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 LI E> RAR.Y 
 
 OF THE 
 
 UN IVLRSITY 
 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 V.J
 
 VALENTINE'S EVE- 
 MRS. OPIE.
 
 VALENTINE'S EVE. 
 
 BY 
 
 MRS. OPIE. 
 
 IN THREE VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. r. 
 
 ILontion : 
 
 PRINTED rOl 
 
 LONGMAN^ HUfiST, BEES, ORME, AND BROWST, 
 
 PATERNOSTER-XOW. 
 
 1816.
 
 Printed by Richard and Arthur Taylor, Shoe- Lane, London,
 
 ^ 
 
 VALENTINE'S EVE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 In the year eighteen hundred and odd. 
 
 General Shirley was dining at the house 
 
 of a friend who lived at the distance of 
 
 about twenty miles from London, when 
 
 it was daily expected that an engagement^ 
 
 iof great importance in its probable re- 
 
 ^. «ults, would take place between our fleet 
 
 /^' and that of the enemy. 
 
 "C: As the glass gaily circulated, the patri- 
 
 r otic sentiments of the company were more 
 
 - warmly and more loudly expressed, till 
 
 r>. General Shirley declared that, though he 
 
 had a son on board the admiral's ship, 
 
 and though that son was an only child, 
 
 he had rather he should fall in the ensu- 
 
 VOL. I. B iBg
 
 2 
 
 ing engagement, than that the arms of 
 England should not prove victorious. 
 
 " Bravo ! Well said, and nobly felt," 
 cried the gentleman next him. 
 
 " That is what I call a disinterested 
 and true love of one's country," observed 
 another. — But before approbation of the 
 general's Roman virtue had echoed round 
 the table, the father's feelings had re- 
 sumed their empire ; and while his lip 
 quivered with strong emotion, a pang like 
 that of remorse had struck across his 
 bosom ; — for this son, this only child 
 whose death he had allowed himself to 
 contemplate as a preferable event to the 
 defeat of the English powers, had been 
 for years an exile from the general's pre- 
 sence, though not from his affections, be- 
 cause he had contracted a clandestine and 
 unsuitable marriage. The consequence 
 was, that Captain Shirley on the death of 
 his wife, whom his father had resolutely 
 
 refused
 
 3 
 
 refused to receive as such, rejected the 
 proffered advances of his now repentant 
 parent, and had gone on board the admi- 
 miral's vessel as a volunteer in the ser- 
 vice, having been some time on shore a 
 post captain without a ship. 
 
 '' I believe," thought General Shirley, 
 *' I could better bear to lose my poor boy 
 were I on good terms with him :" and by 
 the time that the hour for breaking up 
 arrived, much of the general's patriotic 
 glow had subsided, and the image of his 
 long-exiled William rose to his view dearer 
 and more distinct than he had lately be- 
 held lU 
 
 *' Call my carriage up directly !" cried 
 the general, eager to escape to the indul- 
 gence of his now perturbed thoughts : 
 when, just as he was about to depart, news 
 arrived from London that there had been 
 an engagement 5 that our fleet was vic- 
 B 2 torious;
 
 4 
 
 torlous ; and that a general illuminatioti 
 was at that moment, taking place. 
 
 Shouts, unimpeded shouts, burst from 
 the company* The general shouted alsoj 
 but his was the faintest shout of all. 
 
 *' Come, gentlemen, let us go back and 
 take another bottle to thehealthof the brave 
 admiral,"saidthemasterof thehouse. " Ge- 
 neral, general, surely you will not leave us'?'* 
 
 *^ Excuse me, excuse me," he replied 
 in a faltering tone ; *^ I wish much to has- 
 ten to town, to hear if there be any return 
 of the killed and wounded.'* 
 
 The two last words were scarcely audi- 
 ble; and he felt that they were so: hastily 
 therefore entering his carriage to conceal 
 his emotion, he bowed in silence, and drove 
 off J leavingthe same menwho had applaud- 
 ed so lately the Roman virtue of the patriot, 
 to sympathize with, to pity, and to love, 
 the more natural sensibility of the parent. 
 
 *'John;^
 
 5 
 
 " John," cried the general to his ser- 
 vant who was on the barouche seat, " do 
 pray desire those fellows to drive faster.'* 
 
 John obeyed : — but neither four nor 
 six nor eight horses could have driven 
 the general as fast as his impatience de- 
 sired. — At length however London, and 
 London in one blaze of light, flashed on 
 the tearful eyes of General Shirley, 
 
 " It is true — it is true, then !" murmur- 
 ed he : " and God help the widow, the 
 fatherless, and the — " childless he would 
 have added : but the word died away on 
 his lips; and the lifted eye of anxious 
 supplication and fearful hope finished the 
 impulsive prayer. 
 
 " John, tell them to drive to the Admi- 
 ralty," said the general as soon as they 
 reached the entrance of Parliament-street. 
 
 " The Admiralty, sir! Impossible; the 
 crowd is so great." 
 
 ** True, true," he replied: '^ therefore 
 
 let
 
 6 
 
 let me out ; Til walk to the first coffee- 
 house, and then walk home." 
 
 Accordingly the carriage made its way 
 as well as it could : and John being told 
 by the general to accompany it, his agi- 
 tated master went in pursuit of a coffee- 
 house. 
 
 In the morning he had walked lame, 
 and fancied the gout coming on : but now 
 he walked at the rate of four miles in the 
 hour, whenever he found a clear place 
 before him. — At last he reached the place 
 of which he was in search j and having 
 entered the room, he sunk down on one 
 of the seats and called for a gazette. 
 
 " Here is one just come in !" said a 
 waiter. 
 
 The general seized it ; and hastily 
 averting his eye from the letter giving an 
 account of the battle, he looked for the 
 fatal list. But before he found it, the 
 name of Captain Shirley caught his at- 
 tention
 
 7 
 
 tentlon ia the middle of the letter to the 
 Admiralty; and he read that, after board- 
 ing most gallantly one of the enemy's 
 ships, and acts of almost incredible valour, 
 Captain Shirley had been struck by a 
 spent ball from another vessel, and had died 
 in the moment of victory ! — The paper 
 fell from the hand of the bereaved parent. 
 " Thanks to the gods, my boy has done 
 his duty !*' broke not from the pale lip of 
 the father ; but, expressing by a groan 
 alone the deep unmitigated anguish of 
 his soul, he staggered into the streets, 
 unheeding either the shouts, the illumina- 
 tions, or the crowds that pressed around 
 him. His house was in New-street Spring 
 Gardens ; and he had just self-possession 
 enough to take the turn which led to it. 
 But long before he reached that turn, he 
 had been painfully called from the con- 
 templation of the internal view, to a con- 
 sciousness of the external one: for the 
 
 populace.
 
 populace, seeing by hS cockade that 
 he was an officer, called on him to throw 
 up his hat with them in honour of our 
 brave tarsj. and making a desperate 
 elFort he had obeyed them. But soon 
 after, he was met and accosted by a 
 set of intoxicated young men, who, ad- 
 dressing him by the title of ^' My fine 
 fellow of a veteran," desired him to shout 
 
 for , and chorus them in the 
 
 first stanza of " Rule Britannia !'* This 
 was too much to bear : and regarding 
 them with a look stern almost to wild- 
 ness and ferocity, he exclaimed " Boys ! 
 let me pass this moment !" But while 
 they were preparing to impede his pas- 
 sage till he had done as they commanded, 
 one of them, more sober than the rest, 
 saw and recognised him. Immediately, 
 struck with pity and self-reproach, the 
 young man exclaimed, " For shame ! let 
 him pass ! It is poor General Shirley T' 
 
 The
 
 9 
 
 The name operated in an instant on 
 their feelings, and almost with a sobering 
 influence ; for, with a respectful bowing 
 of the head, they suddenly fell back; 
 and one of them exclaimed " God bless 
 and support you, sir !" 
 
 The general quickened his pace invo'- 
 luntarily, for the epithet " pooi\ Gene- 
 neral Shirley'* had roused his feelings to 
 a pitch of agony which he wanted to es- 
 cape from. But it was impossible ; and 
 suddenly slackening his speed, he felt as 
 if his senses would forsake him before he 
 reached his home. 
 
 Little was General Shirley aware that 
 an anxious eye was watching him, and 
 a willing though trembling arm was 
 waiting to offer him its weak but eager 
 support. 
 
 " It is General Shirley ! father of the 
 
 brave Captain Shirley who died so nobly!'* 
 
 and ** Poor man ! just heard the news, 
 
 B. 5 1 sup.
 
 10 
 
 I suppose,'* and other remarks of the 
 kind, had gone from one person to an- 
 other, till they reached the ears of a girl 
 who was standing near the group of men 
 that had accosted General Shirley, and 
 whose attention had been forcibly attract- 
 ed by the wild air of the almost frantic 
 parent. 
 
 " General Shirley ! Is that General 
 Shirley ?" she exclaimed — ^' What ! the 
 father who — " 
 
 " Yes — the same," replied a gentle- 
 man near her. 
 
 The girl waited to 'near no more ; but 
 hastily darting through the crowd she fol- 
 lowed the general, and wholly unheeded 
 by him beheld his tottering gait, and pre- 
 pared herself to break his impending fall 
 by catching him in her arms. However, 
 stimulated to further exertion by the sight 
 of his own door, the general struggled a 
 moment longer against his sensations, and 
 
 knocked
 
 n 
 
 knocked feebly. The young girl repeated 
 the knock often and loudly, but unheeded 
 by the object of her care, whose, head 
 now sunk against the post, and whose 
 heart died within him still more, when he 
 saw his house alone unlighted amidst the 
 general joy, and felt why it was thus di- 
 stinguished by its gloom. 
 
 When the door opened, the general 
 must have fallen into the hall, but for his 
 youthful supporter, who dragged him from 
 it, and leaned his head against her shoul- 
 der. At this moment the door was com- 
 pletely thrown open ; and the astonished 
 servants, receiving their insensible master 
 in their arms, bore him to the sofa in an 
 adjoining room. Thither, unseen, or ra- 
 ther unconsidered by the by-standers, fol- 
 lowed the stranger girl ; and while means 
 were taking to revive him, she raised her- 
 self on a chair, and looked on with clasp- 
 ed hands^ and a countenance of mixed 
 
 but
 
 12 
 
 but woful expression. But as soon as 
 the general recovered his senses^ the 
 stranger girl jumped hastily down, and, 
 by the noise she made in so doing, caused 
 a gentleman to turn round and to observe 
 her, who, hitherto unconscious of her 
 presence, had been assisting in the re- 
 covery of the sufferer. The gentleman 
 started when he saw her, with surprise not 
 unmixed with emotion ; for it was im- 
 possible not to discover in her pale and 
 agitated countenance the expression of 
 deep and present sorrow. Besides, he 
 thought her features familiar to him ; and 
 lowering his voice, he hastily asked the 
 servant who she was and whence she 
 came. 
 
 " Indeed we can't tell, my lord,'* re- 
 plied the gentleman out of livery : " but 
 she followed my master in, and when we 
 opened the door she was supporting hiia 
 in her arms.'* 
 
 The
 
 13 
 
 The stranger girl, abashed and alarmed 
 at this inquiry and this answer, (for though, 
 spoken in a low voice she overheard it,) 
 now retreated with hasty steps, hoping- 
 to escape unobserved : but seeing that 
 the general's eyes were reclosed, she 
 stopped, and with a trembling voice said, 
 " I suppose it is quite sure that he luill 
 recover ? " 
 
 " O yes ! he is almost quite recovered 
 now, madam,'* replied the gentleman ia 
 a kind encouraging tone. And at this 
 moment the general starting up looked 
 eagerly towards her, and inquired who 
 that lady was, while the object of his in» 
 quiry tried to leave the room. 
 
 " Stop her," cried he : "I have a con* 
 fused recollection of some one's saving me 
 from falling." 
 
 " PJght, sir," said one of the servants; 
 " and it was this young lady who sup- 
 ported
 
 14 
 
 ported you and followed you in when 
 the door opened." 
 
 " Yes," added the gentleman, " and 
 she has kindly staid to see you reco- 
 ver." 
 
 " But I am going away directly now," 
 cried the stranger girl. 
 
 " No, no/' said the general rising; 
 *^ stop — tell me, did you know and pity 
 me, that you followed me in and staid 
 here till I recovered ? " 
 
 " I did, I did." 
 
 " Perhaps you too have lost some one 
 you loved, in this engagement?" said the 
 gentleman inquiringly. 
 
 " O yes, yes." 
 
 " Then you can indeed feel for me," 
 observed the general. 
 
 " O sir/' she replied, " there is only 
 you in the wide world that can truly sym- 
 pathize with me." 
 
 « Are
 
 15 
 
 " Are then our griefs so similar, my 
 poor child ?" 
 
 The stranger girl, while vainly endea- 
 vouring to reply, burst into tears. 
 
 *' Lionel ! Lord Shirley, do speak to 
 her ; ask her who she is." 
 
 " Will you inform us, madam," said 
 Lord Shirley in a soothing voice, " whom 
 the general has to thank for this kind at- 
 tention ?" 
 
 " Not no'\v — not now%" she replied, 
 *' some other time — some other time : — 
 but I am an orphan, a friendless orphan." 
 
 " Rendered so by this last engage 
 ment ?" 
 
 " Yes, yes. And now let me go.'* 
 
 " That alone ?*' replied Lord Shirley. 
 
 *' I came alone." 
 
 " True — and it is strange that a young 
 creature like you should be alone in the 
 streets, and on such a night as this." 
 "O sir!" she exclaimed in agony, 
 
 " they
 
 16 
 
 ** they made, me ivild, and I rushed out 
 of the house : I could not, would not stay 
 at home to see the house I Hved in lighted 
 up as if in joy for my poor father's death!'* 
 
 " Brutes! Who could do so?" cried 
 the general indignantly : '' my house, you 
 see, is dark as my soul,'' 
 
 " Aye, and it suits me," she re- 
 turned. 
 
 " Come hither, my poor orphan girl ! 
 and be assured that I will befriend you,'* 
 cried the general, for a while diverted 
 from his own sorrow by the sight of hers. 
 So saying, he drew her reluctantly to- 
 wards him, and gazed earnestly on her 
 half-averted face. Lord Shirley gazed as 
 earnestly ; and, telling the servants that 
 they might withdraw, awaited in some 
 emotion the termination of this singular 
 scene, — a scene which was at least useful, 
 by drawing the general's attention from 
 his own severe affliction. 
 
 '' And
 
 17 
 
 • " And so you are an orphan ! and you 
 live with brutes, poor child ! But come, 
 tell me your father's name at least/' 
 
 " Oh no, not now — not — " 
 
 " So you said before. This is very 
 mysterious ! " 
 
 " Very," returned Lord Shirley 
 thoughtfully. " My dear general/* 
 added he, " tell me, did you never see 
 eyes and eyebrows and a chin like those ?" 
 directing his eye to the now blushing face 
 of the stranger. 
 
 The general gazed on her, started, 
 breathed short, and, calling for a glass of 
 wine that stood near, drank it off in great 
 agitation. 
 
 The stranger girl meanwhile escaped 
 from his encircling arm, but now found 
 her flight arrested by that of Lord Shirley. 
 
 "Child!" cried the general in a 
 solemn tone, " I insist on your revealing 
 your name and situation." 
 
 The
 
 18 
 
 The stranger girl, awed and affected, 
 sunk upon her knees ; and while the ge- 
 neral lifted up the dark and glossy ringlers 
 that obscured her eyes and brow, she 
 clasped her hands together, and looked 
 piteously and imploringly in his face. 
 
 " Speak, speak," he rejoined : " Who 
 are you ?'* 
 
 " I am the daughter of your son." 
 
 " I thought so,'' exclaimed Lord Shirley 
 in a tone of pleasure ; while the general, 
 after gazing intently on her one moment 
 more, raised her in his arms, and, clasp- 
 ing her convulsively to his bosom, wept 
 over her in speechless emotion : but sud- 
 denly releasing her, he said-^ 
 
 *^ I must hdive proof , sub Stan tia I prooL'* 
 On which the trembling girl took out of 
 her bosom a letter and a picture. 
 
 " This,'* said she in a faint voice, '' is 
 my last letter from him, and came with 
 the dispatches ; and this is his picture." 
 
 '' Take
 
 19 
 
 " Take it away, take it away,'* cried 
 the general: " and here, do you read the 
 letter, Shirley. I can't bear to look at 
 either. However, there are proofs suffi- 
 cient : and, O thou merciful Providence ! 
 
 I thank Leave us, Lionel." Then, 
 
 while he clasped his agitated grand- 
 daughter in his arms again. Lord Shirley, 
 little less affected himself, left the newly 
 discovered relations together. 
 
 CHAP-
 
 20 
 
 CHAPTER 11. 
 
 The letter presented by CathenHe Shir- 
 ley to her grandfather, which he dared 
 not look at, but which he gave to Lord 
 Shirley to read, was as follows : 
 
 " MY D-EAREST CHILD, 
 
 *' Orders are issued for a general en- 
 gagement to-morrow, and this may be the 
 last time I shall ever address you. Mark 
 then, and attend to my last commands ! 
 
 *' I have at length written to my father, 
 and the letter of a son to a parent. I 
 have told my father where to find you, and 
 have bequeathed you to his care \ and 
 when he knows you, I am sure he will 
 also take you to his love. Then, let me 
 conjure you to forget for ever your mo- 
 ther's wrongs, and your father's misery. 
 
 Had
 
 21 
 
 Had my father not been under influence^ 
 I know he would have acted differently, 
 and we might all now have been the happy 
 inmates of his roof. But God willed it 
 otherwise, and I submit. And nozv, that 
 it is perhaps too late, 1 would give worlds 
 to see my father once more, and ex-» 
 change forgiveness with him ! But let 
 your tenderness make him amends for 
 the long loss of mine. Be to him the 
 child I ought to have been, and the child 
 you have ever been to me ! Be his pride 
 and blessing, as you have ever been mine, 
 my child ; and could I have learnt to be 
 happy again, I should have found my 
 happiness in you. — But it could not be.— 
 Morning dawns ! and every thing is in mo- 
 tion around me. 
 
 " Oh ! I could utter a thousand tender 
 wishes, and give way to a thousand tender 
 feelings 1 but I must not unman myself. — 
 
 My
 
 22 
 
 my child, my child! my sweet, tender, 
 dutiful, afFectionate Catherine ! farewell ! 
 perhaps for ever, 
 
 " It is soothing to me to think that, if 
 I fall, you and my father will mourn for 
 me together.*' 
 
 After Lord Shirley had read this letter, 
 he was not disposed to converse at all, as 
 he truly loved his gallant cousin ; and he 
 was still less inclined to converse with the 
 lady that now addressed him. 
 
 " My lord, Lord Shirley," cried a 
 voice from the staircase. " what is all 
 this fuss about ?" 
 
 " Pshaw!" muttered Lord Shirley ; for 
 the speaker was Mrs. Baynton, the wi- 
 dowed sister of the general ; and Lord 
 Shirley was in no humour for hearing or 
 answering her interrogatories at such a 
 moment ; — especially as he had very re- 
 cently
 
 23 
 
 cently parted with her, and In no pleasant 
 humour, — for they had just had a dispute 
 of some length on the propriety of illu- 
 minating the house ; Mrs.Baynton having 
 contended that private ought always to be 
 lost in public feeling ; and that the well- 
 known loyalty of the Shirleys would be 
 properly called in question if the general's 
 house was not lighted up, though his only 
 child had fallen in the glorious strife of 
 arms : while Lord Shirley as warmly de- 
 clared that such an exhibition of loyalty 
 would be a proof of unnatural insensibi- 
 lity, and an insult to his poor cousin's me- 
 mory. And as Lord Shirley was the 
 head of hec house, and a nobleman also, 
 Mrs. Baynton had such a respect for his 
 opinion, that, though it did not convince 
 her, she acted upon it, and the house re- 
 mained unillumlnated. 
 
 Soon after she had retired to her room, 
 to conceal as she said the grief she felt, 
 
 but
 
 24 
 
 but in reality to hide her inability to feel 
 enough, as she had never liked her 
 nephew, because he was not obsequious 
 enough to her will; and, therefore she had 
 joined the general's late wife, Captain 
 Shirley's mother-in-law, in schemes to 
 keep the general and his son at variance. 
 It was this lady who now addressed Lord 
 Shirley in the words I have related above; 
 and, as she spoke, invited him to join her 
 ki her dressing-room. Lord Shirley at 
 first hesitated to accept the invitation; but 
 recollecting that he should spare the ge- 
 neral some trouble and some pain by re* 
 vealing to his sister the discovery that had 
 taken place, he followed her into her 
 apartment. 
 
 " Dear me, my lord ! what does this 
 mean ? was there ever any thing so 
 strange ? My maid tells me that a girl of 
 the town has followed my brother 
 home r^ 
 
 '' Your
 
 25 
 
 " Your maid, madam, must have an 
 inventive imagination."" 
 
 '' How ? — It is not true then ?" 
 
 " Certainly not. But lively as the said 
 maid's fancy is, I defy her to imagine 
 who the young person that followed the 
 general turns out to be.'' 
 
 *' So, then, you own some one did fol- 
 low liim home ?" 
 
 *' Yes, madam, — a poor orphan girl, 
 whom you will be charmed to see and to 
 embrace." 
 
 " II" 
 
 " Yes ; you will rejoice as much as / 
 do, to see the orphan child of your poor 
 nephew Captain Shirley acknowledged 
 by the general her grandfather, and re- 
 ceived to his heart and his protection." 
 
 " What ridiculous stuff is this, my lord? 
 What child are you talking of ?" 
 
 ^ Of your great-niece, madam — Miss 
 Shirley." 
 
 VOL. I. c " There
 
 26 
 
 " There is no such person ; and if the 
 girl you left with the general calls herself 
 any such thing, she is an impostor. I 
 know the first child died, and I never 
 heard of there being another." 
 
 *' Well, madam, I shall say no more; as 
 you dealinassertiononly,and we in proofs." 
 
 « In proofs !" 
 
 Luckily for Lord Shirley, as Mrs.Bayn- 
 ton was becoming very angry, the general's 
 bell rang at this moment, and he was sum- 
 moned to him. 
 
 *' Well, Lionel," said the general as 
 soon as he saw him, " I have been hum- 
 bling myself before my Maker and before 
 her — Yes, I have knelt to her, and asked 
 her to forgive my unkindness to my poor 
 boy and her poor mother ; and she says 
 she hopes she shall be able in time to 
 love me, for she seems a very honest girl, 
 and no flatterer. O Lionel ! surely the 
 hand of Providence was visible in thus 
 
 directing
 
 27 
 
 directing the fatherless girl, at such a mo- 
 ment as this, to the childless parent !" 
 
 Here the general's voice failed him ; 
 while Catherine Shirley sat by his side 
 with the look of one calm, because over- 
 whelmed by the acuteness and variety of 
 her sensations. 
 
 " But where's my sister ? Let her come 
 to me : — it is very strange she did not come 
 to me during my fit." 
 
 Lord Shirley rang the bell to desire 
 Mrs. Baynton to be called : when, as he 
 turned to look at the wild countenance of 
 his newly found relation, he saw it assume 
 a look of terror, and beheld her, involun- 
 tarily as it were, get closer to the general ; 
 for Catherine knew from her unhappy 
 father the character of her aunt, and she 
 trembled at the thought of being intro- 
 duced to so formidable a being. At 
 length Mrs. Baynton entered : and the 
 general, bursting into tears^ stretched out 
 c 2 his
 
 28 
 
 his arms to embrace her. But no an- 
 swering tear proclaimed her sympathy 
 with his sorrows. True, she suffered his 
 embrace ; but scarcely could she be said 
 to return it : and had not the general 
 been wholly absorbed in his own emotion, 
 he must have observed the repelling cold- 
 ness of her manner. 
 
 " O Jane !'' said he at length ; " you 
 see it has pleased God to punish me for 
 my hardness of heart, by depriving me of 
 my poor boy : but, kind in his wrath, and 
 tempering justice with mercy, he has sent 
 me at the same moment an antidote to the 
 bane, in this dear girl! — Sister, take to 
 your heart your great-niece and my 
 grand-daughter — Catherine Shirley, my 
 poor William's child." 
 
 Whether it was that there was some- 
 thing in the sound of great-niece particu- 
 larly unpalatable to the ear of Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton I will not pretend to say 5 but cer- 
 tain
 
 29 
 
 tain it is, that, haughtily retreating from 
 the general as he drew Catherine towards 
 her, she exclaimed, " SuuiFand nonsense, 
 brother ! she is no more William's child 
 than 1 am/' 
 
 *' How r* cried the general, " is the 
 
 woman insane ?" 
 
 " No, brother, but you are, or you 
 would not have fancied a trolloping- lock- 
 ing miss like that your grand- daughter.'* 
 
 " And why not ':'* answered the gen^?- 
 ral, almost choked with emotion. 
 
 *^ Why not ? Is it likely that Miss 
 Shirley, if there be such a young person, 
 should be running about the streets by her- 
 self at this time of night ?" 
 
 " Yes — veri/ possible, most oracular 
 gentlewoman. — Not Miss Shirley living 
 ivhere and as a Miss Shirley ought to live, 
 but a poor orphan girl residing with a brute^ 
 would have done exactly as Miss Shirley 
 did.'' 
 
 " And
 
 so 
 
 " And so you think that poor thing is 
 Catherine Shirley your great-niece ? How 
 do you know that your son ever had a 
 daughter r" angrily interrupted his sister. 
 
 " What ! have you forgotten that four 
 years ago, when William disclosed his 
 marriage, he implored me to allow him 
 to introduce his wife and daughter to 
 me ? Answer— have you forgotten that ?'* 
 
 " I do remember something of it now — 
 But how do you know that this girl is that 
 daughter ?^* 
 
 " By her own simple tale, and other 
 incontrovertible tokens which she has 
 about her. — Produce them, dear child.'* 
 
 Catherine obeyed : — but in vain. The 
 irreconcileable aunt exclaimed, " Well j 
 but the real Miss Shirley may be dead, and 
 these things have been stolen.*' 
 
 " Stolen 1" cried the astonished Ca- 
 therine ; ' what is it, then, she takes me 
 for ?" clinging to the arm of the general. 
 
 ^' For
 
 SI 
 
 " For an impostor, miss/* vociferated 
 Mrs. Baynton. 
 
 This was more than the general's pa- 
 tience could bear : but in vain did he strive 
 to utter the anger with which his bosom 
 swelled. However, had his command of 
 words been equal to his rage, and had he 
 studied for hours how best to^ wound the 
 feelings of his provoking antagonist, he 
 could not have succeeded more effectually 
 than he did, by uttering with a vehement 
 and impressive gesture, — *' Sister, you are, 
 — you are, a — an old woman i" 
 
 *' And you, brother, are an old fool !" 
 returned Mrs. Bayntcn. forgeaing in her 
 wrath the decorum of ianguao^e proper to 
 be observed by a daughter of the house 
 of Shirley. 
 
 " Madam," replied the general, try- 
 ing to be calm, " let me tell you a plain 
 tale. — In the first place^ it was my inten- 
 tion to seek out the daughter of my lost 
 
 sou
 
 32 
 
 son as soon as I recovered my recollec- 
 tion after I saw the fatal paper ; little 
 thinking that the being who was then in 
 my thoughts was at that very moment by 
 my side, watching my tottering steps with 
 pity and interest, because she knew who 
 I was, and why I suffered. " 
 
 " Mighty sentimental, indeed ! But 
 how come miss in the street, I say ? An- 
 swer me that." 
 
 " Because the brute with whom she 
 lived insisted on illuminating the house, 
 and thereby drove the wretched orphan 
 forth like a bedlamite." 
 
 Here Lord Shirley could not help giv- 
 ing a loud hem, which was not lost on 
 Mrs. Baynton ; and she angrily answered, 
 " A brute 1 No! I think such demon- 
 strations of loyalty very proper — Private 
 feeling ought to be forgotten in the public 
 good, (Here the general groaned aloud, 
 for he remembered his own patriotic boast- 
 ing
 
 S3 
 
 ing at the dinner- table.) — Do you think, 
 general, the Romans and the Spartans 
 would have called the person you men- 
 tion a brute ? No, brother — no — and I 
 blush for you, General Shirley; I blush 
 to see you so unlike that admirable being, 
 a Roman father /** 
 
 " 'Sdeath, madam 1 it is quite enough 
 for a family to have in it a Roman old wo- 
 man ! — I believe your heart is made of 
 marble, sister.'* 
 
 " And your head, general, of a much 
 softer material.'* 
 
 " I had better go away, — I had better 
 return home," said the terrified Ca- 
 therine. 
 
 *' Home!" exclaimed the general — 
 "home! Is not this your home, child? 
 Never, never while I live, shall you have 
 any other home than my house I nor my 
 house any other mistress !" 
 
 " Mighty fine! mighty fine indeed*: 
 c 6" " So
 
 54 
 
 So then, without further inquiry you re- 
 solve to bring home nobody-knows- 
 who, and turn your poor sister out of 
 doors !" 
 
 Here she gave way to a most outrage- 
 ous fit of passion concealed in the sobs of 
 an hysteric. But the general knew how 
 to distinguish between the sob of grief 
 and that of passion ; and, approaching her 
 with a look at once indignant and com- 
 manding, was about to say something 
 relative to his future intentions which 
 he might perhaps in a cooler moment 
 have wished to retract, when Lord 
 Shirley thought it safer for all parties 
 that he should interfere ; and, gently 
 putting the general back with his hand, 
 lie said, 
 
 '' Dear sir, let me speak to Mrs. Bayn* 
 ton — perhaps I shall be able to convince 
 her :" whilst the general, faint and ex- 
 hausted with contending emotions, was 
 
 very
 
 SB 
 
 very glad to be saved further exertion for 
 the present. 
 
 " Look up, madam/' said Lord Shir- 
 ley soothingly, '' and suffer yourself to sur- 
 vey the face of her whom, perhaps with 
 proper caution, you consider as an object 
 of suspicion." But Mrs. Baynton con- 
 tinued to sob, and to hide her face. 
 
 " Nay, do let me prevail on you to 
 listen to my request." Then, taking the 
 almost reluctant hand of the alarmed Ca- 
 therine, he led her up to her aunt. 
 
 " See herel" added he, respectfully 
 parting and holding back the ebon ring- 
 lets that hung in wild disorder over the face 
 of Catherine Shirley — " see here! Surely 
 you have often beheld features like these ? 
 I know that you are proud of the blood 
 and gallant deeds of the Snirleys ; but 
 have you not equal reason to be proud of 
 that peculiar eye, and brow, and forehead, 
 which belong to your branch of xhe fa- 
 mily.
 
 36 
 
 mily, and which you must behold in your 
 looking-glass every day ?'* 
 
 This was the way to melt the marble 
 of Mrs. Baynton's heart — and not calling 
 her old woman ; and she very soon un- 
 covered her face, looked at the Shirley 
 eyes, brows, and forehead, with something 
 like complacency, and at length ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " Well, really I do think I see the 
 likeness you mention ; but she has cer- 
 tainly not gotten the Shirley nose, my 
 lord. However, if there can be any sa- 
 tisfactory references^ I am sure I shall not 
 be averse to receive her as my niece.." 
 
 " Certainly not, when properly con- 
 vinced," observed Lord Shirley ; who, 
 alarmed at the evident agitation of the 
 general at having the slightest shade of 
 doubt thrown over a relationship from 
 which he derived at that moment his 
 greatest source of earthly consolation, 
 
 thought
 
 S7 
 
 thought It was better to soothe this pro- 
 voking woman into the necessary convic- 
 tion, especially as her hesitation to believe 
 the forlorn-looking girl before them to be 
 the daughter of her nephew was not de- 
 void of proper and necessary caution. For, 
 however a gently swelling tear may add a 
 sort of touching grace to the eyes on 
 some occasions, I never yet could discover 
 that the swollen eyelids, swelled cheeks, 
 and inflamed complexion incident to vio- 
 lent and continued bursts of sorrow, had 
 any other effect, even on beauty, except 
 to annihilate its existence for the time be- 
 ing. And though the dark colour, and 
 the peculiar length of the Shirley eye, to- 
 gether with the beautifully full and finely 
 marked brow, and the lov7 well- shaded 
 forehead of the faniily, could not but be 
 visible in the face of Catherine, in despite 
 of tears, paleness, and agitation—still it 
 is very certain that a less interested 
 
 and
 
 38 
 snd less accurate observer could not, in 
 a girl with loose disordered hair stream- 
 ing over her shoulders, dressed only in her 
 coloured morning-gown, now draggled 
 and torn during her often dangerous pro- 
 gress through the crowd, have been very 
 easily induced to believe they saw the 
 grand-daughter, and probably the heiress, 
 of a general and a Shirley. 
 
 '' But may I not go back to Mrs.Merle's 
 for to-riight ?" asked Catherine. 
 
 ''' No — I will send to say you are now 
 under mi/ protection ; and to-morrow, if 
 it be necessary, I will see Mrs. Merle," re- 
 plied the general. 
 
 " But, dear sir, pray send directly/' 
 rejoined Catherine ; *' for the poor soul 
 will really be much alarmed on my ac- 
 count, and Lucy her daughter is very 
 kind to me, and loves me dearly." 
 
 " I will send this moment," said the 
 general. " She lives, you say, just at 
 
 the
 
 39 
 
 the foot of Westminster-bridge ? — And 
 you, madam, if you please, will order a 
 bed to be got ready for Miss Shirley.'* 
 
 " What ! at this time of night ! She 
 had much better go home, and come back 
 to-morrow." 
 
 " Have I not said she shall stay here?" 
 replied the general in a voice of thunder. 
 
 " But there is no bed aired." 
 
 " No ! You know the best bed was 
 slept in last night." 
 
 « The ^'e^^ bed ! Yes— but— " 
 
 " But what ? Do you think that too 
 good for Miss Shirley ? too good for my 
 only comfort, for the child of my lost Wil- 
 liam !" Here, folding his new-found relative 
 to his heart, he gave way to a violent burst 
 of tearSj which affected even his sister, 
 and made her almost resolve to thwart 
 him no longer. 
 
 When he recovered himself, he rang 
 the bell, saying as he did so, " Now, 
 
 before
 
 40 
 
 before I retire for the night, let me do an 
 act of duty — And O that the blessed 
 spirits of my lost son and his lamented 
 wife could hover over me while I per- 
 form it r 
 
 When a servant appeared, he said, 
 " John^ you must go to this place," wri- 
 ting down the address on a card, " and 
 tell Mrs. Merle, the owner of the house, 
 that Miss Shirley is here, and will stay the 
 night y but that to-morrow I request Mrs, 
 Merle to call on me. — Yet no ; say that 
 to-morrow at twelve Miss Shirley shall 
 call on her. But before you go, John, 
 call hither every servant in the house." 
 
 John obeyed ; and presently the room 
 was filled with servants of both sexes. 
 
 " I sent for you all in," said the ge- 
 neralj hardly able to speak from various 
 emotions, " that you may hear me ac- 
 knowledge this young lady to be Cathe- 
 rine Shirley, the only child of my only 
 
 child
 
 41 
 
 child Captain Shirley, now, alas ! no more: 
 and also to receive my orders that you 
 henceforth consider her as my heiress and 
 your mistress, and treat her and respect 
 her accordingly." 
 
 The servants bowed, and felt not a 
 little pleased at the idea of having a 
 young mistress, the old one not being 
 much to their tastes. But just as they 
 were retiring, the general heard a sob, and 
 saw in the back-ground an old woman, 
 who, having passed her youth in the ser- 
 vice of his family, was, he thought, pri- 
 vileged to remain in it, though past active 
 work, till the end of her existence. 
 
 *' Ah ! are you there, Norris ?'' cried 
 the general with a quivering lip : " I 
 thought you must be gone to-bed. I am 
 sure you are glad of what you have just 
 beard ; as — " But before he could finish 
 his sentence Catherine had turned round, 
 had seen Xorris, and bursting into tears 
 
 had
 
 42 
 
 had run to her, and sunk sobbing on her 
 shoulder. 
 
 " What is all this?" cried the general 
 kindly. 
 
 " More stage effect," said Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton. 
 
 But when Norris recovered her speech, 
 she explained the scene, by simply stating- 
 that she had occasionally visited her dear 
 young master at his own house, and there- 
 fore was well known to his child. 
 
 " Proof! irrefragable proof! Mrs. 
 Baynton," cried the general triumphantly. 
 
 " And contrivance too, no doubt : I 
 dare say Norris contrived the rencontre of 
 to-night." 
 
 " It must have been in a sick bed then, 
 madam," replied Mrs. Norris j " for there 
 1 have been these two days : but when I 
 heard that the child ci my dear lost 
 young master was in this house, i felt 
 well again and got up, in hope of seeing 
 
 her
 
 43 
 
 her sweet face, and hearing what I have 
 heard." 
 
 '* You shall not stay up a minute lon- 
 ger, my dear woman," cried the general 
 in a hoarse but affectionate voice : " go 
 to-bed directly! And Catherine shall 
 go up stairs with you ; for I dare say she 
 loves you better than any of us at pre- 
 sent : — so go away together. And you," 
 addressing himself to the upper house- 
 maid, " shall go into Mrs, Morris's room 
 and let Miss Shirley know when her bed, 
 the best bed, is ready for her." 
 
 This was indeed a kindness to poor 
 Catherine, who in the affectionate and 
 faithful friend of her father saw an ob- 
 ject certainly dearer to her than any other 
 under her grandfather's roof; and for a 
 moment her dark eye beamed with some 
 of its usual brilliancy : then dropping a 
 curtsy, she eagerly placed the arm of Mrs. 
 Norris in hers. 
 
 But
 
 44f 
 
 But the general opened his arms to 
 her; and throwing herself into them, she 
 met his kiss of mingled feelings ; and 
 curtsying coldly to her great-aunt, but 
 kindly to Lord Shirley, she gladly retired 
 with her humble but endeared companion. 
 
 With her vanished all the energy of 
 the bereaved parent ; and hastily taking 
 the chamber candlestick which Lord Shir- 
 ley gave him, he returned with a con- 
 vulsive grasp the atfeciionate pressure of 
 his kinsman's hand ; and rushing from 
 the room was seen no more that night. 
 
 Spite of the lateness of the hour — for 
 it was near midnight — Mrs Baynton 
 would fain have detained Lord Shirley to 
 talk to him of her distresses, and com- 
 plain of th" temper and tyranny of her 
 brother, and his folly in pretending to 
 put this probably uneducated child at the 
 head of his family. ' But disgusted with 
 her want of sensibility to the lors of his 
 
 cousin
 
 45 
 
 cousin Captain Shirley, and of proper 
 feeling for the distresses of her brother, 
 and his heart and head both full of 
 the scene which he had witnessed, the 
 young earl coldly wished her good night, 
 alleging the lateness of the hour. And 
 angry with every one, Mrs. Baynton 
 retired to her apartment. But before she 
 went to-bed she regained some composure 
 of mind, from the remarks of her offi- 
 cious maid, who was full of wonder at the 
 discovery of the evening, full of indig- 
 nation at the idea of her dear mistress's 
 being likely in future to rank as second- 
 best in the family, and full of surprise to 
 think that the general's gentleman, John, 
 and the other men, should think the new 
 Miss Shirley at all good looking. 
 
 When John reached Mrs. Merle's, he 
 found the family in great consternation. 
 But while the daughter vented her terror 
 for the safety of Miss Shirley in tears and 
 
 lamenta-
 
 46 
 
 lamentations, the mother gave way to her 
 fears and her resentment in loud and ve- 
 hement abuse of the runaway. John's 
 visit and the message he brought were, 
 however^ equally welcome to both,- inas- 
 much as it gave assurance of Miss Shir- 
 ley's being in safety. But the idea of her 
 residing in future with her grandfather 
 was a very unwelcome one to the inter* 
 ested mother, as she would lose by that 
 means a certain income, though, as the 
 means of good to Catherine, it gratified 
 her more disinterested and benevolent 
 daughter. Still, with all her faults, Mrs. 
 Merle was a conscientious woman, John 
 said ; for till he produced the card with 
 General Shirley's name on it on which he 
 had written her address, she could not be 
 assured Miss Shirley was safe j nor could 
 she rest satisfied without going to the 
 place where John said she was, in order to 
 ascertain her safety 5 nor would she after 
 
 all
 
 all let him return unaccompanied by her 
 own maid, to whose care Mrs. Merle gave 
 what indeed Catherine in the hurry of her 
 spirits had forgotten to send for, namely, 
 night-clothes and changes of linen. 
 
 When Catherine awoke the next morn- 
 ing, and awoke to the entire consciousness 
 of where she was, mingled and over- 
 whelming w-ere the sensations that arose 
 in her bosom ; and with her morning 
 prayers of thankfulness were mixed 
 humble entreaties to be endowed with 
 that resignation which her sense of 
 acute suffering rendered necessary to 
 her. For true, she was under the 
 roof of her grand-father, and his ac- 
 knowledged, his cherished heiress. — 
 But how came she there ? and why was 
 she so readily received and acknow- 
 ledged? — Alas! it was by the greatest of 
 all misfortunes, — the loss of her only sur- 
 viving and idolized parent. Dearly there- 
 fore
 
 48 
 
 fore had her present proud distinction been 
 purchased. Besides, was she not now 
 receiving the love and protection of him 
 who had refused to acknowledge her be- 
 loved mother?— was she not also likely to 
 live under the same roof with that relent- 
 less woman, who had increased her fa- 
 ther's self-reproof for having married in a 
 clandestine manner, by writing to him 
 letters full of bitter reproach ? And while 
 these afflicting thoughts thronged upon 
 her memory, it required all her strength of 
 mind, unusually strong as that mind was 
 for the early age of eighteen, to enable her 
 to bear up against the power of contend- 
 ing emotions. But at length she was com- 
 forted, by recollecting that it was her fa- 
 ther's last command she should reside with 
 the general, and expiate his faults towards 
 him by her filial love and devoted atten- 
 tion. Yet severe was the conflict in her 
 mind, and powerful were its eflfects on 
 
 her
 
 49 
 her frame ; for, as soon as she rose, an 
 alarming attack of fever forced her to 
 return to bed again, and before night she 
 was so seriously ill that the general, who 
 had shut himself up all the day to indulge 
 his sorrow unseen in his own apartment, 
 was now anxious to leave it, that he might 
 watch with apprehensive affection in that 
 of his new-found treasure — a treasure 
 which he feared had been bestowed on 
 him only to be taken away just as he had 
 learnt to feel its inestimable value. 
 
 VOL. I. D CHAP.
 
 50 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 It cannot be supposed that Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton herself would be a very tender nurse 
 to her new-found and unwelcome rela- 
 tion ; nor is it at all surprising that, hav- 
 ing a great dread of infection, she should 
 forbear during Catherine's illness, which 
 was pronounced to be of an infectious 
 nature, from making any personal in- 
 quiries concerning her. But she was 
 very careful to prevent any noise, lest it 
 should disturb the invalid ; and she provided 
 everything that was necessary for her niece's 
 comfort with praiseworthy attention. 
 
 This lady was the only sister of Gene- 
 ral Shirley, and when in the prime of her 
 life she was celebrated for her beauty, 
 her wit, and her accomplishments. But 
 when lips cease to be young, the sayings 
 
 which
 
 51 
 
 which before passed for witty, often sink 
 in general estimation into common-place 
 flippancies : and in this age of accom- 
 plishments, the usual proficiency made by 
 a boarding-school miss forty years ago 
 would never' entitle a young lady to be 
 reckoned really accomplished. 
 
 However, at the time of day when the' 
 honourable Mr. Baynton wooed and won 
 her virgin heart. Miss Shirley was uni- 
 versally admired, and Mr. Baynton was 
 thought a fortunate man, to carry off the 
 prize which had been so often and so 
 vainly attempted before. Whether he 
 found his conquest worth the pains it had 
 cost him, it is impossible to tell ; but, had 
 he lived, it is probable that the generaUs 
 sister and Catherine's great-aunt might 
 have been rendered a more amiable per- 
 son than either subsequently found her. 
 
 Mr. Baynton united to strong sense, 
 
 great firmness of character and great 
 
 D 2 command 

 
 52 
 
 command of temper, which enabled him 
 to treat as she deserved the petted and 
 violent baby whom he had taken to 
 wife. But just as he had lived long enough 
 to convince her that hysterics, sullenness, 
 eating no dinner or supper, and other 
 devices of the kind, had no power to 
 affect his feelings in appearance, or carry 
 one point on which her perverse heart 
 vvas fixed, this rational and salutary guide 
 was taken away from her, and Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton was left with all the original infirmity 
 of her temper increased by sorrow and 
 disappointment ; for she loved her hus- 
 band, and liked the state in which his 
 large income, the chief of which went on 
 bis death to the male heir, enabled her to 
 live. 
 
 When the general's second wife died, 
 ^he requested her to come and preside 
 i^.over his family J a request she gladly ac- 
 ceded to, because, though her own fortune 
 
 was
 
 53 
 
 was good, and her jointure rather con- 
 siderable, they did not enable her to live 
 as the general did, and Mrs. Baynton 
 was more than a little attached to the 
 pomp and circu instance of life. Vv'ha: 
 else she was, will be, I think, suffi- 
 ciently evident in the course of the nar- 
 rative. 
 
 Perhaps this will be a proper time to 
 give some account of ivlrs. Merle and 
 her daughter Lucy, that affectionate friend 
 of Catherine, who vainly endeavoured to 
 be permitted to be her nurse when in- 
 formed of her severe and even danger- 
 ous illness. 
 
 Mrs. Merle's husband w^as a brewer 
 and linen-draper in a country town, and 
 she herself was the daughter of a farmer 
 in the neighbourhood. For some years 
 they seemed to be in the way of making 
 a fortune; but Mr. Merle was an extrava- 
 gant, improvident, speculating man -, and 
 
 all
 
 54 
 
 all his wife's industry and frugality proved 
 insufficient at length to save him from 
 bankruptcy — the consequence of his own 
 vices. Not that he attributed his ruin to 
 himself, and living in a style beyond what 
 his means and original station in life 
 warranted. On the contrary ; to the times, 
 the taxes, and the government, he im- 
 puted his misfortunes; and was one of 
 the many republicans, or democrats, 
 some twenty years ago, whom profligacy 
 and poverty led to rally round that 
 respectable standard, which was originally 
 erected from the purest and most dis- 
 interested love of civil and religious 
 liberty. Having vainly endeavoured to 
 ^et his certificate signed, Mr. Merle, 
 after enduring much poverty and distress, 
 emigrated from tyrannical Britain (as he 
 called it.) to free republican America ; 
 having instilled into his disappointed wife 
 and youthful daughter the same political 
 
 senti- I
 
 sentiments which hatred of all those 
 more prosperous than himself, and the 
 jaundiced feelings of disappointment, had 
 led him to utter and to act upon. But 
 though the vulgar mind and violent tem- 
 per of the mother learnt from her husband 
 only hatred of the existing government, 
 and an admiranon of the system of equali-* 
 ty, then so much the subject in debate, that 
 of the daughter was led by her father's 
 conversation, and that of the politicians 
 who assembled at his house, to imbibe the 
 purest flame of liberty and the purest love 
 of repuolicanism. Eagerly did she read, 
 like Madame Roland, the Livts of Plu- 
 tarch, and Cornelia and her noble sons 
 were the idols of her youn^ heart ; while 
 the vanity of her father was not a little 
 flattered by t(i^ orations in praise of liberty 
 which his beautiful patrior, as he called her, 
 was in the habit of repeacmg to his sym- 
 pathizing associates. Her father's mis- 
 fortunes.
 
 fortunes, and her father's wrongs as he 
 taught her to consider them, bound these 
 opinions still closer to her heart, till vir- 
 'tue and republicanism became identified 
 with each other in her estimation ; and 
 she believed that to the privileged orders 
 were confined every species of vice and 
 every description of error. 
 
 As she grew older, and became the 
 companion of Catherine Shirley, to whom 
 at first she could hardly forgive her no- 
 ble connexions and ancient name, she 
 grew more moderate in her feelings, more 
 enlarged in her ideas, and more reserved 
 in disclosing them ; and for the sake of 
 Catherine Shirley and her father, Lucy 
 Merle believed that the well-born might 
 be good. But then Lucy recollected with 
 some pleasure that Catherine's mother vi^as 
 low-born, and a distant connexion of her 
 own ; therefore it was but fair to sup- 
 pose that the influence of low counter- 
 
 acted
 
 57 
 acted the baneful influence of noble 
 blood. 
 
 This is a faint sketch of the tall, dig- 
 nified, and beautiful girl, who, with all 
 the republican pride that she could call 
 forth for the occasion, and with the con- 
 sciousness of more than her sex's usual 
 intellect and eloquence, knocked at the 
 door of General Shirley, to inquire why 
 Miss Shirley had not called on her mother 
 according to her appointment. 
 
 Such was the appearance of Lucy Merle, 
 that no one could fancy her less than a 
 gentlewoman ; and even the pert maid of 
 Mrs. Baynton, who happened to be in the 
 hall when the door was opened to her, 
 would have treated her with respect, though 
 she was without a servant, had she not 
 heard her talk of her mother Mrs. Merle ; 
 and as Catherine, in her delirium, had 
 raved of Lucy Merle, and Norris had ex- 
 plained whom her poor young lady meant. 
 Do it
 
 58 
 
 it was evident to Mrs. Watkins (the maii 
 mentioned above) that the tall girl at the 
 door was the vulgar associate and intimate 
 of Miss Shirley, who her mistress had 
 declared should never, if she could help 
 it, set foot within their doors. Accord- 
 ingly, when Lucy, as pale as death on 
 hearing that Catherine was ill, earnestly 
 besought to be allowed to see her and 
 wait on her, the officious abigail told her 
 she knew for certain she would not be 
 allowed to see Miss Shirley. 
 
 " You cannot know it for certain," re- 
 plied Lucy, " for I am sure there is no 
 one Miss Shirley would so well like to 
 have for a nurse \ — and let me but see the 
 general, I am sure he will grant me the 
 permission which I ask." 
 
 " You carit see him — he is too wretch- 
 ed to see any one ; and he never leaves 
 the sick-chamber." 
 
 " Then let me see the general's sister." 
 
 " The
 
 59 
 
 *' The general's sister, indeed! My mis- 
 tress has a name," said Watkins bridling. 
 *^ I suppose you mean the honourable 
 Mrs. Baynton ?" 
 
 '^ " Here*s a fuss about nothing," cried 
 John coming forv^^ard. " If the young 
 lady wishes it, why should she not see the 
 honourable Mrs. Baynton ? and I'll carry 
 any message from her to my master." 
 
 " She see my mistress 1 and my mis- 
 tress see her indeed ! I will soon show 
 you the odds of that." Then, after 
 casting a contemptuous look on Lucy 
 Merle, she walked up stairs with great 
 dignity. 
 
 Had not poor Lucy been wholly ab- 
 sorbed in anxiety for Catherine's illness, 
 this saucy contempt from a servant in the 
 house of a man of rank and fashion would 
 have led her into a strain of moral re- 
 flection, and the privileged orders would 
 not have gained in her estimation by the 
 ' - ■ circuai-
 
 60 
 
 circumstatice. But till Watkins returned 
 she paced up and down the hall, uncon^ 
 scious of the respectful admiration with 
 which the servants regarded her, and the 
 sympathy they felt for her evidently 
 alarmed affection for their young mistress. 
 At length, full of consequence and spite, 
 Watkins came back from her self-em- 
 powered embassy, and told Lucy that 
 her lady could not possibly allow a young 
 person whom she knew nothing about to 
 be admitted to Miss Shirley, especially in 
 her present state ; and that she must in- 
 sist on her quitting the house directly. 
 
 " But I conclude the general knows 
 nothing of this refusal and this message ?" 
 replied Lucy. 
 
 " And suppose he does not, miss ! do 
 you suppose that my lady is not mistress 
 here, and has not a right to order here ?" 
 
 *^ The more s the pity, then/' answer- 
 ed Lucy mournfully : " it is always to be 
 
 lamented
 
 6^1 
 
 lamented when tyrants govern ; and I re- 
 member well '* — But recollecting that 
 she had no right to speak degradingly 
 of a mistress to her servant, she paused 
 before she uttered the remainder of the 
 sentence, which was, — that she well knew 
 Mrs. Baynton's character ; and slowly and 
 dejectedly left the door. But John fol- 
 lowed her, and said — 
 
 '* If you think proper, miss, to write 
 to the general, I will take care that he 
 shall have the letter." And Lucy, eagerly 
 thanking him, went home with her heart a 
 little lightened ; for she fancied the general 
 would not refuse her request. — Accord- 
 ingly she wrote to him ; and having de- 
 livered her letter herself into John's own 
 hand, she waited the result of her appli- 
 cation with trembling impatience. 
 
 But John's countenance when he came 
 down stairs convinced her she had no 
 favour to expect, even before he spoke : 
 
 for
 
 62 
 
 for the kind-hearted man had been met 
 at the door of the general's dressing-room, 
 where he then was, by Mrs. Baynton, 
 who, hastily seizing the letter, desired to 
 know if it had not been brought by that girl 
 in the hall, who was, Watkins told her, 
 Lucy Merle. John was forced to answer 
 ** Yes ;" and that he had promised to de*^ 
 liver it himself into the general's hand. 
 
 ** Then say I took it from you," re- 
 plied Mrs. Baynton, entering the room 
 and shutting the door in his face, " and 
 that I shall take care it is delivered to the 
 general/' 
 
 Accordingly, she said to the general — 
 *' Brother, here is a letter from these 
 Merles ; I conclude you are not in a frame 
 of mind to attend to business now ?** 
 
 " Not I — not I : — take away the letter: 
 I can't read it. I can't be troubled now — 
 now that I am half- distracted." 
 
 " 1 thought so," answered his sister, 
 
 delighted
 
 63 
 
 delighted at having carried her point so 
 easily : and with a countenance of triumph 
 she told John to tell his employer that 
 the general could not be troubled, and 
 could not now read the letter. And this 
 message, of which John almost doubted 
 the truth, he was most unwillingly obliged 
 to deliver to Lucy. ?rt Ji,uj 
 
 She heard it with the most painful 
 feeling of disappointment ; especially as 
 the nurse had informed her that Cathe- 
 rine's symptoms continued very unfa- 
 vourable. 
 
 At this moment Mrs. Baynton was 
 passing from the general's to her own 
 room ; and Lucy being told by John who 
 she was, suddenly ran after her, and ear- 
 nestly entreated that she would hear her 
 but for one moment. — In vain, however, 
 did she plead : Mrs, Baynton, without 
 even looking at her, ran hastily into her 
 own apartment, at the door of which Mrs. 
 
 Watkins
 
 6% 
 
 Watkins posted herself, as if to defend 
 the entrance. Nor was her presence there 
 entirely unnecessary ; for Lucy was moved 
 by^ the despair of anxious affection to at- 
 tempt any thing in order to have earned 
 her purpose ; — and would have intruded 
 even into the presence of Mrs. Baynton: 
 but this daring being (she found) impracti- 
 cable, she addressed her through the 
 half closed door; and assuring her that 
 Miss Shirley loved her sufficiently to de- 
 rive pleasure from her presence and at- 
 tentions, she conjured Mrs. Baynton, for 
 the sake of common humanity, no longer 
 to let her niece be doomed to receive the 
 assiduitirs of strangers, whom no habi- 
 tual intimacy could as yet have endeared 
 to her. '*^ 
 
 " Tell her," said the angry aunt to 
 her maid, '' tell her I understand and 
 resent the low-born sarcasm ; and that my 
 humanity leads me to forbid my niece. 
 
 Miss
 
 65 
 
 Miss Shirley, from intimacy and associa- 
 tion with such a person as herself." 
 
 '•' Madam," replied Lucy approaching 
 the door, but prevented entering it by the 
 officious abigail, " Madam, I expected to 
 be forbidden to associate with Miss Shir- 
 ley when she was icoUy for I am acquaint- 
 ed with the hard heart of aristocracy ; but 
 all I ask is to be admitted to her presence 
 when ///, and when summer and high- 
 born friends may not be so willing to ap- 
 proach her." 
 
 '• Approach her indeed 1" cried Mrs. 
 Baynton; *' who that could help it would? 
 Has she not an infectious fever ? — do you 
 know that, silly girl ?" 
 
 *' She would have nursed me, I am 
 sure, had I had the plague," said Lucy, 
 sobbing ; " and all I ask is, at any risk, 
 to be allowed to nurse her : and I am cer- 
 tain, if she is asked whether she would 
 not like that I should come to her, she 
 
 would
 
 66 
 
 would say Yes. Pray, then, let her be 
 asked the question/* 
 
 '^ Absurd ! Why, do not you know she 
 is quite delirious ?" 
 
 Lucy said no more : but clasping her 
 hands, she dropped down on the step of 
 the stairs, and groaned aloud ; till even 
 Mrs. Baynton, unable to bear the sound 
 of her distress, desired Watkins to come 
 in and shut the door. 
 
 As soon as she was a little recovered 
 the porter begged her to recline in his 
 chair, and John brought her a glass of 
 wine. This offer she declined ; but she 
 told him she had a favour to ask, which 
 she hoped he would be so kind as to grant; 
 and this was, that he would not think 
 it a trouble to answer her inquiries for her 
 sick friend, let her come ever so often. 
 And not only John but the porter and the 
 butler assured her they should think it 
 no trouble j and if she liked to come at 
 
 the
 
 67 
 the hours the physicians did, she should 
 be welcome to stay in the hall till they 
 were gone agaia^ and speak to them too 
 if she liked. ^iwp ^• 
 
 " Kind and humane creatures!" cried 
 Lucy, ** you have hearts ! You can feel, 
 while—" But here she had resolution to 
 stop, and to content herself with contrast- 
 ing mentally the iters etat with the prU 
 t'ileged orders ; and giving, as usual, the 
 palm of desert to the former : —for Lucy 
 was not at all aware that it was from no 
 republican virtue, unknown to the aristo- 
 cracy, that these footmen were so kind to 
 her, but merely from the very natural in- 
 fluence of youth and beauty in distress : — 
 besides, they hated their old mistress, and 
 were very much disposed, were it only to 
 provoke her, to be civil to the friend of 
 their young one. But as system- mongers 
 see in every thing proofs of the wisdom of 
 their system, Lucy was for a few mo- 
 ments
 
 68 
 
 ments stolen from much of the agony she 
 experienced from her friend's illness, by 
 indignant reflections on the flinty hearts of 
 persons in high life. 
 
 Mrs. Baynton meanwhile was equally 
 fortified in her dislike of the low-born, 
 by what she termed the democratic inso- 
 lence of the girl Merle. And while she 
 remembered the expression of" the hard 
 heart of aristocracy," she felt her dis- 
 like of her great- niece increased, by the 
 suspicion that she probably had imbibed 
 the same notions. 
 
 In the evening Lucy came again, and 
 heard from the attentive John the opinion 
 of the physicians. The next day and the 
 two following ones she regularly repeated 
 her visits morning and evening ; and on 
 the fifth m.orning she had the joy of 
 hearing that Catherine Shirley was de- 
 clared entirely out of danger. 
 
 Though Lucy had republican princi- 
 ples,
 
 69 
 
 pies, she wanted republican firmness ; 
 and her delight was manifested in a very 
 violent flood of tears, while even her 
 friend John could not help saying, » ir 
 
 *' Dear me, Miss Merle, it is very 
 odd you should take on thus, when my 
 young lady is better ! You could do no 
 more if she were going to die." 
 
 " Joy has its tears as well as grief," 
 replied Lucy, " my good friend, and mine 
 is now at its height : — but let me show my 
 sense of your kindness and that of your 
 fellow-servants, thus, to the best of my 
 poor abiUty." So saying, she slipped a 
 piece of silver into each of their hands : 
 and I believe her admiration of the dig- 
 nity of their natures was somewhat lower- 
 ed by their acceptance of the little recom- 
 pense for their kii;dness which she gave 
 them. 
 
 CHAP-
 
 70 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Though Catherine's disorder was de- 
 clared to have taken a favourable turn at 
 the end of four days, it left her so weak 
 and languid, and with such a complaint'- 
 in her eyelids, that it was a full week' 
 before she could bear the light : and a^' 
 note from Lucy Merle by the two-penny 
 post, the only sure conveyance as Lucy 
 now thought, remained unopened till 
 Catherine was alone with Norris, and 
 could desire her to read the contents. 
 
 " I think, as well as I can now see/' 
 said Catherine, " that note is from my 
 friend Lucy : I wondered I had neither 
 heard from her nor seen her during my 
 illness j but I dare say she has often called 
 or sent to inquire concerning me." 
 
 "That she has indeed, poor thing!" 
 
 replied
 
 71 
 
 replied Norris ; '' and if she had been 
 permitted, she would have watched by you 
 day and night." 
 
 "Permitted! and who forbade her?" 
 asked Catherine. 
 
 " Oh ! one who likes to thwart every 
 body," said Norris: " but I beg pardon. 
 Miss Shirley ; and I dare say the young 
 lady will tell you all about it in her 
 note." 
 
 Catherine made no more inquiries; for 
 she saw very clearly that her aunt was the 
 person to whom Norris alluded : but she 
 begged the affectionate old woman to 
 read Lucy s note aloud. She did so ; and 
 saw with great satisfaction that her friend 
 contented herself with simply stating 
 facts, and made no angry comment what- 
 ever on Mrs. Baynton's conduct, though 
 she could not help saying that the ser- 
 vants' great kindness and sympathy made 
 
 her
 
 her some amends for unkind ness else- 
 where. 
 *' I hope she was equally guarded in what 
 she said to my aunt/' thought Cathe- 
 rine. Then, as she was unable to write, 
 she begged Norris to go to Mrs. Merle's, 
 and tell her and Lucy, that as soon as 
 she was well enough to go out, she would 
 call on them according to her original 
 appointment. 
 
 At the end of two days more Cathe- 
 rine was able to take her seat at the 
 breakfast table, and for the first time 
 officiated there as the future mistress of 
 the family. At first, when the general 
 and Catherine beheld each other clad in 
 deep mourning, — and recollected not only 
 why they were so clad, but why they were 
 thus united, — they both felt it difficult to 
 control the bitterness of their emotions. 
 Nor could the general recover himself as 
 
 quickly
 
 quickly as Catherine did ; because her 
 likeness to her father was so striking, that 
 he was too forcibly reminded of what he 
 had lost, to feel sufficiently grateful for 
 what remained to cheer him. 
 
 But by the time breakfast was over 
 the general was able to look at her face 
 with composure, to listen with delight to 
 the impressive tones of her voice, and to 
 gaze with admiring pride on the symme- 
 try of her commanding figure, and the 
 consummate beauty of her hands — " If," 
 thought he^" the mind and temper be equal 
 to the person, she is indeed an angel." 
 
 Soon after breakfast Lord Shirley was 
 announced. The earl had never seen Ca- 
 therine since the night of her first intro- 
 duction, and he was agreeably surprised 
 to find the forlorn- looking girl of that 
 night, transformed into an elegant young 
 woman. He, too, was again forcibly 
 struck with the likeness to her father, 
 
 VOL. I. E and
 
 74 
 
 and could not help distressing Catherine 
 by the earnestness with which he regard- 
 ed her. The servant now came in to say 
 that the carriage was ready which was to 
 convey Miss Shirley to Mrs. Merle's. 
 
 *' Under my circumstances, my dear,'* 
 said the general, " I do not think it would 
 be right for me to accompany you to Mrs. 
 Merle's J and I have not urged her coming 
 hither, because you must have a good 
 many things probably to collect together 
 and bring away, and this no one could do 
 but yourself. Still, you shall not go alone. 
 I dare not ask my sister to accompany 
 you, but you may take Norris." 
 
 ** Oh ! I should like Norris to go with 
 me better than any one,*' cried Catherine 
 eagerly. 
 
 " And with Mrs. Norris for a chaperone 
 might not I venture to accompany Miss 
 Shirley ?" said Lord Shirley. 
 
 " Aye, by all means," cried the general, 
 
 looking
 
 looking pleased at this mark of respect to' 
 his grand-daughter. 
 
 But Catherine, though she did not like 
 to refuse the offer, earnestly wished it had 
 not been made, as she would have pre- 
 ferred a tete-a-tcte with Norris. Howevcrj 
 she bowed her assent to the carl's propo- 
 sal, and was preparing to go, having pre- 
 viously summoned Norris, when the gene- 
 ral asked her if she had no cloak, or shawl; 
 and hearing she had not, and that her 
 mourning pelisse was not come home, he 
 declared she should not go out unless his 
 sister would lend her some warm mantle. 
 But after a pause he said, " I have it ! Stay 
 here till I come down again." 
 
 During his absence Mrs. Baynton came 
 in, and, nodding her head to Catherine, 
 coldly said she was glad to see her down 
 stairs again. 
 
 Catherine tried to answer very kindly ; 
 
 but her answer, whether kind or other- 
 
 E 2 wise.
 
 76 
 
 wise, was lost on her aunt, as she had ex- 
 tended her hand in friendship to her dear 
 lord, the head of her house, and, in her 
 affectionate greetings to him, wholly dis- 
 regarded, if she did not entirely forget, 
 poor Catherine. But she was made fully 
 sensible of her presence, when the general 
 returned bringing in his hand a very hand- 
 some black velvet pelisse full-trimmed 
 with lace. 
 
 As soon as she saw it, Mrs. Baynton 
 ehanged colour, and exclaimed " Bless 
 me, general ! what can you be going to do 
 with that pelisse ?" 
 
 " Give it to Miss Shirley,*' coolly re- 
 plied the general. 
 
 " Give it to her! You never would give 
 it to me; and I am sure it will not fit her, 
 she is much too big for it; for my sister, 
 your wife for whom it was made, was a 
 beautiful, slender shape." 
 
 *' So is your great-niece, my grand- 
 daughter,"
 
 77 
 daughter," answered the general; "and 
 surely I may give my poor wife's things to 
 whom I please." 
 
 "Mighty fine!" while Lord Shirley, 
 who had before heard this pelisse (which 
 the general's love of his wife, who had 
 bought it just before her death, had made 
 him unwilling to part with,) the subject 
 of contention, could not help enjoying 
 this mortification to the vanity and rapa- 
 x:ity of Mrs. Baynton.. But Catherine, 
 generously distressed at seeing the pain she 
 occasioned, declared it was too good for 
 her to wear, and begged the general to 
 consider what he was doing. 
 
 " 1 have considered, and therefore I 
 act : for who so proper to wear my wife's 
 things as my son's child ? So put it on. 
 Miss Shirley, and say no more about it." 
 
 Catherine obeyed, and " It fits her as 
 if It was made for her!" exclaimed the de- 
 lighted general^ " does it not, Lionel ?" 
 
 Lord
 
 78 
 
 Lord Shirley readily assented ; but Mrs. 
 Baynton declared it to be so tight that she 
 expected the seams would burst every 
 moment. 
 
 Catherine said nothing ; nor indeed, to 
 the surprise and admiration of Lord Shir- 
 ley, did she seem elated by the conscious- 
 licss of wearing a dress far more magni- 
 ficent than she had ever worn ; nor was 
 her motion impeded, or her manner alter- 
 ed in any respect. " A common-minded 
 ^irl,** thought Lord Shirley, " would have 
 looked at herself over and over again, 
 and been full of thanks and expressions 
 of admiration on such an occasion. Nor 
 .^oes she seem at all gratified at her tri- 
 umph over her unkind aunt. Where there 
 is so much dignified self possesion, there 
 must be some mind." 
 
 " But how absurd for Miss Shirley in 
 .deep mourning to go out in a pelisse trim- 
 med witli lacel" cried Mrs. Baynton. 
 
 " Surely
 
 ^9 
 
 " Surely she might stay at home till the 
 things proper for her to wear are ready ! 
 And pray whither is Miss Shirley going r" 
 
 " To Mrs. Merle's 1" .ni3:nt; 
 
 " Only to Mrs. Merle's ! O then it does 
 not signify what she wears, if I may judge 
 of the mother's manners by the daughter'^ ; 
 for that young person seems to me a most 
 low-lived creature, artd no better than a fe- 
 malejacobin; and she really insinuated that 
 you and I, brother, were two hard-hearted 
 aristocrats." 
 
 ** I am afraid, sister, the young lady 
 spoke the truth : and if this is the only 
 proof of her jacobinism, I see no ground 
 for the charge." 
 
 • " I can only say, General Shirfey, "that 
 if you allow your grand-daughter to keep 
 such company, you will see cause to re- 
 pent it. But you are prejudiced against 
 every thing that I observe, therefore I 
 shall say no more: but this Miss Merle is 
 not fit company for Miss Shirley." 
 
 So
 
 so 
 
 So saying she left the room ; while 
 Catherine tremblingly awaited interroga- 
 tories from the general relative to her 
 friend, which she knew she could not 
 answer at ail to his satisfaction, as she felt 
 quite assured that Lucy Merle had spoken 
 the words attributed to her, and almost ill 
 the very spirit which Mrs. Baynton su- 
 spected. But the general, seeing she was 
 distressed, did not press the subject fur- 
 ther. Then kindly and earnestly desiring 
 her not to stay too long, as he did not 
 know how to part with her, he gave her 
 hand to Lord Shirley, and in a few mo- 
 ments accompanied by Norris they were 
 on their way to Great George Street. 
 
 Lord Shirley (though by no means a 
 vain man) would have been mortified 
 had he known how little his kindness 
 in accompanying Catherine to one Mrs. 
 Merles was appreciated by his young 
 relation. She v\as told that Lord Shirley 
 was her cousin, and he paid her the 
 
 proper
 
 sr 
 
 proper attention of one. It was a thing 
 of course, and so was attention to Cathe- 
 rine Shirley from all young men whom 
 she had as yet seen ; and she was too 
 free from any feeling of worship for 
 rank, to feel peculiarly grateful for com- 
 mon civility from a lord. But Lord Shir- 
 ley was a little vexed to find that, instead 
 of entering into conversation with him, 
 she fell into a reverie, out of which she 
 started only to address Norris : but, then, 
 what she said showed such goodness of 
 heart that his self-love forgot its murmurs. 
 " I am resolved, dear nurse," said Ca- 
 therine, (the name she had been used to 
 give to Norris,) " I am resolved to take 
 the head of the table only to-day, to 
 show my obedience to my grandfather's 
 will, and my grateful sense of the honour 
 he kindly intends to do me ; but after to- 
 day I will beg and entreat him to let my 
 aunt fill the place as usual.'* 
 
 E 5 "Dear
 
 82 
 
 .^' Dear me! why so, Miss Catherine?" 
 
 •• Because I cannot but feel for Mrs. 
 Baynton's mortification." 
 ^.^' She is such an un- amiable person, 
 I would have her mortified," said Mrs. 
 Norris: " but I beg your pardon, my lord, 
 for speaking so of your relation."^.? , 
 
 " And my pardon too, I hope, Norris, 
 for she is my aunt. But indeed I pity her. 
 Vv^e all love power ; therefore we none of 
 us like to resign it. I suspect that volun- 
 tarij abdication has been often repented 
 of," she added (turning towards Lord Shir- 
 ley as she spoke, as if conscious her terms 
 might not be understood by her com- 
 panion)," and this abdication is 720^ volun- 
 tar)^ Besides, Mrs. Baynton is a much 
 more proper person to regulate the family 
 and sit at the head of the table than I am." 
 
 " You must do as you please, Miss 
 Shirley/' cried Norris : " but I am sure she 
 does not deserve any consideration from 
 
 .you,
 
 83 
 
 you, for I am confident she cannot abide 
 you." 
 
 " Nor ever will, if I am always to be the 
 means of mortification to her. My lord, 
 if the general wishes his sister to live on 
 good terms with me, and to like me, is 
 he right in thus inflicting wounds on her 
 self-love through me ?" 
 
 " Certainly not,'" replied Lord Shirley, 
 But he could say no more ; for, as the car- 
 riage turned into George Street, poor Ca- 
 therine, recollecting when she saw the 
 house of Mrs. Merle the feelings which 
 impelled her from it, to meet (as she now 
 found) a home and a second parent, felt 
 her long-suspended emotion recur in fuH 
 force ; and throwing herself on Mrs. Nor- 
 ris's bosom, she sobbed convulsively and 
 aloud. 
 
 When they stopped at the door, Lord 
 
 Shirley took her passive hand, and told 
 
 her they were arrived, and her friends 
 
 E 5 waiting
 
 84 
 waiting at the door to receive her. Ca- 
 therine instantly started up ; and as 
 soon as the door was open, she did not 
 wait for Lord Shirley's assistance ; but, 
 springing out alone she was in a mo- 
 ment hanging on the arm of the agitated 
 Lucy, and in another moment had disap- 
 peared with her into her own chamber. 
 
 Catherine forgot, in the hurry of the 
 moment, to introduce her noble compa- 
 nion; but Norris had recollection enough 
 to tell Mrs. Merle that Catherine's cousin 
 Lord Shirley had kindly chosen to accom- 
 pany her. 
 
 " Oh 1 that's a lord, is it ?" said Mrs. 
 Merle, hiding her pleasure at having such a 
 visitor, under a sort of contemptuous smile 
 as she whispered Mrs. Norris; while Nor- 
 ris, knowing her own place, told Mrs. Merle 
 she would wait her young lady's further 
 orders in the kitchen, and instantly left the 
 room.
 
 " Pray sit down, my lord," said Mrs, 
 Merle ; " though we are plain folk, and 
 not used to such company ; but here's a 
 chair that is clean at least." And Lord 
 Shirley, almost abashed by her earnest 
 and inquisitive gaze, sat down. " It is 
 cold weather, my lord, and coals are so 
 dear one can hardly afford to buy them ; 
 and indeed so is every thing else. It does 
 not signify to such as you, my lord, who 
 live on the fat of the land j but we poor 
 folks find it a dear country to live in, and 
 I am sure I for one shall not rest till I get 
 out of it." 
 
 ** If you are dissatisfied with your own 
 country, madam, you will be quite right 
 in leaving it," gravely replied Lord Shirley, 
 
 " Pray, my lord, is there any news ?" 
 
 " No public news, I believe, madam, 
 since the late glorious engagement." 
 
 " Oh ! What after all is taking a few 
 ships ? Will it bring down the taxes, and 
 
 pay
 
 86 
 
 pay the national debt ? Answer me that, 
 my lord." 
 
 " Excuse me, madam, I am no poli- 
 tician." 
 
 " No ! and yet form a part of our le- 
 gislature ?" 
 
 " x^t least, madam, I rarely talk politics 
 willingly, and never to ladies." 
 
 Still the incorrigible Mrs. Merle went 
 on : " But I am not a lady, my lord ; I 
 am only a woman, my lord ; and there is 
 a great difference, I take it, between a 
 woman and a lady." 
 
 " Some little, I fancy," replied Lord 
 Shirley, half smiling. 
 
 '* But now really, my lord, between 
 friends, what good will all this powder 
 and shot do to the nation at large ? — And 
 as to harm, why, I suppose we shall have 
 a new batch of peers j and I am sure we 
 have enough of those gentry already." 
 Lord Shirley bowed, and smiled. But, 
 
 think-
 
 87 
 thinking It fine fun to speak her mind to a 
 lord, she continued nothing daunted, though 
 there was one thing wanting to her gratifi- 
 cation ; and that was, that an acquaint- 
 ance or friend should drop in to flatter her 
 vanity, by seeing her with a lord for her 
 guest ; and her pride, by hearing how she 
 ran the rig on his lordship. 
 
 " Yes, my lord ; your lordship's a very 
 good sort of a gentleman yourself, for 
 aught I know to the contrary (and that 
 she thought was being very genteel and 
 civil to him) ; but, dear me ! what good 
 do so many do?— There is some great lady 
 (I do not remember great folks' names) 
 who is said to have said, she could not now 
 spit out of a window without spitting on a 
 lord." 
 
 " Indeed, madam !" cried Lord Shir- 
 ley ; " it is a pity this great lady, your 
 sympathizing friend on this subject, 
 should be restrained by any consideration 
 
 from
 
 88 
 from Indulging in the delicate custom you 
 mention/' 
 
 " My friend ! my lord ? — No, indeed ; 
 I have no friends among great folks — I 
 am not so " — fond of them, she was go- 
 ing to add, but she had politeness enough 
 to check herself ;-'' and I suppose the 
 lady did not mean literally that she used 
 to spit." 
 
 " I hope not, madarn, for the sake of 
 the privileged orders to which you say she 
 belongs." 
 
 Mrs. Merle was going to say something 
 very shrewd and severe, in her opinion, and 
 probably on the privileged orders, as she 
 was looking arch and winking her eye, 
 when the door opened, and Catherine en- 
 tered, followed by Lucy Merle. Lucy's 
 face was so disfigured by crying, that 
 Lord Shirley, though struck with the 
 graceful dignity of her tall figure, so unlike 
 the vulgarity of the mother's appearance, 
 
 could.
 
 89 
 
 could net form any judgement whether 
 she was handsome or not. 
 
 But though Lord Shirley's curiosity to 
 know with what sort of women Catherine 
 had been associating, had thus been am- 
 ply gratified during his long tete-a-tete 
 with Mrs. Merle, still he was delighted at 
 her return ; and it was with no small sa- 
 tisfaction he saw her enter the room, laden 
 with a small cabinet which had been her 
 father's, and was therefore now her own. 
 In this cabinet she knew that he kept his 
 most precious letters, &c. ; and on a sealed 
 paper in one of the unlocked drawers was 
 written — " To be opened^ in case of my 
 deaths by my beloved daughter, Cathe- 
 rine Shirley'' Catherine had consequent- 
 ly opened the paper, and found that it 
 contained the key of the fastened drawers. 
 The contemplation of the melancholy task 
 which awaited her vx looking over these 
 papers, had so completely depressed and 
 absorbed her, that she scarcely heard Mrs. 
 
 Merle's
 
 90 
 
 Merle's congratulations, or her exclama- 
 tions of admiration at the beauty of her 
 pelisse ; nor had she observed her while 
 she stroked the velvet, examined the lace, 
 and, patting it dov^^n, exclaimed " Well, 
 ■dear Miss Shirley, now you are dressed 
 as yoii. ought to be." 
 
 " My lord/* said Catherine, abruptly 
 turning to Lord Shirley, " you know my 
 grandfather better than I do : do you 
 think he would object to Lucy Merle's 
 coming to me for two or three days, if 
 her mother would give leave ?" 
 
 " Which I would do most readily," 
 answered Mrs. Merle ; *' for I know the 
 girl will do nothing but mope when you 
 are gone." 
 
 " Yes, certainly," replied Lord Shirley. 
 *' Why should you think he would not ?" 
 
 " Because I was afraid that he might 
 be hurt at my seeming to give so decided 
 a preference to my old associates." 
 
 *^ But can any thing be more natural ?" 
 
 " No.
 
 91 
 
 " No. — Still might it not give the ge- 
 neral unnecessary pain, by reminding him 
 why he and I are as yet strangers to each 
 other, and those affections bestowed on 
 friends which ought to have belonged to 
 relations ?*' 
 
 " I honour the kindness which influences 
 you, dear Miss Shirley," said the earl ; 
 " but I think, your fear of reminding the 
 general unnecessary. Besides, surely you 
 have an undoubted right on all occasions 
 to consult your own wishes, and to think 
 of yourself first." 
 
 " But I was taught never to think of 
 myself first," replied Catherine with quick- 
 ness. 
 
 '• Then you were well and singularly 
 taught," returned Lord Shirley — while 
 Catherine's uplifted eye seemed to direct 
 its grateful appeal to the spirits of her 
 lost parents. 
 
 " It w^as my consciousness," she conti- 
 nued, '' how eagerly I desired Lucy Merle s 
 
 company,
 
 fi2 
 
 company, that made me fear my wishes 
 might blind me improperly to the comfort 
 of another : but you think I may risk it, 
 spite of my aunt's prejudices. Indeed I 
 have an excuse, if one be necessary — Lucy 
 would assist me in making the rest of my 
 mourning/' 
 
 " No : that will not be suffered, I am 
 sure, Miss Shirley,*' he hastily replied ; 
 *' the first and most fashionable mantua- 
 maker must be employed forthat purpose." 
 
 " My lord, I make all my own things/* 
 
 ** And it was a virtue in you so to do 
 \Fhen your means of expenditure were 
 small; but now, in the heiress of General 
 Shirley, such a saving would be a vice."' 
 
 " What, my lord! if by such saving 
 I enable myself to give more to those who 
 want ?" 
 
 " But you will now be able to afford 
 to give trades-people their just employ- 
 ments, and relieve distress too/' 
 
 " Still you must allow, that if I had 
 
 the
 
 93 
 
 the wealth of Croesus, and I could by 
 means of a little industrious ceconomy in- 
 crease my power to do good, I ought to 
 do it." 
 
 " But, in this case, you seem to for- 
 get that in encouraging the industry of 
 an industrious mantua-makeryoudo good. 
 Have you no feeling for the profits de- 
 served by working trades-people ? Can 
 you feel only for the indigent ?"' 
 
 " My lord," replied Catherine thought- 
 fully, but respectfully, " I must consider 
 this subject before I reply. I wish to act 
 right ; but it must be according to my 
 own convictions, when I shall have tho- 
 roughly weighed the suggestions of those 
 wiser than myself. For let me assure 
 you, that I shall always cheerfully give 
 up a habit to my grandfather's wishes, but 
 
 a principle never But I am trespassing 
 
 greatly on your time and patience," she 
 added. Then having told Lucy she should 
 
 hear
 
 94 
 
 hear from her in an hour or two, she kiss- 
 ed her most affectionately ; while Lucy 
 was forced to turn away to hide her strong 
 emotion. She then gracefully approached 
 Mrs. Merle, and, kissing her cheek, said, 
 — " Though you were wrong, very 
 wrong, in persisting as you did the other 
 night, yet I am sorry I occasioned you 
 such alarm ; but the phrensy of the 
 moment must be my excuse — and — " 
 
 " O dear 1 O dear T' vociferated Mrs. 
 Merle, sobbing violently — " I know I was 
 wrong, very wrong, — but it was all along 
 of my temper, which is, you know. Miss 
 Shirley, none of the best in the world ; 
 and no one but such a sweet-tempered crea- 
 ture as you could have borne it so well." 
 
 " Don't talk thus," said Catherine gen- 
 tly. " I shall never forget the safe and re- 
 spectable protection you have afforded 
 me, nor your claims on me from the 
 connexion with my poor mother. Re- 
 
 member,
 
 95 
 
 member, you will always find a friend in 
 me." Here her voice faltered ; and once 
 more saluting the sobbing Mrs. Merle, 
 she wrung Lucy's hand, and, assisted by 
 Lord Shirley, followed Mrs. Norris into 
 the carriage. 
 
 Nearly the whole way to New Street 
 Catherine covered her face in her hand- 
 kerchief, overcome by the thought of 
 having for ever left that home where she 
 last saw her father and received the last 
 token of his affection ; till recollecting that 
 this was indeed one of those selfish indul- 
 gences which she had declared against, 
 she apologized to Lord Shirley for her 
 silence, and tried to talk. But the earl 
 was not more disposed to converse than 
 she was, for he was thinking over all he 
 had seen and heard of Catherine during 
 the morning. He had himself witnessed 
 her candour and generosity relative to her 
 aunt J and he had heard the self con- 
 demned
 
 96 
 
 "demned Mrs. Merle declare, that no tem- 
 per but one as sweet as Catherine's could 
 have borne with the acidity of hers. 
 
 So far so good. — Still he was not quite 
 satisfied with all that had passed. In the 
 first place, he had found Mrs. Merle a vul- 
 gar, ignorant, prejudiced and forward wo- 
 man; and who can touch pitch without be- 
 ing defiled ? Surely not such a young crea- 
 ture as Catherine Shirley ! In the next 
 place, her excessive intimacy with Lucy 
 Merle was not consistent, he thought, with 
 the proper pride of a girl of family. And, 
 in the third place, had not the speech 
 concerning voluntary abdication an air of 
 pedantry ? — and had not the declaration, 
 that though she would give up a habit, she 
 would not give up a principle, to oblige 
 General Shirley, an appearance of deci- 
 sion and free-will neither amiable nor 
 proper in so young a woman .? But, after 
 all, were not the lips that thus spoke, the 
 
 most
 
 97 
 most beautiful lips possible ? And was not 
 the head, which was slightly thrown back 
 as if in conscious loftiness of mind, as she 
 uttered her determination, more gracefully 
 set on than any one he had ever seen? And, 
 in short, taking her physical and her mo- 
 ral qualities together, was not his new- 
 found relative, Catherine Shirley, a very 
 uncommon and interesting being ? And 
 had she not strongly excited his curiosity 
 to know still more of her ? But did she 
 feel any apparent curiosity to know more 
 of him? — of him, the desire of all fe- 
 male hearts and the delight of all female 
 eyes, as his flatterers had called him ? 
 
 No, — his vanity could not deceive him 
 on that score. He saw that old Norris had 
 much greater charms for her than he had ; 
 and he was sure that, if she were sitting 
 between her and Lucy Merle, he would 
 alm.ost have been unheeded by her. — Yet 
 Loi'd Shirley was reckoned and perhaps^ 
 
 VOL. I. F was.
 
 08 
 
 was, the handsomest a»d most agreeable 
 man of the day. 
 
 But while Catherine Is gone to dress 
 for dinner, and, probably, to look over 
 some of the contents of the cabinet ; and 
 while Lord Shirley is returned home for 
 the former purpose, before he takes his 
 seat at the general's table — it may be pro- 
 per for me to give sonie account of Cap- 
 tain Shirley — of his amiable wife — and 
 of the events which led our Iieroine under 
 .the care of Mrs. Merle. 
 
 CHAP.
 
 99 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Captain Shirley was the only child 
 of General Shirley, by a lady born of 
 noble English parents whom distressed 
 circumstances had occasioned to emigrate 
 to America ; and there General Shirley, 
 v.hcn a lieutenant in the army, fell in 
 love with and married her. 
 . Captain Shirley, his only child by that 
 marriage, was devoted to his profession, 
 and felt that well-principled love for it 
 which leads a man to fit himself to be an 
 ornament to it by the study of naval 
 tactics. His father had wished him to be 
 a soldier; but finding his inclinations fixed 
 on the sea, he forbore to oppose them ; 
 and the young William became a navy 
 officer. 
 
 At this time the genera), then only Co- 
 F 2 lond
 
 100 
 
 lonel Shirley, was constantly going to dif- 
 ferent quarters with his regiment, conse- 
 quently had no house in London. Captain 
 Shirley, therefore, then only a lieutenant, 
 whenever he was obliged to visit the me- 
 tropolis, was forced to go to lodgings. The 
 lodgings to which he always went were 
 kept by a respectable person, the widow of 
 a reputable shopkeeper in Oxford Street, 
 of the name of Morland, who was glad 
 to add to her httle income by letting part 
 of the very excellent house which her 
 husband possessed, and left her, in Sack- 
 ville Street, Piccadilly. Mrs. Morland 
 had an only daughter, the last surviving 
 child of seven ; and when William Shir- 
 ley first became her lodger, Catherine 
 Morland was only fourteen, and he con- 
 sidered her merely in the light of an 
 agreeable and attentive child ; but the 
 next time he returned from a cruize, he 
 beheld her, though in age only sixteen, 
 
 matured
 
 101 
 
 matured into a fine lovely woman, in ap- 
 pearance approaching twenty. 
 
 Catherine Morland, unconscious of 
 the difference in her person, or rather 
 unconscious that the difference ought 
 to make any change in her behaviour, 
 came forward to meet her kind friend with 
 her usual affectionate familiarity; but a 
 conscious feeiing5of which honour perhaps 
 was the unconscious impulse, prompted 
 William Shirley to return her eager wel- 
 come with kindness, but full of restraining 
 respect. However, the kindness waswholly 
 lost on the astonished and mortified girl, 
 and the rerpect or coldness, as she termed 
 it, was all that she observed ; and hasdly 
 leaving the room, she retired to weep 
 over the altered manner, and consequent- 
 ly altered feelings, of her dear William 
 Shirley. But Mrs. Moriand saw in him 
 no change : his manner to her was as kind 
 as ever, — still she thought him pensive and 
 
 absent :
 
 102 
 
 absent : and after a long reverie he sud- 
 denly exclaimed, '' How Catherine is 
 grown ! She is now quite a woman — aye, 
 and a very lovely young woman too! — 
 Mrs. Morland, Mrs. Morland ! you must 
 .not keep a lodging-house V* 
 
 The poor woman looked aghast at these 
 alarming words ; and before she recover- 
 ed herself William Shirley, pressing her 
 hand affectionately, told her he vi'ould 
 talk further to her on that subject, a subject 
 he had much at heart, and left the house. 
 
 " V/hat is the matter, my dear child?'* 
 said Mrs. Morland, on seeing Catherine 
 enter the room with her eyes swollen with 
 tears. 
 
 " O nothing, mamma; only— only I 
 think Mr. Shirley is — is very odd." 
 
 " I think so too, my dear," replied her 
 mother thoughtfully; '• but I dare say 
 when he comes back againi^e will explain 
 all." 
 
 " Explain !
 
 103 
 
 " Explain ! What ! Explain why h(? 
 looked so coldly, and took my hand so 
 coldly when 1 ran up to him so glad so 
 very glad to see him ! How can he ex-» 
 plain that, I wonder ?'* 
 
 Her mother sighed, but said nothing ; 
 and felt very impatient for Mr. Shirley's 
 return. But that return was delayed so 
 long that INIrs. Morland insisted on Ca- 
 therine's going to bed, and, dismissing 
 the maid, sat up as usual herself. 
 
 During his walks in the morning, and 
 his solitary dinner that afternoon, Wil. 
 liam Shirley had been thinking on the 
 danger which would be incurred by so 
 fine a girl as Catherine M'^rland, if ex- 
 posed to the addresses oi iier mother's 
 lodgers. Of his own honour h.^ felt ser 
 cure ; but some man equally honourable 
 in appearance as himself might gain her 
 unsuspecting heart, and take an unworthy 
 if not criminal advantage of it : he there- 
 fore
 
 104 
 
 fore resolved to talk veiy seriously to the 
 mother, and convince her that she must 
 either take some other method of increas- 
 ing her income, or send Catherine cut in 
 some situation to gain her own livelihood. 
 Accordingly, when he returned home and 
 found Mrs. Morland alone, he entered 
 very fully into the subject ; and the grate- 
 ful and alarmed parent resolved that she 
 would give Catherine every advantage in 
 her power to qualify her for a governess 
 in a private family, or an assistant-teacher 
 in a boarding-school. 
 
 " It will cost a great deal of money to 
 do that," said William Shirley thought- 
 fully. 
 
 " Indeed it will,'' replied Mrs. Mor- 
 land ; " but 1 can sell out some of my 
 little property in the funds." 
 
 " You shall do no such thing," said 
 Shirley : "I have a legacy of a few hun- 
 dreds to receive, and part of it cannot be 
 
 employed
 
 105 
 
 employed better than in aiding a good and 
 affectionate parent in preserving her daugh- 
 ter from danger, and giving her the means 
 of independence. Whenever you or Ca- 
 therine are rich^ you shall repay me with 
 interest." 
 
 It was long that night before the joy- 
 fully agitated mother could close her tear- 
 ful eyes, or cease her earnest prayers for 
 blessings on the head of her young bene- 
 factor; while he was blessed already in the 
 sweetly soothing consciousness of having 
 served two, and perhaps saved one de- 
 serving fellow- creature. 
 
 When the mother met her daughter in 
 the morning, she caught her in her arms, 
 and wept over her for some minutes with- 
 out speaking ; and to the alarmed Ca- 
 therine's inquiries she only answered — 
 " O that excellent young man ! that 
 blessed William Shirley !" 
 
 At length, however, she explained her- 
 F 5 self
 
 2W 
 
 self to the blushiiig Carfienne, who, 
 though flattered to think she was judged 
 so attractive by Shirley as to be in dan- 
 ger of being too much admired, felt in- 
 dignant that he should suppose her prin- 
 ciples could be corrupted, and afflicted to 
 see that he could so gladly and readily 
 afford her the means to leave the house 
 which he so often inhabited : but at last 
 she learnt to appreciate justly the value of 
 his advice and his bounty. And when 
 he returned, her manner was as respect- 
 ful, and, she flattered herself, as cold as his 
 own. 
 
 This change induced a greater cordi- 
 ality of manner in him j and he contrived 
 to excuse tfce way in which he met her, 
 and which he saw had wounded her pride, 
 by attributing it to an involuntary feeling 
 of respect and surprise at seeing the person 
 whom he had left a child suddenly grown 
 into a tall woman : and Catherine began 
 
 to
 
 107 
 
 to fancy that the manner so wounding 
 to her feelings was gratifying lo her 
 vanity. 
 
 Every thing was soon arranged for 
 the education of Catherine for a teach- 
 er. Her fine and ductile voice was 
 pat under the tuition of a first-rate 
 master, and another was hired to teach her 
 thorough-bass and to understand music 
 as a science. Besides, she also learnt 
 French and Italian, and had a female opera- 
 dancer to give her the best instructions in 
 dancing and walking. Shirley Itarnt Ita- 
 lian at the same time she did ; and the 
 emulation thus excited in Catherine made 
 her much quicker in learning Italian than 
 inpeifeciing herself in French : and Shir- 
 Icy every day congratulated himself on 
 having been the means of cultivating the 
 talents of a being so eminently eiidowed. '.. 
 
 In about nine m^onths *Snirley was 
 forced to go to sea again, and Catherine's 
 
 exertions
 
 108 
 
 exertions flagged. But recollecting that 
 when he returned he would expect to 
 find she had made a great progress in all 
 her accomplishments, she resumed her 
 labours : and when she sav/ him again he 
 was indeed gratified by the improvement 
 which she had made. 
 
 " But it is time," said Shirley, " that 
 you should seek for a situation." 
 
 ^' So my mother says," replied Cathe- 
 rine turning very pale : " but — " 
 
 " But you do not think so." 
 
 '' No, I think I may dismiss my mas- 
 ters ; but I wish to practise some months 
 longer at home." 
 
 These months Shirley knew he should 
 pass in the house, and he suspected that 
 this, unknown to herself, was the true 
 reason of Catherine's desired delay. Per- 
 haps his ' wish was father to the thought/ 
 and William Shirley feared so too : — for 
 it was so natural that a young man should 
 
 love
 
 109 
 
 love an accomplished girl who owed her ac- 
 complishments to him. Still, whatever he 
 felt, he resolved to confine it all to his own 
 bosom ; for his own pride of birth and 
 that of his father forbade him to make 
 Catherine Morland his wife, and his own 
 sense of honour equally forbade him to 
 endeavour, or even wish, to seduce that 
 innocence himself, which he had so lau- 
 dably laboured to preserve from the at- 
 tacks of others. 
 
 " I wdll immediately inquire for a situ- 
 ation for her," said he to himself. And 
 having succeeded in his endeavours, that 
 day three months was fixed on for Cathe- 
 rine Morland's quitting the maternal roof, 
 and trying her fortune under the roof of a 
 stranger. In the meanwhile Shirley in- 
 sisted on Catherine s masters being con- 
 tinued, and he resumed his study of the 
 Italian with her. 
 
 To the dreaded time of Catherine's de- 
 parture
 
 liO 
 
 parture there was now only tr%o months ; 
 and as he was so soon to see her no more, or 
 only for a few hours in a twelvemonth per- 
 haps, William Shirley thought there could 
 be no danger either to him or her, if he staid 
 at home as much as possible to enjoy her 
 society, and assist her, when her masters 
 were gone, in going over the lessons which 
 they left. The consequence was, forced 
 gaiety when they met before a third person, 
 reserve and silence when they chanced to 
 be alone ; and the colour evidently became 
 faint on the once florid cheek and ruby 
 lip of Catherine Morland. Still she laugh- 
 ed, she danced, she sung, she played; and 
 every one but her mother and William 
 Shirley believed her gaiety real : some- 
 times, indeed, the latter felt piqued at her 
 self-command, and almost feared that her 
 good spirits were not feigned. 
 
 " However," thought he, " the dreaded 
 moment will soon come, and the trial will 
 
 be
 
 u\ 
 
 be CH'er ;■■ — we shall part, and time and ab- 
 sence will restore us both to our senses ; 
 if indeed, as I now begin to doubt^ her 
 heart shares the feelings of mine/' 
 
 Catherine's mother saw her daughter's 
 struggles, and felt for them ; but very ju- 
 diciously endeavoured to give her courage 
 to proceed in them, by laughing at the 
 folly of love-sick skirls, and describing 
 William Shirley as having once declared 
 he should despise a woman whose heart 
 surrendered itself without long and earnest 
 woomg. 
 
 " He shall not despise me," said she 
 mentally : and so strenuous were her sub- 
 sequent efforts to conceal her feelings, that 
 Shirley was completely deceived, and be- 
 lieved that he alone would be the sufferer 
 in the approaching separation. This convic- 
 tion had a visible effect on his temper: he 
 could not in his heart acquit Catherine of 
 ingratitude , and she too, deceived in her 
 
 turn.
 
 112 
 
 turn, thought it impossible a man could 
 love the woman to whom he occasionally 
 spoke so pettishly and unkindly. 
 
 The day of separation at length arrived: 
 and during the breakfast meal, which 
 Shirley took that day with Catherine and 
 her mother, out of compliment to the 
 former, he could not sit still a moment, 
 but was always going in and out of the 
 room to find up all his books, and the 
 things belonging to him ; some of which, 
 he insisted upon it, a servant girl who was 
 going away that day must have purloined; 
 
 "How strange!" thought Catherine, 
 *' that such trifles should have such power 
 to vex him, when I am going awayl Oh 1 
 if he cared for me at all, could he thus be 
 susceptible of petty vexations !" 
 
 The coach now drove up which was to 
 convey Catherine to the place of her des- 
 tination ; and while it was loading with her 
 trunks, Shirley came into the room in 
 
 great
 
 113 
 
 great agitation, declaring he had lost a 
 pocket-comb, and he was sure the gu'l had 
 taken it. 
 
 " Dear me !" said Mrs. Morland, •' sure- 
 ly it was not worth taking 1"' 
 
 " No, it was worth nothing to any body 
 but me 5 and I would not have parted 
 with it for worlds, for it was my poor 
 mother's gift ; and though it had few teeth 
 remaining in it, I valued it beyond any of 
 my possessions! My handkerchiefs and 
 shirts the girl was welcome to, but this — " 
 
 " I will go and see for it myself," said 
 Mrs. Morland ; " perhaps it is dropped 
 down somewhere," 
 
 When alone with Catherine, Shirley 
 Btill kept on inveighing against the girl, 
 and declared he would tax her with the 
 theft, and, if she denied it^ get a warrant 
 and take her to Bov/ Street. At this mo- 
 ment his eye glanced towards Catherine, 
 and he" beheld her, nearly fainting, grasp at 
 
 a chair
 
 114 
 a chair for support; and running towards 
 her, he clasped her in his arms, and lean- 
 ed her pale cheek against his shoulder. 
 
 " Mr. Shirley," said she in a faint voice, 
 " promise me not to say any thing to the 
 poor girl ; for Til confess all, rather than 
 let another suffer for my fault." Here she 
 paused ; while Shirley, pleased yet pained, 
 awaited the confession which his beating 
 heart anticipated. 
 
 " I — I took the comb/' resumed Ca- 
 therine hiding her face with her hand, as 
 she forced herself from the encircling arm 
 of Shirley. 
 
 *^You! Catherine?" * 
 
 " Yes, I — it was such a poor old comb, 
 that I, who knew not its intrinsic value, 
 thought you would not miss or care for 
 it, A J id — and it was a memorial of you — 
 and now only say you don't despise me, 
 and I shall depart in peace.*' /tjasai. 
 
 '•' Depart !" cried Shirley, no longer 
 
 master
 
 IIJ 
 
 master of himself, " No, Catherine, no ; 
 never shall we be parted more! While I 
 thought I suffered alone, I could be silent 
 and seiii-subdued ; but now that I see our 
 separation will torture you also, — O I Ca- 
 therine!" Here he caught the agitated girl 
 to his bosom. — To be brief, the coach was 
 dismissed, the lacly informed that Miss 
 Morland's mother could not part with 
 her : and, spite of his love for his father, 
 and his pride of birth, in one month from 
 the day on v/hich he found himself be- 
 loved, AVilliam Shirley received at Pad- 
 dington church (to \^hich village Cathe- 
 rine and her m.other removed) the hand 
 of the \voman whom he loved dearer than 
 his own life. 
 
 Soon after their marriage Shirley was 
 summoned to his ship, of which in a fev/ 
 months after he returned the master and 
 commands-r. But his joy at this ri^e, was 
 damped by his wife's giving birth to a sozi 
 
 which
 
 116 
 
 which died a few weeks after. Nor could 
 he be at times unconscious how terribly he 
 had blasted his father's hopes, by marrying 
 as he had done ; for the general had late- 
 ly become possessor of a very large fortune, 
 and he himself would be, on the death 
 of a relation who had no children, heir to a 
 barony: but, though conscious that every 
 day that he continued to conceal his fault in- 
 creased its magnitude, he could not prevail 
 on himself to write to his father and implore 
 his forgiveness : nor could Pvlrs. Shirley 
 herself urge him to a step which might 
 draw down on him the malediction of a 
 father, and lead him in the bitterness of 
 his remorse to hate her as the cause of 
 his disobedience. Thus year after year 
 wore away ; while Mrs. Shirley, though 
 conscious she was an innocent wife, ap- 
 peared to her neighbours to be a content- 
 ed mistress: and her respectable mother, in 
 the village where they Uved, was looked 
 
 upon
 
 117 
 
 upon in no better light than^the complai-. 
 sant friend of her daughter. 
 
 It was not often, however, that Shirley, 
 when become a post-captain, visited them in 
 the country : he usually summoned them to 
 town, as the metropolis was better for the 
 purposes of concealment than a village. 
 
 But when Catherine his daughter had 
 reached the age of thirteen, he was so- 
 struck with her beauty, that with all a pa- 
 rent's pride he longed to present her to 
 his father, and introduce his child into 
 that rank of life to which she was born. 
 A proud and weak fear lest the beauty of 
 his wife should not be thought sufiicient to. 
 excuse his having married a woman so 
 inferior to himself in birth, was one rea- 
 son why he had so long kept his mar- 
 riage concealed : for though to his par- 
 tial eye she appeared, if not the handsomest, 
 the most attractive woman he had ever 
 seen j and though in talents, variety 
 
 of
 
 118 
 
 of accomplishments, and In virtues, he 
 had never seen her equal, he dreaded lest 
 others should not see her with the same 
 eyes; and he also dreaded that the implied 
 disappointment of his father and friends 
 in her charms and merits should operate 
 on himself to the disadvantage of his wife. 
 He had once resolved to disclose his 
 secret to his amiable cousm Lord Shirley, 
 just then become the arbiter of fashions, 
 whose word was law in all decisions relative 
 to female beauty. But the terror lest, when 
 he presented his wife to him, he should 
 read surprise and disappointment in his 
 eye, still kept him silent ; till parental pride 
 came in aid of filial duty and repentant 
 filial affection; and he wrote a letter to the 
 general, owning his marriage, and ear- 
 nestly and humbly imploring leave to pre- 
 sent to him an adored wife and a most 
 lovely daughter. 
 
 It was not only the action itself, but the 
 
 long
 
 119 
 
 long concealment of ir, which enraged the 
 general ; and he wrote a letter which ex- 
 pressed only too well the bittt rut :3 of his 
 soul. His son received it as he ought, 
 and wrote again and again in humble 
 terms to deprecate his wrath ;• and the gene- 
 ral's heart softened towards him : but the 
 representations of his proud second wife 
 and prouder sister made him still vindic- 
 tive towards Mrs. Shirley ; and he offered 
 to receive him and his child into his pre- 
 sence and his favour, but vowed never to 
 see or acknowledge the woman who had 
 duped him into a disgraceful marriage. 
 
 *' This is conclusive!" cried Shirley in 
 a transport of rage, and throwing the letter 
 into the lap of his wife, " and he has no 
 more a son. What ! does he think me 
 void of affection and of honour — aye, and 
 of intellect and feeling ! Does he think that 
 I could have loved a woman capable of 
 
 duping
 
 120 
 
 duping me into marriage ! If he were not 
 my father, I would — " 
 
 " But he is your father, dearest Wil- 
 liam," cried Catherine, " and we have 
 offended him; therefore it is right that we 
 should humble ourselves before him." 
 
 " We have done so; but never shall we 
 do so again, my Catherine ! No, I will let 
 this haughty General Shirley know, that 
 I am prouder of my wife and of her vir- 
 tues, than of all the boasted race of ances- 
 tors on whose account I am commanded 
 to be a villain !" 
 
 " Oh, my kind, my generous love!" 
 cried his grateful wife. 
 
 " Generous ! Why, Catherine, do you 
 think I have any merit in not resigning 
 you ?" 
 
 Let this Suffice to show the faithful and 
 devoted love which Shirley felt. for his 
 wife. Let it also account for his subse- 
 quent
 
 121 
 
 quent conduct, when the sudden death of 
 her mother, and the self-upbraidings of 
 her heart for having been the means of 
 estranging her husband from his father, 
 preyed incessantly upon her spirits, and 
 brought on a decline to which in early 
 life she had discovered a tendency. 
 
 I will not attempt to paint the agony 
 with which Shirley watched beside her 
 fevered pillow, and viewed the gradual 
 progress of decay. But to her the con- 
 sciousness of approaching death was cheer- 
 ed by the hope that her death would re- 
 store the son to the father. 
 
 " Shirley/' she cried, " I trust that I 
 hzfie made our child all the amends I 
 could for having given her a mother so 
 humbly born: — I could not give her noble 
 blood, but I have given her I trust noble 
 sentiments, and just principles of action ; 
 for I have taught her to own no arbiter on 
 earth but her own conscience, strengthened 
 
 VOL. I. G and
 
 122 
 
 and enlightened by faith and prayer, to- 
 gether with a firm reliance on the merits of 
 her Redeemer, aAd the gpoduess of her 
 Creator." ^ -.^ ,^,, ,,? , -i ., ^ v 
 f^*' You have done still more," replied 
 Shirley in a faltering voice ; " you have 
 given her your own spotless example. — ?> 
 But must I lose you 1— No^ nq^^txannot, 
 shall not be." ^^.„^^jv. 
 
 " " It will — it must---" she replied in a 
 faint and hurried tone : " but I have one 
 great consolation in dying ; namely, the 
 assurance that with me all obstacles to 
 your reconciliation with your father will 
 be at . an end. Yes, when I am gone he 
 will forgive you." — As she feebly uttered 
 this, a sweet smile played upon her lips, 
 and in another instant her distracted hus- 
 band was convinced that these words and . 
 that smile were her last. x* 
 
 Need I paint the anguish of the hus- 
 band and the daughter ? — But it is ne*'^ 
 
 cessary
 
 123 
 
 cessary that I should describe the eSect 
 so difierent to what she intended they 
 should have — which her last words and 
 wishes had on the heart of her husband. 
 For, though Shirley had witnessed and 
 even joined in the last rites of religion 
 when administered to his dying wife, — of 
 that religion which teaches forgiveness of 
 injuries as indispensable and necessary 
 to our own forgiveness, — still, such was 
 the perverted nature of his sorrow, 
 that he had no relief but in venting it in 
 execrations of his father's cruelty, and in 
 resolutions never to forgive it. 
 
 " No — " he delighted to exclaim, " the 
 father who rejected her, shall never have 
 the comfort of receiving me ; and I shall 
 have pleasure in rejecting with disdain the 
 tardy and solitary forgiveness which he 
 will no doubt offer me." 
 
 He did not long expect it in vain. The 
 general, as soon as he saw the death of 
 
 nv^. ; G 2 Mrs.
 
 124 
 
 Mrs. Shirley in the paper, wrote a letter 
 blotted with tears to his son, conjuring 
 him to hasten to him with his daughter, 
 and take up his future abode at his house. 
 ' — It was then with a savage grief and an 
 indulgence of very bitter feelings that 
 "William Shirley sat down to write to his 
 father, rejecting for ever all terms of re- 
 conciliation with him, and declaring that, 
 when he disdained to receive his angel-wife, 
 be for ever deprived himself of his son. 
 
 This duty to the memory of his wife 
 (as he called it) accomplished, he con- 
 signed his daughter to the care of an odd- 
 tempered but respectable woman, whose 
 mother was the daughter of Morland*s 
 father-in-law by a first marriage. This 
 woman was Mrs. Merle, to whose husband 
 Shirley had lent considerable sums of 
 money, without even a prospect of re- 
 gaining them. 
 
 But Captain Shirley knew that, new 
 
 her
 
 125 
 
 her husband v/as dead, in Mrs. Merle 
 his daughter would find at least a watch- 
 ful guardian ; and as every one who 
 had known, lived, or been connect- 
 ed with his wife, had a charm for hira^ 
 Shirley felt his preference cf Ivlrs. Merle 
 as his child's guardian grow stronger every 
 hour. Besides, he knew that Mrs. Merle 
 and Lucy were struggling with unde* 
 served indigence, the result of Mr. Tvlerle s 
 imprudence ; and though he had suffered 
 considerably by the father ind the hus- 
 band, his generous heart yearned to benefit 
 the daughter and the mother. 
 - Captain Shirley had a small indepen- 
 dent property, left him by an aunt, 
 and he had some prize-money : but his 
 means were not at all proportionate to his 
 , generous spirit ; and when he placed Ca- 
 therine under Mrs. Merles care, it was 
 with great difficulty he could allow her 
 
 what
 
 126 
 
 what he thought sufficient to enable them 
 to reside in London, and Catherine enough 
 to pay for her masters and her dress. — 
 Still, it was necessary that Mrs. Merle 
 should live in London, that Catherine 
 might have the best masters; and having 
 seen the former settled there, and his 
 daughter under her protection, Captain 
 Shirley set off on a ramble over the 
 British isles : then, when tired of wander- 
 ing, he returned to London, took an affec- 
 tionate leave of Catherine, and volun- 
 teered on board a ship in the fleet. 
 
 Meanwhile such was Mrs. Merle's good 
 management, and such the habits of indus- 
 try and oeconomy which had been taught Ca- 
 therine by her mother, that the want of 
 money was never felt by either of them ; 
 and while Mrs. Merle contrived to save a 
 few pounds every year to send to her hus- 
 band in America, Catherine had always 
 
 a little
 
 127 
 a little hoard for the wants of the deserv- 
 ing indigent, whom it was Lucy's care to find 
 out, and make known to her richer friend. 
 We have already seen, that at the end 
 of three years from the death of his v/ife, 
 Captain Shirley fell with glory in the 
 defence of his country. But I have now 
 to relate, that his long- suppressed ten- 
 derness towards his father returned 'iti 
 all its original force, when orders for 
 a general engagement the next day were 
 issued, and he recollected that before that 
 day's sun should set, he might be past giv- 
 ing or receiving forgiveness. The thought 
 aflPected him even to tears : and giving way 
 to all the native softness of his heart, he 
 sat down and wrote the following letter to 
 the general : — 
 
 *' MY DEAR, DEAR FATHER, 
 
 " Orders are given for a general en- 
 gagement to-morrow — and 1, to whom 
 
 life
 
 128 
 life, since the loss of her whom if you had 
 known you must have loved, has been 
 little better than a burthen, may be led per- 
 haps by my feelings as well as my duty 
 into the thickest of the battle, and I may 
 fall before the fight is ended. Then, take 
 my forgiveness, which till now I have so 
 sturdily v;ithheld. And Oh! grant me 
 yours, I beseech you ; — first, for my dis* 
 obedience ; secondly, for my late callous- 
 ness to your affectionate advances ! Oh I 
 my father ! — when one finds oneself per- 
 haps on the very brink of eternity, and of 
 final judgement, oneself, how poor, how 
 weak, how wicked, appear all earthly 
 enmities ! — enmity towards a parent too 1 
 — Terrible idea ! — and at this mo- 
 ment, at this thought, your kindnesses, 
 your doting fondness, your care of me 
 during a sickly infancy, and your in- 
 dulgence to my riper years, all crowd to 
 my remembrance, and my brow is co- 
 vered
 
 12^ 
 
 vered with drops of agony at the consci- 
 ousness of the misery I have occasioned- 
 yo'j ! 
 
 " Forgive me — Oh! forgive me! and 
 prove you do so, by taking to your home 
 and to your heart my orphan girl ! In- 
 closed is her address. 
 ' " You will find her worthy of the angel 
 who bore her : and love her not the less 
 for the resemblance she bears to me ! IE 
 I fall, I have given orders for this to be 
 forwarded to you. If I live, we shall; 
 meet again I 
 
 '' Farewell I Farewell ! 
 
 " Your repentant and affectionate 
 
 " WnLLiAM Shirley.** 
 
 a 5 CHAP-
 
 150 
 
 -iguodj'io /if/fi-; 
 
 iiodoubo-nnf 
 
 oJnsg^d woiCHApXER VI. _^ _ 
 
 bns ; vyrr-' ?n-I^;cjori /^/^l ofit ^'f'^^ 
 
 JBiJT to return to the dinner at General 
 
 Shirley's, for which Catherine and Lord 
 Shirley were gone to prepare when I be- 
 gan the story of the general's unfortu- 
 
 The general, his sister, and Lord Shir- 
 ley, were assembled in the dinner- room 
 when Catherine made her appearance. 
 Her afternoon-dress displayed the beauty 
 of her form and of her arms to great 
 advantage ; but her face was swollen even 
 to disfigurement by recent and incessant 
 crying ; and her every motion and gesture 
 seemed to betray the abandonment of 
 calm but settled sorrow. 
 . The general's attention had hitherto 
 been somewhat taken from himself by the 
 
 singular
 
 131 
 
 singular introducdon of Catherine to his 
 knowledge, and by the activity of thought 
 concerning her which that introduction 
 had given birth to. But he now began to 
 feel the languor of hopeless regret ; and 
 when he saw her grief- disfigured counte- 
 nance, he felt only too forcibly that his 
 son's death was as present to him as 
 ever. 
 
 As soon as she saw him, she went up 
 to him, and, throwing her arms affection- 
 ately round him, laid her head on his 
 shoulder, while a tear trickled down her 
 cheek. But recovering herself before the 
 servant came to announce dinner, Cathe- 
 rine gracefully withdrew herself from 
 the general's embrace, and curtsied coldly 
 to her aunt, but still more coldly to the 
 earl, — giving him at the same time a look 
 that almost expressed aversion. 
 
 In the morning he had felt great mor- 
 tification in being forced to own to him- 
 self
 
 132 
 
 self that Catherine fek perfectly indiffer- 
 ent towards him. But if his interpretation 
 of her look and manner in the evening 
 was just, willingly would he have now 
 exchanged her present feeling for that of" 
 indifference. Yet, how could he have 
 offended her? And why so unusually kind 
 to the general, and so unusually cold and 
 haughty towards him I Whatever was 
 the reason of this change, it gave him 
 pain; and he was relieved, rather than 
 distressed, when the general desired him 
 to lead his sister, while he should follow 
 with the new maitresse de la maison. 
 
 " Did you hear that r" whispered the 
 deposed queen, as she leaned on the earr* 
 arm. *' To be displaced by such a chit, 
 too ! What can she know of sitting at 
 the head of a table ?" 
 
 But Catherine, as if used to the situa- 
 tion, took her seat without any embar- 
 rassment, and helped and attended to her 
 
 guests
 
 155 
 
 guests with all the ease of a woman of 
 fashion ; except that, as usual, whenever 
 she moved or spoke, a colour brilliant as 
 the hue of carmine mounted from the bot- 
 tom of her cheeks to the rest of her face, 
 forminor a beautiful and strikin;:: contrast 
 to the usually transparent paleness of her 
 tefe.^*-But as soon as the emotion, from 
 whatever cause, had subsided, her cheek 
 lost its colour, and on her lips alone crim- 
 son held its unvarying station. In vain, 
 during the meal, did Mrs. Baynton en- 
 deavour to discover a fault in the behavi- 
 our of Catherine, whether as a carver, a 
 helper, or a president. 
 
 Lord Shirley was a no less attentive 
 observer ; and, had it not been for the 
 constantly mantling blush before mention- 
 ed, his fastidiousness would have led him 
 to pronounce her too much at her ease 
 for her time of life ; especially, too, as he 
 was not a little piqued by the continued 
 
 coldness
 
 134 
 
 coldness and stateliness of her manner to 
 him. — There was little eaten and nothing 
 said during the meal. The general and 
 Catherine had no appetite, from sorrow ; 
 the earl, from a mixture of alarm and 
 pique ; and Mrs. Baynton, from a violent 
 fit of ill- humour at being displaced by her 
 niece, without having it in her power to 
 declare that niece was unfit to succeed 
 her. 
 
 Shortly after the dessert was served, 
 Catherine asked her aunt if it would be 
 agreeable to her to retire ; and, having 
 received a nod of assent, she rose ; when 
 a servant brought in a letter sealed, and 
 dehvered it to the general. 
 
 " That is my poor father's hand," ex- 
 claimed Catherine, glancing her eye over 
 the letter: then, dreading to see the 
 agony which she expected the sight of his 
 lost son's posthumous address to him would 
 occasion her grandfather to experience, 
 
 she
 
 135 
 
 she hastily left the room, regardless that 
 she walked before Mrs. Baynton. 
 ^pThis negligence was an affront not to 
 be pardoned ; and, instead of repairing 
 with her niece into the sitting-room, the 
 enraged lady went up into her own room, 
 to complain to her complaisant abigail, 
 how ill her new-found and conceited niece 
 had behaved to her. .^^ 
 
 But Catherine scarcely noticed her ab- 
 sence ; for she was too much engrossed 
 by thinking what that letter contained. 
 The increased affection In her manner 
 to the general, was the consequence of 
 reading his letters to her father, inviting 
 him to come with his daughter and reside 
 with him. The first letter failed to move 
 her heart towards him, because it express- 
 ed no regret at having refused to see her 
 mother; but the next letter, which her 
 father in the paroxysm of his first feelings 
 
 had 

 
 136 
 had never opened, but had deposited in the 
 cabinet, called forth the tenderest pity to- 
 wards the suffering parent ; for in that let- 
 ter he execrated his past cruelty ; said he 
 would give worlds ro recall his daughter-in- 
 law to life, and to receive her to his house 
 and to his heart. And as Catherine felt 
 assured that, if her father had read this 
 tetter, it would have had a conciliatory 
 effect on his feelings, and would have led 
 him perhaps to the presence of his father, 
 the idea of the general as her mother's 
 enemy faded gradually frorn her mind ; 
 and when she next beheld his grief-worn 
 countenance, she could not help hastening 
 to him in the manner above described. 
 
 The cabinet contained also other re- 
 miniscence of both her parents, which 
 had entirely subverted her newly assumed 
 composure, and sent her down with every 
 mark of sorrov/ in her appearance. She 
 
 was
 
 337 
 was siill pacing the room, but in oppressive 
 thought, wholly unconscious of the lapse 
 of time, when the gentlemen entered ; 
 and she saw evident marks of deep emo- 
 tion in the face of Lord Shirley. 
 
 The general endeavoured to speak, but 
 could not. But on her offering to take 
 th« letter he held in his hand, he snatched 
 it away from her, saying, " No ; this is 
 not for your eye yet, my love : it has 
 nearly broken my heart, and could have 
 no good effect on yours. See, it has been 
 too much for poor Lionel there. Still it 
 has been a cordial to my heart, as it proves 
 how earnestly he wished you to be, in case 
 of his decease, under my protection." 
 
 Catherine, though disappointed in not 
 seeing the letter, acquiesced in the deci- 
 sion. "But why (thought she) should Lord 
 Shirley be thus affected?"' and her eye, 
 when it turned on him, insensibly lost 
 some of its sternness. 
 
 At
 
 138 
 
 At this moment the general lookhig 
 at him exclaimed, " Oh, Lionel ! had I 
 but listened to your wise, benevolent, and 
 disinterested advice, at this moment, per- 
 haps, both my son and his wife would 
 have been alive and happy and here !" 
 
 "Dear sir!" cried Lord Shirley in a 
 hoarse voice, " you must npt feel and 
 talk thus." 
 
 " Not feel thus ! — not feel, when you 
 know that I was a hard-hearted obstinate 
 old fool, and not all your repeated and 
 eloquent entreaties, both by word of 
 mouth and in writing, could prevail on 
 me to receive my son's wife as well as 
 my son to my forgiveness !" 
 
 " What ! — Is it possible ? Could Lord 
 Shirley, — did he, — was he the advocate 
 for my poor mother !" cried Catherine, 
 her whole face lighting up with pleasure 
 and surprise, though tears trembled in her 
 eyelids. 
 
 " To
 
 139 
 
 " To be sure he was — and I can 
 show you his letters ; for I kept them — I 
 kept them, to his honour and my dis- 
 grace !" 
 
 " Then, why^ why was this written ?'* 
 said Catherine, eagerly taking a letter 
 frOxTi her pocket, and showing it to Lord 
 Shirley. — It was from Mrs. Baynton to 
 her nephew ; and after pages of reviling, 
 it added, " And 1 assure you that that 
 admirable, sensible young man, the Earl 
 Shirley, the head of your house, agrees 
 with me in all I have said, and will do 
 his utmost to prevent my brother's receiv- 
 ing either you or your wife." 
 
 Amazement mixed with indivrnation 
 deprived Lord Shirley at first of utterance. 
 But at length he exclaimed, '• Never, in 
 any respect, did I authorize Mrs. Baynton 
 to think these sentiments mine ; and all I 
 can remember to have said in reply to her 
 violent invectives was, ' I own, madam, I 
 
 wi&h
 
 140 
 
 wish my cousin had married a woman of 
 his own rank, because I am no friend to 
 unequal marriages :' — and on these words, 
 for I left her soon after, she must have 
 founded what I consider as a very heavy 
 charge against me — that of wishing to 
 foment discord 5 and contrary, as I hope 
 the general will convince you, both to 
 my principles and my practice, in this in- 
 stance as in every other/' 
 . *' Oh! I am convinced, quite convinced 
 already," cried the enthusiastic Catherine 
 seizing Lord Shirley's hand between both 
 hers : then, looking up in his serious face 
 with a sort of supplicating smile which he 
 had thought her features incapable of, she 
 added, " Lord Shirley, dear Lord Shirley ! 
 do pray forgive the resentment which I 
 w^as betrayed into by this wicked letter: 
 and pray forget — but, no, I hope you did 
 not remark all the cold haughty looks I 
 gave you during dinner-time.'.' 
 
 Lord
 
 141 
 
 Lord Shirley was so taken bv surprise, 
 so fluttered by the continued affectionate 
 pressure of her hands, that he could not 
 recollect himself sufficiently even toj^rn 
 it ; and it was with much embarrassment 
 that he at last articulated, '"^ It is impossi- 
 ble that anyone of your looks, Miss Shir- 
 ley, can remain unnoticed ; and I own they 
 gave me exquisite pain, for which even 
 this frank and kind acknowledgement 
 can scarcely make me amends : — but at 
 length you do me justice, and thus let me 
 siill further repay myself for the misery 
 you have occasioned." 
 
 So saying, he pressed her hand to his 
 Ipps ; and a smile of meaning passed for 
 one moment across those of the general ; 
 for Lord Shirley sighed as he relinquished 
 her hand. Catherine only blushed — but 
 that she did every moment. 
 
 '^ But, hush ! here comes my aunt/* 
 said Catherine j '• and I conjure you not 
 
 a word
 
 142 
 
 a word on the subject of her misrepresen- 
 tation. — Pray remember, my dear grand-j.. 
 father, and you my dear cousin/* (and she^ 
 smiled while she said so, an epithet she 
 used, to try to make Lord Shirley forget, 
 her past coldness, ) " that it is my wish to . 
 make my aunt my friend, which I caa 
 never do while I am the means of pro- 
 curing her severe reproofs or taunting sar- 
 
 casms.'* 
 
 " Make her your friend ! She ought to 
 be your friend ready- made, if she felt 
 properly and naturally," exclaimed the 
 general. 
 
 " I am not quite sure of that, according 
 to natural feelings; unless by natural feel- 
 ings," observed Lord Shirley, " you mean^f 
 the ties of blood; for the lady's dislike of,j 
 a young and lovely great- niece who is., 
 wholly a stranger to her, and whose 
 coming into the family deprives her both-, 
 of consequence and authority, would ap- 
 pear
 
 143 
 
 pear to me, especially in a woman not re- 
 markable for her fine temper, a very natu- 
 ral feeling." 
 
 " Well, well," said the general, " natu- 
 ral or unnatural, I heartily pity you, my 
 poor child, for being exposed to its re- 
 sults.'* ^^"^"^ ^^^^^"' '- 
 
 " I do not pity myself," replied Cathe- 
 rine with an expression of countenance 
 which the general and Lord Shirley knew 
 not exactly how to define, but which those 
 acquainted with the habits of her mind 
 would have called devotional—" I do not 
 pity myself; because I believe all trials of 
 temper to be salutary ; and as this world 
 is a state of probation, and the littledaily 
 trials of Ufe are perhaps more difficult to 
 be borne than great and unusual ones, I 
 cannot allow myself to think that dispensa- 
 tion otherwise than a kind one, which must 
 call into use those serviceable and christian 
 virtues, patience and forbearance.'* 
 
 There
 
 144 
 
 There was a look almost amounting to 
 a look of alarm which passed at this mo- 
 ment between the general and the peer; 
 for, though respectable men and sincere 
 believers, their religion was a thing which 
 they were contented to know that they 
 possessed, without bringing it into every- 
 day use, like family jewels not fit for 
 every-day wear: its efficacy as a daily 
 guide, as the impeller to good feelings and 
 the restrainer of unkind ones, and as a pu- 
 rifier and regulator of the thoughts as 
 well as actions, was never present to their 
 minds ; and any persons who should ven- 
 ture to make it evident that with them 
 such an influence was perpetually present, 
 they were consequently in the habit of 
 styling methodists and fanatics. And here 
 was a beautiful girl talking of thi-s world 
 as being a state of probation, and of 
 courting trials in order to call forth christ- 
 ian virtues ! Yet they both thought, Ca- 
 therine
 
 145 
 
 therine spoke with great simplicity ; there 
 was no affectation of superabundant 
 righteousness : and when Mrs. Baynton 
 entered the room, the smile with which 
 she regarded her was evidently sincere, 
 and bore strong marks of an unaffectedly 
 kind and christian spirit. 
 
 " You look cold," said Catherine setting 
 a chair for her aunt very near the fire : 
 " pray take this seat.*' 
 
 "And cross too!" muttered the general. 
 
 " I thank you/' coldly replied Mrs. 
 Baynton : then with a forced and bitter 
 smile she added, " I thank you, madam, 
 for doing the honours of this fire- side to 
 me." 
 
 "Whew!" whistled the general; while 
 Catherine by a look besought his forbear- 
 ance, and proved her own by taking no 
 notice of this ungracious speech ; but 
 seating herself by Mrs: Baynton's side, 
 she fell into a mournful though not sullen 
 
 VOL. I, H silence:
 
 116 
 
 silence : a silence which no one, from 
 different causes, was disposed to break. 
 Lord Shirley was contemplating the fine 
 profile of Catherine, which acquired new 
 beauty from the declining attitude of the 
 head, while the direction of her eyes 
 to the fire displayed the beauty of her 
 long dark eye-lashes. Mrs. Baynton's 
 inclination to talk was checked by every 
 species of ill-humc ur. And sad^ tender, 
 renK)rseful recollections kept the gene- 
 ral silent, till at last, with a look and a 
 sigh of agony he suddenly rose and left 
 the room. Catherine's eyes followed 
 him, filing with tears as they did so ; and 
 when he closed the door, she laid her 
 hands on the table near her, and leaned 
 her head on them. 
 
 She had thus for a few minutes indulged 
 her sympathy with the general, when Mrs. 
 Baynton exclaimed," Upon my word, Miss 
 Shirley, you have an excellent idea indeed 
 
 of
 
 147 
 
 ef entertaining your guests! Lord Shirley 
 will not find his visit very amusing.'' 
 
 " Could Lord Shirley come to the 
 house of mourning expecting to be en- 
 tertained, madam?" replied Catherine 
 meekly. 
 
 '• At least he did not expect such 
 unnecessary mopishness ! I dare say you 
 would have talked fast enough to Mrs. 
 Norris and your other old associates.'* 
 
 An indignant blush overspread the 
 cheek of Catherine*, but with a sudden 
 effort she resumed her composure, turning 
 her eyes now evidently full of tears on the 
 ground; then rising, she made a graceful 
 bend of the head to Mrs. Baynton and the 
 earl, and walked to the door. 
 
 " Pray, madam, are you going after my 
 brother r" asked Mrs. Baynton. 
 
 " Yes, madam, it is my intention to 
 
 follow him j I conclude he is gone to his 
 
 H 2 Study,
 
 148 
 
 study, and I do not think it is good for 
 him to be alone.'^ 
 
 '* May be so,'* replied her aunt ; " but 
 though I am his sister, and I have known 
 him longer than you, I never dared to 
 intrude into his retirement ; no, nor even 
 his poor dear last wife, whom he loved 
 better than he ever did love or ever can 
 love any one in the world." 
 
 *' I conclude he did indeed love her," 
 said Catherine with a deep sigh ; for she 
 recollected it was this poor dear wife's in- 
 fluence that had so long prevented him 
 from forgiving her father. " But circum- 
 stances are changed since — the general has 
 lost his only child, and I am that child's 
 daughter — surely then he will not deem 
 my wish to soothe him by weeping with 
 him an impertinent intrusion ? At any 
 rate it is my duty to offer him my sympa- 
 thy and society, and if he dislikes to have 
 
 them
 
 149 
 
 them he will be candid enough to say 
 so.'' 
 
 So saying, and without waiting for 
 more objections from her provoking rela- 
 tive, she left the room and hastened to 
 the general's study ; leaving ]Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton to vent her feelings to the sympathi- 
 zing peer, as she flattered herself .she 
 should find him. 
 
 " There now," she began, " did you 
 ever, my lord, see such a conceited, obc::i- 
 nate, independent miss? — No deference 
 for the opinion of those, at least more ex- 
 perienced than herself. And what a want 
 pf manners, to go and intrude into a 
 gentleman's study, who evidently retired 
 in order to be alone !" 
 
 '' But that gentleman is her grand- 
 father/' coolly replied Lord Shirley; " and 
 it must be a consolation to both of them 
 to weep together over their mutual loss." 
 
 '^ As to her loss, I do not believe she 
 
 thinks
 
 153 
 
 thinks much of it now she has gained sa 
 muchj and caused herself to be acknow- 
 ledged as General Shirley's heiress. Now, 
 do you believe, my lord, that if she had 
 really loved her father she could have 
 cared* if the general had fallen down and 
 diedjor been trodden to death in the street ? 
 And could she have forgiven him, and 
 hung about him so soon, in that bold 
 way r 
 
 Lord Shirley had resolved to endeavour 
 to soothe, and not irritate Mrs. Baynton, 
 if possible, that her temper might not be 
 rendered v/orse than usual, and Catherine 
 thereby suffer more than she need suffer. 
 But there is nothing that rouses the re- 
 sentment of a generous heart more than 
 unjust accusations of the amiable and inno- 
 cent; and Lord Shirley could not hear with 
 patience this misconstruction of actions 
 which were evidently proofs of real tender- 
 ness and true nobleness of nature: and with 
 
 an
 
 IJl 
 
 an expression of countenance which had 
 nothing conciliating in it, he answered — 
 
 *' Your niece, madam, accounted for 
 her feelings towards the general the other 
 night in a very satisfactory manner; and 
 in a way that did not, in my opinion, call 
 in question her love of her father ; and 
 her forgiveness of the general so soon, was 
 only a proof of the religious education 
 which it is evident she has received." 
 
 " All methodistical cant. Lord Shirley, 
 which she learnt among the vulgar people 
 she has been brought up with. Yes — I 
 hear she is mighty religious.'* 
 
 Lord Shirley, though his fears respect- 
 ing Catherine's being " righteous over- 
 much" were not a little excited by this 
 iiiformation, was too indignant at the petty 
 malice of his angry companion to express 
 what he felt: he therefore only observed, 
 that in moments of affliction, a display of 
 piety, however marked, could not warrant 
 
 the
 
 152 
 
 the accusation against any one of being 
 guilty of methodistical cant; and more 
 especially not, against an artless, quick- 
 feeling girl under Miss Shirley's affecting 
 circumstances. 
 
 " Men and women may be pious and 
 devotional in prosperity," added Lord 
 Shirley, " but, generally speaking, they 
 must be so in adversity : and where should 
 a bereaved orphan like our new-found 
 relative look for comfort and support, 
 but to her Father who is in heaven ?" 
 
 " Grant me patience!" cried Mrs. 
 Baynton, " if this girl's methodism has 
 not affected even you, my lord ! — and I 
 see, — yes, I see very clearly that she will 
 alienate ail hearts from me. Yes — I see, 
 Fam sure nobody loves me — 1 am the 
 most miserable woman that exists ; — I dare 
 say this viper will soon get me turned out 
 of my brother's house." 
 
 Here sobs, sobs of anger choked her 
 
 utterance,
 
 utterance, and saved the vexed but dis- 
 gusted Lionel from more vituperative 
 agony. Still he could not help consider- 
 ing her with excessive pity: — for what 
 consciousness can be so painful, and so 
 difficult to endure, as that expressed by 
 Macbeth, — " And no one loves me!'' And 
 Lord Shirley knew that the unhappy 
 Mrs. Baynton had only, while echoing the 
 words of Macbeth, expressed a bitter and 
 melancholy truth. But luckily for him 
 her loud expressions of grief, which as. 
 he could not soothe Lord Shirley dared 
 not notice, were interrupted by the re- 
 entrance of the general leaning on the 
 arm of Catherine. 
 
 On seeing them, Mrs. Baynton rose 
 and retired, throwing the door after her 
 with considt;rable force. 
 
 '^ We heard the sound of crving and 
 
 wailing," said the general, " as we opened 
 
 H 5 tb-e
 
 154 
 
 the door ; I hope, Lionel, you have not 
 been beating Mrs. Baynton?" 
 
 " I have been v^ounding her a little 
 with my tongue, I believe," replied the 
 earl J " a weapon which I thought proper 
 to use in defence of injured merit." 
 
 *' I am sorry you wounded her," said 
 Catherine kindly, " however justifiable 
 your motives were." 
 
 " I suspect, Lionel," observed the gene- 
 ral with a languid smile, ^^ Catherine 
 takes the ' injured merit' to herself, and 
 concludes she was the person you de- 
 fended." 
 
 " Me ! was it indeed me whom Lord 
 Shirley defended ! said Catherine deeply 
 blushing; "O! then I am more sorry 
 than I was before : — and I again conjure 
 you, my kind cousin, and you, my dear 
 grandfather, for my [sake, as well as my 
 aunt's, not to keep up this very natural 
 
 dislike
 
 153 
 
 dislike of me at present, by defending me 
 when she attacks me, or praising me as if 
 in opposition to her. It is my wish to 
 gain her affection if possible. I know my 
 progress wall be slow ; but it will also be 
 sure, if I am allowed to work my way 
 quietly and peaceably : and in the mean 
 time I shall, I trust, be improving myself 
 in very necessary virtues." 
 
 To the good sense as well as the kind- 
 ness of this request her hearers could 
 not be deaf; and Lord Shirley pro- 
 mised to be more civil to Mrs. Baynton 
 than ever, provided she did not speak 
 very ill of her great-niece ; and the ge- 
 neral promised to behave as well as he 
 could. 
 
 jMrs. Bjynton did not appear again that 
 night ; and the evening, which ended 
 early, served to exhibit Catherine as a 
 soother of her afflicted grandfather in so 
 
 aimable
 
 156 
 
 amiable a light, — since she evidently over- 
 came her own grief in order to endeavour 
 to cheer his, - that Lord Shirley, as he went 
 home, convinced himself it was his duty 
 to visit the general every day, and that, 
 come what would, he would dine there 
 again on the morrow. 
 
 CHAP.
 
 157 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 When Catherine and the general en- 
 tered the room that evening. Lord 
 Shirley thought he perceived a look of 
 satisfaction on Catherine's countenance, 
 through the traces of tears which evident- 
 ly obscured the brilliancy of her eyes : 
 and he found the truth of his observation 
 confirmed when the general called him 
 on one side before he took leave, and in- 
 formed him that he had given Catherine 
 permission to invite her friend Miss Merle 
 to stay with her. But, that as he knew 
 this family arrangement would excessively 
 discompose the nerves of his sister, he 
 wished Lord Shirley would come to 
 breakfast the next morning, that he might 
 be present when it was disclosed to her, 
 and by his influence over her mind at 
 
 once
 
 158 
 
 once keep her anger in proper bounds, 
 and reconcile her to a circumstance in his 
 opinion as just as it was desirable to his 
 grand-daughter. 
 
 Lord Shirley promised compliance. 
 But as he had something of Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton's pride, he was reconciled to the idea 
 of this continuation of Catherine's inti- 
 macy with her inferiors, merely by his 
 dislike that the aunt should be gratified in 
 her inclinations, and the niece thwarted 
 in hers. Lord Shirley was moreover sur- 
 prised to see that the general was so much 
 afraid ot the displeasure of his unamiable 
 and also powerless sister, as to wish him 
 to be present in order to stand between 
 him and her wrath. He must there- 
 fore (though an accurate observer ge- 
 nerally speaking) have tailed to observe 
 how much more frequent and sure is 
 the operation of fear than that of love, 
 in influencing the conduct of human 
 
 beings
 
 159 
 
 beings towards each other ; and that the 
 power possessed by the meek, th- tender, 
 and the benevolent, ir both s- xes, is a 
 non-entity compared VUi ciominion en- 
 joyed by the violent, the selhsh, and the 
 overbearing. 
 
 The next morning Lord Shirley, even 
 before the appointed hour, was seated at 
 the general's breakfast table. 
 
 " Well, my dear child,"' said the gene- 
 ral, addressing himself very kindly to Ca- 
 therine ; " tell me at what hour you wish 
 the carriage to be sent to bring your friend 
 Miss Merle hither." 
 
 " As soon as you please, sir," replied 
 Catherine with subdued but evident plea- 
 sure. 
 
 " Miss Merle!" exclaimed Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton, " may I ask what she is coming hither 
 for?" 
 
 " To stay with my grand- daughter," 
 coolly replied the general. 
 
 " Grant
 
 160 
 
 " Grant me patience !" vociferated his 
 sister. " What ! is that horrid Miss Merle 
 coming hirher ? coming to stay at the 
 house of General Shirley as a companion 
 to his grand-daughter and heiress?" 
 
 *' Mrs. Baynton," cried the general, 
 " the Miss Merle is coming hither, that 
 Miss Merle, who loved, consoled, and 
 comforted my grand-daughter and heiress 
 when her nearest of kin disowned, neg- 
 lected, and knew her not, — The Miss 
 Merle who deserved and gained her grate- 
 ful affection, while her grandfather and 
 her aunt unnaturally took no notice of 
 her — This is the Miss Merle who is com- 
 ing to be my guest and her companion." 
 " Yes/' returned Mrs. Baynton, " one 
 Lucy Merle, the vulgar, democratic, con- 
 ceited daughter of the vulgar vixenish 
 wife of a country linen-draper and a 
 small-beer brewer." 
 
 " Vulgar! madam! vulgar!'' exclaimed 
 
 Cathe-
 
 161 
 
 Catherine with a glow of indlgnailon man- 
 tling on her cheek, which her own wrongs 
 would never have gathered there : " Miss 
 M^rle vulgar ! She is one of the loveliest 
 and most accomplished girls I know," 
 
 " You know !" retorted Mrs. Baynton : 
 *' that may he^ and yet Lucy Merle be a 
 very ordinary sort of person.** 
 
 " Then ask Lord Shirley, madam, if 
 he did not think her a beautiful creature." 
 
 Lord Shirley, blushing as he did so, 
 replied that he scarcely looked at her, 
 but he believed she was a pretty, genteel- 
 looking girl. 
 
 " If so then/' resumed Mrs. Baynton, 
 " it is more particularly improper for this 
 young person to be introduced into a line 
 of life so much above her. She had much 
 better remain in her present obscurity, lest 
 she become an object of admiration to 
 those whose designs, owing to the lowli- 
 ness of her birth, cannot be honourable, 
 
 CSpC"
 
 162 
 
 especially as her father is In another coun- 
 try and she has no protector." 
 
 More than the '' hectic of a moment" 
 passed across the cheek of Catherine at 
 these words, while she rose in strong 
 emotion and exclaimed, " No protector, 
 madam! Lucy Merle no protector!" then 
 pausing, and deeply sighing, she reseated 
 herself and added, "Poor thing! No — 
 she has indeed no protector." 
 
 *' Then," rejoined her aunt, " I con- 
 clude you feel the propriety of not ex- 
 posing her to improper admiration and 
 improper addresses. Here is our noble 
 cousin here," added she smiling, " the 
 admiration of all female eyes, the de- 
 sire of all female hearts, can you answer 
 it to your conscience to expose your friend 
 to the daUccer of admiring and being ad- 
 mired by him for instance ?" 
 
 " Danger ! madam !" cried Cathe- 
 rine, " would Lucy Merle have any 
 
 danger
 
 163 
 
 danger to fear from Lord Shirley ?" dart- 
 ing at him as she spoke a look of almost 
 fierce inquiry. 
 
 " None — none in the world," replied 
 Lord Shirley eagerly^ " were she ever so 
 charming.'' 
 
 " I thought so/' returned Catherine 
 with quickness. 
 
 *^ That remark is not flattering to Lord 
 Shirley's power of pleasing ; for, if her 
 honour be in no danger, her heart might. 
 But perhaps, Miss Catherine, you think 
 the earl a good speculation for your friend, 
 and you wish (as you are used to con- 
 template unequal marriages with compla- 
 cency) to see this young person the wife of 
 your noble cousin, Lord Shirley ?'* 
 
 " Impossible that I should wish such a 
 thing !" replied Catherine with a degree of 
 eagerness \^hich fla.'tered the earl's self- 
 love — and he gazed on her uith grateful 
 f;leasure till she went on to say — '• Im- 
 possible^
 
 164 
 
 possible, madam! not only because I 
 have been brought up to reprobate un- 
 equal marriages, but also because, though 
 I well know and approve the character 
 of Lucy Merle, that of Lord Shirley is 
 entirely unknown to me — And how do I 
 know that he would make her happy ?" 
 
 At this frank avowal, it is not in the 
 power of words to describe the astonish- 
 ment, the indignant astonishment that shot 
 in angry glances from the eyes of Mrs. 
 Baynton ; the surprise not unmixed v^ith 
 archness that appeared on the countenance 
 of the general ; and the confusion and 
 mortification that showed themselves in a 
 succession of deep blushes on the face of 
 the handsome earl, he who knew himself 
 to be the most admired man at that mo- 
 ment in high life. 
 
 " Lionel !" said the general laughing, 
 '' I told you this girl was no flatterer !" 
 
 '^ Flatterer!" exclaimed her aunt, "she
 
 165 
 
 is absolutely rude and aftronting, as well 
 as absurd. — What! to suppose that one 
 Lucy Merle would not be too happy to 
 marry a nobleman, and a Shirley !*' 
 
 " My mother married a Shirley, and 
 her superior in rank ; and she was not 
 too happy !" said Catherine deeply sigh- 
 ing ; '^ yet she knew, loved, and idolized 
 the character of the man she married. 
 But surely what I said was not rude ; 
 if it was so, I request your pardon, my 
 lord. I doubt not, when I have known 
 you longer, I shall esteem you as you de- 
 serve; but till then, surely it could be 
 no affront to say that I should be un- 
 willing to trust you with the happiness of 
 my dearest fiiend." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly not/' answered 
 Lord Shirley in a hurried uncomfortable 
 manner : for he had been so used to com- 
 mand sudden as well as unqualified ad- 
 miration, that the sensible caution evinced 
 
 by
 
 166 
 
 by Caiheiine's ingenuous decoration had 
 given him a feeling of mortification un- 
 usual, and therefore hard to be borne; 
 especially as in the recesses of his heart he 
 had thought that Catherine herself might 
 not perhaps be reluctant to receive his 
 addresses : — yet he was now honestly in- 
 formed by Catherine, she was not at all 
 sure he would be a good match even for 
 her humble friend ! 
 
 " It is impossible," said Mrs. Baynton 
 with great acrimony, " to hold any satisfac- 
 tory conversation with persons with whom, 
 from the company they have kept and the 
 sort of education they have received, one 
 can have no community of thought or feel- 
 ing ; and I foresee that you, my deluded 
 brother, by allowing your grand- daugh- 
 ter to continue her acquaintance with those 
 low persons, will only perpetuate those 
 notions it were better for her to get rid of 
 as soon as possible. — Let me tell you. 
 
 Miss
 
 467 
 
 Miss Catherine Shirley, that any notice 
 luhatex.er from my Lord Shirley would 
 be an honour to a Lucy Merle." 
 
 " Any notice whatever, madam !*' 
 echoed Catherine, regarding hsr with 
 surprise mingled with suspicion and 
 alarm. 
 
 " It is vulgar to repeat a person's words, 
 child r' said Mrs. Baynton : " but I did 
 say so.'' 
 
 " Then you said wrong, madam/' ex- 
 claimed Lord Shirley, his fine face suffused 
 with a more worthy glow than what had 
 so lately crimsoned it ; for it sprung from 
 a more worthy cause, and one becoming 
 the real nobleness of his nature and the 
 correctness of his principles : — " The no- 
 tice even of a prince would be no honour^ 
 but a decided dishonour, to any woman, 
 however low her situation in life, if it 
 implied dishonourable wishes and disho- 
 nourable
 
 168 
 
 nourable intentions : — and, so far from 
 your friend's being in any danger from 
 jny assiduities, — for who ever dared, even 
 by implication, to brand me with the 
 name of seducer ? — that, were she in dan- 
 ger from any one else, I myself would 
 be to her the protector which Providence 
 has denied her!" 
 
 " I believe you, I believe you !*' cried 
 Catherine with sparkling eyes, and eager- 
 ly giving him her hand, gazing earnestly, 
 and almost unconsciously, as she did so, 
 on the earl's deep blush and ingenu- 
 ous expression of countenance, which 
 carried home to her heart the conviction 
 that he spoke nothing but the truth. 
 *' My dear lord,'* she added I am dis- 
 posed to think very highly of you for two 
 reasons : — first, because you were my poor 
 father's true and zealous friend ; and, se- 
 condly, because you have such a habit of 
 
 blushing j
 
 169 
 
 blushing ; and it was a remark of my mo- 
 ther's — that being whom 1 regarded as a 
 model of correct observation — ' that women 
 may blash from want of knowledge of 
 the world, from weakness of nerves, and 
 many inadequate and some improper 
 feelings : but a man s blushes, especially 
 those of a man of the world, are always,' 
 said she, ' in my opinion, a proof, that an 
 intercourse with that world has not rubbed 
 off the gloss of his best feelings ; but 
 that, if he be not still entirely virtuous, 
 he retains a love of virtue, and a de- 
 gree of sensibility, which may ultimate- 
 ly make him a blessing to himself and 
 others; " 
 
 Lord Shirley did not blush the less for 
 these commendations on his blushes, 
 which Catherine delivered with cheeks 
 glowing like his own. But though Lord 
 Shirley blushed from pleasure, it was not 
 
 VOL. I. I unmixed
 
 170 
 
 unmixed pleasure ; as the warmth and 
 readiness of her praise was even a stronger 
 proof of her indifference than her prece- 
 ding frankness had been. 
 
 The general made no observation. But 
 not so his sister. She, drawing herself 
 up, with a disdainful look declared that 
 " she never heard any thing so indecorous 
 in her life, as a young lady's admiring 
 so warmly and avowedly a gentleman's 
 blushes ! It was really fulsome flattery, 
 though spoken in the words of a third 
 person." *^ ^** 
 
 Consternation the most painful kept 
 Catherine silent, and indignation Lord 
 Shirley : but the general with great vehe- 
 mence declared, that there was no know- 
 ing how to please a crabbed old woman 
 like her. " One moment," cried he, 
 " you scold the poor child because she 
 does not say civil things to a man, and 
 
 the
 
 171 
 
 the next you abuse her because she says 
 too many!" 
 
 To this speech his sister made an angry 
 retort, which he as angrily answered ; till 
 harsh words succeeded so rapidly to each 
 other, that Lord Shirley made a hasty 
 bow, and was withdrawing from so unplea- 
 sant a scene, but was requested to stay by 
 the general, who, ringing the bell, de- 
 sired the carriage might go instantly for 
 Miss Merle. 
 
 This order led Mrs. Baynton back to 
 the original cause of their dispute ; and 
 she desired to know whether the general 
 really meant that this nobody should sit at 
 table with them. 
 
 " To be sure, I do." 
 
 " What 1 when there is company ?'* 
 
 " Undoubtedly/' 
 
 " What a want of proper pride !" 
 
 " No — what a proof of true pride ! 
 
 Mrs. Baynton^ I am too proud to sup- 
 
 1 2 pose
 
 172 
 
 pose the man or woman uhom / think 
 good enough to associate with me is not 
 fit company for any guest of mine/* 
 
 *^ But how do you know, brother, that 
 she will not help herself with her own 
 knife and fork, and feed herself with her 
 knife ?'* 
 
 ** And suppose she should?'* replied the 
 general. " Lord Shirley, don*t you think 
 you could survive the shock ?" 
 
 *' YeSj general," he replied ; " as I 
 have not the same exquisite susceptibility 
 which distinguishes, I see, another of the 
 family." 
 
 '^ I must be allowed," said Catherine 
 blushing, ** to say, that you seem, ma- 
 dam, to have very erroneous notions of 
 what the family of a respectable trades- 
 man is. My friend Lucy has never as- 
 sociated with the very vulgar, though not, 
 probably, with the very high j — and I 
 am sure she has too strong a sense of 
 
 nicety,
 
 173 
 
 nicety, as well as decorum, to ofiend 
 against the decencies of life at any table." 
 
 *' I do not doubt it — I do not doubt it 
 at all, my dear," replied the general, 
 " spite of what that fantastical old lady 
 thinks or says." 
 
 "Brother! General Shirley! /— I— 
 despise you 1" said his sister, nearly choked 
 with passion, and leaving the room with 
 precipitation ; while Catherme, only too 
 conscious that she was already, and must 
 become still more, a constant source of con- 
 tcntion between her aunt and her grand- 
 father, could not regain her tranquillity, 
 though kindly soothed both by the gene- 
 ral and the earl. 
 
 ** Do not grieve, my sweet child," said 
 the latter ; " if she had not this and you 
 to CO nplain of, she would have some- 
 thing else. Complaining is to her like a 
 prepared atmosphere to the consumptive 
 patient ; she could not live v/ithout it. 
 
 She
 
 174 
 
 She led my first wife a wearisome exist- 
 ence, who was a sweet gentle being, and 
 had not spirit enough to resist her ; and 
 nevertheless my sister always declared 
 that Mrs. Shirley was the worst of tem- 
 pers." ISly second wife kept her in 
 order, and she hated her during her 
 life ; but when she died, she declared she 
 was the most angelic creature breathing ! 
 In short, there is no accounting for the 
 obliquities of temper : all one can do is 
 to curb one's own temper, and to bear 
 with that of others.'' 
 
 " But one cannot do that with certainty 
 v/ithout the aid of religion,''* cried Ca- 
 therine. — *' And tried as I am likely to 
 be, what do I not owe to that excellent 
 mother who taught me to endeavour to be 
 a practical Christian, and that excellent 
 father, who added his instructions to hersl" 
 A mournful silence ensued, which was 
 broken by the arrival of Lucy Merle. 
 
 Catherine
 
 Catherine immediately left the room to 
 receive her friend and conduct her to 
 her own apartment ; while Lord Shirley, 
 declaring his intention of returning to 
 dinner, left the general to himself. 
 
 CHAP.
 
 176 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 BiiTORE the dinner-hour drew nigh, 
 the general received a note from the 
 earl, informing him that a letter bad just 
 reached him from his younger sister 
 Lady Frances, telling him that she 
 expected to be in London and at his 
 house in a few hours, and in that case 
 he hoped he might be allowed to bring 
 her with him. This note the gene- 
 ral sent to Mrs. Baynton for her perusal, 
 desiring her at the same time to write 
 word to Lord Shirley, that he should be 
 happy to see Lady Frances. Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton complied with his desire 5 but she 
 could scarcely forbear inserting in the 
 note how shocked she was that her fair 
 and noble relative would be forced to 
 meet at the general's table company so 
 unworthy of her. 
 
 Neither
 
 177 
 
 Neither the general nor Mrs. Baynton 
 had seen Lady Frances since she was quite 
 a child, as she had for many years resided 
 with an aunt of her mother's in Scotland ; 
 but they knew her to be a distinguished 
 belle even amongst the lovely daugh- 
 ters of Caledonia, and she was on the 
 point of marriage with a Scotch noble- 
 man. 
 
 Mrs. Baynton, who piqued herself on 
 the Shirley beauty, was extremely anxi- 
 ous to see this young lady, v^ho still up- 
 held that distinction so flatterin. to her 
 family vanity, and without calling forth 
 that personal jealousy wh'ch similar ad- 
 vantage in a near relation like Catherine, 
 — one, too, who moved in the same circle 
 as herself, — could not fail to excite in her 
 envious mind. Eagerly, therefore, did 
 she look forward to the arrival of Lady 
 Frances J and calling up the most graci- 
 ous expression to her countenance, she 
 1 5 resolved.
 
 178 
 
 resolved, in order to do honour to her 
 noble relations, to forget the provoking 
 dispute that had driven her from the pre- 
 sence of the general, and even overlook 
 the misery of being obliged to sit at table 
 with nobody knew who. 
 
 Catherine, meanwhile, was disclosing 
 to Lucy Merle the irritated state of her 
 aunt's mind, and earnestly begging her 
 to be on her guard, and not irritate her 
 still more by severe replies, however pro- 
 voked : while Lucy, knowing herself, 
 begged to be allowed to dine in Cathe- 
 nne's apartment, lest she should be tempt- 
 ed to affront her aunt. 
 
 *' You do yourself injustice," re- 
 plied Catherine ; " for I know you will 
 not only behave with firmness and dignity 
 becoming your own worth and my re- 
 gard, but also with that forbearance be- 
 coming your sex and age, and due to 
 Mrs. Baynton*s rank and situation." 
 
 *^Due
 
 179 
 
 " Due to her rank, perhaps, as society 
 now is ; but not becoming my principles." 
 
 " Not your political ones ; but remem- 
 ber, you are a Christian, and forbearance 
 is a Christian's duty." 
 
 " Aye, my dear friend,'' replied Lucy ; 
 *' I can bear to hear j/ou talk of Christian 
 duty, for ?/oz/, I know, practise all you 
 preach." 
 
 There was no one in the drawing-room 
 but the general and Lord Shirley whea 
 Lucy entered leaning on Catherine. She- 
 had been already presented to the earl, and 
 the former did not receive her as a stran- 
 ger, for he took her hand and welcomed 
 her in the kindest manner. 
 
 " I have experienced a disappointment 
 to-day, my dear child," said the general 
 to Catherine : '' I expected Lord Shirley 
 would. have brought with him his sister 
 Lady Frances, but she is detained a week- 
 longer in Scotland/' 
 
 Lord
 
 180 
 Lord Shirley, meanwhile, — though not 
 at all conscious that he did so, — was di- 
 stressing Lucy Merle by the earnestness 
 ^yith which he looked at her : nay, he did 
 not only look at, he absolutely examined 
 her face with fixed attention ; for he 
 thought he had somewhere seen features 
 resembhng hers, and those features were 
 remarkable. Her beauty, — and she was 
 very handsome,— was of that cast of fea- 
 tures and of that peculiar look which is 
 usually called Jewish. Her outline was 
 bold;, for her nose approached the aqui- 
 linCj and her mouth was rather wide ; 
 but this defect was made amends for by 
 the excessive beauty of her full red lips, 
 which, whenever they opened, disclosed 
 the finest teeth possible. Her forehead 
 was high and open, her hair glossy and 
 of a jet black. Her eye- brows were thick, 
 and rather too near each other ; her eyes 
 were of a light and sparkling gray j but 
 
 so
 
 181 
 
 so long and black were the eye-lashes that 
 veiled them, that in some views they had 
 all the effect of dark ones. Her complexion 
 was a decided brown, or olive colour; but 
 so clear, that at every moment " her pure 
 and eloquent blood spoke in her cheeks," 
 and made it impossible for her to conceal 
 the incessant emotion to which her quick 
 feelings exposed her. Her person was 
 tall and even commanding ; but it was 
 rather too thin, for beauty: still, when 
 dressed to advantage, as she now was, 
 she had altogether a most commanding 
 and striking appearance. 
 
 Catherine and the general both ob- 
 served the earnest manner in which the 
 earl had examined Lucy's features; though 
 neither of them wondered that he should 
 take pleasure in looking at a very lovely 
 girl : but they also observed that his ear- 
 nest gaze distressed her; and the general, 
 to divert the attention which was evidently 
 
 become
 
 182 
 
 become painful, desired Lord Shirley to take 
 down a new book of prints which he had 
 lately purchased, and show it to the ladies. 
 He did so: and as they were viewing it, 
 the general, observing thai Lucy looked 
 at the prints so closely as to discover that 
 she was short-sighted, and, consequently, 
 that it would be more agreeable to her to 
 look at them sitting, brought her a chair 
 with well-bred alacrity, and was in the act 
 of presenting it to her with a bow of the 
 old school, a bow at once graceful and 
 respectful, while Lord Shirley was smi- 
 ling his approbation of the general's gal- 
 lantry, when Mrs. Baynton entered the 
 room. 
 
 The general's respectful obeisance, and 
 Lord Shirley's look of pleasure, at once 
 appeared to her sufficient proofs that this 
 fine young creature was the admired in- 
 heritor of the Shirley beauty, especially 
 as she was in cousin's mourning, as it is 
 
 called 'y
 
 183 
 
 called ; and she could not for a moment 
 imagine that a Lucy Merle would be in 
 mourning for a Shirley, Accordingly she 
 eagerly advanced towards Lucy, whou\ 
 though she had heard she had n^ver seen; 
 and while Lucy awaited her approach 
 with all the dignity of a proud republi- 
 can conscious of injury, she put on one of 
 her sweetest smiles and, saluting her cheek, 
 exclaimed " I am so glad ! so delighted 
 to see you, my sweet girl ! This is a plea- 
 sure I have long been ambitious of!" 
 
 Nothing could exceed the silent asto- 
 nishment of the general and Lord Shir- 
 ley, except the almost remorseful confu- 
 sion and surprise of Lucy, and the grate- 
 ful pleasure of Catherine, who, now ad- 
 vancing from another part of the room, 
 was on the point of saying — '' My dear 
 aunt, how truly kind is this 1'* when the 
 servant announced dinner, just as Mrs. 
 Baynton had heard the agitated Lucy re-
 
 184 
 
 ply, in a low voice, " You are very kind, 
 I am sure, madam." 
 
 The general, w^ho soon began to su- 
 spect the truth, again bowing respectfully, 
 drew the arm of Lucy under his, and led 
 her into the dining room, while the earl 
 gave his to the aunt and niece. The 
 former then said in an audible whisper, 
 which was overheard by the general, " I 
 congratulate you, my lord ! She is a 
 sweet beautiful creature ! quite the Shirley 
 style of feature — quire the Shirley profile ; 
 don'tyou think so ? far more like our fa- 
 mily than Miss Shirley is.'* 
 
 Lord Shirley now discovered the mis- 
 take, and was too mischievous to unde- 
 ceive her, as the longer it was continued 
 the more likely it was to end in her mor- 
 tification, which he was the more inclined 
 to enjoy, because she never asked where 
 Lucy Merle was, and why they went to 
 dinner without her j concluding, he sup- 
 
 posed,
 
 185 
 
 posed, that her representations had been 
 attended to. 
 
 When they were seated at table, Mrs. 
 Baynton hoped her ladyship had had a 
 pleasant journey ; and before Catherine, 
 who now understood the whole truth, 
 could reply and rectify the mistake, the 
 general said " Does your ladyship take 
 soup ?" Then turning to Lord Shirley, he 
 said, " Yes — the true Shirley style and 
 profile, ey ! Lionel !" While Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton, gazing on her blushing vis-a-vis, with 
 a mouth distended, with a smile of ineffa- 
 ble conceit declared " she blushed as be- 
 comingly as her brother." 
 
 The gentlemen could now no longer 
 restrain their laughter; nor even Lucy 
 herself, who now understood that she was 
 taken for the Lady Frances Shirley whom 
 she had expected to meet : but Catherine 
 regarding them with a look of reproach, 
 and leaning forward to speak to her aunt 
 
 in
 
 186 
 in a low voice, lest the servants should over- 
 hear her, said, " Dear madam, this is not 
 Lady Frances Shirley, but my friend Lucy 
 Merle!" 
 
 Rage too mighty for utterance now 
 lightened from the dark eye of Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton, while the general said, *' Fye, Ca- 
 therine, fye ! why did you so soon put a 
 stop to a little harmless pleasantry ?" 
 
 '^ Excuse me, sir ; but I cannot think 
 any pleasantry harmless that must end in 
 pain to another." 
 
 ''Pshaw! what a little Puritan it is!-" 
 added the general ; and was going on, 
 but stopped in compliance with the 
 beseeching looks of Catherine, and also 
 in alarm at the frightful looks of his 
 sister, whom rage too mighty for words 
 rendered entirely silent, though her heav- 
 ing bosom sufficiently proved the passion 
 that was struggling within it. Lord Shir- 
 ley, the general, and Lucy, meanwhile 
 
 went
 
 187 
 went on with their dinner, not appearing 
 to notice her emotion ; but Catherine was 
 wholly unable to take her attention off 
 her aunt, whom she expected to see every 
 moment seized with indisposition ; espe* 
 cially as the general could not help com- 
 plimenting Miss Merle on her quality look, 
 which had even deceived a lady of his 
 sister's experience in such advantages. To 
 which Lucy could not restrain herself 
 from replying, — 
 
 " You would indeed congratulate me, 
 sir^ if you knew how much this little 
 mistake confirms me in my own peculiar 
 way of thinking, and in my conviction of the 
 emptiness of the distinctions of birth; for, 
 if they really conferred that superiority 
 which is attributed to them, could I, the 
 low-born Lucy Merle, have been mista- 
 ken by that honourable lady for the noble 
 Lady Frances Shirley ?" 
 
 Though
 
 ISS 
 Though Lucy said this with very be- 
 coming blushes and feminine gentle- 
 ness, the earl and the general were not 
 pleased with the observation, and Cathe- 
 rine, on every account, wished it unsaid 
 at this moment; and the more so, as it re- 
 stored Mrs. Baynton to her speech by the 
 additional indignation which it excited : 
 while Catherine, afraid of what she might 
 utter, dismissed the servants, who had 
 just set the second course on the table. 
 " Am I then made a laughing-stock to 
 girls?'' screamed out Mrs. Baynton. 
 ^' But I will not forgive it while 1 live." 
 And springing from her seat, she was run- 
 ning out of the room ; but Catherine hung 
 on her gown^ and following her, conjured 
 her to forgive what had passed, blaming 
 herself for not having presented her friend, 
 and owning she had not in her opinion 
 been quite well used. 
 
 The
 
 189 
 The candour and generosity of Cathe- 
 rine — qualities which Mrs. Baynton ad- 
 mired and envied, but could not imitate— 
 made her at this season of irritation more 
 odious to her than ever ; and alive only to 
 the feehngs of the moment, she hastily- 
 disengaged her gown from Catherines 
 grasp ; and giving her a violent push, 
 which drove her against the comer of the 
 side-board, she ran out of the room. 
 
 The sight of Catherine evidently in 
 
 pain called forth all the violence of her 
 
 young friend, and her eyes beamed with 
 
 indignation. " Has she hurt you ? Are 
 
 you hurt ?'* screamed out the affectionate 
 
 -girl, running to her ; while Lord Shirley 
 
 ' faltered out the same question ; and the 
 
 *" general sat in speechless, motionless con- 
 
 stemation. 
 
 " I am not much hurt, and the pain is 
 almost gone," said Catherine. " Oh I it 
 was nothing ! — nothing at all !" 
 
 " But
 
 190 
 
 " But it may be something next time," 
 muttered the general ; " and she shall not 
 stay under this roof to do you mischief." 
 
 As he said these words he had drawn 
 Catherine fondly on his knee ; but on 
 hearing them, she sprung up, regardless 
 of the pain she felt, and in the most ear- 
 nest terms conjured the general to be not 
 merciful, hut just. 
 
 '• I mean to be just, and, therefore, 
 cannot be merciful, my dear," he replied. 
 Then, with a look and manner which for- 
 bade further reply, he opened the door of 
 his library, and locked himself in there. 
 
 " Oh ! Lord Shirley 1" exclaimed Ca- 
 therine, " for pity's sake, nay, for the sake 
 of justice, let me beg of you to intercede 
 for my poor aunt 1 Indeed, indeed, in 
 this instance she was more sinned against 
 than sinning !" 
 
 " What ! when she was the means of 
 hurting you at the very moment when you 
 
 were
 
 191 
 
 x^'ere blaming yourself, and resenting her 
 wrongs !" 
 
 " Yes ; for what I said was officious 
 and ill-timed. It was provoking, indeed 
 it was, coming as it did from one who 
 was the cause of ail that disturbed her.'* 
 
 '^ How so ? — You the cause!" 
 
 *' Yes — my introduction into the fa- 
 mily, and my bringing my friend Lucy 
 here, were certainly the cause ; and she 
 must hate me, I know she must.'* 
 
 " And is hatred, especially that of an 
 aunt to a niece, so amiable a feeling, 
 that, instead of being punished, you think 
 Mrs. Baynton ought to be rewarded for 
 it ? — Suppose she had pushed you so vio- 
 lently against the corner of the side-board 
 as to cause a serious injury, of which you 
 had died, would the jury have been in- 
 fluenced by your reasoning to acquit her 
 of murder ? If they did, they must have 
 
 been
 
 192 
 
 been a jury composed of elderly aunts 
 who had young and handsome nieces." 
 
 *' My lord," cried Lucy, her eyes 
 sparkling with fierce indignation, and her 
 brow contracted into an almost awful 
 frown, " let me entreat you not to say a 
 word for this horrid woman. Who knows, 
 as the general says, but the next tbne 
 she may indeed injureher ?'* Then, be- 
 fore Lord Shirley could recollect where 
 he had seen that eye and that brow, even 
 more peculiar in anger than they were in 
 mildness, her features relaxed into tender 
 sorrow, and clasping Catherine to her 
 bosom she wept over her in silence. 
 
 " I am silenced, but not convinced," 
 said Catherine; " for I enter into my aunt's 
 feelings, and can make allowances for 
 them." 
 
 " Yes ; you have done nothing else 
 but consider her feelings ever since you 
 
 came:
 
 193 
 
 came: but when has she ever considered 
 yours r 
 
 " No matter : What glory is it, if 
 when ye are buffeted for your faults ye 
 shall take it patiently ? But if, when you 
 do well and suffer for it ye take it patiently, 
 this is acceptable with God." 
 
 " Sweet enthusiast !" almost escaped the 
 lips of Lord Shirley : for, like most men and 
 women of the world, he had such a dread of 
 any thing which approached fanaticism and 
 enthusiasm, that he fancied the simple lan- 
 guage of a sincere Christian, such as Cathe- 
 rine had just spoken, resembled them too 
 nearly. But before he could reply, the general 
 entered the room, and in a low but firm voice 
 said he had written to his sister to desire 
 she would seek another abode to-morrow. 
 
 ^' And I — I am the cause !" cried Ca- 
 therine with great feeling. " It is I who 
 drive her forth from that home which she 
 would else have enjoyed for years !' 
 
 VOL, I. K " Miss
 
 194 
 
 ■^* Miss Shirley, give me leave to tdl 
 you it is my sister's own vile temper, and 
 not you, which is the cause of this exile. 
 And as to calling this the home she would 
 have enjoyed for years, can you in your 
 conscience believe, my dear, that a wo- 
 man with such a disposition can ever long 
 enjoy any place ? Besides, you seem to 
 forget that the woman for wrhom you 
 plead was one of those who strove the 
 most to keep your beloved father from his 
 home." (Here the general's voice was 
 stopped by strong emotion ; and Cathe- 
 rine raised her tearful eyes to Heaven.) — 
 ^' Does not his child," he continued, *^ owe 
 some retributive justice to his memo- 
 
 i-y?" 
 
 '' Yes — yes," cried Catherine; — ^' she 
 does, the only justice worthy of it!" 
 
 " And do you forget that your lamented 
 mother had not a foe so inveterate against 
 her, and the success of my son's appeals 
 
 to
 
 195 
 
 to have her received by me, as this cruel 
 aunt whose cause you are thus advoca- 
 ting V 
 
 " Oh, no ! — I remember it all. I re- 
 member my father's woes and my mother's 
 wrongs. But that mother taught her 
 child to forgive injuries; to return good 
 for evil ; and to endeavour to fashion her 
 life according to that holy rule which 
 teaches us to love our enemies ; to dp 
 good to those that hate us ; and pray 
 for those who despitefully use and perse- 
 cute us! — Sir, the justice, the only justice 
 I owe the memory of my lost parents, is 
 to act up to their precepts, and prove that 
 (heir child is neither unworthy of nor un- 
 grateful for the pains they bestowed upon 
 her mind and heart !"' 
 
 " You are a noble creature," said the 
 general, sobbing as he spoke. " This is 
 magnanimity — is it not, Lionel ?*' 
 
 K 2 Lord
 
 106 
 
 Lord Shirley, affected himself, coald 
 only echo the word ' noble.' 
 
 But these praises, or rather the wording 
 of them, displeased Catherine; for she felt 
 that what she had said was spoken neither 
 in a magnanimous nor noble spirit, but 
 simply in a Christian one, and as a ful- 
 filment of her Christian duty, — At this 
 moment a servant came in to say that Mrs. 
 Baynton wished to see the earl — and he 
 instantly obeyed the summons. 
 
 While he was gone, a sort of perturbed 
 silence took place ; and Catherine thought 
 she observed on the general's counte- 
 nance a degree of anxious emotion which 
 portended well for the interests of her 
 aunt. 
 
 It was not long before Lord Shirley re- 
 turned; but evidently not very kindly 
 impressed in favour of the power from 
 whom he came as ambassador. The truth 
 
 was,
 
 197 
 >v3S, that when Mrs. Baynton's frantic 
 rage had a little subsided, her pride be- 
 came alarmed at the consciousness of the 
 vulgar, unbecoming, and unfeminine man- 
 ner in which she had displayed her feel- 
 ings ; and she felt the more shame, be- 
 cause she had so behaved in the presence of 
 her noble cousin : to what such a nobody 
 as Lucy M^rle thoup;ht of her conduct 
 she was perfectly indifferent. Her anger 
 she thought, and with some truth, was jus- 
 tifiable, but the mode of expressing it the 
 contraiy ; and she felt that an apology 
 for it was due to the person whom she had 
 thus offended. She also felt, that vvith- 
 out such an apology she had no chance of 
 appeasing her brother, whom, whui once 
 resolved, she knew to be unbending; and 
 that, with it, she might possibly be re- 
 stored to favour, and allowed to remain 
 where she was. Accordingly, she v/ishcd 
 
 to
 
 198 
 
 to see Lord Shirley, in order to make hira 
 her agent on the occasion : and as soon as 
 he obeyed her summons, she began, with 
 many regrets for the quickness of her 
 sensibilities, to express her sorrow and 
 shame that her just resentment of injuries 
 should have led her into so improper a 
 way of displaying her sense of them. 
 
 *' Improper, madam ! Not only impro- 
 per, but unjust," cried Lord Shirley, 
 fired with indignation^ while he contrasted, 
 in idea, the dispositions of the aunt and 
 the niece. " You vented your anger on 
 the innocent, not the offending. Your 
 arm should have been lifted against the 
 general or me, not your amiable, unof- 
 fending, aiid, I must say, angelic niece." 
 
 If Lord Shirley had wished to revenge 
 Catherin e's wrongs to the utmost, he could 
 not have succeeded better than by giving 
 such praises to the being towards whonx 
 
 she
 
 199 
 she felt the strongest of all passions — 
 jealousy. 
 
 '' Well, this I was not prepared for," 
 she at length faintly articulated. ''I 
 thought, at least, I had a friend in you, 
 my lord/' 
 
 " And so you have, madam," replied 
 Lord Shirley, a little moved by her di- 
 stress ; " and so you shall find me, if you 
 vill let me know how I can serve yotu 
 Else why did I instantly obey your sum- 
 mons?" 
 
 *^ True — very true,'' sighed Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton, " This, then, my lord, is my bu- 
 siness with you. I feel that I have of- 
 fended my own . ignity, and my nieces, 
 by giving her a violent push ; and a true 
 gentle won i an, my lord, is not ashamed to 
 apologize for the fault she has corpmitted 
 against her rank as a gentlewoman. Of 
 my just resentment towards Miss Shirley, 
 
 the
 
 200 
 
 the canting plausible cause of all my mi- 
 sery, I never can, never will repent.*' 
 
 Lord Shirley now exclaimed, with 
 haughty displeasure on his countenance : 
 " And was it only to hear your abuse of 
 your niece, madam, that you sent for 
 
 mer" 
 
 ^^ No, my lord : it was to request you 
 to be the bearer of my apologies to Miss 
 Shirley — apologies for my personal vio- 
 lence I mean, and for that only." 
 
 *' Am I to add those emphasized 
 words, madam, when I deliver your 
 message ?" 
 
 *' Ye — es, my lord, if Miss Shirley 
 be alone ; but not if the general be 
 present." 
 
 Lord Shirley, disgusted at her mean 
 conduct as much as at her vindictive in- 
 justice, immediately bowed, and^ without 
 looking at her^ withdrew. 
 
 " Well,
 
 201 
 
 *' Well, my lord, have you seen my 
 aunt ?'' said Catherine eagerly, who had 
 been endeavouring during the earl's ab- 
 sence to melt the general's heart in fa- 
 vour of his ofFending sister. 
 
 " I have seen your aunt," he coolly re- 
 plied, " and she has deputed me to make 
 her apologies to you for having forgotten 
 herself so far as to push you away from 
 her in the manner she did." 
 
 " Indeed ! — Well, that is more than I 
 expected/' muttered the general. 
 
 " And more than I required, I am sure,'* 
 cried Catherine. " And I v/ill go to her 
 directly and beg her to -forget, as I do, all 
 that has passed of an unpleasant nature." 
 
 " You had better remain where you 
 are, my dear IVIiss Shirley," said the earl 
 smiling, " as the pacification is not so com- 
 plete as your generous nature imagines it 
 to be J and it is my opinion, that when I 
 K 5 shall
 
 202 
 
 shall have certified to Mrs. Baynton that 
 Miss Shirley accepts her apologies, it will 
 be better to leave that lady to her own 
 meditations, at least till to-morrow." 
 
 "My poor aunt!'* cried Catherine: 
 " I see she has no friend, then, but my- 
 self.^' 
 
 " And your being her friend is not the 
 means of making me so/' replied the 
 earl : " because your generosity only 
 makes me more conscious of the contrary 
 quality in her. Therefore, for her sake, 
 you must try to be less amiable, ** 
 
 Catherine was going to reply^ when 
 Lucy Merle, pulling her by the arm, 
 made her remark a great change in the 
 general's countenance: and she had 
 scarcely asked him. if he was unwell, 
 when he desired his physician to be sent 
 for directly, as he felt the approach of 
 his old enemy the gout, and was afraid 
 
 it
 
 SOS 
 
 it was going to attack his stomach. While 
 Catherine, who had never witnessed this 
 painful disorder, and who feared the agi- 
 tation of which she had been the innocent 
 cause had helped to bring it on, was 
 hanging over the couch to which the 
 general had been conveyed, and trying 
 to make herself useful to him, Lord 
 Shirley took an opportunity of whisper- 
 ing in her ear, that her benevolent 
 wishes concerning her aunt would find 
 the gout their most effectual assistant, as 
 Mrs. Baynton, to do her justice, was the 
 best of nurses ; and the general, when ill 
 with the gout, could never bear any one 
 near him but her. 
 
 " I am glad to hear it," cried Cathe- 
 rine ; *' and awkward as I already am on 
 this occasion, I hope I shall be more awk- 
 ward stilly that my aunt may be recalled 
 to her ofHce, and I dismissed, even though 
 I am dismissed for incompetency. — Well, 
 
 little
 
 204 
 
 little did I think that I should ever wish to 
 delegate to another the office of nurse to 
 my grandfather !" 
 
 When the physician came, he ordered 
 the general to keep his room, and be as 
 quiet as possible ; adding, " With such 
 a skilful and experienced nurse as your 
 sister, general, you can't fail to do well ; 
 and she knows all that is nece^-sary to be 
 done, you know — But where is she? — 
 why do I not see her at her post ?" 
 
 " That young creature is my nurse now, 
 
 Dr. ," said the general, sighing.—* 
 
 " Let me present to you my grand-daugh- 
 ter, Catherine Shirley, my son William's 
 only child." 
 
 This was the first time the general had 
 had an opportunity of introducing Ca- 
 therine, and doing so induced a degree 
 of agitation not favourable to his com- 
 plaint. 
 
 " Young lady, I rejoice to see you 
 
 here;'
 
 205 
 
 here,* replied Dr. . '^ But yoil, 
 
 my good friend, must not look back, but 
 forward, now, if you mean to get well : 
 and though I doubt not but the sight of 
 this young nurse is very delightful to you, 
 I suspect that of your old one would be 
 more salutary : — therefore I advise you 
 to call her to you as soon as possible." 
 
 *' There, sir ! did you hear that ?" cried 
 
 Catherine, as soon as 'Qy. was out 
 
 of hearing : " You must forgive my poor 
 aunt now.^^ 
 
 " Pshaw r muttered the general : '^ one 
 would really think that you bribed the 
 doctor to prescribe the nauseous dose to 
 
 me. 
 
 " But if the nauseous dose be the only 
 medicine that can do you good, — surely, 
 dear sir, you are not such a baby as to 
 object to it because it is nauseous ?'* 
 
 " Well, well — say no more at present : 
 and I suppose you will allow that it is 
 
 only
 
 206 
 
 only proper that she should offer her 
 services ?" 
 
 *' I am not sure of that." 
 
 '' Indeed," cried Lord Shirley, "you 
 carry your indulgence too far ; and the 
 general is only just in his expectations. 
 J^or will his sister, I am convinced, hesi- 
 tate to ask permission to attend on him 
 when I have seen her, and told her how- 
 ill he is." Then, without waiting for a 
 reply from the general, Lord Shirley re- 
 paired to Mrs. Baynton's apartment. He 
 found her in tears — tears more of anger 
 than of grief; as she had been informed 
 of the general's attack, and concluded that 
 Catherine would take advantage of his 
 illness to ingratiate herself so completely 
 into his favour, that her influence would 
 be wholly undermined, her services treat- 
 ed as wholly unnecessary, and her chance 
 of remaining in the house wholly annihi- 
 lated. But her tears passed with the earl 
 
 for
 
 207 
 
 for tears of affectionate alarm ; and after 
 assuring her that Catherine received her 
 apologies with eager pleasure, he advised 
 her, if she wished to conciliate the general, 
 to take advantage of the present circum- 
 stances, and ofFer her services as nurse ; 
 
 which, after Dr. 's eulogy on her 
 
 nursing powders, would, he was convinced, 
 be most kindly received. 
 
 ** Yes — I may offer," replied Mrs. 
 Baynton ; " but I dare say the new nurse 
 will take care my offer shall not be ac- 
 cepted." 
 
 " If, by the new nurse, you mean your 
 amiable niece^ madam ; I must tell you 
 that she is your warmest advocate with 
 your offended brother," 
 
 " Grant me patience !" exclaimed Mrs. 
 Baynton. " Then you mean to say that 
 if my brother forgives me, it will be at her 
 intercession r" 
 
 " I do, madaiQ.'* 
 
 '^ Then;,
 
 208 
 
 "Then, my lord, I will not be for- 
 given; and 1 had rather leave the house 
 this moment — a. id, mark me ! however ill 
 the general may be, he shall request^ for 
 I Vi^ill not offer ^ my assistance!** 
 
 Lord Shirley immediately rose, and in 
 silence left this amiable woman to her own 
 meditations. 
 
 " I am afraid I have- made bad worse,'* 
 said the earl in a whisper to Catherine, 
 in reply to the questioning glance of her 
 eyes. — The general did not speak, but 
 he looked anxious and disappointed. 
 
 " There, take care, girl, how you 
 pass m.e ! — For pity's sake do/* cried the 
 general rather peevishly, " I see you 
 have not been used to move near gouty 
 persons.'* 
 
 " Indeed I have not," replied Cathe- 
 rine affectionately : " and earnestly for 
 your sake, dear sir, do I now wish I had : 
 — but that wish is weak, because a vain 
 
 one.
 
 209 
 
 one. The wish that my aunt was at her 
 post as your head nurse is a rational one, 
 because it may be gratified.'* 
 
 ^' What ! would you have me sue to 
 the old virago ?" 
 
 " I would have you forgive your sister, 
 &ir, though she had sinned against you 
 ever so much and ever so often : and 
 especially as it is an offence against me, 
 not yourself, that you are resenting." 
 
 " I could easier have forgiven a fault 
 against myself, you ungrateful girl 1" 
 
 *' But, dear sir, unforgiveness is un- 
 forgiveness, however amiable the mo- 
 tive." 
 
 But Catherine would have continued 
 in vain to speak moral sentiments in aid 
 of her wishes, had not her own awkward- 
 ness served her cause effectually ; for nov/ 
 she not only seemed to be on the point 
 of touching the infiamsd toe, where at 
 length the gout settled, but she let some- 
 thing.
 
 210 
 
 thing fall out of her hand upon it ; and 
 the general uttered a cry of pain^ accom- 
 panied by an oath. " I verily believe the 
 girl did it on purpose to carry her point 1" 
 said the general, when the pain had sub- 
 sided sufficiently to let him speak ; and 
 the distress visible in Catherine's expres- 
 sive countenance inclined him to speak 
 kindly, " The matter is decided now 
 — Go, my dear, go and desire Norris to 
 present my compliments to Mrs. Baynton, 
 and tell her that her services are wanted in 
 my apartment." 
 
 Lord Shirley tried to be glad, and to 
 look so, because Catherine did ; but he 
 was provoked at concessions so ill- deserv- 
 ed by the object of them. " Shall avc 
 go away, sir, and leave you alone with 
 my auni ?" said Catherine, too delicate to 
 wish to witp.ess what might, she thought, 
 be a painful meeting between the brother 
 and sister. But. the general assuring her 
 
 that
 
 211 
 
 that he should take no notice of what had 
 passed, she resolved to remain; and In 
 about twenty minutes after she had been 
 sent for, Mrs. Baynton, with great dig- 
 nity, sailed into the room. 
 
 Catherine advanced toward her, half 
 extending her hand : but her aunt would 
 not even look at her, while she slowly 
 approached the general, and said — " Ge- 
 neral Shirley, I am here according to your 
 commands. What is your pleasure with 
 me ?'* 
 
 " My business, madam, is pain, not 
 pleasure, I assure you. I have gotten the 
 gout, and I do not like to have any one 
 come near me but yourself. Catherine 
 is a kind-hearted, well-intentioned girl, 
 but she does not understand waiting 
 on gouty patients : — therefore I sent for 
 you. So — is it peace or war between. 
 us ?" 
 
 " Peace, if your Infirmities make it ne- 
 cessary
 
 212 
 
 eessary to you, brother. But I could not 
 suppose I could be wanted where Miss 
 Shirley was; I thought she was one of 
 your great geniuses, who know every 
 thing by intuition." 
 
 " Me !'* cried the alarmed Catherine, 
 '' dear me, madam, do you take me for a 
 genius ? 1 am sure I hope not." 
 
 " I take you for a much better thing," 
 replied the general, '' a fine-tempered, 
 forgiving, forbearing creature ; but fc^r all 
 that I do not like you very near me at 
 present : therefore I recommend Lionel, 
 your friend, and yourscU, to go and eat 
 the dessert." They immediately with- 
 drew, and left the brother and sister to- 
 gether. 
 
 CHAP-
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 As Catherine was forbidden to enter the 
 general's dressing room because he was 
 •trying to rest, she and her companion/ at 
 Lord Shirley's particular desire, remained 
 with him while he drank his wine ; and when 
 they adjourned to the drawing-room, the earl 
 resumed the examination of the new prints 
 which dinner had interrupted. From prints 
 they got to books, of which the general 
 had a choice collection in different lan- 
 guages; and it was soon evident to the earl, 
 that, though they made no display of 
 their knowledge, his young companions 
 vrero perfectly well versed in every modern 
 language. Their remarks on the prints 
 had led him also to suspect they under- 
 stood drawing ; and the pleasure Cathe- 
 rine expressed at seeing a volume of 
 
 Handel
 
 214 
 
 Handel and Purcell bound up together, 
 put by mistake in the drawer that held 
 the prints, convinced him that music was 
 one of her accomplishments. 
 
 ** I do not expect," said the earl smiling, 
 *' that you will either of you be guilty of 
 the indecorum of owning you can draw * 
 like artists, and sing or play like professors ; 
 but i expect either of you will be very 
 ready to say these fine things of the other. 
 Therefore," affecting to whisper Lucy 
 Merle, he said " Does Miss Shirley draw t"' 
 
 " Admirably." 
 
 *^ Does she play, and sing?*' 
 
 *' Delightfully." 
 
 " And now in your ear. Miss Shirle}', 
 does Miss Merle draw?" 
 
 « Very well." 
 
 " And play, and sing ?" 
 
 *' Both — very pleasingly." 
 
 *' All I know of languages, and all I 
 know of music or drawing, I owe to the 
 
 instructions
 
 215 
 
 "instructions of my friend, my lord/' said 
 Lucy Merle blushing with grateful emo- 
 tion while she spoke; " and when you have 
 seen her drawings, and heard her sing 
 and ,play, you will feel that I must have 
 been stupid indeed, not to have profited in 
 some measure by her instructions." 
 
 " I did not contradict your high-flown 
 description of my performances," said 
 Catherine smiling, " because I knew Lord 
 Shirley would naturally attribute my de- 
 nial to modesty, or the affectation of it ; 
 and I well knew that those performances 
 themselves would in time give him a 
 juster idea of them." 
 
 " But when ?" asked Lord Shirley. 
 
 " My drawings are locked up, and not 
 easily gotten at at present: and in the pre- 
 sent state of my spirits, as well as my 
 grandfather's, you will feel, my lord,** she 
 added mournfully, " that I can neither 
 play nor sing, even if propriety warranted 
 it.'* And Lord Shirley, conscious that 
 
 his
 
 216 
 Ms wish had been prematurely expressed, 
 asked her to excuse his want of thought, 
 and led to other subjects. 
 
 It was late in the evening before Lord 
 Shirley recollected that he had an engage- 
 ment to sup at a fashionable coffee-house 
 with a friend on the eve of leaving England 5 
 when he found it necessary to apologize 
 to Catherine and Lucy for leaving them. 
 That night the general's own man slept in 
 the room with him, and Mrs. Baynton 
 left him at midnight. The next morning, 
 when she arose and heard the general was 
 Yisible, she sent him a note, to know at 
 "whal hour the carriage was to be ordered 
 to conduct her to her future home, as the 
 order for removal which she had received 
 before, had never, that she knew of, been 
 rescinded. 
 
 " Pshaw !" muttered the general to | 
 himself. " A vindictive! unforgiving — I 
 Well ; e'en let her go — it will be a good " 
 riddance:" but a violent twinge in his 
 
 great
 
 217 
 great toe made him recollect how ne- 
 cessary she was ; and he desired the ser- 
 vant to tell his sister that he wished to 
 see her directly. 
 
 She came. The general desired her to 
 forget and forgive : she cried a little ; and 
 he hemmed away a little hoarsness in his 
 throat, and Mrs. Baynton consented to 
 remain. 
 
 The gout seemed to have come on pur- 
 pose to effect this reconciliation, for it 
 disappeared two days after ; during which 
 time, Catherine on principle went very 
 rarely into the general's room, in order to 
 make his sole dependence on her aunt as 
 great as possible: and when he complain- 
 ed to Lord Shirley that he thought she 
 rather neglected him, the earl, who so far 
 had learnt to know her, pointed out to her 
 grandfather what could alone be the mo- 
 tive of her seemung neglect ; and the gene- 
 ral owned that he believed he was right. 
 
 VOL. I. L Before
 
 218 
 
 Before the end of the week the general 
 ^as down stairs as usual : and as Captain 
 Shirley^s death had then been known at 
 least three weeks, and his father was re- 
 covered, the earl began to feel that his 
 friends and acquaintance might with pro- 
 priety wonder at the frequency and length 
 of his visits in New Street ; and his fe-. 
 male friends were very curious to know 
 what sort of a woman the new Miss Shir- 
 ley was. 
 
 The earl also began to look forward 
 with pain to the fourth of June, when 
 Catherine, now known to him alone, 
 would appear at court, and be admired, 
 and probably wooed, by men of as high 
 pretensions as himself. And why should 
 that idea give him pain, if Catherine was 
 not the chosen of his heart ? That heart 
 forcibly whispered that she luas so ; but 
 he also felt that his judgement had not 
 as yet ratified the choice of his heart: 
 
 for
 
 ^19 
 
 for had she not h'ved during three years 
 with her inferiors in birth, and persons 
 professing principles hostile (he thought) 
 to the well-being of society ? — might she 
 not have formed intimacies with persons 
 whom he could not associate with ? — 
 had she not an independence of character 
 and a steadiness of affection, he believed 
 he ought to call it principle, which would 
 make her resist being called upon to give 
 up those intimacies ? — and w^ould not her 
 husband if he required this sacrifice be 
 degraded in her estimation? Was she 
 not also methodistically inclined? And 
 above all, did she not regard him with 
 most complete indiflference r — Such were 
 the thoughts that now every day in rapid 
 succession occurred to the perturbed 
 mind of Lord Shirley: but still he every 
 day called in New Street, if he did not dine, 
 there to gaze on the unconscious subject 
 I, 2 of
 
 220 
 
 of them ; who, by'the display of some new 
 grace or some new virtue, riveted his 
 chains stiil closer^each time he beheld her. 
 I have stated before, that the general's 
 gout left him so suddenly as to enable 
 him to come down stairs and live as 
 usual. Before the end of the week, and 
 on the third Sunday since the loss of his 
 son was known to him, he was able to 
 rise early and breakfast as was his custom 
 at nine o'clock, ten having been the hour 
 the preceding morning. Accordingly 
 breakfast was brought in, and soon fol- 
 lowed by Mrs. Baynton; who seeing that 
 the general did not seat himself because 
 he was waifing for Catherine to do the 
 honours^ observed with a malicious smile, 
 *' Nay, brother, you may as well sit down, 
 and let me make the breakfast ; for Miss 
 Shirley and her friend are gone nobody 
 knows where, and there is no waiting for 
 
 them ;
 
 221 
 
 them ; for who can tell when they may 
 choose to return?" 
 
 " Catherine and her friend walked out 
 at this time of day ?' 
 
 " They went out long before eight 
 o'clock." 
 
 " And pray who went with them?" 
 
 " Nobody: Miss Shirley did not choose 
 to take a servant." 
 
 " How very improper!" 
 
 " Yes ; and not to be at home at 
 breakfast is worse still. But Sunday is. 
 you know, with a certain class, a jun^ 
 keting day 5 — so, very likely they are gone 
 to meet some of Lucy Merles friends at 
 her mother's." 
 
 " Sunday a junketing day for Miss 
 Shirley? No, Mrs Baynton, 1 can't believe 
 
 '' Or perhaps, brother, she has gone to 
 some conventicle." 
 
 The general sighed, but spoke not; 
 
 for
 
 222 
 
 for he thought it possible, and that idea 
 was the worst of the two. 
 
 " Well," said he, " I suppose when 
 she comes she 'will condescend to ex- 
 plain where she has been, and in the 
 mean while we will go to breakfast with- 
 out her." 
 
 But the general had not his usual ap- ' 
 petite, for Catherine had disappointed 
 him. Punctuality was one of his virtues, 
 and he required it consequently in others : 
 nor had it been one of Catherine's least 
 perfections in his eyes, that she was as 
 punctual as he was. But now she was not 
 home at the breakfast hour; and, dis- 
 regarding the decorum necessary in a 
 young lady of her rank in life, she had 
 walked out no one knew whither, and 
 without a servant ! — What a triumph, too, 
 she was giving to her aunt! And the ge- 
 neral was so conscious how much his sister 
 enjoyed Catherine's delinquency, that he 
 
 never
 
 223 
 
 never once ventured to raise his eyes to 
 her face. However, by half past nine 
 Catherine and Lucy returned; and bloom- 
 ing like the morning, from, early rising 
 and exercise, her hat in her hand and her 
 fine dark hair floating down her shoulders, 
 Catherine ran into the room with eager 
 and perturbed haste, in order to excuse 
 her not being home to breakfast. 
 
 The first glance which the general 
 caught of her brilliant bloom and in- 
 genuous countenance tended so power- 
 fully to disarm his anger, that he dared 
 not trust himself with a second look ; but 
 turning away his head, he observed 
 *' So — Miss Shirley — this is your boasted 
 punctuality, is it ?'* 
 
 " My dear sir, ten has lately been the 
 breakfast hour/' replied Catherine ir> a 
 conciliating but firm tone ; " therefore I 
 had no idea you would breakfast at nine 
 to-day." 
 
 " Veiy
 
 224 
 
 ^^ Very true," was rising to the gene- 
 ral's lips, when he reflected that he must 
 ^ot forgive so soon, especially as Cathe- 
 rine's other fault was neither explained 
 nor apologized for. " But why did you 
 go out at all before breakfast, and without 
 ■a servant? Such conduct is very improper 
 in a young woman of your rank in life." 
 
 " Yes," cried Mrs. Baynton, ^^ it is 
 well, Mis3 Shirley, that you should re- 
 member who you are, and learn that dig- 
 nity of conduct becoming General Shir- 
 ley's heiress." 
 
 " But, madam, you must remember," 
 replied Catherine, " how powerful habit 
 is ; and I was so long accustomed to live 
 as if I was not the heiress of General 
 Shirley, that it is very natural for me to 
 forget what I now am, and act as I did 
 when my situation in life was humbler." 
 . Though Catherine did not mean to 
 convey any thing like reproach to the ge- 
 neral
 
 225 
 neral by these words, yet he felt them 
 deeply : and as he raised his eyes to see 
 by the countenance of the speaker with 
 what spirit she uttered them, and saw her 
 look was mild though earnest, her hair 
 parting on her forehead and hanging 
 adown her glowing cheeks increased 
 her hkeness to her father so much, 
 and recalled him to his recollection 
 so forcibly, at that time of his life 
 when his hair was suffered- to grow, and 
 his open collar displayed his thick and 
 fine-turned throat, that he could scarcely 
 endure the various feelings which assailed 
 him ; but starting from his seat he turned 
 to the window and groaned aloud. 
 
 " There, n:iadaml" cried Mrs. Baynton; 
 ** you see what you nave done — your 
 poor grandfather felt the cruelty of your 
 reproachful speech to the bottom of his 
 heart. Though you make such a parade 
 
 L 5 of
 
 226 
 
 of your Christianity, it is plain that you 
 do not forgive." 
 
 " What have I said that could be so 
 unjustly interpreted?" exclaimed Cathe- 
 rine. And running up to the general, 
 she added, " My dear sir, indeed whatever 
 I said w^ without the slightest feeling of 
 bitterness or intended reproach." 
 
 " I believe you, my child/' cried the 
 general. 
 
 "It is more than /do," replied his sister. 
 
 At this impeachment of her veracity 
 Catherine turned round with eyes sparkling 
 with indignation, and had she worn Sere- 
 na's girdle its threads would certainly have 
 given way: but recollecting that " charity 
 suffereth long, and is kind, and is not 
 easily provoked,'* she cast down her eyes 
 again in recovered meekness, and only said, 
 **•! am sorry I ever gave you cause, madam, 
 to doubt my veracity.** 
 
 '' Yoa
 
 227 
 
 " You never did," cried the general, an- 
 grily. 
 
 " But all this time the young lady/' 
 observed Mrs. Baynton, " has never con- 
 descended to tell us where she has been.'' 
 
 " I have been to church, madam,"' re- 
 plied Catherine. 
 
 *' To church ! What — to a methodiit 
 meeting, I suppose?'* 
 
 " No, madam ; I always go to church.*'' 
 
 " Are you sure of that?" 
 
 " Quite sure." And the general almobt 
 uttered a '' Thank Heaven !" 
 
 " But pray to what church ? I suppose 
 you went to hear some favourite fanatical 
 preacher ?" 
 
 " There is no sermon preached at such 
 an hour : I only went to eight o'clock 
 prayers at St. Margaret's Westminster.'* 
 
 " And why, pray, could you not have 
 waited, and gone with us next Sunday at 
 eleven, to hear our own excellent preacher 
 
 at
 
 228 
 
 at New Street chapel, instead of going 
 out so impi'operly and unfeelingly soon 
 after your father's death ? Were you im- 
 patient to go and show yourself in your 
 smart new mourning ?" 
 
 " Go to church to show myself, ma- 
 dam!" exclaimed Catherine ; " I trust few 
 persons, if any, go to church from such 
 motives. No — I have not been there 
 yet since my affliction or my illness, and 
 I could not be easy any longer without 
 going to humble myself, in his own tem- 
 ple, before that Being who in his mercy 
 has no doubt afflicted me. I knew that 
 the rest of the family would not go any 
 part of the day, and I thought by going 
 at so early an hour I should avoid the 
 appearance of being seen at church too 
 soon after ray loss, because so. few persons 
 would be out to see me." 
 
 " My dear child," cried the general, 
 ^* you have acted and felt like yourself, — 
 
 that
 
 2^ 
 that is, piously and propsrly : bat why 
 did you not take the servant ?" 
 
 " I forgot it," said Catherine, " as it is 
 a sort of state I have not been accustomed 
 to." 
 
 The general again groaned aloud. And 
 Catherine, now aware how such allusions 
 to her former situation must wound the 
 general, seized his hand and pressed it 
 affectionately, without daring to trust her 
 voice to articulate an apology. 
 
 " Well, Miss Shirley, as you were 
 guilty of such an outrage on propriety 
 as to 2fo to church at all before next Sun- 
 day, I am glad," said her aunt, " you went 
 where you were not likely to be seen.'* 
 
 *' I see no outrage of propriety at all 
 in going to church so soon : going to 
 worship the deity is a very different thing 
 from going to a ball ; and I believe I 
 also ought to go to church to-day, and 
 no longer delr^y my duty to my Creator: — 
 
 therefore
 
 ^0 
 
 therefore ring the bell, Catherine, for I 
 mean to go to church at eleven with all 
 my family." 
 
 An angry reply was hovering on the 
 lips of his sister, when her maid answered 
 the bell, saying all the men were out. 
 *' Then tell them when they come in that 
 I desire they will get ready to go to church 
 with us at eleven, and I shall want the 
 carriage though it is so short a distance." 
 
 "Dear me, madam!" cried the pert 
 maid to her mistress, " why to be sure 
 you are not going to church to-day ?" 
 
 " Why not ?'* replied Mrs. Baynton. 
 
 " Why, madam^ how can you go," she 
 answered as she shut the door, " as your 
 new pelisse is not come home from the 
 altering ?"' 
 
 " There, my dear,'' observed the ge- 
 neral, " you see there are persons who 
 go to church to show themselves!" 
 
 Resentment choked for a time the 
 
 words
 
 231 
 
 words of Mrs. Baynton : but Catherine in- 
 dignantly replied, she could not bear to hear 
 her aunt so calumniated by her servant, 
 and wondered at the patience with which 
 Mrs. Baynton bore her impertinence — 
 begging her to accompany them to church, 
 in order to show the pert waiting-maid 
 how unbecomingly she h?,d misrepresented 
 her motives; which, while misunderstood, 
 might have a bad effect on the servant's 
 own conduct. 
 
 The bon-hommie of Catherine, as the 
 French call it, on this occasion overcame the 
 general'sgravity ; and giving way toa hearty 
 laugh, he exclaimed, "My dear simple 
 child, do you then suppose that my sister's 
 maid does not understand her mistress's 
 usual motives of action better than you dor'' 
 
 "General Shirley,'' replied his sister -with 
 eyes on fire,' " if you choose not to under- 
 stand the sarcastic seventy of your darling s 
 speech, / do : but I beg you and her to 
 
 remember
 
 232 
 
 remember that I am my own mistress, 
 and that I will go to church or stay away 
 as I please ; and that no one has any more 
 business with my motives than my actions, 
 and I will not go to the chapel to-day/' So 
 saying she left the room. 
 
 " But / will go to-day, if it be only to 
 provoke her," muttered the general. 
 
 Catherine heard this speech, and heard 
 it with consternation ; for she felt that the 
 general's motives for going were quite as 
 reprehensible as his sister's might be for 
 staying away. Yet how should she make 
 him sensible of this? how could she 
 venture, child as she was, to point out to 
 the general an error of which he was 
 wholly unconscious? 
 
 *" Yes — yes," said he, as these thoughts 
 were past^ing in her mind, " Yes— yes — 
 that troublesome old woman shall not 
 have her way ; and though it is a cold 
 day, go I will.'* 
 
 "No
 
 233 
 
 '' No no! pray do not !" eagerly ex- 
 claimed Catherine. 
 
 " Not go! \^ hen I hoped to please yoa 
 iind vex my sister at the same time ? Not 
 go! — And pray why not:'' 
 
 " Because — because — " returned Ca- 
 therine blushing and hesitating. 
 
 " Speak outj child ! What are you 
 afraid of?'* 
 
 " Because it is surely wrong to go to a 
 place of worship from any other motive 
 than the wish of doing what is right and 
 acceptable in the eyes of the Creator.'^ 
 
 " So so!" said the general after a pause, 
 during which he felt some degree of angry 
 rnortiiication : " then you think I am not 
 good enough to go to church with you? 
 Very welll very well! Really I believe my 
 sister is right, and you have a turn for 
 the saicastic. Very well — then I will not 
 go ; iof i uo feel that my strongest mo- 
 tives for going were a wish, as I said be- 
 fore.
 
 234 
 
 fore, to spite her and please you. There, 
 child, here comes your friend, and the 
 urn; therefore I shall leave you to get 
 your breakfast and d^terwards go to 
 church together again if you like it." 
 Then, with a motion of the hand which 
 always forbade further debate, he retired 
 into his own library, coldly asking Lucy 
 Merle how she did as he passed her in the 
 door-way. 
 
 " Wliat is the matter with the general?'* 
 asked Lucy : " he looks hurt and. dis- 
 pleased." 
 
 " No matter," replied Catherine, not 
 thinking it right to disclose what she thought 
 a fault in her grandfather. But she told 
 enough of what passed, to makeLucy Merle 
 join her in her wish that she had left word 
 where she was going, and had also taken 
 the servant with her. Still Catherine, spite 
 of herself, fell into painful reverie. She felt 
 that she had given the general pain, when 
 
 he
 
 235 
 
 he meant to give her pleasure : — but thea 
 she had only performed a duty which she 
 thought she owed him ; and if it was 
 always easy and pleasant to perform 
 duties, what merit was there in it? But 
 the general would now not go to church — 
 and what then ? as it v/as not the mere per- 
 formance of a public rite, but the spirit 
 and feelings in which it was performed, 
 that made it an acceptable offering or 
 otherwise. 
 
 Lucy Merle was not an uninterested 
 observer, meanwhile, of the various ex- 
 pressions that passed over her friend's 
 expressive countenance : but her love for 
 her was so chastized by respect, that she 
 did not take the liberty of asking what sa 
 evidently disturbed her. Catherine started, 
 however, from her pensive silence, at tRe 
 sound of the general's bell ringing violent- 
 ly ; and soon after, a servant came to tell 
 her he wished to see her in his library. 
 
 Fearfully
 
 236 
 
 Fearfully Catherine obeyed the sum- 
 mons. But her dread vanished when the 
 general, \vho had evidently been much 
 agitated, opened his arms to her as soon 
 as he saw her ; and after giving her a 
 cordial embrace, said, " I sent for you, 
 my dear, to tell you I am going to church 
 to-day, but not till the afternoon ; be- 
 cause I know I shall feel a great deal of 
 emotion, and I had rather therefore go 
 when few who know me will be there to 
 witness it ; for fashionable people never 
 go but in a morning, you know." 
 
 '- Indeed I did not,'* replied Catherine. 
 
 " Oh [ nn dear, you have much to learn 
 yet, and ^re come into quite a new world, 
 believe me- But I must tell you, in order 
 to brighten up that pensive face, rendered 
 so, I suspect, by the thoughts of my 
 anti-christian feelings, that I aia going 
 to church now from motives which even 
 you must approve : — namely, to humble 
 
 mvself
 
 237 
 myself before the Being v;ho has chastized 
 me^ and to -bless him for his great good- 
 ness in having given to me a child like 
 you ! — a creature at once my pride, my 
 monitor, and my example. Nay, child, 
 look up! fori' you have reason, and to 
 look proudly too ; — for I believe, my 
 dear, you will be a blessing both to me 
 and my family : I thank you. You 
 taught me to look into my heart ; and I 
 blushed for the base motives which I saw 
 there, impelling me to profane the tem- 
 ple of holiness by going thither from 
 an unworthy impulse — pique towards one 
 fellow-creature, and too earthly love of an- 
 other. I own I was mortified at first, to be 
 schooled by a child ; but better feelings 
 came at length, and I trust I shall be the 
 better for your reproof as long as I live 1" 
 Catherine, gratified but affected, wept 
 upon his shoulder, saying within herself, 
 
 " How
 
 238 
 
 *' How could this feeling and generous* 
 hearted man have remained so long ob- 
 durate to the prayers of such a son! 
 How bad must those persons have been 
 whose influence over him could thus choke 
 up in his heart all the feelings of a father, 
 and the sympathies of the mani If he l6ves 
 me, how would he have loved my mo- 
 ther!" 
 
 " There, my dear, leave me now," 
 said the general ; '' for I wish to prepare 
 an agreeable surprise for you against we 
 return from church ;- — Be sure not to 
 come into this room again till I give you 
 leave." 
 
 Catherine obeyed ; wondering what the 
 general could mean. And Lucy Merle, 
 as soon as she saw her, discovered that 
 whatever it was that had oppressed her, 
 the oppression was removed, and there- 
 fore probably the cause of it." 
 
 « You
 
 ^39 
 
 *' You are happy agaia now, 1 see,'* 
 said Lucy, smiling affectionately. 
 
 " Yes — though almost painfully over- 
 come by my grandfather's goodness and 
 kindness to me." 
 
 " It will be long before you are so over- 
 come by your aunt's, I believe." 
 
 " Hush!" said Catherine; " it is bet- 
 t<?r not to dwell on the faults of others ; 
 because, by so doing, we make it only 
 more difficult to bear with them. But I 
 assure you I do not despair of my aunt 
 yet ; for I mean to try to overcome evil 
 by good, and, like the patriarch of old, 
 wrestle with her till she blesses me." 
 
 " But he wrestled with an angel ; and 
 I see no hkeness to an angel in your aunt. 
 If she does bless you, I shall be more in- 
 clined to liken her to the wicked prophet 
 of old, blessing where he was expected 
 to curse." 
 
 *' Forbear! I beseech you," replied 
 
 Catherine j
 
 240 
 
 Cathcnnc ; ^^ nor, in imitation of wicked 
 wits, make quotations from the Bible the 
 means of severe reflections on a fellow- 
 creature — that one, too, your friend's 
 aunt. — As we are not going to the chapel 
 yet, I shall impose on you, by way of neces- 
 sary monition, Bishop Butler's sermon on 
 ' The Government of the Tongue. ' " 
 
 The friends then retired to their own 
 apartment till the general summoned them 
 to attend him to church. 
 
 CHAP-
 
 241 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The general supported himself during 
 divine service better than he expected he 
 should do, and bore the salutations of 
 those few persons of his acquaintance who 
 were at church with great firmness : but 
 he found it impossible to present his grand- 
 daughter to them, though he saw they 
 expected it, and darted many scrutinizing 
 glances at Catherine through her long 
 crape veil : but as Lucy Merle was in 
 mourning and wore a crape veil also, 
 none knew with any certainty which was 
 Miss Shirley ; and it v\fas soon reported 
 that there were two Miss Shirleys, and 
 both beauties. As soon as they returned 
 home, Catherine asked when she was to 
 be permitted to enter the library again j 
 and the general led the way to it. 
 
 Catherine had had sent to her new home 
 VOL. I. M tvsro
 
 242 
 
 two pictures of her father and mother, 
 heads as big as life, painted by a first-rate 
 artist and reckoned surprising likenesses. 
 But supposing that her grandfather would 
 not like to see them as yet, if ever, she 
 put them in a spare closet, where the ge- 
 neral was not likely to come, of which 
 Norris kept the key. Whether the ge- 
 neral had ever heard that such pictures 
 had been painted and seen in the gallery 
 of the painter, or whether he only sus- 
 pected it, is unimportant ; but he one day 
 asked Norris if there were any pictures 
 of his son and Mrs. Shirley — And being 
 told that there were, and that they were 
 then in his house, he desired to see them 
 unknown to Catherine. After his first 
 burst of grief at beholding them was over, 
 he resolved to hang them up in his library, 
 in token of his restored love to the son 
 so long an exile from his sight, and of 
 his entire forgiveness of, and bitter regret 
 
 for,
 
 243 
 
 for, tiiat excellent but ill-trcatcd woman, 
 whom he had learnt too late to value and 
 to wish for. 
 
 " You will find two old friends, my 
 dear, in my library," said the general with 
 a faltering voice ; " and I hope you will be 
 glad to see them: they ought to have been 
 there long ago — but — " Here his voice 
 absolutely failed him; and Catherine look- 
 ing up, saw to what he alluded, and was 
 for some time too much overcome to 
 speak. To see her father's picture hang- 
 ing in the apartment of his only surviving 
 parent was pleasing and soothing to her; 
 — yet it was naturally to be expected, that 
 there it would in time be placed. But 
 to behold that mother so long disowned, 
 so long rejected as unworthy to mix her 
 plebeian blood with that of a noble race, — 
 though she was formed in person, mind, 
 and heart, in all the highest aristocracy of 
 nature J — to behold that mother now owned 
 M 2 as
 
 244 
 
 as a daughter of the family 6f Shirley, 
 and displayed on speaking canvass in 
 the favourite apartment of the very man 
 whose rejection of her as his son's wife 
 was supposed to have hastened her disso- 
 lution ; to see this acknowledgement of her 
 claims and her virtues, when the ear that 
 would have hailed thesoundof pardon with 
 delight, was no longer able to hear, when 
 the eyes that would have wept the tears of 
 tender and grateful reconciliation were 
 fixed in the motionless film of death, — 
 was more than Catherine's filial and tender 
 heart could endure without agony far 
 surpassing every other feeling at the view; 
 and clasping her hands together she ex- 
 claimed, "Oh! my mother! my de2Lr, dear 
 mother! It is too late! It is indeed too 
 late !" Then sinking on her kness, she hid 
 her face with her hands. 
 
 There are some wounds which cannot 
 be healed, some injuries that can never be 
 
 repaired :
 
 245 
 
 repaired : and such wounds, and such in- 
 juries, were those which Catherine had 
 received through the bosoms of her pa- 
 rents. The tardy forgiveness of the general, 
 and the late honour which he was doing 
 the memory of her parents, could not make 
 her amends for the misery of seeing the 
 death of one and the frantic anguish. of 
 the other occasioned by the general's long 
 inflexibility; nor could hanging up the pic- 
 ture of that son's wife when dead, whom 
 he scorned while living, immediately soothe 
 the bleeding spirit of the affectionate child, 
 who still sorrowed over the remembrance 
 of her distant, and her recent loss. 
 
 The general was now sensible how 
 different her feelings were, and must be, 
 from what he had pictured them to 
 his expectation: and full of remorse, an« 
 guish, and disappointment, he sunk on 
 his knees beside the weeping Catherine, 
 and earnestly conjured her to pray to the 
 
 spirit
 
 246 
 
 spirit of her injured mother to forgive his 
 cruelty, so bitterly, but properly punish- 
 ed. — " She looks forgiving !" added he. 
 
 " She was forgiving ! She was an an- 
 gel!'* cried Catherine rising. 
 
 " She is an angel, I trust/' said the ge- 
 neral with great emotion ; " and 1 will 
 pray to her as such for pardon." 
 
 " She always taught me to pray for 
 you," replied Catherine; " therefore I 
 know she never indulged resentment 
 against you. — How should she, sir ? have I 
 not told you my mother was a Christian ? * 
 
 " But I call myself a Christian, yet I 
 indulged resentment. — But did she really 
 teach you to pray for me, sweet crea- 
 ture ?" said he bursting into tears. " And 
 1 dare say she prayed for me herself." 
 
 " I am sure she did.'* 
 
 Catherine, while awaiting in silence till 
 the general's self-upbraiding agony had 
 subsided, cast her eyes again on the pic- 
 tures
 
 247 
 tures of her parents, and beheld with some- 
 thing of pleasurable emotion the frames, 
 the appropriate frames, which the general 
 had soothed his feelings by bestowng on 
 them. On his son's frame was a crown of 
 laurel, and underneath, the words " Et 
 duke et decorum est pro patria mori,' 
 On that of her mother were blended the 
 symbols of housewifery, and the arts, 
 geography and astronomy ; for in all 
 these the general heard from Catherine that 
 her mother was eminently skilled, and had 
 instructed her: underneath were these 
 words, *^ A virtuous woman is a crown 
 to her husband." When Catherine read 
 these words, she could not help feeling a 
 sensation of gratitude towards the gene- 
 ral, for having at least done all he could 
 now do to show his respect to her mo- 
 ther's memory, and his deep though late 
 remorse; for Catherine knew that the 
 picture so framed would lead to questions 
 that must display her mother's merits, 
 
 and
 
 24S 
 
 and the generaFs sense of them, in the 
 most public and strongest point of view. 
 
 " My dear grandfather," said Cathe- 
 rine at length, "1 thank and bless you 
 for this tribute to my mother's virtues: and 
 if departed spirits are ever allowed to 
 witness what passes here, I doubt not 
 but that both my parents are delight- 
 ed spectators of this late but sooth- 
 ing atonement for all that you now de- 
 plore!"' 
 
 The general could not yet recover 
 himself sufficiently to speak; but motion- 
 ing her to the door with his hand, she 
 slowly and tearfully withdrew. 
 
 Perhaps there is not a better temporary 
 cure for sorrow than indignation; and 
 the general was soon after roused from 
 the indulgence of the formerj by a pretty 
 strong dose of the latter. For Catherine 
 had not long left him, w^hen her aunt 
 knocked at the door of the library, and 
 craved admittance; which, after a struggle 
 
 with
 
 249 
 
 with himself, he thought it advisable to 
 grant her, as he wished that whatever 
 comments she might think proper to make, 
 on his having hung up the pictures of his 
 son and his son's wife, should be made 
 and ended in the absence of Catherine. — 
 But prepared as the general was for a 
 burst of no common violence, he found 
 the anger which he witnessed far beyond 
 his expectations, because he had not been 
 aware that Mrs. Baynton would be pro- 
 voked at seeing such honour done to the 
 pictures of her nephew and his wife, not 
 only because she disliked the originals 
 from a sense of having injured them as 
 much as was in her power, but also be- 
 cause the distinction thus shown them was 
 a proof of the influence of Catherine/ 
 that object of her dislike, because she was 
 the object of her jealousy. 
 
 But I will not relate the ravings of an 
 
 angry woman j suffice that, — after, having 
 
 MS felt
 
 250 
 
 felt her anger much increased and pro- 
 longed by the unusual calmness and for- 
 bearance of the general^ whose temper had 
 been recently ameliorated by the sooth- • 
 ing influences of devotion, and his heart 
 softened and humbled by his late scene 
 with Catherine, — she had leisure, when 
 she became more calm, to examine the 
 costly frames which had been bestowed 
 on the resemblances so hateful to her; and 
 she hoped that, by finding fault with the 
 general's taste, she should destroy that 
 provoking self-command which her vio- 
 lence had'failed to overcome. 
 
 " Pray, General Shirley," said she, 
 " may I ask what these pompous deco- 
 rauons on this person's frame mean? 
 They seem to me to designate a school- 
 mistressy and would do very well as a 
 headpiece to a card issued to recommend a 
 seminary for young ladies where music, 
 and work; and geography, and all sorts of 
 
 things
 
 231 
 
 things are taught by the best masters. — 
 Really, general, if these fantastic orna- 
 ments were meant to do your son's wife 
 honour^ you have failed in your intention; 
 for, as it is well known Captain Shirley 
 married somelowperson, it will bethought, 
 by these symbols, that he married a wo- 
 man who kept a school somewhere ia 
 Kentish Town for the children of cock- 
 neys." And as she uttered the last word, 
 full of the mischievous pleasure derived 
 from the hope of having given pain, her 
 articulation was impeded by that horrible 
 laugh, — which is in reality no laugh^ — by 
 which the malignant so often try to mask 
 the bad feeling by which they are go- 
 verned. 
 
 For a moment the general was morti* 
 fied and irritated by the criticism on the 
 frame; which he had designed in the ful- 
 ness of a tender and remorseful spirit, and 
 as a tribute to the worth which he had so 
 
 fatally
 
 252 
 
 fatally despised. But the good feelings 
 which had been so powerfully awakened 
 in him still held their influence ; and 
 looking his tormentor steadily in the face, 
 he said, " No, sister, there is no fear that 
 my daughter Mrs. Shirley should long be 
 mistaken for that respectable character a 
 school- mistress; for should such a mis- 
 take be made, truth will oblige me to say 
 that she was the daughter of a person 
 who kept a lodging-house." 
 
 " How! General Shirley, have you no 
 more regard for the family honour than 
 to make such a declaration ?" vociferated 
 his sister more vehemently than ever. 
 
 " I shall not do it," he coolly replied,. 
 ** unless the decorations on the frame lead 
 any one into the error you apprehend.: — 
 However," added he, " I am far more, 
 anxious that the attention of my visitors, 
 should be turned to the inscription under 
 ihe decoration, than to the decorations 
 
 themselves j
 
 253 
 
 themselves ; as they are my late but 
 heartfelt tribute to the virtues of one I 
 cruelly wronged, and as a proof that 
 those virtues at last wrung from my cold- 
 hearted pride an acknowledgement that 
 such a wife was a crownof honour to anif 
 husband/' 
 
 There was a something so solemn, 
 heartfelt, and touching, in the manner in 
 which the general pronounced these 
 words, — and what is more impressive than 
 the accents of true contrition ! — that even 
 Mrs. Baynton was for a moment awed 
 into silence. But she at length observed, 
 " that all that was very fine; but for her 
 part, she should always rejoice that the ge- 
 neral's compunctious feelings towards his 
 son's wife did not come till it was too 
 late for her to profit by them ; his being 
 a very convenient conscience, that always 
 staid away when it was likely to be trouble- 
 some." 
 
 Even
 
 254 
 
 Even this sarcasm failed of Its effect; so 
 much had the general's heart been amend- 
 ed by the experiences of the day. But he 
 felt that he had deserved humiliation; and 
 he resolved to bear it, in whatever shape it 
 came, like a sincere penitent and a true 
 Christian. Still, he did not think himself 
 justified in exposing his new-found virtue 
 to unnecessary trials: he therefore told his 
 sister he wished to be alone \ and she had 
 no pretence for Intruding on him any 
 longer. 
 
 Lord Shirley came to dinner; and 
 though on entering the room he was both 
 affected and pleased to see the pictures 
 hung up in the library, he could scarcely 
 forbear laughing at sight of the angry 
 and significant grimaces by which Mrs. 
 Baynton directed his attention to them, 
 and showed her disapprobation of the 
 situation they held, taking an opportunity 
 at the same time to whisper in his ear, 
 
 "My
 
 255 
 
 " My poor brother is certainly in his 
 dotage, and that girl has it all her own 
 way." 
 
 But she took advantage of the acci- 
 dental absence of the general and Cathe- 
 rine together, to vent her anger in very 
 strong language ; and pointing to the 
 picture of the general's second wife, which 
 hung over the chimney-piece, she ex- 
 claimed, " Therej my lord! there she 
 hangs ! that lovely creature, once the ge- 
 neral's idol! And yet he could hang up 
 the picture of that obscure, vulgar young 
 woman, his son's wife, — knowing, too, 
 how much she hated the connexion, and 
 how much she did to prevent a reconcilia- 
 tion, — almost by the side of that admira- 
 ble woman, who added to her other re- 
 commendations that of noble birth!'' 
 
 Lucy Merle felt all her republicanism 
 roused by this speech, and all her con- 
 tempt for birth and rank unaccompanied 
 
 by
 
 2.56 
 
 by virtue. She could not, therefore, endure 
 in silence this contumacious mention of a 
 being whom she had learnt to love and 
 to reverence as the first of women, and as 
 the mother of Catherine: she therefore 
 indignantly, and perhaps pertly, exclaim- 
 ed, " Noble birth ! she had better have 
 had a noble spirit!*' 
 
 Lord Shirley looked at the animated 
 speaker with as much astonishment, 
 though not so much anger, as Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton did ; who, after a pause of mixed in- 
 dignation and contempt, said to the earl, 
 " Can you imagine, my lord, to whom 
 that young person was speaking ?" 
 
 " That young person, madam," cried 
 Lucy Merle, her cheeks crimsoning with 
 emotion, and her eyes looking that pecu- 
 liar and haughty defiance which Lord Shir- 
 ley had seen before, but vainly tried to 
 remember where, '' that young person is 
 speaking to one who will understand and 
 
 sympa-
 
 257 
 
 sympathize with vvhatshesays: — Had Mrs. 
 Shirley possessed a noble spirit, she would 
 have tried to heal the breach between the 
 father and the son, and would have for- 
 gotten Mrs. William Shirley's want of 
 birth, in her virtues and accomplishments. 
 — My lord, has that young person spo- 
 ken justly?" added Lucy Merle, smiling as 
 she spoke in sarcastic bitterness. 
 
 '* Perfectly so,*' replied the earl : '' such 
 would have been true nobleness of feel- 
 ing and acting, and worthy her noble 
 birth." 
 
 '^ It would have been debasing her 
 birth," exclaimed jNIrs. Baynton, *' to 
 plead for a degrading alliance !" 
 
 ** Well, they have both been long gone 
 to their dread account," replied Lucy with 
 solemnity ; '* and the low- and the high- 
 born have both received the just recom- 
 pense of ih-ir aciions : and / have little 
 doubt but that the rejected has at this 
 
 moment,
 
 258 
 
 moment, in the mansions of eternal rest, 
 the precedence of the rejector : for who, 
 at the dread hour of judgement, would 
 not rather be the injured than the injurer! 
 People do not carry their pedigrees with 
 them there, do they, madam ?" 
 
 Lord Shirley, though he felt his heart 
 entirely on Lucy Merle's side, notwith- 
 standing his aristocratic feelings were hurt 
 by the manner in which Lucy Merle ad- 
 dressed Mrs. Baynton, thought it better to 
 prevent a reply, if possible, from that aw- 
 ful lady, by commenting on the excellent 
 manner in which the pictures were paint- 
 ed. But he might as well have attempted 
 to make a bull-dog quit his hold, as in- 
 duce Mrs. Baynton to give up an alter- 
 cation. 
 
 " Though you are beneath my resent- 
 ment," cried Mrs. Baynton, '' I must tell 
 you, miss, that I shall inform the general 
 that he is harbouring in the house a 
 
 young
 
 259 
 
 young person of most de-mocratic prin- 
 ciples, and who has the insolence to sup- 
 pose his beloved wife is gone to a place I 
 dare not name." 
 
 " Tben you will misrepresent me gross- 
 ly, madam : * In my father's house are 
 many mansions.' And all I said, was, 
 that in them I doubt not but the perse- 
 cuted would be higher than the perse- 
 cutor;— did I not, sir ?"' 
 
 '' I understood you so, certainly ; and I 
 must own, thaf, if Mrs. William Shiiley 
 was all she is said to be, I have no doubt 
 you were right ; for Mrs. General Shir- 
 ley was well known to me." 
 
 '• My lord, I did not expect," cried the 
 enraged lady, " that you would counte- 
 nance such an evident attack upon the 
 privileged orders, as is conveyed by that 
 young woman's remarks." 
 
 " Surely, madam, you cannot suppose 
 TC\2 so sordidly bigoted to rank and birth, 
 
 as
 
 260 
 
 as to imagine that they can stand in lieu 
 of virtues, at the awful time to which 
 Miss Merle alludes! If it be democracy 
 not to entertain such an opinion, then 
 indeed am I a democrat myself." 
 
 " Spoken like a man and a Chris- 
 tian!" cried Lucy; *^ and not at all like 
 a lord/' she was going to add, but for- 
 bore. 
 
 " I hate the word democracy as much 
 as I loathe the thing\ but. Oh! to think 
 that my niece has been exposed to imbibe 
 opinions like these !" 
 
 '• And who exposed her to it?" cried 
 Lucy Merle indignantly. *' Had Miss 
 Shirley's relations done their duty, she 
 would always have been where a Miss 
 Shirley should have been : but let me not 
 be the means, madam, of lowering her in 
 your esteem. Ker opinions and mine are 
 in many respects totally opposite." 
 
 '* Your opinions, indeed !'* replied Mrs. 
 
 Baynton
 
 261 
 
 Bdvnton with a sneer, " your opinions ! 
 And pray, child, what right have you to 
 have any opinions ?" 
 
 *' You might as well ask, madam," said 
 Lord Shirley, " what right she has to 
 have feelings. May I beg leave to ask 
 you what entitles a person to have opi- 
 nions, if quickness of intellect and cul- 
 tivation of mind, like this young lady's, 
 do not invest a human being with that 
 privilege?' 
 
 " My lord," cried Mrs. Baynton, '' 1 
 verily believe that young lady has turned 
 your head, or you could never have 
 defended her in the manner you have 
 done." 
 
 *' Madam, had your niece been here, 
 she would have had a more eloquent ad- 
 vocate." 
 
 " Yes — and I suppose her opinions 
 would have been brought forward to 
 shock me, and be defended by you^* 
 
 <' Have
 
 262 
 
 " Have I not already told you, madam,** 
 said Lucy, " that Miss Shirley's opinions 
 are different from mine? She naturally 
 imbibed the sentiments becoming her 
 rank in life, — it was as natural for me to 
 imbibe those incident to mine. But what- 
 ever opinions she had imbibed, however 
 erroneous, I ask you, Mrs. Baynton, who 
 was to answer for those opinions? Those, 
 undoubtedly, who by their cruelty ex- 
 posed the heiress of General Shirley to 
 obscure protection and the difficulties of 
 a narrow income." 
 
 Though Lord Shirley could not but ad- 
 mire this fluent and undaunted pleader on'the 
 side of truth as he felt it to be, and though 
 he acknowledged the justice of her obser- 
 vations, he could not approve the lofty and 
 fearless manner in which she uttered her 
 sentiments, nor the sarcastic and severe 
 glances which she cast on Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton, however deaerved. " How different,"' 
 
 thought 
 
 I
 
 263 
 
 thought he, " Is Catherine to her friend ! 
 how meek, how forbearing, how self-go- 
 verned ! And wherefore was she thus r Be- 
 cause with her the faith that she professed 
 governed every feeling and every action 
 of her hfe ; ' it was a lamp to her feet, 
 and a light to her path/ shedding a sweet 
 and constant influence over her thoughts 
 and her temper." 
 
 At this moment, when Mrs. Baynton 
 was going to make a bitter reply to this 
 just reproach against the Shirley family, 
 the general and Catherine came in, and 
 the servant announced dinner. But still 
 the dark cloud that lowered on Mrs. 
 Baynton's brow was about to explode in 
 lightning of a fierce nature, had not Lord 
 Shirley seized her hand to lead her into 
 the dining-room, and conjured her, for 
 common humanity's sake, not to continue 
 a subject which must be so painful to the 
 general and her niece. 
 
 Still
 
 264 
 
 Still It was lYi sullen and perturbed si- 
 lence (hat she sat down to dinner, while 
 the heightened colour and heaving bosom 
 of Lucy bore evident marks that all was 
 not yet at peace within her mind. But it 
 was beyond Mrs. Baynton s power to be si- 
 lent long, when she was in a state of irri- 
 tation ; she resolved therefore to vent* 
 some of her ill humour on the general. 
 
 " I suppose you have heard, my lord^" 
 she observed, " of the general's prepo?^ 
 terous resolution to go to church to-day, 
 so unfeelingly soon after the death of my 
 poor nephew, and before we have gotten 
 c?ur cards with black edges ready to return 
 thanks for the honour of obliging in?- 
 quiries ?" 
 
 " What can black-edged cards have to 
 do with going to or staying away from 
 church ?" asked Catherine in the simpli- 
 city of her ignorance. 
 
 *' Not much, apparently," said the ge- 
 neral
 
 265 
 
 iieral ; '' nor is Lord Shirley, I dare 
 say, at ail convinced of my sister's su- 
 perior love for her nephew, because she 
 was not so indecorous as to go to church 
 to-day. Besides, had I meant to be called 
 upon, I should have gone to rooming 
 3ervice, which I did not: next Sunday I 
 shall go to it, and then it will be time 
 enough to issue my black-edged cards. 
 And you will go with us, I presume, 
 sister?" observed the general sarcasti- 
 cally; " for then I suppose your new 
 pelisse will be come home from the alter- 
 ing." 
 
 Lucy Merle, whether out of dislike of 
 Mrs. Baynton, or because she could not 
 help it, laughed aloud at this sarcastic 
 speech, and drew from Catherine a re- 
 proachful glance. 
 
 " There are many reasons for you yet 
 to learn, my dear," he continued, '•' why 
 we sbould or why we should not neglect 
 
 VOL. I. N our
 
 266 
 
 our devotions : but some persons of a certain 
 rank in life, — the honourable Mrs. Baynton 
 for instance,^ — cannot think of going to 
 worship the Deity, if forbidden to do so by 
 the god Fashion or the god Custom." 
 
 Here Catherine, seeing the storm ga- 
 thering in her aunt's eye, cast a kind, 
 imploring, expostulating look at the ge- 
 neral; who answering ir, said, '' Yes, my 
 dear, I understand you, and I will for- 
 bear; I will say nothing more to irritate: 
 for I am proud to own the power of, and 
 to be governed by, what every man ought 
 to be pleased to obey, who thinks and 
 feels properly, — the kind imploring look 
 of a gentle, mild woman." 
 
 « Ha ! ha ! ha !" laughed Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton in a tone of derision : " Since when. 
 General Shirley, have you been so fond of 
 gentle, mild women? Obedient enough 
 you have been, but certainly not to an 
 imploring look and a meek woman! 
 
 The
 
 267 
 
 The late Mrs. Shirley did not lead by a 
 smile."' 
 
 *' No, sister, no ; she was any thing 
 but meek, certainly,'' replied the general 
 mildly, and sacrificing his resentment to 
 the gentle influence of Catherine : " she was 
 a young and beautiful woman, and I was 
 an old fool, that is the truth : but she is 
 gone, and let her frailties sleep with her. 
 She is at rest — And so am /, I will add, 
 or I linow you would have added it for 
 me. 
 
 *^ How glad I am," said Catherine, 
 *' that this conversation did not take place 
 till the servants were gone ! It was a rule 
 with my poor mother, never to allow an 
 observation to be made, either on friend 
 or foe, in presence of the servants: and 
 she has often said, that many persons 
 wonder that they have given offence to a 
 friend or acquaintance, when, if the cause 
 were properly traced, it would very likely 
 N 2 be
 
 268 
 
 be found to originate in some severe re- 
 mark which had been communicated from 
 one servant to another, and, having been 
 overheard at the dinner-table, had at length 
 reached the object of it.*' 
 ,. *' Then it was only before servants, 
 r:was it, Miss Shirley," said Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton spitefully, " that your oracular and 
 sainted mother disapproved of back- 
 biting ?'' 
 
 " I hope my words," replied Catherine 
 meekly, *' did not imply any thing so un- 
 worthy of her. I said she did not allow 
 others to talk of persons before their ser- 
 vants; but she herself never talked of 
 them at all, except in praise: ' Judge not, 
 that ye be not judged,' was a precept con- 
 stantly before her eyes, and therefore ope- 
 rative on her conduct." 
 
 " Quoting Scripture again, child !" ex- 
 claimed Mrs. Baynton : " really the ge- 
 neral, the earl, and myself, shall be forced 
 
 to
 
 269 
 
 to get our Bibles by heart, in order to be 
 able to converse with you." 
 
 " Whatever be the motive, madam/' 
 mildly returned Catherine smiling, " I 
 should rejoice to see you all engaged in 
 so salutary a task." 
 
 " Well you may say what you please/' 
 she replied ; '^ but nothing can convince 
 ine, child, you are not a downright me- 
 ihodisl, a fanatic of the first order/' 
 
 " You mav think and call me what 
 you please, madam," answered Cathe- 
 rine, '' for that which I really am, will, I 
 hope, enable me to bear any obloquy — 
 not absolutely unmoved, but without any 
 feeling of resentment/' 
 
 ** It is a pity you can't teach your 
 friend there some of your equanimity, and 
 milk and vater spirit ; for she is tire and 
 tow, aquaforiis and Cayenne pepper; — 
 I should think you do not read out of 
 
 * the
 
 270 
 
 the same Testament, or you interpret 
 diiTerently." 
 
 " No, madam/' cried Lucy blushing 
 with conscious iufirmity, " it is our prac- 
 tice only that is different — I am indeed a 
 * hearer of the word/ Miss Shirley is a 
 doer also/' .ii^i:.: /i'; : -: "f:^ yiou^ 
 
 " But you both-sfeejii^eqiially'given to 
 Scriptural quotation, I see/' 
 
 " It is no wonder, madam/' replied 
 Lucy Merle, looking angry, " that Miss 
 Shirley quotes Scripture ; for it is said 
 that many of the first martyrs, when at the 
 €take, died with texts of Scripture in their 
 mouth ; whence they derived courage to 
 support their sufferings,'* 
 
 *' Well ! — And how does this apply ? 
 Do you mean to insinuate that Miss Shir- 
 ley is like a martyr at the stake ?'* 
 
 " Yes, madam/' said Lucy, rising, 
 and as if summoning all her resolution 
 
 to
 
 271 
 
 to strike a hard blow and then depart, 
 looking I\Ir3. Baynton full in the face 
 at the same time, " Yes, madam j I con- 
 sider her as a perpetual martyr at a per- 
 petual stake ; but alas ! she is not so well 
 off as the martyrs whom I mentioned, for 
 I see before me no probable termination 
 df her trials and her Guiierings.'* Then 
 assuming all the dignity she could, she 
 slowly left the room. 
 
 " There,-gcncral5 — there! there's beha- 
 viour! there's impertinence for you !" vo- 
 ciferated Mrs. Baynton. " Now if you had 
 not heard tliis, you would not have be- 
 lieved it. But Lord Shirley can tell you, 
 she has said worse things still, and spoken 
 in such a shocking manner of your late 
 wife, my poor sister !" 
 
 " What! the lady you painted in such 
 sisterly colours just now, eh ? 1 suppose 
 she learnt it of you. However, I must 
 
 own
 
 272 
 own that what she just now said was un 
 pen fort, and the more so for being trua.'^ 
 
 " I can only say, brother, that if you en- 
 c6urage your grand-daughter to bring her 
 low-born and low-bred associates hither.to 
 itiSuit 7«e even at youf t^ble .^nd in your 
 presence, 1 must leave your house.*' 
 
 " Madam, your most obedient hum- 
 ble servant," replied the general ; " at 
 your pleasure be It. .... 
 
 * ^' Sir! dear sir !" exclaimed Catherine. 
 
 " Well, my sweet child, at your re- 
 quest I will be forbearing/' 
 
 " What! am I to owe your indulgence 
 
 again only to her solicitation ? am I to 
 
 be here, or not, at her will and pleasure? 
 
 and are even my wrongs to be unresented 
 
 unless she bids? I see she is working 
 
 underhand to get me out of the house, 
 
 with all hsr seeaiing; candour; but I will 
 ^ A. /J 3i ^aol) 
 
 not go, I will not indulge her. ,^ ^ .^^
 
 ■ .>^ VCD 
 
 "That IS as I please,*' said the general. 
 It was now the moment for Catherine to 
 interfere if she wished it ; but it must be so 
 desirable an object for Catherine to get 
 rid of this perpetual stake, as Lucy Merle 
 only too justly called her, that Lord Shirley 
 thought it was not in human virtue for 
 her to let so good an opportunity pass 
 of effecting this desirable purpose, though 
 he felt that her friend's conduct to her 
 aunt was such as she ought in a mea- 
 sure to resent, however much she k)ved 
 the one and disliked the other. But 
 could she do this ? Lord Shirley thought 
 this was the greatest trial to vA'hich he had 
 ever seen her exposed, and he tren:ibled 
 lest it should be too much for her. 
 
 When we see the frightful vaulting 
 of a rope-dancer, (forgetting that all he 
 does is by principle and habit,) ue are 
 afraid that he will not be able to catch 
 himself on his feet again, but that he 
 N 5 must
 
 27 {• 
 
 must fen the viciim of his daring, — and 
 Lord Shirley at this moment felt a similar 
 fear : for, forgetting that Catherine was go- 
 verned by a principle and a habit of feel- 
 ing which could not fail her in its opera- 
 tion en her practice, he feared she would 
 not be able, in this trying instance, to act 
 worthy of her former self. 
 
 But he louad his error when, in a tone 
 of voice so soothingly sweet that it seemed 
 calculated to disarm the fiercest anger, 
 she said, *' Surely, sir, you would not 
 think of making the innocent suffer for 
 the guilty. In this case my friend Lucy is 
 evidently the aggressor ; and so far am I 
 from wishing to bring any friend of mine 
 here to ill treat my aunt, that, as Lucy 
 has thought proper to insult her in a very 
 unbecoming manner, glossed over to her- 
 self no doubt by a sense of my supposed 
 injuries, it is my wish she should stay 
 here no longer j and if my aunt had not 
 
 proposed
 
 proposed her removal, I do assure you, 
 sir, I should.'' 
 
 Lord Shirley's heart exulted when he 
 heard this ; and the words " Consist- 
 ent, admirable girl 1"' almost escaped his 
 lips. The general looked at her v/ith 
 glistening eyes, but spoke not. And even 
 Mrs. Baynton, overcome by this unex- 
 pected and undeserved verdict in her fa- 
 vour, put out her hand to Catherine, and 
 burs^ into tears. 
 
 '• My dear," said the general, " be it 
 as you please 1 Fallow your friend, and, if 
 you think fit, convince her of the ne- 
 cessity of her leaving the house. Still I 
 must say she is a charming creature, 
 and T love and honour her for her de- 
 voted affection to you." 
 
 Catherine obeyed ; and found Lucy- 
 Merle quite v/illing to go, and convinced 
 that, though her pride as yet forbade her 
 
 to
 
 276 
 to make an apology to Mrs. Baynton, aix 
 apology was her due. if:.,r, tm irlu am 
 
 Accordingly, the next day Was iixed' 
 for her removal. But that night, whe-. 
 ther from unusual agitation or some other 
 cause, Mrs. Baynton was seized with a 
 violent illness, and ere morning her life 
 was despaired of. Consequently, as Lu- 
 cy Merle would not meet her sight, there 
 could be no objection to her staying ; as> 
 though unseen, she could be of consider- 
 able use near the sick- chamber, whence Ca- 
 therine never stirred, day nor night : and 
 while the poor invalid's pert, spoiled maid 
 declared herself unable to endure the fa- 
 tigue of such constant attendance, and. 
 took her occasional and quiet rest, Cather?. 
 rine wholly devoted herself to the duties 
 of her office, and resisted even the gene- 
 ral's repeated prayers, that for her health's f 
 feak^e she would allow her place to be sup- 
 plied
 
 277 
 plied by some one else. But she assured 
 him that her health would suffer more by 
 the consciousness that she had not tho- 
 roughly performed her duty. And, as he 
 saw she did not look fatigued, he acqui- 
 esced, though reluctantly, in her decision. 
 But though unable, because odious to 
 Mrs. Baynton, to be of as much use as 
 Catherine, no one felt greater anxiety for 
 the life of the sufferer than Lucy Merle. 
 Her delicate conscience whispered, that 
 perhaps the irritation of nerves and tem- 
 per which she had occasioned her, had 
 brought on the complaint; and her self- 
 upbraiding was so violent, and her ex- 
 pressions of it so affeaing, that Lord 
 Shirley, though prejudiced against her on 
 account of her principles and her spirit, 
 forgot her fault in the painful severity of 
 her repentance : and when she said, " I'm 
 sure, my lord, I did not for a moment 
 wish her to be prevented torturing her 
 
 poor
 
 278 
 poor niece, by death,'' Lord Shirley kindly 
 assured her, he knew she was too humane 
 and generous for such a wish, and he be- 
 lieved he should see her and Mrs. Bayn- 
 ton good friends yet. 
 
 At last, after a struggle of many days, 
 the goodness of Mrs. Baynton's consti- 
 tution, and the excellent nursing of Ca- 
 therine, carried her through the illness in 
 safety ; and for the first time the tears of 
 tenderncvss and gratitude fell on the neck 
 of Catherine, as she was supporting the 
 head of her aunt upon her bosom. 
 
 When the invalid was able to sit up 
 and be left, Catherine gladly obeyed the 
 general's summons to come down to see 
 Lord Shirley, he promising to sit with 
 her charge during her absence. 
 
 Grateful as is the sun after a Lapland 
 winter to the eyes of the Laplander, was 
 the sight of Catherine to Lord Shirley, who, 
 till he ceased to see her and hear her, knew 
 
 not
 
 279 
 
 not how necessary to see her and hear 
 her was to the happiness of his existence. 
 True, he had come regularly to the house 
 twice or three times a day during Mrs. 
 Baynton's ilhiess, and had f"ondiy endea- 
 voured to catch a look at '• the spot 
 where Catherine watch'd and wept." But 
 he had rarely seen her, though he had 
 sometimes had the comfort of hearing her 
 voice softly whispering her orders occa- 
 sionally to the servants. But now she was 
 come purposely to speak to him, and she 
 seemed really glad to see him. Nay, 
 more, he was to dine there ; and Cathe- 
 rine promised to come and sit with him 
 and Lucy after dinner, if the general 
 would take her station by his sister. — Du- 
 ring this interview the following dialogue 
 took place between them : 
 
 '= I hope," said the earl, " that I may 
 own without offence, there is something 
 in you, Miss Shirley; which surprises me 
 
 excessively.
 
 280 
 excessivelv, conslderinor the unfavourable 
 circumstances in which, as a young lady 
 of birth and a probable heiress, you were 
 so long placed ; and that is, the polished 
 elegance of your manners : for you are 
 not only ' good as you the world had 
 never seen,' but ' polite as all your life 
 in courts had been :' whereas your friend 
 Miss Merle, with whom you have lived 
 duiing some of the most impressible years 
 of your life, is occasionally ungentle, 
 vehement, and even resentful, both in her 
 language and manner." 
 
 " I am glad, my lord," replied Cathe- 
 rine blushing, " that you approve my 
 manners, though sorry you disapprove 
 Lucy's: but the truth is, her standard 
 and mine are different ; with her, exQvf 
 thing is republican virtue, amongst which" 
 virtues she reckons freedom of speech, 
 vehemence to defend opinions which she 
 thinks right, at all risks and before all" 
 
 persons^
 
 281 
 
 persons, aiid quick resentment eagerly 
 expressed of any real or fancied inju- 
 ry to those whom she loves. But viy 
 standard is Christianilij^ which teaches 
 forbearance on all occasions as one of the 
 first of duties." 
 
 " But this, dear Miss Shirley, concerns 
 ■morals y not manners-, and 1 was speaking 
 of the latter." /, ^^[f. 
 
 " Pardon me, — and so was I; for /be* 
 lieve the Gospel is the best school for 
 manners as well as for every thing else ; 
 and that mother on whose manners mine 
 were formed was of the same opinion." 
 
 " This is quite ne^v to me,'* said Lord 
 Shirley laughing; '* especially as I have, 
 had My Lord Chesterfield s Maxims held 
 up t.^ me as rules for politeness j and I see 
 no likeness between him and the divine 
 teacher to uhoin you allude.^* 
 
 " Kor I, froji what I have heard. 
 But, do not the precepts ' Do unto others 
 
 as
 
 282 
 
 as you would be done by/ and ' Be cour- 
 teous one to another/ lay the foundation 
 of that benevolence in conduct of which, 
 after all, politeness is only the mimic? 
 And were we all to regulate our lives by 
 the Sermon on the Mount, would any of 
 us indulge in harsh replies, in ungenerous 
 sarcasms, or in aught that now creates 
 dissensions amongst relatives and friends? 
 not to mention, besides, the new and great 
 commandment, that ' ye love one an- 
 other/ " 
 
 " I cannot say," replied Lord Shirley 
 smiling, that ' almost thou persuadest 
 me to be a Christian,' for I hope I am 
 one, though a negligent one, already. 
 But seriously, you dispose me to say to 
 myself in future, whenever I see an ill- 
 mannered man or woman, ' Poor things, 
 they are certainly not good Christians!' 
 But still, such perhaps are my prejudices 
 as a nobleman, and one uho has lived 
 
 chiefly
 
 283 
 
 chieiiy with men and women of his own 
 rank in society, that I am surprised to 
 find manners so elegant as your own 
 were modelled on those of a woman of 
 inferior birth, and who had no opportu- 
 nities of seeing good company, as it is 
 called ; for though the Gospel enforces 
 gentleness^ gentleness does not imply ele* 
 gance and grace.' 
 
 " Nor did I know that I possessed 
 
 ± 
 
 them. But surely gentleness and soft- 
 ness are two great ingredients towards 
 giving charms to the manner of a woman ; 
 and even amongst the lowest ranks, in 
 proportion as the temper is sv/eet and the 
 heart kind, you will find the manner 
 vulgar or otherwise. My maternal grand- 
 mother was lowly bom, but she was fine- 
 tempered, so was my m.other, — therefore 
 from neither could I on my system learn 
 vulgarity ; and the latter added to her 
 sweetness of nature such a quick per- 
 ception
 
 284 
 
 ception of what v/as fitting, and what she 
 heard my father admire, that she pro- 
 fited by the slightest opportunity of seeing 
 
 things ^px^ WP9^^ ^^^^^ ^^^^ P:^'^?^(fi^?-^ 
 itself.'^^^^"^'^" ^'"^I;.U 
 
 ,..(lVGo on," 6aid Lord Shirley, '' Lloye 
 to hear you talk of your mother." 
 
 " And I to talk of her ; and I hope if 
 it be a weakness it is a pardonable one. 
 It is offensive to hear persons boast of the 
 wealth which they possess; but who would 
 be disgusted to hear a poor bankrupt talk 
 with pride and regret of the riches that 
 he had lost ? And I, alas ! when I talk of 
 my mother, am like a bankrupt number- 
 ing the treasure which is mine no longer." 
 
 *' I do not wonder, now I have heard 
 you thus expatiate on Mrs. Shirley's me- 
 rits/* said Lord Shirley, while Catherine 
 paused in strong emotion, " that my 
 beloveJ cousin adoreil her so fervently, 
 j^jld regreued her as he did.*' 
 
 '' No.
 
 285 
 
 " No. Nor was it likely he would ever 
 have ceased to love her ; for so much did 
 she think it her duty to do all in her pow- 
 er to keep alive in her husband, that tender 
 love in which he could alone find comfort 
 under his father's anger, that whenever he 
 left her to go to sea again, she made it a rule 
 to learn some new language or to play on 
 some new instrument against he returned, 
 in order that she might agreeably sur- 
 prise him by a new talent or a new ac- 
 complishment.'* 
 
 *' I cannot endure to think that she is 
 dead without my having known her," 
 cried Lord Shirley with a degree of emo- 
 tion which cliarmedand affected Catherine, 
 
 " But then," she answered, after a 
 piuse of a few moments, " remember, 
 by not knowing you are spared the misery 
 - y)f regretting her." 
 
 Lord Shirley, seeing that Catherine was 
 now considerably affected, thought it bet- 
 ter
 
 286 
 
 ter to change the conversation a little, by 
 reverting to Lucy Merle. 
 
 ''You have sufficiently explained tome,'* 
 said he, " why your friend's manners are 
 what they are, as I have had the honour 
 of seeing her mother, Mrs. Merle, and I 
 know her principles. But surely Miss 
 Merle has real republican virtues — those 
 you have mentioned are no virtues at all." 
 
 " Oh yes! she is temperate, frugal, 
 industrious, and self-denying. But then 
 these are Christian virtues also ; and 
 though I admire moral virtues as much 
 as she can do, I think them durable and 
 precious only as they are derived from 
 religious belief and the consequence of it. 
 Without that, to me all morals appear 
 built upon a sandy foundation, and are 
 liable to be swept away by the flood of 
 strong temptation. Here Lucy and I 
 differ; — she thinks morality can stand 
 alone, without the aid of religion j nay, 
 
 she
 
 287 
 she even fancies republican firmness suffi- 
 cient to enable us to bear aiHiction. But, 
 Lord Shirley, C'est la oic je I'aitends^ to 
 borrow a French phrase; for, if she is ever 
 very seriously afflicted, I am sure that 
 she will find her error, and feel that the 
 only refuge in sorrow and in trial are the 
 Rock of Ages and the promises of the 
 Gospel." 
 
 " I believe it firmly/' replied Lord 
 Shirley. 
 
 Here they were interrupted by the en- 
 trance of the general, who came to say 
 that Catherine was wanted in her aunt's 
 apartment. But she promised to see the 
 earl again in the afternoon. Accordingly, 
 at the appointed time the general relieved 
 Catherine from her duty, and Lord Shir- 
 ley again saw and conversed with this 
 interesting and beloved, though as he 
 thought singular being. But his enjoy- 
 ment was soon painfully interrupted , for 
 
 Lucy
 
 ■!2SS 
 
 Lucy Merle took up the newspaper, and 
 on coming to a paragraph in it, she gave 
 way to a loud fit of laughter, exclaiming 
 also at the folly and falsehood of news- 
 paper writers or ctDmpilers. " There,'* 
 said she, " Miss Shirley ; read that para- 
 graph, to show you how little newspapers 
 are to be depended upon. Or — no, I will 
 read it aloud to divert you and Lord 
 Shirley/* On which she read," 'We hear 
 that the all-accomplished and elegant Earl 
 Shirley is soon to lead to the hymeneal 
 altar his beautiful and amiable cousin. 
 Miss Shirley,' €t cetera^'' she added, 
 as the paragraph proceeded to name 
 Captain Shirley in a manner that would 
 have affected his daughter. 
 
 " How excessively absurd !" said Ca- 
 therine blushing a little, but without be- 
 traying any emotion favourable to Lord 
 Shirley's wishes, while he, now red 
 and now pale, with consciousness, con- 
 fusion ^
 
 289 
 
 fusion, and anger, at the liberty thus 
 taken with his name and that of Catherine, 
 could only mutter " Very impertinent! — 
 How strange!" and stammer out that he 
 should insist on its being contradicted. 
 
 " I can't think what could give rise to 
 such a report!" said Lucy. 
 
 " Nor I/' faintly observed the earl. 
 
 " We have never been seen together,' 
 said Catherine; " nor have I been seen 
 at all." 
 
 " That is clear," observed Lucy, " or 
 the paragraph could not have been written; 
 for every one who sees you together must 
 see there is no love between you." 
 
 '' There is no hate, I hope, Miss Merle,'* 
 said the earl, timidly casting his eyes 
 towards Catherine. 
 
 " Oh, no, my lord ! but there are 
 many hundred gradations between love 
 and hate — and where love exists it must 
 be discovered^ you know the old Ita- 
 
 voL.i. o lian
 
 290 
 
 lian proverb, * Uamore ^ coma iin pozzo 
 in una caheita nera, si vedi subilo*," 
 Really it is a very rirliculous report in- 
 deed, — and without any foundation; for 
 surely no two people were ever so little 
 suited to each other, my lord, as you and 
 Miss Shirley are." 
 
 " Indeed !" cried the earl, turning very 
 pale, and nearly losing all self-command ; 
 *' that is no compliment to 7ne, Miss 
 Merle." 
 
 *^ Compliment ? No, my lord, I did not 
 mean to compliment you; but at the same 
 time I did not mean to say anything offen- 
 sive. I only meant, that in your habits 
 and opinions there seems to me so little 
 agreement, that no two persons ever were 
 less calculated, I think, to be happy if 
 united." 
 
 * Love is like a hole in a black stocking, it is 
 soon been. .: 
 
 "You
 
 291 
 
 ** You seem to have thought much and 
 deeply on this subject, Miss Merle/' re- 
 plied Lord Shirley proudly ; " May I con- 
 clude from this, that Miss Shirley enter- 
 tains the same sentiments, and is as fully 
 aware of what I am sure was a secret 
 to me, that her opinions and habits, 
 and mine, were so diametrically oppo- 
 site ^?xw. -a 
 
 " I, my lord ! I entertain the same sen- 
 timents on this subject !" replied Cathe- 
 rine, with a becoming and graceful dignity 
 of manner: '^ I assure you, it is a sub- 
 ject on which I never even thought, much 
 less conversed ; and I trust I am far in- 
 deed from being guilty of such indelicacy, 
 as to consider whether any man be fit 
 to be my companion through life, espe- 
 cially one who, I can with truth declare, 
 never paid me more attention than was 
 my due from him as a gentlewoman and 
 his reladon. — Nay, do not look so grave, 
 o 2 Lord
 
 292 
 
 Lord Shirley," she added smiling, " I 
 am quite sure that the much and deep 
 thought which you attribute to my fluent 
 friend on this subject, is the mere extem- 
 poraneous effusion of the moment. Is it 
 not so, Lucy ?" 
 
 *' Entirely so, I assure you: and I was 
 only a sagacious commentator on an ab- 
 surd text ; namely, the paragraph in the 
 paper : and I am very sorry that what I 
 so hastily said should have hurt your 
 feelings. Lord Shirley." 
 
 *' Hurt my feelings! Really, madam, 
 this is such an extraordinary conversation, 
 that really — I — But (looking at his watch) 
 I see I have outstaid an appointment.' 
 Then bowing respectfully, but coldly, he 
 hastily withdrew. 
 
 " What a proud, captious being he is!" 
 exclaimed Lucy as soon as he was gone : 
 "only think of his being affronted and hurt 
 ^t what I said !" 
 
 "lam
 
 29S 
 
 " I am not surprised at it," replied Ca- 
 therine; " nor does his being hurt, at all 
 prove him to be proud or captious. He 
 knows you think highly of me ; and then 
 you tell him we are so wholly different, 
 that we are not at all likely to suit each 
 other in marriacfe." 
 
 o 
 
 " Well — that did not prove I do not 
 think highly of him." 
 
 " No — not absolutely prove it : but 
 when we hke a person very much, we are 
 always apt to fancy them like those we 
 love best. I wish you had not said what 
 you did." 
 
 " Perhaps," returned Lucy with great 
 quickness, " you are not so convinced as 
 I am of the unsuitability subsisting beween 
 you and Lord Shirley." 
 
 " Perhaps not : yet, on my honour, it 
 is a subject that never till this moment 
 came before my mind j and I should think 
 
 it
 
 294 
 
 it improper to dwell on it even for a 
 moment/* ?>ud hs: 
 
 " But he has thought on it, I suspect ; 
 and if so, I fear he may succeed, Yetj. 
 Heaven forbid ! I could not bear to see' 
 you his wife. I think I had rather that 
 you married any dnfe^el^^?^ "^"O'' lo^ tr/^ 
 
 " Nay, Lucy,' ffot *sbV^the truth is, 
 you dislike the idea of this union, because 
 you see more likelihood of it at present 
 than any other. You would disUke any 
 man I loved, and hate any marriage I 
 might form." 
 
 "True; you are right. The idea of 
 your marrying is indeed a painful one to 
 me." 
 
 *' I know it, and I can enter into and 
 excuse your feelings ; — but you are sure 
 that whenever I love, and am likely to 
 marry, you will be the first person in- 
 formed of it." 
 
 « How
 
 295 
 
 " How generous and considerate!** 
 answered Lucy. " But — " 
 
 " This is a subject we had better drop/' 
 said Catherine. " But do let ine beg you 
 not to dislike poor Lord Shirley." 
 
 " As you do not tell me not to dislike 
 him for your sake, perhaps I may oblige 
 you ; — but indeed he is very proud." 
 
 " That idea proceeds, I am sure, from 
 your prejudices against all lords, for to 
 you he is particularly civil." 
 
 *' Civil ! Aye, so he is ; he seems to 
 make a point of being civil to me, because 
 he feels the difference in our rank, and 
 never forgets that he is an earl, and I only 
 the daughter of a bankrupt shopkeeper 
 in a country town. I dare say, in his 
 heart he says, ' How amiable it is in me 
 to pay so much attention to that young 
 nobody!' O the pride of that humility, 
 how I hate it 1" 
 
 " Prejudice ! Lucy — all prejudice ; and 
 
 it
 
 296 
 
 it proceeds from your dislike of nobility, 
 not of this individual nobleman." 
 I^*f Perhaps my opinions may have some 
 influence, and warp my judgement ; for I 
 have heard him utter excellent sentiments. 
 Still I am sure, if he marries you, with 
 his high notions of family consequence 
 and feminine propriety, he will never let 
 you see any of your old friends, — and he 
 will make you drop my acquaintance f^r 
 ever.'* Here she burst into tears. 
 
 " Depend on it, Lucy," replied Cathe- 
 rine, " I can never love a man capable of 
 requiring this." 
 
 " You will not know it before you marry* 
 Men in love promise any thing : but the 
 husband rarely performs what the lover 
 promised." 
 
 *' Then I will never marry, lest I learn 
 to think meanly of my husband. But in- 
 deed, Lucy, you are again unjust ; there . 
 are men of principle in the world. And 
 
 V. by
 
 297 
 why may I not meet with one ? If I do 
 not, rely on it I will never marry a maa. 
 who is not incapable of requiring from me 
 a sacrifice unworthy of him to ask and of 
 me to grant." 
 
 " But you forget that the wife has 
 duties which the mistress has not. Before 
 you marry, it is the lover's place to obey ; 
 after, it is yours.*' 
 
 " True ; but highly as I estimate the 
 duty of a wife^ I believe the duty I owe to 
 God and my conscience to be paramount to 
 every other duty, and all duties do not 
 merge in the duty of obedience to a hus- 
 band : therefore I should not think my- 
 self bound to give up the dues of love 
 which I owe to an old friend, at the im- 
 perious mandate of a husband, or at least 
 not without proper consideration." 
 
 " You talk this well ; — but suppose 
 
 your husband knew that you were the 
 
 depositary of a secret, would your idea 
 
 o 5 of
 
 298 
 
 of the duty of a wife allow you to with- 
 hold it from the command of your hus- 
 band, if he required you to disclose it ?*' 
 
 " I would never consent to be the de- 
 positary of a secret after 1 was married, 
 which I might not disclose to ray hus- 
 band : but whatever secret I had promised 
 solemnly not to disclose before marriage, 
 I should think it my duty never to dis- 
 close after, a duty even superior to that 
 which I owe to my husband. Do you doubt 
 me, Lucy?*' she added reproachfully. 
 
 '"' No, indeed 1 do not," replied she 
 sighing. And here the conversation ended. 
 
 Lord Shirley meanwhile had left New 
 Street in a most painful state of mind ; 
 for though he believed that Catherine 
 spoke truth, in saying she had never spo- 
 ken or even thought on the subject which 
 Lucy had so openly discussed, that very 
 truth was, he feared, a proof of her utter 
 indifference towards him j and the unem- 
 barrassed
 
 ^09 
 
 barrassed manner in which she talked of 
 the paragraph confirmed this apprehen- 
 sion. And oh ! how far did he feel him- 
 self from sharing this indifference ! The 
 situation was indeed a new as well as a 
 painful one. And did he, — the man on 
 whom female admiration had been lavish- 
 ed till he sickened at it, — did he to whom 
 hearts and even hands had been tender- 
 ed, sometimes with the surrender of the 
 usual decorum of the sex, — did he at 
 length sigh for one who neither wished 
 for nor was conscious of his homaore ? 
 
 o 
 
 V/as he at last to receive the punishment 
 of his scorn and coldness to others, by 
 meeting wiih scorn and coldness himself? 
 Was he at length to be taught to pity 
 those whose love he had rejected, by 
 having his own love met by indifference 
 and disdain ? 
 
 " Well," said he to himself, '' I will 
 not go near her tomorrow, I am determi-
 
 300 
 
 ned : — nay, I think I will not go again 
 while that prating, forward, democratic 
 girl is there : she will never be my friend, 
 because I am a nobleman ; and though 
 Catherine has not her prejudices, still we 
 are insensibly influenced in our likes and 
 dislikes by the opinions of those we love 
 and live with. No — I will not go thither 
 as I have done ; and then perhaps she 
 may miss me : yes, yes, I see I have made 
 myself too cheap, as the phrase is." But 
 " to-morrow comes," and beholds Lord 
 Shirley again in the general's house. — He 
 found the friends together. 
 
 '^ I am glad yoa are come, my lord," 
 cried Lucy when she saw him; " it is 
 later than you usually call, and I was 
 afraid I had affronted you yesterday even- 
 ing by my unthinking remarks." 
 
 Lord Shirley was almost piqued into 
 replying, that he really could not say her 
 remarks were of consequence enough ^to 
 
 influence
 
 SOI 
 
 influence his actions in any way: but his 
 love of truth, as well as his politeness, 
 forbade it; for he felt that her remarks had 
 been such as he could not forget, and that 
 were rendered of consequence also by their 
 probable effect on another : he therefore 
 merely replied, with some embarrassment, 
 " How could you suppose so, madam ? I 
 am not so easily offended. "Then approach- 
 ing Catherine with more conscious gravity 
 than usual, he asked how her invalid 
 did. 
 
 '' Oh ! so well, and so kind ! I believe 
 now, Lord Shirley, in spite of your pro- 
 gnostics that I have conquered her aversion 
 and made her my friend; for she kissed 
 me to-day very affectionately, and told me 
 she believed that she owed her life to my 
 good nursing : — what do you think of that, 
 my lord?'' 
 
 " I think," replied Lord Shirley, 
 *' though I ain sorry to destroy the hope 
 
 of
 
 S02 
 
 of your benevolent heart, that these good 
 dispositions will last only as long as does 
 your aunt's seclusion ; because it is not so 
 much hatred of you which she feels,as it is 
 jealousy ; and while you come in no com- 
 petition with her, she will cease to feel 
 unkindly towards you ; but the moment 
 she is again in a situation to feel you as a 
 rival in power, influence, or importance 
 of any kind, then the old feelings will 
 return, and your trials recommence." 
 
 " I do not doubt ir," said Lucy, 
 " though I see my candid friend does: 
 therefore, before she re-appears in all her 
 terrors, it is expedient I should depart." 
 
 " Not so," replied Catherine; '' I hope 
 to make your peace with her now." 
 
 " You are wrong in wishing such a 
 thing," answered Lucy: " I know myself 
 too well, not to know that though we 
 were reconciled to-day we should quarrel 
 again tomorrow : therefore pray let me 
 
 depart
 
 503 
 depart quietly, that you may make the 
 most of the bright days which you are an^ 
 ticipating/' -^^ > ^oi<iUl:jj>ic.':a..^ 
 
 "I think," said' ttle'-e^ri; "*^* ybtf show 
 your judgement, Pvliss Merle, in that de- 
 sire, as 1 feel assured that there must 
 always be something volcanic in your 
 friendship with Mrs. Baynton ; — a tendency 
 to explode, to which it would be unplea- 
 sant to trust." 
 
 " But I shall be so sorry to lose ycur 
 society!" cried Catherine. 
 
 " I hope so,"' replied Lucy sighing, 
 *'selfishas such a sentiment may seem; but 
 no doubt that you will soon have many 
 new friends to replace me — Aye, and 
 lovers too, perhaps,"' she added with a 
 forced smile and a look of great meaning. 
 
 Lord Shirley almost started as he ob- 
 served this ; but he could not prevail on 
 himself to ask what she meant. Cathe- 
 rine herself, however, immeJiately reli'^ved 
 
 his
 
 304 
 
 his perplexity, by begging her to explaia 
 her meaning. 
 
 " I mean," said she, " that poetical 
 youth, who was presented to you to-day 
 by his father, and evidently with a view 
 that he should become your lover." * 
 
 *' Nonsense!" exclaimed Catherine; 
 '* it was very natural, surely, ^fpr'Adftifffl 
 Dormer to wish to present his son to me^ 
 without any secret motive." 
 
 " What !" cried Lord Shirley, chan- 
 ging colour, " has Harry Dormer been 
 presented to you to-day ?" 
 
 *' Yes : and he seems a very pleasing 
 young man." 
 
 " Pleasing !" said Lucy, " but I do 
 not wonder you think so, as he has written 
 a poetical tribute to the memory of Cap-' 
 tain Shirley/' 
 
 " Has he done so?" asked the earl 
 with emotion, 
 
 " Yes ; and very pretty it is." 
 
 " I like
 
 305 
 
 " I like his verses," said Lucy, " better 
 than I do him, though he is pretty and 
 clever-looking, and modest enough, con- 
 sidering that he has a large independent 
 fortune, and is nobly allied." 
 
 Though Lord Shirley was rather dis- 
 pleased with the severity and freedom in 
 which Lucy Merle was apt to indulge her- 
 self in speaking of others; still, as he look- 
 ed on young Dormer as a formidable 
 rival, he was not sorry to find he was 
 no favourite of Lucy's ; and viewing her 
 with complacency, he said with a smile, 
 " Poor Dormer ! so he also is no favour- 
 ite of yours ? — I conclude he too is dia- 
 metrically opposite to your fair friend in 
 habits and opinions, and therefore wholly 
 unfitted to make her happy in an union 
 for life r 
 
 '' I do not know that he is," replied 
 Lucy blushing ; " but this I must say, 
 
 that
 
 306 
 
 that in my opinion he is not to be com- 
 pared to — " 
 
 " To whom?" said Lord Shirley, 
 seeing that she blushed and hesitated. 
 
 " To — to — you, my lord." 
 
 At this unexpected compliment Lord 
 Shirley bowed very low, and blushed with 
 ill-concealed pleasure ; while in his heart 
 he began to regret what he before re- 
 joiced at, namely, the approaching de- 
 parture of Lucy. 
 
 Lord Shirley now rose to take leave, 
 having an appointment elsewhere; and 
 bidding adieu to Catherine, he approach- 
 ed Lucy, and taking her hand, said with 
 great kindness, " that he sincerely re- 
 gretted her stay in New Street was so un- 
 avoidably short, but that he hoped she 
 would be to be seen there sometimes.'* ; z*^ 
 
 ** Or at home," observed Catherine, 
 wishing Lord Shirley to pay Lucy the 
 
 com-
 
 307 
 
 compliment of calling on her ; and he, 
 taking the hint, begged to be permitted 
 to inquire concerning her health at her 
 own house. uid sn>. ihdi ^u^ti^^ 
 
 Lucy, piqued because she saw that this 
 civility originated with Catherine, gave a 
 cold permission; and the earl, rather mor- 
 tified, withdrew. 
 
 The next day, to Catherine's great joy, 
 the family removed to Hampton Common j 
 though that joy was much damped by 
 parting with her friend. But Lucy, aware 
 how impossible it was for her to agree 
 with Mrs. Baynton, made light of the se- 
 paration to Catherine; though, when she 
 saw her no longer, she gave way to all 
 the agony a mind like hers must feel 
 at exchanging the society of one with 
 whom she could have lived for ever, for 
 that of a mother who was ill calculated 
 to reward by her conversation or tender- 
 ness
 
 308 
 
 ness those attentions which her exacting 
 spirit demanded. ^ri^ 
 
 Though winter was not the time to ex- 
 hibit the country to advantage, still Ca- 
 therine saw reavSan to be delirhted with 
 the situation of the general's country- 
 house, and earnestly hoped that they 
 should not return to London till the first 
 of June, and proceed to Hampton im- 
 mediately after the birth-day. Not so 
 the invalid^ who rather reluctantly ad- 
 mitted the necessity of change of air, for 
 the entire recovery of her health; and 
 who, as Lord Shirley had foreseen, no 
 sooner was able to appear at dinner as 
 usual, and mix in her usual society, but 
 she became piqued and mortified by the 
 deference and attention paid the young 
 heiress, and all her desire to tease and 
 mortify her niece returned. It is not to 
 be wondered at, therefore, that as soon as 
 
 she.
 
 809 
 
 she was entirely restored to health, she 
 should be anxious to leave a scene that 
 was the source of perpetual mortification 
 to her ; and that, finding the general and 
 Catherine had determined to remain in 
 the country, she should resolve to return 
 to London. Accordingly, she very soon 
 resumed her residence in New Street. 
 
 Her departure spread through the 
 household a degree of cheerfulness and 
 relief, which none can imagine but those 
 who have felt the heavy pressure on the spi- 
 rits, that is imposed even by one bad-tem- 
 pered individual in a family, and have 
 €xperienced the consequent delightful re- 
 bound, when that pressure has been re- 
 moved ! Catherine wondered at her own 
 improved elasticity of motion as she bound- 
 ed from room to room, conscious that they 
 no longer contained the dark spirit that had 
 imprisoned hers : while the general, the 
 
 day
 
 SIO 
 day after her departure, declared that 
 he had not felt so much at his ease for 
 years ; adding, '' If I could but forget 
 my poor boy, and my cruelty to him and 
 his angel wife, I believe I should be quite 
 happy !" 
 
 To Catherine's happiness he fancied 
 Lucy Merle was necessary ; and he wrote 
 to request her company, now his sister 
 was gone. But her mother refused to 
 spare her so soon again, and Catherine 
 and he were left to the resources of their 
 own minds; which proved indeed sufficient 
 for happiness. Catherine had no difficulty 
 in giving the general her own impressions 
 on all subjects of importance, and her own 
 pious habits and useful pursuitssoon became 
 his. Her musical powers were now called 
 forth to enliven their solitude; and the ge- 
 neral heard with delighted surprise, such 
 singing and such playing as he had cer- 
 tainly
 
 311 
 
 talnly never heard before from amateur per- 
 formers, owing to the different views which 
 had led to Catherine's proficiency. 
 
 It might be supposed that those ladies 
 or gentlemen who learn music with a 
 view to a sort of public display, would 
 have a stronger motive to excel, and to 
 take surer means to do so, than those who 
 only wish to please the ear of a few 
 partial friends. But vanity is always 
 so impatient to receive its tribute, that 
 it is very apt to grow tired too soon 
 of the labour necessary to bestow excel- 
 lence. Consequently we see pupils singing 
 bravuras, when they should still be prac- 
 tising sol feggi., and playing Cramer's 
 Lessons, before they are perfect in the art 
 of fingering, or the science of thorough 
 bass. But Catherine's mother carried into 
 every thing which she learnt herself, or 
 taught her daughter to learn, that holy love 
 of truth, which distinguished her in more 
 
 impor-
 
 312 
 
 important concerns. " It is not enough," 
 was her favourite axiom, " that one seems 
 to others to understand anything ; but 
 one's own approving mind must be con- 
 scious that we really know it." On this 
 principle therefore, and from the simple 
 love of truth and excellence, Catherine 
 went through all the practical and men- 
 tal drudgery necessary to enable her 
 to excel in every branch of music ; 
 and as she rose very early, and her time 
 was not flittered away in idleness, visiting, 
 and amusements, the hours which she be- 
 stowed on music, bore only their fair and 
 relative proportion to those that she gave 
 to graver studies. It was the purity of the 
 motives, probably, which led her to seek 
 such excellence in this art, that prevented 
 her from feeling the vanity usually atten- 
 dant on it. Besides, in this, as in her re- 
 ligious habits, Catherine was quite ig- 
 norant, from the seclusion in which she 
 
 had
 
 S13 
 
 had lived, that others were not in the 
 habit of thinking and acting as she did, 
 and she was no more conscious that her 
 musical knowledge was uncommon, than 
 that her piety was. 
 
 Lord Shirley, meanwhile, rejoiced at 
 the removal of his relations from New 
 Street, because he considered Catherine 
 as thereby removed for a time from all 
 constant attentions but his own; since his 
 relationship and intimacy would authorize 
 him to pay more frequent visits to Hamp- 
 ton than any other pretender, and he 
 should also have a good excuse for chan- 
 ging morning calls and dinner visits into 
 staying visits of at least two days in length. 
 Accordingly it was not long before he 
 drove down to Hampton Common, and 
 received, as he expected, an invitation to 
 stay a day or two. 
 
 It was during this visit that Lord Shir- 
 ley for the first time heard Catherine 
 
 VOL. I. p display
 
 S14 
 
 displa}^ her musical powers, which, as he 
 passionately loved music, would have 
 been alone sufficient to have made him 
 court her society ; and as it was, they 
 riveted his chains more closely than 
 ever. Reluctant indeed was he, there- 
 fore, to return to London, and leave a 
 spot which the alternation of exercise, 
 reading, singing, and playing, made one of 
 rational and ever new enjoyment. Even 
 the eccentricity of Lucy, who had once 
 more joined their party, had charms for 
 him ; and he forgave her contempt of 
 ancient institutions, and her Utopian 
 dreams of liberty, in favour of her de- 
 voted love to Catherine, and the fine 
 voice and taste which, as the pupil of her 
 friend, she exhibited both in songs and 
 duets. Nor could Lucy be the intimate 
 associate of such a man as Lord Shirley, 
 without feeling her prejudices against rank 
 considerably softened, and owning that 
 
 his
 
 315 
 
 his virtues were almost sufficient to redeem 
 the vices imputed to his peers. The first 
 of June at length arrived ; and Catherine, 
 reluctantly throwing off her mourning, 
 prepared to return to London and give 
 her final orders relative to her dress, 
 which was made ready to receive them. 
 
 As soon as the general and Catherine 
 arrived in London, Lord Shirley called in 
 New Street : and as he happened to call 
 just as Mr. Dormer, who had preceded 
 him by half an hour, had engaged Cathe- 
 rine's whole and delighted attention, by 
 talking to her of her father, who had 
 been his model of excellence, when as a 
 boy he was presented to Captain Shir- 
 ley ; the earl fancied that Catherine re- 
 ceived him coldly, and that her manner 
 to Dormer betokened a particular pre- 
 ference of him. Still however, though 
 mortified to find how much Catherine 
 continued to attend to her new acquaint- 
 p 2 ance.
 
 31G 
 
 ance, he lingered near her j and at length 
 Mr. Dormer departed. 
 
 But he was scarcely gone, and Cathe- 
 rine at leisure to attend wholly to Lord 
 Shirley, when a note was brought her, 
 which the servant said was from Miss 
 Merle ; and on reading it Catherine be- 
 trayed strong emotion, and then fell into 
 so profound a reverie that again her noble 
 relation seemed forgotten. '' 1 wonder 
 what that note contained!*' thought Lord 
 Shirley, whose tendency to suspicion was 
 easily awakened wherever his affections 
 were concerned — " But, let it contain what 
 it may, it is very certain that I have now 
 received two complete proofs this morning 
 of her indifference towards me : therefore 
 it is better for me to tear myself away 
 from the scenes she is now going to move 
 in ; and certainly I will not witness her 
 triumphal entry at St. James's." 
 
 While he was thus communing with 
 
 himself.
 
 317 
 himself, Catherine had regained her com- 
 posure, and, turning round to Lord Shir- 
 ley, with one of her sweetest smiles told 
 him she hoped he meant to dine with 
 them, as it was so long since they had 
 seen him. 
 
 *' I was at Hampton only a week ago," 
 coldly replied Lord Shirley : " but I will 
 have the pleasure of dining here to-day, 
 as I go away so soon." 
 
 " Go away !" exclaimed Catherine in 
 a tone of alarm ; " I hope not to stay 
 away ?*' 
 
 " My — my stay will be very uncertain, 
 I believe." 
 
 '* That is a comfort," she replied : " but 
 I trust that you do not mean to go till 
 after the birth-day ?" 
 
 " Indeed I do — I shall set off to join 
 my regiment, to-morrow or the next day." 
 
 *' To join your regiment!" said Cathe- 
 rine thoughtfully : then recollecting her- 
 
 ' self.
 
 S18 
 
 self, she added with great warmth, ^* I 
 cannot express to you how disappointed 
 I am at the idea of your not being at St. 
 James's, I expected to feel myself so sup- 
 ported by your presence, and so encou- 
 raged by the glance of your kind eye ! — 
 My dear lord, do put off your journey, 
 pray do, for the sake of your poor in- 
 experienced cousin !" 
 
 Though this kind and flattering address 
 was as much a proof of indifference in 
 one sense, as her inattention to him had 
 been, still it operated in a pleasant manner 
 on his irritated feelings and his wounded 
 self-love : and looking in her face with 
 delighted earnestness, he assured her that, 
 had his plans been even more fixed than 
 they were, they should have been given 
 up at her slightest desire. ^* I wish, 
 thought he, " I dare ask what that note 
 contained. She has too much habitual 
 self-command to feel such strong emotion 
 
 for
 
 for a trivial cause. I hope Miss Merle is 
 well ?" he at length said. 
 
 « Quite well." 
 
 " What fine spirits she seems to have ! 
 I trust they are never overclouded." 
 
 " O yes ! frequently," replied Cathe- 
 rine with a sigh. 
 
 ^^ Love, I think, will never have power 
 enough over her to injure her spirits.'* 
 
 " I am not sure of that ; but at pre- 
 sent she is, I know, a stranger to the 
 passion." 
 
 " The only time I ever saw Mrs. Merle, 
 she spoke of her daughter with much 
 fondness, and told me that now she was 
 her only child. She has therefore had 
 the misfortune to lose a child, or children, 
 I conclude ?" 
 
 Catherine paused before she answer- 
 ed : then fixing a sort of inquiring look 
 on Lord Shirley's face, she said, ^^ No — 
 
 I do
 
 320 
 
 I do not think Mrs. Merle ever lost a 
 child." 
 
 " Then what could she mean by laying 
 such an emphasis on the word noiv T' 
 
 Catherine paused again, and put her 
 hand to her forehead, as if endeavouring 
 to remember something. " I recollect 
 now," she replied, " that Mrs. Merle 
 had once a little boy who lived to be six 
 weeks old." She then talked of some- 
 thing else ; but Lord Shirley took an op- 
 portunity of renewing the conversation 
 concerning the Merles. 
 
 " I have often thought/' he said, •' that 
 the last three years of your life must have 
 been passed by you most unpleasantly ; as 
 you lived with, and amongst, persons 
 wholly unsuited to you." 
 
 " On the contrary, I look back on 
 them with great satisfaction, because my 
 mind was considerably strengthened, and 
 
 my
 
 321 
 
 my character Improved, by the mental dis- 
 cipline they made me undergo, and the 
 necessity they imposed on me of fixing 
 my whole dependence on the only help 
 that faileth not." 
 
 " Nay then — your trials must have 
 been greater than I expected ?" 
 
 " Perhaps so — or rather you mean 
 by trials, great afflictions: but there are 
 trials, particularly those which are im- 
 posed by the bad temper, the petty faults, 
 and even the vices of others, which 
 are, I suspect, more difficult to bear, 
 and more inimical to happiness, than 
 what is denominated an affliction. My 
 only apparent affliction when I came 
 to Mrs. Merle's, was the recent loss of 
 my mother. But under this how great 
 was my consolation ! I knew that ' those 
 are blessed who die in the Lord!' there- 
 fore, when I mourned over my mother's 
 untimely death with the weakness of filial 
 P 5 affection,
 
 322 
 
 afFection, I used to check and overcome 
 my sorrow, by the conviction that my 
 earthly loss was her immortal gain !" 
 
 Here Catherine turned away to vent 
 the emotion which the recollection of 
 her mother always occasioned her, in a 
 few natural tears j for though it was true 
 that she rejoiced as a Christian, she still 
 sorrowed as a daughter. Lord Shirley 
 did not behold this expression of tender 
 regret unmoved ; but he was very glad 
 that no one heard the pious- language 
 which preceded it but himself, as he knew 
 that her aunt had prepared the circles in 
 which she moved, to find Catherine a 
 preaching methodist ; and he was sure 
 that the most common expression of piety 
 such as this was, would have only served 
 to conhrni this idea. 
 
 At length she turned round again, as 
 if prepared to renew the conversation ; 
 and Lord Shirley observed, that he con* 
 
 eluded
 
 323 
 
 eluded one of her trials must have been, 
 being forced to associate with persons 
 wholly different from herself in polidcal 
 opinions, as he concluded that Lucy 
 Merle's sendments on such subjects must 
 have been derived from her parents and 
 their associates. 
 
 " No doubt," replied Catherine : " for, 
 independent of the little interest which 
 I take in such discussions, I think that 
 all party spirit whatever is a spirit wholly 
 opposite to that of Christian love and 
 any feeling of true philanthropy, and 
 I used to seek refuge from such con- 
 versadons in my own room. But Mrs. 
 Merle is a fierce politician ; and my dis- 
 appearance on these occasions, which she 
 attributed to aristocratic pride and pre- 
 judice, used to awaken in all its bitterness 
 the violence of a temper never distin- 
 guished for its gentleness; and that was 
 indeed a trial of my patience.'* 
 
 "But
 
 324 
 
 " But It is strange that a woman of 
 such sentiments in politics should have 
 been so outrageously loyal as to insist, 
 under such circumstances, on illuminat- 
 ing for a victory at which she could not 
 rejoice?" 
 
 " Not at all — if you consider the ope- 
 rations of ill temper. She vented her 
 spleen occasioned by the victory, in teas- 
 ing me ; and for the sake of indulging 
 her bad temper, she was willing to sacri- 
 fice her political consistency: besides, she 
 is an oeconomist, and wished to preserve 
 her windows." 
 
 '' How freely, however, do I forgive 
 her that last vent of temper and cecono- 
 my," said Lord Shirley, " as it shortened 
 the slow work of time, and brought you 
 to the knowledge of your relations!*' 
 
 " Yes," returned Catherine," my trans- 
 ient pain led, I trust, to my lasting good: 
 — But I am sure, my dear lord," she con- 
 tinued.
 
 325 
 
 tinucc], " it cannot be interesting to you 
 to talk, of or hear any thing concerning 
 the Merles and my residence with them. 
 Suffice, that I began there to learn the 
 lesson of patience, endurance, and for- 
 bearance, which I am likely to perfect 
 here, — a lesson as new as it was difficult,— 
 for I had lived with none but persons 
 blest with fine tempers ; and I am sure 
 that those only, who have lived \\ith the 
 slaves of ill temper, can imagine in the 
 slightest degree what misery temper is 
 capable of inflicting." 
 
 Catherine was mistaken. Lord Shirley 
 was more interested in talking of the 
 Merles, and in the three years passed 
 under Mrs. Merle's roof, than in all the 
 rest of her life; as he feared that she must 
 have been injured in some way by asso- 
 ciating with persons so inferior to herself; 
 and he also fancied that some degree of 
 mystery attached to her abode with them, 
 
 especially
 
 326 
 
 especially as Catherine had talked of 
 trials from " the temper, the petty faults, 
 and even vices of others/* and yet she 
 had only mentioned the trials she experi- 
 enced from the former. But the entrance 
 of the general and Mrs, Baynton prevent- 
 ed his renewing the subject then. And as 
 the misrepresentations of the latter rela- 
 tive to her amiable niece had made her 
 more than usually disagreeable in Lord 
 Shirley's eyes, he took leave soon after 
 she entered, having promised to return to 
 dinner. 
 
 The fourth of June at length arrived ; 
 and Catherine, struggling with the secret 
 load of filial sorrow, saw that time draw 
 near which her exulting parents had so often 
 anticipated, — that time when, restored 
 to his father's favour, Captain Shirley 
 should present his wife and daughter to 
 the sovereign in whose cause he had 
 fought and bled. — JVoiv those eyes were 
 
 closed,
 
 327 
 closed, that would have delighted to be- 
 hold her admired ; those ears were deaf, 
 that would havegreedily drunk in the sound 
 of her praises; — and she sighed to think 
 how empty are the gratifications of one's 
 own vanity, unless they give pleasure to 
 the hearts of those who love us. 
 
 She hoped that she should pass unno- 
 ticed. But " Yet how/' said she to herself, 
 " can I escape observation? The gallant 
 death of the father will attract notice to 
 the child ; and a degree of interest not due 
 to my merits, but the effect of his valour, 
 must be excited by me in the loyal pre- 
 cincts in which I am going to move." 
 
 Catherine was now satisfied that she had 
 found out a point for her humility to rest 
 upon. It was for her father's sake that she 
 was to be noticed, — and the feelincr was 
 one of tender complacency. 
 
 It was settled that Lord Shirley should 
 go with the general in his own landau, 
 
 while
 
 32S 
 
 while Catherine accompanied the Duchess 
 of , who was to present her. Cathe- 
 rine had shown him only on the preceding 
 day, another paragraph announcing their 
 intended nuptials. However, she had blush- 
 ed deeply when she showed it to him, 
 and she had not done so before : still he 
 wished she had been desirous of conceal- 
 ing, not exhibiting it. Lord Shirley in 
 his heart would not have been sorry for 
 the report, because it might keep other 
 pretenders at a distance, had he not known 
 that Catherine's appearance at court 
 would itself be a sufficient evidence that 
 she could not be on the eve of marriage. 
 
 Mrs. Baynton was glad to take advan- 
 tage of her recent illness, as she chose to 
 call it, as an excuse for not accompanying 
 her niece ; since she knew that she should 
 feel nopleasure if she was admired, and 
 might experience considerable mortifica- 
 tion. 
 
 Lord
 
 329 
 
 Lord Shirley and the general reached 
 the drawing-room before the duchess and 
 her fair charge; and the anxiety with 
 which they expected her appearance was 
 probably, though from different modifica- 
 tions of interest, very nearly equal. At 
 length the circle opened to admit them; 
 and Catherine Shirley, blushing at the 
 busy admiration which she excited, and 
 affected at the whispered though lauda- 
 tory mention of her father's name, was 
 presented to the notice of Majesty, and 
 underwent the customary introuction. 
 
 When she had passed on and fallen 
 back into the circle, she found Lord Shir- 
 ley at her elbow ; and soon after she saw 
 the king speaking to her grandfather, 
 and directing an approving eye towards 
 her. 
 
 " How well you have gone through 
 this ceremony 1** cried Lord Shirley kind- 
 ly. "How completely have all the high- 
 raised
 
 330 
 raised expectations of — of — the general 
 been fulfilled ! Adieu to all our quiet, ra- 
 tional evenings together at Hampton!" 
 he added with a sigh : " now you have 
 been seen, who that can have you at their 
 parties will fail to give them their brightest 
 ornament ?" 
 
 " But what if I will not go ? — what if I 
 prefer a continuation of the evenings you 
 mention?" she replied, " admitting, which 
 I do not admit, that I shall be in such 
 great request ?" At this moment, and be- 
 fore Lord Shirley could reply, Catherine 
 raised her eyes, and met those of a gentle- 
 man on the opposite side fixed on hers 
 with surprise not unmixed with confusion. 
 At sight of him she started, and blushing 
 deeply averted her eyes directly, but with 
 a look of surprise: then speaking low to the 
 duchess, she begged to know who that 
 gentleman in green and gold was. 
 
 " It is one of the most elegant, cap- 
 tivating,
 
 331 
 
 tivating, and accomplished men of fashion 
 we have," replied Her Grace, *' and I am 
 not surprised that you observed him/' 
 
 " Indeed!" cried Catherine. " But his 
 name ?" 
 
 " Melvvn: he is a man of some familv, 
 I believe, and has a very large fortune. 
 But see, he has made his way to the ge- 
 neral, and is I dare say saying something 
 that has found its way to the general's 
 heart : so prepare yourself to have him 
 presented to you immediately.'* 
 
 " No, madam, no," returned Cathe- 
 rine eagerly : " I know, — I am sure Mr. 
 Melvyn will not desire to be presented to 
 me." 
 
 "No! But — " Here some one accosted 
 the duchess, and she turned away to con- 
 verse with a group near her. 
 
 In the meanwhile Lord Shirley was 
 enduring great uneasiness of mind. He 
 had seen the expression of Melvyn's face 
 
 when
 
 332 
 
 when he looked at Catherine, and hers 
 when she looked at him 5 and it was thence 
 evident that they had met before. But 
 why should they both look confused as 
 well as surprised ? And was this the ex- 
 planation of the something untold, that 
 had happened during Catherine's resi- 
 dence with Mrs. Merle? The thought 
 was agony; for, of all men living, Lord 
 Shirley felt that he should fear him for a 
 rival ; he knew the acuteness of his in- 
 tellect, and the charms of his manner and 
 conversation. 
 
 The general now advanced with Mr. 
 Melvyn ; and Lord Shirley was going to 
 watch the countenance both of Catherine 
 and him, when two ladies accosted him, 
 and he was forced to give his attention to 
 them. Catherine received Mr. Melvyn's 
 low bow, deep sigh, and deprecating look, 
 with a conscious blush and a carriage of 
 increased dignity ; but still she was more 
 
 vexed
 
 333 
 
 vexed than surprised, when he took an 
 opportunity of saying in a low voice, but 
 loud enough for her, and her alone, to 
 hear him, " Can I ever hope for pardon 
 from Miss Shirley, for my presumption 
 of former days? Will she not deign to 
 feel for an unhappy man, who ventured to 
 adore her with a disinterested, though 
 perhaps presumptuous passion, and was 
 the first to do homage to those charms 
 which crowds will now approach with in- 
 cense and adoration ?" 
 
 Catherine heard this speech with more 
 complacence than it deserved, because it 
 healed a wound which her delicacy had 
 received ; but she rephed to him, notwith- 
 standing, in no very courteous language : 
 " Sir," said Catherine, " it will be to the 
 credit of us both, to forget we ever met 
 before : and I will endeavour to set you 
 the example." 
 
 The truth was, that Catherine and 
 
 Lucy
 
 S34 
 
 Lucy had been in the habit of walking out 
 together, unattended by a servant, at an 
 early hour in the morning; and one morn- 
 ing they were overtaken on the Kent road 
 by Mr. Melvyn, who being struck with 
 their appearance, had left his gig to his 
 servant, and had followed them on foot. 
 From silent he proceeded to loud admira- 
 tion of Catherine, and had walked by 
 their side, unawed by their cold demean- 
 our, till they stopped at the house of a 
 friend. There they remained some time ; 
 and the maid-servant having assured them 
 there was no longer a gentleman in sight, 
 they proceeded on their walk home : but 
 Melvyn soon overtook them again, nor 
 left them till they reached their own house, 
 at the door of which they knocked in a 
 manner which convinced him that was 
 their home. The first thing, therefore, that 
 Melvyn did, was to inquire who and what 
 the person was who lived there. And from 
 
 the
 
 B35 
 
 the account the neighbours gave of Mrs. 
 Merle's appearance and mode of living, 
 so different from the elegance visible in 
 the dress and mien of Catherine, it was 
 very natural for Melvyn to fancy the ob- 
 ject of his admiration might not be beyond 
 his reach. He therefore took care to 
 watch for hours every day near the house. 
 Whenever the friends walked alone, he 
 followed them, whispering out his passion- 
 ate admiration; but when they staid with- 
 in, purposely to avoid him, he used to 
 walk up and down before the windows; 
 till at last Mrs. Merle, justly offended at 
 his boldness, went out one morning and 
 told him she insisted on his never pre- 
 suming to walk before her windows again, 
 or to speak to the young ladies ; for that 
 one of them was her daughter, and the 
 other was under her protection, and she 
 'W2isjit for his tellers. Without meaning 
 it, Mrs. Merle by this elegant phrase con- 
 firmed
 
 firmed rather than forbade his hopes ; for 
 he concluded that Catherine was the actual 
 or intended mistress of some man who had 
 put her under the guardianship of a vul- 
 gar but vigilant spy. Accordingly, know- 
 ing that there were only women in the 
 house, he walked past the window again 
 and again. But at last a more formidable 
 champion than Mrs. Merle appeared to 
 warn him off the premises, and Melvyn 
 thought proper to abandon his design. 
 
 Catherine and Lucy all this time ima- 
 gined that the stranger admired Catherine 
 with a view to marriage ; therefore, 
 though distressed, they were not disgusted 
 by his conduct. But Mrs. Merle imme- 
 diately guessed the truth ; and her opinion 
 being corroborated by that of others, Ca- 
 therine was forced to admit the probability 
 of her being right ; and her delicacy was 
 consequently excessively'woundedjby find- 
 ing that she had been the object of impro- 
 per
 
 per views. But Melvyn's uords brought 
 back her original opinion, and she felt 
 disposed to pardon the temerity of one 
 who had admired her when she appeared 
 an obscure and unprotected girl, and not 
 as the heiress of General Shirley. 
 
 Melvyn, though he knew not the cause, 
 saw that his apologies were received much 
 better than he expected ; and as he soon 
 discovered that the report was false which 
 had declared the earl and Catherine to be 
 lovers, he resolved to follow up the ad- 
 vantage he had gained, and obtain on 
 honourable terms as an heiress, the lovely 
 girl whom he had wished to make his own 
 on less respectable conditions. Besides, 
 he had a double motive for this pursuit, 
 which I shall explain hereafter. 
 
 Lord Shirley was all this time talking 
 or rather listening to the ladies before men- 
 rionedj and watching Catherine and Mel- 
 vyn ; but seeing the general beckoning 
 
 VOL. I. Q him
 
 338 
 
 him, he bade the ladies a hasty farewcl and 
 drew near the general, who had just told 
 Catherine it was time to retire, and had 
 withdrawn her. from the side of Melvyn. 
 
 The general now begged Lord Shirley 
 to get up the carriage, as Catherine was 
 not to return with the duchess ; and lead- 
 ing her from the presence-chamber, they 
 went to the top of the stairs to wait till 
 the carriage was announced. Lord Shir- 
 ley soon returned, to say that they could 
 walk to it ; and the general going before 
 them, gave Catherine to the care of her 
 younger protector. 
 
 The crowd on the outside of the piazza 
 was excessively great ; and as Lord Shir- 
 ley remaiked it to Catherine, she cast her 
 eyes over it. Immediately she started, 
 changed colour, and clung with trembling 
 emotion to the arm she held. Lord Shir- 
 ley witnessed her emotion with wonder as 
 well as alarm, and asked her if she was ill. 
 
 "It
 
 530 
 
 " It is over — it is past," she cried, 
 stopping to recover her breath, *' and let 
 us hasten to the carriage;'* casting as she 
 spoke, a startled glance on the crowd. 
 Lord Shirlt7 followed the direction of her 
 eyes, bat saw nothing to explain her agi- 
 tation ; and In silence they both joined the 
 general in the carriage. 
 
 *' Miss Shirley was quite ill just now," 
 said the earl. 
 
 " Indeed !" cried the general. " But I 
 hope, my dear, the air has recovered you — 
 to be sure the drawing-room was very 
 hot ; besides, you must have undergone a 
 great deal of emotion." 
 
 " A great deal, indeed !" said Cathe- 
 rine sighing. And Lord Shirley thought 
 the reply meant more than it appeared to 
 the general to mean. 
 
 In Pall-Mall there was a stop of car- 
 riages ; and as Lord Shirley put his head 
 out of one window, to see how soon they 
 Q 3 were
 
 S40 
 were likely to proceed, Catherine leaned 
 out of the other; but quickly drawing her 
 head in again, she became very pale, and 
 betrayed great agitation. 
 
 " My dear child, you are ill again/' 
 cried the general. And Lord Shirley turn- 
 ing round, beheld all the same symptoms 
 of uneasiness renewed. 
 
 " Lionel," cried he, " do call to the 
 coachman, and tell him to stop at the first 
 perfumer's shop for some of the best sal- 
 volatile."And Lord Shirley, regarding Ca- 
 therine with a scrutinizing look, ooeyed. 
 
 When the coach stopped as desired, 
 Lord Shirley offered to get out for what 
 she wanted ; but Catherine, catching his 
 arm, so earnestly entreated him to remain 
 where he was, that, though surprised at 
 her vehemence, he acceded to her request. 
 But it was in uneasy thoughtfulness that 
 he did so. Why was Catherine thus vio- 
 lently affected 1 — and why was she averse 
 
 to
 
 541 
 
 to his getting out! Lord Shirley dared not 
 inquire; and had he even been capable of 
 indulging his curiosity by questions and 
 remarks disguised by that coarse and 
 vulgar banter which many persons in- 
 dulge in, there was a dignity in Cathe- 
 rine's manner and also in her character 
 which would have awed him into for- 
 bearance. He knew, therefore, that he 
 must remain in perplexed ignorance oa 
 the subject. But had he recollected 
 that the dignity of character which he 
 observed in Catherine was a pledge of 
 such uprightness of conduct as must pre- 
 vent her emotion from having its rise in 
 any unworthy cause, he would, though 
 he remained ignorant, have been neither 
 uneasy nor perplexed. But he was unhap* 
 pily of a suspicious nature ; and how can 
 men of that description, however highly 
 gifted and however virtuous, be either uni- 
 formly just or uniformly generous? 
 
 Q 3 Catherine's
 
 342 
 
 Catherine's silence was as profound as 
 Lord Shirley's; but this the general at- 
 tributed to indisposition, which fear was 
 however contradicted by the brilliant co- 
 lour on her cheek. Some ill-humour 
 mingled with the earl's silence ; and as he 
 could not, dared not, interrogate Cathe- 
 rine on the ubject most uppermost in his 
 mind, he could not help questioning her 
 on one of nearly equal interest. 
 
 " It seemed to me, Miss Shirley," ob- 
 served the earl, " that you and Mr. Mel- 
 vyn were not strangers to each other 
 when you met to-day ! — you had met, I - 
 believe, before?" 
 
 *' Yes-* yes, we had — I had seen^ — yes, 
 I had seen him several times before," an- 
 swered Catherine in great confusion. 
 
 "Very extraordinary that! — why did he 
 net tell me so?" exclaimed the general. 
 " Surely he could not visit at Mrs. Merle's?" 
 
 This was what Lord Shirley most 
 
 anxiously
 
 S43 
 
 anxiously wished to know, but could not 
 on any account have commanded his feel- 
 ings sufficiently to ask. 
 
 Oh! no — he did not visit at Mrs. 
 INIerle 's, certainly/' replied Catherine, re- 
 covering her composure, and relating the 
 manner in which Melvyn had become per- 
 sonally known to her. 
 
 The general looked displeased ; but he 
 sighed also, for his obduracy had thus ex- 
 posed Catherine to insult. 
 
 " Villa'ft!*' muttered Lord Shirley 
 between his shut teeth. 
 
 But Catherine heard him, and replied 
 to his term, by observing, " Surely, my 
 lord, you in this instance judge Mr. 
 Melvyn uncandidly, as there was nothing 
 in his conduct to warrant the idea that 
 his designs against me were dishonourable. 
 — Do you think there was, sir?" she 
 added, addressing the general. 
 
 " My dear, I really do not know what 
 to think — Melvyn is a man of excellent 
 
 character :
 
 S44 
 
 character : — but this 1 know, I cannot be 
 very angry with a fine young man for 
 admiring you, especially as my conscious 
 heart tells me, thai, however derogatory 
 to you his views might be, it was I who 
 had exposed you to such an equivocal 
 situation/' 
 
 *' Not angry, sir! — not angry 1" ex.- 
 claimed Lord Shirley, his fme face crim- 
 soning with indignation : " Can you en- 
 dure to think any man ever presumed to 
 cast an unhallowed look on such a being 
 as that! Not angry!" 
 
 *^Whew! whew!'* whistled the gene- 
 ral. " IMy dear Lionel^, your anger is so 
 excessive that you have exhausted the 
 family stock, and there can be none left 
 for my use. Well, the days of chivalry 
 are not over, I see, and your sword, at 
 least, would be ready to leap from its scab- 
 bard to revenge even a look that threatens 
 her with insult !'' 
 
 During these remarks Catherine was ex- 
 periencing.
 
 345 
 
 perlcncinp; no very unpleasing sensations; 
 though they dyed her cheeks with blushes 
 and cast her eyes on the ground. For 
 though her delicacy was wounded by the 
 idea that Melvyn had dared to think of 
 her in an improper light, still that delicacy 
 and the proper pride of her virtue were 
 gratified by the manner in which Lord 
 Shirley entered into and shared her feel- 
 ings, and the noble warmth with which 
 he had resented the supposed insult. 
 
 " Upon my -Aord, general," said Lord 
 Shirley, at length resuming his seli'-com- 
 inand, " I am shocked at the warmth 
 into which I have been hurried. To be 
 sure I have no ri^^ht to resent Miss Shir- 
 ley's injuries." 
 
 " No right !" interrupted the general, 
 '• How so ? are you not the nead of her 
 family? She is a Shirley — and I ear- 
 nestly hope she may continue so." 
 
 The last part of this speech was spoken 
 
 low ;
 
 S46 
 
 low ; and Catherine, if she heard, did not 
 understand it. But it wos not lost on the 
 earl, who in a transport of grateful plea- 
 sure seized the general's hand and pressed 
 it affectionately. 
 
 The coach now stopped at the general's 
 door; and the earl after handing Cathe- 
 rine out, and venturing for the first time 
 to press the hand he held, re-entered his 
 carriage, and drove home to meditate on 
 his hopes, his fears, his perplexities, and 
 his suspicions. Then his rival ! Melvyn 
 his rival ! — for it was now clear that he 
 would come forward as such. And if the 
 idea of Dormer's paying his addresses to 
 her was a formidable one, how much 
 more so was the certainty of Catherine's 
 affection being sought by one skilled in 
 all the arts of soft persuasion, and avow- 
 edly a favourite of her sex. But was she 
 like the rest of her sex ? was she likely 
 to be won by manners however specious, 
 
 and
 
 34-7 
 
 and accomplishments however brilliant ? 
 
 No, certainly not. — Still Lord Shirley 
 
 doubted, for he was in love; and well hai» 
 
 the poet said, that 
 
 " The lover Is a man afraid—*' 
 « And feels his own demerits most. 
 When he should most aspire to gain." 
 
 Catherine also retired to her own room 
 in order to think over the scenes she had 
 lately gone through ; and she could not 
 help being conscious that, triumphant 
 over every other feeling, was pleasure 
 at the animated and flattering tribute of 
 respect and regard which Lord Shirley 
 had paid her, by his resentment of Mel- 
 vyn's supposed degrading admiration of 
 her : and she was indulging no unplea- 
 sant reverie, when she was informed that 
 Lucy Merle was below. She started at 
 hearing this, and desired her to be shown 
 into her dressing-room. 
 
 The conference was long and painful : 
 
 so
 
 S48 
 
 SO much so, that when Lord Shirley canie 
 to dinner, Lucy Merle passed him on the 
 stairs with her eyes swollen with exces- 
 sive crying; and when Catherine herself 
 appeareii, she looked more than usually 
 pale, though her rigid adherence ta truth 
 made her reject the offered excuse for 
 her paleness suggested to her by the ge- 
 neral, in the excessive heat of the weather. 
 But why was Catherine pale, and why 
 was Lucy Merle distressed, thought Lord 
 Shirley; — and his painful perplexity was 
 increased by the consciousness, that, what- 
 ever was the cause of these appearances, 
 he had no right to demand an explanation 
 of them. 
 
 END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 printed I'j R. end A. Tcjiotj Shoe-iane, Londor..