LI E) R^AFLY 
 
 OF THE 
 UN IVLR5ITY 
 or ILLINOIS 
 
 V.1
 
 l//a
 
 R A V E N S D A L E.
 
 RAVENSDALE; 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 BY A LADY 
 
 IN TWO YOLUxMES. 
 
 YOL. I. 
 
 DUBLIN 
 
 WILLIAM CURRY, JUN. AND COMPANY. 
 
 LONGMANS, BROWN AND CO. LONDON. 
 
 1845.
 
 Dublin : Printed l.y J. .^. FOLDS and So>, G, Bachdi>r's-walk.
 
 8^3 
 
 v/. 1. 
 
 PREFACE, 
 
 In presenting to your notice, dear reader, the 
 following simple narrative, I feel deeply sensible 
 that my claim to public indulgence is slender 
 indeed — solely rested, as it is, on the kind en- 
 couragement of a few literary friends, and counter- 
 balanced by the many difficulties ever attendant 
 on the first effort of an inexperienced writer. 
 
 Kavensdale^ is devoid alike of what may be 
 termed striking incident, depth of plot, or highly- 
 wrought colouring in the dramatis persona-. Its 
 impretending aim has been a faithful representation
 
 VI PREFACE. 
 
 of human character in various phases of an en- 
 lightened and unenlightened state ; and whilst, 
 in my endeavour to pourtray the former and more 
 noble, I have humbly drawn from that source 
 whence all true nobleness is derived, perhaps, in 
 the incidental sketches of the latter, their chief 
 merit may consist in the truthfulness of the deli- 
 neation — the apparently over-wrought, and seem- 
 ingly caricature-like phrases and sentiments, being, 
 for the most part, copied from real — real life ; 
 not life in London — nor life in Dublin — nor the 
 civilized life of an educated and enlightened pea- 
 santry, happily unacquainted with the baneful 
 effects of ignorance and superstition ; but the real 
 life of thousands of those victims, from whom the 
 hand of charity has never yet withdmwn those 
 direful shades. 
 
 And now, reader, farewell. In charity to any 
 erroneous anticipation, I have candidly informed 
 you what Ravensdale is not ; and with a solicitude, 
 not unpardonable perhaps, do I entreat that you
 
 PREFACE. VU 
 
 will exercise a similar virtue whilst informing 
 yourself what it is. 
 
 If, in obtruding myself upon your notice, 1 
 have incurred the charge of presumption, may 
 the consideration of its being a first trespass prove 
 a sufficient extenuation. 
 

 
 RAVENSDALE 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 The boy had grown to manhood." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 It was a heavy hour which preceded the arrival 
 of Lord Mowbray at Ravensdale, even though his 
 anticipated presence was hailed with joyous sensa- 
 tions by each of its expectant inmates ; yet, like 
 every worldly pleasure, it bore the stamp of earth, 
 and came not unalloyed. 
 
 Twelve years had already elapsed since the halls 
 of Ravensdale echoed to thoughtless mirth, which 
 the bright companionship of the present Earl of 
 Mowbray was ever wont to impart to each of his 
 youthful relatives ; — but then was the season of 
 boyhood — then he was unacquainted with grief — 
 then, how unforeseen were those multiplied cala- 
 mities which marked the eventful interval ! 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 I RAVENSDALE. 
 
 Twelve years — a brief lapse, when viewed in 
 the retrospect ; but, behold it through the be- 
 clouded perspective of futurity — range parent, 
 relative, friend, in dim array along the impene- 
 trable vista ; then compare it with that short and 
 mystic span allotted to man's mortal sojourn ; and 
 where is the stoic who could suppress a shudder 
 as he contemplates the train of ills which fate may 
 already hold embryoed, to shade his onward 
 career. 
 
 With Lord Mowbray, time, with its relentless 
 scythe, was busy, heedlessly riving in sunder, one 
 by one, every tender and endearing tie which 
 bound him to existence ; still it glided coldly on, 
 with all its seeming unsympathizing indifference ; 
 and its last stroke, as it bereaved him of his sole 
 surviving parent, also deprived Lord Ravensdale 
 of an only and beloved sister. The blow fell 
 heavily on his heart ! and this was the thought 
 which cast a cloud over his brow, as in mute soli- 
 citude he watched with alternate hope and anxiety 
 the arrival of that youthful scion, whose antici- 
 pated presence served but to arouse the weight of 
 regret still rankling in his bosom. Nor were his
 
 RAVENSDALE. 3 
 
 feelings unshared by Lady Ravensdale ; for though 
 no tie of kindred affinity bound her to the late 
 Countess of Mowbray, yet was she the companion 
 of her early years, and had ever continued the 
 friend and sister of her bosom. 
 
 With the juniors of the house it was different. 
 To the bosom of Charles Courtenay sympathy for 
 his friend was the alone admissible sensation, 
 whose prevailing ascendancy would now arise to 
 dull the ardour of expectancy — then sink in joyous 
 anticipation. 
 
 Louisa, too, in a minor degree, partook of these 
 sentiments ; but in Emily, the gay, the lively, 
 the thoughtless, no admixture of pain mingled 
 with the feelings of impatience and curiosity with 
 which she longed once more to behold a beloved 
 relative, so long, so ardently expected. 
 
 *' Charles," she said, addressing her brother, 
 who, seated at the farthest end of the apartment, 
 was silently occupied in poring over sundry nmsty 
 folios, and so intently engaged in research, that 
 for the last half hour he had been altogether 
 regardless of her presence — " I have just been 
 considering what sort of person our cousin is ; do,
 
 4 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 pray, inform me in what colours your imagination 
 may have painted his lordship ; for verily my 
 ideas have be^n so long and so intently engaged 
 on the important point, that I am utterly lost and 
 bewildered in the maze of conjecture." 
 
 But her brother leant his brow upon his hand, 
 with that determined sort of wrapt air, so forcibly 
 indicating dislike to further interruption. " Don't 
 tease me now, Emily," was his abstracted reply, 
 again turning over the leaves of a ponderous 
 volume. 
 
 '' Monster of stupidity !" exclaimed his sister, 
 in playful ire ; *' why do I ever solicit from you 
 any information, save on the discovery of the 
 longitude ? my more imaginative Louisa, how- 
 ever, will, I doubt not, tell me of * all her fancy 
 painted him ;' for by no effort can I transform a 
 puerile boy into Lord Mowbray in the prime of 
 manhood." 
 
 '' Nay," smiled her sister ; " I also must plead 
 the inertia of my fancy, which I confess has not, 
 on this subject, even commenced operations ; nor 
 can I at this moment so " 
 
 ^' Et tu brute r interrupted , Emily. *' Then
 
 RAVENSDALE. O 
 
 am I doomed to torturing suspense for at least 
 two hours longer, at the expiration of which awful 
 period, however, I shall myself hehold Lord Mow- 
 bray in person. And now, most grave signor," 
 turning to her brother with mimic theatrical air, 
 " I shall e'en say addio^ and retire to perform the 
 arduous duties of the toilet, and array myself in a 
 host of charms sufficient to beleaguer the fortress 
 of my doomed cousin's heart." 
 
 An expressive shake of the head, and a smile of 
 mingled reproof and admiration, was her brother's 
 only reply ; for despite all her failings, few could 
 know Emily Courtenay without admiring her. 
 
 Endowed with a sensitive and affectionate heart, 
 extraordinary quickness of feeling, and a dispo- 
 sition open, generous, and disinterested ; those 
 defects more peculiarly indigenous to her nature 
 were, alas ! unconsciously cultured by the fond, 
 but erring hand of her too indulgent parents, 
 who, in fact, from earliest youth, had ever been 
 accustomed to yield to her in the gratification of 
 every childish fancy. 
 
 " That excursion to the Continent," exclaimed 
 she, addressing her sister, who had entered her
 
 b RAVENSDALE. 
 
 dressing-room whilst in the act of completing her 
 toilet — " that excursion to the Continent on the 
 death of Lady Mowbray, I ever disapproved oi" 
 it, he will be so French, and so maniere^ and so 
 spoiled, that I feel 1 shall not be able to tole- 
 rate him." 
 
 *' Nay, Emily, this is silly, where you knoic it 
 was judged indispensable to his health, impaired 
 as it was by intense anxiety of mind, during the 
 last fatal illness of his parent — of such a parent — 
 and then lose her !" 
 
 *' Ah, true, Louisa!" tears forcibly rushing to 
 her eyes, glittering there one brief moment, and 
 the next rapidly retreating, as a loud knocking 
 at the door caused the startling exclamation — 
 " he's come /" 
 
 It was Lord Mowbray, who, with quick step 
 and beating heart, entered the spacious drawing- 
 room of Kavensdale, where he was received with 
 parental affection by those beloved relatives, who 
 for the first time embraced him after a tedious 
 lapse of years. 
 
 Meanwhile, the hitherto eloquent Emily was 
 now, as she took a last survey of her person, all
 
 RAVENSDALE. 7 
 
 flutter, agitation, and anxiety. '' Pray inform 
 me, Louisa, how it is, that under all circum- 
 stances you maintain such provoking composure, 
 whilst I am the sport and prey of every trivial 
 emotion. Ah ! if I could only love you one par- 
 ticle less, how I should envy you that calm, 
 unruffled bearing; — but tell me, do I look par- 
 ticularly frightful?" 
 
 " Not particularly so," smiled her sister ; *' but, 
 dear Emily, do come down, for dinner, I am sure, 
 will be announced immediately ; it is already past 
 the hour." 
 
 At length Emily obeyed ; and despite all minor 
 grievances, her heart did not beat the less high 
 with joy and expectation on entering the drawing- 
 room, where, standing before the mantel-piece, 
 Lord Mowbray seemed transfixed ; his gaze at the 
 moment, rivetted upon a picture, in which the 
 figure of his late lamented mother — then the beau- 
 tiful Clara Courtenay — bore a prominent part. 
 He had contemplated it with evident emotion ; 
 but hastily mastering his feelings, on the entrance 
 of his cousins, he advanced to meet them with 
 that unstudied air of high-bred courtesy, so
 
 8 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 peculiarly the mark of true refinement, and clasp- 
 ing the hand of each, greeted them with that 
 warm and affectionate sincerity which comes direct 
 from the heart. 
 
 Lord Mowbray was not regularly handsome ; 
 nor was his person a perfect model for the artist ; 
 yet was his appearance of that fascinating character 
 which fails not to attract, and not unfrequently cap- 
 tivate at the first coup d'oeil. His stature, some- 
 what above the middle height, possessed in an 
 eminent degree that indescribable distingue air, 
 so strikingly calculated to excite admiration : — his 
 countenance was of a thoughtful and contem- 
 plative cast ; and when not engaged in conver- 
 versation, a close observer might, perhaps, detect 
 an air of melancholy shading his fine features, 
 the natural result, perhaps, of a too sensitive 
 mind ; few, in short, could behold him without 
 acknowledging the bland, prepossessing influence 
 so eminently pervading his appearance and 
 manner. Nor was Emily, even on this first 
 introduction altogether insensible to its effect : 
 " So unlike what I had imagined," thought she, 
 as, the first greetings over, he turned with ill
 
 RAVENSDALE. 9 
 
 suppressed emotion, and taking a seat next her 
 brother, soon became engaged in conversation of 
 so absorbing a nature, that for a long succeeding 
 interval the presence of all else was wholly dis- 
 regarded. '* So unlike what I had imagined !" 
 continuing to regard him contemplatively, as 
 bent on ascertaining the precise nature and 
 extent of that change which time, and sorrow, 
 and travel had wrought since she had last seen 
 him. " Ah, how altered ! no longer the gay, 
 lively, high-spirited person I had anticipated ! — 
 and yet that air of melancholy becomes him 
 vastly : — but how hardly should I have re- 
 cognized him ! — the bright, buoyant expression 
 which stamped his countenance in earlier life 
 has fled ; pallor and languor have succeeded — 
 there is less of life, less fire, less spirit, but 
 more mind, more thought, more expression, 
 more high-souled expression !" and the change, 
 she thought, suited him well, were it not for a 
 certain wrapt air, which she feared liad early 
 tended to induce habits of abstraction — of insen- 
 sibility rather, to those around him. 
 
 Far too long, in fact, had he been regardless 
 
 B 2
 
 10 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 of the presence of Emily ; and deep was the 
 wound unconsciously inflicted on that most sen- 
 sitive point of her nature — her vanity ! her be- 
 setting sin, shall Ave call it ? Ah, yes ! 'twas the 
 source w^hence sprang the errors of her after 
 life ; the troubled source which sullied an other- 
 wise brilliant character. 
 
 Lord Mowbray, meanwhile, talked of ' the 
 days of other years,' of that happy period of 
 boyhood when he and Charles were play-fellows ; 
 and it recalled to his memory his dear lamented 
 parents — now his father — now his mother, and 
 that sister, long since numbered with the dead ! 
 his whole soul became absorbed in the retro- 
 spect. A heavy sigh involuntarily escaped, and 
 at length he sank into silence till the announce- 
 ment of dinner gave a turn to the conversation, 
 which, for the remainder of the evening, became 
 somewhat more general. 
 
 At length, not less wearied by travel, than 
 overcome by painful recollections. Lord Mowbray 
 retired to rest at an early hour ; and as he closed 
 the door, Emily exclaimed in a tone of child- 
 like petulance — " 1 don't like him at all, Charles,
 
 RAVENSDALE. 1 I 
 
 never did I see any one so sadly altered, so 
 cold and distrait and reserved ; and then his 
 thoughts seem so far away, or so completely wrapt 
 in self, that even a look he cannot dispense to any 
 other person." 
 
 Charles only smiled. 
 
 *' His first reception of Louisa and me was 
 kind, I confess ; but that ceremony over, did he 
 not sit perfectly abstracted, almost without sense 
 or motion, and apparently unconscious of the 
 presence of either of us." 
 
 Again a smile — but 'twas half suppressed — 
 played faintly upon the lips of her brother as he 
 replied in an accent of rather reproachful irony. 
 
 " Carried away, as usual, my dear Emily, 
 by the rapid current of your own thoughts ! 
 Lord Mowbray's offence simply amounts to 
 this — from the moment of your entrance into 
 the drawing-room, he did not at once forget 
 every feeling of his heart, and devote himself 
 exclusively to your little fascinating self; in 
 short, he did not become your slave for the 
 remainder of the evening. Now, so far from 
 his being cold and heartless, I look upon him
 
 12 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 to be as much the reverse as possible — nay, 
 
 if I am not much mistaken, his disposition is 
 
 sensitive to a fault. Immediately on your 
 
 entrance, he was speaking to me of the period 
 
 when the delicate state of his mother's health 
 
 obliged his father to leave Woodlands, and 
 
 reside at Mowbray Castle, in a distant part of 
 
 England ; he then adverted to the death of his 
 
 sister, which took place at the expiration of 
 
 six months from their departure ; and he added, 
 
 ' it is not yet three years since my father was 
 
 summoned from this probationary scene ; and 
 
 the period was brief indeed during which my 
 
 dear, lamented mother survived that event.' 
 
 Here I perceived him so deeply affected, that, 
 
 endeavouring to change the conversation, and 
 
 not succeeding, I judged it better to remain 
 
 silent till his feelings in some measure subsided ; 
 
 and hence, Emily, the cause of his abstracted 
 
 air, the heartlessness and coldness, of which you 
 
 so ungenerously accuse him." 
 
 Here, the better nature of Emily prevailed, 
 as, bursting into tears, she exclaimed. " Richly 
 indeed, dear Charles, do I deserve this reproof;
 
 RAVENSDALE. 13 
 
 and from what you have said of Lord Mowbray, 
 I am now, more than ever, disposed to think 
 favourably of him ; I trust, too, that hence- 
 forth 1 shall not be so hasty in forming rash 
 conclusions." She then kissed her brother 
 affectionately, and each retired for the night.
 
 14 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 " My mother! when I learn'd that thou wast dead, 
 Say, wast thou conscious of the tears I shed ? 
 Hovered thy spirit o'er thy sorrowing son, 
 Wretch even then, life's journey just begun ? 
 Perhaps thou gav'st me, though luifelt, a kiss : 
 Perhaps a tear, if souls can weep in bliss — 
 Ah, that maternal smile! it answers — ^yes." 
 
 COWPKR. 
 
 The next morning, as Lord Mowbray entered 
 the breakiast-room, he found Emily there alone ; 
 her conversation with Charles the previous 
 night, had excited her sympathy in no slight 
 degree; and as she greeted him, there was an 
 air of affectionate kindness in her manner, 
 hitherto unusual. They soon entered into 
 familiar conversation ; and Emily felt her pre- 
 possession in his favour increase considerably as 
 he told her, with that sincerity so peculiar to 
 him, how long and ardently he had anticipated
 
 RAVENSDALE. 15 
 
 the pleasure of renewing his acquaintance with 
 his beloved relatives at Ravensdale, now more 
 than ever endeared by the feeling that they were 
 the only persons on earth allied to him by 
 such close ties of consanguinity. 
 
 When all were assembled at breakfast, Charles 
 perceived by a glance at Emily, how completely 
 she had overcome all feeling of pique towards 
 Lord Mowbray ; and inwardly rejoiced as he 
 anticipated an increasing esteem and affection 
 daily taking place of it ; — " He may," thought 
 he, " acquire such influence over her as will induce 
 her to correct the too glaring foibles of a 
 naturally sweet disposition.'* And well might 
 he wish Lord Mowbray to form the character 
 of one dearly loved ; so peculiarly was he cal- 
 culated for the task. Religion was the foundation 
 upon which his character was constructed ; 
 infused as it had early been by the precepts of 
 his fond and tender mother, whose memory he 
 still cherished with a feeling bordering on 
 adoration ; long had he been accustomed to look 
 up to her as a creature above the common order 
 of mortals ; and well might he imagine her
 
 16 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 such, for never, surely, did a purer spirit inhabit 
 this dark earth. 
 
 For twelve years previously to her decease, 
 she had been afflicted with a disease, which she 
 was aware must eventually terminate her exis- 
 tence ; and from the hour of her being informed 
 by her medical attendants that her complaint was 
 such as no human skill could eradicate, and 
 that it only remained for them to protract the 
 event, which it was impossible to avert — a 
 murmur escaped not her lips ; from that period, 
 in short, life to her was what we might imagine 
 of the existence of one inhabiting a purer, an 
 ethereal world ; and as this earthly scene, with 
 all its ensnaring vanities, its illusive pleasures, 
 its empty joys, its trials and its temptations faded 
 from her view ; she Avas led to place her affec- 
 tions more and more on that never-fading eternity, 
 in comparison of which, this world appeared as 
 an ignis-fatuus, which, if incautiously pursued, 
 would eventually allure her from herself, her duty, 
 and her God. Such was Lord Mowbray's 
 mother ; and imwearied was her assiduity to 
 impress the mind of her child with those sancti-
 
 RAVENSDALE. 17 
 
 fying truths upon which her own happiness 
 was based : — and as he bent in agony, over her 
 cold remains. *' Yes, my mother," he exclaimed ; 
 *' I trust that those seeds you have sown, with 
 unsparing hand, shall henceforth be the guiding 
 principles of my future life ; — this be the seal 
 of my high resolve," he added ; " which I pre- 
 sume not to make in my own strength." And, 
 stooping down, he imprinted a kiss on the cold, 
 unconscious lips of her, whom from earliest 
 childhood, he had ever loved with more than 
 filial tenderness. Shall it then be wondered at 
 that religion's blissful effects characterized the 
 tenour of his future existence. 
 
 Weeks were now felt to glide rapidly on at 
 Ravensdale ; finding Lord Mowbray inexpressibly 
 endeared to each of its inmates. 
 
 Emily's sentiments towards him were, for a 
 considerable time, indefinable to herself; and yet, 
 such was the power of her own numerous attrac- 
 tions, that he, too soon, began to feel for her that 
 particular sort of preference, which, if not love 
 in all its bearings, closely bordered upon the 
 sentiment. As yet he had only seen the fair
 
 18 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 side of her character ; lovely, loveable ; and 
 beloved by all around her ; her besetting sin had 
 not yet been called into action : — and his affec- 
 tions were, in fact, insensibly gained, ere he had 
 paused to investigate the character of her who was 
 their exclusive object. 
 
 The constant companion of her walk, or ride, 
 or drive ; months rolled on in this way ; with 
 little to interrupt their daily intercourse ; till, at 
 length, the result of such an intimacy between 
 two unengaged hearts, was a mutually growing 
 attachment. And thus lapsed time — he devoting 
 to her his exclusive attention ; and she, justifying 
 his preference by her many excellent and en- 
 dearing traits of character, which time daily 
 developed. 
 
 And pity 'twere that ever spell like this 
 should be dissolved by the disenchanting power 
 of mortal frailty ! — bat alas, alas, for the erring 
 heart of Emily ! — it inly repaid, 'tis true, with 
 measureless affection the ardent devotedness of 
 her lover ; — but too soon led away by the bidding 
 of her reigning foible — vanity, with its hydra 
 train of nameless follies, mingled, at length.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 19 
 
 with the pure reciprocity, with which she had 
 returned the excess of his regards. 
 
 Ah, yes ! — truth to say, her vanity gloried in 
 the exercise of her power over a being, whom 
 she felt to be immeasurably her superior : — it 
 joyed in the indulgence of a thousand nameless 
 whims, tormentings, and petty coquetries. And 
 what, in fact, was all this, but, either deliberately, 
 or inconsiderately, wounding the feelings of one, 
 who loved her with a devotion, a fervour, and 
 a purity which threw a halo round the sentiment ! 
 
 Ah, that it should be so — fallen nature ! 
 
 And yet, in a thousand points was the dis- 
 position of Emily Courtenay superior to the 
 generality of her sex : — but brought up, and 
 nurtured in the lap of indulgence ; flattered, 
 favoured, gratified in every wish — the nobler 
 traits of her character were sadly eclipsed, and 
 too often, totally extinguished by vanity! — that 
 evil propensity — that parent of so much error, 
 which so frequently sullies the otherwise, brilliant 
 character; and, when not judiciously nipped 
 in the bud, who can say, to what excess it may 
 not lead its blind votaries. In her it early evinced
 
 20 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 itself; and, far from being checked in its growth 
 by her misjudging parents, it was left to gene- 
 rate and flourish in its native soil, a female heart, 
 till it became so deeply rooted as to require a 
 stronger power, than the parental hand, to 
 eradicate. And now, we behold her, under its 
 all-pervading influence — 
 
 " Like the base Judean about to throw a pearl 
 Away, richer than all his tribe."
 
 RAVENSDALE. 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " beware, my Lord, of jealousy ; 
 
 It is the green-eyed monster, which doth mock 
 
 The meat it feeds on." — 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 Thus flitted time, its daily routine unvaried by 
 any striking event. 
 
 At length cards were issued for a ball at Ravens- 
 dale ; and never to Emily did time seem to press 
 more heavily than during that tedious lapse, which 
 intervened till the arrival of the particular Tuesday 
 destined for the event. 
 
 And a brilliant scene was that ball — according 
 well with the lightsome show of joyous counte- 
 nances gracing the refined circle. The '* outward 
 seeming" was fair to behold ; nor pause we to in- 
 vestigate more deeply, save in the instance of one, 
 or two, or three individuals, to whom a more 
 particular introduction becomes indispensable to 
 our narrative.
 
 22 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 Sir Richard Mordaunt — the first who claims our 
 attention — and whose characteristics being of that 
 buttei'fly nature which may be pourtrayed in few 
 words, here demands a cursory review. 
 
 Light, gay, agreeable, and fashionable ; but 
 worthless, frivolous, selfish, dissipated, and vain — 
 his disposition was unredeemed by one sterling 
 virtue — possessing, however, an agreeable exterior, 
 independent fortune, and high birth : with these 
 pretensions he had some time previously entered 
 himself a candidate for the favour of Emily, who, 
 however, from an inherent dislike to his individual 
 character, and in strict compliance with the counsel 
 of her brother, failed not heretofore to repulse 
 him at every opportunity. 
 
 But dark was the thread on this night, inter- 
 woven by the fates into the web of her existence ! 
 — hy the fates — did I say ? Ah ! how prone are 
 we to lay to the charge of destiny, the too manifest 
 consequences of our own wilful errors ! — and how 
 sad to think how oft our wayward fancy leads us 
 to step aside through some dark and miry track, 
 off our narrow course, till engulphed at length 
 in the fatal consequences, we point at fortune, and
 
 RAVENSDALE. 23 
 
 call her false ; forgetful the while that our own 
 faithless, perverse footsteps caused us to Avander 
 from the sunshine of her protection, and the path 
 of her favour ! 
 
 And thus it was with Emily : under the influ- 
 ence of some vain and wilful pique, instigated by 
 an imagined sUght on the part of Lord Mowbray, 
 she, in her pretty pettish way, on this occasion 
 unhesitatingly acknowledged the courtesies of Sir 
 Richard Mordaunt with unwonted favour ; and as 
 he approached the sofa upon which she was seated, 
 pouring into her ear, in ball-room phrase, a rich 
 abundance of fashionable nothings, he apparently 
 succeeded in gaining her exclusive attention, until 
 the entrance of Helen Vivian gave a temporary 
 turn to her thoughts. And Helen was one of tliat 
 interesting order of individuals, who insensibly, 
 and without our at once perceiving why, wind 
 themselves Avith a sort of resistless witchery round 
 the hearts of all Avithin. the sphere of their ac- 
 quaintance. 
 
 But wherefore that more than common interest, 
 so long excited in the breast of Charles Courtenay ? 
 Was it that she alone of all this vast assemblage
 
 24 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 could compete with Emily in point of external 
 appearance ? No ; very far removed was Helen 
 from beauty of the highest order ; but there are 
 other charms — and they were eminently her's — a 
 countenance of unutterable sweetness, a winning 
 simplicity, a fascination of manner —her turn of 
 mind, in short — her disposition, her pursuits, all 
 combined to form in the mind of Charles a beau 
 ideal of perfection such as he had never seen re- 
 alized in any other woman. 
 
 Such was Helen Vivian — an artless, unsophis- 
 ticated child of nature ; of a serious turn of mind, 
 high religious principles, and disposition of inex- 
 pressible sweetness. She loved Emily Courtenay 
 with sisterly affection ; and her attachment was 
 warmly returned. And now they entered eagerly 
 into conversation, till, being joined by Lord Mow- 
 bray, she seized the opportunity of introducing 
 him to her particular friend, immediately vacating 
 for him her seat ; and mixing in the crowd, until 
 again joined by Sir Richard Mordaunt, whom, on 
 becoming aware of his approach, she once more 
 favoured with her particular attention ; lavishing 
 upon him a host of bright smiles, charms, and
 
 RAVENSDALE. 25 
 
 fascinations, till the loud sound of music an- 
 nounced the gi'aceful waltz, the buoyant galop, 
 and staid quadrille. 
 
 *' The next set, Emily," said Lord MoAvbray, 
 in that whispered accent which lovers sometimes 
 assume — with him 'twas natural. 
 
 Emily started and looked round ; for at the 
 instant she had not observed him, as moving for- 
 ward she leaned upon the arm of Sir Richard 
 Mordaunt ; — her wounded vanity again suffering 
 from momentary pique that he had not earlier 
 been a competitor with the crowd who had already 
 pressed for that honour : — "with careless air, how- 
 ever, she hastily pleaded a prior engagement, and 
 passing quickly on, was soon an actor in the 
 giddy dance ; her grace and beauty attracting 
 universal attention. 
 
 And so the night progressed, Sir Richard 
 Mordaunt devoting himself altogether to Emily; 
 and she receiving his attentions with an air of 
 unaffected satisfaction, which she inly sought to 
 assume. 
 
 Meanwhile, however, we must not imagine 
 Lord Mowbray an unconcerned spectator of the 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 evening scene ; and yet, unacquainted as we con- 
 fess ourselves to be with all the intricacies of la 
 belle passion^ very faintly can we pourtray the 
 sensations which now struggled in his breast. 
 With lover's eyes he gazed on the changed, and 
 apparently heartless Emily ; and a mingled feeling 
 of disappointment, chagrin, and amazement, alter- 
 nately took possession of his mind. He loved 
 her ; but never till now was sensible of the extent 
 of his affection. True — he " never told his love ;'* 
 yet had he persuaded himself of the reciprocity of 
 their attachment ; and hope had already whispered 
 that he should not be rejected : nor was it illusive ; 
 for could he, even now, but behold the heart of 
 Emily, unscreened by the clouding shades of 
 vanity's numerous train — could he behold it in 
 truthful singleness, undimmed by the petty arti- 
 fices of deceptive coquetry — could he, in short, 
 view it divested of its one reigning foible ; then 
 would he perceive how deep was the impress his 
 own numerous excellencies had imprinted. Emily, 
 in fact, loved to contemplate them all ; for now 
 was her every blissful thought confederate with his 
 image ; and though, perhaps, in part unconscious
 
 RAVENSDALE. 27 
 
 of the precise nature of her attachment, numerous 
 and incontrovertible Avere its indications. Already 
 her cheek flushed at the mention of his name — her 
 heart fluttered at the approach of his step — her 
 eve brisjhtened at the sound of his voice ; but who 
 can enumerate that myriad of inexpressible, irre- 
 pressible^ indefinable feelings, which past, present, 
 and future ages have, do, and shall experience ; 
 whilst witching woman, at least, retains the power 
 of smiling, and man, alas ! of sighing. 
 
 But Emily, with all that intuitive perception so 
 peculiarly woman's, had, ere this, discovered that 
 she, too, had awakened feelings of particular in- 
 terest in the breast of Lord Mowbray ; and now ra- 
 pidly approached the moment in which the nature 
 of her own attachment was to break upon her in all 
 its certainty. Yes ; she felt herself beloved by 
 him whose character, in its fullest sense, she knew 
 not how to estimate; and yet did she dare to 
 trifle with those invaluable affections ; and, at the 
 instigation of her besetting sin, hesitated not to 
 sport with those deep and tender feelings, in order 
 to gratify the capricious fancies of the passing mo- 
 ment. ^
 
 28 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 It has been said that 'Move is blind;*' and it 
 may be so — to a certain extent, at least. Most 
 true it is, however, that hitherto Lord Mowbray 
 had been utterly unconscious of a single imper- 
 fection in the breast of Emily ; and yet, were 
 there times when he could have wished her dis- 
 position less lively, less worldly, more thoughtful ; 
 but then would appear those finer points in her 
 character w^iich circumstances daily developed ; 
 that peculiar tenderness of disposition, so fre- 
 quently called forth ; her extraordinary quickness 
 and depth of feeling ; her disinterested gene- 
 rosity ; her endearing lovingness, which so strongly 
 bound her to the hearts of all who came within 
 its influence. These were the characteristics of 
 Emily Courtenay ; and Lord Mowbray, as he 
 counted them over, saw not those fallible points 
 till, with fearful suddeness, they now arose to dim 
 the lustre which had hitherto lent its brilliant 
 radiance to that loved character, so late, so fondly 
 contemplated. 
 
 But, alas! by what trivial circumstances is 
 character unfolded; and who can analyze those 
 mingled feelings which rushed at once upon his
 
 RAVENSDALE. 29 
 
 mind, as Sii' Eichard Mordaunt, still at her side, 
 continued devoting to her all his attention ; 
 and she talking such a heap of silly nonsense 
 as had never been heard issue from her lips 
 before. 
 
 I have said that Lord Mowbray marked all 
 this ; — and what will not a lover mark ? He 
 marked and deplored it ! and she, of whose dis- 
 position he had formed such an exalted estimate, 
 now appeared to him in the character of a light 
 and heartless flirt, heedlessly encouraging the at- 
 tentions of the most worthless of his sex ; and in- 
 flicting a wound on the peace of him, in whom all 
 her hopes of happiness were centred. Three 
 times during the evening had he solicited her to 
 be his partner in the dance ; and three times, in 
 the vain coquetry of her heart, some frivolous 
 pretence was carelessly urged for rejecting 
 him. 
 
 " I am deceived in her," he said at length ; and 
 then pride revolted — that innate sense of dig- 
 nity rather — ever the concomitant of outraged 
 feeling. 
 
 Rallying his spirits, therefore, by a considerable
 
 30 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 effort, he threw himself on an ottoman, upon 
 which Charles was seated, and endeavoured, but 
 in vain, to engage him in conversation. The 
 spirits of both, in fact, were unusually depressed, 
 for Charles had not failed, during the evening, to 
 observe the line of conduct his sister had pursued ; 
 and, acquainted as he was with every turn of her 
 disposition, was at no loss to dive into the motive 
 by which she was actuated ; and bitterly, indeed, 
 did he deplore the predominancy of that evil pro- 
 pensity, which he had begun to hope was, in some 
 measure, eradicated. He saw, too, that no part 
 of her conduct passed unnoticed by Lord Mow- 
 bray ; and perceiving how deeply it had affected 
 him, felt grieved and disappointed, as he re- 
 flected on the apparent heartlessness of that sister, 
 whom he had ever loved with such intensity of 
 affection. 
 
 "Emily, Emily," he whispered, eagerly ap- 
 proaching her, as the numerous guests arose to 
 take their departure, " your conduct to-night has 
 been most unpardonable." 
 
 But Emily only started at the reproof; whilst 
 a slight blush, indicating consciousness of its
 
 RAVENSDALE. 31 
 
 being too well merited, was her only reply ; and 
 each relapsed into silence till they retired to their 
 respective apartments, to seek that rest of which 
 they stood so much in need.
 
 32 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " I'll see, before I doubt ; when I doubt, prove ; 
 And on the proof there is no more than this — 
 Away at once with love and jealousy." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 With that air of abstracted caution which be- 
 tokens determination to shut out the world, and 
 retire to close communion with busy thought, 
 Lord Mowbray closed the door of his apartment ; 
 nor far had he to wander in the field of retro- 
 spection. Few and short were the hours Avhich 
 now arose, with painful intrusion, to characterize 
 his tone of reflection, and attinge with oppressive 
 melancholy every inmost idea; for there are 
 times when the past, the present, and the future 
 are interwoven in such close connection, by those 
 resistless series of circumstances which not un- 
 frequently arise to colour the fate of humanity ; 
 clouding, with their gloomy bodings, that bright 
 perspective through which alone we fain would 
 view our future existence.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 33 
 
 Emily, of whose regards he had felt such full 
 assurance, was first presented to his imagination ; 
 she whose endearing traits of disposition he held 
 in such esteem — whose ennobling characteristics 
 had well nigh constituted that very perfection he 
 so much loved to contemplate ; and which, in 
 short, became so habitual, that, rather than behold 
 her clad in a less attractive garb, he detemiined 
 at once to tear himself from the bright vision, 
 which, having crossed his path, blighted, as he 
 believed, his future prospects of earthly happiness. 
 Too true, Emily was not all that he had fondly 
 imagined; and now conflicting thought, painful 
 doubt, and fearful conjecture alternately pressed 
 upon his heart. Then he felt assured, by her 
 manner to Sir Richard Mordaunt, that she felt tor 
 him a more than common interest ; and with a 
 shudder came the contemplation of her union 
 with a character of such utter worthlessness. 
 
 " Yes," he exclaimed, ** to-morrow my beloved 
 friends shall be made acquainted with my deter- 
 mination of making no further sojourn at Ra- 
 vensdale ; and yet, as I anticipate some objections 
 on their part, what excuse, consistent with truth 
 
 c 2
 
 34 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 can I possibly urge for my sudden departure ; 
 besides, on consideration, it would be injustice to 
 Emily to form at once such hasty judgment of 
 her character. No profession of attachment has 
 ever been interchanged between us : — then what 
 authority have I to imagine myself unfeelingly 
 slighted ? or why question her right of encourag- 
 ing the attentions of even a Sir Richard Mor- 
 daunt 9 Possibly she may be unacquainted with 
 his character. But no ; I have surely heard her 
 discuss it at large with Charles, and paint him 
 in such a light as appears altogether incompatible 
 with her present line of conduct. I shall w^ait, 
 however, till time develops more fully the real 
 state of the case ; and, meanwhile, every dete- 
 riorating suspicion shall be banished from my 
 breast. My manner, too, shall continue un- 
 changed ; nor will I allow hasty judgment to be 
 biassed by what others might deem ' trifles light as 
 air.' Still shall I remain here, the child of cir- 
 cumstances ; and should the fiat for my departure 
 be issued, I trust to be enabled to act upon the 
 decree, as coming from that Omnipotent Being 
 who doeth all things well — who seeth what is best
 
 RAVENSDALE. 35 
 
 for us — and, in his all-wise disposal of events, 
 suits our trials according to our necessities." 
 
 Thus he thought — this last reflection serving 
 so to calm his perturbed mind, that the next 
 morning found him enabled to join in conversation 
 in his usual animated manner. 
 
 As he entered the breakfast-room, Charles, 
 Emily, and Louisa were engaged in rather a 
 warm discussion on the injurious effects of a too 
 eager participation in scenes of worldly gaiety 
 and dissipation ; which, as it develops more fully 
 the principal characters in our tale, it may be as 
 well to insert, for their more particular introduc- 
 tion to our readers. 
 
 '* But, dear Charles, urged Emily, " when those 
 pursuits are held by the world in such high 
 repute " 
 
 " Too true," interrupted her brother. *' Wide 
 indeed is the range of conscience in many of those 
 numerous classes denominated the world ; but 
 will you, Emily, attempt to reconcile what God 
 has expressly pronounced incompatible with each 
 other — * God and Mammon ?' ' You cannot serve 
 God and Mammon ;' you * cannot serve two mas-
 
 36 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 ters ;* and, alas ! what secret adherence to vain 
 and earthly objects often lurks within that soul 
 which yields itself up to illusive pleasure ! Surely 
 we should aim at divesting ourselves of this 
 worldly spirit, so as to be enabled to tear our- 
 selves from the snare, and devote ourselves more 
 exclusively to the glory of God, and the welfare 
 of our fellow-creatures." 
 
 " I did observe you decline dancing last night," 
 said Lord Mowbray, '' and determined on taking 
 an opportunity of inquiring into your reasons for 
 doing so. It is a subject, in fact, upon which I 
 have never bestowed the consideration which, 
 perhaps, it requires.'* 
 
 '^ On many subjects, my dear MoAvbmy, we 
 are all but too prone to be wilfully blind ; and it 
 is too frequently the case that, when addicted to 
 any pleasurable propensity, we will not allow our 
 judgment to be convinced of its evil tendency — 
 nay, we shrink from examining into its nature ; 
 because we feel that, were even our conscience 
 convinced, our inclination would refuse obedience 
 to its dictates ; and thus we continue to pursue 
 many a vain course, because their relinquishment
 
 RAVENSDALE. 37 
 
 would be as the ' cutting off a hand,' or ' pluck- 
 ing out an eye.' We will not, in short, come to 
 the light, because our deeds are evil." 
 
 Lord Mowbray made no reply ; whilst Emily 
 contented herself with assuming an air of patient 
 attention, on observing that her brother's conver- 
 sation was especially directed to herself. 
 
 "Recollect, dear Emily, it is with a heart- 
 searching God we have to do, from whose all- 
 piercing eye it were vain to attempt concealing 
 the most secret thought of our bosom ; and surely 
 you must confess that vanity is the ultimate 
 object of your existence, when suffered to be thus 
 led away by those ensnaring pleasures." 
 
 " Deceitful, indeed, is the human heart," mur- 
 mured Lord Mowbray. '' Who can know it ? or 
 who shall say, so far, and no farther, shall I suffer 
 the tide of temptation to flow, and not be en- 
 dangered by its influence ?" 
 
 " Then you, too, are about to become a con- 
 vert to Charles's opinions," interposed Emily with 
 quickness. ** Louisa has long since followed his 
 example ; but, for my part, I have ever thought 
 that my brother's zeal in religion induces him to
 
 38 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 attach undue importance to matters of trivial im- 
 port connected with it. Only view the whole 
 tenor of his life, and who can say that his heart is 
 either deceitful or wicked ?" 
 
 "Emily, Emily!" exclaimed her brother with 
 warmth, ''your partiality and thoughtlessness have, 
 I tremble to say, induced you heedlessly to utter 
 sentiments in direct contradiction to the word of 
 God. " Come with me," he added entreatingly ; 
 '' this subject demands a more enlarged conference, 
 and " 
 
 " Oh, not now, not now, dear Charles," im- 
 plored his sister impatiently. "No further theo- 
 logical discussion for the present, if you please ;" 
 rising in slight confusion from her seat, and play- 
 fully making a precipitate retreat to her own 
 apartment.
 
 EAVENSDALE. 39 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " One struggle more, and I am free 
 
 From pangs that rend my heart in twam ; 
 
 One last long sigh to love and thee, 
 
 Then back to busy life again." 
 
 Byron. 
 
 Meanwhile Lord Mowbray firmly adhered to his 
 resolution of not making the slightest expose of 
 the real state of his feelings ; and so admirably did 
 this counterplot succeed, that Emily now, in her 
 turn, perplexed and bewildered, could not divest 
 herself of a feeling of jealous pique, on marking 
 the perfect equanimity of his manner. '' That he 
 loves me," thought she, *' I can have but little 
 doubt — nay, so firmly convinced do I feel of his 
 regards, that how to account for this apparent 
 indifference I am altogether at a loss. Can it be, 
 that he is too secure in the reciprocity of my sen- 
 timents ? This assuredly is an error into which 
 vain man is too liable to full. They, not unfre-
 
 40 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 quently, fancy themselves beloved even before 
 they have made the slightest declaration of their 
 own attachment ; and how painfully derogatory is 
 this ! — 'tis precisely what I cannot endure ; and I 
 shall certainly lose no time in divesting his mind 
 of such a vain belief." 
 
 Thus, all the contradictory feelings of her un- 
 schooled heart coloured her train of reflection ; till 
 at length they were interrupted by a loud knock- 
 ing at the door, which was quickly succeeded by 
 the entrance of Sir Richard Mordaunt, who, 
 eagerly approaching Emily, proposed her joining 
 him and Lord Ravensdale on a short equestrian 
 excursion ; to which he obtained a ready assent ; 
 and being speedily equipped in her riding habili- 
 ments, she quickly set forth, leaving the rest of 
 the party to dispose of themselves as they pleased. 
 
 And so, Sir Richard Mordaunt's visits, no 
 longer discouraged by Emily, were daily repeated 
 — weeks wearing on — till at length Lord Mow- 
 bray began to feel that even at Ravensdale, time 
 seemed to move heavily ; and yet to a common 
 observer, no very perceptible change was distin- 
 guishable in his manner ; but there was not the
 
 RAVENSDALE. 41 
 
 same confiding intercourse — the same endearing 
 tenderness — in short, there was the absence of that 
 nameless something which evidently had existed ; 
 nor was it unfelt by Emily ; whilst the conscious- 
 ness, as it pressed upon her spirits, served but to 
 reveal the true nature of her sentiments. 
 
 Such are the inconsistencies and contrarieties ol' 
 the human heart, that in proportion as Lord 
 Mowbray's assumed indifference became more ap- 
 parent, Emily felt her attachment gain such 
 strength, as required her utmost efforts to conceal 
 her depression ; and thus, (one instigated by 
 pride, the other by vanity,) a gradual estrange- 
 ment took place in his manner, and an evident 
 gaucherie in her's. 
 
 '* It is but a misunderstanding," she at length 
 persuaded herself, as one morning she sought in 
 vain to reason away her dejection — " it is but a 
 misunderstanding; and yet I am provoked with 
 Lord Mowbray — his cold indifference I find it 
 impossible to fathom — 'tis precisely what I cannot 
 bear — pride instigates it ; his air of hauteur when 
 addressing me plainly evinces this; but wliy 
 am I thus pained, mortified, grieved ?*' — and she
 
 42 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 burst into tears — " Do I deserve this from the 
 only person I have ever loved — ever can love ; to 
 be thus requited for what I meant as a mere 
 innocent test of his regard, is unjust and un- 
 kind !" 
 
 •' Yes, Emily, you do deserve it," whispered 
 the small voice ; but it was stifled and unheeded — 
 "yout/o deserve all this, and more. You loved 
 Lord Mowbray — you were aware of his love ; and 
 insatiate vanity, summoning forth the spirit of 
 coquetry, urged you to sport with his feelings — to 
 deceive him ; to persuade him of your attachment 
 to another. Yes, you have deluded him into this 
 belief; and can you presumptuously expect that 
 he will now stoop to sue for a heart apparently 
 devoted to another ?" 
 
 I have said that a still small voice hinted all 
 this ; but it was stifled, whilst wounded vanity 
 again was loud in its dictates ; and Emily rushed 
 on to her fate. 
 
 " Lord Mowbray has just been proposing a 
 
 walk to D Castle," said Louisa, as her sister 
 
 descended to the drawing-room — the traces of re- 
 cent emotion still visible in her countenance. Lord
 
 RAVENSDALE. 43 
 
 Mowbray perceived it, and for a moment regarded 
 her with peculiar interest. 
 
 " Will you accompany us, Emily ?" he inquired 
 with somewhat of wonted tenderness. 
 
 But she only bowed assent, being affected by 
 his manner, and felt unable to reply ; whilst the 
 mute acquiesence, under existing circumstances, 
 savouring strongly of coldness. Lord Mowbray 
 misinterpreted it as such ; and again gazed at her 
 with earnest and fixed attention, as though fa- 
 thoming her thoughts; — whilst Emily, unable to 
 subdue her emotion, turned abruptly from him, 
 and withdrew from the apartment. 
 
 " I have betrayed my feelings," she thought, 
 on again finding herself alone — " I have betrayed 
 myself, and he pities me ; but it shall not be thus. 
 I will return, and brave his coldness ; for I too 
 can act with dignity when called upon to do so." 
 
 Alas, how her pained feelings deceived her ! 
 and how little was she acquainted with the liigh 
 soul of Lord Mowbray ! 
 
 Again, however, she returned, when summoned 
 to luncheon; and making a slight, and some- 
 what cold apology to Lord Mowbray for not
 
 44 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 accompanying him in his projected walk ; he 
 received it in silence ; and turning quickly to 
 her sister, said, " come Louisa ; we must not 
 suffer the desertion of Emily to prevent our 
 visiting the ancient ruin, which you say is little 
 more than a mile distant; this sombre day, too, 
 methinks is peculiarly calculated for our exploring 
 excursion;" and hastily drawing the arm of 
 Louisa within his ; both soon arrived by a cir- 
 cuitous path within the precincts of the once 
 
 magnificent castle of D , situate in the 
 
 immediate vicinity of Ravensdale. 
 
 " I know not how it is," said Lord Mowbray, 
 **but I have ever had a strong predilection, or 
 perhaps I should say, melancholy pleasure, in 
 visiting those ancient records of departed gran- 
 deur. 1 love to pause and ruminate o'er each 
 mouldering relic, which speaks so forcibly to the 
 human heart, and seems to say ' behold the 
 evanescent and perishable nature of earthly gi-an- 
 deur !' 'tis as the warning voice of an angel 
 breathing amid those emblems of decay, and 
 whispering to the proud heart of man, thou ! 
 even thou art not exempt from the common lot
 
 RAVENSDALE. 45 
 
 of mortality — behold this ancient fabric, which 
 but a century since reared its majestic towers 
 in stately grandeur ; as it were, proudly bidding 
 defiance to the mouldering hand of time — what 
 avails now its lofty arches — ^its stately turrets — 
 its spacious halls ? once the scene of careless 
 gaiety and light-hearted mirth; now a refuge 
 for the owl, and for the bat ! — ah, what a lesson, 
 Louisa, are such scenes to the vain heart ! surely 
 they, at least, force us to exclaim, ' it is good 
 for us to be here' — and naturally induce the re- 
 flection of the deceitful nature of our own 
 earthly hopes, our visionary plans of happiness, 
 our disappointed projects of bliss ! — and we are 
 taught to feel that they, too, are all but air- 
 built castles, fast mouldering to decay ! — then it 
 is, our thoughts soar upwards to, * that building not 
 made with hands, eternal, in the heavens,' and 
 we feel that one link, at least, is broken in the 
 chain which binds our hearts to earth !" 
 
 Deeply impressed by these observations, Louisa 
 made no reply, whilst each pursued a pensive 
 way mid shattered records. Again, however. 
 Lord Mowbray's thoughts reverted to Emily ;
 
 46 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 and the retrospect of those hours enjoyed in 
 her society, passed painfully before his imagi- 
 nation. '' That dreaded crisis has at length 
 arrived," thought he ; "in which imperative 
 duty bids me banish from my heart hei\ with 
 whom every tender thought has hitherto been 
 connected. Still, however, endeavouring to con- 
 ceal his excited feelings by an appearance of 
 unreal composure ; and seating himself by Louisa 
 at the base of an arch ; he leaned his head 
 against its time-worn surface, whilst struggUng 
 to give utterance to the final resolution he had 
 formed ; — but Louisa started on suddenly observing 
 his pallid cheek, and agitated countenance, and 
 earnestly inquiring if he was ill ; a single negative, 
 in a deep, low voice, at once served for reply, 
 and interdicted further inquiry ; — for then flashed 
 the thought which warmly excited her indig- 
 nation towards her sister ; whose vain propen- 
 sity, she now perceived, had driven from her 
 that heart in which her own Avas centred ; and 
 then it was, she longed eagerly to warn her of 
 her impending danger ; but too late. 
 
 "Louisa," said Lord Mowbray, averting his
 
 RAVENSDALE. 47 
 
 face, for the apparent purpose of carving his 
 initials on the lofty arch, against which he was 
 supported — but in reality to conceal that deep 
 emotion, which he feared his countenance had 
 betrayed. " You see Louisa, I here trace a 
 little memento, which must serve to recall me to 
 your remembrance when I am no more seen by 
 my dear friends at Ravensdale." 
 
 But she whom he addressed, with that re- 
 fined delicacy so peculiar to her sex, affected not to 
 note those emotions, so vainly opposed ; — assuming, 
 therefore, a tone of plaisanterie ; *' those friends, 
 Lord Mowbray," she replied, '' stand in little 
 need of such a memento to recall i/ou to their 
 recollection ; but why advert to a period so far — 
 so very far distant ?" 
 
 " The most protracted period, dear Louisa, 
 must at length have its limit ; and I grieve to 
 say, the termination of my sojourn at Eavens- 
 dale has now arrived." 
 
 This was more than Louisa had anticipated — 
 and she eagerly interrupted, " impossible ! Lord 
 Mowbray — you do not — you cannot surely mean 
 to depart at the very time yom' presence has
 
 48 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 become so essential to the happiness of us all. 
 I dare not mention such a thought to papa, or 
 mamma, or Charles ; or — or — Emily," she faltered. 
 
 But Lord Mowbray, though possessing deep 
 and tender feeling, in some measure counter- 
 acted its evil effects by a firm decision of cha- 
 racter ; and when once his high sense of duty 
 pointed the path he was to tread, he hesitated 
 not to pursue it, even though led on by its 
 various windings from all he most valued upon 
 earth. And now perceiving how deeply Louisa 
 had been concerned by his communication, he 
 evasively replied — 
 
 *' The call of duty is peremptory, and we 
 should not shrink from • obeying its dictates ;" 
 then, faintly smiling, he added — *' But we have 
 lingered in this scene of desolation till the shades 
 of evening have, in the distance, and to my 
 creative imagination, begun to present strange and 
 shadowy forms, stalking in fearful majesty amid 
 these ruined arches. Let us, therefore, make a 
 rapid retreat, ere our vision is pained by their 
 nearer approach." 
 
 Time had indeed fled imperceptibly to each ;
 
 RAVENSDALE. 49 
 
 and now, taking the shortest homeward path, they 
 were, on their arrival, surprised by the intelli- 
 gence that dinner had awaited them more than an 
 hour. Making, therefore, a hasty toilet, and 
 many apologies for their protracted absence, both 
 hurriedly entered the drawing-room, but started 
 involuntarily, on observing Sir Richard Mordaunt 
 to make one of the family circle. 
 
 Little was said during dinner by any of the 
 party, with the exception of Lord and Lady Ra- 
 vensdale, and their voluble guest; and heavily 
 wore the tedious hours of this important evening. 
 Abstracted and serious. Lord Mowbray spoke 
 not, nor longer attempted to wear the outer garb 
 of cheerfulness. Now, he beheld Emily, as he 
 imagined, the affianced, or, at least, the destined 
 wife of Sb: Richard Mordaunt; and his soul 
 sickened at the idea : nor longer could he forbear 
 mental reproaches for her inconsistent and capri- 
 cious conduct towards himself. 
 
 No more he struggled to preserve his manner 
 to her unaltered. The spell, the charm which 
 bound him to Ravensdale was broken ! — And such, 
 in short, was his pointed avoidance of Emily, that 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 a single word during the evening had not been 
 exchanged between them. Pale and unhappy, he 
 threw himself on a couch beside Louisa, and con- 
 tinued utterly absorbed in reflection — the result of 
 which was a fixed determination of not protracting 
 beyond the morrow the communication of his in- 
 tended departure. 
 
 Louisa, too, grieved and oppressed by a know- 
 ledge of the painful fact, forbore mentioning it, in 
 the hope of being able to overcome his resolu- 
 tion, which she resolved on taking the earliest op- 
 portunity of attempting. 
 
 Meanwhile, how was Emily affected by this 
 sudden and striking change in the appearance and 
 demeanour of Lord Mowbray ? With that ab- 
 rupt revolution of feeling, to which her ardent and 
 sensitive nature was peculiarly prone, a mountain 
 seemed to crush her breast as, for the first time, 
 she marked his pale countenance and altered 
 aspect ; and perceiving she had indeed pained the 
 heart which she was aware had been exclusively 
 devoted to herself, bitter self-reproach was the con- 
 sequence of her discovery. 
 
 ** And this," thought she, ''is the result I
 
 RAVENSDALE. 51 
 
 anticipated from my heartless display of coquetry. 
 Too truly do I perceive that I have unfeelingly 
 and ungenerously inflicted a wound on the deep 
 and noble affections of one so eminently my 
 superior. And dare I triumph in this ? — Ah, no ! 
 I have not yet arrived at that pinnacle of 
 absurdity." 
 
 And thus, all those tender feelings which her 
 vanity had hitherto kept concealed in the deep 
 recesses of her heart, now broke upon her with 
 saddened certainty ; and ever, as she felt her at- 
 tention rivetted towards Lord Mowbray, the full 
 consciousness of her own attachment sank deeper 
 in her breast. Yes, she loved him ! and with 
 what fervour, her own feelings now began to bear 
 a painful testimony. Perceiving, however, his 
 cold and altered manner, she shrank, with in- 
 stinctive delicacy from making the slightest ad- 
 vance on her part ; and, no longer able to subdue 
 emotion, retired at length to her own apartment, 
 there to give it vent in tears. Sir Richard Mor- 
 daunt, too, on becoming aware of her absence, 
 took his leave at an early hour ; and all unani- 
 mously availed themselves of his departure as a 
 signal for retiring. 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF 
 ILLINOIS LIBRARY
 
 52* RAVENSDALE. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 " Oh ! who would shun 
 Tlic hour that cuts from earth, and fear to press 
 The calm and peaceful pillows of the grave, 
 And yet endure the various ills of life, 
 And dark vicissitudes." 
 
 KiRKE White. 
 
 During the period of Lord Mowbray's visit at 
 Eavensdale, Emilv had never once breathed to her 
 sister the subject of their mutual attachment ; but 
 now, alone in her own apartment, and oppressed 
 by a sense of utter desolation, she longed eagerly 
 to confide to Louisa some portion, at least, of those 
 grievous thoughts which assailed her ; but how to 
 enter upon the subject, she felt altogether at a 
 loss. Making, however, a strong effort to calm 
 her perturbation, she flew, as for refuge, to the 
 dressing-room of her sister; where, throwing 
 herself in a hirge chair opposite the fire, and 
 leaning back to conceal her emotion, she made an
 
 RAVENSDALE. 53 
 
 unnatural attempt at something like animated con- 
 versation. 
 
 *' Louisa," she said, ''so much infected do I 
 feel by the unusual gloom with which I could not 
 help this evening observing you and Lord Mow- 
 bray so deeply oppressed, that I am obliged to 
 have recourse to your society, in order to dispel 
 it." 
 
 " Strange coincidence !" cried Louisa with a 
 smile, " that the same person should at once 
 infect you with a disease, and elFect a cure." 
 
 " Yet, so it is, Louisa ; and I am in no mood 
 now for entering on a discussion of causes and 
 effects. Poison, you know, causes dissolution ; 
 yet, when judiciously administered by a skilful 
 hand, produces sanative effects. Most true it is, 
 however, so clouded has been your aspect by this 
 unaccountable melancholy, that I feel as though it 
 had communicated itself to me in no slight degree ; 
 and, were I inclined to superstition, should be in- 
 duced to imagine that ' some spirit of the sky' had 
 this day issued forth amid those ruins ; and cross- 
 ing your path, boded evil to our house ; but, pos- 
 sibly, the letter you received this morning from
 
 54 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 Henry Percy may, in some measure, account for 
 it. Anna's health, perhaps, has not, as you anti- 
 cipated, benefitted by change of climate. Tell 
 me, Louisa, what does your own affianced Henry 
 say of our dear young friend ?'* 
 
 «' To me his account appears far from cheering, 
 Emily ; though Henry himself appears to have 
 no apprehension whatever. His letter is written 
 in high spirits; and he dwells much on Anna's 
 returning strength." 
 
 " Then why think so despondently, my dear 
 Louisa ?*' 
 
 *' Ah, that restlessness ! it never bodes good. 
 She has wearied of Malta, and longs for 
 change." 
 
 *' But you know that desire far removal may 
 possibly be as much on her brother's account as 
 her own. You forget her mentioning, in a pre- 
 vious letter, having overheard Henry express a 
 strong desire to visit Bunarbashi, for the purpose 
 of examining the supposed site of Troy ; and also 
 her determination of gratifying him by accom- 
 panying him there as soon as her strength should 
 permit."
 
 RAVENSDALE. 55 
 
 «* True, Emily ; but even thea, you know, she 
 evinced much anxiety to leave Malta. Her illness 
 altogether, I confess, fills me with alarm, of 
 which 1 find it impossible to divest myself. Ah, 
 she never recovered those two years passed with 
 Lady Mowbray previous to her decease ! Evi- 
 dently, the place disagreed with her; and yet, 
 how could she, at such a time, part from her, 
 by whom she was loved and cherished as a 
 daughter ?" 
 
 *' She will never return to Percy Hall," ex- 
 claimed Emily, with much emotion. *'I cannot 
 express the sort of pressing conviction I felt at 
 parting with her, that we never again were des- 
 tined to meet on this earth. Her hectic cheek and 
 languid eye plainly told that the fiat had gone 
 forth which was to arrest the progress of her 
 earthly career ! — But is Anna herself aware of her 
 approaching dissolution ? and how is she affected 
 by the overwhelming certainty ? — Oh ! Louisa, 
 how hard, nay, how impossible it is to bow 
 with any degree of resignation to that aAvful 
 stroke which severs us at a blow from all we hold 
 dear on earth — summoning us by fate's irreversible
 
 56 RAVE NSD ALE. " 
 
 decree to ' that bourne from Avhence no traveller 
 returns !' — Never, never can I contemplate without 
 a shudder those I love being seized by the chill, 
 cold hand of death, in pitiless and stiffened grasp! 
 And then comes the dread idea of that ' narrow 
 house,' which for ever shuts us from love, and 
 light, and liberty ! — Oh ! Louisa, I cannot tell you 
 how deeply I feel for our dear young friend — how 
 sincerely I lament her untimely fate." 
 
 "Emily," replied her sister, earnestly, " I 
 tremble to hear you speak in this manner of that 
 great and awful change which, mysterious though 
 it be, we are told must happen to all ! — Why 
 dwell with horror on the coffin, and the pall, and 
 the grave ; which you say shuts us from light, and 
 love, and liberty ; when he whose love is boundless 
 and unequalled, has triumphed over the grave, and 
 purchased for us everlasting light and liberty ? — 
 and why dwell in terror on the chill, cold hand of 
 death, when he who died for us has taken away 
 its sting? But what indeed is death? what is 
 this life ? — J ustly has it been styled ' a scene of 
 discipline and trial, in which we are placed by the 
 providence of our heavenly Father, and through
 
 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 57 
 
 which we are destined to pass, in order to prepare 
 us for that future world, which we should con- 
 sider as the home to which we are all hastening.' 
 And what is death, Emily, but the passage to 
 that home, through which our Lord and Saviour, 
 for our sakes, hesitated not to pass ? — Surely, 
 then, this reflection should stimulate and en- 
 courage us to follow the bright example of Him 
 whose infinite love has condescended to say — 
 ' Father, I will that they also whom thou hast 
 given me be with me where I am, that they may 
 behold my glory which thou hast given me.' * Here 
 we see through a glass darkly.' Then, should \\l 
 not rejoice at the prospect of ' beholding him face 
 to face ?* Could Ave once attain to this high and 
 heavenly feeling, how truly might Ave then ex- 
 claim — ' Oh, death ! Avhere is thy sting ? — oh, 
 grave ! where is thy victory ?' " 
 
 " Ah ! could Ave indeed attain it, Louisa — but 
 that is a height to Avhich I dare not — I cannot 
 aspire. Alas ! even a remote prospect of death, 
 sinner that I am, I feel it impossible to contem- 
 plate Avith any degree of calmness." 
 
 " To you, Emily, it may indeed be impossible; 
 
 d2
 
 58 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 but with God all things are possible. Of our- 
 selves we can do nothing ; but all things, through 
 Christ strengthening us." 
 
 *' And have you a hope, Louisa, that our 
 dear friend is enabled to contemplate her ap- 
 proaching dissolution with any degree of for- 
 titude?" 
 
 ** A hope ! Most assured I am that she not 
 only views the prospect of death, distant though 
 now it appears, with calmness and resignation, but 
 hails it with joy and triumph. Very long has she 
 been aware of the precarious nature of her disease, 
 and looks forward with patient hope to that great 
 and glorious change, which shall at once dissolve 
 her frail earthly tenement, and enable her to enter 
 into the joy of her Lord. And, oh ! is not this 
 consideration eminently calculated to bear the 
 balm of consolation to the mourning heart of the 
 survivor ?" 
 
 '' Most certainly," replied Emily, with emo- 
 tion; "and whilst I fervently rejoice that such 
 is the experience of this friend of my bosom, I 
 am, alas ! compelled myself to confess that those 
 glorious and heavenly feelings soar to such an ex-
 
 RAVENSDALE. 59 
 
 alted height above my confined and earthly views, 
 as almost to surpass the utmost limits of my com- 
 prehension. Often have 1 thought how enviable 
 Charles is in this respect ; and know not whether 
 surprise or admiration most predominates, when he 
 descants on the subject of death witli such philo- 
 sophic indifference. 
 
 '* Nay, rather say, with such Christian hope," 
 interrupted Louisa; ''for death is an ^event of 
 such importance to all, that none can, or ought 
 to contemplate it with indifference." 
 
 " You are, as usual, right, dear Louisa ; for 
 there is ever a considerable degree of fervour, 
 enthusiasm, and, I might add, holy joy about 
 Charles, when discussing that subject, which never 
 fails to rivet the attention." 
 
 " He is certainly one of religion's brightest 
 ornaments," added her sister. 
 
 " And yet — but, — Louisa," she falteringly pro- 
 ceeded, " do you not think there is one, at least, 
 who has nearly, if not altogether, attained to this 
 high degree of perfection you so justly ascribe to 
 Charles? — I mean Lord Mowbray," she added, 
 again leaning back in the ample recess of the old-
 
 60 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 fashioned chair. '« How is it," she inquired, 
 *'that you have never yet given me your opinion 
 of our cousin, whose high and noble traits, I had 
 imagined, must long ere this have called forth 
 your warmest approbation ?" 
 
 "To your inquiry, my fair examiner, I reply 
 with the characteristic appropriateness of my 
 country, by proposing precisely the same question 
 to yourself; for I, too, claim the privilege of calling 
 upon you to account for never having informed 
 me what you think of Lord Mowbray; — if, in- 
 deed," she emphatically added, " you have ever 
 thought of him at all." 
 
 Emily started at the termination of this speech, 
 uttered by her sister in a tone of pointed raillery • 
 and summoning all her energy, she also replied 
 to her question by another interrogatory — 
 
 *' /f I have ever thought of him," she ex- 
 claimed. "Why, Louisa, should you imply such 
 an unnatural doubt ?" 
 
 '« To say the truth, dear Emily, your attention 
 has of late been so completely engrossed by another 
 individual, as to cause you to appear wholly un- 
 conscious of even the presence of Lord INlowbray ;
 
 RAVENSDALE. 61 
 
 and I must add, that I could not avoid this mor- 
 ning observing your conduct towards him amount 
 to a degree of coldness which, I am persuaded, his 
 noble and sensitive mind found it difficult to 
 brook ; — but you appear to think this all-fascinat- 
 ing Sir Richard Mordaunt so " 
 
 " This detestable Sir Richard Mordaunt," in- 
 terrupted Emily, with a burst of emotion, which 
 she was no longer able to suppress ; and covering 
 her face Avith her hands, a flood of tears succeeded 
 the ejaculation, which, in truth, was forced from 
 her by contending feelings of agony and remorse — 
 ** Oh, Louisa, he despises me ! My unpardonable 
 vanity has doubtless disgusted his high and noble 
 nature ; and I, w^hom of late he regarded with 
 such tenderness, have for ever forfeited even a 
 future claim to his esteem." 
 
 " Then you loved Lord Mowbray ?" said Louisa, 
 in feigned surprise. '' How is it then ?" 
 
 "Oh, ask me not, dear Louisa ; I know what 
 you would say ; and, alas ! can only entreat you 
 will not add to the poignant feelings of remorse 
 and self-reproach, by soliciting further explanation 
 of my past conduct."
 
 62 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 "And yet," said her sister, " I could wish that 
 ere this you had been induced to confide even 
 thus far to me. For some time I have been 
 aware of Lord Mowbray's strong predilection for 
 you ; nor could I for a moment doubt its being 
 returned; therefore, your strange, unaccountable 
 manner " 
 
 ** Has too surely brought its own heavy weight 
 of punishment,'* rejoined Emily, in a voice of 
 choked emotion; "for can he now entrust his 
 happiness to one whose vain and ungenerous con- 
 duct towards himself must have sunk her in his 
 estimation for ever ?" 
 
 " Emily," implored her sister, " I must entreat 
 you will not allow your feelings to gain this as- 
 cendancy. You acknowledge having vainly and 
 inconsiderately wounded the affections of Lord 
 Mowbray ; then add not to the pain you have in- 
 flicted by persisting in a similar line of conduct. 
 Let him at once perceive, by your altered manner, 
 that you are not in reality the heartless cha- 
 racter you have led him to imagine ; and come 
 now, Emmy," she playfully added; " trust 
 me, you have only to smile once more, and
 
 RAVENSDALE. 63 
 
 doubt not but Lord Mowbray will be himself 
 again." 
 
 "Never!" exclaimed her sister, with unwonted 
 energy. "My pride revolts at the bare idea; 
 and although my attachment to Lord Mowbray 
 is of that deep and enduring nature, which I 
 never can feel for another individual, yet nothing 
 shall induce me to make the slightest advance 
 towards one who would now, perhaps, repel 
 rather than return it. Yes, Louisa, my pride 
 revolts " 
 
 " Pride, Emily ! — is this your incentive to 
 action ?" 
 
 " Not pride altogether ; — delicacy, too, opposes 
 the slightest advance on my part." 
 
 "But I merely wish you no longer to encou- 
 rage the attentions of Sir Richard Mordaunt ; 
 you have long been acquainted with Charles's 
 sentiments on this subject ; and hitherto you 
 were not wont to act in opposition to his 
 wishes." 
 
 " Oh, mention Sir Eichard Mordaunt no more ; 
 his very name is revolting to me ; and to-mor- 
 row," she added, now carried away by the ardour
 
 64 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 of her feelings to a contrary extreme of error ; 
 *' to-morrow I shall give particular directions 
 never again to have him admitted." 
 
 " Nay, now, you are better than good," re- 
 joined Louisa; "however, I shall not longer 
 detain you by discussing the propriety of adopting 
 such a summary mode of treatment, as the sudden 
 exclusion of one towards whom but yesterday 
 you evinced such decided preference." 
 
 Her sister smiled whilst concluding this sen- 
 tence ; and a silence of some moments ensuing, in 
 which Emily seemed buried in reflection, she at 
 length said — 
 
 " This night I feel so powerfully oppressed by 
 an indefinable sense of I know not what, mingled 
 with fearful anticipations of some dark tale about 
 to be revealed, in which my fate is deeply in- 
 volved, that I find it impossible to divest myself 
 of boding thoughts." 
 
 And her pale cheek and languid air too faith- 
 fully attested the truth of her statement. Her 
 sister, however, endeavouring to laugh off her 
 fears, kissed her playfully — assuring her that 
 she should begin to suspect her of playing the
 
 RAVENSDALE. 65 
 
 lierolne, and actually becoming romantic, if the 
 morning sun failed to disperse the cloud which 
 seemed to hang over her. — But, alas ! Avhat it 
 morning for poor Emily !
 
 66 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 *' Farewell ! a word that must be and hath been — 
 A sound which makes us linger — yet — farewell !" 
 
 Byron. 
 
 When all were assembled at breakfast, the gloom 
 which had pervaded the party the night previously- 
 appeared rather to have increased than diminished ; 
 unbroken silence prevailing, as if by mutual con- 
 sent, amongst the juniors of the party ; — and the 
 first words spoken were uttered by Lady Ravens- 
 dale, who, addressing Lord Mowbray, proposed his 
 accompanying her in a morning drive, to call upon 
 an acquaintance, at some distance. 
 
 But he seemed as though he heard her not ; — 
 and on Lady Ravensdale repeating her proposal, 
 started from a reverie, as he falteringly replied — 
 " Most willingly should I accede to your pro- 
 posal; but, I grieve to say, that circumstances 
 over which I can have no control, urge my imme-
 
 RAVENSDALE, 67 
 
 diate departure from Ravensdale. This day, my 
 beloved friends," he added, " I must bid farewell 
 to the spot, Avhich shall ever be associated with 
 the happiest moments of my life, and to those 
 friends of my bosom, whose welfare I value far 
 more than my own existence." 
 
 This intelligence, uttered by Lord Mowbray in 
 broken accents, produced an effect on his auditors, 
 closely resembling an electric shock. 
 
 *' This day !" at length ejaculated Lady Ra- 
 vensdale. 
 
 "This day, Mowbray !" said Charles; ''surely 
 you are not — you cannot be serious." 
 
 And at once all eagerly opposed his determina- 
 tion — all save her alone to whom at this moment 
 utterance was denied. The sudden announcement 
 of Lord Mowbray's intention had, in fact, a stu- 
 pifying influence on the few remaining faculties 
 which Emily on that day was mistress of; for a 
 moment the painful shock had caused her cheek to 
 flush deeply with distressing emotion ; — then the 
 capricious blood, which had mantled high, abruptly 
 retreating, left it wan and colourless — or, at best, 
 of that unearthly hue, not unfrequently ascribed
 
 68 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 to the spectral images of a distempered imagina- 
 tion. Had Lord Mowbray, at the critical mo- 
 ment, hazarded but one glance at that expressive, 
 though now paled countenance, how truly would 
 he there have read heart-felt and forcible pleading, 
 far more powerful, more eloquent than Avords. A 
 myriad of conflicting feelings struggled high in 
 her breast ; pride, however — woman's pride — pre- 
 dominated for a brief space, enabling her, in a 
 measure, to conceal those emotions, the slightest 
 exposure of Avhich she so much dreaded. To 
 Charles alone, one anxious and hasty glance, 
 quickly revealed the troubled thoughts which 
 passed within ; and eager to relieve her from the 
 presence of Lord Mowbray, he suddenly rose, and 
 proposing to him a walk in the garden, added with 
 a smile — 
 
 " I shall there, I trust, in single combat, suc- 
 ceed in overcoming this resolution, so suddenly 
 adopted." 
 
 Lord Mowbray attempted not a reply, whilst 
 silently retiring with Charles ; whose entreaties, 
 however, availed not an iota to remove his fixed 
 resolve.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 69 
 
 Emily, meanwhile, remained immovably seated 
 on her chair, till aroused by the returning steps of 
 her brother ; when, hastily quitting the breakfast- 
 room, she retired to her own apartment, — nor 
 returned till summoned by her sister to take a 
 final farewell of him, whose endeared remembrance 
 she now^ felt could only be banished with existence* 
 Making, however, a vigorous effort, she hastened to- 
 wards the drawing-room with the speed of one, seem- 
 ingly impelled by the idea, that on the quickness 
 of her corporeal motion depended her mental flight 
 from the crushing thoughts Avhich assailed her. 
 
 She reached the door — stopped — placed her 
 hand upon the lock — but some internal feeling 
 arresting her, again she paused to gasp for breath, 
 which now rose with suffocation to her lips, in 
 seeming uncertainty whether to retain or desert its 
 frail tenement for ever ! Overpowered at length 
 by emotion ; and making no further effort to pro- 
 ceed, she suddenly retreated to the hall door, and 
 leaning for support against its casement, there 
 awaited in agonized suspense the dread moment of 
 parting. 
 
 A servant, at the moment, entered, and open-
 
 70 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 ing the door of the drawing-room, the words, 
 " Your carriage waits, my Lord," fell upon her 
 ear. 
 
 A silence of some moments succeeded this an- 
 anouncement, and the brow of Lord Mowbray fell 
 upon his hand. 
 
 " This is weak and idle," he said at length, 
 starting as by an effort ; and again and again 
 taking a tender leave of each of his beloved rela- 
 tives, tore himself abruptly from their presence. 
 
 " Where is Emily ?" he inquired at length, in a 
 low voice, as leaning upon the arm of Charles, 
 both hurried to the hall-door; and the writhing 
 curl of his upper lip was the sole indication of 
 internal emotion. '' I could have wished," he 
 added, somewhat haughtily, and a pained expres- 
 sion strongly marking his countenance — '' I could 
 have wished, at least" — but he paused, for they 
 had reached the door, where, apparently unconscious 
 of the passing scene, Emily still lingered. 
 
 Lord Mowbray started on beholding her ; and 
 gazing earnestly on her colourless face — 
 
 " Farewell, Emily !" he murmured, in a low, 
 agitated voice.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 71 
 
 She extended her hand, but spoke not; nor 
 raised her eyes to him, Avhom a dire foreboding 
 at the moment whispered she never again was des- 
 tined to behold— *' Lord Mowbray," she would 
 have said ; but vain was the effort ; — her hueless 
 lips refused their office — no sound escaped ! 
 
 " God for ever bless you, Emily," were the last 
 words that grated upon her ear, as he vanished 
 from her sight. The door of the carriage closed — 
 whirled rapidly along; and the retreating sound 
 of the wheels fell like a death knell on her ear. 
 Fainter and more faint grew the sound, till lost 
 in distance ; — and fainter and more faint was the 
 heart of Emily. Feeling had attained its summit 
 — a chill horror thrilled through her frame — her 
 vision darkened — sense had fled — and she sank 
 lifeless in the arms of her brother. 
 
 But what were Lord Mowbray's feelings, as 
 he threw himself back in the carriage, which ra- 
 pidly bore him from all he held dear upon earth ? 
 Never had he experienced such deep emotion. 
 There was something in the apppearance of Emily 
 at parting which struck forcibly upon his 
 feelings —
 
 72 RAVENSf)ALE. 
 
 '' She has a heart," he exclahned, *' which can 
 feel, and deeply ; — all her failings, or rather, her 
 one glaring foible — by how many virtues and en- 
 dearing qualities are they not counterbalanced ? 
 and yet, her sentiments towards myself I find it 
 impossible to conjecture. — I did believe she loved 
 me ; but now, am I not sure ? has she not proved 
 but too plainly, that another holds that place in 
 her affections which I had vainly appropriated to 
 myself ? — And yet, her appearance at parting, 
 how strange ! Surely it bespoke intensity of 
 feehng — it evinced, at least, no common interest ; 
 yet it was not love ! — too truly, then, it must be 
 jnty — pity ! Oh, my unhumbled heart, can you 
 bear to be pitied? — Pity is granted to the dog we 
 trample on — to the worm we crush beneath our 
 tread ; and yet, what am I but a worm ? — To-day, 
 a denizen of earth — to-morrow, what may I not 
 be ? — Oh, my God ! this stroke is surely sent in 
 mercy by thy chastening hand, to teach me, vain 
 man, to know myself. My proud heart ! shall I 
 ever be acquainted with thy varied windings ? — A 
 short time since, and I deemed thee devoted to 
 my God ; and how hast thou for the last months
 
 RAVENSDALE. 73 
 
 been alienated from him? — how hast thou been 
 concentrated in one object ? — how have my 
 faculties been absorbed — the path of duty disre- 
 garded — passed unheeded by — or, at best, reck- 
 less of consequences, held in secondary estimation ? 
 And shall not all this bring its own well-merited 
 punishment? Would the Lord be a merciful 
 Saviour, if he failed to visit for these things ?" 
 
 And fervently did Lord Mowbray now pray to 
 be delivered from this creature love ; to have the 
 path of duty pointed out by the unerring finger 
 of infinite wisdom ; to be granted strength and 
 grace to pursue it ; and finally, to be enabled to 
 devote the residue of his existence to the glory of 
 God, and the everlasting good of his fellow- 
 mortals. 
 
 '' Then," he added, " can 1 exclaim — it is 
 good for me that I have been afflicted." 
 
 Such were the reflections of Lord Mowbray, 
 whilst proceeding on his route to England; 
 and surely such reflections made in sincerity of 
 heart, never fail to bring consolation to the 
 erring child of God. 
 
 No accident or adventure occurred during his 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 passage, to interrupt the tenor of his thoughts — 
 and now his home, his once loved, happy home, 
 broke upon his vision — that home, associated 
 in his mind with a thousand tender recollections ! 
 The shades of night rapidly approached, as he 
 neared its entrance, and slowly wound his way 
 through the many turnings of the lengthy and 
 darksome avenue. Then it was that the thought 
 forcibly obtruded, "how sad it appears!" his 
 father — his mother — where are they? — where 
 are the cherished forms whose welcoming smiles 
 were ever wont to give elasticity to his step ? 
 the joyous greetings — the warm parental embrace, 
 where ? — the thought thrilled shudderingly through 
 his breast. He approached the door — the car- 
 riage stopped, and the hollow summons for ad- 
 mittance reverberated vainly through the halls and 
 passages of the antique, and now deserted castle ; 
 " they are availing themselves of my absence, 
 in the adjacent village," exclaimed Lord Mowbray; 
 springing from the carriage, hurrying to the 
 door; and repeating the signal, long and fruit- 
 lessly ; then, for the first time, recollecting that 
 in the agony of his mind, he had neglected ap-
 
 RAVENSDALE. 75 
 
 prizing his domestics of his intended return ; 
 he walked eagerly round, in quest of some 
 person who could grant him admittance, but in 
 vain ! — It was a cold, harsh evening, every 
 thing around wearing a dark and dreary appear- 
 ance — he felt the scene to be in unison with 
 his feelings. A black cloud which overhung 
 the castle, bursting at the moment, emitted 
 torrents of rain and sleet; — he called, but the 
 echo of his own voice was the only cheerless 
 reply. Another summons, and suddenly the 
 sound of approaching footsteps fell upon his ear ; 
 but they were slow and tottering! " It is Williams," 
 he exclaimed in a sort of half-extatic tone induced 
 by the extremity of the moment. 
 
 ** Oh, holy Biddy!" ejaculated the old man, 
 crossing himself, as he opened the door, which 
 admitted Lord Mowbray ; who, wrapped in a 
 travelling cloak, was suddenly presented to his 
 scared vision. 
 
 The history of Williams is brief and une- 
 ventful. He lived in the Mowbray family from 
 his earliest youtli ; and the present earl was now 
 the third scion, who had sprung up under his eye ;
 
 76 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 and in boyhood days had experienced his care, 
 or accepted his protection ; his country, his 
 kindred, for centuries back, were Irish, — Irish 
 were his habits — Irish his affections, and Irish 
 his heart ; he knew no happiness unconnected 
 with his country ; and though now twelve years 
 an alien from it, still would his memory cling 
 with fond and eager tenacity to his beloved 
 Erin, and " with all its faults he loved it still !" 
 Already had he numbered three-score years and 
 ten ; and but for his ardent devotion and enthu- 
 siastic zeal for the name of Mowbray, the rem- 
 nant of his earthly pilgrimage would have been 
 but labour and sorrow. To describe the precise 
 situation which he held in the domestic esta- 
 blishment at Mowbray Castle, would be difficult ; 
 perhaps the title of " the overseer" not imaptly 
 appropriated to him by his English fellow-ser- 
 vants, may prove more expressive than an 
 elaborate description; we also add his own cha- 
 racteristic phrases, he '' looked afther every 
 thing, and saw that all was to rights." Age 
 and superstition had long rendered him imagi- 
 native ; and he was frequently heard to aver
 
 RAVENSDALE. 77 
 
 having seen sights in the ould castle that would 
 make 
 
 " His knotted and combined locks to part, 
 Like quills upon the fretful porcupine." 
 
 And now an ejaculation, accompanied with well 
 suited action, was his first salutation to Lord 
 Mowbray, on entering the hall. 
 
 '* Williams, do you not know me ?" he ex- 
 claimed, on meeting his astonished gaze. 
 
 *« Oh, holy Biddy ! but it's the livin' sperrit of 
 the masther, cummin to look afther these villains 
 of English sarvants," ejaculated the faithful re- 
 tainer, making a rapid retreat, bearing with him 
 the light, and about to leave Lord Mowbray in 
 total darkness ; but who, nevertheless, could not 
 repress a smile, as he beheld his retreating form 
 and scared visage, looking, in fact, more like a 
 phantasm of imagination, than a creature of flesh 
 and blood. 
 
 " Williams," cried Lord Mowbray, flinging 
 aside the cloak which enveloped and concealed his 
 figure — " Williams," are you losing your senses, 
 and is this the reception I meet after my long 
 absence ?"
 
 78 
 
 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 No longer was Williams mistaken, as he recog- 
 nized the living accents of his adored, his revered 
 master's voice. Surprise for a moment depriving 
 him of utterance, his first demonstrations of wel- 
 come were of a pantomimic nature — rushing to- 
 wards Lord Mowbray with all the speed of which 
 his aged and attenuated limbs were capable, he 
 threw himself at his feet, and seizing his hand, 
 eagerly suffused it with tears and kisses ; but 
 Lord Mowbray, overcome by such heart-felt proofs 
 of tenderness, together with the consciousness that 
 in him alone was centred all that his paternal 
 mansion now presented of genuine affection, felt 
 liimself obliged to push him gently from him, and 
 endeavouring at the same time to assume a tone of 
 cheerfulness. 
 
 «« My good Williams," he said, with a forced 
 smile, " in your joy at my arrival you seem to forget 
 that 1 am cold and hungry ; do, I entreat, conduct 
 me to a fire, and let me have some refreshments." 
 
 These words acted like magic on his over- 
 powered auditor, who instantly springing upon 
 his feet, his boundless volubility now strangely 
 contrasted with such recent taciturnity.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 79 
 
 ** A fire, my Lord ! — in throth, as luck has it, 
 there's a roarin' wan in the big parlour ; for I was 
 always mindin' your last words, ' to be sure to 
 keep that room well aired, on account iv the pic- 
 thers ;' " then leading him to the apartment in ques- 
 tion, he added, ** and its my own two hands that 
 always made down the bit of fire in that room 
 every mornin', and the same hands took it doAvn 
 every night ; an' in throth, though I wouldn't 
 say it, a body wouldn't be the betther iv goin' in it 
 at all at all afther nightfall ; and if it wasn't for the 
 picthers, that I wouldn't be afther thrustin' to 
 them cannibals of English sarvants (that does 
 nothin' in the airthly (earthly) world but ate an* 
 dhrink up all your substance) I'd " 
 
 " Williams," interrupted Lord Mowbray, on 
 entering the apartment, *«let me have some refresh- 
 ments, will you ? — some wine, and whatever the 
 larder affords." 
 
 But Williams, whose long residence in the 
 family had invested him with a title to familiarity, 
 was not so easily banished at a moment's warning ; 
 and making business a pretence for still lingering, 
 he eagerly set himself to heap on more wood, stir
 
 80 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 the fire, and wheel round the sofa, with that air 
 of mechanical quickness and precision, which long 
 habit had given to all his proceedings. 
 
 *' And many's the night," he continued, " that 
 I thought them picthers had a mind to walk out 
 iv their sockets ; and wan night, as I was stoppin' 
 here all alone by myself, (for the fire was blazin' so 
 hard that I was in dhread of lavin' it, on account 
 of your chargin' me not to set the castle a-fire) so 
 I bethought I'd best stay till it burned doAvn a 
 little ; and I set to, to look at the picthers ; for I 
 always had a wondherful leanin' to them, especially 
 the poor misthress's — be marciful to her sowl ! — 
 for I'm full sure the likes iv her never was in this 
 world anyhow : so when I fell to lookin' at her, 
 an' she over your head there, sure 'tw^asn't long 
 till I seen her beginnin' to smile at me, the way 
 she used long ago. Well, I thought I'd lose my 
 life wud the fair dhread ; and I thried to spake, 
 but sorra a word at all 1 could get out ; so then I 
 bethought iv crossin' myself; and sure enough it's 
 then she looked at me more like an anirel nor 
 ever; and smiled again, as much as to say, 
 * Williams, ye needn't be in dhread iv me* "
 
 RAVENSDALE. 81 
 
 Lord Mowbray's harrassed feelings, now deeply- 
 affected by this ill-timed allusion to a lost and 
 beloved parent, again prompted him to interrupt 
 his loquacious companion, urging some trivial pre- 
 tence to induce his departure, which at length he 
 happily effected. 
 
 And now left to the solitude of his own reflec- 
 tions, he threw himself on the couch, placed by 
 Williams opposite the fire, which, being princi- 
 pally composed of wood, served to illumine the 
 apartment ; for its blaze was bright, and, shall we 
 say cheerful ? — nay, cheerless rather ! So at least 
 thought Lord Mowbray ; for did it not also serve 
 to exhibit the desolate appearance of the place ? — 
 its air of solitude, too, fell heavy on his heart ; and 
 still pressed the thought, '* How sad it appears !" 
 Ah ! that vacuum which hangs round the heart, in 
 the absence of those we never again are destined 
 to behold ! — Making a strong effort, however. 
 Lord Mowbray started from his seat, and pacing 
 the deserted apartment, struggled and reasoned in 
 vain to divest himself of the deep gloom by which 
 he was oppressed. The portrait of his mother 
 now met his view, and he paused to contemplate 
 
 E 2
 
 82 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 those features, which his presence was ever wont 
 to illumine Avith a smile ; and as he gazed, a sad, 
 yet soothing sensation took possession of his heart. 
 But at this moment the door being abruptly flung 
 open, he started at the sound, and turning quickly 
 round, felt a sort of relief on again beholding 
 Williams, who now reappeared, bearing with him 
 all the insignia of preparation for an abundant 
 repast. 
 
 '' Why then," he exclaimed, " sure it's what 1 
 Avas sayin' to myself, if you had bethought iv 
 writin' wan line, just to tell us you wur cummin 
 home, we might have the place in some kind iv 
 readiness ; and it's not a week ago that I seen a 
 letther in the candle ; an' says I to Gerald — 
 'Gerald,' says I, ' there's no use in talkin' but my 
 Lord is cummin home, as sure as I am here ; for,' 
 says I, * there's the letther in the candle that he 
 tould me he'd write before he'd come,' says I. 
 
 *' ' Get out, you fool,' says Gerald, ' that's not 
 a letther,' says he, ' it's a windin' sheet.' 
 
 '' ' It isn't a windin' sheet,' says Peggy, ' it's a 
 letther ; but it isn't for you, Williams,' says she, 
 (cute enough) ' for you pointed at it.'
 
 RAVENSDALE. 83 
 
 " Well, wud that, all the English fellows set up 
 the laugh and shout worse nor ever, and they all 
 down-faced me that it was a windin' sheet ; and, 
 says they, ' the overseer is out for wanst in his 
 life.' So then I said nothin' ; but left it wud them 
 for pace sake ; for they'd think no more of knockin* 
 a body's brains out, if wanst their blood was up, 
 than I'd think of killin* a rat. Anyhow they 
 can't abide the sight of an Irishman ; but, as I 
 often says to Peggy, they'll never be able to hould 
 a candle to the Irish durin' their yollow (yelloAv) 
 lives. Oh, then, it wasn't them sort iv fellow sar- 
 vents we wur hoped up with in the good ould 
 times; and between you and I, my Lord, the 
 sooner you'd be afther gettin' rid iv that same 
 Gerald, the betther ; for I'm sartin sure he's 
 nothin' but a good lump iv a whitefoot, though it 
 'ud be as much as my life is worth to tell him so, 
 for they all swear there's no such thing as white- 
 foots in their counthry." 
 
 Lord Mowbray, in lighter and happier hours, 
 was wont to be amused with those characteristic 
 rhapsodies of this antiquated dependent ; and even 
 though now in no mood for the enjoyment of his
 
 84 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 loquacity, his features relaxed into a smile, as he 
 replied — 
 
 '' Well, Williams, we'll see about it." 
 This, however, being sufficient encouragement 
 for Williams to proceed, he persevered. 
 
 ''You're not dhrinkin' the wine, my Lord; and 
 it's I that took good care thei/ never should show 
 their nose into the cellar; for they're as fond iv 
 the liquor as ever myself was long ago, although 
 they have no respect for Pathrick's pots, and 
 make no more iv Pathrick's day, than I would iv 
 yistherday ; but sure they say when I go back to 
 Ireland, if I darr attempt to taste a dhrop o' 
 liquor, I'll be hung up like a thief by the temporal 
 (temperance) society that they say is come in it. 
 Throth I don't believe but that's thrue whatever ; 
 for Pether tould it in a letther to Peggy ; 'an', be 
 the same token,' says he, ' every man iv us is 
 pisoned wud that villainous coffee.' So says I, 
 ' I'll ask my Lord thatf when he comes home.' 
 An' sure it's I that biggined to think I'd never 
 see that day ; for afther you puttin' out a twelve- 
 month, I thought that long enough ; but Avhen 
 you went so bare on tothcr year, my heart big-
 
 RAVENSDALE. S5 
 
 • 
 
 ginnned to fail entirely. An' it's not that ; but 
 Pether said in the letther, (an' he's a dacent boy at 
 the pen) that there was grate talks iv your goin' 
 to be married to Miss Emily ; and that every wan 
 thought she was li^ht about you. Well, what a 
 misforthin' it is to be so handsome ; not but Miss 
 Emily is a sweet sowl herself, and they all say 
 she's the livin' image iv the misthress ; but sure if 
 she was a prence (prince) she wouldn't be good 
 enough for a Mowbray ; not to talk of your bein' 
 such a " 
 
 "Williams, Williams!" hastily, "go and try 
 if my room is ready — quick, for I'm tired to 
 death." 
 
 " Ready ! — it's ready this very minute, for I 
 saw that all was to rights there long ago, just the 
 same as if I was a butler, or your own man ; and 
 it's now they're divartin' themselves at the village, 
 wud the rest of 'em ; and never mind it, if they're 
 not all in liquor when they come home ; but it's 
 what I was sayin' about Miss Emily " 
 
 " Leave me, leave me, Williams, I beseech 
 you, and go order the fire in my room to be re- 
 newed — quick !"
 
 86 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 And Williams now vanished speedily, mutter- 
 ing, in half audible accents, " How coicld he's 
 afther gettin' in himself all iv a suddent !" 
 
 Not long, however, was Lord Mowbray freed 
 from his presence, for he hastily returned with the 
 intelligence that " all was to rights in his apart- 
 ment ; an' it's in the big tapestry-room you'll 
 sleep, as usual," he added; " for, though the poor 
 misthress's room is lightsomer and pleasanter, I 
 bethought you wouldn't like to turn into it, afther 
 her that's dead and gone ; — an' sure no wondher, 
 for, in throth, whenever I'd thry to go near it, I'd 
 feel the grief somehow risin' up in my throath ; 
 an' if I was to get Ireland for it, I never could 
 bring myself to go a step farther nor the door, 
 since that sore and sorrowful day that I helped to 
 carry her out iv it ; — an' it's what 1 was thinkin', 
 my lord, that I wish you'd make up your mind 
 to lave that tapesthry-room, too ; for myself isn't 
 over and above fond iv seein' them ould moth- 
 eaten heroes grinnin' at me afther nightfall." 
 
 Wrapped in gloomy reverie. Lord Mowbray 
 followed his conductor through the antique halls 
 and passages of this now dreary abode, slowly
 
 RAVENSDALE. 87 
 
 ascending the stairs, and .preserving saddened 
 silence, till about to pass the apartment where his 
 mother had, in his arms, drawn her last breath ; 
 when, hastily passing his hand across his eyes, he 
 fervently breathed a prayer for resignation ; and 
 the only audible words were — '' May my last end 
 be like her's." 
 
 " Amen !" rejoined his companion, crossing 
 himself, whilst tears chased each other in rapid 
 succession down his aged cheeks. 
 
 Insensibly, Lord Mowbray's faltering steps 
 quickened, whilst passing on to his own apart- 
 ment — nor even there was he exempt from the 
 presence of his faithful domestic, who, with all 
 the characteristic, but mistaken kindness of the 
 lower grade of Irish, endeavoured to speak words 
 of comfort to him whom he loved as a son, by oft 
 reverting to circumstances and scenes of bye-gone 
 days, in which his beloved parents bore a promi- 
 nent part — but ill availed his well-meant efforts to 
 dissipate the melancholy by which he was op- 
 pressed — nay, so painfully did this heart-rending 
 eloquence grate upon his feelings, that, completely 
 overpowered, he was once more obliged, in few
 
 88 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 words, to dismiss him from his presence. And 
 now left to the soUtude of his own apartment, and 
 slowly retiring to his couch, a heavy slumber soon 
 shed its dreamy influence over his faculties ; steal- 
 ing him from the hurry of confused sensations, but 
 to crowd upon him in more rapid succession the 
 broken visions of an excited imagination.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 89 
 
 CHAPTEK VIII. 
 
 " True, I've a woianded heart ; but I've a friend 
 So skilled in healing, that 'tis more delight 
 To be beneath his operating hand, 
 And bear the sev'ring knife which cuts away 
 Idolatrous occasion, than to bask 
 In the full sunbeams of prosperity, 
 And gratify an uninstructed wUl." 
 
 SwALs's Redemptiox. 
 
 The sun had attained its meridian altitude when 
 Lord Mowbray awoke from the deep slumber in 
 which, for twelve preceding hours, his senses had 
 been locked ; and finding his frame and faculties 
 much recruited by prolonged repose, he made a 
 strong effort to reason away the depression which, 
 the night previous, had attained such ascendancy. 
 
 "It is unmanly," he exclaimed — '' it is un- 
 christian-like, thus to sink under the weight of 
 trial with which the Lord has seen good — nay, 
 necessary to visit me. Shall I continue to pray
 
 90 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 for resignation, and, at the same time, indulge in 
 those enervating thoughts which render existence 
 a burden, and unfit me for using or improving the 
 talents entrusted to me ? Oh, my mother ! is it 
 thus I have profited by your unwearied assiduity 
 in implanting in the breast of your child those 
 seeds of religious principle, which you had fondly 
 hoped would spring up with my growth, and 
 prove a sure and steady support in the hour of 
 trial ? Much, indeed, has been given to me ; and 
 shall not much be required ? — How, alas ! have I 
 been made to feel my own w^eakness hitherto ? but 
 henceforth, O Lord, may I be enabled to say, 
 from experience, ' thy grace is sufficient for 
 me/ " 
 
 And Lord Mow^bray was noAv enabled, in 
 humble dependence on that grace, to form plans 
 for the future, and mark out a course of active 
 life, in the energy of which he not only hoped 
 materially to benefit his fellow-creatures, but find 
 relief from the w^eight of melancholy by which he 
 was oppressed. His daily supplications at the 
 throne of grace no circumstance induced him to 
 omit ; and having fervently prayed for strength to
 
 RAVENSDALE. 91 
 
 make practical the resolutions he had formed, he 
 descended from his apartment in a frame of mind 
 more calm and composed than, but the previous 
 day, he could by possibility have anticipated. 
 
 The morning was clear and fine; nature ap- 
 peared to smile upon him ; the very quiet of the 
 place seemed to harmonize with his feelings ; he 
 felt almost cheerful, and wondered at the change. 
 Having taken his morning repast, he called for 
 Williams, whom he endeavoured to address in his 
 usual strain. 
 
 "Well, Williams, about those schools " 
 
 " Oh, musha, bad scran to 'em for schools ! 
 Sure I sometimes think the very wits will be 
 schooled out o' the poor childher; for they're at 
 it from ten to three every day they rise out o' 
 their beds ; and in throth, wud all their larnin', 
 some of 'em are as little good for, in the way of 
 pliteness (politeness), as the ignorantest common 
 phaisant (peasant) that you'd see goin' the roads 
 in Ireland ; and the surly, short answers they give 
 to a civil question, is enough to — to — to — musha, 
 bad manners to them for schools — myself would 
 no more face wan iv 'em, only the poor misthress
 
 92 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 was always so mighty peticlar about 'em ; and you 
 were so kilt about 'em yourself, too, when you 
 were goin' away — and chargin' me not to let 'em 
 want for any thing — loant any thing, indeed ! and 
 the poorest thuckeen that goes to them is as well 
 dhrest, in the regard iv every tack on her bein' as 
 clane and as white as the first lady in the land. 
 And between you and I, though I wouldn't let 
 on to them, it went to my heart entirely to be 
 shellin' out all your goold guineas to them 
 tachers ; for in throth myself sees no good all 
 their larnin' does, but just to make 'em saucy an' 
 surly, and look down on honest people." 
 
 Vain would have been every effort of Lord 
 Mowbray's to change the current of Williams' 
 early-imbibed prejudice against what he designated 
 larnin. Making, therefore, no reply to this last 
 rhapsody, he proceeded, unaccompanied, to inspect 
 those schools, which, about twelve years since, 
 had been founded on the estate by Lady Mow- 
 bray. He had ever been a warm advocate for in- 
 structing the ignorant; and during his visit at 
 Ravensdale, various were the arrangements made 
 for establishing numerous free schools on his Irish
 
 RAVENSDALE. 93 
 
 estate ; and with pleasure he now anticipated the 
 period when, no longer an absentee from the land 
 of his nativity, he should return to gladden many 
 a heart ; and encourage, by his example, many a 
 benevolent exertion for ameliorating the sunken 
 condition of his countrymen. 
 
 Meanwhile, it is ours to bid him a brief fare- 
 well, and solicit the attention of our readers to a 
 cursory review of affairs at Ravensdale.
 
 94 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " And is he gone ? — on sudden solitude 
 How oft that fearful question will intrude I 
 'Twas but an instant past — and here he stood !" 
 
 Byrox. 
 
 Charles Courtenay was well acquainted with 
 the deep internal workings of the human heart ; and 
 now, as he supported the fainting form of his sister, 
 and witnessed her intense emotion, as she looked 
 her last on him whom so heedlessly she had 
 banished from her presence, sympathy of the 
 truest, tenderest nature, was the only sentiment 
 awakened in his breast ; even though well he 
 knew she was but the victim of her own capricious 
 weakness ; and aware, also, that he himself had 
 frequently forewarned her of the deteriorating 
 effects of unrestrained vanity, at whose shrine she 
 had so early sacrificed her happiness ; yet no re- 
 proachful thought mingled Avith the feeling of 
 compassionate love, with which he gazed on her 
 lifeless and beautiful countenance.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 95 
 
 His firgt care was to conceal her emotion from 
 Lord and Lady Ravensdale, who had no suspicion 
 of an attachment of more than ordinary natm-e 
 subsisting between her and Lord Mowbray ; there- 
 fore, raising her silently in his arms, and accom- 
 panied by Louisa, he bore her to her dressing-room, 
 where the usual restoratives were effectually re- 
 sorted to. On recovering consciousness, she gazed 
 for a moment wildly around, uttering a few inar- 
 ticulate sounds, till perceiving Louisa and Charles, 
 she passed her hand over her eyes, faintly mur- 
 muring, " leave me, leave me ;" — both quickly 
 obeyed, and quitting the apartment, gently closed 
 the door, leaving her to that still and silent soli- 
 tude, which grief loves to court. 
 
 There are moments of trial in which we shrink 
 instinctively from the soothing sounds of sympathy 
 — moments when the bland voice of friendship 
 grates harshly and discordantly — when the very 
 intensity of our suffering acts but as a stimulus to 
 indulge in that grief, which we deem too sacred to 
 admit an associate! Not long, however, should 
 mortals be left to the solitude of such hours as 
 these ; reason, alas ! holds her slender sway by
 
 96 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 bands too frail, and her tenure is of too precarious 
 a nature thus to be tampered with. So thought 
 Louisa, as, after the lapse of little more than an 
 hour, she returned to Emily's apartment, knocking 
 gently at the door ; but no voice answering the 
 summons, she hastily opened it, and entering 
 softly, approached the couch on which she had 
 placed her, and upon which she still lay, wrapt in 
 thought too deep, to be aware of her presence. 
 *' Emily," she said, gently taking her hand, to 
 arouse her from the state of apathy in which she 
 seemed enwrapt. 
 
 Her hand was passive ; but she spoke not, nor 
 raised her eyes. 
 
 " Emily," repeated her sister, assuming a re- 
 proachful tone ; '' you were not wont to be thus 
 indifferent to my approach." 
 
 She started at the appeal ; and fixing her eyes 
 on her face, still maintained unbroken silence; 
 then sinking her head upon her shoulder, a flood 
 of tears at length came to her relief, which 
 Louisa suffered to flow on unrestrained ; for they 
 were the first she had shed, and immediately caused 
 a sudden transition of feeling, which now assuming
 
 RAVENSDALE. 97 
 
 an opposite character, she continued to sob and 
 weep immoderately, and at such length, that her 
 sister sought, by every soothing art, to still the 
 vehemence of her emotion, which once more sub- 
 sided into a melancholy calm ; and soon took such 
 fixed possession of her spirits, that as Aveek after 
 week passed on, the whole character of her mind 
 seemed to undergo an abrupt and total change. 
 
 I have said that Emily possessed a tender and 
 affectionate heart, with feelings of more than com- 
 mon acuteness ; they were deep, too, and enduring 
 in their nature ; and yet, to a casual observer, such 
 was her light, volatile temperament, the seeming 
 tone of her character was that of triflinsr and 
 mindless frivolity ; but these, in reality, were 
 mere surface traits ; sink but a little deeper, and 
 there is the ore — the mind of no common stamp. 
 True, its brightness was bedimmed by much seem- 
 ing, and some real alloy ; but remove the baser 
 tarnish, and it is purer, more precious, more 
 refined, than many a sparkling gem of unrea' 
 glitter, and mock, deceptive brilliancy. Trained 
 in the lap of parental indulgence, her feelings had 
 never till now received a blight ; and the heart 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 unaccustomed to the throb of misfortune, sank 
 deeply, despondently, and at once under the 
 strange, unwonted pressure. 
 
 *« Emily," said Charles, as observing her one 
 morning more dejected than usual, he eagerly 
 sought her presence, " you know the deep interest 
 I have ever felt in all that concerns your happi- 
 ness " 
 
 " My happiness, Charles !" — with a melancholy 
 smile — "oh, talk not to me of happiness— happi- 
 ness and I have bid farewell for ever ; but I am 
 satisfied," she continued with emotion, and pres- 
 sing her hand to her heart. " Yes, there's a chill, 
 cold blank here, which can never again vibrate to 
 one cheering sound, and oh, that it might cease to 
 vibrate for ever ! — Nay, start not, Charles ; my 
 only wish now is to die ; for henceforth what to 
 me is this world but chaos !" 
 
 And the next^ Emily ! — the futui'e, the eternal 
 world — is it not worth a thought ?" 
 
 *' Ah, would to heaven I were prepared for it !" 
 — with a shudder — *'but what, alas! has ?wy life 
 been to merit everlasting felicity." 
 
 The cheek of her brother paled, as he inter-
 
 RAVENSDALE. 99 
 
 rupted her; deeply shocked, he could not suffer 
 her to proceed. 
 
 "As you love me, my sister," he said, "I 
 entreat you to hear me, and cooly and deliberately 
 answer the question which I would earnestly press 
 upon you. Is it on your own life, Emily, that 
 you depend for acceptance with your heavenly 
 Father?" 
 
 " Is he not a just God?" she said, pressing her 
 agitated brow; *'and sinner that lam, how can 
 I appear at the bar of justice, and not be con- 
 demned for ever ?" 
 
 Her brother looked earnestly and wistfully in 
 her face, and fancying her somewhat more com- 
 posed, he rejoined — 
 
 ^^ Justice is certainly one of his attributes, 
 Emily ; but mercy is another ; and to satisfy tliat 
 justice, he hesitated not to give his only begotten 
 Son to die for sinners. Most true it is, that you 
 or I, or the most perfect of human individuals that 
 ever trod this earth, dare not appear before the 
 judgment seat of God, clothed in our own right- 
 eousness, which, at best, is but * filthy rags.' AVcre 
 this our only hope, well, indeed, might we shud-
 
 100 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 fler at the contemplation of the condemnatory 
 sentence of infinite justice ; but, blessed be God, 
 there is a living way open for sinners, even for 
 the chief. * I am the way, the truth and the life,' 
 saith our merciful Saviour, « he that cometh unto 
 me, I will in no wise cast out.' Yes, he not only 
 suffers, but invites us to come to him ; and do 
 you, Emily, refuse to have your ' robe washed, 
 and made white in the blood of the lamb ?' 
 Clothed in the wedding garment of a Saviour's 
 righteousness, with what safety may we appear at 
 the bar of eternal justice ! Therefore, sinner that 
 you confess yourself to be, come unto him, and 
 he will ' bear your sins, and carry your sorrows ;' 
 for ' he was made a sin-offering for us, who knew 
 no sin, that we might be made the righteousness 
 of God in him.' — Ah ! Emily, how long will you 
 resist this gracious — this heavenly invitation ?" 
 
 The agitation of Emily's countenance gra- 
 dually became more composed, as her brother 
 proceeded. Observing this, and taking her hand 
 affectionately, he added — 
 
 " « Her ways are ways of pleasantness, and all her 
 paths are peace.' Seek, then, for happiness where
 
 RAVENSDALE. 101 
 
 alone it can be found. Seek it not on earth, which 
 has already proved ' a broken reed ;' but I would 
 implore you to look for it on high, for it is a plant 
 of heavenly gi'owth. Alas ! how often are we, 
 denizens of earth, deceived in what we here call 
 happiness ! — how eagerly, and vaguely, and vainly 
 we pursue it ; and through what varied windings 
 does it not lead us on, till at length we fancy we 
 discern it. One more effort, and we seize it ; but 
 it eludes our grasp — it is a phantom — a mere 
 phantasm, this earthly happiness ! Yes, Emily, I 
 repeat it is of heavenly growth ; there, and there 
 alone, we should cultivate it till brought to per- 
 fection. Promise me, then " 
 
 " I can promise nothing," interrupted Emily. 
 " You were ever good and kind, Charles — most 
 kind ; and I, hoAV unworthy ! But leave me for 
 the present ; and to-morrow — some other tinic — 
 but not now — I am ill — my head aches violently." 
 
 And her brother, perceiving her deeply af- 
 fected, kissed her pale cheek, and quitted the 
 apartment.
 
 102 RAVENSDALB. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Let not the cooings of the world allure thee. 
 Which of her lovers ever found her true ? 
 Happy, of this bad world who little know! 
 And yet, we much must know her, to be safe ; 
 To know the world, not to love her, is thy point." 
 
 Young. 
 
 "Are you aware that Lord Mowbray has re- 
 turned to Mowbray Castle ?" said the taciturn 
 Sir Robert Hamilton to his sposa, as he sipped 
 coffee one evening amid his family circle — a bright 
 idea having just occurred that silence had pre- 
 vailed for a more protracted period than usual ; 
 for Sir Robert was ever a willing auditor to the 
 light converse of Lady Hamilton and her daugh- 
 ters, although too indolent to take part in it 
 himself. 
 
 This communication, as he had anticipated, 
 more than sufficed to arouse their sombre mood. 
 
 ** Come home, my love !" responded Lady Ha-
 
 RAVENSDALE. 103 
 
 mil ton. '' Are you quite sure ? — When did he 
 come ? — Why did you not mention it before ?" 
 
 '' Quite sure ; he arrived on Monday; and my sole 
 motive for deferring the intelligence was precisely 
 because I anticipated all those interrogatories." 
 
 Sir Kobert Hamilton piqued himself on being 
 an eccentric. 
 
 ''Pshaw, Sir Kobert !" 
 
 '* Oh, papa," exclaimed the incredulous Ger- 
 trude, " you must certainly have been misin- 
 formed, for, no later than last week, I was told 
 that his return was not expected for at least six 
 months longer." 
 
 '' And no later than yesterday," rejoined Sir 
 Robert, " I saw him at Mowbray Castle." 
 
 " Then he is not married," ejaculated the sen- 
 timental Adeline. 
 
 '' I'm sure I am very happy to hear it," ex- 
 claimed the naive Clara ; "for I must confess, 
 when once a young man enters himself on the 
 lists of hymen, he loses more than half, at least, 
 if not all interest in my estimation." 
 
 ** Clara, my love," interposed the ever- watchful 
 Lady Hamilton, " you are ever too fond of ex-
 
 104 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 pressing your sentiments ; I have repeatedly lec- 
 tured you on the subject ; and no later than last 
 week, was literally in agony at something you said 
 
 to Lady Mary D , which has now escaped my 
 
 memory; but at the time I resolved to reprove 
 you for it." 
 
 " Oh, yes, I recollect," rejoined AdeUne ; "and 
 Lord D looked at me, and smiled ; and " 
 
 " And expressed himself highly amused at 
 Clara's naivete^'' interrupted Sir Robert. 
 
 " Shocked at her nonsense, rather," said Lady 
 Hamilton — " Of course, he is not married" she 
 pensively continued ; " otherwise we should have 
 heard of preparations at Mowbray Castle. Ah, 
 poor Lady Mowbray ! how I venerate her me- 
 mory ! and I am sure any attention to her son, as 
 
 far as lies in my power, I should be most by- 
 
 the-bye. Sir Robert, you have called on Lord 
 Mowbray. I wish you would send him an invita- 
 tion to dinner." 
 
 " I have anticipated your wishes, my love ; 
 and he has promised to pass a quiet day with us 
 to-morrow." 
 
 *' How 1 feel for him !" said Adeline, " re-
 
 RAVENSDALE. 105 
 
 turning to that melancholy old castle, in all its 
 loneliness." 
 
 " I do think he ought to marry," murmured 
 Lady Hamilton. " However, I trust that we 
 shall be able, in some measure, to enliven his soli- 
 tude. For many reasons, it is incumbent on us 
 to make the attempt at least — he is so estimable, 
 so superior J and " 
 
 " And in possession of such vast wealth," re- 
 joined Sir Robert, smiling ineffably, as he rose to 
 leave the apartment. 
 
 '' Adeline, my love/' said Lady Hamilton, on 
 Sir Robert's retiring, and closing the door, '' have 
 you visited those schools lately which you pro- 
 mised Lord Mowbray to take charge of in his 
 absence ?" 
 
 " ^Aa^ schools, mamma? Oh, true, 1 r/o re- 
 collect. Yes, I certainly did \is'it them more than 
 once, immediately on Lord Mowbray's departure ; 
 and since then, you know, my time has been so 
 completely occupied with one thing or other, that 
 I have never had a moment at my own dis- 
 posal." 
 
 " Nay, Adeline, one hour might, at least, have
 
 106 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 been spared to fulfil your promise to Lord Mow- 
 bray. I much regret such an omission. What 
 excuse can you possibly offer to-morrow ? Such 
 negligence is really vexatious. Try, however, 
 and redeem a little more of your time in future. 
 Lord Mowbray is, / knoic^ particularly interested 
 in those schools ; and, on our dear Lady Mow- 
 bray's account, it would be so unkind not to take 
 some trouble about them." 
 
 Adeline bowed acquiescence ; and Clara re- 
 joined — 
 
 '' Your exertions now, Adeline, would, I fear, 
 come too late ; for, as Lord Mowbray has re- 
 turned, your presence at the schools will not be as 
 requisite as during his absence, I should imagine." 
 
 But a slight reproof to Clara for again intruding 
 her opinion, was the only effect produced by her 
 observation ; and the remainder of the evening 
 was spent in discussing the expediency and inex- 
 pediency of instructing the ignorant, to which it 
 was unanimously agreed that Lord Mowbray had 
 ever attached undue importance ; and Adeline, in a 
 languid tone, descanted at large on the self-denial re- 
 quisite for encountering the miserable little urchins.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 107 
 
 At length, however, the clock at Mount Hamil- 
 ton striking twelve, Lady Hamilton moved that 
 her daughters should retire, adding, as she rose, 
 " that those late hours would utterly destroy their 
 beauty, chase the rose from the cheek, dim the 
 brilUancy of the eye, and, in short, if persisted in, 
 repentance would eventually come too late." 
 
 Such, however, in this instance, was not the 
 case ; for the hour of dressing next day found the 
 lovely cheeks of Adeline and Gertrude glowing 
 but with deeper dye, as, flushed with the roseate 
 tint of expectancy, they applied themselves with 
 unusual zeal to the performance of the varied 
 duties of the toilet : nor was their assiduity unre- 
 quited; for as they descended to the drawing- 
 room, they were greeted with that eloquent smile 
 of mingled approval and admiration, which the 
 anxious, tender, but worldly Lady Hamilton was 
 ever wont to accord, when the tout ensemble of 
 their appearance had attained that climax, to which 
 her refined and fastidious taste aspired. 
 
 *' Adeline,'* she said, approaching her daughter, 
 and parting a leetle more those ringlets, which fell 
 in such rich profusion as concealed a brow of sur-
 
 108 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 passing loveliness — " Adeline, my love, those 
 flowers in your hair are rather too crowded ; allow 
 me just tore move this rose, — there" — and retreat- 
 ing a few paces — "you really are not the same 
 looking creature — simplicity of style is what I am 
 ever anxious that you should adopt; believe me, 
 it is quite a mistaken idea, that of dressing too 
 much ; — and turning to Gertrude — " this orna- 
 ment in front, too, may better be dispensed with — 
 it looks inelegant;" and Gertrude's magnificent 
 diamond crescent shared the fate of Adeline's 
 humble rose. " But what is become of Clara ?" 
 inquiringly continued Lady Hamilton, looking 
 round the room in vain for her daughter. At 
 this moment, however, the approach of carriage 
 wheels was distinctly heard, and Lady Hamilton 
 retreated to a sofa ; whilst Adeline, throwing her- 
 self on an ottoman opposite the door, immediately 
 assumed an air of ennui, and carelessly protruding 
 one little foot, so as partially to display, and partly 
 to conceal an ankle of perfect symmetry ; she held 
 in one hand a half blown rose, whilst the delicate 
 fingers of the other opened and adjusted its budding 
 leaves. The eifect was imposing ; and who could
 
 RAVENSDALE. 109 
 
 answer for its influence on Lord Mowbray, had not 
 the provoking Clara at that moment bounded into 
 the apartment, bearing in her arms a favourite 
 King Charles, which Lord Mowbray had given 
 her previously to his departure ; and such was her 
 anxiety to ascertain if the dog would recognise its 
 former master, that she had been eagerly chasing 
 it through the beds of a flower garden, in order 
 to present it to Lord Mowbray in person : the 
 consequence was, her face was flushed, her hair 
 dishevelled, and her whole appearance so perfectly 
 outre, that Lady Hamilton, as she witnessed her 
 debut, was provoked beyond endurance. Time, 
 however, admitted not of reproof, as Lord Mow- 
 bray was at her side ; and for some moments 
 nothing was heard but mutual expressions of plea- 
 sure, and " down Fidelle,'' as the sagacious animal 
 jumped and bounded upon Lord Mowbray, evinc- 
 ing the most eager demonstrations of welcoming 
 recognition. 
 
 " Clara has not an idea beyoud that dog," mur- 
 mured Adeline, as Lord Mowbray's whole atten- 
 tion was directed towards it. IIapj)ily, however. 
 Sir Robert now appeared ; Fldellc was dismissed.
 
 110 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 and during the interval till the announcement of 
 dinner, Lord Mowbray was doomed to hear a 
 detail of Sir Robert's rooted antipathy to the 
 canine species, whose noise and gambols, he as- 
 asserted, invariably had the effect of breaking in 
 upon his train of ideas. 
 
 "Have you visited the schools since your re- 
 turn ?" inquired Lady Hamilton, wdth an air of 
 intense interest, on Lord Mowbray's returning to 
 the drawing-room in the evening, and seating 
 himself in a vacant chair by the side of Adeline. 
 
 '* Yes, I gave them rather a hasty inspection 
 this morning," he replied, " and was highly gra- 
 tified both with the improvement visible in the aj)- 
 pearance of the children, and the rapid progress of 
 their education. Poor creatures ! I consider them 
 highly favoured in having such a master and mis- 
 tress, whose attention, I may almost say, amounts 
 to zeal in the conscientious discharge of their duty. 
 However, I suspect I am more especially indebted 
 to the efficient exertions of a kind and faithful 
 auxiliary," he softly added, turning to Adeline, 
 and bowing with his own peculiar grace. 
 
 The leaves of the rose, which, but a few pre-
 
 RAVENSDALE. Ill 
 
 yious hours, had been so carefully adjusted by the 
 fair hand of Adeline, were now, by the same fairy 
 fingers, ruthlessly torn, one by one, from their 
 parent stem, and strewed in promiscuous profusion 
 on the carpet beneath her feet. She stooped to 
 witness the effect produced, whilst she blandly 
 replied — 
 
 '' Williams has, indeed, been most indefatigable 
 in his attention ; and I believe a day rarely elapsed 
 that he did not administer to the Avants of both 
 children and teachers." 
 
 " He has, doubtless, proved a most faithful 
 piece of mechanism," laughed Lord Mowbray ; 
 '' but such are his national antipathies, and deep- 
 rooted prejudice against any thing of a literary 
 nature, that I must believe obedience to my orders 
 was the sole and main spring of hi? actions. 
 Therefore, though I owe him much for his devo- 
 tion to myself, I must again repeat, that the ex- 
 ertions which proved effective, must have pro- 
 ceeded from those who had at heart the temporal 
 and eternal welfare of their fellow-creatures." 
 
 And another slight bow of eloquent api)roval 
 called forth a blush to the check of Adeline, as
 
 112 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 she languidly deplored that circumstances had not 
 admitted of her being as attentive as she could 
 have wished ; and the indefinite apology was 
 uttered in acccents so bland, that Lord Mowbray 
 inwardly admired her humility, as she faintly 
 added — 
 
 *' I fear you have given me credit for more — 
 far more than I deserve." 
 
 Lady Hamilton, however, at this crisis, anxious 
 to give a turn to the conversation, observed what 
 a striking diiference must be discernible in the 
 aspect of an English and Irish school. 
 
 " Not as much as you may, perhaps, imagine," 
 replied Lord Mowbray. " At least, in many parts 
 of Ireland, order and cleanliness are quite as ob- 
 servable in those institutions as here. This, how- 
 ever, may be attributable to the warm interest the 
 gentry appear to take in them. In fact, it is asto- 
 nishing all the good that may be done by the in- 
 fluence of the higher orders, when Avell directed, 
 and judiciously exerted." 
 
 " I'm certain of it," murmured Adeline. 
 
 " And pray, do the Irish gentry attend those 
 schools in person?' inquired Clara, " as Adeline
 
 RAVENSDALE. 113 
 
 had promised to do ; for this to me, I must con- 
 fess, is far from a ' delightful task,' and one which 
 I was well aware Adeline never could accomplish, 
 although such was her intention. And sometimes 
 when walking out, Fidelles gambols would recall 
 you to my recollection ; and then would flash the 
 thought of the neglected schools, and Adeline's 
 
 forgotten promise ; and ; but, in fact, as she 
 
 frequently remarked, how was it possible she 
 could attend to every thing ? I do not think, 
 during this last year, that she could have devoted 
 one day to " 
 
 But here. Lady Hamilton, observing a change 
 in Lord Mowbray's countenance, interrupted 
 Clara with her never-failing tact — 
 
 '* Clara, my love, you forget that Fidelle has 
 not had her tea yet ;" then, gently raising her 
 hand with deploring action — '* she has such 
 spirits," she added, *' that I am frequently obliged 
 to reprove her for speaking at random." 
 
 Still, however. Lord Mowbray, looking disap- 
 pointed, made no reply ; whilst the deeper flush 
 in the cheek of Adeline testified the extreme
 
 114 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 emotion excited by the conclusion of Clara's some- 
 what broken rhetoric. 
 
 " I 6?o think 1 should like the Irish vastly," 
 exclaimed Clara, on returning from administering 
 to her favourite ; " pray, is Williams a fair speci- 
 men of his countrymen ?" 
 
 " I would that he were," replied Lord Mow- 
 bray, laughing ; «« he is a fairer specimen of a 
 rough diamond than any thing I know ; for very 
 many are the ennobling qualities which lie con- 
 cealed beneath the surface of his rough exterior, 
 and unpolished manner.'* 
 
 ** And with all due respect to those noble qua- 
 lities," rejoined Clara, *' I should say he reminds 
 me more of a faithful mastiff than aught else ; for 
 extreme attachment to his master, appears to be 
 one of his most redeeming traits." 
 
 " Your view of his character, Clara, is somewhat 
 clouded by national prejudice, I suspect," pomp- 
 ously interposed Sir Robert ; and they were the 
 first words that found utterance for the last two 
 hours. 
 
 " Not at all, I assure you, papa ; on the con-
 
 RAVENSDALE. 115 
 
 trary, I admire the character of the Irish exceed- 
 ingly ; and particularly approve in Williams those 
 very peculiarities which others condemn. A little 
 French varnish, however, would, doubtless, be an 
 improvement." 
 
 " I dare not attempt to controvert that fact,'' 
 smiled Lord Mowbray ; " whilst I cannot help 
 observing that, if the higher circles possessed 
 somewhat less of this French varnish, and a little 
 more of sterling worth, the march of true re- 
 finement would eventually progress with more 
 rapid strides." 
 
 *' I love dissent," continued Clara; "and, 
 therefore, with regret must subscribe to this opi- 
 nion." 
 
 The thoughtless Clara, in fact, possessed a 
 larger share of what is sometimes not unaptly de- 
 nominated ^^ sterling loorth,'" than any of the as- 
 sembled party — Lord Mowbray excepted. So 
 concealed, however, did it lie beneath her naive 
 manner and careless air, that a close observer, such 
 as Lord Mowbray, could alone discover it. He 
 had ever felt a degree of pleasure in her society,
 
 116 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 for which he would almost reprove himself, so 
 light and frivolous seemed her manner. " Yet, 
 would he say tor himself, " there is so much of 
 truth about her, as more than counterbalances 
 those minor defects. There is something good at 
 heart, which, as it were, shines forth, despite 
 herself. Once I enjoyed her light converse," he 
 thought; *'but now it is not in keeping with a 
 mind ill at ease." 
 
 Clara, in fact, might have been considered little 
 more than a child when Lord Mowbray last parted 
 with her. He had ever been accustomed to look 
 upon her as such — a sort of plaything — and he 
 called her " Clara." Now, however, though his 
 junior by some years, still she had ceased to be 
 regarded in that light ; yet, was he unconsciously 
 attracted towards her, and felt a degree of pleasure 
 in replying to her numerous interrogatories — for 
 she was of an inquiring turn of mind ; — and not 
 unfrequently would her cheering manner chase the 
 gloom from his brow, and lighten that weight of 
 depression, of which he sought, by every means, 
 to divest himself.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 117 
 
 *' I had hoped that you were about to import 
 to us a fairer specimen of the Irish," continued 
 Clara. 
 
 "How — who?" stared Lord Mowbray, half 
 suspecting, half comprehending her meaning. 
 
 " In the person of your cousin," she replied, 
 with most provoking frankness. 
 
 In vain, however, did she seek for the blush, so 
 unhesitatingly summoned to his cheek ; for Lord 
 Mowbray, at that crisis, stooped so low to caress 
 Fidelle^ that. Clara was amply punished for her 
 temerity, in being doomed to a state of utter un- 
 certainty as to the effect produced. 
 
 Who can deny that a dog is not of infinite ser- 
 vice in an exigency of this kind ? Certain it is, 
 that on this occasion it served the double purpose 
 of excusing Lord INIowbray's reply, and for five 
 long minutes effectually concealing his counte- 
 nance. Fidelle, however, at length forsook him, 
 as if with the intention of terminating Clara's 
 suspense ; for when she now again looked in his 
 face, it was overspread by such an ashy paleness, 
 as revealed far more than she, in playful curiosity, 
 had sought to discover ; and inexpressibly shocked,
 
 118 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 she bitterly reproached herself for what she now 
 termed her cruelty to Lord Mowbray, inwardly 
 resolving never again to revert to the subject. 
 Her curiosity, however, was unusually excited, 
 and she became silent and abstracted for the re- 
 mainder of the evening. She feared, too, having 
 incurred Lord Mowbray's displeasure, for whom 
 she really felt a sisterly regard ; whilst the painful 
 idea awakened a train of thought in her artless 
 mind *' I can neither apologize nor excuse my- 
 self," she mentally deplored, ''for having at once 
 intruded into his inmost thoughts, and incau- 
 tiously wounded his feelings. — Fortunately, how- 
 ever, no eye but my own read his secret, and 
 with me it shall remain inviolable. I w^ould that 
 I could console him ; but that is impossible, for it 
 w^ould be little short of desecration ever again to 
 touch upon that chord ; evidently there is an op- 
 pressive weight within !'* — and this last idea en- 
 deared him but still more to her woman's heart. 
 
 At length Lord Mowbray arose to depart ; but 
 on making his con^e to Clara, he started as she 
 looked a moment imploringly in his face, an un- 
 bidden tear trembling in her eye. At once the
 
 RAVENSDALE. 119 
 
 appeal was understood, and a mute pressure of her 
 hand in a moment sealed forgiveness. 
 
 From that period, in short, Clara became an 
 object of peculiar interest to Lord Mowbray ; she 
 looking up to him as a mentor or superior being, 
 under whose guidance she would bring into sub- 
 jection her most important actions. And he call- 
 ing forth, as it were, those more prominent fea- 
 tures of her character — tenderness, enthusiasm, 
 purity, and truth; his well-directed efforts seem- 
 ing to infuse a sort of magic influence through her 
 being; — and whilst actuated by principles which 
 had long lain dormant, soon was a higher bias 
 imparted to her existence. 
 
 When Lord Mowbray called next morning, he 
 found Clara alone in the drawing-room, a joyous 
 smile lighting up her countenance at his approach. 
 
 '* You are the person in the world I most 
 wished to see !" she exclaimed, advancing to meet 
 him with wonted cordiality ; " what subject, think 
 you, I have selected for my morning's meditation ? 
 — even my most unworthy self! — and the result 
 serves but to prove that I am, and have ever been 
 an utterly worthless member of society."
 
 120 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " And you want me to persuade you to the 
 contrary," smiled Lord Mowbray. 
 
 '' Nay, now ; on the contrary you would sink 
 irretrievably in my estimation, were you to at- 
 tempt it ; but would you credit my having felt some 
 upbraidings of conscience yesterday, whilst you 
 descanted upon all the good that might be done to 
 our fellow creatures by the well-directed influence 
 of the higher circles ; and you will more easily 
 believe me when I confess that my small share of 
 influence has hitherto lain dormant, nor ever has 
 been exerted farther than a<lministering temporary 
 and pecuniary relief when a case of distress has 
 happened to present itself; therefore, my sphere 
 of usefulness has been of a very limited nature 
 indeed." 
 
 " But you possess the wisli^ at least, to extend 
 it," said Lord Mowbray; '' and this surely augurs 
 well." 
 
 " If I know myself— yes ; but of late I have 
 felt those desires so strongly, and they have ever 
 proved of such a fleeting nature, that I have 
 learned to distrust myself sadly ; looking upon 
 them as mere flashes of enthusiasm — the offspring
 
 RAVENSDALE. 121 
 
 of feeling, not of principle. But it is silly, per- 
 haps, thus to open my wavering mind to you. 
 There is that about you, however, which invites 
 
 to confidence, and " 
 
 *' And, trust me, it shall not be abused," inter- 
 rupted Lord Mowbray, with warmth, whilst the 
 sad and pensive expression Avithdrew its sombre 
 shade from his fine countenance, for a moment 
 giving way to a look of brightly beaming anima- 
 tion ; and this was the opportunity he ardently 
 embraced for applying the " axe to the root of the 
 tree," which gave such unwonted bias to the exis- 
 tence of Clara, as gradually led her on to a wide 
 extended field of duty and usefulness, which her 
 zealous and active mind was well calculated to fill. 
 Nor were the well-dii-ected efforts of Lord Mow- 
 bray unrequited to himself; for in his zeal to ful- 
 fil the task of guidance, so artlessly assigned him, 
 the opportunities became less and less frequent for 
 that heavy, doleful knocking at the heart, whose 
 slightest claim is at best responded by the painful 
 penalty of a sigh. Leaving him, however, to his 
 high and noble pursuits, another visit to Emily 
 here becomes indispensable. 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 " Yet hear 
 " One truth, amid your num'rous schemes, mislaid. 
 Or overlook'd, or thrown aside, if seen ; 
 Our schemes to plan by this world, or the next, 
 Is the sole diflference between wise and fooL" 
 
 Young. 
 
 Emily's first paroxysm of grief having, in some 
 measure, subsided, a still and silent melancholy 
 succeeded. Grief, heightened as it was by bitter 
 self-reproach, seemed to have caused a blank in 
 her existence, which it was impossible to fill up ; 
 and its result was an apathetic indifference to 
 every passing event. Fainter and fainter grew 
 every effort at cheerfulness ; listless and unhappy, 
 her pale countenance was too faithful an indication 
 of the knawing ravages of the worm at her heart ; 
 which, having already consumed her spirits, 
 Charles shuddered as he beheld her health and 
 faculties also becoming its prey. Time, he had
 
 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 123 
 
 hoped, would gradually efface every painful recol- 
 lection ; but Emily, alas ! alike untutored in the 
 school of adversity, and habitually and wilfully 
 blind to the only true source of consolation, had 
 no idea beyond yielding herself up to her own 
 overpowering feelings ; whilst her brother, aware 
 of this, bitterly and deeply deplored it. 
 
 One evening she sat alone in the library. 
 He entered ; and, placing himself in a chair op- 
 posite to her — 
 
 *' Emily," he said, with some hesitation, " you 
 may recollect about a year since my intimating to 
 you my intention of going to the Continent. You 
 opposed it, and I relinquished the idea — Noav," 
 he added, with more embarrassment, " I suspect 
 I can better be dispensed with. I do but tease 
 you — My absence, therefore, may possibly prove 
 a relief. Should you, however, at any time wish 
 for my return, write to me, and I will come to 
 you." 
 
 He paused, awaiting her reply ; but Emily's 
 startled looks fell doubtingly for a moment upon 
 the face of her brother, as if questioning the sense
 
 124 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 of the unexpected intelligence; then, bursting 
 into tears, she exclaimed — 
 
 " Since you wish to leave me, Charles, I shall 
 not seek to detain you ; but I was unprepared 
 for this ;" and she sank into silence. 
 
 Again her brother hesitated, as uncertain how- 
 to act ; then added, in a more tender tone, "and 
 yet, if you bid me stay, I will not leave you, 
 Emily." 
 
 Tears again. 
 
 " Speak to me," continued her brother ; " tell 
 me your wishes ; and I repeat, you have only to 
 name them." 
 
 " Then never leave me," she replied, im- 
 ploringly : ''let me not be forsaken by all I hold 
 dear." 
 
 " Nay, now, Emily, you will but tempt me to 
 retract my promise. I cannot listen when you 
 speak thus — nor can I longer consider myself a 
 comfort, when hitherto all my efforts have been 
 unavailing. Once I thought that no exertion, on 
 your part, would have been spared to accede to my 
 wishes; but now it would seem as though you 
 were bent on opposing them."
 
 RAVEN SDALE. 125 
 
 And there was such tender earnestness in his 
 voice, as he uttered this last reproach, that it had 
 an immediate and desired eiFect. It aroused those 
 dormant faculties, which so long had lain wrapped 
 in the inert sleep of melancholy indulgence ; and 
 she earnestly exclaimed — 
 
 "Of what would you accuse me, Charles? 
 My faults are very many, and grievous — oh, how 
 grievous ! — but of this last accusation I am in- 
 capable." 
 
 " I know it," interrupted her brother, now 
 taking her hand affectionately ; *' but hear 
 me " 
 
 " Name any — every wish of yours, and I pro- 
 mise faithfully to accede to them all. How can I 
 in the slightest degree promote your happiness ?" 
 
 " By attending exclusively to your oioriy 
 
 " My own ! You forget that I did not promise 
 impossibilities." 
 
 " And far be it from me to expect them," con- 
 tinued her brother ; " yet, again I repeat, the only 
 way you can confer happiness on me, is by seeking 
 your own." 
 
 "How— where?"
 
 126 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 "Have I again to tell you where?" inquired 
 Charles, looking reproachfully for a moment. 
 
 *' In heaven, you would say. Ah, Charles, it 
 well becomes you to descant on the beatitude of 
 heaven I — you who have drawn so largely from its 
 copious fountain — whose life has been guided by 
 its pure precepts — whose character has been 
 formed on its unerring principles ; — but with me, 
 alas ! how different — My ' eye has never seen ; 
 neither have entered into mv heart the things 
 which God hath prepared for them that love 
 him.' " 
 
 " And yet," rejoined her brother, impressively, 
 " God has condescended to reveal them unto us by 
 his Spirit. True, ' the natural man receiveth not 
 the things of the Spirit of God, for they are 
 foolishness unto him ; neither can he know them, 
 because they are spiritually discerned.' — Then, 
 ' put off the old man, which is corrupt according 
 to the deceitful lusts ; and put on the new man, 
 which, after God, is created in righteousness and 
 true holiness.' Old things shall then ' pass away, 
 and behold, all things shall become new.' Then 
 will you cause me to rejoice ; — ' not that you were
 
 RAVENSDALE. 127 
 
 made sorry ; but that you sorrowed to repentance; 
 for godly sorrow worketh repentance to salvation, 
 not to be repented of; but the sorrow of the world 
 worketh death.' " 
 
 '' Your words, Charles," are full of comfort ; 
 but those things ' are too hard for me.' — Weak 
 worldling that I am, how can I attain to all this ? 
 Only direct me in the path I am to pursue — guide 
 me, and I promise to make every effort, at least." 
 
 Here the countenance of her brother brightened, 
 for it was the first time he had ever beheld her 
 seriously impressed. 
 
 " As yet, my sister," he replied, " you are but 
 ' a babe in Christ' — you must be ' fed with milk.' 
 Generally speaking, those high and holy attain- 
 ments are of a progressive nature ; they must be 
 sought by prayer — sincere, fervent, earnest prayer. 
 — ' Ask, and ye shall receive ; seek, and ye shall 
 find ; knock, and it shall be opened unto you.' 
 * Him that cometh unto me,' saith our gracious 
 Saviour, ' shall in no wise be cast out.' You 
 appear deterred by a sense of your own uiiwor- 
 thiness — erroneous, and, I should fear, too often 
 fatal idea ! — for what did our Lord Jesus Christ
 
 128 
 
 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 come into the world, but to ' save sinners' — ' to 
 seek and to save those that are lost.' " 
 
 Charles ceased to speak, whilst Emily, unable 
 to reply, only wept the more abundantly ; and her 
 brother inwardly prayed that her tears might prove 
 the salutary, though bitter drops of repentance. 
 
 This conversation appeared peculiarly blessed ; 
 for the next morning, as Charles met his sister, he 
 flattered himself there was less of wretchedness, 
 and more of the calmness of resignation in her 
 appearance ; and the idea cheered him ; nor Avas it 
 illusive ; for Emily, in strict accordance with her 
 promise, had zealously and fervently applied to 
 that never-failing spring of consolation, the throne 
 of grace ; and was, already, in appearance at least, 
 refreshed by its healing influence. Now it was, 
 that her brother determined to redouble his efforts, 
 and aware that the mild excitement of active use- 
 fulness is a prescribed specific for a wounded mind, 
 resolved to use every suasive art to attract her 
 footsteps in the unerring path. 
 
 This morning he proposed to her a short walk 
 to visit an invalid, in order to administer to his 
 temporal and spiritual necessities ; and Emily wil-
 
 RAVENSDALE. 129 
 
 lingly acceded, for each day she found his society 
 become more and more necessary. 
 
 '' We had better accelerate our pace," observed 
 Charles, as they slowly proceeded to the cottage 
 in question ; " I begin to have strong apprehen- 
 sions of a shower, and am more inclined to brave 
 it than return, as my old friend. Murphy, is so 
 awfully superstitious. He informed me yesterday 
 that ' he has no luck at all' of a day that I omit 
 calling on him ; and that his pains are sure to re- 
 turn with double acuteness if four and twenty 
 hours elapse without his beholding my face, in 
 Avhich he seems to think there is some potent and 
 unaccountable charm.*' 
 
 '* Indeed! — I imagined he was superior to that 
 sort of thing." 
 
 " So thought I ; but since he has been afflicted 
 with this severe illness, I am fortunately unde- 
 ceived; and have for the last week been using 
 every argument to convince him of his error. Our 
 opinions, however, coincide on almost every other 
 point of importance ; but I told him yesterday 
 there must be something radically wrong in the 
 man who substitutes luck for the providence of 
 
 G 2
 
 130 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 God. Luck! — how I do wish that word erased 
 from our vocabulary. Much is it to be deplored 
 that the lower grade of Irish, of both persuasions, 
 are so prone to superstition — it appears peculiarly 
 inherent in their disposition ; and surely the con- 
 sideration should stimulate and encourage us to 
 more continued and fervent prayer, that the en- 
 lightening influence of the Holy Spirit should be 
 shed abroad in their hearts. Much still remains 
 to be done for the benighted children of Erin — 
 * the harvest truly is plenteous, but the labourers 
 are few.' Blessed be God, however, they are daily 
 increasing, both in numbers and zeal ; and much 
 cause have we for thankfulness and hope, that as the 
 Sun of righteousness rises with healing in his wings, 
 his lucid beams shall chase the darkened shades of 
 superstition from the clouded breasts of our coun- 
 trymen But I must not suiFer you to accompany 
 
 me farther, Emily ; for I perceive this anticipated 
 shower has already commenced ; therefore you had 
 better turn down this way, and take refuge in the 
 cottage of Mrs. Haddocks, whilst I proceed to 
 visit her father." 
 
 The humble abode alluded to was situated in
 
 RAVENSDALE. 131 
 
 the centre of a clump of trees, at the extremity 
 of a short lane, close to the road in which Emily's 
 route lay. However, as her accidental visit to 
 Mrs. Maddocks is in no degree connected with our 
 narrative, we reserve the detailed account for the 
 succeeding chapter, leaving it altogether to the 
 option of our readers whether they peruse it or not. 
 
 " I cannot say how the truth may be, 
 I tell the tale as 'twas told to me."
 
 132 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " More strange than true. I never may believe 
 These antique fables, nor these fairj' toys." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 The exterior of Mrs. Maddocks' cottage wore an 
 appearance of comfort ; but on entering the thresh- 
 hold, Emily ever felt oppressed by a thrill of dis- 
 appointment at the desolate aspect presented by 
 the interior. The small portion of ground at- 
 tached to it consisted of four acres, which its 
 wretched inmates held gratuitously from Lord 
 Mowbray ; and this was the sole earthly weal of 
 the family of Maddocks, which consisted of a hus- 
 band, wife, and seven children. Misery and pau- 
 perism must long, ere this, have l)een the infallible 
 results of their meagre finances, had not their more 
 urgent necessities been freely administered to, by 
 the munificent hand of Emily.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 133 
 
 Ingratitude is certainly not a characteristic trait 
 of the Irish. Although I have encountered some 
 opposition on this point ; however, as it is not here 
 my intention to enter on a discussion of the sub- 
 ject, in the present instance one proof must serve ; 
 a reference to the grateful heart of Mrs. ^laddocks, 
 Avho was so oppressed by a sense of Emily's bounty, 
 that whenever she attempted to give it vent in 
 Avords, speechless agony was the invariable result. 
 " Oh, Miss Emily," was her wonted exclama- 
 tion, " sure you're my guardian angel, and " 
 
 here utterance failed, and her only resource was 
 the application of the corner of a chequered apron 
 to her eyes, in order to dry the tears which fell in 
 abundance. On the present occasion, however, 
 the presence of Emily was hailed with unusual 
 volubility. 
 
 " Oh, Miss Emily !" exclaimed the overwhelmed 
 and overwhelming mistress of the mansion, "sure 
 I never was glad to see you till now — day and 
 and nisht those three long months I'm lost with 
 the longin' I had to get you here for one hour, all 
 alone by yourself; till at last I beginned to think 
 that rd never live to see tliat day at all : for
 
 134 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 whenever you come, there was always one or other 
 iv the nabours in it, or ray Lord Mowbray was 
 wud you, or something or other ; till at last says 
 I to Jack, 'Jack,' says I, 'there's no use in 
 talkin', but somehow I have a quare feel over me, 
 that makes sartin sure I'll never get to say what I 
 have to say to Miss Emily " 
 
 Here the curiosity of her auditor becoming 
 somewhat excited, she begged of her to avail her- 
 self of the opportunity now presented for making 
 her communication, but in vain ; further exordium 
 was her doom, as she resumed — 
 
 " An' it was while ago I was sittin' in the windy, 
 puttin' a stitch in Jack's Sunday coat, that Mr. 
 Charles gave him last St. John's ; — but Miss Emily 
 jewel, won't you sit down on the stool, and put 
 your feet to the fire, and I'll put on a faggot ; for 
 I'm sure you must be fairly dhrenched, if you 
 hadn't to come in here when that shower came on ; 
 and it's what I'm thiukin' that the good people 
 (fairies) had a hand in it, for a shower ; for only 
 for it I'm full sure I'd never have the luck to see 
 you here at all, at all ; and it's about the same 
 good people that I want to talk to you about now,
 
 RAVENSDALE. 135 
 
 and there's a load on my heart till you know 
 all." 
 
 Again Emily begged of her to enter upon her 
 subject at once. 
 
 " Stop, till I blow the fire for you," said her 
 provoking hostess ; and suiting the action to the 
 word, she seized the crown of an old hat, with 
 which she fanned the dying flame of sundry wet 
 sticks, heaped in promiscuous profusion on the 
 hearth. " Dhrivins to them for sticks !" she eja- 
 culated ; "how they won't light aft her ! AVan 
 *ud think they knew what I was goin' to tell you ; 
 but the bad luck follows me ever since that 
 blessed night. — But it's what I was sayin', that as 
 I was puttin' a patch on Jack's coat, them unlucky 
 pigs got into the cabbage ; and as I was runnin' 
 to turn 'em out, sure I thought the sight 'ud leave 
 my two eyes, when who should I see comin' up 
 the lane but yourself; so in I run back again to 
 set the house to rights ; for every thing was 
 helther-skelther afther the childher atin' the 
 han'fuU o' pyaties ; an* then says I to myself, ' I'll 
 ])luck up courage, and tell Miss Emily ull this 
 very minute.' And if I might make so bould,
 
 136 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 Miss Emily, darlin', I'll shut the door against any 
 more sthragglers ; and I know you won't be angry 
 at what I'm goin' to say." 
 
 Emily re-assured her; and she at length pro- 
 ceeded — 
 
 " Well, it's what I want to ax you," — in a mys- 
 terious whisper, — " did you ever happen to turn to 
 the right or left, to go home by a short cut, afther 
 sunset, when the moon was in his first quarther ?" 
 
 A stare of mingled incomprehension and amaze- 
 ment was tlie only reply she obtained from her 
 astonished auditor. 
 
 " AVell, didn't I know it," she added; "and 
 it's not now I say it — and Miss Emily, jewel, 
 listen to what I'm goin' to say, before it's too late; 
 and ax Jack if 1 didn't say to him, over and over, 
 those three months — 'Jack,' says I, 'there's no 
 use in talkin', but something that no wan knows is 
 over Miss Emily; for, ever since last Candlemas, 
 her two cheeks are afther gettin' as white as a 
 sheet ; and it's what I'm in fair dread iv, that she's 
 (join the way my poor child did, (manin' Ellen, 
 that's dead and berrid those six years,) for, as I 
 was say in', just as Lord Mowbray left you, a look
 
 RAVE NSD ALE. 137 
 
 came over your face for all the world like my poor 
 
 child, that had the bad luck to be fairy-sthriick ; 
 
 and it's what 1 want to tell you now all about 
 
 it, and how it was. It will just be six years, the 
 
 latther end of next Shraft, that there was a gi'ate 
 
 fair at Ballinacrea — an' says Ellen to me — 
 
 ' Mother,' says she, ' I have a grate longin' to go 
 
 to the fair.' * Well, do so, Ellen,' says I — for my 
 
 poor child was no gadder ; an' I was willin' she 
 
 should go to a gatherin' betimes, and not to keep 
 
 her mopin' at home always ; for I bethought that 
 
 good never came iv crubbin' (curbing) youth too 
 
 much. Any how, to make my story short, poor 
 
 Ellen dhrest herself in her best Sunday shoot : 
 
 and, though it's I that say it, it 'ud do your heart 
 
 good to see her when she was afther settin' out. 
 
 I have her now before me, lookin' so rosy and 
 
 bloomin'-like, with the red ribbon on her that she 
 
 got from the housekeeper at the big house ; — and 
 
 the last word I said to her when she was goin' out 
 
 iv the door was, ' Ellen, darlin', says I, ' be sure 
 
 to lave the fair before afther-hours ; for you can't 
 
 come home by a short cut to-night,' says I, (for 
 
 you know, Miss Emily jewel, if she'd attempt to
 
 138 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 darr the fairies, by turnin' to the right or left 
 afther sunset, to come home a short cut, when the 
 moon was in his first quarther, she'd be as surely 
 fairy-sthruck as that I'm a Uvin' woman ; an' then 
 she's done for !) ' mind what I say to you now, 
 Ellen,' says I. 
 
 *' ' Oh, lave me alone for that,' says she. 
 
 " Well, off' she set ; an' sure I thought the day 
 as long as two, because I hadn't Ellen ; and when 
 night came on at last, and that I was afther 
 puttin' the han'full iv childher to bed in the loft — 
 for there was six of 'em in it — I set to, an' reddied 
 up the place, an' put the pyaties on the fii'e ; 
 ' for,' says I, ' Ellen 'ull be hungry afther her 
 day.' — And you must know I hadn't even Jack 
 wud me; for he was puttin' out a week wud 
 Misther Gavestone, diggin' his pyaties. So, sure 
 enough, it was all hours iv the night when the 
 latch ris up, and in walked Ellen. 
 
 " * Ellen,' says I, ' what kept a dacent girl like 
 you out to this time o' night ?' 
 
 ** ' Oh, mother,' says she, makin' answer, ' there 
 was a grate dance in the tent,' says she, * an' I 
 stopped to go through two or three reels in it,*
 
 RAVENSDALE. 139 
 
 says she, ' an' I made no delay cummin home,' 
 says she, ' for it was rainin' like mad ; an' I turned 
 home the short cut at the top iv the big field ; 
 and I'm fairly dhrenched all over comin' through 
 that grass such a night as this,' says she. 
 
 " Well, sure I thought the life 'ud lave me in 
 earnest, when she tould me about the short cut ; 
 and I biggined to bawl and roar till I frightened 
 poor Ellen out iv her wits. ' And did you at- 
 tempt to darr the good people by comin' home 
 that way ?' says I. ' Oh, Ellen, Ellen !' says I, 
 ' you're a gone girl !' 
 
 " ' Oh, mother honey,' says she, turnin' as 
 white as a sheet, ' it was rainin' so hard,' says 
 she, * and I was in such a flusthrification to get 
 home,' says she, ' that I never Avanst bethought 
 iv the moon,' says she ; ' but don't take on so, 
 mother,' says she, ' for I'm sure the fairies are not 
 such fools as to be out such a night as this ; so 
 give me a hot pyatee,' says she, ' an' I'll turn 
 into the bed this very minute ; for every tack on 
 me is as wet as if I was dhragged through a 
 pon' (pond),' says she. 
 
 ** Well, in the mornin' I got grate heart when
 
 140 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 she got up, for the white look left her cheeks, and 
 they grew tAvIce redder than ever ; and they wur 
 for all the world like two coals of fire ; and her 
 eyes Hke so many stars, they wur so bright. 
 
 "'Well, Ellen darlin,' says I, 'pluck up 
 courage, for I'm sure by your face you're not 
 sthruck at all.' 
 
 " But, for all that, she did nothing but fiddle 
 wud the pyaties; and w^iile the childher and 
 myself wur atin' our breakfast for the bare life, 
 down dhropped poor Ellen on the ground, quite 
 suddent, as if she was shot — ' Didn't I tell you ?* 
 says I, jumpin' up. 
 
 " ' Oh, Ellen, are you dead ?' says Peggy ; and 
 wud that, all the childher dhropped the vittals out 
 o' their hands, and set up the murdher-shout. 
 
 '' ' I'll go for the docthor,' says Paddy; for he 
 was always a wondherful sensible child. 
 
 " ' There's no use in docthors,' says I ; ' the 
 girl is fairy-sthruck !' 
 
 *' ' Oh, whisht, mother,' says he ; ' that's all 
 talk,' says he ; ' and I'll go for the docthor this 
 very minute,' says he. 
 
 " So away he flew ; and when he was gone, sm'e
 
 RAVENSDALE. HI 
 
 it's then I bethought myself of Mrs. Price, the 
 fairy docthor — she that lives in the cabin at the 
 foot o' the hill, two miles off. So in I went to 
 our next door nabur, Tim ; an' off I sent him to 
 her, and tould him to tell her to come to me at 
 nine o'clock the next mornin' ; but not for all the 
 Avorld to let her come that day, on account iv the 
 docthor bein' here ; for he can't abide the sight iv 
 her ; and they'd surely have a scrimmage ; for he 
 says she's afther killin' all the people wud her 
 villany. Any how, it wasn't long till Paddy runs 
 in, and the docthor at his heels ; and so I thought 
 I'd bctther be civil to him — not that I thought a 
 I inch o' snuff about him in the regard iv his curin' 
 a body that was sthruck. Well, whe i he axed 
 my poor child how she was, she dhrew up in a 
 corner, an' nuver a word at all she could get out ; 
 for she was always mighty modest before the 
 quality. 
 
 "'Why don't you spake to the gentleman, 
 Ellen ?' says I. 
 
 " But not a word ; and she trembled, as if she 
 saw a sperrit. So wud that, the docthor took 
 hould iv her ; an' when he looked in her face, an'
 
 142 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 felt her pult — ' That girl,' says he, shakin' his 
 head, an' puttin' such a look out iv him — ' that 
 girl,* says he, * has a conflagration on her lungs.' 
 
 *' Well, sure I thought the very life 'ud lave 
 me entirely when he said that — for I never heard 
 talks iv the like before ; an' I turned on the word 
 as good as a dozen times, that I might have it to 
 tell Mrs. Price. 
 
 " ' Put this blisther on her chest,' says he. 
 
 " * What for ?' says I ; ' is it to rise blisthers on 
 my beautiful child's skin ?' says I, ' the same as if 
 a kittle iv bilin' wather was spilt on her ?' 
 
 *' ' There's nothin' else for her,' says he ; *and 
 if that doesn't cure her, I'll blood her,' says he. 
 
 " ' There's two words to that,' says 1 to myself. 
 So when he was goin' out o' the door, * Mind now, 
 Mrs. Maddocks,' says he, ' I charge you to do my 
 biddin' on Ellen,' says he, ^ or she's a gone 
 girl. 
 
 " But I wasn't such a fool ; an' when he was 
 out o' sight, Paddy biggined to argue wud me, 
 and tould me to do the docthor's biddin'. 
 
 " ' Whisht, you fool,' says I ;« is it to kill my 
 child ? Wait till to-morrow,' says I, * till Mrs.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 143 
 
 Price comes, and she's the wan that'll cure her,' 
 says I. 
 
 *' * Oh, lave off, mother honey,' says he, big- 
 ginin' to cry ; ' that ould imposthure, (for he had 
 a great smatherin' iv grand words) — that ould im- 
 posthure couldn't cure a cat ; an' remember I tell 
 you, you'll lose Ellen,' says he, ' if you let Mrs. 
 Price meddle wud her,' says he. 
 
 " ' Is it she that could cure the king,' says I, 
 ' if he'd mind her? and isn't it a shame for you,' 
 says I, ' to take away an honest woman's chir«c- 
 ther ?' says I ; ' and didn't she cure Bill MoUoy ?' 
 says 1 ; 'an' isn't he alive to make oath iv it ?' 
 says I — ' he that was at death's door ; an' didn't 
 she make a new man iv him before a month was 
 out — an' that without any throuble to herself at 
 all ? for sorra a thing did she do to him but blow 
 her breath on the palm of his left hand three 
 times ; and then tould him to take the bottle an' 
 pills the docthor ordhered him, just for pace sake ; 
 an' are you the wan to misdoubt her art afther 
 that?* — But I must tell you all this time poor 
 Ellen wasn't able to sit up at all, wud the fair 
 weakness, and impression on her heart. So she
 
 144 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 took to the bed for that day ; and the next mornin', 
 when she was dhressed, who should come hobbUn' 
 in but Mrs. Price, sure 'nough. 
 
 " ' Save all here,' says she. 
 
 '* * Save you kindly,' says I. 
 
 '* ' Is it long sence ?' says she. 
 
 *' ' Not long,' says I, wipin' the stool wud the 
 corner iv my apron. ' Won't you be plased to 
 sit down, ma'am ?' says I. 
 
 So down she sat, like an ould witch in arnest ; 
 and any wan to look in her face, must know that 
 she had dalins wud the good people. 
 
 " ' Bring Ellen to me,' says she, turnin' to 
 Paddy, and lookin' very cute. 
 
 " ' ril have no hand in your meddlin' wud her, 
 Mrs. Price,' says he, very smart ; — ' you're nothin' 
 but an ould imposthure,' says he, ' an' you ought 
 to be hanged,' says he, (rednin' up) ' for goin' 
 about killin' the people,' says he, ' an' I'm not the 
 wan that'll have any hand in your killin' my poor 
 Ellen,' says he, beginnin' to cry. 
 
 '* Well, sure I couldn't b'lieve my ears at all, 
 when I heard Paddy talkin' to Mrs. Price afther 
 that manner ; but he never was afeard iv man or
 
 RAVENSDALE. 145 
 
 baste, and that's what comes of all iiis book larnin'; 
 for Miss Emily, darlint, he'd never ax go ate a bit, 
 if he could Avanst get hould of a book ; and 
 many's the time his father and I ud dhrag the 
 same book out iv his hands ; for we wur so in 
 dhread that he'd be cracked wud larnin', like the 
 grate people long ago ; but anyhow all he wished in 
 the wide world was to be made a grate scholard, 
 an' sure he was near payin' dear sauce for it now ; 
 for Mrs. Price turned on him like mad, because it 
 kilt her entirely to have her art misdoubted. 
 
 " ' You ill lookin' houn',' says she, risin' up an' 
 stampin' on the ground — 'you ill lookin' houn,' 
 how darr you come over my name,' says she, ' I that 
 was used to as good lyin' and risin' as any lady in 
 the land,' says she, ' an' not all as wan as you, 
 behoulden to the quality at the big house for a bit 
 an' a sup, an' a rag to cover you ; an',' says she, 
 dartin' such an unnathral look at him, that went 
 through my very heart — ' my mother's corpse,' 
 says she, * came down in a hearse from Dublin,' 
 an' that's more than you ever did ; but it's always 
 the way wud the likes iv you ignorant Irish,' says 
 she, (an* she an Irishman herself the craythur!) 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 So when words got high, I sent Paddy off, on an 
 arrant to the big house, to get him out iv her 
 clutches, and I went for Ellen myself. 
 
 '' ' Come close to me,' child, says she, puttin* 
 her hand in her pocket, an' pullin' out an ould pair 
 of spectacles, wud wan eye out iv 'em ; and when 
 she put them on her, she dhragged my poor child 
 over to her, an' looked in her face so hard, that 
 you'd think she'd look through her very sowl ; an', 
 Miss Emily, jewel, I'll never forget the way she 
 shook her head when she put her away from her. 
 
 " 'Well, what's your opinion, ma'am?' says I, 
 but she shook her head worse nor ever — ' Is my 
 child sthruck,' says I. 
 
 " ' It's thrue for you,' says she ; ' she's sthruck, 
 
 sure enough !' 
 
 " ' And will you undhertake to put it over her, 
 
 ma'am?' says I, thremblin' as if I was sthruck 
 
 myself. Oh, I'll never forget it. Miss Emily, 
 
 jewel ! — ' Will you cure my child,' says I, turnin' 
 
 on the word. 
 
 " ' Cross my hand wud silver,' says she, * an' 
 
 I'll put her in a way that she'll be betther nor ever 
 
 she was.'
 
 RAVENSUALE. 147 
 
 " * Will sixpence do ?' says I. 
 
 *' 'No,' says she; ^ the charm is in a five shil- 
 Un' piece,' says she. 
 
 " So my heart sunk worse nor ever, when she 
 said that. * Anyhow,' says I, ' sooner than lose my 
 child, Mrs. Price,' says I, ' I'll give you the five 
 shillin's I have in the box, to put a rag on the 
 childher in the winther.' 
 
 '* So when slie got hould iv the money, — ' It 
 isn't in the regard of the money,' says she ; * fiDr I 
 don't care the valiation iv a sthraw fi3r it ; but 
 there would be no good in my art, if the five 
 shillin' piece didn't cross my hand. And now, 
 Mrs. Maddocks,' says she, ' your daughter ull be 
 a new girl, if she'll only do my biddin,' says she. 
 
 " ' Throth, an' your biddin' she shall do, Mrs. 
 Price,' says I. 
 
 " « Well,' says she, chucklin' up, an' lookin' 
 quite plazed at the money ; ' every body knows 
 where Eag Well* is,' says she, ' an' I needn't tell 
 you this time o' day that it's quite convanicnt to 
 the chapel here below.' 
 
 * It may be necessary here to infonii the English reader, that the 
 well above alluded to, is but too generally held in high veneration by
 
 148 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " ' I know it well, ma'am,' says I. 
 
 " Well come here to me, Ellen, machree,' says 
 slie, ' an' don't be afeard. I charge you now,' 
 says she, ' in the face iv your mother, not to see 
 the light iv another day, without goin' at twelve 
 o'clock this blessed night to the well, rain, hail, or 
 snow,' says she ; ' an' cut off three inches iv the 
 gownd you had on that unkicky night you made 
 the short cut,' says she, ' an' tie it on the bush 
 that's nearest the well ; an' then cut a piece 
 off o' your old petticoat an' your handkercher, an 
 tie them on the three next it ; and cut off a latch 
 o' your hair, three inches long, an' tie it on the 
 top bough iv the highest three there,' says she; 
 ' an' I charge you, Ellen Maddocks, to do that 
 these three nights to come, exactly at the same 
 hour, twelve o'clock, rain, hail, or snow ; an 
 you'll see the end iv it,' says she, shakin' her 
 
 the lower class of Irish; and comes under the denomination of a 
 holy well, dedicated to one of the saints. The trees by which it'is en- 
 circled are curiously bestrewed with fragments of many coloured gar- 
 ments, unsparingly cut from the vestments of those who wish to offer 
 their tribute of gratitude for past favour ; and also to conciliate the 
 saint for the insurance of future benefits. 
 
 Sad emblems these of superstition in this enlightened age — the 
 nhieteenth century !
 
 RAVENSDALE. 149 
 
 head, quite cute ; ' an' moreover, I charge you,' 
 says she, ' to clhrop down on your two knees, at 
 the well side, an' dhrink half a pint iv the blessed 
 wather,' says she ; ' an' take care not to let a 
 livin' sowl go to the road wud you,' says she. 
 
 " So my poor child thrembled like any aspen 
 leaf, an' down she dhropped on her two knees, an' 
 promised by all the books that wur ever shut an' 
 opened, that she'd do her biddin.' 
 
 '' Well, when twelve o'clock came, she put on 
 her bonnet an' hankercher, an' off she set to the 
 well by herself, sure enough ; (an', Miss Emily, 
 honey, hadn't she grate courage, on account iv the 
 sperrits that does be goin' at that dhread hour ?) 
 but, as I was sayin', my poor child set off, an', as 
 luck would have it, it was a fine night, an' the 
 stars shinin' in the sky ; an' I'm full sure 'twas 
 as good as three hours before she came home ; an 
 just as she ris up the latch, an' walked in, sure siie 
 looked more like a sperrit than a Christhin ; an' up 
 she comes to me — ' Oh, mother, honey !' says she, 
 ' I haven't a leg undher me, an' the cowld is gone 
 through my heart ;' an' down she dhropped in a 
 dead faint, quite suddent again, on the floor ; ])iit
 
 150 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 Peggy had her wits about her, an' carried her 
 over to the fire, an' rubbed her hands and feet, an' 
 brought her to in less than no time ; an' then she 
 took to the bed, an' sted in it till the same hour 
 the next night ; for the craythur had no heart to 
 get out iv it at all ; an' when twelve o'clock the 
 next night came, (oh, Miss Emily, if I was to 
 live a hundhred years I'll never forget it) the rain 
 pelted like mad, an' the win' blew till you'd think 
 it ud fairly take the thatch off; an' still an' all my 
 poor child gets up and dhresses herself agin, an' 
 puts on my ould cloak; an' sure I thought the 
 sight ud leave my two eyes when she was goin' 
 out o' the door ; for she shuck all over, an' was as 
 wake as an infant ; an' well she might, for sorra a 
 taste iv nourishment, bit or sup, passed her lips 
 that blessed week, barrin' the fresh air an' spring 
 wather. Well, down I sat on a stool, an' hid my 
 face in my hands, rockin' myself till she came 
 back agin at the end iv three long hours ; an' it's 
 then she looked wild in arnest ; 'Put me to bed,' 
 says she, ' for I'm done for.' So I hadn't the 
 strength to put her in the bed, an' I was forced 
 to call up Paddy ; an' you'd think he'd go dancin'
 
 RAVENSDALE. 151 
 
 mad when he heard iv her goin' to the well at all ; 
 for we kept it all dead sacret from him, on account 
 iv his booklarnin'. 
 
 " So when he saw her sthretched lifeless on 
 the flure, foment him, '' Oh, you're done for now, 
 surely, Ellen,' says he ; an' he tuck her up in 
 his arms, an' lifted her up into the bed, and big- 
 ginned to cry down the full iv his fist iv salt tears. 
 
 " « Oh, mother, mother,' says he, ' she hasn't 
 two days to live. I sees death in her eye, this 
 very minute.' 
 
 " And all this time my poor child was in a dead 
 faint ; and when she came to herself the first 
 words she said was — 
 
 " ' Oh, Paddy, honey, am I dead?' 
 
 " ' No, but you're all as wan, says he. ' Have 
 you any request to make iv me, Ellen, my gone 
 darlint ! before you depart ?' 
 
 " ' If I could get wan sight iv Tim,' says she, 
 ' I'd die happy.' — (for she had a great fondality 
 for Tim Murphy ; an' for that matther there was a 
 pair iv 'em in it ; for he thought more worse iv 
 Ellen, than any girl in the parish ; an' all the 
 naburs said that he was afther batin' about her lor
 
 152 
 
 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 a twelvemonth.) Any how, Paddy sent off for 
 Tim ; an' then he an' I set to^ to dhrag the clothes 
 ofFiv her, an' she in the bed, an' not able to stir 
 hand or foot, an' every tack on her as wet as if she 
 was dhragged through a bog-hole. So I got a 
 spoonful iv sperrits, an' poured it down her 
 throath, to put life in her ; but there was no use ; 
 for there she lay, takin' no notice iv any wan. At 
 last, who should come runnin' in but Tim him- 
 self; an' I'll never forget the wild look that was out 
 iv him ; and the two eyes dartiu' out iv his head. 
 
 " ' Where's Ellen ?' says he. 
 
 " ' She's in the room,' says I. 
 
 "' Slie's in the bed,' says Paddy; 'an' she'll 
 never get out iv it.' 
 
 " ' Take me to her,' says he ; ' for the sight is 
 lavin' me.' 
 
 " So Paddy an* 1 went to the room wud him, 
 an' there was my poor child sthretched, for all the 
 world, like a corpse, only her eyes wur open ; an' 
 the moment she seen Tim, up she bounced in the 
 bed, an' threw her two arms about his neck — ' Oh, 
 Tim,' says she, ' I'd live in a lough Avud you !' an' 
 her head dhropped on his shouldlier — wake in
 
 RAVENSDALE. 153 
 
 arnest — an' sure 'nough, them wur the last words 
 she ever spoke. 
 
 " « Oh, Ellen darlin, cough up,' says Tun, 'an' 
 rouse yourself. You know I'd go to the world's 
 end wud you ; an' you'll kill me entirely if you 
 folly on in this w^ay.' 
 
 " An' down he laid her again on the bed ; but 
 my beautiful child was a dead corpse ! 
 
 " ' Oh, Ellen honey,' says he, ' won't you spake 
 to your own Tim ?' 
 
 " But sorra a word ; for my darlin' craythur was 
 as cowld an' as stiff as if she was dead for a 
 week. 
 
 " ' Send for her father,' says I. 
 
 " ' Peggy is gone for him,' says Paddy. 
 
 " ' Open the windy to let her sperrit out,' says 
 Mary. 
 
 " « Whisht, you fool,' says Paddy. 
 
 *' An' then all the childher set up such a mur- 
 ther-shout, that 1 think sometimes it's ringin' in 
 my tw^o ears to this day. But when Tim saw 
 that she was dead for good an' all, he couldn't 
 look at her no longer ; an' so he took to his heels, 
 an' run out o' the house, as if the fairies wur afthcr
 
 154 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 him, too. An' sure all the naburs say he never 
 Avas the same man sence. But it's what kilt me 
 entirely when her poor father came in, an' looked 
 at her. Oh, Miss Emily, it's then I biggined to 
 bawl in arnest, an' to keene (lament) her, till you'd 
 think I'd fairly lose my life. 
 
 *' ' Oh, Mary," says he, (turnin' to me,) " are 
 you dead ?' 
 
 " ' No,' says I, 'Jack; but I'm speechless.' 
 
 " An' then I roared twice worse nor ever — 
 ' Oh, Jack, Jack !' says I, ' little I thought that 
 my darlin' child 'ud ever live to see the day that 
 she'd be lyin' a corpse before her poor mother I 
 Any how,' says I, ' she must have a dacent 
 wake ; for that's the laste we may give her ; an' 
 I'll go off this very minute to the big house, an' 
 get a power iv candles from the housekeeper.' 
 
 '* So, when I got near the place, Biddy Clooney, 
 the kitchen-maid, met me ; an' when 1 tould her 
 all — ' Oh !' says she, * Mrs. Maddocks, I gave up 
 Ellen from the first day ; for whenever I'd go to the 
 grove to gather a han'ful iv sticks,' says she, ' I'd 
 hear all the crows bawlin', as if their hearts 'ud 
 break. In throth, now,' says she, ' I w^as fairly
 
 RAVENSDALE. 155 
 
 smothered wud the noise they'd make ; an' that's a 
 bad sign,' says she ; ' for you know the crows are 
 mighty cute craythurs entirely ; an' I'm sartin 
 sure they folhes the Maddocks's.' 
 
 " Any how, Miss Emily darlin', (to make my 
 story short,) we got up a beautiful wake, an' had 
 a power iv candles lightin' about my poor child ; 
 an' the room was as light as the brightest day you 
 ever seen ; an' all the naburs were sittin' round, 
 keenin' her like mad ; — an' out o' that I never 
 stirred for two long days and nights ; nor bit, nor 
 sup never wanst crossed my lips, till Bill Poor, 
 the carpenther, came in, to screw down the coffin, 
 sure 'nough. 
 
 '' Well, it wasn't that ; — but when it was 
 screwed down in arnest, who do you think should 
 come hobblin* into the room but ^Irs. Price herself 
 (for she'd give her eyes to go to a wake). 
 
 " « Oh, Mrs. Price,' says I, ' you're late ; for 
 she's shut out from our eye-sight for ever/ 
 
 " So, when Paddy heard me come over her 
 name, he flew at her like mad, an' tould her she 
 ought to be hung up without judge or jury, for 
 that she was afther murtherin' his sister. ' An'
 
 156 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 mother,' says he, turnin' to me, ' if you'd have 
 done the docthor's biddin', an' put on the blisther, 
 that he ordhered afther he felt her pult, Ellen 'ud 
 be alive now.' 
 
 " So, when Mrs. Price heard the sound iv the 
 docthor, she stamped on the ground — 
 
 *' 'An' did you let a docthor meddle wud your 
 daughther ?' says she. ' No wondher for her to 
 come to this end,' says she; 'an' iv I had wanst 
 known that the docthor ever felt her pult, 
 afther she was fairy- sthruck, I'd never have a 
 hand in her cure at all, at all — for every body 
 knows the good people can't abide the sight iv a 
 docthor; an' you may lay her death,' says she, 
 ' at the door iv the book-lrrnin' iv your son 
 there,' says she, ' that made him misdoubt an 
 honest woman's art ; an' made him, like an 
 omathaun (fool) as he is, go dhrag in a docthor, 
 to meddle wud a girl that was fairy-sthruck. I 
 wondher at you, Mrs. Maddocks,' says she, * that 
 you wouldn't be afther bringin' up your son to 
 have more sense,' says she. 
 
 '' Any hoAv, Miss Emily, jewel, from that good 
 day Paddy had no life in the house at all ; an' he
 
 RAVENSDALE. 157 
 
 couldn't stay in it, he was so beset by us all ; — an' 
 so away he went off to the land (Newfoundland) 
 to make his own forthin. An' from that blessed 
 hour, Jack, or myself, or wan iv the childher, never 
 could abide the sight iv a book ; an' if I had a 
 hundhred more, along wud the han'ful I have, I'd 
 never let wan iv 'em face a school as long as they 
 live — for I lay the death iv my poor unlucky 
 Ellen all at the door iv Paddy's book-larnin'." 
 
 To transcribe the comments and reflections 
 which filled the mind of Emily, on hearing the 
 above curious detail, would far exceed the limits 
 of the present chapter ; already, we fear, but too 
 much lengthened by our narrator's somewhat cir- 
 cuitous mode of communication. Taking, there- 
 fore, rather an abrupt leave of Mrs. jMaddocks, we 
 hasten to disburden ourselves of events which now 
 l^egin to crowd upon us.
 
 158 ' RAVENSDALE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XIII. 
 
 • Oh ! cut my lace asunder, 
 
 That my pent heart may have some scope to beat, 
 Or else I swoon with this dead-killing news." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 " Rejoice with me, my dear Emily," exclaimed 
 Louisa, eagerly entering the dressing-room of her 
 sister, at an earlier hour than usual ; ' ' the long- 
 expected letter from Bunarbashi has at length ar- 
 rived ; and you will be happy to hear that the 
 account of Anna's health is far more favourable 
 than even Henry's most sanguine hopes had antici- 
 pated. Her strength, which had rallied so con- 
 siderably previous to her departure from ^lalta, 
 now increases rapidly ; and each day, in short, a 
 visible amendment is clearly perceptible. Those 
 short sea voyages, from which her medical atten- 
 dants anticipated such favourable results, have 
 conduced materially to renovate her system, and
 
 RAVENSDALE. 159 
 
 remove the other diseases which she has been so 
 long contending with. Altogether, Henry now, 
 at length, seems to look forward to the period 
 when both shall once more return to happiness and 
 Percy Hall." 
 
 '' Thank God !" cried Emily, '' that Percy Hall 
 is again likely to be cheered by the presence of 
 its dear inmates. Never, of late, could I pass 
 the gate without a shudder, caused by the dread 
 idea of our lovely young friend being snatched off 
 in the flower of her youthful existence." 
 
 " And yet we should not be too sanguine," 
 sighed Louisa; "her disease, at best, is of a de- 
 ceitful nature." 
 
 " But once got under, surely, dear Louisa, we 
 have every thing to hope." 
 
 " True — we have much, very much to hope," 
 replied her sister, again perusing aloud the flat- 
 tering detail, which seemed to impart a degree 
 of cheerfulness to the feeling heart of Emily, to 
 which, of late, it had been such a stranger. 
 
 *'I have ever attached the happiest associa- 
 tions," she observed, " with the receipt of a let- 
 ter ; and though few have been my correspondents,
 
 160 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 yet 1 never broke a seal that my heart did not re- 
 bound to joy and hope. But now," she murmured, 
 "it is diiferent ; for when I reflect in what a 
 moment the overflowing cup of happiness may be 
 dashed from our lips, 1 should almost shudder at 
 its reception, as the dread harbinger of evil 
 tidings." 
 
 " The result of a changed temperament," 
 thought Louisa, affecting not to hear the latter 
 part of this sentence. 
 
 "It is long, very long," faltered Emily, " since 
 Charles has heard from Lord Mowbray ; this utter 
 
 silence is unaccountable, and " but her stifled 
 
 utterance became wholly impeded, for it was the 
 first time that name had found a passage from her 
 heart. Louisa, how^ever, hastily enumerated va- 
 rious probable causes, which, in some measure, 
 satisfied Emily ; and once more reverting to the 
 cheering idea of Anna Percy's recovery, again her 
 spirits buoyed with the hope of her return, and her 
 step was lighter as she descended to the breakfast- 
 room, and communicated the joyous tidings to 
 Charles, whose countenance brightened as much 
 with the hope imparted by the welcome intelli-
 
 RAVENSDALE. 161 
 
 gence, as that Emily had, at length, found a sub- 
 ject of sufficient interest to stimulate her sunken 
 energies. Insensibly the day flitted by, whilst she 
 entered with more, spirit than wont into the various 
 engagements marked out for her — her Avhole sys- 
 tem seemingly revived by the active excitement. 
 And now the deep and sonorous tones of the clock 
 told it was midnight, ere the thought occurred of 
 parting from Louisa and Charles. 
 . " ' We take no note of time,'" smiled her sister, 
 rising to retire; ''even the dread signal of the 
 spectral hour sounds no alarm to you, Emily." 
 But she received no reply — Emily too had risen 
 from her seat, and the ashen hue of terror was 
 depicted in every feature. 
 
 " Surely, I heard strange sounds !" she ex- 
 claimed. 
 
 Her brother laughed on turning towards her ; 
 but involuntarily started as he beheld her affrighted 
 aspect. 
 
 " You heard the clock strike twelve, my dear 
 Emily," laughed Louisa, endeavouring to conceal 
 her alarm at the strange unaccountability of her 
 manner.
 
 162 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " I heard more distant sounds," gasped 
 Emily — "hush! it becomes more distinct; it is 
 the hasty tramp of a horse in the avenue — it 
 approaches with dreadful rapidity. I cannot be 
 mistaken" — sinking breathless in her chair — " 'tis 
 the step of— of— " and she recognized the well- 
 known tread of Bucephalus, Lord Mowbray's 
 favourite horse. 
 
 Nearer and nearer appeared the sound, the 
 lightning speed seeming to accelerate as it ap- 
 proached — even Louisa looked aghast. " What 
 can it be, Charles ? — Something of momentous 
 importance," and her heart suggested evil tidings 
 from Henry Percy. 
 
 And something internal whispered Charles that 
 it boded no good to Helen Vivian. " She is ill — 
 perhaps dying !" 
 
 And the one thought, ever uppermost, told 
 Emily it was, and it was not Lord Mowbray ; no, 
 impossible — it could not be," and a confused sound 
 as of rushing w^aters ringing in her ears, stifled fur- 
 ther conjecture. 
 
 Suddenly, at length, ceased the last sound of 
 the swift yet heavy tread, and a myriad of unde-
 
 RAVENSDALE. 163 
 
 fined fears stealing over the heart of Emily, 
 stilled and stifled its pulsation ; then succeeded a 
 knocking at the outer door, long, eager, loud ; and 
 again that enslaved heart rebounded to the sum- 
 mons. 
 
 " The domestics have retired," observed 
 Charles, with assumed composure, and rising to 
 leave the apartment ; but Emily clung imploringly 
 to her brother and stayed his departure. 
 
 " What do you fear, Emily?'' 
 
 She hesitated, and relinquished her grasp. 
 
 " I hear Johnson's step in the hall," said 
 Louisa. 
 
 " Who is there ?" inquired the domestic aloud. 
 
 " It is I," replied a low, agitated voice, whose 
 intonations were not distinguished by any but the 
 porter. 
 
 Suddenly the door of the drawing-room was 
 thrown open, and a tall figure enveloped in a 
 long, dark travelling cloak, hastily entered. 
 
 Charles retreated a few paces, as he gazed 
 inquiringly in his countenance. 
 
 The man approached, presenting him a large 
 sealed packet.
 
 164 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " My lord, sir- 
 
 *' Gerald!" exclaimed Charles, at length recog- 
 nising one of Lord Mowbray's retainers, *' in 
 heaven's name, what means this ?" and in the 
 bewilderment of feeling he attempted not to 
 extend a hand to receive the packet, which he felt 
 assured boded no good. 
 
 " My Lord, sir " 
 
 " Is deadr faltered Emily. 
 
 " God forbid !" ejaculated the man. 
 
 "Dying!'' 
 
 Gerald stared. 
 
 "Nay — hesitate not to tell all," implored Emily. 
 " What does that packet contain ?" 
 
 " I know not," replied the man; "but some- 
 thing of importance I apprehend ; for my Lord 
 charged me to deliver it as soon as possible ; and 
 I have been so delayed on the passage by adverse 
 winds, that, fearing the letters Avould be too late, I 
 have almost killed Bucephalus, I rode him so hard.' 
 
 " Buchephalus !" exclaimed Charles. 
 
 " Yes, sir ; but the letters will tell all." 
 
 " And how was Lord Mowbray, when you left 
 England ?''
 
 RAVENSDALE. 165 
 
 Oh, very bad, sir; but read the letters — read 
 the letters ; for I'm so afraid* this packet has ar- 
 rived too late." 
 
 " I knew he Avas dying !" faintly ejaculated 
 Emily. "Oh, don't read the letter, Charles; — 
 take it away — take it away," she continued inco- 
 herently, and completely overpowered by her feel- 
 ings. 
 
 Charles, accompanied by Gerald, slowly, and 
 with unwilling step, retired to another apartment, 
 to examine tlie contents of the packet ; his worst 
 apprehensions, in fact, being but partially alle- 
 viated, as he hurriedly perused Lord Mow^bray's 
 first epistle. It told that he had, for the previous 
 month, been suffering from indisposition of an 
 alarming nature, which had originated in a heavy 
 cold, and eventually brought on inflammation of 
 the lungs. "But, thank God," he added, "it 
 has at length taken a favourable turn. My medi- 
 cal attendants, however, seem apprehensive of 
 the seeds of consumption setting in — particularly, 
 as this fell disease has been hereditary in my 
 family — and, therefore, insist that I must, for the 
 present, breathe the air of a more genial climate.
 
 166 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 In short, so vehemently do they urge my depar- 
 ture hence, that T have at length given a reluc- 
 tant consent once more to leave the home of my 
 fathers. Still, however, I am undecided as to my 
 movements. The south of France and the Me- 
 diterranean are both set before me ; and, although 
 my inclination strongly urges the latter, I am, 
 nevertheless, determined that your sage counsel 
 shall preponderate the scale ; and, therefore, im- 
 patiently await the favour of your reply. Should 
 it appear that consumption has indeed set in, I 
 feel that I have nothing to hope on this side the 
 grave. My trust, hoAvever, my dear Charles, is 
 sure and steadfast that I shall be enabled, through 
 grace, to await, with resignation and hope, the 
 unchanging fiat which summons me to depart 
 hence, and be with Christ." 
 
 Charles sighed heavily at the conclusion of this 
 epistle ; and hastily breaking the seal of the other, 
 ran over its contents, in the hope of its containing 
 more cheering intelligence — but in vain. It 
 merely requested of Charles to have the enclosed 
 packet forwarded as speedily as possible to Mr.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 167 
 
 Gavestone, his Irish agent, as it contained direc- 
 tions of immediate importance. 
 
 ** And now, my dear Charles," he added, 
 '* allow me to consign Bucephalus to your special 
 keeping. He has long, you know, been my dear 
 father's favourite horse ; and now, that he is ' full 
 of years,' it would grieve me to leave him alto- 
 gether to the care of an indifferent domestic. And 
 should I never return — but I will not anticipate." 
 
 Completely mastered by his feelings, Charles 
 sunk for some moments into a profound reverie. 
 
 " I fear my Lord entertains but little hope of 
 himself?" observed Gerald, inquiringly. 
 
 Utterly unconscious of even the presence of the 
 domestic, Charles started whilst briefly replying, 
 " We must hope the best, Gerald ;" and hastily 
 ringing the bell, ordered his wants to be speedily 
 attended to. Again, however, he became ab- 
 sorbed in painful reflection, which was once more 
 interrupted by a gentle tapping at the door of the 
 apartment. It was Louisa. 
 
 "Forgive this intrusion, dear Charles; but 
 Emily can endure this suspense no longer : tell 
 me the worst — how is Lord Mowbray ?"
 
 168 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 *' 111 — very ill, I fear: at least much cause for 
 apprehension. Again he is ordered to another 
 climate. Here, read his letters." 
 
 Deeply affected, Louisa made no reply, whilst 
 hastily glancing over their contents. 
 
 *' Where is Emily ?" inquired Charles, " our 
 apprehensions, at least, must be concealed from 
 her." 
 
 '* She awaits us in the drawing-room," replied 
 her sister; " and we must show her the letters, 
 for nothing else will satisfy her." 
 
 " Of course she shall read them," continued 
 Charles ; *' but not a word of our own fears. 
 Consumption has, indeed, proved most fatal in his 
 family, and this, I confess, damps my every hope." 
 
 " And yet we should not think too despond- 
 ently," sighed his sister ; " we are naturally but too 
 prone to anticipate visionary ills ; and surely it is 
 our duty to overcome, as much as possible, this 
 native bent of our inclination." 
 
 " True, dearest Louisa," pressing her hand 
 affectionately, '* it is idle, at best, and but Avastes 
 those energies which should be employed for 
 higher purposes."
 
 RAVENSDALE. 169 
 
 Then, struggling with emotion, he accompanied 
 Louisa to the drawing-room, where Emily still 
 remained in that state of mute anxiety, the in- 
 tensity of which nearly verges on distraction. 
 
 Her brother approached, and accosted her. 
 
 "Is he dead, Charles ?" was her faint inquiry. 
 
 ''Dead, Emily! Ah, why will you torture 
 yourself thus ?" 
 
 " Nay, but why this concealment — this mys- 
 tery ? It is far worse than the most dreaded cer- 
 tainty." 
 
 "Concealment? I make none, believe me. 
 There, read these letters ; they contain every line 
 I received from Lord Mowbray. He has been 
 ill, but is now much better." 
 
 A mist bedimmed the eyes of Emily whilst 
 spelling over their contents. Then, handing them 
 to Charles — 
 
 " I am now prepared for the worst," said she, 
 in a voice of forced calmness ; and every line of 
 her agitated countenance contradicting the asser- 
 tion, uttered in the fancied stoicism of her heart ; 
 but her brother, feeling that now was not a time 
 for rejoinder — 
 
 VOL. .1 I
 
 170 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " In the morning, Emily," he said, " we will 
 talk over this. Meanwhile, let me beg of you to 
 retire to rest as calmly as possible. I mean to 
 answer Lord Mowbray's letters to-morrow, and 
 shall see you again before I write. — My father and 
 mother, too," he added, " must not be alarmed 
 by any groundless apprehensions."
 
 RAVENSDALE. 171 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 What good is cover'd with the face of heaven, 
 To be discover'd, that can do me good." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 ** Retire to rest," mused Emily, repeating her 
 brother's words ; as, closing the door of her apart- 
 ment, she threw herself in agony on her couch. 
 *' Oh, that I could indeed steep my senses in for- 
 getfulness ! But the past — the past, is ever 
 before me ! and now the present — and the fearful 
 — fearful future ! Yes, he will die ! Fatal — fell 
 consumption will too surely seize him for its prey ; 
 and he will die — and die despising me ! But this 
 I deserve. Oh, that I could die too I" 
 
 Nature at length becoming exhausted, her ex- 
 cited senses sank, for a short space, into that sort of 
 sleeping wakefulness, or half wakeful sleep, which 
 partially steals over the faculties when in their
 
 172 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 most excited state — still keeping the imagination 
 more vividly alive, as if in very cruelty with- 
 holding the temporary relief of '* one short illu- 
 sion." 
 
 It was mom when Louisa opened the door of 
 her apartment — the slight noise occasioned by 
 her entrance gradually arousing her light slumber. 
 Short and broken sentences escaped her lips at her 
 sister's approach. Then succeeded a few convul- 
 sive heavings ; and again she opened her eyes to 
 light and certainty. 
 
 "Louisa," she exclaimed, starting up, " what's 
 the matter? — where is Charles? — where are the 
 letters ? — has he written without coming to me ? — 
 he promised to come," 
 
 " He has not yet left his room, dear Emily. 
 Compose yourself, I entreat, or you will not 
 be in a state to speak with Charles 'on the 
 subject." 
 
 '* Oh, true ; I had forgotten ; send Mun-ay to 
 me." 
 
 And Louisa had not been absent half-an-hour, 
 when she entered the breakfast-room — her whole ap- 
 pearance wearing a look of unutterable composure.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 173 
 
 Charles was in the act of reading Lord Mow- 
 bray's letters for Lord and Lady Ravensdale ; who 
 evinced heartfelt concern at the alarming intelli- 
 gence they contained — for they loved him as their 
 son. On Emily's entrance, however, her brother 
 assumed a more cheerful demeanour. 
 
 "We have much to hope," he said, "from 
 change of climate. The late accounts from Anna 
 Percy are most encouraging. He can join her at 
 Bunarbashi ; for I shall certainly recommend the 
 Mediterranean, for many reasons, independent of 
 its delightful clime. Every step he takes amid 
 that classic scenery, will be replete with interesting 
 associations, which a mind like his so well knows how 
 to appreciate." — Charles now became enthusiastic ; 
 and the animated ardour of his manner diffused 
 a cheering influence over the mind of Emily, 
 which, for one brief moment, bid her not despair ; 
 but, when he ceased to speak, and withdrew to 
 the library, all her boding apprehensions returned ; 
 and again she sought his presence, as if unable to 
 endure existence where he was not. 
 
 " And will you urge the Mediterranean, Char- 
 les ?'* she inquired.
 
 174 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " Certainly, Emily ; I should prefer it for Lord 
 Mowbray to any other part of the globe." 
 
 "But it is so far away," she breathlessly 
 added ; " and if he should die in a land of stran- 
 gers, without friend or kindred to close his eyes — 
 to smoothe his pillow — to speak one cheering word, 
 or execute those numerous kindly offices, so in- 
 dispensable to assuage the horrors of a death- 
 bed ; and which only a friend can perform." 
 
 Charles's cheek flushed painfully. 
 
 " And think you, Emily," he said, with a 
 mixture of intense feeling, and perhaps momentary 
 ire — " think you that Lord Mowbray's bed of 
 death will be so replete with horror, as to require 
 an arm of flesh to sustain him in the trying hour ? 
 Ah, no ! his hope is rested on the ' Eock of Ages.' 
 The everlasting arms shall support him through 
 the dark valley ; and he shall fear no evil ; for 
 Christ is his refuge. — Ah, Emily," regarding her 
 fixedly, "it is feeling all, which instigates your 
 every action. You are the slave — the child of a 
 refined sensibility ; and into whatsoever torrent 
 its capricious tide may chance to flow, it hurries 
 you on — alas ! you know not whither."
 
 RAVENSDALE. 175 
 
 He paused, on perceiving her deeply affected, 
 fearing his ardour had induced him to probe too 
 keenly her already excited feelings. His words, 
 however, struck forcibly to her heart. 
 
 ** Oh, my worldly spirit !" she exclaimed, 
 bursting into tears, "my unregenerate heart! only 
 yesterday I fancied I could meet with submission 
 the bitterest stroke of infinite wisdom; and this 
 circumstance teaches me that it is far otherwise ; 
 but Lord Mowbray, dying in a foreign land, 
 without friend to soothe, is a thought so replete 
 with horror — oh, it is too much ! — think of it for 
 a moment, Charles." 
 
 " I have thought of him for the last twelve 
 hours, Emily, and my ardent wish is to accompany 
 him myself. I know it would be the desire of his 
 heart ; but when I think of yow, I cannot leave you." 
 
 ** Me ! Nothing, believe me, would give me 
 greater pleasure. The idea more than once sug- 
 gested itself; but I dared not venture to propose it." 
 
 ** But, in your present excited state of mind, I 
 feel that I should be transgressing my duty as a 
 brother, were I to withdraw the benefit of my in- 
 fluence "
 
 176 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " No ; believe me — trust me, you shall still re- 
 tain your utmost influence ; and I shall be calm, 
 satisfied, tranquil. The idea of your being with 
 Lord Mowbray will alone be sufficient to alleviate 
 the most calamitous tennination of this event, and 
 I shall be perfectly resigned to the worst that may 
 befall." 
 
 " So you thought but yesterday, Emily — a mo- 
 ment since, and you were undeceived ; and now 
 again you heedlessly presume to assert that you 
 are acquainted with your heart. Ah, Emily ! too 
 plainly do I perceive that I cannot leave you — this 
 last speech of yours serves but to warn me against 
 neglecting a primary for a secondary duty. Were 
 I to depart hence, from whom will you then learn 
 to be acquainted with yourself, your duty, your 
 God ? — Louisa possesses the will, but not the in- 
 fluence ; for to me alone you have ever been accus- 
 tomed to look for comfort and advice in every exi- 
 gency ; yes — and I grieve to say — even in pre- 
 ference to a more exalted source of consolation. 
 I fondly hoped that of late you had learned to 
 raise your hopes to that higher power, whence 
 alone every true spring of happiness emanates
 
 RAVENSDALE. 177 
 
 that you had learned to trust him, to resign your- 
 self to his providence who alone orders all things 
 well. I had hoped this ; but now, I confess to 
 you, I am painfully undeceived — the first storm 
 that arose, all my visionary hopes were felled, and 
 I was made to feel that their foundation was the 
 sand. The task, therefore, still remains for me, 
 to guide you to that rock which should alone 
 be your refuge, and against which the stormy 
 trials of adversity may beat vehemently, but 
 vainly I" 
 
 *' Yet, trust me for once," interrupted Emily, 
 her tears continuing to flow profusely ; " your ab- 
 sence on this occasion shall but render your influ- 
 ence the more boundless. Go with him ; and 
 Louisa and Helen shall be my bosom companions. 
 Write to me fully, freely, frequently on every sub- 
 ject upon which you may think I need advice o^ 
 reproof; and trust me, I shall use every means, at 
 least, to profit by a correspondence which shall be 
 the stimulus of my existence. Do not refuse me, 
 Charles, and I would say, do not fear me. Nay, 
 you will but follow the path of duty by accom- 
 panying Lord Mowbray ; for I have many, very 
 
 I 2
 
 178 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 many friends here ; and he, alas ! will have none 
 there.'' 
 
 *' My inclination, dear Emily, too strongly 
 urges me to grant your request ; and it is there- 
 fore, I fear, mistaking the dictates of will for those 
 of duty ; however, if you will promise to converse 
 freely and unreservedly with Louisa and Helen, 
 I can no longer hesitate consigning you to their 
 companionship." 
 
 " Believe me, it shall be one of my dearest 
 sources of enjoyment," replied Emily ; " and I 
 would add more, but should fear promising too 
 much." 
 
 " This moment, then," rejoined her brother, 
 kissing her affectionately, " I shall write to Lord 
 Mowbray, to propose myself the companion of his 
 travels." 
 
 And Emily*s feelings at this juncture interdict- 
 ing reply, she hastily withdrew from his presence.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 179 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 " Oh, Clifford ! but bethink thee once again." 
 
 Shakspeabe. 
 
 " This is too good, too generous, too kind," ex- 
 laimed Lord Mowbray, as he perused Charles's 
 letter for the third time ; "I shall certainly 
 pursue the route traced out by him ; but how can 
 I accept his proiFered companionship; — take him 
 from the bosom of his family — from Helen Vivian 
 — from all he holds dear ? — this would be far, far 
 too selfish. — I dare not pause, but decline his 
 offer." He reclined alone on a couch whilst fram- 
 ing this resolution ; and ere he had called for pen, 
 ink, and paper, to make it practical, the carriage 
 of Sir Robert Hamilton drove to the door ; and 
 the next moment found Sir Robert himself in the 
 apartment. 
 
 ** Clara has insisted on driving here to-day," he
 
 180 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 said, " to inquire if you still continue better ? — 
 if you have received a reply to your letter to 
 Ravensdale ? — how you mean to dispose of your- 
 self ? — and when you propose to depart hence ? 
 These are the interrogatories she has charged me 
 with ; and to which she awaits your reply in the 
 carriage." 
 
 " Dear, kind-hearted girl !" mentally exclaimed 
 Lord Mowbray, starting up with intent to speak 
 to her at the carriage door. 
 
 " Nay, she has positively prohibited your quit- 
 ting this apartment," interposed Sir Robert, " and 
 has deputed me your medium of communication." 
 
 " It will but serve me to breathe the air," urged 
 Lord Mowbray; "besides, I must no longer sub- 
 mit to this close confinement ; for I mean to start 
 for the Mediterranean as soon as I can possibly 
 make arrangements for my departure ;" and hastily 
 brushing past Sir Robert, the next moment found 
 him in close conversation with Clara. 
 
 " And you purpose declining his offer," she con- 
 tinued, imploringly. 
 
 " Certainly ; I feel myself called upon to prac- 
 tise this self-denial : his invaluable fellowship
 
 RAVENSDALE. 181 
 
 would be the fervent desire of my heart ; and it 
 is, therefore, I dare not trust myself to delibe- 
 rate." 
 
 '' Too true it is, then," smiled Clara, " that we 
 mortals all possess one reigning foible ; and I have 
 now to congratulate myself on having at length 
 discovered yours." 
 
 '' Happy event, truly," laughed Lord Mowbray ; 
 " and now that you have so unhesitatingly in- 
 flicted a wound on my self-love, may I beg of 
 you to proceed still farther, and specify this newly 
 discovered foible." 
 
 ** Needless self-austerity," replied Clara, after a 
 moment's consideration ; *' I would that I could 
 comprise all this in one word ; and yet, on reflec- 
 tion, I should fear its coming under the denomina- 
 tion of an amiable failing — so must e'en seek >ome 
 less kindly appellation ; for those amiable failings 
 serve but to give additional interest to the charac- 
 ter." 
 
 '« Amiable failing !" repeated Lord Mowbray, 
 " no such expression alloAvable, believe me ; it is 
 desecration of the English language to attempt 
 combining two such adverse terms. Some, how-
 
 182 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 ever, have ventured still farther than you, and 
 assert that the whole human race, collectively 
 and individually, possess each a mad point — the 
 same in quality, but differing in degree." 
 
 " In pity !" interrupted Clara, " do not use 
 these awful words, ' collectively, and individually, 
 and quality, and degree,' or you will so completely 
 damp my energies, as to render me unequal to 
 advance another word in favour of my argument ; 
 besides I now unhesitatingly pronounce this mad 
 point not at all inapplicable in the present instance ; 
 for surely it falls little short of insanity your per- 
 sisting in this determination of declining your 
 cousin's offer, (request I may call it) where your 
 refusal will most probably wound his feelings, and 
 I know make him so unhappy." 
 
 *''^<So unhappy !" reiterated Lord Mowbray, 
 pleased and amused with her good-natured argu- 
 ment ; " and pray are you acquainted with this 
 personage, whose feelings you appear so perfectly 
 to understand ?" 
 
 " Not personally, you are aware," slightly co- 
 louring, at being borne away by the ardour of 
 feeling. " Of his character, however, I can form
 
 RAVENSDALE. 183 
 
 a pretty fair estimate — you are for once defeated, 
 therefore ; so pray send papa to me, and do not 
 let this post pass, without apprising your cousin 
 that you ardently embrace his proposal." 
 
 '* I bow submission, most merciful victor ; and 
 yet would still further crave your clemency, by 
 supplicating a slight alleviation of my sentence." 
 
 *' Name it, and be serious.'' 
 
 " I will this moment write that I accede to his 
 request, on condition of its being not only with 
 the sanction, but with the wish of every member 
 of his family." 
 
 *' Be it so, then ; for I am satisfied as to liis 
 reply." 
 
 " Farewell, then, my kind prophetess," rejoined 
 Lord Mowbray, a tear starting to his eye, as he 
 pressed her hand aflfectionately ; " 1 must see you 
 again, however, before I take my final leave. 
 There are many subjects upon which I should wish 
 to converse with you, previous to my departure ; 
 for the opportunity may never again occur of " 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," hastily interrupted Clara, 
 a tear and a smile struggling for predominancy — 
 ^' I hope to see you frequently before your depar-
 
 184 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 ture. — You know 1 am to be the stewardess of 
 your parochial duties in your absence, which I feel 
 assured will not be long — Farewell, farewell," she 
 cheerily added, as Sir Robert joined her in the 
 carriage, which now drove rapidly away, leaving 
 Lord Mowbray at full liberty to perform his part 
 of the compact.
 
 RAVENSDALE, 185 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 " Lean on your health : the which if you give o'er 
 To stormy passion must perforce decay." 
 
 Shakspeake. 
 
 *' And what would Charles say if he were aware 
 of the ascendancy this child of nature holds over 
 me ?" mused Lord Mowbray, taking up his pen to 
 transcribe her dictates. " What would he say 
 were he only to behold the total overthrow of my 
 project formed not an hour since?" — and his pen 
 glided rapidly over the paper ; and his heart hinted 
 the possibility that, in this instance, he consulted 
 his own inclination quite as much as the gratifica- 
 tion of Clara's wish. He paused as the faint sug- 
 gestion flushed his cheek. "Shall I go on? — 
 no," — he paused again. «' Shall I go on? — yes; 
 for I promised her !" and he hastily concluded his 
 epistle.
 
 186 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " How prone we are to love all that is amiable 
 and lovely upon earth !" was his mental observa- 
 tion whilst folding and directing his letter ; — " and 
 I do love this amiable Clara," he murmured ; for 
 he perceived not that Williams had entered the 
 apartment, and awaited in silence the moment of 
 his being disengaged, in order to consult him on 
 some matter of trivial import. 
 
 *' Musha, in throth, there's wan you think more 
 worse of than fifty iv her,'* he exclaimed, with as 
 much nonchalance as if in every respect Lord 
 Mowbray's equal in birth, rank, and station. 
 
 Lord Mowbray started. 
 
 " Arrah, sure you don't think I'm to this time 
 o' day widout knowin' that ?" he proceeded, on 
 perceiving his look of unfeigned astonishment ; 
 ** an' I wouldn't ax more than to see the look that 
 come over you when you came home first ; an' it's 
 often sence I was sorry enough that you ever went 
 in it at all ; for though Ireland is such a fine place 
 in itself, I always have a wondherful misgivin' 
 whenever I sees a body that's in love, for I never 
 seen good come iv it yet. Bad scram to it, for 
 love ! — as if there isn't throubles enough in the
 
 RAVENSDALE. 187 
 
 world without people coinin' 'em for them- 
 selves." 
 
 " What do you mean, Williams ?" 
 
 *' Mane ! I mane that you*re kilt about Miss 
 Emily ; an' any wan to look in your face ud see 
 it!" 
 
 " Williams !" — but he felt that he could not re- 
 fute his assertion. 
 
 ** Aye — you may get angry now ; but what ud 
 the poor misthress say — be marciful to her sowl — 
 if she was to see you in this condition, an' obleeged 
 to go all the ways off to the foreign land to be 
 cured ? But never mind it," — tears speaking more 
 eloquently than words — "resave the decay you 
 have at all, for it's nothin' but the fair love that's 
 killin' you. So think now what the poor misthress 
 ud say ; an' put her out o' your head for good an' 
 all ; an' mind what I tell you, you'll be a new man 
 before a month is out. Sure wasn't I in love my- 
 self when I was the likes o' you ; an' bad manners 
 to the pen'orth iv good I ever did while I was 
 undher it ; an' didn't I lave her, an' go miles upon 
 miles away from her, an' sorra a taste the betther 
 I was afther all ; for, take my word, the heart fol-
 
 188 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 lies the body .wherever it goes ; an' if you wur to 
 cross all the sais that ever ran, you couldn't run 
 away from your heart." 
 
 Lord Mowbray smiled, and sighed, as he 
 uttered this truism ; but vain would have been 
 any attempt to stem the tide of his eloquence. 
 
 " So put her out iv your head now, wanst for 
 all, an' stay quietly at home, an' don't be afther 
 thravellin' among them furriners, or you'll surely 
 come home wud a face as black as their own" — 
 (it was one of Williams' incontrovertible opinions 
 that all foreigners are black) — "an' then who's 
 to fall in love with you ? an' never mind it 
 if " 
 
 " Here, Williams, send this letter to the post, 
 and leave me for the present ; for I have many ar- 
 rangements to make preparatory to my departare. 
 Tm going from home immediately." 
 
 " An' sure you don't mane to say that its thrue 
 what Gerald says, that you're goin' to thrust your- 
 self among them villianous Turks ? Remember I 
 tell you, you don't know them for Turks ; an' no 
 wan in their senses 'ud show their nose among 
 'em. I dunna are they Christhans (human beings)
 
 RAVENSDALE. 189 
 
 at all ? Faix, I'd sooner go to the Aste Indies ; 
 an' when you get tired iv it, go to the West 
 Indies ; it 'ud be so convanient on account iv 'em 
 both bein' in the same county." 
 
 *' But where I am going is not near so far away 
 as the East Indies ; therefore, don't make yourself 
 uneasy about that — and I trust I shall soon 
 return." 
 
 " It isn't so far as the Aste Indies ?" 
 
 *« No." 
 
 " Faix, I think it's twice as far ; — but what 
 signifies that, when you're goin' to keep wud them 
 Turks ? Why, I thougjit the very life 'ud lave 
 me, when Gerald tould me all about 'em ; (for, 
 though I have my misgivins about Gerald, no 
 wan^can say but that he's a clane boy in the regard 
 iv the knowledge ;) but there's no use in talkin' ; 
 those grate people won't be said or led by any 
 wan. Any how, from the day you lave this, 
 myself will be so fairly tossicated wud fretation, 
 that sorra a ha'porth o' good 'ull be in me ; an' 
 every thing 'ull go to rack an' ruin ; an' there'll be 
 an end iv your thravels." 
 
 ** Well, Williams, there's no use in your speak-
 
 190 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 ing to me. I should much prefer remaining at 
 home myself; but you know I must do what the 
 doctors desire me." 
 
 " The docthors ! Haix, sure, they must say 
 somethin' for their money. What did our grand- 
 fathers (forefathers) do without docthors ? And 
 didn't they live twice longer than any iv us ? 
 Sure, doesn't every wan say that Dublin is fairly 
 overrun wud 'em for docthors. Docthors indeed ! 
 Musha, myself 'ud no more take a spoonful o' 
 medicin from wan iv 'em, no more than I'd ate so 
 much pison ; — they that goes about wud their 
 quackeries, and their thrickeries, an' their spec- 
 tacles on, an' their broad-brimmed hats ; just to 
 dhrag the money out o' the people's pockets." 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, nonsense, Williams.— »\Elere, 
 this letter will be late." 
 
 *' Oh, time 'uU tell whether it's nonsense or no — 
 haith it's thrue enough. Sure, if the quaUty's 
 finger aches now-a-days, it's nothin' but send off 
 ten miles for a docthor ; an' then they make 'em 
 put out their tongue, and they feel their pult, an' 
 look at their watch with a long face — an' keep 
 lookin' mighty cute an' pitiable, till they're handed
 
 RAVENSDALE. 191 
 
 the fee — an' then they smile again — an' away they 
 go. Sure, if you had an ounce of sense, you 
 wouldn't be afther thrustin' to wan iv 'em." 
 
 Lord Mowbray, now feeling that his only re- 
 source was flight, made a precipitate, and, we 
 must confess, somewhat abrupt retreat from the 
 presence of this well-meaning, but overpoweringly 
 garrulous companion.
 
 192 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 •* Yet innocence and virgin modesty, 
 
 Her virtue and the conscience of her worth, 
 
 That -would be woo'd, and not unsought, be won, 
 
 Not obvious, not obtrusive, but retired. 
 
 The more desirable, or, to say all, 
 
 Nature herself, though pure of sinful thought, 
 
 Wrought in her so, that seeing me, she tum'd ; 
 
 I follow'd her ; " 
 
 Milton. 
 
 " Vain have been my utmost efforts throughout 
 this unusually lengthy day, to apply myself to 
 
 one solitary occupation My truant mind, in bold 
 
 defiance, gravitates to Lord Mowbray, as its sole 
 centre of attraction. How truly can I exclaim, 
 with the noble Titus, ' I have lost a day.' " — Thus 
 soliloquized Clara Hamilton, whilst standing be- 
 fore a mirror, tying her bonnet, and arranging 
 her shawl. 
 
 Adeline smiled ; but made no reply. 
 
 " What means that smile, Adeline ? — it * speaks
 
 RAVENSDALE. 193 
 
 unutterable things.' — I think, too, I can conjec- 
 ture its meaning," she quickly continued, turning 
 suddenly to her sister, who started involuntarily 
 at the appeal; for she had forgotten that her 
 proximity to the glass had caused her smile to 
 play upon its surface, so as to mirror forth its 
 expression to the sensible eye of Clara — " Nay, 
 Adeline, what means that smile I say ?" — stamp- 
 ing her exquisite little foot in playful ire, and 
 gazing a moment in the face of her sister ; who 
 coloured deeply on noting the searching expression 
 of her glance — '' Away with nonsense, Adeline ; 
 for I am in no mood to support it. I am chagrined 
 and annoyed with myself; and out of humour with 
 every one and every thing." 
 
 *' And wherefore this uncongenial mood ?" in- 
 quired her sister, in a tone of suppressed irony ; 
 '* surely something more than common must have 
 occurred to ruffle the even tenour o^ your spmt ; — 
 Lord Mowbray, perhaps, has at length disproved 
 himself superhuman ; for my part I never could 
 tolerate his saintship ; his pensive, melancholy air 
 suits not me ; although it l)as proved so imposing 
 with those gifted with less penetration. Confess 
 
 VOL. I. K 
 
 •t
 
 194 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 now, Clara, is he not the interesting cause of this 
 distrait mood ?" 
 
 "I do acknowledge him to be the interesting 
 and innocent cause," replied Clara, with warmth ; 
 " nor have I yet recovered the shock I yesterday 
 experienced, on perceiving the alarming alteration 
 disease has already made in his appearance ; he has 
 ever since been present to my imagination, nor 
 can I divest myself of boding thoughts respecting 
 the termination of this — I fear — fatal illness ; some- 
 thing loudly whispers he is not meant for earth — 
 he is too good — too exalted ; the tendency of his 
 existence is heavenward — *tis thither he aspires, 
 and thither, I fear, he is hastening !" 
 
 Here Clara burst into tears : but Adeline con- 
 tinued unmoved. 
 
 " Then Avhy should you be thus affected, Clara? 
 — if it is to heaven he aspires, ought you not 
 rather to rejoice at the approaching completion of 
 his wishes ?" 
 
 " I ought, perhaps, but I cannot ; the selfishness 
 of my nature forbids it — my mind is tossed with 
 anxiety and apprehension respecting him, which 
 renders me unfit to bring my stubborn will into
 
 RAVENSDALE. 195 
 
 subjection — Oh, that I could fearlessly resign this 
 inestimable friend into the hands of Him who is 
 able to cast down and raise up, according to the 
 dictates of his unerring judgment !" 
 
 Adeline now assumed her most assuasive ac- 
 cents ; for she wished, if possible, to ascertain the 
 precise nature of Clara's sentiments towards Lord 
 Mowbray. 
 
 " Change of climate, you know, works won- 
 ders," she continued ; " you may recollect his 
 extreme delicacy at the period of his mother's 
 death, and he had not been on the Continent six 
 months when he was perfectly restored." 
 
 '' True — I had forgotten that," said Clara, her 
 countenance brightening. 
 
 " You were not then so much interested for him, 
 I presume, and, therefore, the circumstance passed 
 from your memory." 
 
 "It is not improbable," replied Clara ; «' I do 
 not recollect that I then felt more than ordinary 
 interest for Lord Mowbray." 
 
 *' But now, it is otherwise," rejoined Adeline ; 
 and the unsophisticated Clara perceived not the 
 meaning which lurked amid her words.
 
 196 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " Far, far otherwise," she replied with energy ; 
 for then I was unacquainted with his worth.— I 
 knew^ not, in fact, how to appreciate it ; but 
 
 *'Now he has taught you to estimate it most 
 duly," interrupted her sister. " He has,- doubt- 
 less, spared no pains to prove himself highly 
 exalted above the common herd of mortals. — Be- 
 ware, however, Clara, that his refined and exalted 
 friendship for a being so pre-eminently superior, is 
 perfectly platonic in its nature." 
 
 " I have never deemed it necessary to pause a 
 single moment to examine into its nature," replied 
 she with quickness ; for the fire of her disposition 
 was aroused, and her spirit kindled and her cheek 
 glowed with suppressed ire, as Adeline touched 
 the chord which vibrated to the most sensitive 
 feeling of her nature. — " I confess I esteem Lord 
 Mowbray as the most perfect of human beings ; 
 but you mistake in imagining that he has either 
 attempted or desired to impress me with an idea 
 of his worth. No ; humility is one of his bright- 
 est traits. Ah, Adeline, if you, too, knew him 
 you could not, surely, speak of him thus."
 
 RAVENSDALE. 197 
 
 " Chacun a son gout" replied her sister ; " but 
 far be it from me to speak of him as you do. 
 Now, however, as you have so unhesitatingly un- 
 veiled your sentiments, I would suggest your 
 losing no time in taking the veil altogether, and 
 retiring from a world above which Lord Mowbray 
 has raised you in such an exalted degree ; but pos- 
 sibly" — with increased irony — ** this might not be 
 exactly compatible with your cherished regard for 
 your friend." 
 
 Again the cheek of Clara flushed high with the 
 pang of wounded sensibility. 
 
 <' Adeline, how have I deserved this ? — Why 
 abuse my confidence by cruelly suggesting sus- 
 picions of an attachment on my part for one who 
 has never in a single instance expressed aught but 
 friendship the most disinterested. You will cause 
 me to abhor myself by investing me with such 
 unpardonable weakness" — weeping. 
 
 " Oh, nonsense, Clara — what more natural ?" 
 
 " Nay, only think what should be my feelings, 
 were the revolting idea to reach the ear of Lord 
 Mowbray ! — I should actually lie down and 
 die !"
 
 198' RAVENSDALE. 
 
 ^^ Die r — with a smile; — "and will you at- 
 tempt to deny that your affection for Lord Mow- 
 bray exceeds what you have ever felt for any 
 other individual. Solve me that question, and I 
 promise to absolve you from futher persecution on 
 the subject." 
 
 '' I do then candidly confess that I feel a higher 
 regard for Lord Mowbray than any other person 
 of my acquaintance ; — but for love — I could, in 
 few Avords, convince you that is altogether out 
 of the question." — And her thoughts, at the mo- 
 ment, reverted to the incident which she had been 
 persuaded revealed his attachment to Emily — 
 " The most remote idea of such a sentiment has 
 never for a moment been harboured in my breast — 
 of this I am perfectly sure." 
 
 " But so is not Lord Mowbray." 
 
 '' How — what do you mean ?" — in alarm. 
 
 " I mean that it has ever been my opinion 
 that man is possessed of quite as much vanity as 
 woman ; and this I still maintain, notwithstanding 
 all their eloquence to disprove my assertion. It 
 is in this particular, too, that their vanity is more
 
 RAVENSDALE. 199 
 
 especially exhibited. Yes, Clara; and even the 
 all-perfect Lord Mowbray is not exempt." 
 
 ** In what particular ?" — indignantly — *' what 
 do you mean ?" 
 
 Adeline now laughed immoderately, as her sister 
 stood aghast before her — *' I have frequently re- 
 marked, Clara, that whenever your refined assertions 
 have been defeated by my common-sense arguments, 
 ' what do you mean ?' accompanied by a stare of 
 well-feigned astonishment, has ever been your 
 resource." , 
 
 '« Indeed, Adeline, I cannot perfectly under- 
 stand you. — What do you mean respecting Lor 
 Mowbray ?" 
 
 *' In plain terms, then, I mean to inform you 
 that I have good reason to know Lord Mowbray 
 flatters himself he holds a place in your affections, 
 which never can be assigned to a second indi- 
 vidual." 
 
 *' Impossible, Adeline ! You cannot mean this 
 — Lord Mowbray is incapable!" — again bursting 
 into tears at the bare possibility — '' what reason 
 can you possibly have for imagining he harbours a 
 thought so derogatory to "
 
 200 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 '' Reason !" interrupted her sister, highly gra- 
 tified that she had at length found means of de- 
 priving her of the attentions of such a distingue 
 personage — for she would fain have them lavished 
 upon herself. Her surpassing beauty had ever 
 been accustomed to devotion ; and Lord Mowbray 
 was the first person of noble daring who had the 
 unaccountable bad taste to take notice of Clara in 
 
 her presence ^' I have reasons many to prove the 
 
 truth of what I have said.** 
 ^ " Name them — state even one^ for imagining 
 Lord Mowbray fancies himself beloved by me." 
 
 " Man's intuitive quick-sightedness reveals to 
 him what weak woman would blush to disclose.'* 
 
 ''But how could it reveal to him what is not 
 the case ? I never was guilty of the intention." 
 
 '' In that case, then, I must conclude that Lord 
 Mowbray's vain imagination has tempted him to 
 the suspicion of your having heedlessly passed the 
 line of demarcation placed between friendship and 
 love.'* 
 
 " But your reasons, Adeline — your reasons ; and 
 I am satisfied ?'* 
 
 '' Nay, Clara, you appear disposed to doubt my
 
 RAVENSDAL E. 201 
 
 veracity ; therefore, I now leave you to your own 
 imaginings ;" and with an air of provoking hauteur 
 she retired from the presence of her sister. 
 
 *'Lord Mowbray's vanity lead him to such a 
 suspicion of me /'* mused Clara. '* I will not be- 
 lieve it. — Noble, exalted, pious, refined as he is — 
 the unjust thought could never occur to him, that 
 I should be weak enough to yield him my affec- 
 tions unsolicited. And yet Adeline seems so cer- 
 tain ! — But could / be so blind as not to perceive 
 it ? The idea, in fact, never occurred to me — no, 
 nor to him either, I feel assured. He dines here 
 to-morrow ; how shall I act. — Act ! I will not 
 act at all — I never could act — Lord Mowbray is 
 my friend. Can it indeed be possible that a 
 thought ungenerous finds a place in his breast ? — 
 Away with the idea — I cannot believe it. Ade- 
 line is surely prejudiced against him ; — but, oh ! if 
 I thought it possible /" — and she blushed painfully 
 at the bare idea. " To-morrow, however, I can 
 surely judge for myself; and should it indeed be 
 true, even thy friendship. Lord Mowbray, I mu:?t 
 renounce." — Bitter tears now started to her eyes — 
 *' Yes, there is no other alternative." And thus, 
 
 k2
 
 202 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 for the first time in her life, she wept herself into 
 the belief of her being a heroine in distress. 
 
 And ill, indeed, did it become the naive 
 Clara to act a part. When Lord Mowbray, how- 
 ever, arrived at dinner next day, there was evi- 
 dently a reserved coldness in her air ; for her 
 wounded delicacy had, in fact, suggested the ne- 
 cessity of evincing, by her manner, that she che- 
 rished not for him one sentiment beyond what 
 friendship, in its most platonic sense, could dictate. 
 And his warm greeting was, for the first time, 
 met by Clara with constrained politeness. At 
 first, however, it passed unperceived by Lord 
 Mowbray ; and, as the evening waned, he placed 
 himself on the seat beside her, and commenced 
 addressing her in his wonted strain. 
 
 " I have yielded implicit obedience to your 
 kind mandate of yesterday,'* he said; *<and di- 
 rectly on parting with you despatched a letter to 
 Ravensdale, accepting the proposal of my excellent 
 cousin. I trust, therefore, you will give me due 
 credit for prompt submission, at least." 
 
 Clara coloured painfully ; for his words recalled 
 to her the warm interest that, but the day pre-
 
 RAVENSDALE. 203 
 
 vious, her anxiety for Lord Mowbray had led her 
 to evince ; and such was her distress, that, for a 
 moment she was unable to reply. 
 
 " I can now perceive nothing, he continued," 
 '* to retard my departure ; every arrangement has 
 been made with Williams respecting the most 
 effectual mode of administering to the wants of 
 those whose lot in life has been cast in a state of 
 dependence on me ; — he will, doubtless, prove a 
 most faithful almoner ; and, directed by your 
 guidance, I can have no apprehension that my 
 
 absence will in any wise be felt by them" he 
 
 paused ; but Clara, still at a loss, bowed her head 
 in silence ; and the slight action, so unlike her 
 wonted manner, no longer passed unnoticed by 
 Lord Mowbray. — " You make no reply, Clara ; I 
 begin to fear I have trespassed too far— you have 
 ever been kind and indulgent to my unreasonable 
 demands ; — trust me, I feel it deeply ; and never 
 shall I " 
 
 " Lord Mowbray," said Clara, hastily, '• I must 
 beg to disclaim all title to gratitude from you, 
 aware, as I am, that the debt is altogether on my 
 part ; — your past kindness shall ever, believe me,
 
 204 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 be most gratefully felt — I owe you more than 
 you are perhaps aware, and far more than I can 
 ever hope to repay — In the zeal with which, you 
 are kind enough to say, I aided in your benevolent 
 undertakings, I was actuated, I trust, by a higher 
 motive than a wish to oblige even one to whom I 
 owe so much : therefore, again I repeat, I must 
 disclaim all title to your gratitude, either for past 
 or future exertions." — Here she became deeply 
 affected ; for gloomy presages whispered that this 
 was the last conversation she was ever destined to 
 hold with this invaluable friend. Lord Mowbray, 
 too, now in his turn unable to reply, felt for a few 
 instants unmanned by Clara's simple speech. 
 
 *' Most willingly," continued she, *' shall I join 
 my feeble efforts, in your absence, in promoting 
 the welfare of those placed in dependence on your 
 bounty ; but once more I must stipulate" — Avith a 
 forced smile — " that you will not derogate my 
 spring of action by imagining yourself, in the 
 slightest degree, a debtor to my exertions." And 
 inwardly did poor Clara rejoice in the oppor- 
 tunity of making this explanation ; — still there 
 was an evident restraint in her manner, induced
 
 RAVENSDALE. 205 
 
 by Adeline's suggestions, of which she found it 
 impossible to divest herself; nor did she join in 
 the solicitations of her family, when Lord Mow- 
 bray arose, to stay his departure. 
 
 " If you will alloio me, Clara," said he, *' 1 
 shall call at four to-morrow, to make final arrange- 
 ments respecting the subject of our conversation." 
 
 Clara faltered that she should hold herself dis- 
 engaged ; and Lord Mowbray, resisting Lady 
 Hamilton's entreaties not to brave the night air, 
 took a hurried, and somewhat agitated leave of 
 each.
 
 206 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIII. 
 
 " Yea ; this man's brow, like to a title leaf, 
 Foretells the nature of a tragic volume." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 " Clara," said Adeline, entering her sister's apart- 
 ment ere she had risen, " we are going to pass the 
 
 day at D Park, so I hasten to disturb your 
 
 repose thus early, as we start immediately after 
 breakfast ; — are you inclined to accompany us ?" 
 But Clara pleading a previous engagement with 
 Lord Mowbray, looked as though uncertain how 
 to act. 
 
 '' Oh, it would be quite too late for us to await 
 the termination of your projected interview," re- 
 joined her sister ; — and hastily withdrawing to pre- 
 pare for her departure, an hour had not elapsed 
 ere the whole party drove from Mount Hamilton, 
 leaving Clara to the solitude of her own uneasy 
 reflections.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 207 
 
 *' What a strange inconsistent being Lord Mow- 
 bray must conceive me to be," she thought, whilst 
 sauntering forth in the garden, buried in her own 
 imaginings ; ' ' nor could I, for my life, maintain 
 this estranged manner towards him ; and now, too, 
 when we are about to part, probably for ever — 
 how can I part thus ; and yet, shall I allow him to 
 depart, under an impression so derogatory to my- 
 self? — I have no alternative — in either case he 
 must despise me, and this is the thought I cannot 
 brave." — Again she mused. — '' Yes," cried she at 
 length, "one other alternative does remain, and 
 it shall be adopted — I will let him perceive that I 
 am aware those affections are bestowed on another, 
 which he fancies I would vainly arrogate to my- 
 self; yes — I am determined this day to adopt the 
 only measure which remains to clear myself from 
 unjust suspicion ; and yet I would not willingly 
 advert to a subject evidently fraught with pain." 
 She turned slowly to the house whilst coming to 
 this conclusion ; and, on entering, was about to 
 pass the half open door of the drawing-room, when 
 a slight noise inside caused her to stop involuntarily. 
 Evidently a quick, irregular step paced the apart-
 
 208 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 ment. ''It is Lord Mowbray," thought she, 
 who has arrived before the appointed time ;" and 
 
 she entered Not Lord Mowbray, however, but a 
 
 stranger of youthful and noble appearance, sud- 
 denly turned towards her. 
 
 Clara started, and insensibly uttered a faint ex- 
 clamation on beholding him ; for though his air and 
 aspect evidently betokened high descent, yet was 
 there a wildness in his manner, which caused her 
 to shrink at his approach. — In few words, how- 
 ever, he explained the motive of his intrusion. — 
 He told that he had been at Mowbray Castle, and 
 not finding Lord Mowbray at home, was informed 
 that he should probably meet him at Mount 
 Hamilton, adding, that as his business was of an 
 urgent and momentous nature, he had taken the 
 liberty, in Clara's absence, of despatching a ser- 
 vant in quest of him. 
 
 There was something in the aspect of the 
 stranger, and in his deep, yet agitated voice, 
 which irresistibly attracted Clara's earnest sympa- 
 thy ; and she grieved whilst informing him that 
 Lord Mowbray was not expected at Mount Hamil- 
 ton till four in the afternoon.
 
 RAVENSDALE. 209 
 
 *' Four in the afternoon !" reiterated the youth, 
 stamping his foot impetuously ; '* am I for ever 
 doomed to misfortune !" 
 
 Clara became alarmed. Heedless, however, of 
 her presence, he turned wildly from her ; then, as 
 abruptly approaching, eagerly inquired if there 
 was any probability of Lord Mowbray arriving in 
 the course of an hour ; and on being answered in 
 the negative, struck his forehead with despondent 
 air, beseeching of Clara immediately to provide 
 him with writing materials. 
 
 She quickly obeyed, tremblingly urging him to 
 take refreshment, and await in quiet Lord Mow- 
 bray's arrival. 
 
 " Impossible !" he exclaimed ; "I must be at 
 
 the town of before one to-night. Tell Lord 
 
 Mowbray, if possible, to meet me there before six 
 to-morrow ; and if he cannot, then tell him to read 
 this letter which I transcribe." 
 
 He leaned his brow upon his hand as if to col- 
 lect scattered thought ; and, with abstracted air, 
 uttered wild, incoherent sentences, utterly uncon- 
 scious of the presence of Clara, who now rose to 
 leave the apartment till he had finished his letter ;
 
 210 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 but the slight noise occasioned by the movement 
 caused him to start quickly from his seat ; and, on 
 perceiving her intention, he intreated her not to 
 leave him, as he had messages of importance to 
 charge her with. 
 
 "Forgive me, Miss Hamilton," he at length 
 added ; '« I am ill — I am deeply affected — misfor- 
 tune presses heavily. My senses ! — my senses ! — 
 my throbbing, burning brain I" — striking his fore- 
 head with agonized vehemence. 
 
 Clara, in a compassionate tone, entreating of him 
 to make no apology, endeavoured to speak words 
 of comfort, to calm, if possible, his distracted 
 mind. He replied not, however ; but gazing for a 
 moment in her face, then resuming his pen, was 
 once more buried in his subject ; and Clara now 
 availed herself of the opportunity to reconnoitre 
 the person of this mysterious individual. 
 
 His features were regular, expressive, and pos- 
 sessing remarkable dignity of character ; above the 
 middle height, his person and mien were strikingly 
 attractive ; yet, though possessing peculiar noble- 
 ness, Clara marked an air of distraction pervade his 
 aspect — the apparent result of ardent, untutored
 
 RAVENSDALE. 211 
 
 feeling — and awe was the predominant emotion he 
 inspired. 
 
 Now his pen flew with lightning rapidity over 
 the paper ; and. as he proceeded, a deep shade of 
 melancholy, gradually overspreading his brow, 
 tinctured his fine features with a soft sadness, 
 which strangely contrasted with their recent ex- 
 pression. 
 
 *' What valued alternation of feeling !" thought 
 Clara, on marking the changed character of his 
 countenance, and a sentiment of compassion taking 
 place of the awe with which he had at first im- 
 pressed her. 
 
 At length, concluding his epistle, and opening a 
 small pocket-book, he drew forth a letter, fixed his 
 eyes on the address with ardent, melancholy gaze, 
 mused deeply for some moments, then pressing it 
 to his lips, hastily enclosed it with his own, direct- 
 ing the envelope to Lord Mowbray. Again his 
 brow fell upon his hand ; his pallid cheek and 
 compressed lips indicating strong internal emo- 
 tion. 
 
 "Miss Hamilton," he said at length, "allow 
 me to consign this packet to your particular care.
 
 212 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 May I beg that you will take the trouble of de- 
 livering it in person to Lord Mowbray." 
 
 ** Who shall I say left it, may 1 ask ?" inter- 
 rupted Clara, with some embarrassment — taking 
 the packet, and promising implicit compliance. 
 
 " It matters not," was the agitated reply ; 
 but I entreat you will urge him to meet me at 
 
 by six to-morrow. He must travel all night, 
 
 in order to reach it at that hour ; therefore, it is of 
 the utmost importance that no time should be 
 lost." 
 
 Again Clara, promising compliance, earnestly 
 urged him to take refreshment ; — but slightly 
 bowing, without a word of reply, he hastily passed 
 from her presence, and abruptly quitted the 
 house. 
 
 '* Strange, unaccountable being !" thought 
 Clara, as, without one farewell, she was uncere- 
 moniously left alone in the apartment — '' who are 
 you — or why conceal your name ?" And now 
 curiosity took place of every other feeling. She 
 turned the packet in her hand, and carefully ex- 
 amined the writing. It was bold and free — 
 **Psha!" she pettishly exclaimed; *'what dis-
 
 RAVENSDALE. 213 
 
 covery could his hand-writing lead to ? But the 
 seal might," — ^her woman's heart bounding at the 
 suggestion — " his initials, perhaps; or his crest" — 
 approaching the window to examine it intentty. But 
 again was she doomed to disappointment. The 
 small ** forget-me-not" was its sole impress; and, 
 venting her chagrin on the wild and simple flower, 
 she wished it had never survived the flood. The 
 mind of Clara was, in fact, so excited by this un- 
 expected adventure, as to require no inconsiderable 
 effort to apply herself to her accustomed occupa- 
 tions — for, ever as she attempted to compose her 
 thoughts, the wild, abstracted, yet interesting 
 stranger intruded upon her imagination — '* If I 
 could only learn his name," thought she, '' I 
 should probably think no more of him." 
 
 " Yes, but you would, Clara," said the still 
 voice; "you are but woman! and your anxiety 
 would then be on the stretch to ascertain the 
 precise nature of the misfortune, which he told 
 pressed so heavily upon him. But wliat can de- 
 tain Lord Mowbray ?" — looking at her watch — '* it 
 must be long past four — no, but half-past three — 
 and then Lord Mowbray's carriage drove to the
 
 214 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 door. The packet was seized — she flew to meet 
 him ; but, alas ! in her anxiety and curiosity re- 
 specting the stranger, prudential reserve was alto- 
 gether forgotten ; and seldom have we seen coun- 
 tenance beam with more joyous expression than 
 her's, at the approach of Lord Mowbray ; who 
 again was surprised at this sudden alteration ; for 
 he had marked and lamented her cold constraint 
 the preceding evening ; her motives for which he 
 had essayed in vain to fathom. Now, however, 
 he joyously advanced — whilst Clara exclaimed, 
 with mock tragical air — 
 
 *' To nought can I compare the tedious interval 
 from noon to the present moment, save unto a 
 ponderous mass of duration, whose merciless 
 pressure has well nigh crushed to atoms my scanty 
 quota of patience ; so eager has been my solicitude 
 for your arrival. Here — read this letter." 
 
 *' A letter for me," smiled Lord Mowbray ; 
 "and prithee, by what fortunate chance came it 
 into thy possession ?" 
 
 " It will speak for itself; but pray lose not a 
 moment in perusing it ; for I feel myself, in a 
 measure, answerable for the promptitude of your
 
 RAVENSDALE. 215 
 
 reply ; although alike ignorant of the nature of 
 its contents, and the name of the writer." 
 
 Lord Mowbray took the letter ; and Clara 
 marked the varying expression of his countenance 
 whilst perusing it. A tear, she thought, started 
 to his eye, as he turned quickly from her, and 
 withdrawing to a window, again and again read 
 over the contents. *' Impossible !" he at length 
 exclaimed — "I would that I could go to him; 
 but it is altogether impracticable — to travel all 
 night, in my present state of health ! — my life 
 would be the sacrifice — and yet, what is to be 
 done ? I will write and dispatch a messenger." 
 And now he, too, was quickly seated at Clara's 
 writing-case, and in his turn buried in profound 
 thought. 
 
 ** This is altogether a mystery," sighed Clara, 
 now plainly perceiving that Lord Mowbray had 
 no inclination to solve it. '* I am not, then, to be 
 told his name, nor shall I inquire, farther than he 
 thinks proper to communicate. Can he be his 
 friend, Mr. Courtenay ? — and his sister is perhaps 
 ill, or dying, and wishes to see Lord Mowbray : 
 it must be something of the kind, for both are
 
 216 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 evidently much agitated." — Thus far had Clara 
 progressed in surmise, when Lord Mowbray had 
 concluded his letter, and hastily dispatched it to 
 its place of destination. 
 
 ' ' ' Man is born to trouble, as the sparks fly 
 upward,' " was his mournful exclamation on re- 
 turning to the drawing-room, and seating himself 
 by the side of Clara. " Oh, the multiplied cares, 
 and inquietudes, and anxieties, which rend the 
 human heart, from the very first hour that it is 
 capacitated to think, and act, and feel !" 
 
 " And perhaps the less feeling we possess the 
 better," rejoined Clara. *' So replete is this world 
 with trial, that I do think the less sensitive our 
 nature is, the better chance we have of happi- 
 ness " 
 
 " Chance ! Clara — Why speak of chance, 
 when the very hairs of your head are num- 
 bered ?" — Silence now ensued, as Lord Mowbray 
 drew forth the letter which was enclosed with the 
 stranger's : it was closely written, in a small 
 female hand, and he seemed to contemplate its 
 pages. *' Oh, that the Lord," he murmured, 
 " may, in infinite mercy, direct this event as it
 
 RAVENSDALE. 217 
 
 seemeth to him best, and most conducive to the 
 temporal and eternal happiness of both ! — were I 
 one iota less trustful to Providence, how I should 
 tremble at its probable termination ! — Clara, did 
 this stranger tell his name ?" 
 
 *' No — I inquired, but he declined informing 
 me." 
 
 ** Then I must not reveal it." 
 *' There seems so much of mingled mystery 
 and misfortune in the affair," returned Clara, 
 that I confess it has excited my most ardent 
 interest." 
 
 Lord Mowbray was silent ; his pale counte- 
 nance still strongly marked with anxiety and 
 unhappiness. 
 
 " Lord Mowbray," said Clara, as the changed 
 expression filled her with alarm ; " can you par- 
 don my presuming to offer a word of advice upon 
 a subject with which I am but partially ac- 
 quainted ?" 
 
 Lord Mowbray gently reproved her for deem- 
 ing such a question requisite, assuring her tliat 
 her slightest suggestion should at all timea be 
 heard with intense interest. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " I shall not attempt discussing with 3/0M," 
 continued she, " the influence of mind upon mat- 
 ter ; aware as you are, that the mental and corpo- 
 real faculties are so closely united, that no circum- 
 stance can materially affect the one, without the 
 other participating in its influence. The strange 
 occurrence of this morning has, to say the least, 
 evidently caused you considerable agitation : your 
 altered countenance, too, plainly indicates a mind 
 ill at ease. Far be it from me, however, to 
 inquire into its nature ; but I can — " here Clara 
 hesitated — " I can conjecture — " she faltered — 
 " that it is connected — " she stopped — 
 
 Lord Mowbray, looking surprised, entreated her 
 to proceed. 
 
 " No — I feel it presumptuous." 
 " It is my last request, Clara; we may never 
 again meet." 
 
 " God forbid !" ejaculated Clara. "Life, how- 
 ever, is, at best, fleeting, wavering, uncertain ; 
 and yet it is, nevertheless, incumbent upon us to 
 use every due means for its prolongation." 
 
 "Certainly," rejoined Lord Mowbray; "and 
 It is this consideration alone which induces me to
 
 RAVENSDALE. 219 
 
 resort to travel, as a last expedient. Quiet is 
 what I would court at present; and it is that 
 which in my prevailing mood, my soul longs 
 for." 
 
 " And it is from this too prevailing mood that 
 I should augur ill and dangerous results, both re- 
 garding your health and spirits," returned Clara. 
 " You are not ignorant, Lord Mowbray" — with 
 considerable embarrassment — " that I am aware 
 of an attachment subsisting, on your part, for 
 one, whose name you have never mentioned since 
 your return from Ireland." 
 
 Here Lord Mowbray started in unfeigned asto- 
 nishment — his eye, one instant, resting upon the 
 face of Clara; and the next, hastily withdrawn. 
 His emotion, however, passed unheeded ; and 
 Clara continued — 
 
 *' Circumstances have, I conclude, arisen to 
 delay the union upon which your heart is fixed ; 
 and this, I strongly apprehend, preys upon a con- 
 stitution already enfeebled by illness. I can only 
 add, be the attendant circumstances what they 
 may, struggle against it ere it be too late ! — You 
 say this may probably be the last conference we
 
 220 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 are destined to hold ; and this consideration alone 
 will surely plead my apology for a liberty, in 
 taking which, you are aware I can only be in- 
 fluenced by the resistless dictates of gratitude and 
 fnendship. Ill, I feel, should I requite your past 
 kindness, were I to suffer a false delicacy to with- 
 hold me from hazarding a suggestion which may 
 possibly prove a word in season." 
 
 Lord Mowbray rose, in silence, from his seat. 
 
 " Say you forgive me," exclaimed Clara, in 
 alarm, " ere you depart for ever." 
 
 He turned, and resumed it ; and the mild, yet 
 singularly expressive glance of his soft, dark eye, 
 falling forcibly upon her, caused her to shrink in- 
 voluntarily. It was accompanied, too, by that 
 livid, ghastly expression of countenance, which 
 tells of partially subdued feelings, unexpectedly 
 aroused. 
 
 " Lord Mowbray, you are ill !" 
 
 " Hear me, Clara; and pardon what may have 
 appeared incongruous in my manner — it is but the 
 ' war of the flesh against the spirit, and the spirit 
 against the flesh.' — One mournful thought, which 
 I had fondly deemed for ever at rest, has suddenly
 
 RAVENSDALE. 221 
 
 been awakened ; and arises with painful faithful- 
 ness, to evince the airy nothingness of man's 
 resolves." 
 
 ** And I have been the cause ! — Can you forgive 
 me, Lord Mowbray ?" . 
 
 '* Say no more — say no more, Clara ; nor, for a 
 moment, deem me insensible to kindness so exem- 
 plary, which must ever be felt by me with the 
 deepest, truest sense of gratitude. The avidity 
 with which I seize this opportunity of initiating 
 you into my confidence, must speak the rest for 
 my high appreciation of the purity of your motives. 
 Therefore, say no more on that subject ; but bear 
 with me a moment, whilst, in few words, I con- 
 firm and refute your conjectures respecting myself. 
 Far be it from me to desecrate the name of 
 Christian, by abandoning myself to the indulgence 
 of unavailing grief; and yet, do I confess that 
 those fathomless depths of feeling, which, for a 
 time, he hidden and unsuspected in the mysterious 
 recesses of man's inmost breast, have, in mine, 
 been recently and forcibly summoned forth, by 
 one whom I had fondly deemed nature's brightest, 
 loveliest work! — Yes, Clara,"— with ardent en-
 
 222 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 thusiasm — " the fancied source of happiness lay 
 discovered to my view; and heedlessly plunging 
 into its smooth, enchanting stream, I glided imper- 
 ceptibly along the enticing current, till compelled 
 by fate's resistless impetus to retrace my chimerical 
 course. Then I tore myself from the presence of 
 one, whose syren sway was rapidly alluring my very 
 soul, spirit, faculties, from the God who gave 
 them." — He paused ; but the earnest solemnity of 
 his voice, and the alternate flushed and pallid 
 cheek, told that passion was but stilled, not sub- 
 dued «' And heaven be my witness," he added, 
 
 " how ardently I have struggled against the do- 
 mineering influence of an attachment, unsanctioned 
 by providence." — Again, in oppressive agitation, 
 he arose from his seat, indistinctly murmuring, 
 '' May the draught which has this day been 
 quaffed by my deluded mind, prove of sanative in- 
 fluence to my distempered spirit !" 
 
 Clara remained silent for some moments ; 
 and, at length, in a tone of ardent interest, ob- 
 served, 
 
 *' When we consider every event that befalls 
 us, as coming under divine superintendence, the
 
 RAVENSDALE. 223 
 
 single reflection is surely calculated to quiet every 
 murmur." 
 
 " I know it, Clara, and I feel it ; whilst, ever 
 as the conviction presses upon my mind, its hea- 
 venly influence stills the repinings of my rebellious 
 heart ; and, blessed be God, I have been enabled, 
 through divine grace, to render my imperfect meed 
 of praise to him who, in infinite wisdom, wielded 
 the missile destined to crush my earthly hopes ! 
 Severe as the destiny may appear which severs us 
 from all we love, and prize, and value upon earth ; 
 the consideration that it is the very especial trial 
 absolutely needful for our own peculiar case, is 
 highly adapted to bring consolation with it ; for it 
 is a common error with man, making a Christian 
 profession, but whose heart, in point of fact, is un- 
 regenerate, to imagine whilst gliding smoothly 
 along the stream of time, that he is in the very 
 highway of salvation. Then it is that he is so 
 prone to fall into the fatal error of those who lean 
 for acceptance, at the bar of infinite justice, upon 
 their own righteousness, and the unbroken tenour 
 of a set of formal daily observances ; but then 
 comes that leading, though perhaps bitter trial.
 
 224 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 heralded by unlimited mercy and boundless wis- 
 dom, holding its faithful mirror to the human 
 heart, and bidding it in language not to be mis- 
 taken, * Behold, oh man, and know thyself!' — Ah ! 
 it is the designed lesson to teach that heart that 
 it is not right in the sight of God !— Fallen nature, 
 it is true, recoils from the test ; but who can gain- 
 say its salutary evidence ?" 
 
 Clara wept a faithful assent to these observations; 
 and in an agitated voice Lord Mowbray continued, 
 
 '* I trust, my valued friend, that it is the hea- 
 ven-born desire of my soul, to sit so lightly on its 
 earthly throne as to be enabled to soar above the 
 things of time, and with reverend submission bow 
 alike to the overwhelming vicissitudes and petty 
 grievances of this chequered scene ; and now allow 
 me to add, that I hold that friend invaluable who 
 warns me to recede when about to tread the decep- 
 tive paths of error ; therefore, should other oppor- 
 tunities hereafter arise, I trust you will ever con- 
 tinue to act as you have now done, and not suffer 
 a false delicacy to induce your withholding kindly 
 counsel from one, who needs as much as he values 
 it. — Promise me !"
 
 RAVENSDALE. 225 
 
 " Nay," said Clara, endeavouring to smile, " I 
 dare not make those unqualified promises." 
 
 *' But if you knew how deeply I appreciate the 
 candid openness of your conduct this day — how 
 highly I estimate it ; you would not, surely, 
 withhold your compliance." 
 
 She promised. 
 
 "Now, Clara — the bitter, the protracted moment 
 of parting has at length arrived — that moment of 
 painful anticipation, in which it is my lot to bid 
 a long and, perhaps, a last farewell, to one, whose 
 hours of sweet companionship must ever be classed 
 high mid my most cherished recollections !" 
 
 He paused in vain for a reply ; for poor Clara's 
 utterance was withheld ; but an eloquent tear stole 
 silently down that flushed cheek, dropping upon 
 the hand, in which her's was clasped ! 
 
 " Friend of my inmost soul, farewell !" ejacu- 
 lated Lord Mowbray ; " and may every blessing 
 that awaits the pure in heart, be pre-eminently 
 yours!" — abruptly tearing himself from her pre- 
 sence. 
 
 "He is gone," mourned Clara ; "his presence 
 has vanished for ever, as a dream of other times ! 
 
 L 2
 
 226 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 My suspicions are then true — he loves ; but I 
 wronged him in imagining he indulged in vain 
 sorrow. — I cannot divine the particular circum- 
 stances of the case — it is, however, evidently 
 fraught with pain ; and let good or ill betide, I 
 hope never again to revert to the subject — Yet 
 it is a relief that he is aware I am acquainted 
 with the state of his affections ; for now Adeline's 
 suggestions shall henceforth pass unheeded. — Oh, 
 what an exalted soul is his ! — and how supremely 
 uplifted above the cares and anxieties of Hfe !"
 
 RAVENSDALE. 227 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 JBardolph. — " Who keeps the gate here, ho ? — 
 Where is the earl ?" 
 Port — " What shall I say you are ?" 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 *' Ah, the agony that is comprised in that little 
 word ' farewell !' " thought Lord Mowbray, as the 
 second morning subsequent to the events of the 
 preceding chapter, found him immersed in pro- 
 found reverie. — His musings, however, were sud- 
 denly disturbed by sounds of noisy parlance 
 without. 
 
 *' Has Lord Mowbray returned ?*' inquired a 
 voice ; and without awaiting a reply, a wild and 
 haggard figure eagerly entered the apartment. 
 
 For a moment he was not recognisable ; — at 
 length Lord Mowbray exclaimed, " Norman St. 
 Clair !" 
 
 " Ah, Mowbray I why did you not come to me ? 
 — it was unkind — it was contrary to your wont !"
 
 228 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " It was impossible ! — my life would probably 
 have been the sacrifice ? Did you not receive my 
 letter ?" 
 
 "What is a letter to a distracted mind? — I 
 glanced over it, but am ignorant of its contents." 
 
 " Impetuous, impassioned youth ! — child of my 
 father's protection ! — why did uncontrolled circum- 
 stances hold back your early youth from his more 
 special guidance ? — My letter, Norman, was am- 
 ply calculated to satisfy you in every particular; 
 so far, at least, as I am concerned." 
 
 " Mowbray — sleep, for the last three nights, has 
 not visited these aching lids ! — 'tAvould have been 
 vain my attempting to seek it, so eager have been 
 my longings for this interview; — counsel me — 
 direct me — comfort me." 
 
 " This frantic violence interdicts the attempt, 
 
 and, in truth, fills me with alarm Norman, I 
 
 must not conceal from you, that I tremble for 
 your tottering fabric of reason ; — it is unmanly, 
 at best, thuB to resign yourself to the uncontrolled 
 dictates of passion and impulse." 
 
 " You, who have been spared those heavy ills, 
 which of late have been hurled on my unhappy
 
 RAVENSDALE. 229 
 
 and devoted head, can but ill sympathise with a 
 mind torn with tumultuous conflicts. Reflect a 
 moment, Mowbray — then say can you dare re- 
 proach me? — What have been the trials I am 
 destined to contend with, from the very earliest 
 period in which I was capacitated to feel them ? — 
 First, merciless fate sent forth her decree, to 
 lengthen out the destined interval of my union 
 with one whom I loved, and prized, and cherished 
 more than earth, and all earth's combined posses- 
 sions Again, its fiat went forth, and a wide 
 
 waste of waters severed us. And now, at the 
 very moment of my setting forth to rejoin her, 
 the same cruel destiny envies me the melancholy 
 pleasure of witnessing the last vital throes which 
 separate spirit from flesh — soul from body ! ! — 
 Mowbray, I repeat, reflect upon this; and say, 
 * the wonder is that reason still retains her empire !' " 
 
 *' This is an arraignment of Providence," in- 
 terrupted Lord Mowbray, " which I shudder to 
 hear! — What does her letter say? — 'that she is 
 better; but, in her present state, the slightest 
 excitement may prove fatal." 
 
 " Fatal /—impossible !— I will go to her."
 
 230 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 '* What ! — in defiance of her medical attendants, 
 who positively prohibit such a step ?" 
 
 " Then what am I to do ? — Shall I tamely 
 allow the grave to close over her ? — Mowbray, 
 what am I to do ?" 
 
 *' It is vain my offering counsel in your present 
 state of overwrought feeling. I beseech you, St. 
 Clair, recline on this sofa, and take rest and re- 
 freshment." 
 
 '* Well, now I am calm, and you shall guide 
 me — how shall I act ?" 
 
 '' Positively not go to her — leave the rest to 
 me — I shall myself be the bearer of your lett^s ; 
 and any message you may charge me with shall 
 be faithfully delivered. I will write to you — tell 
 you all particulars of her malady : and, if per- 
 mitted, shall write for you. — Will not this con- 
 tent you ?" 
 
 *' Heaven bless you, Mowbray ! — I acquiesce — 
 here are the letters — this packet contains three, 
 which you will deliver in person ; and as for mes- 
 sages ! — let me see — ah, I dare not trust myself; 
 for where or when would they terminate ? I 
 appreciate your kindness not the less, how-
 
 RAVENSDALE. 231 
 
 ever ; — tell me, Mowbray, how is your own 
 health ?" 
 
 Lord Mowbray smiled. 
 
 " I was remiss in not making the inquiry 
 sooner; but I am not the less anxious, believe 
 me. 
 
 " I make no doubt of your anxiety, my dear 
 St. Clair ; and as for my health, there is no im- 
 portant amendment. I am resigned, however, to 
 heaven's will." 
 
 St. Clair now regarded him with intense inte- 
 rest, a shudder evincing how deeply he was im- 
 pressed by the alarming alteration disease had 
 caused since he had last beheld him. 
 
 "Do not look so despondently, my friend; I 
 am aware my appearance this morning is no very 
 flattering augury ; it is partly, however, owing 
 to recent agitation, caused by parting with a very 
 dear female friend." 
 
 '* Ha ! that arouses many a hushed and bitter 
 feeling ! — Who was the friend, may I ask ?" 
 
 " Miss Hamilton." 
 
 " Of Mount Hamilton ?" 
 
 *' Yes."
 
 232 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 " I saw her there, by-the-bye ; and her image 
 flits occasionally before my imagination, like a 
 pleasing variation in a confused and painful vision ! 
 The look of mournful compassion with which she 
 regarded me bespeaks, at least, a sympathizing 
 soul. — But where were the family when I last 
 visited you ?" 
 
 '' I do not recollect now — at a watering place, 
 perhaps." 
 
 " No matter. — Tell me, Mowbray, when do you 
 start for the Mediterranean ?" 
 
 " I only await a letter from my friend, Courte- 
 nay, who has kindly offered himself as the com- 
 panion of my travels. Nothing but this detains 
 me. We shall probably meet at Falmouth — pro- 
 ceed from thence to Malta — and so on." 
 
 " And when do you propose returning ?" 
 
 " That depends on circumstances, over which 
 we can have no control." 
 
 *' True — I trust, however, you will return 
 perfectly restored.— But how did your illness com 
 mence ?'* 
 
 " A heavy cold at first, which I incautiously 
 neglected, till symptoms of consumption sounded
 
 RAVENSDALE. 233 
 
 an alarm, to which I could no longer be in- 
 sensible." 
 
 "For heaven's sake, don't mention consump- 
 tion !" implored St. Clair ; and bm^ying his face 
 in his hands, all interest respecting his friend 
 was once more absorbed in one all-engrossing 
 idea. 
 
 " Come, St. Clair, ' balmy sleep' is what you 
 need at present ; therefore, to bed. — You don't 
 leave me for some days, you know." 
 
 " To-morrow, at farthest ; or perhaps this even- 
 ing I must start for " 
 
 «' What ! travel to-night again ?" interrupted 
 Lord Mowbray, with an assumed tone of pleasantry — 
 *' What sort of stuff, pray you, do you imagine 
 yourself made of? We will, however, arrange 
 that affair to-morrow ; meanwhile, to bed." 
 
 And taking St. Clair's arm, he playfully led 
 him to an apartment, where his bewildered faculties 
 were quickly buried in profound repose.
 
 234 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 CHAPTEK XX. 
 
 Duch — " "What ! gone, my lord, and bid me not farewell ?" 
 Glo — " Witness my tears, I cannot stay to speak." 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 ** Trust me implicitly," continued Charles Cour- 
 tenay, faintly smiling ; '« I shall regularly tease 
 you with letters." 
 
 " Nay, but, Charles, one more stipulation, and 
 I have done," implored Emily. 
 
 '* You will never have done, though, if I thus 
 continue to accede to your nine hundred and ninety- 
 nine demands," playfully urged her brother ; " but 
 go on." 
 
 '' This, then, shall be my very last request." 
 
 ** And, therefore, not your least, I suspect. 
 Name it, however." 
 
 ** You will not, under any circumstance, suffer
 
 RAVENSDALE. 235 
 
 the slightest allusion to escape, which can possibly- 
 lead Lord Mowbray " 
 
 Charles laughed, as he here noted her tremulous 
 accents ; and sportively endeavoured to break off a 
 conversation which needlessly aroused painful emo- 
 tion ; but his sister's cheek glowed still deeper at 
 the interruption, and she spoke her request only 
 with increased hesitation. 
 
 *' You will not let drop a word which can pos 
 sibly lead Lord Mowbray to imagine that I am 
 — that I feel — any interest in his recovery." 
 
 '* Certainly not — I shall inform him that you 
 are a most obdurate, unfeeling monster ; and this 
 surely must content you, Emily ; for you have 
 ever evinced such extreme solicitude that Lord 
 Mowbray should only view the very worst side 
 
 of your character Emily, dearest, you are most 
 
 unaccountable, most in " 
 
 ** Corrigible,", continued Emily ; — " this, how- 
 ever, will not content me." 
 
 *' Then what willf inquired her brother, a 
 considerable degree of flashing, but momentary 
 ire, flashing his cheek — *' I am not, imder any 
 circumstance, I suppose, to utter your name."
 
 236 
 
 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 Be it SO,- 
 
 " Trust me once for all, then," rejoined Charles, 
 with quickness ; *' I shall never mention your 
 name to Lord Mowbray, till we meet again — in- 
 tentionally, at least." 
 
 " Now, I have angered you. " 
 
 " And it is not your first time, Emily," con- 
 tinued her brother, rising to withdraw. 
 
 ** What, Charles ! — leave me in displeasure ! 
 when on the very eve of parting for — ever, per- 
 
 " My sister ! — am I never to behold your cha- 
 racter in the light my eager anticipation would 
 fondly view it," exclaimed her brother, turning to 
 embrace her — *' ever thus, as I flatter myself with 
 hope, you cruelly extinguish the very first glim- 
 mering. — Say, Emily, will you never, even for 
 my sake, make an effort to reform ?" 
 
 " I know I am a provoking, weak, inconsistent 
 being," sobbed Emily ; " but believe me, Charles, 
 it is my daily and fervent prayer, that I may be- 
 come otherwise; ere you return, perhaps, your 
 hopes and my prayers may be graciously fulfilled." 
 
 *' I pray heaven, they may !" rejoined her bro-
 
 RAVENSDALE. 237 
 
 ther ; and 'now again, whilst about to retire, his 
 footsteps were forcibly withheld, as the door softly 
 opened to admit the gentle form of Helen Vivian. 
 Her soft countenance was, as ever, marked by that 
 unutterable sweetness, which so forcibly character- 
 izes a mind of heavenward bent ; but now that 
 gentle calmness of demeanour was tinctured with 
 an air of melancholy, of which she found it im- 
 possible to divest herself; but which, nevertheless, 
 lent inexpressible charm to her appearance — She 
 started on beholding Charles, a tear gUstening in 
 her eye. — It was Louisa she sought ; and she was 
 a harbinger of ill. 
 
 «« Where is Louisa?" she inquired, in a voice of 
 affected composure. 
 
 "It is not half-an-hour since I spoke to her in 
 the garden," replied Charles, hastily flying in 
 search of her. 
 
 Of late, Charles indulged not in the loved 
 society of Helen Vivian ; and none knew the pang 
 it cost him to part from her endeared presence at 
 a crisis, when but one short month was affixed to 
 the long-protracted period, destined for a union 
 seemingly overfraught with felicity. It was a
 
 238 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 voluntary sacrifice, however ; and he bore it with 
 customary fortitude. 
 
 " I have been seeking you the last half hour," 
 exclaimed Helen, on Louisa's entering the apart- 
 ment. ** Here is a letter I received this morning, 
 traced by the tremulous, and, I fear, dying hand 
 of Anna Percy. Her angel spirit seems hovering 
 on the brink of immortality. — Hope, she says, re- 
 vived for a time ; and unwillingly she clung to 
 it — not on her own account ; but for the sake of 
 those who will mourn her departure. Now, how- 
 ever, she adds — ' The last lingering gleam has 
 fled — and for ever! — or rather, let me say, it has 
 been eclipsed by the more effulgent beam of hea- 
 venly hope, whose luminous ray can only be ex- 
 tinguished by the still more glorious light of ever- 
 lasting enjoyment.' — Henry, however, adds a more 
 cheering postscript, and ascribes this change to 
 the exhaustion of spirits invariably attendant on a 
 lingering disease. The opinion, too, of her medi- 
 cal attendants is by no means unfavourable — 
 Altogether, Louisa, I am at a loss what to con- 
 jecture. — Anna's soul, methinks, longs to flee 
 away, and be at rest. Here is a letter she enclosed
 
 RAVENSDALE. 239 
 
 for Lord Mowbray, not to be delivered till after 
 her decease. He ever loved her as a sister — 
 How he will lament her untimely fate ! Here, Louisa, 
 keep it ; for I confess the sight of it fills me with 
 an undefined sort of presentiment, which, in de- 
 spite of myself, augurs ill ! — This, I can truly 
 say, is the only species of superstition admissible 
 to my nature ; and I do acknowledge that this 
 sort of prescience of near approaching events, has 
 been so frequently verified, as almost to establish 
 my faith in its reality." 
 
 " Helen, Helen, it is contrary to your wont to 
 indulge in those melancholy bodings. Surely, we 
 should place more dependence on the opinion of 
 the faculty, than Anna's vague apprehensions ; 
 which, after all, may be but the natural results of 
 her prolonged disease. This fancied prescience, 
 too, is merely inspired by the near approach of 
 your parting hour with Charles ; the idea of which 
 naturally fills you with a gloom, which tinctures 
 every passing event." 
 
 The look which now overspread the countenance 
 of Helen told there was much truth in Louisa's 
 observation ; and passing her hand over her brow,
 
 240 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 she no longer spoke ; but, for the succeeding hour, 
 remained intently wrapt in painful thought. — Nor 
 was she aware that Louisa had withdrawn, till her 
 reverie was somewhat unceremoniously interrupted 
 by him who was its exclusive object. Charles 
 Court enay hurriedly entered, and evidently with 
 a violent effort, flung himself in a chair opposite 
 her ; whilst the look with which he regarded her 
 was fraught with an expression, which she sought 
 in vain to fathom ; and from some cause undefined, 
 neither spoke. 
 
 At length, with a sort of intuitive feeling of 
 she knew not what, Helen falteringly said — 
 
 '' The dreaded moment of parting, rapidly ap- 
 proaches ! — With what hasty and noiseless strides 
 those last intervening months have glided away — 
 gradually reducing the brief interval to weeks I 
 
 and now, to days !" 
 
 *' Helen," said Charles ; but his voice was deep 
 and hollow — " Helen, it is my earnest request 
 that you remain here for the ensuing month." 
 
 " And after you depart, to behold your seat 
 unoccupied ! — Think for a moment on the agoniz- 
 ing sight."
 
 RAVENSDALE. 241 
 
 *' But it is the first time that seas have severed 
 me from my family ; and it is on you alone I de- 
 pend to sustain them — it is for Emily I apprehend 
 — she is the most dependent ; and her overpower- 
 ing feelings, which, as yet, she has not learned to 
 subdue, need all your soothing kindness." 
 
 '* Me ! — and at such a time !" 
 
 *' Yes, you, Helen ; the soft influence of your 
 presence must ever bring consolation to the sor- 
 rowing heart." 
 
 But her flowing tears now testified that her own 
 was of nature's softest mould. 
 
 In excesssive agitation Charles rose from his 
 seat — 
 
 " Still," he continued, " must I urge the re- 
 quest which may be my last I" 
 
 *' And it is granted." 
 
 He approached her with too evident emotion, 
 hastily extending a hand, then eagerly withdraw- 
 ing it. At length, clasping her's for a brief mo- 
 ment with fervent pressure, he cast one more lin- 
 gering look, and quickly passed from her presence. 
 
 It was but noon ; and Helen remained alone, 
 till summoned to dinner. Then hastily entering 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 RAVENSDALE. 
 
 the apartment where all were assembled, a thrill- 
 ing shudder passed through her frame ; for there 
 was the vacant seat ! 
 
 *' Call Mr. Courtenay," said Lord Kavensdale ; 
 '* what can detain him ?" 
 
 " He is gone^ my Lord," responded a domestic ; 
 " and desired me to present you with this letter." 
 
 " Gone r echoed many voices — " and without 
 one farewell !" 
 
 "It is better it should be so — he judged 
 wisely," murmured Lord Ravensdale, secretly 
 brushing off a tear. 
 
 END OF VOLUME 
 
 Dublin : Printed by J. S, Foi D8 and SON, 6, Bachclor's-walk,
 
 -' k