Mabel Volume Ii Part 17

"I am too glad to have the power of serving you," said Lucy, as her eyes sparkled with pleasure.

"And is it really a pleasure to you to serve me," repeated Beauclerc, looking at her with liquid eyes--"then yes--I think--yes, I will be bold enough to ask you to serve me still further; but first you shall know my history--a painful story indeed--but it is fair that you should know it, before you bestow any further kindness upon me. But when could I find such an opportunity?"

Lucy thought, for a moment, and then replied--

"I often walk before breakfast--and if you happen to meet me any morning in the park, you can tell it me there undisturbed."

"Will you walk to-morrow?" he enquired.

"Very likely I may; but stay, I will go to-morrow, because they will not be down till eleven, I know, so there will be plenty of time for you to say anything you like."

"Ingenuous, kind-hearted girl," he exclaimed; "I know some who hide their coldness, for the feelings of others, behind a prudish reserve, which would not allow them to do such a vastly improper thing, as meet a gentleman in their morning walk--but you are not of the number of those worldly beings--I will be waiting for you at that corner, where there is, if I remember rightly, an old Jupiter's head."

"Very well," said Lucy; "but you must take the chance of my coming, as it is very late now. Is it not nearly three o'clock? I never spent so long an evening."

"You are tired, I see; but we will join this last waltz--for such it ought to be, I am sure."

So saying, he pa.s.sed his arm lightly round her waist, and was soon amongst the dancers.

Mabel had been no inattentive observer of Mr. Beauclerc's entrance, and she perceived that Lucy seemed to excuse to herself the open admiration she paid him, by considering him as a kind of demi-G.o.d, while he appeared contented rather to suffer than to encourage that admiration which he too plainly perceived.

"Hargrave had, for some time, stood by her in silence, bent on the same observation.

"Well," he said, speaking at length--as if he would challenge her thoughts.

"I hope--but fear," she replied; "how lovely she looks to-night."

Hargrave gave vent to an impatient "hum."

"What influence can I possess against such an infatuation?" enquired Mabel.

"The influence of common sense," he replied; "I never witnessed such absurdity in my life."

Mabel sighed, for she knew how impossible it was to govern Lucy, when bent on having her own way.

She perceived, also, for the first time, that Hargrave was either out of spirits, or in one of his obstinate humours; and, when Caroline joined them, which she did almost immediately, he broke from them, and retreated to a group of gentlemen near the door-way, with whom he had spent the greater part of the evening, much to his fair cousin's chagrin. Perhaps, an incautious remark of Mrs. Villars, on his intimacy with her daughter, which, possibly, he had overheard, might have led to this inconsistent conduct; for he had ably resisted all her little plans to bring them together.

Mrs. Villars was sensibly annoyed; and Caroline, who, in the course of the evening, had overheard many remarks in praise of Mabel's beauty, and had been repeatedly called upon to join in praising her--felt enraged with her, as, what she termed, the under-ground cause of her failure.

In vain Selina looked all that was fascinating, and smiled all that was good-natured--in vain Maria jested--the spirits of the hostess were infectious, and soon communicated their influence to her guests, who, one by one, took their leave, and hurried away, sooner, perhaps, than they might have done.

The family party were once more alone--and when the last guest had been civilly disposed of, stood regarding each other in bewildered silence, surrounded by failing wax-lights, and the ruins of gay bouquets; with the echoes of the now silent music still sounding, in fancy, in their ears.

Hargrave, without waiting to discuss the evening, during which he knew he had taken so unpopular a part, bade them, hastily, good night, and hurried down stairs, where he encountered Clair, who, as if spell-bound, had lingered till the last, and now busied himself in a forlorn search for his hat.

Hargrave offered to lend him one, and took him into his room. They found the fire burning so brightly, and all looking so snug, that they were tempted to remain talking over it, till the lost hat was forgotten.

Mabel, anxious to offer a word of counsel, proposed to accompany Lucy to her room, to a.s.sist her in untwisting her hair; but this Lucy declined coolly and evasively, and she too, departed, feeling a depression arising from the lateness of the hour, and an evening spent in heated and noisy rooms, with which she was. .h.i.therto unacquainted; and it was some time before she could shut out the moving panorama, which perpetually presented itself, and close her eyes in sleep.

In order to make arrangements for the display shewn that evening, the whole house had been overturned; but, in the amus.e.m.e.nt of the preparations, none had felt the many little inconveniences to which they had all laughingly subjected themselves; but now the scene was changed.

Nothing appeared more wretched to the sisters than all being obliged to occupy the same sleeping apartment, and submit to all the little acts of self-denial, which good-nature would only have discovered to be amused with. Wearied, fatigued, and disappointed, few felt so chagrined as Mrs.

Villars, when, after seeing to some necessary household duties, and waiting till her kitchen was cleared of half intoxicated waiters, she retired to her room, anxious to shut out the unpleasant thoughts of the evening in sleep. She was not therefore very agreeably surprised to find her eldest daughter waiting for her.

It was with difficulty that Caroline had suppressed her temper till that minute; and, though it was already morning, she felt it impossible to retire to rest without first venting it upon her indulgent parent, whom she regarded, (as most spoilt children do their parents), as the malignant cause of all her sufferings, real or imaginary. Mrs. Villars would willingly have escaped, feeling herself too distressed, and too tired to frame those excuses and cunning falsehoods which had been so often applied, to heal the wounds of an acrimonious temper; but it was in vain; for Caroline indignantly flinging herself down into a chair; exclaimed--

"I knew how it would be--it is all your doing--and I do think if you had felt like any other mother, you would have spared me such a mortification."

"I!" replied her mother, almost equally irritated by fatigue and disappointment, "I spare you mortification! how can I make the man love you! It is your own vile temper which is in fault."

"Whatever I may be," replied Caroline, bitterly, "I am what you have made me; but I can tell you, that if that girl is to be suffered to queen it over us all, I am not the one to stand it, I would rather go out as a governess."

"Mabel! what has she to do with it?" enquired Mrs. Villars, not sorry to have the blame thrown off her own shoulders.

"Did you not see Henry speaking to her, and to no one else; and did he not ask her to dance before me; and did not Lady Scratchal say that, if she were you, she would not suffer such an artful girl--who knew how to make such use of her good looks--to be with her daughters, if she had any."

"But, Cary dear, remember the poor child has no home, and I promised her mother she should find one here."

"Very well," said Caroline, tossing her head angrily, "I see how it is; she has already supplanted us with papa, and she is going to do the same with you."

"My love," said Mrs. Villars, quite overcome by this appeal to her parental affection, "you know better than that; you know how much I would sacrifice for you--any thing--everything."

"Then send her away," said Caroline, bursting into tears.

"I will see about it, I will think to-morrow," replied her mother.

"No; say you will, to-night," urged Caroline, kissing her, "just say you will."

"Go my love, now--there is your papa, on the stairs--and he will not like to find you here."

Caroline was, reluctantly, forced to hurry away, and her mother, once more alone, endeavoured, in vain, to reconcile her desire with her policy. Almost equally with her daughter, she wished to get rid of Mabel, for she was not blind to the fact, that her gentle dignity of manner, joined to her self-denying temper, contrasted ill with the characters of her daughters; yet, there was one obstacle which she had no power to remove; for, possibly, Mabel was aware of the loan granted by her mother, and might be regarding her stay in the house, as the condition upon which it would be cancelled; otherwise, how could she have so cheerfully evaded every attempt to humiliate her.

Finding it impossible to meet this view of the subject in any satisfactory manner, she thought that the most comfortable plan would be to postpone the consideration of it till Caroline should again renew the topic; trusting to her ingenuity for some plan for getting out of the difficulty, should Caroline's obstinacy force her to do any thing which would oblige Mabel to seek some other refuge. And, having come to this decision, she sunk into a dreamy sleep, from which she was only awakened by the noon-day sun.

CHAPTER XVI.

But oh, to know that our heart has been, Like the toy of an Indian queen, Torn, trampled, without thought or care, Where is despair like this despair.

L. E. L.

The next morning was the beginning of one of those early and fleeting days of spring, which are so gladly welcomed at the close of a long winter. The rising sun smiled mildly and pleasantly, and all nature welcomed its beams by dewy freshness from herb and flower. Here and there, some few buds, the graceful blossom of the nut, and the silken tuft of the palm, gave promise of coming leaves and flowers, while the yellow crocus and the primrose, soon to become so plentifully luxurious in meadow and hedgerow--here and there looked forth from their dewy bed--rich treasures for those who sought them.

It was not, however, to welcome these early harbingers of spring, that Lucy Villars hurried past the streets, and entered the Victoria Park, which, though at a late hour of the day, the fas.h.i.+onable lounge of the inhabitants of the gay city, was now scarcely the resort of a single person.

As she went on with rapid step, her cheeks flushed, and her bright eyes beamed with expected triumph.