L I E) RA RY 
 
 OF THL 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 Of ILLINOIS 
 
 825 
 C 12(3 5 
 
 V.I
 
 ST. G-EOH-aE'S HALL 
 
 LANGHAM PLACE. 
 
 UNDER THE UDfEDIATE PATRONAGE OF 
 
 HER ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCESS TECK. 
 
 The Rt Hon. the Countess Spenceb. The Rt. Hon. the Countess Lichfield. 
 
 The Rt Hon. the Countess Denbigh. The Rt. Hon. Lady Louisa Legge. 
 
 The Rt Hon. Lady Isabella Schuster. The Rt. Hon. Lady Caroline Pratt. 
 
 The Rt Hon. Lady Caroline Stirling. The Rt. Hon. Lady Charlotte Clinton. 
 
 The Rt. Hon. Ladv Elizabeth Bulteel. The Rt. Hon. Lady Trdileston. 
 
 The Rt. Hon. Lady Henniker. Lady Hervey Bruce 
 
 The Rt. Hon. Mrs. Pletdell Bouvebie. The Hon. ilrs. Cradock. 
 
 The Hon. Mrs. Elliot. Mrs. Edward Baring, 
 and Madame Van de Weter. 
 
 Mk. and Mrs. RICHARD BLAGROVE 
 
 (assisted by eminent artistes), will give a 
 
 SERIES OF SIX CONCERTS, 
 
 AT THE ABOVE HALL, 
 
 OlSr THTIRSDi^LY EVENING-S, 
 
 JANUARY 27th. | APRIL 28tll. 
 
 FEBRUARY 24th. I MAY 26th. 
 
 MARCH 24th. I JUNE 30th. 
 
 1870. 
 
 Pianoforte :— Mrs. KICHABD BLAGROVE (Miss Freeth). 
 
 Tbeble and Baritone Concertinas and Solo Viola: 
 
 Me. RICHAED BLAGROVE.
 
 — Eailways, postages— in a word, all the numerous facilities of the 
 age— have almost annihilated distance, and, as a natural result, 
 caused an individual trade between country customers and London 
 establishments. Those who do not visit town, so as to select and 
 purchase directly, send for patterns from which they can give their 
 orders. But as all apparent advantages on the one hand have more 
 or less their corresponding drawbacks, so this system is not without 
 its bane. Pushing tradesmen make a market by offering goods at 
 lower rates than they can possibly be sold at to realise a fair profit. 
 The bait traps the unreflective, and the result is that the receipts en 
 masse are not equal to the tempting samples. There is no new inven- 
 tion in this J it has been practised in wholesale merchandise and by 
 candidates for contracts, as the proverb hath it, since there were hills 
 and valleys. But we grieve to add it is sometimes resorted to by 
 those whom one would credit for more integrity. Ladies, therefore, 
 need exercise caution, and place confidence only in houses of old- 
 established fame, for rapidly-made businesses are not generally reli- 
 able. And to what does this assertion amount more than to the fact 
 that nothing great can be effected not only without labour but with- 
 out time, and that Eome was not built, as the old saying says, in a 
 day? Messrs. Jay, of Regent-street, whose name is well known 
 amongst the few on the list of hondfide establishments in the metro- 
 polis, have adopted a plan for assisting country ladies in choosing 
 for themselves London fashions and fabrics. And their customers may 
 rest assured that they will thus be enabled to obtain goods of every 
 quality, both low and high priced, at the most reasonable terms— 
 that is, the terms of small profits for quick returns -and that they 
 may firmly rely upon the thoroughly corresponding character of 
 samples and supplies.— From tlie Court Journal.
 
 / -#-" ^M {^^-i- >^- //^ //..'/i^ ^M z/'? 
 
 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES 
 
 BY THE LAT3 
 
 MARY COSTELLO CALDBECK 
 
 VOL. L 
 
 EontJon: 
 T. CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHEE, 
 
 30, WELBECK STEEET, CAVENDISH SQUAEE. 
 
 1870. 
 [all eights eeseeved.]
 
 8£S 
 
 V. 1 
 
 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 ^- " I AM glad to meet you, Harry. Will you 
 
 come to Sefton to-morrow ?'' 
 
 " Is it to tlie meet ? Why, I am off to town 
 to-morrow, my dear fellow." 
 
 Harry was always going to town ; indeed, 
 
 IT though he talked a good deal of sport, his 
 
 ^ cousin suspected him of any day preferring 
 
 the theatres, clubs, and so forth, to a pleasant 
 
 day's ride, or a good day's shooting. Harry 
 
 y^ had some excuses for finding town, as he 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 called it, pleasant ; lie owned a good pro- 
 perty, which had been carefully nursed for 
 him through a long minority, which property, 
 by the way, was just beginning to feel those 
 constantly recurring visits to town. He was 
 good-looking, and had that happy, merry dis- 
 position which greatly contributes to make 
 people welcome in society, and which cer- 
 tainly enabled him to enjoy the welcome. He 
 was one of those men who did not imagine 
 there was a really bad fellow living ; he had 
 seen so many, who had (as he would say) far 
 more good than harm in them, besides 
 knowing quite a host " of the best fellows on 
 earth." 
 
 His cousin Hamilton and he got on very 
 well together, though they were not very 
 similar in anything except looks, where they 
 had a strong resemblance; but Edmund 
 Hamilton was the better-looking, taller, and
 
 SEFTON HALL. 3 
 
 slighter, with a more intelligent face. Hamil- 
 ton was a far less free and independent 
 member of society than Harrj Lawson; he 
 was the eldest son of a squire, whose property 
 was in the same district as Lawson's ; he had 
 a sister and three brothers, and was of alto- 
 gether of less importance in the social scale. 
 The young men's mothers had been sisters, 
 great helles of thirty years ago, and married 
 to neighbouring county magnates. 
 
 Harry's mother had been many years dead, 
 and his nearest relatives were the Hamiltons, 
 with all of whom he was very intimate. 
 
 The young men walked home to The 
 Grange, as the Hamiltons place was called. 
 Harry had no objection to spending an even- 
 there ; they were generally a gay party. Miss 
 Hamilton, Harriet Hamilton, generally hav- 
 ing some young girl staying with her, and 
 
 B 2
 
 4: SEFTON HALL. 
 
 being herself a very lively young lady ; she 
 was very good looking, just six-and-twenty, 
 with a most vivacious manner, a good singer, 
 and a still more practised flirt ; she was the 
 eldest of the family, and it was the great sur- 
 prise of all those who first saw Harriet Hamil- 
 ton that she had not been already married, 
 and a subject of far more astonishment to 
 herself. Her mother looked on the matter 
 di£ferently ; she was not surprised, for she 
 considered Harrietts manner and style as not 
 at all calculated to attract ; however, her 
 opinion had no weight with her daughter. 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton was a very pleasing woman, 
 and one could not help admiring the beauty 
 which, after thirty years, still shone with 
 some of its old charm ; she had been more 
 regularly handsome than her daughter, and 
 she had other attractions, which her daughter 
 had not inherited from her. She had a soft,
 
 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 low voice, a bright and pleasant smile. It 
 was from her her son Edmund got his fine 
 eyes ; she had also a particularly good mouth, 
 which he did not inherit, but with all her 
 softness and her charms, few really cared for 
 Mrs, Hamilton ; she was always the same, 
 always quiet, and low voiced, but her mind 
 was centred on herself; husband, children, 
 all else received but a very superficial atten- 
 tion from her ; she cared for her husband as 
 much, it may be more, than she cared for any 
 one else. She was attached to her children, 
 as she honestly believed, but she seldom 
 thought of them ; her greatest interest was 
 in her daughter, and that was more the 
 beauty^s interest in her successor, in whom 
 she recalled her own youth, than any more 
 maternal passion ; indeed, the word passion 
 in no way applied to Mrs. Hamilton. 
 
 Harry was a favourite of his aunt ; she at
 
 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 all times expressed a regard for him ; she^ 
 corresponded with him when he was away^ 
 hoped he would never become a wild young 
 man, and gently scolded him with the same 
 fascinating interest in his enormities which 
 she had evinced in his father five-and-twenty 
 years before. 
 
 And Harry loved his aunt better, perhaps, 
 than any one else loved her ; he paid her 
 little attentions, brought her presents, wrote 
 her long letter*, and listened while she gently 
 scolded him, and felt sure she was the image 
 of his mother. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton was five-and-twenty years 
 older than his wife, a very broken down, 
 delicate old man, reserved, proud, and honour- 
 able, but one who took but little interest in 
 the small social world around him. There 
 were three younger brothers. Frederick, the 
 second brother, was a young man of twenty.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 7 
 
 reading for the army, clever, and idle; the 
 other two were boys at school, who were at 
 present occupied with cricket and Latin^ 
 and counted as' nobodies in the family circle. 
 
 When the young men reached The Grange, 
 they found Mrs. Hamilton sitting over the 
 drawing-room fire, in the dusky light of the 
 November evening. 
 
 " Oh, how are you, Harry ? Have you been 
 long home ?" 
 
 " Just come, aunt ; and off again to- 
 morrow." 
 
 " Oh ! nonsense. Why would you go so 
 soon ? You are never at home," 
 
 " He is going up for his wedding, mamma; 
 I was told so, I assure you, Harry." 
 
 " You are always hearing that identical 
 piece of news of me, Harriet. What is the 
 lady like, now ?" 
 
 *' Oh, hideous ; a girl with a red nose, or
 
 8 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 something equally dreadful ; but do you know, 
 we had a great ball down here since you left 
 us.'' 
 
 " No, Edmund never told me." 
 
 " Oh ! then Edmund danced a good deal 
 with a certain young lady at it, I assure you." 
 
 " I can guess. Was she the belle ? I for- 
 got, my fair cousin, you were there, so I need 
 not ask." 
 
 " They said a new belle had appeared, a 
 blonde (Harriet was dark), a Hiss Cavendish, 
 just come from Paris, and staying with her 
 sister." 
 
 " A new belle," said Harry. " How dread- 
 ful, Harriet ; it was well I was not there ; I 
 might have been taken captive. Oh ! aunt ! 
 you should have written me an account of 
 this ball. Why, aunt is gone." 
 
 " Yes, papa is ill again ; she has gone to 
 bim, I think."
 
 SEFTON HALL. y 
 
 " Is he worse ?" 
 *' Oh ! no, just the same/' 
 *' And was Ada Lowell at the ball ?" 
 " Oh ! of course ; and dressed in black, and 
 sitting half the evening." 
 
 *' No one asked her to dance, eh, Edmund ?" 
 " Oh ! Edmund of course made himself re- 
 markable as usual." 
 
 '* And Ada looked so pretty — did she 
 though?" he said, turning to Edmund. "I 
 know from the spite Harriet speaks with, how 
 well she must have looked." And he laughed. 
 " That's it, is it not, Harriet, dear?" 
 
 Harriet found it rather difficult to look 
 smiling still, as she said — 
 
 *' So you may say, Harry. You did not 
 see her; but she did though." 
 
 " And Edmund's so smitten, is he ?" 
 Edmund laughed, but the laugh was not 
 
 B 5
 
 10 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 as good an attempt as some I have heard on 
 similar occasions. There was not enough of 
 pleased conceit in it to make it a good, dis- 
 claiming laugh. You would have inferred 
 that Edmund was one who had not as much 
 vanity as is allowable ; or that he was more 
 interested than he would have at all wished 
 to admit ; but he was not likely, one must 
 own, to make a good hypocrite. He had the 
 earnest-looking face, which could, I daresay, 
 feel a good deal ; the frank manner of one 
 unused to concealment. I do not think he 
 was very amiable, but I fancy he had, or 
 might have, the strong and concentrated 
 character which I fear is not so often united 
 to amiability ; for that which is so often 
 called amiability, is but a softness or weakness 
 of chararacter, a gentleness of heart, which 
 shrinks from paining another, though it yields 
 to one unworthy of the sacrifice. I fancy
 
 SEFTON HALL. 11 
 
 Edmund had little of this ; if his nature in- 
 clined him to be frank and earnest, it was 
 also resolute and concentrated ; his frankness 
 sprung, I think, more from a natural fearless- 
 ness of disposition than from a sociable char- 
 acter ; his attachments would be, I imagine, 
 few ; the influence of others over him small, 
 for he was not yielding, and though gay and 
 animated, he was not communicative. 
 
 If you could read his thoughts it was not 
 from any wish on his part to submit them to 
 your approval, but rather from his ignorance 
 that they were more prominent than usual ; 
 he was quite capable of turning hypocrite, but 
 as yet he had not seen the necessity. 
 
 Harriet and Harry made none of these re- 
 flections. Edmund's admiration of Ada Lowell 
 was of secondary importance in her eyes, be 
 it serious or not ; and if Harry half suspected 
 Edmund of being a little smitten, as he called
 
 72 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 it, he thought it a good subject for a quiz, 
 that was all. 
 
 He was no fool, was Harrj, on the contrary 
 he had all that sense which is at a premium 
 in the world ; he knew he owned a good pro- 
 perty, he knew he was good looking, and that 
 he was considered a very good match, and his 
 opinion of Harriet Hamilton was not at all 
 lowered, rather, indeed, increased, by his 
 knowledge that none of these advantages were 
 lost on her ; he thought with pleasure lather 
 than otherwise, that she fully admitted his 
 claims ; he could see that she laughed at his 
 jokes, pardoned his long absences, and quite 
 forgave his never paying morning visits, 
 evinced in fact in every way her appreciation 
 of the future Mrs. Lawson\s position, and was 
 ready at any moment to accept it. 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton coming in, the conversation 
 became general, and Harriet retired to make
 
 SEFTON HALL. 13 
 
 the most becoming toilet possible under the 
 circumstances. 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton thought her nephew might 
 one day or other become her son-in-law. She 
 looked on at her daughter's manoeuvres, and 
 though she did not approve as a matter of 
 taste, wished them success as a matter of 
 policy. Harry brought his aunt in to dinner, 
 and sat beside her. Harriet was his vis-a^vis^ 
 and they kept up a conversation all through 
 dinner. 
 
 Old Mr. Hamilton was particularly lively, 
 and told them stories of his younger days with 
 a humour which showed, when his health per- 
 mitted, what an agreeable companion he could 
 be. He was a tall, thin man, gentleman like 
 in appearance, little obtrusive of his ideas or 
 wishes ; those who knew him liked him, but 
 over his own family he had little influence ; 
 his sons and he were not suited to each other ;
 
 14 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 too great a space of time separated them for 
 them ever to have been companions, and Mr. 
 Hamilton was of too reserved and abstracted 
 a mind to much influence young people ; his 
 sons had never been in the habit of listening 
 to their father's opinions on any subject; in 
 some way, without apparent discussion, it 
 was settled the boys were to go into this or 
 that profession, and on Mrs. Hamilton de- 
 volved the measures for carrying it out ; but 
 he could be exceedingly entertaining, from 
 his dry humour, and the acute observation 
 which you soon saw he possessed ; he had seen 
 much of life, and he still retained the same 
 kindly feeling as in those early days, when he 
 and his old friend Crampton had travelled 
 through Asia together. 
 
 The dinner was over. Harriet's floating 
 pink had just disappeared, and Harry had to 
 himself admitted she looked " devilish well,"
 
 SEFTON HALL. 15 
 
 when, as they re-assembled round the table, 
 Edmund again asked Harry would he come 
 to the meet at Sefton. 
 
 *' What is to go on there ?^ Harry said. " It 
 is a bad meet, a domain, not much chance of 
 a run, unless the fox breaks for Corbetstown, 
 and then it is all rocks. What makes you 
 wish to go ? Miss Lowell will be there, [ 
 suppose? I would have fancied that would 
 have been a reason for wishing me away," 
 
 " Is that the lady I saw at lunch here some 
 time since?" said Mr. Hamilton, to their 
 surprise. 
 
 " Yes, sir," said Harry. 
 
 "A very nice girl," said the old gentle- 
 man. 
 
 " So Edmund thinks, sir," said Harry. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton began to laugh, Edmund to 
 disclaim, and Fred and Harry to quiz, Fred 
 suggesting " Edmund ought to go round by
 
 16 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 Horton, and accompany Major Betliell. As they 
 say he is engaged to her, you would be sure 
 of a good reception, you know, Ned/' 
 
 Hearing Harriet singing, Harry joined her 
 in the drawing room, and spent the greater 
 part of the evening turning over her music, 
 while she, during the intervals between the 
 songs, cross-questioned him as to all the 
 places he had lately been at, and the young 
 ladies he had flirted with ; Harry protesting 
 he never flirted when he was away from The 
 Grange. It was a horrid habit he had learned 
 from her, and quite foreign to his character ; 
 and his aunt scolded him for leaving again so 
 soon, but as usual without an idea that he would 
 change his plans in consequence of her doing 
 so ; in fact, she would have been embarrassed 
 had he proposed anything of the kind.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 17 
 
 CHAPTEE II. 
 
 It was a very fine hunting morning, the day 
 of the meet at Sefton Hall ; soft and clear as 
 some of those days in November sometimes 
 are. There were some leaves still on the 
 trees, and a great many berries on the hedge- 
 rows; there had been rain the night before — 
 soft, southern rain ; it still hung on the 
 slender branches of the trees, though it was 
 sunshiny and warm. 
 
 Any lady who ever went to see a meet of 
 hounds would surely be out to-day, Edmund
 
 18 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 thought, as he rode Selim slowly down the 
 old Grange avenue. The clouds still hung in 
 heavy masses over the village outside the 
 lodge gates ; they were grey and lower than 
 Edmund liked. He still though persisted in 
 saying the lovely air, the soft southern 
 breeze, would tempt anyone who ever thought 
 of coming out. 
 
 He wondered as he rode along, was Ada 
 Lowell dressing now; could it be that she 
 had already determined not to join the meet. 
 As these thoughts were passing through his 
 mind, he heard a horse's foot behind him, 
 and he had hardly passed from the shade of 
 The Grange trees into the more open road, 
 when he was overtaken by a fellow sports- 
 man, whose arrival dispelled his reverie. 
 
 " Well, Hamilton, how are you old fellow ? 
 I think we are likely to have a good day ; 
 will you be in the first flight ?"
 
 SEFTON HALL. 19 
 
 " If I get a good start I shall try ; but I 
 think Selim will have a bad chance with 
 Zoe. She seems in great condition to-day.*' 
 
 "I am afraid we are a little late," said 
 Butler; *'and Percy is always up to time. 
 We may as well trot on ; a morning like this 
 he will be anxious to throw in the hounds at 
 once." 
 
 They trotted on, and were not long in 
 reaching Sefton. I will not say Edmund was 
 delighted with his friend's company; how- 
 eyer, they chatted most amicably, and Ed- 
 mund contented himself with mental wishes 
 for his absence. 
 
 Sefton Hall was a large domain, with fine 
 old trees, and an immensity of cover; there 
 was a rough hill side included in its extent, 
 and from it the country sloped abruptly to 
 the south. The house was large, old, and 
 handsome ; Mrs. Alton, the owner of Sefton
 
 20 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 Hall, always gave a breakfast, and the meet 
 was a favourite one for those who wished 
 more to trot about and see their friends, than 
 ride, for there was not often a good run from 
 it. 
 
 Mrs. Alton was very particular that the 
 draw should not be a blank ; and it was sel- 
 dom so, as the foxes had been well fed all the 
 summer by the gamekeeper, who knew his 
 mistress' fancy, and found Sefton a very 
 pleasant place, for with this exception, Mrs. 
 Alton allowed him to do very much as he 
 pleased; but her husband had been a fox- 
 hunter, and in her young days she often rode 
 to hounds. She still wished to see a cover 
 side drawn on a fine day, and recalled the 
 hours she had spent in the saddle with evi- 
 dent pleasure. 
 
 Her niece, Miss Lowell, was likely to be at 
 home Edmund thought; but he feared she
 
 fiEFTON HALL. 21 
 
 might have to accompany the old lady in her 
 waggonette to the cover. He hoped some 
 substitute might be found, and that Ada 
 Lowell would be on horseback. Thinking of 
 these probabilities, he rode with Butler up 
 the long avenue, saw some waggonettes and 
 phaetons already moving about, and a num- 
 ber of horsemen taking preliminary canters 
 across the grass, with many of whom he ex- 
 changed the cordial greetings common to the 
 hunting field. What an exhilarating scene ! 
 how productive of every kindly feeling is the 
 meeting at a cover side ! Who has not felt 
 all his most generous feelings roused when 
 hastening to the first meet of the season ? He 
 recognises in the happy faces round him com- 
 panions who recall to his memory the plea- 
 sant recollections of many a gladsome run 
 over hill and dale ; of many a hazardous leap
 
 22 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 cleared by a chance, which in less exciting 
 moments never would have been ventured 
 on ; of that merry rivalry, which unlike 
 almost every other kind of excitement, leaves 
 but recollections which cheer us during life's 
 many trials. 
 
 The master of the hounds and a consider- 
 able number of the field had gone into break- 
 fast, and Edmund saw two or three ladies 
 riding up and down. He rode on a little 
 faster, but could not see his lady-love amongst 
 them. Ada Lowell was doomed to the wag- 
 gonette to-day he feared ; he rode up to the 
 house. On the steps he met Major Bethill — 
 the gentleman whom his brother Frederick 
 had suggested was engaged to Miss Lowell ; 
 they entered the house together, and soon 
 met Mrs. Alton, who was dressed for driving, 
 and who hoped they would have some sport.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 23 
 
 '* You are going to ride to-day, Mr. Hamil- 
 ton ?'* said Mrs. Alton, turning to Hamilton, 
 who had just dispatched a glass of sherry. 
 
 " rn try, Mrs. Alton," he said. 
 
 " Well, then," said she, " Major Bethill, 
 you are not going to ride, I hope ; I want 
 some one to take care of my niece." 
 
 Bethill at once said he should be most 
 happy. 
 
 Miss Lowell came into the room almost at 
 this moment ; her well-cut habit, tidy collar, 
 and perfect equipment, showed to advantage 
 a beautiful figure — tall, slight, supple ; and 
 under her hat and veil shone such eyes, — 
 large, hazel, and beautiful beyond all other 
 eyes I have ever seen, in their ever varying 
 expression — now dark, now bright. The only 
 colour, as it seems to me, which equally ex- 
 presses tenderness and intellect ; for blue is 
 peculiarly the eye of love, and black the eye
 
 24 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 of intelligence : both are united in the ever 
 varying hazel, which melts, and speaks, and 
 flashes. Her hair was also peculiar in its 
 richness and in its colour— a brown, mingled 
 with a bright clear gold ; otherwise her face 
 was not remarkable; in complexion it was 
 pale, and the features small. 
 
 "Major Bethill, Ada, says he will take care 
 of you for me,** said Mrs. Alton. 
 
 Miss Lowell thanked him, and said she 
 would be ready at once. 
 
 Edmund, who had been standing in the 
 window, advanced to shake hands. Ada 
 said — 
 
 " I suppose you are going to ride to-day, 
 Mr. Hamilton ? I think, aunt, Mr. Percy has 
 been waiting for you.'* 
 
 Mrs. Alton was sadly disconcerted by this 
 information, and hurried off to the waggonette; 
 Ada LowelPs horse was at the door, and
 
 SEFTON HALL. 25 
 
 Hamilton left to Major Bethill the honour of 
 assisting Mrs. Alton, that he might arrange 
 Miss Lowell's bit. 
 
 " The chestnut looks very well, Miss Lo- 
 well," he said, as he fiddled with the bit. 
 
 " I think I can return Selim the same com- 
 pliment," said she. 
 
 Major Bethill had mounted, the waggonette 
 had passed on, and Edmund was still arrang- 
 ing Miss Lowell's bridle. 
 
 " We shall be late, Mr. Hamilton," she said. 
 
 Hamilton mounted ; but to the old servant's 
 disgust, the curb was found hanging half off, 
 and had to be arranged ; he threw a glance of 
 contempt at Hamilton, whom he looked at as 
 a critic, on his mode of bridling a horse, and a 
 most ignorant one — even Miss Lowell seemed 
 to think his improvements not much to the 
 purpose. 
 
 VOL, I. c
 
 26 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 They at length trotted on briskly, and had 
 but just come up to the gorse cover on the hill 
 side, when the hounds gave cry. 
 
 '* It is the old thing, in and out of the plan- 
 tations on the hill side/^ said Bethill. 
 
 " Kide on, Major Bethill ; ride on, Mr. 
 Hamilton ; you know I do not want an escort, 
 I have old Thomas ; and I do believe we are 
 going to have a run, 1 really think we are," 
 she said, her eye brightening. 
 
 When he came out, Edmund was never less 
 inclined to ride; but since, it was evident 
 there was no getting rid of Major Bethill, 
 since he was not to have the pleasure of escort- 
 ing Ada Lowell, he looked on the idea much 
 more favourably. 
 
 The sharp note of the huntsman's " Gone 
 away !" rang through the air ; a rush of ex- 
 cited horsemen passed them.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 27 
 
 " They are gone over the hill/' said Miss 
 Lowell, riding on. 
 
 After a fast canter through two or three 
 fields, there was a decided check in front ; and 
 a "tally back," showed they had over-ridden 
 the hounds. 
 
 " The fox has been headed, and is back to 
 cover again,'' said Hamilton. 
 
 The fox, being a game one, did not dwell 
 in the cover, and was now evidently breaking 
 down hill for the open country. The hunts- 
 man, having rapidly brought the hounds on 
 the new line, the majority of the over-zealous 
 were left in the rear, as the hounds, acknow- 
 ledging the burning scent, rushed forward at 
 full speed, their heads seldom touching the 
 ground. 
 
 The hounds had raced through the first 
 large grass field before the forward horsemen
 
 28 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 were seen breaking from the cover side into 
 it. 
 
 Hamilton and Major Bethill had left Miss 
 Lowell, who had insisted on their not staying 
 with her. They took the first fence into the 
 grass field almost together, Hamilton remark- 
 ing, " It is likely to be a good thing." Through 
 the large field Hamilton's horse gained more 
 rapidly on the hounds, who were somewhat 
 checked by a high wall at the further end of 
 it. He tried to steady him coming to this 
 wall, but not being able to do so in time, the 
 horse bungled it, and both fell into the next 
 field. The major, having the possibilities 
 more in view, kept his mare better in hand ; 
 and steadying her on her haunches, put her 
 safely over it. 
 
 Hamilton was soon again in the saddle, and 
 on the line of the hounds, who had now settled 
 on their fox, and were descending the hill-side
 
 SEFTON HALL. 29 
 
 througli a scrubby and rocky country. In a 
 few more strides, he came alongside Betbill. 
 In the excitement of the moment, they both 
 pressed forward on a line with the foremost 
 hounds ; the huntsman's " Hold hard ! hold 
 hard!'* having very little power to restrain 
 either of them. 
 
 The country became heavier, the fences 
 more frequent. Hamilton's horse becoming 
 steadier, made no second mistake, though both 
 horses were beginning to show symptoms of 
 distress ; but Edmund was sorry to see the 
 hounds pointing directly for the Goul — a 
 stream which he had often crossed ; but which 
 was a serious obstacle to a half-tired horse, 
 being bank full from the recent rains. 
 
 There was no time for swerving now, so 
 Hamilton steadied Selim, and put him at 
 the brook ; the horse sprang forward boldly, 
 but only landed with his forelegs on the oppo-
 
 30 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 site bank ; Edmund sprang from the saddle, 
 and they both succeeded in gaining footing on 
 the bank, and were in the running again in an 
 instant. 
 
 The major did not like the look of the 
 brook ; but fortune having favoured Hamil- 
 ton, he could not bear to turn from it. He 
 put his mare at it ; she having a strong im- 
 pression it was beyond her powers, resolutely 
 refused, and to Bethiirs chagrin, he saw 
 Edmund again gaining on the hounds. 
 
 Bethill was still riding up and down, look- 
 ing for an easier place to cross, when he was 
 joined by a good many of the field. After a 
 time, they aU succeeded in crossing a little 
 lower down^ and on coming up with Hamil- 
 ton, found him standing by a sewer where the 
 fox had gone to ground. 
 
 Butler at once came up to Hamilton, en- 
 quiring for particulars of the run; he said
 
 SEFTON HALL. 31 
 
 that leaping through a quickset hedge, he had 
 lost one of his stirrup leathers. " And did 
 Bethill ride so well ? I should not have ex- 
 pected it," he said. 
 
 " He rode very well/' said Edmund. 
 
 Edmund, from this day, began to consider 
 Major Bethiirs proceedings worthy of obser- 
 vation. As he rode home, he wondered, "had 
 Ada Lowell seen any of the run ? Could she 
 have recognised him?*' but on these points he 
 asked his friend no questions. 
 
 Unfortunately, Ada had seen the perform- 
 ances of neither of these gentlemen ; she had 
 ridden down a bye-road, expecting they would 
 come back to the cover again in that direction, 
 and had missed all ; her aunt Had been more 
 fortunate, and had seen a good deal of the 
 riding. . She highly applauded both Hamilton 
 and the major,
 
 32 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 ''I think," she said, "Major Bethill would 
 ride as well as Hamilton almost, if his mare 
 was as good as Selim ; but my idea is that she 
 is over-weighted."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 33 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Frederick found his brother Edmund the 
 norning after the hunt, contrary to his usual 
 justom, sitting reading a book in a room 
 sailed the study, which was particularly ap- 
 propriated by Frederick and the younger 
 boys. Edmund sat there for some time, they 
 shatted on various subjects, then, of course, 
 3ame the hunt, which he told over again, in- 
 Toducing Major Bethill's name often, to see 
 f Frederick would volunteer any information 
 
 5
 
 34 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 about him, or admit how he heard, if heard 
 he had, of his engagement ; but Frederick 
 preserved a discreet silence, having either 
 forgotten all about the matter, or seeing the 
 drift of his brother's conversation. 
 
 Finding it no use, Edmund gave it up, and 
 walked out ; but as he went along he could 
 not help revolving the on dits in his mind. 
 As he passed the study window he saw 
 Frederick look up with a very mischievous 
 expression of countenance ; he turned into a 
 walk further from the house, and consoled 
 himself by imagining his brother was laughing 
 at hira. 
 
 " It is some of his confounded tricks from 
 beginning to end," said he. 
 
 Still he could not dismiss the matter from 
 his mind. What were BethilFs intentions'— 
 why did Mrs. Alton ask him to take care of 
 Ada Lowell ?
 
 SEFTON HALL. 35 
 
 Then he remembered Mrs. Alton had first 
 asked him was he going to ride. Why did 
 they ride against each other as they did if 
 Bethill did not feel a secret rivalry also ? and 
 if Bethill was engaged to Ada would he leave 
 her ! He told himself that he would never 
 have done so ; he would not believe the Major 
 was engaged to Ada — but he did believe him 
 a most dangerous enemy. Had he ever seen 
 Miss Lowell flirt with him ? 
 
 He answered this by saying Miss Lowell 
 was not a flirt ; he could not recall to his 
 mind any time at which she had flirted with 
 him, though, he said, she must know I like 
 her. 
 
 He wondered at the infatuation of women, 
 and felt sure that she would marry Major 
 Bethill merely because he was certain Bethill 
 could not care for her one hundredth part as 
 well as he would.
 
 36 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " And lie is what they call good-looking, T 
 suppose," said poor Edmund, and lie drew 
 himself up, and reflected how much bigger, 
 and heavier, and stronger he was; for Major 
 Bethill, though a plucky little fellow, was not 
 a fine-looking man like Hamilton, nor even, 
 in many women's eyes, as good-looking ; but 
 Edmund loved his lady-love with that 
 nervous, anxious passion which never lets a 
 man see either his strong or his weak points. 
 If he met Ada out, and danced with her two 
 or three times, he at once concluded she loved 
 him — he was perfectly happy until the next 
 time they met, when her quiet manner and 
 cold reception showed him he had been 
 flattering himself in vain. Then Edmund 
 became jealous, and when jealous he was apt 
 to get into great huffs, and keep away from 
 his tormentor for days and weeks. Still he 
 said, walking up and down the laurel walk,
 
 SEFTON HALL. 37 
 
 those had been happy days — those jealous fits 
 had been but pettishness until now, when, for 
 the first time, he really began to fear the 
 future, and know what jealousy was. It 
 sickened him to think, at this very moment, 
 another might have robbed him of her ; that 
 quiet, cold manner with which she had ever 
 met him, did it not show he had never touched 
 her heart ? she might, indeed, dance with him 
 often of an evening, but what of that — had 
 she not often said she liked dancing? and 
 Edmund wondered how he could have con- 
 sidered that a compliment, and he was 
 wretched, for he was in love, and he was 
 jealous. 
 
 Do we not remember that happy time when 
 we, too, were so miserable, when our hearts 
 quickened, and our pulse beat at an allusion, 
 a tone, a memory which brought before us 
 the idol of our life ; when our whole time
 
 38 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 was occupied, our minds filled with the one 
 absorbing hope and idea, when all else seemed 
 valueless and vain ; if she was not to smile 
 over our life's troubled sea we cared not how 
 soon its waves closed over us. Yes, his heart 
 too was glowing with that master passion, 
 before which all of us mortals have bowed, 
 some of us, aye, even to the dust, and bowed 
 in vain. 
 
 And who was Ada Lowell ? She was Mrs. 
 Alton's niece and adopted daughter ; she had 
 come from India long ago to be brought up 
 by her aunt, her mother being dead, and as 
 Colonel Lowell was again married it was sup- 
 posed she would never leave her aunt to re- 
 join him. Mrs. Alton said she hoped she 
 would not ; but Ada sometimes talked of her 
 wish to see India for a year or so, a wish with 
 which Edmund by no means sympathised. 
 
 When Edmund had reviewed all those pos-
 
 SEFTON HALL. 39 
 
 sibilities, made himself as wretched as he 
 could, and finished three or four cigars, he re- 
 turned to the house, to find his brother Fred 
 giving Harriet a slight sketch of his observa- 
 tions and suspicions concerning him, and 
 could hear as he passed Harriet's laugh at the 
 perfect fool Edmund did make of himself; 
 Fred good-humoredlj adding, " Well, she is a 
 nice girl though, Harriet ; but you see if she 
 is not married to Bethill, that's all/' 
 
 Shortly afterwards Harriet drove out in 
 her little pony phaeton ; she went to the bar- 
 racks at Horetown to see some ladies, wives 
 of the oflBcers, whom she knew, and more 
 especially to hear the gossip of the day, which 
 Harriet always provided herself with liberally. 
 She heard what a good run they had had from 
 Sefton, how very unfortunate Major Bethill was 
 in not getting his horse over the stream ; but 
 she did not hear that he had been much at
 
 40 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 Sefton lately, nor if he was going to be mar- 
 ried to Miss Lowell. She then told her friend, 
 the wife of Captain Cole, that she had heard 
 Major Bethill was a great admirer of Ada 
 Lowell; but she could elicit nothing from 
 Mrs. Cole, who was merely cynical, and said 
 "for her part she greatly doubted Major 
 Bethiirs admiring any young lady, at least, 
 seriously," but gave Harriet no facts, and was 
 therefore, in Harrietts opinion, not very well 
 worth listening to. 
 
 Having discovered nothing that she was 
 anxious about, Harriet set out on her way 
 home, stopping to flirt with a few young 
 ensigns en passant as she drove through the 
 town — young gentlemen who, from her con- 
 descension, concluded they had undoubtedly 
 captivated her, and that at any moment they 
 were weak enough to encourage such feelings 
 on her part she would accept their hand and
 
 SEFTON HALL. 41 
 
 name, and follow the fortunes of the 129th, 
 as Mrs. Cole and Co. did. 
 
 Harriet's ideas of life were, however, some- 
 what different, and at present were directed 
 towards securing, by some means or other, 
 Harry Lawson, whose being about four years 
 younger than she, was, in her eyes, a point 
 which made the matter more feasible : in fact, 
 he was, perhaps, even now too old for her 
 views in some respects. 
 
 On her return from her drive, she gave her 
 mother a history of her proceedings, telling 
 her her own ideas, and Frederick's, on the 
 subject of Edmund and his love affairs. Mrs. 
 Hamilton listened with her gentle, pleased 
 expression, gave no opinion as to whether she 
 agreed or not with those ideas, expressed a 
 wild curiosity as to Major BethilFs love 
 affair, "if love affair it was;'* but none what- 
 ever as to her son's, except that " if it were
 
 42 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 true, it would indeed be so like Edmund/' 
 Miss Hamilton, however, was accustomed to 
 her mother's manner, and did not consider 
 there was much reason to doubt she would in 
 all things oppose her son's choice, though she 
 received the intelligence with such apparent 
 unconcern. 
 
 " Mamma," said Harriet, abruptly, " I want 
 you to give a ball." 
 
 " A ball ! dear Harriet,'* said Mrs. Hamil- 
 ton ; " how foolish !" 
 
 "Why foolish, mamma? every one gives 
 balls." 
 
 " But, Harriet, if you and Fred are right 
 in your suspicions, I think it would be very 
 foolish." 
 
 " Oh ! he can see Ada Lowell any where, if 
 lie cares ; but I cannot see Harry every day." 
 
 " Harriet, dear, do not speak in that way, 
 it pains me really to hear you."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 43 
 
 " Oh, stuff, motlier, you know as well as I 
 what a good thing it would be for me — and 
 how am I to captivate Harry if I don't see 
 himr 
 
 '' He can come here, you know, dear/' 
 
 " Oh, nonsense ! mother ; you know he will 
 not come here. What use is there in talking 
 in that way ?" 
 
 " Harriet,'' said her mother, sitting up in 
 her chair, and speaking quite fast for her, 
 " you know if Harry wishes to see you, he can 
 come; I do not believe any girl succeeds 
 better by hunting young men." 
 
 Although Mrs. Hamilton condescended to 
 use the argument of expediency, it was evi- 
 dent from the glow on her cheek she was 
 humiliated by her daughter's sentiments ; for 
 though worldly, Mrs. Hamilton was proud — 
 and proud women consider such plotting 
 mean, when the victim of it has shewn no
 
 44 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 preference for the girl ; if lie has they seem 
 to agree that a few steps in advance on her 
 part are only injudicious, not contemptible. 
 
 Harriet, who was quite incapable of taking 
 her mother's views, said — 
 
 " I am sure it is very unkind of you, you 
 do not seem to care at all about me.'' 
 
 " As to giving the ball, I shall do that I am 
 sure," said Mrs. Hamilton ; '' but you see, if 
 I do, it brings Ada Lowell and Edmund to- 
 gether ; if he asks her, your father will not 
 object, and then he will, I am almost sure, 
 assent to a good settlement on Edmund, and 
 that will be a bad thing for you all ; and if 
 Edmund is married, you will not be asked 
 out as much as you have been." 
 
 ''That has been of much good to me, 
 mamma !" 
 
 " But, my dear, you will find it will have 
 an effect, you will, indeed ; still, I am sure,"
 
 SEFTON HALL. 45 
 
 she said, her old suave manner returning, 
 " why should I not wish Edmund married 
 and happy ? I do hope he may be so : he is 
 a very nice young man, and has been such a 
 good son." 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton spoke these words in her 
 usual gentle, pleading tone, and I must say, I 
 fear, attached no meaning whatever to them ; 
 if any, it was, " If you, Harriet, choose to run 
 the risk of getting your brother married, why 
 then it is quite a matter of indifference to 
 me.'' 
 
 Harriet, who knew her mother well, met 
 this by saying — 
 
 " Just so, mother, so let us have the ball — 
 as you say, Edmund cannot be helped, I sup- 
 pose he will marry her if she will have him : 
 it is little matter whether it is sooner or later, 
 but do let us have the ball," 
 
 " Well, dear, as you wish it so, I shall try.
 
 46 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 I hope your father's health will not interfere; 
 but he seems better of late, don't you think 
 sor 
 
 " He is as well as usual," said Harriet, and 
 taking up her hat she walked out of the 
 room. 
 
 " What a strange girl she is !" Mrs. Hamil- 
 ton thought. " I cannot understand her, and 
 she does such queer things. I wish, I do wish, 
 she was married ; but how can I expect she 
 will marry well ! It is a great pity she has 
 such a bad manner — for she is certainly very 
 handsome, every one says so — and it is so 
 painful to see her go on as she does.'* 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton's ideas then reverted to the 
 contemplated ball, and in thinking what dress 
 she would wear, she happily forgot her son's 
 infatuation, and her daughter's self-will.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 47 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Edmund heard with pleasure of the ball; he 
 hoped, then, at least, to discover whether 
 these rumours were, or were not, well-founded. 
 In the meanwhile, the days passed slowly, very 
 slowly ; the walks by the laurel hedge were 
 getting longer and longer ; and yet his ideas 
 were not clearer as to the real state of affairs. 
 He often resolved he would go over and see 
 Ada Lowell, and again he remembered he was 
 not in the habit of paying visits at Sefton, 
 and concluded it was better to wait for the 
 night of the ball.
 
 48 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 He was roused from this state of mind bj 
 receiving an invitation from Major Bethill to 
 dine at the mess at Horetown. He thought 
 it strange, — their acquaintance had been but 
 slight, the Major had dined at the Grange 
 once or twice, but it was some time ago, 
 and they had since seen but little of each 
 other until the day of the hunt. Was Bethill 
 also anxious to see and judge for himself the 
 man whom he had ridden against ? did a secret 
 rivalry sharpen his curiosity also ? Edmund 
 doubted whether he would go — yet his great 
 desire to know better what this man was like, 
 who was, perhaps, preferred to him, decided 
 him; — he would go and see, and try to divine 
 the future before his idol, if she had already 
 given it into Bethill's keeping. That he 
 might be prejudiced and unable to decide the 
 point justly, he never thought of for a mo- 
 ment ; at times he even fancied he should
 
 SEFTON HALL. 49 
 
 feel glad for her sake to find Be thill all that 
 she deserved, but the notion was hateful to 
 him. He would not even admit that Bethill 
 might be attached to Ada. He remembered 
 she was said to have a large fortune from her 
 aunt, and that alone was the attraction in the 
 Major's eye, he felt confident. '' He must be 
 near forty — how could he love her ? he has 
 had many love afi'airs before this/* muttered 
 Edmund, who, absorbed in life's first passion- 
 ate hopes, had little sympathy with the mature 
 and well-weighed preferences of middle life. 
 
 Hamilton was very cordially received at 
 Horetown Barracks by Major Bethill, who 
 was in temporary command. There were not 
 many present at mess, it being leave season ; 
 they were principally young men from dif- 
 ferent regiments who were congregated at the 
 depot battalion, 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 When dinner was half over, Major Be thill, 
 turning to Capt. Cole, who sat near him, 
 said — 
 
 "Did you take a look at Pioneer, to-day?" 
 
 " I did not ; I was about town all day, but 
 I told young Crampton; he said he'd go." 
 
 "Crampton! where is he?" said Bethill. 
 
 " I think," said a pale-faced man they 
 called Gay nor, "he is dining out ; but I was 
 down seeing the horse cantered with him." 
 
 "How did he go?" 
 
 "Yery well; the jock said he was improv- 
 ing rapidly, but Crampton and I thought he 
 was drawn a little too fine." 
 
 " Ton my soul, Gaynor, that Crampton 
 knows nothing about a horse ; he lost the 
 Maidstone cup all through being fattened up, 
 till — I give you my word — " said Bethill, 
 turning to Hamilton, " he was more pig than 
 racer."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 51 
 
 " I think," said Cole, " Johnstoae does not 
 ride him well; pulls him about too much, 
 eh, Major?" 
 
 "Not at all; no better man than John- 
 stone. He will take him through it well, if 
 any man can; 'pon my honour, I can't be 
 everywhere. Some of you fellows should 
 look after him." 
 
 " What is he entered for ?" asked Hamil- 
 ton. 
 
 " The County Plate ; he is light weighted, 
 from our last ill-luck ; so he ought to be sure 
 of it." 
 
 " A strong horse only can win that," said 
 Hamilton. 
 
 " I wish," said Bethill, " you would give 
 us your opinion, Hamilton. You can ride a 
 horse; so I suppose you know how he ought 
 to be treated. He is a very good looking 
 
 D 2 
 
 UNIVERSITY C^ 
 
 . . .MOio 1 IRPflPVi
 
 52 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 animal ; I picked him up for a mere trifle — 
 only two hundred and fifty pounds ; I give 
 you my word. We have shares in him ; it 
 just gives one an interest in a race, having 
 something to say to the horses, don't you 
 think so?" 
 
 A young man from the end of the table 
 said — 
 
 " I'll sell my share to anyone who wants 
 it. I don't think he will turn out anything ; 
 in my mind he is a coarse looking brute." 
 
 " Coarse brute," said the Major, overhear- 
 ing, '^ and Gaynor and Crampton say he is 
 too fine drawn ; did you ever hear such 
 stuff? I must look up Johnstone ; I hope he 
 is not beginning to smell a rat, as he would, 
 if he saw too much of Crampton ; those 
 jockey fellows, sir, see through you at a 
 glance, and if they think you are not up to 
 them, they will lead you a pretty dance."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 53 
 
 "Has the jock any interest in winning?" 
 said Edmund. 
 
 " Of course, my good sir/' said the Major ; 
 " leave an old soldier alone for that. He is 
 concerned in the event himself; I saw to 
 that.'' 
 
 The young man, who had said he was a 
 worthless brute, turning to Gaynor, said — 
 
 " I intend hedging, if I get the chance ; 
 take my advice, and try what you can do in 
 that line." 
 
 The Major seemed greatly annoyed by this 
 observation. 
 
 " D me, I can't see what you fellows 
 
 are at," he said. "You have a splendid ani- 
 mal, and you are blowing on him yourselves; 
 do you all want to hedge ? Hang me, if I'll 
 trouble myself again to buy a good thing." 
 
 Cole, who saw that Bethill was getting a 
 little angry, and who was a good humoured
 
 54 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 creature, always trying to preserve peace at 
 any price, now proposed a game of cards. 
 Edmund assented, and the Major, Cole, Gay- 
 nor, and he sat down. Major Bethill seemed 
 pleased ; he and Cole were partners, and 
 Gaynor and he had soon several bets on the 
 colour of the cards as they turned up, the 
 odd trick, &c. 
 
 " Did you meet Miss Lowell on your way 
 home ? " Bethill said to Hamilton. " You 
 have lost again, Gaynor — Gad! w^e treated 
 her somewhat unceremoniously ; I wonder 
 what became of her?" 
 
 "I did not meet her afterwards,'' said 
 Hamilton. 
 
 " She was furious, I am convinced,'' said 
 Bethill, laughing. 
 
 Edmund laughed too. 
 
 " A very pretty girl," said the Major, 
 "very, 'pen my word; quite a style about
 
 SEFTON HALL. 65 
 
 her, and a great catch ! Thirty thousand 
 they say; she has good reason to toss her 
 head at every fellow she meets.'' 
 
 Hamilton could not say that was exactly 
 one of Ada Lowell's characteristics; but it 
 seemed to be a matter of course in the owner 
 of thirty thousand pounds in Major BethilFs 
 eyes. 
 
 '' She may not get a shilling though, I 
 understand, if she does not please the old 
 lady," he said, enquiringly. 
 
 " Yes, I believe so," said Hamilton ; " her 
 father could give her nothing, you know." 
 
 " I suppose the old dame is looking out for 
 a sprig of nobility. You should ask your 
 cousin down here, Gay nor." 
 
 "Oh! Fitzallan," said Gaynor ; '* yes, it 
 would suit him, with a title and not a penny." 
 
 " Could we pawn you oflf for him ? Eh, 
 Gaynor ? That would give you a lift.
 
 56 SEFTON HALL 
 
 This Gaynor was a strange looking crea- 
 ture — a mere school boy; he had a painful 
 habit of colouring when anyone spoke to him. 
 He seemed to be an established butt, and 
 there was a nervous expression in his face 
 very disagreeable to meet; he had evidently 
 been betting far more than he could afford to 
 lose, and his face, as the cards turned up, was 
 a sight to see. The Major and Captain Cole 
 were quite masters of their countenances, and 
 in no way could you guess their fortune from 
 their faces. 
 
 Mr. Gaynor being called for something, 
 left the room. 
 
 "Did you ever see such a being?'* said 
 Bethill 5 " but we will not be troubled with 
 him long. I can foresee that ; and the young 
 ass bets as if he were a millionaire.'* 
 
 Bethill, himself, seemed in no w.iy indis- 
 posed to bet in what he called moderation.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 57 
 
 Hamilton, who seldom played, was surprised 
 at the sums staked around him ; and although 
 the best able to bear the loss, he could not 
 help being provoked to see poor Gaynor, who 
 had resumed his seat, more wild than ever in 
 his play; when fortune seemed deserting him, 
 then apparently, according to Gaynor, was 
 the time to double the stakes, and so, I pre- 
 sume, win back the flying goddess. At last 
 from bets on the cards, as they turned up, 
 stakes, and so forth, Gaynor must have lost 
 fully a hundred pounds ; this seemed to quite 
 stupefy him. Major Bethill said something 
 about his making way for some one else, if 
 he did not care to risk anything further, and 
 Hamilton took advantage of the change to 
 say he would leave them also ; and Gaynor, 
 calling for brandy and soda, sought the com- 
 mon refuge of the unlucky. 
 
 D 5
 
 58 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 When the party broke up Edmund, too, had 
 lost considerably, and Major Bethill was the 
 largest winner. As Hamilton left the ante- 
 room he was much struck with Gaynor's face, 
 which had a more wretchedly nervous ex- 
 pression than ever. Captain Cole, who had 
 won a good deal from him, was proposing 
 they should have another chance for it all. 
 Gaynor seemed inclined to consent, but Bethill 
 interfered. 
 
 " Gaynor had better play no more to-night,^' 
 said he. '' You should let him alone. Cole. 
 Don't you see," he said, turning to Hamilton, 
 " he hardly knows where he is ?" 
 
 Hamilton thought he certainly did not 
 know much more. He could not help pity- 
 ing the wretched boy, who was so totally un- 
 fit for the life he had embarked on. 
 
 '' Who is he ?" said he, to Captain Cole. 
 
 " He is related to the Fitzallans, who have
 
 SEFTON HALL. 59 
 
 always taken care of him," said Cole; '* he 
 has no father or mother, and hardly any 
 money. They got him his commission for 
 nothing, but they might have saved themselves 
 the trouble." 
 
 *' He talked of his Cousin Fitzallan." 
 
 " Yes, just so ; heir to a title and nothing 
 a year; but he is not like Gay nor, he is a 
 deuced sharp fellow." 
 
 " Good-night, Hamilton." 
 
 " Good-night, Major." 
 
 And Edmund was on his way home, his 
 convictions as to Bethill's character not much 
 altered, except that he admitted that he was 
 an agreeable man, and had a manner which 
 could hardly fail to please and amuse when 
 so inclined ; but Edmund saw that at all times 
 he did not employ it, and he fancied that to 
 such fellows as Gaynor he could make him- 
 self almost insupportable, from the jeering,
 
 60 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 patronising tone lie assumed, and the way in 
 which he would attract universal attention to 
 their peculiarities. He thought of his own 
 brother, and wondered how he would get on 
 with his love of excitement and dislike to con- 
 trol ; but these matters were dismissed from 
 his mind by at length finding himself at home, 
 and observing it was already past four.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 61 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 The evening of The Grange ball had arrived. 
 It was to be a large affair, Mr. Hamilton 
 was not more unwell than usual, but he pro- 
 tested he would not stay up for supper. 
 
 Harriet had taken especial trouble with her 
 toilet. She was dressed in a soft shade of 
 pink crape, I think ; her hair was a work of 
 art, and when flowers and pearls had been 
 added in profusion she felt confident she looked 
 her very best, and the feeling deepened her 
 colour, and gave greater confidence to her
 
 62 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 bearing. Her mother, in a handsome dress 
 of some dark material, enveloped in costly 
 laces, was still an interesting and pleasing 
 woman ; but a nervous look in her eyes when 
 she saw Harriet showed she had not confi- 
 dence enough in her daughter to feel satisfied 
 at her appearance. 
 
 " I think your dress very pretty, and in 
 good taste, Harriet,^' she said. 
 
 " Well, mamma, so will Harry, I hope,'' 
 Harriet answered, seeing clearly the expres- 
 sion I have alluded to in her mother's eye. 
 
 " There will be a great many here. Do 
 not make yourself remarkable,'* Mrs. Hamil- 
 ton said. 
 
 " Oh ! it is only while people are here 
 that it is worth while being remarkable," 
 Harriet said, as she swept out of the room to 
 take a survey of the whole establishment and 
 see all was right, for she was a very efficient
 
 SEFTON HALL. 63 
 
 manager of household affairs, and things were 
 seldom at fault that came under her control, 
 and her mother, who cared little for such 
 matters, had partially abdicated in her favour. 
 
 The first two or three dances were over, 
 the guests had all arrived, the rooms were 
 very much crowded, and it began to be whis- 
 pered about that the belle of the evening was 
 a pretty Miss Cavendish, who had just come 
 from Paris on a visit to a sister, who lived in 
 a neighbouring county. She was an exceed- 
 ingly pretty blonde indeed, and Harry Lawson 
 had already danced with her twice. 
 
 Edmund had been dancing with one or two 
 young ladies, whose claims could not be 
 ignored, but he was engaged to Ada Lowell 
 for the next gallop. 
 
 " How very well Miss Lowell is looking," 
 said Mrs. Hamilton to a lady who sat beside
 
 64 SEFTON HAI.L. 
 
 her, and who, having no daughters of her 
 own, impartially admitted it was so. 
 
 "She is indeed. I do not wonder that 
 gentlemen admire her. I think her face so 
 attractive. Your own daughter, too, is look- 
 ing very well ; so old Colonel Travers thinks, 
 I am sure.'* 
 
 Mrs Hamilton glanced at Harriet, who was 
 talking with great animation to her com- 
 panion. There was rather a dissatisfied look 
 on her face, which her mother was pained to 
 see. She instinctively glanced round to ob- 
 serve if Harry was in the room ; he was not 
 to be seen, but shortly after he passed through 
 to the conservatory, with Miss Cavendish on 
 his arm ; he was paying her, apparently , 
 great attention, and she seemed to listen with 
 a pleased and flattered expression. Mrs. 
 Hamilton also watched Ada Lowell with par-
 
 SEFTON HALL. 65 
 
 ticular attention, Ada had not as yet danced 
 with either Major Bethill or Edmund ; but 
 Harriet, following her mother's instructions, 
 had expressly brought Major Bethill to her, 
 that she might talk to him, for Mrs. Hamilton 
 said she had quite forgotten him. Almost 
 at the same time, Harriet introduced Colonel 
 Travers to her mother, and after a few words 
 only on Major Bethill's part, he and Harriet 
 left for the dancing room. 
 
 Colonel Travers, a stately-looking, grey 
 haired old man, exerted himself to please Mrs. 
 Hamilton, and with success ; for while her 
 own claims to please lay in her apparent 
 gentleness and cordiality, she rather liked in 
 others a certain mannerism, which he pos- 
 sessed. 
 
 Edmund and Ada were dancing ; he had 
 asked her —
 
 66 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " If she forgave hiin for leaving her the day 
 of the hunt at Sefton?'' 
 
 " Forgave you ; why you had nothing to do 
 with taking care of me, Mr. Hamilton. Major 
 Bethill was to do so, according to my 
 aunt.'' 
 
 " But, perhaps, but for my bad example, 
 Major Bethill might not have deserted you." 
 
 '' You think Major Bethill very easily led 
 away. Did I not ask both of you to leave 
 me, and ride on?" 
 
 " In his place, I should not have gone.'' 
 
 "But you did go." 
 
 " I was not in his place," said Edmund. 
 
 ''You both left me, and joined the hunt," 
 persisted Miss Lowell. 
 
 " See what it is to take a lady at her word ; 
 you are angry that I went.'' 
 
 " I am not the least angry, except," she said,
 
 SEFTON HALL. 67 
 
 her face slightly flushing — '' except for your 
 saying I did not want you to take me at my 
 word. You have no reason to say any such 
 thing/' 
 
 '*I see you have notforgiven me for leading 
 away Major Bethill." 
 
 Ada Lowell, beginning to suspect that 
 Edmund was jealous of the Major, which she 
 had not till then imagined, her face again 
 flushed, and her beautiful expressive eyes 
 dilated. 
 
 " Confess it was very wrong," she said. 
 
 " After all you said, you admit you were 
 angry on his account." 
 
 There was a bitter tone in Edmund's voice 
 as he said this, which annoyed Ada, who had 
 been up to this quite good humoured; her 
 face changed with a rapidity which showed 
 she could not be lectured with impunity. 
 
 " I do not see why I need admit anything ;
 
 68 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 have I given jou any right to lecture me, Mr. 
 Hamilton ?" 
 
 She looked better as she spoke than 
 Edmund had ever seen her look, with a slight 
 flush on her pale cheek, and those eyes which 
 made her peculiar beauty struggling to anti- 
 cipate her lips, and say how angry she was. 
 Yet it was that gentle, womanly anger which 
 you could not like her less for, for it sprung 
 from her sensitive woman's pride. 
 
 Edmund's admiration shone in his eyes so 
 unmistakably, that before them Ada's sank ; 
 the angry brilliancy suffused into softness, 
 the slight flush rose into a deeper hue ; 
 Edmund stopped in the dance mechanically. 
 
 " You don't think — you must know why I 
 seem rude," he said. 
 
 ^' I do not wish to know anything more 
 about it, Mr. Hamilton ; let us not speak of 
 it ; and now please bring me to my aunt."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 69 
 
 Edmund tried to say something, but Ada 
 stopped Him. 
 
 "Now do not speak again,'^ she said. 
 " Aunt is up at the upper end of the room, 
 and I am engaged to Major Be thill for the 
 next/' 
 
 Edmund said no more. She sat down be- 
 side her aunt, with whom, for a few moments, 
 he conversed. 
 
 " This is our dance, Miss Lowell," said 
 Major Bethill, coming up. 
 
 " Yes," Ada said, " I believe so." 
 " It is the dance of the evening to me." 
 Edmund did not hear Miss Lowell's reply, 
 but she laughed lightly, and they were soon 
 whirUng round. Bethill danced very well ; 
 he was about five feet ten, his figure was 
 slight and youthful, and as they passed, 
 Hamilton admitted that there was no appa- 
 rent disparity in years, and that Bethill was a
 
 70 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 tolerably handsome man. It is, lie thought, 
 his character, his view of things, which makes 
 him old, which makes him unsuited to her ; 
 sensitive and romantic as she is, she will pic- 
 ture him all she would admire, and if she 
 only heard how he talked of her and her 
 money ! 
 
 Harriet came up. 
 
 "Edmund," she said, " do dance with Kate 
 Blackall; she ought to receive some atten- 
 tion ; she is there near the large window." 
 
 Edmund went over and asked her ; she at 
 once assented for the next galop ; she was a 
 pretty little girl. 
 
 " Oh ! I am so fond of dancing, Mr. Hamil- 
 ton, are you?" 
 
 "Yes, sometimes; yes, certainly, with a 
 good partner, as I have at present." 
 
 *' No," she said, " you don't care much for 
 dancing, I can see that."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 71 
 
 " I have been dancing longer than you have 
 been, Miss Blackall." 
 
 "Yes, you danced a long time with Miss 
 Lowell ; you were dancing with her when we 
 came." 
 
 " I meant I have been dancing for some 
 years before you ; you won't care for it so 
 much in five years. I have been dancing for 
 five years, while you were playing with your 
 dolls." 
 
 " Does Miss Lowell dance very well?" 
 
 " Yes, very well, as well as you do." 
 
 "You don't think that ; you know you like 
 dancing with her best." 
 
 " You say that just because I did not ask 
 you first," said Edmund, not caring much 
 what he said to so very exigeant a young 
 lady. 
 
 " I say it, and it is true — quite true, is it 
 not?"
 
 72 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 Edward, who was half distracted by this line 
 of conversation, said — 
 
 " How can you say so?" 
 
 " Where is your card ? There, let me see 
 it ; how many dances are you engaged to Miss 
 Lowell for?" 
 
 " Have you one after supper to spare me?" 
 he said, which happily, for the moment 
 stopped her inquiries, and Edmund thought 
 he would begin ; so he said, " Do you think 
 Major Bethill a good dancer ?" 
 
 "I have not danced with him; I don't 
 know him, but I have just seen him dancing 
 with Miss Lowell. Are they to be mar- 
 ried?" 
 
 " I don't know ; yes, I have heard so." 
 
 " You are vexed ; yes, now really I see it, 
 you are jealous." 
 
 '* Was there ever such an intolerable girl," 
 thought Edmund. " How she does worry
 
 SEFTON HALL. 7S 
 
 one. Why don't you sometimes drive to see the 
 hounds meet, or ride there, Miss Blackall ?'' 
 
 " Oh, papa won^t let us ; he says it is no 
 place for ladies,' ' said the retiring Kate ; 
 '' gentlemen are tormented with them." 
 
 '' Do you believe it, Miss Blackall?'' 
 
 '' Oh ! indeed, yes ; you know, that if there 
 is a run, papa says ladies are quite in the way ; 
 they keep gentlemen with them, and then ac- 
 cidents happen to them." 
 
 '^ Happen who?" 
 
 " The ladies, of course ; and papa does not 
 approve, you know." 
 
 " I am sorry he does not ; I should have 
 thought a hat would have been very becom- 
 ing to you," he said, gravely, as the dance 
 being over, he released himself from his tor- 
 menter, who reminded him when leaving her 
 of the after supper dance. 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 74 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 As Edmund walked into the next room, he 
 saw his cousin Harrj and Miss Cavendish sit- 
 ting in the library talking very earnestly — 
 Harry, taken captive by the new face, as 
 usual. Passing his mother, she said — 
 
 " Have you danced with Miss Cavendish ? 
 They tell me she is the belle here to-night.** 
 
 " No, mother, I would not for the world ; it 
 would be treating Harry badly/' 
 
 "Oh, does Harry admire her?" 
 
 " Yes, he is quite in love 5 it is an estab- 
 lished fact now.'' 
 
 "Why, did he meet her before ?" 
 
 " Oh, an age ago, mother," Edmund said, 
 just to get rid of the subject 5 but Mrs. Hamil- 
 ton told her daughter, when she next saw 
 her, that Edmund had said Miss Cavendish 
 was an old flame of Harrj* 's ; he had known 
 her some time. 
 
 "Oh,'' said Harriet, "but mamma, did you
 
 SEFTON HALL. 75 
 
 like my conquest; I am afraid you have 
 taken him from me, a gay widower, with a 
 daughter as old as I am almost. Don't laugh, 
 you will see me a stepmother very soon ; but 
 I must make Fred dance ; he is very pro- 
 voking." 
 
 Edmund walked into the conservatory. 
 Harry and his partner had joined the dancers; 
 he sat down in the window at the end of it. 
 He was looking out of the curtains into the 
 lighted room beyond, when his eye caugbt 
 Miss LowelFs dress ; from the shadow where 
 he sat, he could see clearly, but they could 
 not see him. Major Bethill was asking 
 her — 
 
 " Was she nervous left by herself the other 
 day. Ton mj word," he said " after I had 
 gone a field or two, I began to think of you, 
 and how I had treated you ; and I felt so dis-
 
 76 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 gusted with myself. I did not much care 
 about the run, or how I rode ; it was easy for 
 Hamilton, whose whole heart was in it, to 
 beat me.'* 
 
 "I believe you rode very well notwith- 
 standing,'^ Ada said. 
 
 " I was beat at a stream by Hamilton ; he 
 is a good horseman, and cares for nothing so 
 much as riding ; how I like that in a young 
 fellow — it shows determination ; 1 like a fel- 
 low to ride like that." 
 
 " Yes, I believe he rides very well.'' 
 
 *' Eemarkably well, and there is nothing I 
 like better, it shows such pluck, and Hamilton 
 is a very determined fellow ; jrou see that at 
 a glance. I like the way he plays, too." 
 
 He paused for Miss Lowell to ask a ques- 
 tion, but she said nothing. 
 
 " One can see a man's character," he added, 
 musingly, " even in a game of cards ; the way
 
 SEFTON HALL. 7/ 
 
 a man bets, the way a man loses. Now, I 
 never saw a man who loses so coolly as 
 Hamilton ; I'll give you my honour he and 
 Gaynor lost near a hundrecl-and-fifty the 
 other night, and it might be sixpence the way 
 Hamilton took it; as to poor Gaynor, if you 
 could see the way he got on, howling over his 
 money, and his friends." 
 
 " Did he lose much ?'* said Miss Lowell. 
 
 The tone of her voice pained Edmund very 
 much as he overheard her. 
 
 *' Well, yes for him — yes, but not much ; 
 but I should not talk of these things, I would 
 not to any one but you ; but you, dear Miss 
 Lowell, know that men in my position must 
 see a good deal of this kind of thing. I take 
 a hand myself often,'' he said, " as I can 
 hardly well escape doing so, you know, and 
 I have to take care of myself," and he laughed 
 gently. "You seemed chilled; let us not
 
 78 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 stand here, there are drafts about these win- 
 dows, and glass." 
 
 " I do not feel it ; it only seems to me fresh 
 and pleasant ; *' and she sat down on a low 
 chair. 
 
 Edmund felt wretched ; he would appear a 
 listener if he moved, and any one, by opening 
 the other door, and throwing the light on his 
 seat in the recess, would at once disclose his 
 position; he saw Ada's white dress; he could 
 see the gleams of lights on the back of her 
 hair, and the string of gold coins on it ; her 
 face was in shadow, she was slowly moving 
 her fan. He could see the Major standing 
 further from him, just at her shoulder, and he 
 knew that he was speaking, but it was so fast 
 and low he could not hear a word ; the fan 
 moved slowly back and forwards — it stopped 
 —she looked up, and spoke quickly, and at 
 length, but he could not hear; the Major
 
 SEFTON HALL. 79 
 
 seemed to repeat some assertion, at least, from 
 his gestures he inferred it to be so, and Ada 
 got up and walked into the light, followed by 
 Bethill. 
 
 Edmund was furious ; he now saw, was 
 positive, he thought, that Bethill was her 
 lover, and might he not be equally sure he 
 was not very coldly received. Why did she 
 sit there and listen to that long earnest con- 
 versation; it was plain it was not interrupted 
 by her. Edmund's rage reminded him 
 how necessarv it was to make an effort to 
 conceal it; he hurried into the dancing-room, 
 and soon found a partner, and danced inces- 
 santly until supper time ; at supper he found 
 himself not far from Kate Blackall. 
 
 " You have forgotten our dance, I know you 
 have," she said. 
 
 He went over to her side ; he was in the 
 humour to flirt with her — to do anything dis-
 
 80 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 agreeable and hateful, so that it did not give 
 him time to think. 
 
 " I have not forgotten. Pray come 
 now ! " 
 
 They passed near Ada Lowell, and Kate 
 laughed gaily just then. 
 
 " Did you see Miss Lowell looking at us ? 
 you will be scolded for this, I am afraid.'* 
 
 " You want to torment me, Kate — Miss 
 Blackall, I mean." 
 
 They were near Ada. Did he wish to be 
 overheard ? 
 
 "You should not call me Kate; Miss Lowell 
 would not like it.*' 
 
 " Do you like it ? " said Hamilton ; " that 
 seems to me more to the purpose." 
 
 " How can you say such things ? but you 
 know — that is, of course, yes — no." 
 
 '' Then I shall call you Kate." 
 
 " Oh no ; it would not be right, and Miss
 
 SEFTON HALL. 81 
 
 Lowell would be angry, and it would be 
 thought strange." 
 
 And she blushed, and looked confused, 
 hangmg her head, and looking very pretty. 
 And Edmund, who well knew how sill^ and 
 forward she was, forgot it in her prettiness 
 and his rage. 
 
 " And Ada Lowell ? '* she said, as they 
 stopped dancing close to the spot where Ada 
 had sat. 
 
 As she said " Ada,*' she threw down her 
 eyes and looked so demure. 
 
 Edmund laughed. 
 
 She certainly was a great little flirt ; but 
 that only the more suited him in his present 
 mood. As they stood chatting Miss Lowell 
 passed them ; she looked across — there was a 
 strange expression in her speaking eyes — a 
 sad questioning look. Edmund saw it; it 
 
 E 5
 
 82 SEFTON HALU 
 
 was not jealousy or pique, it was sadder, and 
 and at the same time calmer. 
 
 *' Does she no longer care to seem angry 
 with me?" he thought, and he soon disen- 
 gaged himself from Kate's slight meshes, in- 
 tending to observe further, but he found Ada 
 and her aunt had left. Feeling the influence 
 her presence still had over him, he thought 
 " What a fool I have been ! Now, if Kate 
 Blackall was to die for me I doubt very much 
 whether I should pity her. Not that she would 
 die for anyone ; but is it so with Ada, does 
 she not care if I die for her? '* He recalled 
 her blush, and his mind wandered off to the 
 points in which she differed from Kate 
 Blackall. 
 
 He stood in the library thinking, when his 
 mother passed by him. She saw his attitude, 
 the expression of his eyes, and, although she 
 had little affection for her son, she felt sym-
 
 SEFTON HALL. 83 
 
 pathy for the lover — his face, for the moment, 
 recalled the memory of one who had loved her 
 well : she, for the time, forgot her worldliness, 
 but only for the time. 
 
 " Edmund, dear, you look tired," she said, 
 and putting out her hand she gently stroked 
 his shoulder. 
 
 " Yes, a little, mother,'' he said. 
 
 And she passed on, but Edmund often 
 thought of her kind glance — her slight 
 caress.
 
 84 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Harriet came into her mother's room the 
 morning after the ball. It was Jnearly two 
 o'clock, but Mrs. Hamilton had not yet 
 breakfasted. 
 
 *' I hope you are not very much tired," she 
 said. 
 
 " My head does ache so, Harriet, dear." 
 
 '' I hope papa is not complaining much. He 
 did not stay up long." 
 
 *' Not worse, I think, but he says Jthat late 
 hours are most injurious to him."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 85 
 
 '' Did you like everything, rnotlier ?" 
 
 " Yes, I thought everything went off very 
 well/' 
 
 " Did you see Harry, mother ?'' 
 
 *' I did — he was very much taken up with 
 Miss Cavendish." 
 
 " Yes,'' said Harriet, '' taken up indeed ; she 
 is very pretty, is she not ? " 
 
 " Well, Harriet, dear, I daresay gentlemen 
 think so — she seems admired; I have seen 
 many I thought more attractive ; but she is 
 pretty." 
 
 " I might marry Colonel Travers, if I liked," 
 said Harriet. " What would you think of 
 that, mother?" 
 
 " Are you serious about it, dear ? he seems 
 so much older than you are, and he has a 
 daughter so grown up." 
 
 " I am serious enough after last evening ; 
 you can see what a chance I have of Harry ;
 
 86 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 I won't forget that/' she said, her brow 
 lowering. 
 
 " Oh, he is just caught for the moment, 
 perhaps/' 
 
 ^* He is never a moment he is not caught 
 with some one or other ; besides it's too 
 dangerous to refuse Colonel Travers. I never 
 had as good a chance." 
 
 " Why, has he proposed for you ? you have 
 not seen much of him, have you ?" 
 
 " Yes, I have at Brighton with aunt last 
 summer. Yes, he has proposed for me, and 
 I said I would write to-day.*' 
 
 '^ Oh, dear, Harriet, it is so sudden, and why 
 did you never speak of it before — why, you 
 were always talking of Harry," 
 
 *' Of course I would have Harry if T had 
 a chance." 
 
 *' Well, dear, perhaps, as you say yourself, 
 there never was much prospect of that."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 87 
 
 " Prospect !" said Harriet, fiercely, " I was 
 sure of him but for that hateful girl, and I 
 will be revenged yet/* 
 
 " Oh, Harriet, that is folly ; women never 
 can be revenged on the men they care for ; 
 you cannot be revenged on Harry without 
 being disgraced." 
 
 '' I both will and can. Why can't women be 
 revenged as well as men ?" 
 
 '' You know, dear, how foolish all this is." 
 — Harriet made an impatient gesture. — "But 
 are you serious about Colonel Travers?" said 
 Mrs. Hamilton, who was beginning to think 
 it was all pique on Harriet's part. 
 
 " Well, yes, mother, I am ; what better can 
 I do — he will be able to make a comfortable 
 settlement on me, as I have heard he is very 
 well off". He certainly has two children, the 
 daughter you know, and a son in a regiment
 
 88 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 in Canada. I suppose it is the very best 
 thing I can do." 
 
 This way of speaking quite put Mrs. 
 Hamilton out, she would have approached the 
 subject so differently; she was, however — 
 now the first shock of intelligence was over — 
 much more reconciled to the prospect, in fact 
 any prospect of getting Harriet married was 
 not without its charms. 
 
 " In a worldly point of view, it would be a 
 good match," said she, blandly. ''He is 
 older than you are, much older : I myself 
 married a man five-and-twenty years older 
 than I was, so I should not speak of that." 
 
 " He is just sixty," said Harriet. 
 
 Her mother did not contest the point, she 
 merely said — 
 
 " Yes — of course no one could object to such 
 a match ; your father or brothers, I mean.'*
 
 SEFTON HALL. 89 
 
 '*I don't agree with you, they will all 
 object more or less • but what is that, they 
 can't prevent my doing what I please — but I 
 should rather they did not," Harriet added, 
 more gently, '4t might provoke Colonel 
 Travers, and who would see about the settle- 
 ments." 
 
 Harriet was then silent, and after a pause 
 her mother said — 
 
 " I shall arrange it first with your father, 
 and then all will be right ; and I do hope and 
 pray that it may be for your welfare, Harriet, 
 dear, as I am sure it is/' 
 
 " You are more sanguine than I am then, 
 mother. I only know it's the best thing for 
 me to do, since I have lost Harry ; but I will 
 be revenged, I will not let him off so easily." 
 
 " My dear, be cautious, you cannot be re- 
 venged ; why talk of it, why think of it ?'' 
 
 " What else can I think of? can I forget
 
 90 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 that it has been talked of over the whole 
 country that I was to be married to Harry ?'^ 
 
 " Well, it has ; but the best thing that you 
 can do now is to marry some one else. I 
 speak in this way because it seems to me 
 there has been no foundation for all the talk 
 there has been ; if you tell me there has, I 
 will say nothing.' ' 
 
 " He has flirted with me, nothing more," 
 Harriet said, with unwilling truth. 
 
 " Then, my dear, I seldom speak ; but if 
 you go on in this way, you will make your- 
 self ridiculous. Are not all women who 
 exhibit any preference, which is not returned, 
 ridiculous ?" 
 
 *' What right had he to flirt with me, to 
 give rise to these reports ?" 
 
 " As to all this, it seems to me to be perfect 
 folly. Harry has never asked you to marry 
 him — he need not have been afraid of a re-
 
 SEFTON HALL. 91 
 
 fusal," said Mrs. Hamilton, with some 
 humour. '' So I presume he must have been 
 deterred by the fear of your accepting him, eh?'' 
 
 Harriet's hard face flushed at this insult, 
 but her mother knew her well, it was the only 
 way to rule that callous nature. 
 
 " Therefore, my dear," she said, " take my 
 advice, and make a good match when you 
 can — that is, if you, like most girls, care for 
 being married. If you do not marry, you 
 don't know what may occur ; and if it is a 
 thing this affair of yours with Colonel Travers 
 should be spoken of, how very injurious to 
 have it, too, broken off." 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton spoke vaguely to alarm her 
 daughter, if possible, in the only way she 
 could be alarmed. 
 
 " And what," said Harriet, with one of her 
 startling transitions, " what did you think of 
 Edmund ?"
 
 92 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 '* I think you and Fred are right. I did 
 not see much of Fred — was he dancing ?" 
 
 '* He did dance -—and he is right, you think ? 
 Will she have Edmund, do you think, 
 mother T 
 
 " I hope so, dear," said her mother, slyly ; 
 " if you are married, I should greatly wish to 
 have Edmund settled, and why not with 
 her?" 
 
 Harriet doubted the genuineness of her 
 mother's wishes, but said nothing, not caring 
 to pursue the subject, when she knew she 
 would elicit nothing. 
 
 " He will be angry about my marriage, I 
 am sure," she then remarked. 
 
 "You will leave me to tell him, I hope, 
 Harriet ; it will be better. '^ 
 
 "I am too abrupt, you think — well, per- 
 haps I am. Do you think I have any chance 
 of Harry?"
 
 SEFTON HALL. 93 
 
 " Harry !*' her mother said, startled at this 
 return to him, at a time she had begun to 
 order the wedding breakfast in imagination. 
 *' I do not, — I cannot say I do.'' 
 
 " I will be revenged, then, that's all," said 
 Harriet, walking away. 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton could not help thinking over 
 the character of the daughter she was so soon 
 perhaps to lose. She wondered how, as a 
 step-mother, she would get on with Colonel 
 Travers' children ; what sort of man he was. 
 She thought, with dread, of her remaining 
 unmarried ; the strange things she had already 
 done, the stranger she would be likely to do 
 in this matter. " I must try," she thought, 
 " and get her father to assent at once, how- 
 ever I manage it ; she would be more un- 
 manageable than ever if I failed ; and this 
 mad talking of being revenged on Harry, she
 
 94 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 will be occupied about the wedding, and will 
 forget it all I suppose.'' 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton lost no time in approaching 
 the subject with her husband : she said 
 Haniet had been talking to her of a proposal 
 she had just received, and she imagined from 
 the way she spoke she had made up her mind 
 to marry. 
 
 " Who is it ?" said Mr. Hamilton. 
 
 " Old Colonel Travers,'' said his wife, 
 laughing. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton laughed, too. 
 
 " And would my pretty Harriet marry him, 
 a widower with children ?" he said. 
 
 " Yes ; it seems all a settled thing in her 
 mind. She may change yet — I hope so, I am 
 sure,'* Mrs. Hamilton said, hypocritically. 
 
 " It is not a marriage I would wish to see 
 either; but I will never interfere, if jou can't
 
 SEFTON HALL. 95 
 
 succeed," was Mr. Hamilton's only observa- 
 tion. 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton told her daughter that her 
 father had said nothing in opposition to her 
 marriage. 
 
 " You know, he laughs about your tall 
 daughter : that is how he takes it. I was 
 surprised he said so little.'* 
 
 " That is very well, indeed, mother." 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton's next task was to tell her 
 sons; she told Edmund that evening; he 
 listened very quietly. 
 
 " It is a great pity — does she do it wil- 
 Ungly?" 
 
 " I have said all I can to her — I had other 
 hopes for her," said his mother, with her 
 melting voice. 
 
 '' It is too bad, indeed, such a pretty girl as 
 our Harriet ; and he is so old, and has such a 
 grown up daughter."
 
 96 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " But he is rich, and she will marry him, 
 and you know there is no use in opposing her. 
 She never speaks confidentially to me : I fear 
 she has had some attachment — she will not 
 tell me, but it must, from her determination, 
 be some such motive. Do you think so, 
 Edmund r 
 
 ''I cannot tell: that would be sadder 
 still." 
 
 " However, dear, let us not be unkind to 
 her; if she must marry him, meet him kindly 
 — it will please her. She asked me to get 
 you to do this. If she have sorrows of her 
 own, we cannot wish her to speak of them 
 now." 
 
 " No, mother, I suppose not. I shall be 
 civil to him, you may be sure, I half fancy 
 I know the reason of this marriage. '^ 
 
 " He takes it better than I expected he 
 would," thought Mrs. Hamilton, " I was
 
 SEFTON HALL. 97 
 
 afraid he would begin to remonstrate with 
 her, and then she would have spoken about 
 Harry and being revenged.*' 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton told Harriet what had 
 passed. Harriet was still sulky — she seemed 
 averse to any discussion — she at length 
 brought a letter she had written to Colonel 
 Travers to her mother : '* read it, please," she 
 said. 
 
 '' It is very suitable, indeed, dear.'* 
 Harriet did not say another word ; she 
 gave short and cross answers whenever she 
 was spoken, and would not herself speak, or 
 in any way allude to her prospects or hopes. 
 Her mother was very quiet and gentle, and 
 said nothing ; hoping in a day or so she would 
 be in a more communicative mood: but 
 Harriet sat in her room, and seemed quite 
 pre-occupied — she ordered the pony phaeton, 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 98 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 and drove out, but returned and still sat in 
 her room gloomy and cross. 
 
 The next day passed, and the next, in a 
 similar manner; she handed her mother a 
 letter from Captain Travers. 
 
 " You see he will come for a few days next 
 week, mother/' 
 
 '' Yes, and I see he talks of your being mar- 
 ried in January ; yes, I think it is January, 
 is it not ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ; well, that is a very good time is 
 it not, mother ?" 
 
 " Oh, certainly ,'' said Mrs. Hamilton, " but 
 I must see about your trousseau immediately 
 after Colonel Travers leaves. '' 
 
 " Oh, yes, so we can." And she again left 
 without saying any thing further on the subject. 
 
 The day Colonel Travers was expected, 
 Harriet dressed herself in her prettiest and 
 most becoming dress, and evidently took great
 
 SEFTON HALL. 99 
 
 trouble about her appearance, but was still 
 gloomy and cross. 
 
 Colonel Travers came, a gentleman-like, 
 formal, but very polished old man ; they all 
 received him kindly, and Harriet had nothing 
 to complain of. His age seemed about sixty ; 
 he was pale and bald, and rather old-looking 
 for his years ; he appeared a kind and rather 
 proud man, not extreme in any of his views, 
 rather vain, perhaps, of just having engage d 
 himself to one of the handsomest girls in that 
 part of the world. He was one who fancied all 
 women to be almost equally amiable, and that 
 they all were quite ignorant of life in its ruder 
 and harder outlines, whom men were to protect 
 and guide, as he hoped to protect and guide 
 his young bride, who would, he hoped, never 
 know care or sorrow while he lived to guard 
 her. 
 
 F 2
 
 100 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 His first wife had been a woman who 
 realised this idea, and in her he fancied he 
 had a perfect knowledge of her sex ; he won- 
 dered at the scenes he heard of in some house- 
 holds, and reflected with pride they were im- 
 possible in his. 
 
 Harriet received him with good taste, 
 amiably and calmly. Her mother shone on 
 the occasion ; she told him how " she had a 
 feeling of nervousness, unwillingness — what 
 you will — dislike, perhaps, to seeing the man 
 who was to rob her of her only daughter ; but 
 now she had seen him, and heard him speak 
 — she had, indeed, seen him before, but it had 
 made no impression on her — but now she 
 knew him, and she at once felt she would 
 trust even Harriet to him.'* She spoke with 
 her soft charm, her magic cordiality. Colonel 
 Travers was bewitched ; he never forgot that 
 winning woman, her womanly softness, her
 
 SEFTON HALL. 101 
 
 beauty even ; mild and near its setting as it 
 was, it was not lost on him, and through all 
 vicissitudes she kept over him the gentle in- 
 fluence she that day won. 
 
 Edmund, though sorry for his sister's mar- 
 riage, was cordial and kind, and old Mr. 
 Hamilton, for bim, was even gay.
 
 102 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 After a few days stay, Colonel Travers left 
 them. Edir.und congratulated his sister 
 kindly as they stood in the hall, after seeing 
 Colonel Travers off, saying how he thought 
 him a perfect gentleman, and one with whom 
 she could be happy, and that he, indeed, hoped 
 she might be so. 
 
 Harriet hurried towards the stairs ; as she 
 did so, she said — 
 
 "Thank you, Edmund, thank you ; I am 
 sure I shall be very happy, indeed.'^
 
 SEFTON HALL. 103 
 
 She spoke in a perfectly satisfied tone of 
 voice. 
 
 Edmund thought, as she passed away — 
 " Is she quite satisfied ? Does she feel it no 
 sacrifice? Is marriage such a great matter 
 that for the mere point of being married 
 people give up all hopes of realising their 
 ideal here on earth ? How is it that women 
 persist in thinking marriage with any man a 
 triumph and an advantage ? Would not 
 freedom be more desirable than union with 
 one we can never love ? Is solitude so pain- 
 ful that to escape it we must rush on all the 
 miseries of being wedded to those with whom 
 we can have no thought or feeling in common. 
 Is it that — 
 
 ' Their passions unto mine, 
 Are as moonlight unto sunlight, as water unto wine ?' 
 
 Can the majority of women never experience 
 a desire or a hope, beyond the possession of
 
 104 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 diamonds, carriages, and cashmeres, as some 
 one says? Are they willing to become the 
 property of any man who can give them these 
 things ? I would still wish to believe there 
 are women for whom a world were well lost. 
 Is not Ada one ? Would she not scorn such 
 paltry lures as money, station, luxury ? If 
 she marry unhappily, it will be that she has 
 been deceived, not that she has willingly de- 
 graded herself into a purchased toy.*' And 
 then his hopes turned to the chances of un- 
 deceiving her before it was too late. " If she 
 never marry me, I hope — I do hope, she may 
 at least, make a happy choice, and one 
 worthy of her." 
 
 The prayer, for it was a prayer, was un- 
 selfish ; as such, we may hope it was listened 
 to where all such are justly weighed, and find 
 an answer in all things just. 
 
 And was Edmund right ? Are there in this
 
 SEFTON HALL. 105 
 
 world other and greater blessings than riches? 
 Are women wrong when they sacrifice them- 
 selves for such objects? or is the real worth 
 of everything the price which it will bring ; 
 and if they can be bought, are they not, per- 
 haps, dear enough commodities ? They may 
 be, and probably are, many of them, incapa- 
 ble of any high or noble feeling ; but are they 
 not sometimes mistaken in fancying they can- 
 not be made to feel some of life's miseries ? 
 Do not the purchasers sometimes care but 
 little for a toy when it has been played with, 
 and, perhaps, broken? And what of the 
 broken toy ? I do not speak of the stronger 
 and bolder characters of women like H arriet, 
 who sacrifice themselves for ambition, or 
 pride, or revenge. They generally have their 
 reward; the world is enough for them; but 
 the toys, the women bought by diamonds, car- 
 
 F 5
 
 106 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 riages, handsome dresses, what of them ? The 
 women who never keep, for they never value 
 their husband's love — his purse is enough for 
 them. They cease to inspire admiration 
 soon ; they have not dreamt such a thing was 
 possible ; but when it comes, are they satis- 
 fied with their fate. I have observed them, 
 and found them much less satisfied than was 
 reasonable or just. It is they who appear as 
 plaintiffs in the Divorce Court, as the interest- 
 ing martyrs to fate, and they receive far more 
 pity than they deserve. They are for ever 
 whimpering about their sufferings, and seem 
 to wonder men do not love them, the poor, 
 mean -minded, peevish things, as if they 
 were Beatrices and Lauras. 
 
 It had been arranged tliat Harriet's was 
 to be a gay wedding, and her friends from all 
 parts came to congratulate her. She had re- 
 covered her spirits, and now seemed the
 
 SEFTON HALL. 107 
 
 gayest of the gay ; and Harry had written his 
 congratulations and kind wishes ; and Har- 
 riet read the letter with such composure, her 
 mother hoped her dangerous dreams of re- 
 venge had passed away. 
 
 " I daresay Harry will be here," was all 
 she said. 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton was glad, indeed ; all 
 things moved on in accordance with her 
 wishes, and soon her anxieties would be at an 
 end. 
 
 One day, as Edmund came in from riding, 
 his mother told him Mrs. Alton and Ada 
 Lowell had been paying them a visit. He 
 was sorry he had not seen them, but Harriet 
 said they had promised to come to the wed- 
 ding ; for Edmund was restless when he did 
 not see Ada, although he seldom experienced 
 much pleasure during the meeting. 
 
 About five days before the wedding, one
 
 108 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 morning after Colonel Travers had left them, 
 Harry arrived. He seemed anxious and ex- 
 cited ; he asked almost at once for Harriet. 
 Her mother, who dreaded an interview, said 
 that she had a headache. 
 
 " Oh, aunt," said Harry, " I must see her, 
 I want to see her very particularly.'* 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton was not satisfied, but she 
 knew it would be vain to interfere with Har- 
 riet ; so she went to her room. 
 
 " Harriet," she said, as she saw her sitting 
 writing near the fire, " Harriet, Harry has 
 come; he is anxious to see you, he says ; some 
 present, I suppose," added her mother, to give 
 as conventual an air as possible to a meeting 
 which she was afraid was not without danger. 
 
 Harriet turned paler than the paper she 
 was writing on. 
 
 " Yes,'' she said. 
 
 " I could not imagine," thought Mrs.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 109 
 
 Hamilton, " that she would be so much af- 
 fected/' 
 
 " I shall go, mother, and see Harry," Har- 
 riet said, but her voice was broken, her man- 
 ner confused, her head bent over the paper. 
 
 " I have been writing such a number of 
 letters,'' she said. 
 
 Her mother left her, feeling both disturbed 
 and anxious. She said to Harry— 
 
 " Harriet is busy writing ; she is not very 
 well ; she has been writing a great many for- 
 mal letters to-day, which has knocked her 
 up. 
 
 Harry said little, and seemed pre-occupied. 
 
 Harriet entered the room; her step was 
 slow ; she seemed going through a form, but 
 going through it with resolution ; her voice 
 was hard and low as she said — 
 
 " You are come to congratulate me, Harry,
 
 110 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 mamma tells me ; I am very much obliged to 
 you." 
 
 " Yes/' he said, " I am come to congratu- 
 late you, and also I want a few moments con- 
 versation with you. Come into the library, 
 uncle is gone out/' 
 
 Harriet walked in ; Harry went over to the 
 window- Harriet had already seated herself 
 at the fire. 
 
 " Harriet/' he said ; his voice was strange, 
 and he did not look at her as she waited 
 breathlessly for the next words. 
 
 " Harriet, I have got a letter in my pos- 
 session." 
 
 She suddenly ^thrust the poker which she 
 held deep into the fire. 
 
 " I have," he said, '' a letter in my posses- 
 sion addressed to Miss Cavendish." 
 
 " So you are going to be married to her,
 
 SEFTON HALL. Ill 
 
 are you ? You are going to be married to 
 Miss Cavendish/' 
 
 "It is not concerning my marriage with 
 Miss Cavendish." 
 
 " What then ?" she said boldly. 
 
 " It is a letter which has been addressed to 
 Miss Cavendish. It is anonymous, and it is 
 full of the vilest falsehoods." 
 
 "Is it?" she said. 
 
 " It is ; and, Harriet, it is said to be in your 
 handwriting." 
 
 "And you/' she said, firmly, "you be- 
 lieve it ? Show me it." 
 
 He took out the letter. 
 
 " What are the vile falsehoods ?" she 
 said. 
 
 " It says that I am a reprobate and a scoun- 
 drel, a blackguard ; there is nothing vile it does 
 not impute to me. It warns Miss Cavendish 
 to be on her guard, and not engage herself
 
 112 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 to me ; and, Harriet/' he concluded, " I think 
 it is your handwriting, and what," he said, 
 his passion breaking through the control in 
 which as yet he had kept it, '' what are or 
 can be your motives for such low, vindictive 
 conduct ?'* 
 
 Harriet threw her hands up before her face, 
 and through them he heard her words, strong 
 and hard — 
 
 " I loved you, and you despised me for 
 that girl." 
 
 " And you confess it,'' he said, his mind 
 not realising her conduct fully till she ad- 
 mitted it ; " you confess you acted this part 
 to me who had known you so long, who had 
 never injured you ; as to your love, it is a 
 mere invention. You never loved mortal." 
 
 " What," she said, starting up, " is this the 
 way you treat me ? — me, whom you have 
 driven half mad ? I have loved you — I have
 
 SEFTON HALL. 113 
 
 loved you. Give me the letter," she half 
 screamed •, " give me the letter.** 
 
 " I will not," he said. 
 
 Her tone, her words hardened, and deter- 
 mined on getting the letter ; all concentrated 
 on that, not the least shocked by her conduct 
 having being exposed, or sorry for it, dis- 
 gusted him. 
 
 '' No," he said, '' I shall certainly keep the 
 letter." 
 
 " You intend to show it to Colonel Travers," 
 she said, becoming suddenly quite white. 
 She rushed towards him. " Oh ! give, give 
 me the letter." 
 
 He held it out of her reach. 
 
 " You want to ruin me, to break oflF my mar- 
 riage. Oh ! Harry, Harry, for God*s sake give 
 me the letter. I wrote it," she said, throwing 
 herself on her knees,"I wrote it, but I was mad. 
 I did not know what I was doing. Oh ! Harry,
 
 114 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 give me the letter ; do not drive me out of 
 my senses. Harry, Harry, Harry," and she 
 clung to his arms, one of which held the letter 
 above her. " Oh ! I will do anything on earth 
 for you if you give me it. We will all be ruined 
 and disgraced if I am exposed. Think of my 
 father and mother and forgive me. Oh ! how 
 — how can you be so cruel." 
 
 She moaned ; tears ran down her cheeks, 
 and her sobs were heartrending. 
 
 " If I did give it to you," he said, " would 
 you promise to write and say how false and 
 cruel that letter is. Do you remember what 
 it says? It says, owing to my conduct, my 
 engagement with you was broken off. Do 
 you remember the vile falsehoods about Jeanie 
 Eames ? Will you write and contradict that 
 if I give you the letter?" 
 
 " I will, I will, I will," she said, " how can 
 you be so cruel ?"
 
 SEFTON HALL. 115 
 
 " You will promise to write ?" 
 
 *' I was mad, I was mad. I will do any- 
 thing you like." 
 
 She swayed back and forwards, as she said 
 these words. 
 
 " Here," he said, " here is the letter." 
 
 " Oh ! oh ! oh !'' she said, as with one 
 bound she caught it, and in an instant it was 
 on the fire. She watched it blaze for a second 
 or two, when she started round to him. 
 
 " You fool," she said, " I don't care for you 
 now. I will be revenged," she screamed, " I 
 will. What are you to me ? Your letter, 
 your Miss Cavendish's letter is gone. I am 
 not in your power now. Begone ! I don't 
 care what you do. You may tell who you 
 like I wrote it, but I will say you are a liar 
 and a ruffian. Begone, sir," she said, assum- 
 ing the character she spoke of with a low, 
 sneering laugh. '' I shall tell Colonel Travers
 
 116 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 of your vile inventions, saying I had written 
 anonymous letters. Begone out of my pre- 
 sence/* And she laughed such a laugh as 
 Harry never heard again. " Yesterday I was 
 in your power, now I am not in your power, 
 and I hate you and I despise you, you fool." 
 And she rushed out of the room, leaving 
 Harry half stupefied.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 117 
 
 CHAPER VIII. 
 
 Mfis. Hamilton came down from her room 
 later in the day, expecting, as a matter of 
 course, that Harry would stay for dinner. She 
 met Harriet, who seemed in great spirits. 
 " Harriet," she said, " where is Harry ?" 
 " I think he is in the stables with Edmund." 
 "He is gone. I saw him drive away about 
 ten minutes after Harriet and he had that 
 conversation in the library," said Fred. 
 
 " Is he gone ? Yes, he said something about 
 having to go, but I did not think he was 
 serious about it.'^
 
 118 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 "What did he bring you, Harriet?" said 
 Mrs, Hamilton, expecting he had brought her 
 some present. 
 
 " Nothing, mother ; in fact, he advised me 
 not to marry/' 
 
 " Oh ! so that was it," said Fred, walking 
 oflf; having apparently come to the con- 
 clusion he now understood the interview 
 perfectly, and that to listen to details was 
 
 folly. 
 
 " He wished you not to marry I Why, 
 Harriet, how strange.'* 
 
 "Yes, it is strange, for he did not want 
 me to marry him ; I thought men never in- 
 terfered without a motive/' 
 
 " Well, indeed, Harriet, it was strange ; it 
 was most uncalled for," and for once Mrs. 
 Hamilton fully understood, as she thought, 
 Harriet's indignation, and quite sympathised 
 with her.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 119 
 
 " However, motlier, let it be ; I can bear 
 that, too, from Harry.'' 
 
 Harriet is greatly improved, her mother 
 thought ; how sensibly she now speaks about 
 Harry. 
 
 " You have great good sense, my dear," 
 she said, '* when you take time, and are 
 guided by it, not impulse." 
 
 " Well, I hope I may get rational by de- 
 grees. After all, the great thing is to see 
 what can best be done ; is it not ?'' 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton fully assented to this. 
 
 " Just so, my dear ; it is very foolish to 
 attempt impossibilities," she m echanically re- 
 plied. 
 
 The wedding was to be a gay one ; they 
 were to have a long list of county families, 
 and Harriet was to have eight bridesmaids. 
 Ada Lowell was asked to be one; she drove 
 over to see Harriet, to say she hoped she
 
 120 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 would excuse her being one of the brides- 
 maids, as she was afraid of wearing a light 
 dress. 
 
 '' I am not strong; I suffer from colds very 
 much, and my aunt would not wish me to 
 wear a light dress. She thinks I might get 
 ill.'^ 
 
 " I am sorry, indeed, you cannot be one," 
 Harriet said, with a warmth which surprised 
 even herself. " I do not wonder your aunt is 
 cautious ; really, the dress at a wedding in 
 winter is ridiculous." 
 
 " You know my aunt and I are certain to 
 come ; she is so fond of weddings." 
 
 " I always thought them stupid enough ; I 
 suppose I shall think the same of my own," 
 said Harriet. 
 
 '* Oh ! one's own wedding could hardly be 
 stupid." Ada blushed, fearing she spoke too 
 seriously. " At least, you are so certain to
 
 SEFTON HALL. 121 
 
 be an object of curiosity, and in your case of 
 admiration," making bar a low bow, " it 
 will be so pleasant that you will not have 
 left this neighbourhood altogether — that you 
 will be within a long drive, at least." 
 
 " Have you seen my daughter-in-law ? such 
 a girl — as tall as you are. Am I not a 
 brave woman to face such a young lady as 
 stepmother ?" 
 
 " She seems a pleasant girl ; I saw her at 
 your ball, and I hear she is very much at- 
 tached to her father." 
 
 '' She may be jealous, you know," said 
 Harriet, who had other ideas of the effect of 
 the young lady's attachment to her father. 
 " But come and let me show you my dresses; 
 some of them are pretty. I have also some 
 handsome jewellery Colonel Travers has 
 given me." 
 
 VOL. I. a
 
 122 SEFTON HiiLL. 
 
 When everything had been admired, they 
 came down to luncheon. 
 
 Edmund was in the drawing-room. He 
 was delighted to see Miss Lowell ; was she 
 not to be one of his sister's bridesmaids? 
 
 " I am coming to the wedding, but I am 
 not to be a bridesmaid ; my aunt fears I 
 should get cold." 
 
 " Luncheon, Edmund dear," said Mrs. 
 Hamilton; "take in Miss Lowell." 
 
 " I assure you, Miss Lowell, we have not 
 seen my sister for ten minutes at a time since 
 Colonel Travers was here last." 
 
 "Is that true?" said Ada, appealing to 
 Harriet. " I suppose Mr. Hamilton is insin- 
 uating how vain ladies are, I think very un- 
 fairly." 
 
 " You think it is unfair for us to criticise 
 when it all originates in a wish to attract our 
 admiration. Is that it, Miss Lowell Y*
 
 SEFTON HALL. 123 
 
 '* Did you imagine I would make a lowly 
 supplication to be forgiven, on the plea that 
 however mistaken our only object was to 
 please or amuse your majesties ? If so, I 
 think it proves that all the vanity in the 
 world is not attached to the ladies." 
 
 " It is so pleasant to believe that one's ap- 
 probation is of such immense importance to 
 half the world, that you are very unkind. 
 Miss Lowell, to disturb my faith in such a 
 pleasant delusion." 
 
 " I never would have interfered with your 
 pleasant delusion,'' said Miss Lowell, ''if you 
 had not been ungenerous enough to ridicule 
 and criticise your imaginary worshippers." 
 
 " We are all fond of flattery — are we not ? 
 And don't we generally despise the kind 
 creatures who do flatter us ?" 
 
 '* I see you at least are," said Harriet ; " the 
 
 G 2
 
 124 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 reason, no doubt, that you accuse me of 
 vanity, is that I have not sufficiently con- 
 sulted your tastes." 
 
 " You see, Miss Lowell," said Fred, "I am 
 considered the man of taste ; my opinion is 
 asked on all these questions. I have severally 
 examined all my sister's dresses, and ap- 
 proved, with one exception— the pink moire." 
 
 " Pink suits Harriet," said ]\Irs. Hamilton. 
 
 " Pink," said Fred ; " yes, Miss Lowell, 
 pink suits Harriet ; but what mortal would 
 a pink moire suit. She had a dress of crape 
 or some gauzy stuff, looked very well ; con- 
 sequently, being utterly devoid of judgment, 
 she imagines anything pink will suit her." 
 
 "What's moire?" said Edmund, "is it 
 satin?'' 
 
 " Satin 1 no wonder my sister does not take 
 his advice, and that he is in a huff in conse- 
 quence," said Fred, with great solemnity.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 125 
 
 *' It is a rich silk, Mr. Hamilton ; a watered 
 silk." 
 
 " I think Harriet will look like a hand- 
 some housemaid, if she appears in that detes- 
 tible moire ; but you will see, she will never 
 put it on. Let me choose your dress for the 
 wedding," continued Fred. 
 
 " My dress is ordered, Mr. Hamilton ; but 
 I should like to see if there is any similarity 
 between our tastes." 
 
 "You will wear a white bonnet; that's 
 regulation, of course. Then, let me see — I 
 think I should like a black lace shawl, and a 
 grey coloured silk dress." 
 
 " Second mourning," said Harriet. 
 
 " Second mourning — you are so conven- 
 tual," said Fred. " What has that to say to 
 it." 
 
 " T think those black and white dresses
 
 126 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 ladies have worn for the last few years look 
 very well," Edmund said. 
 
 " Yes, I think thej do. My dress is to be 
 a pale shade of lilac — very pale, you know, 
 with a lace shawl ; how will that look in 
 your opinion?" 
 
 "In my opinion, no one will look like 
 you," said Fred. 
 
 " A very safe answer. Do you also ap- 
 prove, Mr. Hamilton ? — after what your sister 
 has said, I am afraid not to ask your opinion." 
 
 "What does my sister say ?" 
 
 '' She says you are in a huff with her be- 
 cause she did not consult you about her 
 dresses ; it cannot be true — you are never in 
 a huff'.'' 
 
 " Not with my sister, at all events ; T have 
 reason to be in huffs sometimes with other 
 people, have I not ?"
 
 SEFTON HALL. 127 
 
 "I don't know about other people; but 
 you seem to admit you are occasionally sub- 
 ject to huffs, do you not ?'' 
 
 " I am ready to confess anything.'^ 
 
 "That sort of general confession, Mr. 
 Hamilton, has no efl&cacy ; you must be more 
 particular." 
 
 " Well, then, I confess to having been in a 
 huff the other evening.^' 
 
 " Without the slightest cause," Ada con- 
 tinued. 
 
 " No, with the very best cause," he said, 
 looking at hen 
 
 Ada looked up ; her eyes sparkled with a 
 mischievous expression. " She knows very 
 well how she makes me hate Bethill," thought 
 Edmund. 
 
 " Well, be it so, Mr. Hamilton ; since you 
 say you were in a huff, I quite forgive you.
 
 128 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 People can't be expected to have reasons for 
 such things as huffs." 
 
 Fred, who had introduced himself into the 
 conversation, was determined it should not 
 be carried on without him. 
 
 " Have you lately seen Major Bethill ?" 
 he said. " I hoped he would have com- 
 mitted suicide, when he heard Harriet was 
 going to be married ; but you say he is 
 gay and well. For my part, I despise the 
 man." 
 
 " What is Fred saying, something about 
 Major Bethill?" 
 
 " Yes, just so, Harriet." 
 
 Harriet, who had little dependance on her 
 brother's discretion, did not ask further. 
 
 ''It is a long drive ; will you call for m^ 
 phaeton ?" Ada said. 
 
 When Ada was bidding them good-bye,
 
 SEFTON HALL. 129 
 
 Fred had the good nature to leave her at the 
 drawing-room door, and let his brother see 
 her into the phaeton. Edmund was the more 
 delighted at this, in consequence of his uncer- 
 tainty — for Fred generally did what pleased 
 him, without much reference to other people's 
 wishes. 
 
 As Edmund wrapped Ada up in shawls and 
 rugs, he said — 
 
 " Have you not forgiven me ? Are we not 
 friends ?" 
 
 *' I wish always to remain friends,'' she 
 said, as Edmund folded the fur wrapper round 
 her in the phaeton. 
 
 Did she glance at him as he did so ? His 
 head bent down, he could not say ; but as he 
 raised his eyes, he caught her hand. 
 
 " And I," he said, " will never be willing 
 to remain Miss Lowell's friend." 
 
 G 5
 
 130 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " Good-bye," was the only answer of the 
 lady, and the little phaeton was gone. 
 
 Fred met his brother in the hall. 
 
 " You owe me those last words," he said. 
 
 Edmund laughed good-humouredly. 
 
 *' Confound the fellow!" Fred thought, "he 
 looks as if he was sure of her, and she is a 
 deal too good for him.'^
 
 SEFTON HALL. 131 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 And Fred was not wrong; the confounded 
 fellow certainly looked very happy. There is 
 no event in our after life which has the same 
 effect on us, as our first hope of happiness, 
 where happiness is to us all important. The 
 fever of life is unlike any of the chronic affec- 
 tions; it has its crisis, when the whole mind is 
 engrossed by the chances of the hour, when 
 we breathlessly watch for the slightest symp- 
 tom of change, or of improvement ; and with 
 what rapture we first recognise hope. Have
 
 132 SEFTON HALL, 
 
 you ever watched through that period in a 
 dear friend's life ? Some of us have ; we all, 
 almost, have watched that period in the life 
 of our love ; and what is our feeling when we 
 first recognise hope there ? Is it not rapture ? 
 Doubts and fears may again over-cloud it; 
 but how well we can remember the first hour 
 in which we passed from anxiety to a breath- 
 less joy. You are now perhaps changed in 
 all respects from yourself of those days ; that 
 love may have ended in misery, you may have 
 found happiness again ; but it is not this hap- 
 piness — or it may have been your fate to taste 
 of first happy love ; but do you forget ? or is 
 it not the most vivid and lasting memory- of 
 your life ? This hour now shone on Edmund, 
 and he, at all events, never forgot it; he 
 rushed out of the house, he wished to be alone 
 with his happiness. If Ada Lowell were at 
 The Grange then, I doubt whether he would
 
 SEFTON HALL. 133 
 
 have cared to go to her. The sun had set ', it 
 was a chill, cold evening in December ; he 
 thought it lovely, that a brighter, clearer light 
 than the light of day shone on all around. 
 He walked fast and far, yet the whole scene 
 was in some way photographed on his mind ; 
 he never forgot its more minute and trifling 
 points ; he could ever after recall the place at 
 which his dog ran barking up to him, the way 
 in which he jumped and frisked; that moon- 
 light was unlike any other he ever saw ; 
 clouds swept over it, and it was far from full ; 
 but in his eyes, it seemed glorious and divine ; 
 he thought of it as the moon which shone in 
 paradise of old. 
 
 And Ada Lowell, did her thoughts revert 
 to the handsome young man who had said 
 that he would not be willing to remain her 
 friend? Did she hear him? and did she listen 
 with delight, though she met it with the lying,
 
 134 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 loving, hypocrisy of women, who rely on their 
 apparent unconsciousness as their strongest 
 spell, to attract and to retain men's devotion. 
 Edmund believed she did, and he thought — 
 " I would love her less were she different from 
 what she is." He had risen in the enthusiasm 
 of his happiness beyond jealousy ; he could, 
 he thought, feel a friendship even for Bethill, 
 so utterly did he ignore and despise all love, 
 but the free, true love which Ada's unfettered 
 fancy would bestow ; and this he was now 
 satisfied was not Bethill's. 
 
 And, Ada Lowell, what were your 
 thoughts ? Did you not compare your two 
 lovers? and how did the balance incline? 
 Were the Major's practised compliments and 
 courtesies fresli and attractive to you ? Did 
 you admire his waltzing ? or did you think 
 Hamilton better looking, with something more 
 original about him ? or did you see something
 
 SEFTON HALL. 135 
 
 further into the character of each ? T do not 
 know ; her face was sad, her eyes musing, her 
 colour did not come and go, her cheek never 
 brightened into smiles. Did she realise Ed- 
 mund's dream ? I cannot think she did. Yet 
 Ada told her aunt she had had a verj plea- 
 sant visit at The Grange ; and thej talked of 
 dresses for the wedding, and Ada's was to be 
 a pale fawn-coloured silk, with a black lace 
 mantle; and Ada told her aunt of Fred's ideas 
 about dress. And when the dress was sent 
 home, and Ada tried it on, her aunt said she 
 had never looked better. And on the morn- 
 ing of Harriet's wedding, as they drove over 
 in Mrs. Alton's brougham, she repeated the 
 compliment, and talked and questioned Ada 
 gaily as to all their doings at The Grange. 
 Had Mrs. Alton become Edmund's friend? 
 Beyond a question or two, Mrs. Alton had 
 never hitherto interfered with Ada's lovers ;
 
 136 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 she seemed to have no fear of her making a 
 bad match, to be in no hurry that she should 
 make a good one. She differed from most 
 chaperons, she was neither anxious nor im- 
 patient. 
 
 Ada loved her aunt, she would have done 
 many things to please her. Whether she 
 would marry to please her, had never yet 
 become a question ; they were alike in many 
 points, they were both frank and sincere. 
 Mrs. Alton was upright, clear-sighted, and 
 decided. Ada, equally high-minded, was 
 more sensitive, and sympathetic ; there were 
 points in Ada's character her aunt could not 
 read ; there was nothing in Mrs. Alton's Ada 
 could not appreciate. Mrs. Alton greatly 
 admired Harriet that day — indeed she seemed 
 her husband's daughter rather than his wife. 
 In the old church it was a pretty scene, it 
 was gaily adorned, and all the gay dresses
 
 SEFTON HALL. 137 
 
 made it look so festive and bright ; but some 
 of the part J were nervous and anxious. Mrs. 
 Hamilton fearing at the last moment she 
 might see Harry^s unwelcome face — she had 
 become more and more sceptical about that 
 meeting between him and Harriet. Had 
 Harriet told her the truth ? What was its 
 meaning ? or had Harriet perhaps made some 
 mad appeal to Harry's love or pity even then? 
 She puzzled herself over this until she was 
 nervous and anxious. It was not until Mrs. 
 Travers had put on her travelling dress, and 
 the carriage was at the door, that her fears 
 had quite subsided. 
 
 Harriet bid her mother good-bye with great 
 composure, and Mrs. Hamilton felt how hard 
 it was to be left with so little appearance of 
 regret by her daughter — for she was not with- 
 out some feeling ; she wondered, was she to 
 blame for her daughter's character, which she
 
 138 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 knew would come out even more strongly in 
 her new capacity of step mother ? She was 
 more or less mystified by Harriet's marriage, 
 which was one she could hardly feel to be 
 flattering to her pride as a mother ; but with 
 all this mingled a sense of relief at having 
 her dauo:hter at leno;th removed from her care 
 and charge, which she had long known was 
 but nominal, and was daily growing more in- 
 tolerable to Harriet. 
 
 " I hear your nephew will soon follow Mrs. 
 Travers' example," said old Mr. Sandford 
 the rector of the parish, who was bidding Mrs. 
 Hamilton good-bye. 
 
 " Oh ! Have you heard he is going to be 
 married ? Do you remember the young lady's 
 name ?" 
 
 " That pretty Miss Cavendish, who was at 
 your last ball, was the lady I heard of.'* 
 
 "Oh! yes; Edmund told me something of
 
 SEFTON HALL. 139 
 
 this. Young men are in each others secrets I 
 suppose ; but I did not think it serious ; it 
 would be a very good thing for Harry ; I should 
 be very glad to find it true. Good-bye." 
 
 " Did I tell you, Mrs. Alton, that people 
 all tell me my nephew, Henry Lawson, is 
 going to be married to Miss Cavendish; I 
 have not yet heard it from him, but from some 
 of Edmund's hints I fancy it's true." 
 
 " I suppose, Miss Lowell, that was the 
 reason he would not spare us a day for our 
 wedding." 
 
 '^ Edmund, you are far too discreet ; I have 
 just heard from old Mr. Sandford that Harry 
 is to be married, and you would keep it a 
 secret." 
 
 " Why, mother, I did not know it till this 
 moment; it must have been Fred who has 
 been playing some trick on poor Mr. Sand- 
 ford.''
 
 140 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " He is in great delight with your good 
 taste and judgment in dress ; has he told you 
 so, Miss Lowell?" 
 
 " Your brother has paid me some of the 
 prettiest compliments/' 
 
 "Yes, I saw at breakfast he was beside 
 you ; I had to do the honours you know, so I 
 could only look on from a distance/' 
 
 " How I should dislike having to propose 
 people's healths." 
 
 " You can't dislike it more than I do, it's 
 a dreadful infliction ; but I have no second 
 sister." 
 
 '' That reflection enabled you to go through 
 this day's proceedings ?" 
 
 " That, and that only." 
 
 " Did not Major Bethill make a very good 
 speech when he proposed the bridesmaids?" 
 
 " Plenty of compliments ] he must have 
 imagined you where one of them."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 141 
 
 " I dislike compliments extremely, one feels 
 so ridiculous." 
 
 '' You said just now Fred paid sucli pretty 
 compliments." 
 
 " Yes, I believe I did ; well, Hs compli- 
 ments are so abrupt, they give one quite the 
 idea of their being quite sincere and fresh; 
 the Major's are too polished, and they don't 
 seem impromptu." 
 
 " Instead of not liking compliments, you 
 are most particular to have none but the 
 freshest and prettiest; are not those the 
 terms?" 
 
 "I fancy you have the same talent for them 
 as your brother." 
 
 "I shall ask Fred to teach me a few of his; 
 would you know them ?" 
 
 " You need not pretend you don't pay com- 
 pliments ; were you not paying Miss Blackall 
 some the other evening ?"
 
 142 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " Yes I was ; I said I knew she would look 
 well in a riding hat." 
 
 " That is not a compliment ; that's quite 
 true she would look very well." 
 
 " And are all compliments untrue ? or will 
 a thing being true prevent its being a com- 
 pliment ?' 
 
 " I think it will; I think a compliment is 
 always an exaggeration.'^ 
 
 " Then if I were to say you look far better 
 than Miss Blackall in a hat, that would be, I 
 suppose, no compliment?" 
 
 " You never saw her in one, so you cannot 
 judge ; therefore it is a compliment, and it is 
 neither fresh nor pretty. You must, T am 
 afraid, get Fred to teach you some of his." 
 
 " Ada, dear, the brougham has come ; good- 
 bye. Mr. Hamilton, 1 had a very good view of 
 your riding the last day at Sefton; I saw you for 
 half-a-mile, and was delighted at the way you
 
 SEFTON HALL. 143 
 
 took the stream. Come, Ada, liave you on 
 your shawl ?" 
 
 " Yes, thank you, Mr. Hamilton ; if s in 
 the carriage. Good-bye." 
 
 Although Major Bethill paid Ada very little 
 attention on this occasion, he had been mak- 
 ing inquiries about her, and he had come to 
 the conclusion he could do nothing better 
 than marry her; he calculated the amount of 
 her fortune as sure to be something handsome 
 if her aunt approved, and he admitted it 
 would be better for him to marry soon, as if 
 he delayed much longer it might be difficult 
 to do so with the same advantage; he wound 
 up by saying he knew how a lady should be 
 treated, and in him Miss Lowell would be sure 
 of a good husband. And he meant it to a 
 certain extent; he did not intend to spend 
 her money, or desert her, or ill-treat her ; he 
 intended, as he said, to make Ada a good
 
 144 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 husband, and he had little doubt of her ac- 
 quiesence. He had received a great deal of 
 civility from her aunt, which was meant for 
 encouragement he was convinced ; and Ada, 
 too, had been at all times agreeable and pleas- 
 ing. There had been a period when he was 
 much perplexed what to decide on, fearing 
 Ada might accept him, although her aunt 
 might not approve ; in this case what a posi- 
 tion he would be in — obliged to take the lady 
 and lose the money. But of late he had taken 
 courage, hoping Mrs. Alton was not too 
 averse, or the young lady too much inclined 
 for the match ; but what more than all else 
 decided him was a rumour that his regiment 
 might be sent abroad that spring. It had not 
 been thought likely that they would have left 
 England for another year ; but some disturb- 
 ance in Canada had given rise to a report that 
 they might be ordered out this spring ; if so
 
 SEFTON HALL. 145 
 
 haste was indispensable, for heiresses in Canada 
 were few, he remembered. Mrs. Alton had 
 that morning at the wedding breakfast given 
 him an invitation to dinner for some day the 
 following week, and he determined to know 
 his fate then. 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 Ada and her aunt were busily engaged gar- 
 dening ; Mrs. Alton was very fond of flowei;s. 
 There was a pretty grass garden under the 
 drawing-room windows, where there was 
 always a choice collection of flowers ; it was 
 well sheltered and laid out with taste, and 
 from it the shrubberies extended for some 
 distance. Ada also was fond of flowers, and 
 willingly assisted her aunt in all her garden- 
 ing operations. They were having the plea- 
 sure ground tidied and brushed up to-day, the
 
 SEFTON HALL. 147 
 
 early snowdrops were out in numbers, and 
 the February air had quite a spring feel. Ada 
 heard a horse's foot passing towards the hall 
 door. Mrs. Alton told the gardener to see 
 who it was ; but before he had reached the 
 door Major Bethill had come forward towards 
 them, followed by the gardener. Mrs. Alton 
 was glad to see him, he was rather a favourite 
 of hers ; from him she was sure to hear of all 
 the news going, for he soon identified himself 
 with whatever place he was in, and made 
 himself aware of all its goings on. He was 
 always exceedingly attentive to Mrs. Alton ; 
 indeed, he talked far more to her than to her 
 niece, which perhaps contributed to his 
 popularity with her. Mrs. Alton was anxious 
 to know how it was he had not been able to 
 dine with them about a week before. 
 
 '' You mentioned you had . to leave on 
 
 H 2
 
 148 JSEFTON HALL. 
 
 military duties ; is there any truth in the re- 
 port of your being moved, I have heard some- 
 thing of it ?" 
 
 " I should not be at all surprised if we were. 
 There is some report going, but nothing special 
 as yet ; some people think we will be sent to 
 Portsmouth, and then on to India/' 
 
 *' You may meet my father then,'* said Ada; 
 ''you know he has been in India five-and- 
 twenty years, Major Bethill," 
 
 " I have heard, I think, that he is in the 
 Punjaub." 
 
 '' Yes," Mrs. Alton said ; '' he is very for- 
 tunate, he is in a good climate, and likes it 
 very well." 
 
 " I fear, if we should be sent to India, it 
 will be to Madras; there are regiments com- 
 ing home from Madras, and none this year 
 from the northern provinces." 
 
 J
 
 SEFTON HALL. 149 
 
 " Madras is not nearly as good a climate; 
 it is very hot indeed, T believe." 
 
 '* I should like to see India ; but I should 
 not like to pay it a long visit/' said Ada. 
 
 " It is a bad place for ladies," said Major 
 Bethill, thinking of the chances of Mrs. Alton 
 not approving of the match. 
 
 " Oh ! Major Bethill, I was under the im- 
 pression all ladies liked India ; they are so 
 flattered and in such request out there." 
 
 " But, Miss Lowell, the heat, the fevers, 
 the mosquitoes," said Bethill, gloomily. " I 
 should be sorry to trust my wife out there, if 
 I had a wife." 
 
 " You will be sure to marry in India if you 
 go," said Mis. Alton, laughing. " I shall 
 watch the Times^ I am sure I shall see you 
 gazetted soon after you go out. It is always 
 so, my brother met both his wives in India.
 
 150 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 Why I suppose young Hamilton won't be there 
 a year until he is married.'' 
 
 '^ Ah ! young fellows like Hamilton do 
 those things, though how a subaltern can 
 marry I for one never could understand. We 
 have not had a day's hunting lately, Miss 
 Lowell." 
 
 '^ No ; nothing at all near us." 
 
 Mrs. Alton was called into the house ; 
 Major Bethill walked round the grass garden 
 with Ada, admiring any of the spring flowers 
 which had already peeped over ground. 
 
 " This is really a very pretty spot," he said, 
 " and the walks are so well laid out ; you 
 have a great deal of fine shrubbery." 
 
 They walked on a little to a point from 
 which the old house looked well. 
 
 " Had I a place like this I am sure I should 
 feel sorry to leave it."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 151 
 
 " Yes ; I think it is pretty, and I should 
 certainly feel sorry to leave poor old 
 Sefton." 
 
 " You probably will not leave it for any 
 length of time." 
 
 " I suppose I never shall ; my aunt objects 
 to my even going to see my father, though I 
 should only stay a year or so, and I should 
 greatly like it." 
 
 " She is quite right, India is not for such as 
 you ; that may do for young ladies who go 
 there to seek their fortunes, but you need not 
 go there to seek yours.'* 
 
 Ada laughed. " I am glad of that, I should 
 not like to go to India to seek my fortune, as 
 you say." 
 
 " Oh, no ! young ladies generally go there 
 who find it, hard to get husbands at home, but 
 that never could be your case," the Major 
 said, rather familiarly.
 
 152 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " Oh ! we may suppose that all ladies do 
 not go with that object." 
 
 *' Ton my word, they very generally do. I 
 canH agree with you there, Miss Lowell, but 
 as I said, Miss Lowell is not one of those 
 young ladies. 
 
 " No," Bethill said — at last dashing into 
 the subject, and with all his experience awk- 
 wardly enough ; but it is so difficult to ap- 
 proach such a matter-of-fact listener as Ada 
 with any enthusiasm, even if the Major^s 
 strong point had been enthusiasm. " No," he 
 said ; '* but. Miss Lowell, might I venture to 
 ask, to hope you would make such a sacrifice 
 for me — could I hope you would leave Eng- 
 land with me ?" 
 
 Ada listened to this sudden, and to her un- 
 expected speech, with half doubt as to its 
 meaning. 
 
 " With you ?" she said slowly.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 153 
 
 "Yes; with me,' ' the Major said, "as my 
 wife —could I but hope you would care for 
 me sufi&ciently to do so, I would indeed be 
 perfectly happy. I know,'' he said, for Ada 
 had made no answer, *' how bad a match I 
 am in the eyes of the world, but, dear Miss 
 Lowell, I have never seen any one whom I 
 cared for before, and this must excuse me, this 
 will, I know, excuse me,'' he continued, as he 
 put out his hand to take hers. 
 
 Miss Lowell drew back in the smallest pos- 
 sible degree from Major BethilFs side, "you 
 are really — you are serious in this," she said, 
 as if half doubting still. 
 
 The Major was beginning to again protest 
 his sincerity, but she gently stopped him. 
 
 " I am so ashamed that I should not have 
 foreseen this — I am really — indeed, sorry," 
 she added, her beautiful face softening as she 
 
 H 5
 
 154 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 spoke, and kindling into blushes, " but I 
 
 never — ** 
 
 Bethill interrupted her; "do not say you 
 do not love me,'* he said, at last awake to the 
 bearing of her words. 
 
 " Believe me, I regret all this, I do indeed, 
 you will forgive me, when I tell you I never 
 once imagined you were serious/^ 
 
 " Have I not at all times shown you how 
 much I admired you ; how could you doubt 
 it T he asked. 
 
 " I did not think it more than a mere pass- 
 ing admiration ; you will forgive me, it can 
 never be;" she spoke slowly, and her face 
 was bent on the ground. 
 
 " Do not refuse me some hope, you love no 
 other ; why then may I not hope at some 
 future day." 
 
 " It can never be," Ada said slowly. 
 
 " Why ?^' said Bethill, getting heated and
 
 SEFTON HALL. 165 
 
 angry, " is it because you love some other, 
 because you love young Hamilton?" 
 
 '' You have no reason whatever for sup- 
 posing so," she said, her voice sinking lower 
 and lower, " and it is unkind to us both." 
 
 " Do you mean to deny he loves you," said 
 the Major, with a scornful laugh. 
 
 " I have not the slightest reason for sup- 
 posing he does," she said, influenced by the 
 rudeness of Bethill to tell a particularly inno- 
 cent untruth. 
 
 " Then pardon me," he said, " you are 
 indeed very dull." 
 
 Ada had made every allowance for his 
 manner up to this point, for she was too 
 generously minded not to regret the position 
 in which, as she thought, her own blunder had 
 placed him ; but it was now becoming so ex- 
 tremely unpleasant to her, she at length said — ■
 
 156 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 "All this, Major Bethill, has really nothing 
 whatsoever to say to the matter/* 
 
 " Excuse me,'* he said, "for thinking it has 
 a great deal to say to the matter," and bowing 
 to Ada, he walked towards the house without 
 any further farewell. 
 
 "I really am soriy," Ada thought, "though 
 the Major is evidently an ill-tempered man^ 
 and takes my refusal very badly; still I am 
 sorry aunt liked him ; it was pleasant to her 
 to see him, and now I have evidently made an 
 enemy of him, and he is very cross and 
 touchy. How at once he began about poor 
 Hamilton ; I wonder would he act in the same 
 way, but I am to blame myself, greatly to 
 blame ; ** for Ada generally blamed herself 
 when anything unpleasant occurred. 
 
 In the meantime the Major had returned to 
 the house, and as he approached he saw Mrs.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 157 
 
 Alton on the steps; " Dear Mrs. Alton, T want 
 to apeak a few words to you," he said. 
 
 Mrs. Alton walked into the drawing-room. 
 
 " I have,'' Major Bethill began, " been 
 speaking to your niece, Mrs. Alton ; I have, 
 in fact,'' he said, with an appearance offrank- 
 ness very well assumed, '^I have, in fact, been 
 asking her to marry me." 
 
 " Can she have accepted him ; why else 
 should he tell me," flashed through Mrs. 
 Alton's mind, as she looked up in great sur- 
 prise. '* Yes," she said, as she sat down on 
 one of the sofas near the window. 
 
 Major Bethill saw the expression of her 
 face. " It is," he said, " unusual for a gentle- 
 man to speak of these matters, except the 
 young lady receives them favourably ; but in 
 this case there is so much that is perplexing ; 
 so much in fact which I cannot understand, 
 that I address myself to you, dear Mrs,
 
 158 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 Alton *' Mrs. Alton was too good a diplo- 
 matist to do more than smile and bow. " Miss 
 Lowell has at all times been so flattering in 
 her m mner, has received me so favourably, 
 that," he said, " her conduct to-day has been 
 doubly painful to me ; she seems incapable of 
 coming to any decision," he added gently. 
 
 " She has been, perhaps, surprised," said 
 Mrs. Alton; "you can at once see Ada is 
 nothing of a coquette. Probably, Major Bethill, 
 she never calculated on a very probable 
 result," said her aunt, smiling. 
 
 " I am sure — indeed, I know," continued 
 Bethill, " she would never do anything you 
 would disapprove of: she loves you more than 
 a mother, and, indeed, deservedly," said he, 
 warmly. " And I, I do assure you, would 
 not wish her to act in opposition to your 
 wishes. No — when I know your wishes on 
 the subject," said the Major, magnanimously,
 
 SEFTON HALL. 159 
 
 " if you tell me you disapprove of my address- 
 ing your niece, it will be quite enough for me. 
 I know it would not in the world's eyes be a 
 good match — the world will say I am old 
 enough to be her father, and not in any way 
 good enough for her : and you, Mrs. Alton, 
 may justly think so too." 
 
 " I hope Ada has not been telling him the 
 whole objections are on my part,'^ thought 
 Mrs. Alton ; " it is not her style, she gener- 
 ally has courage enough to say what she 
 thinks — but then, indeed," she indulgently 
 concluded, *'she may hardly have known 
 what to say to this Major Bethill, for I hardly 
 know myself.'^ 
 
 " I assure you. Major Bethill, upon my 
 part, I am perhaps peculiar; but I do not 
 like interfering in these matter, I leave it all 
 to the young ladies. If Ada has made up 
 her mind to marry you — "
 
 160 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 The Major eagerly interrupted. 
 
 " Not at all, nothing of the kind — do not 
 for a moment think so — but your wishes, your 
 views, I know, have greater influence over her 
 than you imagine — than you desire, perhaps," 
 he added, seeing Mrs. Alton was about to 
 speak. " But, as I said before, my dear Mrs. 
 Alton, in everything 1 am ready to be guided 
 by your wishes, if, as you say, your opinions 
 are opposed to taking any steps, — whatever 
 your views are, I will act in strict obedience 
 to them." 
 
 " You are very good, indeed," she said ; 
 " nothing can be more handsome. I assure 
 you, I never have " — she changed the word — - 
 " I never do interfere with Ada. I have per- 
 fect trust in her; she, 1 hope, knows I will 
 never oppose anything which is for her hap- 
 piness. Can I say more. Major Bethill?" she 
 added, kindly.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 161 
 
 "Mj dear friend, jou cannot indeed. I 
 make but one more request : will you your- 
 self tell Ada this ? it will remove all miscon- 
 ceptions from her mind. But might I venture 
 to hope I have your good wishes ?'' he said, 
 rising to leave. 
 
 "I can only repeat,^' Mrs. Alton said, '*I 
 have not the slightest objection; but with 
 Ada, Ada herself, the whole matter lies." 
 
 " One thing more," he said, turning round, 
 " might I hope you would do one thing for 
 me — would you let me know the result after 
 you have spoken to your niece ?^' 
 
 '' I will — certainly ; and T hope in any case 
 we shall always remain good friends." 
 
 " You need not make that request," he said, 
 gallantly. " Good-bye, Mrs. Alton, good-bye." 
 
 After the Major had left, Mrs. Alton sat 
 musingly at the fire. 
 
 '* I do not think she in the least cares for
 
 162 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 him," she thought, " and why he made such 
 a fuss — asking me to write and all that — I 
 cannot understand. She is very pretty, very 
 attractive — I suppose she will take a fancy to 
 some one some of these days — in the mean- 
 time I do not wonder at many being attracted 
 by her, I am glad, though, it is not Major 
 Bethill : I do not think he cares for her — he 
 is not the person for her, at all events. I 
 suppose she will tell me — at least I must 
 speak to her before I write to Major Bethill. 
 I imagine Hamilton fancies her, too,*' and 
 Mrs. Alton smiled. 
 
 Ada came in shortly. 
 
 " Ada,*' said her aunt, '^ Major Bethill has 
 been talking to me, and of you, too.'* 
 
 " Oh 1 has he aunt — what did he say ?" 
 
 " He said he had asked you to be his wife, 
 and he said he hoped I would speak to you, 
 and say T had no objection.*'
 
 SEFTON HALL. 163 
 
 " And, aunt, what did you say to hiin ?" 
 
 '' I said, my dear, I would speak to you, 
 and say I had no objection," 
 
 "You know, aunt dear, I would never 
 marry him ; you know that," Ada said, with 
 tears in her eyes. 
 
 " Yes, Ada, I felt sure of that ; but I spoke 
 to him civilly, of course — he deserves that at 
 least — but I did not expect that you would 
 have him." 
 
 " I would not wish to be unkind ; indeed, I 
 think it was all caused by my own stupid 
 blindness: I should have seen it, I know, 
 aunt." 
 
 " That would have been no use with Major 
 Bethill : he asked me to write and tell him 
 your ultimate decision when you had spoken 
 to me, or I to you rather, and told you I did 
 not object." 
 
 Ada laughed. "Did he really, aunt? he
 
 164 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 could not have had any doubt about my deci- 
 sion, I should have thought ; indeed, he told 
 me he supposed I fancied some one else." 
 
 " How did it all happen ?" 
 
 '* We were walking together, talking of 
 India ; he asked me would I go there as his 
 wife. I said, ' No ;' he seemed very much 
 surprised, and suggested I liked some one else, 
 I got a little angry, and said I did not,*' and 
 Ada coloured deeply. 
 
 " You did well, dear : he never would have 
 suited you." 
 
 " He never would, indeed, aunt ; and really 
 I never once thought of such a thing as his 
 proposing for me ; but I am sure he is very 
 angry, he will never forgive me — he is one 
 never would I should think. Oh, dear ! it 
 is very unfortunate every way." 
 
 "Now, Ada, about the letter — that is the 
 next point — I think you should write it."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 165 
 
 " No, indeed, aunt ; you agreed to that." 
 
 " Well, I need not write until to-morrow ; 
 but the Major will tell everybody that only 
 for me you would have married him, and 
 show my letter very likely as a proof of it." 
 
 " He never would do that." 
 
 " Oh ! child, you do not know these people 
 as well as I do." 
 
 " But why need he talk of it at all?" 
 
 " Nothing will persuade him that you and 
 I won't talk of it, and he will wish to tell his 
 own story first." 
 
 "If you were good-natured, aunt, you 
 would take him yourself!" 
 
 ''Come, Ada, how shall we begin the 
 letter ? — ' Dear Major Bethill, I find you mis- 
 understood my niece i that would never do- 
 that he would say showed I had forced you to 
 change your mind, and he would show my 
 letter about."
 
 166 SEFl'ON HALL. 
 
 " Oh ! aunt, what a horrid bore it is ! 
 Could you not see him ?'' 
 
 " I could not, dear; if 1 asked him here 
 without answering, or, I mean, writing to tell 
 him of your ideas being different from what 
 he imagined them to be, he would say I had 
 treated him very badly.'' 
 
 "It is too bad altogether, for I know he will 
 be so angry and spiteful." 
 
 "Well, dear, all the better for you, you are 
 not to be his wife."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 16'V 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 " What do you say to this letter, Ada ; I 
 wrote it last night : — 
 
 ''Dear Major Bethill, — 
 
 " 1 fulfilled my promise, but do not 
 find my doing so has altered my niece's ideas, 
 as you hoped it might have done. She joins 
 me in hoping you will always believe how 
 sincerely I wish to . 
 
 " Eemain, yours affectionately, 
 
 '* Edith Alton. 
 
 '* Sefton Hall, Friday evening/' 
 
 7
 
 168 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " Is it not very short, aunt ?* 
 '* You see, dear ! what is there to say ? I 
 wish it to be such a letter as cannot be shown, 
 and one which, if left about, will not in any 
 way commit you — under these circumstances 
 it is difficult to be fluent." 
 
 " Yes, aunt, I suppose it will do very well; 
 but it does seem very short and stiffi'^ 
 
 So the letter lay on the table, but in the 
 evening, with some slight modification, it was 
 sent. 
 
 The following day Major Bethill was some- 
 what anxiously expecting this letter; when 
 he spoke to Mrs. Alton, he did so to present 
 matters in a different light to her, without 
 much expectation of any satisfactory result : 
 but in the two days which had since elapsed 
 he had cheated himself into imagining it was 
 by no means improbable that Mrs. Alton's in- 
 fluence, which he was sure he had secured
 
 SEFTON HALL. 169 
 
 miglit overcome Ada's reluctance. It was not 
 love that led him into this delusion, I need 
 hardly say ; Ada was merely the representa- 
 tive in his eyes of at the least thirty thousand 
 pounds, perhaps ultimately far more : this was 
 a sum which he greatly wished to have trans- 
 ferred to his bankers, and Ada followed it as 
 a necessary incumbrance. Not that Major 
 Bethill particularly disliked Ada, or preferred 
 any one else. His views were that he wanted 
 money, and must marry for it — to the lady he 
 was quite indifferent. He had reason to fear 
 the rumour was correct, and that his regiment 
 would be sent abroad in spring : he expected 
 the Colonel would soon sell, and he had no 
 money to purchase, and in India or Canada — 
 for there were some who thought they would 
 be sent to Canada — it was much more diffi- 
 cult to find ladies with money than at home. 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 On the following morning, when his old 
 soldier servant came in with his water for 
 shaving, and brought his letters, he at once 
 guessed Mrs. Alton's, and seized and tore it 
 open. It was so short ; he had read it in an 
 instant, when the first thing he did was to 
 throw one of his shoes after the old servant as 
 he went to the door. 
 
 " Stop," he said, "}0U cursed fool, do you 
 call this hot water? Bring me some more 
 hot water at once ; do you hear ? hot water, 
 you fool." 
 
 " Yes, sir," said the old fellow, not a muscle 
 of his face moving, but retreating rapidly 
 towards the door ; but when he had shut it, 
 rubbing his leg, he muttered — " What the 
 devil ails the Major; I never saw him worse 
 since he lost so much on the Derby." 
 
 Bethill walked up and down his room in a 
 perfect fury.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 171 
 
 " Confound her," he said, '' it is just what 
 I might expect. What am I to do now ? 
 And the regiment nearly sure to go abroad. 
 How am I to get any one else now ? It's 
 
 that d d Hamilton she is running after — 
 
 like Kate Lawton, I lost all my time with at 
 Leamington, and then her ass of a brother is 
 the first to tell me she is to be married to Sir 
 John Dalton, after throwing me over ; but 
 they are all alike, a scheming, cheating lo t, 
 ready to sell you any moment they get a 
 chance. What a set I have had to deal with 
 — that one, and the Manchester girl, and this 
 Ada Lowell, tossing up her head after keep- 
 ing one a whole year dancing with her. Devil 
 take her,'' said the Major, with a heartiness 
 that could not be questioned. 
 
 '' What will I do now ? Where shall I get 
 the money for the step ? And it is sure to go 
 
 I 2
 
 172 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 in the regiment soon. Confound it; and 
 there is no one I know now would have me 
 on a sudden since Ellen Broughton is mar- 
 ried. I was always sure of five thousand 
 there, for I could have had her at any time ; 
 It is the devil's thing altogether." 
 
 And the Major walked up and down, mut- 
 tering and cursing. 
 
 The old servant came in again with the 
 water ; the Major growled and took it. As he 
 shaved, he still growled and cursed at in- 
 tervals. 
 
 " I am growing an old man ; I suppose it 
 is all up with me now. I suppose I will have 
 to end by marrying Ellen's sister Jane, My 
 sister was always talking to me of Ellen, but 
 I think she had some idea I fancied her, and 
 she was the best looking. Confound them 
 all, they are the deuce's lot ; but a girl like 
 Jane ought to snap at a Major in the army ;
 
 SEFTON HALL. 173 
 
 she has not more than five thousand. I 
 wonder has she got it though.'* 
 
 He took up the letter again. 
 
 "Her niece joins her/' he said " if there is 
 a hypocritical cheat alive, it is that very niece 
 of yours. Confound you, and her ; I will 
 give some of the fellows, Cole and one or two 
 of them, an idea how the case really is, for 
 that pair will have a fine story about me in a 
 day or two : but I will take a march on them 
 there," said the Major with a grin. 
 
 " I wonder where Cole is," said Bethill, 
 shortly afterwards, as be walked out of the 
 mess-room. " Did you see him, Lloyd ?" 
 
 " Yes, I saw him crossing the barrack yard 
 just now ; I suppose he is at the ratting match 
 with the young fellows." 
 
 " It is very likely ; it is just the folly he 
 delights in," muttered Bethill, who soon after 
 met Cole. " He is the person to speak to ;
 
 174 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 bis wife will spread it far and near,'' thought 
 Bethill. 
 
 " What is doing to-day, Cole ?" 
 
 " Not much ; some of them talk of going 
 out coursing, and Galton is busy with the new 
 ensign killing rats with his terriers/* 
 
 " Did you hear the latest news ? Gad I sir, 
 I have got the sack at Sefton." 
 
 Cole looked up with a half-surprised, half- 
 knowing air. 
 
 " It is the best thing going, sir ; regular 
 remonstrance ; has other views for her niece ; 
 don't come again ; all the rest of it," 
 
 " You don't say so," said Cole. 
 
 "Yes, 'pen my life, when I went there last, 
 the old lady and I had a long confab ; she 
 hoped I would not persist in coming, should 
 send her niece away, and so on." 
 
 '* "What an old cat ; did you see the 
 girl ?"
 
 SEFTON HALL. 175 
 
 " Hunted, sir ; hunted, by Jove ! Gad ! 
 the girl was nothing to me but a nice girl ; 
 but the old cat took alarm." 
 
 " What a confounded shame," said Cole. 
 
 " The worst of it is, I have to go down to 
 mj people immediately ; just got a letter from 
 them to-day, so I will not be able to torment 
 the old lady for the next fortnight, at all 
 events.'' 
 
 " I am going to the orderly room. Come 
 on, Bethill.'' 
 
 " My dear fellow I can't; I must see that 
 blackguard servant of mine packs my clothes ; 
 he is a horrid rascal." 
 
 '* What is he up to now," said Cole ; *' is 
 he trying to humbug me? What's the row 
 been about at Sefton ?" 
 
 Major Bethill lost no time in getting his 
 fortnight's leave, and was gone that very day, 
 intending to have it extended, and hoping the
 
 176 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 regiment would be at Portsmouth before he 
 returned. 
 
 Captain Cole at once went home to tell the 
 great intelligence to Mrs. Cole. 
 
 " There has been a pretty row between 
 Bethill and the people at Sefton," said he. 
 
 "Has there?" said Mrs. Cole; "how did 
 you hear it? What was it about ? Was it 
 about the heiress ?" 
 
 " Just so. I don't know what it was; bat 
 Bethill came up to me in the barrack yard as 
 I was going to the orderly room.'' 
 
 " Yes," said his wife, impatiently. 
 
 " And he rushes at me at once, just as I was 
 saying that Galton and the new ensign were 
 having a match with their terriers." 
 
 "- Yes, yes." 
 
 " And he begins — 'Cole, did you hear I got 
 the sack at Sefton.' Why, I never heard 
 such a queer thing before. And just as I was 
 
 J
 
 SEFTON HALL. 177 
 
 saying, 'Come on, Bethill, to the orderly 
 room,' expecting to hear something about it 
 all, he says, ' I must see that rascal of mine 
 packs my clothes ;' and off he bolts/' 
 
 "And he told you nothing but that?'* 
 
 " He told me nothing but that he had got 
 the sack from the old lady ; not come again ; 
 other views for her niece; so on," 
 
 "Did he tell you that?" 
 
 " Yes, he did, of course ; that was what he 
 did tell, you know." 
 
 " She has refused him," said Mrs. Cole, 
 with the decision of a field marshal ; " if you 
 don't see it, I do." 
 
 "Gad! that is just what T thought; I 
 thought you'd say that," said Cole ; " I said, 
 coming across, you would, two to one." 
 
 " Tell me exactly what he said," said the 
 lady, who now listened to all the windings of 
 
 I 5
 
 178 
 
 SEFTON HALL, 
 
 Cole's story with the greatest interest, and 
 when he had concluded, repeated her opinion, 
 ** It is nothing, but that she has refused him. 
 What do you think, Tom T 
 
 " I thought he was trying to humbug me 
 the moment he left me/' 
 
 " I wonder he did not succeed," said Mrs. 
 Cole ; " you know, Tom, it has been done." 
 
 Tom laughed, for he was a good-humoured 
 fellow, and sauntered off to tell his tale to the 
 others, as he said ; and before Bethill had 
 taken his ticket, his whole affairs were dis- 
 cussed by his friends — how he had played his 
 cards, why he lost, and finally why he now 
 ran off. It was decided that he was nothing 
 but a fool, to think that a girl with so much 
 money would have him, the general idea 
 being her aunt wanted a sprig of nobility for 
 her, nothing less, as Bethill himself had 
 said.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 179 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " Well, Ada ; I have been cross-questioned 
 about you and Major Bethill to-daj, so you 
 see that was not long a secret,*' said Mrs. 
 Alton, as she came into the drawing-room 
 where Ada was sittinoj*. 
 
 *' Who spoke to you about it, aunt?" 
 "Old Mr. Sandford — you know he hears 
 all the news going." Mrs. Alton was her- 
 self fond of gossip, still she never failed to 
 comment on Mr. Sandford's failing, though 
 she largely availed herself of it.
 
 180 
 
 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " What did he sav about it, aunt ?" 
 
 " He said, ' I think Mrs. Alton you were 
 quite right, not to countenance Major Bethill's 
 paying your niece such particular attention/ 
 And I said, ' That is all over, Mr. Sandford ; 
 ' Yes,' he said, 'you were quite right, it was 
 a very wise precaution.' * What precaution ?' 
 said I ; he then told me he heard that I had 
 requested Major Bethill not to come here. I 
 said I never did such a thing, that you were 
 able to take care of vourself, and then in fact 
 I told him the whole story." 
 
 " Oh, aunt ; I am sorry you said anything 
 about it." 
 
 " Not at all dear, when people are talking, 
 it is just as well to tell what has really hap- 
 pened ; but did I not guess what Major Bethill 
 would do ? they say]]the whole regiment are off 
 before he returns." 
 
 " Why, where is he ?" said Ada.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 181 
 
 " Gone to tis sister's, who lives near Bath, 
 I believe ; gone for the last fortnight. I met 
 the two Hamiltons, and Fred has passed his 
 examination, but does not know what regi- 
 ment he will get into ; he said leaving, he and 
 his brother would ride over to bid us good-bye 
 before he left ; do you know I like Fred 
 Hamilton," said Mrs. Alton, as she went away 
 to take off her bonnet. 
 
 A day or two after, Ada and her aunt were 
 sitting at breakfast in a small room in the 
 front of the house, which Mrs. Alton liked to 
 sit in in the morning ; it was an ante-room 
 through which you passed into the drawing- 
 room, but it had a southern aspect which the 
 drawing-room had not. 
 
 *' Here is a letter from Charlie! '* 
 
 Mrs. Alton took up the letter eagerly, it had 
 a foreign post mark, " somewhere from South 
 America," she said, looking at the letter ; as
 
 182 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 some people have a habit of doing before 
 reading it. 
 
 "Where is he now, aunt?'' 
 
 Mrs. Alton opened the letter. " At Val- 
 paraiso, he says he will see us very soon, that 
 they were nearly wrecked lately, but he 
 supposes we know more about that than he, 
 by this time, some fighting between the small 
 kingdoms out there'; he says. I really don't 
 know what he means ; he hopes he will see 
 us all in early spring. I suppose this is early 
 spring, although it does not look very like it 
 to-day." It was snowing, with a bitter wind, 
 a real March day. 
 
 '* Why, he will be here immediately, aunt ; 
 that will be very pleasant." 
 
 " Yes, I am very fond of Charlie ; I dare- 
 say be is a very fine young man now, he is 
 three-and-twenty, J believe ; how strange it 
 seems to me. I remember your father and his
 
 SEFTON HALL. 183 
 
 mother little things, when I was married, and 
 thej are both gone, I may say, for I shall 
 never see your father, Ada/' 
 
 " Indeed yon will, aunt ; and all ray host 
 of brothers and sisters, they will be home 
 before long, I daresay." 
 
 '* I don't think, dear, I would care to see 
 them so much, I was very fond of your mother, 
 and it seems odd to me his being married 
 again — but men are different from us, they 
 don't remember long — T believe his present 
 wife is very handsome." 
 
 Ada said nothing. 
 
 It is not in woman, be she ever so angelic, 
 to forgive her father for a second marriage. 
 
 " Indeed that photograph shows she is.'' 
 
 " Yes," said Ada, " I have always heard 
 she is very handsome, she is fair. Am I like 
 my mother?" she asked. 
 
 "No, dear; you are far more like your
 
 184 
 
 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 father, I am very fond of your father, though 
 I have been disappointed about his marrying, 
 when after all it was the best thino; he could 
 do ; but somehow one sometimes would as 
 soon people did not do the best thing for 
 themselves.'* 
 
 " Aunt, is Charlie like my Aunt Ada ?" 
 
 " Very, yes very ; his father was a sad sort 
 of man, I wondered how she fancied him, but 
 he was ill, that was the reason he was so low 
 spirited I suppose, consumptive — all the 
 Domvilles were." 
 
 "Charlie is not much of a Domville then, 
 aunt." 
 
 Mrs. Alton laughed, " Not much ; I think 
 we will have him here very soon.*' She then 
 went off to see after her housekeeping, leaving 
 Ada sitting drowsily at the fire, seeing 
 pictures in it, perhaps. 
 
 So great was her absorption, that though
 
 SEFTON HALL. 185 
 
 not nervous she started at a fierce knock at 
 the hall door, given by cold, impatient fingers, 
 and the moment after the two Hamiltons were 
 ushered in ; for Mrs. Alton was at home to 
 every one, if she was anywhere about the 
 place. 
 
 " How do you do, won't you come near the 
 fire, what a day ?" said Ada. 
 
 " Dreadful/' said Fred, '' but my days are 
 limited, you know.*' 
 
 '' How are you, Mr. Hamilton, did you ven- 
 ture out ?" said Ada. 
 
 " Yes, was it not very heroic of me?" 
 
 " He has been complaining of the weather 
 bitterly since he came from Paris," said Fred. 
 
 " Paris, were you away ?" Ada said. 
 
 ''I was in Paris, doing best man for Harry 
 Lawson, I was there nearly three weeks." 
 
 " I never saw his marriage." 
 
 " You will to-night, I hope; I forgot putting
 
 186 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 it into the papers, and I suppose T should have 
 done so, as no one else has/' 
 
 "Miss Cavendish is the lady, is she not?'* 
 
 " Oh, yes ; we had a very gay wedding — 
 they are gone to Eome, and are not to return 
 for a long time; I fancy she likes foreign life 
 better than England." 
 
 " And you are going to join your regiment 
 so very soon, Mr. Hamilton?" 
 
 "In a month I am to join the 159th, they 
 are in Malta.*' 
 
 " Oh, how are you, you have had such a 
 day," said Mrs. Alton, who had just entered 
 the room ; " are you frozen?" 
 
 " I rather like such a day as this, I quite 
 prize it, in anticipation of my summer in 
 Malta," said Fred, 
 
 " I have had a letter from my nephew, 
 Charlie Domville, saying he will be over with 
 us immediately ; he is in the navy you know,
 
 SEFTON HALL, 187 
 
 and has been in South America for a long 
 time ; do you remember him at all ?" 
 
 " I do not, Mrs. Alton, very indistinctly at 
 least, I think I must have been at school when 
 he was here last. Have you heard we have 
 lost Major Bethill?'' 
 
 " T heard he had gone to Bath." 
 
 " Yes, he will be Colonel in a few days. 
 Colonel Stewart has sold, and Major Bethill 
 is to get the step, we went to pay Bethill a 
 visit yesterday, but found he had gone ; they 
 say he is engaged to a girl with a good deal of 
 money.*' 
 
 "Engaged!" said Mrs. Alton, with the 
 slightest possible surprise in her tone of voice. 
 
 " Yes," said Fred, *' to a doctor's daughter, 
 a Miss Broughton or Bolton, I forget which, 
 Captain Cole told us ; T think he said he had 
 had a letter from the Major, he said it had 
 been a long time going on."
 
 188 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 "Oh! has it?'' said Mrs. Alton. 
 
 " Yes, so Cole said ; but Mrs. Cole sajs he 
 is quite wrong, that it was a sister of this 
 girFs that he used to pay attention to. How- 
 ever, she told us,'' said Fred, laughing, " she 
 had written to a friend in Bath, to hear the 
 particulars." 
 
 " And it is a very good match," said Mrs. 
 Alton, " I am glad of that, Major Bethill you 
 know would like a little money." 
 
 "Oh, a very good match I believe, her 
 elder sister is married to a Colonel Johnstone. 
 I suppose he will be married before they 
 sail." 
 
 " Have you seen your sister lately ?" 
 
 " I am going over there next week, and 
 they are to return with me, for a few days, 
 they are not long at home; we have had two 
 weddings very near each other, hers and 
 Harry's."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 189 
 
 '' Very, indeed. Your brother was in Paris, 
 was he not ? You had a gay wedding in Paris, 
 had you not, Mr. Hamilton T^ 
 
 *'0h! very. The French people admired 
 Miss Cavendish so much, too, it was amus- 
 mg. 
 
 " I thought her very pretty, and graceful, 
 and so fair,'^ said Mrs. Alton. 
 
 " Yes, everyone thinks so ; I don't admire 
 that description of beauty so much myself; 
 she looks so white and inanimate; she is a 
 golden-haired blonde though, and that is the 
 rage just now, I believe.'* 
 
 " The Empress of the French style,'' said 
 Ada. 
 
 " But the Empress of the French has such 
 a pensive, soft expression of face ; she is not 
 white and inanimate," 
 
 '' The fact is," said Fred, " Edmund likes
 
 190 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 a bit of a Tartar ; he has often confessed his 
 partiality for strong-minded ladies," 
 
 " Anything before a very amiable one, Mr. 
 Hamilton. A young lady with a high repu- 
 tation for amiability is very hazardous ; they 
 are, indeed; be warned in time,** said Mrs. 
 Alton. 
 
 ''Oh! you need not warn him — it's quite 
 the other way. You will hear of him being 
 beaten by his wife, and consoling himself, like 
 Lord Derby's Irishman, that it amuses her, 
 and does not hurt him." 
 
 " And would it not be very consoling ?'' 
 said Edmund. " What do you think, Miss 
 Lowell?" 
 
 " I have no doubt if you fancied a lady of 
 that character you would console yourself in 
 some such way." 
 
 " You have paid me a great compliment by
 
 SEFTON HALL. 191 
 
 the observation ; you give me credit for being 
 able to read the lady's true character, and 
 being anything but fickle ; high praise, cer- 
 tainly." 
 
 "I think if people like each other, they 
 generally do read character pretty accurately, 
 that there is not as much delusion as one hears 
 of in books." 
 
 " Because books, generally," said Edmund, 
 '* speak of a very second-rate sort of love ; 
 fancy, admiration, without any sincere sym- 
 pathy, or high feeling !" 
 
 " Why, I did not think you were such a 
 critic. Are you a great novel reader ?" said 
 Ada. 
 
 " I read a great many, but then I am sel- 
 dom satisfied ; perhaps the love I am thinking 
 of is more fit for poetry." 
 
 " Well, I hope the strong-minded lady will
 
 192 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 be poetical, if she is as fierce as you seem to 
 expect." 
 
 " I won't so mucli mind her being fierce, if 
 she will only love me, as I long to be loved ; 
 but I should never be satisfied if she did not,'* 
 Edmund said, speaking very fast and low. 
 
 " Mr. Hamilton," said Ada, in her usual 
 tone of voice, " did I tell you that we are ex- 
 pecting my cousin Charlie Domville home 
 immediately?" 
 
 " Are you?" said he ; "I knew him toler- 
 ably well when he was last here ; I am sure 
 he must be delighted to return home," said 
 Edmund, looking at Ada, " I should, if I were 
 he." 
 
 " Oh ! of course he is delighted ; I heard 
 a ant asking your brother to come over and see 
 him when he arrives." 
 
 " You will, I hope, Mr. Hamilton ; there
 
 SEFTON HALL. 193 
 
 must be shooting, or fishing, or some sort of 
 amusement going on ; and you would oblige 
 me so, you and your brother, by coming over, 
 and seeing if you can in any way amuse your- 
 selves." 
 
 " I shall be delighted, Mrs. Alton." 
 
 " I suppose Charlie is not much of a sports- 
 man ?'' said Ada. 
 
 "I think he is," Edmund said, "but I 
 almost forget; I remember him very well 
 though ; he was very good-looking and plea- 
 sant ; but I forget about the sport." 
 
 " Yes, he is so good-natured ; I like sailors 
 so much." 
 
 " They say all ladies do ; they are greater, 
 favourites than the military heroes," said 
 Edmund, "are they not?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes ; far greater. I don^t like mili- 
 tary men — that is, I mean," she said, " the 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 more military they are in manner, the less I 
 like them." 
 
 '*We went to pay Major Bethill a visit; he 
 was away ; but we heard he was going to be 
 married." 
 
 Ada blushed, thinking he meant to refer to 
 his marriage with her. 
 
 " Oh ! is he?" she said, awkwardly. 
 
 " Yes, to a Bath lady, a Miss Broughton. 
 Cole said he had written to say he would 
 purchase the Colonelcy, as he was to be 
 married to a lady with some money ; and her 
 friends advised his doing so, so Cole said ; he 
 won't re-join the regiment here, I believe." 
 
 " I am very glad to hear he is going to 
 make such a good match ; he is a pleasant 
 little man." 
 
 " I hope, Mr. Hamilton, we will soon have 
 the hounds in the neighbourhood," Mrs. Alton 
 gaid, when they were at lunch.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 195 
 
 " I think it is very probable we shall after 
 this frost-, if they come, will you, Miss Lowell, 
 let me take care of you ? I shall then believe 
 you have forgiven me," he said, in a lower 
 voice. 
 
 '' I don't know, Mr. Hamilton ; in the first 
 place, probably my cousin will be at home ; 
 then I shall have him, of course, as an escort ; 
 it would be rude not, you know.^* 
 
 " What is the second place, for I cannot 
 but hope he won't be home ?" 
 
 " I cannot forget about the last hunt ; you 
 will perhaps quarrel with me again." 
 
 '^ I could not quarrel now," Edmund said, 
 
 " Come, Edmund, we must start soon," 
 
 " Indeed, I believe we should, it's getting a 
 fine evening, too. How well the garden looks 
 from this point, and the cover-side." He 
 walked towards the window, beside which 
 
 K 2
 
 196 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 Ada was standing. " So you won't promise 
 me the pleasure of taking care of you, even for 
 one day, Miss Lowell ? Do not refuse me," he 
 said, in the softest tone of a very soft voice. 
 
 ''It is better I should, Mr. Hamilton, far 
 better ;" and she, too, spoke low as a whisper, 
 " For once even, only once/' 
 " Even for once, it is better not." 
 Her eyes were bent on the floor determin- 
 ately ; she must have heard the horse's feet on 
 the gravel, and Fred bidding her aunt good- 
 bye ; but she never lifted them in the slightest 
 degree. She put out her hand in a timid, 
 frightened way, as if afraid it would be re- 
 pulsed ; but her eyes were never raised. Ed- 
 mund thought he understood her ; he caught 
 the small hand gently. 
 
 " Good-bye," he said, " Miss Lowell." He 
 had bid her aunt good-bye; and, almost as 
 fihe thought in an instant, was gone.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 197 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " He loves me ; yes, he loves me/' Ada said 
 again and again, as she sat brooding over the 
 fire, after the brothers had gone ; " and I — I 
 never loved, 1 cannot love anyone, it seems to 
 me ; I have no wish to be anyone's wife, I am 
 happy as I am ; I care for him enough to be 
 sorry he loves me, that is all ; but I should 
 not let him love me, I should in no way en- 
 courage it. Why should he, too, have it in 
 his power to reproach me ? Did not Major 
 Bethill say, I must be very dull if I did not
 
 198 BEFTON HALL. 
 
 see it ? Did lie not laugh at my denying 
 Hamilton loved me ? sneering at me as a 
 coquette, and would he not be right, would I 
 not be a coquette ? Yes," she said, " I am 
 sorry to say it ; I despise myself for it ; but I 
 would wish him to go on loving me, though I 
 would never love him, though I could not 
 marry him. I would be mean and cowardly; 
 I would let him love me, rather than give 
 myself pain by telling truth.'' And she hung 
 her head, and the large tears rolled from her 
 eyes. She cried like a child for her lost lover, 
 and the bitter sense of shame mingled with 
 her tears. She had ceased to be a child ; she 
 had ceased to find doing what was right, 
 brought constant, unfailing pleasure, as of 
 old. She had struggled, she had done right, 
 and she thought she would do it again ; but 
 she felt sad, not content. " Was Edmund 
 now sure to hate her because she would not
 
 SEFTON HALL. 199 
 
 marry him ?'^ she asked herself. " Was it 
 possible ? Could she ever have married 
 him T And her whole nature seemed to 
 recoil from the very idea. "I will never 
 marry, I feel I never could," she said. " No, 
 I was right, I could not marry him ; and to 
 let him go on loving me, after I knew it, and 
 knew my own feelings, that was impossible. 
 I would have been, I ought at least to have 
 been, more unhappy, acting so unfeelingly.'* 
 And again her tears came heavy and fast. 
 " There is one thing only I can do for him 
 now,'' she said, " conceal that he loved me ; he 
 will thank me for that when he has forgotten 
 this fancy. I would wish him to be my 
 friend, but he never will ; he hates me at 
 this moment. 1 liked him, and we might 
 have been friends ; but I could not marry 
 him." 
 
 Poor Ada, she would have wished to have
 
 200 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 talked with her aunt about this, but she 
 thought it would not be fair to Hamilton. 
 
 She remembered Major Bethill and his love- 
 making not three weeks ago. " He told me he 
 loved me, and now he is engaged to another 
 girl. Is she fancying he loves her, as I was 
 fancying just now that Hamilton loved me? 
 Are all men like this, and are we all poor 
 deluded fools ?' 
 
 Bethill's conduct, by a strange recoil of 
 feeling on Ada's part, affected his rival ; too 
 young to feel confidence in her own experi- 
 ence, her own feelings, she placed exaggerated 
 faith in the experience of others. And had 
 not every author, every poet, told of the pro- 
 verbial inconstancy of men ; was it all true, 
 did passion with them mean a bright fleeting 
 fancy ? When women listened to their 
 promises and vows, did they in every instance 
 meet with inconstancy and change ?
 
 SEFTON HALL. 201 
 
 And Ada thought, with a good sense, and 
 justice, which was perhaps the peculiar 
 character of her mind, that if it was so, men 
 were not perhaps to blame, and women should 
 learn to expect and bear it. "I would never 
 weary my husband with prayer or entreaty if 
 once I saw he had changed towards me, I 
 would try to be his friend as a man would 
 be ; men have friends amongst each other — I 
 would offer him my friendship, I would never 
 offer my love ; is that how some husbands 
 and wives are happy, for some are — the most 
 determined upholders of the theory that love 
 never lasts, cannot last, admit there have 
 been strongly attached husbands and wives. 
 Is this the secret, or is the love that poets 
 describe, novelists, some of them, speak of, is 
 it a reality, and is it as they say, immortal ? 
 Was Byron right ! would he have lived and 
 
 K 5
 
 202 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 died bappy and unknown had he been married 
 to the woman whom he said he could have 
 loved? Is that Dante's, Tasso's story, or 
 should they have been like Milton, soon tired 
 of the fancied prize when won ; but there 
 have been others beside Milton. Did Abelard 
 tire of Eloisa — he was a monk,'' she said, 
 laughing, " that is not a fair instance. Petrarch, 
 too, could not tire of Laura, she was never 
 his. It seems as if it were so, indeed, as if 
 none of these men could be constant — Dante 
 marries — Byron marries — Petrarch and Tasso, 
 they were never married ; they, too, tell us 
 love is immortal, and they are perhaps more 
 worthy to be heard, as they do not themselves 
 supply the instance to the contrary : but why 
 should we for ever hear that such is life, if it 
 be false ? Why would men ever describe each 
 other as changeable and fickle if it is not so? 
 And what a fate, to love, and to find oneself
 
 SEFTON HALL. 203 
 
 Major Bethill's wife ; for when once a woman 
 has married, life is lost to her if she has made 
 a mistake ; is it not better to try and turn 
 one's heart to ambition, and worldly pros- 
 perity ; if this is to be the end of love, 
 is it not far better never to love? I sup- 
 pose," the girl sadly thought, "it is our 
 weakness makes us value affection so much, 
 but it is not — not once in hundreds, that one 
 can meet real love ; and then, ought we not 
 try and live without it ? I have never loved, 
 let me never dream of love, and if years 
 hence I think of marrying, let it be some one 
 whose character I well know ; who, though he 
 will never love or understand me, will at least 
 be a good-natured, kind friend : that is the 
 safest, wisest, course for me. I would be 
 vain and foolish if 1 had inspired the attach- 
 ment I have seen pictured in these reveries 
 of mine ; I would wake up a deluded fool.
 
 204: 6EFT0N HALL. 
 
 conscious of my egregious blunder, and re- 
 senting the deception which had been practised 
 on me. And if I marry, let it be someone 
 who has not deceived me, at all events ; some- 
 one who will take me as his friend, without 
 despising me for having been his dupe. Since 
 I am unfortunately one of those women who 
 could value love, real love, I am incapable of 
 being happy except through two chances, the 
 great chance of meeting such an affection as 
 I have dreamt of, or the smaller chance,'' said 
 she, smiling bitterly, "of falling into the hands 
 of someone who did not at least mean to de- 
 ceive me, and who, when his fancy for me is 
 gone, will yet let me be his friend as far as we 
 can be friends. It's a poor chance ; better be 
 alone, an old friendless woman." And again 
 the girl's tears dropped hot and fast upon her 
 hands ; but she roused herself from this de- 
 pression, she walked to the window. " It is dark
 
 SEFTON HALL. 205 
 
 and cold, but I will walk up and down for a 
 time, it will cure me of this folly," and she put 
 on her hat and walked up and down the 
 gravel walks near the house, until ber spirits 
 seemed to have recovered and her depression 
 passed away. 
 
 In the evening, her aunt laughed and 
 chatted with her about the Hamiltons ; was 
 Mrs. Alton perfectly blind to Edmund^s at- 
 tachment ? 
 
 Ada could not say ; if she was not, she 
 acted with extreme good sense — she neither 
 praised, nor blamed, nor alluded to him, ex- 
 cept by saying she liked the Hamiltons ; she 
 laughed over Major BethilFs engagement, and 
 when xVda said — 
 
 '' He is a strange lover, when three weeks 
 ago he was a beau of mine/^ 
 
 Her aunt again laughed. " My dear," said
 
 206 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 she, " he is very likely to be exceedingly well 
 suited in his wife, she has some money, and 
 that suits him ; he has a respectable position, 
 that suits her." 
 
 " But, aunt, she may be greatly deceived in 
 him ; she may think he cares for her, which 
 is impossible.'* 
 
 " Ada dear, she is very safe, depend on it ; 
 women know love when they are capable of 
 feeling it— know it very well ; and, when they 
 are not, they know a match that suits them, 
 that is my experience for you." 
 
 " You don^t think women are often deceived 
 aunt — in love, I mean ?" Ada said, blushing. 
 
 " Very seldom, I think ; say what you will, 
 Ada, women are not what men — and books 
 are chiefly written by men — lead one to 
 imagine. Now and then you meet a high- 
 minded man, and his counterpart among
 
 SEFTON HALL, 207 
 
 women — your mother was one — but tlie idea 
 that men are wolves and women lambs, is 
 quite contrary to my experience." 
 
 "You don't think,'' said Ada, ''that all 
 books say about men's ingratitude and in- 
 constancy is true ?" 
 
 " I think a book which makes an impression 
 on one, a book written by a superior man, 
 reflects his mind Ada. He is disgusted at 
 cruelty and injustice ; he brands with his own 
 contempt the cruelty and injustice he has seen 
 practised around him by lower natures than 
 his own ; this is why men rail at the cruelty 
 and inconstancy of men ; women who have 
 more sensibility than the common average of 
 women, do the same, speaking of women — 
 they are neither of them to be believed, they 
 take a partial view of life ; there are as high- 
 minded men as women, and women as men,
 
 208 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 but one cannot expect to meet many of either, 
 as they are a small proportion amongst the 
 mass. 
 
 " But, aunt, do not some men treat women 
 with great ingratitude ?" 
 
 "Ingratitude, indeed," said her aunt, 
 "grateful for having a trap laid for him? 
 what else are half the women doing but set- 
 ting traps for men? and when one escapes, 
 they set up a scream enough to pierce ones 
 ears. If, my dear, you allude to bad women 
 — unfortunate victims as the papers call them 
 — they are the greatest schemers of all, 
 scheming on the man's marrying them at last, 
 to avoid scandal, or their getting a large sum 
 of money from him ; no, dear, men may be- 
 lieve these tales — no wo. nan of fifty ever yet 
 believed them ; and, Ada, girls like you should 
 not waste your pity on such characters.*'
 
 SEFTON HALL. 209 
 
 Ada smiled, her heart was not saddened by 
 this picture of her sex ; quite the reverse, she 
 seemed to accept it as a pleasing one. 
 
 I am inclined to think that Mrs. Alton was 
 a remarkably shrewd old lady, and that her 
 own experience of life was not such as to lead 
 her into thinking it desirable that her niece 
 should be an old maid, or remain in ignorance 
 of life as it really is. 
 
 As Ada kissed her and bade her good- 
 night, her aunt smiled kindly. 
 
 '* You are looking so well to-day, Ada, 
 dear," said she. " You won't be long in 
 taking Charlie's heart." 
 
 Ada was pleased, but in her eyes hearts 
 were far more serious matters than in her 
 aunt's. 
 
 " He is a sailor," said Mrs. Alton, with her 
 good-humoured laugh ; " he will make love to 
 every woman he meets."
 
 210 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 Colonel and Mrs. Travers had come to The 
 Grange on a visit, and Harriet and her mother 
 were seated in the drawing-room. Harriet 
 was very handsomely dressed, and was looking 
 very well ; she had been asking her mother 
 many particulars about Harry's marriage. 
 Colonel Travers had gone out fishing with the 
 two Hamiltons. 
 
 " And, Harriet, how do you like your new 
 house — is it a good one ?" said Mrs. Hamil- 
 ton.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 211 
 
 " It is very well, it is in a nice domain, and 
 it is a large house ; but it wants to be newly 
 furnished, it is full of rubbish brought from 
 India — Indian this and that, curiosities they 
 say ; — I don't like them, and I will have it all 
 changed some of these days." 
 
 " And the neighbourhood — is it good ? have 
 you been out much ?'' 
 
 " Very little : it is a bad place I am afraid 
 for Alice. I will never get her off my hands 
 there ; I have been thinking what I ought to 
 do." 
 
 " She has time enough yet," said Mrs. 
 Hamilton. 
 
 " Oh ! the sooner the better, mamma." 
 
 " She and I may not be always such 
 friends. There are very few people near us 
 that seem to me likely to suit her, no one in 
 fact ; there is a clergyman, an old widower — 
 Alice has not my fancy for old widowers, T
 
 212 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 can see— and a doctor, who lias sometimes 
 attended tlie Colonel." 
 
 "And the servants — are they good ones? 
 do you like them ?" 
 
 " They are not very good, I think ; some 
 of them have been there for ages, and of 
 course have given up doing anything, as all 
 old family servants do. There is an old 
 nurse, or housekeeper; she is a great nui- 
 sance, she directed everything: of C(^urse, 
 Alice was a mere child, but I will send her 
 off, I really could not put up with her now/' 
 
 " Is she a favourite with them at Horton ?" 
 said her mother. 
 
 " The greatest you can imagine, mamma ; 
 they have been all spoiled by her. She nursed 
 the children, and attended Mrs. Travers for 
 years before her death : the Colonel tells rae 
 his wife asked him to keep her always about 
 the place — did you ever hear of such a thing ?
 
 SEFTON HALL. 213 
 
 He quite thinks she ought to remain on be- 
 cause of that. It just shows me what a wily, 
 designing woman she is to have managed so 
 well for herself." 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton asked her age. 
 
 '' Oh ! she is old — seventy, or near seventy, 
 I should think." 
 
 '*' She won't live long, then, Harriet, dear.*' 
 
 " Long ! oh, long enough, I daresay — too 
 long to wait at all events — why she might live 
 these ten years, and is likely to live for the 
 next five at least. Oh, no, I must get rid of 
 her, however I manage it/' 
 
 " Is Alice a clever girl?" said Mrs. Hamil- 
 ton, changing the subject. 
 
 " They say she is : she sings very well, but 
 does not play or draw. I hear she is clever ; 
 she writes very amusing letters — she wrote to 
 her father every week — she is droll ; she has 
 a good figure, and dresses well enough, but
 
 214 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 she is plain — very, I think. Don^t you re- 
 member my showing you her — oh, I forgot, 
 you saw her of course — what do you think 
 yourself?" 
 
 " I think as you say, she is no beauty : I 
 meant, was she a pleasant person to live 
 with ?'^ 
 
 " She is exceedingly civil to me, and very 
 fond of the Colonel, and he is very fond of 
 her I think ; but she seldom talks to me, I 
 canH make her out, I suppose she dislikes 
 
 " Oh ! Harriet, why think such a thing ? if 
 she is civil and good-natured, what more need 
 you want or expect ?'^ 
 
 " I expect to get her married, my good 
 mother ; will you find me a husband for her ? 
 I do not intend to ask for Edmund, so you 
 need not start — by-the-bye, how does the 
 Lowell affair get on ?"
 
 SEFTON HALL. 215 
 
 " I do not think anything has changed ; he 
 seems to pay her as great attention as ever, 
 but never talks of her to me, even in the 
 most casual way. I wonder would Mrs. 
 Alton object or approve.'' 
 
 "Hardly approve, though who knows: 
 Edmund is a good fellow, and some people 
 think very clever. Mrs. Alton, I believe, 
 likes all that, but I fancy she would expect 
 something greater for Ada — she will have 
 plenty of money, will she not, mother ?" 
 
 " I daresay her aunt might give her, or 
 leave her, a couple of thousand a year : there 
 is a nephew of hers coming home — Charlie 
 Domville, you remember — ^perhaps she would 
 wish to get them married." 
 
 " A very handsome little fellow ! very 
 dark, with curly hair, is that he ?" 
 
 " Yes — he is about four-and-twenty now, 
 and they say very handsome, and I daresay
 
 216 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 Mrs. Alton would wish to have them married, 
 or she would not let him come. I think my- 
 self Ada is a strange girl, and will surprise 
 her aunt yet by some foolish match." 
 
 '' And so Edmund says Harry's wife is 
 quite a Frenchwoman !'' 
 
 " Oh ! quite — can't bear this country, and 
 has such a French manner. Edmund did not 
 admire her; he says she is very much admired, 
 she is a great dasher, and so extravagant. I 
 suppose they will not live at the Manor 
 much." 
 
 ''Not they, I suppose," said Harriet. " She 
 will run off with one of these Frenchmen 
 sooner or later, I daresay." 
 
 " Very likely,'' said Mrs. Hamilton, quite 
 placidly. These things did not ruffle her; 
 she had seen some such events occur in her 
 own little world, and after a time they had 
 been forgotten : but they were matters which
 
 SEFTON HALL. 217 
 
 she thought should enter into calculations ex- 
 tending over any lengthened period of time, 
 at least as possibilities. " I should not be at 
 all surprised if it were so,*' she said. 
 
 "This is all imagination, mother; she is 
 nothing more than a pretty little girl, with a 
 French air about her. Edmund has preju- 
 diced you, he is full of fancies. But what do 
 you think of Alice? of her marrying, I 
 mean T 
 
 " I really can't say, Harriet." 
 
 " Should I not try and get her settled as 
 soon as possible ? What do you think of the 
 widower for her — he is a rich old clergy- 
 man?" 
 
 '' She would not like that, perhaps, and the 
 Colonel might think it too precipitate. Wait 
 a little, dear, and entertain ; you will soon 
 find some one for her, depend on it." 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 '' She does not care in the least to set her- 
 self off. I should not be surprised by her 
 ending in marrying the doctor." 
 
 " Is he a young man ?" 
 
 " He is a good-looking, stupid young man ; 
 very hard working, and very badly dressed." 
 
 " You should try and get the Colonel to 
 employ some one else : tell him what you 
 suspect, and I am sure he will at once." 
 
 But Harriet laughed. " Not he," she said ; 
 '' he would only think me suspicious, and not 
 sufficiently inclined to believe in what he calls 
 Alice's perfect openness of character. Here 
 they are coming in !" 
 
 Colonel Travers said they had been very 
 successful ; they had caught three trout — 
 very small ones, indeed — but it was too bright, 
 and he considered it a great proof of his skill 
 having succeeded in taking any. Fred, who 
 seldom went out, gave a ludicrous description
 
 SEFTON HALL. 219 
 
 of the day's sport — the cold, the half-dozen 
 times the hook caught in trees and weeds, and 
 the intense excitement when the first little 
 sprat was hauled in until his size was clearly 
 seen, then their disgust — " And the whole 
 time, whenever I spoke, I was told I had 
 frightened the fish out of the river. I hope 
 we won't have any of this sort of thing at 
 Sefton . I hear Domville has come." 
 
 " Yes," said Colonel Travers, '' we met 
 ^Ir. Sandford — a very nice person, indeed ; 
 your rector, I believe, Mrs. Hamilton — he 
 told us that young Domville had arrived." 
 
 ''I expected he would have been here to- 
 day, to call on you, Colonel Travers." 
 
 " Sandford made me many apologies when 
 I met him." 
 
 " Edmund, did you catch anything ?" 
 
 *' Nothing, Harriet ; my luck was very 
 
 L 2
 
 220 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 bad. I lost the entire casting line, a most 
 stupid thing/' 
 
 " How you like it I cannot imagine ; it is 
 so slow and solitary, and so wretched, as the 
 weather ought to be cloudy and no sun ; one 
 always hears it is too clear or too bright." 
 
 " I must say," said Edmund, " I prefer a 
 day's hunting ; it it more exciting, and there 
 is some society.'' 
 
 " Fishing is a nice amusement for a clergy- 
 man — fishing and photography. I wonder 
 Sandford does not adopt either," said Fred. 
 
 " The worst of photography is, you are 
 asked to take likenesses. The pretty child of 
 the family, the pet horse, or dog, must have 
 its carte ; and if it's not suflSciently flattering, 
 you lose your parishioners, and if you refuse, 
 you are thought little better than a churl." 
 " Did you see Harriet's last, Mrs. Hamil-
 
 SEFTON HALL. 221 
 
 ton ? It was taken while we were in Paris, 
 and is very good." 
 
 " They don't want another of me in this 
 house," said Harriet. 
 
 " I will show you a beautiful one of Mrs. 
 Lawson. I have it somewhere in my desk ; 
 it is in evening dress. I will bring it down 
 in the evening, if I can find it," said 
 Edmund. 
 
 In looking for it, Edmund pulled out his 
 desk from side to side, but could not re- 
 member where he had laid the photograph. 
 In doing so, two small gold coins fell out ; he 
 caught them, brought them nearer the light, 
 and walked to the fire with them. He seemed 
 inclined to throw them in. As he bent over 
 the fire, he said — 
 
 " It would be better, no doubt ; but they 
 can't recall her more than everything else 
 does."
 
 222 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 And he moved away again from the fire, 
 
 and after folding them up in some fresh paper, 
 
 put them back again in their old position. A 
 
 queer, unexplained fancy had crossed his 
 
 mind. 
 
 ^' Jf I were superstitious, I would fancy that 
 something they told me; I would yet give her 
 those coins. I am superstitious, for I will 
 keep them,'' he thought. 
 
 He laughed at himself a few moments later, 
 for being influenced by such an idea, and told 
 him self it was better to accept the truth at 
 once that Ada had tried to impart, and acton 
 the implied compact which existed between 
 them when she offered him her hand and he 
 bid her good-bye.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 223 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 It was breakfast hour at Horton, the name of 
 Colonel Travers's place ; but there was no 
 one but Alice Travers at breakfast. She was 
 sitting in a very pretty morning room, the 
 walls of which were covered with prints; she 
 had let the breakfast things lie on the table, 
 though she had long since finished hers. She 
 was not a handsome girl, but her face was 
 pleasant and expressive. She held a letter in 
 her hand. 
 
 An old woman, respectably dressed, came 
 in ; she walked up to the tea table.
 
 224 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " You have not eaten anything, miss, 
 although you were down so early." 
 
 " No, nurse, I can't eat ; here is a letter 
 from Mrs. Travers. She says they won't come 
 home for another week, and that she wishes 
 you to get the room over the hall ready ; 
 her brother is coming back with them.'' 
 
 " The young gentleman was here last time, 
 miss." 
 
 " No, her eldest brother ; she seems very 
 particular about him, nurse. Oh, dear, what 
 shall I do to-day." 
 
 " Well, miss, why not go out and take a 
 ride ; you would be the better for it, I am 
 sure." 
 
 " I am the better of nothing, nurse ; I have 
 got a disease called ennui. Did you ever hear 
 of it in India ?" 
 
 "I don't remember, miss; but you look 
 seemingly very well."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 225 
 
 " That's it ; that is one of the worst symp- 
 toms. What shall I do ?'* 
 
 " Might I take a liberty, miss ; might I 
 speak quite freely to you, and you not be 
 offended r 
 
 '' Speak away, nurse ; the worst of it is, I 
 have not life enough now to be offended the 
 way I used.'' 
 
 " Well, my darling, listen to an old woman 
 — a poor old woman who wishes you well, 
 and would not but wish your mother's daugh- 
 ter well. She was a dear woman, your 
 mother was ; and, miss, don't now be going 
 walking about with that young doctor from 
 the village.'* 
 
 " Is it Dr. Johnston, nurse ?" said Alice, 
 colouring. 
 
 " Yes, miss, the doctor," said the old nurse ; 
 " he is not fit for the like of you — a fine 
 
 L 5
 
 226 SEFTON HALU 
 
 young lady — and it's making little of your- 
 self going and meeting him, and walking up 
 and down the avenue with him, as I hear/' 
 
 " You are right enough," said Alice, " I 
 know I ought not ; but I have an awful life 
 here — I have, indeed — everything is so 
 changed since you and I were managing, 
 nurse. Did T ever then do these things ? was 
 I not as gay as could be? and spent the day 
 looking over the flowers, and garden, and 
 house, and riding about? I did not walk 
 with the doctor then — did I now, nurse ?" 
 
 *'Not as I know, miss, and that's what sur- 
 prises me now." 
 
 " Because, my good old woman," said the 
 girl, passionately, " I had other hopes, and 
 ideas, and employments then, — dare I touch 
 the flowers now ? dare I tell the gardener to 
 do this or that? dare I settle what was to be 
 done in the house, or that I would drive the
 
 SEFTON HALL. 227 
 
 ponies, or ride the grey? No — whatever I 
 would propose to do now would be wrong. I 
 can choose ray own dresses, that^s nearly all I 
 can do — but how am I to live this life — I tell 
 you I can't nurse — and no wonder I walk and 
 talk with that poor stupid doctor, who thinks 
 I am an angel, and listens to me abusing 
 every one. I would not be bored with his 
 love, nurse, don't think it." 
 
 " Ah ! but, my dear miss, it's little matter ; 
 the world will soon hear you walk with him, 
 and who will believe he is not your lover, and 
 then you are ruined — you are, my darling, 
 and you that's so clever, and such a real 
 lady," and the poor old woman wiped her 
 eyes. '' And now you will be angry, I am 
 sure, miss," she continued ; " but if you 
 would just wait a bit, you might meet some 
 nice young gentleman you would like ; may- 
 be this Mr. Hamilton — they tell me he is a
 
 228 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 fine gentleman, sotnetliing like what you used 
 to tell me long ago you'd have for your 
 lover." 
 
 " Did I r said Alice. *' What did I say T 
 
 " You said you liked a fair-haired gentle- 
 man, miss ; that's what T was thinking of when 
 T was asking about young Mr. Hamilton/' 
 
 " Oh ! nurse — what folly ! He is just like 
 Mrs. Travers, I am sure, and I never could 
 like her ; you know I did not like her officer 
 brother who was here." 
 
 " Brothers is very different, miss ; and 
 don't now, my own darling, be meeting that 
 Doctor Johnston.*' 
 
 " Well, I won't, if it annoys you, nurse : I 
 don't care if I never saw him again— I don't, 
 upon my word," she said. 
 
 " God grant it, miss, that's all I say ; it 
 would be a poor thing to be deceiving a poor 
 old creature only who wishes you well.'*
 
 SEFTON HALL. 229 
 
 " I don't deceive any one — not you, cer- 
 tainly, nurse — but you ought to pity me. Po 
 you know what Mrs. Travers said to me the 
 last time that she was at home ? — she said, ' I 
 wish T saw you married to that dear old Mr. 
 Lloyd.' The horrid old creature ! I'll never 
 marry him." 
 
 " No, you won't dear ; you will marry her 
 own brother, perhaps, and be a great lady — 
 a greater lady than she, and you will have a 
 handsome place — and she will be jealous of 
 you yet, for you will have money, and beauty, 
 and all she would wish for — you will, dar- 
 ling" 
 
 " Very well, I have no objection ; but it 
 seems to me it's a castle in the air, rather — 
 however, I don't object, nurse, remember 
 that." 
 
 The old woman took up the tea tray, and
 
 230 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 put the things aside ; and as she went away, 
 she said — 
 
 " Now, like a dear lady, when that gentle- 
 man comes, put on your rings, and your 
 jewellery, and your nice dress, and see if what 
 I tell you is not the wisest thing." 
 
 "Yes, yes," said the girl, " of course;" and 
 when the old nurse had gone, she began 
 laughing. " What a poor good old creature 
 she is ; and how she is fretting about the 
 doctor. I daresay I will give up seeing him ; 
 it's beneath me, as she says. And what do I 
 do it for ? she wants me to set my cap at Mr. 
 Hamilton, that's her advice. Well, we will 
 see. 
 
 A week had passed^ Colonel and Mrs. 
 Travers bad come, and Edmund also; and 
 the old nurse's advice had been taken ; and 
 Alice dressed herself becomingly and received
 
 SEFTON HALL. 2S1 
 
 the parties with the gayest smiles ; and now it 
 was the day after, and she and Edmund were 
 going out to ride. As Edmund put her on her 
 horse he thought of Ada, and the contrast in 
 appearance was not favourable to Alice; but 
 as they rode along, and chatted over many 
 things, Edmund admitted she was intelligent, 
 and agreeable ; she was very plain though, 
 he thought ; but for her good figure she would 
 ibe quite commonplace, but she was a graceful 
 bold rider. 
 
 " You are very fond of riding are you not, 
 Mr. Hamilton ?" 
 
 " I am very ; I hunt a great deal. Have 
 you ever seen a good run T 
 
 '' I have once or twice, but I was driving, 
 and could not see much; I should think it 
 was a very pleasant thing to ride to a meet." 
 
 " If you come to us in winter I will bring 
 you out, and show you all I can."
 
 232 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " You are very, very kind to me. You 
 know I am very lonely here now. When 
 papa was unmarried I managed everything; 
 it is very dififerent. Papa does not want me 
 now, and I don't often go out," she said, 
 blushing. 
 
 Edmund suspected his sister was not a very 
 considerate stepmother. He pitied Alice. 
 
 " You must feel it very much/^ he said. 
 " I wish you had some society. If you were 
 near us I would bring you out as often as 
 you wished. Are you fond of reading ?^* 
 
 '' I read a great deal — novels and poetry, 
 and all that I can lay my hands on, in fact. 
 Do you read novels ?'' she said. 
 
 " Indeed, I do ; too many I am afraid. 
 And what do you like in a novel ; do you 
 like Scott, an J those worthies?" 
 
 " I don't, indeed ; though I tell papa I 
 have read them all; I have only skipped
 
 SEFTON HALL. 233 
 
 through them. I don't like any of Scott's, 
 except ' Kenilworth ' — not * Ivanhoe/ even. 
 Papa was quite offended when I said so." 
 
 " Why, it is the one most admired ; don't 
 you like Kebecca?" 
 
 "Yes; but I don't like ^Ivanhoe' — is he 
 not something like De Wilton, in * Marmion?' " 
 
 " I don't remember him," said Edmund ; 
 " but Scott always makes his heroes con- 
 temptible, I think. He liked the unsuccess- 
 ful lovers far better; he was identify ing 
 himself with ' Mar mi on ' and Bois Guilbert, 
 perhaps." 
 
 " Yes, so I saw in some book ; because he 
 had been himself unfortunate in love — was 
 not that it? but he was married, and had 
 forgotten.'' 
 
 " He was married, but he had not forgotten; 
 that seems about the real state of things, 
 eh?"
 
 234 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " How horrid it must be to think one was 
 married in that way; don't you think so, Mr. 
 Hamilton?'' 
 
 " That your husband, or wife, had been in 
 love before ? Yes ; one would not choose it, 
 not when one is young, but they are very 
 happy often. You may meet a person who 
 is more worthy of being loved, perhaps, 
 afterwards ; do you think that could be ?" 
 
 '' I should not care ; I should still wish to 
 be the first. Who is your favourite hero, Mr. 
 Hamilton ?" 
 
 " I think I like Tennyson's Lancelot in the 
 'Idyls.'" 
 
 ''I like that book greatly; poor Elaine. 
 But I was glad he let her die ; were you 
 when you read it?" 
 
 " Oh, yes ! that is the whole romance of 
 the tale ; but for that it would resemble some 
 novels I have read where there are two
 
 SEFTON HALL. 235 
 
 heroines, and you cannot discover whicli the 
 hero is in love with until the last page." 
 
 " I did not ^like Enid ; Geraint seemed to 
 me such a savage ; he treated her so cruelly, 
 and made her so ridiculous — driving the 
 horses. I would never forgive that." 
 
 "He was jealous, you must remember,*' 
 said Edmund, who thought a good deal might 
 be excused when this was the case. 
 
 " Oh ! I could not excuse that, Mr. Hamil- 
 ton, jealous or not." 
 
 " You should, though ; think what it is to 
 fancy you were married in that way, as you 
 said yourself." 
 
 " Yes,'' said Alice ; " but it seems so cruel 
 in a strong man." 
 
 " A strong man, perhaps, feels as much as 
 the weakest woman, if he feels at all.'' 
 
 " Now could you have treated Enid so, 
 Mr. Hamilton?"
 
 236 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " Not/' said Hamilton, laughing, " if you 
 were Enid/' 
 
 '' Shall we have a canter," said Alice, 
 blushing. 
 
 They chatted on of many things. Edmund 
 told her of the foreign towns he had seen and 
 life abroad, and she was such an interested 
 listener he talked more and more. Alice had 
 a quick tact*, she read Edmund's character; 
 saw he was very different from her step- 
 mother ; and she was soon at her ease with 
 him, and he liked and pitied her. They 
 went out every day to ride, and every day 
 the rides were longer and longer. The day 
 before Edmund intended leaving they had 
 ridden to some ruins, which, as the old 
 servant held their horses, they walked 
 round. 
 
 " What a lovely place for a pic-nic. We 
 must get Harriet to give us one in summer,
 
 SEFTON HALL. 237 
 
 it is cold yet ; but I will show jou a prettier 
 ruin when jou come to us." 
 
 " When will that be ?' he said. 
 
 " Oh, as soon as your sister will go. I 
 shall be so delighted to see all the places you 
 tell me of/' 
 
 '' And," Edmund said, " perhaps we could 
 get Ada — I mean Miss Lowell — to come with 
 us." 
 
 "Who is she?" said Alice, who thought 
 their rides could not be improved on. 
 
 " She is a young lady who lives near us ; 
 she rides a great deal." 
 
 " Have you often ridden with her ?" 
 
 *' Very often, indeed." 
 
 It seemed to Alice that all pleasure had 
 suddenly departed from her anticipated ex- 
 cursions with him, since he wished to have 
 some additional society. Since it was his 
 habit to ride with other young ladies she felt
 
 238 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 she would sooner be at home. As they re- 
 turned she was sad and depressed. Edmund 
 did not see it, or attributed it to her being 
 somewhat tired ; but as she took off her habit 
 and hat she said, laughing, to the old nurse — 
 
 '' Nurse, 1 am fated to be an humble imita- 
 tion of Elaine.*' 
 
 " What,'* said the old nurse. 
 
 " Oh, nurse ! it is well you don't see all the 
 mischief you have done. Good-night, for I 
 must go down to dinner, and I won't see you 
 again this evening."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 239 
 
 CHAPTER XVL 
 
 Alice sang, so did Harriet; they generally 
 sang every evening ; and since Edmund came 
 Harriet had been very gay and good- 
 humoured, sitting at the piano and singing 
 song after song as Edmund asked for them, 
 leaving Alice and he to entertain each other. 
 Sometimes Alice sang, and then, indeed, 
 Edmund was delighted. She had a lovely 
 voice. She sang with an amount of taste and 
 feeling which is very rare ; and, perhaps, in 
 some of her songs her own feelings may have
 
 240 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 in some degree found expression. It was 
 unlike any other singing Edmund had heard, 
 and he listened with the greatest pleasure, 
 and expressed the greatest admiration. 
 
 "You never play any of the good old 
 music," he said, one day ; " how is this?*' 
 
 " I only care to sing," she said. " I 
 cannot play more than an accompaniment." 
 
 " You sing so well — yours is so different 
 from Harriet's singing, T never asked her to 
 sing till I came here ; I only asked her to 
 hear you.'' 
 
 Alice blushed ; she had forgotten Elaine, 
 for Edmund had stayed two days longer than 
 he had intended, and he had on those even- 
 ings again and again asked her to sing. 
 Harriet had returned into the dining room, 
 where the old Colonel generally sat sipping 
 his wine alone, and Edmund said, as Alice 
 concluded her song —
 
 SEFTON HALL. 241 
 
 " That song always reminds me of a lady I 
 know ; she has just such eyes as you are 
 singing about.'* 
 
 A sharp pang ran through Alice's heart. 
 '' Who is this lady ; is she the Ada he men- 
 tioned before/' Alice thought ; she only said, 
 " Yes, is it not a very good description of 
 handsome eyes ; but I don't generally like a 
 song describing any person.'' 
 
 '' Oh, no. One is tired of hearing of raven 
 and golden tresses, and all that sort of rub- 
 bish, I shall not hear such singing again for 
 a long time." 
 
 '^ Are you going to-morrow ?" 
 
 " Oh, yes, to-morrow ; my brother will be 
 off, and I must see him before he goes. I 
 have been here longer than I intended; I 
 hope you and Harriet will soon come over. 
 I will ride with you every morning, if you 
 
 VOL, I. M
 
 242 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 will promise to sing for me in the evening ; 
 will you agree to that ?" 
 
 " I delight in singing for anyone who really 
 likes hearing me. Sometimes I know I am 
 only asked because it is considered civil ; 
 then I can't bear having to sing, or when 
 there is a large party/' 
 
 " Just so," said Harriet, who then entered 
 the room. '' I could not induce her to sing 
 at the last party we had here, and I wished 
 her to make an impression on the heart of a 
 gentleman who seemed to me a little at- 
 tracted by her; but she told me that she 
 hated widowers." 
 
 ''Yes, indeed, I said so," said Alice ; "but 
 you know some people have that feeling. I 
 s^e now how rude it was, but I never meant 
 it as a rudeness." 
 
 Edmund laughed. 
 
 "It is very natural she should feel and
 
 SEFTON HALL. 243 
 
 speak in that way, I think, Harriet,'' Edmund 
 said. 
 
 " Oh ! I see, you will defend anything she 
 says or does ; but I thought it foolish, for he 
 would have been a very good match," and 
 Harriet walked out of the room. 
 
 " How horridly unsentimental she is," said 
 her brother ; " everything seems doubly hard 
 and hollow, and contemptible, when one is 
 talking to her of it. I never could get on 
 with her, or my brother Fred ; not that w e 
 quarrel, but we can't understand each other. 
 Fred is good natured, though he would do 
 me a good turn, as he would say, but he 
 would laugh at me all the time." 
 
 You see Edmund and Alice had become 
 very friendly and confidential ; was Edmund 
 beginning to follow the old and approved 
 course; was he to find forgetfulness where so 
 
 M 2
 
 244: SEFTON HALL. 
 
 many Lave found it, in a new excitement; 
 had Alice's flattering attention to his wishes 
 and opinions, that perfectly innocent and 
 truthful admiration, not been without its own 
 subtle charm? Was he beginning to feel 
 that Ada's retiring, half- timid coldness was 
 not after all the strongest spell? — that a 
 woman might also win love by an utterly 
 opposite attraction. 
 
 As yet I can only say he had never com- 
 pared ihem, except to wish his Ada beside 
 him, to fancy how happy he might be sitting 
 in those ]\lay evenings at her feet ; to wander 
 off into reveries, in which he explained away 
 her conduct to him by saying she was not in 
 love with anyone. There was now no Bethill 
 to compete for her smiles —Bethill had been 
 discarded; and though as yet she had not 
 loved him, he would be her lover, and her 
 lover only all his life, and she would yet be
 
 SEFTON HALL. 245 
 
 his. He had been foolish, precipitate ; he 
 had frio^htened her from him. But she had 
 a heart to appeal to — a heart which could 
 recognise his devotion ; it was still hers to 
 give, and his to gain. And he gazed on the 
 beautiful lights and shadows thrown by the 
 moonlight on the park and its trees with the 
 softest and most sentimental air, as Alice's 
 voice rose and fell in its rich soft cadence ; 
 and as she glanced at him from behind her 
 cottage piano, she could not but admire his 
 handsome, earnest face; while he, as she 
 gazed, rapt in his reverie, pictured her rival 
 — whom he loved — in all her well remem- 
 bered beauty. 
 
 And something of this dimly, and indis- 
 tinctly, and half-blinded by her hopes as she 
 was, Alice could still suspect. She did not 
 think he loved her ; this is not the way in 
 which people throw away their hearts. No,
 
 246 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 she only thought that he was all she could 
 love, and that yet he might, perhaps, forget 
 her being plain and unattractive, and love 
 her for her heart and mind, and for the love 
 she bore him ; for poor Alice fancied her face 
 was not fair enough to win any man's love, 
 e xccpt inch by inch as it were. She attri- 
 buted Edmund^s perfect ease of manner, his 
 f ranlmess and kindness in speaking to her, to 
 their true origin — his indifference; but she 
 imagined this was only because she was not 
 all which his fancy had pictured the woman 
 he could admire should be. The eyes which 
 her song described — those were the eyes he 
 could have sworn he loved ; had she beauty 
 such as that, she thought he would have been 
 even now beside her, telling her she was an 
 angel, and an enchantress, as poor Doctor 
 Johnston did. She forgot that at no period 
 had that poor deluded mortal, Doctor John-
 
 SEFTON HALL. 247 
 
 ston, considered her other than an angel, an 
 enchantress, and that reasoning from that in- 
 stance, if Edmund were ever to think her 
 such, he would have probably done so from 
 the first. 
 
 This reflection did not occur to her ; on 
 the contrary, she recalled her father's mar- 
 riage, and that evidently its only cause was 
 Harriet's beauty. In nothing was Mrs. 
 Travers what her father had asserted to 
 Alice he loved in women — what he said he 
 hoped his daughter would become. " And so 
 it is," she thought, " with Edmund. I am not 
 what he admires; he only likes me as his 
 friend and companion, and it must be slowly 
 — very slowly, I shall gain his heart; and if, 
 like my father, he meets one whom he can 
 admire, I shall be for ever forgotten. 
 Poor Elaine ! will her fate be mine. And
 
 248 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 then she thought Edmund was far more clear 
 sighted than her father; he would be able to 
 read the character of such a woman as her 
 stepmother — he would not marry such a 
 person. It was only the union of beauty, 
 with every qualification which he admired, 
 that she feared ; and that perfect creature he 
 was not likely to meet, who would be able to 
 replace her as his friend and companion, 
 while she outshone all others as a beauty. 
 He will fancy he will meet her, and then 
 having seen many beauties whom he cannot 
 admire, he will find, perhaps, that he prefers 
 me; and that in my case will be the course 
 of true love,*' Alice whispered to herself. 
 
 Had she known the truth, would she have 
 still deceived herself? This is a difficult 
 question to answer; I almost might venture 
 to say she would not, but who can exactly
 
 SEFTON HALL. 249 
 
 predict the beatings of even one human heart? 
 Has it not mysteries and aspirations which 
 we can never di vine — wild hopes and sorrows 
 known only to itself? 
 
 Harriet came in and called for candles 
 immediately, and tea was got ready ; and 
 Edmund ceased to see Ada's figure between 
 him and the large beech tree. Indeed, a 
 good inch board intervened now in the shape 
 of a shutter, and Harriet gave him messages 
 to her mother, and little presents for Fred, 
 which had all to be remembered and taken 
 proper care of, for he was to leave before the 
 ladies came down the following morning. 
 
 But after the Colonel and Alice had left, 
 Harriet said, bidding her brother good-bye — 
 
 " You have evidently made a conquest 
 here, Edmund. Do you intend to have a 
 second string to your bow, in case the fair 
 
 M 5
 
 250 BEFTON HALL. 
 
 Ada is not to be had ? or is it mere vanity 
 makes you bewitch my daughter ? If so, I 
 must tell the Colonel." 
 
 " Bewitched," said Edmund, laughing, " I 
 am sure you can see yourself how little be- 
 witched I am; but she is a nice girl, and I 
 really like her." 
 
 " I did not say you were bewitched, my 
 friend — merely that you have bewitched the 
 girl ; that's plain enough, I should think, and 
 I expect you will marry her, if you don't get 
 Ada. That's not being hard on you, is it 
 now ?" 
 
 " Marry her ! " exclaimed Edmund ; but 
 whatever he had intended saying he stopped, 
 and ended by — " You are a great match 
 maker, Harriet ; good night. You need not 
 fret about her ; she is heart whole, and so am 
 I."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 251 
 
 " The one is as true as the other/' said 
 Harriet, as she closed the door, leaving Ed- 
 mund with the impression she had rather the 
 best of that discussion.
 
 252 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 Fked started to join his regiment amidst 
 many tears from his mother and good wishes 
 from his brothers; the boys having had a 
 week's holiday to come home and see him oflF. 
 He was rather a favourite with his father, 
 who displayed his regret at his leaving by 
 giving Fred a hundred pound note for pocket 
 money, when he went into his room to bid 
 him good-bye before he left. Poor Mr. 
 Hamilton was suffering terribly from rheu- 
 matism, and was in a state of great depression 
 after a night of torture.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 253 
 
 " Take care of yourself, Fred, and try and 
 avoid this awful complaint; I am fit for Bed- 
 lam to day. I feel I could run a knife into 
 it," he said, looking viciously at his leg, which 
 was lying in state on a down cushion ; *' it's 
 worse than gout, for it's far more constant. 
 Good-bye, Fred — God bless you. Write for 
 your allowance; I may forget it with this in- 
 fernal torture. Don't play cards, and keep 
 clear of the Jews. It's better now — good-bye. 
 Don't come too close." 
 
 Fred shook hands, and Mr. Hamilton re- 
 lapsed into his lamentations after he had 
 gone ; he really suffered dreadfully, and 
 looked like a spectre after a fortnight or so of 
 these sufferings, which with him were spas- 
 modic at times in their intensity. 
 
 Edmund and his brother separated with 
 very little profession on either side. " Good- 
 bye, old fellow."
 
 254 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " Good-bye, Ned, exercise Grouse yourself 
 for me," and the brothers had parted. 
 
 When Edmund had returned from rambling 
 about the place, seeing how the horses and 
 dogs had been treated during his absence, his 
 mother gave him a note. 
 
 '' This came a day or two ago, Edmund, 
 but I did not forward it ; I think they had a 
 croquet party at Sefton; I suppose it was for 
 that." 
 
 '^ Yes, mother, I had promised to go over 
 and call on young Domville ; I must go — the 
 croquet party is past ; I see it was on the 
 sixth. Were they here since?'' 
 
 " No, they were not ; I must go to your 
 father, he is not at all well to-day. 
 
 " I must go and see them and this cousin too ; 
 I wonder what he is like, now ; they never 
 had the meet at Sefton that we spoke of. I 
 must tell Ada fortune decided that in my
 
 SEFTON HALL. 255 
 
 favour. I think I will ride over there to- 
 day and see what is doing/^ Edmund thought. 
 
 Edmund rode over, but he saw no one 
 stirring about, as he walked his horse up the 
 avenue. When he asked for Mrs. Alton and 
 Mr. Domville, he was told she and Miss 
 Lowell were out driving, and Mr. Domville 
 was somewhere about the place. As he was 
 riding away he heard some one calling after 
 him; he turned round, and Domville jumped 
 out of the drawing-room window, and was 
 beside him in a moment. 
 
 '^ Just saw your card in time, Hamilton," 
 he said ; " I am so glad I did come in ; the 
 ladies are out, but they told me you were 
 coming to see me some day. It's a charity ; 
 this is an awful stupid place, only for Ada I 
 don't think I could stand it long." 
 
 Hamilton came in, and they arranged to 
 meet and go out fishing together in a stream,
 
 256 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 about two miles from Sefton. " Not," as 
 Domville explained, " that he cared a hang 
 for fishing, but it would kill a day.'' 
 
 Domville was a very good looking little 
 fellow, rather small, dark, and curly haired, 
 with a restless, lively, good-natured manner ; 
 you felt you knew him at once. He told 
 Hamilton how old he was, how many cigars 
 he generally smoked, and how much he liked 
 the sea ; that this was a very jolly place, if he 
 only had some fellow to talk to, and that he 
 would go over and see Hamilton the next 
 day, and ended by having one of the horses 
 saddled, and riding back with Edmund part 
 of the way. 
 
 *' I wish Fred was at home, he would be a 
 great companion for this fellow," thought 
 Hamilton. " I never could amuse him ; he 
 wants so much amusing ; I will try and get 
 Sandford's son to come out with us to-morrow,
 
 SEFTON HALL. 257 
 
 if any one would amuse him he ought ; they 
 are something like." 
 
 Domville was over next day, as he had said, 
 but he did not require as much amusing as 
 Edmund had feared; on the contrary he 
 seemed to amuse himself greatly to Edmund's 
 satisfaction, and was full of good spirits and 
 good humour. He told Edmund that they 
 had had an engagement with a Chillian vessel, 
 and that he had saved two sailor's lives — he 
 did not say how. '' And I am trying to get a 
 Victoria Cross. I have written to my uncle; 
 he is a Member of Parliament, and they say 
 that is the way to go about it, and I might 
 get it with a little interest ; you know it is a 
 great thing to have — not that either, for 
 twenty fellows did more — but you see my 
 cousin Ada would like it I am sure. Women 
 do always, don't they ? She is a very pretty 
 girl, is she not ?"
 
 258 SEFl'ON HALL. 
 
 Hamilton did not like these confidences very 
 much, we may be sure, but they could not be 
 avoided. Whatever Domville was thinking 
 of he talked of. 
 
 Hamilton went over to Sefton a few days 
 after to fish ; he and Ada met just as usual ; 
 he tried to observe how she and her cousin 
 got on, but Domville kept up such a constant 
 conversation with him, he could not remark 
 anything in particular — he dined there, and 
 he thought, as he brought in Ada to dinner, 
 that she was gayer than usual — he was to a 
 certain degree right. She had feared that 
 Edmund and she would not again meet as 
 friends, and when they met, and he was atten- 
 tive and kind, and devoted as ever, the appre- 
 hension which had weighed on her spirits 
 seemed gone. Never had Edmund seen her 
 so gay ; she laughed and chatted, and her aunt, 
 who seemed exceedingly interested in some
 
 SEFTON HALL. 259 
 
 of Charlie's adventures, left Edmund and her 
 completely to themselves, but he did not revert 
 in any way to their previous conversation ; 
 and in this I think he showed some judgment. 
 
 They strolled through the grounds after 
 dinner. Charlie, in the most amusing way, 
 having said — so that Ada most probably heard 
 him — " Take care of my aunt like a good fel- 
 low, while I have a chat with my cousin." 
 
 Edmund could not refuse such a request, 
 and had the satisfaction of a long conversa- 
 tion with Mrs. Alton, who, though an exceed- 
 ingly agreeable woman, was not, I am afraid, 
 as well able to excite his interest by her con- 
 versational powers as Alice Travers. 
 
 " You are a good fellow," said Charlie, 
 when they had all entered the house. " I can 
 only say 1 will do as much for you any day.'* 
 
 Edmund laughed. " What are you laugh- 
 ing at, Mr. Hamilton?" said Ada.
 
 260 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " An offer your cousin has made me ; he 
 can tell you about it himself-/' and he pro- 
 bably did so, Edmund afterwards thought. 
 
 "I had a letter from your sister Mrs. 
 Travers," said Ada, in the course of the even- 
 ing. " She tells me she intends paying you a 
 visit, and bringing her step-daughter. I shall 
 go over and see her when she comes, but she 
 has forgotten to mention the day; and 1*11 
 bring the flowers she asks for." 
 
 " I have not heard when she is coming, but 
 I shall let you hear if she comes suddenly, 
 we did not expect her for a month.'* 
 
 This was all Edmund said on the subject; 
 but why had he a nervous dread of his sister's 
 corresponding with Ada ? He had this dread, 
 for he knew of old liow meddlesome and mis- 
 chievous Harriet was, and feared she had some 
 schemes in connection with Alice and himself 
 which he did not quite see through.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 261 
 
 CHAPTEE XVIIL 
 
 Harriet being impatient to realize her plans, 
 determined to pay The Grange a visit imme- 
 diately, bringing Alice with her, who was by 
 no means averse. Indeed Alice felt the house 
 more lonely than ever after Edmund's depar- 
 ture, and when her old nurse — sitting by the 
 fire in her room — talked of him, praising him 
 of course, and assuring her that it was evi- 
 dent to every one how much he admired her, 
 though she punctiliously contradicted the as- 
 sertion whenever made ; still we may be sure 
 it did not displease or surprise her.
 
 262 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 '' I have got a letter for you, miss/' said 
 the old nurse — Alice's face flushed crimson — 
 with that tact which we so often see brought 
 to wonderful perfection in the bearing of our 
 inferiors, and which perhaps to some minds, 
 is one reason their society is too attractive — 
 the nurse in saying this, busied herself bring- 
 ing Alice her brushes and combs, and seemed 
 to have quite forgotten to observe how she 
 received the intelligence. 
 
 '''Where is it, nurse ? It's from the doctor, 
 of course?" 
 
 '' Yes, miss, when you were going out to 
 ride yesterday I got it ; a messenger brought 
 it. I knew him., and I said I was told to ask 
 him for a note, which I saw he had ; he said 
 it was for the young lady, and he gave it to 
 me." 
 
 " You did very right, nurse ; I am obliged 
 to you for this."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 263 
 
 Alice took the letter and read it. 
 
 "My own dear Alice, 
 
 "How often within the last week 
 have I waited and watched for you by the 
 old yew tree ; how anxiously I have listened 
 for your footsteps. What is the reason ? What 
 have I done ? How have I ojBfended you ? 
 Of what have I been accused ? If any one 
 has accused me, Alice dear, give me an op- 
 portunity of defending myself. It is all I ask. 
 See me once more — only once more. 
 " Your ever attached 
 
 " Maurice." 
 
 I leave the reader to decide if this was not 
 an embarrassing letter for a young lady who 
 had fallen in love with another gentleman to 
 receive ; and as Alice read it she fully ad- 
 mitted how extremely disagreeable it was to 
 have such an epistle addressed to her.
 
 264 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 " One cannot forgive one's self for such weak- 
 ness/' she thought. "I have allowed this 
 man to make love to rae, now he takes the 
 position of my accepted and acknowledged 
 lover. What shall I do ?'* 
 
 And then, through her remorse for having 
 acted as she had towards Dr. Johnston, ran 
 the lower feeling of dread of the consequences, 
 should the existence of this lover ever become 
 known to Edmund. She thought at once how 
 his high wrought ideas and feelings would be 
 revolutionised by such a discovery. She could 
 not hope to be Elaine then in his eyes, but 
 Vivian, perhaps, the wily and the false. In 
 her extreme terror, for her feelings deserved 
 no other name, she turned towards her nurse 
 for such assistance as she could offer. 
 
 " What shall I do, nurse ?" And she read 
 the letter. 
 
 Thus called into the counsels ol her mis-
 
 SEFTON HALL. 265 
 
 tress, the old nurse was not without some re . 
 sources. Her first step was to take soundings, 
 as it were. 
 
 ^' Do you care for him, miss ?" she said. 
 
 '^ Not a bit. I would be delighted to hear 
 he was married to-morrow. You may judge 
 how I care for him by that." 
 
 The nurse paused. 
 
 " Then, miss, we must only try and get rid 
 of him, and let him get married if he likes.'' 
 
 '' Yes, of course ; but that's the difficulty. 
 I don't know how to get rid of him, do 
 
 you?" 
 
 " Is he one of those men, miss, that's real 
 down right fond of those they take a fancy 
 to ? If he is, maybe it would be better to 
 pretend that you were prevented seeing him 
 by Mrs. Travers ; that she would have been 
 very angry if you had not gone out with her 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 266 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 brother; and that she had suspected some- 
 thing of your meetings, and you had to be 
 very careful for the present. That would be 
 the best thing to do, T think. He may, if he 
 is very fond of you, come again and again, 
 and write ; and it may be known if you don't 
 try to pacify him.^' 
 
 " And you think I should write. There is 
 not one word of truth in all this, and he is so 
 true and open, it's a shame to deceive him.'' 
 
 " You can't help him now, miss ; he has 
 been deceived long ago. The only thing now 
 is to get out of it all friendly ; it's a bad 
 business." 
 
 " I think I will write, and you can send the 
 letter for me." 
 
 " Oh ! never fear, miss ; I'll send the letter ; 
 but you would want to be very careful. If 
 it's found out I am ruined altogether. Write
 
 SEFTON HALL. 26^ 
 
 it now, miss, while I am witli you ; indeed itf 
 is all you can do/' she said, as Alice hesitated, 
 bringing her paper and pens. 
 
 '' You have the ink there, miss. Now do 
 write and say you could not see him." 
 
 Alice took the pen from the old nurse's 
 hand. All the meanness and duplicity of her 
 conduct she fully acknowledged, and con- 
 demned too; but though she condemned her- 
 self, she saw no other escape from her posi- 
 tion. " If Edmund should see or read this 
 letter he will fancy I have loved this man, 
 and he will never, never forgive me. I know 
 he never will," she thought. 
 
 " Nurse," she said, " I am afraid to write. 
 No one knows what may become of letters. 
 Will you go to Doctor Johnston from me, 
 and say that I was afraid to write to him, but 
 that I have received his letter, and that I 
 
 N 2
 
 268 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 would have met him only that I was obliged 
 to go out and ride with Mr. Hamilton." 
 
 Alice's face was crimson again. She sud- 
 denly hid it with her hands. 
 
 " It's too shameful," she said. " I had al- 
 most as soon marry him." 
 
 The nurse faithfully promised to arrange 
 the meeting safely. 
 
 " I will go and consult him, miss," she said, 
 " about my eyes ; that will be best. I can 
 get leave from Mrs. Travers herself to go ] 
 and, indeed, I intended to go and see him 
 about them." 
 
 Alice listened with that sickening at the 
 details of a deception which we often retain 
 after we have acknowledged to ourselves we 
 are committed to a degrading course, while 
 we are yet unwilling to dwell on it. 
 
 In her mind there was even for a moment 
 or two a question as to whether she might not
 
 SEFTON HALL. 269 
 
 as well end all her difficulties by marrying 
 the doctor ; but the remembrance of Edmund 
 — Edmund, who was all she could admire — 
 decided her. 
 
 " No," she thought, " I would be wretched 
 if I fancied I might have been his wife, and 
 had married Doctor Johnston. No; I am 
 but carrying out an excusable deception. I 
 shall soon be able to confess the truth, and it 
 cannot now be helped, or anything better 
 done ; though I do regret it all ; though it is 
 a horrid shame." 
 
 The following evening the old nurse came 
 at the accustomed hour, when Alice was dress- 
 ing for dinner, and Alice welcomed her with 
 great warmth. 
 
 "Tell me everything, nurse. What hap- 
 pened since ?" 
 
 " I went to his house, miss, and asked to 
 see him, and was shown into the room he
 
 270 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 sees the patients in, and I asked him about 
 my eyes; and at first I was greatly confused 
 thinking how I'd begin to speak to him, but 
 as he was asking me had I long suffered with 
 my eyes, I said, ' Oh ! this long time, before 
 I came to Horton with Colonel Travers/ And 
 he then said, ' You are one of the servants, 
 are you ?' I told him I was ; that I had seen 
 him attending there, though he did not know 
 me, and that I was your nurse ; and had 
 managed the house when master was a 
 widower. He then asked me how you all 
 were, and I began then, and told him you 
 were not very well ; that you were very 
 much fretted by Mrs. Travers ; that she was 
 not kind to you. ' And now slie is trying to 
 get her married to Mr. Hamilton/ I said. He 
 gave a start. ' Sir,' said I, ' the young lady 
 sent me to speak to you.' ' Oh ! did she ? he 
 said, ' How good of you to take such trouble.'
 
 SEFTON HALL. 271 
 
 And I said you were in dread of writing a 
 letter, but that you would some of these days 
 contrive to meet him at the same place, and I 
 would bring him a message, and he would 
 know all then from yourself; but that you told 
 me nothing but that Mrs. Travers was very 
 angry about your having been seen to mee"* 
 him ; and then he asked me a great deal about 
 you, and how you were, and did you fret, 
 and not to let you fret at all if I could help 
 it ; and about Mr. Hamilton — was he a nice 
 gentleman ? and was he like Mrs. Travers ? and 
 what did the Colonel think ? was he aware 
 of it all ? and a great deal more. Are you 
 listening, miss ?'' 
 
 Alice was crying. 
 
 " Yes,'* she said, " yes, nurse, I am. I am 
 very unhappy.'* 
 
 " Ah ! then, is that you crying for that 
 fellow, Miss Alice T
 
 272 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 '' Oh ! it is such a shame ; and I am afraid 
 it will be found out.'' 
 
 " Not at all, miss ; he is one of those men 
 a child might deceive. He said he'd do any- 
 thing you wished." 
 
 " You told him we were going to the Hamil- 
 ton's, nurse, did you not?" 
 
 " Yes, miss ; and he wrote you a letter, and 
 gave it to me, with twenty charges, and made 
 me eat my lunch, and took great care of me. 
 Here it is ?" 
 
 And she gave Alice a letter, with a large 
 dragon for a seal. 
 
 "My own dear Alice, — 
 
 " I am so delighted to hear all 
 about you. You cannot think how unhappy 
 I have been. I will do anything you wish 
 me to do ; you may rely upon that ; but T 
 would so much wish to meet you and talk all
 
 SEFTON HALU 273 
 
 this over. Dear Alice, do see me once more. 
 I am so wretched, thinking you may forget 
 me. 
 
 "Ever your attached 
 
 " Maurice.'' 
 
 Alice read the letter to her counsellor. 
 
 " You see, nurse, he still wants to see me. 
 What shall I do if I meet him. I know, I'll 
 tell him the truth ; I am sure I shall, though 
 I don't intend it." 
 
 " Oh ! miss, you'll be gone in a day or so. 
 What fear is there ? And don't be thinking 
 about the future ; once you are engaged to 
 Mr. Hamilton what matter at all ?" 
 
 '*But," said Alice, bitterly, "it is matter, 
 every matter. He would not think of me if 
 he knew it ; and he is not thinking of me. 
 There is where you are quite wrong. He has 
 
 N 5
 
 274 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 paid me no attention. It is only that I like 
 him, and now 1 have seen him I don't care to 
 go on with Doctor Johnston. That is the 
 reason I wish to get free from this business ; 
 but it is not that I expect Mr. Hamilton to 
 marry me; I know he won't." 
 
 The nurse laughed, she thought all this 
 mere affectation on Alice's part, and at all 
 events was glad to have her flirtation with 
 Doctor Johnston brought to a close. " Well, 
 miss," she said, ''you are right not to go on 
 writing letters and taking walks with the 
 doctor, at all events. I must be going, Miss 
 Alice." 
 
 " Very well, nurse ; you have taken a great 
 deal of trouble, indeed you have." 
 
 "No trouble at all, miss," said the old 
 wouian, leaving the room.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 275 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 But it is not at all times as easy to follow 
 good advice as the givers of it suppose ; the 
 old nurse could not see why Alice should give 
 the Johnston love affair another thought, now 
 the doctor was got rid of for the present. But 
 Alice gave it many thoughts ; she was not an 
 unfeeling or unprincipled girl by any means ; 
 she therefore felt very sorry for the result of 
 her folly, for it now struck her Doctor John- 
 ston might have some grounds for complain- 
 ing of her conduct. She had listened to his
 
 276 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 sympathy for her sad position, her loneliness, 
 her stepmother's unkindness ; and he had ex- 
 pressed his admiration, his love for her. This 
 seemed nothing at the time — at any moment 
 she fancied she could free herself from such 
 slight bonds as these ; but then his letters 
 showed he had begun to expect these meetings 
 as almost a right ; and now she had sent 
 messages to him by her father's servant, he 
 had written to lier, and he wanted her to meet 
 him again soon, " fearing she might forget." 
 " I did certainly encourage him, I was glad to 
 meet him, I thought of running away with 
 him ; I do not see how I shall ever get out of 
 it all," she thought ; " and he really does like 
 me, poor fellow;" then Edmund's remem- 
 brance intervened, and she dismissed the sub- 
 ject as doubly disagreeable and embarrassing. 
 Harriet was still very good humoured and 
 gay, she ordered Alice two or three very
 
 SEFTON HALL. 2/7 
 
 pretty dresses from her own milliner, she 
 praised her singing, and did all she could to 
 encourage and bring her forward ; if this 
 state of things lasted, Alice felt she would 
 have but little to complain of. They arrived 
 at The Grange, without Alice having had any 
 previous interview with Doctor Johnston ; 
 but while they were away, the nurse was to 
 see him, and tell him of Alice's imaginary 
 miseries. 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton received them very kindly, 
 and Alice could not but like that gentle, soft 
 woman, for to her she appeared in no other 
 light. 
 
 Edmund of course was glad to meet her, 
 and they again fell into their old familiar style 
 of conversation, and Edmund loved as before 
 to listen to her singing for him in the evenings. 
 There was a large croquet party expected at 
 Sefton, and they were all asked. Harriet had
 
 278 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 told Alice that Miss Lowell was a great beauty, 
 and heiress, but as yet she had no idea she 
 was her rival. She looked forward to the 
 party with pleasure, and thought how nicely 
 her new dress would suit for such a gay scene, 
 for the evening was to wind up with a dance, 
 and dances were great novelties to Alice. 
 
 The morning of the croquet party was very 
 fine, and Alice was in great spirits, she ran 
 into the garden to gather a bouquet, and 
 thought her appearance complete when she 
 had arranged one. Edmund said, coming in, 
 " Have you not some of the heaths ?" 
 
 " Oh, no,'' she said, " is it the heaths ! " 
 as if it were a sacrilege ; Edmund walked into 
 the conservatory, and cut her a large bouquet. 
 
 " Take these," he said, " and choose the 
 best, it's all folly sparing them. My mother 
 does not care for them, she will be delighted 
 you should take them."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 279 
 
 Alice, greatly pleased, discarded her own 
 bouquet. 
 
 When they reached Sefton it was crowded, 
 and Alice was delighted with the beauty of 
 the place; there were tents, and the grass 
 was very prettily decorated round the croquet 
 ground ; Alice was a very good player, and 
 could appreciate the perfection of the lawn 
 and the implements. 
 
 Mrs. Alton met them all at the hall door, 
 and Alice had been wondering which was the 
 heiress, or whether she was present, as they 
 walked to the croquet ground, when a lady in 
 a white dress and jacket, trimmed with blue 
 velvet, who had apparently been playing — 
 for she had a mallet in her hand — walked up 
 to them ; how beautiful she is, how graceful, 
 Alice thought, when Harriet said, "Miss 
 Travers, Miss Lowell.'* 
 
 *' Oh, I have seen Miss Travers at your ball,
 
 280 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 last winter. Do you not remember me ? how 
 do you do, I hope you play well. I am getting 
 up another set, I do play so badly myself.*' 
 
 Alice said she played tolerably, of course ; 
 and she was introduced to a young officer, 
 who was said to be a most wretched player, 
 that she might take care of him, T presume, 
 She glanced round for Edmund, but he was 
 talking to Ada with such animation, that she 
 was quite too much occupied watching them 
 to pay much further attention to her partner. 
 
 " Shew Miss Travers the order we play in, 
 Charlie ; don't we begin now V said Miss 
 Lowell to Alice's companion, who it appeared 
 was Charlie Domville. Edmund of course 
 was Ada's partner. 
 
 " What a beautiful girl Miss Lowell is, Mr. 
 Domville,'' said Alice; "I had no idea she 
 was so handsome — what lovely eyes she has, 
 so expressive, such hazel."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 281 
 
 " She is very pretty, she is a cousin of mine. 
 I think her very pretty too." 
 
 Then Charlie recollected this would not be 
 a very amusing subject to discuss with Miss 
 Travers, and he began speaking of the beauty 
 of the Spanish women, and of the inhabitants 
 of the different places he had been to during 
 his voyages — as Ada^s white dress with its 
 blue markings floated by now and then, Alice 
 would become a little absent ; but on the whole 
 they got on very agreeably. 
 
 Harriet was looking on, seated on one of 
 the numerous seats around, she did not seem 
 pleased at the attention her brother was pay- 
 ing Ada, and still less at the bright smile with 
 which she listened. 
 
 " Come now,'' she heard her say, '* do 
 attend, and get me through some of these 
 hoops, I wish to have an opportunity of look- 
 ing after our guests, and until my game is
 
 282 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 finished I cannot." She heard Edmund pro- 
 testing he would not assist her through a single 
 hoop, would do nothing to hurry the game; 
 and she heard Ada's laughing rejoinders, and 
 saw her sitting down beside her ball on the 
 nearest seat, as if to keep guard over it ; but 
 evidently quite ready to excuse Edmund's 
 extraordinary roquets, which generally suc- 
 ceeded in placing them in a worse position 
 than their opponents had left them in; while 
 Ada still sat on the low seat, and chatted to 
 Edmund who was standing beside her. 
 
 '' I hope that Charlie is amusing Miss 
 Travers," said Ada, "he is such a bad player, 
 if she is fond of the game I am afraid she will 
 be provoked with him. Did you play much 
 at Colonel Travers' ?" 
 
 '' Not once, but no one expects a good game 
 of croquet at a croquet party ; you never can 
 get people to play well, the game is so long.
 
 SEFTON HALL. 283 
 
 I like a game of six and no lookers on, do 
 you?'' 
 
 " Yes, I don't wonder you dislike lookers 
 on, if you always roquet as well as you are 
 doing to day, why it is preposterous ; there, 
 you have missed my ball again.' ' 
 
 '^ Yes, just so; I was very near striking it. 
 I am sure you and I could play very well, 
 though we, at present I can see, enjoy the 
 reputation of being the greatest of boobies." 
 
 " I don't play well, for I seldom played 
 until Charlie came." 
 
 " Next day we can have a game then, 
 while he is here, if we can find a partner for 
 him, — Miss Travers perhaps, and I am sure 
 we shall beat them, though I can see Miss 
 Travers plays very well." 
 
 " Now do try and hit the ball this time, and 
 let me go. I want to attend to my friends, 
 and you see every one is waiting for us."
 
 284 SEFTON HALL, 
 
 Edmund ^ave the balls a few strokes, and 
 the magic hoop at which they had stopped so 
 long was past •, but it was now too late, make 
 what exertions they might, the game was 
 lost; and in a few moments they heard 
 Domville congratulating Miss Travers on 
 its being entirely through her play they 
 had won. Edmund laughed and looked at 
 Ada. 
 
 Colonel Travers was walking about with 
 Mrs. Hamilton and Harriet ; they had just 
 returned when the game was concluded. 
 
 " Oh ! papa, think of my having won the 
 game, against such good players, too ! Will 
 you just come and look on, and I will show 
 you it all ?" 
 
 Mrs. Alton met them. 
 
 " Alice has been very fortunate, I hear ; 
 but you don^t care for croquet, I believe, 
 Colonel Travers?"
 
 SEFTON HALL. 285 
 
 " I don't understand it, Mrs. Alton ; there 
 was no such game in mj time." 
 
 " Mamma," said Harriet, " would you come 
 here a moment ?" 
 
 Mrs. Hamilton fell back, and walked beside 
 her daughter. 
 
 " Mamma,'' Harriet said, eagerly, " what do 
 you think ? Is Edmund going to be married 
 to Ada ? What does he mean by the way he 
 is going on !" she said angrily. 
 
 " I suppose so, Harriet ; she seems to like 
 him, I think," said the mother, with that 
 affectation of misunderstanding her which 
 made Harriet doubly harsh and rough. 
 
 " And what does he mean by flirting with 
 Alice, then? Why, 1 was sure he would 
 marry her.'' 
 
 '' I see no prospect of it to-day. What gave 
 you that idea?" 
 
 " Why, he has done nothing but flirt with
 
 2S6 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 the girl/' Harriet said, witli a great show of 
 indignation. " Does he think I shall bear 
 with suck conduct if he will not marry her." 
 
 '* Everyone flirts ; you should know enough 
 of society, my dear, to admit that; but I see 
 Mrs. Blackall and Kate, I must go and speak 
 to them." 
 
 Harriet was full of anger and disappoint- 
 ment • she now saw that her little contrivance 
 for Alice and Edmund's benefit was not likely 
 to be successful, and she felt too much an- 
 noyed not to betray herself to her mother. 
 She was now employed devising what she 
 could do, or considering would she do any- 
 thing, to overthrow the existing state of things 
 — for she was so much annoyed with Edmund 
 for thwarting her wishes, she would have at- 
 tempted anything to injure him. 
 
 Mrs. Alton met her, and insisted on her 
 joining the next game of croquet ; this, too,
 
 SEFTON HALL. 287 
 
 annoyed her — for she would have much pre- 
 ferred watching what everyone was doing, and 
 thinking over some plan of operation, as 
 she feared that unless she could at once inter- 
 pose in some way, her interference would be 
 to little purpose. She, however, after many 
 excuses, did join in the game, much against 
 her will ; but Colonel Travers had seconded 
 Mrs. Alton's wishes so strongly, that Harriet, 
 who did not think it politic in anything to 
 oppose him, assented. 
 
 Ada and Edmund were now sitting looking 
 on ; they applauded the good hits, they laughed 
 at the mistakes, yet it was all mechanically. I 
 doubt whether they would have recognised 
 either, but for the applause or laughter around. 
 
 They were really conscious of but one thing 
 — the presence of each other. Ada was so 
 grateful for Edmund's friendship, so happy 
 that he had not met her with coldness, and
 
 288 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 estrangement, that there was a greater soft- 
 ness andwarnjth apparent in her manner than 
 ever before. In her anxiety to show him how 
 desirous she was that they should remain 
 friends, she lost the timid fear, which had 
 previously restrained her from showing her 
 affection and regard for him. This friend- 
 ship — for so she called it — made life really 
 enjoyable to her. She compared hiiu with 
 others, and the comparison was immensely in 
 his favour. As they talked together, she be- 
 came more and more conscious of a similarity 
 of tastes and feelings — for Ada was fastidious 
 in her tastes, as well as romantic in her feel- 
 ings ; and she congratulated herself on having 
 secured the friendship of one who could so 
 completely understand her. 
 
 Love, we must remember, she had very 
 sagely concluded she never had, would, or 
 should experience. Love, it certainly was
 
 SEFTON HALL. 289 
 
 not, which she felt for Edmund ; she merely 
 wished to monopolize his friendship, to share 
 all his hopes and feelings, that he should rely 
 on her judgment, and be influenced by her 
 wishes. 
 
 " I saw Major Bethill's marriage in the 
 papers this morning," said Edmund. 
 
 " Yes, so aunt told me ; I did not look at 
 the papers to-day/' 
 
 " The Major would not believe jou could 
 take such little interest in his fate. I disliked 
 him so much at one time." 
 
 '' You had no reason; he seemed very 
 obliging, and people generally liked him. 
 You should not be whimsical." 
 
 " I thought I had every reason to dislike 
 him at the time — the evening of our ball ; do 
 you remember that evening?" 
 
 Edmund had of late adopted a system of 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 retrospective flirtation — if I may so speak — 
 he was not to tell Ada how he admired her. 
 There could be no objection, owing to their 
 new friendship, in his alluding to how much 
 he had, at one time, done so, and the jealoH- 
 sies, and sorrows, peculiar to that period ; but 
 wliich, of course, were in no way connected 
 with the existing state of things, 
 
 " Oh ! I remember the ball. Do you play 
 as much as you did then ? You lost a great 
 deal at cards one evening." 
 
 " I never play ; I had never in my life 
 played for more than a few shillings, or some 
 mere trifle, I mean, before that night at the 
 Barracks. "Who told you I lost so much ?" 
 he said. 
 
 " One hears all those things ; but you should 
 not — that poor boy, he cannot escape being 
 ruined."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 291 
 
 " Major Bethill encouraged it too much, 
 certainly; in the commanding officer it's a 
 very bad example, and the young fellows are 
 almost sure to take it up. Gaynor is a fool, I 
 think.'* 
 
 " Did he play much ?" said Ada ; " I mean 
 Major Bethill T 
 
 '' Oh ! every night, a rubber of whist, and 
 anything else going ; he liked ecarte very 
 well, and loo — Cole is fond of it, too. Now, 
 was it not the Major who told you I lost that 
 evening ? I am sure it was.'* 
 
 '^ You think people chat a great deal while 
 they are dancing?" 
 
 " Oh ! he was talking to you in the con- 
 servatory, do you not remember ? And now 
 I am sure he was telling you of all our doings 
 at the Barracks. I wondered what that long 
 conversation was about at the time. I had
 
 292 SEFTON HALL. 
 
 fancied it was sometlnDg rery romantic, I 
 assure you." 
 
 " Oh ! had you ; there is no romance about 
 the Major." 
 
 " You should not say so of one of your 
 own victims." 
 
 " Miss Travers is a very nice girl, I think ; 
 is i^he clever? J think there is something 
 engaging in her manner. What a good roquet 
 that last of hers." 
 
 " Yes, she is ; I liked her very much ; we 
 rode together almost every day while I was 
 at Horton. She sings well." 
 
 " I must ask her to sing this evening. And 
 you rode a good deal together?" 
 
 '* We never had the meet here. Fortune 
 was kind, you see. You were very decided 
 about that riding, Miss Lowell. I must try 
 never to forget how you refused me."
 
 SEFTON HALL. 293 
 
 Ada laughed. 
 
 '' We must be very good friends, and you 
 must not forget/' she said. 
 
 " I have such a bad memory, I am sure I 
 shall forget. You must remind me occasion- 
 ally. If I asked you to dance this evening, 
 should you be angry and think I had for- 
 gotten?" 
 
 '' I should not be angry ; I should not think 
 you had forgotten." 
 
 '' Why did you spoil the sentence ? The 
 first part has been anything but improved by 
 your adding to it. Charlie Domville is to 
 have the first dance, is he not ?*' 
 
 '' How do you know ? But — yes, he is — 
 at least, he asked me yesterday.'' 
 
 *' Oh 1 he tells me a great many things ; he 
 told me that — but the second ; the second has 
 not been promised.''
 
 294 SEFTON HALL, 
 
 " The second has not. And Charlie told 
 you that ? He is a queer fellow, is he not ? 
 but such a good fellow." 
 
 " He is ; I like him greatly. He told me 
 he was trying to get the Victoria Cross — at 
 least, I mean that he had applied. He must 
 be a dashing fellow to have a claim for it ; 
 and do you know it's all that you may know 
 he deserved it." 
 
 Ada blushed. 
 
 "I should be so glad,'' she said, '*he would 
 be quite a hero. What did he do ? What is 
 he to get it for ?" 
 
 " I will let him tell you that himself, it 
 would be very unfair not — that was a very 
 bad shot — but you have not promised me 
 the second ; is it gone also ?" 
 
 " Oh ! yes, you shall have the second. 
 You know Miss Blackall will be here, so
 
 SEFTON HALL. 295 
 
 you will have plenty of dancing, I am 
 sure." 
 
 "She can be jealous," thought Edmund, 
 *' even of a friend ; this friendship is delight- 
 ful." 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 T. C. Newby, 30, Welbeck Street, CavendiBh Square, London.
 
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