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Full text of "Clara Fane, or, The contracts of a life"

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CLARA FANE. 



CLARA FANE; 



OK, 



THE CONTRASTS OF A LIFE. 



rau. Srfjau. EKcm. 



BY LOUISA STUART COSTELLO, 
AUTHOR or "THE ROSE GARDEN OF PERSIA," "MEMOIRS OF JACQUES 

C(EUB," " THE QUEEN MOTHER," ETC. 



IN THREE VOLUMES. 
VOL II. 



LONDON: 

RICHARD BENTIEY, NEW BURLINGTON STREET. 
1848. 



LONDON : 

OSTELL, PRINTER, HART STREET, BLOOttSBURt SQUARE; AND 
BURLINGTON MEWS, REGENT STREET. 



CLARA FANE. 



CHAPTER I. 

Now, sir, have I met you again ? 
There's for you. 

Twelfth Night. 

MR. BENT and Mr. Jack Goldspin were seated in 
a private room in the hotel, at Bakewell, having 
accepted the invitation of two Cambridge friends 
to pass the evening with them, in a manner which 
was by them emphatically termed " being jolly." 

Both Mr. Ben and Mr. Jack were proofs of the 
great advantages young men may derive from a 
learned education, how salutary it is to be nursed 
in the lap of science and to be surrounded with 
all tha^ can ennoble and exalt the mind. At both 
our Universities this end can be attained, and 
considerate parents and guardians do well to se- 
cure such invaluable opportunities of improvement 

VOL. II. B 

2203060 



2 CLARA FANE. 

to those under their care. Aspiring youth may 
acquire habits and manners at these institutions, 
capable of fitting them for the most exalted society 
in the kingdom, independently of the stores of 
learning with which their conversation cannot 
fail to be enriched, if they choose to avail them- 
selves of the supply they have always at their 
disposal. 

A person thoroughly impressed with these 
truths who might, in order to enjoy a quiet intel- 
lectual treat, have concealed himself in a corner 
and listened to the discourse of the four Univer- 
sity men, assembled on the present occasion, 
would probably have been somewhat startled at 
what he heard, when, between whiffs of tobacco 
smoke and the long draughts of a potation which 
appeared particularly satisfactory to those who 
.ftnbibed it, the students imparted to each other 
the result of their experiences. 

In the first place, the auditor might have 
doubted whether he was listening to his native 
tongue, so " nice a derangement of epitaphs," 
as Mrs. Malaprop has it, was introduced to his 
observation, and so many terms totally unfamiliar 
to ears polite poured forth. 

As there has not yet appeared any translation 
of this style of language, notwithstanding the 
efforts of modern literature to make it known, 



CLARA FANE. 8 

and it might puzzle the general reader to compre- 
hend the langue d? Argot, which these friends 
employed, their conversation must necessarily be 
deprived of more than half its spirit, and it 
would be, perhaps, difficult in the garbled version 
given to recognise the startling wit which caused 
such riotous merriment amongst them. 

There appeared to be so much more than ordi- 
nary meaning in every word they uttered, that it 
was only necessary to repeat a few phrases to 
elicit the applause sought ; every second sentence 
being pronounced a capital joke, and every anec- 
dote, however flat it might seem to the uninitiated, 
creating the highest enthusiasm. 

" Well," said Mr. Ben Goldspin, in a voice 
considerably interrupted by the attention he paid 
to the perfumed weed, whose breath he was in- 
haling, " I think I've knocked up that affair of 
Stanny Brixton's and her flashy captain, a puppy 
that told me one day to hold his horse, taking me 
for a stable boy at this very house. The old 
woman won't stand a carpenter's heir for her son- 
in-law, and he may carry his gold lace to some 
other market, I fancy, after this. I said I'd be 
even with him, and odd enough I found out by 
mere accident, that old Brighty was a pianoforte 
maker in Fleet-street, where one of the sons 

B 2 



4 CLARA FANE. 

superintends the mahogany at this moment you 
may see the shop any day you like." 

" If I thought the old fellow would lend me a 
few hundreds I'd not be ashamed to make his 
acquaintance/ 7 answered one of the guests, "by 
the by, Jack, you're as rich as a Jew, you know, 
I wish you'd help a poor fellow like me, who hasn't 
a stiver to bless himself with till next quarter 
can't you or Ben, for one's as rich as the other, 
just open your purse strings for once in a way for 
our benefit; I owe Tom Holford here fifty, or 
he'd come down with more ; but he's as hard up 
as I am." 

A cloud came over the faces of the two 
brothers at this sudden demand on their friend- 
ship, and both protested that they were kept so 
short that they had neither money nor credit, and 
were at that very time trying to raise some cash 
to meet current expenses. 

The two friends glanced at each other as they 
resumed their cigars, and the look explained that 
this was but one of the jokes they were in the 
habit of slyly indulging in, at the expense of their 
miserly companions, of whom it was customary, 
amongst their particular friends, to say, that they 
showed their money as little as their wit, though 
they had more of the first than the last. 



CLARA FANE. 5 

"Are you making up to Kate Brixton?" 
asked one of the friends, " you seemed doing the 
amiable the other night." 

"I!" exclaimed Mr. Ben, "do you think I 
care for any such humbug as that ! I wouldn't 
marry the best gal in England, to be tied to a 
wife's apron strings and made a jerry of, I de- 
spise 'em as they deserve and just teaze 'em a bit, 
that's all I do ; they don't catch me in a hurry ; 
I've a good many better pipes than that to smoke 
yet !" 

"Capital!" cried the friends, "here! let's 
drink the health of all free companions, and con- 
fusion to matrimony." 

" What should a man marry for, I can't 
think," said Mr. Jack Goldspin, who seldom ex- 
pressed his sentiments otherwise than by loud 
laughs, or deep yawns ; his eloquence being of that 
kind which may be called explosive, " except its for 
money : there's something in that all the rest's 
gammon." 

" Ha ! ha ! capital !" cried the friends, " and," 
added Mr. Holford, "if one can't get money 
that way, for there's no use in life, you know, 
without it that's what we were born for, to enjoy 
ourselves, and make away with the tin why, if we 
can't get it by marriage nor any other slight of 
hand, I don't see where's the harm of turning 



6 CLARA FANE. 

highwayman. I've serious notions of doing so 
it used to be the fashion in our great grandfather's 
time, and why the deuce it shouldn't be now, I 
can't see." 

" The only reason it went out/' said his friend, 
" was because of the roads being so good and the 
country so well cultivated, but there's a chance 
now for us all for since rail-roads, you know, 
there are plenty of by-roads left to be robbed ; 
farmers must come from market, and squires from 
farms ; what's to prevent the good old times from 
coming back, when a gentleman could replenish 
his purse in an evening and no harm done. 
Facilities are greater even now than then, for 
there's the rail as a means of escape ready at 
hand. I wish I'd lived in the days of jolly high- 
waymen. Let's drink their health, and I'll give 
you a song to the purpose." 

Their glasses being replenished from a large 
jug on the table, the friend, who was familiarly 
called Peter, struck up a song, in the refrain of 
which all joined, knocking the table with their 
fists at the conclusion of each stanza, 

HIGHWAYMAN'S SONG. 

Fill," comrades, a cup that success may attend us, 
And fortune, our mistress, be prosperous soon 

The heath is inviting, and night to befriend us, 
Has shut up the stars and has muffled the moon : 



CLARA FANE. 7 

Our pistols, whose mounting with silver is bright, 

Are more true than the best shaft in Cupid's whole 
quiver ; 

Our steeds are the swiftest of any whose flight, 

Served the hero whose password is Stand and Deliver ! 

Let us drink to the health of the traveler benighted, 

Who toils o'er the hill and who speeds o'er the lea, 
Whose horse by some will o' the wisp is affrighted, 

When he meets, by good luck, such brave fellows 

as we: 
He is arm'd to the teeth and his bearing is bold, 

But we read him a lecture on taker and giver, 
And we show him how easy the transfer of gold 

To the hero whose password is Stand-and Deliver ! 

Fill, comrades, a cup to the bright eyes of beauty, 

Whose light is our beacon wherever we rove, 
To pursue is our choice, to protect is our duty, 

The girl who is worthy a highwayman's love : 
We have conquest before us wherever we ride, 

At our names the scared townsman may shake and may 

shiver, 
But where' s the free maiden would not be the bride, 

Of the hero whose password is Stand and Deliver ! 



The mirth had, after this song, become fast 
and furious, and the four friends were in the very 
height of their intellectual enjoyment, when the 
door suddenly opened and two strangers appeared, 
who, approaching the table, begged to know if 
Mr. Ben Goldspin was not in company. . 

As that worthy gentleman did not deny his 
identity, the persons who addressed him, not 



8 CLARA FANE. 

having the appearance of officers of the law, but 
of those in Her Majesty's service, one of the 
strangers advanced towards him and delivered a 
sealed note. 

" I am a friend and brother officer of Captain 
Brighty, who is, I believe, well known to you, 
sir," said he, " and I am directed to receive your 
answer to the letter I have the honour of deli- 
vering." 

Mr. Ben, with dazzled eyes, glanced at the 
writing, and started as he read the contents ; 
when he had done so, he put the letter 011 the 
table, and, thumping it with his fist, exclaimed in 
an angry tone 

" And suppose I don't choose to submit to this 
sort of humbug, what then ? As for fighting and 
that sort of thing, my father's a magistrate, and 
he's not going to allow of a breach of the peace 
in his district, so you may go back and tell Cap- 
tain Brighty so much from me, for that's all the 
answer he'll get." 

" You will, of course, apologise then for the 
derogatory expressions you have permitted your- 
self to use towards my friend," remarked the 
officer who had presented the letter, in the tone 
of one who believed it likely that the half-drunken 
squire intended to do so. 

" I don't know what he means," said Mr. Ben, 



CLARA FANE. 9 

" I am not obliged to recollect everything that 
may have been said by chance about him, and I 
will have nothing to do with the affair." 

" Pardon me/' replied the officer, " do you 
mean then to deny that you have spoken in terms 
of insult of my friend, and that you do not intend 
to retract the words spoken." 

The answer of Mr. Ben was more accordant 
to his present feelings than to the strictness of 
truth, when he asserted positively that he had 
never said a word about Captain Brighty, good, 
bad, or indifferent. This assertion, so little in 
conformity with the boast he had but lately made 
of having successfully prevented the Captain's 
match, startled his two University friends, well as 
they were acquainted with their comrade's cha- 
racter, and they both loudly called upon him to 
stand to his words, offering to back him in any 
way he pleased. Mr. Jack, meanwhile, took an 
opportunity in the confusion to slip out unob- 
served, with the humane and fraternal intention 
of preventing bloodshed by instantly informing 
his father of the affair, and getting a warrant 
issued to arrest the combatants, if hostilities 
should be insisted on. 

A scene of much altercation ensued between 
the three friends, which was, at length, put an 
end to by the departure of the two officers, who 

B 2 



10 CLARA FANE. 

informed Mr. Ben Goldspin that their part being 
now performed the remainder was in the hands of 
Captain Brighty himself, who, they begged to 
assure him, would not be slow in inflicting proper 
and sufficient chastisement on the person most 
concerned " when time and place should serve." 



It was market-day at C , and the streets, 

usually deserted, were thronged with buyers and 
sellers. As the day advanced there arrived several 
carriages, which stopped at the principal inn, and 
set down fashionable-looking visitors to luncheon, 
who afterwards might be seen scattered about in 
the various shops making purchases. There was 
one principal shop where all that was most elegant 
in mercery was to be purchased, and here the 
elite of the county chiefly congregated both for 
the sake of buying and meeting their neighbours. 
Several officers of the regiment had ridden over 
from their quarters in order to beguile their ennui 
by a few rencontres, and with the view of renewing 
old flirtations or beginning new. 

All the family of Brixton were in the shop, 
and Mrs. Goldspin was seated on a chair in state, 
attended by the shopmen, who assiduously recom- 
mended various articles for her approval. 

Mr. Ben Goldspin had just emerged from a 
public-house, where he had been arranging some 



CLARA FANE 11 

agricultural affairs with several farmers, and he 
was lounging up the street, smoking his cigar, 
when, as he paused opposite the great shop, he 
saw two horsemen advancing from the other 
extremity ; that they were military men, he could 
not doubt, by the gracefulness of their seat and the 
glitter of their adornments, as well as from the 
fluttered appearance of several giggling damsels, 
who were passing at the same time ; nor could he 
be uncertain of their identity, having recognized 
in one the officer who had paid him a very recent 
visit, and in the other, Captain Brighty himself. 

His first impression was to turn his eyes 
towards a window and appear not to notice them, 
but he had scarcely time to do so before he was 
roused from his apparent abstraction by several 
sharp cuts on his arms and back, and, on turning 
round to ascertain the cause of the salutation, he 
was greeted with a similar one across his face and 
hands. He had only time, between the rapidly 
administered castigation he was receiving, to 
remark that the inflictor was no other than the 
gallant Captain himself, who had, in a space of 
time incalculably quick, leaped from his horse, 
throwing the rein to his mounted friend, who 
stood guard in the road, immovable and unmoved, 
looking on, while summary justice was adminis- 
tered in so prompt a manner. 



12 CLARA FANE. 

Mr. Ben roared and struggled, and endea- 
voured in vain to ward off the whizzing slashes, 
which buzzed round his ears and before his eyes 
like the spokss of a wheel in full motion, dazzling 
and astounding him. Meanwhile, at every win- 
dow, at every house, and at every door, heads were 
thrust and eager eyes were looking on; the ladies 
at the shop flew with one accord from the counters, 
followed by the youngest of the shopmen, who 
left Mrs. Goldspin, in all her dignity, on the dais 
at the upper end, served by the master himself. 

The transaction was like lightning being as 
rapid in its mischief and its effect and they had 
scarcely time to see what had occurred, when the 
Captain, whip in hand, vaulted into his saddle, 
took the rein from his friend, and both gravely 
and leisurely, without looking to the right or left, 
paced down the high street, and, continuing, what 
appeared to be their morning ride, were soon lost 
in the distance. 

The consternation in the town of C was 

extreme : so public a horsewhipping had not 
taken place in the memory of the oldest inhabi- 
tant, and all mouths were open, and all ears were 
attentive, to learn the cause. 

Mr. Ben, smarting from the cuts and furious 
with mortification, speedily returned to a favourite 
retreat near the scene of his discomfiture, where, 



CLARA FANE. 13 

joined by his brother and a few of his faithful 
friends, he consulted as to the means of being 
revenged on the daring Captain. 

The latter had calculated on the probable con- 
sequences of his exploit, and was quite prepared 
to meet them. He, accordingly, gave himself no 
further concern about the matter, and when, a few 
hours later, he joined the Brixton carriage on the 
road to their home, his gaiety seemed increased 
rather than diminished ; and the loud laughter of 
the young ladies and their mamma proved that 
but little sympathy was felt for the ill-used hero 
of the day. 

A large fine was imposed on the Captain by 
the justice of the law, which he not only paid 
cheerfully, but professed his willingness to contri- 
bute as much more whenever called upon on a 
like occasion, having similar provocation. 

Mr. Jack and Mr. Ben Goldspiu, for a time, 
finding change of scene pleasauter than the stu- 
pid neighbourhood of a gossiping county town, 
took a tour, it was supposed, in Wales, where they 
were joined by their parents shortly afterwards ; 
thus making a gap in the society not easily filled 
up. 



14 CLARA FANE. 



CHAPTER II. 

Why should this desert silent be 
For it is unpeopled ? No. 

As you like it. 

THIS affair, which occupied much attention for a 
considerable time, smothered the scandal which 
was just rising, owing to the zealous propriety of 
Mrs. Goldspin, respecting Mr. Loftus and Clara ; 
for every one justly considered that it had been 
proved rather dangerous to indulge in little anec- 
dotes which compromised others and might bring 
their chastisement with them. 

The continuance of Miss Fane in the family 
of Coombe Place startled the neighbours, however 
ready to believe any ill-natured report, and the 
unpopularity of the source from whence it had 
emanated, rendered every one cautious in repeating 
it, and Mrs. Trumble found, with extreme vexa- 
tion, that she had lost her valuable teacher and 
gained small reputation by the transaction. 



CLARA FANE. 15 

Clara was herself, however, far from satisfied. 
She could not forget that she still lay under an 
imputation, which, though forborne to be ex- 
pressed openly, was still alive in the minds of all, 
and could not be refuted by any explanation she 
had in her power to make. Happy and content 
in her present abode, she felt that this gleam of 
comfort was not destined to last, and that an exer- 
tion on her part was necessary to secure her future 
independence. Again she turned her thoughts to 
the family mentioned to her by her friend 
Eugenie Petit, and she wrote to the address given 
her, proposing to accept the situation of governess 
to the two daughters of Mr. Luttrel, who she 
had lately found were just arrived from Paris. 

On naming her project to Lady Derrington, 
she discovered that her ladyship was acquainted 
with the family to a certain extent, and she was, 
at all events, secure of entering on new ground, 
with persons about whom there was, at least, no 
mystery. 

" I have never seen Mr. Luttrel," said Lady 
Derriugton ; " it is not this generation which is 
familiar to me : his mother and my family were 
well acquainted, coming from the same part of 
Northumberland. His father is not long dead, 
but Charles Luttrel was married early ; his wife 
was an accomplished woman of fortune and 



16 CLARA FANE. 

fashion, very extravagant and profuse like himself; 
she lingered long in her illness, and, as during his 
father's life-time they were ill enough off, they 
lived chiefly abroad, in Italy, I believe, where 
both his daughters were born the eldest 
cannot be fifteen yet : their mother has been 
dead five or six years, and, I should consider 
Mr. Luttrel a bad guardian for them. His 
aunt, Lady Seymour, I heard, is sometimes with 
them or they with her ; but, if she is like her 
former self, she is not altogether the proper head 
to control these fiery spirits, for such I should 
imagine them to be to judge by their youth and 
character of the family the Luttrels have always 
been rather unmanageable. You must make 
yourself look as old as you can, and with your 
quiet reserved manners you will probably impress 
the young ladies with the respect necessary for 
their too young governess." 

" I do not dread them at all," said Clara, " I 
confess to being rather tired of the extreme mo- 
notony and dullness of my late situation, where 
I had not a single pupil who possessed a grain of 
genius and but few who had the slightest talent. 
It seems to me, that people constantly living in 
the country acquire the heaviness of the earth 
they cultivate, without gaining the grace or beauty 
of the flowers that spring from it ; they require, 



CLARA FANE. 17 

like these flowers and trees, transplanting and 
trainiDg to bring out their perfections, and without 
it they remain rooted in stubborn and knotted 
stupidity, till neither time nor culture is of any 
avail. I acknowledge to a fondness for a wander- 
ing life, and the sight of new faces and things ; 
in a narrow circle one becomes, in an incredible 
space of time, narrow minded, and believes one's 
little world a great world." 

" This is, however, not even confined to coun- 
try life it may exist in crowded cities, if we shut 
ourselves up in exclusiveness and refuse to know 
what happens at our thresholds/' said Lady Der- 
rington, " since all the world is our neighbour we 
should encourage ourselves to feel interest in our 
neighbour's good, and by becoming acquainted 
with him put ourselves in a way of serving him." 

lf l suppose your love of change and of liberty 
iuspired you, Clara/' said Miss Clinton, "when 
you composed these verses. I find you out con- 
tinually by certain bits of paper scattered in your 
portfolio, which is by nj means sacred from my 
curiosity; for I have suspected you of poetry 
from the time I first caught you/' 

Clara laughed and blushed while obliged to 
acknowledge tl.e lines which Miss Clinton read ; 
" I wrote them for a pretty air, the melody of 
which pleased me," said she, " you know how 



18 CLARA FANE. 

tyrannical music is and how slavishly one is 
obliged to follow its lead the poor poet has but 
little chance of immortality when he makes lines 
for music, rather should the composer be inspired 
by the poet, it would be certainly fairer." 

SONG. 

The violet had wept all iiight 

Aud saw the dawu in tears, 
Her butterfly, with plumage bright, 

Close at her side appears : 
" Why mourns my flower ?" he softly sigh'd, 

" Is not thy lover near ?" 
" Alas ! but thou hast wings," she cried, 

" While I am rooted here ! 
I'd rather be of insect race, 

Than thus in beauty shine, 
So I might fly from place to place, 

And share my lot with thine 
Oh ! that in pity from the earth, 

Some hand would set me free ; 
The winds should bear me in their mirth, 

Away, dear love, with thee !" 

" I will set these lines to music myself," said 
Isabella, "for though I have not your voice to 
boast of, I flatter myself, I know something of 
composition. I confess that has, however, no- 
thing to do with melody. It is strange, that there 
_are so few pretty melodies now, compared to those 
which existed in the days when words were never 
written in the Scotch ballads what pathos and 



CLARA FANE. 19 

grace and what wildness ID the Irish, without 
following one rule of composition, they contrive 
to please even fastidious ears, accustomed to the 
scientific perfections of Italy and Germany." 

" Aye," said Clara, " and two or three lines 
of the rugged but expressive verse to which they 
are married, are worth whole volumes of the 
affected no-meaning which distinguishes modern 
English songs : it cannot be, that our language 
is too harsh for music as foreigners sometimes 
insist, otherwise our songs would never have 
charmed ; ah, yes ! our rough English, as well as 
the deep sounding German, contains a hidden 
grace and feeling which, drawn forth by genius, 
can equal the melodious tongue of Italy itself 
some of the old German ballads are exquisite, 
and some of Goethe's songs, unaccompanied, defy 
any tongue, however sweet, to compete with their 
music. 

" Is it not in poets who are wanting ? some 
genius equal to the old masters in the art, who 
have illustrated every nation, would renew the old 
spell, revive the old sweet wailings that touch the 
heart, as well as please the ear." 

" It is true, we wait long, for this Avatar/' 
cried Lady Derrington ; " but it is surely coming 
on, amidst the rush of events, with which the 
time is full. A galaxy of genius generally shines 



20 CLARA FANE. 

forth brightly all at once ; for instance, at a time 
when great statesmen exist there are usually great 
minds produced in every department of art and 
literature. Even at this moment, when commerce 
seems to rule the world, and the love of gain to 
extinguish every nobler aim, the pure spirit is not 
extinct which should illumine the dull sky, leaden 
too long and too long obscured, and perhaps the 
hour is arrived for the angel's wing to touch the 
waters." 

" We live," said Miss Clinton, " in an age of 
general talent, and expect so much and know so 
much, that we are content to remain in a state 
of clever mediocrity. There has been a lull of 
true genius for a great length of time, but it 
will re-appear as brightly as ever when its time 
comes. The torch may be turned towards earth, 
but the flame aspires to Heaven. It may be, 
that some great political change will effect an 
alteration in the minds of men, and those things 
which have absorbed them for a long period will 
pass away and give place to others superior to 
them. -We may be convinced of one thing, that 
what mutations soever appear in the affairs of 
the world, the great principle of Divine Poesy is 
never really affected it may be obscured for a^ 
time, but its light re-appears when meaner objects 
become extinct. Poetry is the soul of the world, 



CLARA FANE. 21 

as its every day actions are the mere body ; and 
as the body is heavier than the spirit it domi- 
nates more, but as it sinks the other rises. Some 
day, perhaps, we shall hail, even in this world, 
the reign of mind, as the gross earthly particles 
that form a mist around our being become dis- , 
persed. To arrive at this, however, we must 
banish those wishes which injure its deveiopement 
and we must begin by doing away with that 
craving, grasping desire of gain, which seems now 
to have taken possession of all, from the sovereign 
to the peasant. 

" No one is content under his vine and his fig 
tree, monarchs are merchants and dealers, and 
poets reckon their verses only as so many guineas 
coined. 

" Fame is no longer the 

' Last infirmity of noble minds ;' 

and till we turn away from ' greed/ we shall 
remain unvisited by great thoughts." 

" Come, Isabella/' said Lady Derrington, " I 
must not allow you time for any more philosophy 
at present, if you intend to carry out your pro- 
position of avoiding our guest to-day at dinner, 
tor the time of that important event draws on 
and Mr. Loftus will shortly arrive. I advise 
you, therefore, to continue your harangue as you 



22 CLARA FANE. 

thread the mazes of Coombe Wood, on your way 
to the farm, while I attend to the less intellectual 
process of seeing that our friends have where- 
withal to refresh their mortal nature." 

" A care," said Miss Clinton, " for which you 
are more likely to gain thanks, dear mamma, 
than I who preach about the ethereal portion of 
our being. Let us go, Miss Fane, and conceal 
ourselves in the shades, leaving creature comforts 
to our masters. I will take you a charming walk 
and show you some new paths in our solitude ; 
after which, we will take a row on our favourite 
lake, and fancy ourselves transformed into the 
fairies, who are said still to linger beneath its 
waters." 



When Mr. Loftus, who had that day invited 
himself to dine at Lord Derrington's, arrived, 
he found for the first time since Clara had been 
there, that the dinner party was unusually aug- 
mented. It was, in general, composed only of 
the family party, graced by the agreeable presence 
and conversation of Miss Clinton, and had always 
been a pleasant recreation for him, to which he 
looked with a sort of calm enjoyment such as 
the society of congenial minds affords, where no 
affectation exists, where nothing is forced, but 
the natural inclinations of each party lead to 



CLARA FANE. 23 

themes removed from everyday life and everyday 
occupations. In such re-unions it might seem 
that the common cares of the world were laid 
aside, and something beyond mere existence was 
gained for a brief space. 

As he rode along on his way, he had amused 
his fancy with the thought of meeting Clara for 
the first time, without a crowd, of observing her 
in a position different from any in which he had 
before seen her. He pictured to himself her ap- 
pearances, he imagined her words, her looks, and 
her voice, which he could not conceal from him- 
self, that he wished once more to hear. 

Yet, while he thought of these things, he 
almost reproached himself for allowing his mind 
to dwell on them, and regretted that he had 
not continued to resist the inclination he had 
felt to find himself near Clara once again. 

"Why should I torment myself about her?'"' 
thought he ; " it is really a weakness. I must 
not indulge in this notion of seeking my ideal 
in every strange face and in pursuing it wherever 
mystery clings. Fairfax is wrong I will not be 
encouraged in it. This Clara is only an ordinary 
personage after all, a good actress, perhaps if 
she has a design, yet what right has my vanity 
to suppose she has ? I wish I had never seen her." 

With this very usual wish, of the most 



24 CLARA FANE. 

ordinary of uncomfortable lovers, the philosopher 
rode up the avenue to Coombe Place, and hav- 
ing entered the drawing-room his first impression 
was one of disappointment, to see Lady Derring- 
ton alone, and to observe several of the gentlemen 
of the neighbourhood walking in front of the 
windows, waiting till the summons to dinner was 
given. 

Lady Derrington reproached him for so seldom 
visiting them, and particularly on coming the day 
her daughter was gone out. She did not name 
Clara at all, and Mr. Loftus felt uncertain whether 
she was even still there. 

The dinner passed off in an unusually dull 
manner, there was not a being there suitable in 
any way to Mr. Loftus, and he regretted a thou . 
sand times having come at all. He thought, too, 
that the manner of Lady Derrington was some- 
what forced, although she tried to be as cordial 
as ever he had found her ; and to several of his 
enquiries as to where Miss Clinton had disap- 
peared to, he received answers so evasive as to 
convince him that she had absented herself pur- 
posely, perhaps in order that he should not meet 
Miss Fane. 

" They have no foolish pride of station/' 
thought he, " therefore they could not do it from 
that motive, there must be some reason which I 



CLARA FANE. . 25 

do not understand. They are in general all open- 
ness and cordiality what can this portend ?" 

He saw that Lady Derrington had no inten- 
tion of naming her daughter's whereabouts to 
him, and he therefore, after she had left the table, 
resolved to discover it from the father, who he 
rightly judged was probably not in their secrets. 
He found little difficulty in gathering from him, 
that he fancied he had heard Isabella talk of a 
visit to her nurse, the wife of a farmer on the 
estate; armed with this hint, Mr. Loftus took 
leave early and betook himself to a stroll in the 
woods for the rest of the summer evening. 

There was a high . hill to ascend to reach the 
farmer's dwelling; it was covered with large 
thickly grown trees, and offered beautiful spots 
here and there for repose : wherever this occurred, 
seats had been placed so that the whole walk, of 
several miles, was an agreeable lounge. When 
the wood was ended a series of meadows began, 
and then a copse and a grove led to an open space 
filled with a small sparkling lake, shut in on one 
side by higher hills and having an amphitheatre 
of wood sloping down from it towards lower 
ground, leaving a fine view of the plain beneath, 
its winding river and extensive fields. 

There was, by the side of the path near the 
lake, a rustic building where several large birds 

VOL. II. C 



26 CLARA FANE. 

were kept. A huge white owl, with enormous 
yellow eyes, sat in the darkest corner of his large 
apartment and scowled on the passer by and 
several fine proud hawks sat frowning on their 
perches, as if ready to swoop on any prey which 
might come within their reach. But the atten- 
tion of Mr. Loftus, as he paused to look at these 
prisoners, was arrested by a magnificent eagle 
which was looking piteously through the bars 
that restrained its flight, and with depressed 
feathers and shrouded eye seemed pining for 
liberty. 

Edmond Loftus stood contemplating the splen- 
did bird for a time and could not help regretting 
that the greediness and curiosity of man should 
lead him to inflict pain on those creatures whom 
Nature formed for freedom and the enjoyment of 
life without its cares. 

" This is changing the poor animal's condition 
for its misfortune, indeed," thought he, " he has 
learnt to reflect and to regret, and only approaches 
nearer to man in order to desire fruitlessly. 
This poor creature, when soaring wild and free 
amongst the rocks and clouds, was gazed at as 
a wonder, with awe and respect ; he fell into the 
power of some clown and all his dignity disap- 
pears at once he who was a monarch is now a 
slave that which was looked upon with reverence 



CLARA FANE 27 

and fear, is now an object of pity. He knows it 
too, his fiery haughty eye is quenched and the 
glory of his existence is at an end ; he asks the 
stranger for a compassionating glance and he is 
indebted to sordid hands for the daily food which 
he once took whenever he required it. 

" If souls really transmigrated, a not unna- 
tural belief this might have been in days of yore, 
a king who had the world at his command and, 
for his penance, in the first of the lives after that 
granted to human nature, is penned into this 
form, conscious of his degradation and full of 
sensation for his own sufferings ; perhaps of re- 
morse for his former acts. His life may be pro- 
longed many years, even in this captivity, and 
then when the spirit which animates his feathered 
body flies off, some other creature may receive it, 
unless the penance is accomplished and he is for- 
given. 

"This doctrine is neither new nor unrea- 
sonable, tyrants and wretches often die as they 
lived prosperous and content, having crushed and 
tortured every one beneath their sway, and never 
having felt the miseries they have inflicted owing 
to a perverse nature : that they should be thus 
punished, conscious but unable to make their 
identity known and obtain release, is a punish- 
ment beyond all that has been named of torture. 

C 2 



28 CLARA FANE. 

We have no reason to know the kind of torments 
prepared for the wicked, and we may well suppose 
mental agony to be one of the most severe. 

"I am, probably, wronging this innocent 
bird," he added, smiling at his own visions, " but 
the strange intelligence we see in animals, leads 
us into wild conclusions. I can easily believe in 
the Eastern prince's transformation into a baker's 
dog, when I observe the marvellous sagacity of 
those creatures and, to reward my faith, behold 
Miss Clinton's favourite has become aware of my 
vicinity long before he has been able to see me, 
and is barking to protect those he guards against 
a traitor who approaches. Perhaps he is right, 
and I bring danger in my path to some one over 
whom he watches. If so, I will be content to do 
penance in any shape for my misdemeanour." 

He followed the direction of the dog's voice, 
and left the eagle's cage but had not advanced 
many paces when a long drawn, piercing, mournful 
cry met his ears, as if to implore his return. He 
looked back and saw the poor eagle beating itself 
against the bars and trying to force its head 
through, while its now bright, eager, flashing eyes 
were directed towards him, as if in reproach for 
his abandonment of a sorrowful prisoner. 

He could not resist returning, when the strange 
bird was immediately comforted and happy, leap- 



CLARA FANE. 29 

ing about in a somewhat awkward manner on 
the ground, with all the appearance of joy. 
Again, when he quitted the spot, the same melan- 
choly cry sounded on his ear and he hastened on 
to avoid it, quite annoyed with himself for being 
involuntarily affected with the incident. He had 
not gone far when at a turn in the lake, he per- 
ceived a boat in which two ladies were paddling 
themselves amongst the reeds and overhang- 
ing shrubs which dipped into the water. The 
little dog was running impatiently along the 
bank, and every now and then stopping as if 
with an intention of daring the dangerous ele- 
ment in order to reach his mistress. 

Loftus hailed the boat and requested to be 
allowed to pay his devoirs to the nymphs of the 
stream, who, finding that they were discovered in 
their retreat, had only to row towards him with 
the best grace they could. 

" Pray," said Clara, timidly, to her friend, as 
they neared the shore, "pray do not allude to 
anything, and let me entreat you not to change 
your manner towards him I should be so very 
much confused and distressed if he could imagine 
that I was affected by the gossip which has so 
coupled my name with his." 

" Do not fear," said Miss Clinton, " you will 



30 CLARA FANE. 



'"Fit my face to all occasions.' 

If you had seen more of society, you would know 
that the subject nearest the thoughts is always 
farthest from the tongue. In the world we live 
in a continued state of disguise." 

" Well/' said Clara, laughing, " there is some 
excuse then for Mr. Loftus, he is so used to it." 

" The moon is rising, fair ladies," cried Loftus, 
as he assisted the boat to shore, " and I feel afraid 
of you; for you appeared as suddenly to me in 
these wilds as fairies do to belated travellers, 
taking lovely forms and leading him into dangers 
he can never afterwards escape from." 

" You are safe from us," said Miss Clinton ; 
" we are exactly what we appear no ladies of the 
lake nor wood fairies, but honest women without 
disguise of any kind but how can we be sure 
that you are not some 

' Brown dwarf that o'er the moorland sirays.' 

If however you are a true man, you will conduct 
us safely through the wood towards home, for we 
have lingered on the water a little later than we 
intended." 



CLARA FANE. 31 

" In hopes of giving time to unwelcome visi- 
tors to be departed?" said Mr. Loftus. 

"Why should you think so?" asked Miss 
Clinton, while Clara turned away to hide a blush. 

"Because I had invited myself/' returned he; 
" and you knew that you were to be interrupted 
by my presence. This is very unfair. I had 
pictured to myself so agreeable an evening, and 
the pleasure of renewing my acquaintance with 
Miss Fane and I found only country squires and 
a good dinner." 

" Excellent things both," said Isabella ; " and I 
have no doubt you were as well satisfied with both 
as you would have been with their substitutes. 
What could two women like us possibly say to 
interest you in comparison with the learned 
agricultural and statistic information you have 
acquired to day." 

" I have acquired nothing but ennui," replied 
he ; ' ' and, having artfully discovered where you 
had vanished to I escaped to the enchanted region 
to search for the deserters." 

" You are fond of these voyages of discovery, 
are you not?" asked Miss Clinton ; "they must 
be exciting, whatever the object, no doubt, since 
they lead people so far from the beaten path. But 
having found the treasure sought the excitement 
and interest no doubt disappear together." 



32 CLARA FANE. 

" Not with me," said Loftus, looking at Clara ; 
"the nearer I approach the object of my search 
the more precious it appears to me." 

" To which of us is this gallant speech 
addressed/' said Miss Clinton; "if I did not 
know you to be a really fashionable man well 
versed in the world's language and quite incapable 
of saying a word that you mean, it would go 
hard but that I should be flattered but/' she 
added, turning to Clara, " I must explain to you, 
Miss Fane, that the world to which Mr. Loftus 
belongs, possesses a language peculiar to itself, 
it is mellifluous and melodious to the ear, but is to 
sound what shadows are to sight, quite unsubstan- 
tial; and all the amiable and charming things 
you may henceforth hear from him, you are only 
to consider a voice like that of echo in a cave." 

" Why do you put these sayings upon me?" said 
Mr. Loftus, a little confused ; " Miss Fane will 
avoid and dread me if she listen to this doctrine." 

" Oh, no," said Clara, rather gravely ; " I 
never either avoid or dread any one. I rely on 
myself and judge for myself." 

"Thank you," replied Loftus, with a slight 
accent of hauteur ; " you at least reassure me. I 
am not given to fear myself, and not much to 
avoiding either," he added in a low voice, intended 
for her ear only, " it had been perhaps better if 



CLARA FANE. 33 

I were. But why/' he continued; " are you so 
severe to me, Miss Clinton, or rather to the class 
to which I am supposed to belong but to enter 
whose charmed circle I have no pretensions. Can 
you call that man a fashionable half of whose life 
has been spent in workshops and studios, who has 
made himself one of the people,' who has fled from 
pomps and gaieties, who gives himself up to rural 
enjoyments or solitary musings, and who shuns the 
crowd of cities ?" 

" When the season is over," laughed Isabella. 
" I will go on for you one who is forced to create 
a world of his own in the country before he can 
make it suitable to his tastes : Who brings Bel- 
gravia into Derbyshire and talks of retirement, 
and sighs for the shades with Almack's music 
in his ear who must get up graces and charades 
and be an actor in them to wile away the time." 

Clara pressed her friend's arm, who continued, 
" for if you have not done that this year, you 
you know you must plead guilty to such acts in 
our solitudes in former days." 

" I begin to repent me," said Loftus, " and 
to believe that all I have hitherto done has been 
mere acting, and therefore I am resolved to be in 
earnest henceforth and become the merest Corin 
when in the country, although I despair of meet- 
ing with Phillida, and when in London but I 

C 3 



34 CLARA FANE. 

am not going there. I am on my way to Venice. 
Will you trace for me a line of conduct, Miss 
Clara I appeal to you because as your ideas are 
less sophisticate than my sarcastic friend, fair 
Isabella, I shall be more likely to adopt new no- 
tions at your suggestion." 

" Always walk along the broadest path," said 
Clara, " and leave the cross lanes and alleys unex- 
plored this is good advice, which you can under- 
stand the better as it is what has led us safely 
through the mazes of this wood and brings us 
straight to the point we were seeking. If we 
had been tempted by those hundred pretty de- 
tours which invited us on our way we should have 
lost ourselves long ago." 

Mr. Loftus was a little mortified that his 
companions took leave of him at the end of the 
avenue, and he found that he was not expected to 
return with them to the house. He could only 
therefore seek the stable and having mounted his 
horse ride back to Loftus Hall by moonlight in a 
very loverlike mood. 

" What an idiot 1 have been," said he ; " to 
trust to this travesty ; it is clear that I mistook 
her character and that she despises me. Isabella 
is too clever for me; she knows all I am sure and 
is guarding her friend against my duplicity. I 



CLARA FANE. 35 

must shake off this weakness and endeavour to 
think of her no more for what is she to me 

' Less than a shade by moonlight, cast, 
Less than a note of music past.' 

Good Heaven ! that I should suffer my mind to 
dwell so long on such trifles. The world the 
world of action is mine once more upon its 
waters to struggle against and to conquer oppres- 
sive thoughts." 



36 CLARA FANE. 



CHAPTEE III. 

The fraud of man was ever so 
Since summer trees were leafy. 

Much Ado about Nothing. 

THE answer that Clara received from Lady Sey- 
mour, the aunt of the Miss Luttrels, determined 
her at once to depart from her kind friends, to 
whom she promised to communicate her success 
in her new undertaking. She accordingly left 
Coombe Place, having previously written to Maria 
and learnt that her old lodgings were ready for 
her. 

Mr. Loftus had not again appeared and she 
was ignorant as to whether he remained behind in 
the country or had really set out on his way to 
Italy. She resolved to allow him as small a place 
as possible in her imagination, the more so as she 
could not conceal from herself that he already 
occupied her thoughts too much. 



CLARA FANE. 37 

"Idleness," thought she, "is always said to 
be the parent of fancy. I shall now have no 
time for vain musings on what I had better forget, 
my destiny is prosaic enough and but little of the 
poetry of life, will be mine. I must strive at all 
events that its vexations may intrude as little, 
and to what else could lead dreams of which Mr. 
Loftus is the subject." 

Maria and Mrs. Spicer each gave her a warm 
greeting, according to their different characters, 
and she felt by no means so lonely in her solitary 
lodgings as she had dreaded. She had much to 
tell to Maria of Mrs. Wybrow, to whom she had 
written on her departure not thinking it advisable 
to go to Loftus Hall. The news from William 
continued to be favourable and frequent; he 
talked of great discoveries, of extraordinary en- 
joyments and excitement in his voyage and spoke 
very little of annoyances of any kind. Maria 
had treasured his letters, all of which she showed 
to Clara. 

"I am/ 5 said she, "doing all I can to be 
clever by the time he returns, and now you 
are come I shall be sure to learn something. You 
will show me on the map where he is and how far 
he has got, though how maps know, except by 
magic, I cannot think. He tells me of such 
extraordinary things that sometimes I fancy he 



38 CLARA FANE. 

only does it to laugh at me ; but then I am sure 
he would not, as he knows I am ignorant enough 
already. 

"I often wonder, particularly since I began 
to learn something, how it happened that he could 
ever love me, who am so unlike him in being able 
to understand things. You would, in that re- 
spect, have suited him exactly ; but then, you see, 
he knew me first and after all William is not 
grand enough for you." 

Clara smiled rather mournfully, as she thought 
how little there was in her destiny of grand or 
exalted, and she answered Maria by telling her 
that she had heard Love was no respecter of 
persons. 

" He has seen some very great people," said 
Maria, " and I am afraid will think our little par- 
lour very mean when he comes back, after having 
been in a king's palace read what he says." 

Clara followed the passages on which Maria 
particularly dwelt and read, 

" At Cairo I saw Mahomed-Ali, that extraor- 
dinary man who has changed the destinies of 
Egypt. It is a curious thing, for one accustomed 
to London to go through the streets of Cairo; 
instead of trains of waggens and coaches, one has 
to wait till a train of camels has gone past. The 
Pacha lives in a grand palace or citadel on a height 



CLARA FANE. 39 

that overlooks the city and is building a mosque 
of alabaster, which will be a splendid thing 
when finished." 

" That puts me in mind of the Persian tales," 
said Maria, "think of a whole house made of 
alabaster ! doesn't it seem wonderful ! and for 
William to have seen it !" 

Clara read on. 

" I visited the ancient obelisk of HeliopoKs, 
the oldest in the world, which now stands almost 
alone ; its numerous companions having disap- 
peared : we went over a very wide plain, when I 
saw a camel and a buffalo yoked together dragging 
a plough, which at once put all ideas of England 
out of my head and convinced me that I was 
really in the Desert. The tree that produces 
balm grows here I will bring you home some -of 
the bark of it the tradition says that it sprung 
from a pool of water in which the Virgin had 
bathed her child, and it is also said, that Cleopatra 
brought it from Judea and planted the charming 
tree in this soil. 

"The obelisk stands in a garden, and the 
figures and hieroglyphics on it are extremely 
beautiful." 

" Now," said Maria, interrupting, " that is 
what I cannot understand, because I have been 
to the Museum to see all I could of Egyptian 



40 CLARA FANE. 

things since William went, and I do not think 
any of them pretty at all indeed, I must say, 
they look frightful, some have got monkey's 
heads, some oxen's, and it frightened me to death 
to think he should be amongst such ugly creatures. 
Isn't it odd he should admire them ?" 

Clara explained his admiring them as works 
of art of so early and mysterious a period, and 
Maria, silenced if not satisfied, allowed her to go 
on. 

" Early travellers used to tell marvellous tales 
about the Phoenix, which was accustomed to visit 
the temple of the sun at Heliopolis and burn 
itself on the altar ; this is not to be believed as a 
fact, the Phoenix is a mere emblem or symbol of 
the power of the sun. I cannot, therefore, pro- 
mise to bring you one of its feathers as the mer- 
chants of old pretended to do at the great fair of 
St. Mark's, at Venice. 

" Everything I behold in this wonderful coun- 
try shows me, that the more it becomes under- 
stood the more it may convince the world of the 
accuracy of the Scriptures, and when we meet 
with something in those sacred pages which 
appears incomprehensible, the reason is merely 
that we have no interpreter at hand to translate 
and explain the difficulties. The more ignorant 
a traveller is, the less he is inclined to belie ve ; 



CLARA FANE. 41 

but, as he advances in knowledge, that which 
appeared impossible before rises into clearness 
before his eyes ; for instance, all the mere names 
mentioned in Genesis as belonging to Egypt, 
explain much that is there half explained or only 
hinted at." 

" How good he is/' said Maria, looking up 
with tears in her eyes, " I am afraid I shall never 
be half good enough for him, they say sometimes 
that clever people are not religious, but I am sure 
he is both." 

" Simplicity of heart, dear Maria," said Clara, 
" and rectitude of purpose stand in the place of 
talent you know, ' little children ' who could not 
be clever from their extreme youth, are promised 
all the privileges of learned men who are com- 
manded to resemble them." 

Maria's eyes brightened, and she read on 

" I am continually meeting groups of figures 
just like those we used to look at in the National 
Gallery, .that you admired with me. A young 
woman, dressed in blue and red, seated on an ass, 
holding a child in her arms and followed by an 
elderly man, a perfect Joseph; the desert and 
the palm trees and the fountain by which they 
rest, all quite perfect." 

" You see," said Maria, " he writes all sorts 
of things to me, because he knows even if J do 



42 CLARA FANE. 

not quite understand I shall be very much pleased 
to try and make them out, just as 1 pick out a 
song in music by ear without really knowing 
exactly why, as I never studied. It seems just as 
natural to me to understand him if he is ever so 
learned." 

" How does he send you his letters 1" said 
Clara. 

" Mr. Loftus, replied she, always sends them 
to me because William is allowed to enclose mine 
and his mother's to him, to save postage. What 
should I do without that ! but Mr. Loftus is so 
generous. Did you see him in the country ? how 
he would admire you ! I should be glad to know 
what he is like." 

" What, did you never see him ?" asked Clara, 
surprised. 

" No," replied Maria, " I am to see him when 
we are married ; for he says we are to go down 
to Derbyshire and spend the honeymoon, if ever 
that takes place," added she, sighing, " one com- 
fort is, I shan't be teazed any more about the 
Pennyman's nephew, for since the break up 
there, ma has given up talking of him, for he is 
like to be no richer than William." 

" What has happened then ?" said Clara, " you 
forget that I know nothing, and in your letters 
you never mentioned any one but William." 



CLARA FANE. 43 

" That was, you know," said Maria, blushing, 
"because I had no one but you to speak of him 
to. Oh dear ! I forgot you didn't know the Pen- 
nyman's have been found out cheating and spend- 
ing the money allowed for the paupers, while they 
kept them on short allowance. That was the 
reason they were able to have such a fine house 
and pinery and all that at Highgate, and live like 
lords and that made them so proud. 

" Simpson was just as bad, for he was his 
uncle's head man and knew it all. It was very 
wicked of them and every one is quite ashamed 
that knew them ; they got prouder and prouder 
after you went away, and had a box at the opera 
and gave parties where lords and ladies, they said, 
came. I can't think what sort they could be; 
but, it is said, there are lords and ladies in London 
who, if they didn't go to visit such people as the 
Pennyman's, would be obliged to stay at home 
alone, because no other great people will notice 
them. Poor Celia was always with them, and left 
off coming here at all and now we shall never see 
her again.' 7 

"Why?" asked Clara, surprised at the tone 
of melancholy in which Maria spoke ; " has any- 
thing happened to her?" 

" Oh dear yes," answered Maria ; " I'm very 
sorry for it, though ma' says it serves her right 



44 CLARA FANE. 

for being so proud and vain of her beauty. She 
met some gentleman who fell in love with her at 
the Pennyman's parties or at Willis's Rooms or 
somewhere, and she has run away with him." 

" And married him ?" said Clara. 

"No, that's the worst of it," replied Maria, 
gravely; "they say not. He used to come to 
her father's, pretending to be a painter, and 
called himself Clark ; but that was not his name 
he is some great man but what's the matter, 
Miss Fane ? How pale you look !" 

Clara in effect stood gazing on the speaker as 
pale as marble, till roused by the question she 
sunk into a seat rigid and motionless. 

"You have been standing all this time/' 
cried Maria, " poring over these letters and maps 
till you are quite faint let me get you some 
water ?" 

"I am better now," said Clara, recovering 
herself; "how came it to be discovered about 
Celia ? tell me more." 

" Oh," resumed Maria, " this Clark was con- 
tinually there, and though she had known him, 
from first to last, not more than six weeks, he 
persuaded her to run off from her father, which 
she did, and no one knows where they went to. 
It was just after the Penny man's failed, so they 
could not be asked who he really was, for they 



CLARA FANE. 45 

got away as quick as they could, and are gone, I 
believe, abroad. They had some friends, magis- 
trates, who got them out of the worst of the scrape 
or they would have been transported. Poor old 
Mr. Sawyer is quite broken-hearted about Celia, 
and goes on like one out of his mind; he'll 
never recover it, for he was so proud of her. 
Isn't it shocking she should have behaved so ?" 

" Shocking, indeed !" exclaimed Clara. 

And much she reflected on this strange story 
afterwards with a bitter feeling of distress such as 
she had never before experienced. Humiliation 
was added to her astonishment, and indignation 
to have found herself placed in a position which 
raised her no higher than the level of a foolish, 
flirting girl like Celia Sawyer, for she could not 
doubt for a moment that the false Clark was no 
other than Mr. Loftus the man whom she had 
forgiven, of whose feelings she had been so tender 
whom she had allowed herself to regard with 
indulgence whom she had felt satisfaction in 
seeing, and whom she had lately regretted. 

" Alas !" she sighed, " how fortunate am I in 
having quitted his dangerous presence for ever. 
He does not come here, therefore he will not 
know where I am. Miss Clinton does not intend 
to inform him of my destination, and I shall in 
future never be likely to be thrown into his 



46 CLARA FANE. 

sphere as he is going abroad, and I shall remain 
in England. Farewell then at once to the idle 
dreams I was forming of the existence of good 
in man. I shall henceforth think Miss" Clinton 



right in her estimate of their characters. How 
distressing to think so fair an outside should con- 
ceal such falsehood. 

' Oh serpent heart, hid with a flowering face !' 

Alas ! my experience has been hitherto limited, 
but already I have discovered much evil. It 
seems only in the straightforward monotony of 
life that it is to be avoided all approach to 
enjoyment brings it at once to light." 



CLARA FANE 47 



CHAPTER IV. 

Two lovely berries moulded on one stein, 
Like to a double cherry seeming parted, 
But yet a union in partition. 

Midsummer Nighfs Dream. 

CLARA soon received an answer to her letter from 
Lady Seymour, the great aunt of the Miss Lut- 
trels', appointing a day for an interview, which 
she did not fail to keep. She found Lady Sey- 
mour at her house in Eaton Square, where her 
young nieces were staying with her for the pre- 
sent, until the house their father had taken for 
them at Fulham was ready. 

She was a lady of a certain age, still hand- 
some, and dressed in a very youthful manner; 
she sat in a study, the walls of which were hung 
round with copies of good masters, all tolerably 
well executed : there were half-finished models in 
plaster and in wax, scattered about on tables 



48 CLARA FANE. 

engraving and etching tools, vials of acqua- 
fortis, and a long array of colours in bottles and 
cups, with all the paraphernalia of a painter. 
A guitar lay on a sofa near her, and a few 
foreign books were scattered in conspicuous con- 
fusion. 

She received Clara very courteously, but with- 
out rising from her seat before an easel which 
supported an oil picture of large size, with 
which she was busied. 

"I am sure I need not apologise to you, 
young lady," said she, " for not quitting my 
darling occupation. I doubt not but you under- 
stand the spell which keeps me clinging to a 
desk, a book, an easel. I have scarcely a mo- 
ment to spare, for I have still much to do to 
complete my great work the largest I have 
hitherto attempted. But I am aware that I have 
duties which reprove me for too lavish indulgence 
in my favourite pursuits : let us talk of my be- 
loved charges, whom I wish to confide to you. 
Pray sit down, and give me your attention while 
I let you into the secrets of our respective posi- 
tions." 

Clara having conformed to her wish, Lady 
Seymour continued, talking with volubility. 

" I am devoted," said she, " to the arts they 
occupy all my attention. What, indeed, is life 



CLARA FANE. 49 

worth if one neglects its finest, its most delicate 
occupations so exalting, so elevating ? I have 
been called 'blue/ perhaps I am a little so 
and if intense admiration of all that is refined, 
sensitiveness to all that is superior, all that is 
above the common run of things, makes me deserve 
to be distinguished, I might be called couleur de 
rose. Alas ! but for my long habits of application, 
I might have been able to impart my acquired 
knowledge where it would be practically useful. 
I might have attempted to form the minds of 
these two darlings left to my charge ; but I am 
a poor, weak being, all nerve, and unable to bear 
exertion, and I am forced to delegate to another 
the office which would have been so delightful to 
me. I am fond of rule and order, Miss Fane; 
my beloved nieces you will find unlike me in 
some, I fear, essential respects, .and it will be 
your province to see that they approach my 
standard of female excellence as near as pos- 
sible." 

Clara answered modestly that she would do 
all in her power to meet her wishes, and she ex- 
pressed herself certain that after the pains Lady 
Seymour had taken with the education of her 
nieces, there would be little trouble in her task. 

" You are mistaken, my dear Miss Fane," said 
the lady; "my sweet creatures are lively and 

VOL. II. D 



50 CLARA FANE. 

animated, and impressionable to such a degree 
that they are apt to forget my careful instruc- 
tions. They love better to nutter their glittering 
wings over a flower than to settle upon it. You 
see, my dear young friend, the bent of my mind ; 
perhaps you will think my language poetical 
alas ! I am, nevertheless, the very soul of sincerity 
and truth." 

"I do not consider," said Clara, smiling, 
" that poetry and truth are necessarily separated." 

"You are a sweet creature," returned the 
lady ; " but you must leave me now. I have an idea 
you will see my plan carried out some day. I must 
put that down at once charming thought ! a 
butterfly hovering over a flower will it not make 
a charming vignette ? You draw, of course ? 
Well, I may employ you sometimes to put down 
my ideas. Imagine how I occupy myself! I 
adore charity, and I have a school of my own 
for which I hold a bazaar every year it is a 
great privilege to contribute to it. You shall 
sketch me some trifles on my dictation. I em- 
ploy several poor artists, who are too glad of my 
patronage, and I cannot refuse to let them con- 
tribute their mite to my charity, because it makes 
them known in my circle. One should always 
extend the hand of patronage to the worthy and 
some of these poor things are starving ! it goes 



CLARA FANE. 51 

to my heart to witness the distress of this beau- 
tiful world, and I do all I can to alleviate it. 
But let us talk of these lovely creatures/' said 
she, in a confidential manner ; " they are placed 
in a somewhat difficult position : the real business 
of my life, after all, is to attend to their welfare, 
and the happiness of my existence would be to 
devote my whole time to them ; but, as I have 
explained, I have duties which interfere duties 
to society a large circle, who expect my services 
this house, besides, is too gay for such young 
inexperienced and attractive beings for they are 
more lovely than words can picture you will be 
charmed with them. Their father is perfection, 
as a man ; he adores them he lives for them ; 
but he has duties, too, active ones and, besides, 
a man ! what would you have ? He will be so 
happy to confide them entirely to your care; you 
are, yes, you look, old enough to be a mother to 
them, since Fate deprives me of the delight of 
calling myself so. You will have entire controul, 
can order what you please for them, any masters 
you consider necessary, and any little indulgences 
you know. You will not be too severe I see it 
in your face, otherwise I should say a great deal. 
You will strictly attend to their morals, and as 
for their religion dear me, I forgot to inquire ; 
I hope you are a Protestant ? Aye, that's well ! 

D 2 



52 CLARA FANE. 

because we are very particular in that point 
there is nothing like being religious, it is so 
proper ! We have a charming preacher near us, 
and a perfectly unobjectionable congregation : 
very few men those dangerous and destructive 
creatures ! I shall see you very often, and for- 
give me for occasionally interfering it is, I am 
sure you will think, natural in one so nearly con- 
nected with their dear mother pardon me this 
emotion they are, as it were, left to my peculiar 
charge they were much with me in Rome and 
at Naples, and, but for my nerves and the neces- 
sity of their being with some person who has 
controul, I would have implored their dear father 
to spare them to me now. In about ten days I 
must, however, part with the dear angels their 
establishment will be arranged, and you will 
kindly accept the transfer of my treasures." 

Clara listened to all this harangue with much 
patience, and began to fear by all that their 
devoted aunt said, that the Miss Luttrels would 
prove rather a more difficult charge than she had 
imagined. She was about to take her leave when 
the folding doors of the room suddenly opened 
and two figures bounded in. 

She had never beheld two beings who so en- 
tirely deserved the epithets which had been be- 
stowed on them of lovely : their ages might be 



CLARA FANE. 53 

fourteen and fifteen, or a little more; they 
were, however, nearly of a height, and might 
be almost taken for twins there was a great 
difference nevertheless in their complexions. The 
eldest who was greeted as Claudia, was much 
darker than her sister, with a flowing profusion 
of black, silky hair, which hung nearly to her 
waist, large, sparkling brown eyes, and a bril- 
liant colour on her delicate rounded cheeks all 
her features were exquisitely formed, and her 
figure had a lightness and grace in every move- 
ment. 

Sybil! a, the younger, had dark, auburn hair, 
as full and luxuriant as her sister's : her eyes were 
hazel-blue, so shaded by fine, long lashes, that 
they might be mistaken for black like those of 
Mary Stuart, which are never alike in any two 
portraits, their changeable colour was not to b e 
defined. She was dazzlingly fair, and the roses 
came and went on her face with every emotion. 
Her figure was smaller than her sister's, and both 
were distinguished for hands and feet singu- 
larly minute. Both these apparitions glided 
forward towards Lady Seymour, who uttered a 
little scream as they caught her in their arms, 
and whispered in her ear, glancing slyly and 
rather timidly towards Clara. 

" Oh ! it is, then \" was the exclamation of the 



54 CLARA FANE. 

eldest ; " we thought so ! oh, you treacherous 
darling ! so you have been plotting with papa 
against us and we are to go away and be shut 
up, and have no more rides, and no more sittings 
up, and music parties, and all that is delightful." 

" Let me present you, my sweet nieces/' said 
Lady Seymour, making a sign for them to be 
silent, "to Miss Fane, the lady who is so kind as 
to take charge of you. Alas ! I ought to reproach 
her instead of recommending her to your atten- 
tion, for she is stealing you from my arms she 
is usurping my place. Let her not gain one 
superior to mine in your heart !" she added, avec 
effusion. " You will love me always, won't you, 
beloved objects of ray affection ?" 

" Oh yes, and smother you with kisses, if you 
like," cried they both, suiting the action to the 
words, and devouring her with embraces; "but 
you know it is all your fault you know if you 
i eally chose you could keep us but we are too 
wild for you, and, what is worse, we never mean 
to be any better." 

So saying, laughing, kissing, and carressing, 
they almost overwhelmed their affectionate rela- 
tive with their demonstrations. 

Presently, however, they seemed to become 
conscious that they were wanting in politeness to 
Clara, who stood spectatress of this scene. 



CLARA FANE. 55 

" Sybilla, my dear child," said Claudia, assum- 
ing an air of gravity ; " how can you allow Miss 
Fane to stand all this time. I am afraid Ma'am," 
she added, addressing her, " that you will be 
shocked at us and amazed at our levity under 
our present circumstances too ! Is it all settled ? 
when are we to have the pleasure of receiving 
you at our own house, since Lady Seymour sends 
us away ?" 

" My angels," interposed Lady Seymour, " I 
have been telling Miss Fane all about it and have 
begged her to come to you in ten days." 

"Oh!" exclaimed Sybilla; "ten days more 
grace, that's charming and then we'll begin to be 
dull and good. How we will amuse ourselves 
meantime ! Papa says we may." 

" Miss Fane," said Claudia, with a graver air; 
" we are much obliged to you for coming. Papa 
will send the carriage for you on the day we fix, 
so do not give yourself any trouble. I will arrange 
everything for you. You shall have a nice room 
and we will have plenty of music they say you 
play so well that sweet little Eugenie Petit told 
me you were an angel. I made papa send for 
her, when we went to her husband's on purpose 
to ask all about you. I know we shall be good 
friends." 

Clara's first interview with the Miss Luttrels 



56 CLARA FANE. 

although so strange, left her enchanted at their 
appearance, but rather anxious at the prospect of 
the probable difficulties she should have to en- 
counter in the management of two evidently very 
forward spoilt children. 

There was, however, nothing rude or ill-bred in 
their manner, although bold and wild, and there 
was an expression in their countenances which 
told of fine dispositions, requiring only judicious 
guidance and watchful care. She felt, at once, 
that she was not of a proper age for such a charge 
in spite of the assertion of Lady Seymour, who 
was evidently anxious to shift from her own hands 
the responsibility of the two treasures her niece 
had left. 

This reflection did not seem to have occurred 
to Lady Seymour, to judge by the account she 
gave to Mr. Luttrel when she informed him that 
this important accession to his domestic establish- 
ment had been secured. 

Mr. Luttrel, the father of Clara's intended 
pupils, was a man, still young, but somewhat worn 
in appearance and having an air of ennui and 
absence, natural or assumed, which told of indolent 
habits, asjhis somewhat haggard though handsome 
face spoke of dissipation. There was a wandering 
expression in his fine dark eye which indicated a 
restless mind, and nothing in his countenance 



CLARA FANE. 57 

bespoke either intellectual superiority or high 
feeling. Although the features were regular and 
seemed harmonious at a first glance, the second 
look destroyed that notion, the too uncertain 
character of the month, the want of breadth in the 
forehead, the smallness of the head, all failed to 
show either goodness or genius, in both of which 
qualities the handsome and admired Charles Lut- 
trel was evidently deficient. 

He was, in fact, a man of fashion, occupied 
with his pleasures and avoiding his duties, and 
dissipating the treasure of life, as others of his 
class do, as if it was of no worth and given only 
for the purpose of amusement. 

He was immensely popular and although without 
the reputation of wit, was sought in all society and 
courted everywhere : he knew his advantages 
and cultivated them, because they placed the 
world of fashion at his command, a world he 
cared for only from habit and in which he lived 
because he had not the taste or energy to seek a 
better, heartily ennuye as he was of it. AThen he 
changed its scenes it was not for any recommended- 
by greater refinement or intellect, yet though he 
was suspected of preferring company at times 
beneath his station, he was not the less either 
admired or courted, and his word was decisive on 
all matters of taste or ton in the best society. 

D 3 



58 CLARA FANE. 

"Auntie dear," said Mr. Luttrel, as he threw 
himself on a couch in his aunt's study and lan- 
guidly looked up to answer her interrogatories of 
why he had not come to dinner. 

" Auntie, 1 am so horridly occupied with these 
detestable lawyers that my whole time is taken 
up. I believe I had some dinner at the club, 
but my mind is so bewildered that I positively 
can't remember. It's a relief to me to hear that 
something is done towards the establishment of 
those darlings. I wish Claudia did'nt grow so 
enormously, I blush to see her enter the room. 
I must absolutely have the girls called my sisters, 
it's absurd that I am to be their father ; if they 
would but keep children but they won't, they 
will grow and be so old ! could'nt one give them 
something as they do puppies to keep them under. 
They are lovely too, which is another bore they 
will be looked at, admired and every one will ask 
who's they are what a question for me to 
answer \" 

He turned his dark ringlets over his finger as 
he spoke and gazed in a glass close beside him. 

" Do I look like the father of anybody now 
do tell me charming Auntie ?" 

" Certainly, you look like theirs, your are so 
handsome, dear Charles," was the answer ; "you 
know, let them grow ever so fast, they are only 



CLARA FANE. 59 

thirteen and fourteen after all and can't be brought 
out for two or three years at earliest. But this 
nice steady person they have now will keep them 
in check." 

" Is she old ?" said Mr. Luttrel, yawning. 

"Not positively old," replied Lady Seymour; 
" but she looks so, and is very quiet and grave." 

" Oh I" said the papa ; " ugly, I suppose." 

"Not positively ugly either," was the answer; 
" but by the side of those creatures a Hebe would 
look a dowdy. She is rather rather I don't 
know what but you would not look at her 
twice." 

" I don't wish to look at her at all you know, 
auntie," said he ; " and that's the reason you so 
kindly have settled the matter for me about cooks 
and housekeepers and governesses and all. the 
canaille besides how can I ever repay your 
disinterestedness !" 

" Never, my dear nephew, never," sighed the 
lady, " for you have deprived me of my joy and 
solace the society of those angelic emanations ! 
oh ! what will my house be without them ! I 
live but in their sight." 

" Don't talk any more about them," said the 
father, " I adore them, of course, but it's very 
hard upon me to be set up with two animals like 



60 CLARA FANE. 

them, so beautiful and so wild I have not an 
idea what to do with them, so you must keep 
them out of scrapes and see that their keeper 
feeds them at proper hours, and beats them when 
necessary." 

" You wicked, cruel, and abominable papa," cried 
a voice close at his ear, and Miss Sybilla threw her 
white arms round his neck, " we won't be beat, 
and fed and knocked about just as you like and 
we'll beat you if you order it. Oh ! we've had 
such a ride in the park ! our horses went like 
lightning and we raced all along the lake so fast 
so fast, everybody thought we were run away 
with. It was such fun ! to see the fright William 
was in and the faces of all the people. Lady 
Seymour dear," said she, suddenly, " can our new 
governess ride ?" 

" You wild thing, I never asked her ; but, of 
course not," said Lady Seymour. 

" Of course she shall be taught then, and go 
out with us, as this naughty papa won't. It is 
not half so pleasant as racing across the Cam- 
pagna, but it does well enough for England it is 
not like riding along by the blue bay at darling 
Naples, but the water is pretty too and the people 
stare quite as much. Oh, Claudia, Claudia !" 
she cried out, as her sister entered, "come and 



CLARA FANE. 61 

help me to tickle this naughty boy, he has hidden 
my shoe he's at his tricks again there's no 
peace with him !" 

So saying, both young ladies engaged in a 
conflict with their reclined papa, who entered into 
their sport as if he had been their brother and of 
their own age. 

" Silence, children," cried Lady Seymour, 
" what a charivari you keep I'll send you all to 
the nursery directly. Charles, do give Con- 
drillon, her slipper she's got it ! she's beating 
him with it ! bravo, you angels ! oh, what spirit, 
what nav'ite; but my nerves can't bear it. I shall 
ring to take you all away." 

" Papa," said Claudia, throwing herself down 
on an ottoman, out of breath, " now do be sensible 
and answer me a few rational questions. We've 
got a, house, and we've got a governess now, do 
you expect us to study ? because if you do you're 
mistaken ; after going to all the balls at Rome 
last year, do you think we're to be made little 
children of again ?" 

"You only went to children's parties, you 
know, sweet audacious ! " said her papa, 

" But I danced with grown up men, handsome 
impertinent !" replied his daughter, " and I'll 
never dance with, or speak to a little boy again ; 
and as we've a house we mean to give parties our- 



62 CLARA FANE. 

selves and we'll invite you and auntie Seymour 
and we'll be so gay and brilliant." 

" You'll be regulated by this Miss Some- 
thing, of course," said her father, " I've nothing 
to do with you." 

" She's something, indeed, you silly old man !" 
cried Claudia, " but you shall make nothing of us, 
we promise you." 

" She's prim, I hope, and good and proper 
and strict too," said the parent. 

"If she is she shan't stay," said Claudia, 
" you know we've had enough of governesses, and 
don't want one at all we're quite clever enough 
ain't we, auntie dear; now, dear papa, do let 
us have parties, it will be so nice ! But we're 
heiresses, you know, and can do as we please 
and so we won't ask you." 

" I don't want to be plagued with you and I 
am not your guardian," said the papa, " if those 
respectable persons, whom your good mamma 
named as your protectors, like you to drive four- 
in-hand, you may for me." 

" Oh, let us ! let us !" cried Sybilla, jumping 
up, " I can drive to admiration ! what a good 
idea." 

" Papa has always such charming ideas," said 
Claudia, " but he don't mean a word he says, he 
is so perfide." 



CLARA FANE. 63 

" My dear girls/' said the father, " I assure 
you, I never will interfere in your affairs any 
more than I am obliged it is quite bad enough 
to have to go through all this bore of lawyers on 
your account ; but, as for giving parties, I sup- 
pose auntie here would say it was wrong, and she 
regulates everything." 

"You must wait, my delight," said Lady Sey- 
mour, " till you are once out, and then papa will 
let you do as you like, of course you must be 
sixteen, Claudia dear, there is no precedent for an 
earlier age." 

" I can make one then," answered Claudia, 
impatiently, and with a slight frown, " why am I 
obliged to do as other people do ? besides, there 
have been Queens 110 older than me and people 
are obliged to obey them, and they have the world 
at their command which I should like very 
much." 

" Adieu, my children ! " cried the papa, sud- 
denly rising, " I am obliged to leave you ; settle 
the affairs of education and all that sort of thing 
as you can amongst you ; but don't forget to take 
lessons of Centelli whatever you do : I shall never 
be able to endure either of you if you learn of 
another; he began to form you at Rome, he is 
now in London, his style of vocalisation is the 



64 CLARA FANE. 

only thing endurable in the known world : I leave 
you my injunctions and my blessing." 

" Dolce e carissimo padre mio that you are !" 
cried Claudia, as they both, dancing round him, 
enclosed him in the circle of their arms towards 
the door, both singing a Neapolitan serenade in 
the sweetest of all silver voices. The father 
paused approvingly, and, having joined in the 
pretty refrain with a voice as soft and clear as 
their own, broke from them and disappeared. 



CLARA FANE. 65 



CHAPTER V. 



What is the end of study ? let me know. 

Love's Labour Lost. 



AT the appointed time Clara was duly sent for to 
Fulham, Lady Seymour having herself accom- 
panied her thither. As they drove along, she 
observed to Clara that the father of the young 
ladies was a perfect pattern of domestic devotion. 
" Such a creature, my dear Miss Fane/' said 
she, " so fond of his children, so attached to the 
memory of my beloved niece who was so early 
called from him. Sybilla is the image of her; 
the eldest is more like his family. You will find 
that the dear creatures, though possessed of per- 
fect tempers and dispositions, have moments of 
excitement and vivacity, which render them 
doubly interesting to those attached to them. I 
am myself so gentle, naturally, that the least 
thing causes me to be too much agitated, other- 
wise the brilliant outbursts of their imaginative 



66 CLARA FANE. 

and glowing feelings would occasion me the most 
extreme delight ; as it is, I avoid all excitement, 
and must fly from that which I delight in, for I 
have duties to society which I cannot but fulfil. " 

Clara listened to these and to other fine 
speeches, and was at some loss to comprehend 
what this confidence could mean, except it was 
intend to convey the fact to her mind that the 
young ladies were very passionate ; nor could she 
understand what the great duties of Lady Sey- 
mour were, which so entirely precluded the possi- 
bility of her superintending the welfare of her 
nieces. 

They were received by the young ladies with 
great pleasure, who were full of exclamations of 
delight at their new house and its arrangements ; 
each sister having her own room, with a toilet- 
table set out with the utmost care and elegance 
as if for grown women. 

" Giulia has the taste of an angel," cried 
Claudia, " and has fitted my room up exactly like 
that I had at Naples, which overlooked the bay. 
I like our house of all things, and we shall be so 
happy in it shan't we, Sybilla ?" 

" Oh, impossible not ! " replied the sister, " we 
can almost live in the garden, where there's a 
swing hammock ; we will have such fun ! " 

" I shall see you every day, my beloveds," said 



CLARA FANE. 67 

Lady Seymour, "and in idea clasp you to my 
bosom every hour. Oh, Miss Fane ! " she added, 
drying a supposed tear, " watch over these trea- 
sures and guard them for me." 

" Oh, dear auntie," cried Claudia, " we mean 
to take care of Miss Fane, so you need not fear 
for us." 

" Farewell then, my sweet flowers," exclaimed 
the lady, embracing them both as she disappeared 
to her carriage. % 

They flew to the balcony and looked after her 
as she drove away. 

" There goes sincerity ! " said Clalidia ; " oh, 
auntie, don't we see through you ! how glad you 
are to get rid of us as if we didn't know all 
about it to be sure ! " 

Clara started at these words, which betrayed 
the observation of her pupils, if not their affec- 
tion for their relative, and she followed their looks 
as they watched the disappearance of the carriage 
towards the gate, their uncovered heads leaning 
over the balcony and their white arms waving 
adieux to the retreating traveller. 

At length, their curiosity satisfied, they drew 
in their pretty forms and re-entered the room ; 
they whispered a few moments together and then 
advanced to Miss Fane, and, each taking a hand, 
led her in a sort of mock heroic style to the sofa 



68 CLARA FANE. 

where they seated her. They then stood a minute 
before her in silence, and looked so fixedly in her 
face that she could not suppress a smile. 

" We shall soon," said she, " know one ano- 
ther, we appear to have all the will." 

The eldest, on this, placed one of her pretty 
feet on a low chair, and, leaning her crossed arms 
on her knee, continued her scrutiny, nothing 
abashed : her sister, meanwhile, stooping over her 
with her white hands resting on her shoulder, and 
equally bent on studying her countenance. They 
both looked so pretty in this attitude, impertinent 
as their occupation was, that Clara contemplated 
them with pleased attention without feeling an- 
noyed. 

" I dare say," at length remarked Miss Claudia, 
shaking back her thick, dark curls, " I dare say 
you think us a couple of young bears for behav- 
ing as we do, but now I must tell you exactly how 
the case stands. You are to be our governess : 
now we hate governesses ; we hate learning ; we 
hate being bored ; and it is as well to begin as we 
mean to go on. Our first governess, after poor 
dear old Nicky, our nurse, left us, was a horrid 
old cross French creature who used to worry our 
lives out; we knew a great deal more than she 
did long before she went away, and that made 
her so mad that she did nothing but scold and 



CLARA FANE. 69 

beat us and tell falsehoods about us. Well, she's 
off married, thank goodness ! and in Switzer- 
land, we hope; for six months we've had our 
liberty : now, can you suppose, at our age, we're 
going to submit to a new tyrant ? if papa does 
he's mistaken, and as for him he spoils us, and we 
can turn him round our fingers, so there's no 
fear of his interfering. You look good-natured 
and funny, and we like fun ; you are very pretty 
too, and that we like Mademoiselle Tournemine 
was hideous ! So, just listen : we are ready 
enough to learn anything we like, and so that it's 
not blue we'll consent to be taught things, and as 
long as you don't bore us and be cross we'll be as 
gentle as lambs and doves ; but the moment you 
begin the airs of a governess it's all over, and 
we're your enemies for life." 

" Suppose I answered that I will not enter 
into this compact," returned Clara, smiling. 

" Why then we'll tease your life out, as Tour- 
uemine once did ours," replied the pupil ; " but 
you'll agree to it, for we're not at all bad girls, only 
we've got a great deal of character, and we do 
think, that after submitting so many years to the 
tyranny of one governess, it is hard to begin again 
when we hoped it was all over. Now then sit 
quite still and comfortable, and put up your feet 
and feel quite at home, while we go and play you 



70 CLARA FANE. 

a duet. We will do nothing but amuse you, and 
nurse you, and kiss you, and love you, all day 
long, but we won't obey so there now I" 

Saying this, Miss Claudia and Miss Sybilla, 
entwining each other with graceful embraces, 
whirled round the room, singing like two larks, 
and dancing like nymphs, the dark hair of one 
mingling with the fairer tresses of the other, their 
rosy cheeks flushed with gaiety, and saucy daring 
in their wild eyes. Presently they stopped, took 
their places at the pianoforte, and, with fingers as 
light as zephyr-blown leaves, executed a difficult 
piece of music with all the ease of professional 
players. So animated did they become as their 
music proceeded that they continued to beat the 
time with their feet and their nodding heads, till 
they looked as a pair of joyous young Bacchantes 
might have done, inspired by the god, and playing 
to a troop of wild Fauns in some mystic dell of 
Arcadia. 

Clara was quite taken by surprise by the 
originality, grace, beauty, talent, and sauciness 
they displayed by turns, and was so amused that 
she had neither the inclination nor the power to 
check them, or to assume any part of the com- 
mand which had been delegated to her, but 
listened with pleased attention till they had 
finished their performance. 



CLARA FANE. 71 

" Now then," said Claudia, rising, " you must 
play to us, and let us hear if all's true that little 
Eugenie told of your genius oh ! she said you 
were quite a wonder and as she was right about 
your beauty perhaps she is as to the other." 

Clara, of course made no difficulty in obeying, 
and played so much to the satisfaction of both 
that, on her finishing, they embraced her rap- 
turously. 

" You darling ! " exclaimed Sybilla, " now we 
are sure to like you ! only you must sing Italian 
German all you can; do you know Centelli, 
our old Neapolitan master? there's nobody like 
him ; he's to come to-morrow to renew our les- 
sons isn't it lucky, Claudia, that he should be 
arrived ? Miss Fane will fall in love with him, 
he's so handsome." 

" Oh no," said Clara, looking a little grave, 
" I never fall in love : it is not right to talk about 
falling in love." 

" Not right ! " cried Claudia, " then what will 
you say to us ? why both of us are always in love ! 
it is so amusing ! but we haven't had time yet 
to begin again; we mean to however as soon as we're 
settled, so you may make up your mind to that. 
Now sing, there's a dear, sweet, interesting thing. 
Oh, here's ' Luce di quest' anima ! ' sing that 



72 CLARA FANE. 

I'm learning it, and must practise it for dear 
Centelli." 

Clara did as they desired, and they were in 
raptures at her voice and expression. 

" What a soul you have ! " cried Claudia ; 
" you will sing like an angel after a few lessons 
from Centelli. I had no voice at all when I 
began with him, and he says I shall do great 
things : you are almost perfect, but he will do 
you such good now a German Lied Oh, Sy- 
billa, she's going to sing our Wiedersehn ! isn't 
she quite charming?" 

Some hours passed away in this enthusiasm, 
to the amusement both of Clara and the young 
ladies. At length, she rose from the piano and 
asked some necessary question about their ar- 
rangements for the rest of the day. 

" Oh," said Claudia, " don't fidget yourself 
about anything ; Giulia is our housekeeper, knows 
our ways, and will do everything you want ; you 
have only to say what you require and she attends 
to it. Now we will shew you your room ; you 
shall see how we have arranged all as we thought 
you would like it ; we shall find now if your taste 
and ours agree. But, I tell you what, my dear 
Miss Fane," said Claudia, stopping suddenly, 
"you must attend to what I say about every- 



CLARA FANE. 73 

thing ; first, you shall not contribute a single 
article to my aunt's bazaar, because if you do so 
once your whole time may be taken up with her 
whims. She lays every one who is clever under 
contribution, and gets the whole of her bazaar 
furnished with presents to sell for the poor, which 
is all nonsense; she ought to buy them of the 
poor first, and then sell them to the rich : she 
gets the credit of being charitable a trap bon 
marche I have not patience with it !" 

" But she does so much herself?" hazarded 
Clara. 

" What a charming, innocent love you are ! " 
cried Claudia, laughing heartily, " how easily you 
are taken in ! One can see you have heard some 
of auntie's fine speeches. I suppose you believe 
that she has half educated us too ?" 
" Certainly," replied Clara. 
" Well," laughed Claudia, " you might be for- 
given for that, considering how little we know. 
But make yourself quite happy on that subject, 
she never had anything more to do with teaching 
us than she had in painting the great picture in 
her study, which she calls her ' Grand Inspiration/ 
It was all done by one of her victims we know 
all about it." 

Nothing could be more admirable than Clnra 
found everything in the house, and when she was 
VOL. n. E 



74 CLARA FANE. 

left to herself and looked round on the splendour 
and elegance about her, she could hardly believe 
her real position. 

"This is almost unnatural/' mused she; "it 
seems like a vision, and will perhaps fade away 
like that of Rose Cottage; while it lasts it is 
extremely seducing and agreeable, but I have 
learned to distrust what I take at first for 
pleasure. What a singular position these young 
girls are in ; older in their minds than in their 
years, they are confided to me, a mere stranger, 
and though I am supposed to have authority 
over them I see that I cannot do anything but by 
indulgence. They are spoilt children, no doubt 
self-willed and impetuous, but they are very fas- 
cinating and clever, and seem inclined to like me. 
I wonder what kind of man their father can be ; 
Lady Seymour is evidently a selfish, false, woman 
of fashion, who merely does what she calls one of 
her duties in as pleasant a way as she can." 

Clara soon found that her last surmise was alto- 
gether correct : Lady Seymour used Mr. LuttrePs 
horses and carriages as if they had been her's, for 
her visits and her drives. She drove often down 
to Fulham to see the young girls and stayed some 
hours, occasionally taking them out; but Clara 
seldom went with them, except walking, which 
they did every morning, and they had a pony 



CLARA FANE. 75 

carriage at their command : they were not fond of 
going with their aunt, and greatly preferred their 
walks with her. Sometimes the two young ladies 
rode out with an old groom, who had lived long 
in the family, and who seemed to have some con- 
trol over them. The butler was also an old man, 
and seemed very fond of both ; they teazed and 
coaxed him by turns, but he was firm in asser- 
tions that he had their papa's orders for all he 
did. 

Giulia was an Italian, who had been their 
mother's maid, and pleased her less than the rest 
of the establishment, for her manners were pert 
and her air only just removed from impertinent. 
They had another maid, a young Frenchwoman, 
for themselves, called, by them, Fifine ; and the 
rest of the servants had been hired by Lady Sey- 
mour since their arrival. 

Mr. Luttrel had never made his appearance at 
the house, though Clara had been there some 
weeks ; but, she understood that the young ladies 
saw their father frequently when they drove to 
town with Lady Seymour, where they went with- 
out her. Still, it seemed to her strange that he 
never came, and she thought his absence some- 
times cast a gloom over Claudia, who talked a 
good deal of him and of their former days at 
Naples. 

E 2 



76 CLARA FANE. 

Her pupils were, on the whole, more tractable 
than she had anticipated, but she was obliged to 
adopt their tastes in the all she made them do, 
she found that they became ennuye at the least 
grave reading ; they were fond of poetry in any 
language and devoured romance. History dis- 
tressed them dreadfully, and they would close the 
book and beg Clara to tell them the story but 
not make them wade through anything so dry. 

"But, don't you know," said she, "that to 
arrive at a knowledge of things worth knowing, 
one must submit to the dullness of a beginning ?" 

" Yes," they would reply, " but when one 
knows all that nonsense about Greeks and Romans 
and kings and generals, what is one the better 
for it ? Imagine, how stupid to begin talking 
blue that way in society ! every one would go to 
sleep now, music and drawing and dancing and 
speaking languages, all that is charming, and one 
does not mind a little trouble for it ; but, do you 
really, now, believe that any human being cares 
whether there was ever a Caesar or an Alexander 
and as for all their weary Kings of France and 
England, I hate their very names and don't want 
to know anything about them no more than 
Sybilla, and I'm sure she doesn't." 

" Oh !" said that young lady, " when you two 
read that sort of thing, I never listen, but think 



CLARA FANE. 77 

of something else, as I used to do with Madame 
Tournemine. It is the only thing that ever re- 
minds me of that dreadful woman." 

Their chief object was music which they de- 
lighted in, and their singing master was their 
especial favourite ; but it was a continued labour 
to induce them to attend to more important 
studies. Nevertheless, they were full of affection, 
amiability and grace, and it was impossible not 
to be attached to them. They anticipated Clara's 
wishes, they waited on her, played to her, talked 
to her and seemed quite happy in her society. 

" How very odd," said Claudia, one day, "that 
we should like you so much. I thought all 
governesses were horrid creatures like Tournemiue, 
who was such a monster ! We are very unfortu- 
nate, dear Miss Fane," she added, a cloud coming 
over her bright countenance, " in having lost dear 
mamma, she was always ill and lying on the sofa, 
so we did not see her much because she could not 
bear the trouble of us, so that we were always 
with Madame, and she was so harsh and vulgar ! 
Papa was hardly ever with us either he used to 
be away somewhere are husbands always away 
like that ? I should not like my husband to go 
away. I should love him so much, only I don't 
want him to be quite like papa. Isn't papa 
naughty never to come to see us ? he won't be- 



78 CLARA FANE. 

lieve that you are charming either ; Lady Seymour 
has told him you are ugly and very cross, and he 
says he hates domestic affairs. I wish I could 
make him come, I am sure he would often be here 
if he knew you." 

But still the papa kept away, and Clara felt 
rather happy than otherwise that their summer 
lives were undisturbed. Lady Seymour's visits 
became much less frequent, and sometimes she 
would be a week or ten days without paying a 
visit. One day she arrived, apparently in high 
spirits, and announced to them that their papa 
intended to come soon to see them, and to let 
them give a party. Nothing could equal their 
ecstacies on this occasion, and they began instantly 
planning all sorts of entertainments. 

"You shall have a tent on the lawn/' said 
Lady Seymour, " and a band and there will be 
dancing and delights of all descriptions. And 
who do you think you will see ?" 

" Oh, tell us tell us, dear auntie," cried both 
at once. 

"A dear old friend of Italy/' replied Lady 
Seymour. 

"Who ! who !" cried Claudia. 

" It's Prince Cecco, who used to sing for us ?" 

" It's Carlo Cignani, who brought us the great 
grapes ?" 



CLARA FANE. 79 

" It's Mr. Clark, who painted us ?" 

" No no no," replied Lady Seymour ; " but 
how odd you should think of Clark he is in 
England." 

" Spectacles and all, and with his Hessians ?" 
laughed the girls. 

" Just as odd as ever," said the aunt ; " he is 
painting with me at this very time I am finishing 
my picture of the Flight." 

" Oh, let us come and see it," cried Sybilla, 
" and see dear old Clark again. Do you remember 
how we used to pelt him with sugar plums at the 
Carnival ? Does he play on the flute as well as 
ever ?" 

Clara stood amazed : were they really talking 
of Mr. Clark, the painter, whom she knew ? who 
was he who could he be ? how was he connected 
with the story of Celia Sawyer. 

" But it is not he I meant," said Lady Sey- 
mour, interrupting her reflections, "think of some 
one you liked very much indeed, who used to be 
so fond of you, ungrateful children." 

" No it can't be ! oh, Sybilla, it is it must 
be !" exclaimed Claudia, clapping her hands, 
"Sir Anselm Fairfax?" 

"No other," said Lady Seymour, who was 
instantly overwhelmed with kisses and questions. 



80 CLARA FANE. 

" Where is he when did he come ? where does 
he start from ?" 

" He has been in Scotland he is just arrived 
from thence, he is going to Vienna, he is coming 
to see you here before he goes." 

These communications were received with rap- 
ture, which was increased by their being invited 
to go the next day to town to meet their old, and 
apparently favoured, friend. 

Clara, accepting the invitation ^iven her to 
accompany them, thought this would be a good 
opportunity to see Maria Spicer, whom she had 
promised to visit at her first leisure. It was 
therefore agreed, that the young ladies should be 
set down at Lady Seymour's and the carriage 
take Clara on to Poland Street, where she could 
be left for an hour or two, and she then proposed 
returning to her pupils in Eaton Square hen 
it suited her to do so. 



CLARA FANE. 81 



CHAPTER VI. 

With all my heart I'll gossip at this feast. 

Comedy of Errors. 

"An," said Maria, as they proceeded on their way 
together on her return across the park towards 
Eaton Square, after Clara's visit to her old 
friend was over, "I am so happy to walk out 
with you; I so seldom do now since Celia 
ran away. She was very fond of walking in 
the park on a Sunday, when she was very 
smart and used to get so looked at always. 
William told me once he did not think it right 
for me, without we had a gentleman with us, so 
I left off going as he couldn't often come and he 
never liked Celia at all. I have heard she lives 
in great style now and drives a fine carriage. I 
wonder if she is married or not." 

Just at this moment, turning sharply round 
from Stanhope gate, a beautiful little equipage 
came in sight ; it was a low open carriage with 

3 



82 CLARA FANE. 

two small white ponies, and followed by a tiny 
groom on a third. Within sat a lady very showily 
dressed, enveloped in a scarlet satin cloak lined 
with white fur, although the day was warm. She 
wore a bonnet with feathers, very much off her 
face, showing a profusion of dark hair ; the colour 
on her cheek was evidently heightened by rouge, 
and her whole bearing was bold and daring. She 
was driving her ponies and had a rose-coloured 
parasol fixed in her whip. 

As she dashed past, her bold eyes fixed on 
Maria and Clara and, so far from withdrawing 
them, when she saw by the start of the former, 
that she was recognised, she stooped forward on 
her seat, kissed her hand and nodded several 
times. 

" Oh dear oh dear, it's Celia herself," ex- 
claimed Maria, turning pale. 

But Clara scarcely heard her, so much was she 
engrossed by a figure which, standing close to the 
rails opposite, was regarding the whole group. It 
was no other than Mr. Loftus, on whose counte 
nance contempt seemed mingled with surprise ; 
the exclamations of Maria caused Clara to turn 
her eyes from him for a moment, and when she 
looked again he was gone. 

"Well, that is extraordinary," said Maria, 
looking after her late friend whose flaunting fea- 



CLARA FANE. 83 

thers were still seen fluttering in the air, " she 
looked very bold I think, Miss Fane how can 
she be living ?" 

" She did not look respectable at all," said 
Clara. " I hope you did not bow to her." 

"I was so taken by surprise," said Maria, 
" that I think I nodded too ; but I am sure I 
never will again, she looks so improper." 

" Did you ever see Mr. Clark, who took her 
away ?" asked Clara. 

" Oh yes," replied Maria, " we often saw him 
pass the windows; he was a very odd looking 
man in spectacles, his hair was cut short on his 
forehead I think a wig and he wore Hessian 
boots with tassels; a very strange dress for a 
lover." 

"Very strange, indeed," sighed Clara, "and 
you are sure it was he she went off with ?" 

" So every one said, but yet he must be some 
great lord, or she couldn't be living so fine as she 
does," answered Maria. 

The friends parted at Hyde Park Corner. 
Maria, who was accustomed to walk alone, return- 
ing by Piccadilly, and Clara hurried as quickly 
as she could towards Eaton Square. She had 
never before been alone in the streets and though 
it was so short a distance, she felt timid and 
uncomfortable as she went on : she would not 



. 

84 CLARA FANE. 

ullow Maria to go all the way with her as she feared 
to fatigue her,butshe had assumed a boldness which 
she found she did not possess when they parted. 

" I must accustom myself to this sort of in- 
dependence at least/' thought she, " since in 
future, 1 can expect no guard but myself." 

She had already crossed from Apsley House to 
the Arch and was now attempting the always 
crowded crossing at the top of Grosvenor Place, 
which a throng of carts and carriages, horsemen and 
foot people made particular difficult ; and she was 
obliged to wait some time before she saw the way 
clear. Just as she had watched her distance and 
thought to reach the opposite side without trouble, 
some grooms from Tattersall's mounted on spirited 
horses came up, and in her haste to escape their 
splashing, she almost ran against a gentleman, 
who had planted himself exactly in her path as 
if to obstruct her way : she was springing forward 
when his arms arrested her and he almost lifted 
her to the pavement. 

" Good God ! what a lovely creature !" was his 
exclamation, as he released her. 

Clara was extremely confused and a good deal 
frightened, and to his question of was she hurt ? 
returned no answer, for she was aware that he had 
stood in her way on purpose and also that his 
manner was by no means respectful. 



CLARA PANE. 85 

" Let me give you my arm, my angel/' said 
the stranger, " don't blush and look angry. You 
shouldn't be walking alone it isn't safe, with 
such little feet as that, I wonder you can stand 
on them." 

Clara recovered herself immediately, and with 
a haughty manner begged he would allow her to 
pass on as she required no assistance. 

" I cannot part with you, belle cruette"- per- 
sisted the gentleman, "I owe you an apology for 
having nearly caused you to fall ; but my arms 
were ready to receive you you can't deny that." 

As he spoke, he continued to walk by her side 
to her great annoyance, but restored to herself by 
rising indignation and ashamed of her former 
fears, she went rapidly on with a firm step. 

" Upon my soul," continued he, " I am horri- 
fied I see I have offended you. It was an 
involuntary crime yourself the cause. Speak 
one word and tell me I am forgiven." 

ec Sir," at length said Clara, stopping and 
glancing at him with all the severity she could 
throw into her countenance, " leave me instantly, 
you disgrace yourself to no purpose." 

The gentleman looked at her a moment, took 
off his hat with a graceful action, made her a pro- 
found bow and turning on his heel left her to 
pursue her way unmolested. 



86 CLARA FANE. 

Clara had recovered her self-possession by the 
time she had reached Eaton Square, but she in- 
wardly resolved not to venture another time to 
take a solitary walk, even for so short a distance. 
She found her pupils in ecstacies at the prospect 
of the approaching fete at Fulham. 

" Papa," said Claudia, " gives a breakfast and 
borrows our house is'nt that grand? we lend ithirn 
that makes us quite women. And we are to be 
guests and Lady Seymour receives every one, and 
dear Sir Anselm is sure to come, oh, how he will 
like you ! and then Papa will see you, because 
though he said at first you need not be interrupted 
and could stay in your own rooms if you thought 
it would put you out we are determined you 
shall be there all the time. It will be such fun : 
Papa is so obstinate and will have it that you are 
a fright ; he says auntie told him so. But dear 
Miss Fane, do go with us into Lady Seymour's 
painting room she has just turned us out because 
she said we only interrupted Mr. Clark, who is 
there helping her ; but we want you to see him." 

"Did he say he knew me?" asked Clara, 
starting and in a hesitating voice. 

" No, to be sure not, how should he," was the 
laughing reply ; " he is such a quiz, you must not 
laugh at him though if you can help it, for he is 
a good creature." 



CLARA FANE. 87 

" I would rather not go in," said Clara ; and 
beg you will not insist on it. Lady Seymour will 
prefer not being interrupted." 

" Well then, we will just run in," said Clau- 
dia : " and say good bye to her and return to you 
to drive home." 

In a few moments Clara heard their merry 
voices in an opposite room and presently a door 
opened and one too familiar to her, exclaimed, 

"Good bye, ladies good bye I beg to be 
excused the liberty." 

The phrase and the voice were certainly be- 
longing to Mr. Clark and she could entertain no 
further doubt of his identity. It was singular, 
she had beheld Mr. Loftus for an instant only 
not an hour previously and now he was again in 
his disguise the same disguise he had assumed 
to entice away the unfortunate Celia. She wearied 
herself with conjectures all the way home to 
Fulham while her lively pupils were chattering 
to each other on the subject of the proposed party 
which was to take place in a few days. 

The day of the fete at length came and with 
it a crowd of carriages from London and its envi- 
rons, filled with all the fashionables that could 
be collected at the end of a season. The young 
ladies were so wild with delight that they ran 
from one place to another showing Lady Seymour 



88 CLARA PANE. 

all that had been prepared so that Clara was able 
to conceal herself in her own room for a time 
until they should discover her absence. 

Mr. Luttrel had not yet made his appearance 
and his daughters were enjoying the admiration 
and enthusiasm their youthful beauty created 
amongst the guests, when their musical screams 
told their governess their vicinity, as she watched 
for them through her rose covered window, 
pleased to observe their gaiety though depressed 
herself. 

Presently a bouquet thrown up to her drew 
her attention to a group below ; she looked out 
and saw both girls holding the arm of a gentleman 
whose face was at that moment turned from her, 
but whose figure she imagined she had before 
seen. 

" Come down come down, you naughty girl ! " 
cried Claudia; "we are telling Sir Anselm 
Fairfax all about you and he says he knows you 
very well. What a shame not to tell us you were 
old acquaintances." 

The gentleman in question turned round and 
Clara beheld the host of Rose Cottage. 

She descended immediately by a little private 
staircase which led from her room to the garden 
and the recognition took place. 

" My fair friend, found and lost ! " exclaimed 



CLARA FANE. 89 

Sir Anselm, taking her hand kindly; "how happy 
I am to meet you, we were sure to behold each 
other again ; the sympathy was too strong to be 
resisted which led me to a spot which you inhabit. 
Promise me that, thus renewed, our friendship 
shall not so soon vanish as its first spark did 
before." 

" Recollect Sir Anselm," said Clara, smiling, 
" that I did not desert you. My young friends 
here have named you very often, but as your 
mortal name never reached me in your mysterious 
fairy bower, I had no idea their enthusiasm 
pointed towards you." 

" I was at that time Grand Master of Passive 
Joy, according to Loftus," said Sir Anselm, 
laughing ; " our meeting was a strange one and 
oddly ended. My sister in law was always pre- 
paring surprises for me, and that in which you 
performed a part was the most pleasing I ever 
experienced." 

" Yet you abandoned an acquaintance you 
profess to have liked even at its commencement," 
said Clara ; " it was your own act, neither Mrs. 
Fowler nor I were averse to continue it. 

" Aye, my fair arguer," returned Sir Anselm ; 
" that is one of my secrets. Whenever anything 
pleases you intensely fly from it while it is yet 
blooming, if you wait too long it withers in your 



90 CLARA PANE. 

hand and you see its leaves scatter. I abandoned 
your society at the instant it had charmed me in 
order to preserve one pleasurable recollection." 

" I shall now destroy it then ! " said Clara. 

" You now renew it," returned he. " I see 
you alone unencumbered by anything different 
from yourself I shall hear you speak and sing 
and act without referring to another : you are a 
new being in a new world for me." 

" Yet I regret the old one/' said Clara, sigh- 
ing. " I am indeed alone." 

" Do you regret already ?" asked Sir Anselm ; 
"is there then no age free from regret and is 
there no possibility of judging for another ?" 

" I believe there is no period without regret," 
said Clara ; " even my dear little pupils sigh 
because their father is not oftener with them." 

Sir Anselm looked benevolently at her and 
after a pause said 

" You do not regret his absence too ?" 

Clara smiled as she replied that she had never 
seen him yet. 

"He will be here directly," returned Sir 
Anselm. " I passed him on the road. Do you 
know that I am going to take his children abroad 
with me, and you too." 

Clara expressed extreme astonishment at this 



. CLARA FANE. 91 

arrangement of which she believed neither of her 
pupils had the least idea. 

" Yes/' said he ; " Luttrel is obliged to stay a 
little longer here on business and he wishes them 
to return to Como, where he has a villa and to 
establish his children there. Lady Seymour is 
glad to be of the party. I take charge of you 
and the young ladies and they are to go my route, 
and be joined by Luttrel when his inclination 
serves. Does this scheme please you ?" 

" Extremely/' cried Clara ; but it as much 
surprises me, for I should have thought you 
would have fled from the trouble." 

"No/' replied Sir Anselm; "it is a new 
species of enjoyment. Look at those beautiful 
wild creatures ! I have known them almost from 
their infancy and they interest me extremely. 
I shall like to watch the seeds developing them- 
selves till they burst forth into flowers/' 



92 CLARA FANE. 



CHAPTER VII. 

How shall we beguile 

The lazy time if not with some delight. 

Midsummer Night's Dream. 

THE young ladies who had bounded away and 
left Sir Anselm and Clara talking now re-appeared. 

" Oh, Sir Anselm/' they exclaimed, " Papa is 
come ! do take Miss Fane with you and speak to 
him. We want him to see her first without us 
for he fancies our governess is some dreadfu 
fright so don't tell her name at first till he gets 
acquainted with her. Now go." 

So saying they darted off again, like butter- 
flies to a fresh flower and Sir Anselm, giving Clara 
his arm led her towards the other side of the 
lawn where a group was being welcomed or was 
rather welcoming the host. But Sir Anselm 
turned suddenly away down an opposite avenue. 



CLARA FANE. 93 

"Let us," said he, leading Clara to a seat 
beneath a large acacia, " sit here till those 
noisy welcomers are past : when he comes near it 
will be time enough to interrupt him. All noise 
and glare and perturbation, all disturbativeness 
are enemies to enjoyment and should be avoided. 
They are about to dance the band has struck up 
we are happily far enough off to gain the me- 
lody only, without the clash and noise of instru- 
ments we can see the dances too and from 
hence they are more graceful than closer. There 
are few things which do not suffer by too close 
contact : angelic nature alone draws us near and 
charms us by its vicinity." 

" There is something very soothing and pleas- 
ing," said Clara, entering into his vein of thought 
as she felt herself impelled to do, now, as at their 
first interview, "in watching waving leaves and 
boughs and it is the same with human figures 
when they have grace and follow the directions of 
harmony." 

"A great philosopher said," observed Sir 
Anselm, " that what music was to the mind, 
dancing, properly so called, was to the body, 
because that exercise renders the body flex- 
ible and graceful, as melody forms and improves 
the spirit and draws forth its beauty and its 
power. Dancing has a poetry which to some 






Z 



94 CLARA FANE. 

forms is natural, cadenced movement throws grace 
and beauty over the figure and developes its pro- 
portions ; it may be considered the link between 
the mind and body uniting them harmoniously." 

"No awkward or ugly person then should 
dance ?" said Clara, smiling, as she pointed out 
certain bad dancers. 

" Certainly not," exclaimed Sir Anselm ; " let 
us turn away from those clumsy men who are 
dragging awkward females in rude, angular direc- 
tions it is like an execution ! rest your eyes on 
those lovely forms Claudia and Sybilla are 
moving round at this moment, and a train of the 
youngest and fairest are following them that is 
real dancing, number and harmony, poetry and 
philosophy combined one married to another 1" 

" Like the spirits in Faust's vision/' said 
Clara. 

"Yes," replied Sir Anslem with animation, 
repeating the lines to which she alluded 

" Wie alles sich zum Ganzeii webt 
Eins in dem andern wirkt und lebt ! 
Wie Himmelskrafte auf imd nieder steigen, 
Und sich die goldnen Ebner reicbeu ! 
Mit segenduftenden Schwingen 
Vom Himmel durch die Erde drhigeii, 
Hannouisch all' das All durcbklingen ! 

There is a true picture of harmony and graceful 
union, such as seldom have the words of a poet 



CLARA FANE. 95 

set before the eyes and breathed into the ears of 
man ! 

" There is in music," continued he, resuming 
his evidently favourite theme, " two distinct quali- 
ties : one enervates, one exalts ; one tickles the 
senses, one belongs to the soul. The same arts, 
according to the use made of them, render both the 
mind and the body subject to virtue or to vice : danc- 
ing, as well as music and painting, possesses that 
power. The virgins of Lacedemomum, as well as the 
syrens of Lesbos were taught dances, but with an ob- 
ject far different the one from the other. And 
poetry, too, has long been felt to act in the same 
way. Happy the bard whose lyre has never been 
tuned but to the measure sacred to the virtuous 
muses ! Philosophy, itself, has two branches : one 
pure and holy, one false and dangerous." 

" The awkward dancers seem the most perse- 
vering," cried Clara ; " see, they continue when 
the sylphs have ceased." 

" A lawgiver of yore," said Sir Anselm, " de- 
creed that ill-formed children should be thrown 
into a gulf, and my master himself," he added, 
gaily, "in his ideal republic, sentenced the deformed 
to destruction. One can't help being almost wicked 
enough to wish sometimes that it were so." 

" Yet how much genius, as well as goodness, 
sometimes resides in a rugged or ill-shaped 



96 CLARA FANE. 

frame," said Clara; "poets, painters, composers, 
have been deformed, yet they have shown how 
free and independent were their minds of outward 
show." 

" They are exceptions/' said Sir Anselm, " it 
is a tour de force of Nature, to show that she can 
triumph over difficulties apparently insuperable." 

At this moment a voice near them exclaimed : 

" How charming is divine philosophy ; 
Not harsh and crabbed as dull fools suppose !" 

"Ah, Luttrel !" said Sir Anselm, turning 
round, " you are come at last to the spot of my 
retreat with my pupil. From hence we have been 
watching the gambols 

' Apart, on a hill retired. 5 " 

" Who would philosophize in such a company 
but you, Sir Anselm ?" said the speaker, looking 
at Clara, who, raising her eyes, at the instant 
recognised the gentleman who had so much 
annoyed her in Grosvenor Place. She blushed 
deeply, and could scarcely repress a frown. Mr. 
Luttrel looked confused, but recovering himself 
instantly, said with much ease 

" How fortunate that I saved you from being 
run over the other day. Anselm, imagine ! but 
for me your fair philosopher, who walks about 
alone studying men and worlds, would not have 



CLARA FANE. 97 

been this day sitting in these shades " listening to 
your sweet piping." 

Clara blushed again, but bowed slightly as 
she acknowledged his apology. 

" You must dance with me to prove that you 
received no injury/' said Mr. Luttrel, taking her 
hand, with a beseeching air. " Sir Anselm, com- 
mand your pupil not to refuse me ; she looks as if 
she intended it." 

Clara drew back and begged to be excused, 
when at that moment Claudia and Sybilla burst 
forth from a thicket, and, seizing her hands and 
those of their father, whirled them along to the 
lawn. Clara found it now impossible to resist longer 
as the music had already begun for quadrilles, and 
Mr. Luttrel' s party was formed. 

" Can you ever forgive my impertinence," 
whispered Mr. Luttrel, as they met in the dance, 
" strangers as we were then and are still, will you 
condemn me without remorse ? Who are you, 
beautiful vision ?" 

A change in the figure prevented the necessity 
of Clara's reply, and when the quadrille was over 
the two girls came flying up to their papa, laugh- 
ing and clinging to him. 

11 Now, now," cried Claudia, " do you think 
Miss Fane a fright aud a blue, and are you terri- 
fied at her ?" 

VOL. II. P 



98 CLARA FANE. 

" Very much, indeed," exclaimed Mr. Luttrel, 
as he bowed to Clara. 

" It isn't true, you foolish boy!" cried Claudia, 
" now papa's going to pretend to be timid ; don't 
believe him, Miss Fane ; he thinks you charming ; 
he is quite in love with you, I know, as we are." 

The admiring looks of Mr. Luttrel did not 
seem to contradict the words of his daughters, and 
Clara saw, with little satisfaction, that the im- 
pression she had made on him was favourable. 

" I rendered an involuntary service then the 
other day/' said he, " to one to whom I am under 
an obligation for taking care of these unruly 
children. How do you manage them, Miss Fane ? 
I have never been able to do so." 

" Because you don't try," said Claudia ; " you 
never come near us." 

" I will come in future, depend upon it," said 
Mr. Luttrel with meaning, as he left the spot, 
carried off by the lively pair, and Clara involun- 
tarily retraced her steps to the tree where she had 
left Sir Anselm ; without being able to account 
for it, she felt as if his presence was a sort of pro- 
tection to her, and the sight of him so unexpect- 
edly that day had inspired her with a confidence 
which the meeting with Mr. Luttrel was not 
likely to increase. 

She remained silent when she took her seat 



CLARA FANE 99 

near him, and he went on speaking as if their 
conversation had only just been interrupted. 

" I have followed you in the dance," said he, 
" which you seemed to have engaged in on pur- 
pose to prove that you thoroughly understood my 
remarks on the subject. You dance more grace- 
fully than any one here where did you learn 
your accomplishments ?" 

" It would be difficult to explain how I ac- 
quired the little I know/' said Clara ; " my educa- 
tion has been a singular one and I often fear that, 
knowing few rules, I am unfitted to teach, for I 
have been taught almost by chance, but I had I 
suppose a natural facility which took advantage 
of rapid opportunities." 

"Like the architecture of the Parthenon," 
said Sir Anselm, half musing, "which pedants 
have sometimes objected to because the Doric 
order prevails in its beautiful whole, and that 
order they have allowed themselves to fancy 
accords not with received proportions. Harmony 
does not consist in exact sub-divisions, and as the 
temple of Minerva will be ever a model of the 
beautiful in art in spite of its deviation from the 
usages of architects, so a mind forming itself into 
order by its natural and inherent qualities, will 
sometimes produce as wonderful results as the 
marvellous work of Phidias. 

F 2 



100 CLARA FANE. 

"You are an orphan?" added Sir Anselm, 
kindly, in a low voice. 

Clara looked down, as she answered in the 
affirmative. 

" Obliged," said Sir Anselm, half aloud and 
musing, " to exert the powers within because 
unhelped : she will do the same to guard herself 
she is independant of assistance. 

" Does it give you pleasure to go abroad I 
mean to travel ?" said he, after a pause. 

"It is a sort of passion with me," answered 
Clara, " but I have only dreamt of it, not having 
yet been able to gratify the longing I have." 

"You shall go through Germany to Italy," 
said he, " it will interest me as much as it can 
you to observe the effect these scenes Avill produce 
on you and your younger companions. How old 
are you ?" 

" Eighteen," answered Clara. 

Sir Anselm sighed very deeply and repeated 
" Eighteen years ! it is a long time !" and relapsed 
into silence. 

" Shall I sing to you as I did before ?" said 
Clara, distressed to observe a gloom stealing over 
him, and wishing to dissipate it. 

" I can fetch a guitar if you like and sing 
here, or if you will walk to the house with me we 
shall find no intruders in the music room and 



CLARA FANE. 101 

the tones of the band will not disturb you 
there." 

" Yes/' said Sir Anselm, rising, " take me to 
some spot where I can hear her voice where I 
can fancy I still listen to her." 

Clara did not make any reply to what he said, 
but was struck to observe that he seemed engrossed 
by some powerful recollection which appeared to 
abstract him from the present and carry him back 
to the past. 

" Sing," he said, when she had seated herself 
at the piano, " something that you have composed 
yourself; have you nothing with your own words 
and music too ?" 

Clara hesitatingly replied, that she feared her 
own compositions would sound poorly ; but he 
insisted, and as she found he really wished it she 
placed herself at the pianoforte and, collecting 
her thoughts, after striking a few chords, sung 
what she thought would suit the pensive tone of 
his mind at the moment. 

Oh, nightingale ! sing not again 

Thy voice is chang'd, untrue thy tone, 
The spell that linger* d in thy strain, 

With all its gentle calm is gone. 
1 would not from the mem'ry part 

Of notes that soothed my soul of yore, 
I would "not teaeh this failing heart, 

That, even thou, canst charm no more ! 



102 CLARA FANE. 

Thy voice was sweet when ev'ry bough, 

Was trembling in the chilling spring, 
The time of roses greets thee now, 

And thou hast all forgot to sing ! 
Ah, cease ! nor strive to wake a lay, 

Whose sounds can only speak of pain, 
That tells how all things dear decay 

Oh, nightingale ! sing not again ! 

Clara had subdued her voice, which was a soft 
contralto, the most pathetic of all tones, as much 
as possible, wishing that it should be heard only 
by Sir Anselm. He had remained listening to 
the thrilling sweetness of her song with his head 
leaning on his hand in absorbed attention, and 
appeared to be soothed by the strain she had 
chosen. When she had finished he said 

" You are a being all gentleness and refine- 
ment, but you scarcely belong to the modern 
world ; you should have been born some years 
before the present time, when taste and sentiment 
were not treated with the scorn which is their 
portion now. 

" In literature, broad coarse caricature alone 
delights the reader, and if a few traits of refined 
feeling, which genius can seldom entirely part 
from, are introduced by a popular author for his 
own relief perhaps, those are looked upon as the 
blemishes of his work in poetry, mediocrity is 
preferred above high merit, tinsel is chosen instead 



CLARA FANE. 103 

of gold riotous noise in music, startling the 
mind rather than touching it with melody. This 
is an inharmonious age and you have no business 
in it it is not your sphere." 

" I fear," said Clara, gaily, " I have no remedy 
but to remain in the sphere, however uncongenial, 
in which my lot is cast. The present must con- 
tent me since the past is unfelt. Do you not 
think, however, that this reign of coarseness and 
materialism is but transient. Mind surely must 
triumph over matter after a very short struggle." 

" It has frequently been so," replied Sir An- 
selm, " but it requires a few great spirits to change 
the course of these overwhelming streams of mat- 
ter-of-fact and exaggeration, which are contending 
against all that refines and exalts our nature. 
Heaven knows, we require exalting rather than 
debasing, but the aim of all now seems to be to 
degrade the world as much as possible and keep 
the chained eaglet on the ground rather than let 
it take its course towards the sun. The grandest 
themes now chosen for composition, in poetry and 
romance, are furnished by the criminal courts 
and the reports of police offices Cupid is, indeed, 
turned a link boy and Apollo a street sweeper; 
and the excuse given for these revolting subjects 
is, that they are true : as if all vice and crime did 
not spring from our unhappy natures ! 



104 CLARA FANE. 

"The noble aim of literature should be to 
create examples worthy to be followed; not to 
content itself with a detail of errors and crime 
too well known and too often copied, by perpetu- 
ating the memory of which, in clothing them 
with the glowing drapery of fiction, they take a 
dangerous hold on the imagination and the heart, 
and destroy the horror which should belong to 
them. 

" Manners, morals, conduct and conversation, 
partake of this dangerous, downward tendency, 
which threatens to overturn all that is pure and 
holy and good and true, and to substitute anarchy 
and misrule in social life. There is no crime 
now, however hideous, confined to the ignorant 
classes ; the highest and the lowest meet on equal 
ground and are equally calculated to afford sub- 
jects for a popular epic or romance." 

"How grave you are talking, dear Sir An- 
selm," exclaimed a voice, which at once dispersed 
the gloom into which the speaker was falling, 
" you are to bring Miss Fane into the tent to 
take some refreshments papa commands and so 
do I." 

So saying, Claudia clasped a hand of Sir 
Anselm and Clara's, and led them away in 
triumph. 



CLARA FANE. 105 

Clara found some difficulty in winning her 
pupils back to anything like application for some 
days after the fete which they had so much 
enjoyed. They were delighted with the prospect 
of going abroad soon, and were loud in their 
praises of Sir Anselm, whom they seemed to 
regard much more like a father than they did 
their' own. It was a relief to Clara that the 
latter had not kept his word with his children and 
still continued to absent himself; this relief was 
not, however, destined to last long, for Mr. Luttrel, 
before the end of the week, rode down to Fulham 
to the infinite joy of his daughters. 

They were walking with Clara' in the garden 
when he arrived and came there to meet them. 
There was something in his air and manner par- 
ticularly distasteful to their governess, however 
welcome he might be to the two affectionate girls 
whom he treated merely as play things. His bold 
and fixed gaze, which would not shrink from the 
coldness she assumed, distressed and annoyed 
Clara, the more so, as she felt herself, to a certain 
degree, compelled to endure and not appear to 
observe its meaning. 

He walked and played a little while with the 
children and then made an excuse to send them 
away. Clara was following when she saw that 



F s 



106 CLARA FANE. 

they \vere leaving her, but Mr. Luttrel detained 
her. 

" Miss Fane," he began, " I hope you have 
no objection to my plan of letting the chil- 
dren travel. Lady Seymour goes with you and 
Sir Anselm Fairfax consents to be teased by 
their childish vagaries. I ain sorry now that I am 
forced to stay behind but I shall join you all at 
Como as soon as possible. How grateful I am 
to their judicious aunt for having selected so 
careful and prudent a protectress for them as you 
appear to be ! She did not describe you quite 
correctly to me, or on my honour I should have 
been apt to fear such grace and beauty too 
attractive/' 

" I hope to attract the attention of your 
daughters, Sir/' replied Clara gravely, "and to 
fulfil my duty to so interesting a charge. Lady 
Seymour informed me that she was the only 
person to whom I was to apply for directions 
respecting my pupils, but if you, their father, 
desire to give me any, I am ready to hear them." 

"Your care of them, your indulgence and 
kindness," said he, " give me a charming notion 
of your character. I hope the papa will not 
incur all your severity, for I assure you except you 
think admiration of all that is exquisite and beau- 



CLARA FANE. 107 

tiful a crime, he does not deserve that you should 
look so very gravely upon him." 

Clara remained silent without changing the 
expression of her countenance. 

" My good auntie/' said he, still walking by 
her side as she advanced towards the house, " is 
aware how susceptible I am to beauty and grace 
and showed herself a wise woman in deceiving me 
so completely as she has done. I can forgive her 
cheerfully. Pray let us be good friends Miss 
Fane, I protest I am getting tired of this crossness. 
Only tell me that you will not look upon me as a 
savage, as you seem to do at this moment, and I 
will be a pattern of papas and preux chevaliers" 

"Mr. Luttrel," said Clara, "you will, of 
course, reflect on the propriety of acting towards 
your daughter's governess with respect and you 
cannot but be aware that compliments and pro- 
fessed admiration are quite out of the question 
and very unsuitable to our relative positions. I 
am quite ready and, indeed, pleased at the idea of 
accompanying my pupils abroad, I am very grate- 
ful for the considerate kindness which has made 
my situation here more like that of a distinguished 
guest than a dependant and I trust you will per- 
mit me to continue to feel as content and as 
satisfied as I have hitherto done. The young 
ladies are already too. little accustomed to 



108 CLARA FANE. 

restraint, and interruption is to be avoided as 
much as possible. May I therefore beg, for their 
sakes, that you will not visit them here, but will 
see them always in town under the roof of their 
aunt. I beg your pardon for this dictation but 
I am obliged to tell you that I must urge it, unless 
you please to recollect that I require you to permit 
me to remain unnoticed in your house." 

She curtsied as she spoke and left Mr. Luttrel 
standing in some surprise at a firmness and gravity 
he had by no means anticipated. 

" She is a strange animal," mused he, " of 
course this is all assumed, it will go off when she 
sees her time ; it is amusing enough after all and 
rather more piquant than the ordinary run of 
things. I begin to be heartily sick of my last 
adventure and, as this promises me more difficulty, 
I shall pursue it with more spirit. Meantime, I 
see a softer strain is required she is sentimental 
and tant soitpeu heroic. I must fall a little into 
' Ercles* vein ' to please her and will assume hu- 
mility. It is somewhat comic if London is not 
propitious to me, Como and its skies will befriend 
me more. Allans, courage ; sans doute c'est une 
femme quelconque comme les autres" 

With this comfortable reflection, Mr. Luttrel 
dreAv his fingers through his beautiful dark ring- 
lets whistled a lively tune and betook himself to 



CLARA FANE. 109 

the stable, mounted his horse and departed sans 
adieu. 



" What an extraordinary thing it is," said 
Claudia to her governess one day, after returning 
from London, where they had been taken by 
Lady Seymour ; " papa says he does not remember 
the colour of your eyes and asked Sybilla if you 
were not short and fat ! I told him he must be 
blind, and auntie Seymour said he was a hypocrite. 
I wonder why she said so, I don't like to hear 
papa called names and I don't like auntie for it. 
Papa only laughed and said he was not, which I 
am sure is true. Do you think he is ? dear little 
governess ! I am sure you love him now, don't 
you? isn't he handsome and nice? just like 
you." 

" You are a good, affectionate, little darling," 
said Clara, evading the question, " and very fond 
of dear papa." 

" Dear papa ! oh, oh ! you call him dear papa, 
too ! I knew you would like him," exclaimed 
Claudia, claping her hands. "I'll tell him you 
called him ' dear papa, 3 and then he will like you 
better than he does now. I can't think what he 
says you are saurage for I am sure you are quite 
the reverse." 

'My dear Claudia," said Clara, "listen to 



110 CLARA FANE. 

me. You are old enough to understand many 
things, and I can talk to you as if you were a 
woman grown. Recollect that I am only the 
governess, and you must not talk about me to 
papa at all, it is not right. I am no more to papa 
than your maid Fifine is, and you do not talk to 
him of her ; he will not like it and as he does not 
like me, it will annoy him if you speak to him 
on the subject of what we do here gentlemen 
have other things to think of than young ladies' 
occupations. So, please, do not name me, when 
you see him, at all." 

" Very well, I won't then if I can help it," 
said Claudia, " but shall I tell you what I think ? 
Papa likes you better than he pretends ; he asked 
me a good deal about you, where you came from, 
who you were and whether you ever asked about 
him. Now, if he did not care would he have 
taken the trouble to try and find out all these 
things ? perhaps that was the reason why auntie 
called him a hypocrite. I won't forgive her for it 
though." 

" Let us talk of something else now," said 
Clara, " we had better think of the history and 
traditions of the places we shall see abroad will 
you read something with me that will teach us to 
appreciate them more ? You have been abroad 
and know more than 1 do of foreign names, there- 



CLARA FANE. Ill 

fore I shall look to you for a great deal of infor- 
mation. You are growing very old now, and must 
be steady to set a good example to Sybilla." 

" Oh \" exclaimed Claudia, " I suppose we 
shall be obliged to begin that weary German 
again that we may be able to talk as we go on. 
I hate anything but Italian, there is no music in 
that horrid, cracking, spluttering and drawling 
it is odd how well it goes to music though just 
listen I declare, delicious Italian is hardly better 
than it is sometimes !" 

According to her wont, whenever any graver 
study threatened her, she flew to the piano and 
began singing and playing till she quite forgot all 
but the harmony she was drawing forth. 

Clara looked at her with admiration. 

" How beautiful and innocent these creatures 
are/' mused she, " what a contrast to their 
worldly and apparently indifferent father. What 
will be their fate ! with so much sensibility and 
feeling, which can meet with no support from 
him, they will not be understood, will be neglected 
perhaps, and as years advance see their desolate 
position too clearly and learn to regret and grieve. 
This is their spring : long be it ere their winter 
arrives \" 



112 CLARA FANE. 



CHAPTER VIII. 

If sight and shape be true, 
Why then, my love, adieu ! 

As yon like it. 

MRS. SPICER was sitting at her little table, busied 
with sundry small bits of paper which she occa- 
sionally took from her drawers; some of these 
documents were bills connected with the expenses 
of her lodgers, but some were of a more exalted 
description ; for her literary effusions were usually 
placed side by side with these memoranda. Some- 
times she took up one and sometimes the other, 
and her soliloquy was inspired by either, as they 
attracted her attention : so that, 'her musings 
were somewhat variegated in style. 

"Three and sixpence, beer and butter 
Frewen ; he's in a fine humour to-day as usual, 
and there'll be no end to ringing of the bell. 

' Little Cupid one day ' 
I never finished that the Muses hasn't visited 



CLARA FANE. 113 

me lately I began it when Celia ran away 
let me see. 



' Little Cupid one day, tired of roaming, 
His wings and his bow were a pluming.' 



I shall make something pretty of that. 

" Oh, sixpence parcel delivery, against Grim- 
ford I'll take, care he don't forget that ; some- 
thing sent him from them nieces of his, hypocrites ! 
all to get him to name them in his will to the 
harm of his natural god-daughter. 

" Bless my heart, a double knock ! let's see 
who that is perhaps for the lodgings up stairs ; 
very bad luck of late oh, a man in spectacles, 
looking about he'll very likely do, don't seem 
one come for curiosity. I'll open the door and 
speak to him myself." 

Mrs. Spicer said the last words, after having 
reconnoitered the new arrival over the blinds, and 
satisfied herself as to his appearance, which was a 
little remarkable. 

He was a slight made man with red whiskers, 
rather tall, wearing Hessian boots with tassels, 
full grey trowsers, a coat that hung loosely about 
him, and wearing a pair of large green spectacles. 

Maria, who had seen him cross the street, at 
that moment ran into the room, crying out 



114 CLARA FANE. 

" La, ma' ! there's that Mr. Clark knocking 
here, what can he want ? perhaps we shall hear 
something about Celia." 

" Oh, oh/' said her mother, " is it him ? well, 
I'll let him in and see what I can get out of 
him." 

" Can't you hear the door ?" growled a voice 
from the inner chamber, "they've knocked twice." 

" Well, if they have, I suppose they can wait," 
replied Mrs. Spicer, sharply, as the visitor's second 
knock ended and she leisurely proceeded to the 
door. 

The person, already described then entered, 
having been assured, in answer to his enquiry, 
that Mrs. Spicer had lodgings that would exactly 
suit him. 

" Oh," exclaimed he, looking round, " artist 
here already fine elevations ! architectural gems 
hey ? mine are not in that line, though I deal in 
the like ware I beg to be excused for saying so. 
I want a good room with a good light. Oh, 
second floor, well, the higher the better open 
part of the street jour a gauche do very well 
when can I come in ? want to begin a picture 
no time to lose strike a bargain short and 
sweet, hey? name Clark; studied at Rome. 
Well known in town." 

"And in Poland Street too, I think," said 



CLARA FANE. 115 

Mrs. Spicer, looking very knowing ; " you have 
been painting in this neighbourhood, I think 
haven't I seen you sometimes going to Mr. 
Sawyer's ?" 

" Patron's tailor portrait of a lady fine wo- 
man good contour rich colours," was the reply. 

"And where is Miss Sawyer now ?" said Mrs. 
Spicer, in an insinuating tone. 

" Portrait finished nothing more to do with 
it," returned the painter ; " commission ended 
patron satisfied lady pleased/' 

" Did you paint her for her father ?" asked 
Mrs. Spicer, still persisting. 

" Small portrait pocket size oil nothing 
to me who for delivered to patron. Mind my 
own business recommend all to do the same 
beg to be excused for saying so. No time for 
idling come again to-morrow send in goods 
and chattels begin work full of it. Good 
morning." 

So saying Mr. Clark, with the same prompt- 
ness as he had conversed, made for the door, 
bowed, shut it himself, and disappeared. 

" There's not much to be got out of him !" 
exclaimed Mrs. Spicer; "it's an odd thing: old 
Sawyer must have known of the picture, as the 
artist went there. It's just like him ; he always 
encouraged that girl in her folly, for he used to 



116 CLARA PANE, 

boast that she'd marry a lord, and this is what 
comes of it ; he's rightly served/' 

" Oh ! ma," said Maria, with tears in her 
eyes, " he seems so unhappy now, poor man, that 
one can't bear to reproach him. I dare say he's 
sorry enough that he let her go out so much and 
do just as she liked. I always thought the gen- 
tleman came disguised, but it was a real painter 
after all. How strange he should come here." 

" Oh, no," said her mother, " he saw the bill 
of course, and the situation struck him as the 
best in London, and so it is, and yet my rooms 
is'nt let half the year; I'm sure I don't know 
how I'm to get on at this rate." 

She resumed her seat and her inspection of 
her papers however with a more satisfied air, and 
inspired by this sudden piece of, what she con- 
sidered, good luck, began again to add a stanza to 
her poem of " Little Cupid," but failed in satis- 
fying herself. 

" I don't know it happens," said she, " but I 
ciannot get on with ' Little Cupid.' I'll finish 
that song I wrote the first verse of, aud Celia was 
to set to music. My songs are all moral, and it's 
a pity she did not take to some of them instead 
of the high-flown airs she has been taught since. 
Let me see, it began 

' I rebuffed his caresses, I .' " 



CLARA FANE. 117 

An impatient ringing of the drawing-room 
bell, however, disturbed her, and she was forced 
to attend to the summons of Mr. Frewen, who 
angrily inquired what that horrid knocking had 
been about. "When he understood that it was the 
harbinger of a new lodger he broke forth into 
invectives against houses where so many people 
were harboured. 

" Not a moment's peace of one's life for your 
door," exclaimed he ; " here I pay a high price 
for my apartments and can't keep quiet, and now 
you're letting your second floor to some horrible 
man who will keep a noise over my head enough 
to split it." 

" He'll do no such thing," answered Mrs. 
Spicer sharply ; " I can't keep my rooms empty, 
except you like to pay for them; they've been 
unlet long enough to half ruin a poor widow like 
me. I'm sure I do all I can, and it's hard enough 
living without being scolded for bettering one- 
self." 

" Poor widow, indeed !" said Mr. Frewen 
scowling, " you're, most likely, very well of 
richer than I am, I dare say." 

" How can you insinuate it, Mr. Frewen," 
exclaimed Mrs. Spicer, " when you know you roll 
in riches, and, I'm sure, I may roll in straw if roll 
I must, for want of anything better." 



118 CLARA FANE. 

" How dare you say I roll in riches/' cried 
Mr. Frewen ; " everybody is in the same story. I 
tell you what you may take my word for that 
whenever 1 die, and you are trying to kill me with 
noise and clamour, you'll be none the better for 
it." 

Mrs. Spicer, by no means pleased at this last 
observation, withdrew, shutting the door with a 
bang to show her displeasure, and for some time 
she heard Mr. Frewen pacing up and down his 
room in a state of nervous irritation : to punish 
him, therefore, which she occasionally ventured 
to do, in order to keep him in check, as she pro- 
fessed, the next time he rung she sent up the 
maid to receive his orders, a proceeding which 
hurt his dignity so much that he generally 
remained in a state of sullen quietude for the 
remainder of the day afterwards. 

Mr. Frewen was never known to receive but 
one visitor in his retreat in Poland Street, and 
that one very rarely made his appearauca. It 
appeared that he was now expected, and that was 
the reason that Mrs. Spicer's lodger was so alive 
to the knocks at the door. She was indignantly 
seated at her table, grumbling to Maria at the 
hard fate which obliged her to submit to the 
tyranny of the cross old Indian, and was trying 
to soothe her perturbation by resuming her often 



CLARA FANE. 119 

interrupted verse. She had proceeded, however, in 
her declamation of the song to which she had 
previously directed her attention no farther than 
a second line 

' I rebuffed his caresses, I bade him begone ; 
I let down my tresses and ' 

when again the knocker interrupted her musings, 
and this time the intruder proved to be a gentle- 
man for Mr. Frewen, for so the new comer 
announced himself. 

" What name, if you please, sir ?" said Mrs. 
Spicer, inquisitively, eyeing him through her 
spectacles. 

" It is no use taking my name he expects 
me, ma'am," said the stranger, firmly, and the 
defeated widow was obliged to give in and usher 
the nameless gentleman up. 

" If he won't tell his name I'll manage to 
know his business," mused she, as she opened 
Mr. Frewen's door, and said, " Mr. What-his- 
name, sir, to call upon you." 

" Shew him in," was the exclamation, without 
further comment, and the visitor was received 
with a heartiness very unusual with the person 
to whom his presence seemed welcome. 

Mrs. Spicer not only shut the door hard, but 
made a feint of going down stairs, walking 
heavily ; but she ha*d not reached the bottom 



120 CLARA FANE. 

before she recollected that some little domestic 
arrangement in Mr. Frewen's back sleeping 
apartment had been neglected, and she entered 
there softly, careful of disturbing the speakers in 
the next chamber, who were only divided from 
her by folding doors. While detained by her 
care for her lodger's comfort she could not avoid 
hearing what was said. Their conversation was 
thus conceived : 

" Well, Spry, any more news ?" said Mr. 
Frewen. 

" Why, yes," replied the stranger, rubbing 
his hands, " yes : I have discovered that she is in 
England, and, moreover, in London at this very 
moment." 

" Then I must leave it," replied the shaking 
voice of the questioner. 

" That does'nt follow," answered the friend, 
" London is large enough to hold you two ; you 
have, no doubt, often been close to each other 
without knowing it." 

" I should be aware of her vicinity within a 
mile," exclaimed Mr. Frewen ; " a jade ! I 
couldn't help knowing she was near from the 
antipathy I have for her. What is she about 
how does she live ?" 

" The same support as before ; he's just as 
besotted as ever, and humours her extravagant 



CLARA FANE. 121 

whims, though he gets sometimes tired of them 
for a time. She is moving heaven and earth to 
find you since she discovered that you had 
returned from India. She means to go as far as 
law will let her to get a provision, and she will 
stick at nothing." 

"Comforting particulars!" exclaimed Mr. 
Frewen, between his teeth ; " but it serves me 
right for being such a dolt an idiot ; I, who had 
gone through the world for so many years treating 
women with the contempt they merit, to get taken 
in by a designing, artful, intriguing widow at my 
age too ! And as for a divorce it can't be had I 
can never bring it home to her ; and now then I am 
plagued and tortured to death, afraid to show my 
nose outside the door for fear of her pouncing upon 
me and dragging me to a court of law to get 
money out of me Money ! why I've got none ! 
she's ruined me by her extravagance : didn't she 
set up an establishment in Calcutta fit for a native 
prince, and keep open house for all the rattling 
dandies and simpering misses in the Presidency. 
I wouldn't stand it, and I didn't stand it, and 
then she insulted me to my face and in the midst 
of all the set of hornets she had brought about 
me ; and, at last, didn't she leave me and go off 
with some harum-scarum officer !" 

" All that is very true, my dear friend," said 

VOL. II. G 



122 CLARA FANE. 

the adviser, " but the world would take her part, 
and, what's worse, the law will, and if she gets 
scent of where you are she'll sue you to a dead 
certainty, and your fortune being so great you " 

" I tell you," said Frewen, angrily, "that I'm 
a ruined man ; that I can hardly keep myself; 
that I stay in this den half the year for cheap- 
ness, and if I should be forced to make that 
hussey an allowance I shall starve." 

The friend smiled. "Well," said he, "you 
know your own affairs best, and whether you 
think it best to settle something on her or go on 
with this hide-and-seek to avoid coming to an 
arrangement. We have already paid a good sum 
to ascertain her movements, and you'll be obliged 
to throw more after it in order to keep out of her 
way. You are safe enough here, for no one will 
think of looking for you in this quarter; they'd 
expect to find you living according to your means 
instead of in this poking hole." 

Mrs. Spicer bridled with indignation at this 
disparaging manner of naming her domicile. 

" If I spend the last penny I have and that's 
not much," said Mr. Frewen, " I'll keep that 
woman out of a settlement. She thought to 
wheedle all out of me, but she played her cards 
badly and I'll be even with her." 

" Sometimes she's at a boarding-house in 



CLARA FANE. 123 

some town abroad," said the visitor ; " sometimes 
she manages to get up a fine establishment aud 
places herself at the head of it. She is famously 
in debt eveywhere, and her being a married 
woman protects her. She reckons upon a good 
deal in the old quarter, but he begins to be tired 
of getting her out of scrapes, and is, I hear, 
growing angry at your leaving his appeals unno- 
ticed, so that we have something to dread from 
him." 

" I wish they were in the bottom of the Red 
Sea ! " exclaimed Frewen, stamping with rage, 
"and all the women that ever were born with 
them!" 

" That's all very natural/ 3 said the philosopic 
friend, " but it won't help the affair. Shall I go 
on as usual, or do you think better of it ?" 

"No, no!" replied Mr. Frewen, "I'd starve 
first, as I hope I may see her do !" 

A movement of the visitor, who seemed rising 
to depart, warned Mrs. Spicer that her position 
was no longer safe, and she therefore noiselessly 
quitted her retreat and softly descended to her 
own apartment, not sufficiently informed on the 
subject of Mr. Frewen's affairs to be quite satis- 
fied, but delighted to have gained some informa- 
tion. 

" An old fox !" exclaimed she, " married then ! 

G 2 



124 CLARA FANE. 

and he passed off with me for a bachelor ! while 1 
was foolish enough to fancy such things have 
happened that people have taken fancies some 
like young girls, some women more near their 
own age but, however, there's an end of that ! 
This accounts for his temper well, I pity the 
woman who has him, that's all : he's worse 
than Grimford, and that's saying a good 
deal!" 

With this soliloquy she resumed her sedentary 
occupation, and recommenced polishing her bills 
and her stanzas, till other incidents interrupted 
the course of her studies and called her attention 
another way. 



A few weeks had passed away since Clara 
had heard from Maria, and she had been too 
much occupied with her pupils and their restless 
preparations for going abroad to go and see her, 
when she received a letter, the following para- 
graph in which caused her extraordinary uneasi- 
ness 

" I told you ma had let your rooms, and who 
do you think to ? that Mr. Clark that I told you 
Celia Sawyer ran away with : it is very odd, for 
he doesn't seem, after all, to know about her, or 
else he pretends. He is a very odd man, but ma 
thinks he is rich, and I am sorry to say he seems 



CLARA FANE. 125 

to have taken a fancy to me. He gets me to sit 
to him for heads ; he puts wings on arid paints 
clouds behind, and I get very tired of it, only he 
promised to do one for me myself and then I 
shall have it to give to dear William. But the 
worst of it is, ma says she is sure he would be a 
good match for me, though he is such a fright, 
and twice as old, at least, as I am. I don't know 
whether he cares about me himself; I don't think 
he looks like a man to fall in love, but ma says he 
is always praising me and saying I am an angel 
I only want one person to think so, I'm sure ! 
and he has been a long time now without writing : 
I am getting quite uneasy and cry when I think 
of poor dear William perhaps being ill and no one 
to nurse him. I wish people would be content 
without being rich or grand; how happy we 
might be if William had set up as a doctor at 
home, I would have been so saving, and I'm sure 
we should have got on ; but he thought to grow 
great and rich and do me more justice, he said. 
Ma is always thinking about money and wants me 
to marry a rich man ; I hope this Mr. Clark will 
turn out to be as poor as Simpson did not that 
I wish him to be found out to be a bad man 
either, that is wrong ; but ma will keep on teaz- 
ing rne not to think of William, and I think of 



126 CLARA FANE. 

scarcely anything else, and the more she says so 
the more he keeps in my mind/' 

This communication startled Clara. 

" What can this mean ?" mused she, " there 
must be some design in it, I tremble to think 
what injury may be plotting against that poor 
girl. Perhaps she is to be entrapped like the 
foolish vain Celia ; and though no such weakness 
is to be feared in Maria, still some artful means 
may be taken to wean her from her present 
attachment, alas ! 

' If knowledge of the world makes men perfidious, 
May Juba ever live in ignorance !' 

but, of late, I have had such strange experience 
that I begin to dread and doubt all outward 
seeming. I had better warn Maria against this 
false Mr. Clark while there is time." 

To this end she wrote in answer to her young 
friend 

" Dear Maria, I feel very uneasy and un- 
comfortable about the person you name. I have 
reason to know, the man who calls hhnself Clark 
is not what he pretends to be not a real artist 
and not, even as to person, what he looks ; he is 
disguised and has some bad purpose, I fear, in 



CLARA FANE. 127 

view. Tell your mamma, she had better be on 
her guard respecting him, as / am sure he is a 
false character." 

When Maria received this intimation, she was 
very much astonished, and immediately commu- 
nicated to her mother the suspicions of Miss 
Fane. 

The fears of Mrs. Spicer were immediately 
aroused and visions of purloined tea-spoons and 
other valuables, flitted at once through her brain. 
She gave a rapid glance towards her cherished 
watch, the dimensions of which might seem a 
guarantee for its not being readily carried off 
without the theft being perceived, and felt a little 
re-assured to hear it still tick in its accustomed 
place. 

"What's to be done ?" said she, "Lord bless 
me ! who ever would have thought of my being 
so taken in ! now I think of it, I really do believe 
he wears a wig, and perhaps false whiskers ; they 
are very red and he seems proud of them ; but he 
would dye them if they were real no doubt. He 
must be one- of the swell mob, I do believe. Dear 
me, what is a poor lone widow to do ! I think I 
had better ask your god-father what he thinks 
best. If he doesn't snap my nose off, I'll just 
trv." 



128 CLARA FANE, 

With this resolution, Mrs. Spicer betook her- 
self to the den of Mr. Grimford and knocking at 
the door of his apartment, was answered by a 
growl. 

" I want," said she, entering and seating her- 
self on a chair close to the table on. which the 
architect was engaged in drawing plans. " I want 
to consult you about a little matter of business, 
Grimford ; as an old friend of my late husband 
and my child's god-pa', I think I may expect " 

" What do you want ?" said the kind friend, 
whose advice she sought, " what makes you come 
interrupting me when I'm busy ? you know I 
don't want women in my room." 

" Oh no," tittered Mrs. Spicer, "nor I shouldn't 
a come, only that a lone widow really must lean 
upon some kind friend as has her interests at 
heart, as I know you have." 

" Well," said he, in a tone rather less surly, 
" don't lean on the table and jog me, say what 
you want and have done with it." 

Mrs. Spicer then proceeded to impart to 
Grimford, who listened with considerable patience, 
having a certain species of curiosity in his compo- 
sition as well as herself, to her account of the 
supposed swindler and cheat, in the second floor. 

" It's just like your wisdom," said he, " taking 
in people you know nothing of. I saw all along 



CLARA FANE. 129 

he was no artist, he can't draw a straight line ; 
he can't feel my buildings he doesn't know a 
church from a hospital. Cf course, he']] rob the 
house and perhaps murder some of us into the 
bargain. Give him warning, to be sure." 

" Good gracious ! how you terrify me, Grim- 
ford," exclaimed Mrs. Spicer ; " we must keep a 
sharp look out on him and I'll go at once and 
give him warning this very minute. I wish you'd 
just keep your door open as, if he was to attack 
me, I could scream for protection you know." 

" Oh, scream away !" said Grimford, " he's 
too cunning for that it'll be in the night he'll 
be off, take my word for it." 

" Well, it's quite awful !" said Mrs. Spicer as 
she departed, rather gratified, nevertheless, at 
having secured the sympathy as she thought of 
her domestic tyrant, on whom her repeated 
attacks had never made any greater impression 
than they did at the present moment. Yet, as she 
sometimes sentimentally observed, 

" Love will hope when reason will despair," 

and she repeated to herself her favourite phrase 
of comfort of, " there's no knowing what fancies 
people do take." 

The next time that Mr. Clark requested Maria 
to sit for an angel, Mrs. Spicer stepped forward and 

G 3 



130 CLARA FANE. 

remarked that she -would herself take her daugh- 
ter's place if necessary, but that Maria was 
engaged. 

" Hope to be excused for having asked/' re- 
plied Mr. Clark, "thought Miss Maria willing; 
nearly finished head substitute not suitable 
much obliged all the same postpone sitters 
slack new ones next week won't press the sub- 
ject intended surprise to god-father distin- 
guished artist, worthy man." 

"Fm greatly obliged," said Mrs. Spicer, a 
little shaken in spite of herself at the apparent 
candour of her lodger ; " but just now, I will de- 
cline ; and I was, to say the truth, going to name 
that my second floor will shortly be wanted for 
an old lodger, who has written for it, so that I 
must beg you to suit yourself." 

" Suited now," was the reply, " bless my 
heart omitted rent forgot that I was stranger 
beg to be excused month due quite correct. 
Unpardonable oblivion occupied with art !" 

So saying, Mr. Clark produced from his purse 
wherewith to settle the offered bills without hesi- 
tation, and Mrs. Spicer softened towards him as 
she saw that there was no appearance of poverty, 
and that he paid in gold and silver and not in 
notes, which she should have instantly suspected 
of having issued from the Bank of Fancy. 



CLARA FANE. 131 

" Upon my word," said she, as she left him, 
" I don't see why Pm to turn him away if I keep 
a sharp look out on his movements ; if he is a 
gentleman in disguise he pays like one and, who 
knows ? it may be the making of us I'll keep 
Maria out of his way, however, and face the dan- 
ger myself." 

She repeated to Mr. Grimford the compli- 
ment which had been paid him by the suspected 
lodger, and she observed that it had its effect in 
spite of the growling reception it received. 

" If he pays his way he's not a swindler if 
he understands art he may be an artist/' said he, 
" don't bother me about him, go your own way, 
it's no affair of mine." 

Mr. Clark therefore was permitted to stay 
on in his lodgings, and indeed, so much did he 
appear absorbed in art that the warning given 
seemed to have escaped his recollection altpgether. 
He occasionally went out to attend sitters, ac- 
cording to his own report, and his room was filled 
with half-finished portraits, so that his being an 
artist by profession appeared an undoubted fact. 

" The only thing I suspect is his whiskers," 
said Mrs. Spicer to Maria, " they have an artful 
look, I shall keep my eye on them." 



]32 CLARA FANE. 



> <s 












CHAPTER IX. 

) 

Dost thou mark yon lady ? 
Oh ! she doth teach the torches to burn bright. 

Romeo and Juliet. 



CLARA had written to Miss Clinton to inform her 
of the proposed journey of the Miss Luttrels, and 
expressed her own pleasure in the prospect. She 
did not however make the enquiry which was 
nearest her thoughts, however anxious she might 
be to know where Mr. Loftus was, and whether 
she was likely during this excursion to encounter 
him. 

" The route arranged by Sir Anselm Fair- 
fax/' said she, "is one which will make us ac- 
quainted with a wide extent of country from the 
Rhine to the Danube and along great part of the 
course of the latter fine river. All will be new 
and interesting to me and I cannot help antici- 
pating much delight. My pupils become every 



CLARA FANE. 133 

day more dear to me, and I am spared the sight of 
their father : he has the propriety to refrain from 
coming to Fulham, and as we shall leave England 
so soon, I hope to see very little of him again, and 
I trust to his neglect of his children for his leaving 
them and me tranquil at Como, where our 
wanderings are to end. 

" Lady Seymour does not improve on nearer 
acquaintance : she is intensely selfish and always 
alive to her own interests. I believe she is much 
in debt and is not sorry for an excuse to absent 
herself from her old society which she finds ex- 
pensive ; she goes as Mr. Luttrel's guest which 
answers her purposes of economy but she carefully 
avoids all trouble or responsibility, that devolves 
of course upon me, but I find the interesting 
girls very reasonable and ready to be convinced 
by mild persuasions and I shall look to Sir An- 
selm for great support as well as for inforujation 
and protection. We shall form a large party, 
and I heard Lady Seymour make a characteristic 
remark the other day that it will be necessary for 
us occasionally to separate and meet again in 
order not to take the hotels by storm on our 
way. 

" ' I should grieve/ said she, ' to see these 
dear angels ill accommodated and I am so fragile 
myself that I must always secure the best rooms 



134 CLARA FANE. 

if possible, so that we will make such arrange- 
ments as that all may be made comfortable/ 

" By this I see plainly that she intends taking 
care of herself first ; we must countermine as 
much as we can, but she is very courteous, and 
her presence is necessary for my pupils, for I feel 
I have not sufficient age and power to manage for 
these young people, alone. 

" As a farewell to London gaieties we have a 
box at the Opera to-night, where, as I have been 
formally invited by Lady Seymour, I am, not un- 
willingly I confess, obliged to go. 

" I should really be quite happy in my present 
position were it not that I doubt and fear the 
character of Mr. Luttrel." 

On the night Clara had named, accordingly, 
the visit to the Opera took place much to the 
delight of Claudia and Sybilla who were taken 
there for the first time. To Clara's great relief 
their father did not appear ; her wish however to 
avoid him she soon found would be frustrated, for 
she saw him in one of the stalls, and presently 
his glass was directed to where they were sitting. 

The beauty of their party had, in fact, attracted 
many eyes and caused him to follow the direction 
of a friend's enraptured glances and thus recog- 
nise his own family. 

" Good heaven !" exclaimed the friend, who 



CLARA FANE. 135 

occupied a stall next his own in the centre of the 
pit, within two rows of the orchestra, " for the 
love of the beautiful look at that box, there are 
four women there who realize all that has been 
fancied of the glory of female loveliness. Look 
at that young girl, almost a child, with the dark 
hair and flashing eyes, laughing to a younger 
still, with the face of a descended angel, all light 
and grace, and between them, behind who can 
that tall, elegant creature be ? she has not ap- 
peared this season; surely, it is Lady Seymour 
with them. Good God ! Charles, you must know 
them, take me with you, I am in love with the 
whole party/' 

" Yes, I know them, don't be violent," an- 
swered Mr. Luttrel languidly, looking neverthe- 
less at the box, " they look well to-night, we'll 
patronise them if you will; but don't bore me 
about them my business is with the tall girl in 
the middle engage the other two in talk for 
pity's sake, and when we go out give your arm to 
my aunt. So shall you do me service and enchant 
your own eyes." 

"They smile they gaze they wave their 
fans and shake their pretty ringlets 'tis at you, 
Luttrel ! happy animal, though colder than an 
iceberg the middle girl draws back and looks 
away ! they point towards you sweet creatures, 



136 CLARA FANE. 

the} 7 are very young. Your aunt perceives us ! 
gracious is her bow. We come, blest 
beings \" 

And in a few moments after this conversation, 
Mr. Luttrel and his friend, the young Marquis of 
Claremont, had joined the party in the box. Lady 
Seymour welcomed them tenderly ; the children's 
exclamations soon informed the Marquis who 
they were, and Mr. Luttrel took his seat next to 
Clara, to whom he had bowed almost impercepti- 
bly on entering, and she had returned the saluta- 
tion without raising her eyes. 

The young Marquis had engaged the attention 
of both sisters, and was talking with great anima- 
tion and bringing forth their original remarks, 
when the curtain again drew up and Claudia 
seized his arm and pointed to the stage. 

" Silence," said she, " if you breathe I will 
not speak to you again, and never answer that 
question you have asked me." 

" I am dumb till that moment arrives/' said 
the Marquis, who was as much an enthusiast in 
music as in beauty. 

In the crash of the chorusses, Mr. Luttrel 
took his opportunity of whispering to Clara. 

" I know now the meaning of your cruelty, 
your friend is in town, I am generous and will 
give you news of him." 



CLARA FANE. 137 

Clara started but did not answer, while Mr. 
Luttrel went on 

" Poor Loftus ! he never told me you were his 
ideal, though I knew of his being bit at Mrs. 
Trillet's charming woman, isn't she? do you 
correspond svith her ? it must be a delightful 
intercourse no doubt, with congenial minds. " 

" Mr. Luttrel/' said Clara, shocked at the 
tone he assumed, " you speak of persons scarcely 
known to me, with whom 1 have no communica- 
tion whatever." 

" Really ! " returned he, raising his glass as he 
spoke as if looking in another direction, " I 
thought you had been staying with Loftus in the 
country; what odd notions one takes in one's 
head ! but don't blush and look uneasy I'm not 
jealous. I am sure you are tired of his sentimental 
philosophy already. We shall be good friends by 
degrees ; you look so lovely when you are angry 
it's quite a treat ! there now, that is just the 
look that charmed me the first day we met." 

Clara turned away and leant over the chair of 
Claudia, who was beating time with hands and 
feet, and, in her delight, every now and then 
grasping the arm of the Marquis, who was 
watching her in a state of rapturous admiration. 

The speeches of Mr. Luttrel had quite 
destroyed all Clara's pleasure at the Opera. 



138 CLARA FANE. 

" Is it possible ?" thought she, " that Mr. 
Loftus is really so base as to make a jest of me 
and to misrepresent our acquaintance. Alas ! if 
he is an intimate friend of Hi? m'v.i, I have no 
hope of him, for I fear he is altogether worthless. 
How unfortunate that these amiable children 
should have such a father. What a contrast is 
the conduct of Mr. Loftus, whom I had forgiven 
and begun to esteem, to his words ! Alas ! " she 
continued to muse 

' Who may we ever trust, 
When such a knight so false can be ! ' 

The unfortunate and degraded Celia taken from 
her father's protection, and now the strange 
disguise assumed as if to deceive the innocent 
Maria." 

While she was absorbed in these thoughts two 
gentlemen entered an opposite box, conversing 
eagerly, as if almost unconscious of the splendid 
scene of which they formed part. Clara's 
recognition was as rapid as that of her pupils, 
who immediately called out 

"Oh! papa; there is our dear Sir Anselm : 
can't we go to him. Detestable man ! he will not 
look our way ; oh ! I wish we could fly across to 
his box." 

" Do you love him so very much, then ?" said 
the Marquis, reproachfully. 



CLARA FANE. 139 

" Yes," replied Claudia, archly ; " better than 
anybody in the world, except papa/' 

" But, why ?" said the Marquis ; " he is too 
old for you ; you must love somebody younger, 
who will adore you." 

" But he adores me already/' cried Claudia, 
" so I don't want any one else." 

" Happy antique ! " exclaimed the Marquis ; 
"put him in your cabinet, but wear me every 
day." 

" Do you think yourself a flower, then ?" 
asked Claudia, pertly. " Miss Fane ; do you 
know who that is with Sir Anselm ?" she said, 
turning suddenly round ; " he is looking so at 
you ! I am sure it must be Mr. Loftus himself 
our playfellow of Naples ! " 

" Do you know Mr. Loftus, then ?" said 
Clara, trying to speak in an indifferent tone. 

" To be sure we do ; we knew everybody at 
Naples ; and we were not then kept in a country 
house seeing nobody, as we are now. Do you 
know/' continued Claudia, speaking to the Mar- 
quis, " that papa says we are only children, and 
this is the first time we have ever been at the 
Opera. Is'nt it a shame ! don't you think Sybilla 
and I look like quite women ?" 

" Lovely ones !" replied her new acquaintance, 
" I do not mean to forgive Luttrel for hiding you, 



140 CLARA FANE. 

and keeping your beautiful friend in retirement 
too/' and he bowed to Clara. 

" Why didn't you come to our dejeuner at 
Fulham ?" said Claudia. 

" I was out of town, unfortunately, and my 
good stars only brought me up to day, and intro- 
duced me to your charming acquaintance, by 
mere chance, no thanks to the civility of Luttrel," 
returned the Marquis. 

" Mr. Loftus is going away ; will he come to 
see us, do you think, Miss Fane?" exclaimed 
Claudia. 

" What, then, he is a favourite too ?" inquired 
the Marquis. 

" Oh ! yes, we delighted in him when we were 
very little," said Claudia, " he is such a mimic ; 
he can take off any one we used to laugh so when 
he did Mr. Nobody for us, and " 

She was interrupted by a knock at the box 
door, which was followed by the entrance of Sir 
Anselm Fairfax, unaccompanied, however, to 
Clara's great relief, by Mr. Loftus. 

As the ballet had not yet began, there was an 
opportunity of conversation, and much was said 
respecting their intended tour. 

" But why is Mr. Loftus gone ?" said Sybil la, 
pouting ; " we saw him with you, and he could 
not help seeing us, and yet he is run away." 



CLARA FANE. 141 

" He charged me/' said Sir Anselrn, " to be 
the bearer of his devoted regards, but he had not 
a moment to lose he leaves town to-night, by the 
train, on his way to the continent. We shall be 
sure to meet him abroad, and then all your 
quarrels will, I hope, be made up." 

As Sir Anselm spoke he glanced towards 
Clara, whose hand he took as if merely in 
recognition as he did so, so that she could scarcely 
be certain whether or not any part of the remark 
was addressed to her, and yet she could not help 
thinking he spoke with a meaning more than his 
words expressed. 

" My dear Marquis," said Lady Seymour, 
" why don't you go with us abroad ? What a 
charming society we should be. I think travelling 
is only endurable in a crowd there's nothing I 
detest so much, but I have duties which oblige 
me to sacrifice my inclinations. These darlings 
must be attended to do help me to protect 
them." 

" Oh, do ! " said both girls, with whom the 
Marquis had made great way ; " tell us you will 
come ; it will be so nice ! " 

" Why, truly," said the Marquis, looking at 
Claudia, " I seem to have a reason now for doing 
something, which I never discovered before in the 
course of my life." 



142 CLARA FANE. 

"Oh!" cried Sybilla ; "Miss Fane should 
lecture you as she does us when we talk 
nonsense : come, and be scolded by her as we 
are," she added laughing, and kissing Clara. 

" Nothing more delightful," said the young 
man. " Suppose I follow you, would you admit 
me to your coterie ?" 

" Assuredly," cried Lady Seymour ; " we shall 
welcome pilgrims whenever they appear." 

" I will then take a vow, dictated by Miss 
Claudia," said he, "to accomplish this pilgrimage, 
and she shall be the Lady at whose shrine I will 
lay down my cockle hat and staff." 

"Oh!" that is perfection!" exclaimed 
Claudia ; " how grand I am already ! Well, 
vow, by by " 

" By the question you promised to answer," 
said he, " I swear to follow you as a faithful 
pilgrim, if I should make the journey barefoot." 

" Oh, do, do ! " cried Sybilla, laughing 
heartily ; " that would be funny." 

" But rather inconvenient, cruel beauty," said 
he, " so I fancy I shall take the usual method, 
unless, indeed, my Lady commands, for henceforth 
I have no other mistress than fair Claudia." 

" Well, we will expect you," said Lady 
Seymour ; " at all events don't disappoint us." 

When the ballet was finished Mr. Luttrel 



CLARA FANE. 143 

contrived that Sir Anselm should give his arm to 
Lady Seymour, and the Marquis required no 
farther hint to devote himself to the young 
sisters; Clara, therefore, could not avoid the 
proffered arm of Mr. Luttrel, who lingered behind 
the rest, as if by accident, so as to get separated 
by the crowd. 

" How came you and Loftus to quarrel," said 
he, leaning down towards her ; " I know he is a 
sad fellow, but I cannot forgive him for this. Con- 
fide in me I am used to these sort of things 
though I don't want to reconcile you both, I assure 
you, upon my soul ! I should be miserable if I 
had not hope to support me in spite of your 
frowns, which are really out of place with me, who 
know the secret." 

" Mr. Luttrel," said Clara, " you annoy me 
beyond all words by this bantering kind of 
conversation, which I do not understand, nor 
can I attempt to do so. It would be useless 
to explain anything, since you are bent on 
distressing, and, it would seem, I can call it 
little else, insulting me. Pray, let us hurry 
on ; the young ladies must have got to their 
carriage." 

" It's so pleasant to me to have you here to 
myself," said he, still lingering, " and to tell you 
the truth, your being frightened is charming I 



144 CLARA FANE. 

have no objection to it but, though I have every 
inclination, I really am not going to run away 
with you in the true style; that would suit Loftus 
better he's quite a hero of romance, in his 
way." 

He spoke with a sneer, which was not lost on 
Clara, who saw plainly that he had some pique 
against Mr. Loftus, and the spirit of opposition 
impelled her immediately to think that she was 
doing her former friend injustice in condemning 
him at the word of such a man as Mr. Luttrel. 

" We shall meet again to-morrow," continued 
her companion, " for the last time while you stay 
in England. If I had got rid of my law affairs, 
1 would have gone with you but don't fret, I 
will make up for it another time. Here's Fairfax, 
by all that's boring ! hadn't he enough to do with 
my aunt but he must come back to find me 
out." 

With evident vexation Mr. Luttrel gave 
Clara over to Sir Anselm, bidding him good-night, 
as he said he should not wait to take leave of the 
ladies below ; " I go another way," he said, " so 
you can take care of Miss Fane, who has a 
dreadful terror of the male sex, so be sure not 
to make love to her." 

Clara almost clung to the arm of Sir Anselm, 
who conducted her to the carnage where Lady 



CLARA FANE. 145 

Seymour and the young ladies were waiting, fully 
amused, however, by the lively talk of the Mar- 
quis, who was standing at the door, leaning in, 
busily engaged in entertaining them. 

She was not sorry when they drove off, and, 
having set Lady Seymour down, returned to 
Fulham by the light of a bright moon. 



VOL. II. 



146 CLARA FANE. 



CHAPTER X. 

Be quiet, people ! wherefore throng you hither ?" 

Comedy of Errors. 

LADY SEYMOUR was one of those amateur painters 
who pass a good deal of their time sitting opposite 
a piece of canvass spread out on an easel, sur- 
rounded with colours in cakes and in bottles, with 
as many brushes, and as much oil, and varnish, 
and turpentine, as would serve half a dozen 
artists : who gain a great reputation for genius? 
and even carry their love of art so far as to 
patronize public exhibitions where their per- 
for mances occupy conspicuous places on walls 
supposed to be appropriated to the encouragement 
and reward of rising and risen talent. 

Whatever might be the merit of Lady Sey- 
mour's works she had full credit for them, and 
the artist who stood by to be enlightened while 
she painted no doubt profited by her hints, as she 
professed to obtain nothing new from his ; yet so 
desirous was she to impart her knowledge that 



CLARA FANE. 147 

she never even mixed her colours except in his 
presence, and was so anxious to afford him oppor- 
tunities of excelling himself that she generously 
suspended her labours after he had left her studio 
to resume them only at his next visit. 

The artist whom she, with so much philan- 
thropic consideration thus assisted, had been 
known to her abroad, where, according to the 
version of the transaction given by her to her ad- 
miring friends, she spent the greatest part of her 
time studying in the galleries. True it was that 
her rooms in London were filled with copies, more 
or less correct, of the chef d'ceuvres of first mas- 
ters : and staring Sybils, squinting Cencis, woe- 
begone Giocondas, and crooked Venuses looked 
from the walls in self-contented complacency, 
amidst confused rocky masses of Salvator, pink 
and blue misty Claudes, or black and green Pous- 
sins, generally pronounced, by those judges she 
consulted, better than the originals. 

" My dear Clark/' said she, the morning after 
the Opera, to her companion of the hour, " you 
must make up your mind to travel with us, for I 
intend to take an enormous quantity of sketches 
from nature during this tour, and you may just as 
well improve yourself too, and then we can have 
each other's opinions. I have spoken to Luttrel, 
who is quite content that the girls should have 

H 2 



148 CLARA FANE. 

you as a master ; they would not learn, I am cer- 
tain, of any one else, and they are very fond of 
you. You have so little to do here, where the 
market is overstocked with artists, that it would 
be wiser to go with us/' 

Mr. Clark, the artist, who was, by chance, 
just passing a brush over Lady Seymour's fore- 
ground, her arm, as she said, being cramped, and 
she " could trust him," replied briefly 

" Handsome offer, my lady quite just, few 
sitters profitable at this season always glad to 
visit foreign parts proud of the honour pack 
up traps willingly agree when shall we be off ?" 

" There's a good soul, now !" said Lady Sey- 
mour ; " we shall go in about ten days or a fort- 
night. You shall travel on my carriage with my 
maid ; the Miss Luttrels and their governess have 
their own, and Sir Anselm Fairfax has his. As 
you know the country you can be useful to us, 
for I believe we are not to have a courier till we 
arrive at Frankfort; Sir Anselm has a crotchet 
about it, and has engaged some wonder who is to 
direct all our movements through Germany. You 
and I can sketch and look after the picturesque, 
and I shall bring back a whole portfolio full of 
drawings ; if my nerves fail me I can depend on 
your skill, your style is so like mine, and I can 
always correct any defects I may discover." 



CLARA FANE. 149 

"Certainly, certainly, my lady," replied the 
artist, apparently working unceremoniously on 
Lady Seymour's picture, while her mind was 
abstracted, "shall get on capitally ladyship's 
taste surprising greatest amateur in Europe 
stick at nothing. Germany, fine country in parts 
original stupid people know 'em well too 
fond of daubing keep to the old world figures 
cut out of parchment count every rein and hair 
wonderful geniuses great philosphers glad to 
see 'em again." 

"Well then, Clark," said her ladyship, "it's 
all settled, and you go with us now then, don't 
spoil any more of my picture how well I've 
dashed in that stone at the donkey's foot, and I 
think I've improved his right leg, and Joseph's 
nose I wonder you didn't remark it." 

" Not to be passed over, my lady," said Clark, 
resigning his pencil. " Take my leave sure to 
be ready give landlady warning she gave me 
warning last week even with her beg to be ex- 
cused for saying so." 

Mr. Clark accordingly left his pupil or in- 
structress, whose patronage was supposed to be so 
extremely serviceable to him that she never con- 
sidered it necessary to offer him payment. 

"Poor fellow !" she would sometimes say to 
the admirers of her own genius, " he has very 



150 CLARA FANE. 

little means and I do all I can for him, I am such 
an enthusiast in art and doat so on talent, not 
that his is first-rate, but he has some and will im- 
prove by study ; I give him every opportunity and 
patronise him extremely, as Luttrel does, also, 
through my recommendation. Those pictures he 
has exhibited were all done under my direction, 
and I sold several for him; his gratitude is 
extreme, and I could not mortify him by refusing 
to accept that landscape, which I may almost call 
my own, as I dictated every touch : he has great 
facility when guided by judicious hints." 

Lady Seymour, in fact, contrived to occupy 
more of Mr. Clark's time than might have been 
prudent on his part to allow, but that he had 
other patrons whom he had known in Italy who 
did not so much fear to offend his delicacy by 
offering remuneration for his services. It appeared 
that his roving disposition had always prevented 
his settling anywhere long, and the climate of 
England accorded so little with him, that he was 
too glad of any excuse to quit the sombre skies of 
home for the brighter atmosphere of the con- 
tinent. 

By the young ladies the announcement of his 
being about to accompany them was received with 
pleasure : 

" Oh, he is such a quiz ! such a strange crea- 



CLARA FANE. 151 

ture ! we used to laugh at him at Rome all day 
long/' exclaimed both sisters; "he's the most 
good-tempered animal that ever breathed, and is 
never offended ; he's very clever, too, papa says, 
and v paints all auntie's fine pictures everybody 
knows it, yet she fancies no one sees through her : 
isn't she just like an ostrich, Miss Fane, hiding 
her head and fancying no one sees her body ?" 

"But," said Clara, extremely annoyed at the 
prospect before her, " it will be very tiresome to 
have Mr. Clark always with us ; if he is such an 
odd man he will be strangely out of place. I am 
very sorry he is going." 

"Well my sweet governess," said Claudia, 
" you have the most unaccountable antipathy to 
poor dear Clark that ever was ; whenever we 
speak of him you turn pale and red and blue, 
now I know you will like him when you come to 
know him, he cannot be understood at first." 

Clara sighed. 

" He is sure to fall in love with you too, for 
he is the strangest of all beings about that, Papa 
used to say he was a true votary of Cupid, always 
in love with one person or another and running 
after them to sit for his Madonnas and angels." 

Clara blushed and bit her lip and endeavoured 
to turn the conversation. 

"Did you like the Opera last night," asked she. 



152 CLARA FANE. 

' ' Oh dear yes to be sure ! " cried Claudia, 
l( now, my beloved darling governess how can you 
be so commonplace ! as to ask one if one liked 
anything so entrancingly angelic, of course one 
adored it but you had no soul at all last night, 
you were never moved, you sat like a statue, and 
seemed bored I am sure you were while Papa 
was whispering to you Sybilla and I think he 
likes you much better than he did. And then 
you trembled so when Sir Anselm came in and 
your hands were quite cold : I was afraid you 
were ill but the Marquis would not let me lean 
over to ask you, he was so tiresome ! oh how he 
did go on I have such a dreadful quarrel with 
him for that and many other things. You 
don't know how he talked about being in love, 
and when I told him you said it was not proper, 
he laughed so and said your eyes contradicted 
your words. Papa was so amused and when I 
said you called him ' dear Papa' he laughed more ; 
I want him to like you so I was determined to 
tell him though you told me not." 

"Claudia," said Clara, looking grave, "you 
have not kept your word with me ; I begged you 
not to repeat that foolish phrase, which only ap- 
plied to your feelings not my own." 

" How odd," said Claudia pouting, " you don't 
like anybody, you hate papa, and you hate poor 



CLARA FANE. 153 

Clark ; I dare say you'd hate Mr. Loftus if you 
knew him and you only pretend to like Sir An- 
selm I dare say, and I shall tell him so for fear 
he should trust you," she added maliciously. 

" You are unjust, dear child," said Clara, " I 
do not dislike, but I wait to know people before I 
pronounce. Sir Anselm is an exception for I liked 
him before I knew him well ; I feel sure that he 
is as amiable as he seems." 

" And do you think papa is not ! " said 
Claudia with an inquisitive and arch look. 

"No, I think Mr. Luttrel just what he ap- 
pears," answered Clara vaguely, ".and always a 
good papa to you." 

" And a ' dear papa ' too," replied her pupil, 
then added musing, " I wonder what Giulia means 
by his being too gay, and his having ' another 
establishment.' " 

Clara felt that it would be better to leave the 
discussion of such subjects, the mysteries of 
which she did not desire to have solved either for 
her own or her pupil's sake, but she saw with 
pain that her care had not availed to prevent the 
intrusive gossip of the servants from awakening 
suspicions in those innocent but inquisitive 
minds relative to their father's conduct, and she 
rejoiced that they would shortly be removed and 
that other objects should engage their attention. 

H 3 



154 CLARA FANE. 

Her mind was, however, extremely disturbed 
by the thought of Mr. Clark being the companion 
of their journey. 

" Can it be really Mr. Loftus ?" she reflected ; 
" would he condescend to expose himself to detec- 
tion in this manner and what object can he have 
in view ? He must be aware that to resume that 
disguise could only distress and annoy me, and 
would certainly not raise him in my esteem. I 
hope there is some mistake in the affair, and that 
the similarity of name and occupation has deceived 
me into this fear : yet the voice I heard and the 
words were identical with the character Mr. 
Loftus assumed in Derbyshire." 



Meanwhile Mrs. Spicer had been thrown into 
a state of much excitement by the announcement 
that her second-floor lodger was about to leave 
her apartments. 

"It's very odd of Miss Fane, I must say, 
Maria," said she to her daughter, " writing to you 
that he wasn't respectable, and knowing that he 
was going to travel with them ladies. If he is a 
great man in disguise, she must have some design 
on him herself, and wanted to get him away from 
you. I know the world better than you do, 'Ria, 
and I often, when I was a girl and I married your 
poor dear 'pa when I was a mere child, have seen 



CLARA FANE. 155 

what envy was if one happens to be handsome 
not that you are half as good-looking as I was at 
your age but then men have different tastes, and 
if Miss Fane thought this gentleman admired you, 
she might be jealous, and try to spoil the match. 3 ' 

" La ! ma \" said Maria, indignantly, " how 
can you think so ! Miss Fane is above it, I'm 
sure, Besides, I'm certain Mr. Clark is no gen- 
tleman in disguise he's not a bit like one there 
must be some mistake about him, and I'm very 
glad he's going." 

" It's easy enough for you to talk, 'Ria," said 
her mother ; " but it's much out of my pocket 
losing him, gentleman or commoner, and no 
thanks to Miss Fane for it, either; but I shall 
just go up and tell him a little bit of my mind, I 
can assure you." 

So saying, Mrs. Spicer sought her lodger, 
whom she found busy packing, in his shirt 
sleeves. 

" "Well, sir," she began, " since you are going 
to quit, I hope you'll consider that its not quite 
handsome in you to try to deceive a poor lone 
widow in the way you have for in spite of your 
disguise I'm not to be taken in, and, as the 
mother of a family though I've only got 'Ria 
left now I will say that your conduct to poor 
Celia doesn't do you much credit." 



156 CLARA FANE. 

" Conduct, marm ! " exclaimed the" painter, 
looking up from knocking nails in a picture case ; 
" please to explain. Warning given previous 
views changed no fault either side mutual con- 
venience considered. 'R,ia and Celia, both pretty 
names no connection with the parties." 

" Don't say so, my lord \" exclaimed Mrs. 
Spicer, a sudden thought occurring to her mind 
that she would, by giving him his real title, sur- 
prise him into confession. Mr. Clark dropped his 
hammer and stood aghast. 

" Who do you please to take me for ?" said 
he, at length: "insinuations incomprehensible 
quite abroad all fair with John Clark, artist, R. A., 
that should be, but for enemies what have you 
against him, marm ?" 

" That you have insinuated yourself into my 
roof," said Mrs. Spicer, in an heroic tone, " with 
the view of carrying on your caccinations against 
either me or my daughter, as you did at Mr. 
Sawyer's, and made a victim of Celia as you won't 
of us, I can promise you, for you are found out." 

" Bless my heart," cried Mr. Clark, in a vexed 
tone, " mystery increases what's all this ?" 

" You're now going abroad after some of them 
young ladies at Mr. Luttrel's/' continued Mrs. 
Spicer; "but Miss Fane knows you, so you 
needn't think to escape so easy/' 



CLARA FANE. 157 

" Miss Fane !" said Mr. Clark ; " who is she? 
Oh, I remember, governess ! Governesses always 
spiteful draws herself, perhaps envious jealous. 
All one can't help it pursue my course. False 
accusations, ma' arm fine woman, no doubt, 
though rather squat pretty girls also ; but can't 
put up with impertinence hope to be excused for 
saying so. Request privacy want to pack. Life 
short, art long no time to lose." 

" Well," said Mrs. Spicer, as she retired, " if 
he's a lord in disguise, he's an odd one; his linen 
is neither of the whitest or the finest, and his 
hand is as red as beef. In novels and plays, now, a 
nobleman is always discovered by his white hands 
and fine cambric : he brazens it out well, at any 
rate. I've done my duty, however, and have let 
him know he can't take me in, whoever else he 
may : pity old Sawyer hadn't my penetration." 



158 CLARA FANE. 



CHAPTER XI. 

Why what an intricate impeach is this ! 
I think you all have drunk of Circe's cup. 

Comedy of Errors. 

THE period of their departure was at length fir- 
ranged, and the whole party set forth en route 
for Paris. There were many tender adieux and 
some tears on the part of Mr. Luttrel's two 
daughters, and Clara, although she had few friends 
of whom to take leave, felt the truth of the re- 
mark that " We never do anything for the last 
time without regret." She regretted their beau- 
tiful retreat at Fulham, its gardens, and its flowing 
river, and she sighed to think that, perhaps, she 
was leaving tranquillity behind. 

" I should be less uneasy/' she thought, " if 
I had not the fear of Mr. Loffcus's capricious im- 
prudence in thus accompanying us, disguised so 
ridiculously, a circumstance which cannot fail to 



CLARA FANE. 159 

place me in the most awkward positions, and how 
to avoid appearing to recognise him I am at a 
loss to conceive. I rejoice to leave Mr. Luttrel 
behind, although 1 believe the language he thinks 
proper to hold is meioV a jargon which his class 
permit themselves to j, as unbecoming as it may 
be unmeaning. Every step I go divides me from 
my early protectress, Mrs. Fowler ; long will it 
be ere I see dear nurse, Susey, again, and I shall 
probably be separated for many a day from my 
recent kind friends ; there is much, however, be- 
fore me, and the beautiful world of Nature is in- 
viting me to enjoy her scenes. My long-cherished 
wish of travelling is about to be accomplished, yet 
I feel a depression which threatens to destroy the 
pleasure I anticipated. This sensitiveness is, I 
feel, wrong, and may degenerate into selfishness : 
I must not live for myself alas ! why have I not 
some near and dear relation, some close tie of 
blood which would bind me more to existence and 
give me a stronger motive for action? After all 
I am but a mere unit in society, belonging to 
no one, and destined to carry on a load which I 
bear for myself alone. How willingly would I 
endure it for one who looked to me for support 
and affection ; alas ! all around me have their joys 
and their sorrows ; I am only permitted to love, 
not expected to do so. But," she mused on, 



160 CLARA FANE. 

drying the tears which started to her eyes, " even 
Lady Seymour talks of duties ; we all have duties 
to fulfil, and I must rouse ray mind to those I 
have undertaken mine are light and happy ones, 
after all, and I am ungrateful to repine/' 

In Paris Clara's spirits revived, for she had an 
opportunity of seeing her old friends the Petits, 
and Eugenie, now Madam Lecoq, to whom her 
presence made a little holiday. With the quick 
feelings and animated affection of the French, 
they welcomed her and devoted themselves to her 
amusement. The French, of whatever class or 
calling, and however occupied, have always leisure 
for entertainment, and can always spare a few 
hours that is to be devoted to some improvised 
pleasure ; they, therefore, contrived to enjoy every 
minute of her stay. 

Their lamentations were equal to their joy at 
the departure of their friend; but they parted 
with her full of smiles and encouragements, and 
fragrant and elegant were the bouquets showered 
into the carriage and graciously received by the 
young ladies and their governess as they drove off 
towards the railroad, which was to take them to 
Brussels, and onward to the Rhine. 

The " exulting and abounding river," was new 
to all but Sir Anselm Fairfax and Mr. Clark. 
The latter had scarcely appeared to Clara's party 



CLARA FANE. 161 

during their route, as he was particularly attached 
to Lady Seymour, who had preceded them to 
Paris, and whom they had joined at Brussels, 
where he was, apparently, so much engaged in 
giving his services in the railroad trajet, that he 
had not intruded himself on them. The sisters 
were quite enough occupied in observing and 
admiring, and Clara almost forgot his vicinity till 
they all met on board the Rhine boat. She was 
standing with her pupils, watching the rapidly 
developed views which flash on the sight like 
magic pictures, and, when seen for the first time, 
take away the breath with wonder and admiration, 
when turning suddenly round to make some re- 
mark to Claudia, she suddenly perceived Mr. 
Clark standing close beside her. 

She could not suppress a slight exclamation, 
which made him look off his sketch-book, the 
leaves of which he was endeavouring to smooth, 
ruffled as they were by a fresh wind, which made 
the fine river appear still more animated and 
sparkling. 

" Splendid objects, Miss," was his remark as 
he nodded rather familiarly to her ; " good colours, 
nice effects charming outline sweeping, circling 
sharp against blue sky. Fine bit of ruin 
nice loophole pretty slope of vines striking 
projection." 



162 CLARA FANE. 

Clara did not reply, she feared to trust herself; 
but her colour rose, and she remained unable to 
move from the spot. Mr. Clark resumed, 

" Sorry, Miss, to find I'm no favourite quite 
unintentional if any offence given. Didn't deserve 
to have character attacked innocent as a lamb. 
Hope by future conduct to do away with former 
impressions. Devoted servant beg to be excused 
for saying so." 

"If you desire/' said Clara, gravely, "to do 
away with former impressions, why appear in your 
present character. I cannot believe you sincere 
as long as you continue the art which you now 
think proper to practice." 

" Truly sorry, Miss/' said Mr. Clark, opening 
his eyes wider through his spectacles; "do niy 
best enemies sure to accompany talent would 
not willingly annoy; but did not know I was 
interfering with another's profession." 

" Sir," said Clara, " discussions of this kind 
are useless. I have allowed myself to be deceived 
in you, and can only now regret having already 
been weak enough to excuse your first offence. 
Henceforth if you have any regard for my peace 
of mind, let us appear to be strangers to each 
other." 

" Bless my soul !" exclaimed Mr. Clark, in a tone 
of such extreme surprise, and as Clara conceived, 



CLARA FANE. 163 



affected simplicity, that she turned away, 
scarcely able to suppress a smile, which she would 
not for the world have permitted him to detect. :~, 

" What marvellous acting \" said she to her- 
self; "he out-does all his former attempts, and 
really looks so exquisitely absurd thai!" it would 
be perfectly impossible, I really believe, for any 
eyes but mine to detect him. How extraordinarily 
he has coloured his hands; they are so white in 
reality that before, even in this character, Miss 
Giles used to remark them, and now their very 
shape seems changed. Who would imagine that 
beneath this extravagant garb and bearing so 
graceful a person as Mr. Loftus could be con- 
cealed !" 

Mr. Clark, meantime, had hurried away so 
quickly from her side that he appeared to others 
as if struck with some sudden panic. The two 
young ladies had run off to their aunt, while Sir 
Anselm had joined Clara, and was enjoying with 
her the beauties which continued to increase at 
every bend of the fullest and most glorious of 
rivers. 

The ringing laughter of the Miss Luttrels in 
the meantime was heard at the other side of the 
boat, as they stood talking to Mr. Clark. 

11 What can have put such a notion into your 
dear, stupid, clever, extraordinary head ?" cried 



164 CLARA FANE. 

Claudia. " Miss Fane got a ' bee in her bonnet/ 
as you call it, certainly not, it is you who must 
be crazy to think so." 

" May be mistaken, ladies," replied he ; " but 
have studied for insane effects. Bright eyes, 
rather wild flushed cheek words incoherent 
unaccountable antipathy." 

"Take care she doesn't bite you then, since 
you will have it so," laughed Claudia ; " you have 
evidently an antipathy to each other we must 
keep you asunder." 

" Shan't force myself on any one," replied 
Mr. Clark, looking scared ; " very much alarmed 
always at mad people. By no means safe to take 
charge of youth. "Unfortunate malady. Quite 
awful !" 

And, as he spoke, he removed as far as pos- 
sible from Clara's part of the vessel, attaching 
himself throughout that days' voyage to Lady 
Seymour, who was making a great parade of 
sketching, and who soon entirely absorbed his 
attention, while Clara, delighted with the conver- 
sation of Sir Anselm, almost forgot her late agi- 
tation, and resolved, as much as possible, to detach 
her thoughts from the reflection of being in the 
company of one for whom she now began really 
to feel indignation overpowering the indulgence 



CLARA FANE. 165 

which she had permitted to increase, at one period, 
to something approaching regard. 

But, however much she might labour to for- 
get his vicinity, he seemed destined, even contrary 
to his own wish, to intrude himself on her notice ; 
his habits were so caricatured that he did not 
escape the ridicule of several of the passengers, 
even though the Germans are much less apt than 
the English to indulge in risibility. 

He was continually putting himself forward to 
assist every one, offering to interpret in all lan- 
guages, a smattering of which he seemed to pos- 
sess, and the tittering of waiters aud travellers 
followed almost everything he said and did. 

Clara blushed at every new expose, lamenting 
the buffoonery which she conceived so degraded 
him, and trying in vain to avoid observing his 
ridiculous behaviour. 

On their second days' voyage, from Cobleiitz, 
several additions to their party were made, and 
amongst them Clara perceived a couple whose 
identity she could not mistake. This was no 
other than Captain Brighty and the fair Stanny 
as his bride. 

The latter seemed by no means to wish to 
conceal the new character in which she figured, 
and the affectionate demonstrations they exhibited 



166 CLARA FANE. 

to each other were so conspicuous that the obser- 
vation they coveted followed them every where. 

Mrs. Brighty was attired entirely in white silk, 
with white shawls and satin cloak and boa, all of 
the same pure tint, and she was every moment 
calling to her lover-husband to supply some 
deficiency in her dress or her comforts. She sat 
enveloped in clouds of snowy drapery, ministered 
to by her devoted swain, who looked proud and 
conscious of the prize he had won. 

"Law," said Mrs. Brighty, " what a good idea 
it was of us to come here for our honeymoon 
the Rhine's quite a trump card, I declare. I'd 
heard so much about it that I thought it would 
turn out all moonshine : only look at the funny 
old rat's castles perched up such a height how 
in the world could they ever climb up to their 
comical old dungeons in the clouds ? well, thank 
goodness we've something better to live in now- 
a-days." 

" The whole thing I should vote a bore/' said 
the husband, " I give you my word, were not my 
adored by my side, and 

' Nothing wants these banks of Rhine, 
Since I have got thy hand in mine !' " 

" Oh you creature !" said the bride, looking 
round, hoping that they were observed ; " did you 



CLARA FANE. 167 

make that now? you are so romantic. But I 
say, Captain, come here whisper." 

As she spoke, she leant close to the captain's 
ear and said a few words that directed his atten- 
tion to where Clara was standing with Sir 
Anselm. 

" Yes," replied he to her suggestion, " I lay 
my life it's the same girl that they said Mr. 
Loftus was in love with and went about in dis- 
guise after but look, Stanny, I give you my 
word I verily believe here's your fine squire himself, 
carrying on the farce still. Isn't that the same 
quizzical figure we both saw the day of the Well- 
flowering, carrying off Miss Fane to a carriage, 
and you recognised Mr. Loftus as the hero." 

"To be sure it is !" exclaimed Mrs. Brighty, 
" well, that is a joke ! I'm determined I'll let 
him see I smoke the affair. How capital ! but 
what a fool he must be to run the country over 
after such a chit as that. I'm sure I see no 
beauty in her now do you ?" 

The tone of the last question decided Captain 
Brighty's reply, which was entirely agreeing to 
the last proposition of his bride. 

Presently after Mrs. Brighty rose, and walk- 
ing leisurely along the deck on the supporting 
arm of her spouse, she stopped suddenly behind 
Mr. Clark who was busy sketching, and began a 



168 CLARA FANE. 

series of remarks which she expected would occa- 
sion some perturbation in the mind of the 
feigned artist. But he seemed either strangely 
insensible or to possess singular sang froid ; for 
he went on drawing without paying any attention 
or once turning round to observe the speakers. 

"Derbyshire hills are not unlike these/' said 
Mrs. Brighty, " though I cannot say much for 
the rivers there there's old Castleton with its 
ruin is a little bit like I wonder if all our beaux 
are at home now, or whether any of them are 
roaming about like us. Some folks in a certain 
quarter, seem at their old game, hey ? hem ! 
hem !" 

But Mr. Clark was still absorbed in art. 

" Well, it's too bad to cut old acquaintances," 
continued Mrs. Brighty, more pointedly still; 
"poor Kate will expect to be asked after, at any 
rate." 

Still no movement on the part of the artist, 
except to adjust his spectacles. 

At last the bride got quite out of patience, 
and motioning her husband to bring her a camp 
stool, she took her seat by the side of the dis- 
guised hero and caused her drapery to fall so 
close to his drawing that he was obliged to look 
up. 

" Beg pardon, Miss," said he, " ashamed to be 



CLARA FANE. 169 

so absent. Absorbed in contemplation art and 
nature combined quite irresistible/' 

"Oh, how do you do?" said Mrs. Brighty, 
putting out her hand and looking archly, " don't 
expect to escape me, I have lynx eyes, I assure 
you. How did you leave all at home ?" 

Mr. Clark stared and looked extremely 
bewildered. 

"Much flattered I'm sure/' stammered he, 
"last exhibition, I suppose, made my poor at- 
tempts known a little thought and some good 
handling next year do better. Sorry Fve not 
any thing with me, Miss left all at home in safe 
keeping." 

"Oh, you sly creature," persisted Mrs. 
Brighty, " not all I see Miss Fane is not for- 
gotten, oh, fie I" 

Mr. Clark's looks expressed unmitigated won- 
der as he removed his seat further off, and mur- 
mured to himself 

" Bless my heart ! another mad woman 
why, there must be a ship full ! how dangerous ! 
and all attacking me." 

"You see I'm married," said Mrs. Brighty, 
" shall I introduce my husband ? or, do you want 
to keep up the fun ? if you do, I declare I won't 
say a word. I'll do as I'd be done by/' 

Mr. Clark started up, letting his portfolio fall 

VOL. II. I 



170 CLARA FANE. 

and had to stoop and pick up all its treasures, 
which the wind was making free with, much to 
the amusement of the passengers; the bustle 
caused Clara to turn round and she then observed 
the group and at once recognised the bride and 
her captain. As, however, she had very little 
acquaintance with either she did not think it 
necessary to bow to them, being very far from 
desiring to renew the slight knowledge she had 
of them. Mrs. Brighty was, however, in a con- 
descending mood and anxious besides to exhibit 
herself as a bride : she therefore at once went 
up to her, exclaiming 

" Well, Miss Fane, who'd have thought of our 
meeting here ! here I am you see, married in 
spite of spite fine triumph over the Goldspins, 
who are ready to die with vexation the two cubs 
have never been back since the affair of the 
horsewhipping. Capital fun, wasn't it? you didn't 
see how the captain laid it into Master Ben, did 
you? you'd have split your sides I'm sure I 
did 1" 

Clara received these demonstrations as coldly 
as possible, and merely asked after her family 
very briefly. 

" Oh, mamma and Kitty make it out very 
well," was the answer. " Kate's got a new lover, 
so Mr. Loftus need not think she wears the willow, 



CLARA FAXE. 171 

you can tell him so if you like/' she added, look- 
ing knowing. " Who's that tall fine man you 
were talking to ?" she continued, pointing to Sir 
Anselm, " is he a new acquaintance ? and what 
brings you here?'' 

Clara answered, by naming Sir Anselm and 
Lady Seymour, contenting herself with telling 
her she was travelling with them, not thinking 
it necessary to enter into further explanations. 

" He's a monstrous fine man," resumed the 
bride, " but what a pity some folks make such 
quizzes of themselves ! I see through it, I assure 
you." 

Clara pretended not to comprehend her hints, 
and took the first opportunity to escape and join 
her own party ; but she saw plainly, that both she 
and Mr. Clark were the objects of entertainment, 
both to the captain and his lady, whose laughter 
was not repressed and whose glances told how 
much they were amused. 

Clara felt so annoyed that she resolved at 
length, that she would make up her mind to con- 
fide in Sir Anselm and entreat him to represent 
to Mr. Loftus the absurdity of carrying on this 
travesty, which annoyed her so extremely. They 
were now, however, arrived at Mayence, and as 
she saw little more of Clark and there was con- 
siderable bustle at their disembarkation and 

I 2 



172 CLARA FANE. 

settlement in an hotel, she of course put off her 
intention for the present, determining to take the 
first opportunity that presented itself to tell her 
strange story and endeavour to enlist Sir Anselm 
in her favour. 



CLARA FANE. 173 



CHAPTER XII. 

First let me talk with the philosopher. 

King Lear. 

AT the Anlagen, that charmingly situated garden 
just beyond Mayence, where the bright waters of 
the Rhine and Main unite, and Nature puts on 
her most joyous aspect to celebrate the union, 
Clara accompanied her party to hear the famous 
Austrian band, which gives the first promise to 
the traveller of the world of music he is entering, 
when he sets his foot on the soil of the Fa- 
therland. 

Nothing can be more exquisite than the per- 
formance, and the enthusiast is lost in admiration 
of the skill of the players ; but it must be con- 
fessed that it requires that enthusiasm to enable a 
new comer, fresh from England and unacquainted 
with the habits of the country, to endure the 
style and habits of German fashionables. 



174 CLARA FANE. 

The atmosphere, even at some distance, is im- 
pregnated with an odour, delicious to the initiated 
but hateful to noses polite : a dense crowd of 
music adorers are seated in the sun on ricketty 
chairs in small or large parties, at wooden tables, 
where huge jugs of beer supply the encircling 
glasses of the guests who drink the inspiriting 
beverage with the same delight as their ears drink 
in the heavenly sounds which rise from the 
crowding instruments, whose ' ' melodious clang " 
enchants them. 

Whichever way the newly arrived traveller 
turns he sees foaming tankards and brimming 
cups, 110 tribute of the vine, but the child of the 
hop; in every mouth he beholds a meerschaum, 
and every breath is redolent of the intoxicating 
weed. 

If he is neither a drinker nor a smoker, while 
one of his senses is delighted the others are 
cruelly tortured, and he hurries away, coughing 
and oppressed, from the scene of hilarity and 
takes refuge in some of the dusty allies behind 
the sedentary enjoyers of beer and music. 

Thus retreating from odours which custom 
had not yet taught them to disregard, Clara and 
her pupils had taken refuge in a green alley just 
without the bounds of the enclosed space, and 
had seated themselves on a grassy bank shaded 



CLARA FANE. 175 

with trees, where they could listen to the sweet 
strains without being exposed either to an un- 
clouded sun or the breath of tobacco-scented 
breezes. 

As if one instrument alone were sending forth 
its impassioned soul to the skies, the full tones 
of this harmony-breathing band rose in glorious 
unison, tuning to its delicious sounds the groves 
and gardens and hills and rivers which lay in calm 
sunshine listening around, speaking in a language 
best understood by minds refined, and suggesting 
thoughts exalted far above earth and earthly 
cares. 

Yet in the pauses of this heavenly melody 
might be heard, amongst the beer drinking vota- 
ries of the Beautiful, discussions so strange and 
startling that the hearer might imagine he were 
listening to the ravings of maniacs, or that the 
potations pottle deep so freely indulged in by the 
philosophers of " the garden," had affected their 
brains with fever. 

A party of young students seated fraternally 
enjoying the beverage which they quaffed from 
glass beakers with leaden covers, might be heard 
thus expressing their sentiments 

" What," asked one in a tone of contempt, 
"does any rational man propose that another 
should understand by the word Fatherland ? it 



176 CLARA FANE. 

is a term which it is time that we should erase 
from our language if we would not be looked 
upon throughout Europe as fools and dupes. Love 
of country ! empty word there is no such thing 
as country; it is a ridiculous delusion, an hypoc- 
risy, an impossible idea. Who feels it ? Where 
is it ? Who knows it ? Who finds it ? Does it 
exist amongst the aristocracy of a nation ? cer- 
tainly not all aristocrats, in every nation, make 
common cause with each other. Is it to be found 
in science no ; there is no bound to thought ; it 
flies beyond the frontiers of a country. Is it 
amongst the peasantry? no; a boor loves his 
village, his field, he knows nothing of his country 
and cares nothing for it he is a half-formed 
being, scarcely detached from the soil which he 
cultivates, a link between man and brute, he has 
a certain superstitious veneration for what is 
called his country perhaps, but it is as a pagan 
worshipped the stones or the trees which he found 
in the woods and on the mountains. This animal 
may have some vague notions of the Fatherland 
as he has of religion, for religion implies a state 
of inferior humanity : religion and patriotism are 
both mere abstractions, things that have no exist- 
ence. All that is contrary to liberty is impious, 
and both religion and patriotism fetter the mind 
which should be free." 



CLARA FANE. 177 

" You argue justly/' replied another, expelling 
from his oracular mouth a cloud of smoke, " there 
is one animal which is at the same time both the 
priest and the victim of this superstition it is 
the soldier. Destroy the absurd belief and the 
victim is saved the priest becomes a man." 

" What say you," exclaimed a third, setting 
down his flagon, " to that bugbear morality ? Can 
any thing be worse than the chains with which it 
loads a free-born creature ?" 

" They must be broken by a violent effort," 
said a fourth, " the world cannot endure such 
tyranny any longer. There is but one sentiment, 
but one affection to be cherished, that sentiment 
1 will call Humanitism.'' 

"Success to Humanitism .'" solemnly ejaculated 
the whole party, emptying their beer glasses. 

" Success to the brethren of the New Hegelian 
Philosophy," said they, as they replenished them 
with grave solemnity. 

At another table another group might be heard 
engaged in equally edifying converse. 

" I hold all these superstitious legends," said 
a voice issuing from a cloud, " as popular myths 
which expressed certain ideas or preoccupations, 
or desires of the human soul at a certain period, 
containing a hidden meaning very different from 
that which is apparent. According to the cha- 

I 3 



178 CLARA FANE. 

racter of a people and their mystic hopes, these 
legends will be formed. No one mind imagined 
the legends which have erected creeds they have 
been the emanation of the general spirit of 
humanity, which thus adores its own work/' 

11 1 differ with you," replied a student of Bonn, 
through the medium of another veiled voice, " I 
reject the intervention of the human mind, of the 
universal thought ; because that implies a mystical 
power, a sacred foundation, something vague and 
uncertain removed from truth : this I cannot 
admit. These legends, I maintain, were invented 
by one person only and were for the purpose of 
deceiving, of creating a doctrine destined to pro- 
duce power to the priesthood and for six thousand 
years this sort of trickery has succeeded." 

" Religion," observed a disciple of the great 
modern philosopher, Feuerbach, borrowing his own 
words, " is nothing but the re-union of all our 
most exalted instincts collected into a body and 
become a system. It is not that some mystic power 
has created man man has created a mystic power. 
Man has detached from himself the noblest part 
of his soul, has attributed to it a distinct existence 
and has given it a name under which he has after- 
wards worshipped it. Man has thus deluded and 
despoiled himself to create an imaginary being. He 
has the faculty of thus dispossessing himself in order 



CLARA FANE. 179 

to adore that which he has created this places 
him on an exalted pinnacle whence he is able to 
worship himself!" 

" Undoubted truth !" murmured a second 
student, "but it is necessary that man should 
know that it is himself to whom he pays these 
honours ; for in thus despoiling himself to pro- 
duce this chimeric creation if he is not aware of 
what he has done he becomes a mutilated creature, 
a truncated object, a monster in nature, an 
Unwesen" 

" Hence it follows," said the first speaker, 
" that it behoves the new philosophy to teach man 
his danger, to restore to him that which he has 
consented to part with to make him a perfect 
creature once again by restoring to him the por- 
tion of himself, out of which he had formed a 
fantastic being." 

" A glorious, magnanimous, generous creature 
is man !" exclaimed a youth with a long dirty 
beard and swollen features, whose red eyes shone 
like lighted coals, " who skims off the fine spirit 
which is in his soul, and instead of attributing to 
himself the perfection emanating from himself, 
shapes it into another existence and pays it divine 
honours, at the expense of his own glory !" 

" See you not," cried another, " see you not 
clearly then that the more exalted a religion is the 



180 CLARA FANE. 

more debased is he who acknowledges it ? it rises 
as he falls the grander it is the poorer he grows, 
since he robs himself to create it ! Let man call 
back his own, let him- no longer send forth his 
power ; let him concentrate it and know himself 
for the true Divinity." 

" Sublime thought !" echoed the bemused stu- 
dents, with universal enthusiasm, " the patrimony 
of man shall thus be restored to him." 

As they advanced in the discussion, these in- 
comprehensible arguers reasoned themselves into 
still deeper darkness, which they were in the habit 
of mistaking for light they were the followers of 
Arnold Huge ; but, there were also in the garden 
partizans of a philosopher, who has proved that 
there are even in the lowest depths several lower 
still ; the Bruno-Bauerists, the Straussists, the 
Rugists are triumphed over yet in the intensity 
of obscurity by the "worshippers of Stirner, the 
high priest of The One Alone. 

" Away with all theories all dreams," cried 
one of these illuminati, " humanity does not exist 
at all, nothing exists but 7. Out of / there is 
nothing. Let each man seek his /, let each man 
acknowledge his /: let each man fall down and 
worship his /." 

Meanwhile, all these enlightened individuals 
thus preparing themselves to instruct and improve 



CLAKA FANE. 181 

the world continued to drink beer, smoke tobacco 
in the sun, and sigh away their souls in listening 
to the concord of sweet sounds, proving themselves 
by this means harmonious brethren of one great 
community, the object of which is to enjoy their 
lives and pass away the time. Then home to 
sauerkrout and sausages, 

" With what appetite they may." 

Clara had been unable to avoid hearing some 
of these discussions, as she and her charges wan- 
dered round the enclosure, pausing from time to 
time, amused at the novelty of the scene. 

At length they were summoned to a table 
which had been prepared on a slight elevation 
above the smokers where they found ices 
waiting for them, and while enjoying this refresh- 
ment, accompanied by renewed strains of the 
inspired musicians, Sir Anselm was accosted by a 
personage in a student's garb, with long, fair hair 
hanging confusedly about his face, spectacles on 
his nose, a wild, forked beard, and very conspicu- 
ous moustaches. The coat he wore was wrapped 
round his figure like the robe of a priest and quite 
concealed his proportions ; he was tall, and his air 
was less awkward than might have been expected 
from the rest of his appearance. 



I 

182 CLARA FANE. 

He spoke in German, and was recognised by 
Sir Anselm as an old acquaintance. 

" Ah ! Herr Ludwig," said he, " I am happy 
to have met you thus early in my journey; I 
did not reckon on seeing you till we reached the 
Danube ; to what fortunate chance do I owe this 
pleasure ?" 

The student replied that he had been visiting 
various colleges lately, and was now returning 
from Gottingen and Bonn and was on his way to 
the University of Wiirtzburg, from whence he 
should return to Vienna by the Danube. 

<f I can, I hope, be of service to you, then," 
said Sir Anselm, " as our route precisely accords 
with yours ; I have a seat in my carriage at your 
service, and I trust you will be my guest I ask 
it selfishly, as the advantage of your society and 
valuable information will be so great to me." 

The student bowed very humbly, and replied 

" You not only honour me by the proposal, 
but will do me a great service. I have chiefly 
performed my journey on foot hitherto, and have 
rather over-tasked my strength, and, as you know, 
the purses of us students are seldom heavily 
filled, I cannot expect to get on very conveniently 
without a helping hand. Our profession is poverty, 
as you are aware, and we are by no means ashamed 



I 

CLARA FANE. 183 

to beg ; I approached your party, seeing that you 
were foreigners, with the view of asking alms, but 
I did not expect to find good fortune so close to 
me." 

The student smiled as he said this, and the 
modest humility with which he spoke enlisted 
most of his hearers in his favour. He was a very 
singular-looking being, and it seemed as if the 
strange costume he wore added some years to his 
age. He was not, however, dirty or slovenly, like 
most of the young students they had seen ; his 
coat was, though rather threadbare, well brushed, 
and his wild beard and hair were combed with 
care. 

" I wish he would push his long curls out of 
his eyes," whispered Claudia, " one can scarcely 
make out his face ; he can't be vain, at all events, 
for he makes himself hideous enough by his dress. 
His nose, which is handsome, is all of his face 
one can see, except his white teeth. I rather like 
him, but I wish he would speak something besides 
that dreadful German, not more than half of 
which I cau understand." 

" Yet his accent is softer than one generally 
hears," said Clara, (< we must try to improve our- 
selves by talking to him one can learn something 
from everybody." 

" You are always thinking of improvement, 



184 CLARA FANE. 

you tiresome darling/' exclaimed Sybilla, "now 
we only want to be amused, that is quite enough 
for us, so don't let us try to learn any thing all 
the time we are travelling, it will be time enough 
for that stupidity when we are settled again." 

Sir Anselm, who had overheard this remark, 
laughed as he said 

" Sybilla is a true philosopher, and is content 
with the present ; I suspect all the researches of 
my friend, Ludwig, will scarcely bring him to a 
happier conclusion." 

" Oh, I shall like Herr Ludwig," exclaimed 
Sybilla, " if he agrees with me I don't like to be 
contradicted ; but," she whispered, " can he speak 
anything but German ?" 

" He speaks all languages, even English, I 
believe," said Sir Anselm, and added, addressing 
the student, in Italian " these ladies, my friend, 
are quite ready to admit you into their intimacy 
provided you manage to render yourself intelligi- 
ble to them : I give them over to you, and beg 
you will use all your endeavours to secure their 
^ood-will, for I assure you it is worth having." 

The student bowed humbly and timidly, and 
seemed to shrink back into himself at this re- 
mark. 

" He is too little conscious of his own merits," 
said Sir Anselm, in a low voice, to Clara, " you 



CLARA FANE. 185 

must make advances to him or he will never be at 
home with you, and he is the most original, enter- 
taining person you can imagine when you once 
have broken the ice of his shyness. He will 
amuse you with his odd theories, and he has a 
host of legends and stories which will, I am sure, 
pleasantly beguile your time ; we once travelled 
together through Calabria, and I never passed 
so agreeable a time." 

On this hint Clara addressed the Herr Ludwig, 
who seemed flattered by her notice, and the party 
soon became more familiar. 

Lady Seymour had not accompanied them on 
this excursion, for she generally contrived to be 
taken ill wherever there was anything to be seen, 
and passed the greatest part of her time in her 
own rooms at an hotel, lying on a sofa and lament- 
ing the delicacy of her nerves, which prevented 
one so passionately fond of the beauties of nature 
and the glories of art from enjoying them as she 
desired, She nevertheless gathered from he 
companions all that had happened of interest in 
their different adventures, and these she retailed 
to her numerous correspondents in England as 
the result of her own experience. 

" You will be surprised," she would say, " that 
I, with so fragile a frame and such delicate health, 
am able to go through all this fatigue and excite- 



186 CLARA FANE. 

ment ; but, my beloved friend " it was always to 
a beloved friend, of course, that she wrote " it is 
energy that supports me I am all mind, and I 
am, besides, urged to my exertions by duties 
which are dear to me and which I have really no 
merit in fulfilling those angels to whom I devote 
myself are never out of my sight I kill myself 
for them, but 1 delight in the sacrifice. 

"My sketch-book is already almost full I 
cannot keep my pencil still by this medium we 
will review the scenes together which I have 
passed without you Oh ! were you but by me at 
this moment Hark ! that glorious Austrian band 
has renewed its strains ! I must pause. Imagine 
my writing to you on my knees, seated on a bank 
at the Anlagen of Mayence Hush ! let us listen 
to the music of the spheres ! " 

To five or six beloved friends this sort of let- 
ter was usually despatched every week, so that, in 
fact, Lady Seymour's hands were much too full to 
allow her to participate in the fatiguing pleasures 
that occupied her companions. It must be con- 
fessed that her absence was scarcely noticed by 
them, and they were quite as content to relate 
their experiences on their return as to have been 
obliged to devote themselves to her service, as she 
generally exacted a great deal of attention when 
she was of their party. 



CLARA FANE. 187 

Mr. Clark had avoided Clara so much of late 
that the amused young ladies declared he was 
afraid she would bite, as he persisted in thinking 
her mad, and Clara cared little what motive in- 
duced him to absent himself so that she was not 
kept in continual agitation by his presence. 



188 CLARA FANE. 



CHAPTER XIII. 

Ihrn hat das Schicksal einen Geist gegebeii 
Der ungebandigt immer vorwarts dringt 
Und dessen iibereiltes Streben 
Der Erde Freudeu iiberspriiigt. 

Faust. 

CLARA and her party pursued their journey from 
Frankfort, where Lady Seymour chose to remain 
behind, keeping Mr. Clark with her to make a 
sketch of the Ariadne in her album, which was 
destined to be exhibited as her own performance. 

Sir Anselm proposed that they should make 
a short pause at Wiirtzburg where he assured 
them that the gardens and the extraordinary 
beauty of the palaces would detain them without 
weariness several days. 

They found this to be the case, and day after 
day lingered on in enjoyment of the most varied 



CLARA FANE. 189 

and beautiful gardens of which any palace can 
boast in Germany. The trees are here allowed 
to grow naturally and to throw their branches 
in graceful arches, enterlacing each other along 
avenues of great length which afford delicious 
shade. Every here and there are openings leading 
to other walks and other vistas where extensive 
beds of the most brilliant flowers almost dazzle 
the eye which looks upon them from a shadowy 
retreat. 

The sun of advanced summer at this period 
drew forth from close ranges of orange and citron 
trees their exquisite odour, broad fan palms cast 
their cool shade over the walks, and magnificient 
acacias of almost incredibls size stood at different 
distances offering a fine forest-like obscurity as 
a relief to the dazzling light which surrounded 
them. 

From a fine elevated grassy walk, by the side 
of what had formerly been a wall of defence, 
openings in the grove gave glimpses of the dis- 
tant citadel standing proudly on its lofty Marien- 
berg which rises from the banks of the silver 
Main, and the picturesque Koppell opposite with 
its drapery of vines and its glittering chapel came 
out brightly against the cloudless blue sky. 

The two youngest travellers were particularly 
amused as they sported up and down a long terrace 



190 CLARA FANE. 

which overlooked a garden blazing with bright 
flowers below, to which marble steps led from the 
airy height in different directions. All along this 
terrace were statues of Cupids in different disguises, 
grotesquely attired, some as blacksmiths, some as 
cobblers, some as woodcutters, and in short repre- 
senting every kind of trade and calling, and sup- 
ported by symbols of their occupation. 

" What a sweet little face the child has/' 
exclaimed Claudia; " and how arch and good- 
humoured he looks." 

" He is however a dangerous character," said 
Sir Anselm ; " and causes more trouble in the 
world than he is worth. You see he is thus 
represented to show that all sorts of persons are 
subject to his sway." 

' Do you think cobblers and tinkers," said 
Sybilla, with some disdain, " have anything to do 
with love ?" 

" Of course not," exclaimed Claudia ; " who 
would fall in love with them in return ? and you 
know there is no use in love if it is only on one 
side." 

"There are classes of persons certainly," said 
Lud wig, rather mournfully, in his strongly accented 
English, " who haveno right to love, but they,never- 
theless cannot guard their hearts always from the 
attacks of the God anymore than those predestined 



CLARA FANE 191 

beings who become the prey of the evil race of Ujes- 
tize can prevent their hearts from falling a prey." 

" What sort of people are they/' asked Clau- 
dia ; " I never beard of them before." 

" I will tell you the history of those beings," 
said Ludwig, " some evening by moonlight, in a 
desolate spot where there are no roses and smiling 
flowers to render the effect of the legend null. A 
story loses most of its charm if told in an uncon- 
genial atmosphere, as the truest vows of affection 
are but as breath if the ear that listens is 
unmoved. The belief however in the existence of 
love is a chimerical notion," added he, abstract- 
edly. 

"What," said Clara, who had now become 
accustomed to the dreamy eccentricity of their new 
companion and who took a delight in bringing 
forward his opinions, " do you not really believe 
in the existence of affection ?" 

" I believe in maternal love," replied he ; 
" but in no other, the love of a mother to her 
children is a part of her being which nothing can 
subdue, it is her life and is only extinct with its 
cessation." 

" Do you think then," said Claudia, " that 
when I marry I shall not love my husband and 
that he will not love me ? that is quite dreadful !" 

" He will at first adore your beauty and grace," 



192 CLARA FANE. 

replied the student, " and as long as the novelty 
lasts he will be your slave ; but, as years creep on, 
he will become accustomed to that which charmed 
him, and forget it. You will do just the same 
and, like all marriages, your union will become a 
piece of indifferrence long before you are sepa- 
rated by age or accident." 

" You have been disappointed I know/' said 
Claudia, looking very sagacious, "and that's 
the reason you talk in this way ; if any one were 
to fall very much in love with you and tell you so 
and promise to love you always, you would'nt say 
so for the world." 

" But," said the student, rather bitterly ; 
"that can never be my case. I am poor and 
insignificant, have nothing to attract or attach. I 
shall go through the world seeking always for 
truth in musty libraries and never find either truth 
or love." 

"Then why not seek them in the animated 
world ?" said Clara ; " the world is full of love 
and beauty, so full that it is able to dispense its 
treasures to all and yet never know a void ; hatred 
and coldness grow in our own bosoms ; distrust is 
the greatest enemy our nature has and as long 
as we disbelieve in love we shall never become 
acquainted with him." 

" But you, Madam," said the student, " are 



CLARA FANE. 193 

young and fair as are these your lovely com- 
panions, you are all prosperous and happy and 
have as little idea of the privations of the world 
as of the deceptions and wickedness which it 
produces. Your lives are all summer and you 
have never known a wintry day nor can therefore 
imagine its severity." 

" The cares and privations of the world/' said 
Clara, "can but little affect the heart; on the 
contrary, the sharp air sometimes brings forth its 
richest blossoms which a too brilliant sun kept from 
blowing. Besides you speak without knowledge 
in the instance you have just given. I am depen- 
dant and one on whom fortune has never smiled 
as she has on my young companions, yet you class 
us together ; yet, perhaps, you are right in doing 
so, for a cheerful heart goes far to reconcile us to 
every position in which chance may place us, and 
in that respect we are equal." 

" And you have never felt distrust or enter- 
tained suspicion?" said the student stopping in 
the shade of an acacia while the rest of the party 
were descending the steps to the garden beneath. 
Clara, paused too as she saw he wished to pursue 
the theme he had taken. 

" You are wrong again," replied she, " I have 
distrusted and suspected; but perhaps I describe 
my feelings falsely. I should say I trusted too 

VOL. II. K 



194 CLARA FANE. 

much and suspected too little, it was only certainty 
which occasioned me to wake from a dream in 
which I was beginning to indulge. Fortunately 
I had not slept too long and the pain is less on 
waking than it might have been." 

" You cannot then forgive ?" asked Ludwig. 

"Not in the case to which I allude," said 
Clara ; "because the injury intended was persisted 
in even after I had believed in repentance." 

" Your wrongs must have been deep indeed ; 
said the student, somewhat scornfully she thought. 

"We will not talk of them," said Clara; 
" perhaps you would not consider them wrongs at 
all." 

"We often imagine injuries," returned the 
student, " which, were facts explained, would turn 
out to be benefits. Women are too impressionable 
to be depended on, but once impressed with a 
false notion, they are obstinate in retaining it." 

" You are singularly severe," said Clara, 
smiling; "we must use all our endeavours to 
reform you. Do they teach in your colleges this 
heresy against women? I kn^v the Germans 
were not so gallant as the French, or so just, 
perhaps, as the English ; but I did not know we 
inspired such feelings of antipathy as your cus- 
tomary remarks lead me to suppose." 

" You have already promised," said the stu- 



CLARA FANE. 195 

dent j " to forgive all I may venture to say, 
professing to be entertained by the free exposure 
of my sentiments, therefore I do not conceal what 
I think even at the risk of shocking a woman 
who listens to me. I have never yet in my ex- 
perience had cause to change my impressions of 
the female mind, but I am open to conviction 
when it arrives." 

" Were we to be as severe towards men as you 
are to us," said Clara, laughing, " our quarrels 
would never cease ; but we are indulgent while 
you are contemptuous. I am sure that there are 
men of pure exalted minds, in whom there is no 
guile or deception, whose thoughts are all generous 
and noble and therefore they can believe no ill in 
others." 

" Do you know such a woman ?" asked 
Ludwig. 

" Certainly/' replied Clara ; " I think such a 
character common* to women, perhaps, because 
we know less of life and indulge more in ideal 
than reality. For this cause it is the more cul- 
pable to destroy the paradise we so generously 
make." 

" To feel sure of being loved truly, disinter- 
estedly, purely, solely, must be a paradise indeed/' 
said the student ; " but such a fate is reserved 
for few." 

K 2 



186 CLARA FANE. 

" Oh no," cried Clara, gaily ; " it may happen 
to all in their degree. Some minds are satisfied 
with little, others expect too much." 

" Too much," exclaimed Ludwig, passionately, 
"aye too much if one expects sacrifice if one 
demands devotion unconditional, absolute, exclu- 
sive, it is too much. One must be content with 
quiet indifference, with calm endurance, with 
patient waiting such love is worth nothing." 

" Such is, however, real love," said Clara ; 
" it is made up entirely of self-sacrifices it en- 
dures all, it sustains all, it lightens all, and it 
forgives all; passionate demonstrations are no- 
thing worth they are easily feigned, and quickly 
vanish : there is no real love that is not founded 
on truth, and truth is not known till it is sought 
for." 

"He who is the object of your preference/' 
said the student, " will then have a hard trial." 

" A hard one, if he does not think as I do," 
replied Clara ; " but if he does, my caution will 
not surprise him." 

"Caution that is the word," said Ludwig ; 
"caution belongs to woman passion to man." 

" It should be so," said Clara, " and when it is 
not, she suffers." 

" Are you quarrelling ?" asked Claudia, as 
she ran laughing back at this moment. " Do you 



CLARA FANE. 197 

know, Mr. Ludwig," she continued, " that it is 
very difficult to please Miss Fane she is quite 
sauvage by fits, and takes such antipathies to people ! 
She is so cross sometimes to a poor friend of ours, 
Mr. Clark, that we are obliged to comfort him, 
and take his part against her. I do believe she 
is in love with him, and is trying to prevent our 
finding it out \" 

" You mistake/' said Clara, a little confused. 
" I do not dislike Mr. Clark, and as certainly do 
not love him or he me; but there is really some 
danger of my quarrelling with the Herr Ludwig, 
because he is unjust. However, our dispute can 
stand over for the present, as we are, I think, 
going into the palace, and we must carry only 
pleasing ideas with us, in order to enjoy the 
splendours that await us." 

"You will allow," said the student, "that 
there is, at least, no mistaking one failing of 
woman pomp and show are her passions, and 
there is little that she will not sacrifice to obtain 
them." 

"A failing, I suppose," said Clara, archly, 
" from which man is quite free ! How generous 
of him to build palaces entirely for the pleasure 
of his natural enemy, while he would himself be 
quite satisfied with a hermit's cell !" 

There are few sights that so little repay a 



198 CLARA FANE. 

traveller's fatigue as a visit to a royal palace, 
except it happens to be ancient enough to carry 
him away from the mere contemplation of gold 
mouldings, velvet and satin draperies and orna- 
mented furniture the long ranges of splendid 
rooms without inhabitants, costly and glittering, 
but affording pleasure merely to careless strangers* 
never sought and scarcely ever seen by the royal per- 
sonages to whom they belong, are not better than 
decorated coffins, and convey only melancholy 
conviction to the mind of the insufficiency of splen- 
dour to produce content. 

Although the Residenz at Wvirtsburg is pre- 
cisely in this predicament, and is as deserted as 
any other royal palace, the possessor of which 
generally builds him a cottage in a wood to live 
in close beside, yet it is one of the few really worth 
visiting. It is on a gigantic scale, and said to 
contain three hundred and sixty-seven chambers, 
truly a magnificent assemblage. Most of these 
are gorgeous in the extreme, and present such a 
blaze of looking-glass that the quantity seems 
incredible : the very stoves are faced with glass, 
some of the ceilings are glass, and there is one 
beautiful room all shining with glass in every 
nook and corner. Tables and cabinets, doorcases, 
shutters, walls, and ceiling, all relieved by ex- 
quisite paintings and rich carvings in gold on glass : 



CLARA FAXE. 199 

flowers, birds, scrolls, wreaths, and nymph-like 
heads gleaming on the walls ; the chandeliers have 
pendant leaves and flowers of coloured glass, and 
it is only the beautifully inlaid wooden floor that 
is not of this dazzling material. This is called 
the Mirror Chamber, and is a wonder of its kind : 
whoever designed it, imagined a miracle of grace 
and taste never surpassed. When lighted up at 
night the effect must be magical. It lies in the 
centre of other rooms, each surpassing its fellow 
in splendour one arranged to represent the 
cavern of some sea-goddess, particularly attracted 
the sisters. 

" How charming," cried Claudia, " to live 
here ! I should have this range to myself, and 
fancy I was a sea-nymph. Look ! the walls and 
ceilings are all painted like coral groves, with 
enamelled fishes gliding through minerals of all 
colours are scattered here and there what loads 
of spar of every hue what broad sea-fans, what 
beautiful weeds, what pearly shells, and the 
ceiling a perfect grotto, glittering with light." 

" 1 have found another quite as beautiful," 
cried Sybilla ; " all of malachite ! all green 
every table and stand the walls and the pillars 
malachite ! and the draperies of the same colour, 
damasked like the veins." 

"But see I like this room best of all!" cried 



200 CLARA FANE. 

her sister, hurrying her along : " dove-colour silk 
draperies, and pink marble walls with silver mould- 
ings everything is silver here, and how bright 
and fresh it looks." 

"Don't decide on any preference/' cried Clau- 
dia, " till you have entered this room ; it is all of 
porcelain, from ceiling to floor, and the rose- 
coloured velvet and satin curtains are held up 
by gold cords, and covered with gold em- 
broidery." 

"But here is a Pompeian room," exclaimed 
Sir Anselm ; " now you have re-entered your old 
haunts and behold an old friend." 

" Turned giant," said Claudia, as they entered 
an immense saloon with a dome, fitted up with 
patterns from Pompeii and dedicated to music, as 
a beautiful gallery, encircling the upper part of 
the walls, announces; but music has probably 
never sounded in these walls for half a century. 

The beautiful Chapel, fresh and bright as if it 
welcomed the devout every day, is only a thing to 
gaze at, and no evidence throughout this gorgeous 
abode tells of habitation. 

"What marvellous wealth must have been 
possessed by the ecclesiastical princes who made 
such a residence for their pride I" exclaimed Sir 
Anselm ; " and they provided almost equally for 
their latest abodes, for we see in the cathedral 



CLARA FANE. 201 

and the churches of "Wiirtzburg how costly were 
their tombs." 

" Man, at all events/' said Clara to Ludwig, 
" seems here to have shown his love of splendour, 
you will admit. A woman's vanity had nothing 
to do here, during the thousand years that a race 
of prince-bishops are said to have borne sway and 
dwelt in this golden house of riches, undisturbed 
by the whims and caprices of a sex which they 
shunned. Humble and worthy men, high ex- 
amples of self-sacrifice and mortification ! " 

" Had the sovereigns been abbess-princesses 
do you think they would have been more self- 
denying ?" said the student. 

"Why does not the King of Bavaria live 
here ?" asked Claudia ; " he cannot surely have a 
more beautiful palace any where, or else he is the 
richest king in the whole world." 

" The king," said Ludwig, " is the least im- 
portant monarch in Europe ; yet he has a palace 
in almost every one of his towns of such sur- 
passing magnificence, that Eastern fables seem 
realised in their structure. He is, nevertheless, 
one of the poorest of sovereigns, and his subjects 
are amongst the least prosperous and the least 
content of any nation under the sun." 



K 3 



202 CLARA FANE. 



CHAPTER XIV. 

Uns 1st ganz kanibalisch wohl ! 



Faust. 



AN expedition had been arranged to pay a visit, 
by moonlight, to the citadel on its crowning height 
above the town of Wiirtsburg : it is a fine spot on 
a bright day from whence to look down on the 
city beneath shining in light, its crowding but 
handsome streets, its lofty Dom, its majestic 
Marienkirke the picturesque bridge adorned with 
quaint statues of bishops, the swelling river dividing 
tower from tower and street from street but seen 
at sun set and by a brilliant moon the scene is 
magical. 

Sir Anselm and the two sisters began the steep 
ascent, by the rugged steps which lead from the 
street in toilsome length, and gay and cheerfully 
did they climb the precipitous stairs while Clara 
followed, leaning on the arm of the student, to 
whom the whole of the scene was familiar and at 



CLARA FANE. 203 

whose recommendation they had agreed to attempt 
the adventure. 

They reached the summit of the steep rock, 
at length, and seated themselves beneath the walls 
of the castle, looking with admiration on the wide 
extent of buildings at their feet ; countless 
steeples and innumerable towers rose dark and 
spirit-like frpm the mass of buildings, and behind 
rose the picturesque hill on which grow the vines 
which produce a wine celebrated in the country 
and considered the treasure of German vintages. 
The glittering river, touched with silver light, ran 
winding through the city and the far meadows 
beyond, and lost itself amongst the distant 
heights. 

" This is just the place," said Sybilla, " for the 
Herr Ludwig to keep his promise of telling us 
that horrid story about people losing their 
hearts." 

" Always an event sufficiently tragic," said Sir 
Anselm ; " but in this case, is it more than usually 
so, that so solemn a spot must be chosen for 
recounting the history ?" 

" Yes," said Sybilla, " he would not tell it in 
the light of day in those pretty gardens, and I 
am determined to wait for it no longer." 

" Is it some of your Servian lore, Ludwig ?" 
said Sir Anselm, " I know you have possessed 



204 CLARA FANE. 

yourself of much concerning that wild but 
poetical nation." 

" No," replied Ludwig, " this concerns Dalma- 
tian superstition, there is, you may remember, a 
race of people peculiar to that country, who are 
called Ujestize, a kind of witches whose object is 
to procure the heart of a young person who is 
beginning to be acquainted with love, and having 
cooked it on the fire to make a feast of the 
precious morsel. 

" A young man who was about to become a 
bridegroom, at the age of twenty, was aware that 
he was the object of desire to these monsters ; for 
he had frequently awaked suddenly just as he felt 
a hand in his bosom about the region of his heart. 
This Imd happened to him so often that he became 
at last terrified and imparted his fears to his con- 
fessor, a good man who was exceedingly attached 
to him : Father Blaise had never heard of this 
danger which threatens the human race and, 
moreover, was hard of belief respecting the exist- 
ence of beings who possessed such power. He 
endeavoured to reason his young friend out of the 
idea, but he was too well aware of its truth and 
had been accustomed from childhood to hear 
instances of a terrible nature related to him by 
certain persons who knew the facts they re- 
counted. 



CLARA FANE. 205 

" Father Blaise, at length, proposed to his 
young friend that he should share his chamber in 
order to watch over him while he slept, and avert 
this fearful peril. 

" ' I feel certain/ said the young man, ' that 
they will become possessed of my heart before I 
marry, if I could but escape them till after that 
event I shnuld be safe, as it is only in my present 
circumstances that these wretches covet the pos- 
session of the human heart. I will therefore, 
my dear friend, accept your offer and rely on your 
vigilance to save me.' 

" The good father accordingly repaired to the 
sleeping chamber of the young man, who had 
already lain down in his bed; he proceeded to 
utter certain prayers and to use certain ceremonies 
usual against evil spirits, and then placed himself 
on a couch near his friend, who, while he had 
been thus occupied was fallen into a sweet sleep, 
and was breathing gently without any appearance 
of disturbance. For some time he remained lis- 
tening to his regular respiration, and occasionally 
he raised himself up to glance at his appearance, 
which was always quiet and settled. 

"At length, just after midnight, the priest, 
whose mind was entirely occupied with reflections 
which had been caused by his friend's terror, in- 
sensibly fell into a reverie which by degrees ended 



206 CLARA FANE. 

in sleep. Immediately a vision entered his mind 
of a most horrible description: he thought he 
beheld forms such as he had never imagined when 
awake, Covering about the chamber and, by de- 
grees, approaching the bed where his friend lay ; 
that presently they perched upon his pillow and 
looked upon him with flaming eyes then several 
of the shapes began to contend and struggle with 
each other, uttering frightful peals of laughter 
and finally assembled in a circle round his breast, 
and with long nails began their horrible work 
one, in the meantime, was occupied in fanning 
with a huge pair of black wings a fire which rose 
from the centre of the floor, and when the rest 
had taken the heart from the young man's breast 
it was thrown therein and all began to scramble 
for a share. 

" The priest endeavoured in vain to cry out 
at his attempts to do so and the struggles he made 
to rise, the party seemed disturbed and in a mo- 
ment they all turned towards him in the midst of 
their hideous feast and gazed upon him with a 
fascination in their eyes which paralysed his 
senses, while they wiped their lips with their long 
grey hair and grinned in derision. 

"As he lay thus the forms began to grow 
more and more indistinct, and at length all was 
vacancy he started up now quite awake and was 



CLARA FANE. 207 

rushing to the bed of his young friend, when he 
saw him endeavouring to rise, and having, with 
effort, come from his bed he made a few steps 
forward and then fell lifeless at the priests feet. 

" He examined his breast, but there was no 
apparent wound, nevertheless, he had ceased to 
exist. An examination was made of the body, 
and to the amazement of the surgeons who offi- 
ciated it was found that, although every part of 
his interior frame was perfectly sound, there was 
no heart within his bosom/' 

"How dreadful!' 7 said the sisters, creeping 
close to each other, " and what a dreadful man 
you are to know such stories." 

" Oh, I can tell you one more shocking still," 
said Ludwig, smiling, "if you will not be too 
frightened to walk back to the hotel afterwards." 

" No, no," cried they, " do tell it we shall 
not die of fright, and it is so pleasant to feel terri- 
fied and yet know that one is safe." 

The student continued, therefore, his revela- 
tions as follows 

"In Croatia there are certain families who 
have the misfortune to be what is called Vukod- 
lack. 

" There is nothing outward to designate per- 
sons who are afflicted with this malady ; they are 
usually extremely amiable, gentle, benevolent, and 



208 CLARA FANE. 

quiet in their manners, and the harm which is 
unfortunately in their minds injures no one but 
themselves. 

" They are generally melancholy, in conse- 
quence of the regrets they have for what they 
consider themselves compelled to act in sleep, and 
they exert every power they possess to do away, 
by their conduct, the fatal- evil to which they are 
a prey whenever sleep descends upon them. 

" They seek every remedy that human science 
offers ; they have recourse to the most severe 
practises of religion; they will even sometimes 
submit to the amputation of a limb, in the hope 
of being cured of their secret sufferings; and 
sometimes, driven to despair by remorse for the 
involuntary crimes they commit in their sleep, 
they put an end to their existence, always leaving 
instructions that their heart may be transfixed 
with a stake which shall be nailed to the coffin in 
which they are laid, in the hope of preventing 
their spirit from continuing the crimes which they 
performed during the body's life. 

" The nightly occupations of these unhappy 
Vukadlack are these : immediately that sleep 
.descends on them they repair, in idea, to some 
grave, and there, with their nails, tear up the 
ground, and feast on the dead within; or they 
enter the chamber where a nurse is watching a 



CLARA FANE. 209 

new-born infant, seduce her to sleep, and then 
steal the breath of the child in the cradle. 

" When these persons, thus afflicted, die, it is 
by no means uncommon on opening their graves 
after some time to find them without signs of 
decay, so much, it is supposed, has the repose of 
death refreshed their bodies, for they have at 
length slept without dreaming." 

" I hope we are not likely to meet any of 
these beings on our journey," said Clara ; " Ger- 
many, I believe, abounds with extraordinary mon- 
sters, but, perhaps, they conceal themselves in the 
brains of the natives, and do not come forth to 
scare strangers. It is to be desired that people 
afflicted as you relate keep on the other side of 
the Danube where they are more appreciated." 

" By no means," said Ludwig, with a grave 
countenance, "I have myself met with persons 
suffering from the affliction I describe, and that 
in the very region where you are about to travel. " 
Indeed it is always in the neighbourhood of 
mountains that these beings are encountered ; 
the air of cities does not breed them. I would 
not answer for your not meeting with most extra- 
ordinary adventures before you reach the beau- 
tiful solitude of Corno." 

" Do you mean that you have known one of 
these Vukodlack ?" exclaimed Claudia. 



210 CLARA FANE. 

"Yes," returned the student, "and not a 
native of Croatia either. He came much nearer 
to the ordinary haunts of society, for he was an 
Italian, born in Calabria, but settled at Vienna as 
an artist, where I knew him/' 

" And what was he like ? and how did you 
find it out ?" exclaimed Claudia. 

" He was remarkably handsome, and particu- 
larly amiable and gentle in his manners, but he 
was too generous and noble in his mind to sup- 
port injustice, and, in an evil hour, he joined a 
band of patriotic young men who thought to 
regenerate their country. Their attempt failed, 
and in consequence he fell under the displeasure 
of the government and was banished. He had 
very lately married a young and beautiful girl 
who was strongly attached to him, and whom he 
loved with all the ardour of his nature. 

" When they left Vienna they were obliged to 
travel on foot, with scarcely any means of sup- 
port, and a long journey with an uncertain ter- 
mination before them. He directed his steps to 
Germany, where he hoped to obtain occupation, 
or, if not there, he proposed continuing his way 
to France. 

" They had wandered long amongst the moun- 
tains of the Salzkammergut and, worn and weary, 
were vainly endeavouring to discover some village 



CLARA FANE. 211 

where they might find shelter for the night, when 
the storm which they had been dreading for some 
time overtook them in one of the most dreary of 
the snowy passes. 

" They were forced to take refuge in a cave, 
and here they passed the night in great misery, 
tortured by the pangs of hunger, for neither of 
them had eaten for several days. In this ex- 
tremity the strength of the young wife gave way, 
she was seized with delirium, and in her ravings, 
as she clung to her husband, entreated him not 
to die of hunger while her body remained on 
which he could make a meal. 

" Destitute of all remedies and abandoned to 
their fate, the miserable husband saw her die in 
his arms, and could only rejoice that her death 
had preceded his. 

"After some hours of insensibility, which 
supplied the place, probably, of nourishment, 
he found, on coming to himself, that the storm 
had passed away, and that nature had resumed 
her beauties and her graces as if to mock his 
despair. 

" He took the body of his wife in his arms 
and continued his way till he reached the cime- 
tiere of the first village, and there he dug a grave 
for her and buried her with his own hands, plac- 
ing above the earth which covered her his staff, 



212 CLARA PANE. 

which he crossed with the dagger he had worn, 
thus forming the symbol of the faith which alone 
supported him. 

" By one of those strange accidents which 
occur in life, he found when he reached Salzburg 
that his sentence had been reversed and that he 
was no longer an exile ; but he had lost all that 
made existence valuable to him, and the subse- 
quent success of his genius, which was great and 
which still impelled him to action, could no longer 
afford him either happiness or consolation; he 
had no beloved friend now to share his triumphs 
or to sympathise with his feelings. 

" It happened that circumstances led him into 
the society of an eminent physician whose bene- 
volent and amiable character induced him to cul- 
tivate his intimacy, and who, seeking to soothe 
his mind, which he found strangely disturbed, 
and, observing that medical skill alone was ineffi- 
cient to relieve him, at length succeeded in ob- 
taining his confidence, and to him was related the 
history of his early misfortunes. 

" By a series of kind attentions and watchful 
cares, his friend was able, in a great degree, to 
calm the nervous state of mind in which the 
artist was plunged; but the physician was not 
aware, to the full extent, of his sufferings, till on 
one occasion they had agreed to make an excur- 



CLARA FANE. 213 

sion together into that beautiful part of Bavaria 
known as the Franconian Switzerland; for the 
painter had never cared to return, even after his 
pardon was granted, to his native Italy, and con- 
tinued to reside at Nuremburg, making visits 
occasionally to the other towns of the kingdom. 

" They had been together through the beautiful 
vallies that extended from Streitberg to Bar>berg, 
and had explored the charming and varied district 
of the vale of Muggendorf ; the health and spirits 
of the young painter seemed to have revived, and 
his original character, which was lively and 
energetic, broke forth from the cloud of sadness 
which usually shrouded his mind. 

" They were on their return to Nuremberg, and 
had arrived late in the evening at the village of 
Streitberg, where they intended to pass the night : 
the only inn was so full that it was impossible to 
procure more than one small room, in which a 
second bed was placed on the occasion, and this 
was the only accommodation they could procure. 

" To the surprise of his friend, the young 
painter expressed himself very much annoyed at 
this arrangement, and his spirits appeared to sink 
as the night approached and it became time to 
repose. 

" At length he said to his companion, as he 



214 CLARA FANE. 

stooped down to a portmanteau in which his 
necessaries were contained, and produced a coil of 
strong cord 

" ' My good friend, since there seems no 
remedy to our sharing the same apartment, I have 
but one request to make to you, which is, that 
you will, as soon as I am asleep, bind my hands 
and feet tightly to the bed in such a manner as to 
prevent my moving/ 

"His friend remonstrated with him, and 
attempted to turn into ridicule the strange wish 
he had expressed. 

"'I do not jest,' said he, with an expression 
of deep distress and a strange wildness in his eyes, 
e I entreat you to do this if you would sleep with- 
out danger in the chamber of a wretch, who is 
under the controul of an evil demon. I have not 
yet told you all the miseries to which I am subject, 
I have not revealed to you the worst, that not a 
night passes but I behold the corpse of my un- 
fortunate wife in the spot where I placed her, and 
that I do not hear the words uttered in her deli- 
rium Do not die of hunger while my body 
remains for a meal I' 

" ( No sooner do I sleep than this image takes 
possession of me I rise from my couch I hurry 
into the open air amongst the mountains, there 



CLARA FANE. 215 

close to Ischel, where she died I hasten to the 
cimetiere with my nails I disinter her corpse and 
my frightful hunger is appeased ! 

" ' Am I a being/ he continued, wildly, ' in 
whose chamber a man could sleep if he were not 
tied in his bed ?' " 

"How hideous!" cried Claudia: "and what 
became of the unfortunate young man ?" 

"His friend," said the student, "soothed 
and persuaded him, and having promised to watch 
him all night, and not to attempt to sleep in his 
company, he consented to take some rest. They 
returned together to their usual residence, and 
the patient was at last induced to go back to his 
native Italy, where the climate and the country 
were more congenial to him. I have never heard 
more of him since, therefore cannot tell you the 
rest of his history." 

" It is a fearful one," said Clara, " and if in- 
vented to suit our moonlight ramble is singularly 
appropriate. We shall, however, sleep, I imagine, 
after our fatigues of to-night, without fear of the 
Vukodlack." ' 



216 CLARA FANE. 



CHAPTER XV. 

So gefallst du mir. 

TVir werden, hoff'ich, uns vertragen ! 

Faust. 

THE day after their excursion by moonlight to the 
Citadel had been fixed for their continuing their 
journey, but Lady Seymour had not yet arrived 
to join them. It was late in the afternoon as 
they were wandering amongst the groves of the 
palace- garden that, at the end of one of the vistas, 
Clara and her party observed a well-known figure 
approaching them, and had no difficulty in recog- 
nising Mr. Clark, sent to announce the arrival of 
Lady Seymour, who, being fatigued, was reposing 
in her room at the hotel. 

The two girls flew to meet him, but Clara, 
unable to repress her agitation, turned away and 
walked along an opposite path. She was followed 



CLARA FANE. 217 

instantly by Ludwig who paced slowly by her 
side, which she was not aware of until, looking 
suddenly up, she observed his eyes fixed on her 
face, with so remarkable a meaning that she 
could not help starting she scarcely knew why. 
She seemed to recognise the very expression which 
at that moment was so vivid in her mind, and which 
she had fled from their disguised visitor to avoid. 

" Pardon me, madam/' said the student, " I 
fear I intrude on your privacy ; but my nature is 
retiring and obnoxious to strangers, and the aspect 
of the person I saw advancing and so welcomed 
by our young friends, was distasteful to me. 
There are some natures which have antipathies to 
each other, and it is felt at first sight towards 
others the heart is involuntarily borne, and recog- 
nises a friend at the first glance. We Germans 
are full of such dreams and fancies, which, 
whether right or wrong, affect us perhaps you 
cannot comprehend this feeling/' 

"It is one," said Clara, "which is, I believe, 
acknowledged by every one, and cannot be ac- 
counted for except by Mesmerists, whose theories 
make all such mysteries easy. I confess, that 
like yourself, I have a wish to avoid Mr. Clark, 
the person to whom you allude ; but it is not from 
any antipathy I feel towards him : circumstances 
have caused me to wish that I was not forced into 
VOL. u. L 



218 CLARA PANE. 

his society, and whenever he appears I endeavour 
to absent myself." 

" And will he travel with us all the time ?" 
asked the Student, with some anxiety. 

"I fear so," replied Clara; "he usually ac- 
companies Lady Seymour, but as he is supposed 
to be engaged to give lessons to the young ladies 
in drawing, no doubt when we arrive at pictures- 
que sites, we shall have his company/' 

" He is an artist then ?" said Ludwig. 

" He is called so/' replied Clara ; " that is his 
present profession." 

The Student stopped a moment, looked at 
Clara with the same singular expression as before, 
and then burst into a fit of laughter, such as she 
had never seen him indulge in before. 

" What occasions your risibility ?" she asked 
at length, a good deal surprised. 

" I laugh," said he, recovering himself, " at a 
thought which entered my head, at the extreme 
absurdity of which I cannot help being amused. 
When this man's name was uttered by Miss 
Claudia, you started, blushed, turned pale, and 
seemed ready to faint. You then hurried away, 
evidently in agitation, and my imagination pic- 
tured a fantastic dream of love with this awkward 
man for its hero, and you, the fairest of your sex, 
for the heroine. Since I have reflected on your 



CLARA FANE. 219 

words, I behold the folly of my surmise, and 
cannot recover from the effect its stupidity causes 
me." 

" It was, indeed, an extraordinary fancy," said 
Clara, turning away her head and avoiding the 
looks of the Student, which seemed to seek hers, 
"but the object of our antipathy is gone, and 
I will now return to Sir Anselm." 

From that time, during the whole of the period 
when chance threw them together, Clara observed 
that Ludwig avoided Mr. Clark as much as she 
did herself, but what surprised her more was that 
the latter never made the least attempt to address 
her or be near her, and even, if they were com- 
pelled to exchange a few words, appeared to shrink 
from doing so, and to be delighted at any means 
of escape. 

One day Claudia came laughing to her and 
said that she and her sister had contrived to 
frighten Mr. Clark out of his wits. 

"Imagine," said she, "my having repeated to 
him all the histories of Vukodlacks that Ludwig 
told us, and persuaded him that the Student him- 
self is one of those horrible beings without a heart 
and very dangerous. He says he never liked his 
looks from the first moment, and that as for you, 
he is certain you are not to be trusted. Poor 
dear man, there is no absurdity he will not be- 

L 2 



220 CLARA FANE. 

lieve, and as he hardly ever can sleep, as it is, for 
fear of ghosts, I don't know how he will exist, 
now that he thinks himself surrounded by such 
odd beings as you and Ludwig." 

"This is carrying the farce great lengths," 
said Clara to herself, " I cannot comprehend his 
conduct in any way. I am resolved however to 
put an end to these absurd scenes which can, 
when explained, edify no one." 

Full of this thought, she sought Sir Anselm 
Fairfax, with whom she had, of late, had few op- 
portunities of conversing. 

" I am afraid Sir Anseln," said she "that you 
will think the step I take very extraordinary it 
would perhaps appear more proper that in any 
difficulty like the present, I should consult Lady 
Seymour, but I feel that it is in you that I ought 
to confide; you have expressed interest in me, 
and would I feel sure, be sorry to know that I 
am rendered unhappy, by an occurrance which 
you could perhaps do away with." 

Sir Anselm, not by words alone, but by the 
kindness of his manner, reassured her and begged 
she would at once point out in what manner he 
could serve her. 

" I hardly dare to tell you the truth," said 
she, "but I have resolved to do so. You are 
aware that when I paid my visit to Eose Cot- 



CLARA FANE. 221 

tage at the time I was first so fortunate as to 
see you, I met a gentleman there who " 

" You mean," said Sir Anselm anticipating 
her words, " you mean a man then without a 
name, since known to you as Air. Edmond 
Loftus." 

" I do/' said Clara blushing, " that gentle- 
man from a caprice which I imagined he had 
since regretted, followed me into the country, 
where I was engaged in a humble position, and 
thought it suitable to assume the character of an 
artist, and to introduce himself where I V.TIS. 
After a time he discovered himself and I recog- 
nised in him the person I had seen at Rose Cot- 
tage. An accident carried me to Loftus Hall, 
other events introduced me to the society of the 
neighbourhood, and I became acquainted with 
Mr. Loftus in his proper person. The change in 
his manner towards me made me hope that he 
altogether regretted the unworthy step he had 
formerly taken. I left that part of the country, 
having experienced much mortification owing to 
the reports circulated to my detriment in conse- 
quence of a man well known in his own county 
having assumed a disguise which was detected. 
But that I was protected by firm friends, I must 
have suffered in reputation from this business, and 



222 

even yet, I find that I have not entirely escaped 
calumny. Judge of my surprise then, when, after 
having been accustomed to see Mr. Loftus in the 
house of my friends and when disguise was use- 
less, he re-appears in his former assumed 
character." 

" How do you mean," said Sir Anselra, " when 
has he so appeared ?" 

"He assumed his disguise again for a purpose, 
which though sufficiently annoying to me, I am 
not obliged to know," said Clara hesitating, "but 
what concerns me nearer, he has attached himself 
to this family and wears the same carnival habit 
by which he first chose to degrade himself." 

"The same!" said Sir Anselm, "and you 
have recognised him at once?" 

"I could not doubt that it was he," said 
Clara, " although he has so much overacted his 
part this time, that I might have been forgiven if 
I had been deceived, as it is evident both you and 
the rest of my friends are on the subject." 

"Then who do you suspect?" said Sir Anselm 
looking a little astonished, "you concealed your 
suspicions so well that I never imagined you were 
disturbed." 

" This the more surprises me," said Clara, 
"for the agitation I am thrown into is so great, 



CLARA FANE 223 

that it has not escaped the notice even of a stran- 
ger, M. Ludwig perceived it at this very time, the 
moment the supposed Mr. Clark made his ap- 
pearance in the gardens of Wiirtzburg." 

"The supposed Mr. Clark!" exclaimed Sir 
Anselm, " why who then do you imagine Clark 
to be?" 

" I know him to be no other than Mr. Loftus," 
said Clara, "in that character he came to the 
school where I was staying, and in that character 
he now appears." 

To Clara's great surprise, Sir Anselm fell back 
in his chair at these words and indulged in a long 
fit of merriment, so unusual with him, that she 
was quite bewildered to behold it. At length he 
said 

" My dear Miss Fane, you must forgive me 
for truly in this case 

' To be grave exceeds all power of face.' 

There never was anything more exquisitely 
comic than the notion you have allowed ..to 
strengthen in your mind. The man you accuse 
is altogether innocent deprive poor Clark of his 
spectacles, his wig and his Hessians, and he would 
never become, from such a chrysalis, the fine 
butterfly Edmond Loftus. No, make yourself 
quite easy and content, he is exactly what he 



224 CLARA FANE. 

appears an eccentric, half witted, industrious 
and not very highly gifted artist. With no 
remarkable mind, but quite without any bad pro- 
pensities or feelings. 

"That Loftus was imprudent enough to 
assume his garb for a travesty, I can quite un- 
derstand, because he had already acquired great 
fame in imitating poor Clark to the life, and at a 
certain carnival at Rome the world was strangely 
mystified by three Clarks appearing, two be^-ides 
the original, who worried him to such a degree 
that the poor man, who is very superstitious, 
thought himself a prey to the evil eye and believed 
he was bewitched for some time afterwards. 

" Loftus was one of his chief patrons, and 
though he laughed at him, was substantially his 
best friend ; he was more patronised in Italy for 
his good qualities than for his genius, and the 
father of these children "and myself have never 
lost sight of his interests. As for Loftus, his 
intention was to meet us at Venice and I parted 
with him, in London, on the very night that I 
saw you at the Opera." 

Clara remained silent with amazement and 
confusion, Sir Anselm continued to laugh and 
maliciously to enjoy both. 

" Mark, how a plain tale can set you clown," 
said he, "now you have nothing more to do than 



CLARA FANE. 225 

to feel quite at your ease and to make friends 
with Clark as soon as you can. This explains his 
terror of you, which those children have been 
exciting still more : no doubt, your looks have 
been lightning to him, and you have considered 
him as the most dangerous and accomplished 
monster that ever crossed the path of a devoted 
damsel." 

" I am thoroughly ashamed," faltered Clara, 
" of my absurd suspicions, and will do all I possi- 
bly can to repair my error by showing every kind 
of civility to Mr. Clark." 

" You ought, indeed," said Sir Anselm ; " for 
if you had known his story you would esteem 
him. He supported for many years, by his 
labour, an infirm brother, one of the most ill- 
natured and ill-conditioned beings that ever 
existed, who moreover, was the cause of his 
poverty, having dissipated his means by his extra- 
vagance and profusion, and kept Clark a beggar 
all his life and when he could no longer carry on 
his amusements, owing to paralysis in all his 
limbs, he returned to the man he had injured who 
gave him shelter and supported him till his death, 
which happened not long since and left my old 
friend free. Now that you know that he is no 
lover in disguise, you will fall straight in love with 
him yourself, I know." 

L 3 



226 CLARA FANE. 

" Oh, directly !" exclaimed Clara, wiping 
away a tear from her eyes, " it is my duty to do 
so without delay, and to declare the same to him. 
Pray keep my foolish secret, dear Sir Anselm : 
how fortunate that I did not apply to Lady Sey- 
mour instead of you ; she would have misunder- 
stood the whole affair, and I should have caused 
the very scandal and confusion I was endeavour- 
ing to avoid. I will never again suspect anyone." 

" Oh," said Sir Anselm, " that is going too 
far the other way. 

Trau. Scbau. Wem. 

is a very safe motto." 

Clara started and trembled she recollected 
instantly that those were the very words engraven 
by Sir Anselm's hand on the rock by the cascade, 
in Loftus park, the sight of which had agitated 
her so much. She was about to pursue the sub- 
ject and to ask of Sir Anselm some explanation 
of his reasons for having adopted the motto and 
having placed it in that spot ; but she observed 
that a sudden change had taken place in his 
countenance, that all the gaiety which had enli- 
vened it in a more than ordinary degree a moment 
before was fled, and that some painful recollection 
had saddened his mind. He leaned his arm on 
the table, rested his head on his hand, and fell 



CLARA FANE. 227 

into a reverie so deep and mournful, that she 
could not venture to disturb it, and thinking it 
more prudent not to attempt to do so, she softly 
quitted the room and retired to her own to rumi- 
nate on the singular and vexatious mistake into 
which her fears and over caution had led her. 

One reflection consoled her in the midst 
of all. 

" If," said she, " I have been so deceived in 
Mr. Loftus in this particular, I may have done 
him injustice in another of more importance. 
This is, certainly, the Clark who lodged at Mrs. 
Spicer's, and this man is not Mr. Loftus : it is 
not likely that he is the deceiver of that silly girl, 
Celia Sawyer, and I may do Mr. Loftus injustice 
in thinking him the culprit. Would that one 
suspicion were dissipated as perfectly as the 
other ! Would that he had never condescended 
to this deception at all, for, having been once 
deceived by him, I dare not give him my confi- 
dence. ' But why do I dwell on this ? what is he 
to me ? or I to him ? I was merely a passing 
shadow that attracted him and he, being once 
gone, is never likely to re-appear on the horizon 
of my existence." 



228 



CHAPTER XVI. 

Sie horen gern, zum Schaden froh gewandt, 
Gehorschen gern, weil sie uns gern betriigen, 
Sie stellen wie vom Himmel sich gesandt 
Uiid lispen englisch, wen sie liigen. 

Faust. 

" AND do you really believe all this, my dear Mr. 
Clark ?" said Claudia to her drawing-master, as 
she paused from one of the first lessons he had 
had time to give, released from Lady Seymour, 
and desirous of assisting his two young pupils in 
making a sketch from the walls of the old Castle 
of Nuremberg, of the house of Albert Durer. 

" Believe it ? of course I do, Miss Claudia/ 3 
replied he : " throw a little more force into the 
shadow of the roof, if I may be allowed to dictate 
certainly I cannot do otherwise have seen 
things like it myself witnessed the acts of the 
Interior Man know him to be a separate being 
from the Bodily Man." 



CLARA FANE. 229 

" What," said Claudia, suspending her pencil, 
" have you seen him do ? now tell me directly, 
for I long to hear all about him, he is quite a new 
acquaintance." 

""Why, Miss," said Mr. Clark, "continuing 
to sketch as he talked, "I would not believe it 
myself for a long time, but I agreed with my 
German friend to try experiments. Miss, we set- 
tled that he should watch while I slept ; he saw 
me asleep, and plainly saw, too, the Interior Man 
exit like a sort of shadow and disappear. When 
I woke he told me, and bade me have faith and 
watch myself and I could see him too. 

fc Next night I resolved not to sleep but watch 
did so till I could keep my eyes open no longer, 
and went off saw nothing tried three times. 
Third time kept on waking, Avaking, till suddenly 
I saw him stealing out of me and making his way 
towards the door I could'nt keep still, and look- 
ing after him called out 'Ha ! ha ! there you are, 
old fellow ! there you go !' and instantly back he 
was, with a bang on my chest, whipped in again!" 

" Well, but," said Claudia, looking as grave 
as she could, " if you had not called out what 
would the Interior Man have done ?" 

" Oh, I should have been able," said Mr. 
Clark, " perhaps, to follow him and see where he 
went to. When we dream it is when he goes out 



230 CLARA FANE. 

of us and leaves us, then lie is off amusing him- 
self, when he comes back we wake." 

"Of course you have seen a ghost, Mr. 
Clark ?" asked Claudia. 

"Lord bless us, Miss!" cried Mr. Clark, 
"don't talk of it ! of course I have but let us 
go on with our drawing, here come Miss Sybilla 
and Miss Fane I hope she won't look at me 
can't stand it." 

" Have you not got one of the spells of 
Naples ?" said Claudia, " you are safe with that 
from the Evil Eye." 

" Yes," said he, gravely, " always carry one to 
my watch and wear one at my breast pin, besides 
always keep my hand in the right form whenever 
she is near." 

At this moment Clara and Sybilla approached 
the parapet over which the artists were leaning. 

" My dear Mr. Clark," said Clara, in a soft 
voice, " how beautifully you are sketching that 
charming old house ; I hope you will do some- 
thing for me afterwards. I am so anxious to have 
a souvenir of Queen Cunegonda's linden tree in 
the centre of the inner castle court." 

Mr. Clark started and let fall his pencil, which 
Clara picked up and gave him with so gracious a 
smile that he remained staring at her with his 
mouth open. 



CLARA FANE. 231 

Claudia Avhispered in his ear " It is the get- 
tatura ! depend on it, you have got the better of 
the Evil Eye!" 

" Bless my heart ! " exclaimed Mr. Clark. 

" Now tell me, Mr. Clark/' said Clara, " do 
you not think this strange old town of Nurem- 
berg the most extraordinary in Germany ? Every 
house is a history in itself; one expects every 
moment to see the ghosts of the old burghers of 
times gone by, knocking at their own doors, as if 
just returned from some excursion in the neigh- 
bourhood which had detained them three or four 
hundred years, without having in the least 
changed the appearance of anything they had 
left behind." 

" Wonderful place, ma'am," replied Mr. Clark, 
gaining courage ; " the Armed Knight, you know, 
does come every year, on New Year's Eve, and 
knocks at the Gates of Nuremberg." 

"The Armed Knight!" exclaimed all his 
hearers. 

" Yes," said Mr. Clark ; " there's his effigy in 
that corner where the glass painter lives spear, 
and helmet, and all ; and many in the town have 
seen him come, at twelve o'clock at night, to the 
great gate there with the high watch-tower, where 
the carriage came through there, just where Sir 
Anselm and Mr. Ludwig stand now and knock 



232 CLARA FANE. 

with his truncheon, demanding to be let in 
Wonderful place this no town more ! " 

" He seems the Exterior Man," said Claudia, 
laughing, to the artist. 

" Ah ! Miss young ladies may laugh," said 
he, " but it's true enough. Nothing happens in 
Nuremberg like other places/' As he spoke he 
glanced at Clara. 

" Mr. Clark has been telling us such marvels," 
said Clara to Sir Anselm, who joined them at this 
moment with the student, "you, probably, can 
explain to us this legend of the Spirit called the 
Armed Knight, who knocks at the Gates of Nu- 
remberg once a year." 

"Oh! the Waffen-Knecht ," replied he, "is no 
spirit, except he personifies the spirit of liberty or 
power. It was a ceremony performed every year 
as a symbol of the power of the citizens of this 
Free City. A man in full armour rode up to the 
gates, and, knocking authoritatively, demanded 
admission in the name of the Emperor ; to which 
demand it was customary to reply That the 
Burghers of Nuremberg acknowledged no master. 
The frustrated knight then went hifc way, leaving 
the proud and powerful citizens to their triumph 
and their repose. But let us proceed on our ex- 
ploring expedition through the most marvellous 
old castle in Europe." 



CLARA FANE. 233 

They accordingly continued their way through 
several gates of great antiquity, passing antique 
towers, some round, some square, with overhang- 
ing crowns swelling out at the top, and watch- 
towers perched so as to overlook the wide expanse 
of country spread far beneath like a panorama. 
Several covered ways succeeding each other con- 
ducted to the inner court, where stood the famous 
linden tree, six centuries old, which Clara, in her 
impatience, had already seen while they were 
waiting for the arrival of some of the party. 

All round this court are balconies carved as 
they carve at Nuremberg only from whence, in 
days of yore, fair eyes looked down on the feats of 
arms of the knights who jousted on this spot 
striving for their favour. A splendid stone 
staircase, so finely cut that it seems of lace- 
work, led them to the entrance hall, a low cham- 
ber supported by one huge round Saxon pillar in 
the centre. 

The sisters flew to the windows of this room, 
of which there is a long range. 

"Oh, come, Miss Fane ! Sir Anselm, come !" 
exclaimed they, "oh, Mr. Clark, if you could 
but draw all this ! it is even beyond you ! Look ! 
the whole wonderful town is spread out beneath 
us, with its gable fronts running up like pyramids 
in all directions what a forest of towers, and 



234 CLARA FANE. 

spires, and roofs ! everyone of them odd and 
strange, and unlike any others that were ever be- 
held. How close the streets look together ! and 
yet they are very wide in reality I can't believe 
that we can be alive in the common world looking 
at such strange old things. See ! there's Albert 
Durer's house, at the corner of the Platz, but it 
looks even more extraordinary and ghost-like as 
we see it from here what a number of stories 
and windows, narrowing up to one, beneath the 
roof, and all the roof covered with windows 
too!" 

" You said you hated antiquities, you know/' 
said Clara, " I did not expect these raptures from 
you, Claudia." 

" So I do hate old things," replied she, " but 
Nuremberg is so very odd and new." 

" I will show you some of the newest pictures 
you ever saw," said Sir Anselm, " let us follow 
the guide through these chambers, whose walls 
are covered with the works of those precious early 
masters who have taught so much." 

" The gold grounds," exclaimed Claudia, " are 
burnished bright you may well call them new, 
for they look so ; but, oh ! what funny stiff figures 
so beautifully dressed in embroidery, off which 
you could pick the jewels. But what amuses me 
most is the lovely stoves so finely adorned, and 



CLARA FANE. 235 

these enormous ones in porcelain, painted in such 
bright colours." 

" They are a peculiarity here/' said Ludwig, 
" and are as old as the time of Maximilian, that 
fortunate knight who won the hand of the greatest 
heiress and most beautiful girl in Europe ; here 
are some scenes of his life in these sunk medal- 
lions round this fine green porcelain stove." 

" Mary of Burgundy was never in her hus- 
band's dominions, I think ?" asked Clara of the 
student, " her career was cut short before he was 
Emperor." 

" No," replied he, " Maximilian devoted him- 
self altogether while she lived to rescue her 
possessions from the gripe of that vulture, Louis 
of France ; but Nuremberg is, nevertheless, full 
of them both the author of the famous poem 
that relates their loves and adventures lived and 
wrote here. We shall see his house in the town." 

" Mary's career was a stormy one and ended 
just as she had learnt to be happy," said Clara. 

" She loved and trusted," replied the student, 
" but her lover-husband might have changed in 
after years, therefore it was better she should die 
while she knew him only devoted to her." 

" It was the force of circumstances that made 
Maximilian's character less interesting in his later 
than his earlier days," said Sir Anselm, " but he 



236 CLARA FANE. 

would never have changed to the object of his 
first love. The tenderness he showed his daughter 
Margaret was a proof of what his heart was made 
of he always leant on female support and he was 
not deceived in either instance." 

The laughter of the young explorers, which 
sounded from another chamber, interrupted their 
conversation, and they entered a room where they 
found Mr. Clark examining, with an artist's eye, 
a most singular attempt of an early German 
artist to present the goddess Venus and her dan- 
gerous son in a bodily form. So grotesque are 
the figures, that the laugh became general as they 
were looked upon, to the indignation of the guide 
who protested that the picture was a chef d'ceuvre 
of the painter. Nothing, in fact, can equal the 
perfection of detail, the laboured minuteness of 
the execution the colour of the life-sized goddess 
is admirable, and every hair of her waving golden 
tresses seems painted separately : she is pacing 
along in what would seem a street, paved like the 
streets of Nuremberg with rough pointed stones, 
and might rather pass for Lady Godiva seeking 
for her palfrey in the court-yard. Her broad full 
face is perfectly German in expression and fea- 
ture, and as far removed from classical beauty as 
possible, and her figure resembles in no point the 
statue that enchants the world. 



CLARA FANE. 237 

"This," said Sir Anselm to Ludwig, "was, 
nevertheless, the ideal of the painter's fancy, on 
which he evidently squandered his whole mind 
and energies, to produce a result which conveyed 
no idea but of deformity to any eyes but his 
own." 

"Except those of our guide," said Claudia, 
" who is closing the curtain in disgust before that 
squat little Cupid has had time to pierce his 
clumsy mamma with the arrow he aims so dex- 
terously." 

" Don't waste your time, Clark," said Sir An- 
selm, " getting into extasies at that Albert Durer, 
it is a copy, good as it is the original was stolen 
and adorns the gallery of the Bavarian capital 
rather hard on Nuremberg. But there is in the 
town a portrait painted by him of a rich burgher, 
the most perfect gem of early art that he ever 
contributed to the wonders of his native city. It 
has been kept by the family with such reverend 
care, from father to son, that it is one of the most 
undoubted treasures in Germany." 

" But I can only laugh at German pictures," 
said Claudia, " they seem to have no idea of 
beauty out of Italy nothing can be more faith- 
ful portraits, but one does not care for such ugly, 
stupid-looking people : one would rather forget 



238 CLARA FANE. 

them. The very earliest Italians never paint such 
frightful creatures as they do here." 

" You must blame nature not art for that," 
said the student, " Italy is the true region of that 
grace which Germany is always striving to attain. 
Those are not unbiassed judges of the old German 
school, who have already adored the creations of 
Italy's immortably poetical and harmonious 
sons." 

" You defend your own," said Claudia, " but 
we are Italians, so we shall do the same oh ! Sir 
Anselm, don't stay looking at these odd old things 
any more, in spite of the Herr Ludwig, who is capa- 
ble of comparing this grim old castle to charming 
gay Wurtemburg. I begin to get frightened, 
everything looks so solemn and sad in the sun-set. 
Don't you think, Mr. Clark, that the place is 
haunted ?" 

Mr. Clark immediately, on this suggestion, 
closed the sketch book to which he was trans- 
ferring certain treasures from the walls, and began 
a bustling retreat ; Clara begged his arm as they 
descended the steep, stony road where their car- 
riage was left, and he gave it with a certain 
tremour, encreased of course by the hints of 
Claudia. 

"Everyone knows/' said he, "that Nuremberg 



CLARA FANE. 239 

is full of terrible sights one can't walk on the 
castle height in safety after the moon rises. Albert 
Durer, Adam Kraft, and Veit Stoss meet io the 
Platz and quarrel about their fame. They all 
come from the Gottesacker outside the town 
where they lie, and they stop at all Martin 
Ketsel's stations by the way, so that it isn't well 
to go that road after dark. Lord bless us ! it's 
quite awful. And as for the hotel where we stop 
it's no better : one might as well be in a tomb. 
They say Frederic Barbarossa walks there, and 
Wallenstein too." 

Mr. Clark was certainly right as regarded the 
aspect of the hotel, although the first in the town 
there was something strangely mysterious about 
it; the carved staircases, numerous galleries of 
dark wood, the stone doorways, and low vaulted 
passages gave the house a mournful "auld world" 
effect, which oppressed the spirits. 

The chamber in which Clara slept, next to a 
very large one occupied by the sisters, was a long 
passage shaped room with four high windows in 
it that looked to an inner court, round which ex- 
tended a range of apartments that seemed 
unoccupied, so enormous was the building. On 
one side, the sluggish dark river, which runs 
through the town flowed sullenly, crossed imme- 
diately beyond by one of those numerous bridges 



240 CLARA FANE. 

which from their frequency remind the stranger 
of Venice. 

That night, her mind filled with recollections 
of the ancient castle and much that she had seen 
besides in Nuremburg, Clara could not sleep ; a 
bright moonlight checkered the floor of her room 
with the reflection of the iron bars of the windows 
shaded only by very thin muslin curtains, arid she 
could not help fixing her eyes on the forms that 
seemed traced there. 

Finding that to attempt to rest was vain she 
rose, and taking a light which burned in the chim- 
ney, sought for a book to distract her attention, 
but she looked about in vain to discover the box 
in which her books were packed, when she sud- 
denly remembered having heard the waiter desire 
a porter to take some of the packages into an 
adjoining chamber which was not used, where 
they would be secure during the excursion Sir 
Ansel m proposed to make to the Franconian 
Switzerland, one usually made from Nuremburg, 
which the railroad assists. 

She opened the door which led to this adjoin- 
inf chamber and almost started to observe the 

O 

enormous size of it. She could not see to the 
end, but the glitter of the moonlight on ap- 
parently innumerable casements told her it was 
of vast extent : she entered, impelled by curiosity, 



CLARA FANE. 241 

and looked round her. There was very little fur- 
niture in the room, but, just as she steped in, a 
large clock with a deep tone, struck one in so 
solemn a voice that she shuddered as she listened. 
Not recognising the object of her search, she 
advanced further and placed her hand on the 
lock of what she imagined to be a closet, on open- 
ing which, to her amazement she found that a 
room much larger than that in which she stood 
extended its dark walls before her. A long table 
occupied the centre, and high-backed chairs were 
drawn close to it, as if numerous guests usually 
occupied them. An enormous chandelier of metal, 
elaborately carved and ornamented, and throwing 
out countless branches holding sconces hung from 
the ceiling. A high gallery for musicians oc- 
cupied one end of this hall, the iron balcony of 
which was carved most delicately as were the 
frames of the small panes of glass in the numer- 
ous windows, for Clara advanced her light 
close enough to these objects to perceive them 
clearly. 

She had reached the furthest extremity of this 
hall and observed that over the arched doorway was 
a coat of arms carved in stone ; she pushed the 
heavy wooden door, which gave way to her slight 
pressure, and found herself standing at the top of 
a small stone staircase, halfway down which was a 
VOL. ii. M 



242 CLARA FANE. 

landing place, from which a long dark passage 
opened. She did not feel inclined to explore further 
and was drawing back into the arch way when a 
door opposite was thrown open, and from the dark 
passage below, appeared two figures advancing up 
the steps. 

She had scarcely time to dart back and close 
the wooden door, and ashamed of her imprudent 
curiosity she hurried along the dim hall, through 
the second chamber and reaching her own room 
shut and secured the door and then sat down to 
breathe. 

It was true that the apparition she had beheld 
was probably no more than the figures of two 
travellers who had sat up late and were returning 
to their rooms, but she felt a strange shuddering 
fear for which she could not account, and repented 
of having been induced to attempt exploring the 
mysteries of the secret chambers of an hotel at 
Nuremberg. 

No sound however told that she had been 
pursued or perceived, and she was beginning to 
compose herself to sleep, when a strain of music, 
as if issuing from the adjoining chamber, caused 
her to start and listen. The tones were those of 
a flute, and presently the air shaped itself, after 
several plaintive preludes, into one familiar to her, 
and she recognised with surprise the same 



CLARA FANE. 243 

which she had so often heard played by Mr, 
Loftus in the grove at the end of the garden 
at Mrs. Trumbers. The notes died away by 
degrees as she listened, and the player seemed 
receding, till they were lost in the distance. 

" It seems strange \" thought she, " but after 
all the air was a German Wiedersehn and might 
be played by any body." 

Nevertheless it revived so many recollections 
that the image of Edmond Loftus was not 
banished from her mind during the night. 



M 2 



244 CLARA FANE. 



CHAPTER XVII. 



In die Traum und Zaubersphare 
Sind wir, scheint es, eingegangen. 

Taust. 



THE next day the travellers devoted to the churches 
of Nuremberg, which have this peculiarity that, 
although filled with chapels elaborately decorated, 
with altars magnificently ornamented, with crosses 
and shrines and every sort of Roman-catholic 
adornment, they are, all but one, dedicated to 
Protestant worship. 

Into the beautiful Lorenzkirche it is difficult for 
the amateur to make an entrance, so instantly is 
he arrested by the exquisite portals whichever 
way he attempts to make his way, for the eastern 
door is unsurpassed in splendid carving, and the 
Bride's-porch on the north is equally seducing. 
Then he is dazzled by the brilliancy of the Vol- 



CLARA FANE. 245 

kamer window, which shines in the sunlight and 
eclipses all its glowing brethren, asserting its right 
to be renowned as the finest in Europe. But the 
crowning glory of this exquisite church is a fairy 
pyramid, rising like a wreath of smoke waved by 
the wind, from the floor to the roof, as if it were 
vapour issuing from the vase of some genii of 
the earth, striving to reach to heaven above those 
vaulted arches. 

As it rises it shapes itself into garlands of the 
most graceful flowers, supporting scrolls and birds, 
and leaves and branches, and tendrils and flames, 
and knots and spiral points till, the highest sum- 
mit reached, it bends its graceful head with the 
bending arch, and looks down on the ground again 
as if in sorrow for being checked in its upward 
ascent. 

The wizard who constructed this marvel and 
two of his assistant spirits, crouch beneath, and 
support the light, gossamer-looking fabric which 
it is impossible to believe is really carved in stone, 
even though Adam Kraft is there to attest it. 

" Oh for a model of this lovely toy !" cried 
Clara ; " it is more exquisite than any ivory cut 
by the minute instrument of an Indian graver. 
It look as if a breath would blows it away, or a 
touch destroy it, yet it is as solid as if built of 
iron." 



246 CLARA FANE. 

" It is like the enduring love of a firm -hearted 
and delicate woman," said Sir Anselm, " which 
braves the ravages of years and time, and though 
it seems but slight and frail, is strong in its ap- 
parent weakness and lasts uninjured when mighty 
walls are crumbling round." 

" There ! dear Sir Anselm," said Claudia, 
" you are always so good to woman ; but Mr. 
Ludwig is very severe : I know he does not think 
that we deserve such a compliment. Do you think 
he does, Miss Fane?" 

Clara, thus appealed to, could only laughingly 
say 

" Perhaps he wonld rather liken us to that 
lovely stained window glorious while the sun is 
shining on it, but, however beautiful, appearing 
dim and unattractive in the shade." 

" You mean that women never care to show 
their beauties nor their attractions except there 
is a sun to gaze upon them," said Ludwig, rather 
sullenly. 

" No ; I mean," replied Clara, " that they 
require the sun of kindness and indulgence to 
bring out their hidden merits." 

" No doubt the greatest number of the brides 
who entered by that gorgeous portal," returned 
Ludwig, " were only hoping for the sunlight to 
gild their hour of vanity, and were content that 



CLARA FANE. 247 

dim shade should fall upon their husbands after- 
wards." 

" You ought to have been a monk V exclaimed 
Claudia, pettishly. 

"You are impressed with the recollection of 
poor Albert Diirer's ill-fortune, I suspect/' said 
Sir Anselm, " whose shrew of a wife is said to have 
worried him to death, though, like old Pepys, she 
is the heroine of his curious journal, and he seems 
to have paid her every sort of attention and ex- 
acted it for her from others." 

" How beautiful this stone pulpit is !" ex- 
claimed Claudia ; " is that done by that dear old 
Kraft, too ?" 

" No/ 5 said Sir Anselm ; " it is by a modern 
artist of the town, for though the great commerce 
of Nuremberg is gone, aud her glory strangely 
departed, genius revives occasionally in her atmos- 
phere, and one sees better carving here than in 
any town in Europe adorned by modern hands." 

"Oh yes!" said Claudia; "the little Gans- 
mann in the market-place is modern, too, and he 
is quite a gem, holding his two geese under his 
arm, and wherever you turn you may see beauti- 
ful figures at the corner of the streets one would 
give the world to take down and carry away. 
But of all those things I should delight to run off 



248 CLARA FANE. 

with the Schoner Brunneu, in the great platz ; it 
is quite a shame one can't buy these things." 

" There is but one such in the world, you 
know/' said Sir Anselm ; " you must not carry 
them away as patriotic travellers and savans do 
the monuments of Greece and Egypt, and stick 
them up in a fashionable square. You will be 
equally covetous of Peter Fischer's Shrine in St. 
Sibald's when you see it, for that is another won- 
der, and I will then show you a treasure at the 
banker Mirkel's, which I fancy it will be dangerous 
for him to allow you to behold." 

The unapproachable shrine, as delicately worked 
in bronze by Fischer as the Sacrements Haiislein 
by Kraft, standing in the centre of the choir of 
St. Sibald's, does indeed invite an enlevement, if 
there were any airy spirits who could be engaged 
in the service, for a more etherial structure was 
never imagined by man or executed by mortal 
hands. The fame of the great and humble artists 
of both these chef d'ceuvres was their reward : 
they each devoted a whole life of patient labour 
to produce marvels like these for the love of art 
itself, and the hope that the devotion which kin- 
dled their spirits would meet its due appreciation 
in a world to come. 

" If men could live as simply as these excellent 
and patient and single-minded artists," said Sir 



CLARA FANE. 249 

Anselm, "the present age would not, perhaps, 
want works of equal value ; but the artists of our 
day work for gain, not for fame: they wish to 
enjoy the present and leave the future to destiny. 
As one race after another of modern artists are 
swept away, we are obliged to fall back on those 
of a period long past, sighing to think that art 
has advanced no jot since those early times. Few 
pupils have taken their master's places our paint- 
ers and sculptors are both too rich and too poor." 



It was their last day in Nuremberg when the 
whole party sallied forth from their hotel on the 
banks of the dark and muddy Pegnitz, whose 
swollen waters sometimes mount high along the 
walls of the crowding houses, which rise in colossal 
dimensions on either side of the stream. They 
walked up the rugged street till they reached the 
abode of the courteous banker whose domicile 
alone is one of the curiosities of the curious city, 
although by no means so fine a specimen of its 
original and ponderous architecture as many others, 
more difficult however of access. 

Long dark staircases, with rich balustrades, 
dim, low passages of dark wood pannelling conduct 
to numerous floors containing almost countless 
chambers : to the very highest flat did the good- 
natured banker conduct his guest the more expe- 

M 3 



250 CLARA FANE. 

rienced amongst them wondering at the possibility 
of a man of business sparing so much time to 
satisfy the curiosity of idle strangers, and the rest 
tripping along the dark corridors and pausing at 
length before a heavy wicket of wooden lattice- 
work, which defended the approach to a long, low 
chamber in which a store of treasures is col- 
lected 

" Able to draw men's envy upon man." 

Here are portfolios full of original engravings of 
Albert Diirer, his chef d'ceuvres, in which all the 
glory of his knowledge is displayed the same 
etching exhibited in half-a-dozen stages till the 
great end is attained and the wonderous master 
stands confest. 

But while Clark was busy pouring over some 
of these gems and the rest were turning the leaves 
of invaluable books, where the marvellous execu- 
tion of Albert Diirer's famous Fortune, a fat 
divinity, copied from his passionate but rather 
handsome wife, was exciting their admiration, a 
scream of delight from the other side of a 
long table where they were engaged, drew them 
to the spot where Claudia and Sybilla were 
standing with the banker who, with much cere- 
mony and a happy and satisfied expression of 
countenance, was lifting from a large case a 



CLARA FANE. 251 

beautiful gold and silver ornament the pride not 
only of his collection, but of his native town, and 
not only of Nuremberg, but of all Germany. 

This was the far famed piece of workmanship 
of Wenzel Jamitzer, in which all that can be con- 
ceived of delicacy and grace seems concentered. 
A golden figure of Fortune stands supporting a 
covered cup, herself supported on a pedestal of 
leaves and flowers, every fibre and curl of which 
seem worked by nature herself. Minute insects 
climb amongst the delicate feathery grasses, some 
wrought in silver, some in gold, of hairVbreadth 
texture, of spider's- web thinness. 

" Oh, what perfection \" cried Claudia; "look 
at the little flies and beetles clinging to the small 
leaves, and the tiny tortoises concealed beneath. 
Look at the miniature heads amongst the scrolls 
round the cup the hair-bells and moss, and 
almost invisible buds, all finished as if with a 
microscope. A fairy must have done this not 
that venerable-looking old man with a long white 
beard impossible \" 

" You are not the first who has considered 
this perfection, young lady/' said the banker; 
"many of your country come here, and all go 
away in extacies. I have been offered an English 
fortune to part with it : my father bought it of 
the town when Nuremberg ceased to be a free 



252 CLARA FANE. 

city and most of its treasures past away from its 
walls more's the pity. Everything is carried off 
to Munich now, so we are the more proud of 
those few that remain to us." 

It was not to be wondered at that Clara,, in- 
stead of sleeping that night sat recording the 
beauties of this mysteriously precious vase, un- 
rivalled in Europe. 

It was to Miss Clinton that she sent her 
account with its explanatory preface, for she, with 
the pardonable weakness of a professor of the 
gentle science, felt sure of her sympathy and was 
confident of arresting her attention to the verses 
she hazarded. She kept the secret of her poetical 
propensities, knowing that a poet seldom gains 
golden opinions from friends in immediate vicinity. 

"THE LOST BELL AND THE MARVEL OF 
NUREMBERG. 

" In the mythology of fairies exists a belief 
that there are certain ' underground people, 5 the 
most innocent and beautiful of their race, whose 
sole employment, in winter, is fashioning works of 
gold and silver, the texture of which is too deli- 
cate for mortal eyes to discern. They appear, in 
the fine days of summer, in shady places, and 
wear little bells on their caps, which, should they 
have the misfortune to lose, they are in great 



CLARA FANE. 253 

tribulation, as they are banished from their fairy 
homes till the lost treasure is found. The tin- 
kling, rustling sounds, which mortals sometimes 
hear in the woods in summer and think proceed 
from the bills of birds, are caused by these invisi- 
ble bells ; and the soft sighs, which are imagined 
to be created by the wind, are no other than the 
lamentations of the little fairies who have lost 
their bells. 

" No nest, amidst the highest trees, 

No flower-cup, trembling in the breeze, 

No shady nook, no dusky dell, 

But I have sought to find my bell ! 

The birds have paused amidst their song, 

To hear how I have wandered long ; 

The flowers have wept to hear me tell 

How I have striven to find my bell ! 

Oh fatal hour ! when from the earth 

We leaped with dancing glee and mirth, 

And round the giant's graves at night 

We whirled our circles of delight : 

The stars stooped from their clouds on high, 

And lighted up our revelry. 

How gallant was our quaint array ! 

Our caps, with bells that rung so gay, 

Our doublets of ripe berries' hues, 

Our flaunting cloaks, and crystal shoes, 

Our bright, clear eyes, and floating hair, 

And little feet, as rose leaves fair, 

That lightly pressed the thymy heath, 

Which welcomed us with perfumed breath. 

The dews gleamed in the glow-worm's ray, 

And still we danced till dawn of day ; 

But, when the revels all were done, 

I stood beside our hill alone ! 



254 CLARA FANE. 

I saw my beck'ning comrades flee, 
But ah ! the caves were closed to me ; 
My grief my terror, who shall tell ! 
Fled was my power and lost my bell ! 
No more my sports may I renew, 
No more my fairy dwelling view, 
No more the secret caves explore, 
Where diamonds light the precious ore, 
Where rainbow-opals gleam around, 
And crystal strews the sparkling ground. 
All rest, all sleep I must resign, 
Till once again the bell be mine ! 
On heavy earth, in day's broad glare, 
My life must pass in mortal care 
I, who at eve and moonlight gay, 
Came but for sport, and then away ! 
The sun is hot its rays are flame, 
The winds are harsh and chiD my frame, 
I was not formed on earth to dwell 
Oh, mortals, have ye found my bell ? 
Ye may have plucked it in some bud, 
Ye may have fished it from the flood, 
Or seen it in the wild bee's nest, 
Or mark'd it where the swallows rest : 
Oh, rare and rich the prize shall be 
Of him who brings that bell to me : 
None can the fairies' work excel ; 
And I will work to gain my bell. 
From that good hour his mortal hand 
The fairies' skill shall understand ; 
Then in the world his fame shall rise; 
And mortals gaze in charmed surprise, 
At gold and silver wrought so fine, 
As though we worked it in the mine, 
Where, when the earth is white with snow, 
We labour, by our fires, below. 
I'll give him patterns of our art, 
To please his eye and glad his heart ; 



CLARA FANE. 255 

I'll weave, in silver, webs so light 
Their lines shall dazzle human sight, 
And mortal eye can scarcely trace 
The meshes of that shadowy lace : 
All stars that spangle ether's face 
Shall crowd within a narrow space, 
The mote that haunts the sun alone 
A spot so small can rest upon ; 
And chains as delicately thin 
As the soft thread that silkworms spin ; 
And cups in whose frail round shall be 
Graved all the forms of earth and sea 
The smallest insect of the field, 
All grasses that the meadows yield, 
Each feathery spire, each forked head, 
The golden dust upon them spread, 
Till metal wonders shall be known 
More beautiful than Nature's own : 
All this, and more the gift shall swell, 
Of him who gives me back my bell !" 



The fairy's bell a mortal found, 
And bore it to that charmed ground 
Where, 'midst Franconia's mountain dells, 
A little world of beauty dwells 
Sought only by the curious eye 
The Eden of fair Germany. 
The grateful faries granted then 
A gift before unknown to men : 
For Jamchid's wondrous vase of price 
Was formed by art in Paradise ; 
Jamitzer's cup, by magic wrought, 
Keveals by whom his skill was taught ; 
And ancient Nuremberg can tell 
What hand restored the fairy's bell. 



256 CLARA FANE. 



CHAPTER XVIII. 

Will you grant with me, 
That Ferdinand is drowned ? 



CLARA was not a little amused while they were 
wandering in the lovely vallies of the Franconian 
Switzerland, that Paradise within a few hours of 
Nuremberg, where they spent some days, to 
hear Mr. Clark relate a vision with which he had 
been visited at the inn they had quitted. 

He recounted that he was talking to a person 
belonging to the hotel till it was rather late at 
night, and had heard a great deal about the 
apparitions which were known to haunt that very 
spot. For tradition, said that Gustavus Adolphus 
of Sweden had lodged in that inn when he was 
defending himself against the attacks of Wallen- 
stein, and when both armies suffered so fearfully 
from famine, that thirty thousand of his followers 
perished within the walls in a few weeks. 



CLARA FANE. 257 

"Arid are all these thirty thousand people 
supposed to revisit the scenes of their sufferings 1" 
asked Clara. 

Mr. Clark replied, gravely, that he believed 
not all, but a good many of those who could not 
find burial did, and might be seen on the ramparts 
of the castle at midnight. 

" But both Wallenstein and Gustavus haunt 
that very hotel/' said he, " for it was there they 
had a conference ; a spirit, it seems, appeared to 
Wallenstein and offered to guide him into the 
town by a subterranean way, which ran for miles 
out into the country close to his camp. He 
agreed to go and to meet Gustavus in the little 
tower which, you may remember, hangs over the 
river. The spirit went before him through the 
dark passage, holding a torch which shone so 
brightly that he saw as clear as if it had been day 
till at last he arrived at the great banquet hall, 
where the Swedish king was sitting alone at a 
table with a flagon of beer before him and some 
dice. 

" They had a long talk together about their 
armies, and at last Gustavus asked Wallenstein to 
pledge him in some Bavarian beer, which he con- 
sented to do, when, growing familiar, they began 
to throw the dice, and the spirit who had stood 
near them all the time and kept filling up their 



258 CLARA FANE. 

glasses as soon as they were empty, offered to join 
with them in their chance. They soon got all 
three very warm on the subject, and at last the 
spirit proposed that they should throw for the two 
armies. 

" ' You may throw for their bodies/ said the 
spirit, ' and I will throw for their souls.' 

" They did so and the spirit won the stake. 

" Both commanders were very much fright- 
ened at this, and repented having neglected their 
important affairs for a match at dice. There was 
nothing now for it but for Wallenstein to go back 
to his camp, which he did, guided as before, and 
the next day Gustavus sallied forth and attacked 
him. 

" The Imperial general lost almost as many 
men as the Swede, and the evil spirit is said to 
be always wandering about this place, claiming 
the souls which the priests try to keep from him ; 
but as there are so many Protestant churches in 
Nuremberg, they have a great deal of trouble to 
manage it. 

" At one o'clock at night, the spirit is often 
seen walking from the great banquet room and 
descending the stairs of the little ronnd tower, 
which lead to the subterraneous passage, which 
cannot now be found." 

" And did you see the spirit ? " asked Clara. 



CLARA FANE. 259 

" That's what I'm coming to," said Mr. Clark, 
" frightful business, ma'am my friend and I had 
talked so late that it was near one o'clock, and I 
confess I did not care to go wandering about that 
great rambling place alone, all the way from the 
coffee room to my bed chamber, which was un- 
luckily just opposite the very suite of rooms 
where the banquet hall is still. So he agreed 
to show me to it, when just as we had got to the 
small staircase we saw, as plainly as I see you 
now, ma'am, the spirit itself, dressed in black, 
holding a light, standing at the entrance door- 
way of those very rooms. It was quite awful 
we were struck dumb and stood looking at it, 
when it suddenly vanished and we got away as 
quick as we could. 

" I havn't had a good night's rest since we've 
been in that den of a place," added he, " and I 
hope we shan't stay there again ; for it's a perfect 
nest of spirits of one sort and another." 

"Did you ever hear music at that hour?" 
asked Clara. 

" Did you, ma'am ?" was the scared reply, 
" because they say, there's a ghost with a flute 
haunts one of the courts." 

" He plays very well too," said Clara, laughing, 
"but his time is not good for he disturbs drowsy 



260 CLARA FANE. 

hearers with his melody who would rather be 
asleep." 

" Ah ! I see you don't believe these things," 
said Mr. Clark, reproachfully; "but I saw it with 
my own eyes." 

" I cannot doubt you," replied Clara, " and if 
I had been returning to my room so late and met 
two men wandering about the staircase, I should 
have been frightened too." 



In all Germany there is no more beautiful spot 
than the series of vallies which extend between 
Streitberg and Bairouth, in the region called the 
Frankische Schweitz. The picturesque heights 
are crowned with the ruins of feudal castles as 
numerous as those on the banks of the Rhine, 
and the clear winding silver stream of the Wesent 
runs cheerfully along the wide vallies, in the centre 
of which lie charming villages perfectly Arcadian 
in their character. The peasantry are a handsome 
and healthy race, and their costume is pretty and 
formed of glowing colours. 

This is the district celebrated for its myste- 
rious caverns, where geologists disintomb the 
bones of fabulous creatures and bring to light 
wonders never dreamt of in the days when every 
cave was peopled by 

"Der draclien's alte brut." 



CLARA FANE. 261 

Rambles on foot, from the charming little inn 
at Steitberg, close under the wild ruins of the old 
castle, are interesting beyond description, and 
climbing expeditions amongst decayed watch- 
towers, which stand perched on the highest points 
of almost perpendicular rocks, are extremely 
exciting. 

Day after day the party was induced to linger 
in these charming solitudes, where even Lady 
Seymour sometimes accompanied them, though 
she generally preferred remaining at the inn to 
write letters, and as the view from thence was ex- 
quisite and she could enjoy it without fatigue, she 
was certainly not to be blamed. Nevertheless, 
the more adventurous wanderers enjoyed their 
strolls extremely amongst the ruins of the Castle 
of Niedeck, which stands perched on a rocky 
mountain overlooking the beautiful valley. 

There they would sometimes remain for hours 
in woody walks which look as if the hand of 
art had fashioned them, where bowers and shady 
seats occur at every turn of the easy road, from 
whence fine views of the open country beneath 
break forth. 

In small grassy theatres they would sit and 
converse, Clara leading as much as she could the 
minds of her pupils to dwell on themes she 
thought would spiritualize their minds, alive to all 



262 CLAftA FANE. 

of beauty in nature and art, but hitherto allowed 
to run into wilderness for want of culture. 

The conversation of Sir Anselm was always 
pleasing to them, and they would listen with 
patience even to his gravest discourse. The 
Student they generally found too serious ; but 
occasionally, although he spoke but little, they 
drew him into animated discussions : he spoke 
principally in German, which they were labouring 
hard to understand, and they were content to let 
him instruct them in their own way by reciting 
verses which they made Clara explain and trans- 
late. 

This was one of their great occupations in the 
Franconia Switzerland, and here they loved to 
hear the Student's version of the wild songs of 
the people of the Ukraine, amongst whom he had 
sojourned for some time, and imbued his mind 
with their lore. The lays he would sometimes 
accompany with his voice, which was deep and 
sweet, and as the melody of the combination had 
peculiar charms for Sir Anselm, Ludwig, who 
seemed attached to him by some ties of former 
friendship, was happy when he could indulge his 
dreamy fancy with the songs of the Cossacks, and 
engage Clara to keep pace with him in explaining 
them in English verse. 

Before Clara left Nuremberg she had done as 



CLARA FANE. 263 

all English travellers do with anxious care, sent 
to the post-office for letters. She found several, 
all of which interested her extremely. Mrs. 
Fowler sent her news of Llangollen, and wrote in 
the most affectionate and encouraging manner. 
She informed her that her nurse, Susey Love, was 
going on very prosperously, and that her husband 
had given up the idea of going to sea again, so 
that they would be able to enjoy the fruits of 
their industry and perseverance, having taken a 
neat house at Birkenhead, where they seemed 
very snug and happy. 

" Beloved child," said Mrs. Fowler, in her 
letter, " I have no fears for you you have ever been 
remarkable for rectitude of conduct and purity of 
feeling, and I am sure have so much delicacy of 
mind that it would be impossible for you to make 
a wrong choice. You tell me you cannot help 
feeling a preference for Mr. Loftus, but this does 
not make me uneasy : if he shows himself un- 
worthy of your purity and just feeling of duty, I 
know you too well to fear that you will listen to 
your heart rather than your judgment. All de- 
ception is wrong ; and they who mistrust are 
seldom without fault themselves. You must not 
allow your fancy and imagination too much power ; 
they are a blessing and a resource, but may be- 
come dangerous if not kept in check by good 



264 CLARA FANE. 

sense but that you have, and will regulate those 
wild companions of your reason as you seem to 
be doing to your interesting pupils. I do not 
like their father at all ; but he shows himself for 
what he is, and cannot be dangerous to you. Sir 
Anselm I am disposed to trust in, in spite of the 
weakness which led him to humour Mrs. Trillett's 
follies. You will be able to observe his character 
more closely as you proceed on your journey." 

" Why is she not my mother !" exclaimed 
Clara as she kissed the letter ; " I feel the affec- 
tion of a daughter to her, yet I have no legitimate 
right to do so. This is one of the hardships of my 
life, to have no natural ties." 

Miss Clinton wrote from Derbyshire in the 
most affectionate strain. She mentioned Mr. 
Loftus only as having left England, and that they 
had not heard of him since his departure. 

From Maria Spicer she received the following 
letter 

" I have been very ill since you left London, 
and all brought on partly by a fright I had and 
partly in consequence of catching a bad cold. I 
continued to receive letters from dear William, 
which his mother, who must be a very amiable 
old lady, sent me herself from Derbyshire: she 
wrote and said her sou had praised me so and 
that you had said so much in my favour, that she 



CLARA FANE. 265 

felt quite glad William had chosen me for his 
wife. Dear Miss Fane, how can I thank you 
enough for your good opinion, and for the great 
benefit it will be of to us ! 

"This made me as happy as possible, and I 
began to think that all was sure to answer with 
us, and made up my mind directly William came 
back to pursuade him to set up in business some 
where, as his mother says she wishes too, and 
then we can marry and have no more uneasiness. 
You know I am not like some people who are 
engaged, afraid he will ever change or care less 
for me. I trust him entirely because I am sure, 
loving him as he knows I do, he cannot help being 
just as fond of me as I am of him, besides he 
always says so, and I believed every word he said 
from the beginning. 

"Well, I cannot tell you how comfortable I 
felt, when one day old Mr. Sawyer called ; he 
very seldom used to and since that affair of Celia 
he never had been near. He came in and sat 
down, and looked, we thought, very pale and bad, 
but he said he was very well. He was always a spite- 
ful kind of a man, and 'ma says, when poor 'pa was 
alive, was very ill-natured to him and always envi- 
ous and jealous, particularly about Celia and me, 
because he thought her the prettiest, which of 
course she was, but 'ma didn't like him to say so. 

VOL. II. N 



266 CLARA FANE. 

" 'Ma was very kind to him and made him 
drink a glass of wine, because, though she did not 
like him, she wanted to seem kinder now that he 
had had trouble. He drank the wine and seemed 
in better spirits, and then all of a sudden began 
to talk of Celia. 

" ' Well/ he said, ' she hasn't made so bad a 
business of it after all, as folks wanted to make 
out. She's got a beautiful house and furniture 
and a fine carriage, and has plenty of money to 
spend and give to her friends. I'm going there 
to dine to-day and mean to be jolly. She's living 
with a great man, who doesn't think gold too 
good for her to eat/ 

" ' But,' said 'ma, ' good gracious ! she isn't 
married to him I' 

" ( Suppose she aint,' said he, ' she's as much 
married as a good many, and can provide for her 
father too ; after all it is all nonsense about that, 
so long as one has one's pockets full.' 

" And he began to laugh just as if he wasn't 
in his right mind : suddenly he looked at me and 
said 

' ' ' Well, Maria, I thought to see you all in 
the dolefuls about young Wybrow; but girls are 
all alike out of sight out of mind. I thought 
you were to have been married to him, though he 
wasn't much better than a beggar.' 



CLARA FANE. 267 

"'Ma answered very sharp, but I made a 
sign to her not to be angry, for I thought the 
wine had got into his head, and he did not quite 
know what he was saying ; but he went on. 

"' Ticklish work that sailing about amongst 
aligators and rhinoceroses I never expected it 
would come to good, no more it has, you see. I 
could have told him what would happen, but he 
was an obstinate chap and as proud as a peacock 
my Celia used to say she'd show him other 
folks had better taste than he had, as conceited 
as he was/ 

" He went on muttering to himself and I got 
quite frightened thinking he was flighty, when 
sudd enly he turned round and looked me full in 
the face and laughed. 

" ' Well,' he said, ' you're a sensible girl, 
Maria, and not such a yea nay fool as I took you 
for. After all I dare say you aint sorry to be rid 
of him there's as good lovers as he to be got 
any day.' 

" I answered, because I thought he seemed to 
be waiting for me to say something. 

" ' Whether Mr. Wybrow is here or abroad, it 

.can make no difference in our regard for each 

other. I look upon him as my husband already, 

and it is of no use now, Mr. Sawyer, to say any- 

N 2 



268 CLARA FANE. 

thing against him, for you must know it can't be 
agreeable to me. J 

" ' Oh, no/ he replied in a scornful way, and 
with such a spiteful look that it made me shudder, 
'oh, no; we won't speak ill of the dead why 
should we? they can't harm us, except their 
ghosts come back to frighten us/ 

" ' What do you mean ?' cried 'ma, who did 
not like his odd manner any more than I did. 

" ( Mean ! ' exclaimed he ; ' why you seem as 
if you didn't know the news.' 

" ' What news ?' said we, both together, for a 
dreadful thought came into my mind. 

" ' Why, about that boat upset on the Nile/ 
said he, 'what all the papers are telling about. 
I suppose, as Wybrow was of the party, he went 
to the bottom with the rest, and no great loss 
either.' 

" I heard those words he spoke, but after that 
I did not know what happened. 'Ma say that I 
turned deadly pale and then crimson, and that I 
started up from the floor as if I had been shot, 
and fell down again without a word or a cry and 
when she lifted me up I was covered with blood. 
She was dreadfully frightened, for she thought me 
dead, as I remained insensible for some time, and 
after I was put to bed I continued ill for a 



CLARA FANE. 269 

long time. This is the reason of my long silence, 
for I have been too weak to hold a pen. 

" "When I got a little better the remembrance 
of Mr. Sawyer's sad news came back to my mind, 
but I was so confused that I thought it all a 
dream. 'Ma persuaded me that it really was so 
for some time, and then I used to have other 
dreams, so beautiful and so curious, that I never 
felt so happy in my life. I thought William and 
I were always walking and sitting about by the 
side of a bright, clear river, covered with little 
boats filled with flowers, in which sat lovely 
children with wings, who sang the sweetest songs 
that ever were heard, and 'ma says I often sang 
airs myself while I was dreaming, and she never 
knew me sing so well when I was awake. 

"At last I recovered, and then she told me 
the truth and gave me letters from dear "William, 
in which he related all about the accident on the 
Nile, which had really taken place, but he was 
not in the boat which was upset, only it happened 
to some of his friends. 

" It seems that cruel, wicked old man, Sawyer, 
knew well enough how it was, for the account in 
the papers particularly mentioned that no lives 
were lost, and the news had been sent by one of 
the party on board the boat which met with the 
accident. William had written directly in order 



270 CLARA FANE. 

to prevent my being frightened if we happened 
to hear it named, and little thought how much I 
should suffer. 

" Mr. Sawyer said he was sorry when he found 
how ill I was ; but he must have done it on pur- 
pose to alarm and make us unhappy : it is very 
strange that people can be so unkind, and I can 
hardly believe he would have done it if he had 
been in his right mind. Don't you think when 
persons are wicked it must be an evil spirit who 
gets the better of them for the time ? I know we 
are all born evil, and must try to subdue what is 
wrong in us, but I cannot understand why some 
are so much worse than others. Celia was always 
like this, when she was a child, and delighted to 
say and do things to distress others, for fun, as 
she said ; but I never could see any amusement 
in it : she was not liked for this reason, but I 
used to take her part because I was fond of her, 
and thought she would mend. I am afraid I 
have a bad judgment, for she has quite deceived 
me. I shall always depend in future on dear 
William who, though he is so amiable himself, 
sees character much quicker than I do, and does 
not think every one good, as I am too apt to do. 

"Well, you will think my story will never 
come to an end. 

" I had got pretty well except a pain in my 



CLARA FANE. 271 

side and shortness of breath, and I felt quite 
happy and content in the expectation of dear 
Wybrow's return, and in the extreme kindness of 
his mother, who had come up from the country to 
see me while I was so very ill, and continued to 
write me the most affectionate letters, when one 
night we were waked up by a cry of fire in the 
street, and starting from our beds flew to the win- 
dow and saw the whole street in a blaze of light. 
There was a cry of fire, and it turned out that 
Mr. Sawyer's house was in flames. 

"We were very much frightened, and the 
night being damp and our windows and doors all 
open, I caught a bad cold with standing in the 
draught. \Ve thought every moment our house 
would catch, but the engines came and the fire, 
after a time, was got under ; however, Mr. Saw- 
yer's premises were quite destroyed. A very 
shocking thing has come out since. It seems 
that Mr. Sawyer, was insured to a large amount, 
and it has been proved that he set his place on 
fire himself, in order to get the money. He is at 
this moment in prison for the crime, and it will 
go very hard with him. 

" I cannot help blaming Celia for all, for 
though he pretended not to care for her conduct 
and bragged of her grand doings, yet I am sure 
his pride was hurt and he fretted a great deal, for 



272 CLARA FANE. 

he has been a changed man since she left and 
has taken to drinking : everyone speaks ill of him, 
but I pity him very much although he is to 
blame. What will be Celia's feelings when she 
hears what has happened ! I dare say she will 
repent, and come back to her poor father in 
prison. 

" It makes me unhappy when I think of it, 
but I have everything 011 my own account to 
cheer me, for I have reason to hope that dear 
William will come back sooner than we originally 
expected, and he says this shall be his last journey 
of the kind. He means to write his travels and 
publish a book, which will bring a good deal of 
money. I shall be so proud of his being an 
author ! and I am certain it will be the best book 
that ever was written. . 

" We shall then settle down quietly for the 
rest of our lives and be so happy ! and then you 
must come and see us, you and his mother will be 
just suited to each other and she is to live near 
us, for Mr. Loftus, who is the best friend in the 
world to William, promises to do all in his power 
to get him on in his profession." 

There was much more in Maria's epistle 
breathing the same spirit of happy expectation, 
and she concluded by saying that her health was 



CLARA FANE. 273 

daily improving and everyone said she had never 
looked so well in her life. 

Clara was extremely satisfied, on the whole, 
with her account of herself, and dwelt with pleasure 
on the peaceful prospects which seemed spreading 
out before the amiable and interesting young 
lovers. 



K 3 



274 CLARA FANE. 



CHAPTER XIX. 

Nun kam ich auch Tag aus, Tag ein, 
Es ging uns beideu durch. den Sinn : 
Bei llegen und bei Sonuevischein 
Schwand bald der Sommer uns daliin. 

Chanmso. 

AGAIN and again did Clara and her party visit 
the scenery of the Franconian Switzerland with 
the same pleasure, always accompanied by the 
student Ludwig, who, although he did not grow 
in favour with the young ladies, had something in 
his grave quiet manner which pleased Clara. 

She was fond of leading him to converse on 
the subject of German life and literature, and 
was delighted with his readiness to afford her 
instruction : he appeared to possess a singular 
facility in languages and understood English per- 
fectly, although his timidity prevented him from 
trusting himself to converse in that tongue. 

His ideas were somewhat wild and overstrained 



CLARA FANE. 275 

respecting the rights of his countrymen, and his 
theories partook of the romantic style of the 
youth of his class, but he expressed none of the 
dangerous opinions on religious matters common 
to German reformers ; on the contrary he seemed 
anxious to awaken a better feeling in the country 
and to engage his fellow students in the love of 
literature rather than in the indulgence of political 
and religious visions. 

He had travelled much in Russia, chiefly with 
a view of collecting a knowledge of the manners 
of the people, and Clara amused herself in listen- 
ing to his versions of the ballads he had picked 
up in his wanderings. 

The letters of Clara to Miss Clinton were full 
of him, and the wild lore he imparted. 

" This Herr Ludwig," she said, " interests me 
singularly although he is a strange person, and 
the rest of the party do not enjoy his society as I 
do : he consequently avoids them and generally 
attaches himself to me in our rambles. I fear 
you will think me very visionary when I tell you 
that I cannot divest myself of a notion that the 
tone of his voice is not unfamiliar to my ear, yet 
that we never met before is as certain as that he 
has never been in England. His life appears to 
have been passed in wandering over lands un- 
known, and the distant parts of Russia are familiar 



276 CLABA FANE. 

to him. I delight in listening to his German 
versions of the songs of the Kosacks, amongst 
whom exists a poetical feeling of which I never 
suspected them. 

" I send you a few translations of my own, 
but, of course, they suffer much in the transfer 
from the original to two other languages but you 
shall have Herr Ludwig's version also, in order to 
approach nearer to their first simplicity. 

" I mnst explain to you that these songs are 
sung in those wild steppes where the Kosack and 
his family lead their wandering lives : there is 
nothing oriental in their character, but, as you 
see, much beauty and tenderness in the simple 
images they present. Occasionally touches of 
deep feeling render them highly poetical, and 
their wildness and dreaminess are sometimes very 
startling. This singular people, impatient of 
control and delighting in all the freedom which 
predatory habits allow, place their shifting 
habitations between the Don and Dneiper, and, 
regardless of the comforts and conveniences of 
refined and sophisticated life, enjoy an indepeud- 
ance which they are usually obliged to secure with 
their own lances. The plunder of a caravan and 
the attack on a party of travellers was formerly 
looked upon by them as a part of their occupa- 
tion, and it must be confessed that their ideas of 



CLARA FANE. 277 

justice are still rather peculiar. Their hand, in 
fact, is against every man and equally is the hand 
of every man against them, either for attack or 
defence, for, though greatly subdued of late years? 
the inhabitant of the Ukraine is still a wholly 
untameable being. 

" The theme of their lays is generally mourn- 
ful : alluding to the parting of lovers, the separa- 
tion of near relations, and the sad accidents of 
war. In all of these there is remarkable tender- 
ness exhibited, and a delicacy scarcely to be 
anticipated in so rude a state of society. Nature, 
however, whether rude or cultivated, cannot be 
changed, and fine spirits are touched to fine issues 
in every country and in every position. 

"A people who can delight in such songs as 
these cannot be looked upon as mere savages or 
as incapable of improvement, and, in the present 
animated state of Europe, any outbreak of such a 
nation against real or supposed oppression may 
well be expected. 

" Female influence is evident throughout these 
lays, and a chivalric tone predominates. Is not 
the following an instance ? 

LAMENT OP A SISTER TO HER ABSENT BEOT1LEK. 

It is not the blue Cuckoo, the dark woods among 

Where the branches are waving, that sways to and fro , 

Nor the small bird that wakes in the garden his song, 
But a sister her brother lamenting in woe. 



278 CLARA FANE. 

Her eyes with tears flow over, 

She calls to him in vain : 
' Oh, brother ! oh, my dear one, 
Bright Falcon !* come again, 
Come, whence thou rov'st in lands remote and drear, 
That in my hour of need thou may'st be near.' 

The brother is here supposed to answer, and 
the dialogue goes on 

'Dearest sister, gentle dove, 

Mourn not in thy lonely home, 
I would fain be near thee, love, 

But, alas ! I cannot come ! 
Dark the woods, 

The deserts wide, 
Streaming floods, 

Us two divide." 

The sister continues 

' Take, like a falcon, through the woods thy flight, 
Swim, like a white swan, throiigh the waters bright, 
Haste o'er the steppe as runs the rapid quail, 
Come to the cot, on dove's wings shalt thou sail. 

Speak words of comfort to me ! 
Banish my grief and let not woe subdue me ! 
The maids from church on Sundays crowd, 
Like bees their voices humming loud, 

They give the feast, 
They press the guest, 

All blest ! 

But I deserted one none thinks on me 
Who once was first where dance and song might be. 

* This symbol is frequently introduced in their songs to express a young 
warrior. 

v 



CLARA FANE. 279 

They prized and loved me in that day, 

But sorrow since has been my share, 
All all my friends now shrink away 

And I am left in my despair !' 

" Superstitious allusions are frequent in these 
songs, and scarcely a bird or flower but is sup- 
posed to possess some mysterious property and is 
invoked to give due effect to the line. The 
cuckoo is a favourite, for her song is thought pro- 
phetic, and the cry of the quail can be explained 
by the initiated into extraordinary meaning. The 
flight of the swallow and the starling have great 
significance, the wood anemone, that 

4 Sanguine flower inscribed with woe/ 
can disclose the secrets of futurity, and the 
actions of the horse bode good or evil according 
to certain circumstances. 

" The latter belief is exemplified in the fears 
and uncertainty of a departing warrior, whose 
mother and betrothed are taking leave of him on 
the eve of his departure for battle. 

The march and countermarch to tell 

A fife at midnight Mary hears, 
'Tis the Kosack's she knows full well, 

She starts her bright eyes stream with tears. 

1 Oh, weep not, sigh not so, dear love, 

Pray, Mary dearest, pray for me, 
To Heaven send up thy pray'rs, dear love, 
I caunot bear thy grief to see.' 



280 CLARA FANE. 

When the sun sunk and above there shone 

The moon so silvery clear, 
The mother and her departing son 

Came forth with many a tear. 

' Farewell, my heart's best love, my son 

Not long away remain, 
And when four weeks are past and gone, 
Come to thy home again.' 

' Oh, I would fain come back, and pray 

That such may be my fate : 
But my black steed stumbled on the way, 

As I pass'd through the gate.* 
God knows if I again shall see 

My friends and cherish'd home 
Dear Mother, take my Mary with thee, 

And let her thy child become. 
Take my maiden and trust we still, 

In God's hand are we all ; 
I may return, or my doom fulfil 

In a foreign land to fall.' 

' Oh, I will take thy Mary, my son, 

For her have little heed, 
And she will love me as thou hast done, 
And I will love her indeed.' 

' Oh, mother dearest, dry thy tears, 

For me no longer mourn : 
See, where my swift steed paws the ground,f 
Yes I shall soon return !' 

" The following, on the same familiar subject, 
the departure of a young soldier from his family, 

* An evfl omen, 
t A good omen which destroys the other evil one. 



CLARA FANE. 281 

is very touching in its details and its mournful 
close. 

The wild wind roars in the oak-wood loud, 

The mist spreads over the mead ; 
The mother calls to her wayward son, 

' Go if thou wilt not heed : 
Let the Turk take thee if he may, 
Since from thy mother thou wilt away.' 

' No, mother, no, 'tis liker far 
I shall win the Turk's fleet steed iu war.' 

The eldest sister his horse has brought, 

The second his lance and sword : 
But the youngest to her brother dear, 

Spoke softly a parting word. 
' Brother, when from the battle plain, 
Wilt thou to our home return again ?' 

' Sow a handful of earth, I pray, 

Behind yon stone, my sister dear, 
And ev*ry day at sunrise go, 

When the morning rises clear : 
Wet the earth with thy falling tears, 

And when a blossom thou shalt see, 
Thy brother from the battle field 

Shall come once more to his home and thee/ 



"Tis loud 'tis wild in the dark oak-wood, 

The mist is rising along the mead, 
The mother is calling her absent son : 

c Come back ! there is danger, my son, take heed ! 
Come back ! let me comb out thy long bright hair.' 

' Oh, mother, the thorn-bushes hold it fast, 

The storm howls around and the tempests tear, 
And 'tis wet in the rain of the wintry blast !' 



CLARA FANE. 

" The poor young warrior is supposed to have 
been killed, and it is his spirit which answers to 
his mother's wail. 

" Another very wild and solemn scene is pre- 
sented to the mind by the picture of a dying 
soldier stretched on the wide waste without a 
friend near to receive his last sigh, as he apos- 
trophises the eagle who is watching to pounce 
upon him as soon as the breath shall have left 
his body ; and there is a fierce irony in the allu- 
sion to the reward his valour has found which 
betrays feelings of no little bitterness for the 
neglect his services have met with. 



The wind howls Icmd the long grass sighs, 

The poor Kosack is chill and pale, 
His head on the waving branches lies 

His eyes the green leaves veil. 
On the ground beside him is his lance, 

His black horse at his feet is prone : 
And at his head, with watchful glance, 

A dark grey eagle sits alone. ^ 
He guards the young Kosack with are, 
On his head he perches, amidst his hair. 

The dying man speaks to the eagle grey : 
' Eagle, my brother thou art I ween. 

Now, ere thon beginnest to make thy prey 
Of my two eyes with thy beak so keen, 

Fly to my mother, oh speed to her fast, 
And bid her sorrows be o'er : 



CLARA FANE. 283 

Say, of her son thou hast seen the last, 

And he will return no more. 
And when she asks thee how it befel, 
To my mother, oh eagle ! the tidings tell ; 

That her son has falTn by a foeman's hand, 
As he fought with the Khan of Tartarland ; 
That his service has won him a noble bride, 
For his death-bed is made on the desert wide !' 



"The strain that follows is full of tender 
grace ; it is supposed to be sung by a forsaken 
maiden. 

There came a cuckoo from afar, 

He flew o'er hill and wood, 
A feather from his soaring wing, 

Fell in the Danube's flood. 
Oh ! like the variegated plume 

That down the stream is gone, 
My life glides in a foreign land 

Forsaken and alone. 
I linger on, as floats the leaf 

Along the wand'ring wave. 
Go ! wherefore do I keep the ring, 

The gold ring that he gave ! 



" This is another, on the same subject, possess- 
ing much originality 

A hop- vine grew in a garden lone, 
On the ground its branches trailed : 

A maid sat weeping bitterly, 
And of faithless man bewailed. 



284 CLARA FAXE. 

Oh say, thou green and blossoming vine, 
Why cling not thy wreaths above ? 

Oh young and gentle maiden tell 
Why thou weepest for fate and love ? 

Can the hop-plant twine in air on high, 
When no prop her tendrils stayed ? 

Can the maidens eyes with joy be bright 
By her false Kosack betrayed ! 

" In the following, the fatal longing for the 
Fatherland is shown as entertained by the child 
of the steppe as much as by the Swiss or the 
Exile of Erin 

By the river bends the plane-tree 

O'er the waves that flow ; 
Sadly the Kosack is mourning, 

And his heart is woe. 

Sink not, boughs, beneath the water, 

Ye are fresh and fair ; 
Young Kosack be light and cheerful, 

Time will end thy care. 

But the tree will die that slowly 

Waters undermine, 
And the young Kosack so pensive, 

In his grief will pine. 

Ride afar, where lance and arrow 

Point to battle's fray, 
Spur far hence thy coal black charger 

Nor in Russia stay. 

Still in Russia does he linger, 

Mourning, as of yore, 
And the Ukraine, loved so dearly, 

He shall see no more. 



CLARA FANE. 285 

Faint and dying, thus he murmured 

' Here my grave prepare !' 
Many a shrub grew round its bosom, 

Full of berries rare. 

Birds the ruddy clusters seeking, 

To that grave would come ; 
Telling as they swayed the branches, 

Tidings from his home. 

" In this wild morceau, which is the last I dare 
ask you to read, several superstitions are made 
serviceable, both the occult voice of the mys- 
terious bird and the inscribed flower and its pro- 
perties 

The old witch cries with a voice of wail, 
As calls on the island the mournful quail : 
The young girl plucks the anemone flower, 
And seeks the witch at the evening hour. 

Maiden, What tells the blossom so white and red, 
Is my Kosack alive or dead ? 

Witch The flower in the wild wood grows fair and free, 

Who plucks it has sorrow there's sorrow for thee. 
Dry thy tears, maiden, weep not nor rave, 
Thou canst not wake Ivan in yonder cold grave." 



END OF VOL. II. 



W. Ostell, Printer, Hart Street, Bloomsbury ; and Burlington Mew, 
Regent Street. 



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