of the loveliest greensward, met the eye every-1 spite of all the governesses and parsons in the where, in apparently wild confusion, but confusion world." of a picturesque and enchanting description. The Thus it was, without being exactly discontented, low massive building itself, with ivied buttress and I learned to regard the future with hope, as holdrambling additions, all gray and crumbling never-ing forth prospects of happiness, which, however, theless, seemed as if it grew out of the acclivity assumed no tangible form, but seemed to embody whereon it spread; and at evening fall even the everything that was pleasant and delightful. I gray rocks and gray lichens, sombre walls fantas- knew what poverty meant, comparatively of tically festooned, and recesses wherein owls and course; for Lord St. Just had acquired the bitter bats disported, presented no sad aspect to my imag-lesson, and had not been able to conceal it entirely ination. For did I not know where periwinkles from his daughter. But it never occurred to me crept abundantly among the crevices, and where early violets hid? where hyacinths bloomed, whose faint, delicious odors haunt me now? to say nothing -Oh! nothing-of acknowledged garden houris, roses and lilies, and their sister bands of cultivated beauties? "When I am a great lady, Fibsey," said I confidentially, "I shall wish for one thing above all others-and that is for continual sunshine." "And where would the verdure and flowers be, my dear," suggested Mrs. Edmondstone, "if you banish clouds and rain?" "Ah, I never thought of that; but I do so love sunshine!" "There is a sunshine within, Lady Marjory," responded my governess, "which money cannot purchase; and as you grow older and wiser, I hope you will understand and realize the fact." that my Uncle Mertoun, who was so free and generous, might have extended a helping hand toward my father; perhaps Lord St. Just would not have accepted it, preferring self-denial and independence. At any rate, I had not then discerned the truth, and I did not think my uncle selfish and silly. If my father did so, he kept his opinion to himself: he was a reserved, silent man; his voice was low and sad, and his gait slow; and when he used to saunter down the hill towards the valley and the streams, it was with difficulty he could ascend it again. My heart often sank as I gazed on his bent form, and at those times I wished for Basil Edmondstone to discourse concerning the better land, a topic which my father loved to dwell upon; but Basil had gone abroad as tutor to young Lord Morley; and our retirement was unbroken, for Uncle Mertoun's visits became less frequent than formerly, and at length ceased altogether. CHAPTER II. I HAD attained my eighteenth year when Mrs. Edmondstone left us to reside with her son, who had been presented to the living of Barley Wood by his pupil, Lord Morley; and, to my great joy, it was only distant about ten miles from Edenside. Basil had resided with us for some weeks at my father's urgent request, for his grief nearly equalled mine at the idea of parting with Mrs. Edmondstone; and he desired to retain her beneath our roof as long as possible, until every arrangement was completed, and no further excuse for delay presented itself. 1 pondered over these words, and talked much to Fibsey about "sunshine within ;" and when Uncle Mertoun came to Edenside, I mentioned the matter to him he laughed, and said " that Mrs. Edmondstone was a very worthy woman, but that in a few years hence the dazzling scenes of life would cause me to forget her prosy talk." I pondered over these words also, and came to the sage conclusion, that in those unknown regions beyond the tall treetops were the dazzling scenes alluded to, far more to be desired for the future than the flowers, and birds, and solitude of Edenside. From that time forth, by slow and imperceptible degrees, my thoughts all centred in anticipations of shadowy glories to come. I did not think of my uncle's death without weeping, for he had, ministered to my childish vanities and pleasures as no one else Lord Morley's mother, a lady of well-known had done, and I loved him dearly; but more than philanthropy, wrote to my father, recommending once I asked Fibsey how long he was likely to as the successor of Mrs. Edmondstone a young lady, live, because I could not wear the diamond coronet who had filled the situation of companion to her which Earl Mertoun said was laid up for me until daughter, in consequence of whose marriage, which he had gone to heaven, where all my little brothers had just taken place, the candidate, Mrs. Danton, and sisters and my dear mamma awaited him. was desirous of finding another congenial home. Basil Edmondstone overhearing such a query, Lady Morley spoke of her in the highest terms, called me to his side, and bade me remember that assuring my father that she considered Mrs. DanI might be summoned from this world even before ton a desirable addition to the family circle in all my uncle; with impressive seriousness he added respects; and that her age would probably render somewhat concerning an immortal crown alone her a pleasanter companion for me than even the worth coveting. This made me very low-spirited, worthy, sedate Mrs. Edmondstone. Mrs. Danton and Basil's dark eyes seemed to haunt me with a was of Spanish origin, but the widow of an Englook of reproach whenever I was proud or vain; Ilish officer; "her Hidalgo blood," added Lady knew that he was good and gifted, for I had heard Morley, "only infusing into her the proper and Uncle Mertoun say so, therefore I could not disre-laudable pride of wishing to be independent of her gard his words. But Fibsey was angry, and declared she would not have Lady Marjory frightened and moped: such gloomy talk was enough to kill a child; and parsons ought to keep their preachments to their pulpits." Mrs. Edmondstone was no match for Fibsey, and to Fibsey I always resorted for consolation and sympathy-the burthen of her song ever being, "Never mind, dearie; never mind; you'll be Countess May yet, and wear your diamond coronet, and make sunshine round wherever you go, father's family." My father entertained a profound respect for Lady Morley's opinion, and he was accordingly strongly prepossessed in favor of Mrs. Danton, and eager to secure her services. When Basil Edmondstone heard this arrangement canvassed-and Lord St. Just gave him Lady Morley's letter to read-he appeared strangely confused and startled; his manner, coupled with words he let fall, causing my father to ask him if he was acquainted with Mrs. Danton, and what opinion he had formed of her. Basil Edmondstone's manner was at all times so perfectly self-possessed, and yet courteous and gentle, that when he exhibited this unwonted perturbation we naturally became curious in proportion to ascertain the cause. But he seemed to find speech difficult, and hesitatingly said, "I scarcely know how to answer you candidly, Lord St. Just; for it is a grave thing to withhold or give an opinion of one about to become domesticated in your family, and the intimate companion of Lady Marjory." "It is for that reason, Mr. Edmondstone," replied my father, "that I desire to know the result of any observations you may have made on Mrs. Danton's disposition, character, and demeanor in general. On Lady Morley's judgment I have implicit reliance so far as it goes; but I am aware that her ladyship's public avocations and charities prevent her attending so much to her private duties as perhaps might be desirable-while her daughter, lately married, was one of the gayest beauties who figured in the fashionable world. That of course is not against Mrs. Danton, as no doubt she used all her influence for good." "I only saw Mrs. Danton," replied Basil Edmondstone," in the retirement of Lady Morley's country-seat; and I certainly am surprised, from what I saw of her at that time, that she should voluntarily seek permanent seclusion; but perhaps she is not aware that her routine of life at Edenside would be one of privacy and simplicity?" Basil added with a hopeful look. "Yes; Mrs. Danton is fully aware of all particulars," replied my father; "but do you infer that such a mode of life might be distasteful to her -and for what reason?" "My judgment would have led me to form this supposition," answered Basil; "but my reasons for doing so are more difficult to define. A very delicate pencil is required to paint a fair lady's faults, if faults there be"- -Again he hesitated, colored, and became painfully confused. "But may I be understood to depict a certain degree of restlessness-a need of the stimulus of excitement, which I thought characterized Mrs. Danton, and led me to conclude that solitude might prove irksome. She is a highly-accomplished lady, and I have no doubt, an agreeable companion." "But Basil, my dear," broke in Mrs. Edmondstone, "is she amiable and affectionate? have not told us that?" 66 You "I had no opportunity of judging, mother," replied the son, as he added, with a smile, " these are close questions, and hardly fair, I think, to discuss." And so the subject dropped, my dear father evidently pondering on what had passed, but coming to a pleasant conclusion in the end; for, said he to me, "Mrs. Danton is very anxious to come; and as she knows our mode of life, Marjory, my child-for Lady Morley has concealed nothing from her-we must naturally infer that, even if the opinion our good Basil formed of the lady was a correct one formerly, she has now changed her tastes, and become reconciled to a quiet life-such as is held out for her acceptance at Edenside." But when, eventually, my father told Basil that everything was settled, and that Mrs. Danton was to be an inmate of our dear home, I could see a shadow of uneasiness pass athwart Mr. Edmondstone's speaking countenance, which betokened a mind disturbed; and this impression communicated itself to me, for I had learned unconsciously to treasure and venerate all Basil's opinions, and to look up to him as my best authority on all points. Not that I willingly allowed him to suppose such was the case, for I strenuously endeavored to impress him with ideas of my own vast importance, and my great future expectations-vainly endeavored, because whatever airs or impertinences I indulged in, they fell back on myself with redoubled force. For there was in Basil Edmondstone a certain grave self-respect, (he never forgot his sacred office,) tempered, indeed, with affability, which made me feel contemptible in my own esteem when displaying these vagaries before him; he was my superior in all respects, for I knew that, in virtue of his high calling, he claimed more than an equality as to temporal rank, and that he held mere temporal wealth but as means to an end-regarding men as stewards, hereafter to give an account of their stewardship. In short, there was no patronizing Basil Edmondstone. I talked to him about my earldom in prospective, and he looked grave; I joked about hope deferred, and he gently rebuked me; I pouted, and tried to quarrel with him, but I read an indefinable something in the sad expression of his eyes-beautiful eyes they were! which made me unable to continue my folly, and brought tears to my own, and blushes to my cheek. Then, angry with myself, that I-the future Countess of Mertoun-should stand abashed before him, I adopted an unbecoming hauteurequally futile and useless, for Basil was imperturbably polite, kind and considerate. "I wonder if Mrs. Danton is handsome?" I found myself inwardly saying over and over again. And from wondering if Mrs. Danton was handsome, and hoping that she was not, I gained imperceptibly a knowledge of my own heart; and read there, alas! a page full of love and jealousy. Yet pride was stronger; and I determined to blot it out, and to remember how far apart Basil Edmondstone and I were in worldly condition. He never forgot it; of that fact I felt well assured, so far as worldly observances went. There was an indescribable blank at Edenside when Mrs. Edmondstone and her son had departed. There was sunshine without-the child's wishes were realized; but round the woman's path shadowy clouds were gathering, which already faintly obscured the sunshine within. CHAPTER III. COULD it be possible that the presence of one individual had wrought such a change in the aspect of all things? or was it that I viewed them through a different medium, while the circumstances themselves remained unchanged? 66 Mrs. Danton was singularly beautiful; and yet I felt no jealousy now, for she spoke carelessly of Basil Edmondstone, called him a poor parson, and when I extolled him, and took his part with heightened color and flashing eyes, she smiled and said that I was a true champion for the absent." I could not feel angry with her, for she captivated and enthralled me. Her extreme sweetness and gentleness of voice and manner, varied accomplishments, and constant flow of spirits, might have accounted for this captivation on my part, for I had never seen any one like her before. But it was not even these attractions which enchained me so completely; it was that Mrs. Danton identified herself with my hopes and wishes, and that, in an incredibly short space of time, I had intrusted her with all my secret and cherished aspirations: one subject alone excepted, but that I scarcely whispered to myself. Yet what secret escaped her scrutiny-though she appeared to exercise no penetration, indulge no curiosity, her peculiar softness of demeanor, bordering on indolence, being redeemed only by a dash of wild playfulness, tender and winning as the pretty ways of some brilliantly-plumaged, delicate pet bird! Perfectly happy and contented with her lot she apparently was; describing the scenes in which she had mingled with graphic force, and picturing the gay world in such exciting and fairy-like colors, that I wondered she was resigned to quit it. She told me that I was formed to enjoy these delights, and to reign a star of the first magnitude, hinting that it was sad to see my youth buried in solitude; by slow and imperceptible degrees leading me to speak of my uncle's death as the only prospect of ultimate release. I mou about in a sort of whirl or trance. In sleep I heard sounds of joyous music, and beheld lighted festal halls, wherein crowds of noble cavaliers worshipped at my shrine! I began to entertain an extravagant opinion of my own beauty and talents, and to think that Mrs. Edmonstone and her son had underrated them. I grew weary of Edenside, and longed to fly away with Mrs. Danton to realize my blissful dreams! Had any one asked me how all this was brought about, and if Mrs. Danton had done it, I could not have given a satisfactory elucidation; for she was always cheerful herself, never complained of ennui, but sang and talked, and made the days pass swiftly. As to my father, he was perfectly charmed with our new inmate, and, contrary to his usual habit, he more than once remained in my apartment to listen to Mrs. Danton's music; while even old Fibsey, now querulous and infirm, especially patronized Mrs. Danton, that lady having listened respectfully to some of her most marvellous tales, and also adopted a specific remedy for cold, which no persuasions of nurse had ever induced Mrs. Edmonstone to try. "Mrs. Danton is a sensible woman," quoth Fibsey, "though she be a foreigner like; and it does one's bones good to hear her merry laugh, for all the world like the tinkle-tinkle of the wether-bell from the distant sheiling coming across flowers and meadows, and making one think of all sorts of happy things. She's a bonny leddy; bless her lovely eyes, that melt like moonbeams on the dark sleeping waters!" So it was Mrs. Danton gained the affections and good-will of all, whilst I absolutely clung to her, and much marvelled how I had contrived to drag on my monotonous existence, when I had not her to talk to and confide in. Our constant theme of conversation was my uncle-his absence, and reported ill health. There was no one to check or rebuke me now; no grave looks; but Mrs. Danton spoke of Earl Mertoun's decease as an event to be almost " hoped for;" adding, "What a comfort it would be to Lord St. Just to witness his daughter's elevation prior to his own summons home!" Viewing it in this light, it seemed no longer sinful or unfeeling to indulge anticipations of a brilliant future career; while the total cessation of his visits threw the film of distance between my once kind uncle and me, and I came gradually to regard him as a stranger, or a memory. The past was forgotten; the present unheeded; "and youth, health, rank, wealth and beauty, all united in the person of Countess May," summed up my friend, mimicking Fibsey's voice and manner. For Mrs. Danton inherited that dangerous gift-she was an admirable mimic; even the worthy Mrs. Edmonstone did not escape her; and I was weak and wicked enough to laugh at many such unkind exhibitions of miscalled talent. I had watched the meeting which took place between Basil Edmondstone and Mrs. Danton, soon after the arrival of the latter, with considerable interest. She accompanied me to Barley Wood; but I knew not how it was, Mrs. Danton seemed out of her element there. The church and parsonage were both antiquated buildings; there was a homeliness, a substantial sort of comfort and sense of repose pervading the place a peace and holiness, if I may use the term, with which our worldly discussions and gay laughter had nothing to do. When there, a dim, lurking sensation of regret that Mrs. Danton was my chosen intimate, always arose in my heart. I remembered her mockery of dear, simple Mrs. Edmondstone, and I was stricken with shame that I had encouraged it, and wept, as my early preceptress clasped me in her arms, fondly calling me her darling child. Mrs. Danton seemed quite at ease, laughing, talking, and admiring everything; Basil was more reserved and silent than usual, though I detected a slight embarrassment when he first addressed my companion-a slight mounting of color in his cheek, and a singular expression in his eloquent eyesuch an expression that I had never encountered, thank Heaven! although I tried in vain to interpret it; but he quickly regained self-command, and assumed the courtesy of a host. My father wished Mrs. Edmonstone and her son to come to Edenside; but he excused himself on the plea of manifold pressing duties and occupations, though he added earnestly, "When I can be of any essential use or comfort to Lord St. Just, you know where to find me, Lady Marjory." The words were conventional, but the manner in which they were spoken penetrated my heart; and as we rode back through the corn-fields and smiling pastoral lands, it seemed as if I had left peace of mind behind me. And yet, our own fair Edenside was my childhood's home, and beautiful as ever. Alas! clouds were obscuring the "sunshine within !" I was now in a kind of feverish excitement : vexed and dissatisfied that Mrs. Danton had gained such an ascendancy over me, which I could by no means shake off, though she was but six years my senior. It was I who was restless and dissatisfied, to whom excitement seemed necessary, not Mrs. Danton. Surely Basil's opinion of her had been unjust; and was not my impatience of her influence unjust likewise? "There is a mystery which I must fathom," thought I. "What has Mrs. Danton done to offend Basil ?-for, despite her beauty and fascination, he neither likes nor admires her-of that I am certain. I am not so sure, however, of her feelings towards him, notwithstanding her assumed indifference." Assumed!--for excellent as her acting was, she had not altogether deceived me; my wo man's heart was on the alert-for, alas! inexpe rienced, silly girl as I was, I had already learned something of that mystic lore, which is made up of trifles light as air. I had observed Mrs. Danton quail beneath Basil Edmondstone's open, truthful glance; I had also observed a momentary flash as she raised the drooping lids of her languishing eyes, which absolutely scared me. It was a lightning-flash, terrific in its passionate corruscation; but the silken fringes fell instantaneously, and veiled the storm-burst. Yes, | had died shortly after the child's birth. Shame it was but for a second; but that second had re- had prevented my uncle's betrayal of the secret, vealed Mrs. Danton as a Medea, in her reproaches and some contrition for having disappointed me; and her agony. What a contrast to the gentle, but, on the death-bed, things wore a different aspect, playful, winning creature whom I had learned to and he acknowledged his son's rights, confiding him love and fondle! I questioned her closely; but to the sole guardianship of Lord St. Just, and the she evaded all my queries, assuring me that I was tender mercies of Cousin Marjory! fanciful, and that she was not a favorite of Mr. Edmondstone's; that was all. "But is he not a favorite of yours?" I persisted, remarking the warm color which suffused her clear olive complexion as she vainly strove to hide her face. "Ah!" she replied, with a forced laugh," he is a very worthy creature, too handsome and engaging for a mere country, parson. But, Lady Marjory St. Just, allow me to question you in my turn-is not Mr. Edmondstone an especial favorite of yours?" CHAPTER IV. I can write these particulars now-and it might have seemed as if I was calm and reconciled then. I was, in fact, stunned by the heavy blow at first; the shock overwhelmed me; an evil genius was by my side, and no oil was poured on my rankling wounds. Rage and blackness usurped the place of woman's better nature, and the bitterest hate towards the unoffending child, who had not an adherent at Edenside save my noble-hearted father. Fibsey, Vehemently assuring her that I had known him contrary to her nurse-like propensities, flatly refrom his boyhood, since I was an infant-that I re- fused to have aught to do with the interloper; the garded Mrs. Edmondstone in the light of a mother, other ancient retainers muttering among themand Basil as a brother-covered with blushes, stam-selves, "that it was too bad for their young lady!" mering, and protesting-I became inextricably Mrs. Danton shared my sorrows; but, to my surinvolved in a labyrinth of falsehood; or, mildly prise and chagrin, her behavior took a different speaking, equivocation. I was effectually silenced, however, nor ventured again to attack Mrs. Danton on the delicate topic, while she regarded me with evident amusement, saying, "You are as agitated, Lady Marjory, as if I had accused you of loving Mr. Edmonstone nothing so preposterous entered my imagination, I assure you, as that the beautiful, high-born Countess of Mertoun should bestow her affections so unworthily." "I am not Countess of Mertoun yet, Mrs. Danton," whispered I, in a faltering voice. "But you soon will be!" Prophetic words! Shortly after this conversation, we had returned one day from an expedition to Barley Wood-where we often paid a flying visit, Mrs. Danton taking the reins of our pony-phaeton, being a skilful charioteer—to find the household at Edenside in a state of confusion and excitement-a summons having arrived express from Fonthill Abbey, my uncle's magnificent seat, requiring my father's immediate presence, as Earl Mertoun was not expected to live for many hours. How my heart throbbed as I witnessed the departure of Lord St. Just! My tears flowed when I thought of my dying uncle, boyishly good-natured and caressing as he had ever shown himself towards me. They were, however, but April tears, quickly succeeded by sunshine, as one variable mood chased another. turn shortly, and she bestowed many endearments and caresses on the infant earl, who, on his part, poor little thing! turned from the serious old faces surrounding him to the lovely, beaming countenance which looked kindly on his forlorn state. I taxed Mrs. Danton with hypocrisy, and with clinging_to_the strong; her answer was remarkable: If I am a hypocrite, Lady Majory, it is for you, and to do you service." What could she mean? Was her love for the child assumed, and for what purpose? My father was grateful and pleased when he watched little Cecil's fondness for Mrs. Danton, and her attention to his ward; for though, God knows, I endeavored to school my heart, it was awfully rebellious; nor could I feel or assume a tenderness which had no place there. Cecil was a fair, delicate child, and had evidently been much humored, and frequently was fractious and naughty. I loathed his screams and cries, and his presence unnerved me; while Fibsey declared he was a changeling of the fairy-folk, and never would come to any good, though he was Earl of Mertoun ! Mrs. Danton disliked children, which made her mode of procedure more extraordinary; and she speedily lost favor with Fibsey, who detested double-faces, and folks who left other folks when their golden days were flown! Yet I felt in my heart's core that Fibsey was unjust to Mrs. Danton; Two days subsequent to my father's departure, and that, if she was playing a part, it was in some an official notification made me acquainted with my unaccountable manner to do me, as she had said, uncle's death; and I heard Mrs. Danton's sweetly-"service." whispered congratulation-" Long may the beau- If my heart ever misgave me, it was when Basil tiful Countess of Mertoun live to enjoy her dignity!" Edmondstone came to Edenside, and I saw that he noted with pleased surprise Mrs. Danton's motherMy father did not write to me, and I became ly demeanor towards the young earl; it was but surprised and uneasy at his silence, for I knew that for a little while these misgivings arose-for never he would remain at Fonthill until after the funeral heretofore had Basil been so kind and tender toobsequies were performed. Day passed over; the wards me-so deferential and observant; while I silence was ominous, and a strange creeping pre-read a language in his eye which made me almost sentiment of evil took possession of my soul: even Mrs. Danton was not exempt from the influence of a foreboding which too soon was fully realized. Lord St. Just returned to Edenside-not alone, and not to greet me, as Mrs. Danton had done, but accompanied by a little boy of three years old, whom he introduced to my notice as the Earl of Mertoun-my deceased uncle's legitimate son by a private marriage with a girl of humble origin, who ready to embrace my cousin with affection, and exclaim, "this loss is my gain!" Mrs. Danton had read that language too; she knew that, as the poor Lady Marjory St. Just, daughter of a ruined man, Basil Edmondstone might aspire to my hand, for he was well born-his ancestors of nobility equal to my own. But, as the heiress of princely wealth, the gulf was impassable; Basil never would overstep it, even were a helping or beckoning hand extended. Again I observed the fiercely-flashing | claimed, "By accident, Mrs. Danton! Heaven eye and compressed lips; but she bent over the forbid such a dire misfortune should befall us! child, and toyed with his flaxen ringlets, while I Why do you frighten me so?" for the first time embraced my little cousin. Short- "I have no intention to frighten you, Lady Marlived amity The siren's voice was at my ear-jory," she answered quietly; "I merely spoke a she exerted all her powers of fascination to wean passing thought-spoke of a possibility, not of a me from my dreams of love and peace-and, alas! probability; accidents do sometimes happen, you succeeded. Were my days to be passed in this know," she continued; looking at me with a smile dull, monotonous routine forever?-beauty such as so full of dark meaning, that, scared and bewildered, mine blooming in a desert!-poverty closing around the work fell from my hands as I tremblingly cried, me-and a life of comparative penury in store! O, | “ Why do you speak in this manner, Mrs. Danton? it was cruelly unjust, and I had a right to be angry Have you any forebodings or apprehensions of the and discontented! I listened and believed; and child's safety?" Mrs. Danton wept with me, murmuring, as she placed her hand on my aching brow-"Life is always uncertain-the child Cecil is delicate-there is still hope.' I looked up in her face; the twilight shadows were gathering at Edenside, but a darker shadow than of twilight rested there. What did it portend? I knew not, yet shudderingly turned away. "I am sure that Master Mertoun looks well enough," said Fibsey, (she never would give the child his rightful title;)" and yet Madam Danton most makes more fuss about the brat, and his precious health forsooth, than we did about all those little suffering angels as are gone to heaven along with your dear ma— I declare it provokes me to see her a-codling and a-pampering the sourtempered babe, and a-telling my lord that he is a delicate plant; but I don't believe it; no—not I." This was fact, however; and Mrs. Danton persisted in assuring my father and every one else that little Cecil was a sickly child, and required the utmost care and tending. My father took it all for granted, and merely said, "Do not spoil him overmuch, my dear Mrs. Danton; I fear your kind, motherly heart may get the better of your wise head, you seem so fond of my interesting charge." He added, more impressively, placing his hand on her arm, to arrest attention-"I need not remind you of the peculiar and delicate position in which I am placed as guardian to this boy; my honor is concerned in his wellbeing. Man could give no higher proof of confidence in another's integrity than my deceased brother-in-law did, by committing his son to the sole care of one whose own hopes are completely frustrated by that son's existence-an existence rendered doubly precious to me in consequence." Meekly, and with downcast eyes, Mrs. Danton listened to Lord St. Just, assuring him in return that she fully entered into and comprehended his feelings, and that she was devoted to his interests and to Lady Marjory's. "I do not think the Earl of Mertoun will live to be reared," whispered Mrs. Danton to me in a careless way as we sat at our embroidery; "I have hinted as much to your papa. Of course we are all very anxious for the child's welfare." I looked up from my work, and met her eyes. What did I see there to rivet my gaze? an inquiring, mysterious expression, which seemed to say, "Do you understand me?" But I did not understand her, and simply replied, "Yes, indeed we are; for it would be very sad for papa if anything went wrong with Cecil." 66 Ah, you know I am not superstitious, though I humor old Fibsey's nonsense; and, as to apprehensions, life is uncertain to us all. Sickness or accident may remove this impediment from your path, and you still may inherit your rights, Lady Marjory-for rights I must ever consider them, though so cruelly set aside." She said this in her softest, blandest manner, keeping her eyes fastened on the embroidery before her; while I-almost alarmed at the ideas she had put into my head, and shrinking from them as they would return again and again-endeavored to speak carelessly, but my voice faltered “I think we ought not to contemplate the possibility of this child's removal, my dear friend; it seems dishonorable and cruel-minded to do so." She shrugged her shoulders, saying, "You have been dishonorably and cruelly dealt by, Lady Marjory; nor can you help contemplating the possibility of that which I allude to, despite your efforts to the contrary." Her words rang in my ears when I was alone"despite my efforts to the contrary," creating painful disturbance in my mind. My hopes of worldly distinction and power, my ambitious schemes and vain projects, had all been dashed aside and annihilated; and now, when the first faint whisper was heard of another hope springing up, I had not strength to close my ears to the voice of the charmer, but permitted my thoughts to wander on the verge of that boundary-line which conscience-that sure monitor!-proclaimed with its "still small voice," might not be passed without iniquity. These thoughts suggested"The child may die; but I am sure I hope not." Yes, I added the latter sentence; but the human heart is deceitful and desperately wicked above all created things, and did I deceive myself when I believed that I actually felt that hope? Mrs. Danton by degrees drew me on to discuss these waking dreains, until I became inured to them; they were but dreams, she said; and there was no harm in building castles in the air, which could not injure a mortal creature. So we gradually and imperceptibly fell into a strain of conversation which appeared quite natural and proper, as we hinted no wishes, but canvassed what "might be;" yet "pretty Countess May" fell on my ear with a harsh, grating sound, as in playful mood Mrs. Danton once more mimicked poor old Fibsey's almost forgotten pet epithet. Of late, Mrs. Danton had carried on a constant correspondence with her relatives in Spain, informing us that she expected her brothers, Don Guzman and Don Felix d'Aguilar, to visit the English shores immediately; they were cruising in a pleasure yacht, and intended to touch at a place on the coast which was distant from Edenside about fifty miles across the country. |