СНАР. ХІ.

SHOPPING AT TUDFIELD, AND LUNCH WITH THE AINSLIES.

The morrow came, and with it a chaise from the Silver Swan to take me to Tudfield. I had shopping to do, and had promised to call for Helen, who was to be at Mrs. Thomason's, and take her with me to choose certain millinery affairs from the shop of Messrs. Smith and Mullins. Moreover, I had made up my mind, weather permitting, to proceed on foot to visit my newly-discovered relation, Mrs. Ainslie; having ascertained that her residence, Cedar Lawn, was within a mile of the town.

Strange feelings came over me, when I found myself in Mrs. Thomason's drawing-room. I had not been in a ladies' school since I left Madame Martinette's. The room was not a handsome one, neither could it be called shabby, but there was an appearance of every article being imposingly set out, and each conscious of an awful gentility. Chairs and framed drawings alike seemed to claim to be looked at, not touched. A chill came over me, as though the ghost of past restraints had risen-restraints I ever look back to with intense repugnance. Then rushed to my heart the glad feeling of escape to a warmer climate, the genial atmosphere of my husband's kindly shelter. Oh! the difference of feeling responsible for my actions, my movements, my looks even, to Madame Martinette and to him!

I tried regarding matters in a different light. I thought, What if I were in Mrs. Thomason's case? and the time was when I should have been very glad, had I the means of purchasing her school. The flourishing large-patterned carpet was not one I should have chosen, but I might have been glad to have it at secondhand, to save expense; and very likely such motives ruled her purchases also. I would not have had that staring paper ornament in the grate though; and however proud I might be of my pupils' proficiency, I would not set out their little works in such bazaar style. The best honour of a house is surely that it is a habitation for human beings, and whatever therein

tends to give it the appearance of pretension to our admiration rather than our reasonable comfort, is an affront to humanity.

There now, that sentence has eased my mind. Mrs. Thomason was a very different person to Madame Martinette; but something acid in her physiognomy, and a degree of curiosity she displayed, did not tend to inspire me with favourable feeling. I think, though, I might have left in better humour with her establishment, if Helen had not entered the room with such an expression over her, as put me out of patience to witness. It was not pride, it was not dejection, but a sort of suppression of nature which made me long to shake her. Her eyes looked dull and heavy, her mouth rigid; she was not pretty one bit. Accosting me with grave politeness, she expressed regret that she had kept me waiting, and accepted my kiss as if she-I will not say did not want it, butdid not expect it. Can it be that that little acid woman has such influence over brave Helen Dalziel ?

I suppose, though the case is so differen, something of the feeling I had towards Madame Martinette controls her. When we had quitted the house, her countenance relaxed into a more natural aspect; but we were at least two streets off before I could fairly recognize her. I longed to bring her to account for her changed aspect; but as she was evidently preoccupied with the subject of her intended purchases, I thought it better to defer it to a more suitable opportunity. Moreover, I sympathized with her. Laying out five pounds to the best advantage was a matter worth consideration to a young girl whose wardrobe was in no better condition than Helen's.

"I do not think I can afford a silk dress," she said; we were looking at some neat striped silks in the shop window. "That is a nice one at fifty shillings; but then there is the making. I must have a best bonnet, and I ought to reserve a sovereign for boots and gloves."

I wished Helen to have a silk dress.

I fan

cied that a consciousness of being well and becomingly dressed would tend to make her feel brighter, as well as look to more advantage in society. She must, however, have a dress

Y

mother's and my own fate, and was listening to her account of the manner in which her marriage was brought about, when we were interrupted by the announcement of lunch.

I was desirous of seeing that Helen could exercise taste as well as prudence in selecting; so held back from offering an opinion on the materials displayed in the shop, until she had remarked upon them. One, a fine woollen, relieved by some satin stripes, attracted her more than once. She looked from it to me enquiringly. I smiled. "Do you think," she said softly, "that I could venture to wear green? Is it not only suitable to fair persons ?" "I fancy that entirely depends on the tint. That shade would suit you very well I think." "It looks good," she said, still keeping her eyes on my face to watch for my approval; "and I think either my light shawl or my brown velvet mantle would go well with it?" "And it is really a very pretty dress: I like it," I responded.

So the important matter was settled, and after purchasing a neat white bonnet, and some other small articles, Helen was able to leave the shop in a comfortable frame of mind. Her dress was to be made by the Monday following, and she had ample residue in her purse to pay for it, and to make an investment in boots. As in a reflective tone, she remarked that she should have two-and-ninepence left, the thought came to my mind, " Suppose it is true that Mr. Wainwright's possessions are worth over fifty thousand pounds, and Helen is to be his heiress?" and so the next thing was that I enquired after the old squire.

Helen replied that he was quite well, and had gone to Marsham fair. "He will dine with Mr. Hawkins," she added, "so I shall have no anxiety about his crossing the Marsh,"

"You do not expect him till evening?" "No; I suppose he will leave about nine o'clock; but the road is safe enough.'

"I am going now to visit Mrs. Ainslie, and, unless she is from home, may stay some while. Shall you be able to return at four o'clock ?"

"I am afraid not, as I put off my French lesson to go shopping."

"Have your tea with me. Lance shall watch for Mr. Wainwright, and you can go home together."

"Oh! thank you, I should like it very much. Little Wilcox is to call at Mrs. Thomason's for some of my books and parcels, and I can send word by him to Nanny, not to expect me."

The weather was pleasant, and so was the way from Tudfield to Cedar Lawn; where, in an apartment much more to my taste than Mrs. Thomason's, I was soon welcomed by my stranger cousin. A lady-like person, with a round, comely face, shook me warmly by the hand, placed me on a very comfortable sofa beside her, and in a very short space of time we were exchanging family memories and traditions.

"Now, my dear cousin," concluded Mrs. Ainslie, "I will tell you the rest some other time; but here at all events I am, married, and with a goodly set of olive branches. At least we-Mr. Ainslie and I-agree that they are goodly. My sons are absent, but my girls you shall see forthwith. Come and have some lunch."

Two young ladies, Harriet and Alice, were introduced to me in the dining room. The latter, who appeared about fifteen years old, I perceived bore much resemblance to her mother, although altogether on a smaller scale.

"Have they not come in?" questioned my hostess.

"Yes, mamma," Harriet answered, "just this minute. Laura is taking off her bonnet, and uncle is still in the garden talking to Thomas; he will be in, I suppose, directly."

Laura came; rather a delicate-looking girl, with large grey eyes, and a graceful figure. She struck me most of the three at first; perhaps because she was under some pleasurable excitement.

"Oh, mamma," she said, after the introduction was over; "it's arranged so nicely."

Mrs. Ainslie turned to me, and enquired if I were not going to the archery meeting. I said I had some vague intentions. I understood I could take my pony along the private road through Cardington Park, and see what went forward.

"That is what we purpose," said Mrs. Ainslie. We shall make up a little party, and you will join us, I hope."

"Oh, but mamma!" said Laura, eagerly, we can do much better than that, and Mrs. Gainsborough can come too; as many as you like to bring. So delightful! you shall hear. Who do you think I found sitting with Mrs. Wellwood? Why, dear Lady Althea herself! And she was so kind; said she hoped we were coming to the archery; and then that we must not think of staying out in the drive, but come on to the terrace. The terrace, mamma!"

"Oh! that is capital," said Harriet; "weshall see all, to perfection,"

"I thought you would be pleased, Harriet. We shall see all the company, and the competitors."

"But, my dear; did you let Lady Althea know our party would be large?"

"Yes, mamma; I told her I feared it would be intruding; but she said not if you brought fifty. Is it not delightful?"

"Very pleasant," "very kind;" said all the ladies.

Mr. Littington, who had entered while Laura was speaking, quietly giving me his hand, and taking a seat at the table, continued the subject thus

"I hope, when the time comes, we shall not

find that Lady Althea has forgotten all about us, and the park-keepers lack instruction." "Oh! no uncle; she won't forget.' Mr. Littington shook his head. "It might be as well, Laura, to send her a reminder. Will you have some of my flowers, and forward a bouquet to her for the occasion?"

"Oh! thank you uncle; that is good. I will put them up in my best style, and she will think it's an offering from some young gentle

man!"

"Goody goosecap! how will that answer our purpose? They must go with Miss Laura Ainslie's compliments, or devoted respects, or whatever fashion you choose to put 'Forgetme not' into."

"Excuse my ignorance," I said; "who is the Lady Althea?"

"The fair Lady Althea Shuttleworth," Mr. Littington replied, "is sole daughter of the house and heart of Lord Cardington. Did I say that right, Laura ?"

"And she is so beautiful!" Laura exclaimed. "I thought the name of the Earl's daughter was Arabella ?"

"No, no; that is the old lady-the Earl's sister."

"I heard Mr. Merrivale mention that he had met the Earl and Lady Arabella riding, and took for granted she was his daughter."

A

"Aye, Lady Arabella rides, and looks well on horseback, for she's a fine figure still. little too stiff and bony like myself, but a splendid figure for an old woman.'

"I have heard it is recommended for her health," Alice observed: "she has been ill." "Yes, she is very unwell to-day," said Laura. "Lady Althea said they had sent for Dr. Meredith to attend her."

"Talking of riding," said Mrs. Ainslie to me, "my husband mentioned one day last week that he had met two ladies riding into Tudfield. One he knew by sight; it was Miss Dalziel of Darliston Hall, and the other he described as a very agreeable, handsome-looking woman, rather over five-and-twenty. I think it must have been you?"

It was said with such a pleasant face, I could but laugh.

"Yes, of course it was; I am a member of the same family as yourself, and bound to be handsome and agreeable, especially in Mr. Ainslie's eyes."

"But that Miss Dalziel," enquired Harriet; "do you know her? Is she not a queer girl?" "I do know her intimately, although our acquaintance is but recent. Who says she is queer?"

"Well, I do not know much about it perhaps. Mr. Hartley, our singing master, teaches at Mrs. Thomason's school, and he says Miss Dalziel is clever in music, and sharp enough in many respects; but that she is very illiterate, has no conversation, and seems of a strange temper. I suppose her education has been neglected; Darliston is an out-of-the-way place, and she has probably run wild for want of a mother or

66

a good governess. I think I have heard you say something of the sort; have I not, uncle " 'Yes, but I think Mr. Hartley's opinion too severe. Her living out of society is reason sufficient to account for wanting conversational power. No danger of your tongues getting rusty, young ladies, so don't be in haste to pronounce against her in that matter. As to her temper, certainly she has flashed her eyes at me once or twice, in a way that I felt afflicting; but if she wants a good temper, she has at all events a good spirit. Think of her getting out of her grandfather's room with the cords of the bed, I know the windows, they are more than sixteen feet from the ground; she's a brave girl at any rate, and staunch to the bitter old man, her grandfather. Which of you would jump

out of window to save me out of the hands of robbers?"

"Oh! uncle, for shame !" cried Laura. "Catch uncle Gervase crossing the marsh with money in his pocket!" was Harriet's remark; while Alice answered the challenge by coming behind, and putting her arms around his neck. He caught hold of her long fair curls; very long they are for such a little body. "Allie's the heroine for me!" he said. need of bed cords with her. She would tie the ends of her hair to the bed post, and let herself down, hand-over-hand. There, go along, Dumpling, and help Mrs. Gainsborough to some cream cheese."

"No

After this digression, Mrs. Ainslie resumed the subject. We have not yet heard Mrs. Gainsborough's opinion of what Miss Dalziel is, and I dare say she knows more than any of us." Then she asked what I thought of her temper, and I believe I answered that it might be warm, but I was sure was generous.

"Well, we do not dislike excitable tempers, do we, Laura?" Mr. Littington said, "provided the heart be warm and liberal in applying balsam to the wounds the tongue inflicts."

"Oh! do be quiet, uncle," Laura replied, "making Mrs. Gainsborough think me badtempered."

'No, warm; not bad. A little dash of cayenne sometimes, Mrs. Gainsborough. Laura and I quarrel twenty times a day, as you'll find." "And you like it, I see. Well, in confidence I will reveal that Miss Dalziel has confessed an ardent desire to encounter you in the same way."

"I should like to stir her up, but is there any depth to stir; or is the charge 'illiterate, no conversation,' a true one?"

"I would rather you formed your own opinion, and hope before long you may have an opportunity of doing so."

"Bring her with you to join us at the archery fête," said Mrs. Ainslie.

Mr. Littington shook his head. "The old man will not let her go."

"I am not quite sure of that," I said. "Try, by all means, then. Give my sister's compliments, and mine, and say we should be much gratified by her coming."

Going already, Gervase?" his sister asked. "Yes, I must be off, or I shall interfere with Mrs. Linton's dinner."

66

Going there? Why, what have you done?" "Done indeed, mamma!" said Laura. "How do you know there is any penance in the matter? Some kinds of friendships are said to begin best with a little aversion. But, uncle, I warn you, I won't stand it from that quarter. I shall be obliged to cast you both off."

Seriously, why need you go there to-day," Mrs. Ainslie continued. "Now her niece is with her, she can better spare your visits.”

66

Why the fact is, I have some misgivings that matter does not answer so well as it ought. I am afraid the girl is dull; she looked moped when last I saw her. It may be some little hitch that I can get at. Good day, Mrs. Gainsborough. I'm off, girls, but don't cry; I shall see you again in the morning; and (taking a newspaper from his pocket) here is the Marsham Advertiser, with half a column of the latest fashions, to console you in my absence."

Mr. Littington having gone, I heard from his sister that Mrs. Linton was a lady of a dismal habit of mind—a disposition he of all others most deprecated in an acquaintance; but that having been once serviceable to her, and finding she was much disposed to lean upon his advice, he had regarded his influence with her as a responsibility, and gradually ceased to look upon her with the feelings of hostility her unfortunate propensity for choosing the worst aspect of things had occasioned.

CHAP. XII.

FAIRCLOUGH BEGINS TO BE SOCIAL, BUT VERY SOON MEETS WITH A REBUFF.

I had a walk round the garden before I left Cedar Lawn. Mrs. Ainslie is fond of flowers, and kindly spared me a large basket full of roots. sending her servant to carry it after me to Tudfield.

O me!-that cross old man!-I don't mean Thomas, Mr. Ainslie's coachman and gardener. He ought not to be cross, for he looks so rosy and crummy-I mean Mr. Wainwright. I must control myself, and write more orderly. I suppose the scamper I have had with Watch, up and down the shady walk, is accountable for my erratic tendency, and I am so vexed Helen should be disappointed.

Heavy rain came down on my return home from Tudfield, and I made Lance hold the umbrella, while I took the reins. I hope soon to feel at ease in driving, as Paddy is very quiet.

Helen arrived an hour after me, her habit vet through. I soon had it before the kitchen

fire, and herself in my bedroom. She was a good girl, and though I think she did not quite like putting on what was not her own, made only slight resistance to my black-lace pelerine. I tried a little alteration in the arrangement of her hair, and by the desire she showed to learn precisely how it was done, I judge she agreed with me that it was becoming.

While thus engaged, I said, "You must not think I am dressing your hair so particu larly in honour of any company expected; although two visitors may appear by-and-bye. It is just because it is a pleasure so to occupy myself."

"Oh, Mrs. Gainsborough! if you had told me you expected visitors I should not have ventured to accept your invitation-in this old school-dress! But now, you have so improved me that I hope I do not look very disgraceful."

"There is not the least cause for uneasiness about that, I assure you; and the visitors are only Mrs. Merrivale's tall boy Alfred, and Mr. M Kinnom, General Wetheral's land-steward, who, to be sure, may prove something very interesting for aught I know." And then I mentioned my wish that she should tell them her impresssion in regard to Mr. Witham. She acquiesced, and we went down to tea and talked of our purchases, of my visit to Mrs. Ainslie, and the invitation she had sent. Poor Helen liked the idea of going with me, and I am quite vexed to have raised expectations only that they should be disappointed. Like myself she was tolerably sanguine of her grandfather's

consent.

Presently a ring at the gate announced our visitors. There was something rather amusing in the expression of each as he entered. Mr. M'Kinnom, a tall, dark Scotchman, seemed to think it behoved him to introduce himself rather than let Alfred speak for him; but, beyond the self-evident fact that he had come in consequence of my request, seemed unable to proceed. Alfred, I think, was puzzled, if not disconcerted, by the presence of Helen.

"I have requested you to come, Mr. M'Kinnom," I said, "to give you some information which, to my judgment, may concern the safety of Harby Hall, and which involves suspicion of your guest Mr. Witham."

Mr. M'Kinnom turned his eyes, with a look of enquiry, on Alfred. "What is it, lad," he said, in a low voice"-what has gone wrang?" Alfred addressed himself to me.

"Mr. Witham has left," he said; "but excuse me if I say that though he evidently was much interested in your message and the drawings, his manner did not convey any idea of guilt to my mind-rather of gratification about them."

"But he has left-He did not enter Harby Hall?"

"He left early this morning."

I turned to Helen, and said: "Will you be so kind, Miss Dalziel, as to tell what you

know and what you suspect concerning Mr. Witham ?"

Helen complied, addressing herself to Mr. M'Kinnom, in a simple and business-like manner, very appropriate to her auditor. His attention, however, found nothing specially to arouse it until the manner of the white-handed burglar was dealt with. Alfred, however, was attentive to every word, and the only time Helen's clear voice hesitated was when, having repeated one of the polite speeches made by Mr. Witham to induce her to show him the dairy, she observed how closely the youth was watch ing her countenance.

Mr. M'Kinnom sat with bent brows, silently thinking, for some moments after Helen had ceased. He drew a long breath, shook his head, and then spoke thus :

"I am much obliged to you, Mrs. Gainsborough, and to you, Miss Dalziel, for taking the trouble to acquaint me with this. I'm no' thinking, mind ye, for a' that, that there is any real connection between the burglary at Darliston and him that has been my guest. But it's weel to be on the safe side, and I'm obliged to you for telling me, and still more that you have been so discreet as to keep your suspicions from other people."

I next directed his attention to Mr. Witham's attempt to introduce himself into Harby Hall; but I think he had already counted up that fact. Perhaps, too, others I was ignorant of occurred to him; for once he gave his knee a hard slap, and uttered a smothered exclamation. Of course I knew it would be disagreeable to him to accept the idea of his guest proving so disreputable. I desired, however, to urge him to investigate further, and asked if he knew Mr. Hawkins.

"The horse-doctor? Certainly. Does he know anything of Witham ?"

"I believe if you enquire you may find he suspects him as much as I do, and that his information comes through a different channel. Mr. Wainwright is with Mr. Hawkins this evening."

"I'll go there," he said, starting up. "Do so; but, if you please, say nothing before Mr. Wainwright of what you have heard this evening. Miss Dalziel has kept her sus picions from him, to avoid disquieting him. You may mention you have seen me, and that I requested you to look in and say that Miss Dalziel will await here Mr. Wainwright's coming."

I had poured out a cup of tea for Mr. M'Kinnom, and though at first he was apparently going without partaking of any, second thoughts suggested that he ought not to reject my offering. So he tossed it off, very hot, at one effort; and, bidding us all "good evening," strode away. I had rather expected he would tell me somewhat of the antecedents of Mr. Witham, as far as he knew them; but having invited him to Fairclough to receive, not give, information, did not think it right to ask questions.

I wondered what effect the narrative had had on Alfred Merrivale. He sat silent over his cup of tea, evidently thinking it all over.

66

"Well, Helen," I said, we have done our duty and may shake off all feeling of responsibility concerning General Wetheral and his strong boxes. Do you read the drawings rightly now, Mr. Alfred?"

"I suppose I do. Miss Dalziel, I conclude, made them-or two of them?"

"Yes. Lancaster Castle I copied from a print. You said he seemed pleased at the sight of them. What did he say about the perspective?"

"I could not give your message at once, as my mother and sisters were by. I spread the sheet of drawings before him on the table. He made no particular observation at first sight of them, but presently glanced up, rather keenly I thought, at me. My sister Phillis looked over his shoulder at the drawings, and remarked upon them under the impression that they were mine. When the servant came in with supper, he rose from the table, set a candle on the mantel-piece, and motioned for me to come near. "Where does this come from, and what does it mean, Alfred?" he said.

He

"I gave your message very precisely. repeated it over slowly to himself. Then there came a flush of pleasure over his face."

I interrupted" Are you quite sure it was pleasure?"

"I judge so. He muttered to himself, 'She's a jewel, anyhow-a diamond.' Mamma called us to supper, and he said he would speak with me before he left. He put the drawings carefully on a shelf, and took them again on leaving. I followed him out. He then asked if I knew who had done the drawings. I replied, Perhaps so.' 'But you are not to tell, if you do; and there's no need to tell me; I know,' he said.

"I then asked what message I should return. After a little consideration he said, 'First my thanks, my most devoted and grateful thanks, to the fair and generous lady who has entrusted me with this. There is nothing could delight me more than to instruct such a pupil.'"

Helen's eyes flashed indignation, and she looked appealingly to me. I only smiled and said, "He will hardly think of commencing a course of lessons yet, Helen."

"I thought he meant you, Mrs. Gainsborough," Alfred went on. "However, when he said that it would be impossible to explain through an intermediate person or persons the errors into which the lady had fallen, and that he should keep the drawings until he could himself point out to her where she was wrong, I said, 'Why not go at once?""

"What! this evening?' he said; and I answered, 'No, to-morrow morning before we go to Harby Hall.' I was certainly startled to hear him say that he must be in London on the morrow. He added that he might even have to go abroad before he came again to the neighbourhood; and concluded by saying, 'But I will return; I swear it on this;' and he kissed