CHAP. VI. AND SO I WON MY GENEVIEVE." whom he has to toil and strive to keep body, with just the tiniest sprig, which flowed in such and soul together and keep up a respectable crisp folds round her; for this had she arranged appearance, lies tossing and thinking the whole those dainty blue ribbons (his favourite colour), night through, haunted with spectres of Death as she had somehow divined; for this had she and Poverty, and cannot win the fickle goddess coroneted her hair into one black shining to end, for a time, his cares and anxieties. crown, just suiting the regal contour of her head. I may venture to say that a woman never looks so well, especially if she be young, as in a fresh muslin dress; men of the world, of course, stake their faith on the more gorgeous evening-dress; others like the jaunty hat and the becoming Balmoral and striped petticoat-chacun à son goût; more to my taste is the pure white morning robe, plain and simple. Not for a moment had her loved-one been absent from her thoughts as she stood at her dressing-table that morning: her priceless one, the prince of men to her, was coming down that day, and she must appear pretty in his eyes; and though vanity was a fault which did not trouble Ella very much, yet a little something told her that morning, as the glass reflected her glorious face, that she was looking radiant and happy. Pardon this lamentable digression. I will sin no more in this way, though it is mighty tempting sometimes, I warrant you. A tap at the door, and the expected hero entered very slowly, as one who had recovered from a long and serious illness, and with that ill-fated arm in a sling, bringing vividly before the eyes of one at least of the party the day when he was brought home from the hunt in a maimed pitiful condition. At last came down the joyful bulletin that the Captain was much better, and the little coterie around the breakfast-table at the hall were all assembled to welcome the unlucky rider, with vastly different feelings. The bluff, hearty old Squire was really very pleased to see the man for whom, spite of his wildness, he had a sneaking affection, able to leave that stuffy, sick chamber of his and once more take his seat at the genial board. Poor, timorous Mrs. Stewart was actually in high spirits, and fluttered about amongst the breakfast equipage like a small jenny-wren, anxious to provide her best for her young birdies; and as for Ella, hard though she strove to put a careless face upon the matter, she could not help her sparkling eyes and heaving bosom telling their own tale. She knew full well that the crisis of her own life was coming, for weal or for woe: if for weal, then, happy girl, she might revel in the first blush of requited love; if for woe, then would she settle into quiet misery, and "dree her weary dree" as best she might. The weather seemed to be doing its best in welcoming the conquering hero; the blazing sun came out, as with sound of trumpet, and woke into life the leaves and flowers, after winter's long sleep of dreariness, and made the dew-gemmed parterres in Kate's own particular garden-plot sparkle as with a tiara of jewels, much to that young lady's delight, who was out already, and gathering some snowdrops to grace the festival. Need we Grantley smiled not a very pleasant smile: he say that she had chaffed poor Ella almost appeared, and naturally he was, a little annoyed to death, on this auspicious day, and was now at the reference to the horse; for, if there was making the frosty air ring with her joyous peals one thing he prided himself upon, it was the of laughter. Mischief-loving little dame, the being able to ride almost any horse that could first words she said, on re-entering the break-put one foot before the other. Then he turned fast parlour, were: Pa, do look at Ella; isn't she a swell?-I beg pardon; yes, it is a very naughty word (catching sight of her mother's deprecating gesture); well, is she not beautifully got up, then?" 66 "By Jove! Ella, you are a swell; what is up?" said the admiring squire ; anyone would think you were going to be married." Ella blushed, and kept her own counsel; but between you and me, reader, she had taken the most unusual trouble this morning; and, what wonder! whenever does a woman dress half so well, or wear half such a becoming costume, as when she is sure of meeting her lover? For had she chosen that pure fresh muslin robe, "Glad to see you, Grantley, by Jove!" cried the impetuous old squire, in his genial, hearty manner, rushing forward and clasping his hand till the Captain almost winced under the greeting; "we thought you were never going to leave that room of yours. You will be glad to hear that that Irish horse that shied you is sold; but the fact is, we could do nothing with the animal. He nearly did for his groom, and so we sold him to our neighbour Sir Alan Neville; if he does not take the stiffening out of the brute I do not know the man." to greet the ladies-a respectful bow to Mrs. Stewart's gentle congratulations on his recovery; a warm-hand clasp for the vivacious Kate; and then one long earnest gaze into Ella's beautiful eyes, as if he would read her very soul, and the secret which lay concealed there-a gaze which brought the rich dusky blood surging to the girl's cheeks, and made her drop the long fringe of her eyelashes over the eyes which her lover looked into; not quite soon enough, for Harry Grantley had read the secret in those glowing cheeks and downcast eyes, and felt a fierce throbbing of joy at his heart, like as a man feels when he has striven well and conquered, and sees his beaten rival's envy and admiration, and drinks in the tumultuous roar of applause for his victory. A happy breakfast that which followed: even frightened Mrs. Stewart came out of her shell, so to speak, to press her most delicate dainties on the convalescent soldier, and felt quite disappointed when her offers were declined with chivalrous politeness. "Can't you make your cousin eat, Ella?" implored the hospitable lady; "it quite grieves me to see him take such a poor breakfast." "Oh, we never eat large breakfasts in India," laughingly spoke Grantley, but feeling, at the same time, that he would eat the hind leg of an alligator if Ella only offered it to him. “You want a little fresh air, that's what will | bring back the appetite," said the squire. "The girls shall take you out with the ponies." "O yes, Pa! we'll have Tiny and Pet into the basket the first thing after breakfast; they bowl along in clipping style, don't they, Mamma dear?" said the mischievous Kate to her horrified mother, who would as soon have thought of going up in a balloon as ride behind the aforesaid Tiny and Pet, with Kate to drive them. Was there ever such a happy meal as that breakfast? Ella seemed in Paradise: everything she ate, drank, or did was for her lover's sake he was all in all to her. "Al ogni uccello el suo nido è bello," and everything is bright, in Love's first dream. Pity it is that the fair picture should ever be sullied by the cold shade of neglect, or the dark colouring of passion and vice. I am afraid that our gallant lover turned, as soon as the genial meal was over, to his cigarcase, with a hasty, feverish delight, which none but the smoker can understand. For a weary time had he been debarred this pleasure. The doctor had said, "Not on any account, my dear fellow plenty of time for smoking, when we are all right again," and the victim had suffered a slight anathema to escape "the barrier of his teeth," and had submitted to his fate. By-and-bye came a thundering rap at the door, and the servant brought in a card to Mrs. Stewart-a slim, glazed, highly respectable cartel, inscribed with "Rev. Loftus Smyly" and following it came the reverend youth himself. The reader knows the man, I should opine. A sleek, prim young Anglican curate, who paid periodical visits to the hall, having unwittingly suffered himself to fall helplessly beneath Kate Stewart's arch blue eyes, and who bore his suffering in manly silence, save that, ever and anon, the spoony clerk called, on the very shallowest of all pretexts, that of consulting his enchantress on the progress of her district-visiting. Little deemed he that Katie was drawing him for the amusement of herself and her wicked friends. He had read, in his Virgil and Horace, of a certain Dido and a certain Neæra, and he knew that the course of true love never did run smooth. "Mr. Toots," saucy Kate called him (likening his love-making to that of the unhappy youth whose sole gage d'amour were the mystic words, "It's of no consequence-no consequence at all." There was pardon for the boy, though; for he was not the only priest who followed in the long train of Kate's triumphal car, contrasting their own grave colour with the military scarlet and the blue of her Majesty's naval force-all crying with one accord, “Moriture te salutant." Captain Grantley looked up at the entrance of the cherub, and smiled grimly from behind his havana-smiled a patronizing, half insolent smile, as an old, grim, war-scathed, feudal baron night at the clean-shaved monk, who stood by his bedside when his last weary moments were ebbing away. Kate's colours were out at once. She came to the charge with the gonfalon of No quarter" flaunting bravely, and the Rev. Loftus became instantly transformed into a hopeless victim: "I-I-have called," stammered he, "to tell you that old Dame Tasker is ever so much better, and thanks you very much for your kind attendance." "Oh, don't thank me," said Kate, demurely: "all the thanks are due to you, Mr. Smyly. I should never have thought of it if you hadn't told me, I am sure." Hopeless anguish was in the distracted curate's face, despairing entreaty in his weak blue eyes, as he made answer: 66 I thought I would call and tell you, Miss Stewart, though it is not of much consequence, I assure you. Good morning!-kindest regards to the Squire." And the curate, more hopelessly in love than ever, departed to his parish work, "bearing a life-long sorrow in his heart." No sooner had the door closed than, proh pudor, the shameless young sharp-shooter threw herself into a chair, and burst into an uncontrollable fit of laughter. "Oh, isn't he amusing, poor fellow! I declare his visits are almost the only pleasure we have here, cousin." 66 Don't be too confident," said the grim sabreur, with a slight sneer; don't be too confident, Miss Kate; men who are laughed at oftenest win, and there is a good deal of depth in that young man, soft though he may seem." "Well, this is good," laughed Kate; "why I have had a bishop, apron and all in despair, before this, because I wouldn't dance with him-the old Guy. Dear Mr. Toots, he is very amusing though; almost too good for this wicked world and its wicked women. Oh, by-the-bye, we have had a parcel from Town," rattled the vivacious girl; "all the very newest musicsuch beautiful little French things. Do you think you and Ella could manage to amuse yourselves with them till lunch-time. You'll find her upstairs. I am going to my garden before the sun gets too hot, so au revoir." Donning the sauciest of gardening hats, and concealing her dainty white hand in enormous gloves, Kate swept away to the flowers, congratulating herself on having performed a delicate bit of strategy in a manner that no General need have been ashamed of. Commend me to a woman when there is a plot going on. I firmly believe that if Guy Fawkes had let his nearest female relation into his secret, bonnie [ King Jamie and all his Lords would soon have found themselves, on that fifth of November, considerably higher in air than would have been to their liking. Left to himself, Harry Grantley began to think seriously that the game was his now, in real earnest. Should he seize this golden opportunity, and win his bride now and for ever? or should he allow this uncertainty to go on? He did not take long to think. This was not the first time that he had been placed in a crisis. When the white tape had been bound round his arm in soldiering days, and the hoarse whisper "Close up in front, my lads, and trust to the steel!" had sounded in the midnight air, he had not hesitated, but marched coolly on to where the iron mouths stood ready to belch forth their hail of shot and shell. Why should he hesitate now, when there was only one word to say, and a loving woman to be won? Only one word-such a little one-but harder often to ask, and harder to answer, than the most brilliant efforts of oratory. Many a man has found it much more difficult to say "Will you be mine?" than to speak before the Commons in Parliament assembled, for hours. I know a man, by name Berty Balfour, one of the cheeriest, bravest men who ever carried the Queen's colours; a fellow who will drink out the deepest wassail, and see his seniors in a state of hopeless intoxication, and yet coolly play a hand at whist afterwards, and play as if his drink had been the pure stream; brave, too, as a lion; and he said to me the other night, stroking his great amber moustache, "Give you my word, my dear fellow, I felt it a regular lark riding into those infernal guns at Balaclavafelt quite happy, by George! But when I asked little Helen Magendie to be my wife, why I felt regularly bottled, sir-couldn't get out a single word, and trembled all over." Thus to me the vivacious Plunger, concerning the difficulty of plunging into medias res, and I sympathised with him. Mary, partner of my woes, do not laugh, prithee, when thy gentle eyes rest on this page. I was afraid, I confess it; but then consider that closeting with mamma. Grantley was one of those men who do not take long to make up their minds, whether for good or evil. "Short rede, good rede" was his motto, so he muttered Kismet between his teeth, and departed to the drawing-room, to meet his fate. Arrived there, he found Ella at the piano; not playing, but thinking, thinking of her impending crisis, with one faultlessly-curved arm resting on the instrument, the other carelessly turning over the leaves of the last opera. She started and blushed, evidently not expecting the captain's visit. Ah, Dolosæ fœminæ, if they would only act naturally sometimes! Grantley felt extremely awkward too, and remained silent; but presently broke the oppressive stillness by that voice, to whose rich, well-modulated tones, women's hearts had | Now why had she chosen that lovely master's most pathetic of all creations, "The Wanderer?" Was it guile, or was it chance? Quien sabe. If anything could have drawn the man she loved more surely to his doom, it was that song, full of such winning despairing melody, stirring the chords of the heart, and bringing all the softer emotions out strongly. As she played, the spirit of the thing possessed her, and the rich flush mounted to her cheeks, and her eyes shone with that languid dangerous fire which the Syrens made such use of when they allured the hapless mariner to leave his bones on the grassy Lesbian shore. Music was Grantley's passion. You could do anything with him when the spell of melody was coiled round him. What wonder, then, that while she played, the fierce spirit of passionate Eros should have stolen into his soul? What wonder that he should have leant his proud head almost to touch bonnie Ella's locks, and that she should have felt his breath hot on her cheek? They were both glad when the piece was finished, and the spell, for a moment, dissolved. But a more dangerous trial was waiting. He began to turn over the songs to hide his excitement, if happily he might; and suddenly lighting on a French song (a duet of Rossini's) he asked Ella to try it. tell me it is very charming," he said, calmly. It was a simple chanson enough, just such a one as Beranger might have written words to, and Lisette sang in their humble attic, and the refrain was " Mon âme à Dieu, mon cœur à toi." Next to riding with a pretty woman, there is no sterner trial than singing a duet with one. There must be a harmony of voice. There very often is a harmony of soul, and this is passing dan gerous. However, Ella bore the trial well, and her sweet soprano rang out in unison with the Captain's baritone, and made the song very effective. It was soon over, however, and then they left the piano and strolled to the window, where the maiden must have found the face of nature very interesting that morning, or she would not have regarded it so long and earnestly. The silence was waxing oppressive again, till her companion said in a dreamy, musing tone, "I shall be sorry to leave all the people here, I have been so very, very happy; but I have my wild 'irregulars' to look after in India, “They and Beatie says that my arm will soon be all right." Was the man a fool, or did he notice the quick panting of the girl's bosom and the beautiful eyes overwelling with tears, as she made a desperate effort to appear unconcerned? But she had strength enough to say: "I dare say you have found it very tiresome here, Captain Grantley-nothing to please, nothing to occupy such as you.” "Tiresome!" was the reply. "Do people find things tiresome in Paradise?" A weak answer, Harry; but people have a knack of saying the most foolish things when they are in the most desperate excitement. The flush deepened, the proud eye became piteous, beseeching, and there was no stopping the rain of tears now. The crisis had come: there need be no acting now. Harry, must you go to India?" It was all Ella said, and then looked up to meet her fate. Next moment, and she was locked close, close to his heart, and the proud panting of her bosom was stilled, and the beautiful eyes were dried with passionate kisses, and Grantley's strong right arm was round her, and she was answered: "Go, my own Ella, and leave your own true self? You have bid me stay. No, mia cara, you are my own true girl, and nothing shall part us." She cleared the tangled hair from her forehead, and looked up with those eyes flashing now with the pure light of passionate love, and said: heart, and clasped his trusty dagger with a tighter hand, when he saw the lustful Appius' lictors stream up the street, and as he might have whispered, "Keep good heart, my dear daughter: better to be the bride of Pluto than the leman of Appius !" With a woman's keen perception the girl noticed the dark eyes of her lover looking far out, as if to scan futurity, and the fortunes in wait there; and instinctly drew closer to him. 'Something ails you, Harry mine! Come, what is it? You need have no secret from me!" The Captain was himself again, and surrendered himself to the delicious reality with a very good grace, and drank in the murmurous cooing of the beautiful girl with a sort of half-dreamy delight, as though he listened to far-off music in a trance. Full merrily, I ween, did honest old Sol shine upon many a happy couple that April morning, throughout the length and breadth of stately England, but on no happier couple than the two who basked there in Love's happy dream. The past faded away: the future was left to take care for the things of itself, and the present was before them in all its alluring brightness. And all this time not a word of the rejected Charley, till Ella whispered, "Now I am going to try your temper, Harry. Of course you have seen Mr. Dalton here, and have heard of my ill-starred engagement to him? Forgive me, Harry! I wouldn't mention him to you" (for Grantley had growled a half-distinct anathema, devoting Dalton to all the infernal gods), "and pity him, for he has suffered much, and must be put out of his pain. I must see him once more, and tell him of the way you have stolen my poor heart, you naughty boy! And then-and then-I am yours for better for worse." "Oh, see him, of course you may: I fear nothing from him, though I am sure he would right gladly have broken my neck that day hunting, and is sorry that he has not done so. But he had better take care, mia Ella. You know what Lancaster said to poor Piers Gaveston when he had him in his grim clutchesThe black dog can bite!' He will find that in me he has no common enemy!" "You have won me, Harry, and you may have me. Go! of course you shall not, you foolish boy;" and again fell the storm of hot kisses on her red-ripe lips, and she was at peace. "I have loved you so long, my Harry, so long, and fancied that you knew nothing of it; and you won't leave me now, will you, darling?" and the lithe white fingers interlaced the happy Captain's neck, and the glorious head was laid on his shoulder; while she murmured the long story of her pure love into the delighted ears of the favoured man. There was much to tell, but I dare say the good reader is getting impatient. Billing and cooing is apt to pall upon Lothario, because he has too much of it; upon Benedict, because he has forgotten it long, long ago. Even in the midst of that pleasant story a deep, fretting yourself for nothing. I daresay poor "There, there, my darling, you are actually grave shade came over her lover's face, and he shook his head defiantly, as though he would Charley will soon get himself another sweethave shaken off some ill-boding Eidolon-some heart. Men's hearts are not broken so easily as terrible shape which would obtrude its hideous we poor silly women's! So you will not trouble form upon the happiness which he was revel-yourself any more about him, will you, Harry ling in. There was something sternly defi- mine? I want you to think of nothing else but ant, too, in the way in which he drew me!" his arm closer round Ella's form, as if to protect her from some impending danger, much in the same way as Virginius may have shielded his trembling daughter to his Again the same weary dark look passed over the Captain's face. He might have told another tale had he wished; but he kept his own coun sel, and hid all these things in his heart. THE ANGEL OF PATIENCE. A free paraphrase from the German. BY J. G. WHITTIER. To weary hearts, to mourning homes, There's quiet in that angel's glance, Nor wounds with words the mourner's ear; Angel of Patience! sent to calm Our feverish brows with cooling palm, To lay the storms of hope and fear, And reconcile life's smile and tear; The throbs of wounded pride to still, And make our own our Father's will. O thou who mournest on thy way, NEAR THE BRINK. BY ADA TREVANION. The country haunts are growing fair As the west lights fade away: Odours are wafted o'er the lea Sweet as the breath of the south; Every bud on the apple-tree Far beyond the city's fret, They pass without a pitying look, The twain that I envy so; She smiles with her unconscious eyes, THE WISE MEN'S FOUNTAIN. BY MRS. ABDY. "Not far from the Elias Convent is a fountain called the Wise Men's Fountain.' The legend relates that the Wise Men from the East who were on their way to offer homage to the new-born King of Judah, were, when they arrived at this spot, so weary and so thirsty, that they had quite forgotten the object of their journey, and the star which had hitherto conducted them. But when they bowed down over the fountain to fetch up water, they saw the star brightly reflected in its depths! This recalled all to their memory, their courage was renewed, and they continued their journey to its completion."-" Travels in the Holy Land;" by FREDRIKA BREMER. The Wise Men are bound on a journey afar, They follow their course without dread or dismay; They turn from the East, but a kind, guiding star Moves on in the heavens, and points forth to their way. Oh! strange, that the zeal should grow languid and cold Of men by so wondrous a miracle blest! Oh! sad, that, neglecting the star to behold, They think but of shelter, refreshment, and rest! They look not above for a counselling guide: They kneel on the margin-no thought they direct In thankfulness now on their way they depart, Allure them to break their allegiance again. Wherever this wonderful legend is told, "Tis good that the mercy of God we recall; The patience he showed to the Wise Men of old, He daily and hourly extends to us all : The Light of the Gospel-pure, holy, and true- Reflecting, how much to the Father we owe, By means of a glimpse of the light from above! |