Mabel Volume Ii Part 10

"Are they not late?" he enquired, at length, when a carriage rolled down the street, causing a momentary expectation, but stopped not till its murmuring sound died in the distance, or was hushed by the wind, as it rushed round the corners of the streets.

"It is a long cross road, I think," said Caroline, "but I hope they will be here soon, for I am tired of waiting."

"How freezingly cold," said Hargrave.

"Yes, indeed;" said Maria, "the water is frozen in the rooms up-stairs, and there are long, horrid icicles hanging down the windows, and it is snowing out of doors. I really cannot bear to cross the pa.s.sages, and I cannot think how people can be out to-night, when they may stay at home."

"I think," said Selina, "it is a great pity for any one to die in the winter--just in the midst of the gay season. Only think, but for this c.r.a.pe, we might be at Mrs. Trelawny's party this evening. It makes one's heart ache to hear the carriages go by--ah, there is another, I declare.

Black is so unbecoming, too," said she, glancing at the tiny foot which peeped out from the black folds of her dress.

"Now I am sure," said Maria, "you are only asking for a compliment, when you know nothing suits a fair complexion so well as black. Now I, with my tawny skin, might complain, had I not long ago given up the attempt to look fascinating, and depended more on my tongue than my face; but still I do wish that this piece of perfection had retained possession of her Cotswold air, and left us to ourselves. Mamma is a clever woman--as if she had not girls enough to drag after her, and provide husbands for."

An angry cry of "shame" ran round the circle; but Maria, catching a half smile from Hargrave, laughed merrily in reply.

"Only think," she went on, "we must put on long faces for a fortnight, at least, in sympathy for the death of an old lady, we did not care a straw about; but, at least, I am no hypocrite, and that she will find--I shall not pretend to admire perfections who look down on every one else."

"That I am sure she does not," said Lucy. "Ah, that's the thing, she is better than ordinary perfections even--but here's papa."

Mr. Villars here entered the room.

"Oh, papa," cried Caroline, pettishly, "I wish you would not leave the door open."

Mr. Villars quietly shut it--but the request jarred upon his feelings--there was something, too, in the arrangement of the chairs, which did not offer any considerable inducement to him to remain. He was sure to put a check upon conversation, usually of the most frivolous kind, and, therefore, his presence was not often desired by his daughters, though his mild, indulgent eye seemed often almost to entreat the affection which was so coldly and grudgingly bestowed, while too sensitive to command the attention which was his due.

Solitude had become irksome to him, and he had now come to seek for some one to share in a new idea, which had for some hours occupied his pen.

He paused, for a moment, before the little circle--but no one rose to offer him a seat.

Hargrave's eyes were fixed upon the fire, seemingly forgetful of all around him. Caroline was regarding him. She was never susceptible to any interest in her father's proceedings, so that he did not attempt to gain her attention; but, addressing Selina, who seemed the least amused of the party--he said, smiling kindly, but timidly--

"I want a little advice--I have been trying all day to write a letter to the _Times_, giving my views on the present system of education at the Universities, showing how much time is wasted on the dead languages, which might be given to philosophy and science."

"Oh, really, papa," said Selina, with a half yawn to the subject, "I am so ignorant--I am sure I cannot help you."

"Oh, yes," he replied, gently; "you think less of yourself than you need--I shall be glad of your opinion. Come--"

"Oh, no, papa, I would much rather not."

"My little Lucy will come then."

"I would," she replied, "very gladly, only I am so anxious to see mamma."

"Come, Maria, then, I really cannot get on without a little admiration--and I do not expect them for an hour or two."

"I would if I understood anything about it," said Maria, "I dare say the letter will do beautifully."

"I will come, sir, if I may," cried Hargrave, starting up, on seeing Mr. Villars leaving the room with a dejected air.

But the hall bell stopped both of them. Lucy sprang to the door, but suddenly stopped, and turned pale, and shrunk instinctively, remembering the impossibility of her being a welcome object to Mabel.

Mrs. Villars was now heard coming up-stairs, giving orders to the servants, as she did so. Her voice became more distinct, as she approached the room, and entered, followed by the dark, black figure of her orphan niece. She presented her to her daughters in turn, who each gave her a hand rather in curiosity than kindness. Lucy, unable to remain longer inactive, advanced with the impulse of throwing her arms round her neck, but feeling checked by the presence of her sisters, she only kissed her with a shy timidity, which very little expressed the real warmth of her welcome.

"Welcome, my poor child," said the kind and fatherly voice of Mr.

Villars, to the silent girl, "you will find here, I hope, kind companions, and a comfortable home."

Mabel gently raised the heavy veil, which had completely shrouded her face, and seemed almost to bow down her head, and, as she did so, displayed a countenance, which the beautiful and haughty Caroline regarded with triumph and satisfaction. Tears stained her colorless cheeks, and grief and watching were deeply marked in her sunken eyes.

There was no affectation of suffering there; but, as she looked up in reply to Mr. Villars, a light ray pa.s.sed over her countenance, and at once spoke the loveliness which no sorrow could darken. She tried to speak, but her parted lips refused to utter expressions of feeling, which her eloquent eyes had already conveyed.

"You will now," said her aunt, pompously, "have an opportunity of thanking Colonel Hargrave for the hospitality he has afforded you."

But Colonel Hargrave was gone. No one had seen him leave the room; but when his absence was perceived, Caroline felt a sensation of pleasure she could not account for, and, in great, good humour, turned to a.s.sist Mabel in relieving herself of the heavy cloak which enc.u.mbered her; she then perceived that she was trembling with cold and agitation--and when she begged leave to retire for the night, every one saw that there was necessity for repose to soothe her spirits.

Maria, whose good nature was, at times, greater than she would acknowledge, almost forced her to swallow the wine she had declined.

Mrs. Villars, taking a light, requested Mabel to follow her, with stately kindness.

The drawing-room they left was on the second floor, and yet she led her up two flights of stairs, and then across a narrow pa.s.sage, before she stopped at the door of the room destined for her.

"My house is so very crowded," Mrs. Villars said, apologetically, "that I am obliged to put you up here; but it will be a little home to you, and you must make yourself snug and comfortable. Oh, those naughty girls have forgotten to put you a chest of drawers; but you must contrive for a day or two, and I will see to it."

Possibly she forgot; for she did not see to it.

"It will do quite well for me, aunt, thank you," answered the low, sweet-toned voice, which so often touched her better self; but when we are deliberately acting with unkindness, it is not pleasant to have that better self awakened, after the pains we have taken to lull it to sleep.

Mrs. Villars hastily bade her good night, telling her to go to sleep, and be well on the morrow, and returned to the drawing-room. There she found her daughters busy in criticising the face and form of the new comer.

Caroline, vexed that Hargrave did not return, and seized with a sudden desire to follow him, quietly left the room, and glided down stairs.

With stealthy steps, she again sought the room, where she thought the truant had taken refuge. The light that streamed from it into the pa.s.sage, shewed her that the door was open, and as she reached it, she paused, for a moment, to take a view of its occupant before invading his retirement.

A large fire blazed up the chimney, and cast a flickering light round the apartment, at times, bringing every object to view, and then leaving it in fanciful shadow. Piles of books, as before, lay upon the table, on which stood an unlighted lamp. Heedless of the many sources of employment which were scattered around him, Hargrave was sitting, leaning over the table. Caroline thought he slept, and meditated some fanciful mode of waking him; but the moment her dress moved, he raised his head, and the firelight which, while it left her own corner in darkness, fell full upon him, shewed upon his countenance, the unmistakable traces of grief and weakness. Her naturally quick perception at once told her, that no time could be less favorable for intrusion upon one so haughty, and, to all appearance, so impenetrable, and drawing herself back into the shade, she lingered, but a moment, to a.s.sure herself that he was again lost in his solitary musing, and then noiselessly gained her own room, and sat down to think over what she had witnessed.

Did he always indulge in such thoughts? and if so, over what past event was he grieving? what loss which could not be repaired?

The flattering answer, returned by her mirror, gave her hope that such grief, if more than transitory, would still be of no long duration.

What the heart wishes, it finds a thousand witnesses to substantiate.

CHAPTER XII.

Oft in life's stillest shade reclining, In desolation, unrepining, Without a hope on earth to find, A mirror in an answering mind.

Meek souls there are who little dream, Their daily task an Angel's theme; Or that the rod they take so calm, Shall prove in Heaven a martyr's palm.

CHRISTIAN YEAR.