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BY

GEORGIANA LADY CHATTERTON.

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AUTHOR OF
“HOME SKETCHES, RAMBLES IN THE SOUTH OF IRELAND,"

THE PYRENEES AND SPAIN,&c.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. II.

LONDON:
HURST AND BLACKETT, PUBLISHERS,
SUCCESSORS TO HENRY COLBURN,
13, GREAT MARLBOROUGH STREET.

1857.

246. V, 246.

LUMEA

J. Billing, Printer, 103, Hatton Garden, London, and Guildford, Surrey.

LIFE AND ITS REALITIES.

CHAPTER I.

AWAKENED RECOLLECTIONS.

Lucy was very anxious to know how her sister had slept, and was much relieved to find that nothing had occurred to disturb her rest.

“But did you actually sleep all night with that awful closet door open ?” she inquired, as she entered the room with her sister after breakfast.

“I cannot understand why it should be open,” said Harriet, “ for it was certainly closed

VOL. II.

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when we went to bed. I suppose the wind blew it open ; you know it was a very stormy night.”

“But it is delightfully fine to-day,” she continued, as she saw her sister was gazing with a look of fear and horror towards the spot. “It will be a charming morning for a drive. Now

pray

do not look at those foolish spots ; I know they are only stains in the wood. They were always there. Come, dear Lucy, for I want you to drive me to Hartfield. I long to have a roam with you over the dear old downs. Come, for you are quite pale with fear, and it will do you good and little Mary too. She looks ill this morning, and I am sure the breezes of our native downs would revive her.” Well, we will

go

if you wish,” said Lucy; but she dreaded it more than she liked to confess even to herself.

But it is very foolish,” she thought, " and

surely I ought not to give way to such feelings.”

Later in the day, they drove to Hartfield, the children rode on ponies and donkeys, and then the whole party walked up to Winbarrow Down.

Lucy was so absorbed in the recollections excited by that loved scene, that she took scarely any notice of the children, and did not perceive that Charlotte's high spirits were rather oppressive to her cousin.

. You see now how right I always was, said Harriet, as they walked over the highest point, and came in sight of Rollston Court. “ You are

now convinced what a much better husband Mr. Mandeville is, than poor Augustus would have been.”

“I certainly am,” said Lucy; but this was a trying moment to be reminded of it, for it was impossible to behold that prospect, and not feel something of the old rapturous sensation

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