And you will find people you know, you may be quite sure of that. Remember not later than nine o'clock; and come at eight if you don't like to come into the room by yourself. Good-bye now. I want you to look very nice to-night," Miss Marjoribanks added, giving her friend an affectionate kiss; "you must, for my sake." "But, Lucilla"- cried Mrs. Mortimer. It was vain to make any further protest, however, for Lucilla was gone, having, in the first place, communicated her requirements to Mary Jane, who was not likely to forget, nor to let her mistress be late. "Ånd mind she is nice," said Miss Marjoribanks, emphatically, as she went out at the door. It was necessary she should be nice; without that the intended situation which Lucilla was preparing the grand finale of her exertions would fall flat, and probably fail of its effect. For this it was necessary that the widow should look not only pretty, but interesting, and a little pathetic, and all that a widow should look when first dragged back into society. Miss Marjoribanks gave a momentary sigh as she emerged from the garden door, and could not but feel conscious that in all this she might be preparing the most dreadful discomfiture and downfall for herself. Even if it passed over as it ought to do, and nobody was charmed but the Archdeacon, who was the right person to be charmed, Lucilla felt that after this she never could have that entire confidence in her father which she had had up to this moment. The incipient sentiment Dr. Marjoribanks had exhibited was, one that struck at the roots of all faith in him as a father; and every person of sensibility will at once perceive how painful such a suggestion must have been to the mind of a young woman so entirely devoted as was Miss Marjoribanks to the consolation and comfort of her dear papa. Lucilla was not allowed to spend the rest of this momentous afternoon in maturing her plans, as might have been necessary to a lesser intelligence; and when the refreshing moment came at which she could have her cup of tea before preparing for the fatigues of the evening, it was Mrs. Chiley who came to assist at that ceremony. The old lady came in with an important air, and gave Lucilla a long, lingering kiss, as old ladies sometimes do when they particularly mean it. "My dear, I am not going to stay a moment, but I thought you might have something to tell me," the kind old woman said, arranging herself in her chair with the satisfaction of a listener who expects to be confided in. As for Lucilla, who had no clue to Mrs. Chiley's special curiosity, and who had a good many things on her mind just at that moment which she rather preferred not to talk about, she was for once struck by veritable astonishment, and did not know what to say. "Dear Mrs. Chiley, what should I have to tell you?" said Miss Marjoribanks. "You know very well where I should go the very first moment if anything happened;" and by way of staving off more particular questions, she took her old friend a cup of tea. 66 Yes, my dear, I hope so," said Mrs. Chiley, but at the same time her disappointment was evident. "It is very nice, thank you your tea is always nice, Lucilla — but it was not that I was thinking of. I can't understand how it is, I am sure. When I saw him to-day with my own eyes, and could not help seeing how anxious he was looking! hope, I do hope, you have not been so cruel as to refuse him, Lucilla and all for something that is not his fault, poor fellow, or that could be explained, you may be sure." -- As for Miss Marjoribanks, she grew more and more surprised. She put away the kettle without filling the teapot, and left her own cup standing untasted, and went and sat down on the stool by Mrs. Chiley's feet. "Tell me whom I have refused this time, for I don't know anything about it," said Lucilla; and then her visitor burst forth. "It must be all that creature's fault! He told me he was coming here; and to tell the truth, I stood and watched him, for you know how interested I am, my dear; and then a little while after he met that Barbara. Oh, Lucilla, why were you ever so foolish as to have her here? I told you how it would end when you brought those artist people about your house. They are all a set of adventurers!" cried Mrs. Chiley. "I saw them meet, and I was so disgusted that I did not know what I was doing; but he passed her as nicely as possible. Just a civil word, you know, and then he was past. Just as I would have done myself; for it is always best not to be uncivil to any body. I could see her standing as if she had been struck with lightning; and naturally, Lucilla, I never thought anything else than that he had come here, and that all was right between you. Oh, my dear, I hope you are sure you have not refused him," Mrs. Chiley said, piteously; "anyhow, Lucilla, you need not mind telling me. I may be sorry, but I will not blame you, my dear." "I have not refused anybody," said Lu cilla, with a modest innocence that it was a a little romance, and I hope we shall have pleasure to see; "but, dear Mrs. Chiley," two marriages, and it will make it quite gay she continued, raising her drooping eyelids, for the winter. When you know all about "I think you made a mistake about it," Lucilla added, tenderly, by way of Mr. Cavendish. My own opinion is that breaking the shock, "I am sure you will be Barbara would make him a very nice wife. pleased." Oh, please, don't be angry! I don't mean But instead of being pleased, Mrs. Chiley to say, you know, that I think her quite was speechless for the moment. Her fresh what one would call nice-for one's self. old cheeks grew ashy with dismay and horBut then the gentlemen have such strange ror. "The Archdeacon too," she cried, ways of thinking. Many a girl whom we gasping for breath. "Oh, Lucilla, my dear! could not put up with is quite popular with - and you?" cried the old lady, overThem," said Miss Marjoribanks, with a cer-whelmed. She held Miss Marjoribanks fast, tain mild wonder at the inexplicable crea- and sobbed over her in the despair of the tures whom she thus condescended to dis- moment. To think, after all the pains that cuss. "I suppose they have a different had been taken, and all the hopes and all standard, you know; and for my part, I the speculations, that neither the one nor would advise Mr. Cavendish to marry Bar- the other was coming to anything! "If it bara. I think it is the best thing he could should be that General, after all-and I do." cannot abide him," sobbed Lucilla's anxious friend. But Miss Marjoribanks's genius carried her through this trial, as well as through all the others which she had yet encountered on her way. - as "Dear Mrs. Chiley!" said Lucilla, "it is so good of you to care; but if it had been that I was thinking of, I need never have come home at all, you know; and my object in life is just what it has always been, to be a comfort to papa." "Lucilla!" cried Mrs. Chiley, almost with a shriek of horror. She thought, as was perhaps natural, that there was some pique in what her young companion said; not doing Miss Marjoribanks justiceindeed few people did for that perfect truthfulness which it was Lucilla's luck always to be able to maintain. Mrs. Chiley thought it was her young friend's maidenly pride and determination not to take up the part of a woman slighted or jilted. "You Upon which Mrs. Chiley kissed her young may refuse him, my dear, if your heart is friend once more with lingering meaning. not against him," said the old lady; "but I" My dear, I don't know what They would not be so hard upon him as that, poor fellow. You may say what you please, but I always will think him nice, Lucilla. I know I ought to be on the Archdeacon's side," said Mrs. Chiley, putting her handkerchief to her eyes; "but I am an old woman, and I like my old friends best. Oh, Lucilla, it is not kind of you to keep up appearances with me. I wish you would give way a little. It would do you good, my darling; and you know I might be both your grandmothers, Lucilla," she cried, putting her arm round her favourite. As for Miss Marjoribanks, she gave her old friend a close embrace, which was the only thing that even her genius could suggest to do. "I have always you," said Lucilla, with touching eloquence; and then she freed herself a little from Mrs. Chiley's arms. "I don't say, perhaps, that everybody will receive her; but I mean to make an effort, for my part; and I shall certainly tell Mr. Cavendish so if he ever speaks of it to me. As for Mr. Beverley, he is going to be married too. Did not you hear? He told me all about it himself one day," said Miss Marjoribanks; "and I will ask him to-night if I may not tell you who the lady is. It is quite mean," she said, with indignation; "everybody knows men are great fools where women are concerned, but I never knew what idiots they were till now; and you are too good for them, my darling!" said Mrs. Chiley, with indignant tenderness. Perhaps Miss Marjoribanks was in some respects of the same way of thinking. She conducted her sympathetic friend to the gar den door, when it came to be time for everybody to go and dress, with a certain pathetic elevation in her own person, which was not out of accord with Mrs. Chileys virtuous wrath. To have Mrs. Mortimer and Barbara Lake preferred to her did not wound Lucilla's pride-one can be wounded in that way only by one's equals. She thought of it with a certain mild pity and charitable contempt. Both these two men had had the chance of having her, and this was how they had chosen! And there can be little wonder if Miss Marjoribanks's compassion for them was mingled with a little friendly and condescending disdain. It was, however, an ease to Lueilla's mind that she had let Mrs. Chiley know, and was so far free to work out her plans without any fear of misconception. And on the whole, her old friend's tender in- to that of Lucilla. On the whole, it was dignation was not disagreeable to Miss perhaps Mrs. Woodburn who suffered the Marjoribanks. Thus it was, without any interval of repose to speak of, that her lofty energies went on unwearied to overrule and guide the crisis which was to decide so many people's fate. CHAPTER XXXIII. DR. MARJORIBANKS was not a man to take very much notice of trivial external changes; and he knew Lucilla and her constitution, and, being a medical man, was not perhaps so liable to parental anxieties as an unprofessional father might have been; but even he was a little struck by Miss Marjoribanks's appearance when he came into the drawing-room. He said, "You are flushed, Lucilla? is anything going to happen?" with the calmness of a man who knew there was not much the matter but yet he did observe that her colour was not exactly what it always was. "I am quite well, papa, thank you," said Lucilla, which, to be sure, was a fact the Doctor had never doubted; and then the people began to come in, and there was no more to be said. But there could be no doubt that Lucilla had more colour than usual. Her spulse was quite steady, and her heart going on at its ordinary rate; but her admirable circulation was nevertheless so far affected, that the ordinary rose-tints of her complexion were all deepened. It was not so distinctly an improvement as it would have been had she been habitually pale; but still the flush was moderate, and did Miss Marjoribanks no harm. And then it was a larger party than usual. The Centums were there, who were General Travers's chaperons, and so were the Woodburns, and of course Mrs. Chiley, which made up the number of ladies beyond what was general at Dr. Marjoribanks's table. Lucilla received all her guests with the sweetest smiles and all her ordinary ease and self-possession, but at the same time her mind was not free from some excitement. She was on the eve of a crisis which would be the greatest failure or the greatest success of her public life, and naturally she anticipated it with a certain emotion. But at the same time Miss Marjoribanks gave proofs of her superiority in the absolute control she had over her feelings. As for Mr. Cavendish, he had sufficient sense to come very early, and to get into a dark corner and keep himself out of the way; for though he was screwed up to the emergency, his self-possession was nothing most. Her heightened colour was more conspicuous than that of Miss Marjoribanks, because as a general rule she was pale. She was pale, almost white, and had dark eyes and dark hair, and possessed precisely all the accessories which make a sudden change of complexion remarkable; and the effect this evening was so evident that even her husband admired her for a moment, and then stopped short to inquire," By George! had she begun to paint?" to which question Mrs. Woodburn naturally replied only by an indignant shrug of her white shoulders and aversion of her head. She would not have been sorry, perhaps, for this night only, if he had believed that it was rouge, and not emotion. Of all the people at Dr. Marjoribanks's table, she perhaps was the only one really to be pitied. Even Mr. Cavendish, if vanquished, would at the most receive only the recompense of his deeds, and could go away and begin over again somewhere else, or bury himself in the great depths of general society, where nobody would be the wiser; but as for his sister, she could not go away. The first result for her would be to give the master to whom she belonged, and for whom she had, with some affection, a great deal of not unnatual contempt, a cruel and overwhelming power over her; and she knew, poor soul that he was not at all too generous or delicate to make use of such a power. In such a case she would be bound to the rock, like a kind of hapless Andromeda, to be pecked at by all the birds and blown at by all the winds, not to speak of the devouring monster from whom no hero could ever deliver her; and with all these horrible consequences before her eyes, she had to sit still and look on and do nothing, to see all the hidden meaning of every look and movement without appearing to see it, to maintain ordinary conversation when her ear was strained to the uttermost to hear words of fate on which her whole future depended. No wonder her colour was high; and she could not go into a corner, as Mr. Cavendish did, nor keep silent, nor withdraw herself from observation. Neither her pulse nor her heart would have borne the scrutiny to which Miss Marjoribanks's calm organs might have been subjected with perfect security; and the chances are, if the Doctor had by any hazard put his finger on her wrist when he shook hands with her, that instead of handing her over to General Travers to be taken down to dinner, he would have, on the contrary, sent her off to bed. leave me." 66 Fortunately by this time the season had the moment when the unsuspecting Archarrived at that happy moment when peo- deacon said grace with his eyes decorously ple once more begin to dine by artificial cast down, Miss Marjoribanks owned the light; and at the same time it was not ab- ordinary weakness of humanity so much as solutely dark in the drawing-room, so that to drop her fan and her handkerchief, and Lucilla had not, as she said, thought it even the napkin which was arranged in a necessary to have the candles lighted. "If symmetrical pyramid on her plate. Such there should happen to be a mistake as to a sign of human feebleness could but enwho is to take down who, it will only be dear her to everybody who was aware of all the more amusing," said Miss Marjori- the momentous character of the crisis. banks, " so long as you do not go off and When these were all happily recovered This was addressed to the and everybody seated, Lucilla kept her Archdeacon, to whom Lucilla was very eyes fixed upon the Archdeacon's face. It particular in her attentions at that moment. was, as we have said, a terrible moment. Mrs. Chiley, who was looking on with a When he raised his head and looked round great sense of depression, could not help him, naturally Mr. Beverley's eyes went wondering why - When she knows he is direct to the mark like an arrow; he looked, engaged and every thing settled," the old and he saw at the centre of the table, surlady said to herself, with natural indigna- rounded by every kind of regard and contion. For her part, she did not see what sideration, full in the light of the lamp, his right a man had to introduce himself thus favourite adventurer, the impostor whom under false pretences into the confiding he had denounced the first time he took his bosom of society when he was as bad as place by Miss Marjoribanks's side. The married, or even indeed worse. She was Archdeacon rose to his feet in the exciteruffled, and she did not think it worth ment of the discovery; he put his hand while to conceal that she was so; for, to be over his eyes as if to clear them. He said, sure, there are limits to human patience," Good God!" loud out, with an accent of and a visitor who stays six weeks ought at horror which paralyzed the two people least to have confidence in his entertainers. lower down than himself. As for Miss Mrs. Chiley for once in her life could have Marjoribanks, she was not paralyzed — she boxed Lucilla's ears for her uncalled-for who had not lost a single glance of his eyes civility. "I think it very strange that it is or movement of his large person. Lucilla not the General who takes her down-stairs," rose to the height of the position. She put she said to Mrs. Centum. "It is all very her hand upon his arm sharply, and with a well to have a respect for clergymen; but certain energy. "Mr. Beverley, Thomas is after being here so often, and the General behind you with the soup," said Miss Marquite a stranger—I am surprised at Lu-joribanks. The Archdeacon turned round cilla," said the indiscreet old lady. As for Mrs. Centum, she felt the neglect, but she had too much proper pride to own that her man was not receiving due attention. "It is not the first time General Travers has been here," she said, reserving the question; and so in the uncertain light, when nobody was sure who was his neighbour, the procession filed down-stairs. to see what it was, conscious that somebody had spoken to him, but as indifferent to his companion and to civility as he was to Thomas and the soup. "What?" he said, hoarsely, interrupting his scrutiny for the moment. But when he had met Miss Marjoribanks's eye the Archdeacon sat down. Lucilla did not liberate him for a moment from that gaze. She fixed her eyes upon his eyes, and looked at him as people only look when they mean something. "If you tell me what surprised you so much, perhaps I can explain," said Miss Marjoribanks. She spoke so that nobody could hear but himself; and in the mean time General Travers at her left hand was making himself excessively agreeable to Mrs. Woodburn, and no doubt occupying all her attention; and Lucilla never turned her eyes for a moment from the Archdeacon's face. To enter the dining-room, all brilliant and shining as it was, radiant with light and flowers and crystal and silver, and everything that makes a dinner-table pretty to look upon, was, as Mrs. Centum said, "quite a contrast." A close observer might have remarked, as Mrs. Woodburn and Lucilla took their places, that both of them, instead of that flush which had been so noticeable a short time before, had become quite pale. It was the moment of trial. Poor Mr. Cavendish, in his excitement, had taken just the place he ought "I beg your pardon," said Mr. Beverley. not to have taken, immediately under the "I was confounded by what I saw. Good lamp at the centre of the table. During heavens! it is not possible I can de 2 "Oh yes," said Lucilla, softening into a smile. "Perfectly, I assure you. He is one of papa's guests, and very much respected in Carlingford; and he is one of my - very particular friends," Miss Marjoribanks added. She laughed as she spoke, a kind of laugh which is only appropriate to one subject, and which is as good, any day, as a confession; and the flush was so obliging as to return at that moment to her ingenuous countenance. "We have known each other a long time," Lucilla went on after that pretty pause; and then she raised her confiding eyes, which had been cast down, once more to the Archdeacon's face. "You can't think how nice he is, Mr. Beverley," said Miss Marjoribanks. She clasped her hands together, just for a moment, as she did so, with an eloquent meaning which it was impossible to mistake. The Archdeacon, for his part, gazed at her like a man in a dream. Whether it was true or whether he was being made a fool of more completely than ever man before was or whether he was the victim of an optical or some other kind of delusion, the poor man could not tell. He was utterly stricken dumb, and did not know what to say. He accepted the soup humbly, which Thomas set before him, though it was a white soup, an effeminate dish, which went utterly in the face of his principles. And then he looked at the innocent young creature at his side in that flutter of happy confusion. It was a terrible position for the Broad-Churchman. Af ter such a tacit confession he could not spring from his seat and hurl the impostor out of the room, as in the first place he had a mind to do. On the contrary, it was with a voice trembling with emotion that he spoke. not "My dear Miss Marjoribanks," said the Archdeacon, "I am struck dumb by what you tell me. Good heavens! that it should have come to this; and yet I should be neglecting my duty if I kept silent. You do - you cannot know who he is." "Oh yes," said Lucilla, with another little laugh 66 everything—and how he used to know Mrs. Mortimer, and all about it. He has no secrets from me," said Miss Marjoribanks. She caught Mr. Cavendish's eye at the moment, who was casting a stealthy glance in her direction, and who looked cowed and silenced and unquiet to the most miserable degree; and she gave him a little reassuring nod, which the Archdeacon watched with an inward groan. What was he to do? He could not publicly expose the man who had just received that mark of confidence from his young hostess, who knew everything. Perhaps it was one of the greatest trials of Christian patience and fortitude which the Archdeacon, who was not great, as he himself would have said, in the passive virtues, had undergone in all the course of his life. He was so utterly subdued and confounded that he ate his soup, and never found out what kind of soup it was. That is, he consumed it in large spoonfuls without being aware, by way of occupying his energies and filling up the time. "You cannot mean it," he said, after a pause. "You must be imperfectly informed. At least let me talk to your father. You must hear all the rights of the story. If you will let me speak half-a-dozen words to to that person, Miss Marjoribanks, I am sure he will leave the place; he will give up any claim". "Oh yes, please talk to him," said Miss Marjoribanks, "it will be so nice to see you friends. Nothing would make me so happy. You know I have heard all about it from you and from Mrs. Mortimer already, so I am sure there cannot be much more to tell; and as for papa, he is very fond of Mr. Cavendish," said Lucilla, with an imperceptible elevation of her voice. "Is it he whom you call Mr. Cavendish?" said the Archdeacon. He too had raised his voice without knowing it, and several people looked up, who were not at the mo ment engaged in active conversation of their own. The owner of that name, for his part, also turned his face towards the upper end of the table. He was sick of the suspense and continued endurance, and by this time was ready to rush upon his fate. "Did any one call me?" he said; and there was a little pause, and the company in general fixed its regard upon those three people with a sense that something remarkable was going on among them, though it could not tell what or why. "The Archdeacon wants to make your acquaintance," said Miss Marjoribanks. "Mr. Cavendish-Mr. Beverley. There, you know each other; and when we are gone you can talk to each other, if you like," Lucilla added; " but in the mean time you are too far off, and I want the Archdeacon. He is so much liked in Carlingford," she continued, lowering her voice. |