Grace Lee: A Tale

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V.

GRACE LEE,

I

t
I

' .

The Author of this Work gives notice that she reserves the

right of translating it ^

GEACE LEE.

a Eale*

BY

JULIA KAVANAGH,

AUTHOR OP "Nathalie;" "women of chbistianity ; '* etc.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. L

LONDON :

SMITH, ELDEE, & CO., 65, CORNHILL.

1855.

2^j, u^ . ^^ .

LONDON :
BRADBURY AND EVANS, PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.

t

GRACE LEE

CHAPTER I.

The snow fell fast; soft, white, and noiseless
it was borne past the parlour window. A gray
sky, a white, hilly horizon bounded the out-
^y^ ward prospect. Within all was touched with
the red firelight: tables, chairs, cabinet, and
mirror gave back the same warm and burning
glow.

A gray-haired old man, with a harsh, sarcas-
tic face, sat writing by the window. A middle-
aged, good-tempered looking woman, sewed by
the fireside; further on, in the back-ground,
and half gloom of the room, a slender, dark-

VOL. I. B

2 GRACE LEE.

haired and dark-eyed girl of seventeen, sat on
a low stool, with a heavy quarto, a Hebrew
Bible, on her knees. One hand /supported her
cheek; the other rested on the book; her eyes
were fixed on its strange eastern characters,
her long, drooping curls half veiled the page.

She was not, and never could be, pretty;
yet her dark face had warmth and character,
her eyes great beauty, and her young form
much grace. Her name was Grace Lee. She
was bom far away, amongst Welsh hills, but
she was an orphan, and for two years she had
lived with her guardian, an old priest. Doctor
Crankey, and his cousin. Miss Amy Crankey,
in one of the wildest nooks of northern Eng-
land. Doctor Crankey was a learned man ; Miss
Crankey was skilled in every art of the needle :
both zealously taught the young girl all they
knew, and thus an accomplished scholar and
as accomplished a needle-woman grew up Grace
Lee in a bleak and lonely home.

GRACE LEE. 3

A gust of wind swept by the house ; it died far
away with a faint murmur on wild moors. The
young girl bent her ear and listened. " How
far that wind has come/' she thought; "how
far it must be going — ^how wide the world must
be.'' She put her book away; she left the
room; she went up to the highest part of the
house, a terrace on the roof. The snow fell
on her bare head; the keen north wind blew
back her hair from her face, but her blood was
ardent and young; her cheek only freshened
to feel the blast, she only shook her head
and smiled at the falling snow. She looked
around her; a wide, white plain spread to the
foot of white hills; a pale sky met a paler
horizon; she clasped her hands on her bosom;
she raised herself on tiptoe; she stretched her
slender neck, and bent a keen, eagle look that
seemed as if it would pierce every barrier.
" Ah ! '' she thought again, '^ how wide the
world must be ! " and seized with a wanderer's

B 2

4 GBACE LEE.

longing, she thought of burning Africa, of the
luxuriant New World, of fair southern Europe,
with the sun shining on her brown ruins, and the
blue Mediterranean washing her antique shores.
'^I wish I were a queen," she thought, her
head pensively inclined towards her right shoul-
der, "but a queen without her state, without
her kingdom; what place, beautiful or famous,
would I not see! what delight should not be
mine ! I would do great things ; I would build
cathedrals; I would found hospitals; I would
erect palaces ; I would make a cardinal of Doctor
Crankey, a duchess of Miss Amy, a princess
of Lily. I would have more jewels than a
sultana, more robes than there are days in the

year; and withal I would be so generous and
so good, that every one should love and praise

Queen Grace."

"Grace, my dear," said the gentle voice of

Miss Crankey, from below, "will you come

»

down and make the tea, if you please ? "

GRACE LEE. 5

The day-dreamer awoke^ and laughing at
her own dreams, she ran down lightly; she
made the tea; the frugal meal was soon over;
she returned to her Hebrew ; Doctor Crankey to
a seven years begun History of the Church;
Miss Amy to a Penelope piece of embroidery.
Quiet was the evening by the bright fireside;
Grace did not feel it dull; study, too, has her
charm — a charm more true than that of dreams,
and almost as sweet.

Grace was, as we have said, an orphan. Two
years before there had been sorrow and mourn-
ing in a once happy home of the little town of

W , in Wales. Mr. George Lee lay dead

in his room, his wife slept in hers the same
deep sleep, and two orphans, in whom their
blood did not mingle, sat desolate and sorrow-
stricken children in the silent parlor.

They had loved in youth : fate, under the
shape of angry parents, divided them early;
they yielded, parted with mutual consent, and

6 GRACE LEE.

married happily elsewhere. When, after sixteen
years they met, they were both free. Mr. Lee
had an only child of fourteen, IVfrs. Blount
a little girl of eleven; their old love revived,
they married, enjoyed one year's late and brief
happiness, and died within one day of each
other; each ignorant of the other's fate;
each bequeathing to the other's care his or her
child.

^^Very distressing case,'' said Doctor Marsh,
who sat drinking brandy-and-water in a back
room, "and then what's to become of the
orphans ? " He addressed his assistant, John
Owen, a dark and saturnine-looking young man,
who sat opposite him with folded arms, and head
bent on his bosom.

" Cannot they be lawyers, like their fathers ? "
he replied.

" Lawyers ! Girls, lawyers ! "

" Oh I they are girls, are they ? "

'^ Bless me, sir, have you been visiting Mr.

GRACE LEE. 7

Greorge Lee a year, and don't you know whether
his children are boys or girls ? ^'

" I had not paid attention ! '' carelessly replied
Owen.

"Well, but you can tell me what to do?''
asked Doctor Marsh, to whom his young assistant
was in all doubtful matters as an oracle.

"Apply to the nearest relatives/' was the
laconic answer.

" The Rashleighs? I suppose you know them."

" Mrs. Eashleigh is a worldly woman j her son
is a fool, a libertine, and a pedant. We were at
school together; he hates me — I despise him."

This was not promising ; nevertheless. Doctor
Marsh called on Mrs. Sashleigh, who resided in

W , and was distantly related to the late

Mrs. Lee.

"I must decline interfering," coldly replied
the lady, " Mrs. Lee's second marriage had not
my approbation. It will be more proper, by far,
to apply to Miss Lee."

8 GRACE LEE.

" And pray give my compliments to Miss Lee^s
dark-eyed young friend/^ half yawned Rashleigh
Rashleigh, who lolled on a sofa. When the Doctor
was gone, he burst out laughing, and boisterously
wondered '^ what Miss Lee would say to having
that little yellow-haired monkey, Lily Blount,
palmed oflF on her/^

" My dear Rashleigh,^^ gravely said his mother,
" that does not concern us.^^

Miss Lee was very rich and very old. She lived
in a wild, yet lovely home, between the mountains
and the sea. Doctor Marsh found her sitting in her
chair, and chastising half-a-dozen unruly spaniels
with an ebon crutch. With her he found a
beautiful orphan girl, Margaret Livermere, whom
she had reared as her companion, and an elegant,
handsome man, Gerald Lee, the rich London
banker, her favourite cousin and future heir.
The Doctor asked to speak to Miss Lee alone;
Mr. Lee stepped out into the garden ; Miss Liver-
mere slipped away by a side door : a while after

GRACE LEE. 9

the visitor saw them vanishing together behind a
group of trees. In the meanwhile, he explained
his errand. Miss Lee received him very rudely.
''Sir/' she said shortly, "you are a meddling
man. Mr. Lee's daughter and Mr. Lee's pro-
perty are both confided to the care of a Doctor
Crankey, a priest, and third or fourth uncle of the
first Mrs. Lee, who was a Papist. I have nothing
to do with that little girl. As to the other one,
I am amazed at you. She belongs, by right, to
a mad-woman, called Miss Blount, who has an
eternal law-suit with the Walton Company, and
is to have blue and yellow livery when she wins
it. Another time, sir," she added, giving him
a hard look, " you will do well to think before
you act."

Rather abashed the Doctor withdrew ; he
found out the directions of Doctor Crankey,
and of Miss Blount, and wrote to both.
Accordingly, on the same day, and by the
same coach, arrived a short little old man in

B 3

10 GRACE LEB.

a rusty cassock^ and a tall gaunt lady in shabby
mourning. Without knowing one another they
had quarrelled concerning a coach window which
Miss Blount persisted in opening, and the Rev.
Doctor Crankey persisted in shutting again. The
house soon became too hot to hold them. Miss
Blount was grand, and talked of the Walton
Company, which she was going to crush; and
of the blue and yellow liveries. Doctor Crankey
said ^' Fudge ! '^ and Jonged to be back to his
History of the Church, and his quiet home in
the North. To crown matters. Miss Blount took
a hearty dislike to Grace Lee, whom she called a
bold, black-eyed little thing ; and Doctor Crankey
as heartily disliked little Lily, in whose blue
eyes he saw ingratitude written, and whose
eulogy he kindly summed up with the reflection,
"that Judas was fair-haired.'* In short, peace
was not restored until the belligerent parties
went each his and her own way, bearing off his
and her ward as spolia opima.

GBACE LBS. 11

" Thank Heaven ! " piously said Doctor Marsh
to John Owen^ on the morning of that day;
" I never have been more distressed/'

The young man smiled with lofty surprise^
more scornful than sympathetic^ then returned
to the perusal of the heavy legal volumes
belonging to the late . Mr. George Lee, and
which had found no purchaser in the pre-
ceding day's sale.

" Good-bye, Mr. John Owen/' said a soft
voice at his elbow.

He looked up and saw a dark young girl
standing by his side.

'' You do not remember me ? " she asked.

" No.''

" I am Grace — Grace Lee. I saw you
yesterday reading these books ; and before
yesterday, too. They are mine. When I am
twenty-one I shall give them to you. I lend
them to you until then. Doctor Crankey
says I may. Good-bye." And before the

12 GRACE LEE.

surprised young man could reply she was
gone.

And now two years were passed, and passion
and circumstance had scattered them all as the
winds of heaven scatter seed on the surface of
the soil, each to bear fruit in its season. Doctor

Marsh alone remained in W . His assistant,

John Owen, had gone to London. There he
had no sooner taken his degrees as a surgeon
than he suddenly forsook medicine for the bar.
Mrs. Rashleigh was in Paris, patiently waiting
the return of her prodigal Rashleigh Rashleigh,
who had gone to Baden-Baden with a pretty
actress — ^his third or fourth affair of the kind.
The beautiful Margaret Livermere was disgraced
and banished; she had charmed too surely the
heir and cousin. Gerald Lee was hesitating
between love and mammon ; Miss Lee was dying,
full of wrath and disappointment. Lily Blount
was in the south of England with Miss Blount ;
daily she heard of the Walton Company, and of

GEACE LEE. 13

the blue and yellow liveries ; and daily she wished
herself dead ; and Grace, happy in her wUd,
northern home, charmed her mind with classic
lore, Hebrew, and romantic dreams.

"Child," said Doctor Crankey, seeing her
SO assiduous, "you will get blind over that
Hebrew. Amuse yourself a little bit with the
golden-mouthed Saint John Chrysostom."

And he handed over to her the ponderous
Greek Father. At ten Miss Amy rose.

'^Grace/^ she began, then paused. Grace
was fast asleep. Her arms were folded on the
broad volume open before her; her profane
girl^s head rested on the hallowed page; it
was a favourite author, a rare and costly
edition, yet Doctor Crankey only smiled.

"You need not waken her,'^ he said. "I
want to speak to her as soon as I finish this
paragraph.'^

" Law ! Doctor, you surely will not blame
the poor child if she fell asleep.^'

)i

14 GBACS L££.

^'By no means/' ^he interrupted; "good
night, Miss Crankey.^

Miss Amy sighed and left the room. She
had once been young, and the gray Doctor too ;
and then they had been on the very verge of
love: but Miss Amy was capricious and John
Crankey was exacting; they parted coldly, he
to take priest's orders, she to settle down into
a calm old maid. When they met again, years
had passed, and he could ask Miss Amy to
keep house for him, and she could accept the
office. Of the passages of their youth he
remembered nothing, she but a little and that
not often.

At length the paragraph was finished ; Doctor
Crankey turned to rouse the sleeper, and found
her reading over his shoulder. He only smiled.

" Well I what d'ye say to that, Grace ? That's
touch-me-not, eh ! " He rubbed his hands and
chuckled. "You see, my dear, monks are
very good people; but they live out of the

GBACE LfiE. 15

worlds and I am an old man of the worlds you
see. Bless you^ child^ I know all its tricks and
all its ways."

Qrace went round and sat down on the
hearth at his feet.

^^What is it?" she said. ^^You had some-
thing to say to me; I heard you. What
is it?"

*^So, Miss, you were pretending sleep."

"I was asleep, but your voice woke me.
What is it?"

r

"You have lost your third cousin and name-
sake, Miss Grace Lee — she is dead."

"I do not remember h^. Must I go into
mourning ? "

" She has made you her heir."

" Ah ! Why so ? " quietly asked Grace.

"It was her fancy, and a woman's fancy is
her law. Her first will was in favour of her
other cousin, Gerald Lee, but he displeased
her.^'

16 GRACE LEE.

"How?'^ interrupted Grace, in her direct
way.

"By marrying a lady, whom Miss Lee did
not like — a Miss Margaret Livermere."

"Are they married ?^^

" Not yet ; don't tease, child. What is it to
you if they are married or not ? Well, as I
was saying, Miss Lee thought proper to make
you her heir. She also thought proper to
indite a letter, addressed to you, which you
alone are to read. Now I scorn a lie as I
scorn the devil, and what I think I say. My
candid opinion is, that the late Miss Lee was
cracked, and but that I rely on your judg-
ment and principles, Grace, this letter you
should never see. I warn you to read it with
caution. Here it is.'*

He handed her a letter. Grace took it, broke
the seal, read a few lines, and looked thoughtful,
then slowly extending her hand, she dropped
the letter on the burning coals. A flame caught

GRACE LEE. 17

and consumed it; at once it shrivelled into a
black scroll. Doctor Crankey looked at her a
little anxiously ; but she said quietly :

"There was nothing so wonderful in Miss
Lee's letter; a trust and a request, no more.

" Nothing touching your religion — ^nothing
involving a principle of right or wrong/'

" No, indeed/' replied Grace ; and looking up
at him archly, she laughed.

Doctor Crankey breathed, relieved; a week's
anxiety had that sealed packet given him. He
laid his hand on the young girl's head, and
smoothing her dark hair, he said, " Child I
why do not you ask the amount of your
inheritance ? "

" Because I can guess : a hundred a year or
so. Oh ! I shall be quite an heiress ! "

The priest bent his keen gray eyes on hers,
so soft and dark.

" Child," he replied impressively, " Miss Lee
was rich ; she called yearly thousands her own.

18 GBACB LEE.

No one knew or knows how many. You are
now one of the wealthiest women in all
England/*

The eyes of Grace opened; her Hps parted
with surprise. Doctor Crankey continued:

"God grant you may make a noble use of
your wealth: God grant you may never forget
gold is but dross in His sight."

She did not reply^ but sate mute and still at
his feet.

" Humph ! you take it coolly. I thought you
would jump with joy.^'

" Jump ! ^^ echoed Grace^ with a start and a
look of offended dignity. "What for? It is
but money."

Yet^ even as she spoke^ a bright red spot
burned on her cheek; her eyes shone with
strange light; and as she sat with her arms
clasped around her knees^ she smiled.

"What are you thinking of?" asked Doctor
Crankey, who was watching her.

GRACE LEE. 19

She looked up, and replied earnestly : " Doctor
Crankey, who was it that went to the oracle of
Delphi and chose the short and the glorious
life — Alexander or Achilles?"

•' Never mind, child," replied Doctor Crankey,
who would not confess that he did not remember.

"'Tis no matter," resumed Grace. "I, too,
in thought, went to Delphi this very morning —
I, too, chose the short and sweet ; and, see, this
evening the oracle is fulfilled."

^'Go to bed, child," interrupted Doctor
Crankey, '^ and let Delphi and all such heathenish
fancies alone ; go to bed like a good girl."

Grace gave Jier guardian a curious look ; but
she rose docile and obedient. She bade him
good-night, and went up to her own room, a
nun-like cell. There she sat down and leaned
her cheek upon her hand, absorbed in thought.

" Indeed, you have been to Delphi," whispered
a secret voice. " Yes, you, too, have done like
Alexander — " and, looking up, she replied.

20 GRACE LEE.

smiling : " What matter I one can put a whole

lifetime in a few years; and better the quick

and delightful than the wearisome and the slow/*

And throwing back her head, like one resolved

to chase all troublesome thoughts away, she rose.
In a few minutes her prayers were said, a\id

her young head laid on her pillow was locked
in the slumbers fast and sound of seventeen.

6BACE LEE. 21

CHAPTER II.

Who would not travel ? Who would not
feel strange suns; behold new skies; hear the
greeting of foreign speech, and pass a wanderer
amongst scenes beautiful and still ; amongst
nations living and moving, yet left behind with
their passions, their contests, their hopes and
sorrows, like the images of a dream ?

Six years were past and gone. In a strange
place — in a strange land the dreaming girl,
who on a snowy day had wished herself a queen,
read, as in a book, the vivid story of years of
wandering. She saw broad seas and circling
horizons ; a boat cutting through the green
billows, and leaving its brilliant track behind;

^2 GRACE LEE.

long blue lines of coast glittering through white
mists; open ports with shippings with bronzed
sailors and fishermen^ with all the life and all
the noise of commerce. Then came sunny plains
with their harvests, and brown peasant men and
women looking up by the dusty roadj as the
carriage passed and vanished through scenes of
soft rural beauty, by green hills with hamlet,
church and churchyard, by calm valleys with
hidden streams softly flowing in cool evening
shadows. Then gay cities, all mirth and splendour,
followed; then wild scenes, deep lakes sleeping
midst stern mountains, with fir-tree forests and
snowy brows, and sounding cataracts, above
which on broad wing the royal eagle flew
screaming. Then, past the mountain ranges,
past the wildness and grandeur of nature, spread
lands all light, all warmth and softness; lands
of poetry, art, and beauty, with ruined temples
and heroic battle-fields, now trodden by enslaved
races ; still farther and farther in the spreading

GRACE LEE. 23

desert^ within the shadow of the pyramids, by
the ancient Nile, by forsaken kingdoms, she
followed her own track until she came to an
Eastern city, rising on an Eastern sky, to the
gloom of an antique church where lamps burned
before a sacred shrine, and like one wakening
from a dream, she found herself kneeling by the
Holy Sepulchre of Jerusalem. For two years
and more she had been a wanderer, and now
her pilgrimage over, she had come to pray a
last time where she knew she never could pi*ay
again.

Long before sunrise Grace had left Jerusalem.
We will not follow her through the whole of her
homeward track; it gave to her story a few
bright pages more ; it left images that enchanted
her whole life, but it had no influence on her
destiny. At Rome she paused and rested.

Miss Lee travelled alone; she was twenty-
three, wealthy and fearless. Until her twenty-
first birthday, she had remained in the North

24 GRACE LEE.

with Doctor Crankey and Miss Amy, exactly as if
no change in her life had occurred. Not until
the very day she was of age had Grace entered
on the full and double enjoyment of fortune and
liberty. Then, indeed, spreading her wings like
a long captive bird, she had taken her flight
towards the burning East. Gold smoothed a
path else too rough, and charmed away peril.
She travelled in the style, with the suite, and
with all the privileges of a princess. The world
might have reproved this adventurous spirit in
a poorer woman, but it admired and extolled it
^n the wealthy lady. Wherever she went, she
left behind her a golden shower that won her
still more golden opinions. In France she was
Lady Lee, la grande dame Anglaise; in Italy,
an English Principessa ; in the East, she was the
Sultana from the West, and she all but eclipsed
the fame of Lady Esther Stanhope. In England
she was plain Miss Lee, an eccentric, independent
girl, who had travelled over half the globe, who

GRACE LEE. 25

was prodigiously rich, and every one knows
what that is in England, whom no one. knew
personally, and whom everybody was dying to
know.

Miss Lee had a careless, artistic sort of tem-
per; she did not seek or seem to value society;
it came to her unsought and courted her
notice.

The Baronne de Montreuil, wife of the French
ambassador in Rome, had met and known Miss
Lee in the East; she could not hear of her
having any other home in Rome than Palace
Colonna. A very charming Frenchwoman was
Madame la Baronne, but then every one knew
she was not eminent for disinterested friend-
ships; that the Baron was poor; and that
their favourite nephew, Eugene de Montreuil,
owned nothing beyond his salaire d'attache
d'ambassade, barely suflBcient, he disdainfully
owned, to keep him in cigars. The Honourable
Mrs. Chesterfield, the celebrated English beauty,

VOL. I.

26 GRACE LEE.

who reigned supreme over the highest of the
several circles of English visitors in the Holy
City, had no peace of mind or body until she
succeeded in getting introduced to Miss Lee.
Grace was not handsome, she was wealthy.
She could not be a rival; she might be a very
useful friend. Mrs. Chesterfield declared she
was the most delightful, original creature; and
both in the grand, but rather dull monde diplo-
matique ; and in the little, but brilliant English
world; Miss Lee, without effort, produced a
decided sensation.

. The princely Colonnas did not erect palaces
for their descendants to let them furnished ;
but the pride of Italy is gone, and for years
the French embassy has resided in the noble
building which stands by the Church of the
Twelve Apostles. As the Honourable Mrs. Ches-
terfield's carriage entered the wide court, and

drew up before the broad staircase; she felt,
with a little touch of envy, that she, the nobly-

GRACE LBE. 27

bom, but rather poor English beauty, had to
vegetate in a furnished house; whilst this
wealthy plebeian lived in a palace, guest to the
ambassador of His Majesty the most Christian
King. She crossed the ante-room, hung with
grim-looking Colonnas : Miss Lee's French
maid, and Miss Lee*s courier, and Miss Lee's
footman, were superintending a whole court
of tradesmen from the Piazza di Spagna and
the Via Condotti. Mrs. Chesterfield con-
descended to pause a moment and look on.
Here a costly and elegant mosaic table was
unpacked; an exquisite copy of the whole
Roman Forum in Rosso Antico stood close by ;
and then there were marble cups, and vases,
and bronzes beyond number ; and a jeweller she
saw with a morocco case; and a young man
with a large band-box.

'•You have enough to do,'' said Mrs. Ches-
terfield, smiling to Mademoiselle Dupuis.

*' Madame can have no idea of it," replied

02

28 GRACE LEE,

the French maid^ with uplifted eyes* *'Will
Madame be so good as to pass this way ? Made-
moiselle is just gone to the garden/'

^^ I shall go and find her ; you need not come
with me, I know the way/'

Mademoiselle Dupuis would fain have re-
monstrated, but a gracious, yet imperious
wave of the hand both checked and silenced
her.

Mrs. Chesterfield walked slowly through that
beautiful old Italian garden ; the summer flower*
of other lands there bloomed and grew in the
winter air, redolent with the sweet scent of
violets. The red orange glowed through its
sombre leaves; the yellow lemon hung from its
bending boughs, or Hesperides-like, the golden
fruit was strewn on the dark earth,. A clear
fountain poured down from a stone niche full
of green ferns, and flowed away with a broken
sound. The whole place had a forsaken look;
the mutilated ancient statues grouped around

GRACE LEE. 29

seemed to gaze with a melanclioly air down the
silent and neglected path.

Mrs. Chesterfield took that to her right. It
brought her to the last terrace. Gray sculptured
masses of what was once a Temple of the Sun
lay half buried in the earth. The God of Light
looked down carelessly on his ruined shrine.
On a fragment sat, or rather half reclined, Grace
Lee. She wore a striped Tunis silk, of light
texture ; it had the hues of a land of the sun,
gorgeous, not gaudy. It was made in Eastern
fashion, and suibed both her figure and dark
complexion. The vest and sleeves were fastened
by carbuncle buttons, set with brilliants ; a
narrow striped scarf carelessly tied around her
ebon hair completed her attire. The sun that
shone on her whole figure gave it warmth and
brilliancy. She basked in its heat like one to
whom it was life. She did not see Mrs. Chester-
field until the lady stood close by her, and said,
softly.

so GBACE LEE.

'^How can you bear that sun?''

""Very well, after that of Egypt/^ replied
Grace, looking round laughing ; ^' my mother
"was a salamander, and her daughter has an
innate love for fire under every shape, but
especially under that of yonder glorious globe.
However, there is. a cool bit of shade for you/'

"Why, what have you been doing?'' resumed
Mrs. Chesterfield, as she sat down and saw that
all around Miss Lee the ground was strewn with
exquisite flowers. Grace laughed. A scroll of
paper at her feet caught Mrs. Chesterfield's
attention ; she picked it up, unfolded it, and
began reading:

"Anima mia"—

" A love sonnet. Oh ! I must not be so
indiscreet as to go on !

"No, it is not a love sonnet," said Grace;
"at all events, it is highly respectful. Every
morning, in such a bouquet, I get one— Heaven
knows from whom ! "

}f

GRACE LEE. 31

" I can enlighten yon,'* replied Mrs. Ches-
terfield, a little bitterly; "this is Prince Negri's
writing/' And for a while she was mute and
thought: — "This, then, was why he yesterday
looked so cool as he rode past the carriage on the
Pincio. Let him, mean, interested man!'' Yet
she sighed. She was beautiful, noble, a widow,
but poor. Mario Negri was handsome, rich, and
a Roman Prince.

Until the arrival of Miss Lee he had been
sedulously attentive. Since the dawning of this
new star coming from the East, with a halo of
Eastern wealth and splendour around her, he
had grown distant. Mrs. Chesterfield now knew
why; but she was a woman of the world. She
qould look dispassionately on such things, and
like her unconscious rival none the less. She
had fully recovered by the time Grace said,
carelessly,

"Prince Negri; I do not remember. What
is he like ? "

32 GBACE LEU.

}9

)>

*'Dark, handsome, and noble-looking.^

" So they are all ; and then there are so many
princes hereP^

" Oh ! but you must have remarked him; he ia
one of your hundred worshippers/^

" Have I a hundred ! No wonder I should not
know them all : but I think I remember Prince
Negri. I sat by him at Princess Borghese^s,
yesterday evening. He is agreeable.^

" Agreeable ! '^ echoed Mrs. Chesterfield, look-
ing piqued; "is that your kindest word for a
man who wants to make a Roman Princess of
you.^'

Grace rose and stepped up to the terrace.
On the ledge flowers bloomed in their stone
vases ; below lay Rome, with her church towers,
her hilly horizon, her broad circling sky.

"I like Rome/' said Miss Lee; "I like her
churches, where saints and martyrs sleep. I like
her spoils of ancient art. I like, too, her ruins,
though they cannot vie with those of Greece

GRACE LEE. 83

or Egypt. I like her ancient palaces^ her old

gardens, her sunshine, and her sky. Yes, a

strange, stately life, yet not without its solemn

charm, must be the life of a Roman Princess.

But this sun is getting very hot for you.

Shall we go in?''

Through the gardens they returned to the

palace. Miss Lee opened the door of the

gallery; public visitors were not admitted that

day; the keeper was absent; the pictures kept

/

solitary state in the empty saloons. As they
slowly passed along, looking and pausing, Mrs.
Chesterfield carelessly resumed ;

" Poor Madame de Montreuil ! what will she
say to prejudice you against Prince Negri, calling
him a gambler — my dear, all the Italians gamble
— and then she will try to bewitch you with
gay Paris, and what she terms une position poU-
tique; both charming, especially with Eugene de
Montreuil, the gayest, the most agreeable of
gay and agreeable Frenchmen/'

o3

f}

84 GRACE LEfi.

Grace was looking at a small landscape. She
turned round and said^ slowly^

"Une position politique^ and in Paris^ too,
the most charming of charming cities? In
France, where women once reigned — where they
still rule; where, with position, and mind, and
skilly one of our poor despised sex can stiU have
her say in the world's story. Mrs. Chesterfield,
I should like it dearly.^

And with sparkling eyes she laughed gaily.

" So you would rather be a French Baronne
than a Roman Princess, and rather a Polish
Queen than either. Eh! ambitious creature?

'' A Polish Queen. How so ? "

"Are you not bosom friend with Countess
Karlski V'

" We met in Paris two years ago. We have
again met in Rome, and we are friends. What
of it?''

"And has not Countess Karlski a son, the
most romantic, the most chivalrous and devoted

GRACE LEE 85

of Poli^ exiles, the great-grandson of a
king?'*

" Ah ! what king ? ''

*^I do not exactly remember. One of the
German princes of whom Polish nobles made
sovereigns, but a king he was; and here/' she
added, passing her arm within that of Grace,
and leading her to a fine Titian portrait — " here
is his descendant, whom the Venetian painted
by anticipation. Here he stands before you;
blue eyes, fair hair, noble brow, manly look,
right royal bearing. When Poland rises from
her ashes, a nation and a kingdom, why should
not Stanislaus Karlski sway a sceptre — why
should not Queen Grace wear a crown?"

'^ It would not sit well on her plebeian brow.''

^'This is the age of plebeian queens, who
have been found to act their part as well as
any born on the footsteps of the throne.'

Grace looked neither surprised nor startled
at the splendid though doubtful vision Mrs.

)i

36 GBACB LEE.

Chesterfield held forth. She gazed ^edly at
the fair-haired and manly-looking figure before
her; and smiling a little proudly, she replied,
^^ Stranger things have come to pass ! Well,
it would be something to live for the redemp-
of a whole people; to see it breaking forth
into joyful freedom after years of bondage ; and
/to wear a crown doubly glorious, because so
dearly won. Ah ! Mrs. Chesterfield, you are
an accomplished temptress.^*

" Then it is Cbunt Karlski after all/' thought
Mrs. Chesterfield : anxious to clear this point,
she resumed aloud, ^^I hope your majesty will
be pleased to ask me to the coronation ?^^

Grace looked round over her shoulder, and
said, smiling,

^^When I came to Rome, and first heard of
the Honourable Mrs. Chesterfield, an Italian
lady, said to me : ' The beautiful English lady is
going to enter the bosom of the Catholic church,
and to marry Prince Negri ! ' From an English

GRACE LEE, 37

baronet I heard another story, *The entente
cordiale is cemented : the niece of our Premier
will soon be Madame de Montreuil/ From
many, from almost all, I heard, 'Poland has
found a rival in Count Karlski^s heart,^^*

Mrs. Chesterfield reddened and laughed, but
she was silenced. When she spoke again it was of
Princess Doria's ball, to which both were going
that same evening. Thus discoursing, they came
to the end of the gallery, and went on to Miss
Lee's rooms. There they found displayed the
various treasures which had already caught Mrs.
Chesterfield's attention. The bandbox on being

m

opened had brought forth a priceless lace ; the
morocco case, antique cameos, fit for a queen, and
known over all Some for their beauty and great
value. And Miss Lee had bought all, and could
not even tell the price of the mosaic table, which
Mrs. Chesterfield was curious enough to ask. All
she knew was that it came from Ciapetti's, Piazza
di Spagna : about its positive value she had not

38 GBACE LEB.

troubled herself. " Very impertinent/' thought
Mrs. Chesterfield, who was rather noted wherever
she went for driving hard bargains. Yet she
stayed and looked on, dazzled, fascinated by all
this wealth. It was nothing to her; it never
could be hers; but it charmed her irresistibly.
When at length she left it was to wonder with
internal bitterness how many thousand scudi
the extravagant creature had squandered that
morning I

Scarcely was she gone when another door
opened, and Madame de Montreuil entered. She
was little, plump, lively, graceful. She wore a
simple white muslin morning dress, but the em«
broidery made it sufBiciently rich for an ambassa-
dress ; her little cap, too, put on with the careless
grace of a Frenchwoman, was of costly lace ; her
whole person was graceful and attractive. She
came in, all smiles, all soft speech. She praised
Miss Lee's looks, her taste, her purchases ; then,
with a sigh, she sank down into an arm-chair, and

GRACE LSE. 30

glided into other themes. ''The poor Baron was
almost killed with work ; without Eugene she did
not know what he could do ; indeed, the Baron
had strong thoughts of resigning his political
position, to this perfect nephew, who in the
meanwhile was going to France, there to be duly
elected for one of the southern departments/'

''But first,'' added Madame de Montreuil,
reddening slightly, " Eugene must marry ; for two
reasons : firstly, he must settle in life ; secondly,
he is richer in native talent and ancient blood
than in the world's wealth, and now, ma chire
Grace/* she added, gently pressing her hand,
" hear me with patience. I confess it, I am a
woman of the world; I speak its language, not
that of romance. Will you be my niece ? Will
you be the wife of Eugene de Montreuil ? He has
not asked me to speak for him ; he can do that
for himself; but I know his feelings, and thinking
that my voice might not be without influence,
I ventured. I do not deny that Eugene and I

40 GRACE LE2.

once thought of Prince Negri's sister, but
everyone knows that her brother lost her fortune
at an unlucky game of cards. I say it with
regret, for Maria Negri is a charming girl, and
her brother is not] a habitual gambler. Eugene,
too, was attached to this child of sixteen, but he
cannot afford to marry a portionless bride, and so
it is all over. You are a woman, and not an
ordinary woman. Eugene has. too much tact
and good taste not to appreciate you; perhaps
you, judging him from his aspect, may think him
too light and careless, but, trust me, he has
ambition, and subtlety and skill beyond his years.
Nature meant him to be a political man ; with a
wife like you, rich, brilliant, born to be one of
the world's idols, because you are original and
careless, Eugene can rise and take you with
him to the highest positions ; and though wealth
find its enjoyments are sweet, believe me, ma
cKire Grace, there is something worth both— une
position politiqtie"

GRACE LED. 4l

And the pretty little Baronne took a diplo-
matic air. Grace had heard her very quietly,
leaning back o.n her chair, her two hands on her
knees. She now looked up smiling, and said:
" I thank you for your frankness, Madame, and
believe me I appreciate every advantage you
offer. But—''

The light hand of the Baronne was laid quickly
on her lips.

'^Say as many ^buts' to Eugene as you
please,^' she said ^aily; ''it is your woman's
right; to me, my dear, say nothing, I only
wanted you to know the truth and reflect
upon it. And now," she added, rising, " I
leave you. It is, unless I mistake, the hour
for your promenade.^

''I am only going to Countess KarlskL"

"Charming woman; and what an interesting
young man is her son; pity he wastes his ta-
lent on a dream! For you know, my dear,
that with all the sympathy in the world, the

>f

42 GBACE LEE.

resurrection of Poland is a dream. How very
well this Eastern sort of thing becomes yon !
You really look like sometjiing out of the Ara-
bian Nights/'

She gently pressed her hand, and with a
gracious nod, and a pleasant an rSvoir, she left her.

Miss Lee's carriage was waiting below; in a
few minutes it had taken her to Countess
Karlski's.

In one of the many gloomy and narrow
streets that run between the Corso and the
Tiber, in one of Rome's ancient palaces, lived
the two Polish exiles. The dwelling suited
fallen fortunes. The decayed gate stood ever
open; two antique columns adorned it; grass
grew freely in the gloomy court; from a heap
of rocks against the wall clear water poured
down into a shattered sarcophagus : it had once
held the ashes of some proud Roman, it now
served as a fountain; large green-leaved plants
grew around in unchecked luxuriance. Th^

GRACE LEE. 4S

whole had in itself that air of neglect which
pervades everjrthing in Borne, from the Vatican
to the meanest dwelling.

Miss Lee was expected. She went up alone
the broad staircase. A whole family of beggars
sat on the steps, taking their meal of yellow
Indian com. On seeing her they all stopped,
and stretched out eager hands. She gave them
a few coins, and went up to the second floor.
In a comer of the landing, a large heap of
dust had gathered ; from the window out in the
yard, wet clothes hung out to dry; on a mouldy
looking door was nailed a small glazed card, with
a coronet, and '^ Madame la Comtesse de Karlski,
nSe Lobskoi,^' printed in Gk)thic characters. Grace
rang. A dirty, slipshod Boman girl, with a long
silver pin in her hair, and a large beaded coral
necklace round her brown neck, opened. Miss
Lee passed through vast and lofty rooms, almost
bare of furniture, until she came to a broad
and melancholy saloon. The frescoed ceiUng by

4~lf GBACE LES.

Pi^tro di Cortona, was full of mythological gods ;
the sculptured cornices had not lost all their
gilding; mosaic work still adorned the marble
floor; the walls were hung with faded arras;
red damask^ still more faded^ covered the anti-
quated chairs and sofa. Before a large round
table, heaped with papers^ in one of the deep
window recesses, sat the Polish countess ; a little
white-haired, fairy-looking woman, in a rusty
black velvet robe, and fantastic black lace cap,
trimmed with a profusion of jet ornaments. She
sat very still, reading, with her head bent to-
wards her right shoulder : the street was narrow,
the high houses opposite hid all view of the
Roman sky; a subdued light fell on her dimi-
nutive figure, all but lost in the vastness of the
room. On hearing Grace she turned round, and
rising with a joyful cry, she ran up to her,
talking very fast in French, which she spoke
with perfect ease and much grace. Time had
been with her, but it had taken no light froir

OBACE LEE. 45

her brilliant restless eyes, no sweetness from
her fascinating smile, no lightness &om her agile
movements. She rose on tiptoe to kiss the
cheek of Grace ; she made her sit down in her
deep chair, then, darting around the table in
search of smne stray paper, quick and light as
a humming-bird, she said, in her eager, rapid way,

'^I have been longing for you— this morning
brought the most triumphant news — everything
is ready ; in two months Poland shall be free 1
You must come and see me in Warsaw,*' she
added, pressing her hand.

She seemed overflowing with gladness; but
Grace had too often heard the same tale of
hope and triumph to be startled. The Countess
resumed :

" I speak on the authority of my own corre-
spondents; as usual, Stanislaus tells me nothing;
but I know that your last munificent donation
to the cause has given us arms, men, ammunition.
All is ready, Russia is crushed ! '^ She drew up

46 GRACE LEE.

her slender form, and her bright eyes sparkled
like diamonds. ''Yes, ma chhre GraceP she re-
sumed, laughing and patting Miss Lee's dark
cheek, ''you have had the honour to help to
crush Russia ! '*

" En attendant ^^ replied Grace, smiling, " do
not forget that I am come to take you to the
Colosseum.^'

" Yes, I remember ; Stanislaus too is coming.
Ah ! I shall be sorry to leave Rome and my noble
palace ; and the garden opposite, where birds sing
all the day long as I sit here dreaming of
Poland."

Miss Lee surprised looked for the garden : in a
dingy window opposite she saw a few flower-pots
with kitchen herbs hanging from iron bars, and
in an old cage a shabby blackbird.

"Yes," sighed Countess Karlski and her bright
eyes grew dim, " I shall think of thee, beautiful
Rome, even in Warsaw : I have met with such
sympathy here. Yesterday I was presented to

GSACE LEE. 47

his Holiness: he gave me a particular bene*
diction; not in words^ but in looks that went
—h^er

She laid her hand on her heart with much
emotion: before Grace could reply, Count
Stanislaus Karlski entered the room.

The Polish exile was one of the remarkable
men of Europe \ but he had no country, no true
sphere of action ; all his energy, all his talent,
were wasted on a hopeless cause. His mother
had poured her ardent spirit into a vase nobler
than her own. Unlike her, he never breathed a
word of his hopes, fears, or plans ; he never spoke
of Poland, very rarely of Russia, but his life was
devoted to raise one and wound the other. If he
failed, it was because the task was superhuman.

In appearance he was calm and serious; his
manners had the ease and simplicity which high
birth and good breeding impart. Women he had
the gift to charm without effort, by a mixture of
tenderness and respect, which he had learned in

48 GRACE LEE.

the daily intercotirse of a mother he fondly
loved. With men he was not so successful. Some
called him a visionary, others an adventurer ; he
was unfortunate ; and men are not like women,
they despise misfortune. Grace liked and es«
teemed the exile, and he returned the feeling:
ever since she had come of age, she had, unsoli-
cited, for he was too proud to beg, given large
sums from her ample fortune to forward the
cause of Poland, or aid her suffering children.
Her modesty and reserve heightened in his eyes
the value of her princely gifts. She never
questioned him, she never presumed, she never
interfered, but gave, for the pure and simple
pleasure of giving.

Count Stanislaus was habitually grave; on
this day Grace was surprised to find him gay.
He laughed and jested with unusual mirth ; even
his mother smilingly asked what ailed him. But
when they reached the Colosseum, to which they
were driving, his spirits suddenly subsided. The

GRACE LEE. 49

Countess went up to the central cross and knelt
on the lower step. Grace and her son slowly
walked up and down the grass-grown arena ; it

was lonely, quiet, and beautiful.

The sun shone brown and warm on the gaunt
skeleton of this dead giant of a past age ; green
things ready to break out into bloom, grew on
it everywhere; the pale but exquisite Italian
sky looked in through every shattered arch and
window, and spread above the broken upper
outline, in cloudless blue. Peace and stillness
enclosed the whole place. They saw no one
save a solitary old man in tattered cloak and
pointed hat, who sat on a broken column. On
seeing the two strangers he came up to them,
and holding out his hand displayed, with a
smile, his little treasures; two or three defaced
old coins, a few pieces of broken mosaic. Before
the ready hand of Grace could draw forth her
purse, her companion had given him a small
alms, and he was gone. Count Earlski looked

VOL. I. D

50 GRACE LEE.

after him smiling. " His name is Juliano," he
said; "we are old friends. Early as I come
here, late as I may leave, I see him before or
leave him after me. The Colosseum is his realm,
that ragged cloak is his regal mantle, that old
hat is his crown; foreigners are his bom tribu-
taries. Watch him now; two well-dressed men
are crossing the arena ; he goes not near them ;
they are Romans, and with a look Juliano knows
it. And he too is a Roman; he has the full
dark eye, the aquiline nose, the well-cut Roman
lip and chin. With his white beard flowing on
his breast, and his mantle thrown around him,
with the grace of the ancient toga, he might sit
for one of the Roman senators, from whom he
is perchance descended. And he lives here, in
this ruin, happy to get a few baiocchi from the
careless stranger, whose ancestor, perhaps, died
in this very spot, a barbarian gladiator. Ah !
these,^^ he added, looking around him, "these
are the things that comfort one under the heavy

GRACE LEE. 51

hand of ProTidence. The proudest, the most
tvraimic nations^ have their day of retribution ;
the oppressed may safely look forward to the
avenging future; but in the meanwhile the
present is bitter."

" Would you be anything but a Pole ? " said
Grace, smiling.

''No, heaven forbid !'' he replied, quickly;
''but then,'' he added, sadly, "who would be
a Pole — no one; even you, good and generous
as you are — ^you would not ? "

"Why not ?" asked Grace.

" Oh ! if I indeed thought so," he said, look
ing at her fixedly ; " if I thought so ! "

Grace stopped, he stopped too ; his eyes were
fastened on her with a strange expression ; words
seemed to tremble on his lips. At length he
spoke.

" Miss Lee, you have been a generous friend
to Poland ! Will you become her daughter, and
share the fortunes of her banished son ? ''

p2

52 GRACE LEE.

Few things took Miss Lee by surprise, because
her perceptions were quick and received impres-
sions rapidly. Her reply came at once.

"What for?^' she asked, "Poland wants no
such daughter — an exile no such burden.^'

He reddened and bit his lip. She resumed :

" Have you thought of this long ? '*

" You think me presumptuous,^' he answered,
with a sad smile, " because I offer you a nobler
destiny than the life of pleasure and wandering
you now lead. Forgive me, if seeing in you the
promise of nobler things, a heroic nature that
knows not itself, I asked you to become the
daughter of poor Poland — ^poor now I grant it,
yet who knows that some day her rewards to
the faithful few may not exceed her poverty.^'

And this great-grandson of a king, more
ambitious, perhaps, than he himself knew,
looked at Grace with reproachful pride. She
smiled and shook her head.

" I am not what you think," she said. " My

■■■^^ ■^■^<^» , ■

GBACE LEE. 53

friend, get a Polish peasant girl, pour into her
the sense of burning wrongs ; of a noble nation
effaced from the rank of nations ; of a language
silenced^ of a faith oppressed ; do if you can,
what God alone can do^ kindle and inflame a
human soul^ create a new Joan of Arc^ then in-
deed will you have done something for Poland/'

"Oh! that I could — ^that I could — ^but you
wrong yourself — ^besides you have not heard me
— ^will you hear me, Miss Lee? ''

She bent her head in mute assent* He
spoke with the strange, seducing eloquence,
that had before that day moved and conquered
many a reluctant heart to the cause of his
country. Grace listened to this strain of sweet
music with a charmed ear; but she was not
convinced. He read it in her look, and said
quickly : '

"Give me no answer yet — ^the penitents are
coming in for the Via Crtuns; when it is over,
tell me what you have decided/'

^"^SSS^SamammmKmmmmmmKmmmmapt

54 GRACE LEE.

The procession entered the arena singing ; the
men ranged themselves on one side^ the women
on the other: a young monk ascended the
platform and preached briefly but impressively of
sin and repentance ; an older monk stood by him
in a grave listening attitude. The people sat or
stood dispersed around^ on the grass^ on the steps
of the cross, on the broken marble fragments.
Then followed the stations.

Around this once blood-stained arena fourteen
lowly altars record the steps by which the Man
of Sorrows reached his bitter Passion and
shameful death. Before each of these altars
successively the crowd knelt, prayed, and sang;
a strange impressive scene, with the blue sky
looking down, and the old walls giving back these
sounds of song and prayer.

Countess Karlski was lost in devotion ; Grace
could not help looking at her son. His brow
was unusually grave, his whole face unusually
clouded ; he seemed absorbed in thought. " He

■ MW^^^H^^RM^R^BM

GR^CE LEE. 55

wants to play some desperate game/^ thought
Grace, "and to make me the stakes. Ay, he
likes me well enough to immolate me to that
supreme love of his heart — Poland ! " Suddenly
he raised his eyes and met hers ; he smiled as if
conscious of her thoughts, and Grace too smiled,
for her resolve was taken.

All was over, the chanting of the procession
died away in the distance. Countess Karlski
rose. She raised herself on tiptoe and whispered
mysteriously in the ear of Grace : " Do you mind
waiting five minutes — I have a particular prayer
to offer up.^^ Grace assented, and sat down on
the step of one of the deserted altars. At once
Count Karlski came and sat by her.

"Well,'* he said, smilingly, and there was
strange sweetness and fascination in his smile
and in the look of his deep blue eyes, as leaning
his elbow on his knee and his cheek on his hand,
he looked at Grace.

" You are going to make a new i^evolu-

9)

)}

56 GRACE LEE.

tion/^ she said. " I ask no questions^ I state
a fact/'

" A slirewd guess. Do you not know I live in
revolutions ? ''

"Well, then/ frankly, a revolutionary atmos-
phere would not suit me.''

"Is that your final answer?

" My friend, it is.^

He looked at her reproachfully. The eyes of
Grace were bent on the earth, and her forefijager
traced on the sand the figures of a number. He
followed her movements with a curious eye.
"Would that do ?" she asked, looking up laughing.

He started and reddened.

" You are jesting," he said; " even you, rich as
the world says you are, even you could not."

" All at once I could not. But within six
months — try me."

It was some time before he spoke. At length
he looked up, and said very earnestly, " You are
a noble creature ! "

GRACE LEE. 57

The prayer of his mot^^er was ended. She
rose and came up to them cheerful and smiling.

Miss Lee reached Palace Colonna in time for
the ambassadorial dinner. The ambassador him-
self^ Madame de Montreuil^ her nephew^ and

«

Grace were the only persons present^ but the
very dining-room had a diplomatic air^ as indeed
had everything around. His Excellency M. de
Montreuil^ was a diplomatic man^ tall^ spare,
austere in aspect^ laconic in speech — the man
to wear a gold-embroidered coat^ riband, crosses
and orders — to figure well in public ceremonies, to
look properly deep and solemn at a ministerial
dinner. An impenetrable man, from whom no
one, not even Madame de Montreuil, had ever
been able to extract anything, but whether
because of his great depth or of his utter shallow-
ness, Madame herself never could make out. He
never breathed a word of politics ; he read all the
newspapers, took notes of the cases of extraordi-
nary longevity, spent an hour every morning with

d8

58 GRACE LEE.

his secretary, rode every afternoon on the Pincio,
lived like any other gentleman, and had the
name of un homme d'etat.

On the present occasion he was, as usual,
courteous to Miss Lee, but somewhat silent;
when the dessert came in he went to the open
window, sat in his chair and read the D6bats,
Eugene de Montreuil, a fair-haired, slim-waisted,
thin-moustachio'd dandy, amply made up for his
nucleus silence. He spoke on, a tort a travers, with
that light sparkling French wit, which lies in
manner, in a certain precision of speech rather
than in the substance ; m the form, more than in
the meaning. He entertained the ladies with the
small talk of the day : the Duchess de Croy had
left Rome; the Princess Sobenhausen was just
arrived ; Principessa Russoli was going to marry
her daughter to a certain English Catholic noble-
man, as yet nameless. And to all appearance
these trifles absorbed him; yet to a close ob-
server the ambitious man was betrayed by the

GRACE LEE. 59

restless look; the smile that vainly tried to be
careless. In the same light way he treated his
forthcoming election. He gave a frank account
of his intentions. He meant to pay assiduous
court to three ladies^ and through them to win
their influential husbands. The task was not, he
confessed, without difficulty.

*' Madame de Broc detests Madame de Ger-
sueil, who detests Madame de Menard. Ah !
it is a delicate matter;'^ and the shadow of a
thoughtful wrinkle gathered on his smooth
brow. ''I must manage them separately/^ he
added, seriously.

^'But what if you find yourself with the
three ?^^ asked his aunt. "Confess yourself
conquered.^*

" Conquered ! ^^ he answered, passing his hand
through his chesnut hair, " conquered ! why in
that case Madame de Broc and Madame de

Menard must be charmed together. There can
be no rivalry, for they are not enemies *, or what

60 GEACE LEE.

is almost as objectionable entre dames, bosom
friends/^

" Thank you,'* said Madame de Montreuil.

He bowed, and resumed. " Then I must
fasten Madame de Brocks attentions on some
ill-dressed lady, refer Madame de Menard to
some third person for a little bit of new scandal,
in both of which having succeeded, I devote
myself to Madame de Gerseuil."

"You are eluding the difficulty. I spoke of
the three together.^^

" And let them be together,^' was the heroic
. reply. " Seul contre trois, the single Horace
against the three Curiatii, I shall yet prevail.
I shall unite Madame de Broc and Madame de
Menard ; make Madame de Menard slightly
subordinate to Madame de Gerseuil, and Madame
de Gerseuil slightly subordinate to Madame de
Broc. She who hates will feel the shade; she
who hates not will feel nothing.'^ '

"Is he not impertinent?^^ said Madame de
Montreuil to Grace.

GRACE LEE. 61

Miss Lee smiled. Eugene, convinced lie had
produced an irresistible impression, was going to
improve the matter, when the voice of the
ambassador issuing from behind the open Dibats,
was heard reading aloud —

" ' On the fourth of this month, there died in
the town of Annecy in Savoy, a woman named
Jeanne Leroux, aged one hundred and fifteen
years, five months, and three days.' Very
singular,^' added his Excellency, ''this is the
best and most curious instance this year has
produced.^' He took out his pocket-book, noted
the circumstance, and resumed his reading.'

'' I suppose we must begin and think of that
dreadful toilette," said Madame de Montreuil,
rising and passing her arm within that of Grace.
She led her away, whispering mysterious advice,
and pathetically entreating her, whatever she did,
" not to wear yellow."

''Another bouquet has come for Mademoiselle,"
smilingly said Mademoiselle Dupuis, as Miss Lee

6^ GRACE LEE.

entered her dressing-room. Grace loved flowers ;
with delight she hent over the delicate blossoms.

" And there is a letter too/' resumed her maid.
This time the letter was prose, not verse; but
the poet^s name, Mario Negri, was clearly written
below. It was a love letter, but a respectful one ;
its purport too was marriage, and very clearly
stated. Grace read it attentively, then put it
away with a smile. " He, too ! ^' she thought,
and she mused awhile. But little time had she
to reflect ; first, her toilet, then Madame de
MontreuiPs presence, occupied her fully; at
length both the ladies were ready. The ambas-
sadress was attired with taste and richness ;
Grace with unusual simplicity. She wore a
plain white Eastern muslin, a gold diadem that
bound her dark hair, and but one ornament of
real value, the cameo bracelet purchased that
morning.

"Very good taste,'' approvingly murmured
Madame de Montreuil, " very."

GRACE LEE. 63

There never had been in Borne a more beautiful
fSte than that of Princess Doria. The splendid
rooms looked doubly splendid. The softness of
music, the sweetness of perfumes, filled the whole
place. There were soft speeches, softer smiles
and glances, beautiful women, — all that could
charm, the senses and the eyes was there. Mrs.
Chesterfield was present. Her first task had
been to seek out for Grace. She saw her
standing at the end of the ball-room talking to
some ladies ; then, with involuntary but irre-
pressible jealousy, she beheld Prince Negri care-
lessly yet surely approach the wealthy lady.
There was something in his handsome dark face
bent on pleasing, a meaning which had once
been there for her, which she knew well.

" I do not know why I should care about it,*^
she thought ; " he is but a false Italian after all :
a gambler, too, and then there would have been
that horrid abjuration to go through. He must
be saying something very pleasant to her that

64 GRACE LEE.

she smiles so.^' She could not take her eyes
away. Grace looked animated and well^ Prince
Negri was eminently handsome, even in his
country of handsome men and women. He
looked a Prince, too. In vain Mrs. Chesterfield
longed for some one to break a tete-k-tSte, all
the more secure for being held in a crowd. But
images shift not more quickly in a dream than in
a ball-room. A friend, or rather a bore, came
and asked her 'Ho look at the most beautiful
woman he had seen for a long time.^^ Mrs.
Chesterfield remained mute at his impertinence,
then dropped her eyelids, used her fan, looked
cool, and shook him off like an insect. When
she looked again, both Grace and Prince Negri
had vanished.

It was some time ere she could see them
again ; at length she discovered them in a card-
room, playing, to her great surprise; several
ladies and gentlemen looked on. Mrs. Chester-
field joined the group, as Grace rose laughing.

GRACE LEE. 65

Prince Negri looked rather flushed. Mrs. Ches-
terfield lingered behind to know more. She
could learn nothing. Some said Miss Lee had
won a thousand scudi^ and others avowed she
had lost^ we dare not say how many thousand,
and all in one game. " Do tell me what all this
is about/' — said Mrs. Chesterfield to Madame de
Montreuil, "who lost or won? "

" Heaven knows/^ replied the Baronne with a
careless shrug, " do look at her ; is she not hand-
some ? ^ The most beautiful woman in the room/
says Eugene.^^

Mrs. Chesterfield looked and saw a young and
lovely woman, with the inspired beauty of a
Sappho or a Corinna, leaning on the arm of a
tall and handsome man. She recognised Gerald
Lee. This, then, was the young girl whom six
years before he had married for love; she turned
pale at the sight of this new star, on whose path
a murmur of admiration rose; but with feigned
indifi^erence she said carelesslv :

66 GKACE LEE.

" Pretty woman ! but wtere is Miss Lee ? "
" There, opposite you, dancing with Eugene/^
It is pleasant to dance with Frenchmen ; they
dance well; they like dancing; they like their
own charming selves : in a discreet way they like
too their partner; pleased with everything and
everyone, they rarely fail to please. Eugene de
Montreuil did his best to amuse Miss Lee; he
fully succeeded; he saw it, and as he led her
back to her seat, " the right time is come,*^ he
thought. In the French grand monde, a man is
much too polite to be in love with the lady
he wishes to marry, and there is no knowing
by what speech expressive of respectful admi-
ration M* de Montreuil would have declared
his feelings to Miss Lee, if she had not suddenly
said :

" I do not see Prince Negri^s sister."
Eugene de Montreuil smiled rather bitterly.
" I dare say not : they say she is in a convent
— soon to take the habit."

GBACB LEE. 67

" ^They ' is a storyteller. I do not believe it;
ask Prince Negri if you like.''

Eugene de Montreuil turned round quickly.
He saw the Italiau standing near enough to have
overheard their last words — ^he reddened. Prince
Negri with a smile confirmed Miss Lee's assertion.
" His sister had made her election — for the world."

Self-possessed, as Eugene de Montreuil habit-
ually was^ he could not conceal some emotion^
on hearing news he little expected.

" I told you so," said Grace, laughing. Here
she was joined by Mrs. Chesterfield, and the
favourable moment her late partner had allowed
to slip by, returned no more that evening,

'*Do tell me/' whispered Mrs. Chesterfield,
*' what you were doing in the card-room ? "

'' Playing.^

"Did you lose or win?"

"And do tell me!" said Miss Lee, without
answering the question, "who is that lovely
woman ? "

}}

»

68 GKACB LEE.

"Oh! you ought to know/^ replied Mrs.
Chesterfield, biting her lip, *' she is your cousin,
Mrs. Gerfdd Lee. They have been three days
in Rome : she is consumptive, I believe. They
too — so I am told — were in treaty for that
bracelet on your arm, but you unconsciously
outbid them; and as gold rules everything in
this world — you conquered.^

Gerald Lee and his wife were leaving. He
looked at her fondly and proudly; and smiling
she returned the glance. They had been mar-
ried years, but their love had not grofwn cold
or old. The look of Grace followed them until
the crowd closed on them: then she said with
much warmth, " God bless them both ! ''

" Dreadfully dull affair,*' impatiently exclaimed
Mrs. Chesterfield.

" Delightful, indeed ! " said Grace, misunder-
standing her meaning.

Well might she find it so. Introduced by
Madame de Montreuil, and recommended* by her

GRACE LEE. 69

large fortune, Miss Lee, wherever she went,
might reckon friends by the dozen. Before
Mrs. Chesterfield could reply, a gay group had
daimed the attention of Grace ; and the beauty
saw this rich plain girl, possess and enjoy flat-
tery, almost as sweet as any that had ever been
poured at her feet.

And her brown cheek was flushed with plea-
sure; and if her bright eyes looked laughing
through the enchantment of the fete, they yet
sparkled like diamonds. Did she then like all
this homage? why not. Oh, world! thou art
indeed a charmer. We may rail at thee; we
may call thee, false friend, traitor, yet thou ever
drawest us back ; thy breath may be too feverish,
but it is sweet ; thy voice may be false, but it is
delightful.

"Oh, life, thou art sweet!'' thought Grace.
She sat in her room alone, thinking. She was
too independent not to do singular things now
and then ; and too imaginative not to like them

70 GRACE LEE.

all the better for being singular. She was young,
too; romantic, and generous to folly. Full of
faith and hope, and with the happy presumption
of inexperience; never doubting her power to do
good, she smiled at the remembrance of that
day. She saw a brother saved from life-long
remorse, a reluctant girl restored to liberty; a
worldly man tasting one sweet drop in his
worldly life; and glorious, though delusive vision,
a nation liberated— all through her!

Mademoiselle Dupuis broke in on her dreams ;
she laid a sealed letter before her mistress and
withdrew. Grace looked at it curiously ; it was
sent by her solicitor, with an apology for the
neglect of the clerk who had forgotten it in
some obscure drawer of the office. It was
directed to Miss Gertrude Lee, in a free round •
hand she knew not, bore a date two years back,
and was thus worded :

" Madam — Thanks are poor things. I suspend

GRACE LEE. 71

mine until I can prove to you that I know how
to use the books your kindness now converts
from a six years' loan into a gift.

"I have the honour, Madam^ to subscribe
myself, yours obediently,

"John Owen/'

'^Miss Gertrude Lee.'*

With a smile Grace put down John Owen's
letter. It seemed strange to be reminded of so
slight a gift on a day when she had poured
forth gold like dust. Yet she smiled happy,
for she saw herself a girl again standing by the
careless young man who then had not known
her face, who now did not remember her name,
and scarcely deigned to thank her: sweet at all
times of life is the memory of our youth ! That
short, haughty letter, had a strange charm for
Grace. She read it again and again, until it
brought on the restless fit the last few weeks
had lulled. The next day but one she had

72 GRACE LEE.

left Borne. Where she was gone no one knew.
Some said back to Egypt, others to Sicily and
Spain; but no one blamed.

Miss Lee was long remembered in the Holy
City; strange tales were long told of her gene-
rosity and munificence. Every one knew she
had given her magnificent lace to Mrs.
Chesterfield, that the best part of her costly
Roman treasures had remained in Palace
Colonna, and that the day before going she
had ventured to send her cameo bracelet to
Mrs. Gerald Lee, with a letter so frank and so
free, that her husband had permitted her to
accept the gift. Some said, too, that she had
portioned Prince Negri's sister, in a strange
fashion, and others declared that she had given
millions to Count Karlski ; and all agreed that
Grace Lee was rich as Croesus and generous as
a queen.

?

•»

GRACE LEB. 73

CHAPTER III.

The sun shone in Italy warm and golden^
but the wind was bleak in England, With a
dreary murmur it swept around the quiet
northern dwelling where, on a wintry day,.
Grace had dreamed of endless wanderings.
Years had passed invisible over the place; the
fire burned as bright; the parlour looked as
cheerful as then ; the same figures too were there
— Doctor Crankey bending over his History of
the Church; and within a few paces of him,
Miss Amy, sewing by the fire-side. The dark
girl, listening to the far wind, with the Hebrew
Bible on her knees, alone was absent.

''Now that is too bad of Grace,'' said

VOL. I. ■

}9

74 GBACE LEE.

Doctor Crankey, putting down his pen. "Is
the girl dead?

" Oh ! dear Doctor, I hope not/' nervously
observed Miss Crankey; "when she last wrote
she said, ' I left you when the' swallows were
going ; when they return, look out for me ; '
and you know the first swallow came last week,

and -'*

. The Doctor impatiently requested to be al-
lowed to write. In five minuted, however, he
returned to the same theme.

" Grace,'* he began ; here he paused ; the door
had opened, and Grace herself had entered.

She came in bareheaded, like one just sum-
« moned from some domestic task, in a plain dark
gown, such as she wore formerly; the same in
bearing, aspect, and attire as of old. Miss
Crankey's work fell on her knees ; the Doctor
uttered a deep "Hem!

"Is it time to make the tea?'' said Grace
to Miss Amy — " or can I go on with Saint Basil

ij

OKACE LEE. 75

a little longer?^' slie added^ turning to the
Doctor.

They remained mute; Grace laughed, and sat
down between them. She laid her head on Miss
Amy's lap; her hand on the old priest's knee.
Miss Amy sobbed hysterically ; Doctor Crankey,
who scorned emotions as so many weaknesses,
said drily:

'^ And so thaf s the way you come back from
Egypt, without a thing on your head, eh ? ^'

"Egypt I'' cried Graee^ with a start; "you
do not mean to say I have been to Egypt, or
that I was not here yesterday? Nonsense!"
she added, her head sinking back on his cousin's
knees, "I could tell you where we left off in
Saint Basil, just as I could teU Miss Amy it
was a blue pink with yellow leares she made me
work last night. I pleaded for green foliage;
but she said yeUow would look better with blue."

" Thaf s very true ! " half sobbed Miss Amy ;

" the dear child has forgotten nothing."

s 2

76 QRACB LEE.

39

" m be bound she has forgotten her Greek,
half grumbled Doctor Crankey.

Grace indignantly denied it ; poor Miss Amy
suppressed her sobbing, to act as peacemaker.
It was as if years had not passed ; as if Grace,
still a girl, had left them but a day. And of
her travels, of anything that had occurred since
that time, she refused to speak. Unattended^
alone, in plain attire, her suite, her luxuries left
behind, she had come to them to drink a deep,
refreshing draught from the sweet fountain of
the past. Grace had been about an hour with
her two Mends, when the parlour door opened,
and a fair-haired boy of sixteen, with large
brilliant eyes, entered, with a book in his hand.
On seeing Grace he paused. She, too, looked
at him a little surprised.

" It is only James Crankey, my nephew,^^ said
Doctor Crankey. '^ Come in, James ; you must
not be afraid of Grace, though she does know
Greek rather better than you do.'*

GRACE LEB. 77

The young man took no notice of this speech;
he sat down in the place which had been that of
Grace for years, opened his book^ and never once
raised his eyes the whole evening.

Doctor Crankey had had a younger brother,
who died in Wales. This brother turned out to
liave left Doctor Crankey a nephew, who one
day dropped down on his uncle with a brief
explanation: — "his mother had sent him.'*

Doctor Crankey was very angry ; then he
softened; then his heart yearned to the boy;
and at length he loved him. At once he set him
to Greek and Latin, and '' James, though not so
quick a pupil as Grace,^' proved a good lad. All
this Miss Amy told to Grace the next morning.

Silent happy weeks of peace followed Miss
Lee's return to the home of her youth. To
Miss Amy's delight she began a magnificent
altar carpet, in Berlin wool. Greek, to Doctor
Crank6y's disgust, was wholly neglected ; yet to
her, when too much engaged himself, he gave

78 GKACB LEE.

the task of superintending his nephew's studies.
James Crankey was rather mortified to have
this feminine tutor; but his uncle would hear
of no demur^ and the lad submitted. But
either the keen northern sir, or hard study
disagreed with him; for after some time he fell
iU. Miss Amy nursed him tenderly, and to her
he seemed grateful; but when Grace occasionally
attended on him, to be ciyil seemed as much as
he could do; his uncle, however, having severely
lectured him, James professed his repentance,
apologised, and threw a shade more of courtesy
in his behaviour towards Miss Lee. He was
slowly recovering, spring was smiling in the
North, when, on a bright April morning. Miss
Crankey mysteriously requested five minutes'
private talk with the Doctor.

" Certainly,'' he replied, surprised ; and he
prepared himself to hear that really Miss
Crankey could no longer stand the behaviour of
Ann the cook ; that a change there must be, &c.

GRACE IM. 79

" I do not know/' began Miss Amy, *' if you
have noticed. Doctor, how slowly the dear boy

is getting on» I am afraid he is rather worse

«

than Mr. Bell thinks."

" Pooh ! pooh ! the lad is growing.'*

Miss Amy coughed, fidgetted> and looked for

♦

the most distant fashion of hinting her meaning ;
but finding nothing, and perceiving that the
Doctor was growing impatient, she came out
with—

*' My dear sir, that is not it ; your nephew—*
the fact is, your nephew is in love.*'

Doctor Crankey opened his mouth and sank
back in his chair, aghast.

" In love ! '* he said at length ; and with
what ? In the name of all the saints, with what ?
With Ann?'*

Miss Amy smiled, and shook her head.

'' With you, then ? '' shortly said the Doctor.

" With me ! " exclaimed poor Miss Amy, with
a blush and k sigh.

80 GRACE LEB.

^But, my dear madam^ with whom else?"

^' Why, with Grace, of course/'

" Nonsense ! '* derisively said Doctor Crankey;
" that is out of the question, you know* Grace
is not a girl, or a woman/'

''Eh!'' exclaimed Miss Amy.

"I mean like another. Why, ma'am," he
impressively added, sitting straight in his chair,
'' why Grace is almost as learned as myself, and I
am a priest and a Doctor of Divinity to boot —
Besides you forget that the boy cannot bear
her.'*

'' Bless you. Doctor, he only pretends. James
is a nice lad, but he is sly, he makes believe to
hate her, that neither she nor you may guess the
truth. Me he does not mind; that is why I
detected him. I thought it right to tell you,
because though he is so young it is a pity he
should suflFer."

With this Miss Amy rose and left the Doctor
confounded at the folly and deceit of boys and

GRAC£ LEE. 81

girls. He rose and walked up and down the
room^ disturbed at so strange a matter. Sud*
denly as he passed by the parlour window, the
Doctor caught sight of his nephew and Grace in
the garden. He paused and looked.

They sat reading together some classic author
under a young cherry tree, whose light shadow
wayed to and fro on the grass. The book
rested on TVIiss Lee^s lap. The fair head of
the youth looked over her shoulder; her eyes
read the page, his read her bending face
unconscious of his gaze.

They were reading Virgil. They had come to
the beautiful and well-known passage where
Venus in huntress-guise appears to her son j^neas
in the wood,

** — ^Pedes YeBtis defluxit ad imos,
Et vera incessu patiiit Dea."

" That is like you,^^ said James Crankey, in a
low breathless tone.

Grace looked up, her dark eyes all surprise;

E 3

ff

82 QRACE LEE.

his blue eyes^ all light, were fastened on her with
a sort of worship.

'' Thank jon, Mr. James/' said Grace smiling,
" a very pretty compliment — if it were only true ;
but I am not handsome you know.

'^Ah! but you have such beautiful eyes, and
such beautiful hair/' he replied, but trembling at
his own audacity, '^ and such a beautiful hand
and arm, and — and then you are so — ^*

He paused.

" Pray go on,*' said Grace seriously, " I should
like to know my own merits; so what? — Good — "

''You are good, but that is not it,"

'' Learned ! Amiable ? No. Why Mr. James
what can it be ? ''

" You will laugh at me if I tell you."

" On my word I will not.'*

" Well, then, you are so elegant."

Grace gave him an astonished glance.

He sat looking at her with a sort of breathless
admiration, but it was as innocent as his years.

GRACE LEE. 83

As she was hesitating what sort of a reply to give
him^ Doctor Crankey^ opening the parlour window,
raised his voice and said sharpljy

'* JatneSi come in, 1 want to speak to you."

James rose and complied. Doctor Crankey
calmly informed him that he intended him to
complete his studies abroad, and bade him
prepare to leave in a few days. The boy red-
dened. ' He knew well enough what all this
meant, for his mind was subtle and penetrating
beyond his years.

''I do not wish to leave England," he said.

Doctor Crankey frowned, but curbed rising
wrath to reply.

^^Well, I shall see if I can find some place
for you in London."

'^ I will not go to London," was the deliberate
answer.

Doctor Crankey's gray eyes flashed fire ; stern
words of authority rose to his lips; suddenly
he checked himself: James Crankey stood before

84 GRACE LEE,

him^ pale as death^ but with inflexible will
stamped on every one of his slight effeminate
features. A vivid picture of his youth rose
before the priest ; he saw his own father sternly
enforcing his will on his own brother, the father
of James; he saw that brother^s pale face of
still revolt, the very image of the face before
him j and he remembered how, when that
brother left his home the same day and never
returned, but made himself a home and died
amongst strangers, he had in his heart blamed
his father^s harshness. He sighed and said,
mildly :

^' We will talk about that another time, James ;
and now, boy, leave me. I want to write.^'

In the course of the day Doctor Crankey
briefly told Grace what had passed, and, without
entering into any explanation, he added : ^' And
now, Grace, persuade the boy, if you can. I
will not force him; but if he will not yield,
he must simply go back to his mother.^'

GRACE LEfl. 85

Miss Lee^ without asking on what ground

she was chosen for this office^ promised to do

her best. That same day she sat alone working

at her frame in the parlour^ when James

Crankey entered. He took no notice of her,

but went and sat at the other end of the room.
''Mr. James/' said Grace.

He looked up, but did not move.

"I wish vou would come here.**

He came, his book in his hand.

"And sit down there," said Grace, pushing
towards him the stool on which her feet rested.
James sat down. *' And just hold this skein of
silk for me, will you?"

If Hercules wielded a distaflF to please his
beloved, poor James, who was but a boy, might
well hold a skein of silk for Grace Lee. When
she had half wound it off, she sank back on
her chair likd one tired with the task, and,
looking down in the lad's blushing face, she
said, smiling :

86 GRACE LBB.

^'And 80, Mr. James, you mil not go to
London — i^hy so?" He did not reply. She
resumed: '^I quite hoped you would come and
spend some time vith me there."

" You are going to London," he interrupted.

" Did yon think I meant 'to stay here ? No,
indeed; I mean to coax away Doctor Crankey
and Miss Amy; and I hoped, too, Mr. James,
to coax you."

-James reddened deeply*
But since you will not — " said Grace.
Anything — anywhere with you," he ex-
claimed, bending over her hand and pressing
his lips to it in a transport of joy and fondness.

" Oh ! Mr. James, Mr. James," cried Grace,
" my poor skein ! — "

James rose abashed.

" It is done for," said Grace, smiling ; " and
it was my best skein."

Thus matters were compromised. James
Crankey naturally thought to leave the North

c<

((

GBACE LEE. 87

with Miss Lee, but Doctor Crankey wanted to
oonsnlt a book in the British Maseom; he conld
not dehiy his departure a day; he exacted that
his nephew should accompany him^ and this
time James Crankey thought it wise to submit.

They were gone^ and Grace remained alone
with Miss Crankey. The spring was beautiful
and pure^ and firesh as the morning. The
days seemed long as summer days; the serene
nights were all repose, and as the season of the
year so was the life of these two women* They
were alike in nothing; yet they were fondly
attached; Miss Lee loved her old guardian
better than any other living creature, but next
to him stood Miss Amy; Doctor Crankey was
certainly first in Miss Crankey's heart, but
after him came Grace, * and in this common
affection their mutual love met and strengthened.

Grace had succeeded in coaxing Miss Amy to
promise to accompany her to town; but not
without regret had Miss Amy agreed to leave

88 GRACE LEE.

her quiet home. London bewildered her, she
said; Grace only laughed at her fears. They
sat together by the open window; the sun
was setting behind faint blue hills; from the
far horizon came long rays of light and dark
shadows, that swept across a vast landscape.
Grace remembered the Roman Campagna, the
Appian Way, the tombs, ruins, circuses, fallen
palaces, and broken aqueducts, that stand in
the midst of that silent desert; and what she
remembered Grace described to her friend in
vivid and glowing language.

'^Yes,^' said Miss Amy, rather sadly, ''it must
be beautiful — there are lovely spots in this valley
of tears.^^

*' Valley of tears ! ^^ echoed Grace, with a
joyous laugh; ''dear Miss Amy, this world is
a paradise ; life is a cup almost too sweet."

"You are young," said Miss Amy, in a low
tone. " Grace," she added, after a pause, " I
feel a little poorly to-night— do you mind going

GRACE LEE. 89

lip-stairs and shutting up — I cannot trust Ann."
Grace readily assented; Miss Amy remained
alone.

^' I too was young once ! " she thought, as
she sat dreaming hy the window. She went
into the past; years vanished from her brow;
her young form, her fresh face, her light step,
returned. Amy was a girl again. And in the
cool of early morning, with the dew bright on
the grass, Amy ran out in her father's orchard.
She filled her apron with the fallen fruit; she
sang the burden of an old ballad; she listened
for a whistle, for a harsh yet loved voice that
called out "Amy!" The voice was no dream.
^'Amy, where- are you?" it said, "Amy speak,
are you here ? "

It was Doctor Crankey, who had unexpectedly
returned. Miss Amy rose. She clasped her hands.

" John 1 John ! " she cried, " I never liked
Eichard; indeed, I never did." And she sank
back in her chair.

90 GRACE LEE.

When Orace came in bearing the lights she
paused on the threshold at the strange sight she
saw. Miss .Amy had fainted; Doctor Crankey
stood by her supporting her head; his gray
locks swept her pale face; his trembling lips
muttered unusual words of endearment.

Grace sprang forward to her friend; she took
her in her arms ; Miss Amy was inanimate and
cold. Still senseless, they bore her to her room.
A doctor was sent for; he came, and looked
grave. Orace sat up by Miss Amy the whole
of that night, the whole of the next day. Miss
Amy never woke to consciousness. The sur-
prise, the sudden shock, had acted too strongly
on a frame long weakened by a secret and pa-
tiently-borne disease. On the third evening she
opened her languid eyes, smiled at Grace, on
whose warm bosom her weak head rested, at
Doctor Crankey, standing with folded arms at
the foot of her bed, and with that smile still on
her lips, she died, gentle as she had lived.

GRACE LEE. 91

Doctor CranlLey bore the loss of his quiet
cousin with a Christian fortitude some would
have called indifference; but at the end of a
fortnight he suddenly said to Grace :

" Grsce, I cannot stand it any longer ; I must
leave the house."

And then Grace learned^ that to live in the home
which the death of his cousin had rendered vacant^
was more than harsh Doctor Crankey could bear.

He was a man quick to resolve, and prompt
to act. In a few days he had sold off all he
possessed, save his books, and he left with Miss
Lee the cottage where the last fifteen years of
his life had been spent in happy peace.

Before she left, Grace went into the garden.
She gathered the flowers Miss Amy had loved
to tend; she went up to the closed and silent
door, that never more would open to give her
welcome. She laid her lips on the spot which
had so often yielded to Miss Amy^s gentle hand,
and her bright eyes filled with tears.

92 GRACE LEE.

'^ God bless you, little house," she said in her
heart. "I have been very happy in you, God
bless you; and blessed, too, be they who shall
yet sit by youi hearth, who shall know the
shelter of your roof: again and again from my
heart I bless them ! "

She turned away, and gave the solitary
dwellings the quiet garden, the lonely landscape
one last fond look; yet more of love than of
sorrow or regret. Never more did that calm
picture greet her eyes. Once, in after days,
she was near the spot; she passed on without
seeing it. She kept her lost home as she had
left it — a fair image of her happy youth.

OEACE LEE. 93

CHAPTER IV.

•

''Gkace/' said Doctor Crankey to her, when
thejr reached London ; "1 am a priest^ a stndions
man; yon are a girl, gay, rich, and yonng. I
will Ktc nnder yonr roo^ bnt I cannot share
yonr life/'

Thns it was agreed between them.

A honse in Park Lane awaited Miss Lee ; it
was Inxnrionsly fhmished, bnt to luxury she
added elegance and taste. She collected ancient
pictures; she purchased the best productions of
modem genius. Miss Lee was soon known as an
enlightened patroness of the fine arts. Grace
liked dever people — ^who would not like them?
She Uked intcDect, brilliant speech, the seduction

H GRACE LEB.

and the charm of prolonged conversations.
She took a matchless cook; she gave Thursday
dinners; and she had clever people to pick and
choose from. Her circle, or her coterie^ call it
as you will, soon became one of the most
reclierchS in London. The time for literary pa-
trons is over, else who knows of what modern
Tasso Grace might not have been the Leonora.
As it was, more than one poem was sung in her
praise; more than one book, destined to live as
long as the language, was dedicated to her, and
shall bear her name down to far posterity.

Miss Lee was no courtier of the great; but
she had too much tact and taste not to s^reciate
the ease, the polish, the good breeding, the grace
which, as a general rule, the nobly born possess ;
and they, to do them justice, did not give her
time to pine for their charming society. It was
surprising even to Miss Lee's candid temper, how
many earls, how many countesses, marchionesses,
and viscounts, lords and ladies of every degree.

QBACS hl^, 95

she had unconsciouslj met abroad^ and been
introduced to. Grace was heartily ashamed of
her bad memory^ and finding her acquaintance
claimed by so many distinguished and agreeable
persons^ did her best to make amends.

She had not mixed much with the world ; she
naturally committed some blunders and fell into
mme mistakes. But she had an original turn of
mind^ &ee and natural manners. She was pro-
nounced ^^ piqttante^^ — a charming creature.

Within a few weeks she had been presented^
invited to the great court fancy ball, 'where the
splendour of her middle age costume excited
unirersal admiration ; she stood one of the
highest in the high world; her cup of honours
was fulL At least she thought so ; but it having
become known. Heaven knows how, that she was
learned, various societies, of whose existence she
was unconscious, elected her one of their learned
corps, and thus to her amusement Grace woke
one morning and found herself an academician.

96 GRACE LEE.

The sun of this world may not be the truest
and the best; but it is sunshine. In its light
and warmth the glad southern nature of Grace
revelled freely; charmed, but not deceived, taking
the world as it is, she enjoyed her splendid
fortune, and everything that fortune could give;
and no morose wisdom, no sour philosophy,
brought so much as a shadow on her brow.
When flatterers went rather too far she laughed ;
when the designing ventured too much on her
credulity, she generously forgave them. The evil,
as well as the good side of things she saw, but at
the good and fair side alone would she look.

Yet spite this tendency, and it is a dangerous
one, Grace forgot not the suffering and the needy
ones of this world. Like all persons of a joyous
natiu'e, she was generous. It delighted her to
give, even though her gifts were not needed.
She loved to see happy faces around her, and
sometimes she used to say that she hated but
one thing in this world, and that was a sad face.

GRACE LEE. 97

More lavish, perhaps, than wise, she gave to
whosoever asked. Better err by giving too much,
she said, than by giving too little. Begging
letters, applications of every description, poured
upon her. They exhausted neither her patience
nor her liberality. She would have thought
herself niggardly of spirit had she stopped there.
On every charitable or liberal institution, far or
near, her hand invisibly poured a golden shower.
The simultaneousness of the gifts, a certain
character that pervaded them, struck observant
and curious persons ; they commented, they con-
jectured, they could not imagine who it possibly
could be. At length their suspicions lit on a
certain illustrious personage of noted benevo-
lence — Her Serene Highness Princess Amelia,
and having found so worthy an object, there
complacently rested.

And Grace, amused to find their sagacity so
wide the truth, pursued her round of secret and
bountiful charities, of pleasiu^e, of gaiety, of

VOL. I. F

98 GRACE LEE.

intercourse with the great, with the gifted of this
world, and night and morning she said to herself,
"The world is beautiful; life is sweet !'^

Towards the close of the season, the Honour-
able Mrs. Chesterfield left fiome, and returned
to England. There, to her great surprise, and to
use her own words, she found everyone raving
about Miss Lee. Miss Lee had jewels fit for
a queen ; Miss Lee had more changes of attire
than there are days in the year ; Miss' Lee gave
the most exquisite dinners, the most brilliant
parties, the most beautiful balls; Miss Lee had
the most splendid liveries, the most elegant
equipage, and if Miss Lee was not by this a
duchess. Miss Lee might blame herself. To
crown all. Miss Lee had turned out to be an
admirable horsewoman. She had bought, and
what was more difficult, she rode, " Vagabond,'^
the most beautiful, the most perverse, the most
dangerous of spirited Arabians; "Vagabond,^*
who, spite his beauty, his ebon coat, his flowing

GRACE LEE. • 99

mane^ his eyes of fire^ had been sold five times
within nine months for his misdemeanors ;
" Vagabond/* who had so irreverently npset the
Premier, and thereby caused a change of
ministry, a fall in the funds, and nearly brought
on a European war.

"I am not of an envious nature," thought
Mrs. Chesterfield, ''but really if there was a
thing I wished for, it was to ride that creature,
and now the aggravating girl has taken him
from me ; I always had a longing for him since
he broke poor dear uncle's ribs.*'

Spite this provoking incident she called the
very same day on the aggravating girl. She
found Miss Lee richly dressed, stepping into her
carriage, with a krge shaggy Newfoundland to
keep her company. In her off-hand way. Mrs.
Chesterfield at once proposed sharing her drive
to the Park, but in the same breath observed,

'^You do not mean to say you are going to
have that creature with you ? "

W 2

100 GRACE LEE.

" Poor Scamp ! ^' said Miss Lee, patting his
rough head, "he is quite harmless; however,
since you object to him, let him stay within."

And to his own displeasure, and to the lady's
great satisfaction, Scamp was ordered away.

" Much more pleasant than having a great big
dog with one," said Mrs. Chesterfield, reclining
back in the luxurious carriage, " * Scamp,' too,
did you christen him ? »

*^ No, indeed ; I even attempted to unchristen
him, but he would answer no other name."

" A fit companion for ' Vagabond.' Is it true
that you ride him, and that people stand in rows
to look on ? "

"That I ride 'Vagabond,' is quite true; that
people stand to look on, seems to me rather
doubtful, for six in the morning is my hour.
But you give me no news of Rome."

"Dreadfully dull place," half-yawned Mrs.
Chesterfield. "A little after you left. Prince
Negri being fairly ruined, made a vow never to

GRACE LEE. 101

touch a card, and married his sister to Eugene
de Montreuil, who proceeded to France with his
bride, got elected for I know not what unlucky
department, and now represents his country, and
makes speeches in the Legislative Assembly of
France. As to Count Karlski, of course you
know his unfortunate end. He was mad enough
to get up another Polish insurrection, and was
shot dead in the first engagement, which, after
all, might be the very luckiest thing for a rest-
less spirit like his, I wonder what has become of
his mother ? "

''She is dead,'' replied Grace with a sigh. *
*' She died unconscious of the truth, happy and
hopeful to the last." And for a while she re-
mained silent, for she remembered the Colosseum,
and the Countess praying by the cross, and she
and her son walking up and down the green
grass, and now all this was past and gone, like
the shadows on the Roman ruin, like the beauty
and the light of that Italian day. Mrs, Chester-

102 GEACE LEE.

field did not allow her to reflect long. As car-
riage after carriage passed and Miss Lee and
those within received and gave tokens of recog-
nition, the beauty^ who had been some time out
of England, began to wonder at this extensive
acquaintance, and^ not knowing or remembering
who half the people were, questioned Grace.
The most aristocratic names^ English and foreign,
dropped from Miss Leer's lips ; had she been
reared in the very centre of the great world, she
could not have been more easy and careless.
Mrs, Chesterfield leaned back in the carriage,
looked at her, and said with her well-bred
impertinence,

"Why, you know every one. Well, and who
is this, now ? "

"The wife of a foreign Charge d' Affaires; she
is very handsome and very like Mrs. Gerald Lee :
how is she ? '^

" My dear, she is dead. She was consumptive,
I never thought that pink colour of hers was

GRACE LEE. 103

natural; she died in Rome last May. Her
husband left Rome at once/'

" Dead ! '* said Grace, " that beautiful creature,
of whom he was so proud, so fond. Ah I death is
indeed pitiless ! "

" Very true. However, he bears it admirably,
and by way of driving away grief is giving him-
self up to philanthropy. He is now deep in the
Female Asylum — what do you think of it ? '^

"The Female Asylum! Ah! I remember
reading something of it in the papers ; a sort of
place of refuge for destitute girls, founded by a
poor girl since dead, Abigail Smith. I under-
stood it was going to ruin.''

" Abigail Smith ! What a methodistical name.
However, as you say, the whole thing was going
to ruin when that dear creature, Princess Amelia,
sent a thousand-pound note. At once a com-
mittee was formed, and now the Female Asylum
is in a fair way of becoming the most useful,
interesting, and flourishing establishment of the

104 GRACE LEE.

kind. It is self-supporting, or very nearly so ; it
has manufactures, it has baths, a library, a lecture-
room, a wash-room — I know not what. Dear
Princess Amelia, she is indeed a benefactress of
humanity !"

Grace looked amazed. It so chanced that the
results of her munificent, but carelessly given
donation, had not reached her ear. She had
never intended to do more than relieve from
temporary distress an interesting establishment,
and now she heard herself called " a benefactress
of humanity."

"Have you never seen it?'^ resumed Mrs.
jDhesterfield. " Why then you really must, and
this very day ; it is no farther than Clapham.^'

Miss Lee raised no objection, and to Clapham
they accordingly went. The carriage drew up
before a large unfinished brick building in the
Elizabethan style, which had already replaced
the narrow house, where for years Abigail Smith
had sheltered a few girls as obscure as herself.

GRACE LEE. 105

Already was the stately gate adorned with
Female Asylum, in broad gilt letters. In
answer to the footman's ring, a pretty girl in
close white cap, blue gown, white cape, and black
apron, the uniform of the establishment, opened
the door and showed the ladies through a gay
flower-garden to the house. There, in a cool,
green parlour, they were received by the head
matron, Mrs. Jones, a formal and reverend
person in black silk dress, who sat making
entries in a broad ledger.

^' And how are we getting on, Mrs. Jones ? "
patronisingly said Mrs. Chesterfield, " I have
brought Miss Lee, that she may become one of
your customers.^'

"We shall be most happy," replied Mrs.
Jones, looking at Grace rather condescendingly^
" and we are getting on very, well indeed ; more
orders for baby-linen came this morning; and
there is to be a public dinner, as our chairman
was just telling me.'*

f3

106 GRACE LEE.

" Is Mr. Lee here ? ^^ interrupted Mrs. Chester-
field.

" Yes, ma'am, writing in the board-room.^'

" Oh, we must go and see him ; you don't
object," she added, turning tp Grace.

" No, certainly."

To the board-room they went. A solemn-
looking room it was, with stiff grey curtains, big
books, large chests already full of papers and
parchments, with a large plan of the Female
Asylum in a frame; a view of the same, ditto,
and a little wooden model of it on a stand. It
also had a green baize square table, before which
sat Mr. Gerald Lee reading and sorting papers.

He was but little altered, for he was a cool
man of the world ; one who locked grief so deep
in his own heart, that God alone knew what
became of it there. Yet as he rose to receive
the ladies, and as he saw and recognised Grace,
a slight change came over his face, but it quickly
passed; and when Mrs. Chesterfield said, in her

GRACE LEE. 107

off-hand way, '^Now, Mr. Chairman, do show
us over this place, will you ? and do not leave us
at the mercy of that pedantic old fool, the head
matron,^^ Mr. Lee smilingly assented, and at
once complied with the lady's request.

" Insolent creature ! *' exclaimed Mrs. Jones,
who had unfortunately overheard the disrespectful
speech, and resolved to show Mrs. Chesterfield
" that she and not her ladyship was head matron
of the Female Asylum,^' she followed the ladies
out of the board-room.

Their first visit was to the wards, large airy
rooms, that held one hundred snow-white beds;
thence they proceeded to the wash-house, where
half-a-dozen girls were deep in soap-suds, and
another half dozen were busy drying, starching,
and ironing. Thence again they went on to the
kitchen, were more were cooking; and where
they were shown, triumphantly, a kettle of im-
mense size, and extraordinary loaves.

" So much,'' said Mr. Lee, " for the domestic

108 GRACE LEE.

part of the house, and now for the intellectual."
And leading them up again, he opened a door
and showed them into a pretty room furnished
with book, globes, slates ; and where four in-
telligent looking girls sat drawing, reading, and
studying. They looked up a moment on seeing
the visitors; then demurely returned to their
diflFerent occupations. '^ This is our library,
class, and lecture room," resumed Mr. Lee, as
they left, '^ we hope to have a much larger one
when the building is completed ; and now Miss
Lee, I shall take you to the vital part of the
estjiblishment, — the work-room."

The work-room was a vast hall, where seventy
or eighty girls in white caps and collars, black
aprons and blue frocks, divided and sub-divided,
overlooked by two matrons, ruled by six moni-
tors, were all busily and variously engaged.
Some cut out the worK, and some put it to-
gether; and some sewed it with the finest of
fine sewing : some made lace ; some plaited

GBACE LEE. 109

straw, some embroidered; in short, every easy
female labour by which some money can be
earned, seemed represented in the Female
Asylum. There was no actual speech, but a
low murmur like that of a busy hive filled the
room. Through the windows the sunlight
streamed in rays of gold. It lit up every group
gf girls in their plain but neat attire, with their
young and cheerful faces. Grace was charmed,
and turning to Gerald Lee, warmly expressed
her approbation.

" Yes,'' said Mr. Lee, ^' it is not amiss. The
person," (poor Abigail you were a '^person,''
not a lady), "who first established the Female
Asylum, was certainly most praiseworthy; but
she was ignorant and had narrow views; we
have certainly improved on her plan.''

" Oh ! it is beautiful ! '' enthusiastically ex-
claimed Mrs, Chesterfield, "and you have no
idea how cheap they work : French cambric
handkerchiefs, beautifully embroidered, seven-

110 GRACE LEE.

and-sixpence a-piece. Everything was mucli
dearer in the time of that Abhy Smith. But
as Mr. Lee says^ it is all now on an improved
plan. Thanks to an excellent committee^ and
admirable chairman/' she added^ laughing.

*'And a thousand-pound note/' he replied,
smiling.

"Inded/' said Grace, very earnestly; "I caij
assure you I never contemplated working such
marvels/'

Mr. Lee and Mrs. Chesterfield looked at her.
"You/' at length exclaimed the lady, "do you
mean to say it was you sent the thousand-
pound note ? "

Grace now conscious of her self-betrayal,
remained mute. She could not deny, and never
equivocated.

" Well, " resumed Mrs. Chesterfield, with
increasing surprise, "you certainly are odd!
The idea of letting every one think it was
Princess Amelia who had sent that money."

GRACE LEE. Ill

Before Grace could reply^ the head matron
had stepped forward^ and in a voice of the
deepest emotion^ began :

''Your Serene Highness/^

"Nonsense! Mrs. Jones/' impatiently inter-
rupted Mrs. Chesterfield; "this is Miss Lee^
not Princess Amelia^ and — '^ She could not
go on. The whole work-room was in a state
of confusion and disorder. Cutters-out^ putters-
together^ lace-makers^ straw-plaiters^ embroi-
derers^ matrons and monitors^ had suddenly
suspended every task; first to gaze with open-
mouth and eyes at the giver of the thousand-
pound note^ then to gather around and press as
near her as they could.

"Mrs. Jones!'' indignantly exclaimed Mrs.
Chesterfield^ feeling too great a pressure on her
aristocratic shoulders, "will you keep off these
girls!"

" Young ladies ! " solemnly began Mrs. Jones
— vain attempt — ^her voice was at once drowned

112 GRACE LEE.

in the universal rumour and confusion. Various
were the statements that flew jfrom mouth
to mouth. '' Princess Amelia was come ; ^' *
'^Princess Amelia was the dark lady/;* ^^No,
the fair lady was Her Serene Highness.'^ But,
dark or fair^ it was agreed that she had just
presented the chairman with another thousand-
pound note. The natural result of such exciting
news was an increase of confusion. In vain
Mrs. Jones called out severely, " Monitors, what
are you doing ?^' The monitors were at the
head of the rebellion ; in short, authority was
set at nought; ^^Mrs. Jones was amazed at
them, she was.'^ Mr. Lee, aftel* vainly attempt-
ing to re-establish order, gave it up. Mrs.
Chesterfield was highly disgusted; and Grace
laughed heartily.

"Mr. Lee, will you see us safe into tKe
carriage from this female mob," at length said
the beauty, in great scorn.

Mr. Lee made way for them, with a smile ;

GRACE LEE. US

the carriage was safely readied; Mrs. Chester-
field stepped in, looking sulkily at the whole
Female Asylum, which had poured out after
them; and Mr. Lee was handing in Grace,
when a pretty girl of sixteen, with a blush and
a curtsey, presented Miss Lee with a nosegay
of newly-gathered flowers. Scarcely had Grace
thanked her, smiling, when the head matron,
to whom some invisible genius had in the
meanwhile wafted her best cap, stepped up to
begin a formal address. Grace forestalled her.

" Mrs. Jones,^^ she said, " I have a favour to
ask of you. Firstly, then, will you be so good
as to forgive these girls their somewhat unruly
behaviour; and secondly, will you, in my name
and with my best wishes, give them a holiday
and a treat." She slipped some gold pieces
into the matron^s hand ; Mrs. Jones smiled and
curtsied, whilst a deep murmur of satisfaction
testified how grateful to their feelings the
inmates of thq» Female Asylum found the latter

114 GRACE LEE.

part of this speech. Grace looked at them
smiling; their pleasure made her glad. She
saw them flushed and joyous; their eyes fixed
on her with eager interest and curiosity — all
anxious to win a smile^ a look; many audibly
uttering their admiration of her person, of
her eyes, of her hair, of her rich silk dress,
of her carriage, of her horses. She heard
some blessings, too, and drove away with a
light heart. They were only girls — only poor
girls; but they were human beings, and for
the moment the whole homage of their hearts
was at her feet.

Vain were it to describe the state of excitement
in which she left the Female Asylum. At length
it partially subsided, and with Mrs. Jones's
solemn approbation, a committee was formed to
sit and decide on the important question : '^ What
piece of their own work the inmates of the Female
Asylum should oflfer to their benefactress ? "

And now Grace was known as a gay sister of

GRACE LEB. 115

charity; as a sort of Mrs. Fry in the world.
Nothing serious can be discussed or accomplished
in England without a dinner. At that dinner,
which was to put the finishing stroke to the
Female Asylum, Miss Lee's health was proposed
and drunk with immense applause. No school,
no asylum, no charitable institution, but had her
name first on its lists, but ranked her amongst
its patronesses. Her name was mentioned with
honour in public meetings; her presence was
solicited as a favour. She was requested to
preside on committees, she received addresses
and deputations ; she was, indeed, as Mrs. Ches-
terfield had said, " A benefactress of humanity .^^

Oh, Abigail ! Abigail Smith ! sleeping in your
neglected grave in the Clapham churchyard, what
were your years of toil, your youth wasted in
superhuman labours, your very being sacrificed
to heroic duty, — what were they, when weighed
in the scale of human respect, and human
opinion, with some money ?

116 GRACE LEE.

CHAPTER V.

The dull light of a London day stole in
tlirough the dim glazed window of a miserable
London attic. It was low, narrow, meanly
furnished, with an indifferent bed, a ricketty
chest of drawers, a ragged carpet, plenty of heavy
books, and no dearth of dust. By the table,
vainly studying, sat one whom we have seen
before.

He was a man of thirty or so, tall, thin and
stem in aspect. His dark, deep-set eyes, and
swarthy face, were both ardent and resolute;
every line was deep and passionate ; every feature
had its meaning, but that meaning, though not
mean or evil, was not pleasant. There was too

GRACE LEE. 117

mucli indiflference, and too little of true content
in the seeming repose of the brow; something
too unquiet and gloomy in the bent look; too
reckless a smile played around the scornful lips ;
the face, though evidently that of a man of
intellect and education, bore too much the wild
and lawless cast which may become a life of
liberty, but ^hich jars with the restraints of
civilisation. It betokened, and truly, one to
whom inward or external subjection was un-
known; a proud, stiflf-necked, self-willed man,
whose temper had no more of the beautiful or
loveable than his outward appearance, and yet
like that too, was not without, a certain careless
and unconscious greatness as plainly pervading
his whole nature, as it was stamped on his brow,
and impressed in every dark lineament of his
mien and motion of his bearing.

Hatred of obscurity had induced John Owen
to forsake his original profession for the bar.
Sanguine in the resources of life for whosoever

118 GRACE LEE.

knows how to control and master them^ and
confident in his own power of ensuring success^
he had given time, money, labour, and like a
bold maiiner, risked his all in one venture.
And now, when all he could do was done, he
could not land and claim the realm he had
conquered; but, within view, of the shore, he
was tossed on a sea of miserable doubts and
delays. He could have borne a total wreck
better than this tantalising suspense. Conscious
of his powerlessness, he fumed in his attic like
a lion in his den. Was he, day after day, to
haunt courts where his voice could never be
heard? To become the laughing-stock of men
who, without the one-tenth of his talent, were
eminent and famous? Was he to waste in
miserable struggles for his daily bread, for
the clothes he wore, and the shelter of a
roof, in reports for the newspapers, in paltry
little articles for third-class magazines, the
energy, vigour, and living eloquence meatit

GBACE LEE. 119

to serve nobler purposes and a higher ambi-
tion?

A knock at the door disturbed these bitter and
discouraging reflections.

'^ Come in/' sharply said Mr. Owen.

A slipshod servant girl half opened the door.

"Please sir/' she said, "Mrs. Skelton would
like to know the time.''

Mr. Owen took out his watch, a handsome gold
repeater.

" It is just six/' he replied.

The maid went down with the reply to the
owner of the house, Mrs. Skelton, a widow of
kind heart and small means.

•^ And you saw his watch?" said Mrs. Skelton.

" Indeed I did, ma'am."

" Well, Ann, watch or no watch, I'U be bound
that Mr. Owen has eaten nothing to-day. I
looked in his cupboard and drawers last night,
and there was nothing in either ; and you know,
Ann, that the whole of this blessed day he hasn't

}f

120 GRACE LEE.

been out. So where's the food to come from?
How did lie look ?

^^ Just as usualj ma'am.^

"If I could send him up a cup of tea and
a rasher of bacon/* continued Mrs. Skelton,
seeming distressed^ "but I dare not; he would
leave the house at once — poor dear young gen-
tleman ! ^^

" Law, ma'am/^ said Ann, whose feelings were
not quite so tender, " I dare say he is used to
it.^^

And perhaps he was ; and there is no doubt,
Ann, that you are right, and that habit does
a great deal; however, habit or not, Mr. Owen
had certainly tasted nothing that day beyond
bread purchased the night before, and a cup of
cold water. But this was not the hardest side
of his lot. Enough pity has been wasted on the
hunger and thirst of genius perishing for want
in a garret * keep a little for genius, vainly revolt-
ing against obscurity, vainly striving for the

GRACE LEE. 121

broad daylight and free air of fame. Ambition
may not be a virtue, but it is the spur that
urges a noble steed to a glorious goal; its dis*
appointments are felt with a keenness propor-
tionate to the greatness of its aim; it has keener
pangs than those of hunger, a thirst more
wasting than that which human drink can sate.

He sat reading, as we said, vainly studying a
profession that had never yet given him his daily
bread. At length daylight failed; he rose and
paced up and down his narrow room that im-
prisoned a spirit as restless as that of any wild
creature of the woods; then, suddenly pausing
near the window, he threw it open. Before him
rose brick walls, red with the flush of dying day :
above roofs and tall chimneys spread a blue sky,
dimmed with London smoke. A sudden vision
passed athwart his mind or his heart,— for is it not
with the heart we remember a loved spot ? He
saw a wild Welsh dell, the warm sunlight gliding
down the green mountain side ; above, a breezy

VOL. I. <»

122 GRACE LEB.

blue sky, below a rushing torrent white with
foam ; and by the torrent, vainly dreaming, a boy,
in whose heart already burned the pride and
ambition of man. Brief was the vision; from
one of the neighbouring courts rose the voice of
London children at play. They sang a mono-
tonous chaunt, yet it had a strange charm for
them ; day after day, hour after hour, Mr. Owen
had heard them sing that endless song. It had
but one word, ever repeated — *^ Money, money,
money.'^

Money was the song, and money was the
burden.

"The very children know it,^' thought Mr.
Owen, as after listening he closed the window.
"^Tis not genius, though splendid; ^tis not
character, though strong ; ^tis not virtue, though
immaculate, rule this world. Money is her God,
her lord, and her master. Patience, truly,
patience ! '*

To divert thoughts too bitter, he took up an

OH ACE LSIL 123

old newspaper which he knew by heart, yet not
all, for looking over it again his eyes fell on a
paragraph unread before. It was copied from
the ^^ Morning Post/' and headed "Interesting
Discovery/^ It related at length with some em-
bellishments, and plenty of flattery, Miss Lee*s
visit to the Female Asylum.

" Oh, money ! money f thou dost indeed rule
the world," thought John Owen, laying down the
paper with involuntary bitterness. " ^ Lovely and
munificent ! ^ I remember her a plain, sallow
girl, who never could be handsome ; and what is
a thousand pounds to her wealth, if report speaks
true? A drop of water from the deep sea; a
grain of sand from the wide shore. Well, may
the very children catch up the cry, well may they
too, sing, " Money, money I ''

" Owen, my good fellow, what the devil makes

you lodge so high ? " said a drawling voice ; Mr.

Owen turned round abruptly : the door had

opened, and an unannounced visitor had uncere-

o2

124 GRACE LEE.

moniously entered tlie room, his sole apartment.
He was a man of middle-sized stature^ short-
sighted^i pale^ effeminate looking. He spoke in a
soft small voice, looking over his right shoulder
in a vague languid way, his left arm and hand
resting on his hip. His attire was peculiar ; his
fingers glittered with rings; costly lace ruffles
veiled his hands, and a delicate cambric handker-
chief emerged from the open breast of a black
velvet tunic, fastened at the waist by a solitary
button. He had scarcely entered the room,
when he sank on a Qhair, and fanned himself
with his handkerchief, like one exhausted by the
effort of coming up so high. Mr. Owen looked
at him coldly and ' sternly : this seemed no
welcome guest.

'^I thought. Captain Glawdon,^^ he said ab-
ruptly, " that when we last parted it was under-
stood we need not meet in a hurry .^'

" Pooh ! pooh ! Owen, what a rancorous fellow
you are,^^ replied Captain Glawdon, taking out a

• GRACE LBK 125

cigar and lighting it coolly ; " pshaw^ man^ you
needn't be so savage^ just because you uncon-
sciously gave me some good legal advice. I have
hunted you out for the express purpose of getting
a stronger dose ; but first let me fulfil a fair^ or
to speak more correctly^ a dark lady's commands.
I am bearer of her grateful thanks to you.*'

'^ Of what lady do you speak ? "

** Of a lady who does you the honour to take
an interest in you : Miss Lee — Miss Grace Lee."

Mr. Owen looked surprised^ but he did not
reply.

^' Miss Lee," resumed Captain Glawdon, " who,
feeling indebted to you for the presence of a
beloved sister, wishes to express personally her
deep sense of the obligation.^

" Captain Glawdon you are a sphinx."

*' And you are no (Edipus. Well, well— we all
have our gifts: my plain meaning is this, — ^you
told me where old Miss Blount resided ; I at once
told it to Miss Lee, who immediately wrote oflF to

yy

126 a£ACE LEE.

her sister^ who promptly fled to her, leaving her
old cousin in the lurch. And is not all this
owing to you V^

** Miss Lee owes me no thanks/' coldly replied
Owen; ^rif I have obliged her I did not mean it^
I will say more, — ^had I known that to give you
Miss Blount's address would induce a young
girl to forsake the cousin who reared her, — a
woman old and perhaps poor, for a young rich
half-sister, you would never have had it iroi^
me/'

"Well, well," impatiently said Captain Glaw-
don, " you need not tell her that when you see
her, you know."

"And why should I see Miss Lee?" sharply
asked Owen; — "to receive thanks to which I
have no claim ? "

" Oh, but you must see her," insisted Captain
Glawdon, taking out his cigar to speak with more
freedom; "'tis Miss Lee^s wish, and Miss Lee
must be obeyed."

GRACE LEE. 127

The proud and poor Welshman little brooked
that word "must/'

" I cannot/' he answered coldly.

" Pooh ! man ! say you do not like.''

'' Well, then, I do not like."

'' What — ^you do not like to be introduced to
Miss Lee, the lovely, the wealthy, the admired
lady ?•'

" No," was the impatient reply.

" Pshaw I I promised to take you to her house,
in Park Lane, this very evening."

This settled the matter. Mr. Owen peremp-
torily refused to go.

" Do not be alarmed," said Captain Glawdon
sneering, " we will not use force ; and now that
we have discharged the lady's commands, come
we to our own matters. Owen, you did me a
good turn without meaning it. I confess I was
rather sly thenj now I shall be quite candid.
Owen, I am in a new mess."

Mr. Owen smiled ironically.

128 GRACE LEE.

"From my mother I have inherited three
tastes, — old lace, old china, old carved wood.
Now, in an ancient Warwickshire public-house
I have discovered a most precious panel adorning
the mantel-piece of the same. I offered a hand-
some sum ; it was refused ; in short, I had to
purchase the house. I naturally thought I could
do as I liked with my own; but the tenant
objected. I used force, and thereby hangs a
lawsuit. Now just listen ta me live minutes;
^tis a most interesting case.'^

Thereupon the Captain entered into a full
explanation of the matter; Mr. Owen heard
him coldly, then gave a vague opinion that
meant nothing. In vain the Captain tried to
coax and wheedle him into clearer speech — he
failed; whatever he felt inwardly, he outwardly
put a good face on the matter.

"I see/' he said, "you don't understand me
quite well; we must talk it over together. I
am going to Wales after to-morrow to see my

* I

GRACE LEE. 129

wife and my mother-in-law. Come and spend a
week or two there — eh ! *'

*' With pleasure," replied Mr. Owen, smiling.

''There's a good fellow/' said Captain Glaw-
don, who had not expected to succeed so
easily.

"Well," he added, rising, "I am going to
call on my future sister-in-law — come with me.''

'' What sister-in-law ? "

"Ah! true, you are not initiated in those
mysteries — ^you do not know that within a few

weeks, perhaps, my brother-in-law, Gerald,

marries his cousin — Miss Lee."

"Ay! — money marries money. Truly I did
not know it — ^a most important fact.^

"And so you will not come — ^well man, stay

in your den if you like, but mind I expect you

after to-morrow."

" Certainly.'
Good-night."

Good-night," repeated Mr. Owen. " Ay !

63

9y

73

U

<t

130 GEACB LEE.

good-night, indeed," he thought, listening to
the sound of his retreating steps. "When you
were a boy at school. Captain Glawdon, you
wanted John Owen's brains to work for you;
as a man you filched from him the knowledge
thftt was his daily bread, and what you have
done once, you insolently hope to do again;
but truly you shall find this time that you are
the tool, that he is the master."

Miss Lee^s large and luxurious drawing-room
was brilliantly lit. She had given her usual
Thursday dinner; it was over, and the few but
select guests were gathered around their hostess.
The conversation was gay, brilliant, clever, enter-
taining. The invites were few, but they were
famous. Old Mr. Hanley, the barrister, equally
celebrated for his profound legal knowledge and
his surly temper; Branden, the witty sarcastic
Branden, of European fame ; James Stevens, the
great artist; the beautiful Mrs. Chesterfield,
whose praise or censure gave life or death in

GRACE LEE. 131

the fashionable world; Mr. Austin^ the famous
traveller j the mighty Joe Woodman^ who from
the Olympian heights of criticism poured blame
or nodded approbation on the luckless world
below; were all present^ all agreeable^ all
charming. And if Miss Lee wished for some-
thing nearer and dearer^ she surely had it. She
sat between her adopted sister^ and^ so report
said^ her future husband. And from either
side flattery^ all the more seducing for coming
from loved lips^ was poured into her ear. Mt.
Gerald Lee, very gentlemanly, very handsome,
very courteous, was entertaining her with news
of the progress of the philanthropic institutions,
of the charitable plans in which both were

zealously engaged. Lily Blount intoxicated with
her change of position, with the splendour and

elegance of her new home, was whispering praise

and fondness in the same breath.

Lily Blount was then a fair young girl of

twenty^ she was more than fair, she was beautiful

132 GRACE LEE.

strikingly like the portrait of Queen Joanna, by
Vinci, in the Doria palace in Rome. She had
the same syren sweetness of feature, the same
faithless, yet enchanting face. Her blue eyes
wandered quick and restless over the room,
seeming to ^ search an object of laughter and
mockery, yet nothing could be sweeter than their
gaze when it met that of another, nothing more
winning than her smile.

"What aii insincere face that girl has,^' ob-
served Mrs. Chesterfield to her neighbour, Mr.
Hanley. Mr. Hanley took a pinch of snuff and
smiled.

'^ She is very pretty,^' he said dryly, and all the
perfections of a woman, in his opinion at leasts
were summed up in this eulogy*

" So different from the noble frankness of Miss
Lee^s countenance,^^ continued Mrs. Chesterfield.

" I wonder whom she expects this evening, she
is always looking at the door.^^

Before Mr. Hanley could reply, the door

}}

3)

GRACE LEE. 133

opened and Captain Glawdon entered. He
quietly made his way to Miss Lee, waited for a
pause in the conversation she was then holding
with his brother-in-law, then leaning on the back
of her chair, he said in low careless tones,

*' He would not come/'

'^ Why so?

^^ He is no eagle; he cannot gaze at the sun.^

Miss Lee smiled and resumed her interrupted
conversation.

At length the evening wore away, the guests
departed one by one. Gerald Lee remained last.
He unfolded a broad sheet of paper : the plan of
a new home for destitute children. Miss Lee
was delighted with it, and praised it warmly \ she
closed her eulogy with the significant declara-
tion,

"Any assistance I can give you, you may
command.^'

" Ever generous,^' he replied, raising her hand
to his lips.

184! GBAOE LEE*

Their eyes met : lie smiled, she blushed
slightly.

" What a pair of philanthropists/^ exclaimed the

light mocking voice of Lily. They looked round.

She sat in her white musUn dress on a crimson
couch, thence gazing at them with mingled

mockery and sweetness.

Mr. Gerald Lee reddened, but Grace only
laughed and said indulgently,

"Children are privileged, are they not, Mr.
Lee ? ''

" Assuredly,^' he replied with a formal bow, and

he left.

^^ And now you are going to scold,'^ exclaimed

Lily, when he was gone ; " I know it was very

impertinent, but if I was born impertinent how

can I help it?^^ Grace sat down by her and

fondly smoothed her luxuriant fair hair.

" What a beautiful hand you have,'' said Lily

softly, '^and what a lovely arm and what an

exquisite pearl bracelet ! ''

GRACE USE. 135

"Have it,'^ promptly replied Grace, and at
once she unfastened it from her wrist and clasped
it on that of Lily, who, to say the truth, showed
no reluctance. She held out her hand at arm's
length, gazed on it admiringly, then throwing
her two arms around the neck of Grace, she said,
'^Good night, my angel, I know you do not
wish me to thank you, and therefore I do not,''
with which she left her.

Grace looked around her deserted drawing-
room; she stood in the centre with her cheek
resting on her hand in a musing attitude. " And
so he would not come," she thought: "proud
heart, he can be humbled yet.'^

Suddenly she drew back ; the door which she
had not heard opening, had admitted James
Crankey, and before she was aware of his pre-
sence, the young man was at her feet.

"Well, Mr. James, what is the matter now?"
asked Grace, her first surprise over. "Have
you quarrelled with little Annie Hanley, and

136 GRACE LEE.

are you in the wrong that you kneel and ask
me to forgive you ? I thought I had provided
your holidays with a pleasant companion; have
I erred, Mr. James ?^' And calmly laying her
hand, a beautiful one as Lily had truly said,
on his burning brow, she looked down with a
smile in his flushed face.

*'I cannot bear it,^' he exclaimed, in broken
tones, '*! have come to tell you — I cannot
bear it. You treat me like a boy — you are
cruel. I know you are going to marry that
rich proud man — I cannot bear it.''

"Get up, James,'' quietly said Miss Lee,
"here is Annie wondering what you are doing
so long away from her."

James rose as red as fire; with a lowering
brow he turned to the door : it was half open,
and a curly-headed little girl stood on the
threshold looking at them, her eyes wide open
with surprise. "Ay," thought James Crankey
with a swelling heart, "this is the companioa

GRACE LEE. 137

she gives me; but she shall feel^ she shall
know yet, I am a man — not a boy." And
without deigning to give Annie Hanley a
second look, he left the dtawing-room by ano-
ther door.

''Come in, Annie,'* gently said^ Miss Lee;
und sitting down she beckoned the little girl
to her. Annie came willingly; Grace took her
on her knees, kissed her, then asked how she
liked James.

'' I don't like him,'' was the frank reply, " he
pinches me."

Grace laughed and caressed her, until Annie,
unused to sit up so late, fell asleep in her
arms, with her curled brown head resting on
the shoulder of Miss Lee, by whom she was
consigned to the care of Mademoiselle Dupuis.

Doctor Crankey's rooms were in the most
retired part of Miss Lee^s house. Thither she
now bent her steps. She found him studying by
lamp-light, like any ancient sage. As she softly

138 GBACE LEE«

raised the heavy velvet hanging that divided
his apartment^ and put in her dark head glit^
tering with a narrow gold circlet^ he raised
from the heavy Saint Jerome open on his lap,
a face as rugged, though not quite so grand, ad
that of t^e illustrious father; hut on seeing
Grace he suddenly smiled, like one greeted by
a pleasing vision. She sat down on a stool at
his feet; he stretched out his hand, and
smoothed her hair softly and fondly.

" What have you got there ? " said Grace,
attempting to raise the heavy quarto and draw
it on her lap. '^ Latin ? Ah ! I fear I have
forgotten my Latin.''

^' Yes, you have become a grand lady ; and
once you were plain Grace Lee. You were
happy then.''

" So I am now. I could be happy sitting on
a throne as a queen ; and happy running along
a green hedge as a bare-footed peasant girl.
And how goes the History of the Church?"

QBACE LEE. 189

''I have actually gone as far as the third
chapter of the second book/'

" Have you really ! ''

''I am actually dealing with Tertullian/*

" And favouring him ? I know you like him.
Well^ he was a fine genius^ but more of a
Stoic than of a Christian ; and surely if he had
seen me as I am now^ he would have had me
stoned and pelted by those veiled virgins for
whom he wrote; and yet I cannot help liking
him for the fire and grandeur of his nature/^

"And what have you been doing with your-
self this evening ? "

" Nothing wonderful. To-day is Thursday, I
had my usual guests. I expected one who came
not; I dare say you remember him, that Mr.
John Owen, to whom I lent, then gave, my
father's law-books.'' -

" Ay, ay, I know him of old."

" Of old, Doctor Crankey ? "
. "Yes; he was a sort of pet at Hawthorne

140 OEACE LEE.

House when I was chaplain there, and I taught
him mathematics and algebra/^

" Was he a good pupil V .

" He was clever enough. Indeed why should
I not give him his due? He was by far the
cleverest lad I ever met with; his mind was
vigorous beyond his years, and his heart hard
and ambitious too; but he had at times a look
that made me think of Cain and Satan; and I
cannot say I ever liked him.^'

" You do not speak as if you did/^ said Grace,
half smiling. ^^Cain and Satan, — there is a
character for you.^^

" I only spoke of his look, you saucy girl. He
may have improved for all I know.'^

^' Not much, I dare say.''

" How is he getting on — is he succeeding ? "

" I doubt it."

"If he does not it will not be for want of
trying. I remember giving him once a problem
to solve, and saying to him as I gave it, ' John

GRACE LEE, 141

Owen, you cannot do it/ Just as shortly he
replied, ' Doctor Crankey, I will do it/ "

" And did he do it ? '' asked Grace, looking up
in the face of the priest.

" He sat at it two days and two nights ; he
could not eat, he could not sleep, for thinking
of it. At length on the third day "

"He did it,'^ interrupted Grace. '^I knew
he would.^^

Doctor Crankey put forth a sarcastic lip. '' He
do it ! ^' he replied. " Was he a Pascal ? — ^was he
a Newton ? No, and clever lad though he was,
mathematics were not in his way."

'' What did he do, then ? " asked Grace, with
some impatience.

"He fell ill of a brain fever, brought on by
pure rage and vexation. He had the pride of
Lucifer.^*

Miss Lee put no more questions. She rose
and said, " You remember we are going to Wales
to-morrow. Doctor Crankey?^'

142 GRACE LEE.

He looked confounded. '' I had forgotten all
about it,** lie said, at length. "Why, I want to
go to the British Museum to-morrow/'

" We shall not stay long in Wales. I want to
go, and Lily too.'^

On hearing the young girl's name the priest
frowned : he was tenacious of old dislikes ; he
was going to speak ; but Grace quickly laid her
hand on his lips.

" She is young,'* she said, hastily, " and flighty.
I know she annoyed you the other day, by up-
setting your inkstand ; but she did not mean it."

"Did she not, though!" growled Doctor
Crankey. "A little Judas! I always said it,
Grace. Grace, Grace, you will repent your
foolish fondness for that girl."

£ut Grace only smiled.

GRACE LEK. 143

CHAPTER VI.

#

The sun was descending all gold behind the
dark mountain ridge ; the opposite hills of barren
rock were now purple and azure; the torrent
rushed green and foaming in the narrow dell
below; above spread the heavens of eternal
blue; and by the torrent lay the restless —
ambitious man, whose dreams that wild Welsh
dell had haunted.

He lay ^midst the yellow gorse in bloom; he
felt on his feverish brow the fresh mountain
breeze ; his ear drank in with delight the roaring
of the waters, "Oh I Wales/^ he thought, "there
is no land like you ; no mountains, no lakes, no
rivers, no torrents are like yours,/- my country ! '^

144 GRACE LBB.

and heedless of the declining sun^ regardless of
the hour, he sank into a waking dream, — that
sweet torpor of the senses, more delightful than
entire slumber, in which our mother Nature
loves to wrap us, her vexed and wearied children.
His reverie was abruptly broken by a silent
and sudden apparition on the opposite bank.
His eye had wandered there a minute before and
had seen nothing, save the barren and pathless
rocks that overhung the green waters ; and now
a lady, young and richly dressed, sat calmly on a
granite fragment washed by the rushing torrent.
The rocks rose dark and high behind and around
her; there was light in the sky above, but it
entered not this sombre and sunless spot. With
her robe of rich changing silk, her gold ch&telaine
glittering in its shining folds, and a gemmed
bracelet clasping her arm, half veiled by her
sleeve of lace, the lady's figure looked as bright
and as warm as a gleam of sunshine in some cool
and shady grotto. Who was she how had she

GRACE LEE. 145

come there? He looked around and conld see
no path and no issue ; he looked at her, her head
was bare; the dark curls which clustered around
her neck did not seem to have been even stirred
by the mountain breeze ; her silk robe had not a
stain of dew ; her small sandalled feet looked as
if they had trod on the softest carpets to reach
this rugged spot.

Mr. Owen smiled to himself and remembered
old Welsh legends of fair ladies spirited away to
the mountains, where they sometimes suddenly
and silently appeared to solitary wanderers like
him, and again as suddenly vanished. Unseen
himself, he looked at her curiously. She sat very
still, with her hands clasped on her lap, in an
attitude that was not without grace ; yet fair or
lovely she was not, her complexion was too dark,
her features were too irregular for beauty.

" I have seen her before,^^ thought Mr. Owen ;
^' where, I wonder? ^^

Again he looked at her; she had risen; she

VOL. I. H

146 GRACE LEE.

had gone to a spot lower down, where the torrent
flowed less fiercely; there, kneeling down on the
dark rocks, she stooped ui^til her face ali&5st
seemed to touch the wavcj eight times she
dipped her hand in the flowing tftream, eight
times she raised it to her lips and drank.

'' She is Welsh, and she has been eight years
away,'' thought Mr. Owen, suddenly remembering
the legend of the place. There, in the heroic age
of Wales, had perished one of her chieftains ;
and, for some unexplained reason, every son and
daughter of the land, who visited the place after
more than one year's absence, was bound to
drink of the waters of the torrent as many times
as he or she had been years away ; or, failing in
this, to encounter strange misfortunes and deep
woe. Curious to see more nearly this faithful
observer of her country's rites and ancient
traditions, Mr. Owen rose and walked down the
torrent until he came to the spot opposite that
where she still knelt. There he, too, bent over

GRACE LEE. 147

the stream^ and^ taking up water in his hand^ he
drank several times.

The lady seemed more surprised than startled
at his sudden appearance. She looked at him
in that free, fearless way in which children
look at strangers. She watched his movements
curiously; then suddenly, as after drinking the
last time, he seemed on the point of turning
away, she said rather eagerly :

" You had better drink another time, Mr. Owen,
or else, you know the story, Ap Rhydon will be
fatal to you.''

^^ You know me,'^ exclaimed Mr. Owen, taken
by surprise, " why, who are you?

'* Guess,*' was the reply, as prompt as the
question. '

But instead of guessing, Mr. Owen, rather
vexed at having betrayed so much astonishment,
looked at her keenly and fixedly.

She sat below the roar and foam of the torrent
where it flowed still and deep, but the waters.

ff

H 2

148 GRACE LEE.

though smooth^ were broad, and plank, or bridge,

or means to cross there was none. Thus secure

from intrusion the lady bore Mr. Owen^s look

with much composure, and returned it somewhat

mockingly.

^'You cannot guess," she said again, "well

time will te]l you. I am one of the guests' of

the house where you arrived this morning ; and

this evening, unless you are late, we shall, sit at

the same dinner table.^^

"Thank you,'' said Mr. Owen smiling, "I

know you now — ^you are Lady Emma Meredith's

companion.''

" How do you know ?" quickly asked the lady.

"Very easily, there are nine ladies in the
house; Mrs. Gerald Lee and Mrs. Gla^don,
whom I have seen ; Mrs. Rashleigh, whom I know
of old ; Mrs. Lloyd and the three Misses Lloyd,
who are all red-haired; Lady Emma Meredith
and her companion. Lady Emma is fifty at least,
you are evidently the companion.''

GRACE LEE. 149

"Strewd conclusion. Well I confess I have
not been long in my new situation; can you,
Mr. Owen, give me an insight into its duties and
obligations.^* '

" Have you ever been a companion before ?"

" Never.'^

"Do you wish for the truth ?^'

" Certainly ! for the whole truth.''

" Well then, my young countrywoman — ''

"How do you know I am Welsh ?^' she
interrupted.

" By your speech — besides I saw you drinking
eight times the waters of the Ap Rhydon."

"And you six, Mr. Owen, though you have
been seven years away. I told you ill luck would
befall you ; well, well, it will be your own fault —
and now pray go on."

" Prepare for a hard life,^' he resumed. " Lady
Emma is a charming lady, but she is a great and a
rich lady, and every one knows what that means."

" What does it mean?^'

150 GRACE LEE,

" Truly you have not been a companion long or
you would not ask. It means caprice and self-
ishness."

^^A pleasant prospect," said the lady in a
piqued tone.

" You asked for the truth. Well here are your
duties. To take out Lady Emma's pet King
Charles three times a day for an airing. To read
to Lady Emma until you are faint, then to be
scolded for being nervous. To spend every
evening in playing cards, but never on any
account to win."

^^ Excuse me ; a poor companion cannot afford
to lose."

Win then at your peril."

"Truly, sir, you draw a hard picture. Pray
what else?"

'^What else! why everything else* You are
young, but you must have none of the instinct
of youth. Talking, laughing, pleasure are ,not
meant for you »

OB ACE LEE. 151

"Aaddaucing?''

" Dancing ! Have you lost your senses ? Why
you must play a whole evening whilst others
danoe^ but you must never dance. Nor must you
sing ; if you have accomplishments^ hide them as
so many sins. Th^y are worse than sins in you^
they are an absurd presumption."

" Then I suppose I must not dress too fine."

''Be certain of it: let a plain brown gown,
something very neat^ but excessively simple^ be
your invariable attire. One last lesson : be civil
to all, from the footman to the lady, yet never
think yourself sure of an hour's peace or
goodwill."

The lady heard him with her head bent and
her cheek on her hand. When he ceased she
looked and smiled rather wistfully; and even
across the torrent he could see that her eyes were
soft and dark, and that her smile was very sweet.
Then rising, she said :

'' You have drawn a dismal picture, Mr. Owen ;

■/

152 GRACE LEE.

but I am young, God is good to the young, and
spite all you have said I will hope in pleasant,
:;usunshiny days. And now, adieu, take my advice;
drink once more of the Ap Rhydon, or woe will
befall you.^^ She lightly ascended one rock and
disappeared behind another ; Mr. Owen smiled to
himself rather curiously.

^' Ay, go. Miss Lee,^^ he thought, " if you re-
member me, I too remember you : and for once
at least you have heard the truth; for once you
have been told in plain speech you are a woman
like another.^^

The last golden glow had faded from the narrow
valley; the rising wind moaned amongst the
mountains, hght mists floated acrosi^ their rocky
summits, and gloom filled the depths of this wild
gorge. Slowly and reluctantly Mr. Owen left that
spot. Its dreary aspect was pleasanter to his eye
than the fairest face ; no voice was so sweet to his
ear as its wild murmurs ; athirst after seven years
he now drank deep of nature and solitude. At

GRACE LEB. 153

length he rose ; he took a lonely path amongst
the mountains; he followed it, passing through
thickly wooded defiles, through wilder valleys,
until a sudden turning brought him to the open
sea, now retreating with the evening tide from the
cliff-girt shore.

In all Wales there was no spot more beautiftd,
more romantic than this. It lay a small green
plain, bounded on one side by the boundless sea,
on the other by a long background of verdant
mountains. The sun which Mr. Owen had seen
declining behind them, only now set in the dark
blue waves, a ball of fire. A purple and yellow
glow encircled the broad horizon — above spread
the sky serenely pure. On the slope of the nearest
mountain rose a white house ; it had belonged to
the late Miss Grace Lee, in it now dwelt Gerald
Lee^s mother. It was built Italian fashion, with a
loggia, or open and arched gallery in front, to
which on either side led a broad stone staircase.
As Mr. Owen slowly ascended the steps, he saw a

H 3

154 GRACE LEJEL

group of ladies standing in the central and widest
arcli^ and thence looking at the broad sea and
setting sun. Amongst them he at once recognised
Miss Lee, She had changed her attire for one of
still greater richness and elegance^ and ihe stood
with her elbow leaning on the white stone balus-
trade^ graceful and still as any lady of the olden
time.

" Well, Mr. Owen, how do you like our moun-
tains ? '^ patronisingly asked Mrs. Gerald Lee, a
large and stately lady.

" Like one who was born amongst them," was
his somewhat cold reply.

At once Mrs. Gerald Lee became distant. She
was a most patriotic lady. " Our mountains — our
noble mountains" were ever on her lips; but even
as some painters use mountains for the back-
ground of their picture, so Mrs. Gerald Lee loved
best the blue hiUs of her native land from her
London drawing-room. To everything Welsh she
had an unfortunate abhorrence she scarcely knew

GRACE LEE* 155

bow to disguise. Most opposed to her in this
respect was her sister-in-law. Lady Emma Mere-
dith. She was a slender, pale, nervous, touchy
woman, who out of her very touchiness, and from
an innate suspicion that her country and its
peculiarities were in every one's thoughts, fore-
stalled the expected attack by running down Wales
and the Welsh. But woe to the credulous wight
who, trusting to Lady Emma^s pale meek face and
sleepy eyes, ventured to imitate her example; Lady
Emma heard him out, then turned round as
treacherous and spiteful as a cat. Concerning
Mr. Owen she now had her suspicions, and in-
sinuatingly observed : " To one who has seen the
mountains of Switzerland, Wales may well seem a
molehill."

To this dubious and general remark Miss Lee
undertook to reply.

'^ I did not expect such an unpatriotic sentiment
from Lady Emma Meredith."

" Oh ! you know me," suavely rejoined Lady

156 GRACE LEE.

Emma, " I love my country, but I am a cosmo-
polite. But, my dear Miss Lee, are you not
rather chill/^

^' Not in the least, thank you/'

^^ My dearest creature, I assure you there is a
strong draught ; do, I entreat you, do leave this
dangerous spot/'

Everybody present joined in the entreaty; Miss
Lee declined, laughing. Mr. Owen bowed to Mrs.
Lee and passed on. Grace looked after him
silently. He had given her no token of recogni-
tion; he had shown no surprise on discovering
that she was Miss Lee and not Lady Emma
Meredith's companion j Grace was quick to guess
the truth : " He knew me all along," she thought.

" Who is that dark ugly man ?" asked Lily.

" Mr. Owen."

^^ And who is Mr. Owen ?"

No one replied ; but Mrs. Eashleigh whispered
to the three red-haired Misses Lloyd in succession.

^' Shocking," said Anna.

GRACE LEE. 157

" Dreadful ! ^^ exclaimed Mary.

But Mary Anna looked unable to speak. Mrs.
Gerald Lee winced a little. She had a strong
suspicion that her flighty son-in-law had intro-
duced some low-born person into this aristocratic
company.

The dinner was long and rather dull. Lady
Emma Meredith, who had deluded a certain

Scotch Major Muir with her usual arts, then,
according to her custom, suddenly turning upon
him, somewhat enlivened one end of the table;
at the other end sat Rashleigh Rashleigh talking
to the three Misses Lloyd, in order to be heard
by Miss Lee. He was then a tall, slender, smooth
man of twenty-eight, plausible in aspect and in
speech, with a false look and falser smile, with
two voices, one real, arrogant, and full ; the other
soft and pedantically clear ; the voice of one who
is preaching, or reading, or lecturing, who speaks
not because he has something to say, but because
he wants to be heard.

158 GRACE LEE.

^' So he too wants the golden prize/* thought
John Owen, seeing how sedulously he sought to
catch Miss Lee^s attention ; " Ay let him try,
she is not for him/*

Grace sat opposite him between Gerald Lee
and Captain Glawdon ; to her as to their natural
centre verged the looks, the smiles, the speeches,
of all present. Mr. Owen saw how she breathed
in this atmosphere of flattery as in her native
element, and he smiled with pity for the flattered,
with scorn for the flatterers.

At length the dinner was over. The ladies
rose and left the gentlemen to their wine. Lily,
like the rest, was ascending the drawing-room
staircase when the voice of Grace whispered in
her ear — "Follow me/* and looking round she
saw her half-sister going down the flight of stone
steps that led into the garden.

J

GRACE LE£. 159

CHAPTEE VII.

The moon hung in the blue east yellow and
full, and looking down above the brow of the
mountains lit with a pale and gentle ray the
flowery garden. Perfumes wild and sweet came
and departed with every breeze. Grace left the
gravel paths for the green grass that enclosed the
gay parterres; her elastic footsteps sank noise-
lessly on the soft turf, and she glided along as
swift and as light as a vision of the night. Lily
followed more slowly, shivering slightly under
the chill breath of the night-air which only
freshened the more quick and ardent blood of
Grace Lee.

Miss Blount was going, however, to utter a

160 GRACE LEE.

prudent remoustrance on the folly of thus risking

a cold for the gratification of a whim^ when the

hand of Grace was suddenly laid on her lips.

Lilv looked round: two dark forms stood on

the plot near them^ and the scent of cigars

came borne by the breeze more distinct than

odoriferous.

'^ Who is it ?" whispered Lily.

Before Grace could reply, the drawling voice
of Captain Glawdon observed :

" So you do not admire Miss Lee, Owen V

"No/^ was the brief and carelessly uttered
reply.

"Good/^ muttered Grace in a piqued tone;
"what else V

"She is a fine girl, though," patronisingly
observed the Captain without taking out his cigar.

" Showy ;'^ calmly answered John Owen, also
smoking.

" She is very much admired, Mr. Owen.'^

" She is very rich. Captain Glawdon."

GRACE LEE. 161

'^ And her wealth does not lessen her charms :
granted ; nevertheless I maintain that my future
sister-in-law Grace is a fine girl/^

John Owen did not seem to consider a reply
necessary^ and remained silent.

''Now frankly and candidly/^ resumed the
Captain, who seemed determined to make him
speak, " what do you think of Miss Lee ?f'

John Owen answered the appeal with the
impatience of one whom the subject did not
interest.

" Eeally/^ he said, '* what opinion can I give of
a lady of whom I know nothing. She may be
handsome ; all I can say is I did not see it. She
may be witty, clever, accomplished ; I saw nothing
in her beyond the free and confident manner of
a girl who knows that let her say or do what she
chooses a slavish world will praise and admire
her still."

The Captain laughed languidly, and in the im-
pertinent drawling tone habitual to him, observed :

ff

162 GRACE LEE.

^' You are too severe, John Owen, on my word,
you are. Grace is a good girl, a little vain,
especially of her hand and arm.^

''Which are both very handsome. I noticed
them at dinner/^

The Captain had drunk enough to be insolent.
Besides, for the last two days, he had amassed a
secret store of irritation against John Owen, from
whom he had been unable to extract the least
particle of valuable information in the legal
way.

'' My dear fellow,'^ he said, mildly, "it will be
wiser not to mind either the hand or arm of Miss
Lee. I warn you that she is the golden firuit of
which I am dragon.*' *

''Then I suppose it would be positively dan-
gerous to discover that she has very fine eyes,
good teeth, &c."

" It would not be advisable,'^ suavely repUed
Captain Glawdon.

She is no goddess,'^ answered John Owen,

tc

GRACE LEE. 168

with a laugh of disdain^ ^^bnt a woman like
another.'^ ^

"Not exactly like another — not exactly, my
dear firiend^'^ said the Captain^ with an increase
of gentleness, "for I am dragon^ you know/^

Mr. Owen turned round, and tapped Captain
Glawdon on the shoulder.

"Captain Glawdon/' he said, significantly,
"the golden fruit no more tempts me than I
dread the dragon.^'

The conversation had reached an uncomfortable
crisis : the would-be patron and his rebellious
protege stood eyeing one another silently and
askance, when from a neighbouring alley the
voice of Rashleigh Rashleigh was heard, calling
out with its pedantic distinctness: "Captain
Glawdon !''

Grace did not wait for the issue of this new-
comer's intervention. She abruptly turned away ;
in a few minutes she had re-entered the house
with Lily. From the dining-room, not yet

164 GRACE LEE.

forsaken^ came the loud sounds of talking and
laughing. Miss Lee passed on^ pushed open the
door of a lonely and elegant sitting-room, redo-
lent with the perfumes of flowers, and lit by a
solitary lamp that burned with a mild ray
reflected in a vast and gloomy mirror.

" Eaves-droppers hear no good of themselves,"
said Grace, closing the door. ^^Eh ! Lily ?"

She laughed ; then throwing herself in a deep
arm-chair, and fanning herself with her hand-
kerchief, she exclaimed, impatiently, " Is it not
desperately hot ? " Before the young girl could
reply, she started up and paced the room with
hasty steps.

" Mr. Owen is as rude as he is ugly I " indig-
nantly cried Lily; "et ce n'est pas peu dire I"
she added in French.

Grace smiled and looked over her shoulder at
the mirror she was then passing, and from its
depths her dark expressive face smiled back at
her — a smile of mingled scorn and sweetness.

GRACE LEE. 165

" He said I was plain/' she exclaimed gaily ;
"well, let him; his looks never told me he
thought me lovely; better his scorn than the
flattery of others. Besides !" she added, throwing
back her head with not ungraceful disdain,
" hath not the poor handmaiden actually found
favour in the eyes of my Lord Sultan; has he not
condescended to perceive that we are not wholly
destitute of those charms that win us favour in
the eyes of our masters. May we not rejoice in
the possession of a hand, ay, even of an arm,.
Nay, our eyes have positively some lustre, and
our teeth — hear and admire ! are not displeasing
in the sight of his lordship, who, moreover, has
kindly added an &c. as polite as it is compre-
hensive I"

She laughed, a laugh that spite of its irony
was, like her speech spite of its sting, sweet and
clear. But she was not allowed to indulge long
in these reflections : the door opened, and Mrs.
Gerald Lee herself entered. Her daughter, a

166 GKACE LEE.

gentle young woman, Captain Glawdon'*s wife,
Lady Emma Meredith, the three Misses Lloyd,
followed. All alarmed and distressed at Miss
Lee's absence had come to seek her. And Miss
Lee graciously yielding to their entreaties, con-
sented to honour the drawing-room with her
presence. The gentlemen were abeady above.
At once Captain Glawdon went up to Grace.

s

" Where can you have been all this time ?" he
languidly asked, dusting with his delicate
cambric handkerchief a speck from his velvet
tunic, and gently shaking his lace ruffles, so
that they fell gracefully over his white hands,
^^you have been sought for everywhere, up and
down, in the house, in —

»

*' But not where I was,'* interrupted Grace.

'* And where then were you ? In a rose or in
a lily?"

« Guess.''

Before the Captain could obey and solve this
delicate riddle, he was imperatively summoned

GRACE LEE. 167

back to a card-table^ wbicb he had deserted on
Miss Lee's entrance. Grace, turning to Lily
who sat on the couch by her, said with a scornful
smile : —

'' The dragon is no lynx, eh ! Lily ? '^

The young girl laughingly pinched her arm.

Grace half turned round and saw John Owen,
who sat on the chair next to the couch, partly
concealed by the heavy window-curtain. He was
bending towards her with something bright in his
hand; his eyes had a keen look, and a smile parted
his lips. Grace feeling betrayed by her last words,
coloured a little, but her look met his steadily.

"I believe this belongs to you," he said,
handing her a bracelet of Arab coins which she
had worn at dinner, and had not missed from her
right arm.

"Yes, it is mine — thank you,'' she replied,
taking it from him with a cool bend of the head.
" Where did you find it ? " she added, a little
abruptly.

168 GRACE LEE.

" I picked it up from the steps leading to the
garden, where Captain Glawdon and I had gone
to smoke a cigar after dinner/^

'^ And where Lily and I had gone to breathe
a little fresh air/^

He looked at her and she looked at him.
And there was pride, and more than pride,
perhaps, in either gaze.

''Did you take another drink of the Ap
Rhydon ? '^ asked Miss Lee.

'^ No,^^ he replied with a smile.

" You disbelieve the prophecy ? "

'^ I have a firm faith in every old legend."

" Then why not obey it ? ''

He smiled again without replying. He showed
no wish to continue the conversation. Grace
betrayed neither pique nor displeasure. Her
dark eyes rested for a moment on John Owen,
then she smiled rather graciously, like a queen on
a subject.

" And so that was Miss Lee's bracelet which

GRACE LEE. 169

you founds — ^lucky fellow ! " observed Captaia

Glawdon, who stood again by them. His tone

caused the dark face of Mr. Owen to darken^ and

his look made the warm cheek of Grace flush

warmer.

'^Is that coflTee the servant is carrying on a

tray ? " asked Miss Lee.

The movements of Captain Glawdon were
never prompt, and whilst he was indolently

looking through his eye-glass for the servant and
tray, Mr. Owen had quietly handed Grace a cup
of coffee. This, too, the Captain chose to com-
ment upon by another look, which Grace,
however, returned so haughtily that he thought
it advisable to turn away, and saunter back to
the card-table ; but, unable to forget his precious
Hesperides even there, he managed to shift his
chair so as to command a side view of the couch.
They were talking. What would not Captain
Glawdon have given to know the subject of their
discourse, or rather that something more than

VOL. I. I

170 GRACE LEE.

the subject — the tone> the manner — things in
themselves so slight^ yet that indicate so much.
Vain hope ! All he could see was that Grace
Lee looked proud, and often smiled; — of Mr.
Owen he could make nothing. And this^ to his
annoyance, lasted the whole evening. At length
the guests rose and dispersed.

^^ Captain Glawdon," sententiously observed
Mrs. Lee when she found herself again alone with
her son-in-law, '^ may I ask who is that very extra-
ordinary person, a Mr. Owen I think, a Welsh-
man, with whom Miss Lee was so taken up the
whole evening ?^^

"A poor devil in the law who has been
previously useful to me, my dear madam. '^

^^And is that a reason for bringing him to
this house ? " asked Mrs. Lee with dignified
reproach, " is that a reason for — " she paused ;
she was speaking to vacant walls. Captain
Glawdon had vanished.

Miss Lee was sitting in her adopted sister's

GRACE LEE. 171

room^ and Lily was entertaining her with com-
ments more pungent than charitable on every
one in the house. She began with Mrs. Gerald
Lee and closed with John Owen.

^' I never daw such a bear as he is^ nor such an
angel as you are, Grace."

"And why am I an angel?" asked Miss Lee,
half raising her head from the depths of the
arm-chair in which she sat.

" Why he is as bitter as gall to you, and you —
you are as sweet as honey to him." Grace laughed.

'^ 'Tis his temper to be bitter," she said ; " and
mine to be sweet. Let him— if he is bitter he is
true, and what is there beyond truth in this
world ? Besides," she added, smiling, " if he
does not like me, how can he help it? Well,
good-night, Lily, God bless you I I must go and
see Doctor Crankey."

Miss Lee, like an ancient Roman, had tra-
velled with all her household gods; but the
chief of them, her old guardian, had made his

I 2

172 GRACE LEE.

conditions before moving. He insisted on a
shrine of his own, and refused to consort with
the other Lares : to speak more plainly. Doctor
Crankey had accompanied Miss Lee to Wales on
the clear understanding that he was to sleep, eat,
and study in his own rooms, and never to be
expected to appear in the drawing-room, or to
mingle with Mrs. Gerald Lee's guests. To his
apartment, Miss Lee who never allowed a day
to pass without spending part of it with him,
now proceeded.

Doctor Crankey received her with a placid
smile ; Grace sat down at his feet ; he quietly
smoothed her dark hair. She was the first to
speak.

" Doctor Crankey,^' she said, suddenly looking
up in his face, '^why did you never teach me
algebra as well as Greek and Latin ? ^'

*'And what good would algebra have done
you ? '^ asked the priest with raised eyebrows.

^^ What good does it do anyone ? What

99

99

GRACE LEE. 173

good did it do that John Owen of whom you
were speaking the other day ? '^

"None in the world, I dare say; but it was
his whim to learn, and mine to teach /^

" I am sure he was a disagreeable pupil/'

" He was not amiable."

" Insolent ? "

"No; not at 'all; but there was something
unpleasant about him ; that is very certain J

" He was quarrelsome, vindictive/

" There you are mistaken,'^ interrupted Doctor
Crankey, who would not have belied the Evil One
himself, " he was not at all quick to take offence.
Indeed, I never knew the lad to have more than
one quarrel, and then young Hawthorne, an inso-
lent little fool, was to blame. After bearing with
him until I thought he must be very patient or
very mean, John one day quietly turns round
and knocks him down."

" He must have been in a nice passion."

" No; he was quite cool, and picked up Haw-

174 GRACE LEE.

thome^ explaining to him that he did not like
fighting, but that as he, Hawthorne, wanted a
lesson, he had been compelled to give him one :
a piece of reasoning that exasperated the other
even more than the blow."

" How old was he then ? "

" Fifteen or so."

'^ A good beginning," drily replied Miss Lee ;
but she did not tell the old man that Mr. Owen
was in the house. She sat at his feet, her arms
folded, her head bent, her whole attitude expres-
sive of deep thought. Eegardless of this. Doctor
Crankey entertained her with the account he
proposed to give in his History of the Church, of
the blessed Saint Jerome.

" He disliked women, did he not ? " suddenly
asked Grace, looking up.

"Nay, child; have you forgotten his long
and faithful friendship with Saint Paula, with
her daughter Eustochium, with that devout
widow — "

GRACE LEE. 175

Grace laughed.

" You are talking of Saint Jerome," she said,
'' and I am talking of Mr. Owen.''

''Then you might choose a better subject/'
impatiently replied the priest, ''and what do I
know whether a surly boy liked or did not like
your foolish sex ? You are dreaming, child, you
have sat up too late; go and sleep, go and
sleep."

Grace was too much accustomed to the ups
and downs of Doctor Crankey's temper to trouble
herself with this pettish outburst; but she did
not pursue a subject evidently distasteful. She
looked at him awhile smiling, then she rose and
went up to the window. Doctor Crankey's rooms
were on the ground-floor, and the window by
which Grace stood opened on the garden and
overlooked the sea. Shrouded in by the heavy
curtain which she had raised, then allowed to fall
behind her, Grace looked out on the dark night.
She saw the sombre outline of dark tall trees, the

176 GRACE LEE.

black vast mountains, the paler sky, which the
travelling moon had not long forsaken ; she heard
the whistling of the wind, the rushing voice of
mountain torrents, the deep, sullen surge of the
sea, and a voice sweet, powerful, irresistible,
seemed to call her forth. She noiselessly opened
the window and glided out. She was at the end
of the garden when Doctor Crankey missed her.
Though he found the window open, it did not occur
to him that she had gone out into the garden ;
there was another door to his rooms than that
by which she had entelred : through that he con-
cluded Miss Lee had passed, and closing the
window he thought no more of the matter.

The gayest, the most genial temper can have
the keenest enjoyment of solitude. To Miss
Lee, surrounded as she was the whole day with
flattery and flatterers, it became at times a want,
a thirst to be satisfied and sated no matter how.

On reaching the end of the garden she paused,
not merely because of the natural barrier, but

GRACE LEE. 177

because she found there all she sought. It was
bounded by a low wall, built on the very edge of
the sea- washed cliff; beyond it spread the ocean,
illimitable and gloomy as the night that hung
over it. The evening was not chill, but its mild-
ness was just freshened by the sea-breeze. Miss
Lee sat down on a stone bench; she laid and
rested her head on the ivy-grown wall; below
her spread the vastness of the sea, above her the
darkness of the sky, and between both, vaguely
seen, a long line of shore — a boundless
horizon.

^' Oh ! this too is happiness,^' she thought ;
" this too is delightful ! World, t|;^ou art

sweet ; Nature, thou art sweeter.'^ And her
heart throbbed with delight, and happy tears

filled her eyes. With a start she looked up.
She had heard a step approach; she now saw a
dark form draw near, then suddenly pause, and
sit on the wall against which she leaned. Some-
thing in the height, in the gait, at once made her .

I 3

178 GRACE LEE.

recognise John Owen. He, too, had come there
to re&esh his spirit with the peace and silence of
the night ; but he neither saw her nor was he
conscious of her presence. Miss Lee, not wish-
ing to appear or be seen, remained very still, in
the hope he would go first;' but Mr. Owen
showed no inclination to move from the spot,
where he sat with folded arms and looks bent
on the sea. Grace waited ; then losing patience,
she rose and said quietly :

" Good-night.'^

He moved slightly ; but before he could reply,
the languid voice of Captain Glawdon was heard
observing, from an alley close by :

" Good-night ! and what spirit says good-night
at this hour ? "

"Would you have it say good-night in the
morning ? '^

" Humph ! ''

" Or do you, perhaps, object to the wanderings
of spirits ? "

t

GRACE LEE. ]79

" Not in the least, if I only knew what spirit
I am addressing/^

" It answers to the name of Grace Lee/^

" And may I ask what other spirit was honoured
with this adieu ? ''

No one replied ; but Captain Glawdon stepping
up to where John Owen still sat, for he had not
moved, easily recognised him.

^* Oh, Mr. Owen ! ^^ he exclaimed in a tone
that said, '' I knew it ! ''

Captain Glawdon had begun by feigning sus*
picions he did not feel ; he now really felt them^
He remembered the wish Grace had shown to
see this poor and obscure barrister, the satisfac-
tion she had betrayed when he had said to her,
"You will find him in Wales ;'^ and coupling
these facts with the strange fancies of women in
general, and of great and rich ladies in particular,
he now fell into a strange and gross mistake.

"Oh, Mr. Owen!" he said again, "why, I
was previously seeking Mr. Owen, and not find*

180 GRACE LBB.

ing him within tlie house, I concluded 'he was
without/'

''Shrewd. Well, good- night to you, too, Cap-
tain Glawdon. My wanderings cease as yours
begin/'

And before the slow Captain could offer to
accompany her, Miss Lee was gone. Her rooms
overlooked both the garden and the road that led
to the house. She dismissed her maid, extin-
guished her lamp, and opened the garden
window. It was half-an-hour and more before
Captain Glawdon and Mr. Owen re-entered the
house ; almost immediately afterwards she heard
the front door opening ; she looked out softly and
saw Mr. Owen go out, and take the road that

led to the neighbouring town of W .

^' Good ! '* thought Grace, smiling to herself,
and in a few minutes she was fast asleep.

GRACE LEE. 181

CHAPTER VIII.

The night had been serene, and the next morn-
ing rose bright and lovely. The mountain breeze
came down in the garden sweet and fragrant;
the garden itself was fresh and delighful as the
hour ; the golden sun filled it with warmth and
brightness ; cool shadows chequered the avenues ;
and flowers, fresh as the dew that glittered on
their delicate petals and gemmed their green
leaves, rose on their stalks straight and beautiful.
Waking from their long night slumber, they
opened to the morning and filled the air with
sweet incense. Doctor Crankey was quietly
reading his breviary in the sun, when an arm,
passed within his, suddenly roused him. He
looked round smiling, but did not speak. Grace,

J82 GRACE LEE.

for of course it was she, quietly closed his book
and said decisively :

^' You have done for this morning. I want to
take a walk in the mountains, and you are
coming with me."

'' At this hour ? "

" Certainly at this hour. Besides, look," and
she pushed open a wooden door by which they
stood, '^ early as it is, others have been out before
us. Come, come. Doctor Crankey, I am in a
hurry."

Doctor Crankey grumbled, and spoke of foolish
fancies; but Grace only laughed, and talked of
the beauty of the sky, of the freshness of the
morning, of the delightful harmony of breeze,
flowing water, and singing birds — all blending
sweetly in the solitary places through which she
led him. At length they reached a wild valley
with rising rocks reddening in the morning
sun, and a rushing torrent still in deep shade.
The freshness of the hour lingered around the

GBACE LEB. 183

place^ but not its silence or solitude. On a flat^
small grassy sward four gentlemen lounged
about^ smoking and talking. One was Captain
Glawdon, who stood leaning in an attitude
against the wall of rock behind ; in an opposite
direction John Owen walked up and down with
rapid steps : his arms were folded^ his look was
downcast^ his face was more sallow than ever,
^' He looks sullen and dangerous/* thought
Grace ; but from him her look quickly wandered
to two gentlemen who, a little apart, walked
up and down.

" Humph ! what have we got there ? " said, or
rather grumbled, Doctor Crankey.

^^They are measuring paces/' calmly replied
Grace; "one of them is Major Muir; the other,
surely I ought to know those blue spectacles and
that drooping nose ! The other is Doctor Marsh

himself, fetched last night from W for the

praiseworthy purpose. Good morning. Doctor
Marsh.''

184 GRACE LEE.

She dropped Doptor Crankey's arm and
stepped forward, uttering the salutation in a
clear, musical voice. There was a pause resem-
bling dismay among the gentlemen. Doctor
Marsh remained aghast in the very act of measur-
ing, his right foot before his left. Major Muir,
too deaf to hear, but not too blind to see Grace,
hastily dropped his overcoat on something that
lay on the grass. Captain Glawdon hemmed,
and, throwing away his cigar, stepped forward
with a ready smile. John Owen bowed stiffly and
impatiently; then resumed his walk, a moment
interrupted.

" Have you really patients in the Ap Rhydon V
resumed Miss Lee, still addressing Doctor Marsh.

^' Hem ! — I — really '^ Beyond this the dis-
concerted Doctor could not go; Grace would,
however, have compelled him to some reply or
other, had not the Captain interfered.

'^ Lovely morning ! " he drawled forth rather
than spoke ; " the house felt so oppressive, that

GRACE LEE. 185

Major Muir and I thought we would just inhale
the morning breeze before breakfast/'

"You were measuring paces when we came
up/' quietly said Grace ; " was that to inhale the
morning breeze?''

'^ A race," promptly replied Captain Glawdon ;
'^ a wager between John Owen and your humble
servant. The said John, relying on his moun-
tain breeding, boasted himself yesterday evening
to be more swift of the foot than George Glaw-
don ; whereon there issued a friendly discussion
and a wager."

" What are the stakes ?"

" My ruby ring against a box of carved wood,
which, on the score of its being an heir-loom,
he never would part with."

" But risks in a wager 1 Consistent, Well,
Captain Glawdon, if Doctor Crankey will stake
anything for Mr. Owen, I stand by you. Pray
begin ; we shall like it above aU things."

"So far as I am concerned," composedly

186 GRACE LBB.

replied Captain Glawdon^ " this is unfortunately
out of the question. With a fair lady so near,
I should assuredly forget myself/'

" So that, instead of stimulating, I should
impede your exertions. What a pity ! I feel
I should have liked to see a race — especially
between you and Mr. Owen — amazingly .''

The Captain coughed and winced. Grace
resumed :

" But what an odd place for a race, Captain
Glawdon ; you have scarcely thirty feet of level
ground. Why did you not take the garden
rather ?''

''Not solitary enough,^' replied the Captain,
giving her a mistrustful look. '' We were afraid

of disturbing the ladies.'^

«
''I fear I shall not prove so considerate. I

am selfish enough to interrupt the pastime I

cannot share ; and since I am not to see the race,

why, then, I think I shall stay here and

prevent it,''

GRACE LEE. 187

She sat down on a ledge of rock as she spoke.

The Captain bowed.

"I submit/^ he said, politely; and coming
round to where she sat, he oflFered to escort her
home.

Grace did not answer ; her look fell on Major
Muir and Doctor Marsh, who stood apart
conversing in low tones. Then she turned to
him and said :

'^ I suppose they are fixing on some spot more
convenient than Ap Rhydon has proved."

" I should not wonder/' he coolly replied, again
oflfering her his arm.

" Thank you,'' said Grace, ^^ I am not going in
yet, besides I want to speak to Mr. Owen."

The Captain could not oppose a wish so
distinctly stated. He whistled and walked oflF to
Major Muir and Doctor Marsh, whilst Miss Lee,
raising her voice, said clearly and distinctly : —
" Mr. Owen."

John Oweri, who was still walking up and down

188 GRACE LEE.

without taking the least share in what passed
around him, did not heed the appeal, which Grace
was obliged to repeat in a louder key.

'^ Mr. Owen, I should like to speak to you if
you please."

On hearing his name, he stopped short and
raised his head. He looked fixedly at Miss Lee,
whilst she uttered her request, then without
replying came round to the rock where she sat
waiting. By her sat Doctor Crankey, who had
very calmly looked on the whole time.

'^ Mr. Owen," said Grace looking from him to
Doctor Crankey, ^'have you forgotten an old
friend?"

Mr. Owen gave the priest a surprised and
attentive look.

^'Yes John," carelessly said Doctor Crankey,
^'you see your old teacher, and what have you
been doing with yourself since I saw you last ? "

" I have taken to the bar."

•' The bar, and why the bar ? the devil was the

GRACE LEE. 189

first barrister in my opinion, Eve was his first
client, and we pay tlie costs to this day/^

'^ I shall treasure up the fact for my history of
eminent lawyers — ^if I should write one. By-the-
by, sir, when will your History of the Church be
finished ? "

"Before yours is begun, FU be bound/'

"And so,'' here interfered Captain Glawdon,
who had sauntered back to where they stood,
" and so you will not come home now."

He spoke to Grace.

" No, thank you," she carelessly replied, " Ap
Rhydon is pleasant in the morning."

The Captain bowed and walked off with Major
Muir. Doctor Marsh remained behind looking
foolish ; but he kept at a good distance from the
group on the rock, and, botanically inclined,
searched amongst the stones by the torrent for
plants and flowers.

Doctor Crankey looked up at Mr. Owen, and
said in his sarcastic fashion : —

190 GRACE LEE.

" We were talking of the devil. It strikes me
John, that he must have been very busy with you
this morning. So you were going to fight a duel
with that dandy, that coxcomb, that fool who
reckons his duels by the rings on his fingers.
Well, well, I thought more of an ambitious man
like you — and pray,^^ he abruptly added, '^ what
was the duel to Ije about ? '^

He spoke of it as of a play to be acted.
Grace smiled mischievously. Mr. Owen looked
from her to Doctor Crankey, and said haughtily: —

" You are privileged, sir.^^

" Oh ! you will not call me out. Truly, John,
I am very much obliged to you. Well, Grace,
are you coming ? '^ he added, rising.

Miss Lee took his arm, and with a quiet bend
of the head to Mr. Owen, she left the spot.

^^How did you know all this was to be?'
abruptly asked Doctor Crankey.

^^ I did not know it, I guessed it, and Providence
you see sent us in time.''

GRACE LEE. 191

Doctor Crankey was not a tender-hearted man.

" Well, well/^ he said, *' if it were not for the
sin of the thing, I cannot say that I should
understand why Providence interfered in that
particular matter, when Providence as we all
know, daily allows many a better man than that
sullen-faced John Owen, or that pink-eyed Captain
Glatwdon, to perish miserably. Truly,^' he added
in his most thoughtful tone, "the ways of
Providence are inscrutable,^^ and the reflection
led him into a train of thought which completely
caused him to forget the incident of the
morning.

Miss Lee said nothing to remind him of it ;
but as soon as she reached the house, she asked
to speak to Gerald Lee. He came at once, kind,
courteous, and attentive.

" How well you look this morning,^^ he said as
he sat down by her ; and, indeed, her cheek wore
a bloom not borrowed from the rose-coloured
curtains near which she sat.

192 GRACE LEE.

^^I have had an early walk, thanks to your
brother-in-law/'

" What has he been doing ? *' asked Mr. Lee,
looking uneasy.

" He has annoyed me.*'

^^ That man is a thorn in my side," said Mr.
Lee, rising and pacing the room up and down,
"he is a gambler, a spendthrift, worse still, a
fool. To be ever paying his debts is provoking
enough ; but it is nothing to the constant dread
in which I live that he will do something to
disgrace the family with which he is unfortu-
nately connected. What has he been doing?*'
he again asked, stopping short before her.

^' I will tell you in his presence," she replied,
smiling. " I do not like him ; but I like fair play."

Mr. Lee rang, gave a message to the servant
that answered the bell, and in a few minutes
Captain Glawdon entered the room picking his
teeth.

" De-lighted to see you this morning, Gerald,"

GRACE LEE. 193

he said, patronisingly extending a fore finger
to the man who had five times paid his
debts.

Mr. Lee returned the greeting with a gentle-
manly and frozen " Good morning/^ then glanced
towards Grace, who addressing him, and looking
at Captain Glawdon, quietly though decisively
began the attack.

"I have asked, Mr. Lee,^^ she said, "to
speak to you in the presence of Captain Glaw-
don, in order that you may learn from him on
what grounds a gentleman, whom I have seen
seven times in all, presumes so far as to watch
my movements, judge my actions, and finally
challenge another gentleman, a guest of this
house, a Mr. John Owen, and that because I
show that I take an interest in one whom I
remember since I was a child, who often visited
my father, and whom I know that my father
liked.^'

"A duel!^' exclaimed Gerald Lee, turning

VOL. L K

194f GBACE LEB.

Sternly on his brother-in-law, who continued to
pick his teeth with perfect coolness.

" Yes, truly a duel,^' answered Grace, " a duel
of which I, Grace Ljbc, was to hare been the
heroine ; a duel which I had to go and prevent at
six o'clock this morning/'

"Knowing both the spot and the hour,''
carelessly said the Captain ; " singular, to say the
least of it."

Grace rose and looked him firmly in the face.

" Captain Glawdon," she said, calmly extend-
ing her hand towards him, "yon hare uttered an
untruth and a slander — and you know it."

The Captain bowed with ironical acknowledg-
ment.

'^ Ladies can say what they please," he began.

His brother-in-law interrupted him.

"Sir," he said severely, "ever since it was
my misfortune to be connected with you — ^you
have done all you could to annoy and provoke
me. Yet I confess I did not suspect you

99

GRACE LEE. 195

would presume to interfere with Miss Lee's
freedom, I cannot understand your motives for
doing so.^

" Because, mon Cher beau fr^re, you are too
busy with philanthropic schemes to mind your
own business/'

"My own business/' returned Gerald Lee,
reddening. " May I ask you, sir, what business
of mine this is?''

" Faith ! I thought it touched you pretty
closely," bluntly replied the Captain, looking
mystified.

Gerald continued.

"Did I ever by word or look hint that I
possessed the least right over the feelings or
actions of Miss Lee? I profess as a man of
honour, I never did," he emphatically added,
turning towards Grace.

"I believe you," she replied, warmly; "I
believe you." And she held out to him her
hand, which he kissed respectfully. Then again

K 2

196 GRACE LEE.

addressing his brother-in-law, who looked both
puzzled and discomiited, he said :

'^ Captain Glawdon, if you will fight duels and
disgrace yourself, do not imagine I shall attempt
to prevent you; but I beg you to understand,
once for all, that as I claim no control over
Miss Lee, I will not allow you to exert an imper-
tinent interference which both she and the world
would naturally interpret as proceeding from me/'

By the close of this speech Captain Glawdon
had recovered his coolness.

*^Is that all, Gerald ?'' he asked, smoothing
his lace ruffles.

''Yes, sir,'' gravely replied Mr, Lee, "that
is all."

'' De-lighted to hear it," said the Captain,
turning on his heel. And he walked oflF hum-
ming a tune with the impertinent ease of a man
of fashion under Queen Anne.

"I wonder," observed Mr. Lee, as the door
closed on him, "I wonder any one can conde-

GRACE LEE. 197

scend to quarrel with that man. What sort of a
person is that Mr. Owen?'' he added, turning to
Grace.

She stood by him with her eyes fixed on a
large window that overlooked the garden.

^' You did not observe him yesterday at dinner/'
she said, without turning round.

^^Notatall."

''Well, then, there he stands by that stone •
vase in the sun."

Mr. Lee raised his eyeglass, then dropped it
again. ^

'^A peculiar looking man," he said quietly.
" What is he ? "

''A barrister who wants to speak, be heard,
and become famous. Who had built his fortress
on the sand-foundation of our slippery friend,
and who is all the more exasperated that his
plans are upset by a fool whom he despises, and
that he is obliged to fight for a woman about
whom he does not care."

198 GBACE LBIS.

" Does he care for the duel ? '*

" I cannot tell. I dare say he is too sensible
not to feel that there is something rather ridicu-
lous in standing within convenient distance of a
man at whom you are to shoot^ and who is to
shoot at you, but not good or brave enough to
despise the voice of the world that stigmatises
as a coward every man who declines a
• challenge/'

*^Do you think him wiUing to shun this
eiicounter ? ''

'^He dj^ not seek it, but I do not think he
will take a step to avoid it. Manage without
him, Mr. Lee. I have a fancy that there are
strange turns in his temper .''

^^ Pray have no fear/' composedly said Mr, Lee,
"I shall manage without him, as you say; Glaw-
don must give in. I am sick of his folly: con-
sider the matter settled.''

" What matter ? " said the light voice of Lily,
who had opened the door unheard, and now

GEACE LEE. 199

looked curiously at them both, "Have you
already begun philanthropy in Wales ? ^*

Mr, Lee did not condescend to reply to the
impertinent question. Grace looked at him
deprecatingly ; then looked to Lily, and said
— '' Incorrigible ! '^

With a laugh the young girl turned away and
left them.

" Pray excuse her/' observed Miss Lee, address-
ing Mr. Lee, " she is young — ^heedless.''

" Do not mention it,'' he interrupted, smiling*
''Miss Blount is a spoiled child." And again
assuring her that he would arrange everything
between Captain Glawdon and Mr. Owen, he
left her.

The day was mild yet sunny. Miss Lee
spent the best part of it in the garden with
Lily. Mr. Bashleigh Bashleigh lounged about
the two ladies. To Grace he gave most flattery f
to Lily there is no denying that he gave most

looks. Grace took all his homage as a matter of

200 QBACE L£B.

course — Lily his admiring glances with ironical
coolness. At length Mr» Bashleigh Bashleigh^
feelings perhaps^ that he lost his labour^ walked
off with himself.

He was scarcely gone^ when Lily with flushed
cheeks and flashing eyes^ exclaimed :

'' I detest Mr. Rashleigh.''

"Why so?'^ asked Grace, surprised at this
outburst.

"I tell you I detest him. And he shall feel
it yet some day.'^

4

She looked very passionate and very pretty.
So pretty that Miss Lee with the indulgence
which beauty ever wins forgot to chide. And in
the meanwhile a step was heard on the gravel
path, a shadow fell on the grass, and Mr. Owen
with a slight bow had passed on. Without
saying a word to Lily, Grace rose ; took another
path, and in a few minutes had reached the spot
where it met that which Mr. Owen had taken.

He was coming along with downcast eyes and

iiy;^p^^FawgaB _' ■■I.I-, j .. ^ T' - gT—rr ^. -T^ .;*^

GRACE LEE. 201

folded arms when lie suddenly saw her before
him. She stood trader a tall oak tree in its
spreading shadow. She wore a simple white
muslin dress, and a broad round straw hat, that
half shaded her face and dark clustering curls.
She looked not unlike one of the brown Tuscan
girls of central Italy ; but though the garden wa§
beautiful, though the day was lovely, these were
not the colline amene, the pleasant hills, the sunny
vineyards, the azure sky of the fertile Tuscah
garden.

'' How very plain she is,^' thought Mr. Owen,
who, without caring much about women, had a
keen sense of beauty, and who had never seen
Grace so near in broad daylight.

Perhaps something in his look betrayed his
secret thought, for a warm glow gathered over
the face of Miss Lee ; yet with a smile she said :

" Mr. Owen, I understand from Mr. Lee that
you mean to leave to-day/'

" Now,'' he interrupted quietly.

k3

202 GRACE LEE.

" Well then, before you go, let me beg of you
to forgive me the annoyance I have involuntarily
caused you to endure in this house/'

It was his turn to smile.

*' Captain Glawdon wanted a quarrel with me/'
he replied ; " forgive me rather that he involved
you in that which concerned me alone. He has
apologised and retracted; I am satisfied: let
nothing in all this trouble and annoy you/'

Grace looked up at him gently and reproach-
fully. She seemed to ask for a reply less cold,
less formal, but nothing in her had the good
fortune to please Mr. Owen. He bowed, and
passed on.

Miss Lee looked after him a little wistfully,
then she smiled to herself, and slowly turned
away. Her pride was placed too high for a proud
man's slight to move or affect it. All she
thought was — " I wonder why that man dislikes
me."

GEACE LEE. 203

CHAPTER IX.

Mr. Owen thought no more of his two days^
adventure in Wales. Again thrown back on
the living death of silence and oblivion, he bore
his fate with a sullen calmness that was not
resignation.

He sat as usual one evening in his solitary
room, ^volving useless schemes, when Ann
knocked at his door, and silently laid a letter on
his table.

Mr. Owen receive<i few letters. He curiously
raised this to the light. It was a note, small,
perfumed, neatly sealed, and directed to John
Owen, Esq., in a free though elegant female
hand. He broke the seal with some curiosity.

204 GRACE LBB.

and read the brief contents : — " Miss Lee^s
compliments, and an invitation to dinner on the
Thursday of the following week/'

Mr. Owen read the note twice over, unable to
understand its drift. He felt conscious that he
had not been so amiable or so courteous as to be
entitled to any great kindness from Miss Lee.
What did she mean — to conquer or humble his
stubborn pride ? Whatever her intention might
be, he resolved to show her that he did not fear
her. He sat down, wrote oflf an answer by which
he accepted the invitation, and calmly waited
the day.

He began well. Six was Miss Lee's dinner-
hour; seven struck as he crossed the threshold
of her mansion. It overlooked Hyde Park, and
simple and unpretending without, like a Moorish
dwelling, it was like it within splendid and
luxurious. Beautiful statues and rare flowers
adorned either side of the marble staircase that
led to magnificent apartments above. The floors

GRACE LEE. 205

4

were covered with Turkish carpets of vivid and
brilliant hues, and on which the foot fell softly
and silently. Through curtains of the lightest
and most costly texture the fading light of day
penetrated, mild and subdued, or in rooms already
darkened, lamps burned brightly; fair alabaster
:figures and bronze groups their only guests. At
length the footman who glided along this fairy
place noiseless as a shadow, opened a wide door ;
beyond it extended a splendid drawing-room ; the
three or four seconds the seiTant took to utter
his name suflSced to John Owen to seize it in one
rapid glance. A lamp suspended from the ceiling
shed its brilliant light over a group, in the centre
of which stood Miss Lee talking to a little old
man half-bent in two; farther on a beautiful
woman reclined on a divan, and laughed and
jested with a tall moustachio'd gentleman ; three
other gentlemen conversed apart, and two ladies
were bent * admiringly over a table of exquisite
mosaic work.

206 GRACE LEE.

They all looked up or turned round on his
entrance. Miss Lee advanced to meet him^ and
received him with more politeness than cordiality,
more as a stranger than like a firiend ; then she
introduced him to the three ladies and five
gentlemen present. It is a good thing to be cool
and self-possessed. John Owen showed neither
surprise nor pleasure, nor any feeling save that
of civil indifference. This supercilious bearing,
joined to the fact that he had kept them an hour
waiting for their dinner, raised him considerably
in the opinion of all present ; according to a well-
known and easy standard, his importance was
accurately measured by his impertinence. That
he might be socially speaking no one, was an
extravagant fancy that occurred to none. The
mere fact that without being intimate with him.
Miss Lee had asked him to her pet Thursday
dinners, proved the contrary. The only question
at issue therefore was, what was Mr. Owen?
M^ss Lee had simply said that she expected

I

I

GRACE LEE. 207

another guest^ but had said no more. The dinner
interrupted seyer&l speculations which had already
begun on the subject.

We will not commit the fame of Miss Lee's
Thursday dinners by giving an account of them ;
with the indescribable charm of look^ tone^ and
manner wanting, wit spoken might not prove wit
written; and remarks that seemed striking or
deep when heard above the jingling of glasses and
the hum of frivolous table-talk, might now read
flat and dull. Suffice it to assure the reader that
the cooking was perfect; that the wines were
exquisite ; that old Mr. Hanley was very bitter
and very funny ; Woodman clever and dogmatic;
Brandon brilliant; Mr. Austin entertaining;
Stevens rather prosy; Mrs. Chesterfield delight-
fully amiable ; and Mrs. Brandon and Mrs. Stevens
as usual rather quiet ; but, lest he should feel too
disappointed, let us also assure him that, after all,
nothing wonderfully deep, learned, original, or
witty was said the whole evening. John Owen

208 GRACE LEE.

ate little and drank less^ looked indifferent and
cool, and, though seated by the beautiful Mrs.
Chesterfield, never opened his lips unless now
and then to answer some remark addressed to
him by Miss Lee.

She devoted, however, the chief portion of he^
discourse to Mr. Hanley and Mr. Woodman,
between whom she sat. Turning to the latter at

the close of the meal she said :

'^How very amusing Mr. Brandon has been
this evening.^'

'' Very witty,'' coldly replied the critic.

He was just then on indiflferent terms with
Brandon. He had been, as every one knows, the
making of Brandon ; he had proclaimed Brandon
a genius when the world was still ignorant of his
existence. He had sung the praises of Brandon
on every string ; he had ofiered up numberless
victims on his altar, and sacrificed daily to this
insatiable literary Moloch. Yet, hard fate ! —
Brandon had turned upon him.

GEACE LEE. 209

Thus it happened ; the great satirist, seized with
a poetic fit, had related to the world the story of a
fair young creature, a sort of mortal sylph, and
Joe Woodman had plainly told him in print that
his sylph was all humbug, and in a friendly way
had advised him "to give again to the public
one of his keen sarcastic portraitures of human
nature/^ Isaac Brandon took up his pen, and
avenged his sylph by giving the public Joe
Woodman to the life. Inde ins!

Since then they had been very cool and very
civil. Mr. Woodman was wise enough to take
what he had got and keep his peace; but he
meditated a signal revenge : no less than the
putting down of Brandon and the raising up of
some genius in his stead. Geniuses, however,
not being very common, he was compelled to
protract his kind intentions, and the better to lull
the suspicions of Brandon to sleep, he remained
on speaking terms with him, and even aflfected to
mention him with an increase of kindness.

210 GRACB LEE.

^' Yes, very witty/^ lie repeated, again address-
ing Miss Lee: "Brandon is a wit; wit, I will
venture to add, is his forte/*

"He has a fine phrenological development,
however/'

" Not wonderful,*' mildly corrected Mr. Wood-
man: "large perceptive, small reflective facul-
ties ; much smaller, for instance, than that sallow
man near him, who has wit quite as large.
Splendid head; I wonder where I have seen
him ? *'

He turned to Miss Lee and put in his most

careless tones, the question which had been on

the tip of his tongue ever since they had sat
down to dinner.

"I really know too little of Mr. Owen to
be able to enlighten you,** quietly replied Grace.
"Pray have some of this ambroisie h la Lee,
as Monsieur Baptiste does me the honour to
call it.**

" Monsieur Baptiste is a clever man,** sen-

6BACE LEE. 211

tentiously observed the critic; "and so/' he
added^ with adroit negligence, "you have not
known him long ? '^

" I have had him some months/'

" Mr. Owen ! ''

'^ Mr. Owen ! oh ! no, Baptiste of course.
We are talking of Baptiste, Mr. Hanley," she
added, turning to the old barrister ; " and of his
ambroisie a la Lee. What do you say to it?
He has acknowledged to me that he awaits your
verdict with unpen d^ emotion"

Mr. Hanley, one of the most genmne gour-
mands of the age, bowed in acknowledgment of
the compliment, and half shutting his eyes to
concentrate the powers of sense, he tasted this
ambrosial food after the most leisurely fashion.
For the information of the curious, we can state
that in colour it was green and brown; in
substance neither qmte solid, nor yet completely
liquid — as to its real nature, it was known to
heaven and Monsieur Baptiste !

212 .GRACE LEE.

^^ Very delicious, indeed/' approvingly ob-
served Mr. Hanley : '^ and what is it made j
of?'' '

"Monsieur Baptiste ransacked London, then
locked himself up for three days in his study.
The name of one of the ingredients is, h&wever,
known to me; but T am pledged to the most
inviolable secrecy."

" ShaU I guess ? "

"You cannot j the taste is so thoroughly
disguised as to be whpUy lost. Mr. Woodman,
pray have more ? "

"Thank you — ^he is a political writer, is he
not ? "

" Who ? — Ah ! you mean Mr. Owen. Heaven
knows. Were you speaking, sir?"

"I was giving it as my humble opinion,"
shrewdly replied Mr. Hanley, "that Monsieur
Baptiste has made a free use of almonds."

Grace smiled and shook her head; the old
lawyer looked disappointed ; and Joe Woodman,

GRACE LEE. 213

who had a critical liking for contradiction^

said, drily :

" Almonds ! Rice, rather/^

"Rice!'' contemptuously muttered Hanley to
the beautiful Mrs. Chesterfield, by whom he sat.

" I never thought anything of that man's judg-
ment. — Rice ! '^

"It tastes more like maize,'' placidly ob-
served Mr. Stevens, swallowing down a large
spoonful.

" Oh ! ye gods ! " ejaculated Hanley, whose
eye, in a fine frenzy rolling, lit with impotent
wrath on the unconscious and careless artist.
"Maize! What will come next; flour?"

The next guess was by no means a vulgar
one. Mr. Austin, the great traveller, gave the
name of some Chinese dainty, in thirteen
syllables of two letters each; but Grace still
smUed, and shook her head.

"They know nothing about it," impatiently
said Mr. Hanley, again addressing Mrs. Chester-

214 GRACE LEE.

field. "Look at that Goth; he has not even
tasted his/^

The Goth was John Owen, whose ambrosia
remained untouched on his plate. Mrs. Ches-
terfield was more clear-sighted than Joe Wood-
man; she had her suspicions concerning her
neighbour. She had a strong impression that
he might be no one ; and not being remarkable
for caring much about unknown people, she now
turned to John Owen, dropped her eyelids, and
said, with a smile both gracious and ironical:

" Do not you like ambrosia, Mr. Owen ? "

"I never touch oysters, ma'am,*^ he replied,
calmly.

" Oysters ! ^' exclaimed Mr. Hanley, to whom
the word was a flash of light, — " oysters ! how
could I not find it out at once ! Wonderful !
perfectly wonderful !^^

He looked with unfeigned admiration at

John Owen, who bore his triumph with great
equanimity.

QRACE LEE. 215

" You have a subtle taste^ sir/^ deferentially
said the barrister. ''I would give something
to possess a palate so delicate in the art of
detecting.^^

" Mine had nothing to do with this ; I smelt
the oysters, and that was enough/* replied Mr,
Owen, who did not seem to relish the praise.

Mr. Hanley nearly dipped his nose in his plate,
but after smelling awhile^ he looked up and
shook his head.

" Sir/* he said gravely, '^ your nose is better
than mine; I am very fond of oysters, but I
never could have guessed there were any in this
ambroisie a la Lee*^

''And I detest them,*' drily answered Owen,
''and hate naturally deceives us less than

love.**

"A deep remark,** sententiously observed
Mr. Woodman to Miss Lee; "I trust,** he
added, lowering his voice, "that Mr. Owen is on
our side.**

216 GRACE LEE.

" I know nothing about him or his opinions/'
gravely replied Grace.

The critic gave her a look of mingled scrutiny
and doubt. He had never known Miss Lee to
ask any but celebrities to her Thursday dinners :
John Owen might be anonymously famous^ but
surely he had done something to obtain the dis-
tinction conferred upon him ! Grace caught his
look^ and amused at the direction his thoughts
persisted in taking, she smiled mysteriously, but
eluded all further questioning by rising and thus
giving the ladies the signal of retiring. As she
left the room, she cast a furtive look at John
Owen. He still sat quiet, and apparently indif-
ferent ; but she could detect him keenly watching
both Hanley and Woodman, like a wary archer
who keeps his aim in view long before he bends
his bow.

Mrs. Chesterfield disliked leaving the dining-
room for the drawing-room, or, to « speak more
correctly, the company of men for that of her

GRACE LEE. 217

own sex. As a general rule she became sulky
and ill-tempered. Her first act on the present
occasion was to resume exclusive possession of
the best divan, and there by shutting her eyes
and remaining wholly silent, to recruit for a new
fit of amiability. Miss Lee, in the meanwhile,
entertained Mrs. Brandon and Mrs. Stevens,
both, as the wives of remarkable men generally
are, quiet, inoflTensive women; mild reflectors of
their husbands' glory, whom the beauty in-
variably disregarded. She rallied a little when

«
coffee came up, but feeling put out by the length

of time her faithless admirers consumed below
out of the light of her smiles, she indulged in a
little bit of spite ; sipping her coffee with indolent
grace, and giving her voice the quiet, careless
tones with which she generally despatched any
individual so hapless as to have undergone the
ban of her displeasure, she said to Miss Lee,
" How very quiet your new friend is ? ''
" What friend ? '^ calmly asked Grace.

VOL. L

218 GRACE LEE.

" Oh ! that Mr. . . . Mr. Onion> ... is not
that his name? '' she added^ opening her blue
eyes^ and looking as innocent as a dove in a wood.

" Onion? *^ simply ejaculated Mrs. Brandon.
" What a funny name ! ^'

" Ridiculous,** said Mrs. Stevens, giggl^^K>
" Onion t'*

"Do not mention him,*^ quietly observed Grace,
turning to Mrs. Chesterfield, "I must expose
him. Knowing him, spite of all his talent, to be
a perfect bear to women, I made him sit next to
you with the hope that you could tame him a
little; but now I have done with him, and to
punish him, I shall tell every one how he has
behaved to you, and disgrace him for ever."

Mrs. Chesterfield was a celebrated catcher and
tamer of clever male bears. On her successes in
this difficult art, even more than on her charms^
was based her name as a fascinating beauty.
. One failure might prove fatal to her fame ; she
hastened to atone for the error she had com-

GRACE LEE. £19

mitted^ in attempting to ridicule a person in the
favour of Miss Lee.

" Surely, my dear/' she exclaimed, raising her
graceful head, '^ you do not think I meant Mr.
Owen," (she suddenly remembered his name), '' a
very clever, witty man, — ^whom I never saw be-
fore,'' she added, to remind Miss Lee that her
bear was not, at all events, a famous one. '' I
was alluding,'^ she continued, "to the traveller
with the Chinese face, who sat between Mrs. '
Brandon and Mrs. Stevens.^'

''And is his name Onion?*' asked Mrs.
Brandon, of whose mind the word had taken
strong hold.

"Really I do not know,'' ironically replied
Mrs. Chesterfield.

"His name is Austin," drily said Mrs. Stevens;
"a very agreeable man indeed," she added,
turning to Miss Lee; "what an interesting ac-
count that was of Sultana Ka-el-Issali."

Mrs. Chesterfield looked as if she felt disposed

l2

220 GRACE LEE.

to deliver some piece of impertinence, but was

prevented by the sudden entrance of the

gentlemen.

Mr. Austin returned to Mrs. Brandon and

Mrs. Stevens, by whom he was very graciously

received ; the husbands of these two ladies shared

the attention of Mrs. Chesterfield. John Owen

quietly took possession of the only seat free by

Miss Lee. Mr. Hanley and Joe Woodman

conversed a little apart. The face of the critic

expressed insinuating deference; the old man

listened to him with his hands behind his back,

his head on one side and a sarcastic smile on

his face. He had often called the critic Joe
Humbug, and was accustomed to mention him

familiarly under this appellation; just as Mr.
Woodman aptly called him old Reynard. Both
Bames, to say the truth, were not unmerited, but
added nothing to the limited degree of friend-
liness that existed between Mr. Hanley and
Mr, Woodman,

GRACE LEE. 221

On this occasion Reynard proved too much
for the other. Mr. Woodman, giving up Miss
Lee as hopeless, was endeavouring to find out
from Mr* Hanley who and what John Owen
was. He could not have applied to one better
informed on the subject. Mr. Hanley knew
everything about John Owen ; his ambition, his
struggles, his present position, his desperate
efforts to rise above the dull stream of obscurity.
He watched him as a Roman citizen watched
the gladiator engaged in mortal combat; alike
ready to hail his fall or his triumph j impartially
indifferent to either.

Two motives, however, prevented him from
gratifying the curiosity of Mr. Woodman. The
first was a legal habit of reserve he seldom
broke through. Miss Lee gave good dinners,
what was it to him what guests she asked?
The second motive was, that through the care-
less inquiries of the critic, he read the secret
belief that John Owen was some great unknown.

222 .GRACE LEE.

and he could not resist the exquisite delight of
leading his critical sagacity on this false scent.
The task was easy. Joe Woodman had begun
life with a few select ideas^ to which he had
faithftilly adhered ever since, and which the
prospect of an empire would not have induced
him to change. The first and foremost of these
was a boundless faith and confidence in the
infallibility of his own judgment. Instead,
therefore, of opening his eyes to the truth, he
pertinaciously shut them and gave himself up
to his deceiver. Mr. Woodman was very fond
of an operation he called pumping. With a
meek simplicity that ought to have awakened
his suspicions, the old barrister allowed him to
pump up the following information. Firstly,
that John Owen was in the law ; secondly, that
he wrote for the daily press ; thirdly, that some
of the most clever things in the " Times ^' came
from his pen, but that this was a profound
secret. Having thus converted an obscure

GBACE LEE. ^23

reporter into a second Junius^ be modestly
declared he knew no more on the subject.
Satisfied with the clever manner in which '^he
had got it all out of him/' Mr. Woodman put
no more questions, but having, like Frederick
the Great, extracted the juice from the orange,
he threw away the rind and quietly walked off.
No sooner was Mr. Htuiley &ee than he found
himself beckoned to by Mrs. Chesterfield. He
obeyed; with a directness of attack suitable to
her style of conquering beauty, she said at
once :

'^Who is that Mr. Owen? Brandon and
Stevens have been questioning me about him.''

** Let them ask Woodman," carelessly replied
the old man, taking a perverse pleasure in mis-
leading her too^ ^^he knows all about him."
Mrs. Chesterfield was generally on her guard
against Mr. Hanley, but for once she allowed
herself to be caught. Though still exquisitely
beautiful she was no longer in the prime of

224} QEACB LEE.

youth. She had had time to watch many a
star from its rise to its settings and it was
part of her reputation to know every one worth
knowing. She rose^ looked about, chatted with
Brandon, admired a Velasquez with Stevens,
laughed at an Eastern story told by Mr. Austin,
and quite casually found herself close to Mr.
Woodman, who stood magnificently leaning
with his back to the marble mantel-piece.
Before she could &ame a question, he had said
in his most careless tones :

" By the way, how long have you known that

dark man who sat by you, O , O ; I

don't remember his name, but he writes for
the 'Times.'''

" Oh ! you mean Mr. Owen," negligently
reph'ed Mrs. Chesterfield, feeling a surprise she
did not betray, '^ really how can I tell; one
forgets half the people one knows."

" Clever fellow ! " emphatically said Joe Wood-
man, ''pity he does not forsake politics, for

6BACB LEE. 225

which he is too personal and bitter^ for some-
thing in the way of Brandon — only a little
deeper.^^

'^And I who called him Mr. Onion/' re-
morsefully thought Mrs. Chesterfield ; " how
unkind of Miss Lee to tell me nothing about
him/^

" Suppose you give him a hint to that
effect/' confidentially continued Woodman. He
gave her a knowing glance.

Mrs. Chesterfield coughed and looked doubt-
ful, and said emphatically, " He is very wilful/'

" Try nevertheless/' was the significant answer.

Here Brandon called the attention of Mrs.
Chesterfield, and Stevens claimed that of Wood-
man. The beauty and the critic parted, mutu-
ally deceiving and deceived. "I must have
met him before/' thought Mrs. Chesterfield j
" how odd I cannot remember where." Here
chancing to turn round to give another look
to the individual who occupied her thoughts,

L 3

226 aSAOE LEE.

she saw him taking leave of Miss Lee, and
in the act of departing. Prompt, according
to her habit, she deliberately stepped up to
him. Ignoring the fact that he was going, she
said with her most, seductive smile, *^Mr.
Owen, how is it you and I have never met
before ? ''

Here John caught the uneasjr look of Grace,
but he did not need the warning. By temper
he was always on his guard. He looked fixedly
at the beautiful face before him.

"Are you sure, ma'am,'^ he replied com-
posedly, "that you and I have never met
before/'

" Where then did we meet ? '' she asked
promptly.

"I do not remember,^' he leisurely replied,
after giving her another look. Mrs. Chester-
field rapidly ran over in her mind the names
of all the persons at whose houses she might
have met him. Seeing her silent, he thought

GEACB LEE. 227

she had no more to say^ and with a formal
bow, left her.

" Extraordinary behaviour ! *' said Mrs. Ches-
terfield, drawing herself up and looking piqued.

^^Pray do not mind him/' observed Grace,
laying her hand on the fair lady's arm. "I
told you he was a bear.''

" Let him be as much of a bear as he likes,"
thought Mrs. Chesterfield, " I shall tame him."

In parting from Mr. Owen, Miss Lee had
asked him, once for all, to her Thursday dinners,
and he availed himself of the invitation. She
treated him with a friendliness and courtesy that
tended to raise him in the opinion of the other
guests. Thanks to her, he was received by Mrs.
Chesterfield, flattered by Woodman, and high
in the favour of old Mr. Hanley, the man of
all who could best assist him. If he derived ao
actual benefit from these things, the gate was
open to him; he stood on the threshold; it

228 GRACE LBB.

was now his to enter and win. He often saw

»

and met Miss Lee, but never alone. This bril-
liant star seemed to have attracted him within
her sphere, the better to let him feel the im-
measurable distance between so poor a man and
so great a lady. Yet in her manner to him he
could trace nothing like pride, nothing like
the insolence of condescension. Ever simple,
natural, and free, without eicacting it, she com-
inanded respect.

Better than from afar, Mr. Owen now saw
what a splendid, what a charmed life was led by
Miss Lee. He saw her in her own home, with a
court ever around her; he saw her in the world,
where she had introduced him, eclipsing beauty,
rank, wit j the object of universal homage. He
heard her name in every mouth, ever coupled
with admiration. The strangest things which
she did, and she was too imaginative and too
independent not to do strange things now and
then, wonr their meed of praise* Amongst the

GRACB LEB. .229

many ways by which the briefless barrister
managed to eke out an income^ one was to
contribute theatrical reviews for a weekly paper.
One evenings in the full height x>f the season^ he
accordingly entered the small and elegant house
of Saint James^ there to sit in judgment on a
young French actress^ Mademoiselle Aur^lie, then
of great promise^ and afterwards of great fame.
Miss Lee^ as usual^ was in her box^ near
the stage^ surrounded with her court of friends
and admirers. The light fell full on her dark^
animated face. She wore yellow roses in her
braided hairj yellow roses were fastened in
the front of her gold-coloured dress. A bouquet
of yellow roses rested on her silken lap. Her
handsome arms were covered with bracelets;
she sparkled with jewels^ and looked like a
queen. But gayer and far happier than a
queen she seemed. The play acted that night
was a French vaudeville^ light yet charm-
ing. Mademoiselle Aur^lie sustained her part

230 GRACE LEE.

admirably. She moved to laughter and to
tears even her somewhat blase audience. Twice
she was recalled to receive bouquets and
applause. The first flowers thrown at her feet
were the yellow roses of Grace Lee; and in
them, as his own eyes told him, and as the
audible whispers around him repeated, was one
of the rich bracelets which she had worn that
evening. Mr. Owen saw Lily laugh, and Mr.
Gterald Lee smile; and, far from her hearing,
and within his, he heard none censure, but many
admire, this act of a prodigal girl.

Whatever she did. Miss Lee was privileged.
Wealth, flattery, praise, love, daily wove her a
crown, and proclaimed her queen.

As he was leaving he met her on the staircase. *
She slowly descended, swayed by the motion of
the crowd, between Lily Blount and Gerald Lee.
At once she saw him, and, with a smile and a
look, she beckoned him to her side.

*' Mr. Owen,^' she said, " you are deserting

QEACE LEE. 231

me/^ for he had not availed himself of her last
invitation. Without giving him time to answer^
she continued ; " remember that the next time I
expect you, woe be to you if you fail me ! ''

She passed on, and Mr. Owen, with some
disdain, returned the wondering looks of many
who could not imagine why he had been so
distinguished.

232 GRACE LEE.

CHAPTEE X.

Thebe is an old Italian legend^ that when the
sea is calm and fair the Syrens weep. The sky
may be without a cloud ; the waters may be
smooth and still, yet the Syrens weep, for they
know that the storm will come. But joyous and
serene as her life, was Grace Lee. For her there
seemed no storm, no threatening of evil days
loweripg behind the cloudless horizon.

The History of the Church called Doctor
Crankey to Rome; but Miss Lee remained be-
hind, happy in her luxurious home with her
adopted sister. Towards the close of the season
she announced her intention to give a last splendid
fete, and the prospect of it sufficed to suspend the

GRACE LEE. 233

tide of emigration in that wide portion of the fash-
ionable world to which she belonged. In taste and
in splendour it fully surpassed all its predecessors.
Nothing so elegant^ so artistic, so splendid, so
like a dream from the Arabian Nights, had yet
been seen. The guests, dazzled and enchanted,
declared there was no one like Miss Lee for these
things. Never before had she obtained a triumph
like this. She enjoyed it as she enjoyed every-
thing — completely; and listened with a happy
smile, to the blending of genuine admiration and
polite flattery, that everywhere reached her ear.

At length even this ceased. Surfeited with
pleasure, the guests departed at the hour when
thousands, still weary with the labour of one day,
were wakening to the toil and the cares of the
next. One after the other the splendid rooms
were forsaken.

John Owen was the last to depart. As he was
leaving the solitary boudoir where he had spent
the best part of the evening, neither seeking nor

234 GRACE LEE.

takiDg pleasure, a hand was lightly laid on his
arm, and a clear voice behind him said,

« Good-night,^'

He turned round and found himself face to
face with his hostess. She arrested him in an
attitude that was free, familiar, and friendly ; her
dark eyes rested on him with kindness in their
glance.

** Good-night," she said again ; and her voice
was very sweet, "Good-night, and good-bye,"
she resumed, her hand still on his arm, her
«yes still on his face, '^You are my country-
man, Mr. Owen ; you were my father^s friend.
I have known you since I was a child, and
now that perhaps we may never meet again
in this wide world, wonder not if I bid a some-
what serious adieu to one whom I have always
liked."

" What — are you again going to travel ! " he
exclaimed, taken by surprise.

" Ay, to travel, Mr. Owen — to take my longest

ORACE LEE« 235

journey : I am going from one world to another.
Shall we ever meet again? — ^tis not likely.
Therefore, good-night, and good-bye; may hope
and success, and all good things, and kind spirits,
attend you ! ''

He fixed a keen look on her face. Her brow
was calm; her eyes were serene, her lips were
smiling ; yet he felt that some meaning lay
hidden in all this. ^^ Good-night will do for
the present,'^ he replied ; " the final adieu need
not be said yet.^*

A deep ardent blush gathered on Miss Lee's
dark face ; her eyes looked up to his laughingly
and proudly.

*' Good-bye,'^ she said again, with marked
emphasis. She turned away, and he stood
looking after her with some surprise.

All the guests were gone. Gerald Lee alone,
in compliance with Miss Lee's wish, remained
behind. He found her in the large and deserted
drawing-room; she stood by the white marble

286 GRACE LEE..

mantelpiece, her bare arm resting on it and
supporting her cheek. As he approached she
looked up and^ with a smile^ held out her hand
to him ; he raised it to his lips with the tender
courtesy that always marked his manner to her,
and said, in a pleased tone, ^^You do not look
at all tired/'

Large and clear mirrors alternate with high
panels of white and gold, decorated the apart-
ment. Grace, her hand still in that of Gerald,
cast her look on one of them. It gave back her
figure full length, in all its grace of symmetry
and splendour of attire. Gerald spoke the truth,
when he said she did not look fatigued: never
had her eyes shone with more brilliancy, — never
had her dusky cheek owned a warmer bloom.

" I feel wonderfully well and happy this even-
ing,'' she said, looking back to Gerald; '^yes,

very happy, and not at all fatigued; not so tired

*

as poor little Lily.''

On hearing her name. Miss Blount, who sat

GRACE LEE. 237

on a velvet coucli close by, looked up, and
languidly said, " Grace is made of steel, I think.
Is she not, Mr. Lee ? "

'• Never mind what I am made of,'^ answered
Grace ; '' I have asked Mr. Lee to remain behind
to-night, because I must speak to him ; and you,
Lily, may as well stay and listen/'

She sat down by the young girl ; and Mr. Lee
sat down by her. With a smile she began.

" Gerald, I like you ; you have been a friend
to me, — a true friend ; yet I have deprived you
of a splendid inheritance, — of a noble fortune*
Do not interrupt me. You do not know all.
Miss Grace Lee had loved you too much and too
long not to regret despoiling you. She made
her will in my favour, it is true ; but by a letter

■

written on her deathbed, she enjoined me, should
certain circumstances ever come to pass^ to share
or divide her fortune with you. I burned that
letter ; for though I was but seventeen, I knew
I could trust to my own honour to obey it : and

«

238 GRACE LEE.

now what Miss Lee seemed to have foretold, has
happened, and the day when I must surrender
my trust has eome/^

She ceased, but looked in vain in Mr. Lee^s
face for tokens of the surprise she thought to
find there.

"I was with Miss Lee when she died/' he
replied at length, '^ I read that letter which she
wrote and you burned, but I need scarcely say
that her will alone is binding upon you.^

'' In law of course it is,'^ said Grace, with some
pride; '^but we are not talking of law, Mr. Lee,
we are talking of honour.^'

'^Law or honour, what matter? Why seek
to divide that which Miss Lee, that which Provi-
dence itself, have conspired to unite.^'

Grace looked laughing in his face. ''My
friend,^' she said, gaily, '' seven years ago you
were offered a choice between love and beauty
on one side, and gold and a plain girl on the
other. You took love and beauty, and you did

GBACE L£K 239

well. And now *tis my torn, and I am told
to choose between gold and a good^ handsome
husband on one side^ and on the other^ Hberty.
Well, Gerald, what love and beauty were to you
then, liberty is to me now; that something toa
sweet to be relinquished ; that desire which at
any sacrifice must be fiilfilled/'

He gave her a look of quick reproach.

" Begret not a portionless bride," she resumed ;
" of the large fortune which Miss Lee left, your
half alone remains ; mine, I confess it, is gone/^

" Gone I ^^ exclaimed Mr. Lee, evidently taken
by surprise.

"Yes,*^ said Grace, smiling. ^^How did I
know you would ever care for me ; and then it
was so large a fortune; but it was not inex-
haustible, and I drew upon it too largely. Well,
I cannot regret it, for I enjoyed it keenly whilst
it was mine, and spent mc^e on others than on
myself. I know I might have been more prudent,
more wise; but what is done, is done. One

».

240 GRACE LEE.

thing I ask you to forgive me, having delayed
to tell you this. It was, excuse the weakness,
because I wanted to abdicate — as I had reigned
— royally/'

'^And so you abdicate/' he replied; "you,
Miss Lee, who have enjoyed a splendid fortune
so nobly/'

"Do not pity me,'' she interrupted: "when
I was a girl in the North, I longed for wealth,
splendour, and all that money yields. For two
years and more I have had my wish. What
pleasure have I not enjoyed ? What place
famous or beautiful have I not visited ? What
society, high bred, high born, witty, brilliant,
and delightful, have I not had at my command ?
But do not dream that I now retire like a
•monarch satiated with power and splendour.
No, I leave the world in the fulness of my
happiness, — in the strength and freshness of my
years."

'^ Leave the world ! What do you mean ?

}}

GRACE LEE. 241

€C

99

Hear me but. My father left me a moderate
income, more than sufficient to my wants once
I retire to obscurity. Yet a boon I ask from
you. Lend me the house, which of all her pos-
sessions was alone bequeathed to you by Miss
Lee. I shall feel a grateful pleasure in holding
myself your guest.^

^'Surely you do not mean to bury yourself
alive? Surely you will stay in the world you
enjoy so much ? ''

'* Too much to stay in it ! Monarchs who leave
the throne cannot seek too total a change, too
deep a solitude. It would never do to stay here,
no longer the wealthy, the admired, the
worshipped Miss Lee, but plain Miss Lee, poor
Miss Lee, forgotten Miss 'Lee! No ; I will retire
in all my glory, Queen to the last. Again, I say,
do not pity me. All is well as it is. I have
enjoyed the world ; I leave it before disgust has
replaced delight. The gods, it is said, love the
young, and solitude loves the happy .^'

VOL. T.

24i4t GRACE LEE.

then^ and in: his gentlemanly methodical fashion^
stated all the reasons for which he entertained
this opinion. He concluded with a formal, yet
suflSciently cordial assurance of the pleasure Mrs.
Gerald Lee would feel to receive Miss Blount in
her home and take her under her care.

*^ Well, then, it is decided,^* said Grace, rising,
'' and, like an actor whose part is done, I may
retire from the stage. Ah ! would I had acted
my part better, more simply, more humbly, with
less display, less thought of the world's praise, for
which I confess I have cared too much, little as I
did care for its censure. Good-night, Mr. Gerald
Lee, think of me in my solitude, think of me, and
for my sake, be kind to this young girl."

She laid her hand on the shoulder of Lily, who
again began to weep hysterically, and hid her face
on her sister's bosom.

But Grace, who never wept herself, only smiled
and, holding out her hand to Mr.' Lee, again
bade him good-night.

I
I

GBAOli LEE. 245

Gerald Lee was gone. Grace was in her room
alone witli Lily^ who sat quiet and unusually
thoughtful in a deep arm chair. Miss Lee stood
by her in the act of opening a handsome casket^
in which she kept her jewels ; it was bright and
sparkling as that of a Queen. She looked at it
smiling, "After all," she said, "what is dress?
one cannot go beyond diamonds."

Then suddenly turning round she poured the
whole contents of the casket into her sister's
lap.

"This is your portion,'' she said, "fori have
been too extravagant, I confess it, my po6r little
Lily, I have kept you nothing. Would I had
more to give/'

"Give me nothing," exclaimed Lily, looking
flushed and excited, " I am an ungrateful girl ; I
was bom ungrateful — I know it."

Grace laid her hand on her lips and laughed,
and Lily turning her head away wept again.

" How can you weep so easily," asked Grace,

psvr^*

246 GBACE LEE.

'^I keep my tears for sorrows that crush and
conquer me^ not for such trials as we are all bom
to bear."

She went to the window^ raised the thick blue
damask curtains and looked on the green and
silent park beyond. Dawn was blushing in the
sky and the freshness of early morning reposed on
everything she saw. She dropped the curtain
and turning back to Lily^ said quietly^
" I shall hare lovely weather to-morrow.*'
Miss Blount was still fast asleep^ when at

an early hour on the following mornings Grace

I

stood in the dining-room ready to go^ and

bidding a calm adieu to Gerald Lee. To Lily
Miss Lee did not want to bid good-bye. She

did not even wish the servants to suspect
that she was going out for more than the
day. Though she had amply provided for them
all, she again recommended them to Gerald
Lee, then bade him farewell. Her cheerful-
ness contrasted with the gravity of his looks.

GSACfl LEE. £47

Silently he gave her his arm^ to take her down
to the carriage waiting for her below. In the
court they found Vagabond and Scamp, ready
to take, as usual, their mistress to the park.
Vagabond neighed as he recognised . her ; and
Scamp bounded joyously. Grace stepped up to
her favourite horse held by the groom, and
softly stroked his cheek; then suddenly turning
to Gerald, she said, ''Do not sell poor Vagabond;
keep him for my sake : — and be kind to Scamp,''
she added, turning round on the step of the
carriage to give his rough head a last caress.

Before Mr. Lee could reply, the dog had
bounded in and crouched under the seat. In
vain his mistress tried to coax him out; in
vain the groom called and threatened him;
he only whined and wagged his tail.

''Let him stay,'' at length said Grace, "he
loves an ungrateful mistress better than she
deserves to be loved by him. Scamp shall
come with me."

248 GRACE LEE.

She entered the carriage. Rapidly it drove
away from the dwelling where she had led a
life 80 luxurious and so splendid; a life^ which
like a golden dream, had crossed the life of
Grace Lee»

ORACE LEE. 249

CHAPTER XI.

A YEAR had passed away.

It had wrought its changes more dark than
sunny. Lily Blount was the wife of Gerald
Lee. Mr. Lee^s mother was dead; his sister
was a widow ; Captain Glawdon had fought a
last and fatal duel. His antagonist was John
Owen. About that encounter much was said,
little was known. The fortunate duellist was
held up to execration and scorn. He avenged
himself with a book called " Timon,^' that sold
well and read widely; then he vanished into
obscurity as deep and as comiplete as that from
^.hich he had arisen.

The autumn set in early, wet and wild. It

M 8

— ^--

250 GBACE LEE.

found Grace Lee in her mountain home^ happy
though alone; for the History of the Church
still kept Doctor Crankey in Rome. Her dis-
appearance from its horizon had astounded the
London world. For a week no one talked of
„,.I^ ,1». G^ce ™ pitied, .dmi^d, »d
blamed; and finally forgotten.

She too forgot. Gerald and Lily excepted,
she corresponded with none. She severed her-
self completely from her previous life : she kept
it in her memory like a brilliant picture, to
look at now and then; but beyond this she
appeared to have no use for it. Lonely, yet
not unhappy, she enjoyed solitude as she once
had enjoyed the crowd. Seclusion was as plea-
sant to her, as ever had been endless variety
of scene. Scamp was now the only companion
and guardian of walks that rarely extended
beyond the limits of her garden. For days
and weeks her silent home was not deserted;
and her fiowers and her books filled the leisure

OBAGfi LEB. 251

hoorsr of one to whom for years, with one brief
interval, the word leisure had been unknown.
She had resumed the grave studies of her
youth, and an autumn afternoon found her
engaged with them as of old. She sat in a
parlour with a low window, that looked on the
garden bounded by rising hills. A bright fire
burned in the grate; on the red carpet a sun*
beam, that broke through a cloudy and rainy
sky and glided down the misty mountain side,
fell brilliant as living gold. Grace sat in its
light by a table near the window. Her elbow
rested upon it ; her hand supported her cheek ;
her other hand caressed the head of Scamp
lying by her : a heavy volume lay open on her
lap, one of the Greek Fathers. On a stand
opposite her was a small Sevres vase filled with
wild flowers; the last frail blossoms of pale
gold, purple, and azure of the season, gathered
by her hand the day before, far in the
mountains.

25S GBACE LES.

Grace no longer wore the rich silks and bright
gems of her former fortunes^ but her attire was
still tasteful and elegant. Her dark crimson
merino fell in graceful folds around her person;
her bracelet 'of gold Arab coins glittered on her
arm; her sleeves were trimmed with rich lace;
her hair was braided carefully; delicate satin
slippers, embroidered with gold, enclosed her feet
resting on a velvet cushion ; everything around
her bespoke taste, comfort, and ease.

As she sat thus quietly the door opened, a neat

little parlour-maid stepped in, silently laid a

letter before her mistress, then withdrew. Grace

read the letter with a smile; it came from Lily

Blount, now the wife of Gerald Lee, now en-
joying the azure skies, the enchanted shores of

happy Sorrento.

The time had been, too, when Grace had re-
turned from foreign travels; the worshipped lady
greeted by a thousand glad welcomes, and now
she lived alone, and forgotten, in a wild Welsh

OBACE LEE. 258

home^ and another was mistress of all the
splendour^ homage^ and adoration she had re-
signed.

But some^ in things little or great^ laugh at
sorrow^ and defy fate ; and Grace only found a
secret and proud pleasure in the remembrance of
all she had relinquished for love of independence
and scorn of a thraldom degrading when it is not
that of love, but of Mammon.

She looked up at the sky. The sun shone
brightly in a field of pure azure. The vanquished
clouds slowly descended to the west, where,
couched on the far horison they lay in wait for
his coming. light mists stiU floated around the
mountains, now gathering in some crevice of the
rocks, now spreading away softly like a veil,
behind which the, sun lit their barren flanks,
their verdant slopes, and falling streams. Far
below them the garden lay fresh and fragrant.

Grace suddenly put away her book, went up to
her room, and in a few minutes returned dressed

254 OBACE LBE.

for a walk in the mountains. She found Scamp
anxiously waiting for her; with a smile she
summoned him to her side; ere long they had
crossed the garden^ and entered the mountain
desert that enclosed her little Eden.

A mountain region, howsoever beautiful to
look ^at from afar, is not always pleasant on a
nearer view, especially in autumn. The wind
then wakens the saddest echoes of the barren-
looking rocks ; the paths have vanished, washed
away by heavy rains ; the streamlets have swollen
into torrents ; dark and threatening clouds pass
over the peaks and valleys, and seem to guard
and forbid their approach; the whole aspect of
nature, though grand, is wild and desolate. But
Grace, accustomed to a wild life in her youth,
feared neither the sadness nor the loneliness of
mountain scenery. Where others saw nothing
but inaccessible and gloomy caverns, she knew of
paths safe and diy that led out into the open
country, and to green spots, and to low valleys

CRACE LEE. 255

where happy Bummer still lingered. One of
these paths sbe now took.

It led her down to scenery softer and less
grand than that which she could have fonnd
higher up. A stream, gently shaded by a few
broad trees, flowed through a quiet yalley; here
and there scattered on its banks, or climbing the
mountain side, rose small thatched dwellings,
with their patch of garden. The whole place
had a look both pastoral and wild that would
have charmed a painter's heart.

The sun was not near its setting and Grace, to
whom this part of the country was little known,
resolved for once to explore this valley to its end.
She walked on for an hour and, save that the
dwellings became fewer, then vanished altogether,
she still seemed to pass through the same
scenery. An abrupt turning at length brought a
change, both complete and sudden.

The open and sunlit valley had become a
dark and narrow gorge, lying between two steep

236 GRACE LEE.

mountains^ clothed with pines^ from their summit
to their very base, and washed by the rapid and
foaming waters of a sullen looking torrent. Its
rushing noise and the shrill scream of a bird in
the air above were the only sounds that disturbed
the silence of the spot. Still better pleased with
its savage beauty than with the smiling scenes
she had left behind, Grace sat down on a frag-
ment and enjoyed her solitude. Some time
elapsed before she perceived that it was not so
complete as she had at first imagined.

High on a projecting crag rose a tall and
narrow house, something between a modem
dwelling and an ancient ruin. A wild garden
badly fenced in, straggled down around it and
enclosed it on every side; but the gate was
broken, and the doors-teps were worn and moss
covered, the wooden door itself looked frail
and disjointed; and part of the roof had been
laid bare by some treacherous mountain gust.

It stood there isolated and exposed to every

GRACE LEE. 257

blasts like a watch' tower of old, midway between
the brown mountains and the white torrent;
threatened by the one, sapped by the other, yet
still, spite of time and many a storm, bearing a
stern front in its decay.

The sun was now setting ; Grace faced the west,
she saw its last rays glide down the heights that
closed the valley and light with a glow more
lurid, than warm, the walls of the house. Gra-
dually even this faded away ; the sky became of
a dark and cloudy grey, and the mountains
shrouding themselves into soft mists, took that
tint of intense and exquisite blue which they
wear in evening. Scamp whined impatiently, and
his mistress took the hint, by rising to turn
homewards. She had scarcely gone three steps
when a low deep sound caught her ear. She
walked on without heeding it, but soon stopped
short, a white flash had crossed the sky and a few
heavy drops of rain came borne by the wind
against her face ; then there broke another and

258 GBACE LM.

a louder peal^ answered hj every rocky cliff in the
whole valley. A storm was beginnings a storm in
the mountains; a grand sights which Grace had
often enjoyed, but never before without the
shelter of a roof. Awhile she stood stilly
hesitating between the house near her and the
more distant hamlet; the sky was intensely
dark; the torrent flowed beneath it white and
angry; pale mists swiftly descended the moun-
tain side like evil spirits hastening to the con-
flict; the rain began to fall heavily, with it all
hesitation vanished ; Grace hastened up the path
above which stood the soUtary dwelling; she
crossed the garden and knocked at the door,
which unexpectedly yielded to her touch.

It admitted her to a room something between a
kitchen and a parlour. A large deal-wood table
occupied the centre; a few rude chairs stood
against the walls ; a Dutch clock ticked behind
the door, and an ardent fire burned on the wide
hearth, by which an elderly woman of grotesque

GBACE LEE. 259

ugliness sat sewing, or rather mending some male
garment. As Grace stood on the threshold^ not
knowing whether to enter or retire, Scamp de-
cided the question by uttering a low growl, which
ended in a short sharp bark.

" Lawk a mercy ! ^' with a start, exclaimed the
old lady, of whom Grace now noticed that she had
neither the speech nor attire of a native Welsh
woman; an unmistakeable Cockney accent cha-
racterised the former, and a certain city neatness
the latter.

" Down, sir,'^ said Grace to Scamp, who drop-
ped his ears and wagged his tail ; then pushing
the door more widely open, she stepped in, and
with an apology explained the cause of her in-
trusion.

" Don't mention it, ma'am,*' civilly replied the
old lady, whose attire and manner bespoke some-
thing between a housekeeper and a servant;
'' pray walk in, ma'am, and take a seat. This is
awful weather, as you say, and I am sure if my

260 GRACE LEE.

dear young gentleman were at home^ he would
make you very welcome, and* the little doggie
too ; pretty dear."

'' The little doggie ! *' nowise soothed by this
compliment, entered :with a subdued growl, and
with a watchful glance lay down by his mistress.
Grace drew a seat near the hearth, and un-
fastened and shook her cloak, which her hos-
te^s officiously took from her and hung up to
dry.

" Only think, ma'am, you are nearly wet
through; do take off your bonnet ; pray
make yourself at home; my young gentleman
won't be in just yet, and even if he were to
come in, I am sure he would only be too happy
to receive a lady ! Lawk a mercy, what a flash !
If my poor yoimg gentleman is out in them
mountains he'll get wet to the skin, poor dear !
and he is so delicate — a mere gossamer.'*

She sat down with an air of concern. Grace
repressed a smile, suggested, not by her uneasi-

GfiAG£ LEE. 261

ness^ but by the comparison in which it had
pleased her fancy to express it.

" Do you like Wales, ma'am ? *' was the next
and somewhat abrupt remark of her hostess.

" Yes/' replied Grace, "don't you? "

" I can't say I do to live in," was the qualified
reply. "If it were not for my dear young
gentleman I don't think I could stay here
twenty-four hours."

" Then you stay for his sake ? "

"Why yes, ma'am, what would the poor
dear do without me ? He is as simple as a
child, ma'am, and the sweetest temper? There
never was such a blessing to all Wales as when
he came to settle in it."

" And was that long ago ? " asked Grace ;
who began to feel inquisitive about this paragon
of goodness and perfection.

" Just upon a week, ma'am. The very day
he came, he cured a poor woman of the fever ;
before yesterday he set a broken arm, and to-day

w^

262 GBACE LEE.

be is gone through wet and wind to see a poor
consumptive creature/'

*' Is he a physician then ? '*

'^ No a'am^ he is not a physician; he is
what / call a great deal better — ^a surgeon.
Do you think the people about here are likely
to pay well ? Not that I mean to say my young
gentleman is not a great deal above depending
on anything of the sort. StiU it might be a
consideration^ you know/'

That it might be a very important one Grace
saw readily enough from the choice of the
surgeon's dwellings and the bare and poverty-
stricken aspect of everything around her. Her
reply was vague and doubtful. This . was a
matter she said that depended entirely on the
class of people with whom the surgeon had
to deal.

" Ah ! I see, I see ! " sagaciously said the
old lady, and she looked rather thoughtfully
at the fire, with her work lying idly on her lap.

ORACE LEE. 268

From this fit of abstraction she suddenly woke
up to observe, as she saw Grace looking at her
cloak :

''It is not dry yet, ma'am, and the storm
is not over; pray don't think of going! My
young gentleman will not be in for hours, and
as I said, he would only be too happy to receive
a lady. But will you take nothing? — ^you must
be thirsty after your long walk."

In vain Miss Lee assured her that she wanted
for nothing; her hostess was determined on
being hospitable, and left the room to prpduce
some exquisite elder wine of her own making.

Grace remained alone rather amused at her
position. Here she was intruding her feminine
presence on the bachelor establishment of a
young and gallant surgeon new to the neigh-
bourhood. There seemed, moreover, no means
of departing for some time. The thunder still
pealed amongst the mountains, and the sound
of the falling rain blended with that of the

264 GRACE LBK

torrent that rushed past the house. Grace
loved those wild sounds mingling vaguely around
that wild home. She listened to them in a
.dreamy mood ; sitting close to the fire with her
feet on the low iron fender, one of her hands
supporting her bare head. An unexpected
sound, that of the opening door, suddenly
roused her from her reverie and caused her to
look round.

GRACE LEE. 265

CHAPTEE XII.

A GENTLEMAN stood Oil the threshold looking
at her with evident surprise. The light came
from behind him and feU on her face; he saw
her^ but she could not see him.

" Miss Lee ! ^^ he exclaimed^ entering. Scamp
rose and wagged his tail with friendly welcome,
and, with a start, Grace recognised the voice, and
as he approached, the features and bearing of
John Owen.

^'Mr. Owen,^^ she said, rising quietly. ^^Ah!
how are you to-day ?^^

She held out her hand to him as if they had
met the week before.

"To-day,^^ he echoed, taking her hand;

YOL. I. N

266 GRACE LEE.

''how many days is it since we last met^ Miss
Leef^'

''Really, I do not know: four hundred odd
I dare say. What matter ; you know, or perhaps
you do not know, that I do not belieye in Time.
Do you ? ''

" I cannot help myself; I must believe in it.
And how have you been since those four hun-
dred days odd?^^

" WeU : and you ? ''

" Well, too, thank you ; though somewhat wet
just now.'*

He was Wet even to the dark hair that
clung to his cheek and brow. He shook
his head impatiently, took off his cloak,
hung it up by that of Grace, then sat down,
like her, by the hearth. For the first time
it struck Miss Lee that John Owen was no
other than the fascinating young surgeon,
master of the house in which she had taken
shelter.

GBACE LKE. 267

"Mr. Owen/^ she said, suddenly; "can you
give me some information ? "

" That depends on the nature of the informa-
tion/' he replied, looking up with a smile.

" In whose house am I ? '^

'^ In mine, for the present."

Grace smiled, too, as she looked at him; a dark
forbidding man, and remembered he was also the
" dear young gentleman." He continued :

'' You did not know it f "

*^No; I came in driven by the storm, and
found a most hospitable reception."

** Yes, Mrs. Skelton is very-kind, and here she
is." As he spoke the housekeeper entered,
bearing on a tray the bottle of elder wine, and
a plate, with a glass and a biscuit.

" Lawk a mercy ! " she began, on seeing Mr.
Owen.

" Don't mention it," he interrupted im-
patiently; "wet never kills. What are you
bringing us ? Elder wine ! rank poison ! Do

N 2

268 GEACB LEE.

not touch it, Miss Lee ; I have some port from
Mr. Hanley^s own cellar, which I brought down
here to drink his health with, and you shall
try it/'

He opened a cupboard, brought forth a bottle,
and filled the glass of Grace. She took it,
amused at the half offended look of Mrs. Skelton.

"I like wine," she said; ^^it reminds me of
the sun, of vineyards, of festoons of luscious
grapes running from tree to tree, and of merry
brown southern faces alive with life and light.'*

*^ And it reminds me,'' morosely replied John
Owen, " of the luxurious tables of the rich ; of
after-dinner jests, loud and vacant; of hoarse
laughter, sickening imbecility ; of faces flushed
with excess; of sounds that deafen the brain,
and of glaring lights that weary the eyes."

Grace smiled and drank quietly, then spoke no
more, but glanced furtively at her host. He sat
opposite her in a bending attitude ; the light of
the flame played on his swarthy face; it looked

GRACE LEE. 269

darker and more forbidding than ever. The
brow now seemed habitually knit^ and the mouth
sarcastic. " Timon, indeed/' thought Grace.

Timon made no sort of effort to entertain her.
He left her to Mrs. Skelton, who sat a little in
the background^ and was as voluble as he was
silent. She chose the fertile theme of his virtues
and perfections^ and did not seem to consider his
presence any objection. For some time he did
not appear to mind her; but Mrs. Skelton^ like
the lover who left his mistress to write to her,
happening, in her pleasure of talking about him
to forget that he was by, and to designate him
two or three times as her dear young gentleman,
deploring, in the same breath, the delicacy of his
health and general tenderness of his nature, he
raised his head with a calm amazement that nearly
disconcerted the gravity of Grace. Then, like
Neptune looking above the ocean, when his
domain had been invaded by Eolus, with a word
he checked this unloosening of speech*

270 GBACE LEE.

'* Mrs. Skelton/^ he said, rather grandly, " can
we have tea, if yon please? ''

^' To be snre, sir" she replied, rising at once
to prepare the meal.

Satisfied with this he relapsed into his previous
attitude and silence. In less than a quarter of
an hour the tea was made and poured out, and
the table placed between John Owen and his
guest. He was as silent during the meal
as before it; when it was over, Grace rose
to go.

*' The storm is over," she said, " and I think
I can now return to my own home.'*

" And there is nothing in this sorry dwelling
to make me press you to stay longer,*' he replied,
rising too.

He took down his hat, Grace put on her
bonnet and cloak, whilst Mrs. Skelton emitted
doubts on the wisdom of departing as yet. The
event proved the correctness of her conjectures.
As Mr. Owen and his guest stood on the

GBACE LBE. £71

tbreshold of the open door, they paused
involuntarily.

The storm was over; the moon shone dimly
in a clouded sky; the mists that slept on the
opposite mountains looked chill and gray in her
cold light; bright and glancing the torrent
flowed in the gloom of the valley below; but
there was an unusual fiiUness in its sound that
at once caught the ear of John Owen. He
stepped out ; a look showed him all. Wherever
bis eyQ fell water flowed; the mountain stream
had overrun its banks, and everywhere broke
around the projecting crag on which rose his
dwelling; one spot alone remained free; the
steep and pathless mountain behind. Grace
had followed him out, and with a dismayed
glance saw all this.

^* There is no help for it/' at length said her
host, ''you must stay here to-night. Miss Lee,
and accept of Mrs. Skelton's room.''

I suppose so,'' she quietly replied, and.

It

272 GKACB LEE.

submitting patiently to a disagreeable necessity^
she re-entered the house, took off her bonnet
and cloak, and resumed her seat by the fire-side.
John Owen too put by his hat and went back
to his place; Scamp, as if he understood it all,
stretched himself at full length between them,
and basking in the light of the fire, fell fast
asleep. Mrs. Skelton, after exhausting every
adjective of regret and condolence, imitated
his example, and nodded over her work. Her
quiet figure in the back-ground did not break
on the tSte-k-tSte of the two who sat by the
ardent fire, with the lamp burning between
them. At first both were silent; then John
Owen, giving his sleeping housekeeper an im-
patient glance, but feeling himself bound by
the laws of hospitality to do or say something,
looked up at Grace and suddenly opened the
conversation. "And so. Miss Lee," he said,
" you are again paying a visit to Wales ? '^
" No— I am not on a visit : I live here/^

6BACE LEE. 273

" Ah ! indeed/^ and he looked surprised^ *' I
thought/* he resumed, " your tastes were essen-
tially wandering/*

"They were so once, but now I sit down in
peace by the domestic hearth, and traveller-like
think it pleasant to remember the lands I have
visited, and to see again with the mind^s eye
the pictures, of which the living reality once
charmed me, and I live a quiet life in the house
that once belonged to the late Miss Lee."

He looked at her keenly. He sought in her

eyes and on her brow the signs of wounded love

or mortified pride; but no heart sorrow, no bitter

and corroding thought had there left their traces.

There was a pause ; he broke it by saying, ^^ And

so. Miss Lee, this is now your destiny ! Not two

years ago we met here in Wales. You were rich

and lived in a tumult of pleasure ; I was poor,

but ambitious, and richer than you in hope. We

left within the same week; you to spend your

fortune, I to win mine. And. now Time has

17 3

274 GRACE LEE.

brought us back^ children of the same soil^ to our
mountains^ and finds you as wearied of pleasure
as I am wearied of ambition/'

"No, I cannot say that/' replied Grace; "I
was not at all wearied of pleasure/'

" Then what a dreary change ! For one accus-
tomed to wealth, to luxury, to endless adulation,
to find herself thus almost poor, and entirely
deserted. How you must hate it. Miss Lee 1 "
No, I cannot say that either/'
Do you like it, then?" he asked, with a
look that seemed to tell her, *'you may try to
deceiye me, but I warn you, it is useless."

The warning was not seen or heeded by Grace.
Without answering his question she looked at the

fire and smiled, more to herself than to him.

*

" I was reared a poor girl," she said at length ;
"my father loved me, but he was what is called
near; he bought my frocks himself, and they
were neither many nor splendid. I remember
a pink gingham that nearly sent me mad with

€(

€<

GRACE LEE. 275

joy^ for I confess it, I have always been too fond
of dress. When he died and I went to the North
and lived in a place not quite so picturesque, but
nearly as wild as this, between an old priest and
his cousin, who always thought me too fine, I was
still worse ofi; I was scarcely smarter than a
cottage girl, yet I was very happy. When I
became so suddenly rich, and had more pocket-
money, even as a minor, than I have now of
entire income, I bought everything I set my
eyes on, and thought I never had enough ; but
since that fortune has left me, I have fallen quite
naturally into the old way, and I whose dresses
were said to outnumber those of any woman in
England, am now quite satisfied with such toilet
as I can afibrd. And with other things it is ks
with thisj — everything around me is changed,
yet I am happy/'

" Philosophy ! '* observed John Owen, a little
ironically.

" Not a bit of it,'' she replied ; '^ temperament.

276 GRACE LEE.

no more. My temper has always led me to be
happy; and I am so^ perhaps^ because I make no
effort to succeed. I read^ I tend my flowers, I
work, I take long walks, and thus life passes
pleasantly/'

" And you see no one ? ''

*^ No one/'

" Yet you were fond of society, of pleasure, of
travelling."

'^ Well ; and have I not had more than my
share of them all ? "

"Your solitude must be oppressive.''

She laughed gaily at the idea,

''Truly you have a happy temper."

'* Mr. Owen," said Grace, throwing back her
head a little, " that is not all ; I would scorn to
be conquered by anything mortal. When God
lays his hand on me I submit. All else I
defy."

She spoke with a warm flush on her cheek ;
with truth in her eyes and frankness in her very

GRACE LEE. 277

tone. He looked at her with something between
admiration and envy in his gaze ; hej too, defied
everything mortal^ but not quite in a mood so
open and so firee as this once spoiled child of
fortune.

''And so/' suddenly said Grace, in her turn
assuming the lead in the conversation, '' and so
you too, Mr. Owen, are settled here. How do
you like it ? ''

" I am like you — I like anything."

''No, Mr. Owen, I do not like anything; but
I bear anything. How can you, a man of talent
and energy, like being buried in this wilderness ?"

"Because the peopled world gave me no
opening, or none such as a man of honour could
pursue. Better a desert with its silence and
solitude."

" Are you happy ? "

"I never looked for happiness, but for that
which I never could win — victory .''

Grace looked at him, — their eyes met; he

278 GRACE LEE.

smiled; tbe smile of a still defiant^ though van-
quished man.

"Yes/' she said, ''you have been conquered,
and I have read your ' Timon.' It is a bad book,
Mr. Owen ; cynical, misanthropic^ cruel, fiill of
slanders on human nature, and with but one
redeeming virtue — ^its marvellous eloquence/'

'' You know how to mingle gall and sweetness.
Miss Lee.''

" You may smile, Mr. Owen ; I know that in
what I have said, you liked the gall and not the
sweetness. You did not write that book to get
praise, but to inflict a sting. You threw down
a glove of defiance, and when it was picked up,
and you got insult for insult and scorn for scorn,
you felt glad, for you knew the sting had gone
home."

''And pray how do you know all this?" he
asked, somewhat surprised.

" Easily enough ; if there had been but two
or three grains more of hemlock or night-

GRACE LEE. 279

shade in my temper, I should have felt just like
you/'

'' Hemlock and nightshade, — ^thank you. Miss
Lee/'

" You need not, you are welcome/'

^' I wonder," he said, looking up at her fixedly,
'* I wonder how it is. Miss Lee, we seem unable
to meet without quarrelling. I shelter you this
evening beneath my roof, a belated traveller; we
begin quietly enough, and you end by telling me
that I am made up of hemlock and nightshade ! "

She laughed, but said, without replying, " Mr.
Owen, your fire is nearly out, your housekeeper
is fast asleep, your lamp is burning low, and your
guest is getting faint with this long vigil."

He called Mrs. Skelton, who woke with an
apologetic start, and at once showed Miss Lee
up to the room they were to share for the night.

When the housekeeper came down the next
morning, she found her master already below;
he stood at the open door looking on the high

280 GRACE LEE.

waters that still shut in his dwelling. On hearing
Mrs. Skelton he turned from the view with an
impatient look and a clouded brow.

" The poor young lady will not be able to go
to-day yet, sir/^ suggested Mrs. Skelton, whilst
lighting the fire.

"Miss Lee is not so very young/** sharply
replied Mr. Owen, to whom the idea of having
" a young lady " thus fastened upon him was
highly distasteful.

" I don't think she is old either/' a little tartly
returned Mrs. Skelton, " but young or old she is
a dear creature. Not pretty, perhaps, but a great
deal better : a real lady without a bit of pride."

" Is she up ? ''

" She is not awake yet,'' was the evasive
answer.

"Mrs. Skelton," said Owen, stopping short
before her, "where did Miss Lee sleep last
night ? "

Dead silence.

GRACE LEE. 281

" I confess," he continued, looking displeased,
" poor as this place is in accommodation, I did
not expect the sight which met my eyes this
morning : as I came down stairs, I saw through
your room-door, which you had inadvertently left
open, Miss Lee dressed and fast asleep in an old
arm-chair. Now "

" Indeed, sir," deprecatingly interrupted Mrs.
Skelton, "I could not help it. She is a very
nice lady, but surely she has been used to have
her way. Once she got out of me that I had
rheumatic pains, all I could say or do would not
make her take my bed, which, to say the truth,
was never meant for two. She said §he was
young and strong, and that it would be an
adventure for her to sleep in a chair. I told her
you would be vexed; she laughed and replied,
she was not afraid of you, and bade me not teU.
In short, she would have her way. So she just
took out her pins, — shook down her beautiful
hair, — I wanted to lend her one of my frilled

288 GRAC£ I^EE.

*

nightcapsi but it sqems she never wears any^ —
then wrapped herself up in her cloakj sat down
with that big dog of hers at her feet^ laid her
head ba^k, and in five minutes was as soundly
asleep as. a child; and there she is sleeping stilly
I'll be bound/^

*^No, Mrs. Skelton, I am awake now, if you
please/' said the voice of Grace, entering the
room, followed by Scamp.

'' I beg your pardon, ma'am/' said Mrs.
Skelton, a little confused.

"For having said that I was still asleep,— I
grant it freely. Mr. Owen, have the charity to
tell me if there will be any getting away to-day
out of your Noah's ark I To me the waters
of the deluge still seem to flow high and
threatening/'

^' Noah's ark has proved but a sorry sleeping-
place for you, Miss Lee."

"Now good Mr. Noah, do not look so put
out; on my honour I never slept better: but,

a

QRACE LEE. 283

seriously, do you thiuk this stone ark of yours
solid?''

''It will last longer than either you or I, —
provided some rock fall not on it from above/' '

" I do not fear rocks just now. All my dread
is of water. Surely that perverse little stream
must end by going away.^

His reply was ambiguous. There was no
accounting for the caprices of mountain streams ;
this one might flow back in its bed in a few hours,
or it might remain thus a few days. Grace at
first looked blank, but soon rallying, asked if
the ark were victualled ? Her host turned to his
housekeeper, who looked up from the fire-place
to reply, by reckoning categorically on her fingers.

'' In the first place we have got plenty of tea."

'' And water, ditto," suggested Grace ; " so
far good."

'' Secondly, a little sugar,"

" Better a little, than none," wisely said Miss
Lee. " Any milk, Mrs. Skelton ? "

9M GRACE LEE.

''Not a drop of milk or cream ini the wide
world/^' replied Mrs. Skelton, emphatically raising
both her hands.

'' If some stray goat would only pay us a visit.
Bah I what matter ; one can do without milk at
a pinch. Any bread, Mrs. Skelton ? "

" Half a loaf, ma'am, but plenty of flour."

''And an oven for baking, — I see it. What
else?"

Mrs. Skelton coughed and looked ashamed.

" To-morrow is market-day," she began, " and
not having any idea how that tricksy water was
going to serve us out "

" You had laid in no provisions — naturally."

" You have come to a splendid household. Miss
Lee," said John Owen, looking not ashamed, but
galled at this exposure of his poverty, "magnificent
is the hospitality you receive ! Not even a bed
to sleep in — ^not even a meal to eat ! "

He laughed, and Grace echoed the sound with
a light mocking laugh, as pleasant as his was

I

GRACE LEE. 285

bitter. He looked up at her^ reddening and

irritated. The smile of her laugh was still

playing on her features like the last ripple of a

breaking wave.

^' Come," she resumed gaily, '' I see poor Scamp,

with his robust canine appetite, is likely to prove

a troublesome guest;. so he must needs act the

part of dove. Scamp ! "

The Newfoundland, who was lying gravely

on the hearth, rose at the voice of his mistress.

She sat down, tore a leaf out of her pocket-book,

wrote a few words on it with her pencil-case,

twisted the paper, and fastened it securely under

the collar of Scamp. She took care to inform

him it was for Phoebe her maid, and for no one

else; he heard her with a sagacious air, then,

when she beckoned to him, he followed her out,

already half understanding his mission. On

the door-steps Grace paused. The morning

was soft and stormy, with a clouded sky;

everywhere heavy mists limited the horizon.

266 GBACE L££.

Below Miss Lee the water rushed with a deep
and sullen sounds and soon vanished^ hidden in
the low clouds which filled the bottom of the
valley. She looked wistfully at the white and
foaming stream^ then at Scamp^ and laid her
hand on his head with evident reluctance. At
length she took a sudden resolve, stooped, gave
his rough head a hasty kiss, and with the word
''Home,^^ sent him on his errand. Scamp
deliberately shook himself, walked down to the
water's edge, plunged in, and gravely swam down
the stream. The gaze of his mistress followed
bim until he was out of sight, then with a sigh of
relief, she re-entered the house; on the threshold
she found her host.

^^ I envy you that noble creature," he said with
some warmth.

"Do you I then when I part from Scamp
you shall have him. You do not think
there is any danger for him, do you?" she
added, giving another look at the foamy track

J

. GBACE LEE. 287

along which her faithful Newfoundland had
vanished.

" Certainly not, if one may judge by the cool
and easy style in which he took his departure.
Besides the stream is sure to become smoother as
he goes down/'

'* Heaven have mercy on us ! *' solemnly
ejaculated the voice of Mrs. Skelton from within.
They looked, and saw her standing the picture
of grief and dismay before the open cupboard.
Melancholy to relate ! her half loaf had during
the night become the prey of foraging mice.
The sight of this calamity at first quite overcame
her; but soon rallying : —

" PU get a cat ! *' she exclaimed in great wrath.
" 1^11 get a cat t the nasty little vermin shall not
have it all their own way.*'

The breakfast was then reduced to tea, with
little sugar and no milk.

'' Well, Miss Lee," said John Owen, casting an
ironical look at the empty board, ''what do you

288 GRACE LEE.

say to this meal ? Surely it oflFers you the charm
of novelty ! What a breakfast for a lady who has
had the pink and flower of French cooks ; who
has fed on the most luxurious fare of every
land : bad tea to drink and nothing to eat.'^

" I do not care,^^ independently replied Grace ;
'^ I feel above eating just now. I have a fancy
that it must be something excessively vulgar.
So, Mr. Owen, please not to lavish any of your
pity upon me. It is not needed." ^

And allowing Mrs. Skelton to lament this
unfortunate event, to abuse the water for shutting
them in, and the mice for eating the bread. Miss
Lee quietly drank her tea and looked as she said,
"above eating.*^ The meal over, — it did not
take long to despatch, — she suddenly vanished
with Mrs. Skelton. Soon the sound of their
two voices, one clear and pleasant as youth, the
other harsh and unsteady as age, reached Mr.
Owen from a dilapidated pantry behind the house.
In going up stairs he caught a glimpse of them ;

6BACE LEE. 289

they vere both deep in flour and dough; Mis,
Skelton vas imparting precepts in the art of
bread-making, which Grace — a white apron on^
her sleeves tncked up, and her handsome arms
bare and free — was reducing into practice. She
looked merry and amused with her novel task.

Glad to find that his guest had disposed of
herself so as not to tax his politeness too far, so
as not to render hospitality a bore and a burden,
Timon»retreated to a wide den-like room on the
first floor, where it was his wont to retire to the
company he best loved, that of his own thoughts ;
thoughts too gloomy and bitter, but all the more
congenial to his habitual mood.

There was a window that overlooked the vallev ;
it commanded a view, grand and dreary, of barren
heights and rushing waters. He stood watching
them, as sullen and discontented with his fate as
they seemed to be with their rocky bed. A
disappointed ambitious man never yet made a
genuine misanthrope. John Owen hated the

YOL. I.

290 GRACE LEE.

world, but not the world^s prizes ; his scorn did
not reach them ; and whilst a longing and a wish
remained, what could solitude be but a ceaseless
torment. He stood as we said by the window,
his elbow resting on its bar, his brow on his
hand, his gaze diving down the valley, seeking
nothing, and pleased with nothing that it rested
on. Yet it watched abstractedly at first, atten-
tively in the end, a black speck slowly coming up
the stream and seen for some time through mists,
then more near and distinct.

It was a boat manned by two men ; he guessed
their errand, and went down to prepare Grace for
her liberation.

He found her in the kitchen parlour kneeling
on the floor by the fire, watching the baking of a
small round cake in its hot ashes, and absorbed
in the task.

^^ Miss Lee,'' he said, "I bring welcome tidings;
the starving garrison is relieved; a boat is coming
to bear you away from your dreary prison-house.

99

GRACE LEE. 291

" Scamp is safe ! " were her first words ; '' and
so they are coming for me ! I was getting used
to this Noah^s ark — ^to this being shut out from
the world and feeling thrown on one's own
resources. Now it seems I must go back to civi-
lisation ! And my cake is not quite baked^
though getting of a rich brown hue, most tempt-
ing to the eye. Well I had always heard that
life is made up of disappointments. Are they
near, I*wonder ! '*

"FU go and see, ma'am,'' oflSciously said
Mrs. Skelton.

She left the house, stayed a while away, then
came back with the tidings that the boat was
really come for Miss Lee. Grace half sighed;
she looked reluctant to depart, and did not care

to hide it ; she rose, however, put on her bonnet

and cloak, and stepped out. Yes, there lay the

boat quietly waiting for her at the foot of the

crag, with her two rowers resting from their

toil.

o -2

292

GRACB LEE.

. *^ Do you stay in the citadel, or will you leave
it awhile ? '^ asked Orace, turning to her host.

"Thank you/' he carelessly replied; '^I feel
well here, and nothing calls me out.^^

" Stay, then, in your island. Thanks for your
hospitality. Mrs. Skelton, I fancy my cake is
burning.^'

V

*' Bless you no, ma'am; shall I send it to
you ? '^

" No, eat it hot for my sake/'

She kissed her, gave her hand to Mr, Owen,
and with his aid stepped into the boat, which at
once shot swiftly down the stream.

GRACE LEE. 293

CHAPTER XIII.

John Owen watched the boat until it was ou
of sight, then re-entered the house* He saf
down by the fire-side, not sorry to find his home
again his own. Everything in his late guest
suggested lessons against which his pride rebelled.
Her hopeful cheerfulness was like the living
and embodied reproach of his discouraged and
bitter mood. She had forsaken the brightest
realities of life, and she seemed to deride sorrow.
Wealth, the world^s incense, love perhaps, had
passed from her, and still she smiled like one
whom fate could not reach. Change of fortune
had not changed her. If he had found her
depressed, if he had detected in her manner a

294 GRACE LEE.

whit more huinility and less pride, John Owen
would have despised her as one whom the loss or
gain of money could move; but seeing her
unaltered, he felt compelled, according to his
estimate of , men and womlen, to respect and
admire Grace Lee as one above both her sex
and her kind, as one whose heart fate could not
conquer, whose pride fortune could not humble.
He was too much absorbed in these thoughts to
notice some very suspicious feminine proceedings
then going on under his eyes. Grace, in her
message home had inserted a liberal order for
provisions, which the boat had brought and the
boatmen duly delivered to Mrs. Skelton. This
lady had prudently ignored the fact, until the
boat was fairly gone ; for as she internally argued,
her dear young gentleman was odd at times, and
he might just have packed the whole of the
goodly hamper back, which would have l^een a
mortal shame, besides that it might have affronted
the kind young lady. So she kept her pe^ce.

.GRACE LEE. 295

and waited until she saw her master deep in one
of his thinking fits^ to introduce and safely stow
away the said hamper. The noise, however
' roused him, and he looked up interrogatively.

Mrs. Skelton, standing between the hamper
and her master, said in careless explanation—

'^It's only a bit of a basket, sir, which the
lady has been kind enouGch to send, just until
that water goes down and I can go to market — ^^

^' Very well," he carelessly interrupted, for he
Baw nothing extraordinary in this, and rising, he
took his hat and went out.

The swollen stream might flow around his
dwelling and shut him in from men; but the
mountain side, though steep, still afforded space
for wandering. He did not go far; high up
above the valley, underneath the projecting brow
of the mountain, he found a barren hollow, and
there, though the place was bleak and cold, he
threw himself down recklessly. Lying thus on
that hard bed of rock ; below him the waters he

296 GRACB LEE.

m

could not cross, above him the cliffs he could not
scale, his gloomy fancy saw in his present

position, the type of his destiny.

Yet his thoughts were not all hitter; the

modern poetry of sentiment he had not ; but he

had much of the more healthful poetry of the

ancients. He loved the beautiful country in

which he was bom and had been reared ; dear to

him were her skies, her noble - mountains, her

lakes and streams. Dear to him under every sky

were the grand and solemn aspects of nature.

As he now lay there, stretched in one of her

wildest haunts, he found an austere charm in the

almost wintry mien she wore. Around him lay a

wilderness of heath, brown rocks, and stunted

brushwood. Near his head an invisible spring

trickled down from above with a low murmur ;

above him spread a gray and ever-changing sky.

The spot was not beautiful, but it was lone ; it

was not pleasant, but it lay on a Welsh mountain,

wild and free ; and as the wind swept by him with

i

GRACE LEB, 297

a low wail, as clouds floated past white and chill
through the silent air, John Ow^n, spite of a
disappointment that still rankled eager ambition
and stern pride, felt almost happy.

There may be something in the breath of the
mountains that quickens the flow of the blood
and thrills through the nerves; but these glorious
children of earth, born of her in her vigorous
youth^ when she could bring forth none save a
Titan brood, have a still deeper power over the
soul than* over the frame of man« More than
the pathless sea to the mariner, to the rider his
swift steed, do they speak to him who seeks them
of liberty. They dwell in a region where ceases
all law save that of the elements ; they rear above
the clouds that form, our lower sky, barren
summits tl?at know no master, and Toil, that
tyrant of the pleasant valleys and fertile plains,
sleeps at their feet a silent and a conquered foe.

When John Owen came down and re-entered
hia dreary dwelling, he found Mrs. Skelton

o3

298 GRACX LEX.

standing on the door-step and examining some
bright object.

" Sir/' she said, holding it up to him, **!£ 3roa
please, the lady has forgotten this; outlandish
pieces made to look like gold though not quite so
bright/'

"They are gold/' replied Mr. Owen, recog-
nising the favourite bracelet of Grace.

Mrs. Skelton smiled with sceptical shrewdness.
''Gold pieces,*' she argued, "were not quite so
plentiful as to be strung that way for ladies to
wear round their wrists; howeTer, if she only
knew where the lady lived, she would return it
of course."

" I shall leave it with her the first time I go

out," interrupted Mr. Owen, and taking the
bracelet he quietly put it in his pocket,

Mrs. Skelton looked blanks he perceived^ but

would not heed it. He wanted to see and know

of Miss Lee as little as possible. He had come

to Wales to break with a past which her presence

GRACE LEE. 299

brought back to him vivid and distinct. He

»

resolved to call^ return her bracelet^ and see her
no more. Garrulous Mrs. Skelton should have
no hand in the business^ and woman-like entangle
him into an acquaintance.

For two days the torrent rose higher around
his dwelling; it reached the threshold^ then
retreated.

" That enemy at least is vanquished,'* thought
Owen, as he stood on the door-step watching the
sullen waters going back to their bed. He went
out in the afternoon to visit a few patients ; the
sun was near its setting when he reached Miss
Lee''s house, and her little maid Phcebe intro-
duced him into the parlour of her mistress.

She was absent, but tokens of her presence
remained. The low chair she had filled still
stood by the table, with the cushion on which her
feet had rested. Her Greek Father lay open ; a
skein of silk marked the page she had been
reading ; a piece of canvas with a rose half

800 GRACE LEE.

worked, and in a vase by it a living rose
(whereby to copy the shading of Nature), com-
pleted this mixture of grave and frivolous occu-
pations, John Owen glanced at the Greek
volume, then at the unfinished task, then smiled
a little ironically.

" What do you think of it ? ^' asked the voice
of Grace.

He looked up ; she stood on the threshold of a
glass door that opened on the garden. Behind
her spread a clear back-ground of air, breezy
trees, and blue sky; whilst on her face and figure
gently fell the mellow light of the sun-lit room,

^^Have I succeeded or not?'' she continued,
entering.

"Very well, indeed;" he replied, rising and
accepting her extended hand. "And so,'' he
added, resuming his seat as she carelessly sank
down into hers ; **' and so you read Greek, Miss
Lee?"

"To be sure," she promptly replied; "don't

I

1

GEACE LEE. 801

yo'a ?^^ And she gave him a look of seeming
wonder.

''A little/^ he diffidently answered.

'^ How did you leave yonr ark ? ^'

''Easily enough; the deluge subsided/'

"HowisMrs. Skelton?''

''Well: she found this/'

He drew forth the bracelet of gold coins.

"Oh, I am so glad I'' exclaimed Grace with
sparkling eyes. " Thank you, Mr. Owen, thank
you.''

Joyfully she took it &om his hand ; then taking
up her work she said :

" I do this, Mr. Owen, because T like it, and
because you being a sort of savage — "

"Eh!''

*' Well, what are you ? Have you not forsworn
civilisation and her wicked ways ? "

"True; pray go on — 'and being a sort of
savage — ' "

" Do you prefer Timon ? Apropos, Mr. Owen,

8(^2 GEACB LBB.

I have been looking over that book again. Do
you know I am astonished you ever wrote it/'

" Indeed J '' he .answered with some indiflFer-
enee, for he already wanted to be gone.

"Yes, indeed/' she continued, going on witl.
her rose ; " in the firiSt place, it fails as a novel.''

'^ It was not meant to succeed as a novel," he
said with some disdain.

"Then, pray^ what business has 'A Tale' in
the title-page ? "

"None, I confess it. 'Truths' should have
been the word/'

" In my opinion, ' Abuse ' would have answered
better. And this is what I cannot make out.
How could you — ^yes, Mr. Owen, how could you
stoop to abuse ? "

She looked at him fixedly and inquiringly, and
he returned the glance with one of some wonder
at this catechising. She composedly resumed :

" I know that some men of genius have stooped
to satire, but I also know that it was not then that

i

ORACB LEE. 808 '

'their genius burned with purest and brightest

*

flame. Abuse is so very vulgar! Ay, in the
streets or in a palace its essence is still vulgarity ;
and then it is so easy ! — ^wbo cannot, once fairly
about it, abuse something or some one ? The only
art is to ransack naemory for reflections, false or
true j for epithets choice or coarse, then to deal
them forth according to the measure of one^s taste
and temper. It is bad spoken, and written ten
times ivorse. For who knows not that where there
is a failure of some higher power, poverty of inven-
tion, of imagination, feeling, fancy and the noble
gifts that spriug like gracious plants from the
depths of a writer^s heart ; abuse of a class, a creed
or a nation is resorted to, like the hot spice with
which a distressed cook tries to hide the deficiencies
of an indifffeyent dish. For my part, I confess it,
when I read such a bpok, I keep my pity for the
satirist. I pity him as I pity that peevish and
fretful insect the wasp, that has just power enough
to sting, but to whom God has not granted the

SOI GKACE LEE.

nobler and mightier power to vonnd. Indeed^
Mr. Owen," she added, laying down her work to
give him a compassionate glance, " I think
it a great pity and a great shame yon
should have mixed yoorself np with that low-
mioded, mean-hearted, and bad-tempered class of
people."

She spoke very composedly, without nndne
haste, with nothing like apprehension in her look
or hesitation in her tone. John Owen had heard
her through, mute, and amazed at her audaci^.
He possessed that power of subdued sarcasm which
a look, a word, a sneer can express — a power than
which nothing perhaps in this wide world is more
feared and hated ; bnt for once he found one as
fearless as others were cowardly, one who in a few
minutes told him more truths than he had ever
heard during his whole lifetime. The secret of
winning power is often to assume it as granted.
By taking on herself the right to lecture Timon,
Grace Lee secured it once for all. Her daring and

GRACE LEE. 305

her frankness left a soothing cliarm in the very
sting her unsparing speech inflicted. Pleased with
her in spite of himself^ he condescended to argue
with her, a thing he rarely did with man or woman.

" If I understand you rightly/' he begto, "you
wish for a millenium of peace/'

" Peace !'* she interrupted, "peace on earth I — -
whilst wrong reigns insolent and triumphant; '
whilst truth groans miserable and oppressed. No^
Mr. Owen, Heaven forbid that I should wish for
peace!''

"And pray what would you wish for?"

" For war instead of mere quarrelling. I respect
attack as much as I despise abuse. I long for the
day when facts and argument shall take the pl^ce
of falsehoods and insults ; when the battles of
truth shall be fought with Truth's own arms,
truths — and not with the arms of her step-sister.
Slander — ^lies."

He was leaning back in an arm-chair ; &om its
depths he looked at her half mistrustfully; all

506 . GRACE LEE.

this sounded fair, but was it true ? In her eyes
and in her face he saw, however, nothing but
sincerity. There was a pause, then he said care-
lessly :

" Is Timon a slanderer?"

" No — nor a misanthrope either/'

"How so, pray?"

" A misanthrope is one that loves his kind and
has been deceived in them. I acquit Timon of
having ever wasted much trust or love on human
nature."

Timon bowed as if he felt the compliment; she
. continued:

"Timon is simply a disappointed and a revenge-
ful man."

This time he did not bow. The definition was
true and pitiless ; it stung him, but too proud to
show this, he merely said :

" You are quite right. Miss Lee, he has been
disappointed. Ay, and he has had good cause
for revenge, too," he added bitterly, as if he still

GRACE LEE. 807

smarted under the reeoUection of his wrongs, '^ I
know myself; I am a hard man; but I required
little of others ; I placed myself on the path of
none ; I was not ambitious/*

" Indeed you were," interrupted Grace.

'^ Excuse me ; I was going to add — beyond my
deserts. The position I was fit for and had a right
to, I claimed — ^for more I never asked. And how
have I been treated from boyhood to youth — from
youth to manhood?'*

" I dare say not much worse than other people,*'
put in Grace with provoking composure.

" Not much worse !** he echoed, with an indig-
nant laugh. " Pray what, then, is the world's way
of dealing with men?'*

" A very fair way,** she answered with prompt
decision.

"Fair!** he repeated, looking at her. Grace
went on working silently ; he waited for her to
justify her opinion, but she seemed to consider the
question settled. Clever man though he was, he

808 GRACE LEE.

fell into the trap laid for him, and broke forth
indignantly :

'^ Fair ! have I then been fairly treated ? My
birth was obscure j I was not ashamed of it ; but
who ever allowed me to forget that my father had
been a pawnbroker and my mother a Jewess ; I
valued not money, but I valued what is called
pleasure still less. The extravagant taunted me
with sparing gold coined out of the pence of the
poor. I despised quarrelling and fighting, bullies
called me a coward — as if because the blood of a
despised race flowed in my veins, scorn and con-
tumely were the only food fit for me* For some
time I bore this, then suddenly I turned round
and showed the dastard crew that the patience of
my Jewish forefathers had not at least come down
to me. The dull I chastised once for alL For
the insolent I kept the keener weapons of ridicule
and sarcasm; they thought to retaliate; but finding
me more than a match for them they slunk off.
Henceforth there was silence around me; the

GRiCE LEE. 309

silence of hatred, I knew it, but they had not
taught me to care for their love/^

'' A propitious beginning I" drily said Miss Lee.
Too much absorbed to heed the interruption, he
continued :

'^ Years came upon me thick and fast. My
youth submitted to the yoke of but one passion
— ambition. Here, too, was cause for strange
* reproach. The vicious hated me because I shared
not their vices ; the virtuous thought it unnatural
that my life remained blameless as their own.
I laughed at them all, and kept myself free from
degrading shackles. To submit to an angel as
I saw some men submit to the most worthless of
their sex, would have quelled pride and respect
for ever.'^

*^But, Mr. Owen,^' quietly observed Grace,
" these are mere trifles ; and I dare say if you
would only look at it in a right way — ^you would
find in the subsequent portion of your life still
less reason to complain of the world.^'

810 GRACS LEEj

"Ah ! " he said, astonished at her coolness.

"Why, yes; for instance you studied medicine,
then forsook it for the har — thus your first step
in life was a mistake — "

" For which I hlame none,*' he jealously inter-
rupted. " Pray do not think I complain of my
early struggles ; that I reproach the world with
the toil to which I voluntarily devoted years, or
call society to account, because during that long
probation, she never once stretched forth to me a
friendly or a helping hand. Proud, strong and
self-reliant, what did I want from her? Even
when I had done all man can do alone — ^I defy
any living being to say I asked her for more
than a fair field and no favour."

*^ Which you got,^^ decisively put in Grace* " I
know you do not think so. You are disappointed,
you feel bitter ; but depend upon it, you — '*

"Indeed, Miss Lee," he interrupted, impa-
tiently, "this is too much! I claim to be no
exception ; far from it, I aver that a fair chance

GRACE L£E. 311

»

of success is not granted to one man in a
thousand. "When I entered the world you defend
so zealously^ I found it arrayed in terror and in
arms against all new comers; opposing to them
a front as firm and steady as that of an army on
a hattle day. I found it assumed as granted
that there never could be again any man like the
men that had been ; that to follow in their steps
was common-place and tame; to strike out a
new path a dangerous and absurd innovation.
I learned, moreover, in many a slight, and many
a sneer, that a well established name and repu-
tation were the only warrants of merit, even as
success was its only test. I heard the Past
and the Present uniting to denounce the Future.
'You are not wanted,' they querulously cried;
' you are troublesome ; you are dangerous ; you
upset the legitimate order of things; every
place is full ; there is no room for you ; suflScient
are we to the wants of this generation. Begone !'
Vain and fatuitous assertion, repeated day after

312 GKACE LEE.

day, year after year, age after age, and as
unavailing against the tide of posterity as the
^ Come no further ^ of Canute to the sea.

'' And that flood which so firmly beat against
the bulwarks of society and which I now entered
— ^what was it? The same world under demo-
cratic guise. The very scum and dregs of human
nature; frenzied ambition grasping at every
prize with the power to win none; strength
without its magnanimity pitilessly trampling
down the weak ; a band of middle-age condottieri
besieging a fat burgher city, and more hungry
for plunder than athirst for renown. There
was war too in this unruly horde — ^war silent
but deadly ; how sternly the foremost ranks kept
back the hindermost ! how firmly they would
have crushed the foremost if they but could I

^^ Sometimes the citadel above, that seat of
luxury and ease, capriciously opened its gates
to receive some chosen one who, like all deserters,
straight became the bitterest foe of those he

r

GRACK LEE. 313

had left behind. I have never heard scorn more
keen^ never seen hatred more relentless, than
from the successful to the unlucky, the victorious
to the conquered. Was I better than they with
and against whom I strove ? I do not say so,
but surely I could not be worse. What a life
was ours ! What a burning atmosphere of fever
and strife brooded over us and wrapped us all
in its lurid shadow ! ^^

He paused ; in his eager look, in his pale thin
features, in his parted lips, seemed to revive
the feverish excitement of that time.

'' WeU ! " said Grace.

He looked up at her like one wakening from a
dream.

'^ Pray go on !*' she said impatiently.

" With what ? ''

*' With your history of course.^'

She looked eager and interested. Uncon-
sciously he felt soothed and flattered. There is
a deep and subtle egotism in your clever men, to

VOL. I. p

314 GBACfi L£E.

which even the coldest and most self-denying
must yield sometimes — and to the weakness John
Owen yielded now.

" Well/^ he resumed, " I was not amongst the
fortunate. Day after day I saw men inferior to
me in knowledge and power, succeed and thriye.
I knew why : they could fawn and flatter ; things
impossible to me. Yet I confess it honestly,
their triumphs galled me. Without troubling
you, Miss Lee, with the story of disappointments
that still found me an obscure, unknown man,
leading a life of poverty and toil, suffice it to say,
that chance made me meet again with Captain
Glawdon. He gave me hopes he never intended
to fulfil. All he meant was to get from me
legal advice and information, without paying for
either; yet he lured me on with a resistless
bait ; an opportunity of being heard and known.
Obscurity is narrow and stifling. I panted for
air and space to breathe. I saw through the
man ; I trusted not his honour or his faith ; but

GRACE LEfi. 315

to the triumph of a vigorous mind over a feeble
intellect ; to the power of a strong will to bend
even meanness and deceit to its own end. I
forgot that the mean are insolent ; that the
cunning are full of low arts. He wanted to
break with me; I defeated his object; at length I
yielded. I believe you know how this was accom-
plished ; you know at least of the duel which you
succeeded in preventing. I felt that you acted
through Mr. Gerald Lee. He must have had
strange power over his relative, for he made him
withdraw his chaUenge, and apologise to the man
he bad thsulted. I knew that I had a foe the
more on my path ; but I despised^ and did i^ot
fear him. I returned to London; there I re-
ceived from you an invitation that led to my
introduction to a certain circle. And now, Miss
Lee/^ he added, raising his eyes until they met
hers, " allow me to pause in this long egotistical
narrative, in order to thank you : I had done

nothing to conciliate your favour, but much, had

p 2

!TSC5«

316 GRACE LEE.

you been resentful, to win me your dislike or
hatred. Another woman, in your proud and
envied position, would assuredly, by some slight,
some scorn, have made me pay the penalty of my
pride, and with look, or smile, or tone sweetly
galling, have taught me, once for all, that a poor
and struggling barrister was something le^s than
a man for a worshipped heiress. I found you
just, — more than just, generous. You tried to
serve me, and you exacted no return of flattery
or homage. In the little there was between us
I always found you better and greater than
myself. Above and beyond you I may be in
some things, but of us two, you are assuredly
the higher-minded and the more magnanimoiis,
I confess it as willingly because true, as I should
scornfully deny it if false. More I will add : I
thank you. Miss Lee, for being the only one who
ever treated me as a man and a gentleman.^'

He looked at her with a smile, proud spite of
so frank a confession. Grace gave him back a

GRACE LEE. 317

look and a smile as proud as his own. She knew
that if he could have helped it he would scarcely
have said so much ; that of the homage, the best
part was yielded to truth; to her little; to the
woman certainly nothing.

Mr. Owen/' she said, after a pause, which he
forgot to break, ^^how comes it that the intro-
duction to which you allude availed you so
little?''

The gloom returned to his brow ; the scornful
light to his dark eye, the sneer to his ironical
lip, as he answered sarcastically :

'^ The Honourable Mrs. Chesterfield wanted a
thousandth and one adorer of her perfections ;
Mr. Woodman, a tool for his rancour against a
man of genius ; Mr. Hanley, a toady and a boon
companion. None of these people cared a rush
to serve me. I do not blame them, but neither
was I going to be their fool or their slave. I
soon lost their favour, or, rather, I never won it ;
but T saw something of them, and they might

818 GRACE LEE.

have proved of use to me in the end, when I
could not but perceive that a cloud had gradually
come between them and me.

"Mrs. Chesterfield was strangely cool, and
disdainful and impertinent. I was once with
her when some officers came in ; I forget of what
we spoke, but in the progress of our discourse,
her eye fell on me with a scorn so insulting, that
I rose and left the house, which I have never
entered since that day. Woodman, on the
contrary, became more familiar and patronising ;
he was then deep in his scheme of hiring me to
book-making, a thing I hated. He coaxed, he
wheedled in vain; he dropped strange hints
about pluck and mettle ; he kindly assured me
Brandon was not dangerous ; that the war of
books was a pacific war ; that rivals of the pen
seldom proceeded to perilous extremities. I
laughed in his face, and asked him if he thought
I feared anything mortal or any living being?
He coughed, and smiled, and said, "Oh dear^

GRACE LEE. 319

no ! ^ with this we dropped the subject ; he went
his way, I mine, but with me went his smile and
his ' Oh dear, no ! ^ I know not, however, how
I might have interpreted either, but for Mr.
Hanley. He had taken a fancy to me ever since
I had detected the presence of oysters in the
ambroisie a la Lee, He often asked me to his
table; my very heart burned with impatience
and wrath to see that whilst, without cost to
himself, he could have brought me to the gate
of my wishes, he found me no better task than to
con over dishes and talk cookery. Yet I bore it ;
I hoped that he who had once been a poor and a
struggling man would help me yet. He never
did. He did not want me to succeed, and be
lost to him ; so he gave me hopes and kept me
back for the sake of a poor and selfish indul-
gence. But as our acquaintance grew closer,
he became cynical, ironical, almost insolent.
Cautiously at first, in the end openly, he tried
to make me the butt of his sarcasms. I began

S20 GRACE LEE.

to understand there tnust be something in all ^
this ; that Mrs. Chesterfield, that "Woodman, that
Hanley would never dare to use me so, if they
did not feel assured of impunity. I had sus-
picions, but I wanted certitude; so I kept my
blood cool, T allowed Hanley full play, I subdued
wrath, I silenced passion. My patience won its
reward. The subtle old cynic told me volun-
tarily, in a genial after-dinner moment, what no
questioning would have extracted from him at
another time. ^I might be no hero,' he said,
'but I should live all the longer. Indeed, he
had no doubt that I should reach the threescore
and ten, whilst that hare-brained Glawdon could
not fail being shot or spitted out of life one of
these days.'

" Thus I learned it all : Captain Glawdon had
told and falsified the story of the duel ; he had
proclaimed me a coward, and on his word the
world had believed it.

" A coward ! '' resumed John Owen after a

GRACE LEB. 321

pause, and the veins in his forehead swelled

passionately, and his eyes burned with a light

that grew more keen and clear as he proceeded ;

'^ A coward ! the meanest thing that ever felt the

sun^s light or breathed air of earth ! And I was

stung thus in my honour and my pride by one

who had meanly wronged and basely insulted

me ! I scorned to deny the accusation until I

could prove it false. I never breathed his name

until we met. I had watched my opportunity in

the broad daylight, in a crowd, face to face ; and

then not behind his back, like a traitor, but to his

face like a man, I gave him the lie. He never

answered ; his look could not meet my look, his

tongue repel the deadly insult mine had uttered

clear and distinct for all to hear; he merely

trembled and turned pale, lowered and slunk

away mute. Many wondered, for he was thought

brave. I did not wonder : a dastard can stand

the shot of a foe better than the look of a man.

'^ Days and weeks passed ; I heard nothing of

p 3

322 QRACB LEE.

him ; the insolence and the scorn passed from the
manner of those with whom I chanced to mingle ;
coward I was thought no longer ; I had proTcd
no physical courage, yet I got it for granted.
Captain Glawdon at length made up his mind,
and sent me a challenge.

^^I hate duelling. I abhor that appeal to a
random shot or gladiator thrust as I abhor all
that is low and brutal. The first time Captain
Glawdon challenged me, my pride rose and my
blood boiled to think that for the caprice of a
fool I was to peril every chance of my ambition ;
that my Ufe, a keen, intellectual life, full of pro-
jects ajid aims, was to stand the same chance,
and be measured in the same scale as that of an
effeminate dandy. But the second time the
Captain challenged me, I felt differently. I
protest against being what is called a humane
or a philanthropic man. This may be the age
of peace societies, of abolition movements, of
sympathy meetings ; but, I confess it^ these

i

GRACE LEE. 328

things sicken me. To the attacked I say,
defend yourselves even unto death ; to the
slave^ rise against the t^rant^ and be free ; to
the oppressed, scorn sympathy that spends itself
in speech. In the same mood, I can look on
the suffering and the death of others, not with
pleasure, but without morbid horror or grief.
Pain is our lot, death our end; let both, then,
be borne without making all this outcry about
an everyday matter. At the same time I am
neither butcher nor executioner; to torment is
repugnant to me as a surgeon ; to give death in
war or duelling — I protest I can see no difference
— would be still more so. Now, on the day when
I met Captain Glawdon I had seen death written
on his brow and vanquished in his eye. I knew
that if we met as foes meet, he was doomed. I
said so to the military gentleman who called
upon me, and I declined the challenge. He
remonstrated, and assured me such conduct in a
gentleman was without precedent. I offered to

i

824 GRACE LEE.

meet him if he liked ; ' for you, at least/ I said,
'have a fair chance — he has not.' He did not
think fit to accept my oflFer, and withdrew,
impressed and astonished. I have heard that he
reported me to his friend as an evil-minded man,
and strongly advised him to arrange the matter ;
but Captain Glawdon was bent on his fate. I
soon received a second challenge ; again I refused
it ; but when a third message came, I said, ^ Be
his blood on his own head, and his death at his
own door ! '

" Dark and tragic, if rightly told, would be the
story of that day. Strange that in a world so
wide two men could not find room to move and
not meet. I remember I thought of that as in
the gray of early morning I stood by the fresh
hawthorn hedge and listened to the rising song of
the lark in a neighbouring corn-field ; whilst he,
miserable man, moved restlessly to and fro, and
sang snatches of a glee, and our two witnesses
pedantically discussed a doubtful point in this

GBACB LEE. 825

false code of a falser honour. You look pale.
Miss Lee ! well I assure you, that if one could
forget the end, nothing can be less terribly to see
than a duel. When two angry men appeal to brute
force, and grapple in their strength for mastery,
the contest is often long, and always sickening to
behold; but in a duel it is quiet, swift, silent and
deadly as the hate that has brought the two com-
batants to that solitary spot. A few minutes and
all was over; his shot passed by me harmless;
mine wounded him slightly ; his wished to reach
my heart ; mine to miss him ; we both failed.
Every precaution had been taken ; law could not
touch us; the matter was kept quiet. I was
relieved and astonished ; my enemy lived spite of
presentiment and sign. His wound healed fast ;
it healed until it opened a&esh, and ended in a
mortal fever, that in a few weeks laid him in his
grave. I heard it, and would rather that no hand
of mine had helped to bring him there. He was
not good, he was not honourable; but life was

326 GRACE LEB.

given to all^ and to all seems sweet. Again I
asked myself^ was earth not wide enough for
him and me?^'

There was a low remorseful cadence in his
voice as he made this confession^ and paused.
Sut suddenly he looked up and said, abruptly :

''Be frank. Miss Lee. What do you think
of me in this ? '^

"I think/' she replied, very gravely, ''that
the God who had made you both, against whose
gentle law of brotherly love and holy peace
you both rebelled and sinned, is your only
judge/'

He had not expected an answer so mild in
form, so severe in its spirit. He bit his lip
and retorted :

" And you charitably deliver me up to judg-
ment. Well, no matter I But you misunder-
stood me, Miss . Lee : I was asking you for your
opinion.''

" I think," she calmly answered, " that with

GRACE LEE. 827

many ways of proving yourself no coward, you
chose the worst and the least conclusive. Moral
cowardice is at the bottom of nine out of ten
of the duels fought daily. However, if I go
on, I shall fall into the commonplace truths
every one knows, every one confesses, and no
one has the daring and the manliness to put in
practice. This much, however, there is to say
I in your extenuation; the unfortunate man
brought on his own fate, and the world that
abetted him was far more guilty than you of
the deed, for which, if I mistake not, its laws
attempted to render you responsible.^'

'' Oh ! no,'' bitterly replied John Owen ; " law
did not touch me; there was no inquest of
justice .* but opinion, that immaculate Themis,
became coroner, and delivered her verdict
without granting me the benefit of witness or
jury. She had once proclaimed me a coward.
She now branded me as a murderer and a fiend.
To whosoever wished to listen, she told by what

328 GRACE LEE.

deadly insults I had driven an honourable man^
husband of a most interesting young Mdfe,
father of an innocent child, to meet me in
mortal combat. She stigmatised my enmity
as that of the dastard who dares not to stand
by his own deed* 'Another/ she said, 'would
have shot his foe dead, then surrendered himself
manfully to take his trial. But I* — ingenious
was the heart that conceived the calumny ; pure
the mind that rounded the tale; guileless the
tongue that uttered it — ' I, once a medical man^
had found to the life of my victim a slower
and a safer way — I had calculated the shot that
inflicted the wound — that brought on the fever
that led — to death ! ^ The monstrous invention
was told, spread, and believed, Mrs. Chester-
field, meeting me once by chance, fainted
gracefully in her carriage at the sight of
such a monster. Woodman had just then got
hold of a fit tool; a man with talent enough
to write a book, and not too much to write at

ORACB LEE. 329

another man^s bidding. The result appeared in
a novel, of which I was hero : and a gentleman-
like villain they made me out. tA. coward, a
traitor, a profligate, an apostate, an atheist, a
usurer, a socialist, a spy — everything, save a
fool. That, I am bound to confess, either in
or out of the book, I sincerely believe no one
ever called me.^^ His lip took a disdainful curl,
and he proceeded : " I read this book, of which
the preface was not the least edifying part. In

4

it the reader was gravely assured that the ' Son
of Darkness' — such was the title — was no idle
creation of the writer's brain. No; he still
lived to bewilder and appal his fellow-creatures.
He walked amongst men with the mark of Cain
on his brow, and on his lips the sneer of Satan. —
But why trouble you with such trash ? — There
was notoriety in the book; every one read it.
If I could have stooped to deny charges so
calumnious, accusations so infamous, I should
have held myself a justly degraded man. I let

330 GRACE LEE.

slander say her worst; she fluiig dirt at me^
and I, remembering that it was dirt, defiled not
myself with .handling of it. More defiant, as
she grew more insulting, I went on my way
and heeded her execrations no more than the
traveller heeds the barking of curs on the high
road. At length, it came to this point between
society and me, that, I may say it without
boasting, we met face to face in a narrow pass.
She told me plainly that she would hunt me
out of hearth and home. I swore that if my
life should be the price, I would keep inviolatp
and free the sacred right of every man to
work for the bread he eats, for the roof that
shelters him. I then made out a precarious
living — not by the bar, for though I got a
motion now and then, I was no favourite in
the court — but by reports for a newspaper and
reviews for ^ magazine. I earned little; but
I lived sparingly, and owed nothing to any man.
On this poor pittance others, poorer than myself.

GBACE LB£. 331

cast the looks of greediness and envy. The
opportunity was good, blasted as I was in
character and name, to oust me from my barren
heritage. I fought for it, as a monarch for his
kingdom. I dared living man to wrest it &om
me; placed defenceless between the two fires
of rivals and employers, by braving them alike,
I silenced, ay, and I quelled them both. I
stood alone; my foes were many, yet they
retreated, sullen and daunted.

" If I am proud of anything in my life, it is
of that struggle and of that victory. But when
it was won ; when, though they might detest me,
I compelled men to grant me that sort of respect
which they yield to power — good or evil. When
there was the peace, and again, as in my boy-
hood, the silence of hatred around me, — insulted
manhood asserted his rights, injured honour her
wrongs. Voluntarily I yielded, what compulsion
would never have wrested from me. I gave back
society the reluctant and niggardly portion I had

832 GRACE LEE.

wrung from her inch by inch : my seat at' her
board,— my resting place beneath her roof, — my
right to her highways and barren places. When
the vassal surrenders his fief, he also surrenders
his allegiance, and stands once more a stripped,
but a free man before his lord. To that proud
lady, who had poured on me the vials of her
contempt and her wrath, I now gave back scorn
for scorn. I wrote ' Timon,' not for justification,
but for revenge. Of myself I said nothing — of
her much. I tore the veil from the brow of this
mock vestal, and to her own gaze I showed her

in her unblushing shame. I told her she was a
coward, for that to the weak she was pitiless, and
fawning to the strong; a traitor, for that she
daily bartered the holiest gods of her worship for
Baal and Mammon ; a liar, for that she publicly
dealt in lies, lived and thrived on them, on
pledges broken from man to man, — on oaths
betrayed from class to class, — on treaties forsworn
from nation to nation. With this I left her.

GRACE LEE. 833

" ^ Timon^ sold well, and read even better than
the ^ Son of Darkness.' Who knows but I might
not have achieved a literary reputation I But
content with this Parthian shaft I had dealt my
foe, I sought obscurity as I had once sought
fame. I resumed the profession I had forsaken,
and came and settled here more wearied than
crushed — more scornful than conquered.^^

His lip curled with the disdainful smile familiar
to it, and his eyes dark and deep-set, shot forth
a sullen and defiant light.

*^Mr, Owen,^^ quietly said Grace, *^I have
heard you to the end, and I am going to give
you a good sound dose of JoVs-friend comfort.
I shall kindly prove to you that you have got no
more than you deserved. To begin. Did you
forget, or did you not know, that two things
are indispensable to lead a peaceful life in the
world, — leniency to error; forgiveness of wrong.
Believe me it was for not having practised either^
that when the dark hour came to you, which

834 GRACE LEE.

comes to every maHiy you found many your foes —
none your frieni^'

" I wanted the friendship of none/^ he repUed,
haughtily.

'^The world must be with or against s<mie
men. For them — ^and you are one of them —
there^ can be no medium.^^

He did not contradict what he felt to be true.
She continued.

*' It was not for you. You would not practise
the world^s ways, and the world gave you none
of its rewards. It kept them for flatterers and
parasites. Would you have been of them ? '^

'^ I ! '^ he exclaimed, indignant at the sugges-
tion.

" Well, then, do not complain,'^ was her inex-
orable rejoinder, " you would not pay the trader^s

price, why should you get the trader^s goods ? '^

!
" They are not merchandise to be sold and

bought," he replied, half impatiently, " but prizes

to be fought for and won.^

f}

GHACE LEE. 335

" In the first place^ I deny it ; in the second^
granting it, I aver that your own words condemn
you. If the world is a battle-field, on which you
have been beaten — Soldier ! know how to bear
with the fortune of war.^^

'^ Job's-friend comfort indeed, this ! '^ said John
Owen, with a lofty smile.

Miss Lee composedly proceeded on her course
of consolatory remarks :

" I know what you think ; that you ought to
have won. Quite a mistake ! Success is a matter
of temper far more than of genius. Genius you
have, I believe ; but you know you are not

amiable.^'

«

*^Eh?" he interrupted, amazed.
" Well, are you ? ^' she said frankly ; " I put
it to you : are you an amiable man ? "
Perhaps not," he at length answered.
I assure you,^' she candidly replied, ''that
you may put 'perhaps^ out of the question."
" Well, you are frank," he said, after another

tc

((

336 GRACE LEE.

pause ; '^ but pray go on : you were saying that
success is a matter of temper far more than of
genius — a just remark.'*

'^ Of course it is ; I never make any but just
remarks. However, you have interrupted me,
the thread of my thoughts is broken, and so,
without entering into further observations, all I
have to say is, you have been worsted — submit to
Fate I '^ .

^' Fate ! " he exclaimed with a start. " I repu-
diate the slavish doctrine. Fatalism — I scorn it 3
man — ^underneath God — ^has no master save his
own will, strong or weak.*'

" Hm-m," said Grace ; " and so it was your owa
free will brought you here — a conquered man?**

" Conquered — conquered,'* he repeated, rather
indignantly; ^^ disgusted and wearied — not con-
quered, if you please.**

Grace laid down her work, which she had
resumed, and looked at him with a penetrating
glance, and a peculiar smile.

r

\

GRACE LEE. 387

" Disgusted ! " she said slowly. '^ Mr. Owen,
you have always been too clear-sighted, and
consequenl;ly too dispassionate, to be so easily
disgusted. And wearied, too ! Surely you do
not mean to say your nature is so weak as to
know satiety and weariness ? I do not think it
is. I do not think the wide-spread fame of a
Byron, the power of a Napoleon, would sate or
satisfy your ambition."

He half turned round, with not displeased
wonder, to look deep into one who could read
him so truly. She continued, —

" It was not weariness, but scorn that brought
you here. Strange mistake ! Your position,
after ' Timon ^ appeared, was splendid; not as an
author, but as a man. Victoriously had you
proved the power that justifies — excuse my plain
speaking — an imperious temper. Besides, the
world likes to hear truths so stern, told with
such eloquent bitterness. It must be tyrant or
slave. It often spurns its worshippers to kiss

VOL. I. Q

A

888 GRACE LEE.

the hand that wields the lash. Had you but
kjept your ground the day was yours."^

John Owen smiled with ironical scepticism.

Miss Lee resumed :

" You left the field when the battle was all tut
won. You look cool and phlegmatic as a Saxon^
but in reality you have hot' Welsh blood. So
you lost your temper, and scorned Fortune, when
she was smiling. She left you, and with her fled
the golden opportunity that returns not twice in
a man^s life. 'Timon,' as a book, is already
forgotten. 'Timon,' as a man, must abide by his
choice, and vegetate quietly ^to the end of his
days. An obscure »end for so many proud
dreams; but one at least that unites philosophic
quietness and peace."

A demure smile played around her lips as she
uttered the last words. Her guest looked at her
with something like wrath. It stung his proud
heart to be told in those calm tones that the
paths of life were closed upon him. Only that

GKACE LEE. * 339

same pride forbade the boast^ " That if he wished
he could yet shape a way." So he swallowed down
the insult, for such it seemed to him, and merely
said, with ill-subdued irritation, " I do not believe
in your Fortune, Miss Lee ; she is but a Fate in
disguise."

'^ Well, I believe in her— perhaps because she
has been invariably kind to me/^

'^ Miss Lee, is this quite frank? I say honestly
that I am not satisfied with my lot; you always
speak as if the fulness of happiness had fallen to
vours/^

^' You doubt it. Why so ? Speak plainly/'

" Why ! Because, when I look at you I seem
to see two women. One, I remember her well,
treated more like a divinity .''

'' To her face,'' tartly said Grace. *' I need not
leave this room to find one who made no divinity
of me behind my back."

"I perceive I offend you," said John Owen,
prudently oblivious of the incident she recalled.

■^\

840 GBACB LEE.

''No; but you exaggerate. What though I
have been outrageously flattered ! You forget
that I did not perhaps receive that flattery as
Gospel truth/^

" What matter ; the incense was given to you
— ^where is it now?^^

''Wreathing sweetly and gracefcdly around
the feet of some other idol. Let it ! Do I look
broken-hearted ? "

"Well, you certainly might have too much
sense to care for flattery.^

" Might ! ^^ murmured Grace ; — " civil/^

"But were you as indifierent to friendship?
When I saw you in this house a sister was with
you; there was a friend, too; the world called
him more than friend. Where are they now ?
Married, enjoying the noble fortune that once
was yours; and you are here, comparatively poor,
and certainly alone.^^

" The fortune has but changed hands,'' warmly
replied Grace, " the friends are but absent. In

>9

ORAC£ LEE. 341

justice to them I must enlighten you, Mr. Owen.
My marriage with Gerald Lee was the condition
on', which I enjoyed Miss Lee's wealth; that
• condition I broke of my own free-will, for motives
which neither Mr. Lee nor Miss Blount influ-
enced. If Gerald Lee,^' she added, raising her
head, and speaking with mingled dignity and
pride, "had betrayed his faith with me, know
that 1 would have compelled him to betray it
openly. I might have accepted the wrong, but I
would have made him take the shame. If Lily,
who, though not of my blood, is dear to me as
a sister; if Lily Blount could have attempted
to seduce from me the regard of my affianced
husband, I might not, for the sake of womanhood,
have proclaimed it to the world, but I should
have thought of it in my heart until love died,
withered by contempt. And now,'' she added,
with a warmer flush on her check and a half smile
on her lips, " let me not, whilst justifying Mr. Lee
from treachery, place him in the unfortunate

q 2

342 GBACE LEE.

position of a rejected lover. I know lie respected
and liked me ; he certainly wished to marry me ;
but then — but then — I do not think it broke his
heart to lose me. Lily is young ; she is fair and
beautiful as an angel ; I am dark and plain like
a common mortal woman. In short, what
wonder is it that he was so soon comforted —
and married?^'

*' But you ! " said John Owen, looking at her
keenly. She laughed &eely at his evident mis«-
trust.

^' I ! ^^ she said, gaily, " well I did not want
comfort, did I? Have I not exchanged the
hot and barren world , for cool and shady
solitude ; and, pleasanter still, fortune for happy
liberty ? ''

There was a pause, then he said, "I admire
you ; T envy you.^

"But you do not half believe in me," she inter-
rupted. " Yet Diocletian, the vegetable gardener
and tiller of the earth, thought himself a happier

99

/ "

GBACE LEE. 343

man than Diocletian^ the master of Bome. Sy
the way/^ she added^ rising, " I must show you
my garden — ^yours is shamefully neglected — ^and
try and convert you to flowers. You cannot deny
their beauty."

" Yes, they are lovely weeds enough," he care-
lessly replied, following her out through the glass
door.

The evening, though chill, was beautiful and

*
calm. Just above the dark outline of the hills

spread a space of light cold and clear as that of a

Polar sky. Beyond it vast clouds seemed to

repose on their own broad base ; in the west a

young crescent moon shone white and pure in

blue space.

^^You are bareheaded, you will take cold,"
suddenly said John Owen, pausing.

^^ No, thank you. No day is too hot, no night
too chill for me. But pray look at my flowers ;
colourless and dim though they seem, are they
not still beautiful ? "

344 GRACE LEE.

He did not reply ; he had truly said it, flowers
for him were but lovely weeds.

Miss Lee went on, still pouring forth on her
favourites praise, that fell on a careless ear* As
they reached the gate that bounded her narrow
domain, she stopped short, and said, '^This re-
minds me of Madame Helvetius visited by General
Bonaparte, and showing him her garden. ^ Ge-
neraV she said, as they parted, 'you do not
know how much happiness an acre of ground can
enclose.^ The future Napoleon heard her with a
disdainful smile. And you too — though like the
master of the world, you have found your Saint
Helena — ^you too, Mr. Owen, would disdain
happiness so tame and so easily won. Would it
were yours, however, and that the home to which
you are now returning, were as calmly happy as
that you leave.^^ She unlocked and opened the
gate as she spoke.

" A cool and civil way of telling me to be off,"
rather indignantly thought John Owen. He

GRACE LEE. 345

noticed too^ that in bidding him adieu^ Miss Lee
did not invite him to renew his visit. She stood
by the open gate, however, looking after him.
As he turned the path, she called him back.
'* Mr. Owen.'^

He looked round, but did not move. She
glanced significantly at a pool of wet that lay

*

between them, then at her satin slippers, and
said : —

" I want to speak to you, if you please.^^ He
came back a few steps.

" Come again, will you ? ^^ she said, carelessly.

'^ Perhaps so," he replied, in tones quite as
careless.

" Perhaps ! No, Mr. Owen, not perhaps ; yes
or no, if you please."

" Oh ! in that case, yes, of course."

^^ I do not like, ' yes, of course.^ It implies
constraint and a bore. Come again if you like it,
and if you do not, stay away.^

'^ Precisely."

}}

346

GRACE LEE.

"But pray do not hurry, take your time
to consider : in the meanwhile, good-night/^
He turned away, and she locked the gate.

END OF VOL. I.

BBADBUBY AND EVANS, PBIKTERa, WHITBFBIABS.

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