glance of reproach at our apparently unfeehng 
 conduct ; and then the horses becoming unman- 
 ageable, set off at full speed, and I saw you no 
 more. The next day I could hear nothing con- 
 cerning you. At length I gave up all hopes of 
 meeting you again; yet still you Hved in my 
 thoughts. Judge then of my pleasure at seeing 
 you in the church-yard. Pardon me when I 
 own I had been watching you some time, with 
 what feelings I cannot — dare not say. How 
 you escaped my search I know not, for it was 
 night ere I gave up the hope of finding you. I 
 had been so unsuccessful in my former inquiries, 
 I decided on making none now, but to haunt 
 the spot. The next day it was my happiness 
 to be of service to you. Perhaps my looks and 
 words told my pleasure too strongly, for you 
 seemed anxious to dismiss me, and I thought 
 your manner cold ; but all conduct must have 
 seemed so, compared to my own feelings. The 
 questions of a meddlesome woman prevented 
 my inquiries, and my insisting to ride alone, 
 that I might again seek you, delayed my intro-
 
 THE HEIRESS. 143 
 
 duction till to-day. Shall I make an apology 
 for my inadvertent words to Alford, or have 
 you forgiven them ? " 
 
 " What if I never thought of them at all?'' 
 she said playfully, to hide the confusion this 
 explanation had occasioned. "But some apology 
 you do owe me. I asked you to teU me of 
 Italian skies, and you have only told me of 
 myself. Now look at those beautiful clouds 
 just tinged with the glow of sunset, and wonder 
 how we could think of aught beside. Are they 
 not soft and lovely as the memories of those 
 we have loved and lost. And then look at that 
 gorgeous pile of clouds towards which they are 
 moving, as though to teach us, sorrow for the 
 loss of those we loved should be swallowed up 
 in the bright hope of a re-union. Look, look 
 at those changing clouds, each change more 
 lovely than the last; now purple, and now 
 crimson, mocking at the works of mortal hands ; 
 then turn to the calm serenity of the east, from 
 whence all clouds have passed away, as though 
 preparing for a purer and brighter dawn. As 
 all those vapours crowding to the west increase 
 the glory of the sunset hour, so do trials sus- 
 tained, and temptations overcome, add lustre 
 to the departure of the pious ; even the shadows 
 deepening round should please, not chiU. Do 
 they not speak of peace and calm ? You must
 
 144 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 love such an evening as this, Mr. Dormer ? I 
 am sure you do." 
 
 To have failed loving any thing for which 
 she had thus pleaded^ would have been impos- 
 sible ; and his looks, and a few low words, told 
 her so. He had gazed on her glowing cheek, 
 and listened to her soft voice, rendered more 
 touching by feeling, till everything but the beau- 
 tiful enthusiast was forgotten ; and he began to 
 think that woman might sympathise even with 
 his high hopes. But whether she could or not, 
 his desire to win Helen was stiU the same. 
 They were silent for some time, she watching 
 the clouds, and he her ; when the entrance of 
 the rest of the party disturbed their tete-d-tete. 
 
 " Catherine," said Lord Marston to his 
 daughter, as she sat at the tea-table feeding her 
 poodle with creamed and sugared toast, " I 
 should think it might be possible to prevent 
 your dog from entering the library ; at least, I 
 should imagine you might succeed if you tried 
 it." 
 
 " I really never trouble about it," replied 
 her Ladyship, carelessly. 
 
 " Then I wish you would trouble about it," 
 said her father sharply, annoyed into a more 
 decided style of speech. 
 
 " If you would keep the doors shut Jour- 
 ment could not enter ; and yet that would be
 
 THE HEIRESS. 145 
 
 rather hard upon him if he have a taste for 
 study j but I hope he is not going to turn poH- 
 tician, they are so prosy or so fiery." 
 
 " Catherine, you are intolerable/' remarked 
 the Earl, angrily. " I tell you Tourment has 
 done me more mischief than the value of the 
 whole race of dogs and puppies could repair." 
 
 ^' Indeed ! " said she, looking most provok- 
 ingly stupid. " Do you hear that ? " turning to 
 her brother and his friend. " Pauvre Tour- 
 ment ! what has he done ? Devoured Magna 
 Charta ? or digested Machiavel ? " 
 
 " Worse, Lady Catherine Alford. He has 
 upset the ink over every thing, and thrown 
 down the busts of the immortal Pitt and Fox 
 and Windham and Sheridan," said he, pomp - 
 ously. 
 
 " Horrid httle wretch ! inked your paws, I 
 dare say ! Let me see ;" and she examined each 
 minutely. " Only see, papa, what a clever 
 little animal ; he has not a spot of ink about 
 him." 
 
 " Catherine," said his Lordship, still more 
 angrily, provoked by her nonchalance at the 
 overthrow of the statesmen, '' if you will not 
 keep your dog out of the library he shall quit 
 Marston Hall; nothing is safe from him." 
 
 " I was thinking of taking lodgings for him 
 at Brighton, for he is nervous, poor fellow ! and 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146' THE HEIRESS. 
 
 requires sea-bathing ; but when did Tourment 
 do all this mischief? and are you quite sure 
 he is the culprit ? " 
 
 " None but yourself could doubt it. I heard 
 a rush as of something escaping from the win- 
 dow, and entered the room just in time to see 
 my valuable busts fall to the ground." 
 
 " Then is Tourment innocent, for he was in 
 my dressing-room the whole of the day." 
 
 " Impossible ! how else could it have hap- 
 pened ? " 
 
 " Perhaps Mr. Dormer did it," said she, look- 
 ing simple. 
 
 The stupid simplicity of her look and tone, 
 joined to the idea of the stately Mr. Dormer 
 ha^'ing a hand in mischief, was irresistible, 
 and Helen turned away to conceal her merri- 
 ment 5 as she did so, she caught a look from 
 Alford which revealed to her the real criminal. 
 The accused made no reply, and did not deign 
 to look conscious of having been alluded to, 
 whilst Lord Marston appeared horrified at such 
 a charge having been brought against his dis- 
 tinguished guest, a member of Parliament, and 
 the heir of an ancient earldom. 
 
 " I cannot imagine, Catherine — ^indeed it is 
 impossible to understand — what can have in- 
 duced you to think such a thing possible;" for 
 that she did not think it possible never entered
 
 THE HEIRESS. 147 
 
 his mind. " Really, Lady Catherine, you should 
 be more cautious in what you say ; I am s\ire 
 it is impossible — na)^, I am convinced it is quite 
 out of the question — that Mr. Dormer could have 
 known any thing about it ; " and then turning 
 to his guest, he favoured him with a long and 
 tedious apology for the suspicions of his daugh- 
 ter, mingled with conjectures as to the real 
 culprit, and ended by appealing to Alford, and 
 half insinuating a doubt as to his innocence. 
 
 " It is most extraordinary," said his son, with 
 difficulty restraining his laughter. " When I 
 left the library, just before you entered, Pitt and 
 Fox were looking very amicably at each other 
 from their respective pedestals. Do you think 
 it can portend any unexpected political move- 
 ment ? " 
 
 " I am half inclined to fear, — that is, I have 
 some idea, some doubts on the subject. There 
 seems to have been some sUght indications of 
 a feeling approaching to a wish for a little 
 change in some of the German States; and I 
 have heard it whispered that Lord A. has been 
 smiled on a little, — a very little less graciously 
 in certain quarters. Common minds see no- 
 thing in these things, and call them trifles, and 
 little effervescences, but the sage and observ- 
 ing see these things differently ; " and his Lord- 
 ship endeavoured to look Wisdom personified. 
 H 2
 
 148 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " Oh ! you allude to Schmilscothe and GIu- 
 tuphcher, persuading the German students to 
 pour out the blood of the obnoxious Professors 
 as libations to the Goddess of Libert}^, with 
 magical incantations; and then unite with the 
 Carbonari, the Constitutionalists, the Liberals, 
 and the Radicals, in abolishing all titles of no- 
 bility and rights of property, and establishing 
 one universal repubhc." 
 
 " Is this possible? Where did you see this?" 
 inquired his Lordship in anxious and dreadful 
 alarm. It is quite new to me." It could not 
 be otherwise. 
 
 " I do not recollect who told me," said his 
 son gravely and calmly. 
 
 " Can it be true ? Do they venture to de- 
 clare their infamous intentions so openly? I 
 should think, — that is, I should imagine, — but 
 I have not thought much on the subject, — that 
 something should be done instantly. Perhaps 
 have the Radicals watched. I will write to Lord 
 D. on the subject. The times are fearful to all 
 thinking men ; for the respect for ancient insti- 
 tutions is giving place to admiration for traitors 
 and demagogues; and I hear that Old Sarum 
 has been attacked, and the frowns of his most 
 gracious Majesty been lightly spoken of. Who 
 did you say headed the gang?" 
 
 Again Alford pronounced the unpronounce- 
 able names in a manner that, whilst it con-
 
 THE HEIRESS. 149 
 
 vinced liis Lordship the pronunciation was cor_ 
 rect, left him no hope of imitating it. 
 
 " Do, pray, recollect where you heard it ; or 
 perhaps you read it. Was it in the Times ? " 
 
 "No; I am sure it was not in the Times,- 
 nor the Courier, nor the Morning Post, nor 
 the Globe. Perhaps I heard it. I never do re- 
 collect about these things, you know." 
 
 " It really is very provoking, Alford -, you 
 never recollect any thing of importance." 
 
 " No," replied his son, yawning ; " the 
 people tell such lies about politics I make a 
 point of never attending to any thing of the 
 sort." 
 
 " Have you seen or heard any thing of this 
 fearful report, Mr. Dormer; you understand 
 the importance of these matters;" looking re- 
 proachfully at Alford. 
 
 Dormer, was obliged to confess his utter 
 ignorance, and the Earl to wait till the next 
 day's papers for further information. 
 
 Helen alone pitied his distress, and to relieve 
 him proposed chess, knowing it to be a game in 
 v/hich he thought he excelled. Mr. Dormer 
 considered she showed great want of taste in 
 not preferring his conversation, and accustomed 
 to adulation felt a little piqued ; had he known 
 how much she would have preferred a tete-ci-ttte 
 with him, he would have more properly appre-
 
 150 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 ciated her self-denial, and better understood 
 her character. Whether chess was really in- 
 vented at the siege of Troy, as some pretend, 
 must be left to the decision of antiquaries ; at 
 any rate, the present game seemed likely to 
 last nearly as long as that celebrated tale. 
 What with his lordship's veneration for the 
 king ; his making his subjects crowd in all due 
 loyalty around him ; and all being as doubtful 
 and slow in their movements as the Earl him- 
 self, the game advanced but slowly ; so slowly, 
 indeed, that Helen's thoughts wandered to 
 other things, and her antagonist thought him- 
 seK sure of victory. Alford had left the room 
 unperceived — Catherine recUned on a sofa — 
 Lady Marston had retired as usual — and Mr. 
 Dormer had taken a seat at a little distance, 
 and read, or pretended to read. 
 
 '' Check to your king," said his lordship, mov- 
 ing a bishop after twenty minutes' deliberation, 
 in a tone in which triumph at his success, and 
 awe at such treason to his majesty, were 
 strongly blended. Helen started, and found 
 her inattention had given her adversary a chance 
 of winning more easily than she had intended. 
 
 " If you please, my lord," said a servant, 
 " Richard Tims is come to speak to your lord- 
 ship about Robert Neale and some poachers." 
 
 " His lordship hesitated -, but the desire of
 
 THE HEIRESS. 151 
 
 catching Robert Neale and some poachers con- 
 quered; and, ordering the servant to show 
 Richard Tims into the study, he left the room, 
 after a wearisome apology to Helen, in which all 
 the duties of a magistrate were enumerated. 
 
 "Ten to one on Magistrate against Gam- 
 bler ! " cried Alford, stepping from behind a 
 screen. '' Now, Helen, what do you not owe 
 me for saving you from this interminable game ? 
 or, rather, from being conquered ? " glancing 
 over the board. 
 
 '' Why ? is Richard Tims a connection of 
 your German friends ? " 
 
 '' No ! not quite so bad as that ! " laughing 
 at her arch look. " I only hinted to Tims that 
 his tale should be told immediately, and every 
 particular clearly detailed -, and Tims, I know, 
 will profit by the hint. But how came you to 
 discover me ? I verily believe Satan himself 
 could not deceive you."' 
 
 " Do you mean tofplace yourself on a par with 
 that renowned and respectable gentleman ?" 
 
 " By no means lady fair 3 but I had piqued 
 myself on playing the part so admirably, that — " 
 
 " Was the deceiving and alarming your father 
 by a falsehood a thing on which to pique 
 yourseK." 
 
 " Not quite a falsehood ! I kept clear of 
 that."
 
 152 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " It was implied if not asserted, and that is a 
 very nice distinction." 
 
 "Well, but how else could I get out of 
 the scrape about Pitt and Fox ? the former of 
 whom I hate whilst pursuing, and the latter 
 pursue without hating.'* 
 
 " See the usual consequences of one error ; a 
 second is committed to hide the first. You 
 have now two scrapes to get out of instead of 
 one. What will you say when the papers omit 
 all mention of your German plot ?" 
 
 " Will you not assist me ? Do help me this 
 once, and I will be good for the future. Pray 
 do ?" and he assumed such a doleful look, that 
 Helen could not forbear laughing, though she 
 shook her head reproachfully. 
 
 " How can you guide and advise me, when 
 you cannot guide yourself?" 
 
 " Well, Helen, do not look so reproachfully ! 
 It is very wrong, and I really will try to mend. 
 If you were always with me I am sure I should 
 be better." 
 
 " I fear not ; but we will see what can be 
 done, provided you hint no more falsehoods." 
 
 " Thanks without number, lady mine ; and 
 now, as a proof of your forgiveness, sing to 
 me. You will be free for an hour at least." 
 And he led her to the piano. 
 
 " I wish you two would make up your lover's
 
 THE HEIRESS. 153 
 
 quarrels a little more quietly," said Lady 
 Catherine, yawning. " You have disturbed a 
 most delicious slumber, and roused Mr. Dor- 
 mer from his studies. Pray what are the 
 fashions for the next month? as I see you 
 have been studying Townshend. 
 
 " Percy Dormer studying the fashions ! Im- 
 possible !" said Alford; " and yet it is," glancing 
 over his shoulder. " What punishment does 
 he not deserve for studying the semblances, 
 when such lovely personifications are before 
 him." 
 
 " I must thank you, Helen, for winning me a 
 compliment from my brother." 
 
 " Alford assures me he never compliments," 
 said Helen archly. 
 
 " I cannot compliment you." 
 
 " Admirable ! Take care you do not teach 
 me impertinence." 
 
 " I should be proud to be your instructor in 
 any thing." 
 
 " A second edition of the * Lover turned 
 Tutor,' " said Catherine, glancing at Dormer ; 
 but who concealed his face from her observa- 
 tion. 
 
 " No !" replied Alford laughing, " the hind 
 that would be mated with a lion, must die for 
 love. Helen knows I do not aspire so high. 
 
 H 5
 
 154 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 Viscountess Alford must be, 
 
 * A being not too bright, or good, 
 For human nature's daily food ; ' 
 
 or she might have cause to blush for her lord, 
 and some others," looking at his sister. " But 
 hush, '■ My Deha sings ! and sings of love ! ' 
 Leave the fashions, Dormer, and come and 
 turn over the leaves, that I may resign myself 
 to the delirium of sweet sounds." Mr. Dor- 
 mer advanced slowly, not as if in obedience to 
 the command, but as though it was his will and 
 pleasure so to do. 
 
 " Do not trouble yourself," said Helen -, " I 
 can turn the leaves for myself, and Alford does 
 not deserve to be obeyed." 
 
 The smile, the tone, dispelled his discontent, 
 and kept him chained to her side ; now hsten- 
 ing to her rich sweet voice as she sung song 
 after song to please her capricious commander ; 
 and now taking his part in their animated con- 
 versation. 
 
 " What think you of that ! " whispered 
 Alford, throwing himself on the sofa by his 
 sister, and turning her attention to Percy and 
 Helen, who were deeply engaged in conver- 
 sation. 
 
 Looking at them through her glass for a 
 moment, she replied loud enough to be heard
 
 THE HEIRESS. 155 
 
 in all parts of the room, " I think, as you said 
 just now, ' The hind that would be mated with 
 a lion, should die for love.* Do not you think 
 so, Helen?" 
 
 '' I have not thought about it, since Alford 
 did me the honour to account me a lion," she 
 replied calmly. 
 
 " We bow with deference to your experience 
 on the subject," said Dormer with bitterness, 
 alluding to some old reported love tale. 
 
 The random shaft struck home ; her weapons 
 had recoiled upon herself; and, despite her 
 usual self-command, she coloured. 
 
 It was long ere Lord Marston returned -, and 
 during her absence Alford or Tourment had 
 displaced the chessmen ; but, as Helen owned 
 herself nearly conquered, he was not very par- 
 ticular in his inquiries.
 
 15G THE HEIRESS. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 The storm may hush, and the lightning stay, 
 
 And the sea become serene. 
 But the early morn's returning ray 
 
 Shews where that storm has been ; 
 And there lies a wreck on the breakers cast^ 
 
 Marking the spot where the storm has past. 
 
 And the storm of the mind is full as strong, 
 
 It leaves as deep a print ; 
 It marks the face as it moves along, 
 
 And stamps it in passion's mint ; 
 As the dash of the billows' sparkling play 
 
 Shews where the rough rock lies ; 
 So the lines of the human face betray 
 
 Each pang which the spirit tries. 
 The harder the contest, the firmer the oak : 
 
 The wider the waste, the deeper the stroke. 
 
 L'orgueil est un mendicant qui crie aussi haut que le besoin., 
 qui est infiniment plus insatiable. 
 
 " Will you ride over to Hurlestone with 
 me this morning, Catherine?'' said Helen. 
 
 " What, home-sick akeady? Come here 
 on Monday, and want to ride over on Thursday. 
 What can you want ? Do not the gentlemen 
 make your visit here agreeable. I am sure I 
 thouojht Mr. Dormer and Alford had done 
 
 o
 
 THE HEIRESS. 157 
 
 their best but perhaps you are tired of them, 
 as the former, at least, has never allowed you 
 one moment to yourself since your arrival. Gen- 
 tlemen," said she, as they entered the room, 
 "Miss St. Maur is weary of you, and has 
 announced her desire of seeking one quiet hour 
 in her native woods, as you never leave her 
 alone one moment. Ah, you may well look 
 surprised ! but there is no accounting for the 
 fancies of an heiress." 
 
 " If you would depend on your recollection 
 rather than on your imagination when speaking 
 of me, Catherine, I should be obliged to you. 
 Your brother and Mr. Dormer will do me the 
 justice to believe I never thought or said any 
 thing of the sort. I wish to see my aunt and 
 my steward on business; but would by no 
 means force you to accompany me. Alford, will 
 you order my horse and groom?" 
 
 '' It is of no use to be angry with me, Helen ; 
 you know I always take my own course." 
 
 "I wish you would take a wiser and a better 
 one," said her mother with a sigh, adding " if 
 not particularly inconvenient, you should ac- 
 company Helen, and make my apologies to 
 Mrs. Hargrave." 
 
 "Make me your deputy, dear mother," said 
 Alford. 
 
 "No! that cannot be! you know you are en-
 
 158 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 gaged to go with Lord Marston on some county 
 business/' 
 
 " Oh! now I understand your conduct, 
 Helen." 
 
 "Your understanding on most occasions is 
 unimpeachable, Catherine; but, if you chose to 
 accompany me, you will find my appointment 
 for to-day Avas made last week.'* 
 
 "Well, don't look so grave, and I will do the 
 polite to Mrs. Hargrave; but you must not ex- 
 pect apologies, I never make them." 
 
 "I have learned not to expect some things; 
 and to take others as they are," said Helen 
 good naturedly, though hurt at what had passed. 
 
 "Will you not invite us to Hurlestone?" en- 
 quired Alford; " the county business is deferred 
 till to morrow." 
 
 "Pardon me," said she gravely ; "I have al- 
 ready laid too heavy a tax on your politeness ; 
 the last two days must have wearied you of 
 being my escort," and she left the room as she 
 spoke. 
 
 " Thanks to you, Catherine : you never were 
 fond of Helen, and care little how you displease 
 her." 
 
 " It is your turn to scold now, Mr. Dormer; 
 and then I shall have received blame from every 
 one, " said Lady Catherine, turning towards 
 him, with apparent indifference. " Out with
 
 THE HEIRESS. 159 
 
 it ! Let the thunder but equal the hghtning, 
 and I shall be stunned/' 
 
 "The lightning has no power on the blind, 
 or the thunder on the deaf," replied he angrily. 
 
 "That is," said Alford, "none so deaf as 
 those that wont hear." 
 
 " Very sublime ! and thank you for explain- 
 ing it, lest I should not have understood," 
 curtsying as she spoke. " I suppose, in return, 
 I must issue my commands for your attendance : 
 enough for Helen that it is my will." 
 
 " I have desired the gentlemen to go with 
 us," said Catherine, as they mounted; " and it 
 is of no use disputing the point. I was too 
 much afraid of a lecture on the proprieties to 
 venture on a tete-a-tete ; besides, Mr. Dormer 
 was in such a sublime mood I thought it a 
 pity it should be wasted." 
 
 "If I do not dispute the point, Catherine, it 
 is scarcely out of courtesy to you." 
 
 "I am fuUy aware of that;" putting her 
 horse into a canter as she spoke. 
 
 On this day, as well as on the two preceding. 
 Lady Catherine appeared out of humour, and 
 either to hide it from her guests, or from some 
 other cause, she remained by Alford's side. 
 At first, Helen had tried to induce her to join 
 in the conversation, but the difficulty of the 
 attempt, joined to the charms of Dormer's elo- 
 quence, caused the cessation of her efforts.
 
 160 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 As they passed through the village, it was 
 delightful to see the pleasure with which all re- 
 cognized our heroine. Even Dormer's accents 
 fell unheeded on her ear, as she spoke kindly 
 to the present or enquired after the absent ; 
 and, what was still more marvellous, he did not 
 quarrel with her inattention. 
 
 " What a delight it must be to you, Helen," 
 remarked Catherine, " that the eccentricity or 
 madness of your rector Mr. Woodley, has in- 
 duced him to confine his clerical duties to the 
 mere Sunday service ; since you can manage 
 the parish now in your own way." 
 
 " Do not talk hghtly of such a serious thing. 
 It is great distress to me, and I have several 
 times offered, though in vain, to provide a 
 curate : my humble endeavours ill supply the 
 want of an earnest minister." 
 
 Catherine had, for once, the good sense to be 
 silent. 
 
 "Oh! how is Bran?" said Alford. "I ask 
 a thousand pardons for having forgotten him." 
 
 " So I should think ; but here he comes to 
 answer for himself; " and in a few moments he 
 was bounding round her in every direction. 
 "Down, dog! " cried Mr. Dormer angrily, pro- 
 voked at his having interrupted an interesting 
 conversation, and making a cut at him with his 
 whip.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 161 
 
 The dog felt the whip, looked fiercely at him, 
 and then up in Helen's face 3 she understood 
 tlie appeal, for Dormer's frown and action were 
 not lost upon her. 
 
 " Be quiet, my own pet ! " and the dog was 
 quiet in a moment. "I am sorry Bran was 
 troublesome to you, Mr. Dormer; but he is ac- 
 customed to be ruled by kindness, not by 
 blows.^' 
 
 He bit his lips at the rebuke, and dared not 
 trust himself to speak. 
 
 "Helen is a riddle not easily read," remarked 
 Catherine to her brother. " She would sacrifice 
 herself to her lover -, and then sacrifice him to 
 her dog." 
 
 " What sacrifice would there be in wedding 
 Dormer ? " 
 
 "The sacrifice of the dove to the hawk; of 
 the lamb to the lion." 
 
 " You are prejudiced ; Dormer is even more 
 noble than hawk or lion, and Helen has sense 
 and prudence joined to her sweet temper. Re- 
 member too, my sage sister, hawks may be 
 lured, and lions tamed." 
 
 " Certainly ! 
 
 ' A merlin small she held upon her hand, 
 
 With hood and jesses galantlie bedight ; 
 But little did he need, or hood or band. 
 
 Could he but gaze on her, full safe were he from flight.' " 
 
 " Very pretty in poetry, but rather xnelan-
 
 162 THE HEIRESS, 
 
 choly in practice, and Helen has a heart that 
 can break : mais nous verronsJ' 
 
 As they dismounted Helen scarely availed 
 herself of Mr. Dormer's rather sullenly oiFered as- 
 sistance, and to avoid any conversation, till they 
 were joined by the rest of the party, busied 
 herself in caressing her handsome favourite. 
 
 " I will lead the way," said Alford advancing, 
 " and I hope you have ordered a splendid de- 
 jeuner dlafourchette,as the papers have it, for 
 I have an idea I am hungry. Come Bran ! my 
 fine fellow ! come along ! " 
 
 " Oh ! pray come in dog ! " said Mr. Dormer 
 in no very amiable tone ; " you need not fear 
 me 3 I shall not again endeavour to keep 
 you from your mistress." 
 
 But the dog still stood outside the door, 
 looking at Helen with an appeaUng look, yet 
 not venturing to come in. 
 
 " I doubt if Bran would fear you, if you made 
 the attempt ; but he knows he never enters the 
 house," and she stepped back, and shut the 
 door unaided by Dormer. 
 
 "I am amazed. Miss St. Maur. I thought 
 Bran was such a favourite that his privileges 
 were unbounded." 
 
 "You do not understand me, Mr. Dormer: 
 even my greatest favourites must be restrained 
 within due bounds. Bran would be an uncouth
 
 THE HEIRESS. 16*3 
 
 visitor for a drawing-room; and I do not acknow- 
 ledge, at least to its full extent, that love makes 
 us blind." 
 
 The flood of passion rushed to cheek and 
 brow, as, afraid of trusting himself to speak, he 
 bowed with ironical humility. Neither these 
 or his flashing eye and curled lip, were un- 
 marked by Helen, and for one instant her 
 cheek paled as she gazed at his fierce anger; 
 the next it almost equalled the crimson flush of 
 his, and deeply hurt and offended at the inter- 
 pretation she saw he had put upon her words, 
 she passed with a cold and haughty mien, 
 saying as she did so: 
 
 " Allow me to show you the way, Mr. Dor- 
 mer; your friends wait you in the drawing- 
 room." 
 
 He followed her without speaking, but with 
 a demeanour so fierce, that Mrs. Hargrave ap- 
 peared quite alarmed at the introduction ; whilst 
 Alford wondered, and Catherine, as she looked 
 on the still glowing cheeks of both, whispered 
 to Helen, " Have you been boxing Mr. Dor- 
 mer's ears, or has there been a more gentle 
 salutation ? Mrs. Hargrave has almost wondered 
 us old at your delay." ^ 
 
 The whisper was, perhaps purposely, rather 
 loud, and Helen fancied it had reached the 
 gentleman's ears, to judge from the look he cast
 
 164 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 upon them as he strode towards the window. 
 Whatever might be her feehngs at this imper- 
 tinent speech, she was aware to show distress 
 woidd be to tempt Catherine to increase it, 
 so she answered her only by a reproving look; 
 and turning to Alford, begged he would ring the 
 bell and order his dejeuner a lafourchette. 
 
 The bell was rung; a magnificent dejeuner 
 ordered by the laughing Alford; and, princi- 
 pally through his exertions, an animated con- 
 versation maintained, till refreshments were 
 announced in the dining-room. 
 
 " Come ! Mrs. Hargrave, let me hand you 
 in;" said Alford, and the old lady, pleased 
 with his attention, forgot her alarm of his 
 friend. 
 
 "Mr. Dormer, >vill you hand Lady Cathe- 
 rine ? " said Helen coldly. 
 
 It was a command rather than a request, and 
 he felt intended to prevent his becoming her 
 escort. A meaner spirit might have rebelled, 
 but he was too proud to be petty; and too 
 much a man-of-the-world to be rude, except 
 when the fit of passion was full upon him. 
 
 "Permit me to oflfer you the other arm. Miss 
 St. Maur: it were uncourteous to leave you un- 
 attended in your own house." 
 
 Surprised at conduct so unexpected, Helen 
 hesitated an instant ; then, considering some-
 
 THE HEIRESS. 165 
 
 thing was due to him as her guest, she took the 
 proffered arm. 
 
 "The atmosphere looks rather dark and 
 threatening," said Lady Catherine, as they 
 passed a window. "Do you think we shall 
 have thunder ? " looking rather maliciously 
 from one to the other of her companions. 
 
 "Thunder and lightning both," cried Mr. 
 Dormer, provoked beyond all control. " Let 
 your ladyship dread the storm." 
 
 " La ! Mr. Dormer, you don't say so ! " as- 
 suming a look of stupid terror. "Then I wdll 
 ask Alford to go home directly ; " and away she 
 gallopaded through the hall, singing " Oh, Mr. 
 G. Oh, Mr. G." 
 
 By no means desirous of a tete-d-t^te after 
 what had passed, and in Mr. Dormer's present 
 mood, Helen gallopaded after her friend; saying, 
 " she really must plead with Alford against an 
 instant departure." 
 
 " Catherine," whispered she, as they entered 
 the room together, "if you have one good 
 feeling left, leave Mr. Dormer in peace ! " 
 
 " A most complimentary adjuration truly ! 
 but I really cannot listen to it, my dear ; I pro- 
 voke Mr. Dormer on principle, that you may 
 know what you have to expect." 
 
 " I ought to thank you for your disinterested 
 kindness," colouring deeply, "but I should
 
 16'6 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 think the exhibition might take place with 
 greater propriety in any other house than mine, 
 where common pohteness demands I should be 
 more courteous than elsewhere." 
 
 " So it would/' said Catherine, suddenly 
 changing her mind : " so I will wait till our 
 ride has recommenced : unless indeed you 
 should provoke me by being too courteous." 
 
 " No situation, it appears. Lady Catherine 
 Alford, can be depended on as a shield against 
 your insults. You are at liberty to act as you 
 please."' 
 
 " Now will I spare him and you too, at least 
 for the present, for the proud dignity of that 
 speech. I am better and worse than they think 
 me," and she pressed Helen's hand. 
 
 Miss St. Maur's hostess was perfect. Mr. 
 Dormer's wishes were foreseen and supplied; 
 but there was a proud courtesy in her manner 
 towards him, that shewed she only wanted more 
 fitting opportunity to prove her displeasure. 
 
 " Perhaps Mr. Dormer would Hke to see the 
 pictures and the gardens ? Will you be kind 
 enough to show them, aunt ; or shall I depute 
 Alford?" 
 
 " I will go," said Mrs. Hargrave. 
 
 " Thank you, aunt; and now to business with 
 my steward."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 167 
 
 When Helen rejoined the party, they had 
 again assembled in the dining-room. Cathe- 
 rine was for once making herself agreeable to 
 Mrs. Hargrave. Dormer, still in iU humour, 
 was pretending to examine a picture, and 
 Alford was throwing eatable after eatable out 
 of the window to Bran, who seemed by no 
 means displeased with the amusement. 
 
 " Your dog is half starved, Helen ; he has 
 already devoured a whole chicken, with a due 
 proportion of bread, (for I was very particular 
 about that), and a dozen tarts ; yet is ready for 
 more." 
 
 " Surely you cannot have been giving him 
 such things !" 
 
 " Surely I have ; though Dormer refused to 
 hand the dish, and abused pampered favorites. 
 Love me, love my dog ; that is the ground I 
 stand upon." 
 
 All things considered, this was rather a mal- 
 a-propos speech, and Catherine fully enjoyed it. 
 " Mr. Dormer acted judiciously," replied 
 Helen, calmly ; " and I dislike pampered fa- 
 vourites as much as he can do. Love may lose 
 half its value by being injudicious, and I doubt 
 if the housekeeper will much approve of the 
 destination of her tarts ; besides. Bran is not 
 accustomed to eat what the sick would be 
 glad of."
 
 168 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! he shall have these three, 
 and finish the dish." 
 
 '^ Indeed he must not. My credit is at stake, 
 and my fondness for the dog evil spoken of." 
 
 She took the dish from his hands as she 
 spoke, and placed it on the table. 
 
 " Now, Catherine, I am at your ser\dce, to 
 escort you whither you please." 
 
 " Then, if you have finished your strictures 
 on pampered favorites, the which shall be duly 
 repeated to Tourment, I think we had better 
 return, lest we should be favoured with the 
 predicted storm, for it still looks threatening, 
 and I am nervous." 
 
 " As you please -, you know me too well to 
 think I alluded to Tourment. I am going to 
 shut up Bran, and will order the horses." 
 
 " Could you not allow a servant to do that, 
 Miss St. Maur ? " inquired Mr. Dormer, as he 
 and Alford accompanied her. 
 
 " My fondness for Bran has won from him a 
 more perfect obedience than he will show to 
 another. If I shut him up he will understand 
 at once he is not to go ; were another to do it, 
 he might be inchned to dispute the point, or 
 at least fret about it." 
 
 He said nothing, but immediately after she 
 saw him with pleasure attempt to pat the dog. 
 But Bran was not to be coaxed, and looked
 
 THE HEIRESS. 169 
 
 surly ; though he fondled on Alford immedi- 
 ately after. Mr. Dormer ceased his endea- 
 vours, and looked prouder than ever. 
 
 On their return, Helen, to prevent all conver- 
 sation with Dormer, contrived to ride between 
 Catherine and her brother, and to engage the 
 former in an earnest conversation, 
 
 ** The best laid schemes o' mice an' men 
 Gang aft agly ; " 
 
 and Helen's plans might hope no better fate. 
 Just as they reached the village the clouds, 
 which had darkened the natural atmosphere as 
 much as passion had obscured the mental, 
 burst over their heads. 
 
 " To the Jones's," cried Alford, seizing 
 Helen's bridle. 
 
 The shower promised to be heavy — ^Alford 
 was peremptory — indeed, there was no time to 
 dispute, and within five minutes they were all 
 safely housed in Eglantine Cottage, the flurried 
 maid having ushered them into the best parlour. 
 
 In a room about fourteen feet square, were 
 crowded toys, trifles, and trumpery of every 
 description. Alum baskets of every colour 
 imaginable and unimaginable, filled with arti- 
 ficial flowers, whose rather faded hues looked 
 sentimental, ornamented the chimney-piece, and 
 some of the tables, interspersed with small 
 figures of Paul Pry, Buy a Broom, and German 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 dolls in the full splendours of imbecilles, oreilles 
 d'eliphans, volans, biais, and berets, supported 
 and flanked by allumettieres, stuffed wdth 
 various coloured paper contortions. On a 
 small table in a corner stood 
 
 ** Lilies and roses and non-smelling posies/' 
 
 of wax- work, vis-a-vised by a Bazaar group; 
 the minuteness of whose decorations ever ex- 
 cited the admiration of equally minute minds, 
 
 " For still the wonder grew, 
 
 How mortal hands such tiny things could do.'^ 
 
 Feather and rice baskets, scattered about, con- 
 tained fossils, minerals, metals, and ores, na- 
 tural and unnatural. Poonahed screens and 
 card racks hung against the walls, and Poo- 
 nahed footstools encumbered the floor. Albums 
 filled and to be filled ; a French almanack, an 
 old " Forget me Not,'' and a new " Keep- 
 sake," with some flowers and butterflies more 
 brilhant than nature, were scattered in elegant 
 negligence on the principal table. To save the 
 carpet, according to Mrs. Jones, — or to languidize 
 the light into a voluptuous shadow, according 
 to Miss Jones, — thick mushn curtains excluded 
 every ray of sunshine, had the storm allowed of 
 such appearing. The piano was open, and 
 
 '' Believe me if «U those endearing young charms/'
 
 THE HEIRESS. l7l 
 
 was displayed on the stand. In short, so full 
 was the room one only thing seemed to have 
 been forgotten in it, namely, that it was ever to 
 be inhabited by any thing less aerial than a 
 butterfly. All was sentimental, nothing com- 
 fortable. True there were chairs in the room ; 
 but what with the horror of overturning little 
 painted tumblers and great painted jars, rice flow- 
 ers and china lambs, he must have had a daring 
 spirit who could have ventured to seat himself 
 without trembhng, and shrinking into as small 
 a compass as possible. Such was Alford's de- 
 scription of the room to his mother. 
 
 " How could you think of bringing me here, 
 Alford ? " said his sister, as she threw herself on 
 a sofa, in such a careless manner as to send 
 some of the Poonah butterflies flying through 
 the room. " The cave of Trophonius were no- 
 thing to this den of sentimental rubbish.'^ 
 
 " Den of sentimental rubbish, indeed ! Why 
 it is an exact model of the lovely Susan's own 
 mind." 
 
 " You are right ; a complication of follies, a 
 confused multitude of silly nothings, a trashy 
 scrap-book ! " 
 
 " Oh no ! a beautifully-varied Album. But 
 
 dear me, Helen, here have I been defending la 
 
 belle Susanne, and neglecting to provide a 
 
 seat for la plus belle Helene. To which of 
 
 I 2
 
 172 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 these beautiful ingenuities will you play vis 
 avis?" 
 
 * ' * Baron of Bucklivie, may the foul fiend drive thee, 
 And a' to pieces rive thee, 
 
 For building sic a town ; 
 Where there 's neither horse meat nar man's meat, 
 Nor a chair to sit down,' " 
 
 repeated Catherine, laughing at his difficulty in 
 seating Helen and himself; but still retaining 
 the whole of her sofa. 
 
 Mr. Dormer looked round in contemptuous 
 silence, and took his station at the window; 
 that favourite retreat of the sullen. 
 
 "Take care of your heart. Dormer," said 
 Alford. " The lovely Susan must be preparing 
 for conquest." 
 
 ^' I am invulnerable ! " answered he haugh- 
 tily. " Not to be won by a toy, however beau- 
 tiful, or a being as changeable as change itself;" 
 and he glanced towards Helen. 
 
 " Treason ! treason ! treason ! " cried ALford. 
 To what punishment do you doom him, ladies, 
 for this satire on your sex. The youngest must 
 speak first ; so come, Helen, no refusal ; you 
 shall pronounce his doom. What shall it be ? " 
 
 " A full and free pardon, to shame him, if 
 that be possible, into more noble conduct." 
 
 " There is generosity, Dormer ! Down on
 
 THE HEIRESS. 173 
 
 one knee man, confess your error, and return 
 thanks/' 
 
 " I must not accept the pardon Miss St, 
 Maur would accord, since I cannot change an 
 opinion as easily as some." 
 
 ^'The pardon was granted unconditionally. 
 We care not whether your opinions change or 
 not; the shame and the sorrow of retaining 
 one so unjust, must remain with yourself." 
 
 " WeU, and proudly answered, Helen ; and 
 now, sister, for your doom. See how abashed 
 the culprit looks." ^ 
 
 " Abashed ! he seems to me more like some 
 dire enchanter who, robbed of his magic wand, 
 strives to look us into stone. Yes, it is so ! the 
 wand and the power have passed from his 
 hands ; they are mine, and his doom shall be 
 said." She rose as she uttered these words, 
 and, waving a stick of les Graces which lay 
 near her, continued with a look and manner 
 worthy an ancient Pythoness. " The speU of 
 pride and of passion be upon you through 
 life and till death. She you would win — she 
 whom you love shall shrink from and shun 
 you — your lip shall smile, but your heart 
 shall weep — you shall gain power to know 
 its nothingness— have flatterers to learn their 
 hollowness — ^love friends to feel their false- 
 ness — win popularity to find it fleeting as 
 change itself. The spell of blighted ambition.
 
 174 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 of pride, and of passion, be upon you ; till, 
 mid the wreck of all things else, you turn to 
 woman's love, and know her what she is. 
 What think you of this, Helen ? '' changing her 
 tone and attitude in an instant to listless indif- 
 ference, as she again sunk yawning on the sofa, 
 "I think I acted Sibyl to perfection. The 
 Cumean was nothing to me." 
 
 " Indeed you did," said her brother ; " Helen 
 is amazed and Dormer astounded ! " 
 
 For once his statement was not exaggerated. 
 Words, look, and attitude, had been so wild 
 and impassioned, that it was difficult to imagine 
 her only in sport ; whilst her sudden transition 
 to careless, and as it seemed natural indiffer- 
 ence, might have puzzled the most penetrat- 
 ing observer. That she should have startled 
 and surprised the other two was nothing so 
 very extraordinary; but that Dormer, the 
 proud, the self-possessed, should o^^^l the 
 power of acting, if acting it was, proved a tri- 
 umph indeed. 
 
 For some moments after she had ceased, he 
 neither spoke or moved; but, though the 
 darkness of the room, and his back being 
 to the window, prevented his companions from 
 reading clearly the expression of his counte- 
 nance, stiU enough was discernible to prove
 
 THE HEIRESS. 175 
 
 that Catherine's spell had not been uttered in 
 vain. 
 
 ^' You are avenged, ladies ! " cried Alford in 
 surprise; "the traitor's doom is sealed !" 
 
 His friend started at the words, then reco- 
 vered himself by a violent effort, and bowed 
 haughtily to the modern Sibyl, as he said, *' Lady 
 Catherine Alford is an inimitable actress ; but 
 she has yet to learn that I defy her charms, and 
 scorn her spells." 
 
 A change came over that lady's features. 
 Her cheek blanched to a marble whiteness, 
 then glowed like a crimson cloud ; but Helen 
 alone marked this unusual emotion, yet won- 
 dered not at it, as the bitterness of his tone 
 had scarcely less effect on her who had not 
 provoked it. She remembered not at the mo- 
 ment the difference of their characters. A 
 gloom fell on the little party, and all felt relieved 
 when Mrs. and Miss Jones entered the room ; 
 both ladies exhibiting strong marks of haste in 
 their adornment. The best dress of the mother, 
 huddled on in honour of such distinguished 
 guests, was put on awry ; whilst the minutely 
 arranged ringlets of the sentimental blonde, 
 bore evident marks of cramping. Still was 
 their presence most warmly welcomed by at 
 least three of the party ; and even Catherine
 
 176 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 forgot her dislike, in the change of conversation 
 their entrance occasioned. 
 
 " I consider this is a most fortunate shower, 
 since it has furnished an excuse for our paying 
 you a visit. We were all dying to come and 
 see you, but, as you had not called at Marston, 
 feared it would not be etiquette,'^ began Lord 
 Alford, almost before Mrs. Jones had entered 
 the apartment." 
 
 " Oh, la ! your lordship is so good," rephed 
 the simpering lady, c^hrtspng very low, " I am 
 sure I should be quite shocked to think we had 
 been at all wanting in respect to her ladyship ; 
 and we should have called before, but we 
 thought, as her ladyship only came down on 
 Friday, she might be busy unpacking." 
 
 Lady Catherine's lip curled with contempt 
 at the idea ', but Mrs. Jones perceived it not, 
 and continued : 
 
 '^ I am sure, my lord, I am exceeding sorry ; 
 I hope her ladyship is not offended. I will 
 call to-morrow and say how it was ; and Susy 
 shall caU on Lady Catherine." 
 
 " Ay, do ! Catherine would scarcely come 
 here, and she looks offended now," said he, 
 laughing mischievously at his sister's annoy- 
 ance. 
 
 " Dear me ! your lordship does not say so. 
 "What shall I do?" and what with deciding
 
 THE HEIRESS. 177 
 
 which should receive the lowest reverence. 
 
 Lady Catherine Alford with a title, and five 
 hundred a year ; or Miss St. Maur without a 
 title, and ten thousand a year ; and the answer- 
 ing his civil speeches, the poor woman was, as 
 she told her daughter afterwards, quite in a 
 maze. As usual, fear triumphed over love, and 
 Lady Catherine, with her proud looks, gained 
 the day over Miss St, Maur, with her sweet 
 smile ; and, after a due depth of reverence, she 
 began a tiresome and fulsome apology to the 
 titled lady, much to her vexation and the 
 amusement of Alford. But Lady Catherine 
 was not a person to submit to any thing annoy- 
 ing, if she could possibly relieve herself from 
 the infliction ; without rising from the sofa, 
 she cut short the good lady's harangue, by 
 assuring her, in a very brusque manner, that no 
 offbnce whatever had been felt at her not calling, 
 and desiring she would on no account put her- 
 self to any inconvenience by paying an early 
 visit. 
 
 This speech was intelhgible even to the ob- 
 tuse Mrs. Jones, who shrank back abashed, and 
 could not recover her equanimity for some time ; 
 though Helen, to dispel her chagrin, talked to 
 her with even more than her usual pohteness. 
 Seeing Catherine had destroyed all further 
 amusement in that quarter, Alford turned to 
 I 5
 
 1 
 
 178 THfi HEIRESS. 
 
 the daughter, paying her the most extravagant 
 comphments, which she received with more 
 than their due of gratitude. " Go where I will, 
 Miss Jones, I can never see a room so filled as 
 this. Here the lovehness of nature is surpassed 
 by the inimitable ingenuities of art. On which- 
 ever side I turn my eyes, the most beautiful 
 specimens of the dehcate workmanship of lovely 
 woman's hands meet my enraptured vision. 
 Who would not be a butterfly, to be rendered 
 immortal by your glowing pencil ? Who would 
 not become a bee, and furnish wax to be moulded 
 by those delicate fingers into such admirable 
 mockeries of the odorous decorations of the 
 parterre? What a paradise you have created 
 around you ! rich in beauty ! redolent in grace ! 
 Then that album, whose heart-moving, spirit- 
 stirring contents, one moment rouse the mind 
 to all the glorious daring of some high emprise, 
 then melt it into the languishment of hopeless 
 love, or the luxuriousness of delicious repose 1 
 That one could but throw off the galling chain 
 of pomp and pride, and all the panoply of state, 
 and dwell in such a paradise as this, with some 
 fair Eve, ' the world forgetting, by the world 
 forgot.' Do you not revel in this bower of 
 delights ? " 
 
 " Oh yes, indeed ! " replied the gratified Susan, 
 throwing down her " speaking blue eyes, shaded
 
 THE HEIRESS. 17^ 
 
 ty their silken lashes," as she herself wrote to 
 her friend, one possessed of a kindred mind, 
 " I love to recline near the open casement, at 
 the balmy evening hour, when the gaudy glare 
 of day has passed away, and the soul subduing 
 silence is only broken by the heart thrilling 
 notes of the eastern bulbul, pouring forth his 
 strain of enraptured love to the glowing rose, 
 whose drooping flower, distilling dew, whispers 
 her sympathy with her adorer." 
 
 " Sweet enthusiast ! How few can feel as you 
 do!" 
 
 ^ Oh no, my lord : it is the torture of my 
 sad fate to meet with few who can comprehend 
 the sensitive intensity of my feehngs, or riot in 
 the exquisite ecstacies that thrill my bosom^ 
 whilst luxuriating on nature's beauties, or 
 trembling at the touch of dissolving poesy. 
 But there are some minds, who, soaring above 
 the cold formalities of life, can climb the 
 mountain height, and, melting into the etherial 
 clouds " 
 
 " Susy, my dear," said her mother, interrupt- 
 ing this splendid flight of fancy, " I am afraid 
 Jane has forgotten about the cake ; do just go 
 and see." In vain all protested they wanted no 
 cake, Susy was obliged to go, and Alford com- 
 pelled to imagine the conclusion of the young 
 lady's most unintelligible sublimity. The daugh- 
 ter being gone, he turned again to the mother
 
 180 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 for amusement, but, though unable to avoid 
 smihng at Susan's folly, Helen too highly dis- 
 approved of his conduct to give him any encou- 
 ragement, and kept Mrs. Jones so completely 
 engaged in conversation, that his lordship was 
 obliged to be quiet. The entrance of Susan 
 with Jane and the cake, occasioned a httle bus- 
 tle, during which Mrs. Jones whispered an 
 enquiry as to the strange gentleman up in the 
 window.'^ 
 
 "What do you think of him?" was the 
 answer. "The gentleman looks very black; 
 perhaps he is affronted because I have not 
 spoken to him : but I think I spoke to him once 
 before, and he looked quite as black then, and 
 would not give me an answer ; and, as nobody 
 talked to him, I did not know whether he was 
 a friend of yours or not.*' 
 
 " I mil introduce you, and pray consider him 
 as my friend, or no, as you please." 
 
 "Mrs. Jones, Mr. Percy Dormer!" said he, 
 advancing towards his friend, followed by the 
 lady ; " though perhaps this introduction is quite 
 unnecessary, as Mrs. Jones says she thinks you 
 are the black gentleman whom she met a few 
 days since." 
 
 " Mrs. Jones does me too much honour," turn- 
 ing full upon her with a look that nearly annihi- 
 lated the poor woman, and threatened the demo- 
 lition of sundry pet pieces of handiwork, arranged
 
 THE HEIRESS. 181 
 
 on a small table, which she had nearly overturned 
 in her haste to retreat. The terror of Mrs. Jones 
 — the horror of Miss Jones — at her mother's 
 having called the sublime looking stranger the 
 "black gentleman;" and the hauteur of that 
 superb personage himself, formed too ridiculous 
 a combination to be resisted. Catherine and 
 her brother indulged in a hearty laugh; and 
 the latter always maintained that Helen did 
 more than smile. 
 
 La belle Susanne, vexed beyond expression, 
 stept hastily forward to apologise in her most 
 bewitching manner, and, in her haste threw down 
 a large green jar, which rolling against the maid, 
 who was handing the cake and wine, so startled 
 her as to occasion the overthrow of all the con- 
 tents of the waiter. Away rolled plates, glasses, 
 decanters, and jar, amid the terrified exclama- 
 tions of mistress and maid, and renewed shouts 
 of laughter from ALford and his sister. 
 
 Dormer disdained even a smile, but gazing on 
 the whole scene in contemptuous silence, looked, 
 as Catherine between her fits of laughter whis- 
 pered Helen, very like the "black gentleman" to 
 whom Mrs. Jones had likened him. Our 
 heroine, who was vexed with herself for joining 
 in the merriment, soon repressed her mirth, and 
 sought to repair as much as possible the mis- 
 chief done. Catherine, on the contrary, spring- 
 ing from the sofa declared the weather was quite
 
 182 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 fine ; called on Mr. Dormer to attend her, and 
 thanking Mrs. Jones for a most entertaining 
 visit, departed in haste, desiring Helen and 
 Alford to follow immediately. Lady Catherine 
 and Mr. Dormer had proceeded some way ere 
 they were joined by their companions. Not a 
 word had passed between them -, but this was 
 not extraordinary, as Lady Catherine seldom 
 spoke to her brother's friend, save for the pur- 
 pose of annoying him, and he rarely addressed 
 the lady from inclination. 
 
 " Well, Alford," said his sister as he gained 
 her side ; " any new amusement ? Mr. Dor- 
 mer is most anxious to hear the termination of 
 the scene. You cannot imagine how it enter- 
 tained him ; so much so indeed, he wbuld have 
 lingered still, had I not claimed his attendance. 
 Oh it was irresistible ! and I forgive you for 
 taking me there. Mr. Dormer is most anxious 
 to learn what resemblance Mrs. Jones could see 
 between him and a certain personage," and she 
 looked at him maliciously. 
 
 ''The resemblance is only in your fertile 
 imagination, Catherine, and I am loaded with 
 apologies to Mr. Dormer for the mistake ; and 
 for which I more than suspect Alford is answer- 
 able. They dine with me next week, and I 
 have half promised your forgiveness, Mr. Dor- 
 mer. Have I been too bold ?"
 
 THE HEIRESS. 1B3 
 
 " I hope Miss St. Maur does not suppose 
 such a woman as that capable of exciting my 
 anger? " he rephed, only half mollified even by her 
 sweetness, as he still recollected she had joined 
 in the laugh. 
 
 " Then what, in the name of aU that is senti- 
 mental ! as la belle Susanne would say, had 
 ruffled your temper ? for I am sure you looked 
 black enough to justify her mother's mistake,^' 
 said Alford. 
 
 " It is aU over now," thought Helen, " and I 
 have played peace maker in vain." 
 
 ^' The foUy and the changeableness of others," 
 rephed his friend, too much provoked to be 
 polite, and anxious even in his own mind to lay 
 the blame on any but himself. 
 
 " Your own had of course no share in causing 
 such an unusual occurrence," remarked Cathe- 
 rine, with even more than her usual bitterness. 
 ^^At any rate, we thank you for your polite 
 inuendo. Oh, for the days of our grandmothers 
 when politeness was as indispensable to 
 gentleman, as his sword and queue." 
 
 " I suspect our revered grandmothers woul ^ 
 have been shocked at our degeneracy, had they 
 come forth and seen our proceedings to day," 
 said Helen, anxious to prevent a reply from 
 Dormer, and restore good humour to all. " For 
 my part, I am as shocked at myself, as my
 
 184 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 grandmother could have been for me, at laugh- 
 ing so unmercifully at poor Mrs. Jones." 
 
 " Indeed ! Well, I think Mr. Dormer's superb 
 look at her want of penetration was sufficient 
 excuse ! But pray why did you linger behind 
 then, if not to enjoy the scene a little longer ?" 
 
 "You know me better, Catherine." 
 
 " What 1 did Miss Propriety stay behind then 
 to make amends for our evil deeds ? " 
 
 " Very much hke it, despite your laughter." 
 
 " And you give her a dinner as a peace offer- 
 ing? If I had not such a canaille-phohiei, I 
 would assist at the entertainment." 
 
 " Thank you ! but in that case it might be 
 more piquante than would suit the simple tastes 
 of my guests." 
 
 " So really, dear good girl ! you have had the 
 magnanimity to become the scape-goat for our 
 offences. But are you quite sure your good 
 resolves wiU not evaporate in the course of time, 
 and that you will not take to your bed on the 
 fatal day ? " 
 
 ^' Mock as you please : you wiU neither move 
 me to anger or change." 
 
 " Change ! Not even an opinion ? Did you 
 ever change in your life?" turning round, and 
 fixing her penetrating eyes on her face. 
 
 " Yes, my dear, — colour, more than twice for 
 you; when your impertinence has become in- 
 tolerable."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 185 
 
 For once, the piercing eyes of Catherine fell 
 beneath the steady gaze of her friend, if friends 
 they could be called, but recovering herself 
 instantly, she said, assuming an air of supe- 
 riority : " Courage, ma chere petite ! with a few 
 more of my instructions you really may become a 
 withng. I had no idea you could have uttered 
 any thing so severe, and begin to have hopes of 
 you." 
 
 " Would I could say the same for you ! " said 
 Helen gaily and kindly, for the feeling that had 
 roused her to check her impertinence had been 
 subdued, and the irony of her companion wound- 
 ed her not. '' Votre panvre petite has no ambi- 
 tion to become a witling ; so you need not dread 
 a rival." 
 
 Again Catherine fixed her penetrating eyes 
 on her friend's face ; but all there was calm, 
 lovely, and open ; and she turned again to her 
 brother. "Alford, lithograph the scene of 
 Helen appeasing those in tolerable s." 
 
 " I dare not. Helen has already given me one 
 long lecture, and I have promised to be a good 
 boy for the future. Enough that Helen looked 
 like an angel ; I like a fool ; and Mrs. and Miss 
 Jones forgot the demolition of glass, china, &c. 
 even your laughter and Dormer's disdain, 
 whilst listening to her dulcet tones. The only 
 laughable thing, for la belle Susanne felt and 
 looked but did not speak, was, that poor Mrs.
 
 186 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 Jones made such a lowly reverence I feared she 
 would never rise again/' 
 
 " Do you mean to become as demure as her- 
 self?" 
 
 " No fear of that, my piquante sister : it re- 
 quired all her admonishing looks to keep me from 
 sentimentalising whilst she played Vaimabley 
 
 " And on what plea did she blame you ? " 
 
 " Rather a reasonable one, though not of the 
 newest fashion. 
 
 * Be you to others kind and true, 
 As you'd have others be to you ; 
 And neither say, nor do to men, 
 Whate'er you would not take again.' 
 
 Thus runs the old lay, if I remember, that we 
 used to repeat in our days of innocence." 
 
 " Pshaw ! I have laid all such old saws aside 
 with my sampler ; only to be bought forth again 
 for the edification of some future nephew and 
 niece. Take care ! or Helen may remind you 
 of another old saw. ^That example is better 
 than precept.' " 
 
 " Then I must furnish her with a modern 
 instance to the contrary." 
 
 " But pray, has she convinced you of the un- 
 pardonable guilt of laughing at the foUies of 
 others ? " 
 
 " She convinced me, at least for the time, of 
 the impropriety of nourishing and increasing 
 those follies for our amusement ; and spoke so 
 eloquently, and pleaded so sweetly, that I have
 
 THE HEIRESS. 187 
 
 half made a vow to encourage wisdom rather 
 than folly ; and to seek to reform^ rather than 
 ridicule." 
 
 " Oh, then ^ Othello's occupation's gone ! ' and 
 you will soon become as complete a precieuse 
 ridicule as your reprover." 
 
 " Hear Helen for herself." 
 
 " No, I thank you ! one lecture for one day 
 is surely enough ; " and striking her horse, it 
 started into a canter. 
 
 Alford's steed, unwilling to be outdone, fol- 
 lowed ; and Helen, unexpectedly, and much 
 against her inclination, found herself alone with 
 Mr. Dormer; and, before her horse could 
 change its pace, his hand was on her rein. 
 
 " Why is Miss St. Maur so careful to spare 
 the feelings of all but one ! Why is he alone 
 to be unforgiven ? Is this just ? " 
 
 There was an earnestness in this appeal, 
 which surprised and confused her ; but she 
 tried to answer with carelessness. 
 
 " This is rather a grave charge, and I am 
 not inclined to allow its justice ; but, if I were 
 so, what can you expect from one of that sex, 
 who are more changeable than change itself." 
 
 " Here is proof of the justice of my charge," 
 and he coloured highly; "whilst you forget 
 or disregard the idle words of others, you 
 remember with displeasure all of mine. Why 
 is that one alone to be unforgiven ? "
 
 188 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 "What if that one have more deeply of- 
 fended?" 
 
 " But what if he have repented more deeply- 
 still?" 
 
 '' Will you avouch he has done so ? " 
 
 " Will you forgive him, if I so avouch ? 
 Surely his offence was not so heinous ? " 
 
 "Do you plead for justice or forgiveness, 
 Mr. Dormer ? " The altered tone of this last 
 question startled him. 
 
 There was a moment's struggle, but pride 
 yielded; and he replied in a deep earnest 
 voice : " For forgiveness ! Will you not grant 
 it?" 
 
 " It is granted ! " she said in a low sweet 
 voice, turning away from those bright eyes that 
 spoke their thanks. 
 
 Before she was aware her hand was pressed 
 between both his ; but the next moment she 
 had given her horse the rein, and, followed by 
 Dormer, was hastening to rejoin the part}\ 
 
 "Were I any one but Lady Catherine Al- 
 ford, I should envy you that brilliant colour, 
 Helen. How did you get it ? was it the ride ? 
 or have the gentlemen been doing the gallant ?" 
 
 "Either one you please," replied AKord, 
 marking the increased glow on his favourite's 
 cheek, whilst Helen entered the house, trying 
 to appear as though she had not heard the 
 question.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 189 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 To woman, whose best books are human hearts, 
 Wise heaven a genius less profound imparts. 
 His awful ! Her's is lovely ; his should tell 
 How thunderbolts, and her's how roses fell. 
 Her rapid mind decides while he debates, 
 She feels a truth that he but calculates. 
 He, provident, averts approaching ill, 
 She snatches present good with ready skill. 
 That active perseverance his, which gains. 
 And her's that passive patience which sustains. 
 Winds shatter oaks, while osiers wave secure ; 
 Seas waste the rock, while yielding sands endure ; 
 And gentle woman, to her fate resigned. 
 Prevails o'er woes that vanquish stern mankind. 
 
 Woman. 
 
 Well, 
 
 I see you are the master of the house. 
 I will accommodate myself to you. 
 
 Faust. 
 
 The storm of the morning was but the fore- 
 runner of the storm of the evening. The air 
 became oppressive — vivid flashes of Ughtning 
 lit up the most distant corners of the large 
 apartment — and made the room appear one
 
 190 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 blaze of liquid flame. The roar of the thun- 
 der followed almost instantaneously on the 
 flash of the lightning — the wind moaned in 
 hollow gusts among the trees, yet scarcely 
 moved the heavy black clouds that obscured 
 the sky — ^large drops fell occasionally, with a 
 dull plashing sound — and the whole scene was 
 as sublime as a summer storm could be. Helen 
 sat at one of the windows watching its awful 
 beauty. 
 
 " How comes this ? " said Catherine, who 
 had been looking at her for some time. " I 
 thought you were no admirer of storms." - 
 
 " You are mistaken then ; I admire nature 
 under every form. ' Looking through nature up 
 to nature's God.'" 
 
 " I fancied I had heard you declaim, more 
 than once, on the calm beauty of a placid sum- 
 mer's evening." 
 
 " Very likely ; for, though I may delight in 
 Scott, surely I may admire Milton also." 
 
 " Very intellectually answered, but I suspect 
 you like change as well as your neighbours." 
 
 " I have no doubt I find variety as charming 
 as others." 
 
 " I do not clearly comprehend the distinction 
 between change and variety. Do you mean to 
 say you equally admire the storm and the sun- 
 shine ? and think one heightens the beauty of 
 the other?"
 
 THE HEIRESS. 191 
 
 " Yes ! " answered Helen, carelessly, too 
 much absorbed in contemplating the beauty of 
 the scene without, to pay much attention to her 
 companion within. 
 
 " I thought as much," said Catherine iron- 
 ically. " In that case you need not have 
 been so indignant at my asking if you could 
 change." 
 
 " In what case, Catherine ? I don't under- 
 stand you." 
 
 " Not the accusative ; so you need not colour 
 like a milk-maid j but the possessive, I con- 
 clude, to judge by what I saw when I looked 
 back to discover if you and Mr. Percy Dormer 
 were following. Nay, never look foolish! if 
 young gentlemen will do such things, how 
 can young ladies prevent them ? " 
 
 '' If I blush. Lady Catherine, it is for you 
 more than myself," replied Helen, roused by 
 her words. " I despise hints and insinuations, 
 and this will not be our first quarrel on that 
 subject. If you have any thing to ask, ask it 
 — any thing to say, say it, — ^but play not the 
 secret assassin — wound not in the dark." 
 
 For some moments the two young women 
 stood fronting each other, looking as though to 
 read the inmost thoughts. The gaze of both 
 was steady and unshrinking, yet was neither
 
 192 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 free from emotion. Helen would have served 
 Catherine to her power's extent; rarely re- 
 torted, and never intentionally wounded; but 
 though she had been her playfellow from child- 
 hood, she could never feel any confidence in 
 her. Catherine's feeling towards her, to judge 
 from her conduct, were scarcely so friendly, but 
 then she was always enigmatical. 
 
 Though Catherine generally assumed an air 
 of superiority over her companion, who, con- 
 scious of her own powers, rarely resented her 
 domineering tone ; she had found more than 
 once, if roused to exertion, there was a calm 
 dignity, a candour and firmness about Helen, 
 that always gave her the mastery over her op- 
 ponent. These trials of power were never 
 sought by Helen, and had of late been rather 
 avoided by Catherine ; who, warned by former 
 defeats, kept within some bounds, but now it 
 seemed as though some motive, far more strong 
 than usual, had urged her on till retreat was 
 almost impossible. The same feehng, whatever 
 it might be, banished her usual tone of cool 
 but bitter irony, and rendered her whole man- 
 ner passionate and impetuous. 
 
 Finding she obtained no answer, and still 
 anxious as ever to avoid any contention, Helen 
 said, " If this encounter of the eyes will satisfy 
 you, Catherine, so much the better; I would
 
 THE HEIRESS. 193 
 
 always avert an encounter of tongues, for they 
 are sharp weapons, and require consummate 
 skill to wield them wisely ; and when once un- 
 sheathed may chance to inflict wounds no leech 
 can heal. Suppose we proclaim a peace," and 
 she held out her hand. 
 
 But Catherine took it not. The sweet ex- 
 pression of Helen's countenance seemed rather 
 to strengthen than change her resolve. 
 
 " No Helen ! no hollow peace ! " she ex- 
 claimed passionately. " Truces and treaties 
 are for cowards. You bade me ask, — listen 
 and answer ! Do you remember saying in 
 this very room, on such another evening, that 
 though storms might vary the face of nature, 
 they were even in their beauty to be dreaded ? 
 That the storms of passion were more fearful 
 still ; a volcanic mind more to be feared than a 
 volcanic mountain ; and that you should prefer 
 in domestic life the monotonous to the stormy? 
 That even the blaze of genius should not blind 
 to the deformity of passion ? Do you remem- 
 ber this ?" 
 
 " It is rather imperious to call upon me to 
 remember words spoken some three years 
 since. I may have said so, but I doubt whe- 
 ther it were not too wise a speech for me to 
 have been its maker." 
 
 " At least, you acknowledge its wisdom?" 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " Most certainly ! but what then ?" 
 
 " Then you can never think of wedding 
 Percy Dormer ! " 
 
 Helen started ; this conclusion, so triumph- 
 antly asserted, was unexpected and confusing ; 
 ])ut again daring the almost stern gaze of her 
 confronter, she answered calmly — 
 
 " I have had no thought of wedding Mr. 
 Dormer, though I do not perceive the justice 
 of your conclusion ; for he has many high and 
 noble qualities." 
 
 " So you said three days since, judging by 
 intuition, I conclude. Do you still think the 
 same ? Has to day taught you no bitter 
 truths?" 
 
 " You can best answer that question." 
 
 " Pshaw ! I never flattered the heiress ; but 
 I would be your friend for once. You under- 
 stood my question, though others did not. Am 
 I indeed to understand your opinion of Mr. 
 Dormer is unchanged ? " 
 
 " I rank Mr. Dormer high above the common 
 herd; and hold him endowed with very superior 
 abilities, and many splendid virtues." 
 
 " Helen ! Helen ! You may deceive yourself, 
 but you cannot deceive me," cried Catherine, 
 still more passionately. " You are wilfully 
 blind — you see the tempest and yet dare its 
 dangers. Be warned ! if you would not perish 
 in the storm. Percy Dormer is not for sucb
 
 THE HEIRESS. 195 
 
 as you — he is the very volcano of which you 
 spoke. Shun him ! avoid him ! — his violence 
 would crush you — he would despise the soft- 
 ness of your character, when the charm of your 
 beauty had passed away. You would be to 
 him as a toy to a child, thrown aside and neg- 
 lected — the adulated heiress would sink into 
 the despised wife — you would perish in the 
 war of elements — he would die in the mono- 
 tony of tranquillity. Helen ! again I say be 
 warned. And yet why should I say it ? even 
 now you scorn and deride my words. On 
 —on — then to your fate, and the sorrow rest 
 on your own head! Back to the window now, 
 and dream the tempest is your sphere ! " 
 
 There was something so wild, so passionate, 
 in her voice and look, that Helen was amazed, 
 and almost awed. Then came to remembrance 
 her extraordinary conduct at Mrs. Jones's — a 
 suspicion flashed across her — the colour went 
 and came ; and then, laying her hand on Cathe- 
 rine's arm, she looked earnestly into her face, 
 with a kind but penetrating gaze. Catherine 
 seemed anxious to avoid the scrutiny — but it 
 might not be — and Helen spoke, despite the 
 haughty look she assumed. 
 
 " As you wish the happiness of all concerned, 
 answer me truly! Have you not a deeper mo- 
 K 2
 
 1.96 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 tive than my welfare for your warning ? Think 
 of me as a sister — say but yes/' 
 
 Totally regardless of the almost affectionate 
 kindness shown by the questioner, Catherine 
 dashed away the hand that rested on her arm ; 
 stepped back a few paces, whilst the flashing of 
 her eyes contrasted strongly with the deathlike 
 hue of her complexion, and her voice quivered 
 with passion as she spoke. 
 
 '' Miss St. Maur, you are avenged ! What 
 have you seen in Lady Catherine Alford that 
 you should deem her mean enough to stoop to 
 give her love unasked ? Has she so wooed the 
 notice of the gentleman, that you take her for 
 a lovelorn damsel ? Be not alarmed, you have 
 no rival to dread in me !" 
 
 " I dread no rival," replied Helen warmly, 
 indignant at the insinuation. 
 
 " You are secure then ! and only wished to 
 triumph over my weakness. I thank you. I 
 dreamt not of such prompt decision, and my 
 warning has been late ; but my prediction will 
 come true;" and she turned to leave the room. 
 
 " Stay, Lady Catherine ! and hear me ! " 
 
 " No ! I cannot stay to talk about the wed- 
 ding now. You can consult Sir Charles Gran- 
 dison, and take Harriet Byron for your model, 
 and Garnette shall dress your hair," said she, 
 still advancing to the door.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 197 
 
 " Catlierine, I will be heard;" and Helen 
 stood before her. " You shall not thus shelter 
 yourself under the mask of folly." 
 
 Catherine seemed half inclined to force a 
 passage, and the expression of her countenance, 
 so completely at variance with the late assumed 
 carelessness of her tone^ had well nigh induced 
 Helen to allow her to depart; but the expres- 
 sion changed the instant she saw it was ob- 
 served, and throwing herself listlessly into a 
 chair, she answered— 
 
 " What must be, must be; so pray let us 
 have the whole scene. It will be sublime to a 
 degree," 
 
 " I have no scene to relate." 
 
 " You need not be shy about it, my dear ; 
 we saw him kiss your hand, and you allow you 
 dread no rival." 
 
 " You saw no such thing ; and if I dread no 
 rival it is because there is no matter for rival- 
 ship. I meant not to wound you by my ques- 
 tion ; and pardon me if I say it was the best 
 excuse that could be made for your violence. 
 If your warnings were meant in kindness, I 
 thank you; if not, I scorn the predictions or 
 the Sibyl, though she performed her part in- 
 imitably. The softness of my character can- 
 not, and shall not, induce me to yield my judg- 
 ment to the prejudice of one whose strange
 
 198 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 conduct is, to say the best of it, inexplicable. 
 And now having heard my explanation and de- 
 cision, you may depart ; " and she moved from 
 the door. 
 
 " Who has your permission to depart ? " 
 asked Alford, entering the room at the moment, 
 and marking with surprise the stately step of 
 one lady and the compressed lip and indignant 
 fi'own of the other. " What is the matter, my 
 most subhme sister ? Are you preparing to enact 
 the Sibyl again for Dormer's edification? 
 Here he is, just in time." 
 
 " No Alford ! I am weary now. I have been 
 enacting a play for Helen's amusement, and 
 performed my part so admirably that the sim- 
 ple one believed me in earnest; and whilst I 
 only sought a little fencing with foils, she had 
 well nigh converted our intended mock en- 
 counter into a real and deadly fight. Do go 
 and appease her." 
 
 " He need not trouble himself," said Helen, 
 who had turned round in amaze at the bold as- 
 sertion. " I am perfectly aware of the nature 
 of our combat, and deserve as much credit for 
 good acting as yourself." 
 
 " I doubt it not," said Alford, who saw there 
 was more meant than met the ear, " since you 
 always act with propriety, whilst Catherine 
 sometimes o'ersteps the modesty of nature."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 199 
 
 *' A perfect judgment, thou most impartial 
 judge, who decidest without hearing either side. 
 A polite brother, they say, is a black swan -, and 
 I have no right to expect such a rarity. I leave 
 you, Helen, to perfect yourself in the retort 
 courteous against our next encounter ; but let 
 not my warning be in vain." 
 
 " Are you not alarmed at the lightning. Miss 
 St. Maur," asked Dormer, as he took his station 
 beside her at the window. 
 
 ^^ No ! not alarmed j though I can scarcely 
 describe the feeling it does excite. It is not 
 fear, nor pleasure; but a sort of awful delight — 
 a something to be felt — not told. The feeling 
 awakened by sublime poetry, describing some 
 fearful doom or some momentous crisis, most 
 nearly resembles it, though far, very far in- 
 ferior. Alford laughs, and classes me with his 
 favourite Susan, I guess; so I must hush my 
 raptures." 
 
 ^' La mSme chose souvent est dans la bouche 
 d'une femme d'esprit, une naivete^ ou un boa 
 mot ; et dans celle d'une sotte une sottise." 
 
 " Comme les absens ont tovjours tort, I 
 suppose I must express due gratitude for the 
 compliment." 
 
 Before Alford could reply a summons came 
 from his father, to which after various strug- 
 ghngs and grumblings he at length paid obe- 
 dience.
 
 200 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " I sometimes wonder/' said Dormer, " how 
 Alford and I ever came to be friends, for, I be- 
 lieve, there is scarcely one point of sympathy 
 between us. His gaiety almost approaches to 
 levity 5 my gravity almost descends to gloom. 
 Our friendship is to me a strange anomaly, to 
 be wondered at but never explained.'' 
 
 " I may not be so arrogant as to pretend an 
 explanation of what you have asserted is inex- 
 plicable; but I do not think you have stated 
 the matter fairly. In contrasting, with some 
 exaggeration, two qualities, you have forgotten 
 how the general characters may assimilate. 
 Alford's levity, if you will have it so, is tem- 
 pered and thrown into shade by his many vir- 
 tues; and your gloom, since you mil call it 
 thus, is redeemed, if your friend's penetration 
 may be relied on, by great and noble qualities. 
 Both would tread the same bright jDath of vir- 
 tue and honour." 
 
 He neither disclaimed or thanked her for her 
 praise, for it was no idle or insincere compli- 
 ment. He felt too it was totally different from 
 the adulation and flattery to which he had so 
 long been accustomed ; and which, while he be- 
 lieved he viewed, and perhaps really did view 
 with contempt, w^as yet, from the force of habit, 
 partly expected and almost desired. His looks 
 alone showed his pleasure, and those Helen
 
 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 201 
 
 saw not, for she was again looking out on the 
 storm. The conversation was too agreeable to 
 be discontinued, and Dormer replied — 
 
 '' Beheve me, I am too much Alford's friend 
 not to be inchned to do his virtues justice^ and 
 if I said levity it was in gaiety, not in malice ; 
 still I am at a loss to account for our friend- 
 ship. The more so as it was a matter of choice 
 rather than chance ; and I am inchned to think 
 that a similarity of manners or pursuits is more 
 frequently the foundation of friendship than a 
 similarity in morals." 
 
 " Granted, among the vain and frivolous, if 
 any thing they can feel deserves the name 
 of friendship; but not in minds of a higher 
 stamp. If I remember rightly, and I should 
 do so, for Alford never wearies of the tale, you 
 saved his life at the imminent risk of your own; 
 and that just after, provoked at your lofty bear- 
 ing, he had exerted all his powers of torment- 
 ing. From that moment regret and gratitude 
 made him resolve to make you his friend. 
 You tried to shun him, but he would not be 
 shunned; till he at last gained your friendship. 
 Something in the same way by which De Rocca 
 won de Stael ; declaring he would love her so 
 well she would not be able to refuse him. 
 Such is Alford's tale." 
 
 " Though it contains much truth, it contains 
 K 5
 
 202 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 not all the truth. Alford has omitted his devo- 
 tion to me, during a long illness, and all the 
 brusqueries with which I met his advances." 
 
 " Do not beheve me ignorant of those 
 brusqueries,'' said she, archly. " They were the 
 slighter touches which served to fill up the 
 first rough sketch, and place you as a perfect 
 picture on my mind's canvass, in all its variety 
 of light and shade, form and colouring." 
 
 " Indeed ! and I so ignorant of the honour. 
 But perhaps such ignorance was for my happi- 
 ness ; I might have quarrelled with my own 
 portrait." 
 
 " Scarcely with such as I had drawn it from 
 Alford's description. If my memory does 
 not play me false, at the sage age of sixteen 
 your station was a little, a very httle lower than 
 some of our favourite heroes ; nay, I am not 
 quite sure, that we did not endow you with all 
 the qualities — the noblest, the best, and the 
 bravest to be found in our youthful idols ; or 
 whether v/e did not even give you precedence 
 over Bayard and Bruce; Wallace and So- 
 bieski." 
 
 " Then I am to understand that, at the sager 
 age of twenty, you bid me descend from the 
 hero ship to which in your days of delusion you 
 had elevated me ; thus, making me exemphfy 
 the disagreeable truth, that no man is a hero
 
 THE HEIRESS. 203 
 
 to his valet-de-chambre ; or, in more poetic 
 phrase, that distance is the element of subhmity. 
 Happy for me if Alford had never elevated 
 your expectations ; still happier, if by failing to 
 obtain the introduction so eagerly desired, I 
 had not, by the dull reality of my presence, 
 defaced the splendid picture of your imagina- 
 tion ! Then might I still have Uved in your 
 mind glowing with all the virtues of a Bay- 
 ard." 
 
 One would have thought her words might 
 have pleased the most unreasonable ; but the 
 tone of pique in which this was said, showed 
 he could ill brook the being thought less than 
 perfection, even in playfulness. 
 
 " I am not going to be lured into a compli- 
 mentary speech, Mr. Dormer ; nor am I going 
 to quarrel with you for the slight estimation in 
 which you hold our introduction ; but, I will 
 simply say, had you been Bayard himself, and 
 nothing lower it seems will content you, there 
 must have been at twenty some abatement in 
 the homage of sixteen. All colours fade from 
 time, and feelings and impressions fade like 
 them. The first impressions on a young mind 
 are deep and vivid, and retain for some time a 
 great portion of their original strength ; but to 
 one just opening into life, impressions, ideas, 
 thoughts, and feehngs, follow each other in
 
 204 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 rapid succession like the waves of the sea; 
 remembered only as things that have been and 
 are not, or it may be unremembered at aU ; no 
 trace left on the sandy beach over which they 
 flowed ; and though a ninth wave may occa- 
 sionally come, leaving a deeper track behind, 
 still the succession of minor waves must soon 
 lessen the impression. Besides, youth is the 
 season of exaggeration and confidence. The 
 beautiful is more than beautiful — a garden a 
 paradise — a hill a mountain — an inland lake the 
 boundless sea — and an officer in his Majesty's 
 service a hero ! To the young it seems impos- 
 sible to doubt or change; but, at my sober 
 age," and she smiled her own sweet playful 
 smile, " we are wiser. In former days it would 
 have been nothing short of treason to have 
 hinted at an error in any of my favourites ; 
 and now I sometimes doubt if there ever were 
 such beings. In these days of stereotypes 
 and steam engines, when elephants are actors, 
 and chins musical instruments ; one is inchned, 
 in the pride of the present, to look back with 
 contempt on the past, and hold its worthies, 
 even with my Lord Monboddo, as little better 
 than monkies Avith their tails cut off. Then the 
 new histories of the olden times, which appear 
 every day, so completely falsify the accounts of 
 the ancients, that I am almost become a convert
 
 THE HEIRESS. 205 
 
 to the opinion, that history is but an accredited 
 fiction, not more true, and less amusing, than 
 the ^ History of Jack the Giant Killer,' and his 
 no less renowned namesake, the hero of the 
 ' Beanstalk.' " 
 
 "Then I may perhaps, though no longer al- 
 lowed to stand next to Bayard in your esti- 
 mation, be permitted to take my place some- 
 what below the renowned ' Jack the Giant 
 Killer.' " 
 
 " Le Roi s'y avisera! " and again her playful 
 smile beamed upon him, and checked his rising 
 ill humour. 
 
 " But we have strangely wandered from the 
 subject matter of our discourse, to speak 
 fashionably, or parliamentarily, I should say, 
 only young ladies would not be supposed to 
 know there was such a thing as a Parliament, 
 were there not a few sentences about it in the 
 History of England and Goldsmith's Geogra- 
 phy, written for the use of schools. I forget 
 whether we had accounted satisfactorily for the 
 friendship of yourself and Alford." 
 
 "I own I was not quite satisfied on that 
 point. I cannot understand how Alford, who 
 has generally but little perseverance, persisted 
 in overcoming my dislike ; or how we can feel 
 such a regard for each other, when our opinions 
 clash on almost every subject."
 
 206 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " Give Alford a sufficient motive, and he can 
 be as persevering as Charles XII. himself; or 
 any other hero, ancient or modern ; and his 
 gratitude sufficed on that occasion. Besides, 
 you were almost the only person whose dignity 
 proved some slight check to his raiUery, and 
 your open dislike piqued him to overcome it. 
 And how could you fail to be pleased with such 
 flattering perseverance ? Nor is the difference 
 in your opinions so very great. Alford is now 
 so addicted to raillery, as rarely to utter his real 
 sentiments, and prefers a bon mot to an argu- 
 ment. His father's vacillating and interested 
 conduct makes him shun politics at present ; 
 but I yet hope to see him an honour to his high 
 station, and he often talks of taking you for his 
 model in times to come." 
 
 " Then I am to understand our friendship is 
 the most natural thing in nature. That it was 
 born of a noble principle, nourished by virtue, 
 honour, and patriotism, and has met with no 
 blight or stinting in its growth, from weakness, 
 or vanity, or folly ; in a word, that our friend- 
 ship wiU consign that of Damon and Pythias to 
 the waters of obhvion. Is it so ? '^ 
 
 "Is there no temperate zone, Mr. Dormer ? 
 Must we dwell at the tropic or the poles ? Have 
 I not said that my youthful dream of man's per- 
 fection has been broken, and almost banished ? "
 
 THE HEIRESS. 207 
 
 " Then you hold that our friendship is tainted 
 by weakness, or folly, or vanity. I thought as 
 much, when you spoke of De Rocca and De 
 Stael. He was a fool to strive for the love of 
 one made up of vanity, who would not yield for 
 him the glitter of a name ; and she but proved 
 her selfishness in yielding to the flattery of his 
 devotion." 
 
 " Hush ! hush ! I love De Rocca were it 
 only for his work on Spain, and we must not 
 be too severe on De Stael for the vanity excited 
 by talents so unusual in woman. The unknown 
 may be worthless, yet unblamed ; the celebrated 
 stand on the pedestal of renown, exposed to the 
 criticism of the reptile and the vulgar, and 
 slandered by the stupid and malevolent. All 
 see their faults, but only the good and the noble 
 regret them. With national prejudice, I think, 
 had she been an Englishwoman, educated to 
 fulfil her duties at home rather than to shine 
 abroad, that we might have loved and esteemed 
 the woman as highly as we admire the genius." 
 
 " Genius, remember, which she pined to ex- 
 change for beauty." 
 
 " I cannot forget it, if I would ; for it made 
 too deep and too painful an impression. I had 
 sighed for genius : that trait, as it showed me 
 the weakness of her character, had no mean
 
 208 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 share in awakening me from my dream of per- 
 fection ; yet she but did what others have done, 
 and will do again. 
 
 * The wished-for something, unpossessed, 
 Corrodes and leavens all the rest.' 
 
 This is wrong; but where is the person who 
 wishes not ? Thus, while we blame her for being 
 anxious to exchange a noble gift for one so far 
 inferior, let us consider how few are mser. 
 The merchant suffers care and vexation, toiling 
 for riches whilst content and competence are 
 within his reach ; the conqueror treads in blood 
 to govern others, and leaves himself ungoverned; 
 and the statesman too often seeks for power and 
 popular applause, in preference to the approval 
 of his own conscience." 
 
 " One example more, lady. The beauty still 
 coquets for the admiration of the many, though 
 possessed of the love of one." 
 
 Had these words been uttered in her own 
 spirit of playful retort, she would not have 
 quarrelled with them ; but they were not ; and 
 her answer slightly marked her displeasure at 
 his piqued and lordly tone. 
 
 " I shall not be such a bigot as to deny that 
 such may sometimes be the case : but I do be- 
 lieve, that if there be such a thing as a pure 
 disinterested feeling, it is for woman to furnish 
 the proof. If, blinded by beauty, you vnW fix
 
 THE HEIRESS. 209 
 
 your affections on a butterfly, what wonder if 
 you grieve for your choice ? " 
 
 " Sceptic as you avow yourself then, as to the 
 perfectibihty of man, you still firmly believe in 
 the perfectibility of woman." 
 
 " Not exactly — a hope perhaps, rather than 
 a belief." 
 
 "A distinction without a difference." 
 
 " No, a nuance ! as a Parisian friend of mine 
 would say." 
 
 "You seem inclined to make the French 
 authorities for every thing this evening. Miss 
 St. Maur. How do you mean to defend the 
 justness and courteousness of your opinion ? " 
 
 " The days of Bradamante are passed ; and 
 ladies are no longer expected to couch a lance 
 in defence of person or opinion." 
 
 " Then you yield your opinion ? " 
 
 "What opinion?" 
 
 " That man is always interested ; woman al- 
 ways disinterested." 
 
 "Oh the wickedness and prejudice of the 
 malevolent ! to accuse me of saying any thing 
 so rude. I did but hint that some men might 
 be interested ; and hoped some women were 
 disinterested, and that as much from habits and 
 education, as from any thing individually. I 
 am sure we are firmer, warmer friends than you 
 are. You have a thousand objects to occupy 
 your thoughts, we but a hundred. Your affec-
 
 210 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 tions are dispersed, ours concentrated. Nor 
 am I quite sure that the dream of my early- 
 days has entirely passed away. It was so very 
 beautiful, and made the world so like a paradise." 
 
 " Indulge such fancies stiU, and believe me 
 once more a Bayard." 
 
 " No ! no ! no !" was her reply to his earnest 
 appeal, shaking her head with a motion half 
 playful, half melancholy. 
 
 * ' * The babe must cease to think that it can play 
 With heaven's rain-bow, alchymists must doubt 
 The gold their shining crucibles give out.' " 
 
 " I am too dull to follow your changes, lady," 
 he replied haughtily ; " one moment dreams are 
 held as flowers of paradise, and then the next 
 are spoken lightly of. I am but dull of com- 
 prehension." 
 
 " So it should seem," she said rather coldly, 
 hurt at his haughtiness, and it was some mo- 
 ments ere the gentleman resumed the conversa- 
 tion. 
 
 "Since I have acknowledged my stupidity, 
 will not Miss St. Maur deign to explain her 
 meaning more clearly, as a reward for my humi- 
 lity." There was a half suppressed irony in his 
 tone that was not to be mistaken, and the lady 
 answered accordingly. 
 
 "Your humility might plead strongly in favour 
 of your request, did I not fear I should but 
 make the darkness more obscure. You do not
 
 THE HEIRESS. 211 
 
 understand me, and the chances are you never 
 will." Here Dormer fancied he heard a sigh. 
 " It is a matter of no consequence," and she 
 turned to quit the room, but Dormer detained 
 her. 
 
 " Your pardon ! It is to me of the greatest 
 consequence. Do but answer some simple 
 questions." 
 
 Trembling, confused, she knew not why ; 
 Helen again turned to the window to conceal 
 her emotion, and thus tacitly consented to his 
 request. But it was now Dormer's turn to be 
 confused. No sooner was he at libert}^ to ask 
 an explanation, than he doubted if there were 
 any thing to explain, and felt all the folly of 
 taking so seriously what had been spoken so 
 playfully. His resentment vanished, and he 
 remained silently looking at his companion. 
 
 Now perfectly composed, and surprised at 
 his silence, Helen turned to discover the cause, 
 and after gazing at him for a moment, asked 
 gaily: 
 
 "Why this silence? Are the questions too 
 awful to be clothed in common words, or too 
 trifling to be asked at all ? " 
 
 " The latter, I beheve," he rephed, once more 
 yielding to the influence of her gaiety. " A few 
 minutes since, and I thought you guilty of
 
 212 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 nothing short of treason, and now I can imagine 
 you nothing less than innocence itself." 
 
 " Oh ! I am not the first who has been 
 wrongfully suspected ; and I more than guess, 
 were this matter deeply examined, it w^ould be 
 found that the treason of my words is of a much 
 lighter dye than the treason of your thoughts." 
 
 He coloured slightly at the charge so archly 
 conveyed, and she continued : 
 
 " To speak seriously, dreaming of the natural 
 perfectibihty of man, or woman either, is worse 
 than folly, for the very idea is in guilty oppo- 
 sition to the Divine Revelation, and the expe- 
 rience of our own hearts. But, however we 
 may acknowledge the general truth of man's 
 depravity, there are few things which cause so 
 much pain to the young warm heart, as the 
 having that truth forced upon it by instances of 
 individual guilt. It is then that the heart turns 
 with disgust from its fellows, and shrinks 
 sickened and sorrowful into itself. It is then 
 that, loathing the world, we should sink into 
 despair, did not the light of rehgion shed its 
 soft splendour around our path, and give us 
 glimpses of a heaven a thousand times more 
 pure, more bright, than the paradise of young 
 Imagination. You look amazed, but I am no 
 misanthrope. An heiress at twenty could 
 scarcely become any thing so unsocial ; nor do
 
 THE HEIRESS. 2J3 
 
 I suspect all whom I meet. Though all have 
 faults, most have virtues, and if we felt as 
 deeply as we ought the magnitude of our own 
 offences towards a Merciful Creator, we should 
 judge more charitably of all oifences com- 
 mitted towards ourselves.'' She paused for 
 a moment, and then continued more gaily. 
 " It may be that we enthusiasts have no right 
 to complain at being called on to pay the 
 penalty for our folly ; but, the truth is, I have 
 suffered much at having been obliged to dis- 
 place from my list of favourites some of the 
 idols of my imagination. I say now I know 
 better, and that a burnt child dreads the fire ; 
 but I am forced to suspect occasionally that, 
 substituting enthusiasm for ambition, La Bru- 
 yere's maxim is not far from the truth — Le 
 cas n^ arrive guere ; ou Von puisse dire fetois 
 enthusiaste ; ou on ne Vest point, ou on Vest 
 tovjours, I believe it forms such an important 
 part of my character, that fancy and reality will 
 wage war, till a powerful ally of the latter shall 
 step in to decide the combat. No wonder, 
 therefore, if I sometimes believe, in despite 
 of the reasonables, that St. George and the 
 Dragon really fought a Voutrance on the mound 
 below Offington Castle." 
 
 " Do not regret such a beautiful combination 
 of mind, heart, and imagination," said Dormer,
 
 214 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 looking his admiration of the lovely enthusiast. 
 " Long may the combat between fancy and 
 reality continue. 
 
 ' One shade the more, one shade the less, 
 Would mar that grace and loveliness.' " 
 
 " Shame ! shame ! shame ! " turning away 
 her glomng cheek. "Your counsel is more 
 flattering than judicious. We are accountable 
 beings^ and fancy is but an unskilful guide. I 
 shall suspect Mrs. Jones was correct to day, 
 for yours is the advice of the Evil One : divide, 
 and govern." 
 
 " Believe it not ! I would but have you as 
 you are ; your own heart would ever guide you 
 safely." 
 
 " Not if I am to yield credence to flattery, 
 for vanity is an unwise counsellor ; and could I 
 acquire a cooler mood of mind, it might be for 
 my own happiness, here and hereafter." 
 
 " A cooler mood of mind ! Is it possible you 
 can desire to change the bright glow of en- 
 thusiasm for the cold dulness of apathy ? 
 Can a mind like yours admire the still and 
 stagnant pool ? " 
 
 " It has, at least, nothing to fear from storms." 
 
 " Nothing to fear from storms ! And could 
 you, would you be content with a bare immu- 
 nity from danger ; and, lest a storm should 
 ruffle your serenity, forego the lightning flash 
 of feeling, the brilliant visions of genius."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 215 
 
 " We are not all geniuses." 
 
 " True ! but the power of fully appreciating 
 genius, is scarcely less rare and splendid than 
 genius itself." 
 
 " Do not its very rarity and splendour render 
 it unfit for every day use ? I doubt if exclu- 
 siveness is calculated to increase happiness." 
 
 "Then you have no higher ambition than 
 to be one of the common herd, on a par with 
 the Joneses, and the Jenkinses, and the Smith- 
 sons of every day life, who boast no minds 
 above a saucepan. To pass your time in writing 
 receipts, pickhng, and preserving ; spoiling your 
 children ; scolding your servants ; and talking 
 over your neighbours, the last new novel, and 
 the last new fashion in a breath ; or, to express 
 all I mean, in the quaint terms of Shakspeare, 
 whom it is always allowable to quote, devote 
 your thoughts, your talents, and your love, 
 
 ' To suckle fools, and chronicle small beer.' " 
 
 " Oh, horrible ! horrible ! Mr. Dormer. How 
 can you terrify me with such a frightful picture ? " 
 and she laughed, and held up her hands in 
 horror. 
 
 " I only paint the being you wish to re- 
 semble." 
 
 " But I do not allow the correctness of your 
 pencil : yours is a caricature, and not a likeness. 
 Since you have quoted one poet, let me quote 
 another
 
 21G THE HEIRESS. 
 
 * Nor peace nor ease the mind can know, 
 
 Which like the needle true, 
 Turns at the touch of joy or woe, 
 
 But turning trembles too.' " 
 
 " And you are positively sincere in desiring 
 this dull ease." 
 
 " Peaceful calm ! if you please." 
 
 " Word it as you choose. Let it be luxurious 
 serenity, or blissful inanity ; or any thing else 
 you may prefer. What 's in a name ? But can 
 you repeat that prayer for indifference in sin- 
 cerity ? " 
 
 " I cannot tell. I only feel there is much 
 of truth in it. 
 
 ' For as distress the soul can wound, 
 
 'Tis pain in each degree ; 
 'Tis bliss but to a certain bound. 
 
 Beyond 'tis agony.' " 
 
 Either the truth of her words, or the earnest- 
 ness with which they were spoken, struck him ; 
 and he paused for a moment, and then resumed : 
 " You would really enrol youself as a disciple 
 of quietism ? " 
 
 ^' I sometimes think so; but, like the children 
 of a lesser growth, I am not quite sure I know 
 what I wish." 
 
 '^ Like those said children, I suspect you do 
 not know what is best for you. Appoint me 
 your guardian, till you shall have come to years 
 of discretion."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 217 
 
 She shook her head. 
 
 " You persist then ? Will you give up all 
 those sudden and brilliant perceptions of beau- 
 ty, moral and intellectual ; when mind feels it 
 has met its kindred mind, and soars for a time 
 above the dull realities of life ; the participation 
 in those lightning flashes of genius, that for brief 
 space illume the darkest spots ; and those mo- 
 ments of rich and unutterable splendour, the 
 few only can experience; the dazzling ocean of 
 thought, with its vast immensity; and the deep 
 intensity of feeling, for which mortal lips have 
 no fitting words ? Will you yield all these? " 
 and he looked earnestly into her lovely face. 
 
 " These things are too beautiful to resign," 
 she said, drawing her breath, which had been 
 suspended during his passionate appeal; and 
 for some moments both were lost in the com- 
 munion of deep feeling. A superb flash of 
 lightning throwing its rich flood of radiance full 
 upon them, and an almost contemporaneous 
 burst of thunder, startled them. Both felt the 
 awful beauty of sight and sound, but Dormer 
 only spoke. 
 
 " The very elements proclaim their approval 
 of your decision." 
 
 " Are you quite sure they do not intend a 
 warning." 
 
 "Weak minds only yield to omens and 
 
 VOL. i: L
 
 218 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 warnings; the strong mind is above their super- 
 stition. No! this is as it should be ! Rather 
 would I dwell amid tempests and storms, the 
 whirlwind, the earthquake, and the volcano, 
 dpng or conquering, than drone away my days 
 in stagnant monotony, a nameless and unho- 
 noured thing.'' 
 
 Helen started — had Catherine spoken truth ? 
 — but he saw not the start, and continued : 
 
 "Let the vile suffer, but the noble dare. The 
 victor's crown or the martyr's chaplet for me, 
 rather than a life of dull ease, and an unho- 
 noured grave." 
 
 He wouid have taken Helen's hand, but she 
 withdrew it, and looked at him mournfully. We 
 have owned she was an enthusiast, though all 
 were not aware of the fact ; but thanks to the 
 strong religious feelings, planted and fostered 
 by her parents, and which guided her actions, 
 however she might on very rare occasions have 
 appeared ridiculous in the eyes of the worldly, 
 the cautious, and the cold, her enthusiasm had 
 never yet led her into error. The time of trial 
 was coming. Enthusiast as she was, there was 
 a something so violent and uncalled for in his 
 words and tone, and such a flashing of his dark 
 eye, that she trembled and feared more than 
 she admired; and her acute penetration whis- 
 pered a tale she had but little incUnation to be- 
 lieve. The rich glow that had brightened her
 
 THE HEIRESS. 219 
 
 cheek vanished, and left it as white as the dress 
 she wore. He perceived the change, and en- 
 quired the cause in a softer tone. 
 
 " I scarcely know, but I fear I must make a 
 wiser decision. Your words are alarming ! " 
 
 " Would you retract already ? " he asked, 
 almost fiercely. " Remember ! it is said, in 
 answer to your prayer: 
 
 * No grain of cold indifference, 
 Was ever yet allied to sense. ' " 
 
 " Perhaps not," she said, trying to rally ; 
 " but if I admire less, I shall suffer less ; and 
 all be spared the pang a sunbeam can give, 
 the wound a sound can inflict." 
 
 " You cast away then, as things unworthy to 
 be prized, the brightest gifts of heaven ? " 
 
 " Not so ! I spoke in sport before. I would 
 but be upon my guard lest I should pervert 
 them. It is a rash and fearful thing to sigh for 
 storms, to prove our powers of controlling them : 
 a mightier arm than man's must guide the 
 whirlwind — bid the earthquake stay." 
 
 He looked upon her almost with scorn, as he 
 said angrily : " This is as it should be ; a proof 
 of your desire to be ever the same. Where are 
 the lofty aspirings of the past moment? the 
 noble thoughts ? the sublime imaginings? Are 
 they aU gone ? " 
 
 Her eyes sunk beneath the almost fierceness 
 L 2
 
 220 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 of his gaze ; and she answered in a low sweet 
 voice : " I would but moderate, not banish all 
 these things." 
 
 " Moderate ! Ay, all things should be in mo- 
 deration ! I honour your propriety ! Hold this 
 control, till you have learnt to prize alike the 
 lofty aspirations of the noble and the talented, 
 and the ingenious trimming to a dress." 
 
 In spite of his violence, Helen could not for- 
 bear smiling at the last remark ; and she said 
 in sport, thinking to divert the storm : " I will 
 take your advice, and try how moderate I can 
 l^ecome." 
 
 Too angry to believe her other than in earn- 
 est, his words again broke forth with more than 
 their former vehemence. 
 
 " Success attend your endeavours ! May 
 victory crown your efforts ! Pride yourself on 
 your right judgment ; sneer at all who are less 
 cold-blooded than yourself; ban genius and 
 high imaginings ; despise all but the useful ; and 
 wage a Bonapartean warfare against ideology. 
 Do all this, and then — but pshaw ! " stopping 
 abruply in the heat and full of his vehemence, 
 "I forgot to whom I was speaking;" and bowing 
 scornfully, he added, " I beg your pardon, 
 lady." 
 
 Whatever were Helen's thoughts at what 
 had passed, it was evident, from her strong
 
 THE HEIRESS. 221 
 
 effort at self control, she liad no inclination they 
 should be even divined ; it would be ungene- 
 rous therefore to reveal them. After a silence 
 of some minutes, she said abruptly, turning 
 towards him as she spoke : " Mr. Dormer, you 
 are an infidel! " 
 
 He looked in amaze at the startling assertion. 
 
 " Nay, never deny it! You think women have 
 no minds, and are incapable of participating 
 in man's noble thoughts." 
 
 He was more amazed than before. How 
 had she divined that such, at that very moment, 
 were his thoughts ? Should he justify his infi- 
 delity ? Deny it he could not with truth ; and 
 pride or a better feeling forbade a falsehood. 
 The lady saw his perplexity; and her light 
 laugh rang through the apartment. Such a 
 iaugh ! 
 
 " There was nothing on earth so sweet, 
 Save the music, the mirth, the soft touch of the hand, 
 And the twinkling of fairies' feet." 
 
 *^ I will have no arguments : they convince 
 none ; " and she waved her hand as a playful 
 order. "A Moore or a Hemans would fail to 
 convert you." 
 
 Who could resist her ? Gloom, scorn, anger, 
 ill-humour, all fled before her witching gaiety ; 
 and he said earnestly : 
 
 " They might fail — but you shall win me from 
 my heresy.'^
 
 222 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " Oh no ! you have none of the elements to 
 become 'hon catholiqueJ I shall only inflict a 
 penance : you shall give me the account of 
 Italy you cheated me out of the other evening." 
 
 He took a seat beside her; and there, in the 
 deep twilight, with the pale hghtning ever and 
 anon gleaming upon them, and reveahng to each 
 the almost dazzling animation of the one, and the 
 rapt attention of the other, she drank in the tale 
 of his thoughts and his feehngsas he trod theland 
 of the Roman, and sighed over its departed glory. 
 To one less imbued with the spirit of beauty, 
 and the enthusiasm of genius than was Helen, 
 his words, glowing and fervent as they were, 
 might have seemed dull " as a tmce-told tale," 
 but to her they were as a spell, and an enchant- 
 ment. Whilst giving utterance, now to the 
 splendid inspirations, and anon to the pathetic 
 wailings of his noble spirit, as the glories of 
 the past, or the desolation of the present, rose 
 or faded before his view, all other things were 
 forgotten, and he seemed to soar above this 
 earth. Even the beautiful being who sat beside 
 him, looking up into his face, spell-bound by 
 his eloquence, was scarcely thought of. She, 
 who had shrunk from even a transient glance 
 of those speaking eyes, now met their full gaze 
 calmly and fearlessly ; for even the depth of 
 her rich loveliness was at that moment passed 
 unheeded by.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 223 
 
 One, light and vain, might have felt piqued 
 at this utter forgetfulness of her beauty, but to 
 Helen this very forgetfulness was a deeper and 
 more dangerous flattery. It told that, for the 
 time at least, he had renounced his heresy, and 
 hurried away by her attention and his own elo- 
 quence, felt, rather than acknowledged, the 
 sympathy of thought between them. Feeling 
 the power of the speU that bound her, was it 
 wise after those fearful glimpses of his charac- 
 ter and temper, to yield herself to its influence? 
 still to sit beside him ? still to listen to his 
 glowing words ? tiU all the realities around her 
 faded from her view, and she only saw as he 
 saw, and felt as he felt. Was this wise ? — was 
 this prudent ? " Je hais lesgens qui ont toujour s 
 raison^' as Madame de Sevigne says. I beg 
 pardon of the moralists, but hope to redeem my 
 character hereafter. How could we write ro- 
 mances if all were to act as they should ? and, 
 still worse, who would read them ? Besides she 
 was but twenty, and there are not many Percy 
 Dormers in the world. 
 
 Candles were brought ; the light glared on 
 their eyes unpleasantly for a moment; then 
 those eyes became accustomed to the difference, 
 and the circumstance was forgotten. The tea 
 equipage made its appearance; the rest of the 
 party assembled ; yet still were ancient Rome
 
 224 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 and modern Italy pictured in their contrasts ; 
 and still was Helen's attention earnest and 
 undivided. 
 
 " Tourment, mon cher, Vapportez^' said lady 
 Catherine, despatching her favourite after a ball 
 of lambswool which had rolled, not accidentally 
 as Alford thought, towards the unobservant pair. 
 Tourment not only obeyed, but like some over- 
 zealous diplomatists, exceeded the hmits of his 
 order; for having been at enmity with Mr. 
 Dormer ever since his arrival, he availed him- 
 self of this opportunity to seize on that gen- 
 tleman's heel, whilst apparently engaged in 
 hunting for the ball. Mr. Dormer started from 
 his seat to punish the culprit, no new offender, 
 but Tourment was too quick for him, and 
 almost before he had risen, the pampered fa- 
 vourite was snarUng defiance from the lap of 
 his mistress. 
 
 A muttered curse escaped his lips; rage 
 flashed from his dark eyes ; and striding to the 
 sofa, he fronted Lady Catherine, and half ex- 
 tended an arm to snatch the criminal even from 
 its sanctuary. The petted insolent ceased its 
 snarhng, and crouched and quailed beneath that 
 fiery look ; a fair and rounded arm was thrown 
 rather hastily round him, and the lady tried to 
 meet that dark and angry gaze with one of equal 
 fire : but it might not be, and for a moment
 
 THE HEIRESS. 225 
 
 she bent over the dog to hide her discomfiture ; 
 then rallying she turned towards Helen, with as 
 unconcerned a manner as she could assume 
 (and Lady Catherine Alford might have been a 
 pupil of Talleyrand himself) and in a tone of 
 pretended rapture exclaimed : 
 
 " What a model for a Jupiter Tonans Mr. 
 Dormer would make at this moment ! Oh, that 
 Canova were but here ! " 
 
 She ventured to look up as she finished 
 speaking, but the expression of that stern face 
 made even her tremble, and she instinctively 
 held the dog more firmly. A muttered half- 
 suppressed sound, of which none could catch 
 the meaning, was heard, and then the gentleman 
 stalked from the apartment. Not a look, not a 
 movement had been lost upon Helen. She 
 lingered in the obscurity of the window for 
 some minutes, and then, with a deep sigh, took 
 her station at the tea-table. 
 
 " Do not look so distressed at the disturb- 
 ance of your Ute-a-Ute^ my dear,'' said Cathe- 
 rine, out of humour with herself and every one 
 else, and unable to triumph even in the success 
 of her stratagem. *' To console you, here 
 is a French proverb which will suit your poAvers 
 of acting to the shadow of a shade. It will re- 
 quire no further practice, and you and Mr. 
 L 5
 
 226 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 Dormer shall perform it to-morrow for our 
 edification, selon la nature; or con amove, as 
 my brother's tutor taught me. To-night was 
 but the rehearsal, I conclude,'^ and, as she 
 spoke, she handed a slip of paper to Helen, on 
 which was written, " Chateau qui parte, et 
 femme qui ecoute, tons deux vont se rendreT 
 
 " Agreed," said Alford, who had read it over 
 her shoulder, before Helen could reply, " Pro- 
 vided you afterwards enact : " Les chiens 
 aboient a la tune, mais la tune n'en brille pas 
 moinsy 
 
 Catherine looked a little abashed, but Helen, 
 forgetting the provocation she had received, 
 answered kindly : 
 
 " They are both clever proverbs, but having 
 no meaning applicable to ourselves, we could 
 neither of us I am sure enact them con amore," 
 
 Catherine was touched by her forbearance, 
 and whispered, " You are too good. I do not 
 deserve this." 
 
 " Then grant me a boon ? " said her friend, 
 playfully. 
 
 " Name it." 
 
 " Let me take Tourment to your dressing- 
 room." 
 
 The dog was surrendered, and she had 
 scarcely returned from her mission ere Mr.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 227 
 
 Dormer re-entered the apartment. Lord Mars- 
 ton soon deserted an absorbing pamphlet for 
 a game of chess with Helen, which Alford 
 looked over; Lady Marston had retired before; 
 and Lady Catherine and Mr. Dormer both held 
 books in their hands.
 
 228 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Dire d'un homme colere, inegal, querelleux, chagrin, poin- 
 tilleux, capricieux, c'est son humeur, n'est pas I'excuser, 
 comme on le croit ; mais avouer sans y penser, que de si 
 grands defauts sont irremediables. 
 
 Caracteres de la Bruyere. 
 
 Nothing was heard at the breakfast-table, 
 the next morning, but canvass and hustings ; 
 High Sheriff and Under Sheriff 5 Whig, Tory, 
 and Radical ; blue, orange, and purple ; Catho- 
 lic Emancipation and Reform in Parhament ; 
 Currency, Corn Laws, and Commerce. Helen 
 only received a muttered salutation from the 
 usually over punctilious Earl, as he stayed for 
 an instant a prosing discussion on the party 
 politics of the County, and considered herself 
 highly favoured in receiving a half absent, half 
 polite bow, from the more noble and ambitious 
 Dormer. Alford, the mischief-loving Alford, 
 was dividing his time between the discussion of 
 coffee, ham, rolls, and eggs, with a garniture of 
 Scotch marmalade ; mystifpng his father and 
 friend with county divisions and coalitions, as
 
 THE HEIRESS. 229 
 
 edifying as true ; sparring with his sister, and 
 comphmenting Helen. 
 
 Breakfast being hurried over, the gentlemen 
 mounted their horses to canvass for their fa- 
 vourite candidate, Lord Marston having in- 
 sisted on his son's accompanying them, much 
 against his inclination. 
 
 " See the penalty of wisdom," said Alford, 
 making a doleful face as he prepared to follow 
 his friend. " They are aware I am the only 
 sane one of the party, and therefore insist 
 on my presence. Woe is me ! I think I shall 
 play fool for the future to avoid such inflic- 
 tions." 
 
 " Rather attempt a more novel part," said 
 his sister ironically ; " the motley has brought 
 you but little profit hitherto." 
 
 " I leave my character in your hands, Helen," 
 he replied good humouredly, too much accus- 
 tomed to Catherine's caustic speeches to heed 
 them. " I know you will extend your protec- 
 tion over the innocent." 
 
 " Nay ! " said she, laughing, " you are well 
 qualified to defend yourself ; Wisdom can need 
 no protector." 
 
 " Ay ! but her aegis is a Gorgon's head, and 
 methinks I would rather play the fool, and win 
 defence from a fairer face." 
 
 " But fair faces may deceive as well as fair
 
 230 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 words, and I shall be obliged to play Gorgon 
 to look flatterers into silence ; " and then she 
 added, more earnestly, " Lay aside your inten- 
 tion of playing the fool, and enact the wise man 
 for this day at least." 
 
 " As I have done this morning ? " he in- 
 quired archly. 
 
 " Oh no ! How can you, to say the thing 
 prettily, allow your imagination such play r" 
 
 " That is, in plain English, how can I tell 
 such lies ? " Then, indulging in a loud laugh, 
 he continued — "The look of consternation, 
 when I talked of the coalition between Blue and 
 Orange ! Own it was inimitable, Helen !" 
 
 " It was your father ! " said Helen, gravely. 
 
 He felt the rebuke, and pressing her hand, 
 said, " You are a dear good thing, and blame 
 so sweetly that I must try to mend ; " then, 
 relapsing into something of his former humour, 
 he added, " Yet must I not seem too wise, or 
 the most honourable the Earl of Marston will 
 set me up for the county." 
 
 " No fear of your over-wisdom, or its conse- 
 quences," interrupted his sister ; " even pa- 
 rental blyidness only thinks you fit to repre- 
 sent an impure borough." 
 
 " Thanks for your good word ! I may always 
 reckon on that. ' Now fare ye well my ladies 
 gay !' and pray Helen, have an epitaph ready on
 
 THE HEIRESS. 231 
 
 my return, for a whole day of wisdom and can- 
 vassing would prove fatal to the ' Undying 
 One' himself." 
 
 " What a fuss about representing the great 
 unpaid, and the little paid ; the dabblers in po- 
 litics, pensions, and perfumery ; and the dab- 
 blers in diplomacy, dirt, and dependance. Now 
 shall I have to bow and smile to every raga- 
 muffin, that shall please to touch his hat for 
 the next month, to keep up my prudent papa's 
 county influence; nay, I should not wonder if 
 I were expected to undergo a round of silla- 
 bubs at some of the topping farmers, as they 
 are called ; and to talk of the poultry and dairy, 
 cocks, hens, and goslings, cream curd, and 
 cheese, with their wives and daughters. I wish 
 our late much beloved, highly respected, and 
 ever-to-be-lamented county member, Mr. Pen- 
 ton, of Penton Place, as the Chronicle hath it, 
 had been kind enough, instead of dying three 
 days since, to defer his death till I had been in 
 town, some hundred miles from this greasy 
 multitude. Pity me, Helen ! " said Catherine. 
 
 " Rather pity Mr. Penton's wife and chil- 
 dren, who have sustained an almost irreparable 
 loss." 
 
 " It is of no use to lecture me, Helen ; and 
 with all your striving to look grave, you can- 
 not forbear a smile at my undergoing the silla- 
 bubs."
 
 232 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " Such an idea would excuse Diogenes him- 
 self; and I fear I am always ready for a 
 laugh." 
 
 " Why, you are a good-natured monitress I 
 must allow ; or I should quite detest you for a 
 puritan. And now, to amuse ourselves without 
 the gentlemen." 
 
 The canvassing party returned late, looked 
 vexed, harassed, and weary. Dinner being an 
 hour beyond the usual time, was almost enough 
 to account for the discomfiture of the ultra pre- 
 cise Lord Marston ; but, as she passed Alford in 
 going in to dinner, Helen heard him say to his 
 sister, — " If you can resist being severe and pro- 
 voking, for once do play V amiable ; for Dormer 
 is like ' a lum in a lowe,' as an old Scotch free- 
 holder told him, and my father's humour is 
 more hkely to increase than quench the con- 
 flagration ; so, for all our sakes, be agreeable." 
 
 Helen looked at Dormer, and saw, with pain, 
 marks of ill-suppressed passion and chafed 
 pride, so plainly visible as to induce Catherine 
 to attend to her brother's request. Fortunately 
 the dinner had suffered little from the delay, 
 and the endeavours of Helen, Catherine, and 
 Alford, not only prevented an explosion of 
 wrath, but even appeared to have quieted, in 
 some degree, the displeasure of the Earl and
 
 THE HEIRESS. 2SS 
 
 his guest, when a sudden piece of intelligence 
 destroyed all the good their united efforts had 
 effected. 
 
 The Earl had given orders to be made ac- 
 quainted with any thing that might be heard 
 concerning the election; and, in obedience to 
 this mandate, the butler informed his Lordship 
 that hand-bills were issuing by Mr. Smug, of 
 Smug Park, announcing his having consented, 
 in compliance with the wishes of a numerous 
 band of friends, to take upon himself the ardu - 
 ous but honourable duty of representing the 
 
 county of ; and soliciting the votes of the 
 
 honest, incorruptible, and highly intelligent 
 freeholders of the said county. ^ 
 
 Mr. Smug, of Smug Park, a representative 
 for the county of ! A Manchester manu- 
 facturer, who had been in the county but two 
 years ; had built an enormous house, like the 
 manufactory in which he had made his fortune. 
 One who, at least, so said the Earl, ever took 
 delight in crossing and thwarting the aristo- 
 cracy of the country, and out-doing in splendid, 
 if not tasteful magnificence, the most noble 
 and eminent famihes ! Was this to be ? For- 
 bid it all the blood of all the Marstons ! At 
 first the Earl seemed stunned by the immensity 
 of the presumption ; then, urged to exertion by 
 the fearfulness of the peril, he rose from his
 
 234 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 seat, and, whilst the elevation of outraged no- 
 bility almost gave dignity to his usually com- 
 mon-place appearance, he poured forth a rather 
 violent and lengthy address to the nobility, 
 
 gentry, and freeholders of the county of , 
 
 on the degradation of allowing themselves to 
 be represented by Mr. Smug, of Smug Park ; 
 a Manchester manufacturer ! a printer of cot- 
 tons ! a weaver of calicoes ! a thing of muslins 
 and long cloths, power-looms and cotton vel- 
 vets ! 2i parvenu! a nouveau riche! a man without 
 a father, since he boasted of being the founder of 
 his family. " Shall such a blot on the honour 
 of our county be endured ? " said his Lordship, 
 irf conclusion. " Such a stain on its fame ! Will 
 the Howards, and the De Veres, and the St. 
 Maurs, and the Tlirogmortons, and the other 
 noble families of the country, who can trace 
 up from father to son, from generation to ge- 
 neration, vail before a low-born artizan, a radi- 
 cal upstart, who talks of decreased taxation and 
 amended corn laws ? Never ! never ! rather 
 let us contest the point to the last drop of our 
 blood. Let the noble and the high-born, and 
 the clear-judging, unite mth heart and hand in 
 the common and patriotic purpose of saving 
 the county from such foul disgrace. Yes ; let 
 us show to the world the falshood of his asser-
 
 THE HEIRESS. 235 
 
 tion, that he yields to the wishes of a band of 
 friends. The eyes of all England are upon us, 
 and our country expects that every man will do 
 his duty." 
 
 With this sublime climax his Lordship con- 
 cluded ; and having forgotten, in the ardour of 
 his harangue, that he had not been addressing 
 a county meeting, looked round for applause. 
 Surprise, which it pleased him to interpret into 
 admiration, was strongly depicted on every 
 countenance. Never had the Earl displayed 
 so much eloquence and force of language ; for 
 never before, after a speech of five minutes, had 
 even his most ingenious listeners been able to 
 decide on what were his real wishes. But then, 
 how could he fail to be eloquent on such a sub- 
 ject ? The only pity was, that the speech had 
 not been made at the County Hall, addressed 
 to a County meeting, and reported in a County 
 paper. All were silent, and the speaker sat 
 down with a self-satisfied air, remembering to 
 have read somewhere, that silence is the most 
 flattering applause from thinking minds. 
 
 " Weave the warp, and weave the woof, 
 The winding-sheet of Smug's vile race ; 
 
 Give ample room and verge enough 
 The manufacturer's fate to trace ! " 
 
 exclaimed Lord Alford, with a theatrical tone 
 and air.
 
 236 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " Will you never be serious on serious 
 things/' said his father angrily, who just ima- 
 gined it possible some ridicule might be couched 
 in the lines, notwithstanding their pompous 
 delivery; then turning to his guest, he said, 
 " What plan do you recommend, Mr. Dormer, 
 to crush this audacious upstart." 
 
 " The leaving him to his contemptibihty. 
 Our notice would do him too much honour;" 
 replied that lordly gentleman, with a look that 
 would have annihilated twenty manufacturers 
 of uninsured lives. 
 
 " Yes ! perhaps so — but I should have 
 thought — that is I should have imagined — yet 
 I cannot say — doubtless you know best," — re- 
 plied his questioner, freed in some degree from 
 his former excitement, and sinking back into 
 his usual doubtful and prosing strain. 
 
 " I tremble for the fate of the future Mrs. 
 Dormer ; even I should perish beneath such a 
 look," remarked Catherine in an under-tone, 
 fixing Helen's attention on lefier. 
 
 "The future Mrs. Dormer must abide her 
 fate, if she choose to provoke it," rephed our 
 heroine pointedly. 
 
 " Tourment, my darling, don't lap all the 
 cream ; and without strawberries too !" said his 
 mistress, turning abruptly to her favourite, who 
 had taken advantage of her inattention to help 
 himself to some of the dessert dainties.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 237 
 
 ^•' Order some more cream, Alford ; and do^ 
 Catherine, teach your dog to be less trouble- 
 some;" remarked Lady Marston, gently sigh- 
 ing as she thought how little her admonitions 
 were heeded. 
 
 " Pauvre Tourment," said her daughter, care- 
 lessly, as though she had not heard her mother's 
 reproof. " Politics are dry things, to be sure, 
 so no wonder you are thirsty." 
 
 " They are things of which women can know 
 nothing," remarked her father, in what he meant 
 for a tone of dignified reproof. 
 
 " Never, papa ? " assuming a look of simpli- 
 city. " I thought I had heard of some old 
 women having places in the Cabinet?" 
 
 Lord Marston was horrified at such a scan- 
 dal, and hastened to reprove his daughter for 
 listening to such false and idle tales. It pleased 
 Catherine to put on a humble and submissive 
 look ; and the Earl, after a moment's pause, 
 turned to Helen. 
 
 " For my part I hate idle tales." This was 
 not true, for like all weak-minded people, he 
 had a taste for gossiping ; and a hint of a frown 
 on a favourite, or a smile on a chasse, or a de- 
 licate morceau of court scandal, was as oil to 
 the lamp of his mind ; but then such things 
 were to be contradicted in all grades below his 
 own, and only hinted in mysterious whispers
 
 238 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 even among the privileged class. To return to 
 his Lordship's speech^ lest the digression should 
 be thought as prosy as his harangue. 
 
 " I think all high-minded people should de- 
 cidedly contradict them.'' 
 
 This was a favourite phrase with the Earl, 
 who, as plain people desire to be thought hand- 
 some, and silly ones clever, had the ambition 
 to be considered high-minded and decided. 
 Another digression ! Once more I sue for par- 
 don ! It shall be : 
 
 " A brotherless hermit, the last of his race." 
 
 " Holding such things in abhorrence as I do, 
 I could not but be very much distressed — in- 
 deed greatly shocked — at finding that some one 
 had presumed, falsely I am sure ; but still had 
 presumed to hint at your name in connection 
 with a most extraordinary — indeed, I may say a 
 most audacious report. I concluded instantly, 
 nay I felt convinced that there could be no 
 truth in the story ; and I determined instantly, 
 as all high-minded people should do, to contra- 
 dict it decidedly; and accordingly I said, I felt 
 assured, nay I was almost convinced, that if 
 not absolutely false, there must be^some mis- 
 apprehension in the matter ; and that I should 
 take the hberty, or rather do you the kindness 
 to speak to you on the subject."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 239 
 
 Here he paused, as expecting a reply, and 
 Helen, who, though aware of his talent for 
 making great things out of small, was really 
 rather startled at this fearful exordium, felt 
 herself obliged to thank him for his high-minded 
 decision in contradicting the report, and request 
 to know its purport. 
 
 " I am much distressed to be the bearer of 
 such a tale ; but I think, and I imagine, you 
 will agree with me that it will be less painful 
 to you to hear it from my hps, than from those 
 of others ; and I have only to add, I shall be 
 happy to assist with my counsel how best to 
 silence the report." 
 
 His lordship paused again, but Helen, too 
 anxious to learn the extent of her peril to delay 
 him by questions, only bowed, and he pro- 
 ceeded. 
 
 " To one less gifted than yourself, I should 
 have thought some preparation necessary ; but 
 high-minded and decided as I know you to be, 
 I deemed it needless to waste time in breaking 
 the matter to you cautiously, but have hastened 
 to lay the report before you at once, without 
 preparation or circumlocution ; premising that, 
 though I heard it from the person himself, I 
 did not give it the slightest credit ; that is, I 
 doubted it, as all high-minded people would 
 do, until I heard it from yourself. It is, I am
 
 240 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 informed, most scandalously asserted, though of 
 course without truth, that you are going to 
 place Robert Neale, that great poacher and 
 insolent vagabond, in a cottage on your estate." 
 
 As his lordship stated the report with all 
 due emphasis, he looked at Helen to see if she 
 felt as much horror as himself. It was with 
 some difficulty that she could prevent herself 
 from laughing, so little had his pompous man- 
 ner and sublime introduction prepared her for 
 such an insignificant catastrophe ; but it was 
 a rare thing indeed for Helen St. Maur to for- 
 get what was due to the feelings of others, so 
 resisting the temptation, and shunning AKord's 
 mischievous look, she bent to pick up her 
 glove, thus veiling the smile at her own fears, 
 and then answered with her usual sweetness 
 and tolerable gravity : 
 
 " I fear, indeed, as your lordship justly ob- 
 serves, that there has been much misapprehen- 
 sion on the subject. I certainly have promised 
 to allow Robert Neale to occupy one of my 
 cottages for the next year, at least ; but I did 
 not give that promise till after many enquiries, 
 which left me convinced he was innocent of the 
 charges made against him. I will be surety 
 for his good beha\dour for the next twelve 
 months ; so that I trust that you need entertain 
 no fear for your hares and pheasants."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 241 
 
 ^' Miss St. Maur/' said the Earl pompously, 
 as though his words must annihilate every 
 doubt, " Robert Neale was convicted of poach- 
 ing by the Bench of Magistrates, and sentenced 
 by them to imprisonment." 
 
 " Yes ! but then no mortal judge is infallible; 
 and circumstances have come out since, which 
 make me believe him innocent of the charge, 
 and that his accuser was actuated by evil motives 
 to speak falsely. It was his doing a service to 
 that very accuser, and my considering him as 
 an unfortunate man, that induced me to allow 
 him a shelter on my estate. I cannot blame 
 him for not selling his little freehold ; one of 
 the charges brought against him. You know," 
 she added playfully, "we women are not ex- 
 pected to exhibit all that wisdom and consis- 
 tency that is looked for from statesmen and 
 legislators; we have a patent for being capri- 
 cious and fanciful. Allow this, if you please, 
 to pass as a fancy on my part; for I fear there 
 is no hope of clearing my protege's fame at 
 present. At any rate, he suffered for his crime, 
 real or supposed ; and none should be jiunished 
 twice." 
 
 Here, in obedience to a look from the lady of 
 the house, she rose to adjourn to the drawing- 
 room, but the Earl requesting a few minutes 
 audience, she found herself obliged to remain 
 
 VOL I. M
 
 242 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 whilst lie favoured her with one of his long 
 and prosy harangues^ of which she understood 
 little, save that magistrates could not err, and 
 that poachers should be considered as under 
 a ban, more cruel than the excommunications 
 of the superstitious ages. The previous part of 
 the ill-understood dissertation was forgotten in 
 its concluding sentence, delivered in an angry 
 and triumphant tone. "He is a poacher, a va- 
 gabond, and an ungrateful rascal, for he has 
 declared he will vote against your desire at the 
 election." 
 
 "How can your lordship, or Robert Neale, 
 know what is my desire?" inquired Helen, dis- 
 pleased at finding her name had been used. 
 
 The Earl looked amazed at the question. 
 "Of course we all know your mshes. We 
 consider you as one of us from your ancient 
 family, though without a title," this was said 
 with a patronizing air, "and we are all for 
 Mordaunt. Bat you will have no trouble about 
 the matter; I and Euston Avill manage every 
 thing for you. Only order your steward to 
 send that Neale a notice not to come on your 
 grounds; tell him you do this because he votes 
 against your wishes, and none of your other 
 tenants will prove refractory, I dare say. In- 
 deed, sure of your approval, we told the pesti- 
 lent fellow, that if you had really promised him
 
 THE HEIRESS. 243 
 
 the cottage before, he must now look out for 
 one somewhere else." 
 
 " And what said he ? " 
 
 "He had the insolence to doubt our words, 
 and to say he would only believe it from your 
 own lips; and that, let what would come of it, 
 he should vote as he liked. It is most fortunate, 
 my dear young lady, he has shown himself so 
 soon, or he might have caused you much 
 trouble. Ladies are easily imposed on; but 
 send the warnings and all will be well.'* 
 
 "Pardon me, my lord," replied Helen indig- 
 nantly ; " I cannot break my word, pledged for 
 former merit; and I am very sorry my name 
 should have been coupled with the election." 
 
 "Do I understand you?" exclaimed the Earl, 
 in a tone of most unaristocratic wonder. "You 
 will have all your other tenants in rebellion, if 
 you do not make an example of this man." 
 
 " If you mean by rebellion, each giving his 
 vote as his own conscience may dictate, I feel 
 no dread from such conduct." 
 
 Lord Marston's amazement deprived him of 
 the power of speech; but Mr. Dormer's anger 
 had no such silencing effect upon him, and he 
 spoke in a tone of haughty courtesy, and ill-re- 
 pressed violence, that showed he had by no 
 means recovered the control of his temper. 
 
 " If you will consider for one moment, Miss 
 M 2
 
 244 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 St. Maur, I am sure you will see the necessity 
 of checking the insolence of the mob ; or the 
 ensuing Parliaments will be composed of half- 
 educated demagogues, and uneducated radi- 
 cals. His lordship's plan is the only one you 
 can pursue. You, as a lady, can know nothing 
 of these matters; we will manage every thing; 
 and you be spared all trouble, but recei\dng 
 Mr. Mordaunt's thanks. The rebellious spirit 
 of the times must be checked, or the noble of the 
 land will be expected to bow and cringe before 
 the rabble; and tenants must be taught to re- 
 spect the wishes of their landlords. The shelter- 
 ing of Neale would be a personal insult to Lord 
 Marston and myself, and might be dangerous 
 to you; as some minds are too turbulent to be 
 softened even by the thought of woman's weak- 
 ness. You really must send the notice." 
 
 There was a something so overbearing and 
 ungenerous in this speech, and it was delivered 
 in such a haughty tone, that Helen was shocked 
 and indignant; and yet she sighed as, looking 
 steadily at the speaker, she answered coldly : 
 
 " There are indeed some minds too turbulent 
 to be softened even by woman's weakness; but 
 I may not act unjustly from the fear of further 
 insult : " then turning from Mr. Dormer, whose 
 flashing eye and changing cheek showed how 
 ill he brooked her words, she spoke decidedly, 
 but courteouslv to the Earl.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 245 
 
 "I am no admirer of female politicians ; home 
 is a woman's sphere, and she should soften 
 not exasperate party spirit: thus, owning my 
 inferiority, your lordship is at perfect liberty 
 to consider my conduct as weakness or caprice; 
 but holding large landed property, with neither 
 father or brother, I am pecuharly situated ; and 
 can only act as I think my dear father would 
 have acted had he been spared me, and the 
 charge of injustice or harshness never tainted 
 his name." 
 
 "Your cousin will act for you." 
 " Pardon me ; I love my cousin, but I act for 
 myself. As former legislators have decided 
 that small freeholders have sufficient judgment 
 to enable them to give a proper vote, I see no 
 right I can have to tempt them by threat or 
 promise to vote against their consciences. The 
 same liberty of opinion we claim for ourselves? 
 it is but just to grant to them. We cannot 
 take away their responsibility to their God, how 
 then may we presume to tempt them to evil ? 
 He acts ill who does evil that good may come 
 of it ; and the purity of his principles must be 
 doubted, who would persuade us he seeks 
 power but for his country's good, and yet 
 would win that power by guile or menace. My 
 tenants shall be informed of my wishes ; but, 
 at the same time, of their own perfect freedom,
 
 246 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 for not a dependent of mine shall suffer for 
 opinion. I am grieved at what I have to say- 
 concerning Mr. Mordaimt, but it would be un- 
 fair to allow you to suppose I can wish him 
 success. His private conduct is so notorious 
 as to render it imjoossible to be concealed even 
 from female ears^ and consequently, to favour 
 or to aid him in the slightest degree is entirely 
 out of the question.^^ 
 
 " Thanks for your lecture, and where may we 
 look for Miss St. Maur's immaculate member? " 
 inquired Mr. Dormer scornfully, for the Earl 
 was too much astounded to speak. 
 
 " I may be something of a visionary," replied 
 our heroine, with calm dignity, that contrasted 
 strongly with his intemperate violence ; " but I 
 should blush for my native county, could it not 
 furnish a more worthy representative." 
 
 " Mr. Smug, of Smug Park, for instance ! " 
 " I cannot allow such a libel on the county 
 
 of ; though Mr. Smug, of Smug Park, as 
 
 a specimen of honest industry, merits respect, 
 not ridicule ; and I am grieved to find that Mr. 
 Dormer can allow politics to deaden nobler 
 feelings. If you send one to Parliament who 
 openly outrages his duty to his God, how can 
 you expect he will do his duty to his country ? 
 Mr. Howard, or Sir William de Yere, would 
 unite tlie suffrages of the good and the wise.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 247 
 
 Neale must apologize for his conduct, and, 
 though, having my promise for his former be- 
 haviour, I do not think myself justified in re- 
 tracting it, he shall be made aware the past 
 shall furnish no indemnity for the future." 
 
 " Not at my request I beg. Miss St. Maur ;" 
 said Mr. Dormer still more haughtily. " Be 
 lieve me, I wish no apologies from insolent la 
 bourers." 
 
 " As you please," she replied coldly, as she 
 left the room to prevent all further discussion. 
 
 Neither Lord Marston or Mr. Dormer ap- 
 peared during the evening ; the former sent an 
 excuse by Alford, on the plea of being over- 
 powered by business, whilst the latter disdained 
 any excuse whatever. 
 
 " A Parisian souvenir for your thoughts, my 
 pretty playfellow," said Alford to Helen, as 
 she sat alone in the drawing-room, her thoughts 
 employed on any subject rather than the book 
 before her. 
 
 She started from her reverie, sighed, and 
 then recovering herself, endeavoured to answer 
 gaily: 
 
 " Agreed ! I was thinking if there were no 
 sun without a spot, no diamond without a flaw." 
 
 " Tut ! " replied her companion, in a vexed 
 tone, at no difficulty to guess her meaning. 
 " What then, a sun is a sun despite its spots ;
 
 248 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 and a diamond a diamond, despite its flaw ; 
 and both the monarchs of their kinds. You 
 have been looldng through Catherine's micro- 
 scope, or telescope, whichever it may be ; re- 
 member the focus cannot be the same for all." 
 
 " You pay my penetration an ill compliment; 
 there are some spots and flaws so glaring that 
 the uncouched might discover them. A flaw 
 in a diamond destroys its value in the eyes of 
 a judicious lapidary, and the spots in the sun — " 
 
 " As spots on ermine beautify the rest," in- 
 terrupted Alford. 
 
 " Not so ! they deface its beauty, and weaken 
 its power." 
 
 " Nonsense ! it is only a few over-wise peo- 
 ple who have discovered the spots, and they 
 have been there for years, and done no harm. 
 Give me a contrast ; what you call harmony is 
 like a calm at sea. The spots will never hurt. 
 You need not see them." 
 
 " I fear I am one of the over- wise 1 And who 
 can say that those spots may not in tinie trans- 
 form the sun into a fiery comet, with the will 
 and the power to destroy." 
 
 " That is a new discovery in natural philoso- 
 phy, on which I cannot pretend to decide," 
 said he gaily, in answer to her laughing and 
 laughable supposition. " But you need not 
 fear ; the comet would never injure you."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 249 
 
 *'' Not if I keep out of the range of its fiery 
 tail, which it is my intention to do ; as well as 
 to receive your future reports with caution. 
 You have either been unusually blind, or wil- 
 fully silent. I suspect the latter." 
 
 " You are unreasonable ! How can the noble 
 and high-spirited lion be expected to show the 
 apathetic forbearance of the turnspit ? 'Tis a 
 noble animal after all." 
 
 " What does his shrieking victim say?" 
 " Oh! c'est selon les regies! c'est son 1m- 
 meur ? " 
 
 " Je prefere, sans hesiter, Fane qui porte sa 
 charge, au lion qui devore les hommes. Now, 
 on your honour, as you would not injure the 
 innocent, was Neale as insolent as was repre- 
 sented?" 
 
 He turned away from her penetrating look, 
 and was silent. 
 
 " I understand, and sympathise with vour 
 regret. Of course he will have my cottage." 
 " I know no reason why he should not." 
 " Thank you for this candour." 
 All that evening did AKord strive to raise 
 his friend in Helen's estimation ; for he never 
 for one moment doubted that, once united, her 
 sweetness would soften his impetuosity. 
 
 She listened with evident pleasure to the 
 M 5
 
 250 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 noble traits he related, and yet he doubted if 
 her former opinion was changed. 
 
 Dormer, notwithstanding a hint from his 
 friend, showed no wish that the past should be 
 forgotten, but met Helen the next morning, 
 and allowed her to depart with a haughty bow, 
 and a cold good morning. Accustomed to 
 command obedience, admiration, and love, he 
 held it beneath him to sue for either. A little 
 attention, and a few kind enquiries, made prin- 
 cipally for the sake of Lady Marston, soon re- 
 instated Helen in the opinion of the Earl. The 
 news of the morning, that Mr. Mordaunt did 
 not intend to stand, and that Mr. Howard was 
 likely to be returned without opposition, tended 
 not a little to promote his Lordship's good- 
 humour. But the case was diiferent Avith re- 
 gard to Mr. Dormer ; no such motive induced 
 her to endeavour to conciliate him ; and, feel- 
 ing an apology was due to her for his violence, 
 she merely treated him with cold pohteness, 
 and a scrupulous avoidance of all reference to 
 the past. 
 
 As Helen proceeded homev»^ards, the events 
 of the last few days passed in review before her. 
 It was less than one little week that she had 
 spent at Marston, and what feehngs and emo- 
 tions, what harmonies and contradictions, what 
 lights and shadows, what pains and pleasures.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 251 
 
 had not been crowded into that short space of 
 time. It had been a week of strong excitement, 
 of splendid enchantment, awakening sympathies 
 of which she had scarcely dreamt ; giving life to 
 feelings that perhaps it would have been better 
 for her should never have existed. It was 
 living years in a few fleeting hours ; and feel- 
 ing and knowing that those hours, swiftly as 
 they passed, might change and characterize her 
 whole life. Passion was striving to ruffle the 
 holy calm of her bosom, as the storm disturbs 
 the serenity of the placid ocean; and even 
 whilst she felt, she almost wished she could 
 shut her eyes against the danger. 
 
 She had heard Dormer's praises from his 
 friend, till he had become unconsciously her 
 deau ideal — the model, in her imagination, of all 
 that man should be. Their two first interviews 
 had something in them to interest a romantic 
 mind ; and her cousin's violence had but made 
 her think the more of the stranger. But what 
 then ? Had Dormer been like other men, she 
 would only have felt disappointment from Al- 
 ford's extravagant praise and the waste of her 
 own brilliant imaginings, whilst the hero of the 
 church-yard and the village bridge would have 
 only held the same estimation in her mind as 
 others had done before. 
 
 But Percy Dormer was not like other men :
 
 252 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 there was mind in every thing he said or did 5 he 
 was aSalvatorRosa, " tutto fresco, spirito,e bile." 
 One of those rare beings one may chance 
 to meet once in our hves ; and of whom one 
 may say, with the exactitude of common-place, 
 that, " take him all in all, we shall ne'er look 
 upon his hke again." A fiery planet must have 
 presided at his birth. His friends might have 
 called him, " A comet in splendor and hght ; " 
 his enemies would have added, " The herald of 
 darkness and care." 
 
 It may be guessed how dangerous such a 
 person was likely to become to the peace of 
 mind of a being possessed of Helen's brilhant 
 imagination, passionate admiration of genius, 
 and strong affections, heralded as he had been 
 by the lavish j^raises of his friend. His pas- 
 sionate enthusiasm, soaring to the subhme, con- 
 trasted with the paltry gossip and petty no- 
 things of the common herd ; his splendid talents 
 and his daring ambition, which ever appeared 
 to have something noble as its aim, were all 
 calculated to win her, wearied as she was with 
 the inane adulations of the sordid and the silly. 
 The flattery of the lips she despised ; by the 
 flattery of the heart she had as yet been un- 
 touched; but no one was more open to the 
 flattery of the mind. 
 
 Could he have played the hypocrite, had she
 
 THE HEIRESS. 253 
 
 seen him only in his briUiant moods — the effect 
 might have been too dazzHng to have been with- 
 stood, and she might have left Marston without 
 the wish or power of consideration; but she 
 had seen him in his darker moods, when pas- 
 sion marred the splendour of his character, and 
 the blame and the sorrow must rest on herself, 
 if she should still allow that splendour to dazzle 
 her. 
 
 The beautiful woods through vv^hich she passed 
 were unheeded, for Helen's mind was dwelling 
 on Mr. Dormer's " Graphic Sketches " of Rome 
 and Italy, and, in the sympathy of their tastes 
 on such subjects, she forgot his \dolence, and 
 the coldness of their parting. As she passed 
 through her own lodge-gate, Neale advanced to 
 the carriage, and humbly begging her pardon 
 for stopping her, told his version of the scene 
 of the day before ; his regret at being obliged 
 to vote against her wishes, as Mr. Smug had 
 formerly saved him from starving; and con- 
 cluded by asking if he must look out for a cot- 
 tage elsewhere. She soon set the matter to 
 rights, and sent the man back to his work with 
 a happy heart. To revert to her former bril- 
 liant visions was beyond her power. The man's 
 tale had stripped Mr. Dormer's character of 
 much of its fancied splendour ; and shown, that 
 with the virtues of the Romans, on whose noble
 
 254 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 deeds he dwelt with so much enthusiasm, he 
 mingled their pride and contempt for those be- 
 neath him, as well in mind as in station. The 
 Romans had no better guide than the light of 
 nature ; and the glory of their virtues may 
 almost blind us to their errors. Mr. Dormer 
 lived under a holier law ; and as that light was 
 brighter, so were the sins committed under it 
 the greater. His fate was set for good or ill ; 
 a splendid example or a fearful warning. With 
 passions too strong for mere human control, and 
 pride too overweening to man to be humble 
 with his God, "he was a form of brass with feet 
 of clay." Helen thought of all these things, and 
 she breathed a passionate wish, that the last 
 week, with all its hopes and fears, splendour 
 and gloom, could be swept for ever from her 
 memory. Then, after a while, she smiled at her 
 own folly, and pursued a wiser course. 
 
 Mrs. Hargrave found her as cheerful and at- 
 tentive as ever, and her Sunday scholars on 
 the morrow proved her to be as patient and in- 
 defatigable as usual ; but she herself was aware 
 that she sought occupation as a duty rather 
 than a pleasure ; and that, despite that occupa- 
 tion, she could not always prevent herself from 
 thinking how, where, and when would chance 
 her next meeting with Mr. Dormer. Such 
 speculations were doomed soon to end in cer-
 
 THE HEIRESS. 255 
 
 tainty, for on the third day after her return, as 
 she was walking home from the village, she was 
 joined by Alford and his friend, who, giving 
 their horses to the groom, annomiced their in- 
 tention of being her escort. Their meeting had 
 been so unexpected she had had no time to de- 
 termine on her reception of Mr. Dormer; 
 whilst his animated delight had been so appa- 
 rent that she had allowed him unchecked, 
 almost unconsciously, to take and press that 
 hand which Alford had placed in his, saying, 
 to him only would he resign it. 
 
 Mr. Dormer was in one of his most brilliant 
 moods ; his eye looked a softer flattery, his 
 usually lordly tone had more of musical sweet- 
 ness, his sentiments were grand and noble, 
 and had he breathed but one word of sorrow 
 for the past, all that had been might have been 
 forgotten. Yet was not Helen quite blinded 
 by the present to the warning of the past, 
 the risk and danger of the future; if, seeing 
 the peril, she chose to encounter it, the shame 
 and punishment rest on her own head. 
 
 Alford came with a message from his father, 
 to request she would ensure as goodly a cortege 
 of respectable freeholders as possible to attend 
 Mr. Howard on the day of nomination, and 
 alarm Mr. Smug from the troubles of a con-
 
 256 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 tested election. Compliance was readily pro- 
 mised ; the more so, as her tenants on hearing 
 her wishes had declared theirs to be the same ; 
 and added, that if not, rather than vote con- 
 trary to her wishes, they woidd not have voted 
 at all, so fully did they appreciate her conduct. 
 The Earl had heard this, and she had risen in 
 his estimation accordingly. As the election was 
 spoken of, Helen looked at Mr. Dormer, wish- 
 ing him to understand she expected an apology. 
 He turned away from her glance ; and if he 
 felt that an apology were due, he did not seem 
 the more inclined to make it. She saw this 
 disinchnation; and felt the error had not been 
 regretted, though he might wish her to forget it. 
 A spirited conversation ensued, till they came 
 to a narrow stream that welled from beneath a 
 little brake, and ran deeply and darkly within 
 its thickly wooded banks. 
 
 "Is this Lethe ? " inquired Alford, as he 
 handed Helen across the rustic bridge ; " if so 
 I must taste its waters to banish all recollection 
 of this horrid election, for I am bored to death 
 with it. Where shall I find a fairy's acorn 
 cup ? " 
 
 " Will Miss St. Maur allow me to present 
 her with a draught, that she also may forget all 
 that was unpleasant concerning this election ? " 
 enquired Mr. Dormer, in a tone that should
 
 THE HEIRESS. 257 
 
 have been more earnest and more humble to 
 ensure success; but his pride forbade. He 
 thought he had stooped more than sufficient, 
 she thought he had scarcely stooped at all, and 
 answered under this impression ; besides, she 
 could not forget that his conduct about Neale 
 had shown more than a sudden burst of ill 
 temper. 
 
 " It would be as unwise as impossible to 
 pour the waters of oblivion over one subject 
 alone ; the Lethean draught must banish the 
 remembrance of all or of none."" 
 
 " What mean you ? Would you willingly 
 erase from your memory every occurrence of 
 the past week ? A week that has been to me 
 what no week was before or ever can be again ?" 
 and as he spoke he took her hand, and looked 
 earnestly and enquiringly into her face. 
 
 Her eyes sank beneath his ardent gaze, and 
 the colour deepened on her cheek; but she with- 
 drew her hand, and answered steadily and 
 calmly, " I cannot think my former saying un- 
 wise ; all should ])e erased from the memory, or 
 none." 
 
 " Must pains and pleasures always be re- 
 membered together ? Or would you give me to 
 understand there was nothing pleasurable where- 
 with to burden your memory ? " 
 
 She could not but be touched by the increas-
 
 2d8 the heiress. 
 
 ing earnestness of his manner, thongh more 
 of pride mingled with it; and her tone had 
 something melancholy in it as she answered, 
 " Much, very much of pleasure, but it may 
 be more of pain ; and it is fitting both should 
 be remembered to enable the mind to judge 
 aright." 
 
 There could be no mistaking her meaning ; 
 and her very sorrow and candour, the opposite 
 to anger, galled him more than any vehemence 
 of offence could possibly have done, and all his 
 pride and haughtiness blazed boldly forth. 
 
 " Be it as you wish, lady ; I have no longer 
 the desire, as I possess not the power, to alter 
 your decision. Let the waters of Lethe, then, 
 roll over the events of the past week, and our 
 acquaintance date from now :" and he walked 
 on, and joined Alford, who, seeing them en- 
 gaged in earnest conversation, had kept aloof. 
 His clouded brow told his friend, without 
 words, that the conference had not ended as he 
 wished ; but too wise and too dehcate to ask 
 questions, he only exerted himself the more to 
 relieve both, and turning to wait for Helen, 
 addressed her gaily : 
 
 " Besides my father's message, I have to 
 present a humble petition from Catherine, and, 
 as she declares she will attribute a failure to a 
 want of eloquence on our parts, we will neither
 
 THE HEIRESS. 259 
 
 admit of excuse or refusal. There is to be a 
 grand pic-nic on Thursday week in Feldon 
 Park, and as my father insists on Catherine's 
 going, she is as peremptory in ordering ^^our 
 attendance.'^ 
 
 " A very humble petition truly ! It may ra- 
 ther be designated an absolute command, only 
 to be disobeyed at imminent peril ; for Cathe- 
 rine is no merciful foe. But what could in- 
 duce the Earl to insist on her going?" 
 
 " Because it is set on foot by Mesdames 
 Carleton and Daniell, to please the daughter of 
 the former; and as their husbands command 
 some votes, and one of the ladies at least is 
 supposed occasionally to command her lord, it 
 is thought politic to condescend to the pic-nic. 
 Catherine bade me say, she considered it the 
 prologue to the syllabubs, and that go you 
 must, to initiate her into the art of playing 
 popular." 
 
 She smiled at the message ; but not anxious 
 to meet Mr. Dormer oftener than was necessary, 
 after what had passed, declined, on the plea of 
 knowing nothing of the Daniells, little of the 
 Carletons, and a fear of catching cold. 
 
 " You will not deny your acquaintance with 
 John Carleton, I presume ? " said Alfred archly, 
 who was determined to overrule every excuse. 
 " Notwithstanding your cruel rejection, he still
 
 260 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 proclaims your resemblance to his horse Con- 
 queror, which won at Newmarket, and that he 
 intends riding over to sohcit your attendance at 
 the rural refection, as Miss Jones terms it; so 
 you may as well, ' for auld lang syne,' allow me 
 the honour of having won your consent. 
 Come, Dormer, unite your eloquence with 
 mine, and we shall mn the \dctory; engaging 
 to be her cavalieri serventi, and to protect her 
 from every danger." 
 
 " Pardon me," replied Dormer, haughtily, 
 whilst his bent brows and flashing eyes gave 
 full force to his scornful speech, " Miss St. 
 Maur's resolves are always so reasonable, it 
 would be but a waste of words to striA'e to 
 change them; nor have I the presumption to 
 imagine my wishes would possess the slightest 
 influence. I must also decline the honourable 
 office of cavalier servente, as business will 
 call me to town before the appointed day." 
 
 Alford looked aghast at this unexpected 
 and insulting violence; and Helen, hurt and 
 wounded, answered warmly : 
 
 " Do not fear, Mr. Dormer, the being pressed 
 into such an ungracious service, or allow the 
 dread to prevent your attending the party ; for 
 should I claim my woman's privilege of change, 
 and go, no danger should induce me to trouble 
 you for protection."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 26*1 
 
 He felt the just rebuke of her words and 
 Alford's looks ; but too proud and angry to 
 make an apology, only repeated the necessity 
 of going to town ; a necessity, as both were 
 aware, discovered within the last five minutes. 
 His friend's gaiety again came to his relief. 
 
 " Here comes John Carleton on his horse 
 Conqueror; so yield you at discretion, ma 
 belle !" 
 
 '^ Only save me from ' my son John and his 
 horse Conqueror,' and I will attend a pic-nic at 
 the Antipodes," was Helen's laughing reply; 
 Dormer's intended absence having taken away 
 her objection, as well as her wish for the party. 
 
 She turned into another path as she spoke, 
 unwilling that even the obtuse John Carleton 
 should have a chance of perceiving Dormer's 
 frown, or her own flushed cheek ; and before 
 they reached the house he had taken his de- 
 parture. Dormer mounted his horse instantly, 
 and refusing alike Helen's cold but polite invi- 
 tation, and Alford's whispered intreaties to 
 enter the mansion, rode off, vouchsafing to his 
 fair hostess only the bow and good morning of 
 an almost stranger. 
 
 " Helen ! Helen ! " said Alford, reproachfully, 
 as he lingered a moment, " when will you 
 learn to pity the pangs of la belle passion?''
 
 262 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 '• When will your friend learn to control 
 his temper ? " 
 
 " When blessed with your hand. Let me 
 but hint a hope^ and it will be done." 
 
 " Never : it is too late ! " 
 
 He was surprised at her sad and decided 
 tone; he would have remonstrated, but she 
 kissed her hand in adieu, and entered the 
 house.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 26*3 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 She seemed a splendid angel, newly dress' d, 
 Save wings, for heaven. 
 
 Keats. 
 
 Oh, is thy soul like mountain tide, 
 That swell' d by winter storm and shower. 
 Rolls down in turbulence of power 
 A torrent fierce and wide ! 
 
 ***** 
 Needs but a buffet, and no more : 
 The groom lies senseless in his gore. 
 
 Scott. 
 
 On a review of the past^ Helen came to the 
 conclusion that Mr. Dormer would make no 
 further effort to see her, at least before the 
 conclusion of this present visit ; and we are by 
 no means prepared to assert that tlie conclusion 
 gave her pleasure — so difficult is it for even 
 strong minds to free themselves from the weak- 
 ness of regretting the necessary consequences 
 of their own acts ! She grieved that the neces- 
 sity for caution existed; and such is the weak- 
 ness of our nature, she would probably have 
 rejoiced had any motive, sufficiently powerful
 
 264 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 to absolve her to her own conscience, induced 
 her to act otherwise. But no such motive was 
 hkely to arise, and the warning of her parents 
 to beware how she allowed genius or talents to 
 dazzle her, was present to her mind. It would 
 almost seem as if they had foreseen the future. 
 Not that her affections were as yet beyond her 
 own control, but the enchantment in his so- 
 ciety, the void in his absence, the taunts of 
 Catherine, and the arch looks of Alford, had 
 all shown her that they might soon become so 
 if she indulged in the dangerous excitement. 
 This had induced her to speak more decidedly 
 than she would otherwise have done ; but now 
 that she considered all friendly intercourse at 
 an end between them, she sighed to think that 
 it must be so ; and she sighed still more dee2:)ly, 
 to think how passion might mar and taint a 
 noble mind. 
 
 Conclusions, though formed on reasonable 
 grounds, are not always correct, and the next 
 day, to Helen's great surprise, and at the first 
 instant to her pleasure, she saw Mr. Dormer 
 on his way to Hurlestone. She was walking 
 in the grounds at some distance, but a glance 
 was enough ; she could not be mistaken. There 
 was a shght struggle, a slight hesitation, and 
 then she turned into a contrary path. He 
 might apologize, though that was doubtful ; but
 
 THE HEIRESS. 265 
 
 how could she expect him to curb his impetu- 
 osity for her, when it had remained unchecked 
 from higher motives, and when even she had 
 been its object more than once. She felt no 
 displeasure towards him, but she felt distrust 
 of herself. 
 
 It was late ere she returned to the house ; 
 for his having traversed the woods in every di- 
 rection had rendered it difficult to avoid a 
 meeting. A note from Lady Marston, about 
 some flowers, had been the avowed motive of 
 his visit; but Helen suspected, and suspected 
 truly, some other object was in the back ground. 
 
 Early on the day before the pic-nic, Helen 
 went to the village to visit the widow Watts, 
 who, from having been a servant of her mother's, 
 was a great favourite. A little wicket opened 
 into a gay but very small flower-garden, before 
 the cottage ; whilst jessamine, roses, sweet- 
 briar, and honeysuckle, covered a rustic porch 
 and the space between the windows. The inside 
 of the cottage was as neat as the hands of the 
 most tidy of housewives could make it, but the 
 dame herself sat in her arm chair, sad and sor- 
 rowful, with her spectacles lying on a large 
 Bible, which lay open before her, tear after tear 
 chasing each other down her pale thin cheeks. 
 
 " Good morning, dame," said Helen, in a 
 kind winning tone, for her light step, as she 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 passed through the open doorway, roused not 
 the widow from her mournful thoughts. 
 
 " God bless you, Miss Helen ! for all your 
 kindness," said the old woman, rising and plac- 
 ing a chair for her \dsitor. " It almost makes 
 me happy only to look upon your sweet smile." 
 
 " I am come to see if I cannot do more than 
 smile upon you," replied our heroine, with her 
 o^^^l sweet cheerfulness, which, bright as it was, 
 never seemed a mockery even to the most mi- 
 serable. " You were out when I called before, 
 but you must tell me now why you weep, and 
 how I can help you ? " 
 
 " Oh, Miss Helen ! Miss Helen ! you have 
 just got your blessed mother's owti sweet look 
 and voice, that makes one happy and yet cry 
 too. Oh, if you would but speak to my poor 
 James, perhaps he would mind you. It is 
 breaking my heart, that it is, to see him sitting 
 all day long without speaking a word, only sigh- 
 ing ; and leaving all the garden to run to ruin ; 
 and only thinking of dying ; and taking on so 
 about poor Henry Feller." 
 
 '^ But you must teU me first how it all hap- 
 pened, for when I saw you last you were too 
 ill to talk much." 
 
 " Yes, Miss Helen, I was very ill indeed 
 then ; but thanks to God, and the doctor, and 
 the nice things you sent me, I am quite well
 
 THE HEIRESS. 267 
 
 now, only a little weak, or so ; and if it would 
 please God to make James smile again, I should 
 be quite happy then. But I have been think- 
 ing, since this happened, that 'tis a sad thing 
 for fathers and mothers not to bring their chil- 
 dren up in the right way, and now I mind 
 your good mother used to tell me, time after 
 time : ' Ah, Mary Watts, says she, you punish 
 the boy for doing wrong once in twenty times, 
 and let him do wrong without saying any thing 
 the other nineteen. If you never gave him 
 any thing he cried for, but quietly made him 
 do as you told him, you need never punish at 
 all. Then you tell him, when he is in a pas- 
 sion, that the beggar-man, or the chimney- 
 sweep will have him ; which he wiU soon learn 
 to be a story, and then never believe you again; 
 whereas teach him, as soon as possible, his vio- 
 lence will offend a just though merciful God, 
 and you will give him a good motive for a good 
 deed ; and should he be tempted to go astray, 
 he may return to the right path in after life.' I 
 remember her words well ; but alack a day ! I 
 never minded to do them ; and now I feel it 
 all as she said. To be sure James is as good a 
 lad as ever was in most things, and would not 
 hurt a worm if he warn't in a passion, and then 
 he is as furious as a mad bull. But I am tiring 
 you, Miss Helen, and so Til tell you all about 
 N 2
 
 268 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 it at once. My James and Henry Feller was 
 like brothers, even when they was boys, and 
 was always together; and his mother was a 
 widow too, and we had been in the same ser- 
 vice once, and so we liked to let them be with 
 one another, and we rather hoped Jane, that's 
 Henry's sister, and my boy would take a liking 
 to each other when they was old enough. They 
 was always together, even when they grew up ; 
 and I never knew James in a passion with him, 
 though Henry used to keep on joking and 
 laughing at him by the hour at a time. But a 
 month since James and he was at work toge- 
 ther, along with some others, and I don't know 
 how it was, and nobody knows — for my boy 
 himself says he can't teU how it was — ^unless 
 the evil one put it into his head, for he loved 
 Henry all the time. But somehow or other 
 Henry said something to vex him, and would 
 not give over joking, and so James got in a 
 great passion, and struck him, and Henry fell ; 
 and my boy was the first to take him up ; and 
 they carried him home, and sent for the doctor, 
 but he only lived nine hours. And oh. Miss 
 Helen, only to think of his having killed one like 
 his own brother in a passion ; and all, may be, 
 because I did not teach him better in his youth, 
 and the blood is on both our heads, — and I 
 made him a murderer ! " Here tears checked 
 the poor woman's utterance.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 269 
 
 Helen allowed her to weep for some time 
 without speaking, whilst she too was thinking 
 of the fearful effects of passion, and fancy gave 
 Dormer to her with the look and mien of a 
 Cain, the murderer's brand upon his brow. 
 She shuddered at the thought, then strove to 
 recover her own composure to comfort the 
 weeping widow. Her soothings were not ten- 
 dered in vain. How could they be ? 
 
 " Then the fault 's all mine, for not teaching 
 him better, and James is not to blame. Oh, do 
 tell him so dear, dear Miss Helen ! " 
 
 " Not exactly so, Mary. At his age all have 
 the power to subdue their passions, if they 
 apply humbly and sincerely for strength from 
 whence only strength can come ; but your in- 
 judicious indulgence made the task difficult in- 
 deed. Did the young man die without forgiv- 
 ing him, or could not he speak." 
 
 " Yes, he forgave him ; and told every one he 
 was sure James meant him no harm, and that 
 his head had struck again a stone as he fell; 
 and then he made James take hold of his mo- 
 ther's and sister's hands, and told him to stand 
 in his place, and be a son and a brother to 
 them ; and my poor boy says 'tis this kindness 
 that's kilhng him. Oh, Miss Helen ! do pray 
 speak to him ; for you can comfort any body ; 
 he is sitting in his favourite arbour now. Shall 
 IcaUhim?'^
 
 270 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " No ! " said Helen, the tears standing thick 
 in her beautiful eyes, " we will seek him. But 
 why did he not go to Mr. Norton ? " 
 
 " He said it was of no use, he knew he was 
 too wicked to be saved ; and he mopes, and 
 sighs, and has got so weak, I am sadly afeard 
 he will never recover. He sits all day long in 
 that arbour that Henry and he planted, and he 
 won't have it cut, for he says 'tis fitter for him 
 as it is ; and he won't tend to any thing, and 
 'tis as much as I can keep things a httle tidy ; 
 and he won't go out to work, for he can't bear 
 to see any one." 
 
 They passed through the house, and entered 
 a garden at its back, where they found the 
 young man just as his mother had said. 
 
 " Here is Miss Helen come to see you, 
 James." 
 
 The wretched young man withdrew his hands 
 from his face, and rose instantly, but evidently 
 with the intention of avoiding the meeting, if 
 possible, but as this could not be done mthout 
 brushing rudely past Helen, who stood just be- 
 fore him, he was obliged to remain ; for not a 
 creature within miles of Hurlestone would have 
 shown her disrespect. But though he still 
 stood before her, his pale face was half turned 
 away, and his trembling limbs plainly spoke 
 his agitation.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 271 
 
 " James," said Helen, in a tone which told 
 how much she pitied him, '^ your flowers al- 
 ways look so gay and so flourishing, you must 
 come and attend to my favourite garden at 
 Hurlestone." 
 
 He turned round abruptly, met her look of 
 pity, then glanced at his mother, and under- 
 stood every thing at once. 
 
 " No, no ! Miss Helen," he said, in a wild 
 and melancholy tone, " it cannot be — I see 
 my mother has been speaking to you, and I 
 thank you for your kindness, but I could not 
 do a day's work now, even if I would j and I 
 could not bear to be with others, for their looks 
 would tell me, more than I know already, what 
 a wicked creature I am. No, no, no ! I can do 
 nothing but lie down at his feet to die ; " and 
 he turned away as though the sight of a fellow- 
 creature was hateful to him. 
 
 Helen's tears fell as fast as the mother's, but 
 she was not thus to be turned from her kind 
 purpose. 
 
 " It is right and natural you should grieve ; 
 but not as one without hope. I will not say 
 your guilt was light, even though the deed was 
 done in passion, not malice, and sorrowed for 
 instantly, as that very passion was a crime; 
 but where is the sinner, however vile, who may 
 not hope for pardon, if he repent and turn to
 
 2'J2 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 God^ trusting in his Saviour's blood alone ? I 
 need not tell you of the many instances re- 
 corded in that Holy Book, given for our conso- 
 lation and instruction." 
 
 " There may be hope for others -, but there 
 can be none for me. He was as my brother ; he 
 had never done me wrong." He paused for an 
 instant, as if the recollection had recalled every 
 former pang ; and then added, more wildly than 
 ever, as he saw her tears, " Ah, Miss Helen, 
 you can shed tears for me, and I thank you, 
 wicked creature as I am; but I cannot shed 
 them for myself. And what if I could ? Can 
 tears, can repentance wash out the stain of 
 blood ? Can they bring the dead to life again ? 
 I cannot Uve, and yet I fear to die ! " 
 
 " The tears of faith and repentance can wash 
 out the stain of blood -, and if you cannot give 
 life to the dead, you should seek to repair their 
 loss to the living." 
 
 " If I could ! if I could ! " he exclaimed im- 
 petuously. 
 
 " You can, in a great degree, by attending to 
 his mshes ; becoming a son to his mother — a 
 brother to his sister." 
 
 " No ; no ; they must hate me ! and 'tis the 
 very kindness of his words that is killing me. 
 I hear him now, throwing all the blame upon 
 himself."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 2/3 
 
 *' But they do not hate you ; and the kind- 
 ness of his words should be your consolation, 
 since they prove him the fitter to die. It is 
 selfish to wish to recall the good to life. There 
 is still one Avay left to prove your love for him 
 and for your mother, who is grieving sadly now. 
 Give not way to despair ; but pray in faith for 
 forgiveness and hope, and, by returning to your 
 former industrious habits, strive to maintain 
 his mother and yours." 
 
 " Yes, James," said the widow, " they shall 
 live with me here, and share all I have, if you 
 will but listen to Miss Helen." 
 
 " But I cannot pray," replied the young man, 
 in a sad but calmer tone, whilst a gleam of 
 hope for one instant quenched the madness of 
 despair; for he was softened and soothed by 
 Helen's gentle but earnest entreaties, and her 
 pitying tears seemed to have the power of cool- 
 ing the burning of his brain. " I cannot pray, 
 for he ever stands between me and heaven, 
 looking as when I first struck him down ; and 
 I cannot work, for my strength is gone." 
 
 " But you will be able to do both in time. 
 Think of the young man as he looked when he 
 bade you protect his mother and sister ; and go 
 m and read to your mother. Who shall tell 
 the moment when you may be able to pray, or 
 when those prayers may be heard ? " 
 N 5
 
 2^4 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " I dare not read in that Book, for it is too 
 holy for such as I am even to look upon ; and 
 I dare not meet his mother and sister." 
 
 " Then your mother or I will read to you ; 
 and his mother and sister shall seek you." 
 
 Helen's earnest kindness prevailed, and de- 
 spair, though loath to quit its prey, at length 
 gave place to hope. His heart was softened, 
 and soothing tears fell from beneath his burn- 
 ing eye-lids as he listened to the gracious words 
 of that blessed Book, as they fell from Helen's 
 lips, read in a simple but fervent manner. The 
 widow threw her arms round her son, and their 
 tears mingled together — holy tears, sweeter, 
 more blissfull than the brightest smile. 
 
 Helen glided from the cottage with a noise- 
 less step, for she would not check those tears 
 by her presence ; and entered another not far 
 distant. In a few minutes the widow Feller, 
 with her daughter, were in the cottage of the 
 widow Watts, and by their kind assurances of 
 forgiveness and regard had soothed the young 
 man into what might almost be called happi- 
 ness, compared with his former agony. What 
 always gave Helen's endeavours to do good 
 their greatest value, and increased their eiFect, 
 was the total absence of all pretension. Every 
 thing she did was done in simplicity and since- 
 rity^ and she ever won esteem and gratitude,
 
 THE HEIRESS. 275 
 
 if not success. In the present instance she 
 succeeded to the utmost of her wishes, and had 
 the pleasure of seeing James Watts in a short 
 time resume his former active industry, and, by- 
 means of her encouragement and favour, pro- 
 vide for those he loved. Nor was his temper 
 left unsubdued, though that was no light task, 
 or speedily accomplished. 
 
 When Helen returned to Hurlestone, she 
 seated herself in her own morning room, and 
 took up her pencil to finish a drawing for her 
 aunt, but her hand trembled, and the strokes 
 were crooked and undecided. True there had 
 been much of pleasure in her morning's visit — 
 for the good must ever feel delight in doing 
 good — but yet it had been a fearful warning, 
 and fancy still made Dormer the hero of 
 the tale. Whilst her thoughts would dwell 
 on that painful subject, and the pencil still 
 trembled between her fingers, a horseman 
 darted past the window. A richer glow came 
 to her cheek, for she thought it might be him ; 
 and more than ever anxious, nervous, and over- 
 excited as she had been, to avoid what might 
 prove a distressing interview, she snatched up 
 her bonnet to leave the house ; but before she 
 could accomplish her purpose, a hurried step 
 was heard in the hall, the door was flung 
 hastily open, and her cousin stood before her.
 
 27G THE HEIRESS. 
 
 There was a crimson spot upon his cheek, a 
 fire in his eye, and an impatience in every 
 movement, that showed Helen at a glance he 
 was in no amiable mood ; and even had it been 
 otherwise, he was the very last person. Dormer 
 himself excepted, whom she would have washed 
 to have seen at that moment. But whatever 
 were her wishes, she felt something was to 
 occur that would require all the composure she 
 could summon, and, accustomed from a child 
 to self-control, it was astonishing to see how 
 suddenly one possessed of such quick feelings 
 could resume the command over her emotions, 
 when need required. Her look and start of 
 surprise, and perhaps displeasure, might have 
 satisfied the keenest observer as to her total 
 ignorance of what visitor she had to expect; 
 but there were feelings raging in Robert's heart 
 which blinded his judgment, and, without the 
 ceremony of a good morning, he asked sternly 
 and abruptly, " Why were you seeking to avoid 
 me?" 
 
 " A polite salutation to a lady in her own bou- 
 doir, on my word, Robert ! You should study 
 Chesterfield, or under one of the old regime. 
 I was not seeking to avoid you ; for the very 
 obvious reason, that unless I had been Nostra- 
 damus himself, I could scarcely have guessed 
 of your coming. What can have induced you
 
 THE HEIRESS* 277 
 
 to desert the brilliant circle in town for the dull 
 monotony of the country ? In a word, to what 
 am I indebted for the honour of your visit ? " 
 
 " There was a time when you would have 
 said pleasure," remarked he sternly. 
 
 " Why, my dear Robert, you cannot possibly 
 pretend ignorance that ' the once upon a time ' 
 of former days is now one of the has-beens ; 
 parler en femme, gone out with short waists 
 and long croj)s." She saw he understood the 
 double meaning of her words, and then pro- 
 ceeded, still more playfully, albeit in no really 
 playful mood : 
 
 '' Outre que cela, you looked so very sublime, 
 with your hat nearly pushed from your head 
 by the more polite curls, shocked at its ill- 
 breeding in keeping its station, that I thought 
 honour the least grand name 1 could apply to 
 you ; particularly as you came express, and, for 
 the moment, brought alarm rather than plea- 
 sure." 
 
 " Ha ! you expected some other visitor ; and 
 you look flurried, my cousin ! " he said search- 
 ingly. 
 
 " I certainly did not expect you ; and that I 
 hoped for no agreeable visitor was proved by 
 my preparing to flee ' to the wild wood's lonely 
 glade;' and distressed I have been, as you 
 think."
 
 278 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 Her frank answer and unembarrassed man- 
 ner calmed him, and throwing his hat to the 
 other end of the room, to the imminent peril of 
 some of her pet curiosities, he took her hand 
 and led her to a seat. 
 
 After looking over her drawing for a mo- 
 ment, he said, " You have drawn ill this morn- 
 ing, mine cousin ! " and then, glancing over her 
 sketch-book, he continued pettishly, " Mar- 
 ston ! Marston ! Marston ! You seem never 
 weary of drawing that. How many sketches 
 have you taken of it lately ? " turning full upon 
 her. 
 
 " Not one, I have been otherwise engaged; " 
 and she showed him a very beautiful sketch of 
 Stanmore, glad to turn the conversation from 
 Marston. 
 
 "Is this for me, Helen ? " he asked, delighted 
 at her ha\4ng been thus employed. 
 
 " When you deserve it ! " she rephed, play- 
 fully taking it from him. " But you have not 
 told me yet why you left London."" 
 
 " Business," he muttered, and then relapsed 
 into silence. 
 
 " What stories these lordly creatures tell ! " 
 thought Helen, making business an excuse for 
 every thing. Then a thought glanced through 
 her mind. She had once heard it hinted that 
 her cousin gamed. Could a loss have occa-
 
 THE HEIRESS. 279 
 
 sioned his present gloom ? She laid her hand 
 kindly upon his arm, and looked up in his 
 face. 
 
 "Dear Robert! has any thing happened to 
 distress you? Only tell me. You know you 
 can command my fortune." 
 
 ^' Any thing but your heart, Helen ! " he 
 replied with a flashing eye, rebuked rather than 
 soothed by her kindness. 
 
 " Not so, Robert ! I look upon you as a 
 brother." 
 
 '^A brother!" he repeated scornfully, then 
 added: " will you let me command as a 
 brother? " 
 
 "A brother only commands through love 
 and reason." 
 
 "And if I commanded, you would say I 
 heeded neither one or the other." 
 
 " Probably." 
 
 He was silent again, and then asked abruptly: 
 " What distressed you this morning ? " 
 
 " The agony of James Watts, at having taken 
 away hfe in a fit of passion," she answered, 
 looking steadily at him. 
 
 There was a something in her clear cold tone 
 and steady look which awed him. The colour 
 on his cheek went and came, whilst his lower 
 lip quivered with the strong pressure of his 
 teeth upon it. But the dark mood was upon
 
 280 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 him, and in a few minutes he answered scorn- 
 fully : " A most distressing occurrence truly to 
 the highly-born heiress of Hurleston Park. One 
 delver of dirt destroys another in a fit of pas- 
 sion, and she must needs weep his epitaph." 
 
 " For shame, Robert ! life is as precious to 
 the low as to the high ; and the souls of both 
 equal in the eyes of Heaven." 
 
 " Never trouble yourself to repeat the homily 
 to me ; but rather save if for your new favour- 
 ite, Mr. Percy Dormer : if report speaks true, 
 he is none of the gentlest, and it may save him 
 from being tried for murder. Ha ! have I 
 touched you!" he continued, as shocked by his 
 violence and the idea he had conjured up, he 
 marked her shudder; and he grasped her arm 
 and fixed his searching eyes upon her. 
 
 " You have touched and grieved me too, Mr. 
 Euston; more deeply than I can well tell you ;" 
 she rephed, feeling more than ever the necessity 
 of firmness, and recovering herself instantly, as 
 she withdrew her arm from his grasp, and met 
 look with look. " I find I have no longer a 
 cousin. Allow me to wish you good morning," 
 and she rose to leave the room. 
 
 " You shall hear me first ! " and he placed 
 himself before her. 
 
 " Not contrary to my own inclination in this
 
 THE HEIRESS. 281 
 
 house, Mr. Euston. Impede my passage, and 
 the servants shall force my freedom. I have 
 already heard too much," and her hand touched 
 the bell rope. 
 
 " The threat is vain ; you would neither sub- 
 ject yourself or me to such a degradation." 
 
 " Trust not to that ; you have inured me to 
 degradation, and nothing can sink you lower 
 than your own unmanly conduct." 
 
 There was not a symptom of wavering in her 
 tone or manner, and he said less fiercely : 
 
 "Helen! Helen! how can you give up an 
 old friend for the sake of a new acquaintance ? ' 
 
 " There is no question of the sort." 
 
 " There is — there is — ^l3ut he shall never live 
 to possess you." 
 
 "Pass from the door," said Helen indig- 
 nantly, even whilst her blood ran cold at the 
 threat. " I will bear no more." 
 
 He dared no longer disobey, but whilst he 
 stepped aside, implored her by their childish 
 love to forgive his violence, and listen to his 
 words. 
 
 Though almost worn out by the constant re- 
 currence of these scences of outrage, she was 
 softened, and lingered, seating herself at his en- 
 treaty ; but near enough the door to depart at 
 her pleasure. The subject that had been 
 touched on, and that would, most probably, be
 
 282 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 touched on again, was to her the most painful 
 that could well have been chosen ; yet with all 
 her outward firmness she felt the danger of 
 driving her cousin to extremity, and sat in dread 
 of his next sentence, whilst his silence equally 
 proclaimed the difficulty of wording that sen- 
 tence to please himself. Thus situated, it was 
 a relief to both when Mrs. Hargrave came in 
 and welcomed Robert, to Helen's fancy not 
 quite as an unexpected guest. 
 
 The sound of carriage wheels induced him 
 to take his leave, as he felt no inclination to en- 
 counter strangers. Mrs Hargrave asked him 
 to stay dinner, but, as Helen did not second the 
 invitation, he departed the more readily, as he 
 heard she had an engagement with Miss Jones 
 at two, and talked of bringing her back with 
 her. 
 
 " Do not let us part in anger Helen, though 
 I own I deserve it ; " he said, as she drew back 
 from his extended hand. " If you knew what 
 I suffer when I offend you, you would pity 
 me." 
 
 Touched by his avowal of error, she gave him 
 her hand : and as he pressed it, he said, " I 
 Avould I could be all you wish." 
 
 The behef that Mr. Dormer had left the 
 country, notwithstanding her morning's agita- 
 tion at a strange sound ; the knowledge that
 
 THE HEIRESS. 283 
 
 once to show fear or weakness would deprive 
 her of all control over her cousin's fierce tem- 
 per, had enabled her act as she had done ; but 
 all the events of the day had been harassing 
 and alarming, and anxious to be alone, she did 
 not ask Miss Jones to return with her, no 
 longer requiring her presence to prevent a 
 tete-a-tete with her cousin. 
 
 Dismissing her pony carriage, and accompa- 
 nied by her favourite Bran, she turned into one 
 of the beautiful walks which wound through 
 the stately woods : " where the home of her 
 forefathers stood." Absorbed in melancholy 
 thoughts, she pursued her way mechanically, 
 till a loud bark from Bran, the snorting of a 
 horse, and the rustling among the branches, 
 made her start; and, almost before she could 
 look round, Mr. Dormer had sprung from his 
 horse, taken her hand, and was pouring forth 
 in warm and eloquent terms his delight at their 
 meeting. 
 
 The surprise, nay almost terror, occasioned 
 by his sudden appearance; the fear of what 
 might occur should he by any chance encounter 
 her cousin in his present temper ; the remem- 
 brance of Dormer's haughty conduct at their 
 last meeting ; and above all the scenes of the 
 morning, were too much for a frame ever deli- 
 cate. She turned pale, trembled, and must
 
 284 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 have fallen had not his arm supported her. 
 The anxious tenderness of his expressions 
 whilst so doing, revealed the state of his feelings, 
 and convinced her of the greater necessity for 
 the exertion. She would have given much for 
 tears, that woman's panacea; but struggling 
 against them, with a strong eifort she recovered 
 herself sufficiently to stand without his sup- 
 port, and declining even the assistance of his 
 arm, she leant for a moment against a tree. Her 
 next task was to laugh at her own folly and 
 nervousness, and to attribute the temporary 
 faintness to having been harassed in the morn- 
 ing, and to the surprise and alarm occasioned 
 by his sudden appearance. 
 
 The task was executed with no inconsider- 
 able degree of self possession, and without, as 
 she thought, a single flattering expression ; and 
 yet, to her mortification and confusion, she saw 
 plainly from her companion's m^anner, that his 
 love or vanity led him to interpret her conduct 
 according to his own wishes. 
 
 She would have wished him good morning at 
 once, but the glimpse of a horseman through 
 some distant trees, made her fear that by so 
 doing she might risk the chance of his meeting 
 with Robert; besides, his manner made it doubt- 
 ful whether a dismissal, however cold, would
 
 THE HEIRESS. 285 
 
 not rather accelerate than retard a more open 
 demonstration of regard. Her only plan, there- 
 fore, was to reach the house as soon as possible; 
 to shelter herself in Mrs. Hargrave's presence; 
 and to maintain a cool and indifferent demean- 
 our during her walk thither. But she found 
 more difficulty than she had imagined in main- 
 taining this cool indifference. 
 
 Mr. Dormer surpassed himself in brilliancy 
 and fascination, and none, who had seen him 
 then for the first time, would have guessed at 
 the fiery passions hid under such a dazzling 
 exterior. Her coldness he mistook for maiden 
 bashfulness, and in the strength of his own 
 wishes read her conduct as it pleased him best. 
 His usual hauteur was tempered by tenderness; 
 and Helen felt, as she listened, she had met 
 none like him before, and she might meet 
 none like him hereafter. He found the walk 
 so delightful, he would have lured her to linger 
 and gaze on the beauties around, but she 
 pleaded fatigue as an excuse; and her pale 
 cheek, only occasionally lit up with a gleam of 
 brightness from the force of his eloquence, 
 proved the truth of her plea. Still she declined 
 his proffered arm, and still he read the refusal 
 as he wished. 
 
 " If you knew how anxiously I have sought 
 to meet you, day after day, riding through every
 
 286 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 part of your domain, where there were paths 
 and where there were none, surely you would 
 not seek to make this interview so short ! " he 
 said, as her wish to reach the house became 
 more apparent. 
 
 It was not in mortal woman to feel other 
 than gratified by such seeking, from such a 
 man ; but she answered only pohtely, without 
 slackening her pace : 
 
 '' I am sorry you should have had so much 
 trouble ; I have been from home for the last 
 few days." But she did not add, what was the 
 truth, " for the purpose of avoiding him." 
 
 " Trouble ! What a word to use ! One would 
 think we had met but to-day, whereas my va- 
 nity has been whispering the hope, that sym- 
 pathy can make one hour of real li\dng life 
 worth years of merely dull existence." 
 
 The look, the words, the tone, might have 
 made it difficult for Helen to have answered as 
 she could have wished; but the stream to which 
 Alford had given the name of Lethe, bursting 
 on her view, with all its memories and associa- 
 tions, gave her an advantage of which she did 
 not fail to avail herself. 
 
 " By your own desire, I believe, to-day is to 
 be considered the second of our acquaintance ? " 
 and she glanced towards the stream. 
 
 He had forgotten every thing that had passed
 
 THE HEIRESS. 287 
 
 at that interview, till this look recalled it to his 
 mind. Violent as was his temper, yet never 
 retaining enmity against any one himself, and 
 trusting to others having the same forgetfulness, 
 he rarely troubled himself about apologies, and 
 his proud spirit had seldom the humihation, as 
 he thought it, of owning itself in the wrong. 
 But other feelings governed him now, and in 
 answer to her look he pleaded earnestly, with 
 a heightened colour, though rather a lordly 
 manner, that she would pardon and forget all 
 in his words or actions that had at any time 
 been displeasing to her. 
 
 " Tliat I erred, greatly erred, I own ; but 
 there are times when a word can urge to frenzy 
 — there are doubts sharj^er and deadlier than 
 poisoned swords." 
 
 He was still pleading his cause, with impas- 
 sioned eloquence, and she listening in embar- 
 rassed silence, when the whine of a beggar 
 caused an interruption, to the annoyance of 
 one party and the relief of the other. 
 
 ^' Please to bestow your charity on a poor 
 distressed weaver." 
 
 '^ Begone !" cried Dormer in no gentle tone, 
 enraged at the interruption, and then, never 
 dreaming of disobedience to a mandate of his, 
 turned again to address Helen. 
 
 " Please to bestow your charity on a poor dis-
 
 288 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 tressed weaver, with a wife and six hungry 
 children*;" again whined the ill-looking man, 
 close to Helen's ear. 
 
 " Begone, I tell you ! " repeated Dormer, 
 with a look and tone so terrible that Helen 
 trembled ; but she had no silver, and feared to 
 irritate him stiU more by stopping. But the 
 man was not to be repulsed, and his disagreeable 
 whine still mingled with Dormer's manly voice, 
 as he continued to address his fair companion. 
 Dormer had been seeking this inter^dew with a 
 pertinacity, a stooping to woman, he had never 
 shown before ; and now that he had gained it, 
 augured all he desired from her manner. Was 
 this impudent interruption to be borne, when 
 perhaps the colour of his future Hfe hung on 
 that moment ? All the feelings that the disap- 
 pointments of his days of fruitless seeking had 
 awakened, rushed at once to his mind, and in 
 the moment of his passion that man seemed 
 the cause of all. The whine became louder 
 and more importunate — Dormer could bear no 
 more — he stept back, and before any one could 
 guess his intention, the beggar was Ipng on the 
 ground, and the blood flowing down his face. 
 Helen turned deadly pale, but repulsing Dor- 
 mer's oiFer to support and lead her away, with 
 a look of reproach, which well nigh maddened 
 him, she knelt beside the beggar, and wiped the
 
 THE HEIRESS. 289 
 
 blood from his face. But slightly stunned by 
 the blow, he recovered almost instantly, and 
 our heroine had the rehef of finding his injury 
 was not worth mentioning. Her kindness pre- 
 vented all expression of violence towards her ; 
 but as he rose, the look he threw on Dormer 
 told of hate to be increased rather than dimi- 
 nished by time. That gentleman's answering 
 look was not less fierce, with this difference — in 
 his there was only the rage of the present; in 
 the beggar's the rage of the past, the present, 
 and the future were mingled, and only made 
 his silence the more frightful. 
 
 No sooner had his victim fallen than Dormer 
 repented of the act, and would have more than 
 repaired the injury, as far as money and kind 
 words could have done it ; and indeed he had 
 assisted her to recover him ; but the look of 
 reproach from her, and the vindictive glare of 
 the beggar, roused all his pride, and he stood 
 with haughty mien prepared to defend the deed 
 if necessary. To Helen's enquiry if he could 
 walk now, the man simj^ly answered " Yes ; " 
 and, anxious to end the scene, she expressed her 
 sorrow for what had passed, and taking three 
 sovereigns from her purse gave them to him ; 
 telling him to leave the neighbourhood directly, 
 and adding, " for your own sake you had better 
 be silent." Dormer would have remonstrated, 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 but she was resolute, saying, after her alarm she 
 claimed the right to act as she pleased. The 
 man took the money with thanks, and either 
 grateful for her kindness, or to gain more at 
 some future time, promised secresy; then, 
 turning to Dormer with another look of hate, 
 he clenched his fist, muttered, " We shall meet 
 again," and then took a path which led from 
 the park. 
 
 Alarmed and distressed at the late scene, it 
 was with the greatest difficulty Helen could 
 prevent herself from fainting ; and it was with 
 slow and languid steps that, drawing down her 
 veil, she proceeded towards the house in silence. 
 Her companion walked by her side as silent as 
 herself. The very consciousness of error, a 
 consciousness he could not smother, made her 
 disapprobation the more galling; whilst his 
 overweening pride whispered, her love should 
 have taught her to judge more mildly. It was 
 not till they had nearly reached the house that 
 he spoke. 
 
 " Allov/ me to repay the money you gave 
 that man," presenting it as he spoke. 
 
 " By no means," she answered hastily, " it 
 was given to please myself, not you," 
 
 " Pardon me, it was to repair what I had 
 done." 
 
 " Give it to some charity then, as you are so 
 scrupulous."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 291 
 
 " I understand you/' he said, in a half proud 
 half melancholy tone; " you detest me too 
 much to receive even a debt from my hands ; 
 But you have ever judged me harshly." 
 
 " I do not judge you harshly, Mr. Dormer, 
 but I cannot do other than regret that you 
 allow such mastery to your passions." 
 
 " Surely, if you regret it you would wish to 
 change it. Do but listen to my prayers ? It 
 rests with you to make me what you will ; " and 
 he looked upon her with those superb dark 
 eyes, the only fitting speakers of his bright hopes. 
 
 She withdrew the hand he would have taken, 
 avoided his look, and answered with as little 
 tremour as could be expected. 
 
 "That cannot be, Mr. Dormer. I must 
 ever feel an interest in your weKare, but the 
 amendment which is founded only on the ap- 
 proval of a being erring like yourself, has too 
 low and unstable a basement to be lasting or 
 eifectual." 
 
 They reached the house as she finished speak- 
 ing, and, most desirous to put an end to the 
 interview, she would have wished him good 
 morning without asking him to enter ; but, 
 most unfortunately, the rain which had been 
 threatening all day at this moment began to 
 fall, and a servant appearing to take his horse, 
 common humanity, as well as common polite- 
 O 2
 
 292 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 ness, obliged her to invite l^him in, though, had 
 she been blessed, or cursed, whichever it may 
 be, with second sight, it is doubtful if she 
 would have offered him shelter, though it had 
 rained cats, dogs, and pitch-forks. But Helen 
 was a southern maiden, and every event of this 
 day had proved that her ken extended not be- 
 yond the present. 
 
 It had been a day of troubles and contre- 
 temps ; but as she ushered her guest towards 
 the drawing-room, fully anticipating the pre- 
 sence of Mrs. Hargrave, she flattered herself 
 he would soon depart, and leave her time to 
 think and to rejoice at ha\dng prevented a 
 meeting between him and her cousin. So much 
 for Helen's schemes and Helen's foresight. 
 Had she pressed her cousin to dine, she would 
 have known better how to avoid him ; had she 
 procured the company of Miss Jones, Dormer 
 might not have joined her ; had she proceeded 
 to the library instead of the drawing-room, she 
 would have found her aunt : but she had done 
 none of these things, and her dismay can be 
 better imagined than described, when on throw- 
 ing open the door to admit her visitor, she 
 found herself fronting the very person she 
 would at that moment have least wished to 
 front — Robert Euston. This was a contre- 
 temps she had not anticipated. That very
 
 THE HEIRESS. 293 
 
 thing should come to pass which she had la- 
 boured so hard to prevent ! What then ? 
 Heiresses must meet with troubles as well as 
 other people. Had she seen a ghost, if such 
 things are, she could not have been more 
 alarmed ; and would have felt little scruple in 
 consigning her cousin for a while to a com- 
 panionship with all the evil spirits laid in the 
 Red Sea since time began, "With candle, 
 with book, and with bell." She had well nigh 
 given up the matter in despair, for Dormer had 
 entered the room, and to show him elsewhere 
 was impossible, when the curl of her cousin's 
 lip, as he marked her terror, and the look of 
 defiance that passed between the gentlemen, 
 showed her the danger of allowing two such 
 fiery spirits to come in collision, and roused all 
 her powers to prevent further mischief. Avail- 
 ing herself of the fashionable dogma of non- 
 introduction, which allows you the happy 
 chance of ridiculing your next neighbour un- 
 wittingly, for the gentlemen as yet knew each 
 other only by sight, she motioned Dormer to a 
 chair as much out of Robert's view as possible, 
 and seated herself between them. Checking 
 Robert with a look which brought the colour to 
 his cheek, she commenced the difficult task of 
 balancing her politeness and keeping the peace. 
 Difficult as was the task, her success was for
 
 294 ' THE HEIRESS. 
 
 some time perfect. Neither gentleman spoke 
 to the other, but both conversed with her. 
 Dormer willingly, nay anxiously, as a means to 
 banish the memory of the past ; her cousin, as 
 a matter of policy, to prevent any favour to his 
 rival. Her success was so far beyond her 
 hopes that, the weather having cleared, she 
 was again entertaining the idea of a speedy re- 
 lease from her unpleasant situation, when her 
 cousin, thinking she had bestowed too much 
 attention for the last few minutes on her other 
 visitor, availed himself of the first pause to say, 
 v.ith an air of mingled impertinence and non- 
 chalance, " Suppose, Helen, you finish that 
 'Tale of Passion' you began, and the accom- 
 panying homily for our edification." 
 
 Had Robert studied a thousand years he 
 could not have hit on a subject more annopng to 
 his rival, who imagined him, from these words, 
 aware of the scene with the beggar ; but his 
 flashing eye at the insult was fortunately hidden 
 from the insulter. This certainly must be the 
 crowning mischance of the day. Nothing now 
 could present a colhsion between them, and 
 she turned pale at the thought. 
 
 " Come, Helen," continued her cousin, 
 amazed at the effect of his own words, and 
 heedless of her distress so he could but annoy
 
 THE HEIRESS. 295 
 
 Dormer^ " pray let us have the story. Some- 
 thing about one man knocking down another 
 in a passion, was it not?" 
 
 Dormer rose from his seat in mighty wrath, 
 threw a reproachful glance at Helen, forgetting 
 in his rage the utter impossibility of her having 
 told her cousin one word concerning the beg- 
 gar, and then strode towards Robert. The 
 very imminence of the danger again roused 
 Helen to exertion. She stepped instantly be- 
 tween the wrathful spirits, answered Dormer's 
 look with one that, whilst it declared her in- 
 nocence, told also her wish to save him from 
 further pain, asked his opinion of a drawing on 
 a table near, and then answered her cousin with 
 a coldness that showed her displeasure. 
 
 " No, Robert ! I am not going to weary 
 Mr. Dormer with the village tale I began to 
 you this morning ; it could only be interesting 
 to those knowing the parties." 
 
 " I beg pardon, I thought the moral might 
 be edifying and amending to all." 
 
 " I have strong doubts if any thing will ever 
 amend you," she answered, still more coldly ; 
 then seizing, with woman's wit, on anything to 
 change the conversation, she summoned them 
 both to look at a new horse which just then 
 passed the windows ; and the whole party in 
 consequence adjourned to the lawn, Helen still
 
 296 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 keeping between them. Some fresh cause for 
 dispute might have arisen whilst discussing 
 the merits of the animal, had not the sound of 
 the dinner-bell proved to Dormer the necessity 
 of his instant departure, if he at all valued Lord 
 Marston's good humour. 
 
 " Think not of me too harshly/' he said, as 
 he bade Helen adieu, "and forgive me if I 
 doubted your kindness for a moment ; to-mor- 
 row we meet again." 
 
 A bow of such studied pohteness passed be- 
 tween the gentlemen, as told the humour of 
 their minds. 
 
 " Have I your permission to dine at Hurle- 
 stone. Miss St. Maur ? " asked her cousin iron- 
 ically. 
 
 Helen durst not say no, and would not say 
 yes ; so steered a middle course. 
 
 "You are Mrs. Hargrave's guest, I con- 
 clude." 
 
 He read her thoughts, and to terrify her 
 into more cordiahty flung away rudely, saying, 
 " Then I ride back with Mr. Dormer. I want 
 excitement." 
 
 " Do so, and these doors are closed against 
 your return." 
 
 He looked fiercely at her, but her eye sank 
 not beneath the gaze, and he dared not fulfil 
 his threat.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 297 
 
 " Allow me to conduct you back to the draw- 
 ing-room." 
 
 " Excuse me, I must dress for dinner ;" and 
 declining his proffered arm, she passed on to 
 her dressing-room. 
 
 o 5
 
 298 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The hero moved on, like a cloud before a ridge of heaven' 
 fire ; when it pours on the sky of night, mariners foresee 
 storm, OssiAN. 
 
 As breeze and tide to yonder skiff, 
 Thou 'rt adverse to the suit I bring. 
 
 And cold as is yon wintry cliff, 
 
 Where sea-birds close their weary wing. 
 
 When Helen descended from her room, 
 which was not till dinner had been announced, 
 she pleaded a severe headache in excuse for 
 her ill looks and httle appetite, and scarcely 
 spoke during the repast. Robert was either 
 sulky, or something very like it, and the dinner 
 neither afforded a display of 
 
 " The feast of reason or the flow of soul." 
 
 Vain was his hope of meeting his cousin alone 
 in the drawing-room ; she did not appear till 
 late in the evening, and he would not have 
 seen her then, had she not feared to irritate 
 him to some desperate act. When she did ap- 
 pear her looks were a rebuke to his violence.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 299 
 
 Mrs. Hargrave was too much his friend to 
 be in the way, and soon left the cousins to- 
 gether. Robert would have preferred an op- 
 portunity of observing what effect his words 
 might produce on Helen ; but she baffled his 
 purpose by remaining in the recess of the 
 window, and sending the lights to the other 
 end of the room, on the plea of her head-ache. 
 He felt he had said too much in the mornina: 
 not to say more ; and his ill humour had been 
 increased by seeing her return with Dormer. 
 He must either apologize for the past, and pro- 
 mise for the future, which he had done a hun- 
 dred times before, and broken the promise as 
 soon as made, or he must carry the matter with 
 as high a hand as he dared, and make himself 
 appear to be the party aggrieved. It need 
 scarcely be said he chose the latter course. In 
 crossing the apartment to take a seat beside 
 his cousin, so heedless had his ill-humour made 
 him, and so little light was there in that part 
 of the room, that he first fell over a footstool, 
 and then nearly threw down a flower-table, 
 splashing the water around in no measured 
 quantity. One or two hasty exclamations, 
 which did him no credit, escaped him ; but 
 Helen took no further notice of his conduct or 
 mischances, than drawing a table in such a 
 manner as to prevent his taking a seat beside.
 
 300 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 or exactly before her ; yet at the same time al- 
 lowing herself free passage from her den, should 
 she wish to retreat. Having repaired the 
 damage as well as his impatience would per- 
 mit, he took the nearest seat to hers which 
 her manoeuvre had left him, and as a polite 
 preliminary asked if her head were better. No, 
 rather worse ; was the answer, and then there 
 w^as another silence, whilst the gentleman felt 
 all the difficulty of making a commencement. 
 At length he began again, in as careless a tone 
 as he could assume. 
 
 " Mrs. Jones says, that your gallant pre- 
 server, the Knight of the Bridge, and Mr. 
 Percy Dormer are one and the same.'' He 
 paused, but receiving no answer continued 
 more vehemently. " She also says that he is 
 your accepted lover, and that the nuptials^^^are 
 to be celebrated immediately." Still no an- 
 swer. " What say you to this ?" he inquired 
 in a rage. 
 
 " That Mrs. Jones will say any thing," re- 
 ]Aied his cousin with the most provoking indif- 
 ference ; " and that I have heard you declare 
 you would not crush a slug on her word." 
 
 " This pretended indifference, and repetition 
 of my words, will not succeed. I have asked a 
 plain question, and will have a plain answer."
 
 THE HEIRESS. 301 
 
 " Stop ! you must first allow me to ask ques- 
 tions and have answers. Was the purj)ose of 
 your second visit to Hurlestone only to repeat 
 the idle tale of an idle gossip ? " 
 
 '^ You shall not thus evade my question 
 Helen. I will be answered ! " 
 
 " Shall and will, Mr. Euston, are words 
 which can no longer be used from you to me.'^ 
 
 His passion rose higher and higher as he felt 
 himself in the wrong, and found her disinclina- 
 tion to yield to his vehemence. Stamping his 
 foot with violence, he insisted in a furious tone 
 on an answer. 
 
 " On what grounds, Mr. Euston. As a re- 
 ward for your very disinterested concern for 
 my welfare ; or as a recompense for your very 
 gentlemanly conduct of this morning ; or your 
 equally gentlemanly behaviour of this evening ; 
 or for your thousand promises of gentleness, so 
 freely given, and so rarely kept.'' 
 
 Galled by these truths, his fury almost 
 choked his utterance, as he exclaimed; " I 
 claim an answer as your nearest relative ; I 
 claim it by the love I have so long borne you : 
 and I warn you to refuse it at your peril. You 
 shall not tamper with me, as in the morning; 
 there is no bell near you now." 
 
 Her only answer was to hold up before him 
 an antique bell, that had stood on the table 
 before her.
 
 302 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 He paced the room with hasty strides, and 
 then spoke again. 
 
 " I ask but one question ; refuse to answer 
 if you dare. Are you engaged to Mr. Dormer ? " 
 
 There was a fierce sternness in his tone 
 which made Ellen tremble, though the dark- 
 ness prevented his perceiving it, and she feared 
 to refuse him. 
 
 " Were it not for old remembrances, I would 
 not parley with you a moment longer ; but for 
 your mother's sake, and because these reports 
 are offensive to maiden delicacy, I \\dll say I 
 am not engaged to Mr. Dormer.'" 
 
 " Say rather for the sake of your minion's 
 safety you answered my question; and well 
 was it that you did so. If I find there has 
 been falsehood, look to it ! His blood rest on 
 your head ! '" 
 
 Indignant at this insult, she rose, wheeled 
 the table from before her, passed out close to 
 Robert, looking at him as she did so ; stood 
 out in the full light, and bade him leave her 
 presence, and never enter it again \nthout her 
 express permission. As she stood, with one 
 arm slightly extended, the bright curls thrown 
 back from her high forehead, dazzhng with its 
 whiteness ; her delicate form raised to its fuU 
 height, and the fire of woman's offended dig- 
 nity flashing in her eye, and flushing on her
 
 THE HEIRESS. 30S 
 
 cheek ; she looked so bright^ so beautiful^ that 
 anger faded before admiration, and he stood 
 gazing on her in silence. Then came shame at 
 his late outrage, with the conviction of her 
 truth — for none could look upon her and 
 doubt ; and fearful lest further violence should 
 induce her to enforce obedience to her com- 
 mand, he hastened to avow his error, and once 
 more implore her pardon. She listened to him 
 in silence, only shaking her head mournfully at 
 his promise, knowing, from painful experience, 
 how little those promises could be relied on. 
 He saw her incredulity, and was piqued ; for- 
 getting what good warranty for such doubt his 
 conduct had ever afforded. 
 
 " You distrust me," he said ; " put me to 
 the test." 
 
 " I will. Return to town to-morrow morn- 
 ing, from whence no real business summoned 
 
 you." 
 
 All his repentance vanished in a moment, 
 his promises were forgotten, and his former 
 fury animated him as he replied. 
 
 "I am no dolt, Helen, to be fooled even by 
 your wiles, beautiful as you are. You would 
 enjoy a tete-a-tete amid the romantic wilds of 
 Feldon Park; but I too shall be there ; and look 
 you how you smile on Dormer." 
 
 " Mr. Euston," said Helen, the more indig-
 
 304 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 nantly as she had long since decided on de- 
 chning the morrow's party, "my woman's 
 dehcacy is not yet so deadened by your con- 
 stant suspicions, as to allow me to submit 
 longer to such language. Since my sex, my 
 want of protectors, the propriety of my con- 
 duct, the affection of our childhood, and the 
 high honour of a gentleman, cannot save me 
 from insult, it is fitting our acquaintance should 
 end now, and for ever. Pass from before me, 
 Sir, — I would be alone." 
 
 " One word, Helen," as he caught her gown. 
 " Promise never to wed with Dormer, and I will 
 be gentle as a lamb." 
 
 He saw her colour come and go as he looked 
 upon her, and his very breathing was suspended 
 to hear her answer. She was silent for some 
 moments, and then she said : " That is a pro- 
 mise you have no right to ask, and I no right 
 to give : it would be indelicate and ungenerous 
 to Mr. Dormer. Therefore " 
 
 He interrupted her vehemence. " I warn 
 you, Helen — the rage of the tornado, the earth- 
 quake, and the volcano, are nothing to Dormer's 
 passions." 
 
 She would have yielded all her fortune for 
 the power of denial, but she dared not even 
 hint a falsehood. 
 
 ^^ Your conduct is a sufficient warning against
 
 THE HEIRESS. 305 
 
 •sdolence^ without your words; and if habit could 
 reconcile, I should smile at the tempest's fury. 
 That Mr. Dormer's name may no more be cou- 
 pled with mine, I again repeat no engagement 
 does, or is likely to exist between us. And now, 
 since you cannot, or will not, control your tern 
 per, and I am ill able to bear these constant 
 scenes of violence, it is better we should meet 
 no more, except in general society. If you 
 have any honour or delicacy left, you will do 
 nothing to make me the gossip of the county ; 
 and beware how you force me to seek a pro- 
 tector from your insults." 
 
 She disengaged herself from his grasp, and 
 bidding him farewell in a kind but decided tone, 
 passed from the room with a cheek that was 
 very, very pale, but a firm and lofty step. 
 
 He heard her words, and saw her departing, 
 but was deprived of all power to detain her. 
 Could it be real ? Would she keep her resolve ? 
 If so, life would be to him a blank. True she 
 had borne more than any other would have 
 done, and he had had warning upon warn- 
 ing. But could she give up the playfellow of 
 her childhood ? her nearest relative ? He could 
 not believe it — he would not believe it. If so, 
 it must be Dormer's doing, and he hated him 
 more than ever. Then he thought on her pale 
 cheek as she left the room, and he trembled for
 
 306 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 her health. He knew it was a fimi and noble 
 spirit enshrined in a fragile form^ whose beauty 
 was at times so delicate, as to make the gazer 
 fear as he admired. It would not be the first 
 time that his rage had bowed down this deli- 
 cate flower. The thought was agony. Should 
 he yield her to Dormer ? Never ! Never ! and 
 he gnashed his teeth as he said it. She might 
 not love him ? His hopes revived at the doubt. 
 She had denied the existence of any engage- 
 ment for the present ; but then she had refused 
 to promise for the future. It might be deli- 
 cacy — it might be a warmer feeling. Doubt, 
 fear, love, anger, and sorrow, raged within him 
 by turns, and passion herself might have taken 
 a warning from the torments he endured. At 
 length one idea became paramount, the fear 
 lest she would see him no more ; one wish 
 triumphed over every other, that of winning 
 her pardon; and, at the moment, he thought 
 her forgiveness worth any sacrifice. But how 
 was this to be accomplished? He was stiU 
 pacing up and down the room, with wild and 
 irregular steps, when Mrs. Hargrave entered. 
 She could not but be shocked at his strange 
 looks and manner, and eagerly demanded the 
 cause. A few incoherent words explained to 
 that lady all he cared she should know; and 
 laying the blame on Helen, as being the one
 
 THE HEIRESS. 307 
 
 most likely to thwart lier favourite scheme, she 
 readily offered to play ambassadress on the occa- 
 sion. Fearful that Helen might return a note 
 unread, and equally fearful to force himself into 
 her presence, or to depart without an effort to 
 soften her displeasure, he caught eagerly at the 
 offer, and the lady went on her embassy with 
 the most humble and earnest entreaties for 
 an interview, however short; accompanied by 
 every possible pledge of calmness and non 
 detention. He stood at the open door, and 
 counted her steps, till she entered his cousin's 
 dressing room, and then he leant in breathless 
 expectation; but minute after minute rolled 
 away, and still his messenger returned not. 
 The peine forte et dure, now happily abolished, 
 had scarcely more of torture. He fancied he 
 heard a bustle in the distant apartment; he 
 mounted the stairs, but could distinguish 
 nothing, and he descended them again. One 
 moment he augured good, then evil, from the 
 delay. It has been said the longest half hour 
 will have an end, and for this once at least 
 there was wisdom in the saying. At length 
 his messenger returned, but her looks plainly 
 told with no accordance to his wishes. 
 
 He asked her by gestures rather than by 
 words, the speeding of her errand. It was 
 certainly any thing but consolatory. She had
 
 308 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 found Helen prepared for rest, to avoid all 
 importunities, and looking too ill for even her 
 aunt to propose an interview that night; and 
 Helen had declined giving a promise for the 
 future. " She says she is not angry ; but not 
 having health to endure your violence, it is 
 better you should meet but seldom, and never 
 alone. I scolded, told her the agony you 
 were suffering, and at last hinted your mind 
 was in such a state, that I could not answer 
 for your not committing some rash act/' 
 
 " What said she to this ? " inquired Robert 
 eagerly, willing to avail himself of the threat, 
 should it prove likely to serve his cause. 
 
 " At first I thought she looked angry ; and 
 she said you would leave her no refuge but the 
 grave : then she asked abruptly if you had sent 
 that message ; and when I allowed her to think 
 you had, she looked paler than before, mur- 
 mured 'ungenerous,' and some other words I 
 could not hear, and then she grew so faint I 
 was frightened, and called her maid." 
 
 "Fool ! " burst from Robert's lips; for, hke 
 most others, he was inclined to judge of actions 
 from their effects; and now vehemently dis- 
 claimed all intention of threatening violence. 
 Shocked at having been the cause of her ill- 
 ness, he snatched up a pen, and scrawling a 
 few lines, begged Mrs. Hargrave would give
 
 THE HEIRESS. 309 
 
 them to his cousin; and that lady, notmth- 
 standing his discourteous demeanour, immediate- 
 ly complied with his wishes. Despite his shame 
 and sorrow, he was selfish and ungenerous 
 enough to avail himself of the power of a vague 
 threat to force from her the promise of an 
 interview; and Helen was but little reheved 
 when she read the following note : 
 
 " Dearest Helen, — ^You are ill, and I am 
 the cause ! I cannot bear to give you pain — 
 I cannot endure your anger — I will not live 
 banished from your presence. Forgive me for 
 the early past; for my mother's sake, if you 
 will not for my own. At least allow me one 
 interview to plead my cause before you con- 
 demn me to worse than death. Promise this, 
 and you need fear no violence. Say but yes ; 
 I ask no more. 
 
 Yours, and yours truly, 
 
 Robert Eustox." 
 
 There was nothing in this note on which to 
 ground a hope for the future ; and she saw at 
 once that what had been would be again ; but 
 too ill to contend, and too fearful to proceed to 
 extremities, she returned him these few lines : 
 
 " For his mother's sake. Miss St. Maur will
 
 310 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 see Mr. Euston once more, at twelve, on the 
 day after to-morrow ; should nothing have oc- 
 curred in the mean time to induce her to 
 change her intention.'' 
 
 He bit his Hp as he read this cold assent to 
 his wishes ; for no sooner was the interview 
 granted than, with his usual inconsistency, he 
 began to quarrel with the manner in which it 
 had been accorded, though he returned a kind 
 and grateful message. 
 
 It is a fanciful yet beautiful idea, that loving 
 souls came into the world by pairs ; though, if 
 so, there must have been strange wandering 
 from the right road, and some can never have 
 found their felloAvs till after death. 
 
 It is as fanciful, though certainly a far less 
 beautiful idea, that misliking souls have also 
 their fellows in this scene of toil and strife ; and 
 that sometime or other during life, aU will 
 meet with some one being of whom they will 
 fancy or feel, that as fades or brightens that 
 other's lot, so, in contrast, fades or brightens 
 their own; and to this fancy or feehng, which- 
 ever it may be, clings a species of hatred, vary- 
 ing in colour and depth, according to each vary- 
 ing character. 
 
 If this theory be true — for being no parti- 
 cular friends to theories, we do not intend to
 
 THE HEIRESS. 311 
 
 defend its wisdom — it may account for the 
 feeling partaking of hate, which arose, as if by- 
 instinct, in the bosoms of Percy Dormer and 
 Robert Euston, the instant they encountered 
 each other in the drawing-room at Hurlestone. 
 If not true, stiU the feeling was there; fierce, 
 deep, and lasting. They recognised each other 
 as deadly rivals, and from that moment it 
 wanted but a breath to fan the flame of hate 
 into a destroying fire. 
 
 Some people, who pride themselves in ac- 
 counting reasonably for every thing, might say, 
 that Dormer having heard of the influence sup- 
 posed to be exercised over Helen by her cousin, 
 and reading his passion for her at a glance, laid 
 the blame of her late coldness on the persua- 
 sions of another, rather than on his own violence ; 
 whilst Robert, aware of Dormer's superiority, 
 from general report, and occasional meetings, 
 and fearing the effects of his own powers, and 
 Alford's incessant praises, saw in him a rival 
 more to be dreaded, and consequently more to 
 be hated than any other; and that, knowing he 
 was expected in the neighbourhood, he had 
 known him at once from description as Miss 
 Jones's hero, which would account for his 
 violence concerning one all thought a stranger. 
 
 We have already stated our dislike to " les 
 gens qui out toujour s raison,'' so cannot be
 
 312 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 expected to give a cordial assent to this reason- 
 able statement. Who knows but a homely 
 adage may account for this mortal dislike, more 
 clearly than commentaries, as numerous as 
 those on the Koran : " Two of a trade can 
 never agree ?" thus 
 
 ** When pride meets pride, then comes the tug of war." 
 
 It was jealousy which made Robert hurry 
 from town, on learning Dormer was reaUy at 
 Marston, and bending his pride to Helen's 
 beauty; intelligence conveyed by Mrs. Mar- 
 grave, amid some odd commissions. Helen's 
 illness had rather softened him, but long before 
 he had reached his own house, he had muttered 
 to himself, " Not tiU the day after to-morrow — 
 she had better have seen me to-night, or early 
 in the morning. And she would give no pro- 
 mise. Well, let it be : I shaU cross her path 
 to-morrow, and let her frown upon me if she 
 dare." 
 
 And what were Helen's thoughts through that 
 long, long night ? — for she never closed her eyes 
 tiU after day had dawned. What could they 
 be ? The poorest cottager, the meanest beggar 
 unstained by crime, would scarcely have done 
 well to change that night with the noble, the 
 beautiful, the rich, the admired heiress of 
 Hurlestone Park : she whose presence brought
 
 THE HEIRESS. 313 
 
 joy to allj whose goodness and whose loveU- 
 ness won their way to every heart. She had 
 shuddered at her cousin's violence before ; but 
 what was any former fear to the dread of a 
 quarrel between him and Dormer? The pas- 
 sions of the boy would most probably have 
 yielded to judicious control, and left only cou- 
 rage and activity; but such control had been 
 wanting, and poor Helen must pay the penalty 
 of another's fault. 
 
 The day of the pic-nic was come ; as bright 
 and as beautiful as though it had never been 
 chosen for a party of pleasure, or as though 
 there were no such things in the world as cloudy 
 skies or disappointed young hearts. Helen re- 
 joiced in the beauty of the day for the sake of 
 others ; but it could make no change in her own 
 resolve. She doubted not that Robert would 
 join the party, and her presence might again 
 arouse him to fury. Dormer would be there — 
 and they might meet no more. What then? 
 It was better for both that it should be so. She 
 sat down before her writing-desk, and in a short 
 time her messenger was speeding to Marston 
 with the following notes. 
 
 To Lady Catherine Alford. 
 My dear Catherine, — A violent head-ache 
 will prevent my profiting by your example in 
 
 VOL. I. p
 
 314 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 the art of playing popular at Feldon. Will you 
 make all fitting excuses forme to Mrs. Carleton, 
 and accept the same from 
 
 Your's sincerely, 
 
 Helen St. Maur. 
 
 When this note was written, she paused some 
 time ere beginning the second; but she had 
 been haunted all night with images of the dead 
 and dying ; the scenes of the day had been acted 
 over again in her dreams with frightful exaggera- 
 tions and maddening horrors; and she feared 
 to allow a false delicacy to prevent her guarding 
 against the threatened danger. Alford had but 
 lately renewed his offers of kind and brotherly 
 service, and she knew, from experience, that 
 where she was concerned she had nothing to 
 dread from the absence of delicacy or discretion. 
 He had been almost as much a brother to her as 
 her cousin, and ever considerate and consistent. 
 She dared not hesitate ; and with a hasty pen 
 wrote as follows. 
 
 To Viscount Alford. 
 When must my gardener be prepared for the 
 beautiful flowers you promised ? Let me know 
 by the bearer. A head-ache prevents my join- 
 ing the gay party, so you are released from the 
 office of Preux Chevalier, and can work mischief
 
 THE HEIRESS. 315 
 
 at your pleasure. I believe my cousin will be 
 at Feldon ; and perhaps in no amiable mood. 
 Could you not keep him and your friend apart ? 
 They met here yesterday, and their parting bows 
 were any thing rather than neighbourly: but 
 I know I may rely on your prudence. Were 1 
 to say more, a child would understand me. 
 Your's sincerely, 
 
 Helen St. Maur. 
 P. S. I like gossip almost as well as Mrs. 
 Jones, so you must indulge me with an early 
 account of this rural refection. 
 
 To guard against all mistakes, she gave the 
 orders herself. 
 
 " Take this to Lady Catherine Alford : it 
 requires no answer. Be sure and deliver this 
 other note only into Lord Alford's own hands, 
 as I must have an answer to it about some 
 flowers; and be back as soon as you can." 
 
 Mrs. Hargrave was in ill-humour at our he- 
 roine's not fulfilhng the engagement, as she too 
 was convinced that Robert would be there ; and 
 poor Helen's head-ache was indeed no vain 
 excuse. Sometimes she wished she had, by 
 appointing that day for seeing her cousin, pre- 
 vented the possibility of his meeting Dormer at 
 Feldon; but, besides that she really required 
 some hours of quiet to fit her for the inter^aew.
 
 316 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 her own wishes led her to desire his absence on 
 this day particularly, though she could have 
 given no good reason for such a fancy. 
 
 Ill and restless, she feared she had said too 
 much or too little to Alford ; and, as the return 
 of her messenger was delayed minute after 
 minute, her fancy conjured up the wildest images 
 of terror. At length she beheld him coming at 
 full speed, and had it been a lover hasting to 
 meet the lady of his affections, she could scarce - 
 ly have watched his approach with more anxiety. 
 The contents of the note reheved her fears, and 
 she questioned her messenger as to his delay. 
 It appeared that AKord and Dormer had left 
 Mar ston early in the morning on some electioneer- 
 ing business ; but, mindful of her orders, the man 
 had ridden nearly to Feldon, w^hither they were 
 to proceed, to deliver the note. 
 
 " You did perfectly right," she said. " His 
 lordship tells me the flowers will be here this 
 evening, or to-morrov/ morning ; therefore de- 
 sire the gardener to join me directly in my flower 
 garden, that I may give him orders to have ever}' 
 thing in readiness.'^ 
 
 Alford's note contained only a few hurried 
 lines in pencil, promising the flowers, and tell- 
 ing her he understood her bidding, and that she 
 might calm her fears, for that he would be her 
 second self in tact and discretion. The note
 
 THE HEIRESS. 317 
 
 being written in Italian, lest, having no seal, 
 some prying eye should read its contents, 
 seemed a good earnest of the writer's promised 
 prudence ; and Helen felt calmed and re-assured. 
 After arranging every thing with the gardener 
 she returned to the drawing-room; and, to 
 banish a feeling of restlessness and vague pre- 
 sentiment which tormented her, condemned 
 herself to the writing a letter on business for 
 the post. Whilst engaged in this absorbing, if 
 not interesting, task, she was startled by a 
 thundering knock at the hall door, w^hich spoke 
 the impatience of the visitor, and the impossi- 
 bility of denying herself. All she could do, 
 concluding it must be Robert, was to pass into 
 an adjoining room, and thus secure the option 
 of appearing or not, as might best please her. 
 A servant entering immediately after, announced 
 that Mr. Dormer was waiting her presence in 
 the drawing-room. She could give no good 
 reason for declining the interview, and she 
 entered the room, and returned her visitor's 
 salutation with her usual elegance and self- 
 possession. 
 
 He asked kindly, even tenderly, after her 
 head-ache ; and the flush which his unexpected 
 visit had brought into her before pale cheek 
 induced him to add, he hoped it was not very 
 severe. 
 
 p3
 
 318 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 " It is mucli better now," she replied. " The 
 air has removed much of the j^ain; but I am 
 certainly not very brilliant, though I have a 
 letter on business to write for to-day's post." 
 
 If she intended this as a hint for a speedy 
 departure, he either did not or would not un- 
 derstand itj and there was an impatience, an 
 earnestness in his manner, that seemed to inti- 
 mate this was not to be looked on as a common 
 morning visit. 
 
 " You should have tried the air at Feldon ; 
 the regrets at your absence were innumerable. 
 I only regretted not, since I hoped to see you 
 here undisturbed by the folly of the silly and 
 the vain. Yet I feared you might be too unwell 
 to see me, for your cousin announced he had 
 left you very ill last night ; and on his persua- 
 sions the party lay the blame of your absence." 
 
 He fixed his eyes on her as he spoke, and 
 she felt he wished and expected to receive more 
 information than his words demanded. Anxious 
 to destroy all idea of rivalry between them, as 
 well as to contradict the opinion she was av\-are 
 was entertained by many, that her cousin ex- 
 ercised control over her actions, she answered 
 as fully as her questioner desired. 
 
 " I certainly was very unwell last night, but 
 mv dechning the pic-nic was entirely my own 
 act and deed ; and since I never spoke to Mr.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 319 
 
 Euston on the subject, he can have learnt only 
 from others my defection and its cause." 
 
 '" Then he has not se^n you this morning, 
 and does not influence your actions ?" 
 
 " He certainly has neither seen nor heard from 
 me this morning, and his opinions rarely colour 
 my conduct." 
 
 " And yet, if the world speak truth, you 
 regard him highly." 
 
 There was a shght hesitation as he pronounced 
 the word ' regard,' which Helen perceiving, she 
 herself used it, and laid an emphasis on it. 
 
 " I do regard my cousin highly ; but the vrorld 
 I believe exaggerates the strength, or mistakes 
 the nature of the feeling. And I rather suspect, 
 were I so inclined, that I might assume the pre- 
 rogative of majesty, and consider myself as one 
 who can do no wrong ; but I am not so inclined, 
 and, in justice, the praise or blame due to every 
 act must rest on myself alone." 
 
 The slight shade of doubt or distrust, which 
 had clouded Dormer's brow on his entrance, 
 passed away like a summer cloud, and his 
 ardent spirit shone forth in all its native bright- 
 ness. Every thing that had pained him in her 
 since their acquaintance — his own violence — 
 all of doubt and fear that he could ever know — 
 vanished from his mind. His usually calm, 
 dignified, almost cold demeanour, changed with
 
 320 THE lEEIRESS. 
 
 his feelings, and Helen began to suspect in 
 avoiding one danger she had unwarily subjected 
 herself to another. Her self-possession received 
 more than one shock; and doubt, expectation, 
 sorrow, confusion, and a tinge of gratified jDride, 
 began to disturb her equanimity. She asked 
 for a frank, and more than hinted her letter 
 should go that day. He wrote the frank, and 
 declared his intention of waiting till her letter 
 was finished; adding she might find him trou- 
 blesome, but, as he must leave the neigh- 
 bourhood the next day, he had not self-denial 
 enough to resign the pleasure of her society 
 so soon. 
 
 She could but bow and finish her letter, 
 though she sat in dread lest Robert should 
 hear of this visit, and turn the duet into a trio. 
 She concluded her letter as soon as possible, 
 for she felt that though he still retained the 
 book she had recommended, his eyes were 
 fixed on her ; and, despite all her endeavours, 
 she was aware the colour varied on her cheek, 
 and that her fingers refused to guide the pen 
 with their usual firmness. The letter was 
 finished, folded, directed; the bell was rung 
 for the servant; the taper was ordered to be 
 lighted, brought back ; and the letter was de- 
 liberately sealed, and given for the post. She 
 inquired if Mrs. Hargrave had been told of
 
 THE HEIRESS. 321 
 
 Mr. Dormer's visit, as she had desired, and 
 was answered that she could not be found. 
 She ordered refreshments, but they were posi- 
 tively declined. There could be no further pre- 
 tence for detaining the servant, and he left the 
 room. He rose, and approached her; she rose 
 too, shewed some drawings, and moved about 
 to prevent any thing like uninterrupted conver- 
 sation ; but she had the mortification of know- 
 ing, almost without looking, that those dark 
 eyes followed her every movement, and that a 
 smile, as she thought, of triumph, curved his 
 lip. All this was strange after her cold reproof 
 of yesterday : but she did not remember he was 
 one of your Veni-Vidi-Vici men, who never 
 admit the possibility of failure, and fancy vic- 
 tory must attend their banners if they stop to 
 unfurl them; nor did she know he had over- 
 heard more than one of the pic-nic party assert 
 that the victory was already his. There was a 
 slight noise in the adjoining conservatory ; it 
 might be her aunt, and she insisted on showing 
 him a rare exotic. He followed her with the 
 same admiring gaze, the same confusing and 
 triumphant smile. Helen's hopes were vain — 
 it was only the gardener. She would have de- 
 tained him, under pretence of giving the names 
 of the flowers, but he was gone before she 
 could effect her purpose.
 
 322 THE HEIRESS. 
 
 More than two hours had elapsed since 
 they had entered the conservatory, and still 
 the lady was sitting there alone, and sad. 
 There were traces of tears easily to be seen; 
 her hands hung listless by her side, and her 
 head rested against a pillar. Tlie petals of 
 more than one rare plant w^ere strewed 
 around, as if some strong hand had plucked 
 and scattered them, whilst the mind had 
 been intent on other things. The flowers 
 had been brushed by some rude touch from 
 the datura arborea, and lay on the white 
 stones, shaming them with their own superior 
 purity. A shower of orange blossoms almost 
 covered the pavement near one of the en- 
 trances; and the deep dent of a man's foot 
 in the border, and a broken plant here, with 
 an overturned pot there, showed marks of a 
 rude and sudden exit, and told a tale of rejected 
 love and unrestrained violence. 
 
 The dressing-bell rang, and Helen started 
 from her reverie. She looked from the door, 
 but the horseman was far on his road. She 
 replaced the thrown down, tied up the broken, 
 put away the fallen, and sighed as she finished 
 her task, and the signs of ruin were removed. 
 She grieved to look upon them herseK: she 
 would have grieved still more had they met 
 other and less friendly eyes.
 
 THE HEIRESS. 323 
 
 " Mr. Euston presents his compliments to 
 Miss St. Maur, and hopes she is better," were 
 the contents of a note delivered soon after. 
 
 " Miss St. Maur presents her compliments 
 to Mr. Euston, and she is better," was the note 
 sent in return. 
 
 " Do write a longer note to your cousin," 
 said Mrs. Hargrave. 
 
 ^' Pardon me, aunt ; it is cruelty to encourage 
 hopes which can never be reahsed ; and Mr. 
 Euston' s note proves he has already repented 
 of his late repentance." 
 
 Mrs. Hargrave said no more, and her look 
 of consciousness was not lost upon Helen. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 J. B. Nichols an Son, 25, Parliament Street.
 
 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS-URBANA 
 
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