m
 
 L I B RARY 
 
 OF THL 
 
 U N IVLRSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 623 
 B772. 
 v/.l
 
 rLei^ZiV
 
 BRIMELSEA 
 
 OR 
 
 CHARACTER THE INDEX OF FATE. 
 
 All are architects of Fate, 
 Working in these walls of Time." 
 
 H. W. Longfellow. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON : 
 
 SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, CONDUIT STREET. 
 
 1857.
 
 
 *' Like uuto ships far off at sea, 
 
 Outward, or homeward bound, are we ; 
 
 Before, behind, and all around, 
 
 Floats and swings the horizon's bound, 
 
 c^ Seems at its distant rim to rise 
 
 OS 
 
 ^ And climb the crystal wall of the skies, 
 
 And then again to turn and sink, 
 ^ As if we could slide from its outer brink. 
 
 "^ Ah ! it is not the sea, 
 
 °° It is not the sea that sinks and shelves. 
 
 But ourselves 
 •< That rock and rise. 
 
 With endless and uneasy motion, 
 
 Xow touching the very skies, 
 
 Now sinking into the depths of ocean. 
 
 Ah ! if our souls but poise and swing, 
 
 Like the compass in its brazen ring, 
 
 Ever level and ever true 
 
 To the toil and the task we have to do ; 
 
 We shall sail securely and safely reach 
 
 The fortunate isles, on whose shining beach 
 
 The sights we see and the sounds we hear 
 
 Will be those of joy and not of fenr ! " 
 
 H. W. LONGl-ELLOW.
 
 TO 
 
 THIS BOOK 
 
 IS MOST AFFECTIONATELY 
 
 INSCRIBED.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 OF 
 
 THE FIRST VOLUME. 
 
 CHAPTER L 
 
 Page 
 
 THE STORM 
 
 . 1 
 
 CHAPTER IL 
 
 
 BRIMELSEA 
 
 . 8 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 
 THE ARRIVALS 
 
 . 21 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 
 THE PROPOSED EXCURSION . 
 
 . 35 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 
 THE BOARDING-HOUSE 
 
 . 45 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 
 THE MEETING 
 
 . 53 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE TEA-PARTY . . .64 
 
 CHAPTER VIIL 
 
 TAKE CARE . . . - .77
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Page 
 
 TABLE-TALK 
 
 . 100 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 
 THE RIVALS .... 
 
 . no 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 
 THE ASSEMBLY ROOMS 
 
 . 123 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 
 THE DISCOVERY 
 
 . 143 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 
 OUT DREDGING 
 
 . 156 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 
 DISTRESS .... 
 
 . 165 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 
 UP AND DOWN 
 
 . 187 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 
 A CRUISE .... 
 
 . 200 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 
 TROUBLES .... 
 
 . 224 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 
 A STRANGE QUARREL 
 
 . 244 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 
 A PARTING .... 
 
 . 269
 
 BRIMELSEA; 
 
 CHARACTER THE INDEX OF FATE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 THE STORM. 
 
 It was night — deep, black night. Above, in the 
 wide expanse of heaven, rolled the storm clouds ; 
 beneath, roared the boundless ocean, whose waves 
 were lashed and goaded on to madness by the 
 howling wind that swept across the sky. Woe to 
 the mariner whose frail bark is struoHrlina on a 
 night like this ; his life hangs on a thread ; those 
 straining beams will scarce live in such a gale, yet 
 there is an Eye which watches over him, who hears 
 on the distant shore the piteous cry of wife, mother, 
 child, and though nought but sea and sky sur- 
 rounds him, he is not alone, for One is ever near. 
 
 Hark ! it thunders. Those black clouds part and 
 pour forth their liquid fire in forked rays to meet 
 the foaming surges ; for an instant all around is 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 visible in the lurid glare ; sea, sea for miles — 
 trackless, lonely in its solemn grandeur — heaving, 
 tossing, foaming from time immemorial till the 
 hour when God shall bid its waves be still. The 
 seabird, affrighted at the sudden bursts of light, 
 sweeps past, borne rather than flying with the 
 wind. Another flash — another, and another, each 
 one more vivid than the last ; the whole firmament 
 seems on fire ; every object is illumined for miles 
 around, and see, a black mass rolls and staggers on 
 the turbid waves ; it sinks, it rises proudly, and the 
 tall masts of a stately vessel are plainly visible 
 against the sky. Onward it comes, propelled by the 
 magic power of steam ; in vain the angry waves of 
 the Bay of Biscay dance around their prey, lash 
 and besprinkle it from bows to stern with foam ; 
 the stately frigate shakes and totters, then rising 
 on some cresting wave, shoots gallantly forward, 
 bravely fighting with its deadly foe. 
 
 There are many human souls on board, many 
 anxious eyes upturned towards the fiery heaven. 
 " God preserve us, and send us rain !" they cry, for 
 not a drop had fallen from those louring clouds ; 
 it seemed as though^ the wind forbade it, as it 
 swept them wildly on. A flash, such as is rarely 
 seen, forked serpentine from cloud to cloud, and 
 dashed downwards to the sea — crash, crash roared 
 the thunder, the air seemed rent in twain, the 
 vessel reels upon the waves, they sweep from be- 
 neath it, and their cresting tops peer up mockingly 
 as they dance away. Once more the gust comes 
 whirling past with its resistless force, then all is 
 still as death, the welcome rain-drops fall in tor- 
 rents, the surges toss harmless, the lightning 
 sports amid the clouds, the thunder murmurs
 
 BRIMELSEA. 3 
 
 farther and farther off, till at length it is lost, the 
 clouds break asunder, and the moon peeps down, 
 fitfully at first, then brighter, clearer, till it reigns 
 supreme ; the raging elements are stilled — peace 
 triumphs over war. 
 
 Onward flies the gallant vessel, driving before the 
 wind; she has w^eathered the storm, and ouce more 
 rides tranquilly on her course ; the moon shines 
 down upon her streaming planks — they look like 
 silver in her light ; the sailors hurry here and 
 there ; much is to be done ; no rest for them that 
 night. '^ Heave-a-hoy 'oy!" up go the sails, and 
 flap and batter in the wind ; the captain stands at 
 his post ; he has been there throughout the storm, 
 his trumpet in his hand, but it is now no longer 
 necessary; he is speaking to the first lieutenant 
 who stands beside him. Let us approach and 
 scrutinize them more narrowly, as both are to form 
 actors in our drama. Now that the storm has 
 lulled we have leisure to make their acquaintance — 
 come, then, follow me. 
 
 Captain Roger Macklaren is a thorough English 
 sailor in appearance; he is short and strongly made, 
 as if accustomed to the rougher scenes life offers to 
 some few of us. His manner is frank and generous ; 
 he is one of those open-hearted people who look on 
 the whole world as their friend, and scarcely believe 
 that such a thin«: as deceit exists. Thouoh not 
 handsome, his high forehead and large thoughtful 
 eyes give him a distinguished appearance, more to 
 be admired than actual beauty of feature. 
 
 His complexion is fair, though burnt somewhat 
 red from exposure to the sun, and the expression of 
 liis whole countenance is grave, without, however, 
 a tinge of melancholy ; it is more the result of a 
 
 B 2
 
 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 calm, well-regulated mind, and the habitual custom 
 of thought, and, although devoid of poetry, it 
 exhibits that more useful gift of common sense, so 
 much needed in the every day concerns of life. 
 
 Lieutenant Lionel Holford was a young officer 
 who had risen to his present standing in the navy 
 more through interest than talent. He was the 
 second son of a rich country squire ; and, although 
 untitled, the Holfords could boast as long a line of 
 ancestors as any of the oldest peers of the realm. 
 Sent to sea at an early age, Mr. Holford had but 
 little attachment to his home ; he was one of a 
 large family ; his elder brother was the favourite, 
 and he had spent his youth more amongst the 
 servants and in the stables than with his parents. 
 His high spirit and impulsive manner were too 
 much for the drawhig-room, and, as he was often 
 in the habit of saying himself, " his parents were 
 glad to send him to sea that they might get rid of 
 a nuisance."' The rough life he had led, contact 
 with the world, and the firm attachment he had 
 formed to Captain Macklaren, all conduced to 
 mould his character, and the wild boy grew into a 
 brave and high-spirited man. 
 
 " We have had a very dirty night of it, but have 
 come bravely through," said Mr. Holford, ad- 
 dressing his superior officer. 
 
 " Very little damage done, considering the 
 severity of the storm, "*" was the short reply. 
 
 " By Jove ! I never saw such lightning,"'' con- 
 tinued the other; "I thought the vessel would 
 have been struck once or twice, but it whizzed over 
 our heads and left us unscathed." 
 
 Captain Macklaren made no reply, and changing 
 the subject, gave him some orders which the young
 
 BRIMELSEA. 5 
 
 man promptly obeyed, leaving liim to pace the 
 deck alone. It was not his habit to enter into any 
 conversation with his officers, and an attempt to 
 draw him into one always failed, as in the present 
 instance. His steps were measured, and only in- 
 terrupted when he stopped to give some order, or 
 to watch the proceedings of the men. To all ap- 
 pearance he was occupied with no painful thoughts, 
 no private feelings, but intent only on what was 
 passing around him. True, in time of danger the 
 peril of those confided to his care engrossed his 
 whole attention, yet his heart was swelling now 
 with thoughts of home, for he was returning from 
 a long banishment, returning to a mother he 
 dearly loved, his only relation on earth. Bold and 
 manly as he was, fearless of danger to himself, yet 
 he quailed before the thought of his mother's suf- 
 ferings if she knew he was in danger, he who was 
 her only treasure, her " sunshine,'' as she used to 
 call him ; and as he walked, his eyes turned up- 
 wards to the clear sky above, and as in the hour of 
 peril he had breathed an earnest prayer for mercy, 
 so now he thanked God for having spared him 
 to her. 
 
 His thoughts floated back to the time when he 
 was a boy, and listened to his mother's tales of the 
 brave deeds his father had done at sea (for he, too, 
 had been a sailor), how he had fought for his 
 country's honour, and had shed his life's blood in 
 its cause. Well did he remember how his young 
 blood boiled, and how from his earliest youth he 
 had determined to go to sea ; in vain his mother 
 warned him of the trials and dauijers such a life 
 involved, the thoughts of these only added fresh 
 ardour to his desire. " I will fio^ht for Eno-land,"
 
 b BRIMELSEA. 
 
 once he said. " You do not forbid my being a 
 sailor when my father has set me the example V 
 
 " No,"' was the fond mother^s reply ; but who 
 can tell how much it cost her to pronounce this 
 little word, or how often her heart failed her, whilst 
 listening to the raging winds, and thought that 
 soon her only son would be exposed to all their 
 fury? Yet she never withdrew that word. 
 
 Roger was sent to a naval college, and at four- 
 teen took his first voyage to the Mediterranean. 
 Well did he remember that parting — it was the 
 first, and consequently the most bitter, he had ever 
 experienced ; each word, each look was engraven 
 on his memory ; and, even now, though he had 
 grown old and hardened by contact with the world, 
 he remembered with awe his mother's first farewell 
 blessing, as she bade him cherish the early lessons 
 he had been taught, and never be tempted to stray 
 from the path of duty. How often had these words, 
 spoken from the lips of love, checked some evil 
 action, or caused the colour to mount to his cheek 
 when he had done wrong. They had been his 
 talisman throudi life, and now that he had but 
 just escaped from danger, they recurred with double 
 force to his mind. 
 
 " If she knew but half the perils I am subject to, 
 how bitterly she would sufter,""* thought he ; " but 
 I doubt not a soft breeze was blowing at Brimelsea, 
 whilst we were tossed and buffeted by a tempest — 
 heaven grant it may have been so ! A few more 
 days, and I shall be at home." These, then, or 
 somewhat similar, were the thoughts which oc- 
 cupied Captain Macklaren's mind as he paced the 
 deck up and down, up and down the livelong night ; 
 but as the pale streak of morning tinged the
 
 BRIMELSEA. 7 
 
 eastern sky with pink, he halted, and leaning over 
 the bulwarks, he watched the conflict between 
 light and dark : gradually did the gray dawn 
 fight its way, till the whole firmament w^as filled 
 with its cold light ; then slowly rose the summer 
 sun, like a globe of fire, from the watery horizon ; 
 higher and higher it ascended on its daily course ; 
 it shone forth warm and bright, and it was day.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 It was a bright summer's morning, the sea lay like 
 a sheet of glass, and its little waves dashed play- 
 fully on the beach of Brimelsea Bay. " We sport 
 when it pleases us," they seemed to say ; " but 
 every one knows how majestic we can be when we 
 choose." The white houses on the shore sparkled 
 in the sunshine, and sweet strains of music floated 
 on the air. 
 
 Brimelsea is a pretty watering-place, and very 
 fashionable in the season — all the families of the 
 county spend annually some weeks there, and it is 
 a pretty sight, on the summer evenings, to see the 
 parade crowded with well dressed people, walking 
 up and down, listening to the German band. On 
 this morning, however, the place looked deserted ; 
 a few children with their nurses or governesses 
 were the sole occupants of the parade ; ten o'clock 
 is not a fashionable hour to be out walking, so we 
 must seek the gay inhabitants in their houses. But 
 let us first examine the place : facing the sea is a 
 long row of large, fine-looking houses j this is
 
 BRIMELSEA. 9 
 
 called Wilton Crescent, thouo-li in fact it lias no 
 ri2.1it to the name, for it had been built in a straioht 
 line. These houses are the most fashionable in the 
 town, though at one time Carlton Terrace claimed 
 a superiority, as being higher and consequently 
 more airy ; but one year the cholera visited Bri- 
 melsea — no less than three houses in the terrace 
 suffered from this fatal disease ; the doctors threw 
 out hints that the drainage was imperfect in that 
 part of the town, and that the water was not good ; 
 so from that time Carlton Terrace fell into disrepute, 
 and Wilton Crescent triumphed over its rival. 
 
 To the left, facing the parade, stands a white 
 house all alone, a large green board hangs beneath 
 the balcony on the drawing-room floor, and pro- 
 claims in o-olden letters that this is the Marine 
 Boarding Establishment. It is a pleasant-looking 
 house, and the sun is shining full upon it, as if to 
 invite us to enter ; let us do so, but not by the 
 large oak door, with brass handle and knocker, but 
 through that open window on the second floor, for 
 it leads to a pretty little sitting-room, and its 
 occupant is one whose acquaintance we must make. 
 The walls are hung with pictures, and the neat 
 gold frames contrast well vv^ith the pale green 
 paper ; on the table in the centre of the room are 
 books and papers, reports of committee meetings 
 and various charities. 
 
 There was no one in the apartment as we entered, 
 but we have scarcely time to look around us before 
 the door, leading to a bed-room within, opens, and 
 an apparition meets our view, in the shape of a tall 
 old lady with a kind, benevolent expression of 
 countenance ; but we have indeed intruded on her 
 privacy, for in happy unconsciousness of being ob- 
 
 b5
 
 10 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 served, she had divested herself of a head encum- 
 brance, and stood before us cap in hand, with the 
 little curls of her " front " bobbing round her fore- 
 head in all their natural luxuriance, whilst the back 
 of her head was clothed in a little brown silk cap. 
 This was Miss Massing's usual costume when alone, 
 but the much despised cap always lay somewhere 
 near, that in case of an emergency it might be 
 replaced in an instant ; for, like most wearers of 
 artificial hair, Miss Massing prided herself on her 
 front, as being a most perfect deception, and nobody 
 could possibly think it was, what it was — a wig. 
 In spite of this, vanity, personal or otherwise, was 
 very far from her simple character ; she was as 
 open as the day, kind and generous, always ready 
 to think ill of herself and well of others ; but un- 
 fortunately, being so accustomed to look down on 
 herself, she never trusted to her own opinion, and 
 always needed some one on whom to rely — some 
 one to whom she could open her heart, and tell all 
 its little troubles, and when deprived of a confiden- 
 tial friend she was not happy. 
 
 There are some lives which afford the greatest 
 pleasure to contemplate, whose whole course has 
 been a scene of unvarying repose, and whose good- 
 ness is above even the darts of malice and envy. 
 Such a life as this Miss Lucy Massing had led ; 
 her character was like a ray of sunshine, bright 
 and pure as a child. She had had her sorrows, it 
 is true, but these were received in a meek and lowly 
 spirit, and passed like fleeting clouds over the 
 sunshine of her life. 
 
 " This is a world of trouble,*" she would say, 
 with a smile ; "we must all take our share, and it 
 is well it should be so, for it makes us look forward
 
 BRIMELSEA. 11 
 
 to a brighter home, where there is no sorrow, no 
 parting, no pain." 
 
 Her early youth had been spent in a retired 
 country village, ten miles from Brimelsea ; her 
 father was a clergyman and held the small living 
 of the place ; she had two sisters and a brother ; 
 her mother died before she could remember her, for 
 she was the youngest of the family, and consequent- 
 ly the darling of all. At fourteen her brother 
 entered the navy, and left his home for ever ; he 
 was drowned whilst far away, and but few particu- 
 lars of his death ever reached England. This was 
 a great sorrow to all the family ; he was the only 
 son, and great hopes had been formed for the 
 success of his future career. Alice Massing, her 
 eldest sister, married the son of a rich landholder 
 in her father's parish ; the younger likewise mar- 
 ried, and Lucy Massing was then left sole mistres^s 
 of the parsonage house, and continued to preside 
 there till her father's death, when she was forced to 
 seek another home. Her eldest sister offered her 
 a welcome in her family, and she accepted it. 
 
 The years she spent at Merethorn Hall were very 
 happy ones ; she undertook to educate her little 
 niece, Maud Erving, and the child's endearing ways 
 won the heart of her aunt and instructress. Miss 
 Massing felt that she had an object in life, had 
 something dependent on her, something to love — 
 it is a want every affectionate heart must have, and 
 ]\Iiss Massing's was a warmly affectionate nature. 
 Unfortunately, at this epoch in her life, she expe- 
 rienced another great affliction, which once more de- 
 prived her of a home and threw her on the world — 
 her sister died in giving birth to her second child, and 
 the infant followed its mother to the grave. Deeply
 
 12 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 did Miss Massing deplore her loss ; but she was 
 not one to give way to grief, and bestirring herself 
 she looked out for another home, where she might 
 engage in active duties, and be of use in her genera- 
 tion. It was naturally a difficult task which she 
 had imposed on herself, and wishing well to mature 
 her plans before she fixed on an abode, she deter- 
 mined to enter Miss Briggs's Boarding Establish- 
 ment at Brimelsea for a few months, that she 
 might look about her, and be better able to judge 
 what station would best suit her. 
 
 Weeks passed by, months, nay years, came and 
 went, but still Miss Massing remained an almost 
 constant inmate of the Boardino^ House. She had 
 made friends in the town ; had discovered a cousin 
 in Lady Macklaren, to whom she had become 
 greatly attached ; was in the habit of visiting 
 among the poor; formed one of the ladies' com- 
 mittee at the National Schools, and taught in them 
 three times a week. Her time was fully occupied, 
 Brimelsea had become her home, she had ties there 
 which endeared the place to her, and although she 
 mio^ht wish some few thin^i'S altered in the Boardin^^ 
 House, still there was an independence in living 
 in it which she liked ; she had no household 
 troubles, was her own mistress, had her private 
 sitting-room to which she could at any time with- 
 draw, and all her little worldly property was around 
 her. 
 
 Thus then it was that Miss Massino- lived on at 
 
 o 
 
 Brimelsea, and ten long years had elapsed since 
 the time when she was an inmate of Merethorn 
 Hall. Ten years work many changes : the young- 
 grow up, the middle-aged grow gray, the old die, 
 and they had worked many bitter changes in the
 
 BRIMELSEA. 13 
 
 Erving family. ^Ir, Erving had followed his wife 
 to the grave, and Maud was left under the care of 
 her uncle, a rich merchant, who then resided in 
 London. She corresponded regularly with her 
 aunt, for the attachment formed in early youth 
 strengthened with age, and the memory of a kind, 
 indulgent, loving face had left a pleasing impres- 
 sion on Maud's mind never to be effaced. With 
 what yearning does the heart cleave to the bright 
 memory of some friend in early youth ! and though 
 disappointment may in after years change those 
 feelino's, with regard to the actual beino: who in- 
 spired them, still that vision once formed in by-gone 
 days, remains and clings around the sanctuary of 
 the heart, as ivy does around some ancient spire of 
 the house of God. 
 
 Maud Ervino: loved her aunt, thouo-h she had 
 never seen her for ten long years, and it was with 
 joy that she received her weekly letters, for that 
 stiff, old-fashioned hand reminded her of home, as 
 she always called Merethorn, and the expressions 
 of love they invariably contained did that poor 
 orphaned heart good, whilst they brought the tears 
 to her clear blue eye. Maud had always been a 
 delicate child, and increasing years had in no way 
 lessened this tendency; the confinement of London 
 did not agree with her, and she languished for want 
 of pure country air and freedom. Her guardian 
 was too much occupied to notice this, and his wife 
 too ailing herself to think of others ; they never left 
 town for more than a few weeks together, and 
 Maud was very frequently at her school at Ken- 
 sington when these excursions were made. 
 
 How often had she pined for her old home, and 
 the haunts whose beauty her childish recollection
 
 14 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 had mirrored in such orlowino- colours on her mind ! 
 It was no wonder, then, that she clung to her aunt, 
 as the only link left to her of the chain which 
 bound her to her early childhood, and many an 
 imposition she received at scliool for covering her 
 copybooks with portraits of an elderly lady in 
 spectacles and little black curls. 
 
 Maud was instructed in all those accomplish- 
 ments requisite for a young lady of fortune, and 
 was finally pronounced finished by Mademoiselle 
 Lafoure, her mistress. She then returned to her 
 uncle's house in Grosvenor Place, and prepared to 
 make her debut in society. 
 
 Tap, tap, tap ! Some one is knocking at the 
 door — Miss Massing hurriedly replaces her cap, 
 but in doing so disarranges the equilibrium of her 
 front, and the parting is in anything but the right 
 place when the maid servant enters with a letter. 
 
 " The post is early this mornino;, is it not, 
 Jane V 
 
 " Well perhaps it is, ma'am, but Grelings brings 
 the letters pretty reglar,"" — the postman was a 
 great admirer of Miss Jane. 
 
 •' Ah, it is from Maud!" exclaimed Miss Massing 
 to herself as she walked towards the window. Jane, 
 who had remained to hear this announcement, with- 
 drew — Miss Massing tore open the envelope, kissed 
 the handwriting, and read as follows : 
 
 " Grosvenor Place. 
 "My dear Aunt Lucy — You will be sorry to 
 hear that my long silence has been caused by 
 illness ; you know how much you feared London 
 gaieties would be too much for me — well, your pro- 
 phesy has come true, though I confess I laughed
 
 BRIMELSEA. 15 
 
 at your fears at first. Hot, crowded rooms do not 
 agree with me, and ever since Easter I have been 
 laid up with a kind of low fever; the doctors have 
 now, however, pronounced me cured, but I still 
 continue so weak and lano-uid that I am recom- 
 mended sea-air, or at all events a total change. 
 My uncle is unable to leave London with his 
 family at present, and as the ki7id doctors urge my 
 immediate removal, he has consented to my putting 
 myself under your care, and becoming an inmate 
 of Miss Brio-(ys's Establishment." 
 
 " Capital !"' exclaimed Miss Massing, and then 
 read on : 
 
 " This idea enchants me......" 
 
 " The dear, warm-hearted child !" 
 
 " ...and I only hope you w411 enter into the 
 arrangement with half the pleasure I do. What 
 famous walks we will take too-ether alonof the 
 shore ! I intend to become learned in seaweeds and 
 zoophytes — it is quite the fashion now. Pray say 
 nothing about the fever to the old ladies, or they 
 will refuse to have me amono-st them : it was nothino- 
 infectious I assure you, and was brought on purely 
 by my state of health. Seeing your kind face 
 again will remind me of happy days long gone ; 
 you do not know how often I pine for a home such 
 as I once had, when dear papa was alive." 
 
 Miss Massing brushed a tear from her eye. 
 
 " My uncle is kind to me, but London life is not 
 to my taste ; besides, there are many circumstances 
 connected with this family, which render a resi- 
 dence amongst them far from agreeable — my aunt 
 is always ill, and the children do just what they 
 please. Then my uncle is, I fear, jealous of me ; 
 he often throws out hints that my father wronged
 
 16 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 him with regard to money matters, and this is of 
 course excessively disagreeable for me to hear, es- 
 pecially when I reside under his roof. Oh, how I 
 hate money ! Never mind, I shall now soon be 
 able to pour all my little sorrows into your willing- 
 ear, and it is better perhaps not to trust them on 
 paper, especially as they may be regarded as family 
 concerns. 
 
 " You must promise to write to me as soon as 
 possible, and name the day for my coming. I shall 
 wait in great impatience to receive your reply, and 
 trust with all my heart that it will be a favourable 
 one. My French maid will accompany me. 
 " Ever your attached niece, 
 
 '' Maud Ervikg.'"' 
 
 Miss Massing read the letter twice, folded it up 
 carefully, replaced it in the envelope, looked at 
 herself in the mirror over the fireplace, adjusted 
 her wig with a good-humoured smile, opened the 
 door, and descended the stairs to the lauding below ; 
 here she turned to the right, and threw open a door 
 directly in front. The hum of voices greeted her 
 as she entered, for this was the public sitting- 
 room, which was always tenanted by a great many 
 ladies. Miss Massing gave a hasty glance around 
 the apartment, and seeing a short, comely-looking 
 woman perusing some letters at a table in the win- 
 dow, she advanced towards her, exclaiming — 
 
 " I have good news to tell you. Miss Briggs." 
 
 " Indeed— what is it V" 
 
 " I have found an occupant for your best bed- 
 room, which was left vacant last week — a great 
 heiress — can you guess who that is V 
 
 " What, your niece, Jtliss Massing?" ejaculated
 
 BRIMELSEA, 17 
 
 the good-natured little woman, all radiant with 
 smiles. 
 
 " None other." 
 
 " Well to be sure ! Fm glad to hear it for your 
 sake ; you have spoken so much about her to us, 
 that I am quite curious to see her. But I trust 
 Miss Erving will not find our plain, homely living- 
 distasteful to her." 
 
 " I can answer for that, Miss Briggs ; Maud is 
 a good, unpretending girl, if she has grown up at 
 all like her mother, and she promised to be the 
 imao-e of her when a child." 
 
 " Children often disappoint one when they grow 
 up," remarked a pettish voice from the sofa, and 
 Miss Massing turned to look at the speaker, who 
 was reclining in the eastern style, a book on her 
 knee and her head restino- on her hand. 
 
 " I am aware of what you say, Mrs. Blount," 
 said Miss Massing, coldly ; " but having con- 
 stantly corresponded with Maud I feel as if I knew 
 her character as well as I did her mother's." 
 
 Mrs. Blount was silent, but she gave her friend 
 Miss Bridges a look which seemed to say. We 
 shall see, all in good time. The latter personage 
 was a shrivelled young lady (for so she still con- 
 tinued to consider herself), with a complexion re- 
 sembling leather in colour and texture, large pro- 
 minent eyes, and a mouth too well supplied with 
 teeth. She was a great confidante of Mrs. Blount, 
 for she upheld that lady's dignity, in opposition to 
 Miss Massing, for though Mrs. Blount had no 
 private sitting-room, she had a bed-room on the 
 first floor, and it was a constant subject of jealousy 
 with her that !^Iiss Brio-frs should o-ive Miss Mass- 
 ing the precedence.
 
 18 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " I, an Indian officer's widow ! the descendant 
 of a long line of ancestors (for who has not heard 
 of the Neals of Monkby ?) — that I should be super- 
 seded by a paltry clergyman's daughter, and all 
 because she happens to have rich relations, and can 
 afford to hire a private sitting-room ! It is shame- 
 ful !" she would often ejaculate to her dear Miss 
 Bridges, in private. " I will leave this place to- 
 morrow !" Then her friend would strive to pacify 
 her, and to assure her that every one considered 
 her far superior to Miss Massing in every way. 
 This flattered Mrs. Blount's self-conceit, and she 
 never left Miss Briggs's Establishment, though she 
 often threatened to do so. 
 
 " I cannot leave you, my kind friend ; we have 
 formed a most tender intimacy — it must not be 
 severed. I will suffer all this indignity to be with 
 you ;" then the friends would kiss and consider 
 each other injured mortals. 
 
 " And now, ladies," said Miss Briggs, advancing 
 into the middle of the room, and looking very mys- 
 terious, " I too have a piece of news to communi- 
 cate." 
 
 " Indeed !" was the general exclamation. 
 
 " Yes, we are going to have a gentleman visit 
 us next week." 
 
 " A gentleman ?" 
 
 " Ah, and a foreigner — a Mounseer Porskow- 
 sooski." 
 
 " Mr what V demanded Miss Bridges, some- 
 what eagerly. 
 
 " Do not ask me to pronounce it again, you 
 shall see the name written," and she presented the 
 letter to her. 
 
 " Why, you left out his title. Miss Briggs," said
 
 BRIMELSEA. 19 
 
 she; "he is a Count — Count Porskinski — it is quite 
 easy to pronounce." 
 
 '• Do you find it so," remarked that lady ; " for 
 my part, I shall call him Pouncey." 
 
 " When does he propose coming?" asked Miss 
 Massing. 
 
 " Next Monday." 
 
 " Ah, that is the day I intend to propose to my 
 niece ; I always like travelling on Monday myself, 
 because then I pack on Friday and Saturday, and 
 have Sunday as a rest between, and I can recollect 
 if there is any little thino; I have foro-otten. Do 
 you think this a good plan. Miss Briggs ?" 
 
 " Yes, very; and it will be so pleasant to receive 
 both our guests on Monday." 
 
 " I wonder if Count Porskinski is a young man, 
 if he is married, or a widower," mused Miss 
 Bridges. " He must be a Pole — a poor outcast 
 from his country ! Perhaps he will be melancholy 
 and require amusing — I feel sorry for him already." 
 
 " What can we do to make Maud's room look 
 cheerful?" asked Miss Massino-, as she withdrew 
 into the window with the lady of the house. 
 " There is the portrait of her dear mother which 
 hangs up in my room — we might take that down 
 and place it over her chimneypiece ; it will feel 
 like coming home, to meet that smile as she enters 
 her bed-room for the first time, and it will take off 
 all the strangeness new rooms always have — do not 
 you think so. Miss Briggs ? I never feel happy in 
 any new room, I miss old friends at every turn, 
 and this makes me sigh. Maud must not learn to 
 do it, for the habit once gained, it is a hard matter 
 to get rid of it again. Did you ever sigh ?" 
 
 " Just see how she listens to all her foolish
 
 20 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 prattle," whispered Mrs. Blount to her confidante, 
 Miss Bridges, as she pointed to the two figures in 
 the window. " It is abominable for the mistress 
 of an Establishment like this to give all her atten- 
 tion to one person — I must speak about it." 
 
 " Wait till the Polish gentleman arrives," sug- 
 gested the other ; "we will get him to complain 
 for us — men always have more weight in such 
 matters than we poor women." 
 
 " Thank you, Miss Briggs, for your good ad- 
 vice," said the innocent Miss Massing, emerging 
 from the recess of the window. " I will go to my 
 room and write to Maud directly. I quite long for 
 Monday to come ; it is so long since I saw that 
 dear child's face !"
 
 BRIMELSEA. 21 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 THE ARRIVALS. 
 
 The inmates of Miss Briggs's Establishment were 
 of diverse religious persuasions : that lady herself 
 was a worthy Dissenter, but of so mild and bene- 
 volent a character, that she never joined in the 
 discussions and disputes that were perpetually aris- 
 ing amongst her lady inmates, who may be said to 
 have been divided into three distinct parties — the 
 upholders of high and low church, and the ac- 
 knowledcred Dissenters. Each had their favourite 
 preacher, for there were two churches in the town, 
 and, alas ! many meeting-houses, as is always the 
 case in seaside places. Mr. Montague, rector of 
 the parish, was a staunch upholder of ortho- 
 doxy and rubrical observance ; whilst, on the other 
 hand, Mr. Pipkin, Incumbent of St. Mary's Dis- 
 trict Church, held highly Puritanical doctrines, 
 preached extempore sermons, and, what rendered 
 him still more popular, he had an interesting 
 
 COUO'll. 
 
 Miss Briggs dreaded the Sunday evenings, for 
 hardly a week passed without some quarrel, arising 
 over a sermon or a favourite preacher. Miss
 
 22 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 Massing was a constant attendant at the parish 
 church, and, save now and then when a passing 
 visitor took np his or her abode amongst them, she 
 was the only one who frequented it from that house. 
 Far was it from her peaceable kind-hearted nature 
 to begin a quarrel with any one, but she could not 
 bear to hear good, zealous men abused, and if a 
 word were breathed against Mr. Montague, the 
 colour would mount to her cheeks, and she would 
 enter the lists of combatants with all the zeal of an 
 enthusiast. 
 
 " What a spiritual discourse we had this morn- 
 ing from Mr. Pipkin, had we not, Miss Bridges T^ 
 said Mrs. Blount, as they sat round the tea-table 
 the following Sunday. " Such a flow of eloquence I 
 it seems to pour in torrents from his mouth." 
 
 " It w^as, indeed, a discourse full of Bible truths," 
 rejoined the younger lady ; " it is quite a privilege 
 to sit under him." 
 
 " Yes, we are highly privileged. Did you notice 
 the passage where he likened sin to a storm, and 
 conversion to the sunshine that follows V 
 
 " Sublime ! his discourses are always very 
 poetical." 
 
 " Yes, the most impenetrable must feel their 
 conscience pricked whilst listening to him ; the 
 greater pity it is he is not rector of this parish. 
 There is something to be learnt from his sermons, 
 whereas one might sit for years under another 
 clergyman of our acquaintance — " here Mrs. Blount 
 glanced at Miss Massing over her spectacles — 
 '' and never learn aught that is essential to one''s 
 souFs health." 
 
 There was a dead silence, and the lady con- 
 tinued — " Talk of charity — the high church do not 
 exercise that virtue, they rail at every one who is
 
 BRIMELSEA. 23 
 
 not of their own persuasion, and think themselves 
 saints — pretty saints, indeed ! " Another look at 
 Miss Massing, but she was busy eating a slice of 
 bread and butter, and appeared perfectly indifferent 
 to the conversation. 
 
 " Take Mr. Montague for instance — he spends 
 all his money in decking out the walls of the dear 
 old parish church with tawdry rubbish on the 
 festivals, as he calls them, making a Protestant 
 place of w^orship look like a Eoman Catholic 
 Chapel, and he never has a farthing to give to the 
 Bible Society and such estimable charities." 
 
 " Mr. Montague subscribes to other institutions," 
 said Miss Massing, quickly. 
 
 "And his hand is always shut against the 
 poor," continued Mrs. Blount. " There is Mary 
 Burton, whose husband was drowned the other day, 
 she went to him, but might have saved herself 
 that trouble." 
 
 " I am sorry you have been so ill informed," re- 
 marked Miss Massing, again. 
 
 " 111 informed ! I have my information from 
 the very best authority ; you do not, I hope, doubt 
 Mr. Pipkins word?" 
 
 " I should be sorry to think he had uttered such 
 an unwarrantable accusation." 
 
 " I saw the woman myself." 
 
 " And did she tell you that Mr. Montague pro- 
 mised to make inquiries in the matter, and, if he 
 found her case a worthy one, he would assist her 
 to the best of his power?" 
 
 " He might have assisted her at once," said Mrs. 
 Blount, vexed at findino^ herself in the wrono-. 
 
 " You forget how much he is subject to im- 
 posture in a town like this."
 
 24 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " I should think nothing of it had I but one 
 solitary case to bring forward, but the truth of 
 what I say is manifest ; see how the poor desert 
 him and put themselves under good Mr. Pipkin's 
 care — his church is crowded, whilst the other "^ 
 
 "• I am excessively sorry to contradict you,"'"' said 
 Miss Massing, " but if you attended St. MichaeFs 
 you would find the accommodation scarcely ade- 
 quate to the congregation." 
 
 " The rich flock there to hear the singing,'^ 
 suggested the other, spitefully. 
 
 " More than half the church is filled with sailors 
 and their wives." 
 
 '' You omit the Irish population, who see so 
 little difference between the ceremonies at St. 
 MichaePs and their own church, that they attend 
 first one and then the other." 
 
 " I think if you were to inquire more closely 
 with regard to this matter you would find that 
 those Irish who do attend at St. MichaePs are 
 converts to our faith." 
 
 " Indeed ! Mr. Pipkin tells a different story ; he 
 has converted some of the benighted Irish, it is 
 true ; but then he is so kind to them, he consults 
 their wants, assists and comforts them. His 
 earnest manner and spiritual life cannot fail to 
 have weight with all who approach him ; he never 
 pollutes himself by going to balls and parties — no, 
 he despises all such vanities, and treads them 
 under his foot as St. George did the Dragon ; but I 
 grieve to say," here she shook her head mourn- 
 fully, " there are clergymen in this parish who do 
 indulge in these vanities, whilst they neglect their 
 duties."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 25 
 
 " I cannot imagine to whom you allude,'"' said 
 Miss Massing, becoming really vexed. 
 
 " Your own observation might tell you I speak 
 of ]\Ir. Montague." 
 
 " That is impossible, for a man who devotes his 
 life to relioious exercises, and the o-ood of those 
 entrusted to his care, cannot be accused of neglect- 
 ing his duty. And, to tell the truth, Mrs. Blount, 
 I think we should all be the better and happier if, 
 instead of finding fault with others, we were to 
 strive to imitate the good they do, and learn to 
 reverence our clergy and not to abuse them.'' Miss 
 Massing rose. " It is painful to me to speak in 
 this way, but I cannot hear Mr. Montague thus 
 abused, and not contradict the slander." 
 
 " Ladies, ladies ! " interposed Miss Briggs, 
 " we had better return to the drawing-room, if you 
 have all finished tea." 
 
 That night Mrs. Blount swept out of the sitting- 
 room without saying good night to any of the ladies 
 present. Miss Massing was grieved that any one 
 should let the sun go down on their wrath, especially 
 when that wrath was against her, so following Mrs. 
 Blount out of the room she confronted her in the 
 passage. 
 
 " Let us part as friends," she said, holding out 
 her hand. 
 
 " No, indeed," replied the other, tossing her head 
 in the air, and taking a step forwards, " I have 
 been insulted by you — an injury is not so easily 
 forgotten as you may think. Miss Massing." 
 
 " If I have offended, I hope you will accept of 
 an apology," said the kind-hearted old lady. " My 
 words were doubtless hasty, they may have wounded 
 
 deeper than I then intended — I am sorry " again 
 
 she held out her hand, but it was not taken. " Will 
 
 VOL. I. C
 
 26 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 you not forgive me? We may not live to see 
 another dawn — I like to lay my head to rest and 
 think that I am at peace with all the world. Will 
 you not grant me that pleasure?" 
 
 Her hand was taken, but the pressure was cold. 
 
 Miss Massing retired to her couch with happy 
 thouo'hts of what her niece would be like; if she 
 had grown up as handsome as she promised to be 
 when she was a child, and used to play on her knee, 
 stroke her cheeks, and call her dear A unty Louchy . 
 Mrs. Blount's head ached as she laid it on her 
 pillow, and she felt vexed with all the world. 
 
 The following morning, Monday, was the day on 
 which the new arrivals were expected, and the in- 
 mates of the Boarding House were all dressed in 
 their best clothes to receive them. Miss Massing, 
 who set fashion at defiance, and preferred comfort 
 to show, took extra pains over her toilet that morn- 
 ing, and her very best gown — a black silk with 
 sprigs of flowers — was selected as the one to be 
 worn on this great occasion. It was made after her 
 own pattern (indeed only one dressmaker in Brimel- 
 sea ever suited her taste), the skirt was short, the 
 sleeves tight, and a canezou of Honiton lace half 
 covered the body, whilst a neat frill around her 
 neck served instead of a collar; she looked the 
 picture of a kind old lady, but these eccentricities 
 in dress made her the laughing-stock of her jealous 
 enemies. 
 
 " I wonder what the heiress will think of her 
 aunt," whispered Mrs. Blount to Miss Bridges. 
 
 " She will laugh at her, as much as we do," was 
 the reply. Little did these worthy ladies know the 
 heiress, if they thought she was like themselves. 
 
 Let us leave them to their conjectures awhile, 
 and travel up to London in our imagination.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 27 
 
 Thought travels quicker even than the electric 
 wire ! 
 
 The Station at London Bridge was crowded 
 with people from all parts of the country ; some 
 bound for the Continent ; some for a day's pleasur- 
 ing in the green fields and pleasant lanes of Surrey 
 — whilst others, principally ladies and their chil- 
 dren, were starting for a three weeks' holiday to 
 some seaside town. Amongst a group of the last 
 mentioned travellers stood a tall, delicate-looking 
 girl, waiting patiently till the time should come for 
 the train to start ; she was turning over the leaves 
 of a book she had just bought at the stall close by, 
 and her head beins: somewhat bent she did not ob- 
 serve that she had unconsciously attracted the 
 attention of a foreign-looking gentleman, likewise 
 waiting for the train to start. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Erving," said a French maid, 
 approaching her, " I have chosen a carriage where 
 there are no children, and if you are weary of wait- 
 ing here you can enter it, as I have prepared all for 
 you." 
 
 The young lady rose from the bench on which 
 she had seated herself, and, giving a shawl to her 
 maid, entered the carriage that had been selected ; 
 the foreign gentleman watched their movements, 
 looked in at the window to see if a place were left 
 vacant, and finding none walked ofi" rather discon- 
 certed. The first bell rang, every one rushed to 
 their places, and nurses were seen hurrying along 
 with children in their arms and others hano^ino^ to 
 their dresses. 
 
 " Here, Jane, be quick ! " urged an anxious 
 mother. 
 
 " If you please, ma'am. Master Tom has got a 
 sturdy fit, and won't move." 
 
 c2
 
 28 * BRIMELSEA. 
 
 '' Carry him, then." 
 
 " But he kicks so, ma'am,'' said the disconsolate 
 nurse. 
 
 Tino;-a-Hno^- a-linsr ! there's the second bell. '' Take 
 your seats, please, ladies," and every one scrambled 
 in, Master Tom kicking and screaming in the 
 guard's arms — an agreeable travelling companion ! 
 
 Whizz ! jerk — jerk ! whizz ! and away flies 
 the train with all its living burden. Many a heart 
 of sorrow and joy, hope, expectation and disappoint- 
 ment, is whirling with it — on, on, with the wings 
 of the wind ! May their sorrows vanish as quickly 
 as yonder train does from our view ! 
 
 After luncheon Miss Massing retired to her own 
 sitting-room, there to wait in patience till her niece 
 should arrive ; every ring and knock at the front 
 door made her start, and she spent the afternoon in 
 looking out of the window, watching the comers 
 and goers. Five o'clock struck. 
 
 " Maud ought to have arrived by this time ; I 
 told her our dinner hour was six. Dear me, dear 
 me, she makes me anxious," said the kind old lady 
 as she paced the room. Just then the rumble of a 
 carriage was heard in the street below — it stopped — 
 Miss Massing rushed to the window. "It is a fly 
 from the station, and there is luggage ; it must be 
 Maud ! " and, without a moment's hesitation, away 
 she runs down stairs, desirous of being the first to 
 welcome her niece. " I must be quick," thought 
 she, " the front door is open — Maud will be before 
 me." The ground floor is gained — the passage 
 traversed — the sharp corner by the street door 
 turned — "Oh!" Miss Massins: encountered not 
 Maud, but Count Porskinski, the Polish gentleman, 
 who was likewise expected that day. 
 
 " I I beg your pardon, I mistook I "
 
 BRIMELSEA. . 29 
 
 The tall, moustached gentleman bowed ; there 
 was not a shadow of a smile upon his polite features 
 as he witnessed Miss Massing's confusion. 
 
 " You are expecting a young lady from town,'** 
 he said, in measured accents. 
 
 '^ Yes," whispered iSIiss Massing, only partially 
 recovered from the shock she had received. 
 
 " She will be here in a moment, I heard her com- 
 mand the coachman to drive to this house. There 
 was some delay about her luggage, but I have the 
 felicity of telling you it is safe." 
 
 " Here she is !" ejaculated Miss Massing, as 
 another fly drove up, and two female faces were 
 seen at the window. 
 
 *' Himmel ! she is beautiful," murmured the 
 Pole to himself. Another moment, and two 
 long severed relations were clasped in a fond em- 
 brace, heedless of the eyes that gazed upon them. 
 
 " Is it possible ! Is this my Maud ? such a 
 woman ! how changed you are, and yet " 
 
 " The same, dear aunt," said Maud, finishing 
 the sentence, and kissing her again, " the same to 
 you as when I played upon your knee." 
 
 "Eeizend — charming!" murmured the spectator 
 from behind. 
 
 *' Perhaps, sir," said the maid, addressing him, 
 " you would like to see Miss Briggs." 
 
 " Ye — yes," said he, rousing himself from the 
 trance into which he had fallen. " Can I see her I — 
 yes." 
 
 " If you will follow me, sir. Miss Briggs is 
 upstairs;" the Count mechanically followed the 
 maid, and in another minute stood surrounded by 
 the lady inhabitants of the Boarding House. He 
 paused in the doorway, and bowing low to those 
 present, seemed doubting whom to address as Miss
 
 30 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 Briggs, when that worthy little lady tripped up to 
 meet him. 
 
 " Welcome, sir, most welcome to our Establish- 
 ment. I trust you will find everything to your 
 liking, though we are thoroughly English here." 
 
 "I am almost naturalized now," said the Count ; 
 " long absence from my country has weaned me 
 from many of its peculiarities and prejudices. I 
 wish to be regarded quite as one of you, for Eng- 
 land is my adopted country." 
 
 " I knew he was an exile,'' thought Miss 
 Bridges, eying the Count from her seat in the 
 window. " How handsome he is, but dark for a 
 German. He is just what I should have expected 
 a patriot to be like. Ah, he has a wound across 
 his forehead ! Poor fellow, only think how he has 
 bled for his country !" 
 
 " I must introduce you to some of the lady 
 residents," said Miss Briggs. " Mrs. Blount, 
 Count " here she coughed, and fearing to com- 
 mit an egregious error if she attempted to pro- 
 nounce his name, the merry little woman merely 
 mentioned that of the different ladies, and ignored 
 the Count's altogether. 
 
 "Where is Miss Massing?" at length she ex- 
 claimed. " Has Miss Erving arrived?" 
 
 " There was noise enough down stairs for the 
 arrival of ten heiresses, so I should think she has," 
 said Mrs. Blount, pettishly. 
 
 "An heiress!" thought the Count. " Beautiful, 
 and an heiress !" 
 
 A merry voice was heard near the door, and a 
 ringing laugh from Miss Massing ; the next instant 
 the two entered arm in arm. Maud Erving looked 
 very lovely as she stood, half frightened at the 
 sight of so many strangers, a little behind her aunt ;
 
 BRIMELSEA. 31 
 
 » 
 
 her fair hair hung in curls around her pale, snow- 
 white cheeks, and the deep blue eyes shot wistfully 
 from beneath her somewhat overhanfjino: brow, 
 which gave them a thoughtful, anxious expression. 
 A formal introduction was gone through, and then 
 she retired to her chamber to prepare for dinner. 
 Miss Massing followed her, would not believe she 
 had all she wanted, ran in and out of the room for 
 first one unnecessary thing, then another, made the 
 French maid angry, because she would unpack, and 
 finally carried Maud in triumph down to dinner. 
 
 " Mafoi /" exclaimed the Frenchwoman, as they 
 quitted the room, " my young lady must be an 
 angel to bear all that interference ; but I am not 
 one and I cannot ; she must not meddle with me, 
 
 or I Well, I will think about what I will do;"" 
 
 and thus saying, she busied herself with the neces- 
 sary arrangements for Mademoiselle's comfort, and 
 unconsciously undid all that Miss Massing had 
 done that morning. First the bed did not suit 
 Miss Laurette's fancy — it must stand where the 
 sofa was ; then the dressing-table had to be moved, 
 whilst the looking-glass was pronounced to be most 
 unbecoming, for in which ever way she turned it, 
 it did in no way do justice to Miss Laurette's very 
 sallow complexion. 
 
 That night when Maud had dismissed her maid, 
 and the house was still, she put out her light, stole 
 to the window, threw back the curtain, undid the 
 fastening and leaned out — the moon shone upon 
 the wide expanse of sea before her, and the soft 
 plash of the waves upon the shore sent a soothing 
 sound to greet her. But Maud was very sorrowful ; 
 the meeting with her aunt after so many years of 
 separation, reminded her of the happy days of her 
 childhood, and the young heart sighed for the
 
 32 . BRIMELSEA. 
 
 father and mother it had lost, alas ! even before 
 she could rightly appreciate the blessing of such 
 near and tender relations. 
 
 Count Porskinski retired to his apartment, sing- 
 ing a national air, and thinking all the while — 
 " An heiress ! it is well I came to Brimelsea." 
 An exile from his own country, with no employ- 
 ment, he had wandered from Rome to Paris seek- 
 ing a means of subsistence, and had lived now by 
 teaching German, now music, and occasionally by 
 writing for newspapers, or correcting the press. 
 Entertaining revolutionary principles, and having 
 meddled in French politics, he received one day an 
 official order to quit France within twenty-four 
 hours, and had immediately turned his steps to 
 England, the land of liberty, the refuge for all 
 political exiles.
 
 BRLMELSEA. 33 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 THE PROPOSED EXCURSION. 
 
 *' Well, Blanche, have you had enouoh of London 
 gaiety?" asked a handsome-looking, middle-aged 
 man, who sat somewhat listlessly in an armchair 
 by the window of his library in Eaton Square, and 
 addressing a young lady seated at the farther end 
 of the room at her desk. " For my part, I am 
 weary beyond measure of the eternal smoke, and 
 long for a sea-breeze. Politics have gone to sleep 
 since peace was concluded, there is nothing in the 
 papers — literally nothing," and he threw that 
 mighty chronicle. The Times, with very little re- 
 spect on the floor. 
 
 Blanche rose and approached him. 
 
 " I am ready to go, papa ; I have been to ten 
 balls within the last fortnight, so have had dancing 
 enough for the rest of the summer. But where do 
 you propose to go ?" 
 
 "I do not know — let me see — well, fetch the 
 map of Europe from the side table. We must 
 choose a place where I can have good cruising in 
 the yacht." 
 
 " Shall I tell you where I should like to go?" 
 
 c 5
 
 S4 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 said his daughter, seating herself upon his knee, 
 and playing with his glossy hair ; " I want to go 
 to Brimelsea/' 
 
 " Brimelsea ! what on earth makes you wish to 
 go there V 
 
 " Because my old school-fellow, Maud Erving, 
 has gone there to recruit after her illness, and she 
 would be a nice companion for me when you leave 
 me, as of course you must sometimes." 
 
 " Brimelsea," repeated Lord Reynoldforde, 
 thoughtfully; "there is a snug little harbour for 
 our ' Firefly' there, and we can cruise about the 
 coast, and run over to France and Holland. By 
 heavens, Brimelsea is the place ! we will go there, 
 Blanche — let us be ofl" as soon as possible," and 
 father and daughter both sprang up, as if to begin 
 the necessary preparations that very instant ; but 
 Lord Reynoldforde only walked to the fireplace, 
 and standing before it as if it were still winter, and 
 a fire burned in the grate, he said — 
 
 " I should like you to have an elderly person to 
 be your companion as well as Maud, for I must 
 ask some young fellow to accompany me " 
 
 The door opened at that moment, and a smart 
 liveried servant entered with a card. Lord Reynold- 
 forde glanced at it, and said — 
 
 ' ' Oh, show him in directly. By Jupiter ! Blanche, 
 this man will do very well " 
 
 He had not time to say another word, for the 
 servant returned followed by an elegant French 
 dandy. Blanche's lip curled, and there was an 
 evident expression of distaste in her manner, as she 
 bowed to the new comer, a slight, well-made, little 
 man, with quick movements, black sparkling eyes, 
 and raven hair. 
 
 " Ah, Marquis, you are the very man I am look-
 
 BRIMELSEA. 85 
 
 ing for," said the hearty noble, extending his hand 
 to the Frenchman. 
 
 " You make me jojftil, milord, you do indeed. 
 How is it that you can use me V 
 
 The ^Marquis de Montanvert was no proficient in 
 the English language, and as Lord Eeynoldforde 
 had a perfect knowledge of French, having been 
 educated in Paris, the conversation was continued 
 in that language, and we shall here give the trans- 
 lation. 
 
 " We are thinking of leaving London as soon as 
 possible " 
 
 '' I am au desespoirT cried the Frenchman, 
 taking a step back. 
 
 " And want you to go with us."" 
 
 The Marquis sprang forwards exultingly — 
 
 " And whither V 
 
 " On a yachting excursion ; our head quarters 
 will be Brimelsea." 
 
 " Yon enchant me," and he glanced at Blanche 
 with his keen black eyes. 
 
 " I know you are as fond of the sea as I am," 
 continued Lord Eeynoldforde. " I have not for- 
 gotten our cruises in your yacht before I was 
 married." 
 
 The Marquis winced, he was very anxious to be 
 considered quite a young man, although he was but 
 a few years the junior of his friend, and former 
 schoolfellow. Lord Eeynoldforde. 
 
 Blanche now advanced to her father, and asked 
 permission to order the carriage, that she might 
 visit her old schoolmistress, and see if, as the 
 holidays commenced the following week, she would 
 consent to accompany her on their excursion. Lord 
 Eeynoldforde consented, and Blanche bowing to 
 the Marquis, turned to leave the room. She ordered
 
 36 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 the carriage to be got ready, and then walked with 
 stately steps up to her own apartment. No sooner 
 had she reached it, however, than she locked the 
 door with a trembling hand, and throwing herself 
 into a chair, exclaimed — 
 
 " My mother's dying words were, ' Keep him 
 from that man,' and I have not done so. But how 
 could I ? he entered the room before I could say a 
 word. Oh, is it impossible to prevent his accom- 
 panying us? My father never withdraws his 
 word — he has asked ' that man,' and he will come. 
 Oh, mother ! I will watch — your life was one of 
 watching, guarding ; you left that legacy to your 
 poor, weak daughter, a girl of seventeen — God 
 grant her power to follow in your saint-like steps. 
 I will watch, I will not leave him, I will keep 
 him from gaming, from all that may stain his still 
 
 noble name — yes, I and what am I, that I 
 
 should say I will do this ? He is a man, a designing 
 man, and I a weak woman ; but then there is 
 virtue in my cause, virtue triumphs over evil — but 
 my heart misgives me. I might have prevented 
 this, if he had not entered so immediately, my 
 father is so indulgent he would have listened to me 
 then J but now all hope is over, the Marquis de 
 ^lontanvert is tacked to us for the next month," 
 and she rose majestically ; all appearance of weak- 
 ness had fled in a moment, and a cold sneer played 
 around that handsome mouth, whilst the large 
 hazel eyes seemed to say, I will conquer or die ! 
 
 There is something ver}^ fine in determination, it 
 shows a character above the usual stamp, especially 
 when the attainment of the object determined on is 
 fraught with difficulty, and the undertaker is a 
 young, unprotected girl, such as Blanche Farn- 
 court. Young as she was, however, she had a
 
 BRIMELSEA. 37 
 
 character fit to battle with the world ; her percep- 
 tion was quick, her judgment good, her resolution 
 firm, and her pride indomitable — a dangerous trait, 
 but one which fitted her to combat and conquer in 
 positions where a less resolute person would sink, 
 despair, and fail. Blanche never let herself sup- 
 pose she could fail ; her character was stronger than 
 her father's, and she had a gfreat command over 
 him ; she was his darling, she knew it, and re- 
 turned his affection without being able to respect 
 him. 
 
 Lord Eeynoldforde's youth had been dissolute : 
 he had made bad friends, and they led him astray 
 into forbidden paths, which perhaps he would never 
 have trodden but for them. Fortunately for him, 
 ere he had sunk very far, he met with an angel in 
 woman's form; he loved her — they married — she 
 led him away from temptation, guarded him from 
 his associates, and having accomplished her ap- 
 pointed task on earth, lay down, and her bright 
 spirit fled away to its native home in the skies. 
 Lord Reynoldforde mourned his wife with a wild, 
 passionate grief, but another being was by him — 
 his child ; his wife's legacy was growing up by his 
 side, and he loved it for the lost one's sake. 
 
 Blanche remembered her mother's dying w^ords, 
 breathed in the last kiss she had imprinted on her 
 child's cheek — " Watch your father, love him with 
 all your heart, and keep him from that man." 
 
 Young as she was then, she knew well to whom 
 her mother alluded, and never saw the Marquis de 
 Montanvert without feelino: a strons: aversion to 
 him, though, to all outward appearance, he was a 
 man to attract a young girl's admiration ; his ad- 
 dress was engaging, he was amusing and never 
 obtrusive in his attentions, but whenever he set foot
 
 S8 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 in her father's house, the words — " Keep him from 
 that man," rang in Blanche's ears, and she put 
 herself on her guard, resisted all his attentions to 
 please her, and made herself purposely as disagree- 
 able to him as she could. 
 
 The carriage was announced, Blanche descended 
 to the hall, and there stood the Marquis upon the 
 door-step, whispering some earnest words into her 
 father's ear. On seeing her he stepped politely 
 forward, and offered her his arm ; she took it with 
 evident signs of reluctance, and bowing coldly, was 
 the next instant whirling rapidly to her old school. 
 The years she had spent under the care of Made- 
 moiselle Lafoure had been happy and peaceful ; 
 she looked back to them with pleasure, now that 
 life with all its perplexities rose before and around 
 her; each day showed her more plainly that her 
 path was not destined to be strewn with roses, that 
 thouo^h she was the dauo^hter of a rich lord her 
 struggles would be great, and her heart often ached 
 at the thought of the possibility of what her future 
 might be. 
 
 At length the carriage drew up before a large 
 door — the footman knocked. What a familiar sound 
 that was to her ! how often when a child had she 
 peeped behind those red curtains in the dining-room 
 to see who the visitor might be ! Blanche smiled 
 as these thoughts recurred to her. A man-servant 
 opened the door — Mademoiselle Lafoure was at 
 home. Blanche followed him up into the drawing- 
 room, and as she entered caught sight of a retreat- 
 ing figure, making its escape by another door. The 
 piano was open, Blanche knew what the figure had 
 been doing — she had herself often slipped out of 
 that door ; but now she was the visitor, the grown- 
 up person she had always looked up to with such
 
 BRIMELSEA. 39 
 
 awe ; she was the lady of consequence Mademoi- 
 selle Lafoure would change her cap and smooth 
 down her dress to see — how strange it felt ! she 
 could scarcely help glancing in the mirror to see if 
 she were the same or not. 
 
 ^^ Ma chere petite T exclaimed a voice behind 
 her, " this visit gives me so much pleasure. How 
 blooming you look !" The person who spoke thus 
 was Mademoiselle Lafoure, a thorough French lady 
 in appearance, dressed in black silk, with a pretty 
 little coquettish lace cap perched on the back of 
 her head. 
 
 " Ah, and I have come to carry you off," said 
 Blanche, kissing her on each cheek. " You must 
 not refuse me — the holidays begin to-morrow, I 
 know, and you are to spend them with me, dear 
 Mademoiselle." 
 
 " You take my breath away ; I have so much 
 business, so much to think about — tell me more 
 clearly what you mean," and the Frenchwoman 
 clasped her head playfully with both hands. 
 Blanche took hold of them and held them fast. 
 
 " See, I have caught you, and can lead you 
 where I like." 
 
 They both went to the sofa and sat down. 
 
 " Now for my explanation," continued Blanche. 
 " The important matter is this, that I want your 
 society ; we are going to spend the summer at 
 Brimelsea, the yacht is to lie in the harbour, we are 
 to take coasting cruises, exploring voyages to the 
 Polar Seas, and " 
 
 "Ah, stop, stop !" exclaimed the Frenchwoman, 
 making a piteous face. " And am I, poor Made- 
 moiselle Lafoure, to be carried about the world, 
 whether I will or no, in a yacht ?" 
 
 *' Yes, to be sure," said Blanche merrily ; "it
 
 40 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 will do you so much good, you will come back to 
 London refreshed, and will be able to rule the 
 young ladies ten times better. I know you will not 
 refuse me, your old pupil, who is in search of a 
 friend — a protector,**' added Blanche, gravely. 
 
 " Hey day ! you must give me time to think 
 about it. I can send my answer this evening." 
 
 " No, I must have it now ; papa has asked a 
 friend to accompany us, and I will not go without 
 you, I shall want your help. Papa's friend is the 
 Marquis de Montanvert." 
 
 The countenance of the Frenchwoman changed, 
 and she said, seriously — 
 
 " Poor child ! I will go," 
 
 " Do not call me poor," cried Blanche, " I have 
 gained your consent, and am as happy as the 
 queen." 
 
 Thus saying she sprang up, kissed Madamoiselle 
 Lafoure, and was out of the door before the French- 
 woman could call after her. 
 
 " Tell your mistress that I will write her a letter, 
 with all particulars, this evening," said Blanche to 
 the servant, as she passed out of the house. 
 
 That evening, after dinner, the father and daugh- 
 ter were seated together in the small drawing-room 
 of their majxnificent London house. Blanche had 
 her hand in his, and was looking imploringly into 
 his face. 
 
 " Do not go to-night, father, we have so much 
 to talk about. I want your advice about many 
 things." 
 
 " I must, child, I have an appointment." 
 
 " May I ask with whom ?" said Blanche, ear- 
 nestly. 
 
 '' It is nothing that will interest you, girl, but an 
 appointment must be kept. You, who are such a 
 business-like woman, ought not to detain me."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 41 
 
 " If it is business, I would not for a moment, 
 but I feared " A blush overspread her coun- 
 tenance. 
 
 " Feared what, child?'' asked he, fro^\^3ing. 
 " Am I not old enough to take care of myself f 
 
 " Yes, yes ; I did not mean that. Oh, father," 
 and throwing herself into his arms, she said, " I 
 love you so much.'" 
 
 " What does all this nonsense mean, Blanche? 
 You do not generally act such tragic scenes as 
 this." 
 
 " No, thank heaven ! I have not often occasion 
 to do so. But remember, father, you are my all ; 
 I am motherless ; I have no ear into which to pour 
 out my griefs and fears but yours. Will you not 
 stay with me to-night V 
 
 " I cannot," said he, drawing his hand across 
 his eyes, and turning from her. " You are un- 
 reasonable — I will promise to hear all you have to 
 say to-morrow, but not now. Montanvert is wait- 
 ing at the club to talk over our excursion — I must 
 go." 
 
 " Oh, father, that man is false !'** cried Blanche, 
 wildly. " He is not a friend to you, he is wicked !" 
 
 " How do you know that?" said Lord Eeynold- 
 forde, angrily, to his daughter. " Do you suppose 
 I should introduce him to you if he were an im- 
 proper person ? I am astonished at you, Blanche. 
 There, take these keys, lock up the drawers you 
 find open, and go to bed, I shall be late most likely 
 to-night," and without turning to look at his daugh- 
 ter, the man, strong in his own estimation, but so 
 weak in reality, left the room. 
 
 Blanche sat gazing before her into space. The 
 window was open, and heaven stretched bright and 
 pure above the abodes of vice, misery, wealth, and
 
 42 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 dissipation, whilst the moon shone serenely down 
 upon the vast city of London. 
 
 " Mother, I have done my best, do not reproach 
 
 your child because she failed!'" And tears 
 
 started to the proud girFs eyes. Her first attempt 
 had failed. 
 
 The Marquis de Montanvert, after leaving his 
 friend Lord Reynoldforde, that morning, returned 
 to his lodgings, and there was a self-satisfied smile 
 on his sinister countenance as he opened the door of 
 his well-furnished apartments. Walking up to the 
 table in the centre of the room, he turned over some 
 of the books lying there, and looked at their gold 
 lettered titles ; but it was evidently a mere me- 
 chanical movement, for the smile still played 
 around his mouth, and there could be nothing in 
 the plain bindings of " Monte Christo," and " Les 
 Freres Corses," to call it forth. No ; the Marquis 
 was busied in his own thoughts, and they breathed, 
 alas ! nothing good respecting Lord Reynoldforde 
 and his beautiful daughter Blanche. 
 
 " How I shall triumph, when that proud girl 
 bends before me, entreats me to permit her to do 
 this and that. Entreaty adds beauty to a hand- 
 some face ; I shall enjoy seeing those eyes turn to 
 me in supplication, when she is my wife." And the 
 Marquis threw the book he held in his hand with 
 force upon the table. " Wife ! hey, wife she shall 
 be, and her rich dowry mine !" 
 
 " What is the matter with you V said a voice 
 behind him. 
 
 " Nothing," rejoined the Marquis, looking quickly 
 round, and confronting a friend of the same nation 
 as himself. 
 
 " Men do not throw books about in general," 
 continued the intruder.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 43 
 
 " Le diable ! how did you come here V 
 
 " I followed you," was the laconic reply. 
 
 " And what for !" 
 
 " To speak with you." 
 
 " Well, be seated then, and let me hear what 
 you have got to say," said the Marquis, pushing a 
 chair towards his visitor in an irritated manner. 
 
 " I come to ask you what the news is, and when 
 the marriage is to take place." 
 
 " What marriao;e 2" 
 
 " Why, yours ; I have been looking out for it day 
 after day. Take care, I have not forgotten our 
 accounts ; a man does not easily forget three 
 thousand pounds ;" and he laid a stress upon the 
 words. 
 
 The Marquis, who was well aware his gambling 
 debts to this man amounted to that sum, thought 
 it best to conciliate him, and said, drawing his chair 
 in a confidential manner close to his — 
 
 " I shall be married to Blanche Farncourt in the 
 month of August, here is my hand upon it." 
 
 " What will you bet me V 
 
 " A hundred pounds." 
 
 " Done," and the man took out his pocket-book 
 and made a memorandum of the afiair. 
 
 "To show the intimate terms I am on with the 
 family," the Marquis went on say, " I must inform 
 you of a few facts." 
 
 His friend nodded. 
 
 " In the first place, Lord Reynoldforde is coming 
 here to-night ; in the second, I am going to spend 
 the summer with them." 
 
 " It is false," said the other, firmly. 
 
 " Deny it, if you can ; or, if you do not believe 
 ray testimony, come here this evening at nine 
 o'clock, and hear it from the best authority, the
 
 44 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 Baron himself/' Here he paused, and then lower- 
 ing his voice to a whisper, he continued, " I have 
 my own way now the lady is dead ; she was my 
 enemy, but she has gone to her account, and the 
 Baron is as easy to twist as this piece of paper," 
 and he gave an illustration with a letter that lay 
 on the table. " Ha, ha ! these English milords 
 are right good-humoured fellows ; it is very plea- 
 sant to get rich at their expense." 
 
 "At their daughters' expense," suggested the 
 other. 
 
 " Ah, Mademoiselle Blanche is an angel ! But 
 mind you (this is of course private), I shall have to 
 curb her temper !" 
 
 " Not a little, when you catch her," said the 
 other, knowingly.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 45 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 THE BOARDING-HOUSE. 
 
 Maud Erving vas naturally of a happy, buoyant 
 disposition, and the gloom which old memories had 
 cast upon her spirits, when last we saw her, soon 
 passed away, and left no trace upon her fair brow 
 tlie following morning, as she descended to break- 
 fast. 
 
 Mrs. Blount was indisposed (a very common 
 occurrence), and did not appear at the morning 
 meal ; Miss Bridges was excessively active in cut- 
 ting bread and butter, and flew two or three times 
 up stairs, to inquire if her dear friend had any 
 possible want ; whether her tea were sweet enough, 
 or if she could bring her up a little buttered toast, 
 a little jelly, or the least drop of brandy to put in 
 her tea, it was so good for languor, she knew so 
 well what Mrs. Blount felt ; had felt the same 
 symptoms a hundred times herself; would do any- 
 thing in the world to alleviate them. Could not 
 Mrs. Blount find something she, her devoted friend, 
 might do for her? It would give her so much plea- 
 sure to be of the slightest use. We grieve to say 
 affection for her friend was not the sole motive that
 
 46 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 prompted Miss Bridges to these acts of kindness. 
 No ; there was a deeper meaning in what she did, 
 for she was anxious to show Count Porskinski how 
 indefatigable she could be in doing kind actions for 
 those she loved. 
 
 Unfortunately, her exertions were superfluous — 
 that gentleman was unworthy of such indirect 
 attentions ; he, alas ! never thought twice about 
 what Miss Bridges was doing, for he sat beside 
 Maud Erving, and they had entered into a dispute 
 over favourite authors : Maud preferred Schiller to 
 Goethe, and the Count strove in vain to persuade 
 her she was wrong. The discussion grew warm ; 
 he quoted passage after passage, and finally ended 
 bv making^ Maud consent to listen whilst he read 
 selections from Goethe aloud to her. 
 
 " What can have happened to Miss Bridges !" 
 said Miss Massing, to the lady of the house, as she 
 disappeared for the fourth time. 
 
 " She is anxious about her friend, I suppose," 
 was the reply. " There is no occasion for it, how- 
 ever, as Mrs. Blount's indispositions are generally 
 more than half imaginary. Now, Miss Massing, 
 I want to talk to you about a little plan I arranged 
 in my bed last night," and she lowered her voice to 
 a confidential whisper. " I thought it would be 
 very nice to have a little tea-drinking in honour of 
 the new comers — both such young people, you 
 know — a little variety would be good for them ; 
 and I said to myself, There is Miss Carpenter and 
 her brother might be asked ; then, as they are your 
 friends, I tried to think of some one whom it would 
 please Mrs. Blount and Miss Bridges to see, and, 
 as I turned over several names in my head, I fixed 
 upon Mr. Pipkin, their favourite preacher, you 
 know."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 47 
 
 " What, Miss Carpenter and Mr. Pipkin to meet 
 together!'' cried Miss Massing; " two people of 
 such opposite views will fight, indeed they will." 
 
 " They need not talk to each other — I will 
 arrange it all. Miss Bridges shall play at chess in 
 the window with Mr. Pipkin, and Miss Carpenter 
 shall sit on the sofa and chat with your niece ; they 
 will like each other, I feel sure, and it will be very 
 nice for her to make a few friends in Brimelsea, do 
 you not think so. Miss Massing f 
 
 " Yes, decidedly ; I did intend introducing 
 Maud to Lydia Carpenter, for I knew what a nice 
 companion she would be to her, and your scheme is 
 a very pleasant one for their first introduction. 
 When did you propose asking them V 
 
 " The day after to-morrow ; it cannot be sooner, 
 as to-night Mr. Pipkin has a prayer meeting, and 
 to-morrow his district ladies meet at his house, 
 drink tea, and, from what I hear, talk scandal. 
 They say his wife is never present, but that she 
 sits all alone by her drawing-room window, reading 
 or working, whilst her husband is surrounded by 
 ' his ladies' (as they are called). I do not know 
 how much business they transact, but they tell me 
 Mr. Pipkin receives a great many presents on these 
 Thursday evenings." 
 
 " Oh, Miss Brioo^s!" said Miss Massino- some- 
 what shocked; " it is not like you to speak in this 
 way." 
 
 " No, I am aware of that ; but I feel so sorry for 
 his poor wife, she cannot help being a little jealous 
 of these ladies." 
 
 " She might be a district visitor if she liked, I 
 suppose, and then she would make one at the meet- 
 ings," suggested Miss Massing. 
 
 " No, indeed, you mistake, Mr. Pipkin does not
 
 48 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 approve of married ladies joining their body ; he 
 considers they have enough to do at home, and 
 Mrs. Pipkin is set up as a model wife. Poor thing, 
 many a lonely hour she has ! I do not fancy there 
 are many women who would like to be model wives, 
 if that is to be the sort of life they lead.'" 
 
 Miss Bridges entered the room at this juncture, 
 and the plan of the proposed tea-party was com- 
 municated to her ; her eye brightened at the 
 thought of entertaining Mr. Pipkin, but when Miss 
 Carpenter's name was mentioned, she looked scorn- 
 ful, and remarked in a superior woman tone of 
 voice — 
 
 " You had better invite Miss Smith, the Na- 
 tional school mistress, they are sworn friends, and 
 Mr. Carpenter would be infinitely obliged to you^ 
 Miss Briggs.'' 
 
 A pause followed this speech, and then Miss 
 Massing said, calmly — 
 
 " You are in the wrong. Miss Bridges, indeed 
 you are. I do not know a more aimable, kind- 
 hearted person than Lydia Carpenter, and I feel 
 sure her conduct towards Miss Smith is actuated 
 purely from kind feelings. A person of such good 
 education as our school mistress must necessarily 
 be isolated. She is above her own station, and 
 cannot associate with us. Lydia takes compassion 
 on her, and has made her a friend." 
 
 "■ All very well, but I prophesy,"' here Miss 
 Bridges looked extremely wise, " that Miss Smith 
 will one day become Mrs. Carpenter.'"* 
 
 " Do not let us foresee evil," said Miss Briggs ; 
 " I must say I admire Miss Carpenter for her 
 kindness in this instance, and we will hope she 
 may never have occasion to regret what she has 
 done."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 49 
 
 " We may hope in vain," and the ill-natured 
 Miss Bridn;es walked out of the room, encountering 
 the maid at the door brino'ino^ in a note for Miss 
 Massino^. A man servant was waitino^ for an an- 
 swer, and Miss Massing hastily broke the seal. 
 
 *' Come to me,"** were the first words that greeted 
 her eye, and she looked eagerly for what should 
 follow — " Come as soon as you can, you have 
 shared my anxieties and fears, come and share my 
 joy — Roger, my son, has returned. 
 
 " Ever your affectionate cousin and friend, 
 
 " Leonora Macklaren." 
 
 " Oh ! what joy, what great joy !" exclaimed 
 the kind-hearted old lady, fully sympathizing in 
 the mother^s feelings. " I will go directly. Maud, 
 dear," and turning towards her niece, she was 
 greeted with the following lines of Schiller, totally 
 incomprehensible to her : — 
 
 Dort, wo die grauen Nebelberge ragen, 
 Fiingt meines Reiches Granze an, 
 Und diese Wolken, die nach Mittag jagen, 
 Sie suchen Frankreichs fernen Ocean. 
 Eilende Wolken, Segler der Liifte ! 
 Wer mit euch wanderte, mit euch schifFte ! 
 Griiszet mir freundlich mein Jugendland ! 
 Ich bin gefangen, ich bin in Banden, 
 Ach, ich hab' keinen andern gesandten.' 
 
 TRANSLATION. 
 
 Round me heaven spreads its glorious canopy, 
 
 Free roves my sight through space's boundless reign, 
 Yon clouds, that roll their misty shapes on high, 
 
 Come from my ancient kingdom's loved domain. 
 And southward as they move in mazy dance, 
 Fly towards the lovely coasts of France. 
 Ye happy clouds, that so gaily and fleet 
 
 Play your gambols in upper air, 
 Oh greet me the land of my childhood sweet, 
 
 For I am in bondage here ! 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 Maud''s voice sounded soft and sweet as she pro- 
 nounced the words m her pretty German ; her 
 cheek was flushed and her eye bright, as if she felt 
 herself in Mary Stuart's place, and her heart bled 
 for the captive queen. Count Porskinski gazed at 
 her in admiration, and when she finished he ex- 
 claimed — 
 
 " You almost make me give up my point — 
 Schiller never had a more powerful advocate." 
 
 Maud smiled, and he continued — 
 
 " The tone of your voice has stirred up wild 
 sensations in my breast, sensations that have long 
 been dormant. Oh ! that yearning for home, for 
 the country of our birth, it steals into the heart 
 and unmans one. Bondage, surely it is an exile's 
 fate to be in bondage, for he is severed from all he 
 loves, is imprisoned in a foreign country far from 
 home ! Poland, the poor unhappy land of my 
 birth, would that this hand could free thee from 
 the tyrant whose hard yoke binds thy sons in the 
 dust ! But I am helpless, yon fleeting clouds can 
 look down on thee and weep, ay, heavy drops of 
 agony for thy banished sons, for thy fallen great- 
 ness, and I must stand afar, viewing thy misfor- 
 tunes, unable to raise a hand to save thee from 
 destruction. Freedom is a noble word, shall its 
 blessings never shine on Poland's sons ? " 
 
 *' Do not despair," said Maud, touched by this 
 outburst of patriotism. " The tyrant lives but for 
 a short time, the sun of liberty has not set for ever 
 on your native land." 
 
 " Thanks, a thousand thanks, for those consoling 
 words," cried the Count, seizing her hand. " You 
 give me fresh hope — life seems to smile on me again." 
 
 "Maud, Maud!" exclaimed Miss Massing. 
 " If you have done your breakfast, we will go out.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 51 
 
 I am going to call on a friend, and should like to 
 introduce you to her.'' 
 
 " Very well, aunt, I am ready," was the reply ; 
 then turning to the Count, she added, " We must 
 talk about Poland again at some future time, I take 
 great interest in your ill-used nation. Will you 
 tell me more about it V 
 
 " I could never tire of such a theme ; my only 
 fear is I shall weary you with the recital of our 
 woes — an enthusiast is always carried away by his 
 own thoughts ; you must promise to check me when 
 I get too far.'' 
 
 " I can safely make that promise ; you could 
 not weary me, when Poland is the subject of your 
 enthusiasm. The very word tyranny makes my 
 blood boil, and believe me, my constant prayer is 
 that every nation may one day enjoy the freedom 
 of our highly-favoured England." 
 
 " Thank you," said the Count, solemnly, and 
 the next instant Maud had quitted the room in 
 company with her aunt. 
 
 Captain Macklaren, whom we last saw leaning 
 over the bulwarks of his vessel watching the rising- 
 sun, had now reached England. He did not tarry 
 a moment lono-er at Portsmouth than was neces- 
 
 o 
 
 sary, but hastened to give in person the joyful 
 news of his safe arrival to his anxious mother. 
 
 It was a calm summer's evening, the sun was 
 sinking behind the gray rocks that bounded the 
 view to the west, and an old lady sat in a balcony 
 in Wilton Crescent, watching the varying colours 
 upon land and sea ; she was slight, and her move- 
 ments still retained some of the grace of youth, 
 though the elasticity was gone ; her features were 
 marked, but they bore an expression of pain, and 
 her sunken eyes gazed more frequently at the white 
 
 D 2
 
 52 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 spreading sails of the vessels on the far horizon, than 
 at the glowing tints of the setting sun. The soft 
 breeze fanned her pale cheek, and ruffled the lace of 
 the cap, which encircled her snow-white hair. The 
 tones of military music struck on her ear ; she 
 listened — it came nearer and nearer, the tune was 
 a joyful one, it was not suited to the peaceful scene, 
 and she was glad when the band had passed by and 
 the air was still again. Now the sun had disap- 
 peared behind the cliff, and the shore was wrapt in 
 the gloom of twilight, whilst the sea still sparkled 
 in its rays ; fainter and fainter they grew, till at 
 leno-th the white sail of a distant vessel alone 
 rejoiced in sunshine — like a diamond it glittered 
 brightly for a moment, then all was gone. 
 
 The old lady rose, clasped her hands, and with 
 tears trembling in her eyes, she said, in a low, im- 
 pressive tone — 
 
 " Thank God, he will return ; yon sparkling sail 
 bids me hope, I believe it firmly " 
 
 " Mother !" said a manly voice close to her. 
 
 She turned, a ray of inexpressible happiness shot 
 over that calm face — " My son'' — and two loving 
 hearts were re-united in a fond embrace. 
 
 Absence is full of pain, but the ecstacy of meeting 
 eclipses the sorrow of years, and hours of anguish 
 are foro^otten in one moment of bliss.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 THE MEETING. 
 
 " Maud, dear," said Miss Massing to her niece, as 
 they sauntered slowly along the beach towards 
 Wilton Crescent, " I am going to introduce you to 
 an old friend of mine, Lady Macklaren ; she has 
 been very kind to me, and we are on most intimate 
 terms. I received a little note from her this morn- 
 ino- telling: me her son has returned, and beofffina* 
 me to come and participate in her joy ; that is the 
 reason I disturbed your German lesson — by the by, 
 child, how beautifully you speak that language, you 
 have all the fluency of a native — I was quite 
 astonished." 
 
 " I think you must have been listening when I 
 was in the act of quoting Schiller," said Maud, 
 modestly. 
 
 " Well, that may be, seeing it is all gibberish 
 alike to me. You must be very civil to Captain 
 Macklaren, Maud," continued Miss Massing, 
 gravely ; "he is a most amiable, excellent young 
 man. I expect all the ladies will be running after 
 him, now he has come home." 
 
 " If you think he is likely to be of your opinion 
 on that point, I will wait out here till you have
 
 54 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 made your call, dear aunt. I cannot allow young 
 gentlemen to imagine Maud Erving condescends to 
 run after them." 
 
 " Oh no, no such thing, it was only my nonsense; 
 besides, no one would expect you, with your large 
 fortune, to be seeking for a husband." 
 
 " I should hope not ; but I do not see what my 
 fortune has to do with the matter, unless you mean 
 to imply that the gentlemen run after it." 
 
 " Of course they do, men are very mercenary ; 
 keep out of their way, Maud, as I have done ; it is 
 far the best. You see I am as free as those playful 
 seagulls out there ; I can do what I like, and go 
 where I like." 
 
 " And yet. Aunt Lucy, you are often wishing 
 you had some one to look after you, and keep you 
 right." 
 
 " Yes, that is true, I do miss a kind friend to 
 depend upon now and then, some one who would 
 give me good advice and set me right, for I make 
 great mistakes, and business matters puzzle me. I 
 have no head for it." 
 
 " Now, if I could find you a nice old man, some 
 one you might nurse and read to — would not that 
 be the very husband for you, dear aunt Lucy?" 
 
 The old lady held up her hands exclaiming — 
 " Husband ! it is for me to find one for you ; old 
 women like myself have given up all such " 
 
 " Follies," suggested Maud. 
 
 " You are quite one of the oddities," said her 
 aunt, laughing. " But here we are at No. 9." 
 
 They were admitted and ushered up into the 
 drawing-room, and as they entered Lady Macklaren 
 sat in her arm-chair by the window, with her son 
 beside her, his arm resting on the back of her seat, 
 whilst they both perused the same book.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 00 
 
 " I have got to the end of the page, mother,""" 
 said he, " and am dying to know what can possibly 
 follow, and it " 
 
 " You shall see, only have a minute''s patience, 
 Roger;" 
 
 " I do not possess that highly essential quality, 
 mother ; please let me peep." 
 
 " You great schoolboy " 
 
 " Miss Massing, Miss Erving," shouted the 
 servant in his loudest tone, to attract the attention 
 of his mistress, which he succeeded in doing, for 
 she turned round exclaiming — 
 
 " Here you are at last ; I have been expecting 
 you every instant. Let me introduce you to my 
 newly found son — Miss Erving, my son. I need not 
 tell you. Miss Massing, how happy I am to-day, 
 and how well this repays me for the hours ot 
 anguish I have passed." 
 
 Captain Macklaren looked at his mother ten- 
 derly ; it was a pleasant sight to see that strong 
 man's love and reverence for her. Miss Massing 
 poured forth a torrent of congratulations, they 
 were received gratefully, and many pretty speeches 
 followed. Maud could take no share in this, 
 so looking about, her eye was attracted to the 
 books lying on the round table. The first one that 
 met her eye was a Finchley Manual, the second, 
 " Enquire Within upon Everything," and, as she 
 turned over the leaves of the latter, she was much 
 entertained at the fund of useful knowledge huddled 
 together in so small a space — " Hair Wash," 
 " Breach of Promise of Marriafje ," " How to make 
 Blacking," &c., all classed together. Maud became 
 interested in the book, and Lady Macklaren had 
 to address her twice before she heard her speak. 
 
 " Do you intend making a long stay in Brimel-
 
 56 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 sea?" was tlie simple and most universally adopted 
 question. 
 
 " Yes, I trust so," was the reply ; " provided 
 my aunt does not get tired of me," she added, 
 smilinof. 
 
 " You live in London, I think ?" 
 
 " Yes, with my guardian, but it does not agree 
 with me, and I feel much better for sea air already." 
 
 " Are you fond of boating ? " asked Captain 
 Macklaren, drawing his chair closer to hers. 
 
 "I am ashamed to say I am such a land-lubber 
 that I have never so much as been on the sea." 
 
 The sailor smiled. " Then you must make a 
 trial of it whilst you are here." 
 
 " We must choose a very calm day ; when the 
 sea is like glass, and I have no chance of being 
 made uncomfortable or drowned." 
 
 " 1 think you are wrong in imagining calm 
 weather less trying than rough. For my part, 
 though I am well-seasoned to such things now, I 
 own that when I have had any tendency to sea- 
 sickness, it has been in calm weather, when the sun 
 is hot, the breeze, if any, sultry, and when there is 
 sufficient ground swell to make small boats rock 
 gently." 
 
 "I foresee that I had better remain a land-lubber 
 all my life, and not attempt the sea at all. When 
 I came here, however, I had a great desire to 
 collect zoophytes, and I am told that the best are 
 to be obtained by dredging." 
 
 " You take an interest in natural history, then, 
 Miss Erving?" 
 
 " Yes ; I am fond of collecting, but am not 
 learned in any particular branch ; having spent the 
 greater part of my life in London I have only 
 learnt from books, never from nature.''
 
 BRIMELSEA. 57 
 
 " You will find a great deal to interest you on 
 the shore, and, if you will permit me, I shall be 
 most happy to share the results of my dredging 
 with you, I have studied this branch of science 
 for long, and find great interest in it. You must 
 help me to make an aquarium." 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure. I am delighted to 
 have found some one who can instruct me a little ; 
 you will find me very stupid ; I have the dullest 
 comprehension imaginable." 
 
 " Are you a botanist ?" 
 
 " When I have the o^ood fortune to be in the 
 country I am." 
 
 " How you must long to travel," said he, look- 
 ing at Maud with evident admiration. 
 
 " What makes you think so ?" 
 
 " Any one with such a love for nature must wish 
 to see it under all its aspects." 
 
 " No, you are mistaken with regard to me ; I 
 have no wish beyond a country home ; my idea of 
 perfect happiness is a pretty cottage all covered 
 with roses, a garden beautifully laid out, with fields 
 and richly-wooded country all around it." 
 
 Captain Macklaren smiled. " You have no wish 
 to see the flowers you so much admire, in all their 
 perfection, flourishing beneath a tropical sun ?" 
 
 " None," said she positively. " To my eyes the 
 modest flowers of our green woods and shady 
 country lanes have more attractions than the 
 specimens that are brought from foreign lands ; 
 there is the same marvellous oro:anization in the 
 daisy as there is in the finest orchid of which the 
 tropics can boast."" 
 
 " You would change your opinion if you were to 
 see the flowers of which you speak growing 
 
 D 5
 
 5S BRTMELSEA. 
 
 naturally. You must remember that as yet you 
 have only seen them in green-houses/"* 
 
 "I am never likely to see them anywhere else,"" 
 said Maud, thoughtfully, " and as I am inex- 
 perienced and know nothing, whereas you have 
 travelled and studied deeply, I doubt not I am in 
 the wrong, though I cannot get rid of my pre- 
 judice." 
 
 " Do not try," he said eagerly, " I admire your 
 feeling." 
 
 " We shall not fight over zoophytes, 1 think," 
 said Maud, peeping up at him from behind her 
 fair curls. 
 
 " No, I am sure we shall not." 
 
 " Unless we fight over some rare specimen which 
 each will wish to possess." 
 
 "What are you talking about so earnestly?" 
 asked Miss Massing, who had been engrossed in a 
 conversation with Lady Macklaren, and had for- 
 gotten the existence of her niece. 
 
 " Captain Macklaren has promised to assist me 
 in my studies," said Maud, laughing ; " I am going 
 to be a regular blue-stocking, aunt ; my guardian 
 will be frightened of me when I return to London, 
 and will wish me married and settled." 
 
 " What are you going to set about ?" 
 
 " Collecting zoophytes, and becoming a naturalist 
 in o-eneral." 
 
 " Oh, I trust you will not encourage her in any 
 such cruel pursuits," said Miss Massing, turning 
 to Captain Macklaren. 
 
 " Why cruel ?" he asked. 
 
 " To kill any creature for mere pleasure, or to 
 gratify a foolish curiosity, is cruel." 
 
 "But for the advancement of science," sug- 
 gested he.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 59 
 
 Miss Massing raised both her hands as was her 
 custom when she could not continue an argument, 
 and said — 
 
 " What can Maud do to advance science V 
 
 " Every little helps, and great things have often 
 little beginnings. Miss Erving takes up this pur- 
 suit as an agreeable method of passing her time, 
 perhaps some suggestion of hers may give rise to 
 deeper speculations and investigations on the part 
 of some one who enters into the science more 
 systematically, and her simple suggestion may be 
 the means of a great discovery in natural history. 
 All this is possible, so you must not hinder us 
 from beofinnino: the work in o:ood earnest. We have 
 agreed that I shall be the dredger, and she the 
 land collector." 
 
 " You must assist me, Aunt Lucy," said Maud. 
 
 " What, to kill the poor things V 
 
 " No, to be kind to them, and keep them alive." 
 
 ^' If that is all, I have no objections." 
 
 " We must get Miss Briggs to give us all her 
 spare foot-baths and basins. I will arrange them 
 on the floor in my room, and we will employ some 
 old person to bring us sea-water." 
 
 " My dear Maud, Miss Briggs will think you 
 quite mad." 
 
 "What does that matter? if she likes, I will 
 teach her the hard names as a recompense for 
 giving me the baths. I quite long to set to work ; 
 can we not begin to-day ? the tide is low, and we 
 have not had our walk." 
 
 This proposal was agreed to, and Lady Mack- 
 laren and her son accompanied them to the beach. 
 The two naturalists were soon busily engaged, with 
 no eyes or ears for anything but for themselves, 
 and the object of their search. " What have 1
 
 60 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 found r " Here is a treasure !" " That is very 
 common, we shall find a great many of that species," 
 and such like expressions, were uttered from time 
 to time ; the old ladies were therefore left to them- 
 selves, and after a few knowing looks at the young 
 people, and an involuntary smile not intended to 
 be noticed, their eyes encountered, and they per- 
 ceived they were thinking of the same thing. Miss 
 Massing was the first to speak. 
 
 " They seem to be very much interested in this 
 pursuit, I have no doubt they will be great friends. 
 Maud never had a brother."' 
 
 " Similarity of tastes always unites people." 
 Again they looked .at each other and smiled. 
 
 " Do you think we ought to encourage this 
 intimacy f' asked Lady Macklaren. 
 
 " Why notr demanded the other. 
 
 " Because because it may lead to something 
 
 else." 
 
 " Oh !" and Miss Massing paused. " You are 
 more experienced in the ways of the world than I 
 am," she said, at length. " What is your opinion; 
 would you have any objection, if anything was to 
 take place T' 
 
 "12 Oh no, as long as Roger is happy, I am 
 contented, but Miss Erving's guardian, will he be 
 satisfied ? her fortune is large, she might aspire to 
 making a much higher connexion. Roger has no- 
 thing but his profession to depend on, it would of 
 course be a great advantage to him ; not that such 
 considerations would induce him to choose a rich 
 wife. I know Roger better, he is well principled 
 and generous, you may feel quite secure on that 
 head, my dear Lucy." 
 
 " I know I may, and to tell the truth, I should 
 like nothing better than to see my Maud become
 
 BRIMELSEA. 61 
 
 Mrs. Macklaren, but we must not try to bring this 
 about ; I cannot endure match-making, only we 
 might let things take their natural course." 
 
 Miss Massing looked highly pleased at having 
 delivered herself of this speech, and turned her 
 eyes maternally towards the unconscious Maud, 
 who was in the act of disentangling a star-fish from 
 some matted seaweed ; there was a tall figure 
 standing near her, but it was not Captain Macklaren, 
 he stood at some distance likewise examining some- 
 thing very attentively. 
 
 " Would you be kind enough to help me to get 
 rid of this seaweed V exclaimed Maud, without 
 looking round. 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure," said a voice close 
 to her, which made her start and look up. 
 
 " Count Porskinski ! I did not know you were 
 with us. I must beg your pardon, for I fancied I 
 was addressing Captain Macklaren." 
 
 " You have never any cause to beg my pardon," 
 said the Count, frowning slightly, as he glanced at 
 the young man who had joined them on hearing 
 her speak. " Can I not do as well as he ? I could 
 be skilfid in your service," he added, in his native 
 tongue. 
 
 Maud gave him the seaweed smiling, and the 
 Count turned a look of triumph on his adversary, 
 who was quite unconscious of what was going on. 
 
 " What does Miss Erving want with this nasty 
 lit-tle beast ?" asked the Count. 
 
 '^Oh, pray treat it with great respect, I am 
 making a collection," said Maud, laughing heartily 
 at his dislike to touching it. 
 
 " Donner ! but it does not smell very nice ; I 
 might say it did stink."
 
 62 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " The poor thing is dead then," said Maud, 
 looking: closer at it. 
 
 " Oh, I should think it had been dead a very 
 long time,"" suggested the Count. 
 
 " It is of no use as it is dead, they do not dry 
 well, so we can throw it away."' 
 
 " That will give me the greatest pleasure," said 
 the Count, throwing the star-fish with all his force 
 into the sea. 
 
 " You do not study natural history, I should 
 imagine," said Maud, looking at him. 
 
 " How can you say that ? I have studied the 
 botany all my life, and see, but just now, I did 
 dirty my fingers for you in the cause of the great 
 science." 
 
 " What do you call the great science ?" asked 
 Maud. 
 
 " Ah, you make fun of me ; I speak your 
 English all the wrong way, and you laugh." 
 
 " Not at all ; I only wished to know which of 
 the sciences you honoured with the prefix of 
 great." 
 
 The Count smiled blandly, and said in his most 
 polite tone — 
 
 " Any science you take an interest in, I should 
 call great." 
 
 " Miss Brio:o:s has luncheon at one o'clock," in- 
 terposed Miss Massing ; "we are a long way from 
 home, suppose we turn back." 
 
 " Our first essay has not been very Successful," 
 said Maud, approaching Captain Macklaren. " We 
 must hope for better luck another time." 
 
 Count Porskinski gazed at them from beneath 
 his overhanging eyebrows, and ejaculated inwardly, 
 as he pulled his moustache till it reached an in- 
 finitesimal point —
 
 BRIMELSEA. 63 
 
 " Another time ! they will meet often, I must 
 prevent this — Count Porskinski must not be un- 
 done by a paltry Englishman, a little, ugly fellow, 
 the scum of the earth. Miss Erving is a patriot, 
 she admires Poland, feels for us poor exiles ; she 
 shall take still greater interest in that ill-used land, 
 and shall call it country, home, shall open her 
 arms, and clasp her hands in prayer for it, whilst I, 
 Count Porskinski, look on and call her wife/' 
 
 " Who is that foreigner ?" asked Captain Mack- 
 laren, in a whisper to Maud. " Is he your German 
 master V 
 
 " Oh no, he is staying at the Boarding House, 
 and is a political refugee. "" 
 
 " Indeed ! may I presume to offer you a little 
 advice f" 
 
 " Certainly," said Maud, carelessly. 
 
 '* Beware of foreign adventurers."" 
 
 " Thank you, I am not afraid of them," rejoined 
 Maud, somewhat coldly.
 
 64 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 THE TEA-PARTY. 
 
 Lydia Carpenter was one of those active minded 
 people so rarely met with in the world, who do 
 everything well, and think no useful employment 
 beneath them. Her parents were poor and had 
 been unable to give her any advantages in educa- 
 tion ; she had, however, surmounted every difficulty 
 and by dint of perseverance and application had 
 made herself as accomplished as most young ladies 
 of her age ; she played beautifully on the piano, 
 sang well, and was a good linguist. Mrs. Car- 
 penter's health was delicate, and her daughter had 
 frequently the whole management of the house, 
 she was an excellent cook if necessity required, 
 made all her own dresses, and might often be found 
 trimmino; a bonnet: besides all these domestic 
 duties Lydia Carpenter was very active in the 
 parish, she had a district under Mr. Montague, 
 attended the schools constantly, and never missed 
 being at early morning prayers in the church. She 
 was always cheerful, always good humoured, no one 
 ever found her put out, or sitting with her hands 
 before her wasting the precious moments God had 
 given her, and this indeed was the talisman by
 
 BRIMELSEA. 65 
 
 which she worked such wonders and did more than 
 two or three ordinary persons who are content to 
 idle away their time. Lydia had always some 
 book in her pocket to read at spare moments, she 
 was up with the lark, did everything by clock-work, 
 and retired late to rest. 
 
 It is true there was no poetry, no imagination in 
 her character, persons who live by prescribed rules 
 never have, This showed itself in all she did ; her 
 touch on the piano was cold and rigid, like one who 
 has practised well and gained brilliant execution, 
 but not the soul of music, which thrills to the heart 
 of all who hear it, and makes every pulse of the 
 performer throb as they express their own feelings 
 in the heart-stirring notes of the melody. No, 
 Lydia Carpenter sat down to the piano like a 
 school girl, went through the difficulties admirably, 
 and had she been under Mademoiselle Lafoure 
 would have most assuredly gained the highest 
 prize for iuvdustry and perseverance, and well would 
 she have deserved it. She was invaluable in the 
 sphere of action in which she moved, an excellent 
 daughter and housewife, an active parishioner, 
 always willing to do what she could, and never 
 presuming beyond that which was entrusted to her. 
 Would there were more Lydia Carpenters in the 
 world ! but there are few who possess sufficient 
 energy of mind to be perfect in so many branches of 
 usefulness ; it is but energy they want : Lydia was 
 not talented and had many household cares upon 
 her young mind. 
 
 Such, then, was the person who entered Miss 
 Massins^'s little sittins^-room to take off her shawl 
 and bonnet on the night of the tea-party at the 
 Boarding House. 
 
 " I am so glad to see you, Lydia," said that lady,
 
 66 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 advancing to meet her guest. " I have heen long- 
 mg to introduce you to my niece — you will be good 
 friends I am sure. Maud, dear, here is Lydia 
 Carpenter," and the two young ladies were intro- 
 duced to each other. " You have brought your 
 music, I hope?" said Miss Massing; then perceiving 
 a portfolio in her hand, she added, " that is right; 
 we shall want something to enliven us, and keep 
 the peace, for Mr. Pipkin is coming." 
 
 " Indeed!" said Lydia, " I hope he will not 
 lecture us all the evening. Is his poor little wife 
 comins: with him V 
 
 " No; Miss Briggs invited her, but he replied 
 that she would be occupied in household duties, 
 and consequently must decline the obliging invita- 
 tion. She never goes into society, I believe." 
 
 " Poor woman, he prefers having all the atten- 
 tion paid to himself; if she appeared, she would 
 necessarily have a share of it, so he keeps her in 
 the background out of sight." 
 
 " Hush !'* interposed Miss Massing, putting her 
 hand on the young lady's mouth, " we must speak 
 respectfully, for there he is — I hear a ring at the 
 bell ; let us go down stairs, that we may be in the 
 drawing-room when he makes his appearance." 
 
 As the trio entered the sittinsr-room there was a 
 general movement, and many degrees of stiff little 
 bows were exchanged. 
 
 " Maud, my dear, I must introduce you to Mr. 
 Carpenter,"" said Miss Massing as she presented 
 her niece to a very dandy young gentleman, whose 
 small head and thin, expressionless features de- 
 noted him to be one of those mild young men who 
 are not above frequenting tea parties or any small 
 entertainments at watering-places, and indeed he 
 called everything " great fun." He had left college
 
 BRIMELSEA. 67 
 
 and had arrived at the age of painful doubt as to 
 what next is to be done: he did not hke going into 
 the church, he said, " it was so slow ;" and as 
 for the law, the fusty old books he would have to 
 peruse made him sneeze and cough — he could not 
 possibly enter such a profession . His tender parents 
 did not wish to force his inclinations, they said ; 
 they would give him time to consider ; and as Mr. 
 Arthur Carpenter's greatest predilection was for 
 doing nothing, he had his wish, and alas ! never 
 thought about the future. People sighed when they 
 looked at him, and wished that he and his sister 
 could change places, but as this was impossible 
 their good wishes did not avail. 
 
 Count Porkinski no sooner perceived Maud enter 
 the apartment, than he quitted Miss Bridges, who 
 had been doing her best to interest him with her 
 lively conversation, and placed himself on a vacant 
 chair beside her, thereby showing his bad taste, as 
 the disappointed Miss Bridges thought, in pre- 
 ferring beauty to wisdom, for strange to say she 
 did not labour under the happy delusion of most 
 plain people, and never for a moment considered 
 herself pretty, but, on the contrary, believed in the 
 revelations of her looking-glass. " Poor deluded 
 man!" thought she, as she turned to her friend, 
 Mrs. Blount, '' if he places his affections on that 
 girl, he will only meet with bitter disappointment ; 
 she will trifle with him and then cast him off; 
 whereas I — how differently would I treat him." 
 
 Just then the door opened, and Mr. Pipkin 
 was announced. Before attempting to draw either 
 his personal appearance or his character, let us 
 assure our readers that we do not allude to a class 
 but simply to an individual, and as we sincerely 
 J, to a solitary case. Mr. Pipkin was very
 
 68 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 particular about his dress, his hair was never ruf- 
 fled, his coat and shirt never creased, and yet it 
 would appear that he was always fearful lest in- 
 advertently some derangement had taken place, for 
 he never passed a mirror without casting a side 
 glance at himself, and the result of such inspection 
 was always a hasty movement of the hand either 
 over his shining hair or down his shirt. He was 
 tall and of a good figure, though rather too portly ; 
 he always threw his head back as he walked, and 
 this gave him a conceited air rather repelling than 
 attractive. Mr. Pipkin's admirers however could 
 see no fault in him, and his little weaknesses were 
 regarded as fresh proofs of goodness. 
 
 His entrance caused a great deal of excitement 
 amongst the company. Miss Briggs bustled up to 
 him, pulled the most comfortable chair out of a 
 corner and placed it near Mrs. Blount, his devoted 
 admirer, making a sign at the same time that it 
 was for him. Bowing stiffly, Mr. Pipkin advanced 
 towards it with a pompous step. 
 
 " Adolescentem verecundum esse decet,""* said he, 
 blandly ; " nevertheless as you offer me so exalted 
 a position I will not refuse." He considered him- 
 self quite young, although to outward appearance 
 he must have been some years past thirty. After 
 seating himself leisurely in the arm chair, he raised 
 his eyes slowly to Mrs. Blount and said, as he 
 clasped his hands — 
 
 " Beautiful weather ! have you been taking ad- 
 vanta<ye of it, Mrs. Blount ? 1 have not had the 
 pleasure of seeing you for some time." 
 
 Mrs. Blount pleaded her nervous headaches as 
 the cause of her not g^oinof out. 
 
 " Ah, the Indian climate ruins European con- 
 stitutions; the country is, I have heard, very
 
 BRIMELSEA. 69 
 
 beautiful, but we must not be led away by outward 
 show; there is generally speakmg something beneath 
 the surface, it is to that we must look, Mrs. Blount.'"* 
 
 " Very true," said she, sighing, " all beautiful 
 things on this earth are pernicious.'' 
 
 " I preached on that subject last Sunday ; my 
 sermon was, I fear, too short and not quite suffi- 
 ciently impressive, but — you understand Latin, I 
 presume V 
 
 " A little," said Mrs. Blount, modestly. 
 
 " I was going to say, Veritatis simplex oratio est." 
 
 " Every word you uttered is engraven on my 
 mind. Your sermon was full of religious pathos 
 and Bible truths." 
 
 " I am glad you approved of it," said Mr. Pip- 
 kin — he was very well accustomed to such praise. 
 
 " How clever he is," whispered Miss Bridges to 
 her friend ; " he is such a good classical scholar." 
 
 " Your numerous duties must fatigue you greatly," 
 said Mrs. Blount, addressing him in tones of evi- 
 dent sympathy. '* I wish much that you had a 
 curate ; your neighbour, Mr. Montague, has one, and 
 he has not nearly as much on his hands." She 
 raised her voice as she pronounced these last words 
 in the hope that Lydia Carpenter might overhear 
 them. 
 
 Mr. Pipkin did not immediately reply, but cast- 
 ing his eyes up languidly to the ceiling he said, in a 
 subdued tone, " Labour is sweet, and though we 
 may not see the fruits now, we shall do so some day." 
 
 " Does not the parson look like that delectable 
 bird, ' a dying duckf" said Mr. Carpenter to Maud, 
 who was seated between him and the Count. 
 
 " Who is that o-entleman ?" asked the foreisrner. 
 " Ls he a little wrong up there?" and he touched his 
 forehead.
 
 70 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 Maud could not suppress a smile, but replied 
 that he was a clergyman residing at Brimelsea, 
 whereupon the Count naturally demanded if all 
 English clergymen were like him. 
 
 " No, certainly not," said Maud. " Mr. Pipkin, 
 my aunt tells me, is very peculiar ; but you must 
 not ask me many questions, I am as great a stran- 
 ger in Brimelsea as you are yourself." 
 
 Lydia Carpenter at Miss Massing's request went 
 to the piano, and in spite of Mr. Pipkin's desire 
 that they might have a psalm tune she sat down 
 and played a difficult piece of Thalberg's with great 
 eJBfect. Maud listened attentively, notwithstanding 
 Mr. Arthur Carpenter's repeated attempts to draw 
 her into conversation. 
 
 " Thank you, that is most beautiful," said she, at 
 the conclusion of the performance ; "how I envy 
 you your talent ! " 
 
 " I dare say you have far more than I. Will 
 you not give us a song?" Lydia rose and ap- 
 proached her. 
 
 " Do favour us," said Mr. Carpenter, yawning. 
 " Lid plays so abominably, we want something to 
 put us in love with music again." 
 
 Count Porskinski added his persuasions to the 
 others, and ashamed to resist longer, Maud com- 
 plied with their request, and seating herself at the 
 piano, sang an impassioned German song of which 
 home was the theme. Count Porskinski stood 
 beside her entranced, and when she had finished 
 and her eyes met his, she saw him brush a tear 
 hastily from his cheek ; the next instant he had 
 seized her hand, and before she could prevent him 
 had borne it to his lips. 
 
 " Oh !" ejaculated Miss Bridges, indignantly, 
 from the farther extremity of the room. " What
 
 BRTMELSEA. 71 
 
 a forward girl ! did you ever see anything like that, 
 Mrs. Blount ? Depend upon it she has been sing- 
 ing a love song to him ; I am really quite shocked.'** 
 
 " Pardon me, Mademoiselle Erving," said the 
 Count, " but you cannot tell how that song of 
 home has moved me, it was like an echo from my 
 native land. Would you sing it once more V 
 
 " Do you really wish itf asked Maud, hesi- 
 tatingly. 
 
 " Yes, I do indeed, if it is not asking too great 
 a favour," and he fixed his dark eyes on her be- 
 seechingly, so that she was forced to turn to the piano 
 and begin again. There are, perhaps, few things 
 more difficult than to sing a plaintive air, when 
 you know that it affects one of your hearers very 
 deeply. Maud felt this, and her voice trembled as 
 she sang, though she went bravely to the end. 
 Great applause greeted her as she rose, and Mr. 
 Pipkin actually vouchsafed to say she had a fine 
 voice, and it was a pity she did not exercise it in a 
 better cause. 
 
 " You would sing psalm tunes very well did you 
 but turn your talent to its right account. Young 
 ladies are too fond of the world's music now-a- 
 days." 
 
 " I often sing sacred music," said Maud. " I 
 used to sing Mozart's masses in chorus, when I was 
 at school." 
 
 Mr. Pipkin turned from her — to sing a mass was 
 a heinous crime in his eyes. Mrs. Blount imitated 
 his expression, and looked shocked. 
 
 " Tea is quite ready," interposed the peace- 
 keeping Miss Briggs. " We will go down stairs, 
 if you are willing, Mr. Pipkin." 
 
 He rose, and drawing himself up pompously, he 
 said, " I am quite agreeable, Miss Briggs."
 
 72 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " Anything but agreeable, in the right meaning 
 of the word," whispered Lydia Carpenter to Miss 
 Massing, as they followed the rest of the party 
 down stairs into the dining-room, where a boun- 
 tiful display of cakes and fancy bread met their 
 view. 
 
 " This is what we call a muffin turn out," said 
 Mr. Carpenter, in an under tone to Maud. " You 
 will see that the parson knows how to do ample 
 justice to the cakes ; I bet you sixpence he will 
 take one of each kind — mind you watch him, and 
 see if I am not right." Saying this, he was on the 
 point of seating himself next her, when Count 
 Porskinski, by a skilful and yet polite movement, 
 slipped into the vacant chair. 
 
 " Are you an admirer of our national songs in 
 general V asked the Count, in German, addressing 
 Maud. 
 
 " Yes, I admire them very much, particularly 
 when they speak of freedom, and bewail Poland's 
 sad fate," replied she. 
 
 '' I am rejoiced to hear you say that ; would 
 that all our nation were stirred with the enthusiasm 
 that inspires you." 
 
 " Are you not all patriotic ?" asked Maud, in 
 some surprisco 
 
 " Alas ! not in the true sense of the word ; the 
 greater number are content to endure slavery, for 
 the sake of peace ; they dread the consequences of 
 war ; fathers are not sufficiently patriotic to offer 
 up their children as sacrifices to freedom ; wives 
 cling around their husbands, and hold them back. 
 It was not so once ; let us hope that things will 
 change again, and that Poland will one day ring 
 with the cries of freedom ; that women even will 
 arm themselves against the common tyrant ; our
 
 BRIMELSEA. 73 
 
 banner wave where it used in days of yore, and 
 Poland be free once more." 
 
 " And can you do nothing towards attaining this 
 endf asked Maud, eagerly. 
 
 " How can I ? I am exiled, proscribed, driven 
 from shore to shore. Were I to write to my 
 friends, I should but throw suspicion on them, and 
 their fate would be no better than mine." 
 
 " Could you not disguise yourself, and return to 
 your home ; go from house to house, find out the 
 sentiments of the people, and inflame their droop- 
 ing spirits with hopes of victory and freedom ?" 
 
 Count Porskinski smiled. " You do not know 
 the danger of such an act." 
 
 *' I can imagine it, but surely death in the cause 
 of your country would be sweet." 
 
 " Yes, in its cause, fighting at the head of brave 
 men ; but that would not be my fate ; I shudder 
 to think what a life imprisonment would be — no 
 hope of escape ; worn down by want of food and 
 disease, till life itself should prove a burden, and 
 the wasted hands should clasp in prayer, that 
 death's cold touch might wither the last vital spark, 
 and set the spirit free." 
 
 " Very dreadful ; but you must not forget, the 
 greater the sufferings in a good cause, so much the 
 greater would be the glory." 
 
 " My fate, like thousands of others, would be 
 unknown, save perhaps to some spider who came 
 to cheer me in my noisome dungeon, and into 
 whose unconscious ear I might pour out my tale of 
 woe." 
 
 " Do you mean to say there are thousands who 
 are suffering at this present moment like that un- 
 fortunate Silvio Pellico, who wrote his own touching 
 story so beautifully V 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 
 
 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 Count Porskinski nodded his head mournfully. 
 " Heaven only knows how many miserable human 
 beings lie buried in their living tombs — whose 
 crime is love of liberty, and hatred of all tyrants."" 
 
 " Their cause will one day be known," said 
 Maud, thoughtfully. '^ God does not permit the 
 innocent to suffer unavenofed." 
 
 Count Porskinski smiled bitterly, as he said— 
 "Yet many have passed from the earth unheeded ; 
 have changed their damp dungeon for the cold 
 ground." 
 
 " Their cause is heard in heaven ; retribution 
 will come, though the time may yet be distant." 
 
 " I am glad you think so, but there are times 
 when I despair of it — and even regret that I ever 
 stirred a hand in the cause of freedom." 
 
 Maud looked at him somewhat surprised, and 
 he continued hurriedly — '' These thoughts oppress 
 me when I long for quiet, and when I sigh for my 
 native land, but they disperse like the rain clouds, 
 and the sun of my life shines on me again, though 
 often but faintly. You do not know what unhap- 
 piness is," said he, looking into her clear, calm 
 eyes — " may you never know it ; may you never 
 feel that longing after something you cannot get ; 
 that unsatisfied yearning of the heart which weighs 
 down the spirit, and bedims the eyes with tears. 
 I cannot define the feeling, but the sea when it 
 dashes gently against the shore, and the summer 
 breeze tells you what it is." 
 
 '* Maud," exclaimed Miss Massing, "would you 
 pass the muffin ? Mr. Carpenter has asked you for it 
 three times." 
 
 " A thousand pardons," exclaimed Count Por- 
 skinski, " I was quite forgetful, quite in the 
 clouds."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 75 
 
 That evening, when all had retired to rest, Maud 
 was looking' out of her window at the moon, whose 
 clear reflection sparkled in the shining water, and 
 she fancied she saw a tall figure leave the house, 
 and wending its way to the beach, stretch itself on 
 the sand before the Boarding House. She looked 
 steadily at it, yes, it was a man, and — very like 
 Count Porskinski. 
 
 " What a strange being he is !" thought she ; 
 " there is something very noble in his love for his 
 country, and yet he puzzles me. I half doubt his 
 
 patriotism at times, and fancy he puts it on to 
 
 well, I do not know why, I should hardly think he 
 would take the trouble to feign just to please me, 
 and yet he is very odd, he says such sentimental 
 
 things, he cannot surely imagine himself in 
 
 no, what nonsense, I must be very conceited to 
 think any one in love with me, till I have certain 
 proof that they are. Still I had better take care, or 
 Miss Bridges will call me a flirt, and — ' Beware of 
 foreign adventurers^ — who was it that said that I 
 Oh, I remember, it was Captain IVIacklaren. I 
 wonder if he will be successful to-morrow, when he 
 is out dredging; if he is, we are to spend the 
 evening with them, that I may get a lesson. Lady 
 Macklaren is a fine old lady ; she must have been 
 very handsome ; her son is very like her.*" And 
 Maud turned away from the window. 
 
 What a charm there is in moonlight ! Its soft 
 rays seem to calm the throbbing heart, and lull the 
 senses to rest. It beautifies nature, and fills the 
 earth with a spirit light, full of mystery and 
 dreams ; how much more too is this soothing in- 
 fluence increased, when the soft dash of the waves 
 on the shore and the melancholy cry of the sea- 
 gull is all that disturbs the silence around ! Truly 
 
 e2
 
 76 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 nature whispers deep, untold consolations at such 
 times ; and if we read its words aright, they lead us 
 upwards through the poetry of religion, to the All- 
 powerful Being who reigns on high. 
 
 Count Porskinski was not a wicked man ; he 
 had no set form of religion it is true, but there was 
 an undefined reverence for the supreme Being in 
 his heart, although want of education, and too 
 great contact with the world, had led him astray. 
 His principles and views on all religious topics 
 were dictated by his own heart, the result of much 
 thought and investigation, but there was no sta- 
 bility in them ; he was as changeable as the tossing 
 sea, which now rolled before him, and yet he wished 
 to do right. You who censure the faults of others, 
 pause — you know not the struggles, the disappoint- 
 ments and vexations that have led that heart 
 astray ; look kindly on them, and praise God that 
 you have been preserved from like temptations, 
 under which you too might have fallen, had they 
 been placed in your way.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 77 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 TAKE CARE. 
 
 " Maud, my dear oh !" ejaculated Miss Mass- 
 ing one morning, as she threw open the door of 
 her niece's room, and nearly fell over a large basin 
 of water placed on the floor. 
 
 " Take care, Aunt Lucy, it is full of crabs. I 
 caught the dearest little hermit the other day, and 
 it has completely hid itself, I cannot see it any- 
 where. "*' 
 
 " You really should not make your room so 
 untidy, my dear ; only think, if I had come in 
 hastily I might have hurt myself seriously by 
 falling over that basin.'' 
 
 " But vou are a a'ood, stead v old aunt, and not 
 a giddy young thing like myself, so there is 
 no fear. But do you know, I nearly sent poor 
 Laurette into hysterics this morning ; when she 
 came to call me, she did not see the marvellous 
 contents of my wash-handbasin, and was on tlie 
 point of lifting it up, when she exclaimed — ' Oh, 
 the little frightful monsters that Mademoiselle 
 keeps in her apartment ! ' " 
 
 " Well you are very strange," said the good- 
 natured old lady, arranging her little brown cwls
 
 78 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 before the lookino- olass. " But I have come to 
 cany you away from your pets ; Lydia Carpenter 
 is here, and wants to show you the Schools ; she 
 is going there directly, as she has some busi- 
 ness with the mistress. Will you consent to go 
 with her — it will be a nice change for you V 
 
 " I shall be delighted to go, if she will promise 
 to walk with me afterwards." 
 
 " I have no doubt she will, so put on your 
 bonnet, and pray take this large basin of crabs 
 away, it is very unsafe where it is." 
 
 " I will be with you in one moment," cried 
 Maud ; and she was faithful to her promise, for a 
 quarter of an hour had scarcely elapsed before she 
 and her new friend Lydia Carpenter were on their 
 way to the National Schools. 
 
 "How did you enjoy our tea-party?" asked 
 Maud, with a smile. 
 
 " Very much, for it has given me a new friend, 
 and I sadly want companions here." 
 
 " Do you know, Miss Bridges has begun a pair of 
 gentleman's slippers ; I cannot imagine who they 
 are for, as she says she has no near relations." 
 
 "Oh," said Lydia, "then I think I can tell 
 yon." 
 
 " Do you think they can be for Mr. Pipkin ?" 
 
 " That is possible, but from what I saw, I 
 should say Miss Bridges has some designs on the 
 Count's heart ; she is very jealous of you, he pays 
 you so much attention." 
 
 Maud laughed, but she blushed deeply in spite 
 of herself, and said — " He is unlike most of his 
 nation, and enjoys speaking his native language, 
 although he understands English so well. I am 
 the only one in the house who can speak German, 
 so he pins himself on me."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 79 
 
 " That may be, but any one might discover that 
 he has a great admiration for you/' 
 
 " Nonsense, Lydia." 
 
 " No, it is not nonsense ; for why should he 
 gaze at you whilst you are talking? I watched him 
 very narrowly, and saw plainly that he could 
 scarcely keep his eyes off you ; this must be ad- 
 miration." 
 
 Maud blushed again as she said — " If we are to 
 be great friends you must not flatter me, I cannot 
 endure it ; will you promise me this, Lydia ?" 
 
 " I did not mean to flatter you, I only thought 
 you might like to know the opinion of a third 
 person on the subject/' 
 
 " Thank you ; I find every one thinks it neces- 
 sary to warn me against him, but I assure you, I 
 have not found him dangerous in any way as yet — 
 he does not bite or even bark. I feel quite sorry 
 for the poor man." 
 
 Lydia smiled. " Take care you do not make 
 him fall in love with you." 
 
 " I have no wish to do that, 1 am not a coquette," 
 said Maud, somewhat displeased. 
 
 " No, I am sure you are not, I can see that by 
 your face ; but we are apt to fall innocently into 
 error — a word, a look is often brouo-ht ao-ainst an 
 unfortunate woman, whereas men may do what 
 they like, and say what they like, without fear of 
 censure." 
 
 " I am afraid I do not care much what people 
 say, for I believe if they are inclined to think ill of 
 you, they are sure to find some weak point to make 
 the most of" 
 
 " You have a bad idea of human nature," said 
 Lydia, thoughtfully; "but you must not forget 
 how easily we are led to find faults in others, 
 without being intentionally malicious."
 
 80 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " That is true, and as it is impossible to help 
 being different to different people, there must neces- 
 sarily be misunderstandings, and false judgments." 
 
 " If it were not for misunderstandings, I believe 
 we should like everybody." 
 
 " How charitable you are ; but I cannot agree 
 with you, Lydia, I could not like deceitful people, 
 there is somethinor so mean about them." 
 
 " We should consider a lono^ time before we 
 pronounced a person to be deceitful ; we do not 
 know the impulse that directs their actions or their 
 motives — they may often be pure though appear- 
 ances are against them." 
 
 " What a capital school-mistress you would 
 make ! Do you teach in the Sunday School V 
 
 " Yes, I have the management of it under Mr. 
 Montague. I am sure you would like him, he is 
 such a good person." 
 
 " And does not pick holes in his neighbour''s 
 coat I" 
 
 " No, not even in Mr. Pipkin's." 
 
 " That is very amiable," said Maud laughing. 
 " I do not think 1 could help quizzing him." 
 
 "He is a very excellent man in his way, and 
 does a great deal of good amongst the poor, but, 
 as you must have seen the other evening, the 
 ladies spoil him, and his greatest foible is conceit." 
 As she said this, she stopped before a wooden gate 
 leading through a yard, to a red brick building. 
 Passing the school-room door, they proceeded to a 
 detached house on the left hand side ; here they 
 halted and Lydia knocked, saying as she did so, 
 " This is the school-mistress's house. I will ask her 
 to do the honours of the rest of the building her- 
 self; she is a very nice woman, I see a great deal 
 of her."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 81 
 
 The words were hardly out of her mouth, when 
 the door opened and an elegant person stood before 
 them. Miss Smith was one of those unfortunate 
 people who, born of poor parents, have by educa- 
 tion risen above their situation, and are conse- 
 quently isolated in society. She was too proud to 
 mix with her equals in rank, and yet unable on 
 account of her profession to associate with those 
 above her. Lydia Carpenter took great interest in 
 the schools, and as much of her time was spent 
 there, she was naturally brought into contact with 
 the mistress. Struck with her ladylike demeanour 
 and modesty, Lydia cultivated her acquaintance, 
 and discovering how solitary her life was, she took 
 compassion on her, offered to walk with her, and 
 would even spend an hour in the evening with her 
 sometimes, when she could be spared from home. 
 Miss Smith was of a prepossessing appearance, 
 and though not actually handsome, had a sweet 
 expression of countenance, and an elegant figure. 
 It was not therefore surprising that Lydia Car- 
 penter's brother should be attracted by his sister's 
 friend, that he should frequently join them in their 
 walks, or offer goodnaturedly to take messages to 
 the school, when Lydia was unable to go herself. 
 But what is hardly to be believed is, that the sister 
 should be blind to what was going on, should delude 
 herself with the idea that all was quite right, and 
 trust thus implicitly in her friend's good sense and 
 tact ; yet so it was, and up to the present period, 
 she had not the smallest idea that her brother was 
 clandestinely engaged to the woman she treated 
 with her confidence, and out of kindness, called her 
 friend. 
 
 '' Oh, I am so glad to see you. Miss Carpenter. 
 
 E 5
 
 82 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 You have not been here for these two days, and I 
 was afraid vou miMit be ill." 
 
 They shook hands. " I have brought my friend, 
 Miss Erving, to see the schools ; could you show 
 us them this mornino: V 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure, but I am sorry to 
 say you will not see them at their best, for all the 
 children have gone home, as it is a half-holiday. 
 Will you step in and take a seat, whilst I slip on 
 my bonnet ? I will not detain you a minute."'' They 
 complied, and found themselves in a neatly-furnish- 
 ed room, with pictures hanging on the walls, and 
 a large book- case full of books of all kinds ; on 
 the table stood a vase of flowers, and a few books 
 of prints around it. Maud opened one and read 
 on the title page — " Alice Smith the gift of A. 0."" 
 She shut it without comment ; the binding was the 
 handsomest part of the work, and there was no- 
 thing inside to attract notice — the initials A. 0. 
 might belong to any one, Lydia did not even look 
 up on hearing them pronounced. 
 
 " Is she not a very superior person V said she 
 to Maud, as Miss Smith quitted the apartment, 
 " so lady-like and refined, poor thing it is a great 
 disadvantage to her, as she has no friends. Would 
 you very much object if I were to invite her to 
 walk with us on the beach ? It would be a real 
 charity, as it must be so dull for her always to be 
 alone." 
 
 Maud offered no objection, and Miss Smith was 
 accordingly asked to join them, which she readily 
 accepted, and when they had seen the school-rooms, 
 and Lydia had arranged the business she came to 
 transact, the three started for their walk by the 
 sea-shore.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 83 
 
 " My friend Miss Erving is a great naturalist," 
 said Lydia, smiling. 
 
 "Indeed, in what way?" asked Miss Smith. 
 
 " In no way particularly," replied Maud ; " I 
 am a dabbler, fond of every branch, and learned in 
 none." 
 
 " She is at present studying seaweeds," con- 
 tinued Lydia. 
 
 " No, there you mistake, I am hard at work 
 collecting zoophytes ; it is an excessively interest- 
 ing study, and I have found an instructor in 
 Captain Macklaren — I should not wonder if we were 
 to meet him to-day. Will you help me to poke 
 amongst the rocks, Lydia ?" 
 
 " With pleasure, only I fear I shall not know 
 what is a treasure and what is not. Where do 
 you intend searching f 
 
 " Along the north cliff in that bay closed in bv 
 rocks ; we shall have an hour and a half before 
 the tide comes up." 
 
 " Not unless we make haste,'' said Lydia, quick- 
 ening her pace. There was a refreshing breeze 
 from the sea, which prevented the sun from being 
 too hot, and the light passing clouds threw their 
 shadows partially on the sea, dying it with ever- 
 varying colours. A better morning could not have 
 been chosen for a ramble, and the bay which Maud 
 had indicated was soon reached. As they scrambled 
 over the rocks, intent upon finding the natural 
 curiosities of which they were in search, they did 
 not perceive that their steps were followed, till 
 suddenly a tall figure stood beside them. 
 
 " Count Porskinski !" ejaculated Maud, blushing 
 as she caught Lydia's eye resting on her. 
 
 "• Yes, I saw you from a distance, and have 
 made the greatest possible haste to come and help
 
 m BRIMELSEA. 
 
 you to find the little animals of which you are so 
 fond;^ 
 
 " You are very kind," said Maud, somewhat 
 embarrassed, she knew not why. 
 
 " Oh, it is the greatest pleasure I have in life. 
 I should indeed be a happy man, might I be 
 allowed to dedicate each hour of my existence to 
 your service, never to lose sight of you, and to 
 be your humble slave." 
 
 Maud felt really distressed, and turning from 
 him hurried on. This speech was, however, lost on 
 Lydia, as she was not sufficiently acquainted with 
 the German language to understand it, when it 
 was quickly spoken. 
 
 " I left your aunt. Miss Massing, about to 
 pay a visit to your friend and relative. Lady 
 Macklaren," continued Count Porskinski, rejoining 
 Maud. " She, it was, who told me where I might 
 have the felicity of finding you, and believe me I 
 did not rest till I gained your side. I am miserable 
 when away from you, I live only beneath the 
 sunshine of your smiles." 
 
 " Count Porskinski, I am not accustomed to 
 hear such language, it displeases me," said Maud, 
 rather proudly ; " you have not hitherto addressed 
 me in this manner ; I must beg you either to retire, 
 or " 
 
 " Cruel, you must not send me away ; let me 
 carry that basket, I will walk behind you with it, 
 will watch you at a distance, but do not send me 
 away." Maud smiled in spite of herself; there 
 was something so ridiculous in the tone and manner 
 of her admirer. She gave him the basket, and 
 bowing low he retired to a little distance, and 
 walked on with a disconsolate air.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 85 
 
 " What has happened V asked Lydia, in a 
 whisper. 
 
 " Nothing, only nonsense,"" was the reply ; and 
 Maud strove to hide her burning cheeks by stoop- 
 ing over a pool of seawater left in the rocks. The 
 Count was by her side in an instant, holding out 
 the basket to receive the imaginary treasure that 
 was to be found in the hard, cleanly-scooped basin 
 which held the water. " There is nothing here," 
 said Maud, rising; and with a bow the Count 
 retired to a distance again. 
 
 " This is too ridiculous," said Maud to Lydia, 
 who was not a little diverted by what was going 
 on. 
 
 '' It seems so," said she, " though I do not 
 understand the cause." 
 
 " Neither do I, but I must put a stop to this 
 exhibition in some way." 
 
 " Take care !" said Lydia, warningly, as she 
 turned away to talk to Miss Smith. 
 
 " Count Porskinski !" exclaimed Maud, despair- 
 ingly ; he was by her side. " What do you mean 
 by this extraordinary behaviour ?" 
 
 " Extraordinary !" said he. '^ Not at all ; I do 
 but evince my devotion to you." 
 
 " But I wish you would not," exclaimed Maud, 
 almost childishly. " It is so ridiculous, my friends 
 are astonished at you." 
 
 " That is a pity ; but if you will tell me what 
 you would like me to do, I will do it immediately, 
 were you even so cruel as to tell me to go and 
 drown myself in the sea !" 
 
 "I do not ask anything so unreasonable, I only 
 express a wish that you will treat me as you have 
 done up to the present time, and forget what has 
 just passed."
 
 86 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " To forget anything in connexion with you will 
 indeed be a difScult task, but as you command it, 
 I will obey so far as my frail nature will admit." 
 Thus saying the Count bowed profoundly. 
 
 " Let us chmb up that projecting rock," said 
 Maud, turning hurriedly to Lydia ; "it is not 
 above high water mark ; the sea may have left 
 something for our inspection, who knows." 
 
 She had scarcely uttered the words, when her 
 strange admirer darting up the rock in question, 
 stood at the top, and waving his hat one moment 
 in the air, began searching diligently amongst the 
 matted and entangled seaweed. " I advise you to 
 come up, there are very curious things to be found 
 here, I am sure," said he, without raising his head ; 
 and the i-est of the party immediately followed on 
 his steps, though not so quickly. The Count was 
 right, and Maud had the satisfaction of finding- 
 some specimens entirely new to her ; indeed she 
 soon became so absorbed in the pursuit that she for- 
 got all that had passed, and time flew on without 
 any of them heeding its progress. 
 
 " Have you heard that there is to be a ball at 
 the Assembly Rooms soon?" asked Lydia, ad- 
 dressing Maud. 
 
 " My aunt was saying something about it," she 
 replied. 
 
 " Do you intend going to it V 
 
 " Eh, I do not know ; perhaps I shall not be 
 considered strong enough yet to undergo the 
 fatigues of dancing," said Maud, smiling. 
 
 " You do not look ill : all Brimelsea will be 
 there — you ought to be introduced to our fashion- 
 able society." 
 
 " Are you then going V asked Maud. 
 
 " No, not I, you must not number me amongst
 
 BRIMELSEA. 87 
 
 the fashionable ; I never go to balls — not that I 
 disapprove of them, or dislike dancing, but we are 
 poor and cannot afford the expense. Arthur goes." 
 
 Miss Smith had suddenly found a star-fish. 
 
 " I am getting tired,"*' said Maud, resting herself 
 against a piece of rock. " Is it not time to be 
 wending our way back — we have come a long dis- 
 tance — what is the tide doing V 
 
 " It is rising," said Lydia, looking towards the 
 sea. 
 
 " And very rapidly," rejoined Miss Smith. 
 
 The seacoast of Brimelsea beyond the Peak 
 Rocks, as they are called, is very treacherous ; it 
 consists of several bays running up into the land, 
 and enclosed by high, almost perpendicular cliffs, 
 and sharp projecting rocks jutting out into the 
 sea. At low water these bays are a favourite 
 resort for those who love climbinof, and when our 
 party first arrived, there were several groups of 
 people amusing themselves in hunting for agates, 
 jet, shells, &c. ; one by one, however, these dis- 
 appeared, and yet our adventurers wandered on ; 
 nor was it till they had reached the farther ex- 
 tremity of the second bay that Maud thought of 
 returning. 
 
 " We have plenty of time, I am sure," said 
 Lydia, " for look, the tide has not reached the 
 Peak yet." 
 
 " It had not need have done that," rejoined Miss 
 Smith, somewhat anxiously, " for you know how 
 rapidly it rushes into Brimelsea Bay when once the 
 waves dash against the Peak." 
 
 " You are right — we must quicken our steps," 
 said Lydia; "it would not be pleasant to be 
 caught, I never have been yet." 
 
 "Is it dangerous? Should we be drowned?"
 
 88 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 asked Maud, looking involuntarily towards the 
 steep cliffs that enclosed them on all sides. 
 
 " Mein Gott ! who is talking; of drownino- V de- 
 manded the Count, approaching Maud. 
 
 Lydia could not suppress a smile. 
 
 " No, there is not the least danger ; it is not a 
 spring tide, and if it were, we could easily climb 
 high above the waves. The worst that can befall 
 us will be to wait here till the tide runs out again." 
 
 " Six hours !" said Maud, sighing, and the 
 whole party fixed their eyes on the distant point 
 which, once gained, would secure their safe return ; 
 soon, however, the rocks intervened, and shut out 
 their view. " It was very foolish of us to venture 
 so far, I quite forgot how we were to get back," 
 said Maud, uneasily. 
 
 " Do not be the least alarmed," urged Lydia ; 
 then turning to the Count, she added, " why did 
 you not watch the tide for us V 
 
 " I ! oh, really, Mademoiselle Carpenter, you 
 cannot suppose I should understand your English 
 sea." 
 
 " Why not? it has the same propensities as any 
 other." 
 
 " But then I was engaged in thinking ; my body 
 was here, but my heart was in the clouds." 
 
 " How very uncomfortable," murmured Lydia, 
 in an under tone. " Has it come down yet?" added 
 she aloud. 
 
 " I heard that there was danger, and I jumpt. 
 But, ladies, be comforted, I will die to save you, 
 will drown — what can I do more V 
 
 " That is more than either we expect or wish 
 for," said Lydia, laughing. Maud had got some- 
 what in advance, and was the first to reach the top 
 of the little promontory of rocks that led to the
 
 BRIMELSEA. 89 
 
 first bay, and her exclamation of " Oh!"* made the 
 others hasten to her side. 
 
 '' What is the matter V 
 
 " Look," she said, pointing to the Peak, over 
 which the waves were sportively dashing. 
 
 " If we walk very fast, we may yet be in time," 
 said Lydia, darting forwards, and like hunted hares 
 they ran with full speed towards the distant point, 
 but their efforts were in vain, and when at length 
 they reached the barrier, and stood upon the 
 highest rock, they had the disappointment of seeing 
 the waves roll beneath them, and dash majestically 
 on the shore beyond. 
 
 They stood still, silent and breathless, till at 
 length Lydia said — " We must not remain here, 
 we must retire to the farther end of the bay, and 
 make ourselves as comfortable as circumstances 
 will admit, for we shall not be released before 
 night." 
 
 "Is there no one on the shore to whom we misfht 
 make signs V asked Miss Smith, disconsolately. 
 
 " None that would be able to see us, at this dis- 
 tance," said Maud. 
 
 " But the sailors always have their telescopes by 
 them ; we might sacrifice a handkerchief, and tie it 
 to one of these rocks, perhaps some kind persons 
 will turn their eyes in this direction." 
 
 The plan was agreed to, and Count Porskinski's 
 red pocket handkerchief, that looked as if it had 
 had a close acquaintance with snuff, was made into 
 a flag of distress, and the whole party left the rock, 
 which was now fast becominof an island. 
 
 " Something tells me wo shall not have to re- 
 main here long, but we had better choose a com- 
 fortable abode amongst the rocks, for I suppose the 
 sea reaches up to them," remarked Maud.
 
 90 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " In spring tides it does, but not now ; we have 
 nothing to fear from the waves, I hope the clouds 
 will be equally kind, in not attempting to wet us ;" 
 and they all turned their eyes towards a thick 
 gathering mass above the horizon. 
 
 " It does not look very promising, but we will 
 not despair till the first drops begin to fall." Thus 
 saying, Maud drew her thin summer shawl more 
 closely round her, and began to ascend the cliff in 
 search of a resting-place. " Here is my abode for 
 the next six hours," she said at length, seating 
 herself on a round stone, " for just below me is a 
 pool of seawater for my poor pets in the basket." 
 
 " A what V asked Lydia. 
 
 " A pool of seawater," repeated Maud. " What 
 makes you look so scared ?" 
 
 " That shows us the waves rose as high as this 
 last tide," said Lydia. 
 
 " So it does ; we must ofo hio-her still." Maud 
 found this task a harder one than she anticipated, 
 for above the point where the sea had worn the 
 rocks, they rose in smooth almost perpendicular 
 slabs, up to the top of the declivity that frowned 
 over head. " I hope they will miss us, and send 
 some one to release us from our most uncomfortable 
 prison," said Maud, stopping to take breath, and 
 turning round to look for the rest of the party. 
 Lydia was struggling close beside her. Miss Smith 
 stood on a projecting point, somewhat lower down, 
 but Count Porskinski was not there. Maud no 
 sooner remarked this, than she demanded where 
 he was, and Lydia turned. " Look, I see him, he 
 never left the promontory, and there he is sur- 
 rounded," said Maud. " What can he be doing ? 
 foolish man !" 
 
 But Count Porskinski was not so foolish as she
 
 BRIMELSEA. 91 
 
 thought, for there he stood waving his hat in one 
 hand, and his red handkerchief in the other with 
 all his might ; he had caught sight of some object in 
 the distance, and was doing his best to attract 
 notice. Maud called to him to apprise him of his 
 perilous situation, but he only looked round for an 
 instant, and then redoubled his exertions. 
 
 The breeze that had been so refreshing on their 
 first starting had now strengthened, and came in 
 fitful gusts, driving the clouds together, and 
 raising the waves — proudly cresting they dashed 
 against the rock on which the Pole stood resolute, 
 and covered him with spray. 
 
 *' Count Porskinski !" cried the three ladies at 
 once. " Come, if you wait another moment you 
 will be lost." He did not even turn this time, but 
 waving his hat high above his head, he shouted 
 " Hurrah, bravo !" 
 
 " He is mad," said Maud, rather alarmed; " he 
 will be drowned." No, the Count knew how to 
 preserve himself; and after this burst of exultation 
 he turned, stood upon the edge of the rock, waited 
 till the wave should recede, then springing with all 
 his might, he stood amid a shower of spray upon 
 the sand. 
 
 " Heaven be praised !" ejaculated Lydia. " I 
 was really frightened." 
 
 " We are saved !" shouted the Count, making 
 the best of his way towards them. " They come — 
 I have seen the boat — it will be here directly.'' 
 
 The sea rose higher and higher, the clouds 
 thickened and swept across the sky, but still no 
 rain fell. Our adventurers were very silent, they 
 sat at no great distance from each other, but were 
 all intent on looking for the expected boat ; it came 
 not, however. Whether their deliverers had dis-
 
 92 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 covered that the increasing bad weather would pre- 
 vent the boat landing, or the Count had mistaken 
 a fishing-boat for one sent to free them from prison, 
 they could not say, and dared not think. 
 
 " We must get a little higher,'' said Lydia ; 
 " the wind drives the spray in our faces too much 
 here, we shall be wet through.'' 
 
 " That will be the case anywhere," said Maud, 
 gravely ; " but we may try to better our situation, 
 only I fear to sHp now that the sea is below us." 
 
 Count Porskinski looked around him, and after 
 a pause said, " I will go in search of a resting- 
 place — wait here till I have found one." 
 
 " Thank you," said Maud, and looking up, she 
 saw that his dark eyes rested on her searchingly, 
 but only for a moment, and then he was gone, 
 climbing like a mountaineer up the steep acclivity. 
 They watched his course, and there was a spark of 
 admiration burning in Maud's eye, as she saw the 
 agility of his movements, now resting on the 
 merest ledge, now springing to a surer resting- 
 place, ever higher, higher, till it made them sick 
 and dizzy to watch him. " Oh !" cried Maud. 
 " What is he going to attempt — surely not to 
 reach the summit f 
 
 " I fear he is," said Lydia ; " I shudder to think 
 what may be his fate." 
 
 Higher and higher climbed the Count, never 
 stopping to pause or take breath, shaping his course 
 in a sloping direction ; certain destruction below 
 him, security on the dark summit above. It was a 
 bold venture, but one look had sufficed to show the 
 practised mountain huntsman that the attempt was 
 practicable ; disappointed of the boat, behoving 
 that death awaited them if they had to remain 
 where they were, he resolved to make the attempt,
 
 BRIMELSEA. 93 
 
 and he succeeded ; the point to which he bent his 
 course came nearer and nearer, one step and he 
 would be safe ; he paused, he seemed to balance 
 himself on air, one more violent effort and he lay 
 full-length on the stunted grass above. 
 
 " Safe, safe ! " cried the watchers from below ; 
 Maud covered her face in her hands and wept ; 
 anxiety and fear overcame her, and tears forced 
 themselves down her cheeks. The tide in the 
 meantime had risen higher, the waves dashed 
 against the rock below them, and the spray darted 
 into the air ; heavy drops of rain began to fall, and 
 the horizon was hid in mist ; it was one of those 
 sudden storms at sea that rise so unexpectedly, and 
 often overtake the unwary wanderer. 
 
 " We are not much to be envied," said Miss 
 Smith, trying to shake the wet from her bonnet. 
 " I wonder how long we shall have to sit here ?" 
 
 " We may be very thankful if this rock does not 
 prove to be our grave," said Maud, solemnly. 
 
 " There is no danger if we do not slip," per- 
 sisted Lydia. 
 
 " I feel myself already benumbed by the wet," 
 continued Maud in a despairing tone and looking 
 up at the heights above, although the rain blinded 
 her. " That was a noble feat the Count performed, 
 he may yet be the cause of our presei-vation. How 
 anxious my poor aunt will be ! " 
 
 There is nothing more depressing to the spirits 
 than being wet through, and the forlorn occupants 
 of this barren rock felt the dejection consequent 
 on it fast creeping over them. Lydia tried in 
 vain to inspire her companions with a courage she 
 did not feel herself, and after a few fruitless at- 
 tempts to cheer them, she, too, fell into silence, 
 and watched the foaming waves dreamily, as she
 
 94 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 felt her wet clothes send a chill to her heart, and 
 she trembled in every limb. 
 
 " How fooHsh we were !" moaned Maud. " Why 
 did we not return sooner?" 
 
 " Think of your zoophytes," said Lydia, muster- 
 ing all her powers to appear cheerful. 
 
 " Wretched things," cried Maud, " I have let 
 basket and all drop into the sea ; they will live 
 happier there than in my keeping. I wish I could 
 escape from this place as easily as they have done." 
 
 A shout from the cliff above them made each 
 one start and look up, and there, looming amongst 
 the mist, stood several figures upon the very edge 
 of the precipice. 
 
 " We are saved ! " said Maud, clasping her 
 hands ; then checking herself, she continued — " but 
 how ? They can never reach us here, and I could 
 not climb as the Count did, my head would not 
 stand it," and she looked up timidly. The figures 
 had again disappeared. " They despair of saving 
 us ; they have gone that they may not see us die," 
 and again she burst into tears. 
 
 " Courage, Maud ; I am sure it is not your 
 natural character to be soft-hearted; look up, one 
 figure is still there," and Lydia pointed upwards. 
 Maud raised her head, and there stood a tall 
 figure looking down on them; Maud's heart said 
 it was the Count, and she inwardly resolved never 
 to doubt his bravery again. Presently the sound 
 of voices reached them, a crowd of people appeared 
 above, there was a movement amongst them; one 
 ran this way, one that, then all was still, and a 
 laro-e object was seen slowly descending ; what could 
 it be ? Down it came, swinging slightly, till at 
 length it was near enough to perceive that it was 
 a large basket, and that it contained a man. The
 
 BRIMELSEA. 95 
 
 watchers from below were silent ; they even held 
 their breath in their suspense, lest aught should 
 happen to the frail, floating bark. It reached 
 them — the man put out his hand and steadied 
 himself against the rock, then slowly rising he put 
 first one foot out and then the other, and stood 
 before them. 
 
 " Now, leddies, w'are ready," said the sailor. 
 " Please to give me your hand ; steady does it ; 
 who^llgofust?" 
 
 *' Is there any danger?" asked Maud. 
 
 " Lor bless ye, no, ma'am ; it is not the fust time 
 weVe haled folks up aloft like thus. Who'll go 
 fust?" 
 
 " I will," said Lydia, attempting to rise from the 
 rock on which she had rested the whole time, but 
 her limbs had grown stiff, and she could not move 
 for some little while. 
 
 " That's it," said the sailor, encouragingly; 
 "steady does it — up with ye — gently — that's the 
 way, young leddy," and, by dint of words and 
 gentle force, he managed to seat his charge in the 
 basket, then shouting to those above, he held it till 
 it was out of his reach, and with a hearty "All 
 right," he committed it to the air. 
 
 " Oh, Lydia !" cried Maud, shutting her eyes. 
 
 " Give me yer hand, ma'am ; it's all right," said 
 the sailor, holding out his brawny fist to her. 
 " Ye might have climbed a little higher, the spray 
 makes ye very weet here. Come with me." 
 
 " Let me stay here," said Maud, fretfully. " I 
 shall soon leave it, and am wet through now." 
 
 " Will ye take my jacket ? Ye've not enouo-h on 
 to shade ye." 
 
 " Thank you, no ; but you are very kind, and
 
 96 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 shall be rewarded for all this. Miss Smith, are 
 you here?"*' 
 
 " I am just behind you," replied a weak voice. 
 " How glad I shall be to get on firm land again." 
 
 " Don't ye call this firm land, ma'am ? It's a 
 good bit o' footing, and the waves there find it 
 pretty firm." 
 
 The basket had reached the top of the cliff, and 
 a shout greeted its arrival. Maud heard it, and a 
 smile passed over her face. 
 
 " Here it comes agin," said the sailor. " It's 
 your turn next, ma'am ; be ready, but never fuss 
 y'rsel'." Maud rose with difficulty, and taking 
 the sailor's proffered hand, stood watching the 
 basket as it descended, now bumping against the 
 rock, now swinging round, but ever coming nearer 
 and nearer till it reached the place where they were 
 standing. She got in — she knew not how, obeyed 
 the sailor's directions, and shut her eyes ; a feeling 
 of dizziness took possession of her ; the noise of the 
 waves rang in her ears ; she felt as if she were being 
 lowered into them ; death seemed inevitable ; then 
 she heard voices, and one in particular struck on 
 her ear, it was a kind, soft voice, and yet a manly 
 one ; there was a fascination in it, and, notwith- 
 standing all her fear, she listened and felt the tones 
 were familiar to her ; they became plainer, the 
 basket bumped against some object, she screamed, 
 and, opening her eyes, perceived Captain Mack- 
 laren bendino: over her. " You are safe," he said. 
 
 " Thank God ! " murmured Maud, and from that 
 moment she lost all consciousness, till, jumping up 
 with a start and opening her eyes wide, she dis- 
 covered that she was in bed, and in her own room. 
 " What does it mean ?" cried she ; " have I been 
 asleep long ?"
 
 BRIMELSEA. 97 
 
 " Hush, Maud, my dear," said her aunt, commg 
 to the bedside. " Keep quite quiet, you have been 
 ill." 
 
 " 111 V repeated she incredulously. " No, it was 
 a hideous dream, that is all." 
 
 " It was too true a dream, Maud, dear ; but keep 
 quiet and lie down." 
 
 " I feel quite well, aunt Lucy, why should not I 
 get up ? " 
 
 '' Because you have had a long fainting fit, and 
 have undergone much fatigue." 
 
 "Oh, yes — I know all about that; but it was 
 only a foolish dream."" 
 
 " Lie down," said Miss Massing, using slight 
 force ; " try and get to sleep.'' 
 
 Maud put her head on the pillow and lay think- 
 ing for some time, then, stretching out her hand to 
 her aunt, she said, " I am quite well now; let me 
 hear how we were saved. I remember about the 
 basket ; was it not dreadful ? " 
 
 " It was, indeed; but are you sure you are strong 
 enough to speak ?" 
 
 " Quite. I want to hear who saved us." 
 
 " Well, if you promise to be quiet I will tell you 
 all I know." Maud promised, and Miss Massing, 
 drawing her chair nearer the bed, continued — 
 " After parting with Count Porskinski I went to 
 call on Lady Macklaren, and remained with her a 
 long time ; then she and her son walked back here 
 with me, expecting to find you as the tide was 
 coming in, but, as you had not returned, they sat 
 waiting in my room till the Captain, who had been 
 watching the clouds, advised his mother to go 
 home, which they did. From that time I began to 
 be very uneasy, and sent to inquire about you, 
 both at the schools and at Mrs. Carpenter's house. 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 No one had seen anything of you since you left ; 
 this frightened me very much, and, in spite of 
 wind and rain, T walked back to Lady Macklaren's 
 to ask advice and consolation ; she alone was there — 
 her son had gone out, but she promised to send her 
 servant after him with instructions to make every 
 inquiry. I then went home, feeling very unhappy and 
 anxious, knowing the direction you had taken. I 
 went straight to my room, and there I remained 
 till, to my horror, you were brought home insensi- 
 ble ; at first I thought you were drowned, but 
 Captain Macklaren told me all, and he and the 
 Count behaved most beautifully." 
 
 " But tell me how they found us," said Maud, 
 raising herself on her arm. 
 
 " Lie down again, and then I will. Captain 
 Macklaren was as uneasy as myself; it seems he 
 first tried to reach you in a boat, but the wind had 
 made the sea so rough that he found such an 
 attempt wholly impracticable, and they had to 
 return. Having made inquiries about the rocks, 
 and consulting with the sailors on the subject, he 
 proceeded to the cliff above you with the neces- 
 sary preparations ; on their way they met the Count, 
 running breathlessly towards the town ; he told his 
 story in a few words, and they all went together 
 to deliver you from your perilous position. It is 
 quite a romance. I never read anything more 
 exciting in a novel." 
 
 " How are Lydia and Miss Smith V 
 " Both quite well, they say ; but I have not, of 
 course, seen them." 
 
 '' Was Lady Macklaren very nervous about it?" 
 " She did not know the worst till her son re- 
 turned, and, of course, he would make light of it 
 to spare her."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 99 
 
 " The Count behaved nobly," said Maud. " Is 
 he not any worse for his exertions T' 
 
 " I really do not know, but he seems quite well : 
 he has been up and down stairs ev^ery five minutes 
 to ask how you are, and it was all I could do to 
 prevent his coming in to see you/' 
 
 Maud smiled, and said softly, " I am quite well, 
 and should like to get up." 
 
 " When you have had a cup of tea I will let 
 you rise. Laurette will bring it up. I trust you 
 will be none the worse for all this excitement, for 
 do you know Lady Macklaren persuaded me to do 
 a very foolish thing in your absence." 
 
 "Indeed! What is^t ?" 
 
 " She made me take two tickets for the ball next 
 week, and now there is every likelihood of their 
 being thrown away." 
 
 "I do not agree with you," said Maud, her eyes 
 brightening. " I shall be quite well and strong 
 by that time, and you know how fond I am of 
 dancing." 
 
 '' Well, we shall see." The conversation was 
 here interrupted by a knock at the door, and Miss 
 Massino' rose to admit Laurette with the tea. 
 
 r 2
 
 100 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 CHAPTEE IX. 
 
 TABLE-TALK. 
 
 There are times when the immensity of the uni- 
 verse oppresses us, when we feel that our swelling 
 heart is as nothing, our very identity is lost amidst 
 the vast multitude of striving human souls around 
 us. Our head aches at the contemplation of the 
 world, whose paths we are to tread comparatively 
 unseen, and our soul longs for that eternity to 
 which it is an heir. They were thoughts such as 
 these that agitated Blanche's mind, as she sat alone 
 in her bed-room at the Royal Hotel in Brimelsea ; 
 she had arrived that day with her father and his 
 friend ; Mademoiselle Lafoure was to follow them, 
 as some private business had detained her in Lon- 
 don. Lord Reynoldforde and the Marquis had gone 
 out to inspect the yacht v/hich was already in the 
 harbour, and Blanche, being somewhat tired with 
 her journey, had retired to her own apartment to 
 rest till dinner; she was leaning out of the window, 
 her rich hair hanging loosely about her shoulders, 
 and pushed off her temples that the soft breeze 
 might cool them. She was very pale, and there was 
 an expression of inward suffering in her dreamy, half 
 closed eyes ; one hand supported her head and the
 
 BRIMELSEA. 101 
 
 other dangled carelessly outside the window. There 
 was a listlessness in her whole attitude which denoted 
 an unnatural languor, and she sighed from time to 
 time as if to relieve an overburdened heart. 
 
 " Oh, that I was a seagull and could float upon 
 the waves, could listen to their murmur, and learn 
 the secrets of nature, when it speaks in those 
 mournful tones. They are happy, they have no 
 struggles, they do not try to win, and therefore 
 
 cannot fail, whilst I Ah, how my head aches! 
 
 I have no one to cheer mo, no one to whom I can 
 entrust my burning thoughts. What will my 
 future be ? I long to lift the veil that hides its 
 mysteries from my eyes, and yet I dared not if I 
 could, for misery may be there — a life of struggles, 
 disappointments, woes. Heaven forbid ! my heart 
 is weary now, it will break ere long. I hate the 
 world — all are false. Would that my life could 
 pass in a moment of blissful agony such as this, 
 for I am at rest now, but must be gone to play the 
 fool, and smile and fawn on a wretch because he is 
 my fsiiher^s friend. I hate deceit, it is foreign to 
 my nature; yet I, too, must play my part in this 
 false world ; some act well, others but badly, may I 
 be among the first." And with a scornful, bitter 
 smile she rose, rang the bell for her maid, and 
 begran her toilette with a brow as unclouded as if 
 no harassing thoughts oppressed it. Strange con- 
 tradiction of nature, her heart yearned to tell its 
 tale to some human ear, and yet she was too proud 
 to show, even by outward signs, however slight, 
 the tumult that reigned within. Foolish pride, 
 thou hast too often been the cause of a broken 
 heart! human nature longs for sympathy in its 
 sorrow, and thou thrustest it away and leavest the 
 spirit to brood alone, to droop, and die.
 
 102 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 When Blanche descended to the sitting-room, 
 she found that Lord Reynoldforde and the Mar- 
 quis had returned ; they were standing in the 
 window conversing merrily. She walked up to her 
 father and took his hand ; he kissed her forehead 
 tenderly, and drawing her to him, said — 
 
 " We have a scheme for to-night's amusement, 
 Blanche ; you will be delighted to hear it, I am 
 sure. Whilst we were out looking about us an 
 advertisement happened to attract the Marquis's 
 eye, and what do you think it was?" 
 
 " I cannot tell, I am sure,"" said Blanche, look- 
 ing up in his face. 
 
 " A ball to-night at the Assembly-rooms ! '"* 
 "WelH" 
 
 " Well, we have taken three tickets and are going." 
 " Impossible ! " cried Blanche. 
 " Not at all ; they say it is to be an excellent 
 ball, and we are sure to meet old acquaintances — I 
 have already recognized the names of some of the 
 officers who are going, so now, Blanche, you have 
 nothing to do but to order your maid to prepare 
 your dress, and we will start at ten o'clock." 
 
 '* I am so weary, dear father," said Blanche, pre- 
 tending to yawn. 
 
 " Nonsense, child, you are not generally so 
 when a ball is in prospect." 
 
 " No, but I know nobody here, unless Maud 
 happens to be there, yet I hardly think she will, 
 as she came for her health, and balls are not 
 usually the doctor's prescription." 
 
 " Might I ask the name of your friend?" asked 
 the Marquis in French, and advancing towards 
 Blanche. " I looked over the list of the ex- 
 pected guests, and I may possibly remember seeing 
 your friend's name."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 103 
 
 Blanche told it him, and a ray of pleasure shot 
 over her face as he said — 
 
 " That name was amongst the first, and it was 
 followed by a Miss Massing, and Lady and Captain 
 Macklaren ; perhaps they are also acquaintances 
 of yours." 
 
 " No, I know nothing of them, but Maud was 
 ray school friend — it will give me great pleasure to 
 meet her." 
 
 '' You are willing to go now then, Blanche ?" 
 said her father. 
 
 " Yes, quite." 
 
 " That is well, for I should not have liked to 
 have gone without you." 
 
 " Oh, I would not have allowed you to do that 
 — but dinner is on the table, and the soup will be 
 cold. I want to hear about the dear little ' Firefly,'' 
 and when you intend taking the first trip." 
 
 " If to-morrow is as fine as to-day we will take 
 a cruise somewhere ; I have ordered the captain to 
 be in readiness. Your cabin is beautifully fitted 
 up, Blanche ; I must introduce you to it to-morrow, 
 at all events." 
 
 " Poor Mademoiselle Lafoure shares it with me, 
 does she not!" 
 
 " Yes, I hope she will not inconvenience you.*" 
 
 " What do you think of the yacht?" asked 
 Blanche, turning gaily to the Marquis, and saying 
 inwardly, I know what his answer will be, he would 
 say it was '■^ exquis^'"' were it the most hideous 
 vessel in the world. 
 
 " Oh, it is perfect. Mademoiselle ; I congratulate 
 you on having such a little gem, it creates quite a 
 sensation in the harbour. I assure ^^ou the pier 
 near it is crowded with people. You might give a 
 splendid ball on the deck, the boards are so smooth
 
 104 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 and broad, the rigging might be hung with coloured 
 lamps ; it would be charmant ! " 
 
 " By heavens, so it would !" cried the delighted 
 nobleman ; " we will give one, Marquis, and you 
 shall arrange everything. What a clever fellow 
 you are ! Did not I tell you, Blanche, he was the 
 very man to join our party." 
 
 " The very man to spend your money, poor 
 papa,'' thought Blanche; but she said, smiling — 
 " The Marquis is in his element in all these matters." 
 
 " All that requires taste I will submit to Made- 
 moiselle's care," said the polite Frenchman. 
 
 Blanche bowed and assured him she did not under- 
 stand such things ; then turning to her father she 
 inquired where he would find guests sufficient for 
 such an entertainment. 
 
 " We shall have no difficulty in that, none at 
 all. Wait till we have been to this ball, we shall 
 then find out who are here, and send our invitations 
 accordingly." 
 
 " You do not, I hope, intend to invite all the 
 town to the Marquis's entertainment?" Blanche 
 laid great stress on the last words. 
 
 " Of course not, only those we know. But what 
 shall we do for music, Montanvert ?" asked Lord 
 Reynoldforde. " We must have the best or the 
 affair will be spoilt." 
 
 " I never was in an English watering place yet, 
 that had not a German band; we must engage 
 that," said the Marquis, earnestly, as if he was 
 arranging a deep scheme, instead of planning a ball. 
 " We will raise a platform for them." 
 
 " What a pity, papa," said Blanche, archly, 
 " that the ' Firefly' has not paddle boxes instead 
 of a screw, we might have perched the musicians
 
 BRIMELSEA, 105 
 
 on them without further trouble — a few on one side 
 and a few on the other." 
 
 " We must make up for this natural defect as 
 best we may,'' continued the Marquis. " If the 
 night is fine and sultry we need not have any 
 covering over the deck." 
 
 " But we shall liave the whole town staring with 
 open eyes and mouth, if we are not protected in 
 some way," suggested Blanche. 
 
 " That is true," and the Marquis knit his brows 
 as if devising a remedy — " very true." Again he 
 paused. " I propose that the guests should be 
 requested to arrive at one particular time, that tliey 
 should be received in the saloon, and half an hour 
 after the ' Firefly ' should steam off " 
 
 " Not out to sea, we should have a hospital 
 on board instead of a ball," said Blanche, inter- 
 rupting him rather maliciously. 
 
 " No, Mademoiselle, you run on too quickly ; I 
 was only going to suggest that the vessel should 
 be anchored in the centre of the harbour." 
 
 " That we might arrang-e ; but now let us turn 
 to the ball of to-night," said Lord Reynoldforde, 
 " What dress will you wear, Blanche? It must be 
 something very distinc/ue^ for I wish you to make a 
 sensation. What colour do you think suits her 
 best, Montanvert ?" 
 
 " Anything becomes Mademoiselle Farncourt, 
 but if I am at liberty to offer an opinion I should 
 say pink would look exquisite in her dark hair." 
 
 Blanche frowned, and, as dinner was over. 
 she rose hastily, unable to hide her displeasure. 
 " I will order my dress, thank you," and she swept 
 towards the door ; the Marquis was by her side in 
 an instant, and, as he held the door open for her to 
 pass, he whispered, in his softest tones — " Forgive 
 
 F 5
 
 106 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 me, Mademoiselle, I would never have ventured so 
 far, had it not been for your father." She did not 
 even look at him, but passed on towards the stairs. 
 
 " You must excuse her, Montanvert,*" said Lord 
 E-eynoldforde, soothingly, "• she is a spoilt child." 
 
 " She is angelic !" said the Marquis ; " my feel- 
 ings towards her are so deep nothing she could ever 
 do would displease rae." He paused, and then 
 approaching his friend, said earnestly — " May I 
 speak to you on a point relating to her V 
 
 " Nothing has gone wrong, I hope?" 
 
 "No, nothing at all; and I hardly expect the 
 announcement I am about to make will surprise you." 
 
 " Pray speak out," said Lord Reynoldforde, 
 rather impatiently. 
 
 " Certainly I will, and I earnestly trust what I 
 am about to communicate will in no way displease 
 you, but if it should do so, let me beg your pardon 
 beforehand, and I swear to let the subject rest for 
 ever." He paused, and looked at his friend. 
 
 " Pray proceed." 
 
 " Alas ! I read a refusal already in your eyes ; 
 my heart trembles, my happiness is blasted — yet I 
 will speak out in justice to myself and to you, my 
 noble friend — I love your daughter." 
 
 " The devil you do !" cried Lord Reynoldforde, 
 frownino^. 
 
 " Yes, with my whole heart ; but I determined 
 before seeking her hand to address myself to you. 
 Should you oppose me, I will tear her image from 
 me, I will look up to her as an angel far out of my 
 reach, and swear never to breathe a word of love to 
 her or you. Mademoiselle Farncourt knows no- 
 thing of this. I throw myself on your mercy, and 
 wait for your decision with an aching heart." 
 
 " By Jove, Marquis, you are a better fellow than
 
 BRIMELSEA. 107 
 
 I took you for. I like you, upon my honour, I 
 do," and Lord Reynoldforde shook hands with his 
 dauofhter's suitor. " But let me hear no more of 
 this, you are old enough to be her father ; don't be 
 foolish ; forget you ever dreamt of love ; such a 
 passion at your age cannot be very strong, and I 
 should be very sorry to lose you as a friend."' 
 
 The Marquis turned crimson at this mention of 
 his age, but he checked the angry feelings that 
 would have ruined him, and said in a mournful 
 tone, "■ Yet you reject me as a son." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! excuse me, Montanvert, but I must 
 laugh ; I never could have believed such a thing ; 
 you, my old playmate at school ; you, who laughed 
 at me for marrying. Ha, ha ! to think of your 
 wanting to become my son ! to marry my daughter ! 
 ho, ho ! hi, hi 1 this is a fine joke. Whatever put 
 it into your head V 
 
 The Marquis, had he been a lover of truth, would 
 have said, " Money," but he put on a sentimental 
 expression, and said in his softest tone, " Love !" 
 
 " Now, this is too ridiculous — let us talk no 
 more about it," said Lord Reynoldforde, becoming 
 suddenly grave, as the recollection of his wife''s 
 objection to the Marquis shot through his mind. 
 
 " We are all fools now and then. Excuse me, 
 Montanvert, but you have been one to-day; I 
 never could have imagined this, and if you say no 
 more on the subject, but go on as usual, I shall 
 believe it to have been an after dinner dream, con- 
 jured up by an extra bottle of port. Come, sit 
 down, and let us drink together. Give me your 
 glass — here's health to you, Marquis, and speedy 
 oblivion to all your love fancies. Ha, ha !" 
 
 " I did not laugh at you nineteen years ago,
 
 108 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 when you committed the folly, as you now call it, 
 of marrying at two-and-twenty/' 
 
 " Humph ! we will not say much about that. I 
 have not quite forgotten certain jovial scenes in 
 Paris about that time, when I was made the 
 laughing-stock of the whole room."''* 
 
 " Well, it was all youthful fun," said the Mar- 
 quis. " The memory of those pleasant days always 
 makes me melancholy, they will never return." 
 
 " Now, do not be sentimental again, we have had 
 enough of that to-night. Here, fill your glass, 
 and let us drink to old memories, and the jovial 
 city of Paris." 
 
 Thus they sat chattering over their wine till the 
 clock on the chimneypiece struck ten, and the 
 vibration had scarcely ceased, when the door 
 opened slowly, and Blanche sailed into the room 
 with the air of conscious beauty. 
 
 Lord Reynoldforde set down the glass he was 
 on the point of lifting to his lips, and said — 
 
 " By heavens ! blue suits you best, I never saw 
 you look so well." 
 
 Blanche smiled ; she was always glad to please 
 her father; she knew it had been her mother's 
 aim. " Do you like my dress ? It is quite new,'' 
 said she, as she glanced down at it herself. 
 
 " White tarlatan looped up with the choicest blue 
 flowers, a bouquet and wreath of the same, charmant^ 
 quite perfect," whispered the Marquis into Lord 
 R-eynoldforde's ear. 
 
 Blanche saw the movement and frowned ; she 
 felt that Montanvert had o-ained her father's confi- 
 dence in spite of all her endeavours. She had not 
 her mother's authority over her father, and knew^ 
 not how to gain it. Poor Blanche ! she began to
 
 BRIMELSEA. 109 
 
 feel that she was helpless, and could only hope a 
 change would come — but when ? alas, it might be 
 too late. 
 
 The news that an English lord and his lovely 
 daughter, accompanied by a French Marquis, were 
 to appear at the Assembly Rooms that evening, 
 sprea,d like wildfire through the little town of 
 Brimelsea. Every ticket was accordingly bought 
 up, and a few more decorations were added to the 
 ball-room, besides an additional order for the very 
 best ice, and refreshments of every kind.
 
 110 BRLMELSEA. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE RIVALS. 
 
 " How glad I am to see you looking so well,'' said 
 Count Porskinski, as Maud entered the sitting- 
 room on the folio wins: mornino^ after the adven- 
 es o 
 
 ture, and found him accidentally alone, Miss Briggs 
 being engaged in household concerns, and the other 
 ladies in their own rooms. 
 
 " I have quite recovered, thank you, and will 
 soon forget the fright I then experienced, though 
 your kindness can never be forgotten." Thus say- 
 ing, Maud extended her hand to him, which he 
 eagerly seized. " Let me tender you our grati- 
 tude, for I may safely speak in the name of my 
 companions " 
 
 " Speak only in your own," said he, interrupting 
 her. " It was for you I made those exertions, for 
 you alone." 
 
 " Nay, I should be sorry to think your gene- 
 rosity so limited, and will do you more justice than 
 you do yourself — you felt our lives were endan- 
 gered, and you did the best you could to save us. 
 We shall ever think of your conduct with grati- 
 tude." 
 
 " We," said the Count. " Why we? Do you 
 not thank me for yourself alone f
 
 BRIMELSEA. Ill 
 
 Maud smiled. " The thanks of many are more 
 valuable than those of one.'' 
 
 " Ah, but I value yours only : it was the light 
 of your eyes that inspired me to risk my life, I 
 thought of you alone. Why then should I receive 
 thanks from those I did not serve V 
 
 " If what you say is truth, then indeed I must 
 withdraw the gratitude which I am no longer 
 authorised to express, but you may well imagine 
 that I am sorry to do so.'' Maud turned away, 
 and was about to quit the room, when, to her sur- 
 prise and confusion, the Count threw himself on 
 one knee before her, to prevent her retreat. 
 
 " Pardon," he exclaimed ; " pardon me, most 
 beautiful of women, forgive everything I have ever 
 said, and listen to me now." 
 
 " Rise, I beg of you," cried Maud, greatly 
 alarmed by his vehemence. " You cannot ima- 
 gine such conduct pleasing to me ; if you labour 
 under this error, let me tell you once for all, that I 
 cannot, and will not allow it." 
 
 " Cruel — you thank me, smile on me one mo- 
 ment, and the next you turn from me in anger." 
 
 " If I do," said Maud, taking a step back, 
 " whose fault is it ? Reflect, Count Porskinski, 
 and your own conscience will tell you what is the 
 cause." 
 
 He rose slowly. " If indeed I am the cause, 
 heaven be praised. I can reform, can change, 
 and mould myself to your liking — tell me how ;" 
 and he advanced towards her. Maud looked 
 confused ; what had she said — could her words be 
 misconstrued? He stood before her waiting 
 patiently, his eyes fixed on her face. She felt the 
 colour mount to her cheek, and yet could not frame 
 her thoughts into words. " Is my conduct so
 
 112 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 totally objectionable to you, that you cannot ex- 
 press your abhorrence of it in terms sufficiently 
 forcible V asked the Count, in low tones. 
 
 " No," said Maud, recovering herself in some 
 degree ; "I was not thinking of your general con- 
 duct, only of this in particular. You may easily 
 imagine it is difficult for me to express what I feel, 
 but ask yourself, and you cannot fail to know. I 
 
 am alarmed by your vehemence, and it dis yes, 
 
 it displeases me excessively." Maud again ap- 
 proached the door. 
 
 " I will only detain you one moment longer," 
 said the Count. " Your censure is harsh, but be- 
 lieve me you shall henceforth not have to complain 
 of my conduct in any way." 
 
 " Thank you," said Maud, and she turned to go, 
 but was met in the doorway by Miss Massing, who 
 exclaimed on seeing her, " I have been searching 
 for you this long time, Maud ; the dressmaker has 
 come, whom I ordered to call about your ball-dress ; 
 she is in my room." 
 
 " May I be allowed to ask if you are going to a 
 ball?" inquired the Count, advancing towards 
 them. 
 
 " My aunt has arranged it all ; she says I am 
 to go." 
 
 " And you would not think me impertinent if I 
 were to ask w^here it takes place 2" 
 
 " At the Assembly Rooms, next Monday." 
 
 " Thank you," said he, and the two ladies re- 
 tired. The Count thus left to himself walked to 
 the window (which in summer is as great an attrac- 
 tion to the gentlemen as the fire in winter), played 
 on the panes with his fingers, hummed a tune, 
 frowned, leaned farther out of the window, and 
 watched a handsome looking man who was passing
 
 BRIMELSEA. 113 
 
 at the time. " Donner und Blitz !" muttered the 
 Count, as he drew in his head. The gentleman 
 had stopped before the door, and was ring- 
 ing the bell. " What business has he to come 
 here ? of course he wants to see her ; I will pre- 
 vent that if I can/' Thus saying, he left the 
 room, but quickly reappeared, bowing politely, and 
 ushering in Captain Macklaren. " I am extremely 
 sorry to tell you Miss Massing and her niece are 
 at present engaged ; they have this moment quitted 
 me." 
 
 Count Porskinski'^s English was very broken, 
 but we have corrected his errors in the present 
 instance, as in many others. 
 
 " I would not for worlds disturb them,"" said 
 Captain Macklaren, " and will therefore do myself 
 the pleasure of calling again.'' 
 
 This was not what the Count intended, and he 
 therefore continued, hurriedly — " There is no occa- 
 sion, I am sure, for you to give yourself that trou- 
 ble. I should be most happy to deliver any message 
 for you ; pray be seated." 
 
 " Thank you, I will not detain you, as I see you 
 are on the point of going out." 
 
 " Pray do not mention that, my time is at your 
 disposal. I am, alas ! not a man of business." 
 
 Captain Macklaren bowed, and resting his hat on 
 the top of his cane, said, " I only came to inquire 
 after Miss Erving's health ; I shall pay my respects 
 to her at a later hour, as you say she is at present 
 engaged." 
 
 " I have the happiness to be able to assure you 
 that Miss Erving is quite well, and not a trace of 
 her indisposition is left ; she quitted me but a few 
 minutes before your arrival, 'to make some arrange-
 
 114 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 ments with regard to her attire at the coming ball, 
 and seemed in perfect health and spirits/"' 
 
 " I am glad to hear it, and will now take my 
 leave,*' said Captain Macklaren, moving towards 
 the door, the handle of which Count Porskinski 
 still held in his hand. 
 
 " Which way are you going ? my road may be 
 the same as yours," said the latter. " I want to 
 ask you a few questions about this ball, if I may 
 take the liberty." Captain Macklaren named the 
 direction, and the two left the house together. 
 
 " I hope you do not experience any incon- 
 venience from the extraordinary exertions you 
 underwent yesterday f" said the Captain, looking 
 at his strange companion. " You performed a 
 marvellous feat ; it will be the talk of the neigh- 
 bourhood for some time to come, I assure you." 
 
 Count Porskinski smiled, as he said, " Oh ! it 
 was nothing at all." 
 
 " Nothing at all ! I do not believe any of our 
 tight-rope dancers could have done such a thing. 
 You are perhaps experienced in mountain travel- 
 ling.- 
 
 " Yes, from a mere child. I lived a great deal 
 in the Tyrol, and since then I have frequently 
 hunted the chamois, both in Switzerland and in the 
 Tyrol J it is a noble sport, full of adventure and 
 peril." 
 
 " You are not, I think, a native of that part of 
 Germany." 
 
 " No, I come from Poland, though but a short 
 part of my life has been spent in my native land, 
 and that not the happiest. You have, of course, 
 heard of our national troubles, and can doubtless 
 imagine the cause of my estrangement from a land 
 that I should call my home."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 115 
 
 " Yes, indeed, there are few who are unac- 
 quainted with Poland's misfortunes." 
 
 " And few who offer their assistance to aid it to 
 regain its freedom," murmured the Pole, in an 
 under tone ; then turning to his companion, he said 
 aloud, " Are you to be present at this ball V The 
 answer was in the affirmative. " Is it then a public 
 ball ', could any one go who chose V 
 
 " Any one who takes a ticket. We are passing 
 the door of the Assembly Rooms now ; here is an 
 advertisement ; you will find all the particulars 
 mentioned there." 
 
 Count Porskinski beg-an readino-. " I have never 
 witnessed a ball in England," he said, at length. 
 " I think I should like to go to this one ; where 
 are the tickets to be obtained I I see no mention 
 of that on this board." 
 
 " They are to be had here," replied the Captain. 
 " The price is reasonable. I must wish you good 
 morning now, as I have some business to which I 
 must attend before dinner. Good mornino^. If 
 you see Miss Erving before I do, perhaps you will 
 be so kind as to say my mother, Lady Macklaren, 
 will call on her this afternoon." 
 
 The two gentlemen bowed ; the Count had pro- 
 cured the information he required respecting the 
 ball, and had gained his object in preventing a 
 meeting between the Captain and Maud. 
 
 That evening, at dinner. Count Porskinski leaned 
 across the table to Maud, who was seated opposite 
 him, and said — " I too have taken a ticket for the 
 ball ; they say fever is infectious : perhaps plea- 
 sure is so likewise. Your friend. Captain Mack- 
 laren, inspired me with a wish to go, and as we were 
 passing the door of the Assembly Rooms, I went 
 in and bought a ticket."
 
 116 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " What ball are you speaking about, Count 
 Porskinski V asked Miss Bridges. 
 
 " One that is to take place in the town/' 
 
 " Oh !" And to change the subject Miss Bridges 
 demanded how Miss Carpenter and Miss Smith 
 were after their accident. She laid particular stress 
 on the last person's name. The reply was, that 
 they both had colds. 
 
 " That is sad news," continued the lady. " Miss 
 Carpenter's valuable assistance will be lost to the 
 parish, and the school will suffer ; but I doubt not 
 her attentive brother will not object to officiate 
 there in her stead ; he is such a good friend to Miss 
 Smith. I heard that he even condescended to walk 
 arm in arm with her yesterday." 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Massing, joining in the con- 
 versation. " He was so anxious about his sister, 
 that he took an active part in rescuing them, and 
 was kind enough to see Miss Smith home ; he is 
 a very amiable young man, though he is not 
 clever." 
 
 " Extremely amiable," echoed Miss Bridges ; 
 and then, in an under tone, she added to her con- 
 fidante, " We know why in this instance, do we not, 
 Mrs. Blount?" A meaning look was her only 
 reply. 
 
 " May I ask, if I have been rightly informed, 
 when I say that an engagement has actually taken 
 place between Mr. Carpenter and Miss Smith V 
 demanded Miss Bridges, turning to Maud. '« The 
 report is widely circulated, I assure you." 
 
 " The charge is false, I am convinced," said Miss 
 Massing, reddening. " Lydia has not the smallest 
 knowledge of any such engagement. I can fully trust 
 in her discretion, and therefore deny the report alto- 
 gether, and shall feel obliged to you, Miss Bridges,
 
 BRIMELSEA. 117 
 
 to do the same, whenever you hear the subject men- 
 tioned." 
 
 " Mr. Pipkin has heard the same thing, and in- 
 formed me of it yesterday. I should think it my 
 duty to acquaint Miss Carpenter of what is said, 
 for she can then take steps accordingly ; or, per- 
 haps, as you are more intimate with her than I am, 
 she would take it more seriously from you."" Miss 
 Bridges looked supremely consequential, as she de- 
 livered herself of this speech. 
 
 " Thank you, but as I disbelieve the charge so 
 entirely, I decline taking any part in the affair." 
 
 " But it relates to your friend's honour," per- 
 sisted Miss Bridoes. " Her brother's name is 
 mentioned disrespectMly ; it creates a scandal in 
 the town." 
 
 " The punishment will fall on the right head," 
 said Miss Massing, indifferently. " I never be- 
 lieve town gossip." 
 
 " Quite right," joined in the mistress of the 
 Establishment, from the head of the table. " Gos- 
 sip is the plague of society. And now, ladies and 
 gentlemen, if it is agreeable to you, we will retire." 
 
 There was a general scraping of chairs, waving 
 of napkins, and rustling of dresses, as the whole 
 party moved up stairs to the common sitting-room. 
 Mrs. Blount threw herself on the sofa as usual, 
 arranged her dress, so that the folds should look 
 graceful, and after many turns and twists, had 
 settled herself to her entire satisfaction. A game 
 of cards was proposed ; some consented to it, and 
 a table was arranged by the open window. Miss 
 Massing understood whist very well, and liked it ; 
 Miss Briggs also played. Maud, at the Count's 
 desire, sang a succession of German songs, whilst 
 he sat by her, and turned over the leaves of her
 
 118 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 music book. Miss Bridges was out of humour, 
 would not join in anything, but sat for some time 
 in a corner by herself, eyeing the Count and Maud 
 now and then with a spiteful expression. 
 
 " Would you not like to take my hand V asked 
 Miss Briggs, addressing her uneasily, and offering 
 her the cards. 
 
 " No, thank you," was the short rejoinder. 
 
 " Pray make yourself more comfortable, dear,'^ 
 murmured Mrs. Blount languidly, from the sofa. 
 
 " I am very well as I am, thank you ; and it is 
 fortunate, considering that you always monopolize 
 the most comfortable seat in the room." Mrs. 
 Blount was not accustomed to such attacks from 
 her friend ; she looked surprised, put the smelling- 
 bottle frequently to her nose, and complained of 
 faintness. " Always ill, always something the 
 matter — such stuff and nonsense !" muttered Miss 
 Bridges, in an audible whisper. 
 
 Miss Massing lool en distressed at the scene that 
 was enacting, excused herself for one moment to 
 her partner, and went across the room to bring a 
 footstool for the irritable, middle-aged lady, in the 
 corner. 
 
 " Very obliging, indeed," said that lady, ironi- 
 cally, as soon as she understood the movement. 
 " A wholly unmerited attention, I am sure. My 
 feet, however, prefer the ground." 
 
 Miss Massing quietly placed the footstool on the 
 floor, and returned to her place. 
 
 That nio-ht, as she went into her own room, 
 Maud heard her exclaim sorrowfully, " Spite, spite ! 
 I wish I could avoid exciting such a feeling !" 
 
 " Dear old aunt," thought Maud, " as if any one 
 could be spiteful to her !" 
 
 Yet so it was.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 119 
 
 " How is it that you never married, aunt Lucy T' 
 asked Maud, one afternoon, as she sat on a low- 
 footstool in Miss Massing's little boudoir, and 
 leaned her head upon her aunt's knee, as she used 
 to do when quite a child. 
 
 " Because I was a coward," replied the old lady, 
 setting down her work. 
 
 " A coward V repeated Maud. 
 
 " Yes, that is the right word to use : I was 
 afraid to marry. I had read and heard of so many 
 bad marriages, that I feared to take so important 
 a step. I thought myself better suited for a single 
 life, so you see I have kept my resolution." 
 
 " You never could have been in love then," said 
 Maud, confidently. 
 
 " Only once," was the rejoinder, uttered in a low 
 tone, and with the head averted. 
 
 " How could it happen then that " 
 
 Maud had turned to look into her aunt's face, 
 and saw a tear glistening in the downcast eye ; she 
 paused, and felt sorry she had touched a painful 
 €hord in that kind heart. She had been hasty; had 
 forgotten that there are some feelings treasured up 
 within the breast which never fade, never grow old, 
 but live on with us, dormant at times, yet ready to 
 be awakened at the slightest call. 
 
 *' Have I pained you, dear aunt ?" said Maud, 
 throwing her arms round her. " If I have, I am 
 so verj^, very sorry." 
 
 Miss Massing returned the embrace warmly, but 
 did not speak; and when, at length, Maud re- 
 leased her, she looked up through her tears, and 
 said — 
 
 " I am very silly, that is all. You reminded 
 me of by-gone days, and the tears would come
 
 120 BRIxMELSEA. 
 
 there, it is all right now, we will talk of other 
 things. Has your ball dress come back? — I am 
 so puzzled as to what I must wear myself. I think 
 the black satin would look very nice with a pele- 
 rine, and my china crape shawl ; don't you think 
 so, Maudr'' 
 
 Miss Massing's black satin had been in existence 
 a very long time ; and even when new, the make 
 was so old fashioned, it was long before the dress- 
 maker could be persuaded to undertake to shape 
 the pattern according to Miss Massing's views. 
 
 " My dear aunt, you do not mean the dress you 
 wore a few evenino^s back ? It is so old fashioned 
 you must have something newer than that." 
 
 " Oh ! as to old fashioned, that is no conse- 
 quence at all. I prefer it to your new-fangled ways 
 of ribbons, puffs, and furbelows ; give me my neat 
 waist and short skirts, that do not catch up all the 
 dust and mud. No, no, Maud, you may be a 
 fashionable young lady if you like, but your old 
 aunt must keep to her fancies." 
 
 " Well, then, you shall ; but have you nothing 
 but that black satin ?" asked Maud, disconsolately. 
 
 " It is a very nice gown, I am sure," pleaded 
 Miss Massinof. " It has been a o-ood servant to 
 me. I have worn it these many times ; it will look 
 so nice with a pelerine." 
 
 Maud said nothing, but secretly determined in 
 her own mind to buy her aunt a new dress, and 
 have it made (without saying a word) by Lady 
 Macklaren*'s dressmaker. Her plans were soon 
 arranged, and put in execution. The scheme for 
 Miss Massing's decoration at the ball prospered, 
 but still that lady herself knew nothing of what 
 was going forward. At length the long-expected
 
 BRIMELSEA. 121 
 
 Monday came, and with it the new dress. Maud 
 was puzzled how to present it ; she feared her aunt 
 might be vexed with her, and still more that she 
 would refuse to wear it. 
 
 After some deliberation, she settled in her own 
 mind, to place it on Aliss Massing's bed, when 
 dressing time should come. This she did and more, 
 for she carried off the old black satin in triumph to 
 her room, and waited there, expecting to hear some 
 unusual uproar, when her aunt should make the 
 discovery of her secret present ; but no sound 
 reached her ears ; she dressed, and proceeded to 
 Miss Massing's sitting-room, opened the door, and 
 there stood her aunt before her, in the dress, but, 
 alas ! the trimmings and ornaments lay scattered 
 on the floor, and she was even then in the act of 
 cutting off the lace fall Maud had taken such plea- 
 sure in ordering. 
 
 " Oh ! aunt !" was all she said. 
 
 " Coming in one minute, dear ; you see how well 
 your present looks, now that people can see it. I am 
 so much obliged to 3^ou ; it was very thoughtful of 
 you, indeed, and I shall wear it with the greatest 
 pleasure now. Just wait one instant ; this piece 
 of lace has been sewn on, as if it were never to come 
 off again — there — pretty stuff — not suited to old 
 women like me though ; you had better make some- 
 thing for yourself with it. Am I not neat now? 
 My China crape shawl will be just the thing to 
 wear with it. What do you think about my pele- 
 rine T 
 
 The door-bell rang at that moment ; it was the 
 fly to take them to the Assembly Rooms. Maud 
 beo:2;ed her aunt to come, and half vexed, half 
 smiling, she led her down stairs. Count Por- 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 skinski was in the entrance ; his eye brightened as 
 he gazed on Maud in her ball costume; and he 
 thought he had never seen any woman so beautiful, 
 when she smilingly consented to let him hand her 
 into the carriage.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 123 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 THE ASSEMBLY ROOMS. 
 
 It was with queen-like majesty that Blanche Farn- 
 court sailed into the ball-room, leaning on the arm 
 of her handsome father. All eyes were turned 
 towards them ; the room was full ; and they entered 
 during one of those intervals which always occurs 
 between the dances. There was many an excla- 
 mation of delight and admiration, but no face in 
 the whole assembly betrayed more real pleasure 
 than that of Maud Erving, as she recognized her 
 old school friend. Hastening across the floor, she 
 stood beside Blanche, and shaking her eagerly by 
 the hand, she said — 
 
 " I did not expect to see you here ; you never 
 told me of this ; how delighted I am. This is in- 
 deed a surprise !" 
 
 " Just what I wished it to be, Maud ; but I did 
 not expect to be at this ball myself; and I assure 
 you I am almost as surprised at my own apparition 
 here as you are ; let me introduce you to my 
 father." 
 
 Then turning to Lord Reynoldforde, she said — 
 
 g2
 
 124 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " Thia is the Maud you have heard so much 
 about ; we have not met since our school days." 
 
 " Delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss 
 Erving ; I used to know your father in old times," 
 said Lord Reynoldforde, cordially. " By Jove, is 
 not she beautiful f added he, in a whisper, to the 
 Marquis, who had stepped in behind him. 
 
 " Very passable," was the cool rejoinder. 
 
 " Your face reminds me so much of our old 
 school pranks," said Blanche, smiling. " I almost 
 imagine myself with Mademoiselle Lafoure again. 
 By the by, Maud, you will have the pleasure of 
 seeing her kind face before long ; she is going to 
 spend the holidays with me." 
 
 " What, at Brimelsea?" 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 The music struck up once more ; it was one of 
 D' Albert's spirited waltzes, that oblige the feet to 
 move in time to them, whether they will or no. 
 
 Count Porskinski threaded his way through the 
 crowd, and approached Maud, when, bowing low, he 
 said, " He believed he had the honour of being en- 
 gaged to her for that dance." Maud assented, took 
 his arm, and they were soon whirling amidst the 
 other teetotums that passed in quick succession 
 before our new arrivals. Blanche watched them 
 dreamily, and wondered who Maudes partner was. 
 They then passed on to an inner room, less crowded, 
 where her father handed her to a seat. She had 
 scarcely been settled an instant, when the Marquis, 
 who had naturally followed them, approached her 
 chair, and leaning his hand on the back of it, ad- 
 dressed her thus — 
 
 " May I hope for the honour of your hand this 
 dance f
 
 BRIMELSEA. 125 
 
 " Thank you," replied Blanche, somewhat coldly. 
 '* I should prefer remaining quiet just now." 
 
 " This preference will not, I hope, extend over 
 the whole evening. May I look fonvard to the 
 next r' 
 
 Blanche bowed a cold acquiescence, and turned to 
 her father, who was talking to a gentleman of his 
 acquaintance. Just then, the dance being con- 
 cluded, an influx of people crowded into the room ; 
 amongst them is a gentleman we have seen before, 
 though under very different circumstances. 
 
 " Ah ! Lord Reynoldforde ! You have not for- 
 gotten an old friend, I hope V said he, advancing, 
 in company wdth another gentleman. 
 
 " Holford ? to be sure I have not ; and Captain 
 Bissenthorpe — we have had the pleasure of meeting 
 before." 
 
 " Yes, in London," said the officer addressed, 
 takino- the hand extended to him. 
 
 Captain Bissenthorpe was a tall man, with a 
 round, sallow face, red hair, and enormous whis- 
 kers and mustachoes, of which he was evidently 
 very proud. He was at that time quartered, with 
 his regiment, in Brimelsea. 
 
 Lord Reynoldforde introduced the young men to 
 his daughter, and Blanche was soon deeply en- 
 gaged. The Marquis insisted on writing his name 
 down for a few more dances, and though her cold- 
 ness would have chilled most men, it in no way 
 disconcerted him. 
 
 " Our dance has begun. Mademoiselle," he said, 
 interrupting a conversation she had entered into with 
 Mr. Holford. " Will you not join it ? The music 
 is superbe.'''' Blanche rose, and taking his arm, 
 they pushed their way through the crowd into the 
 dancing-room. The Marquis was famed for the
 
 126 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 elegance and ease with wliich he danced ; and they 
 floated round the room to the spirit stirring music. 
 Blanche was fond of dancing ; it was no exertion 
 to her; she could accommodate herself to any 
 speed ; and she felt an inward satisfaction in ac- 
 knowledging to herself that they were the best 
 dancers in the room, and drew most eyes upon 
 them. Her heart warmed with excitement ; and 
 when they paused for a moment to rest, the stiff- 
 ness in her manner to her partner was gone ; she 
 listened to all he said, and even went so far as to 
 quiz some of the awkward dancers reeling convul- 
 sively before them. The Marquis saw this change ; 
 attributed it to the right cause ; restrained from 
 flattering her on her dancing, as many men would 
 have done, for he knew too well that that was a 
 sure way to lose all he had gained, and found 
 himself writing his name on her card without oppo- 
 sition, for the few remaining dances for which she 
 was not engaged. 
 
 " How you would enjoy our Paris balls ; we 
 understand the art of dancing. In England it is 
 considered more a necessity than a pleasure ; with 
 us it is all enjoyment. Lord Reynoldforde must 
 take you for one season to Paris ; you cannot ima- 
 gine how beautiful our capital is ; for my part I 
 wonder how any one exists anywhere else.'' 
 
 Blanche had heard much of Paris ; her mother 
 had taught her to look at the dark side of its daily 
 history ; she dreaded the mere idea of going there 
 with her father, and it was fear lest the Marquis 
 should put such a notion in his head, that prompted 
 her to make the following speech — 
 
 " Paris may be all that is beautiful, but / have 
 no wish to go there ; my reasons for disliking it 
 cannot be wholly unknown to you, and I must beg
 
 BRIMELSEA. 127 
 
 of you never to mention such an idea to my father ; 
 he is easily impressed with the views of others, as 
 you cannot fail to know ; but when once his mind 
 is bent on an object nothing can move him. Once 
 for all, then, let me beg of you never so much as to 
 breathe the slightest whisper of what you have just 
 said to me/' 
 
 The Marquis assured her he had not the least 
 intention of doing so : her wishes were regarded by 
 him as law : he only wished she would oftener ex- 
 press them to him : he had, he flattered himself^ 
 some influence over her father : he might often 
 exert it in her cause : he begged her pardon if his 
 openness offended : hoped she would learn to judge 
 him less harshly than she had hitherto done : he 
 was deeply attached to her family : had been so for 
 long : could remember her a little infant in arms : 
 had nursed her then : professed an almost fatherly 
 interest in her, and finally carried her off into the 
 maze of the dance. Was there no warning voice, 
 " Beware of that man,'"* ringing in Blanche's ear? 
 We cannot tell. 
 
 Miss Massing and Lady Macklaren were seated 
 on a bench in the ball-room, Maud was beside 
 them ; she had not danced the last time ; she was 
 afraid of tiring herself too much, as she had not 
 recovered all her usual strength. Count Porskinski 
 was not beside her, neither was Captain Macklaren 
 — they were both leaning against the wall close by, 
 and the seat next Maud was occupied by a girl 
 who, from her appearance, could not have been 
 more than fifteen or sixteen : she was talkin^^ 
 rapidly to Maud, scarcely waiting for answers to 
 her numerous questions, but went on in a continued 
 stream. 
 
 She was evidently one of those young ladies who
 
 128 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 have been " out,"' as it is called, ever since they 
 left the nursery : she considered it infra dig. to be 
 supposed to have school hours and masters : talked 
 of the officers in the room : called Captain Bis- 
 senthorpe a " dear man:"" recounted to Maud many 
 flirtations she had had with him, and repeated some 
 of his letters by heart, for she had received several 
 from him with verses and flowers : he always 
 walked with her on the parade, professed himself 
 devoted, and had actually stolen her pockethand- 
 kerchief when, by accident, she had let it fall. Maud 
 was not slow in discovering that this same Captain 
 Bissenthorpe was one of those men who delight in 
 making young girls of fifteen or sixteen fall in love 
 with them, at least they always imagine they suc- 
 ceed, though they little know how often they are 
 detested for their pains. 
 
 Miss Isabella Flounce was a regular school-girl 
 by nature ; she never lost an opportunity of telling 
 her secret love aff*airs, and always with the strictest 
 confidence. Maud had only known her a quarter 
 of an hour, but that was quite long enough ac- 
 quaintance for Miss Flounce, and by the time the 
 dance was over, she had told Maud everything 
 connected with Captain Bissenthorpe, from his 
 fortune and expectations down to his little foot, 
 which no shoemaker in all Brimelsea could fit ; 
 having exhausted this topic she turned to another, 
 and told Maud, with bitter lamentations, that she 
 was o'oino; home. 
 
 " Is it not a bore? I have been in this dear town 
 a month, and now that I have just got to know 
 people and call them nicknames, I am sent for to 
 return to that tiresome home. I wish uncle 
 Frederick would keep me, but I fancy I am too 
 fast for him ; his daughters are so very slow, there
 
 BRIMELSEA. 129 
 
 is Susan, she can''t say Bo to a goose, and as for 
 walking with me alone on the parade, I believe she 
 would as soon fly. Captain Bissenthorpe laughs at 
 her, and says I am twice as good a chap." 
 
 Maud was horrified at the vulgarity of this con- 
 versation, and felt greatly relieved to see Captain 
 Macklaren make a move towards them to claim her 
 hand for that dance. 
 
 Poor Miss Flounce remained sitting, much to 
 her dissatisfaction, and though she directed several 
 glances at Captain Bissenthorpe, he never came 
 near her, and to her infinite disgust, she saw him 
 dancing with " that proud-looking Miss Farncourt ; 
 how could anybody call her handsome ? she never 
 smiled ; she danced as if she did not like it, she 
 was anything but graceful ;" in short, Blanche 
 would have become a perfect Gorgon in Miss 
 Isabella Flounce's eyes if her thoughts had not 
 been pleasingly diverted by Count Porskinski's 
 approach ; he seated himself in Maud's place, and 
 though he did not ofier to dance with her, he 
 talked, and his English was so " very interesting." 
 
 " What a nice couple your niece and my son 
 make," said Lady ^lacklaren to Miss Massing. 
 
 " He is so handsome and manly," rejoined the 
 latter, " he would look well anywhere." 
 
 " Roger always was a handsome boy^ I suppose 
 you do not remember him with curls all over his head, 
 and a little plaid low dress, with band and silver 
 buckle. People used to admire him very much, 
 but none more than his fond motlier. He was my 
 only child — he had all my love. I may be excused 
 if I spoilt him a little, may I not ? Ah, you do 
 not understand a mother's feelings ; it is impossible 
 you can, they are only felt by mothers." 
 
 Miss Massing smiled. 
 
 G 5
 
 130 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " Have you been successful in your dredging 
 expedition?" asked Maud of her partner. " Yester- 
 day was very fine."''' 
 
 " I was interrupted just as I was on the point of 
 starting ; m}^ friend Holford made his appearance 
 rather suddenly. 1 asked him to come and spend 
 a few weeks with us, as his relations are on the 
 continent at present, but we did not expect him so 
 soon. He wanted to accompany me that moment, 
 but of course I put it off'; we think of going out 
 to-morrow, the cases are all prepared to receive 
 their prisoners. You must come with your aunt 
 and see them."" 
 
 Maud said she should enjoy doing so very much, 
 and he continued — 
 
 " I have a case in each window looking on the 
 staircase ; my mother would not allow them to be 
 in the drawing-room, she says she likes air and 
 light, and they would eff'ectually exclude both. 
 She lives on the balcony. I assure you I never go 
 into the drawing-room but there my mother is 
 certain to be. I tell her she is a gossip, and is 
 looking out for news," he glanced at his mother as 
 he said this jokingly, and their eyes met. " How 
 is your collection progressing, Miss Erving ? If 
 you happen not to have purchased a case yet, I 
 hope you will permit me to off'er jou one of mine ; 
 I have more than I can possibly want, and should 
 feel honoured by your acceptance of one."' 
 
 " You are very kind indeed, but, as I have no 
 fixed home, I am unable to keep a regular aquarium, 
 and must set all my prisoners free when I leave 
 Brimelsea." 
 
 " That is a long time to look forward to I hope, 
 Miss Erving. Why not accept one of my cases 
 whilst you are here ? "
 
 BRIMELSEA. 131 
 
 Maud assured him that her basms and baths 
 answered her purpose quite well enough, and he 
 pressed her no longer to accept his offer, but 
 changed the subject. " Have you read many books 
 on this branch of natural history V 
 
 " Several of Gosse's works, but I am ashamed 
 to say I am very lazy about reading, I find it so 
 difficult to fix my attention." 
 
 " I should not have thought that ; perhaps you 
 read a great many works of fiction I '" 
 
 " Yes, there you are right ; I waste a great deal 
 of time over novels. My guardian belongs to a 
 library, and we get all the newest works in London. 
 Have you read ' Claude Mertonby,' by Green- 
 wark?" 
 
 " Yes ; what is your opinion of it?" 
 
 " I think it very clever ; the characters are well 
 drawn, but the story is weak." 
 
 " That is often the case. I think some authors 
 must imaoine their characters first, and make their 
 story so as to fit them, whilst others reverse the 
 order of things. People cannot succeed in all they 
 attempt — there are very few who reach perfection." 
 
 Their discussion was here interrupted by the 
 sudden finale of the dance, and they went to rejoin 
 their party ; in threading through the crowd Maud 
 encountered Blanche. 
 
 " I am o:lad we have met a2:ain," said the latter. 
 "Where are your friends? Will you introduce 
 them to me? I want to talk to you, Maud; so let 
 us ijo together." 
 
 Thus saying she bowed to Captain Bissenthorpe, 
 with whom she had been dancing, and took her 
 friend's hand. Maud led her up to her aunt, who 
 was of course deliojhted to be introduced to her dear 
 niece's friend, and, after a few commonplace re-
 
 132 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 marks, the two seated themselves on the bench 
 beside her, and it was not long before they were 
 fully engrossed in conversation. 
 
 " Are you actually living in a boarding-house, 
 Maud l " asked her friend, smiling. 
 
 " Yes ; you cannot imagine how odd it is ; 
 the etiquette and the rules make it excessively 
 amusing ; quite different to anything I have ever 
 seen before .'"' 
 
 "Do the old ladies quarrel V 
 
 Maud smiled. " On the whole we are very 
 peaceably inclined, but such a thing as a quarrel is 
 known, and, from what I have seen, I should say 
 jealousies exist to no small extent." 
 
 '* Do you know I almost fancy I should like to 
 be in your place, it would be something new, and 
 there is a sad want of novelty in this world. I 
 should astonish the old ladies very much, but I 
 would be extremely polite and attentive at the same 
 time ; they should have nothing to say against me, 
 only it would be entertaining to make them open 
 their eyes or put up their spectacles to see what I 
 was." 
 
 " Blanche ! " said Maud, reproachfully. 
 
 " That is just the face you used to put on at 
 school," continued the other. " If ever I proposed 
 to have any fun, you were sure to say ' Blanche !' in 
 that reproving way, just as if I were about to 
 commit a crime ; but, Maud, I have grown very 
 quiet since I left school, you will hardly know me 
 now, though the sight of your face makes me my 
 old self just for a minute. There, see — I am quite 
 as sedate as you are now, and have a great deal 
 more experience in life.'' 
 
 " I do not dispute that last assertion, and you 
 know our characters were often considered very
 
 BRIMELSEA. 133 
 
 much alike, although I never could see the re- 
 semblance,^"* said Maud, looking up into her friend's 
 face as if to read the mystery of her character in 
 her eyes. 
 
 Blanche looked grave and answered quickly — 
 
 " No, we are very unlike each other. I hope 
 you will never be like me. I should be sorry 
 to think any one was ;" then drawing herself up she 
 sighed slightly, and the next moment, with an effort 
 to suppress all feelings of sorrow, she smiled, and 
 said, almost merrily — 
 
 " We must not grow sentimental over our ini- 
 quities, but let us talk of something else ; you must 
 find a topic, Maud, my ideas are all gone." 
 
 " That is not a difficult task with you, though it 
 is sometimes an impossibility with a partner. By 
 the by, who was that handsome man you were 
 dancing with, when I met you? he is looking at 
 us now, Blanche — there, in the doorway." 
 
 "Captain Bissenthorpe ! you cannot possibly 
 think him handsome? He has a turnip-lantern 
 face." 
 
 " What do you mean ?" 
 
 " He looks exactly like one of those lanterns we 
 used to make and hang round the school-room at 
 poor Mademoiselle Lafoure's, to her great horror. 
 His face is as round as a ball, his red moustache 
 makes his mouth look transparent, and his eyes 
 are quite as bright a red as our old lanterns could 
 ever boast of. Do you not agree with me V 
 
 " Not at all ; and I am quite sure the poor man 
 would be very sorry if he heard your opinion of his 
 charms." 
 
 "Why?" asked Blanche, abstractedly. 
 
 " Why ? because he admires you very much." 
 
 " You have very quick eyes, Maud."
 
 ] 34 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " Do you mean to say you have not discovered 
 that? it was quite evident to me, though I only saw 
 you together for two minutes." 
 
 " I never thought about it; he was very stupid." 
 
 " You managed to laugh and talk a great deal." 
 
 " I was obliged to do that, or I should have gone 
 to sleep ; he dances abominably, and only knows 
 how to talk nonsense." Blanche looked at her list 
 of engagements. " Very tiresome ! " she muttered. 
 
 " What is ?" asked Maud. 
 
 " I am eno^ao^ed to him for three more dances. 
 Oh, here comes the Marquis, we shall be separated 
 again, and perhaps I shall not have another oppor- 
 tunity of speaking to you. We must meet to- 
 morrow, Maud — tell me how. Mademoiselle La- 
 foure arrives in the afternoon, we might meet her 
 at the station ; do you agree to this V 
 
 Maud said she had no engagement, and the 
 friends parted. There was a very dififerent expres- 
 sion on Blanche's face as she took the Marquis de 
 Montanvert's arm ; the pleased smile was gone, 
 and a proud, heartless one, was all his brilliant 
 conversation could call forth. " I must treat him 
 civilly, because he is my father's friend," was ever 
 recurring to her mind ; " but if ever I have it in 
 my power, he shall be banished," and they whirled 
 gracefully together through the room. 
 
 " Holford," said Captain Macklaren to his 
 friend, " may I introduce you to the most beautiful 
 girl here to-night I " 
 
 " Thank you, I have already been introduced," 
 was the reply. 
 
 " Indeed !" exclaimed the other. " Perhaps we 
 mistake each other." 
 
 " Very likely, my dear friend," was the laconic 
 rejoinder, and Captain Macklaren continued —
 
 BRIMELSEA. 135 
 
 " I mean Miss Erving." 
 
 " And I mean Miss Farncourt." 
 
 "I don't agree with you, Holford, but tastes 
 must differ. May I introduce you to my beautijf f 
 
 " With the greatest pleasure ;" and the two 
 gentlemen crossed over to where Maud was seated, 
 but ere they had reached her. Count Porskinski 
 had stepped in and carried off the prize. 
 
 " We had not enough sail on, Captain," said 
 Mr. Holford. '' Shall we give the Frenchman a 
 broadside V 
 
 " Better luck next time.'' 
 
 " I am not fond of being beaten — must we give in ? 
 perhaps a charge would settle the matter — 
 come on." 
 
 Captain Macklaren put his arm within his im- 
 petuous friend's, and drew him aside. " I am going 
 out yachting to-morrow with Lord Reynoldforde, 
 and shall have the pleasure of the Hon. Miss Farn- 
 court's society. Wish me joy, Macklaren ; a 
 youno- fellow has not often such advantao-es." 
 
 "Who is she dancing with nowf asked his 
 friend. 
 
 " I don't exactly know. Some upstart foreigner, 
 I suppose ; he must be bowled over, of course." 
 
 " I have been told he is eno-as^ed to Miss Farn- 
 court. You had better make inquiries before you 
 lose your heart, Holford." 
 
 " It is gone already. Do you suppose, my dear 
 fellow, that I ever was in the company of a beau- 
 tiful woman, without losing it there and then f 
 
 " A very harmless attack," said Captain Mack- 
 laren ; " but take care you are not caught." 
 
 " Caught ! I am always on the point of being 
 caught. Don't you remember rescuing me from a 
 marriage with that beautiful Spanish girl l I am
 
 136 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 very much obliged to you now ; she had a temper — 
 you were right, only love's eyes are blind, and she 
 was so devilish handsome. Such eyes, such 
 hair— oh !" 
 
 " The Hon. Miss Farncourt is far more beau- 
 tiful,"''' suggested his friend, smiling. 
 
 " Beautiful ! that is a poor word to describe 
 what she is — I never saw anything mortal so ex- 
 quisite. Just see how she floats about, looking so 
 supremely proud and angelic at the same time ! 
 What an exquisitely rounded neck ! by Jove ! I 
 believe I could turn artist, sculptor, and nobody 
 knows what in looking at her; but then, Mack- 
 laren — she is quite half an inch taller than I am — 
 wdiat is to be done? We can never walk arm-in- 
 arm." 
 
 " I hope you will never have any occasion. 
 Take my advice, and get your heart back as soon 
 as possible." 
 
 " As convenient," interrupted the other, laugh- 
 ing ; " that is not so easy. Besides, I do not 
 approve of your advice ; supposing I do fall despe- 
 rately in love (no uncommon thing with me), and 
 she returns my aflections, it would be a brilliant 
 connexion. Plenty of money, if her scamp of a 
 father does not run through it all ; he has not done 
 so yet, or yonder French puppy would not be 
 nibbling at the bait. It is high time we had 
 another European war." 
 
 " What makes you end with that bloody-minded 
 sentiment V demanded Captain Macklaren, laugh- 
 ins: at his friend's sudden chans^e from love to 
 war. 
 
 " Endand is overrun with all the ragamuffins of 
 the Continent. We shall soon be no better than a 
 penal settlement, with the exception that the con-
 
 BRIMELSEA. 137 
 
 victs are all at liberty, and enjoying themselves at 
 our expense. We want a war to clear them off; 
 besides, it would do our own people a great deal of 
 good, take my word for it. A good downright war 
 would cut off all the murderers, thieves, and 
 rascals that one hears of at every step now. By 
 heavens, Macklaren, just look !" and he pointed in 
 the direction of Blanche. 
 
 *' Well, what is the matter V 
 
 '•' Oh, nothing, only she is supremely beautiful." 
 
 " Pshaw ! Holford, don't be a fool. She is no- 
 thing more or less than a woman. I see what the 
 end of all this will be." 
 
 " A suicide, a case of drowning," interrupted the 
 young man. 
 
 " No, a second Donna Isabella affair ! a despe- 
 rate attachment — a rebuff from the father — a wild 
 notion of rope ladders, swift horses, and a flight 
 just put a stop to in time by the interference of a 
 friend — a fortnight's misery and absence, during 
 which time the patient recovers, awakes to a sense 
 of reason, and forgets." 
 
 " No, my dear fellow, don't say that. I never 
 cared particularly about her ; it was only a day- 
 dream, very unlike my present feelings. You 
 helped me out of a scrape there, I confess ; but for 
 the life of me I see no scrape to get out of in the 
 present instance. A beautiful girl, a fine fortune 
 and good connexions, what can a man wish for 
 more ?" 
 
 " An amiable wife, clever, agreeable." 
 
 " Oh, yes, of course ; but Miss Farncourt would 
 be all that." 
 
 " Are you sure ? Remember love at first sight, 
 in a ball-room." 
 
 " The most trying position to see a young lady
 
 138 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 in. Why, if she has a bad temper, surely it must 
 be seen then, bored as she is with bad partners, 
 who tread on her feet, and talk nonsense till she is 
 wearied to death."' 
 
 " Have you ever seen a lady in a passion in a 
 ball-room, Holford V 
 
 " Thank heaven, no." 
 
 ^' Well, then, promise me you will make an ex- 
 cuse to-morrow, and accompany me out dredging. 
 You shall have good sport, and if after that you 
 still wish to try your hand at love-making, I will 
 not prevent you." 
 
 The dancers had driven them by degrees nearer 
 and nearer to the bench by the wall, and for the 
 last quarter of an hour they had been unconsciously 
 standing before a young lady, whose quick and 
 willing ear had caupht most of their conversation. 
 It was not till Captain Macklaren had delivered 
 himself of this last speech, that he perceived how 
 easily they might have been overheard ; but hoping 
 the music had been too loud, and their conversa- 
 tion had been uttered in too low a tone for eaves- 
 droppers, he contented himself by warning his 
 friend in a whisper, and taking tlie first opportunity 
 of an opening in the dance, they crossed over to the 
 other side of the room. 
 
 " So," thought Miss Flounce, for it was none 
 other than she, " this is a fine piece of news ! a 
 Captain Macklaren is in love with Miss Farncourt 
 (the very lady Captain Bissenthorpe danced with), 
 and a Mr. Holford is doing his best to bring his 
 friend to his senses." 
 
 Miss Flounce was accustomed to eaves-dropping; 
 she was very curious by nature, and always prac- 
 tised the art when an opportunity offered itself, but 
 strange to say, with all her ingenuity in unravelling
 
 BRIMELSEA. 139 
 
 mysteries, she invariably reversed the order of 
 things, and changed persons, dates, and circum- 
 stances, retaining only the outside shell of the 
 story. With the greatest impatience she waited 
 till the dance was over, she was longing to relate 
 her adventure to some one, and she listened eagerly 
 for the concluding chords that should announce the 
 finale ; they came over and over again in her ima- 
 gination, but still the dancers went whirling on, 
 and the instruments crashed joyously, as if to mock 
 her for thinking they could be tired. Miss Flounce 
 yawned behind her fan (it was lucky she did not 
 hear Miss Massing's exclamation of, " Poor child, 
 she ought to be in bed !"'), arranged her dress, 
 moved her position, but could not entirely quell 
 her impatience. At length, oh, it was a joyful 
 silence to her, the music ceased, and Maud with 
 Count Porskinski approached her; a seat was 
 vacant by her side, Maud took it, and with a bow 
 her partner retired. The moment for the disclosure 
 had arrived, and Miss Flounce rushed joyfully 
 into it. 
 
 " What do you think, my dear Miss Erving ? I 
 have had such fun wdiilst you have been dancing, 1 
 would not have been away for worlds. Such a 
 thing, such a curious disclosure !" 
 
 " Indeed !'' said Maud, carelesslj^. 
 
 " Yes,'' continued her friend ; " you cannot 
 possibly guess what it is." 
 
 " Perhaps it would not interest me," said Maud, 
 coldly. " I do not like mysteries and secrets." 
 
 " But this is not one ; at least not exactly. It 
 relates to your friend. Captain Macklaren." 
 
 Maud turned, and looked at her. She felt 
 ashamed of herself for feeling interested in a piece 
 of gossip, and yet she could not help it.
 
 140 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " Ah r cried Miss Flouce, triumphantly. « 1 
 have interested you now ; but, unfortunately, it is 
 nothing you would like to hear, as the mere men- 
 tion of his name makes you start." 
 
 " Why do you wish to tell it to me, if you think 
 I should be sorry to hear it 1 Perhaps, too, it is 
 something I had better not know." 
 
 Maud could not help feeling that the story might 
 be compUmentary to herself, and she was wholly 
 unprepared for the narration that followed. She 
 listened attentively, however, till the story was 
 ended, and then said, smiling — 
 
 " I must beg your pardon, but I am quite con- 
 vinced you have changed the names of the two 
 gentlemen. It is very unlikely Captain Mack- 
 laren should fall in love with a lady to whom he 
 had never spoken, and knew nothing of. Besides, 
 how does it happen that Lord Reynoldforde should 
 invite a gentleman he has never been introduced to, 
 and of whose very name he is ignorant ; at least 
 he was so up to the moment of his entering this 
 room. Then, to give you another proof, Captain 
 Macklaren is the person who intends going out 
 dredging, so that he must have persuaded Mr. Hol- 
 ford to accompany him." 
 
 Miss Flounce looked greatly disconcerted, and 
 said, pouting her lips, and frowning slightly, like a 
 spoilt child, " I see you are just the girl to throw 
 cold water on a good story ; I wish I had not told 
 it to you." 
 
 '' Change the names, and you will be correct. 
 But I should advise you to say no more about it, 
 as such bits of gossip, never intended for your ear, 
 can do no good by being repeated." 
 
 Miss Flounce laughed at Maud's scruples, and 
 assured her she meant to amuse her uncle Frederick
 
 BRIMELSEA. 141 
 
 with it, and papa, when she had gone back to 
 " that tiresome home.'' 
 
 Here all further discussion was put an end to by 
 the sudden appearance of both the heroes, and 
 airhast, lest her communication should have been 
 likewise overheard, Miss Flounce retired to the 
 side of her aunt and chaperone, who sat with her 
 two daughters at the farther extremity of the ball- 
 room, and there had the o-reat satisfaction of asjain 
 repeating, with a few embellishments, all that had 
 occurred. 
 
 It was a late, or rather an early hour, when the 
 ball broke up. Lord Reynoldforde and his daugh- 
 ter were amono-st the last to retire, and the faint 
 streak of morning overspread the gray sky as they 
 drove to their hotel. He spoke in raptures of the 
 ball, of the friends he had met, and of the excur- 
 sions they would have. He praised Blanche for 
 having thought of coming to Brimelsea ; said she 
 should not repent her choice, and should see as 
 much as she liked of her friend. Miss Erving, 
 whose beauty he raved about. Blanche answered 
 with monosyllables, looked out of the window of 
 the carriage towards the east, and thought how 
 pure and calm the scene was, in comparison to the 
 revelry, excitement, and bustle they had just left. 
 Was she happy? No. Why was she discon- 
 tented \ She had received admiration, nay, homage 
 to her heart's content ; but there was a feeling of 
 loneliness, distrust, and weariness at her heart ; 
 there was a world of unsatisfied longings within 
 her breast ; she knew not why, she did not try to 
 know. 
 
 Poor Blanche ! her hours of happiness had been 
 few and short. The world, with all its cares, had 
 broken in upon her young dreams ; it had not
 
 142 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 banished them, she was of too imaginative a tem- 
 perament for that, but it had chilled them ; had 
 made them dreams of sorrow, not of brightness. 
 She gazed into the future with mistrust ; all ap- 
 peared false in her eyes ; she even doubted herself. 
 The only human being to whom she would have 
 communicated her thoughts and feelings, was her 
 mother, and she was dead ; her very memory did 
 but tend to increase the morbid sentiments that 
 were daily growing more strong within her ; she 
 did not combat them, she liked to think of the 
 world as a blank ; she liked her dreams, she did 
 not care to search into things to find the good ; 
 she believed it was there, but it suited her better 
 to think of the bad, to think herself unhappy, and 
 to imagine a dim future of woe, not real woe, but 
 soft melancholy, extending over all her days, till 
 she should drop into the grave and find rest. 
 
 Poor Blanche, may she never wake to the sense 
 of real woe ! The young heart is ever ready to 
 receive impressions ; sad it is, when sorrow is the 
 first that wakes it from its day-dreams ; sorrow for 
 the wickedness that meets its eye ; sorrow that the 
 one being, who ought to be most dear, should prove 
 unworthy of such pure afiection.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 143 
 
 CHAPTEE XII. 
 
 THE DISCOVERY. 
 
 We need not go far, or seek in foreign lands amidst 
 heathen nations, true-hearted missionaries of the 
 Word of God; we may find them in our own 
 homes, working as zealously around us, though 
 unseen. Their trials are often greater, for it is 
 harder to endure suffering of mind than body ; 
 harder to bear the petty vexations of every day life, 
 than the greater calamities adventure and enter- 
 prise bring down upon us. 
 
 Lydia Carpenter was one of these home mission- 
 aries ; she had devoted her life to good works ; it 
 was not the regularity and self-discipline such a 
 life entails, which she found irksome ; nor was it 
 the labour amongst the poor, the schools, and the 
 parish, but her position in her own family circle. 
 Lydia had to struggle against prejudice and mis- 
 judgment. Her mother was an invalid, often irri- 
 table, and at times eveir passionate. She could not 
 understand her daughter's disposition, and mis- 
 trusted her views. Mrs. Carpenter's father had 
 been a Wesleyan minister, and she had only be- 
 come a member of our church at her marriage, and
 
 144 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 even now preferred her old tenets. Lydia had 
 nothing in common with her, and never entered 
 into rehgious discussions. She would listen pa- 
 tiently to all her mother said. She did not agree, 
 but she refrained from contradicting, and bore even 
 slander in meek submission. Many a time had she 
 poured her sorrows into the willino; ear of her kind 
 pastor, Mr. Montague; had received his conso- 
 lations and blessing, and had returned to her daily 
 struggles with renewed resolution and faith. Lydia 
 was always ready at her mother''s call ; would throw 
 down her own book in an instant, however in- 
 terested she might be, and would take up a sermon 
 and read aloud to her mother, with the greatest 
 apparent pleasure, although the doctrine it taught 
 might be quite contrary to her views. This very 
 readiness to do her bidding, was apt to irritate 
 Mrs. Carpenter, and many a sneer and bitter word 
 Lydia received for her unhesitating submission. 
 
 She had, too, another self-imposed duty, but 
 this was less harassing, less foreign to her nature. 
 She was fully aware how uncongenial a home 
 like theirs was to a young man; she feared for 
 her brother, and her constant study was how to 
 amuse and keep him content with the meagre enter- 
 tainment their home life afforded. She learnt 
 chess, that she might play with him in the even- 
 ings ; would even allow herself to be beaten, that 
 he might not be vexed at her repeated successes ; 
 and would listen patiently to his tales of college, 
 and what he had done, or intended to do. She 
 tried to influence him, and to lead him to a more 
 profitable use of his time, but here she utterly 
 failed. Her brother was reserved, and never com- 
 municated his opinions ; and, indeed, it is doubtful 
 if he had any. Lydia was greatly attached to him,
 
 BRIMELSEA. 145 
 
 and being by many years his senior, she had 
 watched him grow up, with a firm hope he would 
 one day prove a zealous minister of the Church of 
 England ; she mistook the silence of stupidity for 
 a serious turn of mind, but his college life had 
 opened her eyes to his real character, and now, even 
 if he had desired to take holy orders, she would 
 have dissuaded him from it. Being of so active a 
 nature herself, she could scarcely imagine a love of 
 idleness such as he professed, and she therefore 
 eagerly caught at and encouraged anything that 
 seemed to interest him. She saved up her scanty 
 allowance, that she might belong to the lending 
 library in the town, not so much for herself, for 
 she had but little time to read, but for her brother. 
 She encouraged him to walk with her, and de- 
 lighted in the interest which he showed for the 
 schools, believino' that interest to arise from far 
 difierent motives than the real ones. 
 
 Lydia never thought it strange that he should 
 like to take messages for her to Miss Smith, when 
 he would refuse to go anywhere else, or stir a finger 
 to oblige her in a general way. Wholly unselfish 
 herself, she did not believe that others could be so, 
 and was, as it were, blinded by her own goodness. 
 
 " I knew your cold was very bad, and it would 
 do you harm to go out this morning, as it is damp, 
 so I have come to tell you T will go to Mr. Montague 
 with the monthly reports, if you will give them to 
 me, Miss Smith," said Lydia, on the day after the 
 ball, as she entered the schoolmistress's little sitting- 
 room. 
 
 " How very good of you, my dear Miss Car- 
 penter ! to think that you should come all through 
 the fog to do me a service ! I am so much obliged, 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 you are always ready to help me, how can I ever 
 thank you enough V 
 
 " Do not mention that, but shut the door ; you 
 ought not to breathe this atmosphere with your 
 cough." 
 
 " I must tell you how deeply I feel your good- 
 ness. Miss Carpenter, and how ill I repay it." 
 
 Lydia was about to interrupt her again, but 
 she continued, hurriedly — " Nay, let me speak in 
 justice to myself; I have long wished to express 
 my gratitude to you, but could not find words ; 
 indeed you overwhelm me with your daily kindness ; 
 may you never have cause to look down upon me 
 as unworthy of your favours." 
 
 "Miss Smith, pray " said Lydia, but she 
 
 was interrupted before she could utter another 
 word. 
 
 " Listen, and bear with me once for all ; I will 
 never distress you in this way again, but now I 
 must speak. I had determined to do so as soon as 
 possible, and your additional goodness this morning 
 has increased that determination. Miss Carpenter, 
 little as you are aware of it, you are heaping coals 
 of fire on my head ; desist from your acts of kind- 
 ness to me, each fresh one tears my heart with 
 remorse ; I am not what I seem, I have deceived 
 you bitterly, and yet cannot tell you how. I am 
 bound in honour to keep the secret, though you 
 know not what it costs me to do so. Did not the 
 disclosure of it aff'ect another, I should long ago 
 have betrayed all ; as it is, however, duty bids me 
 be silent, and I am so even to you whom I 
 wrong." 
 
 Tears stood in the poor woman's eyes as she 
 said this, and she paused to recover her composure. 
 Lydia no longer attempted to interrupt her, she
 
 BRIMELSEA. 147 
 
 stood bewildered, and scarcely understood what she 
 heard. 
 
 " Yes, I wrong you now, but shall wa-ong you 
 deeper yet," continued Miss Smith. " Do not 
 look at me with those pitying eyes, they convict 
 me, and I tremble before you as I should before 
 an angel of goodness. I came here lonely — I had 
 no one to speak to, or ask for consolation and ad- 
 vice ; you saw this, you compassionated my forlorn 
 position, you offered to be my friend, and have proved 
 yourself a true one, whilst I — although I too pro- 
 mised — how have I acted? Ask me not, and if 
 ever my dread secret is disclosed, look at me with 
 those eyes of pity, but let not their expression be 
 reproachful. I could not bear that, although I 
 deserve all — even your hate." Again she paused, 
 the excitement of speaking was too much for her, 
 and she fell into a chair weeping as if her heart 
 would break. 
 
 " Compose yourself," cried Lydia, throwing her- 
 self on her knees beside her ; she was ever ready 
 to console, and althouo;h she could not enter into 
 the feelings of wild self-reproach, still the tears of 
 bitter sorrow ever found an echo of pity in her 
 heart. It was her province, her right to offer con- 
 solation, and, like the true sister of mercy, she 
 loved to soothe the aching heart, and to see the 
 bright smile of hope replace the agony of despair. 
 We will not repeat all Lydia said, or how she 
 raised, at length, the downcast head, and spoke of 
 hope, amendment, and blessing. 
 
 "But," cried Miss Smith, looking timidly at 
 her, "if I prove too weak to choose the path of 
 duty ? If I still continue blindly in the same 
 course, not believing it wholly wrong ? If I am 
 tempted above my strength and fall deeper than I 
 
 H 2
 
 148 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 have yet done I If I wrong you bitterly after all 
 this " 
 
 " Then," said Lydia, rising, and her countenance 
 lighted up with benevolence, " may God forgive 
 you, for it will be sin against Him, and may He 
 give me strength to forgive you from my heart 
 whatever wrong you meditate against me." She 
 had scarcely pronounced these words when the 
 front door opened without any previous warning, 
 and her brother stood before them. With a scream 
 of terror. Miss Smith threw herself back in her 
 chair, and gazed at the intruder as if he had come 
 to convict her and disclose all ; but there he stood 
 motionless, with his hand on the door, irresolute 
 what to do. Like a flash of lightning the truth 
 burst upon Lydia. 
 
 " Yes, it must be so, they are privately married ; 
 a disgrace has fallen on our family. My poor father, 
 what will he say?" 
 
 No one spoke for some minutes : at length, with 
 an effort to look perfectly unconcerned, the intruder 
 said, with many apologies for his abrupt entrance, 
 that he had brought Miss Smith a note from the 
 Rectory, and he produced one which he quietly 
 placed in her hands. 
 
 " I will not detain you longer, now that I have 
 performed my errand, as I see this conference has 
 been strictly private, and my appearance was not 
 altogether wished for or expected." He glanced at 
 Miss Smith. 
 
 " Indeed," said she, rising hurriedly, " you 
 mistake ; any relation of Miss Carpenter's is 
 welcome to me. We were speaking of private 
 concerns, it is true, and your sudden apparition 
 discomposed me." 
 
 Mr. Carpenter bowed and left the house. Lydia
 
 BRIMELSEA. 149 
 
 did not attempt to detain him, but he had no 
 sooner disappeared than she approached Miss 
 Smith, who stood by the table nervously turning 
 over some papers, and laying her hand lightly on 
 her arm, she said, " What does this mean V 
 
 " Mean ! " ejaculated the other, as if startled. 
 " How am I to tell you ? I cannot imagine to 
 what you allude." 
 
 Lydia looked greatly distressed. " I allude to 
 my brother's sudden appearance and your conse- 
 quent discomfiture. Is he in the habit of coming 
 here at all times?" 
 
 " He often brings me messages from you," said 
 the other pointedly, and her words went like a 
 sword through Lydia^s heart. 
 
 " Tell me all," said she, hurriedly. " I have 
 seen enough to arouse my fears. Tell me if it 
 is through my brother that you will wrong me?" 
 
 Miss Smith laughed a hoarse hysterical laugh, 
 but answered nothing. 
 
 " Your manner confirms my worst fears. Justify 
 yourself. Miss Smith, and, if possible, exculpate 
 him, for he is my brother." 
 
 "I know it," was the cold reply, "and one day 
 he will be my husband." 
 
 " Will be ! " cried Lydia, clasping her hands. 
 " Thank heaven, it may yet be all set right. 
 You have not, then, married without our know- 
 ledge ? What you intended to do I will not ask." 
 
 There was a change in Miss Smith's manner as 
 she heard these words. She had expected a torrent 
 of reproaches^ — a threat of vengeance ; but she had 
 mistaken Lydia's character, and, turning to her 
 with an expression of mixed hope and pain, she 
 seized her hand, exclaiming, " Forgive me ! "
 
 150 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 "Yes," was the whispered answer, "and may 
 you never know the want of a friend." 
 
 " Heaven bless you, and forgive me," sobbed the 
 poor woman. 
 
 Lydia said nothing for some minutes, but let 
 this fresh burst of feeling subside before she con- 
 tinued, then, leading her to a seat, she said in a 
 kind tone — 
 
 " The fault is not yet committed, and, therefore, 
 can be prevented. I will speak to my brother 
 upon the subject ; you must do so likewise. Urge 
 him to the necessity of going to my father, and of 
 speaking openly to him. He is not a hard man. 
 He may give his consent, and, if he does, knowing 
 that it is for my brother's happiness, I will receive 
 you as a sister ; but oh, remember, do not let this 
 commencement of your married life foreshadow 
 what is to follow — deceit and concealment ruin 
 peace ; you have deceived me, I can forgive that, 
 but let me not have to forgive deceit practised 
 against my father." 
 
 Lydia rose, her manner was kind and yet de- 
 cisive. Miss Smith felt her superiority — felt her 
 conduct had deserved any censure, and she was 
 grateful to Lydia for treating her so kindly. 
 
 " Bring me the reports, I will take them to Mr. 
 Montague as I promised. The fog is getting worse 
 instead of better." 
 
 Miss Smith brought them and they parted. 
 
 It was with a sorrowful heart that Lydia knocked 
 at her brother's door on her return home. She had 
 had time to consider all the circumstances during 
 her walk, and she saw how deeply she had been 
 deceived, and that too by the brother for whom she 
 had so often sacrificed her own pleasure. " Come 
 in," cried a voice from within. Lydia opened the
 
 BRIMELSEA. 151 
 
 door, her brother stood by the window with his 
 hands behind him. He turned partly round as she 
 entered, saying — 
 
 " Well, Lid, what is the matter?" 
 
 " I want to speak a few words with you, Arthur, 
 upon a very serious subject, and one which is 
 extremely distressing to me. May I do so now I " 
 
 " A preachment, eh, Lid ? I can stand a quarter 
 of an hour, but no more — here," added he, taking 
 out his watch, " I will time you. It is just half- 
 past twelve, at a quarter to one I must light my 
 pipe." 
 
 "Will you do me a great favour, dear Arthur?" 
 
 *' Let me hear it first." 
 
 " It is not a difficult one. I only ask you to 
 hear me seriously to the end of what I have to 
 say." 
 
 " For a whole quarter of an hour I promise I 
 will ; so now, Lid, behold me ready, and make the 
 best use of the time you can." He spoke in a 
 hurried, joking manner, as if he half feared what 
 was to follow. Lydia looked sorrowfully at him, but 
 there was nothing reproachful in the tone with 
 which she pronounced the following words : — 
 
 " Arthur, I have discovered your secret." He 
 moved uneasily in his chair but remained silent, 
 and Lydia continued — " Your sudden appearance 
 at the schools this morning, and Miss Smithes 
 alarm lest you should have overheard our conversa- 
 tion, made me guess it. A thousand incidents 
 passed over by me as meaningless, came rushing 
 into my head. I feared the worst, and when you 
 were gone I wormed the truth from her." 
 
 " And you come to congratulate me, I suppose," 
 said the young man, looking away from her. 
 
 " I come to ask you what you mean. I know
 
 152 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 of your engagement. Are you trifling with her 
 feehngs V 
 
 " Trifling ! what a question ! Do you call mar- 
 riage trifling?" 
 
 " Far from it ; but can you marry her ? Think 
 for one moment, Arthur; you are penniless, she 
 is so likewise ; beggary stares you in the face."'' 
 
 " I have two hands and a head," said he, scorn- 
 fully. 
 
 ''But do you like using them? Would you 
 work without ceasing from morning till night, 
 and feel happy in denying yourself to please 
 her?" 
 
 Lydia waited, but received no answer ; he only 
 bit his nails and muttered something about her 
 being '^a bore." 
 
 " Then there is another objection — an insur- 
 mountable one, Arthur." 
 
 " What is that?" asked he, turning and looking 
 at her. 
 
 '' Our father." 
 
 " Pooh ! why should he object ? Besides, I am 
 of age, and can take care of myself." 
 
 " He will not give his consent to such a mar- 
 riage. You know his opinions on this point as well 
 as I," 
 
 " What can he say against her ? She is as well 
 educated as you are, and, above all, you are such 
 dear friends." 
 
 " Her rank is beneath us." 
 
 " And pray did not our father marry beneath 
 him?" 
 
 " Yes," said Lydia, softly ; " and for that 
 reason he is more particular with regard to us." 
 
 " Oh ! you think he finds the ill efiects of it, do 
 you?"
 
 BRIMELSEA. 153 
 
 " Hush, Arthur, you know what I mean." 
 
 " Well, Lid, have you had your say ? the time 
 is nearly up." 
 
 " Have I made you think about the step you 
 are about to take?" she said, layinsj her hand on 
 his arm. " Do not let love blind you. Think of 
 the future — of your family, and pause." 
 
 " You asked me if I meant to marry her," said 
 he, smiling bitterly ; " and no sooner did I say I 
 did, than you begin by dissuading me from it. I 
 wonder who is triflins; with another's feelinc^s 
 now ?" 
 
 " God knows I mean well," said Lydia, with 
 difficulty restraining her tears. " I wish to save 
 both from unhappiness, and all I ask of you is, do 
 nothing rashly. Go to my father, consult with 
 him, open your whole heart, ask his forgiveness 
 and consent, do not let concealment and deceit 
 throw a blot on your character ; if you blush to 
 declare your love now, what will it be when you 
 introduce your wife ? " 
 
 " Blush ! Did you ever see me blush. Lid f 
 asked he, impertinently. 
 
 " Then why not confess at once ? Go now, whilst 
 our father is at home, he is in the library alone.'' 
 
 " I am not such a fool as you take me for. Lid. 
 I know what would follow ; and let me give you a 
 little advice ; don't put your nose into other peo- 
 ple's affairs, you may, one day, get the worst 
 of it." 
 
 " But your concerns are mine, Arthur. You arc 
 my brother ; what distresses you must needs touch 
 me. Let me help you, let me talk to you ; perhaps 
 one day you may feel the want of a sister." 
 
 *' Do you wish to help me, Lid ? if so, keep my 
 
 H 5
 
 154 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 secret, and never breathe a word of what has 
 passed this morning.''' 
 
 Lydia rose, looked at him fixedly, and then 
 said, " I cannot promise. I will always help you 
 for your good ; but, were I to promise this, I 
 should wrong myself, my father, and you." 
 
 '- Well, do as you like, T am indifferent, I 
 take my own way, you take yours ; it is all the 
 same to me. Time is up, think about it, and 
 prepare to receive a sister-in-law. Good by." 
 
 " Oh, Arthur !" said Lydia reproachfully, and 
 had he seen the look of deep distress upon her 
 face he must have stopped, for it would have melted 
 a heart of stone ; but he had gone without even 
 turnins: to look at her. 
 
 Lydia stood on the spot where he had left her 
 for some time, irresolute as to what she ought to 
 do. Duty seemed to whisper, Go to your father 
 and tell all ; — affection, You may mar your bro- 
 ther's happiness — forbear. She listened to the 
 latter, and instead of going to her father, turned 
 her steps towards her own room, and eased her 
 conscience by writing to Miss Smith, to whom she 
 felt sure her brother had gone. Her letter ran 
 thus : — 
 
 " I have seen Arthur. Our interview has been 
 unsatisfactory ; he refuses to ask his father's con- 
 sent ; urge him to do this — your influence may 
 suffice, though mine has failed. Think of the 
 misery deceit, quarrels, and misunderstandings 
 bring on a family ; assert your rights ; let your 
 own pride dictate for you, and do not suffer your- 
 self to be forced into a family who will not own 
 you, though you may become a member of it by 
 marriage. There is time yet to rectify any error 
 that has been committed ; do so ; act rightly and
 
 BRIMELSEA. 155 
 
 justly bj all. Heaven will bless you if you do 
 this. You have the prayers of a weak though 
 loving sister, and believe that my wish is for the 
 happiness of both brother and friend. 
 " Yours, 
 
 " Lydia Carpenter.'' 
 
 She read the letter over and over again, put in 
 stops, and scratched them out, then folding it up 
 she sealed it and left the room to consign it to 
 safe hands, which would be sure to deliver it with- 
 out delay. The messenger was absent some time, 
 and it was not till about three in the afternoon that 
 a letter was placed in her hands ; she broke open 
 the envelope, and read the contents with dismay.
 
 156 BRIMEL8EA. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 OUT DREDGING. 
 
 Armed with pocket-lens, bottles, tin pans, sur- 
 face-net, and dredge. Captain Macklaren started on 
 his proposed excursion early the following morning 
 in company with some sailors, whose boat he had 
 engaged, as being the most commodious and best 
 suited to his purpose. We have already been in- 
 troduced to the principal man, for he is none other 
 than the sailor who so bravely rescued Maud and 
 her companions from their uncomfortable, if not 
 perilous situation. Jack Catton was a fine robust 
 seaman, accustomed to face dangers and difiiculties, 
 and utterly indifferent to outward circumstances ; 
 he was, in short, a regular British tar, thoroughly 
 brave, good-natured, and independent. 
 
 There is something inexpressibly soothing in 
 the motion of a small boat when, lifted lightly by 
 each wave, it rises and falls but to rise again. 
 The sea-breeze comes softly over the ocean, and 
 fans your cheek, whispering soft sighs into your 
 ear, and filling your head with dreams. Cares 
 and troubles fly away, whilst every feeling, even 
 that of individuality, is drowned in the ecstacy of 
 listening to the moan of the sea, the plash of the
 
 BRIMELSEA. 157 
 
 oars, and the cry of the seagulls as they float near 
 you, and then, affrighted, fly away. 
 
 Captain Macklaren was not a dreamer, nor was 
 he altogether poetical ; he loved to examine into 
 the marvellous works of nature, but it was curiosity 
 and love of discovery that influenced him, rather 
 than admiration for the beautiful, and a fondness 
 for contemplation. He enjoyed the feeling of 
 freedom the ocean cannot fail to inspire, but he did 
 not give way to the dreams or to the ecstacy of 
 which we have just spoken ; he heard the whis- 
 perings of the wind, the moan of the sea, and the 
 cry of the birds, but he was thinking of the dredge, 
 and was busily engaged in preparing it, so that 
 when a convenient spot should be chosen all should 
 be in readiness. 
 
 At length the time for action arrived, and the 
 dredge was thrown down in nine fathoms ; some 
 moments of suspense followed ; all eyes were 
 watching for it, and none more anxiously than 
 those of Captain Macklaren. Up it came with its 
 prisoners — they were in the boat. What have we 
 secured? Let us see — here is a specimen of the 
 swimming crab, a number of the common shrimp, 
 a two-spotted sucking-fish, besides many others of 
 more or less note. A few minutes have scarcely 
 elapsed before they are all transferred to the tin 
 pans, and some few to the bottles. Expressions of 
 «' Beautiful !" "The thin^ I was lookim? for!" 
 " Exquisite ! I must examine that by and by," 
 escaped Captain Macklaren's lips. The sailors 
 looked on amused — they did not understand his 
 admiration for the " little varmints." They fol- 
 lowed his instructions to the letter, and kept up a 
 running joke about their present employment in 
 an undertone amongst themselves, which seemed to
 
 158 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 form a topic of never-ending entertainment to 
 them all. 
 
 Captain Macklaren was very fond of the whole 
 race of sailors, and felt more especially interested 
 in the hardy fishermen of Brimelsea; he under- 
 stood their manners, was a great favourite with 
 them, and knew well how to elicit from them 
 stories of their own adventures, or what they 
 had witnessed. He liked to listen to their yarns, 
 and during the leisure intervals that morning he 
 entered into conversation with them, and led them 
 on to many a tale of wonder. Jack Oatton was 
 often engaged as pilot ; he had seen more rough 
 weather than most of them, had been on board 
 many a foreign vessel, and had many a curious 
 story to tell of the manners and customs of the 
 different nations lie had met with durinof his career, 
 which made him quite the hero of the beer drinking, 
 smoking parties at the Royal Duke, the favourite 
 resort of all the fishermen. A sailor's life is spent 
 in the two extremes — of hard work and utter 
 idleness. 
 
 The fishermen of Brimelsea spent their " shore 
 days" in gossiping at the corners of streets, in 
 knots of four and five, watching the vessels on the 
 offing, speculating as to what and who they were, 
 and making, no doubt, very sage remarks about 
 rigging, &c. The Royal Duke is the rendezvous 
 in the evenings where adventures are talked over, 
 amid the fumes of tobacco, for, alas ! there are 
 not many who find their homes sufficiently inte- 
 resting to retain them for more than an hour at a 
 time. Accustomed to excitement, they find do- 
 mestic life monotonous ; it is necessary to them, 
 and they seek it as they would their daily food. 
 Hence it is that the dissenting chapels are densely
 
 BRIMELSEA. 159 
 
 thronged by sailors, whilst the churches are almost 
 deserted by them ; they find the hysterical tears 
 of the ranter more attractive than the truths of 
 the Church of England, delivered by its clergy in 
 a more sedate, and, to them, unimpressive manner. 
 They look for excitement in their devotions as 
 they do in everything else, and find, as they will 
 tell you, " more good" in sitting under a ranter, 
 whose rough eloquence they can understand. 
 
 " What sort of a winter had you, Jack?" asked 
 Captain Macklaren, as he leaned against the side 
 of the boat, and folded his arms across his chest. 
 
 " Pretty fair, on the whole ; we had a few gales, 
 it is true, but there was not much mischief done 
 considering — some small craft got stranded, and 
 a Dutchman went to pieces on the rocks; that 
 was the worst job, but we saved most of the poor 
 beggars. Those Dutchmen arn't good for much, 
 they are chicken-hearted fellows when it comes to 
 the push. There were some Frooes on board, and 
 I'm blessed if the rascals weren't going to leave 
 'em behind ; they said their lives were worth as 
 much as the Frooes, and they didn't care if they 
 went to the bottom ; but we weren't going to stand 
 that sort of nonsense, and we got 'em a-board of 
 us somehow, though it was a dirty night. Poor 
 creatures ! There was one o' the women a faintinc: 
 with the cold ; I had my great coat on, and though 
 it was all I had to keep me dry, I put it on her, in 
 spite of the man who was, I think, her husband. 
 He would have let her die just where she was, 
 without raising a hand to help her. Shame on 'em ! 
 but those foreigneers are shabby rascals, not worth 
 their salt, as I have often said afore. You should 
 see 'em eating, sir. Oh, it is enough to make a 
 cat sick ! Why, though I'm a rough sort of a
 
 160 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 chap, I like to do things neatly, and not make 
 myself into a pig, that knows no better than to 
 put his snout into the victuals. Bless you, sir, 
 they think nothing of it; Fve seen 'em pretty 
 near all fours in the tub o' soup." 
 
 "Who, what, the pigs?" asked Macklaren, 
 laughing. 
 
 " The pigs ! no, they're gentlemen in comparison 
 — I means the foreigneers, sir — the dirty varlets ! 
 and they never says a grace over their meals, like 
 good Christians." 
 
 " Are you a churchman. Jack ?" 
 
 " Oh, no, sir, we don't like church. Mr. Pipkin 
 is a very good man, I'll say that for him, but he 
 doesn't understand the art o' preaching like Mr. 
 Stamper o' the Wesleyan Meeting — he's the man, 
 sir — I've seen him so affecting, sir, that he's used 
 two or three hankershes one arter the t'other." 
 
 " Why did not you offer him a sponge, my man ? 
 that would have been much the most effectual. 
 Handkerchiefs are not worth twopence on such 
 occasions." 
 
 " You're right there, sir. Fm not overgiven to 
 piping my eye ; but you might have wrung my red 
 flag out arter that sermon, and I'll bet you any 
 money you'd have got half a pint of tears out 
 o' it !" 
 
 A general titter greeted this announcement, 
 and Jack looked supremely contemptuous. 
 
 " You don't believe me I Well, all I has to say 
 is, come and sit under Mr. Stamper next Sunday ; 
 you have all the week to think about it, for this is 
 only Wednesday, and I'll promise you, you can't 
 make up your minds better than to decide to 
 come." 
 
 " All right. Jack," said Captain Macklaren,
 
 BRIMELSEA. 161 
 
 " ril subscribe a shilling towards the sponge, and 
 if you find a little baccy more tempting before 
 next Sunday comes, Til be the last man to quarrel 
 with you for spending it in that way." He put a 
 shilling into his hand ; Jack looked at it, turned it 
 over, and finally caused it to disappear in a capaci- 
 ous pocket, with a nod of the head, and a sincere 
 " Thank you, sir." 
 
 On turning a projecting line of rocks which had 
 hid the town of Brinielsea from their view, they 
 came in full sight of the town and harbour. The 
 sea-shore was studded with people bustling about like 
 a swarm of flies in the bright sunshine, and they 
 could distinctly see carriages driving up and down 
 the parade. Captain Macklaren's eyes rested in- 
 voluntarily upon the gold letters that proclaimed 
 the position of the Boarding House, and a shade of 
 sentimentality crossed his face. What could he be 
 thinking of? surely not of Miss Massing. Just 
 then a thick smoke was seen to rise from the har- 
 bour, and the exclamations of the sailors made him 
 look in that direction. 
 
 " What does it mean?" he asked, carelessly. 
 
 " I expect it is the new yacht that came into 
 port the other day, it belongs to a Lord Somebody, 
 and is called the ' Firefly ;"* we shall soon see, for 
 it will be out directly. One of the crew told me 
 they were under orders for a trip on Tuesday, but 
 I suppose the fog prevented 'em getting out, and 
 they are going to-day instead." 
 
 Captain Macklaren\s curiosity was raised ; he 
 thought of his friend Holford, and watched anxi- 
 ously for the vessel to appear. It was some time, 
 however, before it did, as there had evidently been 
 some difficulty in getting clear of the other vessels 
 stationed in the harbour ; but at length a puff' of
 
 1 62 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 smoke blacker than the rest, was seen, the water 
 was agitated, and the " Firefly'' shot out like a 
 swan upon the cresting waves. 
 
 " Bravo !'' shouted Jack ; "" she's the prettiest 
 screw I've had the pleasure o' seeing." 
 
 " Is that Lord Reynoldforde's yacht ?" asked 
 Captain Macklaren. 
 
 " To be sure it is, and a good sum o** money she 
 must have cost. Is it possible you have not been 
 down to see her, sir ? there has been such a crowd 
 on the pier just above where she lay, that it was 
 no such easy work getting along ; all Brimelsea 
 turned out to see her steam into the harbour, I 
 wonder you didn't follow the crowd." 
 
 " There is a friend of mine on board her now," 
 said Captain Macklaren. " He wanted me to go 
 out with them, but I had other fish to fry, or 
 rather zoophytes to catch, and so you see I did not 
 go. What sort of a crew has she ? Do you know 
 the captain ?" 
 
 "No, they are all strangers in these parts ; but 
 we shall soon find out how much they're worth, 
 that is to say, if milord doesn't tire of cruising 
 about the coast. I am told he is a fidgetty piece o' 
 goods, and only half English ; he has a little 
 French jackanapes with him, and they do nothing 
 but jabber together in their unknown tongue. The 
 captain doesn't like it, they say, and it's very right 
 he shouldn't. There's one good trait in milord's 
 character, sir, and just harkee to what it is : he 
 understands liberality, all the men say that o' him. 
 There is no stinting, nor nonsense o' that sort, 
 plenty o' grog on board," and Jack looked very 
 knowing, as he put his finger to his nose. 
 
 " How did you find all this out, my man I" 
 asked Captain Macklaren, smiling.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 163 
 
 Jack winked his eye, as he answered, " We 
 know how to get at the truth o' things ; we don't 
 stand with our hands afore us for nothing, I can 
 tell you, sir." 
 
 " Do you know if there are any ladies on board?" 
 
 " Jem saw two on 'em this morning," remarked 
 a sailor from the background. " One was a 
 young 'un." 
 
 " And the other ?" asked Captain Macklaren. 
 
 " Jem didn't say what age she wore, but I think 
 he said she spoke a furren tongue." 
 
 "Is the vessel old or new?" demanded he, again 
 addressing Jack. 
 
 " Bran new, sir, not a speck about her, all paint 
 and gilt ; and as to the saloon, why, it's just fit 
 for the queen, and no less a person. There's cheers 
 and sofys enough to make your back ache to think 
 about ; no one need sit upright in that little gem 
 yonder, a-smoking and a-steaming. Why, just look 
 where she is now, sir, she'll be out o' sight before 
 I can raise my little finger. I should just like to 
 be mate on board her." 
 
 " There are many more improbable things than 
 that Jack." 
 
 " I should like to think so, sir. I can see my- 
 self now as proud o' that yacht as a mother o' her 
 first babby. How she cuts the water and dashes 
 the waves on either side — it's fust rate ! if you get 
 acquainted with the master o' her, you'll not forget 
 to put a good word in for Jack Catton, will ye, sir ?" 
 
 " You may depend on me, if any opportunity 
 should occur ; but you will not have so much 
 liberty as you have now, and I doubt the pay being 
 as good." 
 
 " May be not, sir, but then it's regular, and 
 that's a great thing for us poor fellows."
 
 164 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " Here is an opportunity for a haul," said Cap- 
 tain Macklaren, who, although he had entered 
 eagerly into the conversation, had not forgotten the 
 great object of the expedition. " Over with the 
 dredge, my men, we shall have a good one this 
 time, I hope." 
 
 Some moments of expectation — no one spoke, 
 then up came the dredge with its specimens for 
 examination. There were sea cucumbers, stars, 
 and urchins, to say nothing of innumerable shrimps 
 and prawns. Captain Macklaren selected the most 
 valuable, whilst the rest were consigned to their 
 watery home again, without undergoing any further 
 inconvenience, and as he placed the various speci- 
 mens in the jars prepared for them, he thought — 
 
 " Miss Erving will be pleased to find I have 
 been so successful. My mother must ask her to 
 come over to us with her aunt this evenino^, that 
 we may examine them together." 
 
 '&'
 
 BRIMELSEA. 165 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 DISTRESS. 
 
 Lydia's eyes ran eagerly over the letter that had 
 been placed in her hands, then letting it fall on 
 the ground, she sat for some moments as if stupi- 
 fied ; everything reeled before her ; she scarcely 
 understood what she had read; fancied she had 
 been mistaken, and stooping down, she picked up 
 the letter, and prepared to peruse it once more. 
 Let us peep over her shoulder, and like evil sprites 
 read the secrets of others. The letter ran thus : — 
 
 "Dear Lid — Your effusion to Alice has 
 caused me much amusement, a most sisterly interfer- 
 ence, expressing sentiments worthy of a parson, but 
 pray let me urge ygu for the future to forbear ; you 
 know well what ' misery deceit, quarrels, and mis- 
 understandings bring on a family.' Do not be in- 
 strumental in raisinor discord between man and 
 wife ; you have always shown yourself a well- 
 meaning girl ; do not give me cause to withdraw 
 my opinion of you, and for the years yet to come, 
 add a little more discretion to your catalogue of 
 virtues. 
 
 " Finding by your conduct this morning that
 
 166 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 you were determined to make matters public at 
 once, I have taken the liberty to be a little before- 
 hand with you, and long ere this letter reaches 
 you, I and dearest Alice will be on our way to 
 London. When next we meet, I trust we shall 
 be better friends. You have my full permission to 
 inform all your acquaintances, from the governor 
 down to the charming Miss Erving, for whom you 
 have struck up such a rapid and truly romantic 
 attachment. 
 
 " Alice is getting very impatient ; she says we 
 shall be too late for the express. I shall probably 
 come to Brimelsea in about a year; if you have 
 anything to say to me, you may write an advertise- 
 ment in the Times. I shall be sure to see it, only 
 you must cut the preachment short, as those kind 
 of sermons come very expensive, and that would 
 be a pity. Give my love to the elders, your 
 sister-in-law sends her's to you. By Jove, you 
 showed your taste, when you chose Alice for one 
 of your friends. She's the right sort of girl, 
 plenty of go in her, and no nonsense. If it had 
 not been for her society, Brimelsea would have 
 been too dull to hold me. 
 
 " Good by. Lid, and may you make as good a 
 marriage as I have. It is impossible to wish you 
 better luck. 
 
 " Ever your attached brother, 
 
 " Arthur." 
 
 Lydia held the letter before her in mute asto- 
 nishment. Was this the brother whom she had 
 sacrificed herself to please ? Was this the Arthur 
 whom she had fondly hoped would one day become 
 a clergyman ? A las ! yes, he had deceived her, 
 trifled with her, and now abused her, yet she felt
 
 BRIMELSEA. 167 
 
 no resentment towards him, only deep commisera- 
 tion, for she felt sure he would live to repent the 
 step he had taken. She saw a life of disappoint- 
 ment stretching out into the dim land of future, no 
 happy old age to look forward to, his children 
 growing up penniless, his wife cross, her beauty 
 gone, her temper soured. Lydia saw all this 
 through the mist of tears that veiled her eyes, and 
 letting her aching head drop on her hand, she wept 
 bitterly. It was her first great sorrow. 
 
 Something was to be done, however ; the news 
 must be broken to her father, and this was the 
 hardest task Lydia had to perform. She dried her 
 eyes, smoothed her hair, looked in the glass with- 
 out really seeing herself, and walked towards the 
 door, vainly turning over in her own mind how 
 best to open the subject to her father. She thought 
 of reading the letter aloud to him ; then the re- 
 membrance of some few passages occurred to her, 
 which would enrage him perhaps even more against 
 her brother, and she immediately abandoned the 
 idea. Three times did she approach the door, and 
 three times turn back into the room ; she battled 
 with her natural timidity, reasoned with herself, 
 and finally starting from the chair into which she 
 had sunk, she forced herself to act, and left the 
 room without having in the least degree arranged 
 into words the painful announcement she was about 
 to make. Her hand trembled as she tapped at 
 her father's door, and asked if he were at liberty, 
 and could speak with her on a most important 
 matter. 
 
 " Important, eh f said he. " Oh ! yes, come 
 in, let us have it all out ; a charity falling to the 
 ground for want of funds, I suppose." 
 
 " No, father, something much nearer home.""
 
 168 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 Her voice trembled, and tears rolled unbidden 
 down her pale cheeks ; she threw herself at his feet, 
 exclaiming, between her sobs, " Arthur has wronged 
 us all, he is married, has fled from Brimelsea ; 
 burning shame brings these tears to my eyes ; I 
 was blind to what I might have seen ; but, oh ! 
 father, forgive us both." 
 
 " Rise, girl, rise, explain yourself; let us have 
 no theatrical scenes; I hate tears and crying — such 
 nonsense, what does it all mean V 
 
 Lydia rose, and with a powerful effort suppressed 
 her feelings, and related all that had passed, in tones 
 as calm as she could command. 
 
 " Confound the fellow ! my curses alight " 
 
 broke forth the enraged father ; but Lydia put her 
 hand upon his mouth, saying, softly — 
 
 " Forgiveness is sweet, and heaps coals of fire on 
 the head of those who are in error ; forgive him, 
 father, he will have to endure misery enough." 
 
 " Forgive ? — the scoundrel I — he deserves my 
 anger; and you, Lydia, with your charity and 
 schools, I forbid you ever to enter that cursed place 
 again. You have brought all this upon us. Had 
 not you made friends with that woman, they would 
 never have met. Teaching, education, stuff and 
 nonsense ; pretty moral lessons the children must 
 learn there. Pray, is the morning lecture on dis- 
 obeying parents, and the evening on doing your 
 duty to your neighbour ? Ha, ha ! leave me to 
 teach t^e young ideas ; and if ever you put your 
 head into that place again, Fll turn you out of 
 doors, by heavens I will !" 
 
 " We have no brother now," said Lydia, softly, 
 her head somewhat bent. 
 
 ^' And it is a good thing we have not. You 
 will be running off next, I suppose ; and, by the
 
 BRIMELSEA. 169 
 
 rule of contrary, with a dancing-master, or fiddler, 
 
 or " 
 
 '' Father, hear me — compose yourself — and I 
 will explain all." 
 
 " Compose myself — explain all? Why, you have 
 explained enough, in all conscience. There are no 
 more runnings away to be confessed, I suppose. 
 Why did not you tell me this before ? Why didn't 
 you give me time to catch the fellow l Why, I say, 
 why, Lydia?" 
 
 " Because I could not, father ; I did not know 
 it myself." 
 
 " Did not know? See them walking together, 
 talking and laughing, yet still not know. Do not 
 crown all with falsehoods, Lydia. I do not believe 
 that, so you may spare your breath, and, above all, 
 your truthfulness." 
 
 " Father, I repeat what I said before, I did not 
 know. I cannot blame myself for concealing any- 
 thing from you, for I have concealed nothing ; but 
 long will the memory of my own blindness haunt 
 me, when I see my brother's sorrow, when I see 
 your anger ; and my life-long endeavour will be to 
 unite you once more, and thus to expiate my fault. 
 Forgive me for this blindness. Could you but see 
 how my heart bleeds, you would not add to its 
 agony. Forgive me, and forgive him." 
 
 Lydia looked up beseechingly into her father's 
 face, but he frowned at her ; he was too angry to 
 listen to her, and waving his hand, he said, 
 crossly — 
 
 " Begone, your prattle irritates me, I cannot 
 contain myself; begone, and tell your mother to 
 come here." 
 
 Lydia walked towards the door, seeing that it 
 was useless foV her to speak then ; but she had 
 VOL. I. 1
 
 170 BRIMELSEA, 
 
 hardly reached it, when her father called on her to 
 stop — she turned round immediately. 
 
 " Where is that letter you said you had re- 
 ceived f 
 
 " I left it in my bed-room." 
 
 " Bring it to me, I must read it." 
 
 " I cannot, father: it was written in a moment of 
 passion ; it is unworthy of Arthur ; he wrongs 
 himself. I am about to commit it to the flames." 
 
 " Bring the letter to me." 
 
 Lydia left the room, went straight to her own, 
 took up the letter that was lying on the table, ran 
 her eye over it once again, and with an expression of 
 disgust she tore it in a thousand pieces. It was 
 the first time she had ever disobeyed her father, 
 and now she did it for her brother's sake. 
 
 Maud sat by the window in Miss Massing's 
 sitting-room that morning, scarcely expecting 
 Blanche's promised visit, as the weather was so 
 bad, and she was therefore agreeably surprised when 
 the door opened, and Miss Farncourt was an- 
 nounced. 
 
 " This is, indeed, good of you, Blanche," she ex- 
 claimed, springing across the room to meet her. 
 " I quite gave you up when I saw the fog." 
 
 " A very friendly action on the part of a friend, 
 but you see I behaved better, and did not give you 
 up.'' 
 
 " You must be very wet, Blanche. Let me take 
 your cloak off." 
 
 Maud would have done so immediately, had not 
 her friend prevented her by saying — 
 
 " No, thank you, I do not mind a little wet. I
 
 BRIMELSEA. 171 
 
 have enjoyed ray walk very much ; and to tell the 
 truth, I enjoy a fog. I like the mystery of it. I 
 like to conjure up all kinds of scenes and faces in 
 the dim distance, and imagine to myself that it 
 hides the visions of my future ; and if only I could 
 raise the veil, I should see it all lying plainly be- 
 fore me. Then I look steadfastly into the mist 
 and fancy I see figures moving and acting in it 
 as they do on the stage ; but I see you are setting 
 me down as mad, so I will say no more; you do 
 not understand my feeling of curiosity as regards 
 the future. I have it very strongly, so you see it 
 makes me romance a little. Do you believe in cha- 
 racters foretelling fate V 
 
 " I confess I do not quite understand what you 
 mean, Blanche," replied Maud, smiling. 
 
 " Well, perhaps I am rather confused in the 
 way I describe things. I jump from one topic to 
 another, without much consideration for those who 
 have to listen ; but what I meant to say is, that I 
 believe a person's future life may, in a great de- 
 gree, be foretold by their character. We form our 
 fates in a great measure. Half the misfortunes 
 that fall upon people are their own doing, and 
 therefore if we can form a correct judgment of a 
 person's character, I think we might all turn truth- 
 ful prophets. Now, as regards you, I firmly be- 
 lieve you will have a quiet, comfortable life. You 
 will have few trials, and they will touch you lightly. 
 But as to myself, I foresee all kinds of difficulties ; 
 everything going wrong, and plenty of sorrow. I 
 see you are staring at me in astonishment, but 
 what do you say to my theory ?" 
 
 '' I was wondering who had put it into your 
 head," replied Maud, " and am half inchned to lay 
 it to the Marquis's charge." 
 
 i2
 
 172 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 Blanche frowned as she said, hurriedly — 
 
 " Do not mention him ; I cannot bear even the 
 sound of his name ; and, as you may well imagine, 
 I am tired of the sight of him." 
 
 " Yet I saw you dancing a great many times 
 with the Marquis last night/' 
 
 " Oh ! he dances very well, but you would pity 
 me for always having him at my elbow, if you 
 knew what a stupid, horrid man he is. Perhaps 
 one dajr you will kilow, and that too well." 
 
 Blanche sighed slightly, but quickly recovering 
 herself, she added — 
 
 " By the by, do you know who a certain gentle- 
 man of the name of Holford is, Maud V 
 
 " I have heard of him. He is a great friend of 
 Captain Macklaren. I was introduced to him last 
 ni^ht, but the dance I was eno-aged to him for never 
 arrived." 
 
 " Oh !" ejaculated the other, dreamily, " then 
 I suppose he is a good sort of young man." 
 
 " Yes, certainly ; what makes you ask ?" 
 
 " Nothing farther than I was curious to know, as 
 he seems determined to give us a great deal of his 
 society. The breakfast had scarcely been cleared 
 aw^ay, when he was announced this morning. I 
 believe papa had asked him to go out yachting, but 
 he never could have thought we should venture out 
 on such a foggy day." 
 
 " He was very much struck with you at the ball, 
 Blanche, so I suppose he intends to do his best to 
 make an equally good impression on you," said 
 Maud, laughing. 
 
 " Extremely kind of him ; but pray, if you find 
 a fitting opportunity, tell his friend he may spare 
 his pains. Papa has asked him to come to us to-
 
 BRIMELSEA. 173 
 
 morrow, and they are all three walking on the 
 parade now. I am afraid papa likes him." 
 
 " Oh ! for shame, Blanche. Every one says he 
 is a nice young man." 
 
 " I hate nice young men," replied her friend, 
 " and above all, admirers ; they never give one any 
 peace. I was bored to death in London, and did 
 hope to get a little peace here, then up pops this 
 Mr. Holford ; but depend upon it I will do my very 
 best to make him pop down again." 
 
 " You had better marry in self-defence." 
 
 " Marry !" exclaimed Blanche. " No, Maud, I 
 have seen enough of that, but doubtless I shall be 
 caught some day," and she yawned wearily. " You 
 and I always agreed to be old maids when we were 
 at school, but from what I have seen, I am afraid 
 you are beginning to change ^^our mind already." 
 
 " Well, I still think that in many cases it is the 
 happiest, but " 
 
 " But what ? I am all impatience to hear the 
 end of your sentence. Are you engaged ?" asked 
 Blanche. 
 
 " No, you silly girl, nothing of that sort. I was 
 merely going to say one might alter one's opinion 
 under certain circumstances." 
 
 Blanche laughed — " We are getting very senti- 
 mental this mornino:, and are talkius: more non- 
 sense than usual ; but I am quite sure of one 
 thing, that if ever I do marry, it will be because I 
 am obliged." 
 
 " You strange girl, what could possibly oblige 
 you to take a husband V 
 
 *' There are many circumstances under which I 
 should consider myself obliged to do so, but I ear- 
 nestly hope none of them will ever occur." 
 
 *' I really believe you are very hard-hearted,
 
 1 74 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 Blanche," said Maud. " You can see unfortunate 
 young men desperately in love with you, and do 
 not even pity them. I shall call you my stony- 
 hearted friend." 
 
 " You are right, I am happy to say, though my 
 heart is not stony towards my friends," and she 
 threw her arm round Maud's waist, who kissed her 
 as she whispered — 
 
 " And none know that better than I, dear 
 Blanche.^' 
 
 " Oh, ho !" ejaculated a voice from behind, which 
 made them both start up and look round. Miss 
 Massing had entered the apartment from her bed- 
 room, and now stood close beside them. Blanche 
 looked somewhat amazed at the sudden apparition, 
 but Maud introduced her, laughingly, to her aunt, 
 and they were soon engaged in a lively conver- 
 sation. 
 
 " Are you the only occupants of the Boarding 
 House?" asked Blanche. 
 
 " Oh, no, there are a great many besides our- 
 selves ; but this is my aunt's private sitting-room." 
 
 " Would it be etiquette for me to look over the 
 house I I have a great curiosity to see what the 
 arrangements are like. Where do you sit in the 
 evening ?" 
 
 " All together in the common sitting-room," re- 
 plied Maud. "May we go down there now, 
 aunt ?" 
 
 " Certainly ; I will introduce Miss Farncourt." 
 
 " If you think it would be more polite," said 
 Blanche, " I shall have no objections to tell the 
 lady of the house that one of my maiden friends is 
 thinking of residing at Brimelsea, and wished to 
 know all the particulars about this boarding esta- 
 blishment."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 175 
 
 " Miss Briggs is a very nice person, and will be 
 delighted, I am sure, to show you anything with- 
 out such excuses," said Miss Massing, rather 
 primly. " If you are ready now we will go down 
 to the drawing-room." 
 
 " I hope a good many of the old ladies will be 
 at home," whispered Blanche to Maud. " I want 
 particularly to see them." 
 
 Count Porskinski was engaged in a game of 
 chess with Miss Bridges as our party entered the 
 room, and, although the game was in the most 
 critical part, he rose up directly, and, much to his 
 antagonist's disgust, went to meet Maud, who was 
 about to seat herself in the window with her 
 friend. 
 
 " You are not tired, I hope, with all your last 
 night's exertions," said he, in German. Maud 
 replied in the negative, and he leaned against the 
 wall beside her. 
 
 " Mademoiselle Lafoure comes at three o'clock," 
 said Blanche. " You promised to go with me to 
 the station. Have you changed your mind, Maud, 
 now that the day has turned out so badly r' 
 
 " No ; I should very much like to meet her, to 
 say nothing of the pleasure of a walk with you. 
 It is only two o'clock ; an hour may make a 
 great deal of difference in the weather. The sky 
 looks brighter towards the west even now." 
 
 " Oh, we shall have a fine evening," remarked 
 the Count, anxious to put in his word ; " the band 
 is to play on the pier, and, if Miss Erving will 
 grace the parade with her presence, I will do my 
 best to ingratiate myself with the band-master, and 
 get him to play all her favourite airs." 
 
 " Talking about favourite airs," said Blanche, 
 " I should be so much obliged to you, Maud, if
 
 176 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 you would sing me that lovely little ballad you 
 used to soothe me to sleep with sometimes on the 
 half-holidays at school." 
 
 Maud turned and looked at her. " What, here ?" 
 said she, in some surprise. 
 
 " Yes, now ; I feel in the humour for it." 
 
 " If you really wish it, I shall be most happy," 
 said Maud, still hesitating. A look from her 
 friend was sufficient to show the wish was sincere, 
 and without hearing the Count's, " Oh, do, pray !" 
 Maud went to the piano, whither the others fol- 
 lowed her. The air she sang was very plaintive ; 
 the words were English, and spoke of the dreams 
 of youth, of parting, and the hope of a long re- 
 union beyond the grave. Maud's voice was pecu- 
 liarly adapted to mournful ballads; she felt the 
 sentiment the author wished to inspire, and her 
 feeling was communicated to those who listened to 
 her. Blanche stood silently behind her, enjoying 
 each note, and anxiously catching every word that 
 fell from her friend's lips ; they offered balm to her 
 spirit, even though they pained her. Who does not 
 envy that skill of poet or musician which is able 
 to touch the heart and call the tear of sympathy 
 with an unknown sorrow to the eye? 
 
 " Have you heard the news this morning. Miss 
 Massing?" asked Mrs. Blount, rising from the 
 sofa as that lady entered the room. 
 
 "No. I have been in my own apartment all 
 day ; Maud was tired after the ball, so begged me 
 to have our breakfast up stairs." 
 
 " Such news !" joined in the neglected Miss 
 Bridges. " We were quite right in our opinion of 
 certain people, were we not, Mrs. Blount?" 
 
 " Quite right," chimed in the other.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 177 
 
 " I am at a loss to make out your meaning," 
 said Miss Massing, rather petulantly. 
 
 " Oh, I shall give you all the particulars as they 
 were related to me by an eye-witness," continued 
 Mrs. Blount quickly, as if she feared her friend 
 mi^ht be beforehand with her, and communicate 
 the spiteful intelligence first. " I dare say you 
 may remember our warning you about the intimacy 
 existing between the Carpenters and Miss Smith, 
 and now, I am grieved to say, our fears were well 
 grounded. ^Ir. Arthur Carpenter was seen tliis 
 morning, about one o'clock, at the station, in 
 company with Miss Smith, and they got into a 
 first-class carriage and went off." 
 
 There was a degree of triumph in the manner 
 in which the amiable lady pronounced the last 
 words, that in no way show^ed the grief of which 
 she had spoken in the beginning of her story. 
 Miss Massing looked shocked ; she was really 
 afraid the news might be true, and sorrow for her 
 friend already touched her kind heart. She said 
 nothing, but stood quite still whilst Mrs. Blount 
 continued — 
 
 " 1 have my intelligence from the best authority; 
 Mrs. Graves's maid was at the station this morning 
 herself, and saw it with her own eyes." 
 
 " It may only be a servant's gossip, after all,' 
 thought Miss Massing. " I must go and learn the 
 rights of it, however," and, without waiting to 
 hear more, she left the room. Maud, who was 
 sinsins: at the time, did not notice her aunt's 
 sudden disappearance, and on turning from the 
 piano she asked what had become of her. 
 
 " I do not know," said Miss Bridges, carelessly. 
 '* She left the room a moment ago, but I suppose 
 she will be back presently." 
 
 i5
 
 178 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " We have had the misfortune to be the first to 
 communicate some bad news to your aunt, Miss 
 Erving ; perhaps our announcement of it was 
 rather too abrupt. She has, I believe, gone to re- 
 cover herself a little," remarked Mrs. Blount in a 
 supremely soothing tone of voice. 
 
 " Excuse me, Blanche dear, for an instant ; I 
 must see what is the matter," and Maud ran out of 
 the room. 
 
 " Pray take a seat. Miss Farncourt," said Mrs. 
 Blount, patronisingly. 
 
 " What a horrid old woman ! " thought Blanche, 
 and then added aloud, " Thank you, my friend will, 
 I doubt not, be back directly." 
 
 " I am afraid not," said Mrs. Blount. '' This 
 news is likely to distress Miss Erving as well as 
 her aunt." She said this in hopes of raising 
 Blanche's curiosity, and thus having the great 
 pleasure of communicating a piece of scandal over 
 again, but she did not know the person with whom 
 she had to deal, and was, therefore, not prepared 
 for Blanche's cool demeanour, as she said — 
 
 " I am sorry to hear it." 
 
 Count Porskinski was, however, of a more inqui- 
 sitive nature, and approaching Miss Bridges he 
 asked for an explanation, which that lady was only 
 too ready to give. Maud was really frightened at 
 what Mrs. Blount had said, and flew upstairs to 
 her aunt with a beating heart ; at the door of the 
 sitting-room she met Miss Massing dressed for 
 going out and looking quite composed. 
 
 '' What is the matter, aunt?" asked she breath- 
 lessly. " Nothing of any great consequence has 
 happened, I hope ?" 
 
 " Do not frighten yourself, my dear Maud ; I 
 believe it is all invention from beginning to end.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 179 
 
 but that spiteful Mrs. Blount says Arthur Car- 
 penter has run oiF with Miss Smith." 
 
 " Oh, is that all ! " said Maud, with a sigh of 
 relief. 
 
 "All?" repeated Miss Massing; "surely you 
 could not have expected anything worse ?" 
 
 " Yes, I did ; I was afraid something had hap- 
 pened to you, for she merely told me you had gone 
 upstairs to recover yourself. But where are you 
 going now?" 
 
 " I am going to Lydia. I want to learn the 
 truth of this story, and I do not intend to believe 
 it till I have heard her confirm Mrs. Graves's 
 lady's-maid's statement ; for it was she who brought 
 the news to Mrs. Blount, and you know she may 
 very easily have mistaken the people." 
 
 " Yes, without being accused of stupidity, for I 
 am sure Mr. Carpenter is the image of half the 
 young men one sees. Will it be such a very sad 
 blow to Lydia, if it should prove true ? I cannot 
 imagine anybody liking him very much, and I am 
 sure if I had been his sister I should have had 
 hard work to love him." 
 
 " Hush ! Maud ; do not detain me now ; go 
 down to your friend. I shall not be away long." 
 
 Mrs. Blount was greatly disappointed on seeing 
 Maud's contented expression of countenance as she 
 returned after a few minutes' absence. 
 
 " Have you seen your aunt, my dear Miss 
 Ei-ving?" asked she, curiously. 
 
 " Yes, I have this moment left her," was the 
 short reply. 
 
 " I hope she is not much distressed at the sad 
 news?" 
 
 " Oh, no, not at all. She has gone out on 
 business, but will be back soon. Is it not time for
 
 180 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 US to be wending our way to the station, Blanche!" 
 added she, turning to her friend. 
 
 "If you are ready, I am," was the reply, and 
 the two young ladies left the room together. 
 
 " What a dreadful set of old women you seem 
 to have here ! " ejaculated Blanche, as soon as 
 they had got safe into Miss Massing's sitting- 
 room. 
 
 " Oh, they do not trouble me," said Maud. 
 " I see very little of them ; but they are very 
 spiteful to my aunt, which makes me excessively 
 angry." 
 
 " What tricks I would play them ! " cried 
 Blanche, laughing. " This house should be too 
 hot to hold them, and no one should know the 
 cause." 
 
 "It is lucky, then, for Miss Briggs that I am 
 here instead of you. Can you wait in patience 
 for ten minutes whilst I put on my bonnet V 
 
 " I hope so," replied Blanche, going towards a 
 bookcase well filled with prettily bound books, 
 and picking out the brightest cover she could find. 
 
 " Good by ; I will not keep you long," and 
 Maud sprang lightly out of the room. 
 
 Miss Massing was shown into Lydia's bed- 
 room, where she found her bathed in tears, and 
 the kind old lady saw at once that all her fears 
 were well founded. She advanced quickly to her 
 young friend, and, without saying a word, clasped 
 her in her arms. 
 
 Oh, the inexpressible pleasure of feeling that 
 there is some one who can sympathise in your 
 sorrow ! Lydia had had to mourn in secret ; her 
 parents looked upon her with suspicion, and treated
 
 BRIMELSEA. 181 
 
 her as an accomplice. She felt that she had erred 
 and deserved some of their censure, but not the 
 amount which was poured upon her, and she had 
 to endure the sense of wrong as well as that of 
 sorrow. Like a comfortina: angel the kind face of 
 Miss Massing beamed upon her, and she nestled in 
 her protecting arms as a sick- hearted child on its 
 mother's breast. 
 
 " You have heard all and have come to comfort 
 me. I am so lonely in my sorrow, you do not 
 know what joy the sight of your face gave me," 
 murmured Lydia, still sobbing, though not so 
 violently. 
 
 " Calm yourself, my poor child ; I have not 
 heard all, but you shall tell it me. There, sit 
 down, and do not try to speak just yet ; you will 
 be better soon." 
 
 Miss Massing spoke as if she were really ad- 
 dressing a child, and a faint smile played round 
 Lydia's mouth, as she took her friend's hand and 
 said, softly — 
 
 *' You are so kind." 
 
 " No, no, I am not ; it is all selfishness on my 
 part ; I liked the idea of coming to comfort you, 
 and I came to please myself. It was nothing but 
 selfishness." 
 
 " A very kind sort of selfishness. I never 
 knew the real comfort of a sympathising face till 
 now." 
 
 " Then you will go amongst the poor with re- 
 newed pleasure," said Miss Massing. " For now 
 you know and can appreciate the feelings with 
 which the sick and suff'ering greet your smile." 
 
 " Alas ! I have not your face, mine cannot 
 inspire the same comfort." 
 
 " Hush ! no flattery," continued Miss Massing.
 
 182 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 *' You know it is not the face that awakens those 
 feelings, it is the heart which speaks through the 
 expression." 
 
 " There, that is just what I meant. You have 
 such a heavenly expression." 
 
 Miss Massing looked vexed, and Lydia con- 
 tinued, hurriedly — " Do not be angry with me, I 
 will not say anything more about the matter, only 
 
 promise me one thing " she paused and looked 
 
 searchingly into Miss Massing's face. " If I should 
 be very ill, you will not refuse to come and nurse 
 me. I have no mother." There was something so 
 mournful in the tone with which she pronounced 
 those words that the good old lady's eyes over- 
 flowed, and it was some time before she could 
 say— 
 
 " There is nothing I should like better ; ,but do 
 not speak of illness, you are young and healthy." 
 
 Lydia shook her head. "I am young but not 
 healthy. What does it matter? I am of little 
 use to any one, and a great burden on some. I am 
 so blind and foolish, when I wish to do right I do 
 wrong. Oh, Miss Massing, you do not know what 
 I have suffered within the last hour! My mother 
 is so enraged against me ; I had but just quitted 
 her when you came in ; she is with my father now. 
 They suspect me because I refused to show the 
 letter my brother wrote to me in the heat of 
 passion, which would have exasperated my father 
 still more against him. They think that it must 
 have criminated me, because I tore it in pieces with 
 disgust ; it was unworthy of Arthur ; he could not 
 have been himself when he wrote it. But I must not 
 tell them that ; I must let them believe all — any- 
 thing, for I must bring him back, must save him
 
 BRIMELSEA. 183 
 
 from the misery of alienation ; he must not want 
 a home and the sympathy home alone can give." 
 " He has one," said Miss Massing, slowly. 
 Lydia started — "Ah, yes, he has a new one, 
 but will it bring happiness 2 She deceived her 
 friend." 
 
 There was a pause ; Lydia breathed heavily, as 
 if her heart were too full, and then she coughed a 
 deep hollow cough that rang through the room. 
 Miss Massing looked at her and took her hand, 
 saying— 
 
 " When did you catch cold V 
 " Oh, I have forgotten all about my cold now; I 
 caught one the day of our adventure, but it is 
 quite well. Perhaps the fog to-day has brought 
 back mj cough ; you know I always have a slight 
 one. 
 
 " You must nurse it, Lydia ; I will take your 
 class at the school." 
 
 " Will you always take it for me ?" 
 " What do you mean?" 
 " I am never to go there again." 
 There was an expression, on any other per- 
 son's face we should have called it scorn, but the 
 word seems so inapplicable to Miss Massing, that 
 we do not know what to call it, and must let our 
 readers imagine the effect this announcement pro- 
 duced on a thoroughly good-natured face. 
 
 "Is it possible, does your father's resentment 
 extend thus far ? He will, I have no doubt, relent 
 before long." 
 
 Lydia shook her head, saying very gravely — " I 
 have reason to think, on the contrary, that he will 
 only enforce this point more strongly. You know 
 my mother's opinions, and can imagine why I have
 
 184 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 come to this conclusion, which is, of course, very 
 painful to me." 
 
 " You mistake, Lydia, you have always con- 
 cealed your mother's views from me ; I know 
 nothing farther than that she is one of Mr. Pip- 
 kin^s flock." 
 
 "Can you not guess the rest?" asked Lydia. 
 " She disapproves of me, and more especially of 
 Mr. Montague, and therefore will be glad of this 
 opportunity of weaning me from his congregation. 
 I have often been threatened by this before, and 
 there wanted but the spark to set the whole in a 
 blaze. The more I think of what is sure to follow, 
 the more I tremble. Give me your advice. Miss 
 Massing, you have always been kind to me, and 
 will assist me in my difficulty." 
 
 " Nay, how can I ! " exclaimed Miss Massing 
 alarmed. " I am always wanting a prop myself; 
 I dare not offer advice." 
 
 " But consider ; for one moment, I am of age ; 
 ought I to assert my right of judgment, or ought 
 I to submit without a murmur, but with my whole 
 soul burning with a sense of wrong ? Consider, 
 for one moment, my dear Miss Massing — let your 
 heart speak — whatever it dictates is sure to be 
 good." 
 
 " You puzzle, me, Lydia ; you are such a 
 thoughtful person yourself, I gather a great deal of 
 wisdom from merely listening to you— but really I 
 cannot — I cannot think at all. Would you not do 
 best to go to Mr. Montague at once, and ask his 
 advice ? " 
 
 " But suppose I am kept prisoner for some time? 
 — this is not unlikely." 
 
 Miss Massing looked thoroughly amazed. " You
 
 BRIMELSEA. 185 
 
 are joking, Lydia, such a thing is quite impossible, 
 especially with your indulgent parents." 
 
 " I did not mean to imply anything against 
 them ; if they take strong measures in this matter, 
 it will be with the best intentions. A more con- 
 scientious man than my father does not exist, but 
 they may wish to prevent my having recourse to 
 the person whose advice you suggest my seeking, 
 and then how shall I act ?" 
 
 " Think it over when you are alone to-night, 
 search your heart, find out its secret motives, and 
 pray for strength to judge rightly — ere morning 
 dawns you will see everything in a clearer light. 
 I always do when I use this method, but as I am 
 my own mistress, I have never been placed in a 
 
 similar situation, at least not sin ce Well, never 
 
 mind, I was influenced by very different motives 
 and circumstances when I was tried, and I trust I 
 acted well when the moment of decision arrived. 
 I asked advice, of course, so I went by a very good 
 man's opinion." 
 
 Lydia had not listened to the last part of this 
 sentence — she was too busily engaged with her own 
 perplexities to think of the by-gone trials of 
 others — so when Miss Massing ceased speaking, 
 she merely said — 
 
 '■' Thank you, I will try and follow your 
 advice." 
 
 " No, not my advice," said Miss Massing, in- 
 terrupting her. " T only repeat the words of much 
 more learned people than myself." 
 
 " You never give yourself credit for anything, 
 but I know better." A voice was heard at that 
 instant, on the stairs, calling Lydia. ^' It is my 
 father. I must go. Will you see him now, or 
 not till he has recovered this severe shock ? Per-
 
 186 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 haps it would be wiser for you not to see him ; he 
 might not take it quite in the right Hght." 
 
 " Oh no, I will leave you now. Go to him, 
 dear, and when you are both in the dining-room 
 I will slip out of the house ; I only came to see 
 
 you." 
 
 " A thousand thanks." Lydia kissed her and 
 rose, but the movement brought on a violent fit of 
 coughing, and Miss Massing looked sorrowfully 
 after her as she left the room. 
 
 " Poor girl, poor girl ! she is not careful of 
 herself. I do not like that nasty, hard cough,"
 
 BRIMELSEA. 187 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 UP AND DOWN. 
 
 Who has not watched the indefatigable movements 
 of a fashionable crowd on a seaside parade with 
 wonder ? Up and down, up and down for hours ; 
 no one dreams of the distance they are walking, 
 or would they believe their own eyes if the number 
 of times they went over the self-same piece of 
 ground was carefully written down by a trust- 
 worthy observer. 
 
 The German band has been playing exactly half 
 an hour when we arrive on the scene of action, but 
 few people have yet collected together, for, strange 
 to say, the fashion now-a-days is to be late for 
 everything. People even boast of never arriving 
 at a railway station till the last bell rings, and are 
 not at all ashamed of seeing the last carriage dis- 
 appear from their sight and they left on the plat- 
 form ; we will not say they are not disappointed, 
 for we believe in their heart of hearts they are, 
 though no sign of internal emotion is ever seen on 
 a fashionable person's face. But to return to the 
 parade — Captain Bissenthorpe has been there since 
 the first appearance of the band, and he has joined 
 Miss Flounce and her aunt, as there is as yet no
 
 188 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 appearance of the Honourable Miss Farncourt, or 
 indeed any of that party. Miss Flounce looks 
 supremely happy, and talks and laughs a great 
 deal ; she has quite forgotten Captain Bissenthorpe''s 
 slighting behaviour towards her on the previous 
 evening, and is ready to receive him into her good 
 graces again. 
 
 Count Porskinski has also been beforehand with 
 us, and is leaning against the back of a bench 
 watching the new arrivals, as if expecting to see 
 some one of his acquaintance. The band is playing 
 a melancholy air from an Italian opera, and he 
 beats time with his foot on the ground. It is high 
 tide, and the waves are dashing close to the parade, 
 rattling the shingle in their retreat. Some little 
 boys have collected as near the water's edge as 
 possible, and are amusing themselves by throwing 
 stones into the cresting waves as they advance. 
 Count Porskinski, tired of waiting, turns and 
 watches their game. The fog has cleared away ; 
 the soft blue sky of evening looks down from the 
 heavens, and the sun casts its slanting rays across 
 the expanse of water. Fishing-boats are seen one 
 by one leaving the harbour on their night's adven- 
 ture, and the cry of the sailors is heard at times 
 between the intervals in the music. " Heave-a- 
 hoy-oy-oy!" and the dark brown sails are hoisted 
 to their places whilst the soft air gently swells them, 
 and after lingering a moment at the mouth of the 
 harbour, as if loath to leave their quiet home, 
 they veer round and fly off to sea. 
 
 Up strikes the music again, but this time it is a 
 song — a song of the German Fatherland — and 
 after a prelude, the men put down their instru- 
 ments and sing. The well-known air falls on 
 Count Porskinski's ear ; he turns and advances
 
 BRIMELSEA. 189 
 
 towards the group of singers, and listens atten- 
 tively to the words — 
 
 Where is the German's fatherland ? 
 Is 't Prussia ? Swabia ? Is 't the strand 
 Where grows the vine, where flows the Rhine ? 
 Is 't where the gull skims Baltic's brine ? 
 No ; yet more great and far more grand 
 Must be the German's fatherland ! 
 
 How call they then the German's land ? 
 Bavaria ? Brunswick ? Hast thou scanned 
 It where the Zuyder Zee extends ? 
 Where Styrian toil the iron bends ? 
 No, brother, no ; thou hast not spanned 
 The German's genuine fatherland ! 
 
 Where, therefore, lies the German's land ? 
 Name now at last that mighty land ! 
 Where'er resounds the German tongue. 
 Where German hymns to God are sung, 
 There, gallant brother, take thy stand ! 
 That is the German's fatherland ! 
 
 Count Porskinski happened to raise his eyes at 
 this part, and exactly opposite, gazing directly at 
 the conductor, stood Maud Erving ; he did not 
 move towards her, but remained precisely in the 
 same position. The love of country was at that 
 moment uppermost in his heart, and he listened 
 intently to the last verse of Arndt's beautiful 
 patriotic song, which was sung with zest — 
 
 That is the German's fatherland ! 
 
 Great God ! look down and bless that land ! 
 
 And give her noble children souls 
 
 To cherish while existence rolls, 
 
 And love with heart, and aid with hand. 
 
 Their universal fatherland !
 
 190 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 Then, with a sigh, he turned away to look upon 
 the tossing sea, which divided him from the scenes 
 of his youth. 
 
 " You have performed your promise well, 
 Count," said a soft, musical voice close beside him. 
 " How well they sang to-night !" 
 
 He started, and a smile played round his 
 mouth as he saw Maud standing near him. " She 
 might make even an exile's life happy," he thought, 
 " but she is cruel, like all the world ; " then bowing 
 to Blanche, who was with her, he said aloud — 
 
 " I am glad you liked it, and are come this fine 
 evening. You know I foretold that the sun 
 would shine." 
 
 " I wish you would be kind enough. Count 
 Porskinski, to use your influence with the men, 
 and make them sing again," said Blanche. " We 
 only heard half that song." 
 
 " I shall be most happy by and by, but I am 
 sure I should fail were I to try now that the men 
 are tired," said the Count, bowing again. 
 
 " Let me do that office for you. Miss Farn- 
 court ?" interposed Mr. Holford. " What shall I 
 ask them to sing I " 
 
 " Do you speak German ? " asked Blanche, 
 turning towards him. 
 
 " Like a native ; at least, that is to say, not at 
 all, but I am sure I should be inspired on this 
 occasion, especially if you tell me what to say." 
 
 Blanche laughed, said she agreed with Count 
 Porskinski in thinking it would be more politic to 
 wait ; and they all moved forwards. Lord Eeynold- 
 forde and the Marquis de Montanvert leading the 
 way. They had not gone far before they met 
 Captain Bissenthorpe, who immediately quitted 
 Miss Flounce and joined their party, evidently to
 
 BRIMELSEA. 191 
 
 Mr. Holford's displeasure. After a few words 
 with Lord Reynoldforde, he fell back, and inquired 
 politely of Blanche whether she was exhausted 
 with her dancing on the previous night, and a 
 thousand other questions, which had been put 
 twenty times before that day. 
 
 " I should think Miss Farncourt never tired of 
 dancing, she springs along so lightly," said Mr. 
 Holford. 
 
 " Then you think there is no effort required to 
 spring," rejoined Blanche, looking at Maud. 
 
 " Pardon me, I did not say that, I only meant 
 to imply that the lighter the person the less the 
 exertion." 
 
 " I do not agree with you ; we have all strength 
 proportioned to us according to our body, and fre- 
 quently the heavier people are the strongest 
 after all." 
 
 " What are you talking about, Blanche f de- 
 manded Maud. "Are you having a learned dis- 
 cussion with Mr. Holford ?" 
 
 " No, quite the contrary ; the simplest questions 
 and answers imaginable. But what have you done 
 with the Count ?" 
 
 " He has gone to see if my aunt will not join us. 
 I thought a stroll this lovely evening would do her 
 good." 
 
 " Yes," said Blanche. " I only wish we could 
 have persuaded Mademoiselle Lafoure to come out ; 
 but people with headaches are very hard to manage, 
 they always will have their own way." 
 
 " I suppose it is the best for them under such 
 circumstances," remarked Captain Bissenthorpe, 
 pulling his whiskers. 
 
 " Well, perhaps it is. They say people can 
 doctor themselves best, but it is not satisfactory for
 
 192 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 their friends. Every one has their own peculiar 
 pet little remedy to offer, and it is delightful to 
 find a patient willing to be doctored. I wanted 
 Mademoiselle Lafoure to take sal volatile, but she 
 insists upon eating pepper, and varying the dose 
 every five minutes by a mouthful of eau sucre. It 
 is dreadful to see her, she sneezes for half an hour 
 together, and tears run down her cheeks with the 
 exertion. She is very light, Mr. Holford, and 
 still she finds the act of sneezing tire her." 
 
 Their conversation was here interrupted by Lord 
 Reynoldforde, who suddenly turned round and 
 addressed Blanche thus — 
 
 " What do you think of having some charades 
 on board the ' Firefly V The Marquis says you 
 would act beautifully, and he undertakes to arrange 
 all dresses with the help of Mademoiselle, and your 
 valuable suo^sfestions." 
 
 Blanche did not answer, but the two gentlemen 
 expressed their delight at the notion, which quite 
 contented the nobleman. 
 
 " Miss Erving, you will, I hope, take a part ? 
 We must have rehearsals and arrangements of all 
 sorts," said Lord Reynoldforde. 
 
 " I never acted in my life," replied Maud. 
 
 " Then we shall have the honour of bringing 
 your talent out. Blanche knows nothing of the 
 art as yet, but the Marquis will put us all in the 
 right way. We have nothing to do but follow 
 his instructions ; he says he used to manage plenty 
 of charades in France." 
 
 " And what is the word to be, Marquis ?" asked 
 Blanche, and her lip curled slightly in addressing 
 him. 
 
 " That," replied he, with a shrug of the shoul-
 
 BRIMELSEA. 193 
 
 ders, '' must be agreed upon when we have chosen 
 our actors."^ 
 
 " Let us choose them at once," said Lord Rey- 
 noldforde, eagerly. " We cannot do better than 
 secure the present company." 
 
 "If these messieurs agree," rejoined the Marquis. 
 
 A ready acquiescence was given, and a conference 
 immediately entered upon, though no satisfactory 
 result was attained. 
 
 " Well," said Lord Reynoldforde, " it is not to 
 be supposed we can arrange everything in a hurry, 
 that would be most unreasonable. Let us meet 
 to-morrow on board the ' Firefly,' we will have our 
 first cruise, weather permitting, and can talk over 
 our plans at leisure." 
 
 " I have a book of French charades," said the 
 Marquis, " which may aid us ; perhaps, too, we 
 might act one of them, if these messieurs speak 
 French." Captain Bissenthorpe looked at Holford, 
 and mce versa, but there was a decided negative 
 expressed in their faces. 
 
 '' Oh, there is no difficulty," said the Marquis. 
 " We will act in English, I taking a foreigner's 
 part, in which any mistake will be excused." 
 
 " Bravo !" ejaculated Lord Reynoldforde. " You 
 will be all the more interesting, I assure you. 
 May we hope for your society. Miss Erving, on 
 our cruise to-morrow T' 
 
 " I cannot promise," replied Maud. " I must 
 ask my aunt's consent first." 
 
 " There will be no difficulty, I hope, in securing 
 that," continued he. " Is not that lady your aunt, 
 who is this moment crossing the street with a 
 foreif]:n gentleman ?" 
 
 Maud looked in the direction pointed out, and 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 ] 94 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 saw at one glance that it was her aunt who had 
 easily yielded to Count Porskinski's persuasions. 
 
 " We have a plot against you, aunt," said she, 
 as soon as she was within hearing. " Lord Rey- 
 noldforde has been kind enough to invite me to 
 join their yachting party to-morrow." 
 
 Miss Massing looked rather disconcerted at 
 being so suddenly introduced amongst a crowd of 
 strangers, and Count Porskinski looked far from 
 pleased to hear of the proposed day's pleasuring. 
 
 " You must not refuse, Miss Massing," said 
 Blanche, in a beseeching tone. " Your niece is 
 one of my oldest and dearest friends ; we do not 
 often see each other, now that our school days are 
 over, and we know not how soon we may be sepa- 
 rated again." 
 
 "If it is Maud's wish I would not think of 
 stopping her enjoyment, but for my own part, had 
 1 been in her position., I should not accept, as I 
 have a great objection to the sea." 
 
 " Have you, Maud?" asked Blanche. 
 
 " I do not think so. At all events, I should 
 like to see if I have." 
 
 " Well, dear, you may decide for yourself, I will 
 not say nay." 
 
 " Thank you. Miss Massing," said Blanche, 
 eagerly. " Then it is all settled, and Maud will 
 be of our party." 
 
 The sun had now set, and twilight darkened 
 the scene, which ever and anon was brightened 
 by the glare of sheet lightning, the brilliant colour- 
 ins: of which was mirrored in the sea. The Germans 
 had ceased playing and were standing with their 
 instruments in their hands upon the beach, watch- 
 ing the scene, and speculating as to the appearance
 
 BRIMELSEA. 195 
 
 of the summer lightning, which was attracting all 
 eyes from its extreme beauty. 
 
 Count Porskinski was the first to remark it, and 
 calling the attention of the others, they stood 
 watching for its reappearance. The air was sultry; 
 even the soft breeze that had blown from off the 
 sea at the beginning of the evening had now 
 lulled, and the fishing- boats lay becalmed at no 
 great distance from the harbour, their dark sails 
 standino: out in stronc^ relief ao^ainst the illumined 
 sky. 
 
 " We shall have a storm to-night," said Lord 
 Reynoldforde. " Do you see those clouds banking 
 up to the left ? they will not pass over our heads 
 without giving us a benefit." He had scarcely 
 said the words, when a distant roll of thunder was 
 heard issuing from their dark recesses, and pre- 
 sently a vivid sheet of fire shot up over the hea- 
 vens, giving a ghastly hue to every object far and 
 near. 
 
 Blanche, who had been watching the horizon 
 very intently, turned her head away to avoid the 
 glare, and in doing so her eyes encountered those 
 of the Marquis de Montanvert fixed upon her with 
 an expression of admiration. She could not meet 
 that look — she preferred even the dazzling bright- 
 ness of the lightning. A feeling of intense dislike 
 shot to her heart, and with it was mingled for the 
 first time that of fear. There was a look of con- 
 scious power, nay, triumph in those eyes ; she 
 shrank from them as she would from her bitterest 
 enemy. Yet there had been nothing in the Mar- 
 quis's manner to lead her to think he was one, for 
 strange to say, he had not attempted to approach 
 her all that evening, except when civilit}^ obliged 
 him to do so. 
 
 k2
 
 1.96 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " He cannot really admire me," thought Blanche, 
 " for he shows no sign of discontent at the presence 
 of two rivals, who since I have had the misfortune 
 to be introduced to them, have scarcely left me a 
 moment's peace. But that look ! — to my dying day, 
 I shall never forget that moment, it will haunt my 
 dreams at night. Perhaps he knows I hate 
 and abhor him, and triumphs in his power over 
 my poor father, which he can exercise in spite of 
 me. I must teach him better — I will make him 
 rue the moment when he first gave me reason to 
 fear him — but how ? Poor weak woman that I 
 am, deprived of even woman's influence over my 
 nearest relation on earth — I can, at all events, 
 make him think that though I saw that look, I 
 do not fear him — that, at least, will lower his 
 pride. Thank heaven, he cannot read my heart." 
 
 " We had better be turning homewards, 
 Blanche," said Lord Reynoldforde. " The storm 
 may come up quicker than we imagine ; as it is, 
 those dark clouds have soon taken the place of the 
 clear blue sky." 
 
 " I am ready," rejoined Blanche ; then turning 
 to the Marquis, she said, " I am so blinded with 
 that flash, that I can only see indistinctly, might 
 I ask for your aid ?" Each word was measured, and 
 had the peculiar intonation that may mean any- 
 thing, from the greatest irony to the most profound 
 politeness. The Marquis off'ered his arm without 
 the least show of pleasure. Mr. Holford looked at 
 them, and held back, but there was a feehng in his 
 heart to which it was lucky for the Marquis he 
 could not give vent. 
 
 " I trust this storm will not brinof us bad 
 weather for our excursion to-morrow," said Lord
 
 BRIMELSEA. 1.97 
 
 Reynoldforde. " We must hope for the best, and 
 till then, adieu." 
 
 " Maud," cried Blanche, " come early." There 
 was sorrow in the tone with which she uttered 
 those words, and Maud felt her hand pressed con- 
 vulsively as they parted. 
 
 Who can fathom the depths of the Marquis's 
 policy? He had one great end in view ; it was his 
 only chance of freedom from the bonds of debt, and 
 never did he lose sight of it for an instant ; he 
 did not attempt to press his suit after the 
 interview he had had with Lord Reynoldforde ; he 
 knew that it was useless, for he saw Blanche's dis- 
 like to him, but feeling sure of victory in the end, 
 he only waited for an opportunity to act, and, in 
 the meantime, used all his influence with the weak 
 nobleman, to gain that end to which all the powers 
 of his mind were now directed. This then was the 
 man on whose arm Blanche leant, and although 
 she was naturally of a discerning mind, she mis- 
 ,took his object ; nor did she even perceive that she 
 herself was his intended victim, when their eyes 
 met, and that one momentary glance sent a pang 
 to her heart. She thought he triumphed in his 
 power over her father, and longed for an opportu- 
 nity to despoil him of that power. 
 
 Maud walked between her aunt and the Count 
 in silence, each were occupied with their own 
 thoughts, and it was not before they reached the 
 door of the Boarding House, that the Count broke 
 through the restraint silence had imposed, and said 
 with a smile — 
 
 " An angel has flown over us, Miss Erving, and 
 I have had the good fortune to find it." 
 
 " What do you mean?" demanded she, in some 
 surprise, and he continued —
 
 198 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " It is an expression we Germans make use of, 
 when there has been a long pause in the conversa- 
 tion, and the one who speaks first is said to find 
 the angel." 
 
 " What a curious thing ! I suppose it is the 
 angel who presides over talking and conversation 
 of all kinds." 
 
 " That, unfortunately, I am unable to decide 
 for you ; it is very difiicult to account for popular 
 expressions, but I suppose they all have an 
 orio^in." 
 
 " Everything has, and it must be an interesting 
 study to find out what that origin must have 
 been." 
 
 " There are plenty of bookworms in Germany 
 who are always hunting after such things, but, for 
 my part, I prefer poetry and imagination to search- 
 ing for facts in musty old books and dirty, half 
 illegible manuscripts ; surely, Miss Erving, you 
 asrree with me." 
 
 " For my own part, I do, but I can appreciate 
 the pleasure of such researches, although they 
 must entail a great deal of disappointment on the 
 man whose study it is to make them out." 
 
 " Why, Maud," said Miss Massing, who stood 
 on the door-step listening to them, " I thought 
 you were too much wrapped up in your zoophytes 
 to think it possible there could be any other 
 amusing occupation in the world." 
 
 " I am fond of anything that keeps away ennui, 
 and when you have more to do than you know how 
 to get through, there is no fear of that creeping in, 
 is there, aunt Lucy ?" 
 
 " Will you give me your receipt for happiness ?" 
 asked the Count in German. 
 
 " You have just heard it," said she. " I know
 
 BRIMELSEA. 199 
 
 of no better, but perhaps it would not suit all 
 people." 
 
 " There are some sorrows which embitter every- 
 thing on earth ; perhaps you have never felt such 
 pain as that I speak of, if so, may it never darken 
 your existence as it has done mine." 
 
 Maud looked at him ; the light from the street 
 lamp fell full on his manly face, and she felt 
 deeply touched by the expression that met her 
 gaze. 
 
 " Thank you," she murmured, and turning 
 round sprang up the steps into the house. 
 
 Count Porskinski watched her disappear, then 
 with a sigh he returned to the beach, nor did he 
 re-enter the house till the heavy drops of rain 
 from the thunder-cloud, which had so long threat- 
 ened to discharge its contents upon the little town, 
 warned him to take shelter. The lightning and 
 thunder soothed the wild beatings of his heart, 
 and awoke once more the hate against the tyrants 
 of his country which the patriotic song of tlie 
 Germans had rekindled within his breast.
 
 200 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 A CRUISE. 
 
 Not a sign of the heavy storm which had rent the 
 heavens on the previous evening was visible when 
 the party collected on board the " Firefly " for 
 their proposed cruise. The sea was calm, the sun 
 shone forth warm and bright, whilst some fleeting 
 clouds chased each other across the scene, and 
 their long shadows gave variety to its monotony 
 for, beautiful as the ocean is, there cannot fail to 
 be monotony in its movement, however varied the 
 colouring may be. 
 
 It was some time before all the necessary ar- 
 rangements could be made — first one thing was 
 forgotten, then another, and when at length they 
 did start, it was found that Mademoiselle Lafoure 
 had been left behind, and she was seen waving her 
 handkerchief on the pier; the vessel was imme- 
 diately stopped, and the boat put out to bring her, 
 which was soon done, and the " Firefly " steamed 
 out of the harbour beneath many an admiring gaze. 
 Lord Reynoldforde stood by the Captain, giving 
 him some few instructions. Blanche busied herself 
 in making her old governess as comfortable as she 
 could ; Maud stood beside them. Captain Bissen-
 
 BRIMELSEA. 201 
 
 thorpe professed his readiness to do everything in 
 his power, and got very much in the way, whilst 
 Mr. Holford and the Marquis paced the deck, con- 
 versing very amicably about things in general, and 
 the favourable w^eather in particular. They had 
 not gone very far, however, before the quick eye of 
 the former discerned his friend Macklaren's boat, 
 and, darting across the deck to where Maud was 
 seated, he exclaimed — 
 
 " There is Macklaren out dredging ! Do you 
 see that little boat, not far from us, with several 
 men in it. Miss Erving ? Well, that is his 
 craft, and if you look through my glass you will 
 see Macklaren himself sitting at one side looking 
 this w^ay — of course he is admiring us. I wish we 
 were near enouo-h to hail him. He did not know 
 what time we were to start ; he is such a fellow, 
 he was out before six himself, and I was asleep, 
 and had not time to tell him anything." 
 
 " I thought he w^as out dredging yesterday,'' 
 said Maud, vainly endeavouring to steady the 
 telescope. 
 
 " No, it was much too foggy in the morning, so 
 he put it off. Whatever he can find to amuse him 
 in fishing for those little monsters I cannot con- 
 ceive ; but I beg pardon, I believe I am addressing- 
 one who shares this — may I say — peculiarity." 
 
 " Oh, you may say anything you like, I am 
 quite accustomed to be laughed at," replied Maud, 
 still struggling with the telescope. 
 
 " Permit me to assist you with that heavy glass, 
 here — wait one instant — now I will kneel down, 
 and you shall make a stand of my head." 
 
 Maud hesitated, but Mr. Holford was in earnest, 
 so she did his biddins^, and was not lon^: in findins: 
 the right focus. 
 
 k5
 
 202 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " A most beautiful, touching group," said Lord 
 Keynoldforde, who had come up to the party. 
 " Pray, Blanche, have you got your pencil ready 
 to take them as they stand now? — oh, if you 
 please, Miss Erving, do not let me disturb you." 
 
 Maud laughed, and Mr. Holford sprang lightly 
 to his feet, relieving her of the telescope with a 
 graceful bow, and turning to Blanche, he said — 
 
 " 1 shall be most happy to perform the same 
 manoeuvre for you, Miss Farncourt, if you feel as 
 great an interest in a dredging party as we do." 
 
 He laid a stress on the word we — at least so 
 Maud thought — and from that moment she took a 
 dislike to him ; she fancied he believed she was in 
 love with his friend, and interpreted, henceforth, 
 every word, look, or gesture on his part to be in 
 allusion to that. " I in love with a man who cares 
 nothing for me?" thought Maud indignantly, but 
 to her great disgust there was something very deep 
 down in her heart, wdiich said there were thino:s 
 more impossible than that ; and, what was worse, 
 the same tell-tale voice said it thought the young 
 naval officer was not quite indifferent to her, and if 
 it should turn out to be the case, there was no 
 knowing what would happen. 
 
 Maud felt heartily displeased at herself, and 
 stoically determined not to think at all ; but from 
 that moment her eyes would wander in the direc- 
 tion of the little boat long after it was out of sight, 
 and the tiresome voice within her breast would 
 keep whispering " Captain Macklaren," till she 
 began to think there must be something in it. 
 Great things have often little beginnings — a word, 
 a look may change the course of nations, then how 
 much more may they not work their wonders in 
 the recesses of that world of thought — the human
 
 BRIMELSEA. 208 
 
 heart? The little word "we" had wrought a 
 change in Maud — had made her search into her 
 own feelino's, and there discover a secret which had 
 till then been concealed even to herself. Captain 
 Macklaren had much to thank his friend Holford 
 for, and yet from that hour Maud took a dislike to 
 the latter, and avoided his society as much as 
 possible. 
 
 " A most picturesque scene you have been en- 
 acting," said Blanche jokingly to her friend, as 
 soon as the gentleman had moved away. " There 
 can be little doubt who Mr. Holford admires 
 now." 
 
 " Nonsense, Blanche, it was the most natural 
 thing in the world, but I am very angry with him, 
 nevertheless." 
 
 " Oh, for shame ! why should you be angry 
 with a poor man for doing you a service?" 
 
 " Service, indeed ! I should have seen very well 
 without his makins: himself so ridiculous." 
 
 " Yet you put the telescope on his head, and, to 
 all appearance, entered into the joke. Poor Mr. 
 Holford ! I really must take his part to-day; for 
 he has lost a valuable ally in you." 
 
 " And gained one in you, Blanche, which he will 
 like much better ; but pray do not talk anj' more 
 about him, I shall get quite angry if you do." 
 
 Blanche laughed gaily, and by way of changing 
 the subject, offered to show her friend the cabins. 
 Maud consented, and they both descended the 
 companion-ladder to the saloon, which was exqui- 
 sitely fitted up — luxurious sofas lined the walls, 
 and innumerable mirrors reflected the different 
 objects a thousand times. The two friends paused 
 a few minutes to examine each thing separately, 
 then passing beneath an arched doorway, before
 
 204 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 which a scarlet curtain hung, they entered a little 
 cabin containing two pretty little beds, a toilette 
 table, and a washing stand. 
 
 " This is my room, Maud," said Blanche, seating 
 herself on one of the beds. " What do you think 
 of our summer residence ? " 
 
 " I think it is quite charming — so exquisitely 
 fitted up!" was the enthusiastic rejoinder. 
 
 " It is not quite so spacious as my room at 
 Farncourt Hall, but I am very fond of it already, 
 and am quite content, especially as I have that 
 dear face to look at me " — she pointed to a beau- 
 tiful miniature above the dressing-table. " You 
 can guess who it is, though you never saw her." 
 
 " Your mother," murmured Maud, in tones of 
 deep respect. 
 
 " Yes," said Blanche. " I never go anywhere 
 without it. She smiles at me when I open my 
 eyes, blesses me when I close them at night, talks 
 to me when I am lonely, and bids me follow in her 
 steps when the world seems false and wicked, and 
 I despair of finding goodness, hope, and peace. 
 We are both orphans, Maud," she added, after a 
 pause of some seconds. " It was that which first 
 made us love each other. Your path in life lies 
 open and clear before you, mine is shrouded, beset 
 with difficulties you must never know. Will you 
 promise to love me always through the long hours 
 of this dreary world 1 Will you help me to act 
 rightly, be less proud, less selfish, more like her? 
 I want friends, Maud ; I am ver}^ lonely in the 
 midst of riches, luxuries, pleasures." 
 
 " You, Blanche ? Is it possible that you can 
 talk thus, surrounded by admirers, adorers, I may 
 say? You are in low spirits this morning; you do 
 not always think in this way."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 205 
 
 " Yes, I do ; and I will repeat again, that I am 
 lonely. Look round, Maud, and tell me to whom 
 I might fly for consolation, advice, and comfort." 
 
 " To your father," replied the other, somewhat 
 reproachfully. 
 
 " Alas ! no, he would not understand me ; 
 
 besides Ah, what was I going to say? — forgive 
 
 me, Maud — there are secrets in my family which 
 must not be known ; but, believe me, my father 
 could never be my adviser — rather would I die 
 than follow what he might dictate. You look 
 shocked, and turn from me as if I were in error. 
 Raise your eyes to that face — there is no shade of 
 wickedness upon her brow, no wild, unruly passions 
 gnawing at her heart ; but even she who bade me 
 honour, love, and obey him in all things reasonable, 
 taught me rather to shield him than follow in his 
 steps. You cannot understand this, dear Maud ; 
 may you never have cause to learn the hard lesson 
 of hope disappointed ; may you never see your 
 life-long endeavours marred. Thank heaven, she 
 is dead, and died unconscious of what was so soon 
 to occur ; soon, did I say ? Yes, even before the 
 cold earth had settled upon her grave." 
 
 " Hush, Blanche ! your feelings will lead you on 
 to tell me something which you will afterwards 
 wish unsaid. We came to see the cabins, did we 
 not?" 
 
 " Forgive me, Maud, and promise to give me 
 advice when I most need it. You know not the 
 good that it may one day be in your power to do." 
 
 " How can I advise when I do not know the 
 wound that lies far out of my reach, and closely 
 concealed from all eyes save One V 
 
 " You are right," said Blanche, after a pause. 
 " I must act on my own judgment; it is my hard lot
 
 206 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 to be forced to live on without a confidant and 
 friend."' 
 
 " Save God," interposed Maud, softly. Blanche 
 remained motionless, as if struck by that word; 
 then suddenly a beam of light shot from her dark 
 eye, and seizing Maud's hand, she said, in low, eager 
 tones — 
 
 " Thank you, I see all now. I have leant too 
 much on earthly support. I have cherished an idol 
 in my heart ; God pardon me, for that idol was as 
 pure and holy as the angels in heaven.'' 
 
 She buried her face in her hands, and wept hot 
 tears of repentance. Who that saw her then would 
 believe she was the same Blanche Farncourt, 
 whose haughty brow looked as if it could never 
 bend to sorrow ? Little do we, who judge from out- 
 ward appearances, know of the secrets of the heart. 
 
 " Blanche, dearest Blanche, do not weep, you 
 make me so miserable. What can I say to soothe 
 you ? I will do anything to please you, only look 
 up and dry your eyes ; this must not be, indeed it 
 must not." 
 
 How often have words like these been used by 
 the simple-hearted, in vain endeavours to comfort 
 those whose sorrow is beyond their power of control, 
 merely because the chord that touches them, finds 
 no correspondent feeling in their breast. Blanche 
 raised her head, looked at her friend with a smile 
 of thanks, brushed the sparkling tears from her 
 eyes, and said, with a deep drawn sigh — 
 
 " T wish I were more like you, but there is a 
 wide difference in our natures ; we cannot judge 
 each other by what we feel ourselves. You will let 
 me pour my sorrows into your kind heart some- 
 times ?" 
 
 *' Dear Blanche, I am only too glad to think I
 
 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 207 
 
 can be of any use to you. I shall never forget the 
 happy school days we passed together, and how 
 often you used to help me out of the innumerable 
 difficulties I met with in my lessons. You were 
 always so much quicker than I was." 
 
 " Those were little troubles, Maud, and not 
 worth repaying, but I shall have a large debt of 
 gratitude to you, for even now you have done me 
 good ; and if you continue as you have begun, I 
 shall never cease to feel the obligation, and you 
 will receive a blessins: from a sad heart." 
 
 " Do not say sad ; you used to long for the time 
 when you should be old enough to be your father's 
 companion, and stay at home to take care of him. 
 Now you have got your wish, and more, if pos- 
 sible." 
 
 " Oh ! yes, it is very pleasant ; at least it would 
 be if I could do what I think right." 
 
 '' He may be the better judge of the two as to 
 that, may he not ?" 
 
 " I wish I could think so, but well, never 
 
 mind, you cannot quite understand without know- 
 ing all, and that must not be ; only let me make 
 you promise one thing." 
 
 " What is it ? I am quite ready to do so, if it is 
 not too unreasonable," replied Maud. 
 
 " If I were to commit any strange error, you 
 must not judge me by your own self, or by what 
 the world says. Think of me as quite different ; 
 and having to struggle against circumstances and 
 influences that can never lie in your path, you 
 will not judge my actions so harshly then. And 
 above all, promise to love me with the pure aff'ec- 
 tion of a friend ; there is only one other person on 
 earth wlio does, and I covet such aff'ection more 
 than I can tell you."
 
 208 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " You may trust me, Blanche. I love you as I 
 would a sister had I one, and your faults, if you 
 have any, shall meet with a sister's censure ; but I 
 am convinced I never could find anything^ I should 
 wish altered in you were I to try ever so much."''' 
 
 " Then you cannot be a true friend," said Blanche, 
 gravely. 
 
 " Do not say that ; think rather that I am a 
 partial one." 
 
 " Thank you, Maud. You do then really love 
 me for myself alone ?" 
 
 " That I do," was the reply. " What else could 
 I love you for ?" 
 
 " Most people find everything but myself love- 
 able ; at least their manner makes me think so." 
 
 " What do you mean, Blanche?" asked Maud, 
 in some surprise. " You are such a puzzle to me." 
 
 " Am I ? Yet my meaning must be clear. 
 Men court me for my money, and as they say 
 themselves for my beauty. Poor fools ! a pretty 
 life a temper such as mine might lead them, were I 
 to take them at their word ; but if I ever marry it 
 must be for love." 
 
 " On your side or on theirs?" asked Maud, 
 smiling. 
 
 " On both, of course. I must be a first and only 
 love, or I will never marry." 
 
 " How are you to find that requisite out ? Men 
 are very deep, and it is not usual to publish such 
 matters." 
 
 " You are right there, so I am, I hope, quite 
 safe ; but there is no knowing what may be one's 
 fate. You must remember that I said the other 
 day, peculiar circumstances might oblige me to 
 marry." 
 
 "■ Yes, you are a very pleasant kind of enigma.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 209 
 
 dear Blanche. I cannot make you out ; and it is 
 much more romantic to look upon you as a mystery, 
 so I will not try. Now I am going to ask a favour ; 
 do not be surprised, but it relates to quite a different 
 matter, and a very material one." 
 
 " Pray go on, I am all impatience.*" 
 
 Maud laughed gaily. " This cabin is delightful, 
 and were we stationary in the harbour, I could sit 
 here all day long with the greatest pleasure, but 
 not being accustomed to the motion of the sea as 
 you are, I am beginning to feel giddy, and a long- 
 ing for fresh air is predominant in my mind at pre- 
 sent. May we go on deck V 
 
 A ringing laugh was Blanche's rejoinder, and 
 springing up from the bed where she had been half 
 reclining, she led Maud gaily through the saloon, 
 and up on deck once more, where a delicious gust 
 of fresh air greeted them, and soon drove all feelings 
 of indisposition away. 
 
 " Where have you been burying yourselves f 
 asked Lord Eeynoldforde. " We cannot allow this 
 monopoly, Blanche. Miss Erving was invited to 
 enjoy sea air, and you have been cooping her up in 
 your little cabin, which is a very different matter. 
 She will give a bad account of us to Miss Mass- 
 ing." 
 
 " Maud wished to see the cabins, so we went 
 down to explore them," said Blanche. 
 
 " That may be, but not to spend the morning 
 there. Mademoiselle Lafoure has been asking for 
 you both ; she is tired of Captain Bissenthorpe's 
 small talk, will you not go to the rescue V 
 
 " And receive a volley ourselves," added Blanche, 
 advancing towards the place where the two persons 
 in question were seated. 
 
 " What do you think of our little vessel f asked
 
 210 BRIMELSEA.. 
 
 Lord Reynoldforde, of Maud, with an expression of 
 conscious pride. 
 
 " I think it quite perfect,'' was the reply ; " and 
 I almost envy Blanche her little room." 
 
 "It is very snug, is it not? I shall be most 
 happy to hear of any suggestions as to improve- 
 ments, if you will name them, Miss Erving." 
 
 " I ? Oh ! that is an impossibility. I see nothing 
 that could be altered ; everything is in such com- 
 plete order ; the saloon is quite beautiful.'' 
 
 " Do you admire the colour of the velvet cushions! 
 Montanvert ordered them himself ; he is a man of 
 great taste. Frenchmen understand those things 
 so well. I chose the carpet." 
 
 " It does you credit. I am no judge myself, but 
 as you asked my opinion, you must not think me 
 rude if I say the scarlet of the curtains does not 
 quite agree with the cushions." 
 
 " You are a bold woman, Miss Erving," said 
 Lord Reynoldforde. " That was the Marquis's doing, 
 ha, ha ! I really must tell him. Halloo there, 
 Montanvert, here is a question of taste for you to 
 settle. Miss Ervins: finds that the scarlets down 
 
 o 
 
 below do not agree, what is your opinion V 
 
 The Frenchman bowed, with a bland smile. " I 
 could not offer mine in opposition to a lady's, which 
 must undoubtedly be the superior of the two." 
 
 " Of course, we only wanted to decide the matter, 
 that is all ; and as you were the person whose taste 
 was consulted, I called you up." 
 
 " Well, in France, we admire a variety in shades, 
 provided they are shades of the same colour, but 
 English taste may differ, and I am ready to yield 
 the point to Miss Erving." 
 
 " Pray do not. Monsieur le Marquis," said 
 Maud, carelessly. " It is of so little consequence,
 
 BRIMELSEA. 211 
 
 and it would be impossible for the most fastidious 
 person to find fault with anything else. Pray, 
 Lord Reynoldforde, let riiy stupid query be for- 
 gotten. My opinion must have no more weight 
 than it deserves."'' 
 
 " Anything that offends the eye ought to be of 
 consequence,"" said Lord Eeynoldforde. " We will 
 have the curtains altered, that will be the best way, 
 will it not, Montanvert V 
 
 " Decidedly, if the mixture of colour be really 
 offensive to you,"" rejoined the Marquis. 
 
 " Let me entreat you not to think any more 
 about it. You make me quite ashamed of myself,"" 
 said Maud, eagerly. 
 
 " Nay, I am always grateful for any suggestions. 
 Let us cjo below and see what is to be done. Can 
 you come now, Montanvert f 
 
 There was something so cringing in the manner 
 of the Marquis towards his noble friend, that Maud 
 could not help feeling rather pleased she had 
 mentioned her dislike, and had thereby given hira 
 cause to cringle even more than usual. She saw 
 that he had a secret power over Lord Reynoldforde, 
 and that he exercised it very constantly. " I 
 should not be surprised,"" thought she, " if he were 
 to prove a snake in the grass. Perhaps Blanche 
 alluded to him when she spoke of mystery con- 
 nected with her father ; perhaps he is his evil 
 genius, as it were, leading him on to something bad, 
 yet concealing his intentions so well as to baffle the 
 most searching inquiry."" 
 
 There is no knowing how bad a character Maud 
 might not have given the Marquis, had she been 
 allowed to think much more, but a call from Blanche 
 roused her from her reverie, and she joined the others 
 at the farther end of the vessel.
 
 212 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " May I ask what were your thoughts, ma 
 petite ?" asked Mademoiselle Lafoure, as Maud ap- 
 proached her. " Were you turning over in your 
 mind what would be a good word for a charade ? 
 If you have found one, you will have done us a 
 great service, as I cannot get Blanche to like any- 
 thing I propose. Is it not contrary of her V 
 
 " Extremely, Mademoiselle, but I am very stupid 
 in all such matters. I am, I assure you, the very 
 worst person to whom to appeal." 
 
 " Ah! your old trick, always abusing yourself; 
 how often I have scolded you about that, and all in 
 vain !" 
 
 The Frenchwoman lifted up her hands as if 
 quite despairing of any reform in her old pupil, 
 and half forgetting she was not still under her 
 control. 
 
 "Dear Mademoiselle Lafoure, I have tried to 
 cure myself, but when one is really stupid what is 
 to be done?" 
 
 " If that were the case I should say nothing 
 about it, but you know to the contrary, and it has 
 the effect of conceit instead of modesty in you. 
 Now for a punishment," added the good woman, 
 jokingly; "you must find us a word." 
 
 Maud made a long face, and, pretending to be 
 the obedient school-girl, she seated herself on the 
 bench and buried her head in her hands to think. 
 
 " Do not forget that a Frenchman must play a 
 principal part," suggested Blanche, with a sneer. 
 
 "And a Frenchwoman too, ma petite," added 
 Mademoiselle Lafoure. 
 
 "Why not act the whole in French?" asked 
 Maud. 
 
 " Because ces Messieurs do not understand our 
 language," rejoined Mademoiselle Lafoure. "That
 
 BRIMELSEA. 213 
 
 would obviate all difficulty, but it cannot be done. 
 Think away, we shall want more than one word." 
 
 " Do you like the sea?" asked Blanche, turning 
 to Captain Bissenthorpe, and addressing him in 
 common civility in a language he could understand 
 (for the conversation had hitherto been carried on 
 in French). 
 
 " Under such circumstances as I am in, I delight 
 in it ; but, in general, I prefer terra firma." 
 
 " Indeed ! We must consider ourselves highly 
 flattered as that is the case." 
 
 *' Do not do so, I implore you, Miss Farncourt ; 
 to have the felicity of sitting beside you would 
 tempt me to undergo any torture." 
 
 Blanche laughed. " I should be sorry to think 
 we had been guilty of torturing you. The sea is 
 my natural element, so that I cannot imagine any 
 one disliking it." 
 
 " The up and down motion is horrible. If you 
 had been on board a transport ship, as I have, you 
 would agree with me. Crowded to overflowing, 
 everybody ill, no room to lie down, in danger of 
 suftocation by night and agues by day. It is 
 positively horrible ! Here you have space, con- 
 venience, and luxury ; good food, good night's rest, 
 and the company of those you like." 
 
 " Pray call it a paradise on earth," added 
 Blanche. 
 
 "To me it is. Miss Farncourt, provided I may 
 revel in your smiles." 
 
 " What is the man talking about? "asked Maud, 
 in French. She had caught some few words, and 
 they had raised her curiosity. 
 
 " A great deal of nonsense," was the reply. 
 " He is the most complete ass I ever had the 
 pleasure to encounter."
 
 214 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " This is not fair, Miss Farncourt," interposed 
 the Captain. " You take advantage of mj ignorance, 
 and abuse me in a foreiorn lano:uao:e." 
 
 " He never made a better guess," said Blanche, 
 in French ; then turning to him, she added — 
 " What should make you think we were speaking 
 about you ? Mademoiselle Lafoure is arranging 
 the charades with Maud ; perhaps you can help us 
 to find a word." 
 
 " Yes, with pleasure, if you will promise to speak 
 English." 
 
 " You are right. Captain," said Mr. Holford, 
 who had come up in time to hear the last sentence. 
 " We must have no French, for it is a shame not 
 to let us join in the conversation." 
 
 "Why a shame?" asked Maud. "We have 
 taken pains to learn the language, so we ought to 
 be allowed to use it." 
 
 " I do not agree ; but being an interested person 
 I ought not to decide in this instance," said Mr. 
 Holford. " Let us appeal to Mademoiselle." 
 
 " I have it ; I have it ! " ejaculated Captain 
 Bissenthorpe. " Love-lies-bleeding is the very 
 word we are in want of — that is to say if I may be 
 allowed to act the part of love. I could go into 
 ecstasies, and be as love-sick as you like. See, I 
 can make a most pathetic face," and the brave 
 ofiicer fell on one knee, and looked up into Blanche's 
 face with a most despondent, lover-like expression. 
 They all laughed heartily. 
 
 " That is very well acted ; but we must not have 
 anything sentimental," said Blanche. " I hate 
 sentimentality." 
 
 "Feigned, but not real, I hope?" rejoined Mr. 
 Holford, in a rather more serious tone than Blanche 
 liked.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 21 5 
 
 '' Both," said she, pettishly ; " and I despise 
 people who indulge in it." 
 
 " You are not, surely, a disbeliever in true 
 devoted attachment?" 
 
 " That is too mild a word, Holford," interposed 
 Captain Bissenthorpe. '' Say love, it is more what 
 you mean." 
 
 " I dare say there may be such a thing, but it 
 does not last long, if there is," remarked Blanche, 
 and then, as if anxious to change the subject, she 
 said — '' Where is my father, Mr. Holford ? Have 
 you seen him lately?" 
 
 " I have but just left him ; he was then settling 
 a dispute between the captain and mate, by dis- 
 charging the latter on the spot." 
 
 " Why? What can have happened?" 
 
 " Oh, only a row ; but it was the only way of 
 arranging it satisfactorily. By George ! I never 
 heard a fellow in a greater rage than the captain." 
 
 " Perhaps he ought to be the one discharged," 
 suggested Blanche. " A bad temper makes a bad 
 commander." 
 
 " Ah, but he is too clever, and understands his 
 business too well to be sent off at a moment's 
 notice. It is not so easy a matter now-a-days 
 to find good experienced men ready at hand." 
 
 " I never liked the captain," said Blanche. " In 
 my opinion he has a bad countenance. The Mar- 
 quis de Montanvert seems fond of his society. 
 They are always conferring together." 
 
 " Yes ; he was with Lord Reynoldforde just 
 now, when the row took place, and, to tell you the 
 truth, I think it was he who persuaded your father 
 to send the mate away." 
 
 Blanche bit her lip, and the thought of her 
 father's weakness brought a blush to her cheek.
 
 216 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 *' Is he always to be guided by that man ? Shame, 
 shame ! it must not be. Think of your mother's 
 dying words. Have you obeyed them as far as 
 you are able?" were the words conscience whis- 
 pered within her. She became, from that moment, 
 sullen and moody ; gave short answers when forced 
 to open her lips, and took the first opportunity to 
 escape to her cabin. 
 
 " Miss Farncourt seems to take great interest in 
 the wrongs of the discharged seaman," remarked 
 Mr. Holford to Maud. " She has not spoken since I 
 told her of his dismissal, and now she has flown away 
 to grieve for his loss in the recesses of her cabin." 
 
 " Blanche has many things to trouble her," was 
 Maud's short reply. 
 
 " She has not much time allowed her for solitude 
 and reflection," continued Mr. Holford ; " for there 
 is the dinner-bell sounding — a call no human being 
 can resist." 
 
 " You mean no human being is allowed to re- 
 sist," interposed Maud, sharply. 
 
 " JNot at all. I am sure you must confess dinner 
 is a very agreeable amusement, and not the less so 
 for being a necessity (though it is not always one). 
 Everybody collects at that hour, and a degree of 
 social intercourse is enjoyed which cannot be had 
 at any other time of the day." 
 
 " Oh, if you take it in that light, I agree with you ; 
 but I fancied you meant the pleasure of eating." 
 
 " Ha, ha ! bravo !" laughed Captain Bissenthorpe. 
 '' You took Holford for a glutton, and I dare say 
 we are all more or less so, Miss Erving, but you 
 forget he could want nothing whilst in your pre- 
 sence. May I off'er you my arm? we will go 
 down. The stairs are not quite so convenient as 
 those of a London house; but, however " and
 
 BRIMELSEA. 217 
 
 they proceeded to the saloon, where a substantial 
 meal lay spread for them. 
 
 Blanche took her seat at the top of the table, 
 and looked rather paler than usual, but there was 
 nothino" in her manner that showed what was 
 passing within ; indeed she exerted herself to talk 
 to the Marquis, who sat on her right hand, and his 
 cold eye beamed as it encountered hers, with a fire 
 that always made her lower her gaze, however 
 much she wished to appear indifferent. He ad- 
 dressed her as he would a person much younger 
 than himself ; spoke of a time when he used to 
 visit at Farncourt Hall ; and even mentioned her 
 mother's name, which made Blanche start, and a 
 cloud gathered on her brow, but it had passed off as 
 quickly as it had come, and the Marquis appeared 
 not to have noticed it. But did anything escape 
 his eye ? 
 
 " A glass of wine with you, Marquis de Mon- 
 tanvert," said Mr. Holford, anxious to draw his 
 attention from Blanche, for he felt a secret jealousy 
 creeping up in his heart. The Marquis looked 
 much younger than he really was, and it was there- 
 fore not unnatural that Mr. Holford should regard 
 him as a rival, though no fears of that sort troubled 
 Blanche. 
 
 " This Madeira is excellent, try a glass, Bissen- 
 thorpe,'"* said Lord Reynoldforde. " Perhaps the 
 ladies will join, and we will drink to the success of 
 the ' Firefly."' " 
 
 " Hear, hear — good luck to the ' Firefly," and 
 long life to its master." 
 
 " And mistress,'' added Montanvert, bowing to 
 Blanche. She returned the compliment with a cold 
 inclination of the head. 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " That fellow must be put down," thought Hol- 
 tord. " He is always putting his nose first, and 
 taking words out of my mouth." 
 
 Lord Reynoldforde rose, amid great applause, to 
 return thanks for the warmth with which his health 
 had been drunk. He was fond of speaking, and 
 took every opportunity of doing so ; and after a 
 preliminary cough he began. His voice was clear, 
 and he had an easy delivery, but, like most speakers, 
 he said a great deal that was unnecessary, and a 
 great deal that, to all appearance, had no meaning 
 at all ; but to let our readers judge of the merits 
 and demerits for themselves, we will transcribe 
 word for word all that Lord Reynoldforde said, and 
 we hope that having already learned to estimate his 
 character as it deserves, they will not judge it too 
 harshly, or compare it with some few gifted speakers 
 of the day, who shine like stars from amid a herd 
 of our acquaintance, who, though they too do speak, 
 had much better never have attempted the art at 
 all. 
 
 As we said before. Lord Reynoldforde coughed, 
 put both his hands on the table, and leaned for- 
 wards, to give his hearers a better chance of catch- 
 ing every word, we suppose, although his audience 
 consisted of very few ; and then smiling benignly on 
 all, he began — 
 
 " The warmth with which you have drunk my 
 health, and wished prosperity to my little vessel, 
 is, I assure you, my good friends, highly gratifying
 
 BRIMELSEA. 219 
 
 to me, and I scarcely know how to express all I 
 feel reoardins: it. Our cruise to-dav has thus far 
 been most successful ; may It continue to be so to 
 the end, and may this be but the beginning of a 
 succession of pleasant excursions equally promising, 
 for believe me, my dear friends, you cannot afford 
 me greater pleasure than by consenting frequently 
 to become my guests, and by considering the ' Fire- 
 fly' as it were a second home. Though I grant 
 the accommodation cannot be so good as what you 
 would have on shore, still I have endeavoured, with 
 the valuable assistance of my kind friend Montan- 
 vert, to make it as comfortable as circumstances will 
 admit ; and I flatter myself that you do not find 
 a residence on board the ' Firefly ' quite intolerable, 
 judging from the kind way in which you one and 
 all wished my little vessel every prosperity." (Hear, 
 hear.) 
 
 " Before again seating myself, I cannot refrain 
 from proposing another toast, which I feel sure 
 will be responded to with ardour, when I say that 
 I am greatly indebted to the person to whom I 
 allude for many valuable hints, and much active 
 service, in the fitting up and perfecting of the 
 ' Firefly.' We were school-fellows in our youth" 
 (the Marquis winced slightly), " and have, I may 
 say, been friends ever since, though unavoidable 
 separations have, I now grieve to say, often oc- 
 curred. I think I need scarcely tell you, I allude 
 
 l2
 
 220 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 to the Marquis de Mont an vert, and now with plea- 
 sure drink his health." 
 
 Lord Reynoldforde filled his glass and drank it 
 off; the toast was responded to with cold polite- 
 ness, and Blanche's glass returned to the table un- 
 touched, a fact which did not escape the eye of the 
 Marquis. 
 
 " Lord Reynoldforde's speech was short and 
 sweet," said Mr. Holford, in a whisper to Maud. 
 " He is not generally so brief." 
 
 The truth was the Baron had intended to address 
 the company at much greater length, but finding 
 himself in the act of praising the Marquis, he 
 thought it better to propose his health at once, 
 which he did accordingly, and reseated himself 
 amidst great applause. 
 
 " Have you known Lord Reynoldforde long ?" 
 inquired Maud of Mr. Holford. 
 
 " I have frequently met him in society in London, 
 but till now I have not had the pleasure of a nearer 
 acquaintance." 
 
 The Marquis now rose to return thanks, which 
 he did in a short but elegant French speech ; and 
 although the delivery did not occupy him more 
 than from five to ten minutes, he managed to com- 
 pliment every one there present, from Blanche down 
 to Captain Bissenthorpe. 
 
 Not long after this the ladies retired to a little 
 cabin adjoining Blanche's sleeping apartment, which 
 was fitted up as a sitting-room. The furniture con-
 
 BRIMELSEA. 221 
 
 sisted of a work table, a sofa, two chairs, a hanging 
 book-case, and a small cottage piano. The room 
 could not have held more than three persons com- 
 fortably, although there was accommodation for 
 four to sit down, but being intended for Blanche's 
 use alone, it was amply large enough. 
 
 " You did not show me this dear little room, 
 Blanche, when I came to see the cabins — how was 
 that V 
 
 " For a very good reason,'' replied the other, 
 laughing. " You asked me as a great favour to let 
 you go on deck." 
 
 " I am sure you had time to see everything 
 thoroughly,'"* said Mademoiselle Lafoure. 
 
 " Yes, but we began gossiping in my room, 
 and wasted all the time. It was my fault, but I 
 wanted to have a little private conversation with 
 Maud." 
 
 " I think it is very impolite of the English 
 gentlemen to prefer sitting over their wine to the 
 society of ladies," said Mademoiselle Lafoure, 
 glancing at the heavy red curtain that divided the 
 saloon from their little apartment, " especially on 
 a party of pleasure like this ; it would never be 
 done in French society." 
 
 " Oh !" said Blanche, yawning, "it is a great 
 relief to get rid of them ; they never let one have a 
 moment's peace, excepting when their wine comes 
 between, and happily divides us." 
 
 " For my part I like the gentlemen," rejoined 
 the French lady.
 
 222 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " That is because you have not too much of their 
 society. They are all very well when you see them 
 once a day for an hour or so, but when it comes to 
 all day, it is quite another affair." 
 
 " Perhaps you judge from such persons as the 
 Marquis de Montanvert, Captain Bissenthorpe, &c»," 
 said Mademoiselle Lafoure, turning her eyes 
 searchingly on Blanche. 
 
 " We always speak from our own experience, but 
 I was not alluding to any one in particular." 
 
 " Ah, you will think differently some day when 
 that cold heart of yours has played you false, and 
 run away." 
 
 Blanche laughed. "The man I could love does 
 not exist ; besides, I could not bear the position of 
 a wife. I like to rule myself, to be independent 
 and free as air." 
 
 " All very delightful — who does not love freedom 1 
 but the kind you mean, is incompatible with our 
 position ; we cannot shake off the restraints society 
 imposes on us, and as we cannot be independent, it 
 is better to have the protection of a husband." 
 
 " Protection !" exclaimed Blanche. " A pretty 
 protection they often give !" 
 
 " You are speaking of a few sad cases ; it is not 
 always so," interrupted Maud. " There are more 
 happy marriages in the world than unhappy ones." 
 
 "Have I got, then, two antagonists?" said 
 Blanche ; and she added, with a sneer, " but I forgot, 
 they say women always wish to marry ; I am sure
 
 BRIMELSEA. 223 
 
 nature made a mistake in making me a woman, I 
 never could have been meant for one."" 
 
 Maud threw her arms round her friend's neck 
 and whispered — " I am very glad the mistake was 
 made," and thus the discussion ended. 
 
 When the dessert had been cleared away, and the 
 saloon put in order, the whole party again col- 
 lected. Games of chess and cards were formed, 
 songs were sung, and a charade rehearsed witli 
 great eclat. It was eleven o'clock at night 
 before the " Firefly" again approached the town. 
 Lights flickered in every direction, and their bright 
 reflections sparkled in the water, rivalling even in 
 brilliancy the phosphoric light that shot out in 
 lines of sulphuric fire wherever the water was dis- 
 turbed. Our party saw nothing of this, the 
 beauty of the night was lost upon them ; they 
 were too much engrossed with their amusements in 
 the saloon, and were unconscious of the vessel 
 having neared the harbour, till shouts from above 
 and certain peculiar movements informed them of 
 the fact.
 
 224 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 TROUBLES. 
 
 " Can you spare me half an hour this morning, my 
 dear Miss Massing!" said Lydia Carpenter, enter- 
 ing that lady's sitting-room. " I want to consult 
 you about my troubles ; do not be frightened, it is 
 not the same question I asked you about the day 
 before yesterday, that is now arranged ; I am for- 
 bidden to enter Mr. Montague's church, and am 
 never again to attend early service. I wrote to 
 him directly and told him all ; he called yesterday, 
 and saw my father. I am afraid the interview was 
 not agreeable to him ; he looked very pale when 
 he came to me, bade me obey my parents, and gave 
 me his blessing ; it was so like an eternal leave- 
 taking, that it made me very unhappy — and to 
 think that I am to be deprived for ever of his 
 counsel and advice is most painful. You must not 
 abandon me. Miss Massing. If I still have the 
 privilege of seeing your good, kind face, I shall, I 
 hope, be patient, but it is hard to bear." 
 
 She paused, and seeing that bright tears were
 
 BRIMELSEA. 225 
 
 trickling down her friend's cheek, she said, " But 
 this is very selfish of me, I ought not to give you 
 pain, and will now talk about Arthur's letter, 
 which I received this morning. My father does not 
 as yet know anything about it ; I want to ask 
 your opinion as to whether I ought to show it him 
 or not. Dear, dear Miss Massing, do not distress 
 yourself about me. See, I am. happy again, it was 
 only a passing shadow of regret, and it is all 
 gone ; it was nothing but selfishness — you must not 
 be unhappy on my account. Shall I read the letter 
 aloud to you? here it is." 
 
 Miss Massing wiped the tears from her eyes, 
 and nodded her head in assent. Lydia unfolded 
 the letter, and read aloud in as steady a voice a^ 
 she could command. It ran as follows : — 
 
 "Dear Lid — You may be anxious about our 
 safety, and to avoid giving you any unnecessary 
 anxiety, I take the first opportunity of writing you 
 these lines. You have always been an affectionate 
 sister to me, and I look back on the past with plea- 
 sure, so far as it was connected with you. It is 
 true, we had a little too much preachment at times, 
 but you will be glad to hear it has had a good 
 effect on me, and I make a first-rate husband. T 
 regretted that your absence from the marriage was 
 unavoidable, but it went off very well, and we are 
 now extremely comfortable in our London lodgings. 
 Alice had saved a good deal of money, and that. 
 
 l5
 
 226 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 together with the little I had by me, will last us 
 till I get a clerkship. I have heard of one already, 
 but I dare say it will not suit me ; there is not any 
 occasion to hurry. As there is no necessity to 
 conceal our whereabouts any longer, I have put the 
 address at the top of the page, and shall be glad of 
 a letter when you can find time from your numer- 
 ous duties at the school. Alice hopes it is all going 
 on well, and that Mr. Montague has found no 
 trouble in supplying her place ; she is sorry she 
 was obliged to leave the town so suddenly, and if 
 any of the tradesmen send in their bills, she hopes 
 you will be kind enough to forward them to us 
 here. She would have written to you herself, but 
 I thought this long epistle would be as much as 
 you could wade through. I hope the governor was 
 not very angry ; he will come round in time, I have 
 no doubt. Keep him in a good humour, and then 
 when we come down to Brimelsea, which we shall 
 do some day, he will be all right again, and receive 
 Alice as a daughter ; a prettier, nicer one he could 
 not have, even if he had chosen her himself. Give 
 our love to those who will accept it, and 
 
 " Believe me to be, your affectionate brother, 
 
 " Arthur.'" 
 
 Miss Massing raised her hands in amazement ; 
 all trace of sorrow had fled from her face, and 
 indignation was marked in every line. Her cap 
 and hair even expressed the general feeling, by
 
 BRIMELSEA. 227 
 
 collecting together as much as they could on the 
 top of her head. 
 
 " The cold-hearted, impertinent creature !'' were 
 the first words she gave vent to. 
 
 Lydia actually smiled, and folding up the letter, 
 said gently — " I see, I must not show this to my 
 father, your words have decided its fate,"*' and she 
 tore it into little morsels, placing each one on the 
 fire. 
 
 " That is right ; I only regret to think those 
 little atoms will not be burnt till next winter," said 
 Miss Massing, eagerly. 
 
 Lydia smiled sadly. "And that letter was from 
 my brother !" she said, with a sigh. 
 
 " A brother in name only, and quite undeservino: 
 of such a sister." 
 
 Lydia put her hand gently on Miss Massing's 
 mouth. " You must not praise me," she said, 
 '' I am very far from good, and was not the sister 
 I ought to have been to him. I might have fore- 
 seen all this misery and prevented it, but alas !" 
 
 " Let by-gones be by-gones ; you have nothing 
 to upbraid yourself with, I feel sure of that. 
 Lydia." 
 
 " I was not conscious of doing wrong at the time, 
 but we are often sufferers from our own blindness, 
 and the only way I can possibly atone to my father 
 for what I have done, is by reconciling him to the 
 marriage. A hard task lies before me, and I tremble 
 when I think of my own weakness ; you must pray
 
 228 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 for me, dear Miss Massing, I know my cause is a 
 good one, and I will struggle on, hoping to the 
 end." A fit of coughing prevented her speaking 
 for some moments, and it sounded to herself as a 
 call from the grave. 
 
 " You should not have come out to-day with 
 your cough, it was wrong of you," said Miss 
 Massing, looking sorrowfully at her. 
 
 " I had my muzzle on," said she, laughing. " I 
 always think myself at liberty to walk anywhere, 
 when I have it over my mouth." 
 
 " Do you, then, wear a respirator?" 
 
 '' Yes, I have this winter, and I find it a great 
 comfort, for you know my chest is weak." 
 
 " You never told me that, Lydia. It is not in 
 the family, I hope I you must take great care." 
 
 " My mother's sister died of consumption," said 
 Lydia, very gravely. "• I sometimes think I have 
 inherited that complaint." 
 
 " You frighten me ; pray do not speak of such 
 things." 
 
 " But if it were to prove a reality, would it be 
 so very sad ?" 
 
 " We should lose you," was all Miss Massing 
 could say, and the tears again started to her sym- 
 pathising eye. 
 
 " But it might be the best for us all. My death 
 might do more good than my life ; dying words 
 are long remembered ; a last request seldom falls 
 on dull ears. You can imagine what I mean. Do
 
 BRIMELSEA. 229 
 
 not let us pray that such an occurrence may not 
 take place, but that I may be prepared to meet an 
 early death, and that in dying I may do good." 
 
 " It must not be ; you are always doing good. 
 The poor could never lose a greater friend than you 
 have always been to them, from your earliest child- 
 hood. I can remember you years ago, when I 
 first came to Brimelsea; it was the same thing- 
 then, only of course in a different way. I have 
 not forgotten your giving your dinner to the 
 beggar woman, and going without any pudding 
 because you thought poor Nanny Merton, who 
 was laid up with a broken arm, would like it." 
 
 " It gave me pleasure to do that, I exercised no 
 self-denial, so you must not praise me; and, in- 
 deed, I am far from good, you have a much 
 better opinion of me than 1 deserve. I am afraid 
 it is very presumptuous of me, but I sometimes 
 fancy it would be easier to have borne death in the 
 times of persecution, than to struggle with lesser 
 trials in the cause of religion ; there is so much 
 that flatters the imagination and pride in dying for 
 one's faith, but the petty self-denials of every-day 
 life off'er no earthly lure. It is harder to crucify 
 the mind, than the flesh." 
 
 " I cannot quite agree with you, Lydia. I am 
 such a poor, weak body, I should never have had 
 strength sufficient to die for my religion. Thank 
 heaven, I was not born in the days when all true 
 believers might be called on to do so."
 
 230 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " I see you think me presumptuous," said 
 Lydia. 
 
 " No, people are happily not alike. Some are 
 strong in faith, some weak ; some are adherents to 
 religion only in times of peace, and fall away when 
 danger comes near them, whilst some again are 
 always true. These last are often the most sorely 
 tried, but then their reward will be the greater in 
 heaven. You, Lydia, have had much to bear, and 
 have acted throughout blamelessly : there are many 
 good intentioned people who would envy your op- 
 portunities of action, and yet who would never 
 have fulfilled that position as you have. We are 
 all tried according to our powers, each day shows 
 us that more plainly." 
 
 " You must not flatter me. Miss Massing. 
 Vanity is my besetting sin." 
 
 The door opened as she said this, and Maud 
 entered hurriedly. " Blanche has come with 
 Mademoiselle Lafoure, Mr. Holford, and Captain 
 Macklaren," a slight blush overspread her face as 
 she mentioned the last name, " and they want me 
 to walk with them on the beach. I have half pro- 
 mised to go, may I ?" 
 
 " Take care of the tide ; we must not have such 
 an adventure as that over again ; it has given 
 Lydia a dreadful cough," said Miss Massing. 
 
 " There is no fear at all to-day ; besides, we will 
 not venture so far. I may go, may I not V 
 
 Miss Massing immediately assented, and after
 
 BRIMELSEA. 231 
 
 apologising to Lydia for running away so soon, 
 Maud left the room to prepare for her walk. 
 
 " I hope she will take care of herself, and not 
 run any risk," continued the anxious Miss Massing, 
 looking as if she would much like to follow her 
 niece, and act guardian over her safety. " I always 
 feel nervous now, when I lose sight of Maud, par- 
 ticularly when she goes to the beach.'"' 
 
 " I do not think there is any occasion for fear. 
 Such adventures do not happen twice in a lifetime, 
 and Maud has bought her experience somewhat 
 dearly. What ages it seems to me have passed 
 over our heads since that memorable day — it was 
 like the forerunner of evil. Far rather would I 
 endure the fear of that raging sea again, than go 
 through all the suffering I have since had to bear." 
 
 " There are few people who can look on death 
 as fearlessly as you." 
 
 "It is not exactly death one thinks of in such 
 moments as those ; there is an overwhelming dread 
 of something, but I am sure it was not of death — at 
 least, in my case, it was entirely undefined. I was 
 quite unable to think at all.'"' 
 
 " Yet I was told you had the most presence of 
 mind of the party,'' said Miss Massing. 
 
 " Some one who wished to flatter me, told you 
 that — I did nothing that could justify such praise. 
 Presence of mind is a gift I have always envied ; 
 a person who possesses it must have a strono-
 
 232 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 character and great determination ; I am afraid I 
 have neither the one nor the other." 
 
 " Whether you have or no, there is one inesti- 
 mable gift you possess, and that is, a great deal of 
 spirit. I should be crushed by half the sorrow you 
 have gone through, and, in spite of it all, you can 
 smile as brightly as you used, long ago, before any 
 serious trouble fell on your head.'' 
 
 Lydia looked at her friend, and said, softly, " I 
 think, if we have taught ourselves to open our 
 hearts to the sorrows of others, to share with them 
 their grief, and have striven all our lives to sympa- 
 thise and comfort the afflicted, we do not feel the 
 burden of sorrow so much when it falls on ourselves, 
 but are, as it were, prepared to meet it, and we all 
 must suffer in this world." 
 
 Miss Massing brushed the tears away, that had 
 forced themselves, against her intention, from her 
 eye, and said, gently — 
 
 " Yes, I have seen a great deal of sorrow in my 
 life, but it has been a very happy one on the whole. 
 I have been highly blessed — good parents, kind 
 friends, and many, many enjoyments." 
 
 " Life could not fail to be bright to such as you," 
 and Lydia stooped down and kissed her fondly. 
 
 Maud was not long preparing for her walk, and 
 soon joined the rest of the party, who were walk-
 
 BRIMELSEA. 233 
 
 ing up and down before the Boarding House, waiting 
 for her. 
 
 "None the worse for our boating yesterday, I 
 hope, Maud," said Blanche, shaking her warmly 
 by the hand. " Mr. Holford has been kind enough 
 to introduce Captain Macklaren to us, and he has 
 promised to be of our party to-morrow. I hope he 
 is prepared to see a most superior performance in 
 the way of charades," and Blanche turned to look 
 at him. 
 
 " Being a bad actor myself, I could not criticise," 
 said he, abstractedly. 
 
 " Miss Erving takes a very prominent part," 
 suggested Mr. Holford, " and acts as if it were her 
 profession." 
 
 Maud bit her lip ; she was vexed with him, for 
 there was a certain twinkle in his eye she did not 
 like, and he seemed to have some understanding 
 with his friend, for Captain Macklaren frowned 
 slightly, as if to prevent his saying any more. 
 Maud was puzzled as to what their looks could 
 mean, and putting her arm within Blanche's, she 
 led her forward, and took no more notice of the 
 gentlemen, who were soon engaged in a dispute 
 with Mademoiselle Lafoure upon politics. 
 
 Captain Macklaren was a tory of the olden time, 
 Mr. Holford had no very decided opinions, and 
 Mademoiselle Lafoure was republican in her views. 
 She considered Louis Napoleon the worst enemy to 
 his country ; called him upstart and villain, whilst
 
 234 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 she extolled the virtues of Lamartine, and mourned 
 over the early death of the republic. She had studied 
 English politics, was fond of reading the news- 
 papers, and formed very vague ideas as to the pro- 
 ceedings of parliament, and the characters of public 
 men. Lord Palmerston was, in her opinion, all 
 that was bad, and when she spoke of the state of 
 England, she shook her head gravely, as if she 
 thought it fast falling to the ground. 
 
 "Poor England, its sun has set!" she said; 
 " ever since the time of Cromwell, England's glory 
 has been declinins:." 
 
 " If that is the case, I must confess we have 
 gone down very imperceptibly," said Mr. Holford, 
 smiling. 
 
 " Ah, you English see things through very 
 partial eyes ; we are the best judges, for we can 
 look on from a distance, without being touched 
 with any feeling save pity." 
 
 " Might you not add, save envy ? It is impos- 
 sible for us poor human creatures, full of failings as 
 we are, not to look with a jealous eye on all that 
 is not belonging to us," said Mr. Holford, gravely. 
 " We like to pull our neighbours to pieces, how 
 much more then, do we love to magnify the faults 
 of nations that may be greater than our own; we 
 cannot help feeling envious, and however charitable 
 the individual, there is always a certain national 
 pride, which often leads us into the commission of 
 the petty sin of spite."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 235 
 
 "All, you English gentlemen are so narrow- 
 minded, you cannot understand anything beyond 
 the limits of your island; the great continent, with 
 all its striving souls, might sink from sight alto- 
 gether, and you would not mind, you would not 
 even turn to see what was going on, but would 
 pride yourselves on being safe on English ground. 
 Take care, it is shaking under your feet," and 
 Mademoiselle Lafoure shook her parasol, as if to 
 represent the condition of England. 
 
 "And what is France doing?" demanded Mr. 
 Holford. 
 
 She turned up her hands and eyes : " Ma foil 
 do not ask me. My dear country labours under 
 the iron rule of a tyrant ; may he meet the doom 
 he well deserves ; it could be no crime to murder 
 the man who never scrupled to commit wholesale 
 murder on the sons of France. I should like to 
 have him here in ray power — ah, cet homme^ he is 
 not fit to live!" 
 
 " Your judgment is surely harsh ; he has done 
 much good to his country," said Captain Mack- 
 laren. 
 
 " Good ! Where can we find it \ You are 
 joking. Monsieur; no one can think Napoleon has 
 done good. See how he raised himself to the 
 throne ; was it through fair means ? No ; a thousand 
 times I would answer, no ! He is false, ambitious, 
 and vile ; to think of him makes me blush for my 
 country. But Frenchmen will rise, they will not
 
 236 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 suffer themselves long to be ruled by such a man ; 
 he has not even the bravery of his uncle, which 
 alone could make his name resound to his honour. 
 You English admire him because he is a king; 
 you would bow your heads before any one that had 
 rank ; I laugh at your weakness, as the continent 
 laughs at you. A time will come, when your 
 eyes will be opened, and you will find Napoleon an 
 enemy, not a friend. Remember, Waterloo has to 
 be avenged." 
 
 " You expect war, then. Mademoiselle Lafoure; 
 you do not, I hope, wish for it ?" 
 
 " Waterloo has to be avenged," she repeated, 
 coldly turning her head from them, and looking 
 towards the sea; then suddenly stopping, she said 
 gaily, " How serious we have become ; we must not 
 talk of politics, we do not agree, and I should be 
 sorry to quarrel, so let us change our theme. 
 Blanche, dear, and Maud, do you intend walking 
 together all the time f 
 
 " Certainly not," replied the former ; " but you 
 appeared so engrossed in your political dispute, 
 that, in self-defence, Maud and I have been amus- 
 ing ourselves in front. Will you promise not to 
 talk politics any more ?" 
 
 " Yes, if you will answer one question before we 
 leave the topic. What are your views, Miss Farn- 
 court ?" asked Mr. Holford. 
 
 " I ?" said Blanche; " oh, anything that is most 
 convenient ; I know nothing about the matter, and
 
 BRIMELSEA. 237 
 
 care less, so long as I am in a comfortable position 
 myself." 
 
 " What a selfish view, Blanche ; that is not like 
 you at all," said Maud. 
 
 " It must be like me, as I tell the truth — I really 
 mean what I say ; but now that I have answered 
 Mr. Holford's question, we will drop the topic, 
 politics are such a dull, unsatisfactory theme, 
 they always make people angry, and the more 
 they talk the more exaggerated their opinions 
 become.^' 
 
 Thus they chatted on, Blanche walking fast with 
 the two gentlemen, and Maud lingering behind 
 with her old school-mistress. She had never been 
 so great a favourite with her as Blanche but 
 Mademoiselle Lafoure loved all her pupils, and 
 though she had left their religious training very 
 much to chance, she had had, tliroughout, most 
 amiable, engaging girls to instruct, and her school 
 was much liked, both by pupils and parents. 
 
 " Can you tell me anything about that Mr. Hol- 
 ford?" asked Mademoiselle Lafoure of Maud, when 
 they were sufficiently far out of hearing. 
 
 '-'- Not much ; he is a man of good family, and 
 the next heir to a very extensive property." 
 
 " Indeed ; and where is his family now 2" 
 
 " That I cannot say ; he is staying at Lady 
 Macklaren's, just now/" 
 
 "He seems to have taken a great fancy to 
 Blanche. I was anxious to know about him on
 
 238 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 that account. Lord Eeynoldforde does not think 
 of these things, and poor Blanche has to endure 
 the society of people she would never have met 
 with in her mother's lifetime/' 
 
 " I was not aware of that ; I suppose you allude 
 to the Marquis de Montanvert," said Maud, 
 gravely. 
 
 " Yes, a very designing man, and if report says 
 true, he is far from being a fit person for a father 
 to introduce to a daughter. Poor Blanche ! she 
 feels the loss of a mother most deeply." 
 
 " Can you not protect her from this Marquis V 
 asked Maud. " She seems to dislike him very 
 much ; surely if you were to represent what sort of 
 a man he is. Lord Eeynoldforde would never let 
 him enter the house ajrain." 
 
 "Ah, Miss Erving, you are very good, but you 
 do not know men's characters. I should only get 
 the credit for being a meddler in what did not con- 
 cern me. No, things must take their course ; 
 Blanche has plenty of determination, and is, I am 
 happy to say, well principled ; I can trust her to 
 act rightly towards every one. She knows more 
 of this Marquis than she chooses to confess, I am 
 sure of that." 
 
 "Do you think he is in love with her?" asked 
 Maud, eagerly. 
 
 " No, there is no appearance of it, and I am a 
 good judge in such matters ; besides, he is old 
 enough to be her father, no one could ever suspect
 
 BRIMELSEA. 239 
 
 him of that. The Marquis was at school with Lord 
 E-eynoldforde, and a sad, wild life they led in Paris 
 afterwards, just before the latter married. I can 
 remember Lady Reynoldforde very well ; she was 
 so exquisitely beautiful, that every one raved about 
 her in Paris ; she was reported to be going to 
 marry several people, and, amongst others, the 
 Marquis de Montanvert ; they were seen a great 
 deal together, and many people would not believe 
 that she was engaged to Lord Reynoldforde instead. 
 Poor thing ! it was a bold act to marry such a gay 
 young man as he was. They left Paris almost 
 directly after the wedding, and went to live on 
 his estate ; I knew nothing more after that, till 
 Blanche was sent to me to be educated.*" 
 
 " And do you believe that the Marquis still con- 
 tinues his gay lifeT' asked Maud. 
 
 " Nay, I know nothing of his subsequent history. 
 I only fear it, and am anxious to see he does not 
 act towards Blanche and her father in a way that 
 mio^ht be detrimental to both.'' 
 
 " You puzzle me, Mademoiselle. Is there really 
 cause to fear him ?" 
 
 " I only suspect that his friendship is not sin- 
 cere, and knowing the great influence he has over 
 Lord Reynoldforde, I am anxious lest he should 
 lead him back into his old habits. Something in 
 Blanche's manner makes me think she has the 
 same fear I have, but she never mentions the
 
 240 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 subject, which is natural when it so nearly con- 
 cerns her father." 
 
 " Poor Blanche ! " exclaimed Maud, and her 
 thoughts recurred to the interview she had had 
 with her alone in her cabin. 
 
 " Lord Reynoldforde is very weak," continued 
 Mademoiselle Lafoure. " He used to gamble in 
 Paris, but his wife, I am told, weaned him from 
 that dreadful vice. The Marquis is, I believe, an 
 exile ; but I have never heard the exact reason of 
 his quitting Paris — it may have been from some 
 other cause less noble than that of fio-htin^ for 
 freedom. I do not think he ever was brave." 
 
 " You seem to entertain a very bad opinion of 
 him. I quite tremble for Blanche ; it must be a 
 hard trial to treat a man you detest and despise as 
 a friend, and to see his influence daily increasing 
 upon her father ; yet she does not appear to feel it 
 much — she is as cheerful as she used to be." 
 
 " To outward appearance — but I doubt if it 
 comes from the heart — people may sometimes smile 
 mechanically. I think, from the little I have yet 
 seen, that Blanche is greatly changed — there is a 
 morbid feeling of dislike to the world, which she 
 never had when a child ; her entrance into life 
 seems to have given her the impression that all is 
 false ; she must have met with disappointment, 
 though I do not know in what shape it has pre- 
 sented itself to her." 
 
 " Is not that Lord Reynoldforde and the Mar-
 
 BRIMELSEA. 241 
 
 quis V said Maud, pointing to two figures in the 
 distance. " It is very like the latter."' 
 
 "There is no doubt about it. I could never 
 mistake the Marquis ; there is something myste- 
 rious in his very walk, and I always know my 
 countrymen." 
 
 A few minutes had scarcely elapsed before they 
 were joined by the last-mentioned gentlemen. 
 
 " Glad to see you, Holford ; we want to consult 
 you about the charade dresses," said Lord Rey- 
 noldforde. "The Marquis and I have decided 
 that the end of the saloon could easily be turned 
 into a very passable stage ; but the dresses puzzle 
 me. What is to be done V 
 
 *' Why not act in our ordinary dresses?" asked 
 Blanche. " The pieces we have selected are only 
 scenes from every- day life." 
 
 There were some doubts as to whether this 
 would be considered effective enough ; but the 
 Marquis gave his vote in favour of Blanche's pro- 
 posal, and it was finally agreed upon. 
 
 " This being the case, there will be very little pre- 
 paration needed," said Lord Reynoldforde. " And 
 there can be no doubt as to our being fully prepared 
 by to-morrow evening. We have sent the carpenters 
 on board with full directions, and I hope they are 
 hard at work now.'" 
 
 "Must not we have another rehearsal ?" asked 
 Maud. " I begin to dread having to act." 
 
 " You can repeat your part before Miss Mas- 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 sing,"" said Blanche. " I intend to rehearse before 
 Mademoiselle Lafoure this evening, if she will be 
 so kind as to listen to my ravings." 
 
 " Where is Captain Bissenthorpe V asked Lord 
 Reynoldforde. " Have you seen him this morning, 
 Holford?" 
 
 " No, he was on duty when I went to the bar- 
 racks, but he is sure to be on the parade this after- 
 noon." 
 
 " I have asked him to bring as many of the 
 officers as like to come, and I hope, Miss Erving, 
 you will prevail on your aunt to be of the party 
 to-morrow. Should you have any other friends in 
 Brimelsea who would think it worth their while to 
 be present at such a scene, I hope you will bring 
 them. Blanche and I can promise to do our best 
 to entertain them well." 
 
 Maud thanked Lord Reynoldforde warmly, said 
 she was sure her aunt would be delio:hted to be of 
 the party, but that she knew no people in the town 
 to ask. 
 
 " Would not the Polish Count enjoy seeing you 
 act V asked Blanche with a smile. 
 
 " Ah, a very good-looking fellow," said Lord 
 Reynoldforde, not hearing the last part of the 
 sentence. " Pray bring him with you, I should 
 like to be introduced. A Pole, is he, Blanche?" 
 
 " Nay, do not appeal to me ; Maud is the best 
 acquainted with his history." 
 
 " I know very little about him, I assure you,
 
 BRIMELSEA. 243 
 
 farther than that he arrived at Brimelsea in the 
 same train as myself, and has since resided at the 
 Boarding House. He seems to have no profession, 
 but is an exile from his country." 
 
 " But his name ? As he is to be my guest, I 
 have a right to know his name," persisted Lord 
 Reynoldforde. 
 
 " Count Porskinski," said Maud, smiling. " It 
 is not hard to pronounce, which is more than can 
 be said for most German names." 
 
 "I do not agree — Porskinski — it is harsh 
 enough, at all events. Can you master it, Mon- 
 tanvert?" 
 
 The Marquis shrugged his shoulders, and did 
 not attempt the hard lesson. " I shall find difii- 
 culties enough to-morrow to master the eccentri- 
 cities of your language. Pray do not task my powers 
 of speech too severely. This Polish gentleman 
 will, I have no doubt, be able to speak French — it 
 is the polite language of Germany." 
 
 " It used to be," said Maud, hastily, " but I am 
 happy to say the Germans know how to appreciate 
 their own language now." 
 
 Captain Macklaren looked at her, and their eyes 
 met. Maud let hers drop, and a slight blush over- 
 spread her face — caused, perhaps^ by excitement. 
 
 M 2
 
 244 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIIL 
 
 A STRANGE QUARREL. 
 
 The charades were over on board the " Firefly," 
 and it was floating at anchor half a mile from the 
 entrance of the harbour ; flags were flying, and 
 coloured lamps illumined the rigging ; the sound 
 of music came softly over the water, and figures 
 were seen flitting round and round in the merry 
 dance. 
 
 " I am so tired !" exclaimed Blanche, as she 
 threw herself upon a bench, after a rapid galop 
 with the Marquis de Montanvert> 
 
 " You dance so beautifully, I wonder you should 
 ever tire," said he, fixing his dark eyes on her. 
 
 " You must wonder no more, then, for I am 
 really tired," continued Blanche, carelessly. 
 
 " We must take into consideration your exer- 
 tions this evening ; when people act as well as you 
 do, they cannot fail to be exhausted with the exer- 
 tion, for good acting calls forth all the powers, 
 both mental and bodily."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 245 
 
 " How beautifully Mr. Holford performed his 
 part !" said Blanche, half speaking to herself. 
 
 " He is clever in comedy, but has not sufficient 
 mind for tragedy," rejoined the other. " Miss 
 Erviug acts with a great amount of esprit^ but the 
 whole thing would have fallen to the ground if it 
 had not been for you ; the tragic scene in which 
 you took so prominent a part was perfect ; it is a 
 pity your extraordinary talent should have so little 
 scope. I never saw a more finished tragic actress. 
 You would create quite a furore in Paris." 
 
 " Then you think tragedy is not called forth in 
 real life," said Blanche, leaning over the side of 
 the vessel, and watching the bright reflection of 
 the moon in the water. 
 
 " Alas ! too often," replied the Marquis, and 
 his voice was low and full of meaning. 
 
 " I like tragedy," continued Blanche. " It fills 
 one with new life, and this world would be tame 
 without it. Who is that man standing near us ?" 
 added she, pointing to a dark figure in the shade, 
 who was watching the dancers. " He cannot be 
 one of the sailors ; I have never seen his face 
 before." 
 
 " He is the new mate. Captain Macklaren in- 
 troduced him, and he came on board this morn- 
 ing." 
 
 " What is his name?" again demanded Blanche. 
 
 " Like all your English sailors — his name is
 
 246 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 Jack. I have not learned the other yet, but it 
 sounded something: like Oatton." 
 
 " Oh/' said Blanche, " he is well recommended. 
 I like his countenance; we must be friends," and 
 she made a movement towards Jack. 
 
 "Will you not finish this galop with me?" 
 asked the Marquis, looking up beseechingly into 
 her face. 
 
 " Thank you, no ; if you will excuse me I shall 
 be much obliged. There is Mademoiselle Lafoure 
 in want of a partner, she dances like a second 
 Madame Michau." 
 
 " Who would prefer the old to the young ?" 
 
 Blanche turned for a moment to look at him. 
 There was the same expression on his face that she 
 had seen there once before, when the lightning had 
 revealed it to her ; a pang of fear shot through her 
 frame, and she hastened away. 
 
 " Beautiful woman ! " murmured the Marquis to 
 himself. " You shall accept the hand your mother 
 refused; and in doing so, you shall become the 
 instrument to wreak my vengeance on your father." 
 
 Blanche did not speak to Jack, as she had first 
 intended doing, but seeing that Maud was standing 
 alone she joined her, and they were soon engaged 
 in an earnest conversation. 
 
 " You make me unhappy, Blanche," said her 
 friend. 
 
 " Why should that be ? I 'm as gay as a lark 
 to-night."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 247 
 
 " It is that which makes me unhappy, for I 
 doubt its being natural, you speak so despondingly 
 at times ; and then you break off into the wildest 
 merriment, laughing and talking even with the 
 man you say you hate, and have every reason to 
 despise." 
 
 "I do so partly because he is my father's friend, 
 and partly because I wish to show him I do not 
 fear him." 
 
 " Is there no fear of your doing mischief by 
 this conduct ? Would it not be better for you to 
 speak openly to your father, if indeed you have 
 good grounds for this suspicion?" 
 
 "Dear Maud, what I do must remain a secret 
 to you. I dare not ask your advice. I have no 
 right to disclose anything concerning my father, 
 and, without doing so, I cannot speak openly with 
 you. Let me still, however, entreat you to think 
 I act from motives I hope and believe to be right, 
 and judge your school friend as lightly now as in 
 the days when I took your penknife and gave it to 
 little Maggie, who was crying because she had lost 
 hers." 
 
 Blanche laughed as she said this, and putting 
 her hand playfully on Maud's mouth, to prevent 
 her saying anything, she continued in a gay tone, 
 
 " What do you think of your last partner. Cap- 
 tain Bissenthorpe, Maud?" 
 
 " Oh, I liked him very much. I think he is a 
 nice person, do not you ?"
 
 248 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " Nice ? That depends upon what you call 
 nice. He is a poor simple creature, who under- 
 stands how to utter the usual amount of compli- 
 ments, although, I am sure, he never originated 
 one. J can make him do anything I like.'' 
 
 ^' That is saying a great deal, Blanche, but you 
 must not be angry with me if I doubt your power 
 of performing what you say." 
 
 '' You shall see, I intend to prove my words ; 
 let us settle what we will make him do — what is 
 he most proud of?" 
 
 "Nay, how can I tell? You had better in- 
 quire of himself." 
 
 " That would spoil all ; besides, there never was 
 a conceited man who would allow vanity was his 
 peculiar fault. How could you suppose such a 
 thing, Maud I Let me see, I ought to know what 
 would be the hardest trial ; he is very proud of his 
 feet, but we cannot ask him to do anything with 
 them. No ; but his whiskers, I am sure he 
 delights in them. I will make him cut them off — 
 that will be a bitter struggle — but he shall do it." 
 
 " What nonsense, Blanche, I wonder you can be 
 so childish ; this is not worthy of you now."' 
 
 " I do not agree with you ; men often treat us 
 as if they thought we were children — at least, that 
 our intellects were no brighter — so we may be 
 allowed to pay them back in their own coin." 
 
 " And show them that we are children !"' 
 
 " Amuse ourselves at their expense, that is all I
 
 BRIMELSEA. 249 
 
 want to do. They often play us false, and you 
 may be very sure I would not act heartlessly if I 
 really thought I should give pain." 
 
 " Perhaps Captain Bissenthorpe has more feeling 
 than you give him credit for, and if you succeed in 
 your wild project, I shall certainly respect him, 
 and nothing will persuade me he is not in love 
 with you." 
 
 " With me ?" ejaculated Blanche, and her lip 
 curled scornfully ; " with my money you mean, 
 Maud. But here comes our sentimental hero, he 
 looks as if he were pining, does he not ? Take 
 care of that Polish Count, Maud," she added in a 
 whisper, " he has been watching you all the even- 
 ing, and looks daggers at Captain Macklaren ; what 
 have you been doing to him V* 
 
 The next instant she was whirling oflf with Cap- 
 tain Bissenthorpe, watching an opportunity to put 
 her desio-ns in execution. 
 
 Count Porskinski had gladly accepted Lord Rey- 
 noldforde's invitation to join the yacht party. He 
 had seen Maud act her part with rapture, and felt 
 jealous of every one else who applauded her ; anxious 
 to be the first to congratulate her in person, at the 
 close of the performance, he hastened towards her, 
 but Captain Macklaren stepped in before him, and 
 he turned away, too proud to second his rival's 
 praise. 
 
 Dancimr beiran : Count Porskinski asked her 
 hand for the waltz that was just beginning. She 
 
 m5
 
 250 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 smiled, and said she was engaged, and he saw her 
 led off by Captain Macklaren. How he hated 
 that man in his heart. Silent and sullen he leaned 
 against the side of the vessel, and watched her fly- 
 ing before him ; he asked himself why he felt so 
 depressed, and his heart answered that he loved 
 her. Did she care for him, however? That he 
 could not tell, but he looked upon Macklaren as 
 one who stood between him and happiness. 
 
 " He, too, loves her," he thought ; " he is even 
 now trying to gain her affections from me. I must 
 act at once ; if I delay longer, my chance will be 
 lost. She shall listen to my history, and pity for 
 the exile will make her soften, and turn to rescue 
 the unfortunate. I will write to her this very 
 night, and tell her all, from the time when I was a 
 little child, and loved my sister with a love as pure 
 as that she now inspires in me. Ah !" he exclaimed 
 aloud, and with an involuntary start, as if he 
 wished to clench something, or dart forward, but 
 he refrained, and sank back upon the seat near 
 him. 
 
 The dance had ceased, Maud was seated, and 
 Captain Macklaren leaned over her; it was this 
 that had caused Count Porskinski to start and 
 frown. 
 
 "He whispers to her," he murmured within him- 
 self; " his words are poison ; he shall die ; to-mor- 
 row morning, before the sun shines on the world.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 251 
 
 either he or I shall have found our grave. May it 
 be my fate, if she really does not love me." 
 
 " You must not censure her to me, Captain 
 Macklaren, we have been friends from childhood, 
 and if she appears thoughtless, she is not so in 
 reality. Blanche was always high-spirited, but 
 she is full of soul ; you do not know her ; you can- 
 not judge from what she seems to be." These 
 were the words which caused Count Porskinski a 
 pang of jealousy, for in giving utterance to them 
 Maud had looked eagerly into her partner's face, 
 and enthusiasm animated her whole countenance. 
 
 " They seem very fond of each other," said Miss 
 Massing to Lady Macklaren, as she sat watching 
 her niece. 
 
 " I am srlad of it. 1 could not wish Roofer to 
 have a better wife ; she has plenty of steadiness of 
 character, and my boy would make her an excellent 
 husband." 
 
 " I am quite sure of that," said kind Miss Mas- 
 sing, taking the fond mother's hand; " he is so like 
 you, I could wish for no better recommendation; 
 you know how I admire all that belongs to you, 
 and how very dear he is to me for your sake." 
 
 " Thank you," said Lady Macklaren, softly. 
 " Roger deserves to be liked, he has been my great- 
 est blessing." 
 
 "And you can give him up, can see another 
 image growing in his heart besides yours, and with-
 
 252 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 out a sigh ?" said Miss Massing, looking admiringly 
 into her friend's face. 
 
 " Not without a sigh," rejoined the other, " but 
 it is for his happiness ; he wants a companion of 
 his own age. I have lived for him, but my time 
 must now be short ; he will need a comforter, some 
 one who will take my place in his heart, and make 
 him miss me less. I shall like to see her leaning 
 on his arm, and, perhaps, the pleasure of watching 
 the growth of a young blossom may still be mine. 
 You see I am very selfish ; we always seek to 
 mingle our own pleasure in our good wishes for 
 others, and though we seem disinterested, we are 
 not so at heart." 
 
 " I wish I were as selfish as you," said Miss 
 Massing, brushing a bright tear from her eye; 
 " but they say old maids always think of number 
 one ; I fear it is the case with me." 
 
 " Will you not consent to dance this quadrille, 
 Miss Massing ?" said Lord Eeynoldforde, approach- 
 ing them. 
 
 "No, thank you, my dancing days are over. 
 Wallflowers must be content to sit and look on," 
 said she, smiling. 
 
 " And yet wallflowers are the brightest gems of 
 our gardens," continued the nobleman. 
 
 " But only in their proper place," suggested 
 Lady Macklaren, laughing. 
 
 It was late when the order to return to shore 
 was given, and the " Firefly" moved smoothly
 
 BRIMELSEA. 253 
 
 towards the harbour. Maud had seated herself 
 beside her aunt, and Blanche was talking gaily to 
 all around. 
 
 '^ A most enjoyable evening this has been," said 
 Miss Massing. " I am sure we are greatly in- 
 debted to Lord Reynoldforde ; Brimelsea has been 
 quite a different place since the ' Firefly' took up 
 its abode in the harbour." 
 
 " I hope to give Miss Massing greater reason to 
 say so before long," said Lord Eeynoldforde, bow- 
 ing, " and I trust, that having once ventured on 
 board, it will not be the last time we shall have the 
 pleasure of seeing you here. Blanche, my dear, 
 do you think we can persuade Miss Massing, and 
 your friend. Miss Erving, to accompany us on our 
 long cruise V 
 
 " Nay, I must leave it to you, papa, to persuade 
 the ladies, you will have more weight than I with 
 them. Maud knows how delighted I should be to 
 have her."" 
 
 " What does this mean V asked Miss Massing. 
 
 " We are o-oino* to take an excursion of some 
 days," said Lord Eeynoldforde, *' and as a pleasant 
 party adds so much to the pleasure of a trip, we 
 are anxious to enf^ao^e our friends in time. What 
 do you say to it. Miss Massing V 
 
 " You are very kind, but really you must not in- 
 clude Maud and myself in your list; I could not let 
 her be absent from me so long, and it would be per- 
 fectly impossible for me to accept your invitation."'"'
 
 254 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " I am very sorry, indeed; but cannot we over- 
 persuade you, if there is no real reason for your 
 refusal r 
 
 '* No, thank you, it must not be. Maud has 
 been put under my care by her guardian, and if 
 she were to come to any harm whilst with me, I 
 should never forgive myself; you must not think 
 of us any more, indeed you must not." 
 
 " Well, as you are so determined, we must sub- 
 mit ; perhaps another day we shall be more suc- 
 cessful, and, as we cannot start this week, there is 
 time enough to think about it." 
 
 " I must not change my mind, must I, Maud V 
 
 " You know best, aunt Lucy," replied her niece, 
 in a slight tone of disappointment. 
 
 " We shall yet win the day," cried Lord Rey- 
 noldforde, laughing at the change in Miss Massing's 
 expression, when she saw that her niece really 
 wished for her consent. 
 
 " Captain Macklaren," continued Lord Reynold- 
 forde, " we may at least reckon upon you." 
 
 " No, thank you, I must not leave home at 
 present, for I have only just returned ; a long 
 absence makes one sing ' Home, sweet home,' when 
 once we feel its influence again." 
 
 "If you really wish to go very much, Maud, 
 dear, we might " 
 
 Miss Massing was instantly interrupted by her 
 niece, who said, hurriedly, " I wish it most certainly, 
 but I do not think it would be good for me, nor
 
 BRIMELSEA. 255 
 
 would it be right. Lord Eeynoldforde is very kind, 
 but I, too, must refuse, against my inclination." 
 
 " Now that is really too bad, Miss Erving, I did 
 hope to have an advocate in you," said Lord Rey- 
 noldforde, reproachfully. 
 
 Lady Macklaren complained of feeling cold, and 
 her son went to bring another shawl from the 
 cabin for her. As he was returning, however, a 
 dark figure encountered him, and brushed rudely 
 past ; without thinking who was in fault. Captain 
 Macklaren turned and begged the stranger's pardon. 
 
 " Sir, I do not accept it," said a voice in a foreign 
 accent. It was Count Porskinski's. 
 
 " I am at a loss to know your meaning," said 
 the other, in great astonishment. 
 
 " I said I do not accept your apology, and wish 
 for satisfaction in another and more honourable 
 way." 
 
 " This is all very incomprehensible ; may I ask 
 what I have done?" 
 
 " Done, sir ! you have acted in an ungentlemanly 
 manner towards me. I am unacquainted with your 
 English customs, but when we seek for satisfaction 
 we receive it." 
 
 " I could never fight a man for whom I felt no 
 animosity, and if I have given you reason to com- 
 plain of me, I hope you will permit me to say it 
 was wholly unintentional." Captahi Macklaren 
 stretched out his hand, but it was not taken. 
 
 '' You have sought to ruin me, and you still do
 
 256 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 SO in your heart ; how can I forgive a man who is 
 so base V 
 
 " This language is wholly unbecoming a man of 
 honour." 
 
 " I wish it to be so ; I long to expiate my fault 
 with my sword; I wish to give you satisfaction, 
 and if you are not a coward, you will accept my 
 challenge." 
 
 " I bear you no ill-will, and believe that all this 
 has arisen from a mistake, and to show how far I 
 am from cherishing any detrimental feeling to you, 
 I offer now to serve you in any way I can." 
 
 " The greatest service you can do me, is to con- 
 sent to act as a man of courage, and meet me n 
 some retired place, to-morrow, before sunrise ; we 
 must not be interrupted; I fight for life and death." 
 
 '' These are dangerous words," said Captain 
 Macklaren, "• and would be considered unpardon- 
 able in an Englishman, but in a foreigner we must 
 make allowances for difference in opinion and man- 
 ners. Let this strange conference be brought to a 
 speedy conclusion, it must be painful to both of us. 
 You have mistaken me for some one else ; I have 
 scarcely the pleasure of your acquaintance." 
 
 "My eyes do not deceive me; the insult you 
 offer me every moment is deep, it touches the heart, 
 through a third person, whose honoured name I 
 will not even breathe." 
 
 " I have a right to know to whom you allude," 
 said Captain Macklaren, reddening.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 257 
 
 " I speak of a lady, as fair as the sky above our 
 heads ; you know whom I mean." 
 
 "I do, and I guess your suspicions," said the 
 other, slowly. 
 
 " Do you still refuse to fight ?" asked the Count, 
 approaching, and gazing eagerly into his adver- 
 sary's face. 
 
 "Yes, I do refuse; the subject over which you 
 wish to fight can be arranged without such severe 
 measures." 
 
 " You think she is not worthy to be striven 
 
 for r 
 
 " I think no honour too great for her." 
 
 " Ah !" exclaimed the Count, stamping his foot 
 on the deck. 
 
 " Hear me out — ladies in England are free to 
 choose their husbands ; to fight me would not 
 bring you an inch nearer the lady on whom you 
 have placed your aifections. Let me teach you to 
 look on the matter in another light. Put me en- 
 tirely out of the question ; you are in daily inter- 
 course with — the name I need not mention — seek 
 her hand openly ; if she loves you she will accept 
 you, and never turn a thought on me ; if not, who 
 but the lady herself could decide such a question ?" 
 
 " You speak in a slighting manner of the most 
 important thing in life," said Count Porskinski. 
 " You could not do so were you in love with the 
 lady of whom we speak. I take your hand, be- 
 lieving this to be the case ; I will follow your ad-
 
 258 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 vice, though the manner in which you offered it 
 was cold and heartless. I thought I hated you 
 five minutes ago — I mistook dislike for hate — but 
 I do so now.'"' 
 
 " Poor fellow ! he is mad,"" thought Captain 
 Macklaren. " He little knows how deeply I love 
 Maud Erving ; his imagination is struck by her 
 beauty ; he loves her as all foreigners do — wildly 
 for the moment — but it soon fades. She does not 
 care for him ; he will soon forget her, at least I 
 hope so." It was with thoughts like these that he 
 again offered his hand to his adversary, and this 
 time it was taken. 
 
 " We part friends, do we not ? " said Captain 
 Macklaren. 
 
 " If you like to call it so, you may, though I 
 cannot. The word friend is dear to me ; it should 
 not be applied lightly ; I see visions of confidence, 
 trust, and reliance. I could never place these in 
 you, we differ as widely as our nations are apart — 
 the world of dreams is mine, the world of practice 
 yours — go, mingle with it and prosper ; I will 
 forget you, and, in forgetting, I will not hate." 
 
 The Count drew himself up as he uttered this 
 speech, and his figure seemed almost gigantic in the 
 half light. Captain Macklaren looked up and 
 admired him. Who does not admire secretly the 
 mystery they cannot unravel I Count Porskinski 
 was a deep mystery to the open-hearted sailor ; 
 there was nothing concealed in his own breast j he
 
 BRIMELSEA. 259 
 
 could not, therefore, understand it in others, and 
 the strange voice and manner of speech had at 
 least the charm of novelty to him, though it did 
 not excite that admiration it would have done in 
 more imao'inative minds than his. 
 
 There is a melancholy pleasure in looking back 
 on days past for ever ; the forms then so familiar 
 rise up like ghosts before us, repeating long- 
 forgotten words, in voices whose accents we once 
 listened to with joy, but which the oblivion of in- 
 tervening years has drowned within our hearts till 
 the magic wand of memory has brought them to 
 our ears aofain. 
 
 o 
 
 Count Porskinski sat in his bedroom all that 
 night, and his pen moved rapidly over the paper 
 lying upon the desk before him. He seldom 
 paused, and when he did it was to brush a tear 
 from his eye, or to gaze out into the clear night, as 
 if to refresh the boundless rano-e of his thous^hts 
 from its kindred eternity of space. A gleam of 
 happiness would spread itself at times over his 
 wan countenance, but it soon faded, and an all- 
 pervading melancholy took its place. 
 
 The manuscript was finished ; the light of day 
 streamed in upon him ; he rose witli a sigh ; his 
 story was told ; he was once more living in the 
 present, and, like the shades of night, the past 
 faded before the bright rays of the rising sun ; 
 fain would he have called it back again, but it was 
 gone.
 
 260 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 The packet was soon sealed carefully, and, put- 
 ting it by in a safe drawer, he did not touch it 
 again till evening had come ; he then took it from 
 its hiding-place, pressed it to his lips, as if loath 
 to part with the record of his joys and sorrows, 
 and gave it to Laurette to put into her mistress'^s 
 hands so soon as she should retire for the night. 
 
 The Frenchwoman was pleased at having to 
 perform such an office, and did her part as she was 
 desired. Let us intrude upon Maud's privacy, and 
 witness the fate of our sealed packet — its contents 
 we have still to learn. 
 
 Maud wondered what the carefully-fastened letter 
 could contain, but she did not attempt to open it 
 till left alone in her room that night, then drawing 
 the candle close to her, she broke the string that 
 bound it together, and with eager curiosity unfolded 
 a neatly-written manuscript — it was several pages 
 Ions:. She seated herself in her arm-chair, cast 
 her eye rapidly over the whole, and then turned to 
 begin in earnest ; a bright blush burned on her 
 cheek, and there was a lustre in her eye which 
 showed how deeply she was interested, and well 
 she might be, for the story was a stirring one, 
 written from the heart, with all the warmth of 
 expression for which the Germans are so famed. 
 Maud dwelt on each word, each line ; but we shall 
 be better able to understand what was passing in 
 her mind if we, too, follow her example, and turn 
 to the commencement of Count Porskinski's story
 
 BRIMELSEA. 261 
 
 — for it was the true story of his life — and for the 
 benefit of our readers, we will here translate it 
 from the original German, though, doubtless, it 
 will lose in pathos by the change to a colder 
 tongue. 
 
 A STORY. 
 
 Each life has its secret. We are all influenced 
 by some opinion, thought, or circumstance, wdiich 
 directs, thouMi invisibly, the course of our whole 
 lives, either for good or bad. We can rarely dis- 
 cover the secret ourselves, except when looking 
 back on a long retrospect of years, throughout 
 which this influence can be clearly traced. Still, 
 some lives are so intricate, that not even the most 
 clever philosopher could unravel their mystery. 
 Mine has been one of these, and thoug-h the weio-ht 
 of years cannot yet be said to oppress me, still the 
 weight of disappointment crushes me to the ground. 
 I am almost a stranger to you, Miss Erving. 
 Pardon me, then, if in seeking to interest, I thus 
 intrude upon you the story of my life, and right 
 blessed will be the moment to me if, in leading you 
 through the mazes of my inner life, the recital 
 should cause a tear of sympathy to start to your 
 eye. Be patient with me, read to the end, and if 
 my manuscript should displease you, burn it ; 
 never let it see the light of day again, but oh ! 
 as you love peace of mind and happiness inexpres- 
 sible, judge not too liarshly, and let the light of
 
 262 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 pity shine on me from your eyes when next we 
 meet ao-ain. 
 
 In Poland, far away from where your lot is cast, 
 in the land where ft-eedom is a dream, to which the 
 most ardent youth could scarce hope to aspire, 
 there lived two happy children — a brother and 
 sister — and their lauo-hino: voices were heard to 
 ring in merry concert the live-long day, for their 
 early life was past amid roses, and the world lay 
 hid from them, veiled in the gorgeous mystery of 
 youthful dreams, whilst shadows only of the dark 
 reality were but faintly mirrored on the peaceftil 
 present of their lives. Well might they be happy, 
 and dream that all was bright ; who would not 
 wish the days of childhood back again ? 
 
 No restraint fettered their movements or their 
 thoughts, they grew together like the wild flowers, 
 and like them they were innocent and pure. Many 
 were their rambles amongst the meadows and pas- 
 tures, many the garlands and wreaths they plucked; 
 all around was bright. How could they, then, 
 but believe that life yet to come would prove as 
 happy as the present, or doubt that the long per- 
 spective of their dreamy future would be peopled 
 by those they loved most dearly. Alas ! how soon 
 did such joyous visions vanish ! Like the lily 
 she resembled, Elsa, my fairy sister, faded ere the 
 scorching rays of life's sun burned her fair brow. 
 I loved her with all the fervour of a young heart, 
 and it was with a pang of deepest agony that I
 
 BRIMELSEA. 263 
 
 learned she could die. I had seen a bird fall dead ; 
 I had been told that it, too, was the fate of 
 mortals, but that she, my own sister, who breathed 
 so freely, was so full of life and hope, to think that 
 she could die ! Oh no, that was too hard, it could 
 not be ; yet so it was, and I have since learned to 
 bless the moment that saw her breathe that last 
 long sigh, and cross her pale hands in the deep, 
 motionless sleep of death. Oh, Elsa ! what bitter, 
 lonely hours I have spent since you were with me ! 
 I never wished you back again — this life is too 
 rough for one so tender — it was well you died amid 
 the roses, and never woke to see the thorns beneath 
 their soft covering, which was all that ever greeted 
 your light footstep. 
 
 With Elsa the dreams of my youth fled for 
 ever, the veil of fancy fell from my eyes, and the 
 world stood out cold and dreary ; it was the same 
 it had ever been, but I was changed. 
 
 Our country life was now broken up ; I was sent 
 to Warsaw to be educated, under the care of an 
 uncle — one of the most excellent men that ever 
 breathed — and I may safely say the year I spent 
 beneath his roof was one of the most peaceful, if 
 not the happiest of my life ; but, alas ! he died, 
 and I was placed at a large school in the town. 
 It was here that my eyes were first opened to the 
 degradation of my country ; I read its history, 
 and my blood boiled with enthusiasm. Most of 
 my comrades shared my views, and often, when
 
 264 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 free from the restraint of our master's presence, we 
 would enact scenes of rebellion, and plan deeper 
 desio:ns for the future. 
 
 I grew up ; was forced to join the Russian army ; 
 to fight for the tyrants I abhorred ; it was a bitter 
 struggle, but I yielded to a mother's prayers. I felt 
 as if I had degraded myself in taking this step ; 
 my conscience smote me every night ; I dreamt of 
 perfidy, escape, and revenge, and would start up 
 from my weary couch with a burning cheek and 
 throbbing head. Each day made me detest the 
 yoke that bound me more and more ; I saw the 
 tyranny exercised upon my unfortunate country- 
 men, and blushed to think I was, as it were, an 
 instrument to keep them in subjection. I never 
 raised a word in praise of the Emperor; I cursed 
 him when they drank his health ; my demeanour 
 did not pass unremarked ; I was laughed at for a 
 patriotism I dared not confess. 
 
 Oh, bitter were those days; no wonder that 
 goaded and enraged, I broke my bonds, and, in 
 seeking revenge, found an exile's lot my portion, 
 and the mountain districts of Tyrol m^^ refuge. 
 Often when alone, upon some hunting excursion, 
 have I stood and watched the mist rise from the 
 valley higher and higher till its insidious breath 
 touched me, and I have almost started when my 
 own imagination has pictured Elsa's child-like 
 form standing gazing at me from the vacancy in 
 front. I would stretch out my hand involuntarily
 
 BRIMELSEA. 265 
 
 to her, and the vision would fly, leaving nought 
 but disappointment behind. 
 
 There is no peace for an exile's foot ; I wearied 
 of those mountain fastnesses and fled to Italy, but 
 here suspicion found me. Austria looks with a 
 jealous eye upon the lovers of freedom, and T 
 quitted Lombardy and sought employment and 
 distraction first in Rome, then in Paris, and since 
 that time in London. 
 
 Many eventful years have rolled over my head ; 
 I am old in experience, but yet not old ; I am but 
 thirty -two, and ten years of my life alone have 
 been spent in my native country amidst my friends. 
 You, who are surrounded by so many loving hearts, 
 can scarcely imagine the misery of entire separa- 
 tion ; they say time accustoms us to everything — 
 it has not been so with me. I could not bear to 
 see the social happiness of the families into which 
 my profession introduced me in London. I envied 
 them, and in desperation I sought to find solitude 
 here. 
 
 Fate has ordained it otherwise. I have met 
 with friends ; a faint shadow of what once was 
 mine illumines my inner life, and makes my pulse 
 beat quicker with hope — may it not prove my 
 greater ruin. I stood upon the platform of a Lon- 
 don station waiting till the train should start. 
 There was a figure standing near me, tall and 
 graceful ; I watched it ; the head turned, and 
 Elsa's features were before me. My heart bounded. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 Could it be that Elsa had not died, but had grown 
 up, and now stood beside me ? Wild fancy that it 
 was ; I cherished it but for a few brief moments, 
 and then the delusion vanished. It was not Elsa, 
 but one who reawakened in my breast feelings 
 long grown cold — feelings that made my blood run 
 warmer through my veins, and my heart beat at 
 the sound of a woman's voice. 
 
 Fond dreams gladdened my nights. I looked 
 forward to each day, and welcomed with enthu- 
 siasm every hour spent in her company ; she spoke 
 to me of home, of country, and smiled on me till 
 my very existence was lost in ecstacy. Can you 
 doubt who this second Elsa is? Will not your 
 own heart tell you the exile sees happiness through 
 you, and that it is your eyes, your presence that 
 would make the dull world a boyish dream again ? 
 There is pity in the' look that reads these lines ; 
 pause — could it never ripen into love ? Oh, if you 
 knew half the longing with which I pen these 
 lines, if I could but inspire you with half my love 
 for you, I should be happy, but I must wait and 
 tremble. 
 
 There is an eye watching the flicker of your 
 lamp as you sit reading this, for I feel that you 
 will open it whilst alone in your room ; I hope it 
 may be so, and if I am right, judge the anxious 
 watcher kindly, and attribute an over zeal to the 
 lon£:in2: of a heart as true as ever beat in man, 
 The stars shine on me as I write, and the clear
 
 BRIMELSEA. 267 
 
 moonbeam peers at me through the window. I 
 love them, for they shine on you ; w^ould that they 
 could bear my message in words as beautiful as 
 they are, that your heart might be touched, and 
 that you might smile on me when next we meet. 
 
 Pardon this rhapsody, I fear lest my words may 
 frighten you, but be assured this is the last time I 
 will ever trouble you again. Should you reject my 
 suit, I leave this place directly. May God guide 
 me to a speedy deliverance from this world's pain ; 
 but should you not, I dare not picture to myself 
 the happiness that would lie before me ; I cannot 
 let my thoughts dwell upon it ; it is too like a 
 dream, and mine have all flown from me one 
 by one. 
 
 Elsa, my guardian angel, shine on me this night 
 from yonder brilliant star, speak to her I love, and 
 whisper soft sighs into her heart, that she may pity 
 the exile and love him for your sake. Tell her to 
 be kind to him as you were, and so lead him on, 
 that he may forget all in her, and love life and 
 human beings because they bear her form. Tell 
 her of his struggles, and of the weary yearnings of 
 his heart, that he has been friendless upon earth, 
 and that he never loved aught but his fairy sister 
 till she crossed his path. Oh, Elsa, be kind, and 
 as you smiled on me, and murmured " brother" 
 with your dying lips, so now in your spirit form 
 visit her, and whisper " Ebert'' in her ear, till she 
 loves the name, and turns to bless him with a 
 
 N 2
 
 268 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 human love, that will guide him on through the 
 dark mazes of this world. 
 
 Maud Erving, can it never be ? Grant me your 
 answer from your own lips, it is all I ask, and till 
 then I wait in patience, but with what hope and 
 fear ! 
 
 Ebert Porskinski. 
 
 There were tears in Maud's eye as she laid the 
 manuscript on the table, and burying her head in 
 both hands, she strove to think, but a sense of sor- 
 row possessed her, she could not shape it into 
 thoughts. An hour passed away, and still she sat 
 there ; she had not moved, but a slow, irregular 
 breathing showed she was asleep; confusion of 
 thoughts had become dreams, and Count Porskinski 
 had changed. It was Captain Macklaren that had 
 penned those lines, and her heart beat for joy. 
 
 Bang ! a book fell from the table ; she started up 
 alarmed, looked about her, seized the letter and 
 read the name again — a shade of disappointment 
 crossed her brow. 
 
 " It was from Count Porskinski. Why does he 
 care for me f and Maud turned to seek her couch 
 with a feeling of oppression at her heart she could 
 not conquer. 
 
 There is no greater pang than that of unavoid- 
 ably giving pain to others.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 269 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 A PARTING. 
 
 ^' I HAVE had a note from Lydia Carpenter, Maud, 
 she is very ill, and begs me to come and visit her. 
 I shall not be absent very long, you will not 
 miss me." 
 
 " Yes, I cannot do otherwise, dear aunt Lucy,"" 
 and Maud burst into tears. Miss Massing was 
 greatly alarmed. 
 
 " What is the matter, are you ill V 
 
 " No, not at all ; I am only foolish, so very 
 foolish," said Maud, trying to smile through her 
 tears, but it was no use, and she went crying on as 
 if her heart would break. 
 
 " Do let me send for something, this excess of 
 crying must be from weakness. You distress me, I 
 cannot help crying too. What does it all meanf 
 
 " 1 want to tell you ; but it is so difficult to find 
 words, and I am so very sorry." 
 
 " Have you had bad news this morning from 
 London? Is your uncle ill? I must know, for
 
 270 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 you have frightened me so much, I cannot help 
 trembling all over." 
 
 " I have only had a letter from the Count/'' 
 
 " The Count ! what Count V ejaculated Miss 
 Massing, looking as if she knew quite well, but did 
 not like to anticipate matters. 
 
 " From Count Porskinski. Such a beautiful 
 letter ; the history of his whole life. It is so me- 
 lancholy."'' 
 
 " Oh !" said Miss Massing. She could say no 
 more, for she was utterly puzzled as to what was 
 to follow. 
 
 " You had better read my translation of it, for I 
 do not think I could explain all. May I go and 
 fetch it ?" 
 
 Miss Massing acquiesced, and Maud left the 
 room. 
 
 '' Poor child ! she is in love with him," thought 
 the old lady, when left alone; "people always cry 
 when they are in love. I suppose it is part of the 
 
 She read the letter through, and was much 
 affected by it. Maud could not see her face, for 
 she held the paper so as to hide it, and a convul- 
 sive twitch was all that showed how the hot tears 
 were chasing each other down the kind old cheeks. 
 When she had read it twice carefully through, she 
 put it down, and held out her arms to her niece. 
 Maud flew to her and kissed the tears away.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 271 
 
 " I congratulate you, my dear Maud," mur- 
 mured the old lady. 
 
 " No, you must not — you must not !"' 
 
 " Why? I do not wonder at your loving him, 
 this letter would break a heart of stone." 
 
 " But I do not love, and that is why I cry." 
 
 " You do not V and a shade of pleasure crossed 
 Miss Massing*'s face. She thought of Captain 
 Macklaren, but she was ashamed of herself for 
 doing so, and added, hastily — 
 
 " Poor Count Porskinski !" 
 
 " Yes, I am so very, very sorry. But what can 
 I do?" 
 
 *' You know best, my dear. I am the worst 
 person in the world to give advice. I suppose you 
 must refuse him." 
 
 Maud could not restrain a smile at her aunt's 
 simple perplexity, and said — 
 
 "' It is so difficult, I do not know how." 
 
 " Perhaps I ought to see him," said Miss 
 Massing, looking very blank at the prospect. 
 
 " No, he begged me to speak to him for the last 
 time, and I will." 
 
 " That is very kind of you, just what I should 
 have expected. You are so clear headed, Maud, 
 one would think you had liad the experience of 
 three lives. If I were in your place, I could not 
 help accepting him, he is so handsome, and loves 
 you so much ; but then, to be sure, you have
 
 272 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 another interest, which will keep you to your pur- 
 pose. You could not easily forget Captain " 
 
 Suddenly recollecting that she was not supposed 
 to suspect anything in that quarter, she paused, 
 and did not even dare to look at her niece, whose 
 cheeks were suffused with blushes. 
 
 " I mean,"continued Miss Massing, awkwardly, 
 " your sense of what is right will support you. I 
 do not think I can go to Lydia this morning. 
 You are not in a fit state for solitude." 
 
 " Oh, yes, it will do me good to be alone ; be- 
 sides, I must have an interview with the Count. 
 Would it be improper to send for him to see me 
 herer 
 
 " Well, really — perhaps it would not be right. 
 It is so high up in the house, people might say you 
 were engaged, and that would be very awkward, 
 you know."*"* 
 
 " I will leave our interview to chance, then,"" said 
 Maud, evidently relieved at the prospect of delay. 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Massing. " I should not like 
 it said that I receive gentlemen in my private 
 sitting-room. People are apt to make remarks, 
 and although they mean nothing by it, still reports 
 are spread which are unpleasant, and more particu- 
 larly as I have you staying with me. Captain — 
 I mean Lady Macklaren, might hear of it, and a 
 foolish joke might lead to mistakes where they are 
 most to be avoided."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 273 
 
 " I do not know what you are alluding to, aunt 
 Lucy," said Maud, rather pettishly. 
 
 " Perhaps it is better you should not know just 
 yet ; it will all come in time, and I shall be very 
 pleased when it does happen ; I have arranged it 
 all in my own mind. But we must not talk any 
 more now, as I am to go and see poor Lydia. Th€ 
 doctor says she is very ill ; that nasty cough, I do 
 not like to hear it.*" 
 
 Miss Massing left her niece sitting by the open 
 window, wondering what would happen, and why 
 her aunt should suspect anything with regard to 
 Captain Macklaren. She felt as if they had no 
 right to think anything about it, and was angry at 
 their supposing she could be in love with any one 
 in the world. Why did she think of her aunt in 
 the plural ? she knew Lady Macklaren had been 
 talking to her about it, and if she had, it was evi- 
 dent she liked the idea. A blush of pleasure 
 crossed Maudes face at the very thought. Just 
 then a knock at the door roused her from her 
 reverie, and she mechanically said — 
 
 *' Come in.'' Her summons was obeyed, and 
 Count Porskinski stood before her. 
 
 He had waited impatiently all the morning ; 
 Maud had not appeared for breakfast ; he had not 
 even caught sight of her dress to cheer him ; Miss 
 Bridges had devoted herself to amuse him, he had 
 listened abstractedly to her conversation, and had 
 given many wrong answers, without her being any 
 
 N 5
 
 274 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 the wiser. Eleven o'clock came, Count Porskinski 
 grew more impatient. He heard Miss Massing 
 leave the liouse, and watched her retreating figure 
 till she was out of sight. Here was an opportunity, 
 Maud was doubtless alone in her sitting-room ; why- 
 should he not attempt to gain admission 1 he could 
 but be refused ; the temptation was too great, and 
 with a beating heart, he stood before her door. 
 He heard her voice, he entered, and stood erect 
 before her. 
 
 Maud rose ; she trembled violently, and her 
 tongue refused to form one word. They confronted 
 each other in silence, but she dared not raise her 
 eyes to his. He was the first to speak. 
 
 " Thank you for thus receiving me," said the 
 Count ; there was no hope in his tone, only deep 
 melancholy. " I presume, from your manner, that 
 it is the last time we shall ever meet. Forgive the 
 past ; pardon the devotion which caused me to pen 
 those lines, and remember me only as a dream, 
 which was short and painful while it lasted, but 
 left no trace behind.'" 
 
 " Do not say that. I can never forget this 
 dream, and shall pity and respect you to my dying 
 day." 
 
 " Kind words, from a kind heart, but they can- 
 not soothe me now. I must wander through this 
 world alone, and see others pluck the roses that 
 wither at my touch."' 
 
 " You look on life too gloomily," gasped Maud,
 
 BRIMELSEA. 275 
 
 trying in vain to prevent her voice from trembling. 
 " You will meet other friends more worthy of you. 
 Go back to your country and seek a bride from 
 amongst your own people ; a second Elsa waits 
 you there." 
 
 " The English may love twice, the Germans 
 never." And as he said this, he folded his arms, 
 turning his large, thoughtful eyes dreamily on 
 Maud, who, feeling she ought to speak, mur- 
 mured — 
 
 " I am so sorry." 
 
 For a moment he smiled bitterly, but checking 
 himself, he said — 
 
 " You have nothing to make you grieve." 
 
 "But the thought of paining others," and Maud 
 bent down her head to conceal her tears. 
 
 " Such grief is but momentary. It is the life- 
 long hope destroyed, that makes the soul bleed, and 
 the whole being writhe in anguish." 
 
 " An active life would dissipate even such grief 
 as that you speak of. Return to Poland, stir up 
 its people to shake off their ignoble yoke ; your 
 own sorrows will be drowned in the common woe. 
 You have nothino^ to lose, and all to o-ain — tro and 
 prosper. Your fame will one day ring throughout 
 the world, and mothers will teach their infants to 
 bless your name. Is such ambition not great 
 enough to move you ?" 
 
 " And if I fail ?" 
 
 " The consciousness that you have lived and
 
 276 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 suffered for your country would make even a dun- 
 geon sweet." 
 
 " When first you spoke to me of this, you spoke 
 in vain. Earth had still its charms to enthrall 
 me ; now all is changed, the vision that brightened 
 even exile has faded. I will go — I will seek my 
 old home, my friends will spurn me from their 
 doors, but I will go and venture all. Your spirit 
 will haunt me in the hour of danger, and with my 
 dying lips I will bless the words that consigned me 
 to a living tomb, for I shall fail. Think of a pri- 
 soner sometimes when you walk in freedom ; think 
 of four narrow walls, so close around him that they 
 seem to weigh upon his very brain and crush it in ; 
 think that a ray from the outer world breaks in 
 upon him, and dances on his prison walls, bidding 
 him look back upon some few sunny scenes and 
 people his little world with figures who are kind and 
 speak to him as you have done ; think thus, and 
 that prisoner will bless you in his dungeon, and 
 pray that peace may be your portion through life, 
 and that no shadow may ever fall on you to crush 
 your bright spirit to the ground." 
 
 Maud had raised her head, and when he ceased 
 speaking, she held out her hands to him, with tears 
 in her eyes, and said — 
 
 '' Do not go — I was mistaken ; I am foolish and 
 ignorant. Do not think of what I said — it does 
 not deserve a second thought." 
 
 He raised her hand to his lips, and said —
 
 BRIMELSEA. 277 
 
 " Your words are engraven on my heart. I go 
 to my country; it will be happiness to fail in the 
 cause of freedom, even if Siberia be my doom." 
 
 Maud shuddered, withdrew her hand, saying, 
 hurriedly — 
 
 " You must judge for the best, but I shall ever 
 repent having uttered those hasty words." 
 
 " We must part," said Count Porskinski, sadly. 
 " I will not detain you longer ; another hour and 
 these doors will be closed on me for ever. May I 
 ask you to burn that letter which now lies open on 
 your table V 
 
 Maud took it up. " It is too beautiful to burn. 
 German is understood by so few that it will be in 
 safe keeping in my hands. You do not refuse 
 
 this r 
 
 Count Porskinski looked his thanks, and moving 
 rapidly to the door, he would have disappeared, but 
 paused with his hand on the lock, and, turning to 
 take one last look, he waved his left hand in token 
 of adieu, and was gone. Maud would have recalled 
 him, she felt as if she had doomed a human being 
 to a life, the misery of which she could not fathom, 
 but she remained standing in the place where he 
 had left her, unable to think or even move. Sorrow 
 and danger paralyse some, whilst they nerve others 
 to action. Maud had no presence of mind or 
 energy at those times when it is most needed, and 
 she frequently said what she did not mean, and
 
 278 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 lived to repent her hasty words in secret for days, 
 nay, sometimes even for years. 
 
 It was with an aching heart that she again 
 seated herself by the window, and, taking up a 
 book, tried to read ; her thoughts were far away, 
 and hot tears blotted each page as she turned it 
 over. An hour passed and still Miss Massing had 
 not appeared ; Maud heard voices on the stairs — a 
 footstep came along the passage, and paused before 
 her door ; she knew who it was and her heart beat 
 quicker, but the step passed on ; she heard it 
 slowly descend the stairs and the front door open 
 and shut. An irrepressible curiosity seized her, 
 she rose and leaned out of the window; a tall 
 figure stood upon the parade in a travelling costume, 
 the head was raised and her eyes encountered those 
 of Count Porskinski. She never saw him again ; 
 many hundreds of miles were, ere long, to separate 
 their destinies. 
 
 " Water, water !"' cried the voice of Mrs. Blount 
 upon the staircase. " How dreadful ! what shall 
 I do r Miss Briggs, come directly or she will 
 die." 
 
 Fearing lest something dreadful had occurred, 
 Maud flew to the door, and scarce an instant had 
 elapsed before she stood by Mrs. Blount, who was 
 supporting her friend, Miss Bridges. 
 
 •' Who are you ?" cried the former lady, in great 
 agitation. " Take her from me ; I am not strong 
 enough to hold her. She will kill me."
 
 BRIMELSEA. 279 
 
 Maud advanced and took the drooping head of 
 the unfortunate Miss Bridges upon her knee. She 
 had fainted away, and lay as motionless as one 
 dead. 
 
 "Have you no smelling salts?" asked Maud. 
 " Ring for the servant ; where is Miss Briggs T' 
 
 " Here I am, my dear," said that kind old lady. 
 " Do not frighten yourselves ; she will soon be 
 better." 
 
 " No, I shall not," murmured the supposed un- 
 conscious lady, in a feeble voice. 
 
 " She has not fainted quite away, thank heaven ! " 
 exclaimed Maud, greatly relieved at hearing her 
 burden speak. 
 
 " Yes, I have, quite away," continued Miss 
 Bridges, opening her eyes languidly, and turning 
 up the whites. 
 
 "Drink a little water, it will do you good," and 
 Miss Briggs held a glass to the patient's mouth. 
 
 " I cannot swallow. I cannot do anything," was 
 the only rejoinder. 
 
 "Might I ask you, Miss Erving, to stand by 
 her a few minutes I I must go and see if Count 
 Porskinski " 
 
 A scream at the mention of this name pre- 
 vented Miss Briggs from completing her sentence, 
 and Miss Bridges went into hysterical convulsions 
 of a most peculiar kind. 
 
 " The wretched creature ! the base deceiver ! " 
 and such ejaculations burst from her lips, inter-
 
 280 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 mingled with wild upbraidings of the most extra- 
 vagant description. 
 
 " Calm yourself, my dear Miss Bridges. You 
 must really try to command yourself, or you will 
 be ill,"" said the mistress of the house, greatly per- 
 plexed as to what would be best to do. 
 
 " He has gone away, and will never — never 
 return. Oh, dear, how can I be calm!"" and a 
 succession of piteous shrieks followed, till Miss 
 Bridges, utterly exhausted, lay panting on the 
 fjround. 
 
 " We mast carry her to her room ; this exhibi- 
 tion is most disgraceful ! '" said Miss Briggs, in a 
 whisper, to Maud. " Some person might possibly 
 call, and my house would get a bad name." 
 
 The servants were accordingly summoned, and 
 the unfortunate Miss Bridges carried to her own 
 apartment in a state of great exhaustion. 
 
 " If that is love," thought Maud, " may I never 
 be touched with the tender sentiment. What an 
 absurd exhibition ! " and turning from Mrs. Blount, 
 who lay, with her eyes closed upon the sofa, mut- 
 tering something about nerves and agitation, she 
 left the sitting-room, and sought to compose her 
 thoughts in the retirement of her own chamber. 
 
 Miss Massing hurried to the bedside of her 
 young friend, and the sight of her pale, sickly face 
 soon banished all thoughts of the foreign Count and 
 his pathetic letter to her niece. 
 
 " How kind of you to come to me," said Lydia.
 
 BRIMELSEA. 281 
 
 " I have been longing to speak to you, and am 
 more thankful than I can say that they have not 
 forbidden me to see you." 
 
 " I am very glad," said Miss Massing, taking her 
 hand ; " but tell me how you are ; it made me 
 so anxious to hear that you were confined to your 
 bed." 
 
 " I am better to-day, but my cough is trouble- 
 some, and I was veiy tired yesterday. Mr. Pipkin 
 was brought in to talk to me ; he did not like the 
 office, I am sure, for he never alluded to religious 
 matters till poor mamnia came in. He looks upon 
 me as a Roman Catholic. I had great difficulty in 
 keeping my temper with him, and the effort and 
 excitement tired me so much that I have persuaded 
 kind old Dr. Mordant to order that I should only 
 see the people I ask for. Mamma is, I fear, angry 
 with me, but I could not have borne to see that 
 man day after day ; he is very good, I have no 
 doubt, but the very sight of him used to irritate 
 me in my best days." 
 
 "Is that my Lydia?" asked Miss Massing, 
 reproachfully. 
 
 " I am afraid it is ; but you must make some 
 allowance for me now ; a cough is very bad for the 
 temper, they say. How is Maud? I should like 
 to see her some day when she is passing our door." 
 
 " I am sure she will be delighted to come. I 
 left her rather agitated this morning with a letter 
 she had received, but she is quite well."
 
 282 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " I am glad of that ; but it is about her that I 
 want particularly to speak to you. Mr. Pipkin 
 alarmed me very much yesterday, by repeating the 
 
 current reports in the town about '^ A fit of 
 
 coughing prevented her speaking for a few minutes. 
 
 Miss Massing changed colour, and thoughts of 
 the Count rushed like lightning through her mind. 
 Could anything have been remarked ? Was she 
 accused of heartless conduct ? or was the Count not 
 what he seemed, but only a foreign adventurer ? 
 
 Lydia recovered herself in a few minutes, and 
 continued in an earnest tone — 
 
 " Reports are generally founded on truth, though 
 what is in itself originally quite innocent, is fre- 
 quently made to appear bad by repetition, and, 
 consequently, addition, for no news ever passed 
 from person to person without being greatly em- 
 bellished."" Again Lydia paused for breath. 
 
 " You make me very anxious," said Miss Mas- 
 sing. " Pray tell me what report says." 
 
 " Yes, I was going to do so, but you must forgive 
 these long pauses ; I am not strong. Mr. Pipkin 
 tells me there are strange reports as to this Lord 
 Reynoldforde ; they say he gambles every night 
 at a common billiard-house in the town, and that 
 he is constantly in the company of a Frenchman 
 who calls himself the Marquis de Montanvert. No 
 one believes that he is really a nobleman. They 
 sa}^ he is engaged to Miss Farncourt, and that he
 
 BRIMELSEA. 283 
 
 has a wife in Paris, from whom he has long been 
 separated." 
 
 Miss Massing held up her hands in horror, but 
 indignation soon took the place of disgust. 
 
 " How wicked people are to spread such reports. 
 It was only the day before yesterday that I spent 
 a most charming evening on board the ' Firefly.'* 
 Lord E-eynoldforde was all kindness and hospitality, 
 and I am charmed that Maud should have such 
 nice acquaintances. Pray contradict all such as- 
 sertions ; it is absurd to suppose a gentleman in 
 Lord Reynoldforde''s position should gamble in a 
 paltry little town like this. I think it is quite 
 laughable ; how can people invent such things 2 
 they must be badly off for gossip." 
 
 " Dear Miss Massing, I should be very sorry to 
 upset your faith in the goodness of any one, but 
 these reports are circulated on good authority. 
 Mr. Pipkin is a charitable person, and I would not 
 doubt his word, although I do not admire him in 
 general. He says positively that he was called up 
 to visit a dying person in one of the small houses I 
 have just mentioned, and that he heard voices 
 speaking in French, and a minute afterwards was 
 passed by Lord Reynoldforde on the stairs." 
 
 " He mistook the person." 
 
 " No, I fear not ; he has seen him several times, 
 and he says that Lord Reynoldforde tried to avoid 
 him." 
 
 " He only knows him by sight, and has never
 
 284 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 spoken to him. Mr. Pipkin is quite capable of 
 making mistakes. I do not wish to believe your 
 story, Lydia; it is too dreadful to be believed. 
 Please say nothing more about it. I would rather 
 try and forget such things.'' 
 
 " But if it were proved to be true, would you 
 like to think your niece had associated with such 
 a family V 
 
 " Nothing is said against poor Miss Farncourt, 
 and if her father is such a villain, as report would 
 make him out to be, why then she must need a 
 friend to comfort her, and I trust Maud will prove 
 a true one to the poor young creature. A dis- 
 reputable lover and a father who gambles ! It is 
 too bad. I will never believe it.'"* 
 
 " Suppose then that Maud should realise an 
 attachment for this young Frenchman, not know- 
 ing of his engagement, for it is kept a secret, what 
 should you do then ?" 
 
 " You speak of an impossibility. The Marquis 
 is twice her age in the first place ; and in the second, 
 he avoids Maud as if he disliked her." 
 
 " Forgive me for having raised these suspicions. 
 I would not have done it had I not felt o^reat 
 interest in your niece ; and when one lies still in 
 bed, one broods over all that has been said, and I 
 made myself so anxious last night that I could not 
 rest till I had seen you, and told you all I knew. 
 Have you been acquainted with this family for any 
 length of time r"*
 
 BRIMELSEA. 285 
 
 " Maud was at school with Miss Farncourt, and 
 Mademoiselle Lafoure, their French governess, is 
 Blanche's companion this summer. It was very 
 pleasant for Maud to meet her, as she was much 
 attached to her schoolmistress." 
 
 " Yes, it must have been,"' said Lydia, abstract- 
 edly. " Do you think her a nice person V 
 
 Miss Massing looked vexed, and said rather 
 crossly — 
 
 " You are extremely suspicious this morning, 
 Lydia ', it is so unlike you to be so. I do not know 
 what to make of it all.'' 
 
 " You must not be angry with me. If you only 
 knew how vexed I was to feel myself obliged to tell 
 you of all this, you would not judge me harshly. 
 It was this, more than anything, that made me so 
 much worse last night." 
 
 " I think Mr. Pipkin might have kept his gossip 
 to himself, when visiting a sick room." 
 
 " I dare say he did not know the effect it would 
 have — clergymen are not doctors," said Lydia, 
 smiling ; " and I have had such good health up 
 to this time, and have lived such an active life, 
 that confinement to one room makes me pettish. 
 I hope I shall soon get used to it, for it may 
 be many weeks before I put foot on the ground 
 again, if I ever do. You know what my dis- 
 ease is." 
 
 Miss Massing turned very pale, and stooping 
 down, she kissed Lydia's forehead.
 
 286 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 " We will not talk of it, dear," she said. 
 
 " I like to speak about myself; all invalids do, 
 you know, and as you are so kind as to visit me, 
 you must let me tell you all I feel, as my world 
 now is in this room, and whenever I look up my 
 eyes rest on that ominous looking mixture to be 
 taken when the cough is troublesome ; it makes me 
 think of myself if nothing else did. Do you see 
 that beautiful fuschia in the window sill ? it was 
 papa's present to me this morning ; was it not kind 
 
 of him r 
 
 " Very; it is no merit to be kind to you, Lydia, 
 I do not think any one could be otherwise." 
 
 " Perhaps it is my own fault when they are," 
 and the sick girl sighed heavily. 
 
 Neither spoke for some moments. Lydia was 
 the first to break the silence, and taking Miss 
 Massing's hand, she said — 
 
 " Would you mind using your influence with 
 papa in making him relent in his determination not 
 to let me have the consolation of Mr. Montao'ue''s 
 visits ? They would be of such inestimable benefit 
 to me now ; I do so long to see and talk with him. 
 Perhaps they would not object to Mrs. Montague 
 calling upon me now and then. Would you mind 
 asking for me, dear Miss Massing V 
 
 The old lady looked somewhat perplexed ; she 
 could not bear to be placed in a prominent position ; 
 her own feelings bade her refuse this office, but 
 her affection for Lydia prompted her to say " yes," 
 and her kind nature conquered, and she accepted
 
 BRIMELSEA. 287 
 
 the office of mediator, without any apparent dislike 
 to it. 
 
 " You are always ready to be kind to me,'' said 
 Lydia. " It makes me quite ashamed to think 
 that my revelations this morning should have pained 
 you, yet I cannot wish them unsaid, although I have 
 made you vexed with me." 
 
 '' No, not with you, Lydia, with the gossips who 
 spread such scandalous reports. It is that which 
 vexes me. I am sure Mr. Pipkin must have learnt 
 it all at one of his ladies'* meetinsrs. Not that I wish 
 to imply anything against my own sex. I am a 
 p-reat admirer of it. and wish but few thing's chans^ed, 
 still I do think these meetings are not good things 
 from what I have heard. They encourage ill- 
 natured gossiping, for the ladies have very little 
 business to transact, and in talking over the poor 
 people, they go on to speak of what they have 
 heard; this is unintentionally exaggerated, and 
 when they return home, each piece of gossip is re- 
 peated again and again, till it would take some time 
 to reach the truth."'"' 
 
 Lydia laughed. " I do not like these meetings 
 either, so we shall not quarrel over them." 
 
 Miss Massing looked at her watch, and expressed 
 great surprise to find how late it was. 
 
 " I must go," she said, rising. " Maud will be 
 wondering what has become of me. I ought not to 
 have left her so long. When will be the best time 
 for me to have an interview with your father V
 
 288 BRIMELSEA. 
 
 Lydia proposed the afternoon, and Miss Massing 
 promised to come on the very first opportunity. 
 
 " You have forgiven me for what I have told 
 you?" said Lydia. " Do not think of it again, if 
 you see only idle gossip in what I have said.'' 
 
 " I shall consult with Maud upon the matter. 
 She may know more than I do, as she is better 
 acquainted with Blanche ; but till I am convinced 
 that Lord Reynoldforde is what report makes him 
 out to be, I will not believe, nor will I prejudice 
 Maud against her friend's father." 
 
 " Come and see me again before very long ; your 
 visits do me orood. I shall be so anxious to hear 
 the Tesult of your interview with my father." 
 
 " I am only too glad to have any excuse to visit 
 you, dear Lydia. You may depend on my coming 
 on the very first opportunity. Good by, take great 
 care of yourself, and attend to orders, we shall soon 
 have you amongst us again. Poor Blanche ! I can- 
 not help feeling anxious about her, if what you said 
 should be true. I must not believe it." 
 
 Lydia watched her leave the room with a sigh, 
 a voice within her said, " You will never rise from 
 this couch ao;ain." She believed the voice, and 
 sighed, not so much that she grieved to leave the 
 world, but the thought of a long parting from her 
 friends was most painful, even to her resigned dis- 
 position. 
 
 END OF VOLUME I. 
 
 F. SHOBKBL, PKINlER, 51, RUPERT STREET, HAYMABKET.