Hilary St. Ives : a novel

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L I G, RARY

OF THL
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or ILLl NOIS

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HILARY ST. IVES.

%n

WILLIAM HARRISON AINSWORTH.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

LONDON :

CHAPMAN AND HALL, 193, PICCADILLY.

1870.

[T'Ae I'ii/hi of Tvansldtton is rcserret/.]

n

CONTENTS OF VOL. III.

BOOK II. — continued.
MYRTILLA.

XXI.

PAGE

Explains the Colonel's Erkand .... 3

XXII.

The Use made of the Letter . . . .12

XXIII.

An ill Quarter of an Hour 19

XXIV.

The Warning 30

IV CONTENTS.

XXV. . PAGE

How THE News was brought to Hazlemere . . 49

BOOK III.

THE RIVALS.

I.

The Young Mistkess of Boxgbove . . . .59

II.

A Letter from Lady Richborough . . .71

HI.

Oswald beappears as a Suitor . . . .83

IV.

A Secret Divulged 100

V.

Mrs. Sutton's Confession 108

VI.

The Marquis of Hartlepool 126

VIL

An unexpected Arrival 134

C(3NTKNTS. V

VII [. PAGE

IbnV lIlLAllY FOUND HIE PEKSON HE SOUGHT . , 152

IX.

Mks. Sutton's History . . .' . . , 169

X.

The Portkait 207

XI.
A Vision 223

XII.

Father and Son 232

XIII.

luiRTiiER Explanations 241

XIV.

The Thunderstorm 252

XV.
A Retrospect 258

XVI.

IIow Barbara was brought rack to Boxgrove . 2CG

XVII.

An eventful Evening 274

VOL. III. 0

VI CONTKNTS.

XVIII. PAGE

Sequel to the previous Chapter .... 285

XIX.

How THE gipst's Peophecy was fulfilled . . 295

L'Envoy 302

lilarg ^i |&^s.

BOOK II.

(^Continued.)

MYRTILLA.

VOL. III.

XXI.

EXPLAINS THE COLONEL's ERKAND.

Next day, Colonel Delacombe went down to
Hazlemere, as appointed.

He did not arrive till the afternoon, and all
the party, except the lady of the house, had
gone over to Boxgrove. Immediately on his ar-
rival, he inquired for the housekeeper, stating
that he had something to say to her, and Mr.
Luff conducted him to her room.

Mrs. Sutton, who was engaged at the time on
some household matters, received him with all
B 2

4 HILARY ST. IVES.

the deference consistent with her station, so long
as the butler was present, but as soon as they
were alone, her manner changed, and with a
menacing; look she demanded wdiat broufjht him
again to Hazlemere.

"My errand, as I think you might guess, is to
see you," he replied, seating himself. "A good
deal has happened lately."

" Yes, your designs upon Lady Richborough
have been frustrated," she rejoined, with a bitter
smile ; " and if you have any designs here they
will likewise be frustrated."

" Before you make any further observations,
which only serve to display your malignity, it
may be as well to inform you that I saw Mr.
Com'tenay yesterday."

The housekeeper turned very pale. He re-
marked the effect produced upon her.

" Perhaps you will talk a little more rationally
now," he said.

HILAKY ST. IVES. 5

" I care nothing for Mr. Courtenay," she cried,
recovering herself. " Pie can tell you nothing
that you did not know before."

" Pardon me. He gave me some particulars
of your history with which I was wholly imac-
quainted. Hitherto," he continued, in a stern
tone, " I believed that your unhappy mother died
of a broken heart, I now know "

" It is false," she interrupted, fiercely. " ^ir.
Com'tenay is my deadly enemy, and would destroy
me if he could. You do not believe me capable
of such a deed as that with which he charges
me?"

"I Avill not pronounce an opinion," said the
colonel, still more sternly. " I would fain hope
you are innocent of this foul and unnatural
crime ; but after what I have heard, I can scarcely
acquit you."

" I am innocent," cried the wretched woman.
" As I hope for mercy hereafter, I am innocent

6 HILAEY ST. IVES.

of this dreadful offence ! Say you believe me,
Seymour ! — say you believe me !"

" Do not touch me, woman !" he cried, pushing
her from him, with an expression of loathing.

" Oh ! Heaven support me !" she cried, sinking
into a chair with a look of agony.

" If I did my duty," he said, after a pause, " I
should bring you to justice ; but I am restrained
by considerations which you will understand."

" Considerations for yourself," she cried, with a
vindictive look. " You would not spare me, if
your own reputation were not at stake."

" I spare you for your son's sake as well as my
own," he rejoined. "The stings of an accusing
conscience, which you cannot stifle, will be punish-
ment enough for you."

" Do not condemn me unheard," she cried,
rousing herself, and speaking with impassioned
earnestness. "You have lent a too ready ear to

HILARY ST. IVES. 7

this charge. It cannot be substantiated. I can
shoAV you Mr. Courtenay's motives for making it."
" I do not desire to hear them," he said. " Your
own conduct condemns you: your quarrels with
yom- unhappy mother, and her death, under sus-
picious circumstances, seem to fix the crime on
you. But evidences of guilt are afforded by your
flight with your paramour — by your desertion of
your child— by the device adopted to screen your-
self from the consequences of your evil deeds.
If innocent, why allow it to be supposed that
you had perished in the Severn? Why conceal
yom- existence ? Why hide yom-self under a
feigned name ? If innocent, why are you here —
as Mrs. Sutton ? Your conduct proclaims yom'
guilt."

"It may seem to do so — but I was driven to
act as I did by remorse— not for the crime which
you believe me to have committed, and of which,

o . HILARY ST. IVES.

as Heaven knows ! I am innocent — but for other
offences. I knew I should be shunned and de-
spised, and wished to be forgotten. I found, as I
deemed, a secure retreat, and remained in it un-
molested for years — and might have remained in
it to the end, if you — to whom I owe all my afflic-
tion— had not appeared to trouble me. I am not
so bad as you suppose. I have sinned deeply, but
have repented. I would willingly — if I could —
have made some atonement for my errors. I might
have died in peace — unknov^l and respected. Of
all men, I would most have avoided you, Seymour
Delacombe. But fate has brought you hither to
perplex me — to rouse evils passions in my breast,
and prompt evil actions. I warned you not to
come. I besought you not to meddle with me.
You would not heed ; and if ill ensues, you will
be responsible for it." ^

"It is useless to continue this discussion,'"

HILARY ST. IVES. 9^

observed the colonel, entirely unmoved by her
defence. "I have simjjly to tell you that you
cannot remain longer here."

" You tell me so ?" she said, in a singular tone^
in which a latent menace could be detected.
" What if I refuse to go on your bidding ?"

"You will not refuse, when I tell you that by
remaining here you will mar your son's pro-
spects."

" Do you mean to acknowledge him ?"

" Not till you are gone."

A fierce conflict took place in the unhappy-
woman's bosom. Vindictive feelings obtained the
mastery. Infernal malice blazed in her eyes as
she spoke.

" My son is nothing to me," she cried. " He
is devoid of natm'al feeling. When he was here
the other day, he drove me mad by his utter in-
sensibility. If he loved me, I woidd make any

10 HILARY ST. IVES.

sacrifice for him. I would lay down my life to
serve him. But he hates me, and thinks oy^
of the detestable woman who has robbed me of his
affections. I will stay to plague Aer."

" Have you no good feeling left ?"

" When my lacerated heart is healed, it will be
time to talk to me of good feelings," she rejoined.
" Meanwhile, I stay here. Try to remove me at
yom' peril."

" You shall go, be the consequences what they
may," cried the colonel.

And he arose and left the room.

Ascertaining from Boston that Mrs. Radcliffe
was in her boudoir, he proceeded thither at
once.

" That infernal woman is capable of anything,"
he thought, as he went up-stairs.

He was right, and he would have comprehended
her vindictive pm'pose, if he had seen her take a

HILARY ST. IVES. 11

letter from a private drawer, and heard lier
mutter,

"It is well I secured this letter. The time is
come to use it."

12 HILARY ST. IVES.

XXII.

THE USE MADE OF THE LETTEK.

Aemed with this letter, Mrs. Sutton left her
room. She kuew where the colonel was gone, and
was about to follow him, when she encountered
Mr. Radchffe in the hall. He had just returned
from Boxgrove, having ridden on by himself.
Struck by the housekeeper's haggard looks, he
inquired what was the matter.

" I have something to say to you, sir — some-
thing important — in private," she rejoined.

" Well, come with me to my study. We shan't
be distm'bed there. Colonel Delacombe, I hear,
has arrived."

HILARY ST. IVES. 13

*' Yes ; he is with ]\Irs. Raclcliffe — in her
boudoir," she rephed, significantl3\

" Nothing strange in that," observed the worthy
gentleman.

The housekeeper accompanied him to his study
— a comfortable little room adjoining the librar}'-,
in which he transacted his magisterial business.
It was furnished with a laro-e writing' table, on
which sundry law-books were laid, together with
files of papers. Seating himself near this table,
he requested the housekeeper to take a chair
beside him.

'• By-the-by, Sutton, have you heard the news ?"
he remarked. " Colonel Delacombe, I'm told, is
about to adopt that young artist, who came here
—Hilary St. Ives. Odd ! ain't it?"

"It may appear odd to you, sir, but it doesn't
surprise me. Ah ! sir, you little know "

" Little IvJiow what ?" he cried. " Speak plainly.
Why do you look at me in that manner?"

14 HILARY ST. IVES.

" Because I'm so sorry for you, sii\ My heart
bleeds for you. But it must out — it must out."

" What must out ?" he demanded.

"The dreadful secret,"' she rejoined. "I can
keep it no longer. Prepare yourself for a
great shock, sir. You will need all your firm-
ness."

IVIr. Radcliffe's looks betokened great trouble,
but the relentless woman went on.

" Read that," she said, placing the letter before
him. "That will tell you all. That will show
you how you have been deceived."

Damps gathered upon the poor gentleman's
brow, and his vision grew dim.

" I would rather not read it, Sutton," he said,
in a husky, unnatm'al voice, ^^ushing the letter
from him as he spoke. "I don't want to learn
anything that wuU give me pain. I would rather
rest in ignorance."

This did not suit her.

HILARY ST. IVES. 15

" You loill read the letter, sir," she said, " when
I tell you that it is from the young man you
have just mentioned — Hilary St. Ives — to his
mother."

" To his mother, did you say ? Why, it is
addressed to my Avife," he cried, snatching up the
letter to examine it.

"Your wife is his mother," said Mrs. Sutton,
in a hollow voice.

" You lie, woman !" cried Mr. Eadcliffe, spring-
ing up, and striking the table with his clenched
hand. " You lie ! How dare you make such an
abominable insinuation ? Quit my presence in-
stantly ! Quit the house ! Begone !"

" I am ready to go at once," she rejoined,
rising. " But you will repent the language you
have used towards me. My feelings would not
allow me to conceal the truth."

" Stay !" he cried. " I am half distracted.
You must make allowances for me, Sutton."

16 HILARY ST. IVES.

"I make every allowance for yon, sir. I pity
you from the bottom of my heart."

He sat clown. His hand shook so much that
he could scarcely hold the letter, but he went on,
pausing every now and then to wipe the damps
from his brow.

At last the letter dropped upon the table.

The mischief was done.

"You have destroyed my peace for ever,
Sutton," groaned the miserable man, after a
pause ; " but I forgive you. AVhat a cruel de-
ception has been practised upon me ! How I
doted upon her !"

" Had you no previous suspicions, sir V

" Suspicions ? — no ! I had the most perfect
faith in her. I believed every word she told me
— every word. I knew that an engagement had
subsisted between her and Seymour Delacombe —
I kncAv that she nourished a silly, sentimental

HILARY ST. IVES. 17

regard for him — but the idea of anything wrong
never entered my head. Even now — with this
f riglitful evidence before me — I can scarcely
believe it."

"I thought her conduct towards the young
man might have surprised you, sir."

"It did. surprise me. I disapproved of her
absurd demonstrations of regard for him, tliough
I took no notice of them. But they bear a dif-
ferent construction now. What am I to do,
Sutton? AVhatamltodoT

" Act like a man, sir. Under such circum-
stances, there is but one coui'se to pursue."

"But I have not the heart to cast her from
me, as you would seem to suggest. Besides," he
cried, with a sudden access of tenderness, "she
is the mother of my child. For May's sake I
must endure the wrong patiently and in silence."

" For your own sake you cannot allow things

VOL. III. C

18 HILARY ST. IVES.

to continue as they are. The colonel must not
remain here."

"He shall not," cried the deluded man, tran-
sported with fury. "He is in the boudou", you
say, with my wife. I am half inclined to blow
out his brains."

"He richly deserves it, but it will be enough
if you order him out of the house."

" I'll go to them at once. I will not allow my
just indignation to cool," he cried, rushing out
of his study, and hurrying up -stairs to the
boudoir.

"They will now feel my power," cried Mrs.
Sutton, with an exulting smile.

HILARY ST. IVES. 19

xxin.

AK ILL QUARTER OF AN HOUR.

!Mk. Radcliffe's wild looks and abrupt en-
trance were w^ell calculated to alarm his wife and
the colonel, who were engaged at the moment in
an anxious discussion relative to Mrs. Sutton —
the colonel urging her immediate dismissal, and
the lady reluctant to yield assent. They guessed
what had happened, and prepared for a storm.

Without vouchsafing a word, and scarcely
appearing to notice them, the incensed gentleman
marched straight to the fireplace, and taking
c 2

20 HILARY ST. TVES.

down the two miniatures, which had been restored
to their places, smashed them with the poker,
and flung the fragments into the grate.

" There !" he roared. " Those accursed objects
will never more offend my sight."

He then tm-ned round, and glared at the
astonished witnesses of his proceeding, who, while
his back was towards them, had exchanged very-
expressive glances and gestures.

" Have you taken leave of your senses, Mr,
Radcliffe ?" inquired his wife, eyeing him through
her glass, and speaking with a calmness that
aggravated his fury.

" Perhaps I have," he vociferated, almost foam-
ing at the mouth with rage. " I have enough to
make me mad. I have long been your dupe,
madam, but at last my eyes are opened, and
I clearly discern the position in which you have
placed me by your perfidious conduct. I have
read the letter of— of" — the words well-nigh

HILARY ST. IVES. 21

suffocated him, but at last he got them out —
" of your SON ! Here it is, madam. Look at it !
Can you deny that this letter is addressed to
you?"

" No, I do not attempt to deny it," she replied,
calmly.

" Then you glory in your shame ! You
unblushingly avow that you have deceived me
—ha!"

" When you speak more temperately, JVIi*. Rad-
cliffe — in a manner more befitting our relations
towards each other — I will answer you ; but thus
addressed, I shall not condescend to do so."

" You take it with a very high hand, madam,"
he sneered; "but it won't answer your purpose.
I am not to be imposed upon."

"My good Mr. Radcliffe," said the colonel,
"" you are entirely under a delusion."

" A delusion !" exclaimed the other, exasperated
beyond all bounds by the remark. " Do you

22 HILARY ST. IVES.

mean to tell me that I am to doubt the evidence
of my o\^^l senses? I have here in this dam-
natory letter proof positive of my unhappy ■wife's
criminality."

" My criminality, Mr. Radcliffe ! I will not
allow such language to be used to me."

" You will regret your violence, sir, when you
are able to view the matter in its proper light,"
observed the colonel. " If you will only hear
me "

"Explanations will not avail with me, sir. It
will be idle, therefore, to attempt them."

Then with a withering look at his wife, he
cried, " You forget, madam, that in this very
room, where you are now sitting, I beheld your
son at your feet. I heard you address him with
all a mother's tenderness."

"I believed him to be the colonel's son," she
rejoined.

HILARY ST. IVES. 23

" I don't doubt it," cried lier husband, bitterl}'.
" You had good reasons for the behef."

" ^Ii\ Eadcliffe," said Colonel Delacombe,
sternly, "this must proceed no furtlier. You are
merely an instrument in the hands of a malimiant
and vindictive woman, who, for purposes of lier
own — which, if I deemed proper, I could easily
explain — seeks to injure me and destroy your
wife's reputation. How came that letter, from
which you have di'awn these erroneous conclu-
sions, in Mrs. Sutton's possession'?"

" I never gave it her," said Mrs. Radcliffe.

" It must have been stolen to serve the in-
famous pm'pose for which it has been used," said
the colonel. " Call Mrs. Sutton. I enfjage to
unmask her villany."

Mrs. Radcliffe was about to ring the bell, but
her husband authoritatively forbade her.

" I won't have her called," he said. " I won't

24 HILARY ST. IVES.

have a scene made. I am quite satisfied with her
conduct. She has done her duty to me."

" She is a perfidious Avretch," cried Mrs. Rad-
chffe. " Is this her return for all the kindness I
have shown her !"

" A more atrocious scheme was never planned,"
said the colonel. " I will show you the motives
of her conduct "

" I am perfectly satisfied with her motives,"
rejoined Mr. Radcliffe, coldly.

"But you are labouring under an entire mis-
apprehension, sir. Again, I request that the
woman may be summoned."

" It will answer no pm-pose," rejoined Mr. Rad-
cliffe, shaking his head. "Recriminations won't
convince me."

" You are a barbarian," cried his wife — " a
perfect barbarian !"

" You have made me what I am, madam," he
rejoined.

HILARY ST. IVES. 25

I protest my innocence, sir ! — protest it in tlie
strongest terms. Will you believe me now ?"

" Proofs are against you, madam — incontestable
proofs."

" Oh ! this is too much," she cried, sinking
back. " I sliall never survive it."

" I must ring for assistance, sir," said the
colonel.

" Leave her alone," interposed Mr. Radcliffe.
" She has a smelling-bottle near her, if she wants
it."

Hearing this, his wife sprang up in the greatest
indignation.

" I have just said you are a barbarian, IVIr.
Eadcliffe," she cried ; " and I now say you are a
brute. Would you allow me to expire before your

eyes

V

"I am not afraid of your dying. Keep quiet
and listen to me. This frightful secret has only
just been revealed to me, and the agitation it has

26 HILARY ST. IVES.

caused has not allowed me to consider liow I
shall act. But I shall do nothing harshly.
Though you have deeply wronged me I will not
expose you to the contumely of the world. Your
worthy father's later years shall not be embittered
by the knowledge of your guilt. Your daughter"
— and his voice faltered — "your daughter shall
never learn it. Not for worlds would I have her
know it."

" For mercy's sake, Mr. Radcliffe, do not go on
thus. I am your faithful, loving wife."

And she tried to approach him, but he gently
repulsed her.

" Had I known your true character, Esther,
you would never have been my wife. For our
child's sake I mil bear with you. But never
again will you be to me what you have been."

She gazed at him as if doubting what he said,
but reading inflexibility in his looks, she uttered

HILARY ST. IVES.

27

an hysterical cry, and would have fallen if he had
not caught her.

This was no pretended faintness, and scarcely
knowing what he was about, Mr. Kadcliffe rang
the bell violently, while the colonel bathed the
poor lady's temples with eau-de-Cologne, and gave
her the flacon of salts to smell at.

" Sad work !" he observed to :Mi'. RadcHffe ;
« and to think that all this needless misery has
been caused by that accursed woman. Ah ! here
she is," he exclaimed, as the door was opened.
" Now for it !"'

But she did not come alone. May was with
her, and on seeing his daughter, Mr. Radcliffe
whispered to the colonel :

" Not a word before her, sir, I insist."
The hypocritical housekeeper flew to her
mistress, and, feigning the greatest concern at
her condition, quickly relieved Mr. Radcliffe of

28 HILARY ST. IVES.

his burden, and placing the lady in her easy-chair,
proceeded to apply fresh restoratives.

May was not so much alarmed as she would
have been, had these fainting-fits been of less fre-
quent occurrence. Nevertheless, she held one of
her mother's hands in her own, and looked on
anxiously.

" What has caused this, papa f she asked.

"I can scarcely tell," he replied. "Your
mamma is subject to these attacks, you know."

Mrs. Radcliffe at this moment began to recover
her consciousness. On opening her eyes, and
perceiving Mrs. Sutton near her, she pushed her
oflF with signs of the greatest aversion.

But a gesture from Mr. Radcliffe prevented her
from giving utterance to her anger.

" I have only waited for Mrs. Radcliffe's re-
covery to take my leave," said the colonel. " Pray
make my adieux."

HILARY ST. IVES. 29

" You are not going," said the lady, slightly
raising herself. " You are not obliged to return
to town at once."

"Not exactly obliged, but "

" Then, pray, stay."

" Yes, pray do, colonel," urged May. " Sir
Charles quite calculates on meeting you at
dinner."

*'Well, I won't disappoint him. I will stay
with the greatest pleasure."

"Very glad to hear it," cried Mr. Radcliffe,
with affected heartiness.

ISIi's. Sutton could scarcely conceal her mortifi-
cation at this unexpected turn of affairs.

30 HILARY ST. IVES.

XXIV.

THE WARNING.

Things were now in a most unfortunate posi-
tion. Without explaining liis connection A^ath
Mrs. Sutton — without detailing his early history,
which he could not persuade himself to do —
Colonel Delacombe was unable to remove the
baneful impression produced upon Mr. Radcliffe
by Hilary's letter. Indeed the poor gentleman
absolutely refused to listen to any fui'ther ex-
planation. The colonel therefore was compelled

HILARY ST. IVES. 31

to desist, and allow things to remain as they were
for the present.

Luckily there was a numerous dinner-party that
day, and this offered some distraction. Mr. Rad-
cliffe had to attend to his guests, and his thoughts
were forcibly turned into other channels. As he
gazed on his beloved child, who was seated next
Sir Charles, and saw how bright and happy she
looked, could he bring a shade upon that lovely
brow ? No, she must never learn his griefs.
!Mrs. Radcliffe put on a gay mask. Angry with
her husband — angry with the colonel — excessively
angiy with Mrs. Sutton — she felt the necessity of
keeping up appearances, and tried to look lively
and unconcerned. '

The dinner-party was exceedingly pleasant,
and numbered half a dozen out of the eight
charming girls chosen to act as bridesmaids at
the approaching ceremonial. An equal number

32 HILARY ST. IVES.

of young men had been invited, so there was
plenty of animated conversation, and possibly
some little flirting. Bridesmaids expect to become
brides in their turn, and all these were so pretty,
that it seemed likely their expectations would be
realised. Our inflammable friend Oswald was
struck with a sudden admiration of the golden
tresses and delicately fair complexion of Jessie
Brooke, and paid her great attention. He was
a sad fellow, that Oswald, and his grandsire did
not know wdiat to make of him. If the colonel
w'as ill at ease as well as his host, no one found
it out. He chanced to sit next to the vicar of
Wootton, who had a very important part to
play at the ceremony, and delighted the reverend
gentleman with his conversation.

After dinner, there was music and a little
carpet-dance for the young folks, in which both
May and her lover took part, for though Sir

HILARY ST. IVES. 33

Charles, as we know, disliked balls, he did not
object to a quiet quadrille. Never had he passed
a happier evening, and he told May, as he bade
her adieu for the night, that he hoped they
should pass many — many such. Two days only
intervened between them and the consummation
of their happiness. On the third day May
would become Lady Ilminster, and Sir Charles
would be blessed — so he thought — with the fairest
bride in England. All looked bright — too bright,
perhaps, to last. But they had no misgivings.
Possessing everything that can contribute to
human felicity, they had every reasonable ex-
pectation of a long term of uninterrupted bliss.

They parted overnight, as we have described,
Sir Charles assuring his intended bride, as he
pressed her hand, that he had never been so
happy as on that night, and she echoing the
sentiment.

VOL. III. D

34 HILARY ST. IVES.

They met next morning, as arranged. The
whole party had driven over to Boxgrove.
Though Sir Charles did his best to conceal it,
it was evident that he had something on his
mind, but May forbore to question him till they
were alone. She lured him out into the park,
and as they shaped then* course towards a gi'ove
his gloom increased — so much so that she began
to feel quite uncomfortable. At last they sat
down beneath a large oak, whose broad arms
completely sheltered them from the smi. Then
looking earnestly and entreatingly into his face,
she besought liim to tell her what was tiie
matter.

" I have a presentiment of misfortune which
I cannot shake off," he replied, with a sad
smile. "I have had a warning."

The tone ia which he pronounced the words
made her blood run cold.

HILARY ST. IVES. 35

" A warning !" she echoed.

"Were you never told that we have a sin-
gular superstition?" he rejoined. "It is believed
that each member of our family is warned of
approaching death."

" You are saying this to frighten me, Charlie,"
said May, trying to force a smile, but unable
to repress a shudder.

" Indeed I am not," he rejoined. " The warn-
ing is a matter of faith with all of us. There
are too many instances on record to allow of
any doubt."

"You never mentioned this to me before,
Chai-lie."

" I wish I had not mentioned it now, for I
have banished the roses from j'our cheeks. How-
ever, I must tell you all, since I have begun.
My ancestor Sir Albcric was accidentally poi-
soned by his physician, and it is supposed that
D 2

36 HILARY ST. IVES.

the warning is given by the troubled spirit of
this man. Be this as it may, it is certain that
a dark shadowy figure is seen before any of our
family dies at Boxgrove. This I myself can
attest. On the night before the death of my
father, Sir Umfraville, I beheld the shadow."

May uttered an exclamation of mingled as-
tonishment and horror.

" He was ill at the time, but not thought to be
in danger," he continued. " I was proceeding
along the corridor towards his room, when I saw
a dark figm-e pass through the door. But I had
no uneasiness, for I thought it was one of the
servants. When I entered, my father was alone,
sleeping in his easy-chair, and breathing heavily.
I aroused him from his troubled slumber, and
he complained that he had just felt a deadly
chill strike to his heart, but I did not tell him
what had caused it. Next night he died."

HILARY ST. IVES. 37

May did not dare to ask any fui'tlicr question,
but after a brief pause he went on :

" You know how happy I was last night.
When I sought my couch I was still dwelling
upon the events of the day, and soon sank into
a peaceful slumber. But my repose was dis-
turbed by a sense of deadly oppression such as
I never before experienced. I felt chilled to
the marrow, and could scarcely breathe. Making
a convulsive effort to shake off the horrible
nightmare, I sprang bolt upright in bed, and
then by the dim moonlight that struggled through
the window-curtains I distinctly beheld a dark
shadow glide through the door. The deadly
chill was then accounted for. 1 instantly sprang
from my couch, but the door was shut before I
reached it. The next moment, however, I was
in the corridor. No one was there. All was
hushed and still as the grave. The moonbeams

38 HILARY ST. IVES.

fell Upon the portrait of Sir Alberic, which
hangs there, as yon may remember. The old
warrior seemed to gaze compassionately upon the
last of his long line. I have had my warning,
May."

"Heaven forbid!" she ejaculated, fervently.

" Ah ! it would be hard indeed to 'kave you
for ever. May !" he exclaimed, gazing at her with
unutterable tenderness. " Years hence, I hope
we shall be seated together beneath this tree, and
laugh as we recal the warning. But if it should
be otherwise — if I should be suddenly snatched
from you by fate — think of what I now say. My
last thought will be of you — my last sigh will
breathe your name."

"You will make me perfectly wretched if you
talk thus," she cried. " Ah ! if I were to lose
you, I should never be happy agam."

^* Let us talk of something else. See ! there
are visitors," he added, pointing out an open

HILARY ST. IVES. 39

carriage, filled with ladies, which was approaching
the mansion. " Let us go meet them."

She took his arm, and thej proceeded slowly
towards the house. A number of persons were
assembled in the garden. Tlie carriage they had
seen brought the two Miss IMil wards and Jessie
Brooke, and after a little lively conversation, a
game at croquet was arranged, in which Oswald
and two other young men took part.

Leaving May with Colonel Delacombe to
watch the game, Sir Charles joined Mr. Eadcliffe
and "Mr. Thornton, who were sauntering along the
lawn, and begged them to step into the house
with him for a few minutes, and they all three
passed through an open French window into the
library.

"I require your professional assistance, Mr.
Thornton," observed Sir Charles, as they entered
the room.

"Most happy to afford it you," replied the

40 HILARY ST. IVES.

old gentleman. " What do you want me to
do?"

" To make my will," replied tlie other.

Both his hearers expressed surprise, and Mr
Thornton thought the baronet must be joking.

" I am perfectly serious," remarked Sir Charles.
"I want the thing done without delay."

"I should be the last person to oppose your
determination," said Mr. Thornton ; " and I will
carry your intentions into effect, if you desire
it, but the disposition of a large property like
yours ought to be carefully considered. I will
take down any instructions you may give me.
Sir Charles," he added, seating himself at a table
on which writing materials were placed.

"Perhaps I had better retire," remarked Mr.
RadclifFe.

"On no account," said the baronet. "I desire
your presence, but beg you not to comment upon

HILARY ST. IVES. 41

my instructions. Let the instrument be as brief
as possible," he added to Mr. Thornton. "With
the exception of a legacy of thirty thousand
pounds to my sister, Lady Richborough, I mean
to leave the whole of my property, real and
personal — Boxgrove, and all my other estates, to
May."

" You have requested me not to make a
comment, Sir Charles," observed Mr. Radcliffe ;
" but I cannot help saying that you are acting
far too generously towards my daughter."

" !Mr. Radcliffe," said Sir Charles, with profound
emotion, "your daughter is dearer to me than
any one on earth. Except the sum devoted to
my sister, all I have shall be hers."

The tone in which he spoke left no doubt that
his resolution was taken, and IVir. Thornton
forbore to make a remark.

"I am ready to begin, Sir Charles," he said,

42 HILARY ST. IVES.

taking up a pen; "but I think you had better
delay the matter until after your marriage."

*'Not for a single day — not for an hour," he
rejoined. "No telling what may happen."

" Very true," observed the old gentleman.
"Well, I'll make it as short as I can. Who are
to be the executors?"

*' Yourself and IMr. Eadcliffe, if you will under-
take the office."

No objections made. The old gentleman set
to work, and in a very few minutes drew up the
document, which, important as it was, did not
occupy more than half a side of paper.

*'This is sufficiently concise, I think," he re-
marked.

And he read what he had written to Sir
Charles, who signified his perfect approval, adding
that he wished to execute the instrument forth-
with.

HILARY ST. m:s. 43

"In that case we must have witnesses," said
Mr. Thornton. "Lend me yom* signet-ring, Sir
Charles."

While the old gentleman was placing a seal in
black wax on the document, Mr. Dancer and
two other men-servants were summoned, and in
their presence the will was duly executed by Sir
Charles, who requested INIr. Thornton to take
charge of the document.

"Now that the thing is done. Sir Charles,"
said the old gentleman, "I must remark that
you have hm'ried yourself very unnecessarily."

" I \^dshed to get the business off my mind,"
replied the other.

Just then May and Colonel Delacombe ap-
peared at the open mndow.

"Not a word to her," said the baronet, with,
a gesture of silence.

She had come to ask him to join the croquet

44 HILAEY ST. IVES.

party, and he willingly complied. He had now
quite recovered his cheerfulness, and seemed to
have forgotten the nocturnal incident that had
caused him so much disquietude.

By this time several more visitors had arrived,
and a large and gaily dressed assemblage, in
which the gentler sex predominated, was collected
on the lawn, where croquet was being played.
After an hour spent very agreeably, the gong
summoned the company to luncheon, and both
Mr. Radcliffe and Mr. Thornton remarked that
Sir Charles was in higher spirits than usual.

Luncheon over, croquet was resumed, and kept
up till six o'clock, when the visitors departed, and
our friends returned to Hazlemere to dinner.

Sir Charles drove May in a mail phaeton which
he had just launched. There was another dinner
party that day, graced by all the pretty girls who
had dined there the day before, together with

HILARY ST. IVES. 45

three or four others, and a very lively dinner it
was, for the champagne flowed freely. Music and
dancing followed as before. Plans were made for
next day — never, alas ! to be realised.

When the moment for separation came the
dread presentiment which Sir Charles had hitherto
repressed again forced itself upon him. He could
scarcely bid her adieu. She, too, felt saddened
— and so they parted for ever !

Anxious to hide his emotion. Sir Charles
sprang into the mail phaeton, that was waiting
for him at the hall-door. He was quickly fol-
lowed by Colonel Delacombe, who had agreed
to return with him to Boxgrove. Next moment
they dashed off, and kept up the pace so well
that within a quarter of an hour they were in
sight of the park gates. It was a lovely moon-
hght night, and the colonel enjoyed the drive
immensely. He smoked his cigar quietly, and

AQ HILARY ST. ITES.

did not trouble himself to talk much, for Sir
Charles did not seem inclined for conversation.

All at once, however, he was roused from
the dreamy reverie into which he had fallen.
Something startled the horses — he could not tell
what — for neither he nor Kennedy, the groom,
saw anything, but they both heard Sir Charles
exclaim :

" Good God ! there it is again !"

At the same moment the horses set off at a
furious pace, and soon became unmanageable.
Sir Charles, though an admirable whip, could
not hold them. Perhaps he was unnerved by
what he had seen. On they dashed, tearing thg
ground with their hoofs, till they reached the
lodge-gates, which unluckily had been thrown
open.

Accustomed to this entrance, the infuriated
animals made an attempt to pass through the

HILARY ST. IVES. 47

gates, but their blind impetuosity brought the
carriage in contact with a post and upset the
vehicle, throwing out its occupants with great
violence.

Colonel Delacombe, though much shaken by
the fall, soon regained his legs, and so did
Kennedy, but the ill-fated baronet did not move.
Roused by the tremendous crash, the lodge-
keeper rushed forth, and, seizing the horses, pre-
vented further mischief.

Attention was now turned to Sir Charles, and
on raising him, it became evident that he had
sustained frightful injuries about the head. Li-
deed, the colonel feared that the skull was
fractured.

As soon as practicable, the unfortmiate man
was carried into the lodge and laid upon a bed.
He groaned deeply, but could not speak. The
colonel tended him like a brother. By his du'ec-

48 HILARY ST. IVES.

tions, Kennedy mounted one of the horses and
rode off to Wootton in quest of Mr. Malham.
But before the surgeon arrived the spirit had
fled of as gallant a gentleman as ever breathed.

HILARY ST. IVES. 49

XXV.

HOW THE NEWS WAS BROUGHT TO HAZLEMERE.

That night most of the inmates of Hazlemere
had retired to rest full of pleasant anticipations
of the morrow, but Luff, the butler, and Boston,
who slept at the back of the house, were roused
from their first slumbers by Kennedy.

The afflicting news was conveyed by the butler
to his master and Mr. Thornton, and filled them
with consternation. The two gentlemen soon
came do^Mi-stairs, and were preparing to set
out for Boxgrove, when they were stopped by

VOL. III. B

50 HILARY ST. IVES.

tlie arrival of INIr. Malliam, who came to inform
tliem that all was over. Both were stunned by
the di'eadful intelligence.

" Gracious Heaven !" exclaimed Mr. Thorn-
ton, when he regained his speech. "How re-
markable that Sir Charles should have just made
his will. And how anxious he was that there
should be no delay. He might have had a pre-
sentiment of his approaching end."

"What a frightful shock it will be to May!"
gi'oaned Mr. Eadcliffe. " Enough to kill her."

" I hope Colonel Delacombe is not much
hui'tf inquired Mr. Thornton of the surgeon.

" A good deal shaken, but otherwise unin-
jured," replied Mr. Malham. " He wished to
accompany me, but I prevailed upon him to
go up to the hall. It will be better for him to
be quiet, though he seems made of iron."

Having fulfilled his sad errand, the surgeon left

HILARY ST. IVES. 51

them, promising to call again early on tlie morrow.
But he Avas not allowed to quit the house without
an interv'ieAv with IMi's. Sutton. Though as little
noise as possible was made, the housekeeper heard
certain sounds that alarmed her, and hastily at-
tu'ing herself, came down-stairs, just in time to
catch him. She soon learnt the teriible truth.

" But Colonel Delacombe was with Sir Charles,"
she cried. " Is he, too, killed ?"

" No. Fortunately, he has escaped almost
unhurt."

" Fate is unjust," she cried. " Sir Charles
ought to have been the one spared."

" Very true. What a dreadful business ! Never
knew anything so shocking. Poor Sir Charles !
killed in the prime of life, and just on the eve of
marriao;o with the ijirl he adored. Dreadful !"

To his horror the door opened and May came
in — a taper in her hand, and looking excessively
E 2

52 HILARY ST. IVES.

pale. As it chanced she had not retu'ed to rest,
and being alarmed by the disturbance in the
house, instead of ringing her bell had come down
to see what had happened. On beholding the
surgeon, her uneasiness increased.

" You are surprised to find me here at this time
of night, Miss Kadcliffe," he said. "The fact
is "

" Do not disguise the truth, Mr. Malham," she
interrupted. " Sir Charles has been taken sud-
denly ill. I am sure of it. You have come to tell
us so."

" Perhaps it will be best to prepare her,"
thought the surgeon. "It is strange you should
think this. Miss Radcliffe," he observed. " But
don't be alarmed, my dear young lady, don't be
alarmed."

" Is there any danger ?" she asked, with forced
calmness.

HILARY ST. IVES. 53

"In illness there is always a certain danger,"
he answered, evasively.

" But what is the nature of the attack ? Speak
plainly. It must have been very sudden. He
was perfectly well when he went away."

" Yes, it was very sudden," he replied, glancing
at the housekeeper.

The look did not pass unnoticed by May.

" Luflf and Boston were in the hall as I came
down-stairs," she said, " and I heard them talking
about an accident. But they hurried off before I
could question them. Were they speaking of Sir
Charles ?"

" Yes, I am soiTy to say he has met with an
accident "

" Then my fears are realised," she cried, with
a look of so much anguish that the surgeon re-
gretted his words.

But he was spared the necessity of further

54 HILARY ST. IVES.

explanation by Mr. RadclifFe, who, having heard
his daughter's voice, hastened to her.

Prom her looks he thought she had learnt the
dreadful truth.

" Heaven sustain you under this dire affliction,
my dear child !" he exclaimed, clasping her to his
breast. " Malham has told you all."

" Pie has told me nothing, papa," she exclaimed.
"He has tried to keep the fatal truth from me.
But I divined it."

" Alas ! my dear child, I cannot hide it from
you. You have lost him."

Crying out, as if a shot had pierced her heart,
she became insensible in his arms.

" God forgive me ! I fear I have killed her,
Malham," he cried to the surgeon.

"No, sir — no. The shock could not be other-
wise than severe. But it will pass. We must take
her up to her room, Mrs. Sutton, and you will re-

HILAEY ST. IVES. 55

main with her during the night. Do not distress
yourself, sir. I will answer for her recoverj."

The tender father carried her up-stairs himself.
At the door of her chamber he consigned her to
the sm'geon and the housekeeper, and paced to
and fro in the passage till they came forth.

Mr. Malham looked nnich moved, and Mrs.
Sutton was weeping.

"Why have you both left her?" cried Mr.
Radcliffe.

" There is nothing to fear," replied the surgeon.
" She wishes to be alone — to seek for consolation
where she is sure to find it. Your daughter is an
angel, sh*. Mrs. Sutton will return to her pre-
sently. Now take my advice, and go to bed. I
will be with you early in the morning."

£nti of tl)£ ^aonti 33ooIi.

BOOK 111.

THE KIVALS.

HILARY ST. lYES. 59

1.

THE YOUNG MISTKESS OF BOXGROVE.

No event could have caused a more painful
sensation than the awfully sudden death of Sir
.Charles Ilminster, occurring as it did uudei' cir-
cumstances SO peculiarly distressing. Popular
with all classes of society, the ill-fated baronet \ysis
universally regretted.

It was thought remarkable that he should have
endowed his intended bride with the whole of his
large fortune on the veiy day on which he acci-
dentally met his death ; but this proved the deptli

60 HILARY ST. IVES.

of his attacliment to her, and added to the general
regret that a cruel fate would not permit their
union — a union which no one doubted would have
been happy.

To May herseK the splendid provision made for
her served only to aggravate her sorrow. She
understood the motives — inexpHcable to others —
that had actuated him in making his will so hastily.
She recalled every word he had spoken to her,
and felt sure he had thought of her at the last.

As her grief, at first overwhelming, began to
abate, she was able to realise the position in which
Sir Charles's magnificent bequest had placed her.
But the wealth she had acquired could not console
her, though it might in some degree mitigate the
sharpness of her affliction. She loved Boxgrove
because he had loved the place, and because its
antique chambers, its galleries, its gardens, and
its groves recalled his image. He was laid among

HILARY ST. IVES. 61

his ancestors in the family vault beneath the
chapel attached to the Hall, and she daily visited

his tomb.

Nothing had been changed at Boxgrove since
the house had come into her hands. All the esta-
blishment was kept up as it had been in Sir
Charles's time. She confided the management of
the house to Mr. Thornton and Mrs. Woodcot,
who lived with her, and if visitors came she left
the old gentleman and her aunt to entertain them.
She refused for the present to mix with society,
declaring she had lost all taste for it.

But it must not be supposed that she had given
way to gloom, and that the secluded Kfe she now
led was caused by a morbid feeling of melancholy.
Something of her former cheerfulness had re-
turned ; and though she had lost the bright look
that once belonged to her, and the winning smile
that constantly played about her lips had fled, yet

62 HILARY ST. IVES.

the serene and pensive expression of her counte-
nance heightened its interest. She was graver
than before. Sorrow had chastened her heart, but
not altered the sweetness of her disposition. Aunt
Woodcot thought her more charming than ever,
and we inchne to think that Aunt Woodcot was
right. Grandpapa, whose notions of her had
become more exalted with the increase of her
wealth, hoped that she would eventually take a
very high place in society, but he was content to
wait. The young mistress of Boxgrove was now
looked upon as the best match in the county, and
as nobody supposed she had vowed eternal fidelity
to the memory of poor Sir Charles, everybody
wondered who would be fortunate enough to
obtain her hand. A great deal of court was paid
to the EadclifFes as well as to the guardians at
Boxgrove, and more than one advantageous offer
was quietly declined, ^^'itllout being submitted to
the young lady.

HILAEY ST. IVES. 63

Mr. Thornton was extremely well satisfied with
his position — and no wonder. Virtually master
of a large mansion and a large establishment,
he had nothing to do but to study his own
comforts, and these he attended to most sedu-
lously.

Aunt Woodcot was equally comfortable. To
her, indeed, Boxgrove was a sort of paradise,
and her only dread was that she might, one
day, be obliged to quit it. Consequently, she
was by no means anxious that her niece should
many — unless she married Oswald, of which
there seemed little chance. Mi's. Woodcot could
now vie with Mrs. Eadcliffe, had a carriage en-
tirely at her disposal, and was in fact a person
of considerable importance.

To Myrtilla, Sir Charles's sudden death had
been a great shock. She was sincerely attached
to her brother, but the handsome legacy he had
left her, in some measure reconciled her to his

64 HILARY ST. IVES.

loss. She rather envied May her large acquisi-
tions, but did not complain of being ill-treated.
She came down to see "the young widow," as
she called her, but was dreadfully bored by Aunt
Woodcot, and found the old house duller and
more like a convent than ever. Consequently she
spent most of her time at Hazlemere.

Colonel Delacombe had gone abroad and taken
Hilary with him. They were now at Castella-
mare, near Naples, in the midst of vineyards
and orange-groves. Having received a great
deal of encouragement from Lady Richborough,
the young man was foolish enough to propose
to her, and being rejected, was still more foolish
to take his rejection to heart. To cure him the
colonel took him abroad. It must not be ima-
gined for a moment that the colonel and Myrtilla
had quarrelled. They were on as friendly terms
as ever, and kept up a constant correspondence.

HILARY ST. IVES. G5

Knowing they wonkl interest her, Lady Rich-
borongh showed ISIi's. Radcliffe several of the
coloners letters, in all of Avhich he spoke of
Hilary with great affection. In the last that had
come to hand he told her that the young man
was perfectly cured of his foolish passion. "But
I am half afraid,*' he added, " that he has fallen
desperately in love with a fascinating Neapolitan
countess, who is staying at the same hotel with
us."

" Not very flattering to me," remarked Myrtilla.
" But I am glad to hear it, nevertheless."

"I fancied you liked him," said IMrs. Ead-
cliffe.

"Not well enough to marry him. I wonder
why men will propose to me. They ought to
know better. I have no idea of given up my
liberty. Were I in May's position, and mistress
of Boxgrove, nothing should inducce me to marry.

VOL. III. F

66 HILARY ST. IVES.

" I don't think she will," observed Mrs. Ead-
cliffe. " She is inconsolable."

" Inconsolable ! I don't believe that. Her
fidelity will be pnt to the test pretty severely
by-and-by, yon may depend upon it. Plenty of
suitors will make their appearance, or I'm very
much mistaken, and then we shall see what she
will do. By-the-by, did she ever inform yon that
she had her fortune told at Ascot ?"

'•' She mentioned the circumstance, but did
not tell me what the gipsy said."

"It was a singular prediction. I laughed at
it then, but I don't know what to think now.
It may be fulfilled. Who knows? But to re-
turn to the colonel. He inquires if Mrs. Sutton
is still with you. I am glad 1 can tell him she
is <Tone. I won't ask what she did, but I know
she was dreadfully mischievous."

"The mischief she has made can never be

IIILAKY ST. IVES. G7

set riglit, I fear. Mr. Radcliffe has never been
like himself since slie poisoned his mind by her
falsehoods. To me she behaved infamously. I
treated her like a friend, not as a servant, and
gave her my entire confidence. She requited me
with the basest ingratitude."

"Have you never discovered the motives of
her malice? I know enough of her history to
be able to enlighten you as to them. You in-
advertently committed a great error in taking
her into the house. I am certain she has all
along nourished fofelings of jealous dislike to you.
The colonel's appearance roused these feelings
into activity, and unluckily, as it seems, you
have placed yourself sufficiently in her power to
enable her to do you an injury."

" AVhat has she to do with the colonel V cried
Mrs. Radcliffo, startled. "I thought they were
utter strangers to each other."
f2

68 HILARY ST. IVES.

" Strangers !" echoed Myrtilla. " He knew her
long before he knew you."

"Was she his mistress?"

" His loife" rephecl Lady Richborough. " And
Hilary is their son. Now you must understand
it all?"

«I do, I do," cried Mrs. Radcliffe. " I under-
stand it too well."

" You must not do him an injustice. When
he sought your hand, he believed that death had
freed him from the chain which he had so fool-
ishly imposed upon himself. It is due to him
that you should be satisfied on this point." And
she proceeded to give her the details of the
colonel's unfortunate marriage. To these ISIrs.
Radcliffe listened with the deepest interest.

" Until his return from India he believed the
wretched woman dead," said Myrtilla, in con-
clusion ; " and you may conceive his horror when

HILARY ST. IVES. 69

he found lie had been deceived by a false report.
Not the least surprising part of the strange
story is that she should be here — with you — and
that their son should be brought hither likewise.
It looks like fatality."

" Strange, indeed," said :Mi's. EadcHffe. " There
has always been a certain mystery about Mrs.
Sutton, but if I had known who she was I should
have been frightened to death of her."

" Wliat has become of her ?" asked Lady Rich-
borough.

" I cannot tell. She left quite suddenly, and
contrary to Mr. Eadcliffe's wishes. It would
seem, however, that she had made preparations for
her departure, for her packages were ready, and
she left nothing behind her. She proceeded to
London, as we suppose, but she has not been heard
of since."

" I fear you have not seen the last of her," ob-

70 HILARY ST. IVES,

served Myrtilla. " What a misfortune to be tied
so such a -^'retch ! — and I see no chance of the
colonel's deliverance. Hilary is not aware that
she is his mother, but he must learn the secret one
of these days."

"Yes, however disagreeable it may be to the
colonel, an explanation must be given," observed
Mrs. Radcliffe.

The foregoing conversation will afford some
notion of the state of things at Hazlemere. Mrs.
Sutton was indeed o;one, and no tidings had been
received of her since her departure. Her loss
was a serious grievance to Mrs. Eadcliffe, and
even the servants regretted her, for she had con-
trived to secure theh' good will. But no one
regretted her so much as Air. Malham. He made
constant inquiries after her, and vainly tried to
ascertain her address.

HILARY ST. IVES. 71

II.

■ A LETTER FROil LADY KICIIBOKOUGIL

AxOTHEE spring has arrived. IMay Day is
again approaching, Lut no change has yet taken
place in the mode of hfe of the young mistress
of Boxgrove. Grandpapa and Amit Woodcot
still reside with her. Mrs. Trapp, poor Sir
Charles's housekeeper, who could not brook Mrs.
Woodcot's control, has taken 3Ii's. Sutton's place
at Hazlemere. This is the only change in the
establishment. There arc rarely any visitors, and

72 HILAKY ST. IVES.

consequently the house is as quiet as quiet can be
• — rather too quiet, indeed, for Mr. Thornton.
Tlie Eadchffes are ahiiost as much at Boxgrove
as Hazlemere. Mr. Radcliffe has never been able
to reconcile himself to the loss of Mrs. Sutton.
Neither he nor his wife know what has become of
her, as she has never written to them since her
departure. Her conduct appears strange and in-
expKcable to Mr. Radcliffe, but does not surprise
his wife, who is delighted to be released from the
thraldom in which she has so long been kept.
She is sometimes tempted to take Mrs. Trapp into
her confidence, but warned by previous experience,
prudently abstains. Not even to ISIrs. Woodcot
has she disclosed the secret of Colonel Delacombe's
unfortunate marriage, but the thought of it often
troubles her. She never hears from the colonel
now. All correspondence between them has
ceased. But she obtains tidings of him from

HILARY ST. IVES. 73

Lady Richborougli, and is aware that he is still
abroad with his adopted son. She is also aware
that he has been dangerously ill, having been
attacked by fever and agne at Rome, but is now
convalescent.

Things were in this state at the two houses,
Avlien one day a communication was received by
ISIi's. Radcliffe from Lady Richborough, which it
Avill be proper to lay before the reader. The
letter amved by the early post Avhile jVIi's. Rad-
cliffe was at breakfast, but she did not read it
till she was alone in her boudoir.

" You are quite aware, dear Mrs. Radcliffe,
that I do not approve of the secluded life that
our dear May is leading, and think she ought to
assume the position in society to wdiich the large
fortune left her by my brother entitles her. A
lovely girl, not yet twenty, with the most brilliant

74 HILARY ST. IVES.

prospects before lier, cannot be allowed to bury
herself alive. Poor Sir Oliarles would not have
demanded such a sacrifice. She has paid the full
tribute of regret to his memoiy, and havuig an
important part to play in the world, cannot shrink
from it. Such is ray opinion, and such, I feel
sure, must also be your opinion.

" I need not remind you of the immense sen-
sation she produced last spring. But for her
engagement to poor dear Charlie she would have
had no end of offers. Chief among her con-
quests was Lord Robert Tadcaster, who was des-
perately smitten. At that time he had nothing
beyond his title to recommend him. The case is
very different now, since, as you must be aware,
by the demise of his father and elder brother, he
has become Marquis of Hartlepool. With princely
domains in Berkshire and Kent, two noble country
seats, and a splendid house in Arlington-street, the
marquis need not look far for a bride. The

HILARY ST. IVES. 75

proudest peer in the realm ^Yould be liappy to give
him his daughter.

" You will guess on whom his choice has fallen.
The lovely girl who captivated him last spring
still remains mistress of his affections, and he has
commissioned me to write to you, and make her a
formal offer of his hand.

"A proposal from a nobleman of such distinc-
tion as the ^^larquis of Hartlepool cannot be
otherwise than favourably entertained-at least
by you and ^Ii'. KadclifFe. I account it a signal
honour. But in Clay's present frame of mind
she may be insensible to the importance of the
offer, and if left to herself might decline it. It is
to prevent the possibility of such a mischance
that I now write, urging you to leave nothing
undone to bring about a satisfactory resuU.

«I think you will do better without me than
with me ; but if you fancy I can be of the slightest
use, let me know, and I will run down at once.

76 HILARY ST. IVES. <

"Grandpapa and Aunt Woodcot mnst exert ]

their influence. Nothing must be neglected. All j

sorts of good wishes to you all. Adieu I 1

i
Your affectionate, |

I

" Myrtilla. ]

I
I

" P.S. I must not omit to tell you that Colonel '
Delacombe is in Paris on his way back — much i

!

better, though still suffering from the effects of

the fever. Hilary is with him. Of course I i

i
have told him of ]\Irs. Sutton's departure, and ]

that nothing has been heard of her since. I shall !

write to inform him of May's splendid offer. Once

more, adieu !" !

In an ecstasy of delight, ]\Irs. Radcliffe rushed •:
down-stairs to communicate the joyful intelligence
to her husband. She found him in the library
with Mr. Thornton, who had just ridden over from
Boxgrove. - ]

HILARY ST. IVES. 77

" Oh ! I am so glad you are here," she cried to
her father. " I have such wonderf iil news for
you — and for you too, my dear. What do you
think ? Our darHng May has had an offer from
no less a person than the Marquis of Hartlepool."

" Why, he's her old admirer, Lord Robert
Tadcaster — only raised to the first rank of the
peerage," observed jSIr. Thornton. "He was
deuced lucky in getting rid of his elder brother,
the earl."

" You shall hear wdiat Lady Richborough says
about him, for it is through her that the offer has
been made," replied Mrs. Radcliffe.

And taking a seat, she read the letter, which
produced a great effect upon both her hearers.
When she had done, the old gentleman manifested
liis delight by a chuckling laugh.

''Well, this surpasses my expectations," he
cried. " As her ladyship very properly observes.

78 HILARY ST. lYES.

the proposal of a nobleman of such distinction as
the Marquis of Hartlepool is a signal honour."

IVIr. Radcliffe Avas less excited, and quietly
remarked, " I feel as much gratified as you do,
jNIr. Thornton, but "

"There must be no 'buts' in the case," in-
terrupted the old gentleman. " May must accept
the marquis."

"Decidedly my opinion," said ^Ii's. Kadcliffe.
" There can be no hesitation. A\^iere the in-
terests of the family are concerned, as they are
now, she is bound to sacrifice her own feelings.
But I do not see that she can raise any objection
to her noble suitor. She rather liked him as Lord
Robert Tadcaster."

" If she did, which I very much doubt," observed
Mr. Eadcliffe, "poor Sir Charles did not share
her sentiments. I hope she will view the matter
in the same light that we do ; but I have great
misgivings."

HILARY ST. IVES. 79

" She cannot be allowed to have her own way,"
cried ]\Irs. Radcliffe.

" Certainly not," said Mr. Thornton. " Lady
Itichborough urges mc to exert my influence over
her, and I shall not fail to do so. But if you
exercise your paternal authority, she will not
venture to disobey," he added to ISIi*. Radcliffe.

" I shall simply state my Avishes," replied the
worthy gentleman. "Personally, I feel honoured
by the offer. It would be a proud day to me to
see my daughter wedded to the Marquis of Hart-
lepool, but I will not force her to accept him. As
far as I am concerned, I shall leave the decision
entirely to herself."

" I really have no patience with you, my dear,"
exclaimed ISIrs. Radcliffe. "May has been al-
lowed to indulge her grief a great deal too long,
and it will be a reproach to us if we allow her to
continue in this state of seclusion. I liaA'C not as
yet interfered with her, because, judging by other

80 HILARY ST. IVES.

people, I naturally concluded that her sorrow-
would abate, but I see no signs of improvement.
I should be as weak as the girl herself if I suf-
fered her to throw away this brilliant chance be-
cause she is unwilling to cast off her sentimental
sorrow. I shall point out what she ought to do,
and insist upon compliance with my injunctions."

Mr. Thornton signified his approval very em-
phatically.

" You forget, Mr. Eadcliffe," pursued the lady,
" that May is not yet twenty. Are you justified
in allowing her to have her own way ?"

"Though under twenty, she is her own mis-
tress, and can act as she pleases," replied ]\ii'.
Radcliffe. "If she prefers retirement to splen-
dour ; if, from motives wdiich I can appreciate,
she declines to marry ; I shall not attempt to dis-
suade her from following her inclinations !"

Mr. Thornton coughed diyly, and wanked at his
daughter.

HILARY ST. IVES. 81

" All very fine," cried Mrs. Radcliffe, with a
sneer. " But I will do my best to make her Mar-
chioness of Hartlepool."

" And so will I," added the old gentleman.

Mrs. Radcliffc then arose, and intimated her
intention of writing to Lady Richborough to
thank her for her letter, and tell her how highly
honom'ed they all felt by the marquis's proposal,
and that no time should be lost in laying it before
May.

" After luncheon," she added, " we will drive-
over to Boxgrove, and I will then speak to the
dear child, and ascertain her sentiments. If I
find it necessary, I shall use a little gentle — very
gentle — persuasion. Are you going, papa?" she
added to !Mr. Thornton, who followed her to the
door. " Won't you stay luncheon V

" No," he replied. " I want to astonish Mrs.
Woodcot with the wonderful news."

VOL. III. G

82 HILARY ST. IVES.

"I'm not sure that she will be pleased," said
Mrs. Kadcliffe. "But not a word to May till I
arrive."

" That is quite understood," rejoined the old
gentleman. "Good-bye for the present. We
shall meet again anon."

With this he proceeded to the stable, mounted
his stout cob, and trotted off to Boxgrove, de-
termined in his own mind that his grand-daughter
should become Marchioness of Hartlepool.

HILARY ST. IVES. 83

III.

OSWAXB KEAPPEAKS AS A SUITOR.

Ox reaching the mansion, he found, to his
surprise, that Oswald had just arrived, and he
was a good deal put out by the circumstance, for
he knew that IVIrs. Woodcot still cherished hopes
of securing the great prize for her son.

" What the deuce has brought him here at
this juncture ?" thought the old gentleman. " He
will be confoundedly in the way. I must try to
get rid of him."

G 2

84 HILARY ST. IVES.

Oswald was with bis mother in a charmmg
little room looking upon the garden, which Mrs.
Woodcot had appropriated ; and to tliis room Mr.
Thornton at once repaired. He greeted Oswald
with his usual cordiaUty, but expressed sm'prise
at seeing him.

^'I am here in obedience to a summons which I
received from my mother, su'," replied the young
man.

" You have brought a lot of luggage with you,
I find," cried his grandsire, rather gi'uffly. " I
suppose you mean to make a long stay."

" I shall only stay as long as I can make myself
agreeable, sir," rejoined Oswald. "My mother
will explain to you why she sent for me."

" Yes, I have a little project in view for him,
and calculate upon your assistance," observed Mrs.
Woodcot.

*' Before you say any more," interrupted Mr.
Thornton, anticipating what was coining, " let me

HILARY ST. IVES. 85

give you a piece of news wliicli I liave brought
back with me from Hazlemere. The Marquis of
Hartlepool has made May a formal proposal of
marriage. The offer has been conveyed by Lady
Richborough to Mrs. Radcliffe. What do you
thinkof that, ehr

"What do I think of if?" cried Oswald, in
dismay. " I think it an infernal nuisance f

" Aha !" cried T^Ir. Thornton. " You have let
the cat out of the bag. This spoils your little
game, eh 1"

" Yes, sir, I rather think it does ; and though
the proposed alliance may be veiy dazzling, I
cannot doubt that you will give the preference
to your own grandson. Surely it will be better
to keep this fine place in our own family than
relinquish it to a nobleman in whom you have no
interest."

"Oswald's claims upon you are superior to
those of any other," observed Mrs. Woodcot.

86 HILARY ST. IVES.

" You seem to forget that lie has already been
rejected. What likelihood is there that he will
l3e accepted now?"

" Every likelihood, if you will assist me, sir,"
cried the yomig man. " Xone if you support my
noble rival."

" You are always sanguine, Oswald," observed
his grandsire ; " but I don't think you have a
ghost of a chance ; so you may as well retu'e
from a contest in which you are certain to be
worsted."

" Never," cried Oswald. " I am more in love
with INIay than ever."

"With her fortune?" said his grandsire.

"With herself. And I shall esteem you a
veiy unnatural grandfather if you desert me
now."

"I have given you plenty of proofs of my
affection," said the old gentleman. "I make
you a tolerably good allowance. I have con-

HILARY ST. IVES. 87

stitutecl yon my heir, and if yon can find a wife
of whom I approve, money shan't stand in tlie
way. But I tell you fairly I can't and won't
help you now. This is a most important alli-
ance, and I shall do my best to promote it. We
have settled it amongst us, and it is to be."

"I am very sorry to hear it," observed ]\Irs.
Woodcot. "You have very little consideration
for May's happiness. Grand though the alli-
ance may be, Boxgrove is too high a price to
pay for it."

" I'll hear no more on the subject," said ^ir.
Thornton, in a positive tone. " Take my advice,
Oswald. Propose to Jessie Brooke. She'll suit
both of us."

" No, sir, I'll forswear marriage altogether."

" As you please," rejoined his grandsire. " But
mark me ! not a word to IMay before her mother's
anival."

And he quitted the room.

88 HILARY ST. lYES.

" So our sclieme's upset," cried Oswald. " The
old gentleman is dead ao;ainst ns."

"We are not beaten yet," replied his mother.
"In spite of his interdiction, I Avill speak to
May."

On leaving Mrs. AVoodcot and her son, jSIr.
Thornton, who did not feel altogether easy, put
on his hat, and sallied out into the garden. The
strong appeal made to him had not been without
effect, though he resisted it, but as he walked
along the terrace, ever and anon pausing to
survey the stately old mansion, or allow his gaze
to wander over the park, he could not help
feeling that it would be a pity to allow so mag-
nificent a place to go out of the family. Still,
he held to his determination.

"No, no," he mentally ejaculated, "I must not
hesitate. It is painful to me to thw^art Oswald
— ^vexatious to give up this place, but I must do
it. May must be Marchioness of Hartlepool."

HILARY ST. IVES. 89

While thus musing, he saw tlie young lady
herself issue from a yew-tree alley at the farther
end of the garden. She was not alone, and
either his eyes deceived him or the person with
her was Mrs. Sutton. Greatly surprised, he stood
still to examine the latter personage more nar-
rowly, and became convinced that he was riglit.
For a minute or two neither of them noticed
him, but when they did so, Mrs. Sutton instantly
disappeared in the alley. The old gentleman's
cmnosity was greatly excited by the incident.

May now advanced to meet him. Her deep
mourning set off the exquisite fairness of her
complexion, and her beauty was not diminished
by the shade of sadness that sat upon her iDrow.

" Good day, dear grandpapa," she said. " I
thought you were at Hazlemere."

"Just come back," he rejoined. "Your
mamma will be here by-and-by. She has got
famous news for you — but I mustn't forestall it.

90 HILARY ST. IVES.

Pray who was witli jou just now? Surely it
couldn't be Mrs. Sutton, yet it looked uncom-
monly like her."

"It was Mrs. Sutton," replied May. "But I
must entreat you not to mention to mamma or
any of them that you have seen her. I have
promised that her visit shall be kept secret."

"I suppose I mustn't ask what she has come
about?"

"Please don't, for I can't tell you."

" At least, you can tell me why she has never
written to your mamma since she left Hazlemere."

" I can answer no questions respecting her,"
returned ^lay, mysteriously.

*'Well, I think, if I were you, I wouldn't
encourage her visits. If she must come at all,
let her come openly. In any case, don't let her
persuade you to engage her as housekeeper. She
and vour aunt Avould never o;et on tocjether."

IIILART ST. IVES. 91

"ISIrs. Sutton lias no wisli to take tlie situa-
tion, grandpapa, and I should never dream of
offering it to her."

"Well, come and sit down with me on this
bench. I want to talk to you. It sometimes
occurs to me, my dear child," he observed, re-
garding her earnestly, "that you must be tired
of the quiet life you are leading here."

" On the contraiy, dear gi'andpapa, I am per-
fectly happy — that Is, as happy as I can ever
hope to be," she remarked, with a sigh. " I gi'ow
fonder of the place every day, and never desire
to quit it. All those I love are with me, or come
to see me daily, and I care for no other society.
I do not find the time pass heavily. As you
know, I am always employed, and though sadness
will sometimes steal over me, I never give way
to gloom. ]\Iake yourself easy about me, dear
grandpapa. I like this tranquil mode of life,

92 HILARY ST. IVES.

wholly free from excitement, and my only fear is
lest something should occm* to disturb it."

"All very pretty, but you are too young to
retire from the world, and really must retui'n to
it. If you were some thirty or forty years older
— had entirely lost your charms — had incurred
many disappointments — I would not say a word
against the course you are pursuing. But you
are in the very spring-time of life, when every-
thing wears its brightest and gayest colours— as
we may see by glancing at those parterres— and
when your spirits ought to be at their best.
Grief does not endure for ever. It is not meant
that it should do so. Ere long, when the womids
in your heart are fully healed, the image which
is now constantly before you will insensibly fade
away, and be succeeded by another. New ob-
jects of interest will arise, and if you do not
forget the past, you will think of it without pain.

HILARY ST. IVES. 93

Tliis is the law of nature, and your case can
be no exception to the law."

May sighed, but made no answer, and grand-
papa went on :

"You must consider, my dear, that you have
duties to fulfil in connexion with your large pro-
perty— duties that cannot be neglected. You are
bound to occupy a certain position."

"But you and papa discharge all these duties
for me. You know, dear grandpapa, I cannot
attend to matters of business, and do not even
understand them. Whatever you deem neces-
sary, I will do. Hitherto you have spared me
all trouble, and I cannot be sufficiently grateful
for your Idndness."

" I do not speak of matters of business, my
dear, but of the duties incumbent upon your
position. You cannot consistently avoid taking
your proper place in society. Already, I and

94 HILARY ST. lYES.

your aunt have been blamed for allowing you
to immure yourself so long — you know with what
justice. I can no longer, therefore, forbear to
remonstrate. The idea may be repugnant to
your present feelings, but since with your large
fortune you are not likely to remain single, let
me counsel you to marry a man of rank — of
liigh rani:. You can do it. Think over what I
have said."

So saying, he got up and marched off at a
quick pace towards the farther end of the garden.

May was ruminating over his words, and won-
dering whether they had any special signifi-
cance, when she was joined by her aunt, who
came out to tell her that Oswald had unexpectedly
arrived.

" But you look unusually sad, my love,'' said
Mrs. Woodcot^ with an air of much concern.
" What distresses you ? You know you can con-
fide all your little griefs to me."

HILARY ST. IVES. 95

'•'I fear I do not make you and grandpapa
■ as comfortable as I desire," replied May. "Is
tliere anything I can do for you ? Only tell
me, and it shall be done."

"You perfectly astonish me, my love. Surely
your grandpapa has not been complaining? He
sometimes grumbles without reason."

" Xo, aunty dear, he has not been complaining.
But he does not seem quite satisfied with me,
and I am sure I am most anxious to please
him."

" You must have misapprehended him, my love.
What has he been saying to you ?"

"He says that people blame you and him for
allowing me to lead so retired a life, and that
you ought to force me to go into society. Now
society, as you know, dear aunty, is utterly dis-
tasteful to me. I am not equal to it. Not con-
tent with dragging me back to the world, he
would have me marry."

96 HILARY ST. IVES.

" I, too, would have you many, my love,"
said Mrs. Woodcot. " And that before long."

"Perhaps you would have me marry a uoble-
man. You think that rank would make me
happy?"

" No, I don't say that. Splendour, I know,
has few attractions for you. Besides, your posi-
tion is already ensured, and your fortune so
large that you require no addition to it. Cir-
cumstanced as you are, the choice of a husband
rests with yourself, and, to ensure your happi-
ness, you ought to choose one whom you know
to be devoted to you, with whose character and
disposition you are perfectly acquainted, and
whose tastes are not dissimilar to your own."

" Such a one as Oswald," remarked May, witli
a smile.

" Exactly," rejoined Mrs. Woodcot. " Of all
your adorers there is none truer to you than he.

HILARY ST. IVES. 97

He submitted to the sentence that you passed
upon him without a murmur — but he never
ceased to love. And now — with my permission
— he ventures to come forward again."

May uttered an excLamation of displeasure.

"Forgive me, if I have done wrong, my love,
in summoning him ; but knowing there was
likely to be a question of marriage, I could not
help giving the poor fellow a chance. Ah ! he
loves you dearly. May."

"AYliat do you mean by a question of mar-
riage, aunt ?" asked May, uneasily.

"You will learn that soon enough," returned
Mrs. Woodcot.

"But I suppose a husband is not to be forced

upon me

"You are your own mistress, my love, and
can do as you please. If you think I have pre-
VOL. III. H

98 HILAEY ST. IVES.

sumed too much in regard to Oswald, I will
send him away at once."

" No, don't do that, aunt}-. He doesn't trouble
me in the least. I fear there is some one else
who cannot be disposed of so easily."

" Pray don't ask me any more questions, my
love. I have told you more than I ought. Thank
you a thousand times for permitting Oswald to
remain."

" No thanks are due, for I cannot give him a
hope. Tell him so, aunty. Ah ! here he comes,"
she exclaimed, as the young man was seen ad-
vancing towards them along the terrace.

^lay received him with unaffected kindness,
and really appeared glad to see him, but after a
little conversation on general matters, she excused
herself and went into the house.

"A very affectionate greeting from my fair
cousin," observed Oswald, as soon as she was

HILARY ST. IVES. 99

gone. " I hope I may draw a favourable con-
clusion from it. Have you said anything to her ?"

" Yes, I have opened the business."

"Well!"

" You are allowed to remain — that's some-
thing."

" Everything," he cried, exultingly. " With
your help, mother, I'll win her."

" Don't be too sanguine, Oswald. We shall
have to contend with them all. We shall see
what effect your aunt Eadcliffe produces with the
Marquis of Hartlepool."

H 2

100 HILARY ST. IVES.

IV.

A SECRET DIVULGED.

Later on in the day, a long interview took
place between [Mrs. Radcliffe and ^lay, and when
the former issued from the room in which she had
been closeted with her daughter, she looked flushed
and angry, and, in answer to her husband's in-
quiries, told him to go to the wayward girl, and
see what he could do with her. ]\Ir. Radcliffe at
once obeyed the mandate.

"Your mamma has sent me to you, my love,"
he said, as he entered the room, '' to reinforce

HILARY ST. IVES. 101

the arguments slie lias used in favour of the
splendid offer that has just been made you, but I
wish you at once to understand that I shall leave
you entirely to follow the dictates of your own
heart."

" Thank you, dearest papa. This is only what I
expected from you. Without reference to this
particular proposal — the importance of which I
feel as much as mamma or yourself — I wish to
ask you a question : do you think I ought to
marry i

" I have no hesitation in answering the question
in the affirmative," he replied. " I think you
ought. Your long and utter seclusion from
society has given me, I will now confess, con-
siderable uneasiness, and I shall rejoice at your
restoration to the world. I shall rejoice still
more to see you wedded to one deserving of
you, and on whom you can bestow your afFec-

102 HILARY ST. lYES.

tions. In the choice you may make, consult your
own feehngs, and do not be governed by our
wishes. Much may be said in favour of the
present offer, and if rank and splendour weigh
"with you, accept the Marquis of Hartlepool. But
I question whether you would not be happier
with one of less exalted position. However,
decide for yourself. You look as if you had
something to say to me," he added, in a kind and
encouraging tone.

May remained silent. The colour mounted to
her cheeks, but she soon became pale again.

" Speak, my dear child — speak," he said. '' You
need have no secrets from me."

" I will make a full confession to you, dearest
papa," she rejoined. " I will let you know the
exact state of my feelings. But I fear you will
be displeased."

" Have no such fear," he rejoined, kindly.

HILARY ST. l\ LS.

Taking a smaJl velvet tabouret, sl>e knelt down
upon it beside bim, and looked up into bis faee.

"You look like my ebild of former days!" be
cried, pressing bis lips to ber fair brow.

"I .vould go back to former days," she re-
joined. "You may remember, dearest pnpa, tbat
at first I.as strangely insensible to Sir Cbarles's

noble ciualities and devotion. I -s Winded by
a feeling for another wbieh bad taken possession
of ,ne. Fortunately, I ^vas able to erusb it. But
rf late that feeling has revived, and unless I
can conquer it as I did before, it .ill overpower
^y resolutions, and in spite of myself I shall

love again."

a You are in love already, I perceive," he
observed, smiling. MYell, .ho has resumed his
mastery over your heart f'

..I will have no concealment from you, dearest
papa. The person ^vhose image ^vill recur to me

104 HILARY ST. IVES.

in spite of all my efforts to banish it, is Hilary
St. Ives — Colonel Delacombe's adopted son."

"Ha!" exclaimed lier father, as if a bullet
had pierced his breast, Avhile May, surprised and
alarmed at the extreme agitation he displayed,
regretted having divulged her secret.

" Have you seen him ?" cried the agonised
father. " Have you had any communication with
him? Is he aware of the state of your feelings
towards him?"

"How is that possible, dearest papa? He has
been abroad, as you know, for many months, and
during the whole of that time I have neither
heard from him nor written to him. He was
never aware that I took the slightest interest in
him."

" Thank Heaven !" exclaimed Mr. Radcliffe,
greatly relieved. " You must think of him no
more, May."

HILARY ST. IVES. 105

" Your prohibition is strangely at variance vnth
your late kind expressions. You said I ought to
consult my own feelings."

" But I never dreamed of this young man, or
I should have warned you against him. I warn
you now," he cried, solemnly. " There are
reasons why you can never marry him."

"What are they, papa?"

" I can enter into no explanation," he rejoined,
with a sternness to which she was wholly un-
accustomed.

"But, dearest papa, tell me your objections to
him. Perhaps they can be removed."

" Never ! — they never can be removed. Banish
every thought of him. If you would not incur
my serious displeasure, May, you will never
mention his name again."

Then pushing her from him, he arose, and
muttered to himself, " What have I done to

106 HILARY ST. IVES.

deserve this torture ? — why sliould I be placed in
this cruel situation?"

She watched him with alarm, unable to com-
prehend the cause of his violent emotion, but
confident in his love she came softly towards
him, and took his hand.

" There is something more in this than the
circumstances warrant," she said, looking en-
treatingly at him. " Tell me, I beseech you,
what it is."

" I cannot," lie replied, emphatically. " The
subject is too painful to be further discussed.
My sentiments have totally changed since our
converse began. I am now of opinion that you
ought to accept the splendid offer you have
received."

"But, papa, I do not love the marquis, and
do not care for the title."

" Love will come in time, and the title will

HILARY ST. IVES. 107

gratify my pride. Tliat ought to be sufficient
for you. It is my wish that you should become
Marchioness of Hartlepool."

" I have never disobeyed you, dearest papa "

" Then obey me now."

And he quitted the room, leaving her in a
state almost of stupefaction at his inexplicable
conduct.

108 HILAEY ST. IVES.

V.

MU.S. SUTTON S CONFESSION.

That day May could not follow lier ordinary
occupations. Her mind was unsettled, and it
seemed as if she had quite lost the serenity which
she had only recently regained.

To one person only could she confide her
griefs, and towards evening she went in search
of her.

Quitting the garden, where she had been walk-
ing by herself for some time, she entered the
park, and, descending the slopes, tracked a path

HILARY ST. IVES.

109

which led her through a grove of chesnuts, and
eventually brought her to a private gate, through
which she passed out into the road.

Descending the hill, she soon reached her
destination— a secluded little cottage, standing by
the roadside, covered by roses and eglantines.

This humble dwelling was occupied by an old
dame, one of her pensioners, but it was not to
see Widow Perrins that she had come thither.
Her approach was perceived by some one inside,
and as she drew near the door was opened by
Mrs. Sutton, who expressed great pleasure at
seeing her, and ushered her into a little room,
which was furnished very simply, but looked ex-
tremely clean and tidy.

"How very kind of you, dear, to come and
see me," said Mrs. Sutton, offering her a seat.
" I have been expecting you all day. Dame
Perrins is in her own room, and won't disturb us.

110 HILARY ST. IVES.

You can talk freely, for, as you know, slie is so
deaf that she can't hear a "svord we say. I per-
ceive from your looks that you have something to
tell me. If you want advice, be sure I will give
you the best in my power."

"I am very unhappy, Sutton," replied May —
"very unhappy indeed. But I know that I shall
obtain from my dear old nurse, who loves me as
fondly as ever, the sympathy which every one
else denies me."

And she then proceeded to relate circum-
stantially all that had occurred — describing her
mother's displeasure at her unwillingness to accept
the Marquis of Hartlepool's offer, and her father's
explosion of rage at her confession of a secret love
for Hilary — to all of which Mrs. Sutton listened
with profound interest.

"You Avill now understand why I am so un-
happy, dear Sutton," said May, in conclusion.

HILARY ST. IVES. Ill

''I know not what to do. IMy desire is to live
at Boxgrove qnietly — but tliey will not let me
rest. Whether I shall have strength to resist the
combination against me, I cannot tell. I fear
not. Papa, upon whose support I counted, deserts
me. As I have told you, he authoritatively
enjoins me to abandon all idea of Hilary. T^Hiat
can be his motive for the prohibition I cannot
tell, but I am sure he is inflexible."

" I will explain his motive," replied Mrs. Sutton,
after a pause. "There must be no further con-
cealment. You will abhor me when you learn
what I have done. I am the cause of your
father's antipathy to Hilary. I have poisoned his
mind — made him believe that the young man is
too nearly allied to you ever to be your husband
— in a word, that his mother is your mother."

Shocked beyond all expression, May could
scarcely credit what she had heard. For some

112 HILARY ST. IVES.

moments she could not speak, but at last she ex-
claimed,

" Oh, Sutton, if any one but yourself had told
me this, I would not have believed it. What in-
stigated you to such dreadful wickedness ?"

" Jealousy. I always hated your mother."

May looked at her with amazement.

"And you avow this to me, who know that
mamma showed you nothing but kindness."

" Her kindness increased my hatred. My nature
is evil. Having the moans of vengeance in my
power, I used them as I have told you. The
charge was false in every way — doubly false
from me."

" Why from you ?" demanded May, appalled
by her language and demeanour.

" Because the young man in question is my own
son," replied Mrs. Sutton.

" Your son I" exclaimed May, horror-stricken,
and sinkinor back in the chan*.

HILARY ST. IVES. '■ 113

" Oh ! if you knew the terrible remorse I have
felt for my crime, you would pity and perhaps
formve me," exclaimed the wretched woman.

" Expect neither pity nor forgiveness from me,"
cried May, shuddering as she regarded her. " The
incalculable misery you have caused would check
any such feelings. But answer me one question
You have declared that Hilary is your son. Were
you married to his father ?"

" As Heaven shall judge me — yes ! It was a
secret marriage, and productive of nothing but
misery both to myself and to him I had wedded.
He thought me beneath him, and was ashamed
of me. But he knew not, and knows not to this
hour, that my family is better than his own. I
would willingly draw a veil over this portion of
my unhappy life. But I must refer to it. Not
many months after my marriage my husband left
me. I knew he would never return. I knew

VOL. III. I

114- HILAEY ST. IVES.

I had not liis love. I knew lie wished to get
rid of me, for he had told me so, and I was
just as anxious to be freed from him. I devised
a plan which would liberate us from our fetters
without scandal. It was to disappear from the
world. My stratagem succeeded. He believed
I was drowned in the Severn, and his belief
remained unshaken till we met again after many
years, and he recognised in Mrs. Sutton, the
housekeeper, the wife he had supposed long since
dead."

Astounded by the revelations made her, May
remained silent for some minutes.

" But you have not spoken of your infant son,"
she said. " How could you abandon him ? Had
you no mother's feelings in yom- breast V

" The sufferings I have endured may, perhaps,
serve to expiate my unnatural conduct," rejoined
the wretched woman. "I knew the child was

HILARY ST. lYES. 115

cared for by its father; but tliougli I did not
dare to make any direct inquiries from the persons
to whom it had been entrusted, I ascertained that
it was well treated. I did more — but alas ! not
all I might have done. I left my poor child to
strangers, but they were kinder to him than his
unnatural mother."

Here her utterance was broken by sobs, and
she was cjuite overcome by emotion.

" You say that yonr family is better than that
of Colonel Delacombe," observed May.

" I have spoken the truth," replied jSIi's. Sutton.
*'•' But what does that matter now ?"

" It matters much to yom' son," replied ^lay.

" He shall know all it may be needful for him to
learn," rejoined the inscrutable woman, " but there
are some things I cannot — ^^ill not tell him. I
have forfeited the right to claim him as a
son."

I 2

116 HILAEY ST. IVES.

"How SO?" cried May, in fresh perplexity.

Mrs. Sutton did not heed the question, but con-
tinued almost fiercely,

" Imagine the torments I experience when I
know and feel that I am for ever debarred from
a mother's privileges. The ardent love I bear
my son will never be gratified. When I have
stood beside him the effort to stifle my feelings
has well nigh killed me. It has been said — said
falsely — that the voice of nature will always
speak out. In him it was mute. Once, when he
slept, I pressed my lips to his brow. That is the
sole solace my mothers heart has known. I
thought he could read my feelings in my looks —
but no ! no ! he was utterly insensible. I would
give the residue of my life for a few words from
him ; but I shall never have it. I do not deserve
it. It is retribution — retribution."

She pressed her hands to her eyes, and when
she uncovered her face, it was ghastly white.

HILARY ST. IVES. 117

''' I shall never know peace on earth," she ex-
claimed '^ Life has become a burden to me, and
the sooner it is ended the better. I am only in
the way."

Her utter despair excited May's compassion, and
she attempted to offer some consolation, but the
wretched woman refused to be comforted.

Ere long, however, she mastered her emotion,
and spoke more calmly.

" I dare not advise you," she said. " Good
counsel cannot proceed from lips like mine — but
your life has been so pure and blameless that you
are certain to meet your reward — just as I have
met mine foi* my evil deeds. Obey your father —
Avould I had obeyed mine ! — obey him, I exhort
you, as you would be happy, for disobedience will
bring down a judgment. Tell him all I have told
you. Hide nothing from him. If he then con-
sents to your marriage with Hilary, all will be
well. If he forbids it— yield !"

118 HILARY ST. IVES.

While they had been thus occupied, evening
had come on, and it was now ahnost dark.

So engrossed were they that neither of them had
remarked that a Hstener was outside, who had lost
not a word of their discourse. A man, who looked
like a gipsy, had watched May enter the cottage,
and stealing up to the little lattice window, which,
as we have intimated, was covered by creepers,
and which unluckily was left partially open, had
planted himself so that he could see and hear what
was going on inside.

What he heard interested him deeply, and he
never quitted his post till May, remarking that it
was growing late, signified her intention of re-
turning.

He then crept off, but concealed himself
among some trees on the opposite side of the
road.

Here he remained perdu till May came forth
with Mrs. Sutton, who had insisted on attending

HILARY ST. IVES. 119

her to tlie hall, and he then cautiously followed
them.

Followed them through the gate Into the park,
and through the chesnut grove, where the shade
of the trees made it sombre.

May had no fears. But fancying she heard
footsteps, she grasped her companion's arm, and
the latter immediately stopped. They listened
for a moment or two, but nothing occurring to
alarm them, they set off again.

Still the man followed.

As they issued from the grove, the old man-
sion rose before them in all its grandeur, with a
crescent moon hanging over its summit, tipping
the vanes with silver.

Even at that hour, and imperfectly seen, the
park looked lovely, and as May looked down
the long sweeping glade, she could just descry
the branching antlers of the deer, showing where
they were couched beneath the trees.

120 HILARY ST. IVES.

In a very short space of time tliey had reached
the garden, and ]Mrs. Svitton's attendance being
no longer required, she prepared to take leave.

During the rapid walk she had scarcely made
an observation, but now she had evidently some-
thing to say, but profound emotion prevented her
from giving utterance to it.

" I must now bid you adieu, Sutton," said May.
" I feel certain pa])a will desire an interview with
you ; and if he does, you will not disappoint him,
will you f

"If he wishes to see me I will come — if I can"
she replied, Avith strange significance.

" Banish these gloomy thoughts !" cried ^lay.
" Much happiness, I trust, is yet in store for
you."

" No," she replied, in a tone that sounded like
a knell — " no chance of happiness for me on
earth.

HILARY ST. IVES. 121

And she liurricd away.

May gazed after her, and could just distinguish
that slie waved her hand, before she disappeared
among the trees.

As May hastened towards the house, a scream
was heard, apparently proceeding from the chesnut
grove. She listened intently, but there was no
second cry.

Just then a gardener came up. He had heard
no scream, but instantly ran off to the chesnut
grove. In less than ten minutes he came back
with the assurance that her alarm was ground-
less. He had been as far as the gate, and had
seen no one.

Early next morning, May, who could not free
herself from uneasiness, set out to make inquiries
concerning Mrs. Sutton. The morning was so
exquisite that it might have tempted her forth,
even if she had had no particular object in view.

122 HILAEY ST. IVES.

Everything wore a smiling aspect, the charming
old-fashioned garden, Avith its smooth lawns, its
variegated flower-beds, and its alleys — the park
with its long glades, its clumps of trees and
thickets. The deer were trooping down the
slopes, the rooks cawing loudly in the trees, and
the gi'oves vocal with melody. The exhilarating
feeling which such a morning always inspu'es did
not fail in its effect on May.

Heedless of the heavy dew upon the sward,
she speeded towards the chesnut grove, but
before reaching it she was cheered by the sight
of Mrs. Sutton, and quickened her pace to meet
her.

"Oh, Sutton," she exclaimed, "I am so glad
to see you safe and well. After you left me
last night, I heard a scream, and fancied it might
proceed from you."

" Yes. A ruffian stopped me in the grove, and

HILARY ST. IVES. 123

threatened me, but fled when I ci'ied out for help.
I have not yet recovered from the friglit he
caused me. The villain had been Im-king near
the cottage, and overheard what passed between
us. His motive for stopping me was to extort
money. I defied him, and he threatened me.
But it will not be safe for me to remain longer
here. I was coming in search of you to tell you
this. I thought I should find you in the garden."

" But what have you to fear from this villain,
Sutton ? He will not dare to molest you further."

" No, I cannot remain," she replied. " I dare
not. I know not whither I shall go. I liiive no
fixed plan. But I will write and let you know
where a letter will reach me."

" Come with me to the house now, and await
papa's arrival. He will be here this morning.
You can then give him the necessary expla-
nation."

124 HILARY ST. IVES.

" No, not now," she rejoined. " It -would be
liazardous for me to remain here." And she
added, hastily, "I shrink from a meeting with
your mother, and I could scarcely avoid encoun-
tering her."

At this moment a blithe shout was heard. It
proceeded from Oswald, who had just issued forth
into the park, and descried them. On seeing
him JNIrs. Sutton bade the young lady a hurried
farewell, and plunged into the grove.

Luckily Oswald had not recognised Mrs.
Sutton. Besides, he was too eager to take ad-
vantage of the opportunity now offered him to
waste a moment in idle discourse.

Poor fellow ! he went over the old ground —
made the same protestations of undying affection
that he made a year ago, and with pretty nearly
the same result — the only difference being that
May did not laugh at him as she used to do
formerly, but, on the contrary, looked grave.

HILARY ST. IVES. 125

Still he would not be discouraged, but implored
lier so earnestly and so humbly to accord him a
few days' grace, and not reject him summarily,
that she assented.

"Give me a "sveek," he cried. "At the end
of that time, if yon do not change your mind, I
will retire for ever. But promise not to accept
any one else in the interim."

" You have no right to ask for such a promise,
Oswald," she replied. " Nevertheless, I give it "

Transported with delight, he took her hand,
and would have kissed it, if he had dared.

" You must not presume upon my good nature,
Oswald," she said, coldly, " I do not give you
a hope."

He did not hazard a reply, lest he should mar
his prospects, which he thought were brighten-
ino;.

126 HILARY ST. IVES.

VI.

THE MAKQXJIS OF HARTLEPOOL.

JMes. Radcliffe's letter (as perhaps was in-
tended by the writer) was forwarded by Lady
Eichborough to the Marquis of Hartlepool, ac-
companied by a little billet from her ladyship,
recommending him to go down to Hazlemere,
and carry on his suit in person, and assuring
him that the Radcliffes would be delighted to
see him.

The marquis acted upon t|ie advice, and,
haying previously M^itten to announce his coming,

HILARY ST. IVES. 127

was received by ]\Ir. Radcliffe with all the con-
sideration due to his high rank. Of coiu'se, pre-
parations had been made for him, and a few of
the best people in the neighbourhood were in-
vited to meet him at dinner.

From her previous acquaintance with the mar-
quis's character, JSIrs. Radcliffe had been rather
alarmed at the idea of having him as a guest,
but he soon set her at her ease. All prejudices
against him on the score of coxcombry were
speedily dispelled. No longer haughty and super-
cilious, his manner was almost captivating ; while
his personal appearance seemed also improved,
and Mrs. Radcliffe wondered how she could ever
have thought him otherwise than handsome.

!Mr. Radcliffe, who had certainly no predilec-
tion for him, was not proof against the charm
of his manner, but confessed to ]\Ir. Thornton
that he was most agreeably sm'prised.

But the marquis's most signal triumph was

128 HILARY ST. IVES.

over Oswald, wlio dined that day Hazlemere, and
was forced to admit that his noble rival was
a most agreeable person. It is true that the
marquis paid him particular attention, and flat-
tered his vanity.

Lady Richborough had arrived just before
dinner, ha\dng received a telegraphic message
from Mrs. Kadcliffe begging her to come down,
and though she had engagements in town, she
good-naturedly gave them up, and complied.

One person, however, successfully resisted the
marquis's fascinations, and viewed his conduct
with a jaundiced eye. Mrs. Woodcot felt angry
wdtli Oswald for allowing himself to be seduced
by his rival's manner, and prepared to give him
a severe lecture for his folly when they were
alone.

Needless, we think, to state that May was
not present. No persuasions could induce her

HILARY ST. IVES. 129

to join the dinner, but she reluctantly consented
to receive the marquis on the following day at
Boxgrove.

After dinner the marquis had a long tete-&,-tete
with the lady of the house, and told her how
passionately enamoured he was of her daughter.
Mrs. Radcliffe gave him every encouragement in
her power, and almost ventured to answer for
May. With the prestige of his high rank, his
charming manner, and genuine passion, she
thought he must prove irresistible.

Grandpapa was in a state of perfect beatitude
as he drove back that mg\d to Boxgrove, and
could not find tenus sufficiently strong to ex-
press his admiration of the marquis.

Mrs. Woodcot ventured to differ with him, but
was put down instantly, and Oswald was bidden
to hold his tongue, unless he could say some-
thing to the purpose.

VOL. III. K

130 HILARY ST. IVES.

*'I won't hear a word against him," cried Mi*.
Thornton. " He is the best specimen of a
nobleman I ever met with. May is the luckiest
girl alive to have secured him, and I shall be
the proudest old fellow in England when I am
grandfather — as I soon shall be — to the Mar-
chioness of Hartlepool — ha ! ha ! ha !"

It will be seen that our convivial old friend
had not neglected the claret.

So far eveiything seemed propitious to the
marquis. The affair was in excellent train, and
promised a most satisfactory result. Never had
Mrs. Radcliffe been in better spirits than at
breakfast on the following morning. She had
almost reached the height of her ambition, and
could scarcely contain her delight. Her great
desire now was that May should be married
without delay.

About noon, an open carriage conveyed the

HILARY ST. IVES. 131

whole party to Boxgrove. The clay was singu-
larly auspicious, and the park could not possibly
have been seen to greater advantage.

The marquis was enraptured by its beauty. He
had two large parks of his own, but neither of
them could be compared to this magnificent
domain. Lady Richborough, who was with Mrs.
Radcliffe in the barouche, excited his enthusiasm
by pointing out the chief beauties of the place,
and drew his attention to some of the oldest trees.

They were still slowly mounting the steep
hill, when ISIay, Avho was taking her exercise in
the park, accompanied by Oswald and grand-
papa, rode towards them, and with infinite grace
and courtesy welcomed her visitor.

The marquis was a little disconcerted by this
unexpected meeting, having prepared himself for
a more ceremonious reception, but he did not
allow his disappointment to appear.
K 2

132 HILARY ST. lYES.

Unluckily the fine speeches he intended to
deliver had to be postponed to a more fitting op-
portunity, and he was obliged to confine himself
to commonplace observations. However, he rattled
away in a very lively manner, and if he did not
interest May, he amused her.

The young lady rode by the side of the carriage
as far as the gates, and then left her noble suitor
to the cai'e of grandpapa, and continued her
exercise in the park ; nor did she reappear till the
gong had sounded for luncheon. In his efforts to
please her, the marquis was materially aided by
Myrtilla, but though he exerted himself to the
utmost, he felt that he had not made much
progress.

Both IMrs. Eadchffe and Lady Richborough were
convinced that May would not grant him the tete-
a-tete he so ardently desired, and they therefore
agreed to contrive it. But Oswald was on the
alert to defeat their object.

HILARY ST. IVES. 133

After Innclieoi), Myrtilla suggested that tliey
should visit the gallery, the marquis having ex-
pressed a wish to see the family portraits. Of
course May assented, and they all repaired thither.

Naturally familiar with the histories of her
ancestors and ancestresses, Lady Richborough de-
scribed several of the portraits, but seizing an
opportunity when May was engaged in conversa-
tion with the marquis, she made her escape, and
left them together.

The precious moment was not lost. Instantly
changing his discourse, the marquis began to plead
his suit in impassioned terms, but before he had
ended, Oswald joined them, and, regardless of the
annoyance which he evidently caused his noble
rival, remained.

134 HILARY ST. IVES.

VII.

AN UNEXPECTED AKRIVAL.

While the little incident just narrated took
place in the portrait-gallery, a stranger had ar-
rived at the mansion.

A tall, dark-complexioned, good-looking young
man, well-di'essed, and of distinguished appear-
ance. He inquired for Lady Eichborough, stating
that he had been to Hazlemere, but not finding
her, had walked on to Boxgrove. He then gave
Mr. Dancer, the butler, a letter, requesting him
to deliver it to her ladyshij), and say that the

HILARY ST. IVES. 135

bearer, Mr. Hilary St. Ives, begged the favour
of an interview with her.

ISIr. Dancer bowed most respectfully, and con-
ducting him to the library, left him there, and
proceeded on his errand.

Now it chanced, at the moment Mr. Dancer
entered the gallery, that Lady Richborough was
engaged in conversation with the marquis, and not
wishing to disturb her, the butler did not imme-
diately go forward, and while thus stationed at-
tracted May's attention. Fancying he wanted to
speak to her, she went towards him, and on
hearing his errand hastened down to the libraiy,
without staying to make any excuses to the mar-
quis for her sudden disappearance.

She found Hilary standing near the open
French window, looking out upon the smooth
lawn and the lovely parteiTes. He bowed formally
as he advanced to meet her.

136 HILARY ST. IVES.

"I am aware that you expected to see Lady
Kicliborougli, Mr. St. Ives," she said, saluting
him. " I have hurried do\\ai before her because I
have something to say to you."

" I feel much flattered," he replied, again
bowing gravely. "I did not suppose that I lived
in your recollection."

" I never forget those I have known and at all
cared for," she rejoined ; " and there are circum-
stances connected with your brief stay at Hazle-
mere which will always make me take an interest
in you. I hope you bring good accounts of
Colonel Delacombe."

" Alas ! no, I am sorry to say," he replied,
sadly. " He is detained in Paris by a fresh
attack of the low fever which he caught at
Kome. He is most anxious to return to Eng-
land, but his physician will not allow him to
move at present. He has, therefore, despatched

HILARY ST. IVES. 137

me to transact some business for liim, and
amongst otlier things has charged me with a
letter to Lady Richborough, which must plead
my excuse for my present intrusion."

"May I ask if the letter you have brought
relates in any Avay to ]\irs. Sutton ? You can
speak freely to me."

"I am not acquainted with its exact contents,
but I know it refers to some important informa-
tion which the colonel hopes that her ladyship
may be instrumental in obtaining from Mrs,
Sutton."

"Are you aware that IVIrs. Sutton has left
Hazlemere ?"

"Yes. But Colonel Delacombe thinks that
Lady Richborough, or your mother, may enable
me to discover her retreat."

"Neither of them can enable you to discover
it," rejoined May.

138 HILARY ST. IVES.

" Then my object is frustrated," he cried, with
a look of deep disappointment.

" Perhaps I can help you to find her," said
May. " But do not let me raise your hopes too
highly. There are difficulties in the way, as you
will perceive. I must tell you in confidence,
that for some weeks Mrs. Sutton has been living
in absolute retirement in a secluded little cottage
near the park — with my consent and with my
knowledge. But she intended to leave yes-
terday. She had a motive for her sudden
departure, and refused to tell me whither she
was going; but I think she will write to me
soon."

" Possibly she may not yet have left," cried
Hilary, eagerly. " It is important that I should
see her without delay. Will you direct me to
the cottage ?"

"Readily. It is situated on the sldrts of the

HILARY ST. IVES. 139

park, close to the large chesnut grove on the left,
■which you can see from this window, and is
occupied by Widow Perrins. You must tell the
old dame that I have sent you, or you will learn
nothing from her."

" I will return immediately," said Ililaiy.
" Pray make my excuses to Lady Eichborough."

Passing through the open wndow, he stepped
out upon the lawn, and gained the terrace, when a
loud halloo checked him, and turning he perceived
Ih. Radcliffe.

" What the devil are you doing here, sii' ?"
vociferated that gentleman. " Stop, and give
an account of youi'self."

Though disinclined to obey, Hilary neverthe-
less halted.

" Lady Richborough or your daughter will ac-
quaint you with my business here, sir," he re-
marked, haughtily.

140 HILARY ST. IVES.

" Ah, indeed ! Pray have you seen Miss Rad-
cliffe?"

" I have had that honour, sir," replied the
young man. " I must beg you to excuse me
just now. I am in haste. On my return, I
shall be at your disposal."

*^You must not retm'n, sir. I cannot allow
you to see my daughter again. I cannot allow
you to re-enter the house. Am I sufficiently ex-
pHcit ? — or must I warn you off the premises ?"

"Warn me off the premises!" ci'ied Hilary,
fiercely. "You now effectually prevent my de-
parture. I do not propose to leave at your
bidding. Till this moment I was under the im-
pression that Miss Eadcliffe was mistress of Box-
grove, but it seems that you exercise paramount
authority here."

" As Miss Radcliffe's father, I am the best
judge of those whom she ought to receive; I

HILARY ST. IVES. 141

disapprove of you, sir, and therefore peremp-
torily forbid your return. With my sanction you
should never have entered the house."

" JNIr. EadcKffe," said Hilary, sternly, " I can-
not believe you capable of acting in this ex-
traordinary manner without some provocation.
Having given you none, I seek in vain for a
motive for your excessive rudeness, but as a gen-
tleman you owe me an explanation, and shall
render it."

*' Perhaps I have spoken too strongly," replied
the other, moderating his tone. " Let me, then,
say that your presence here is calculated not
merely to cause me annoyance, but great pain."

" I understand it now," thought Hilary. " He
has discovered the terrible secret."

All anger at once disappeared from the young
man's countenance, and gave place to profound
sympathy.

142 HILARY ST. IVES.

"You have said enough, Mr. RadcHffe," he
observed. "I will obey you. When you learn
my motive for coming here from Lady Rich-
borough, you will not blame me. Let me assure
you — since it may be a satisfaction to you to
know it — that I did not seek an interview with
your daughter. It w^as by accident that I saw
her, and the few words that passed between us
referred to Mrs. Sutton, of whom I am in
search."

" You are in search of ISIrs. Sutton !" cried
Mr. Radcliffe, quickly. " With what object ?"

"Pardon me, sir. I cannot satisfy your curi-
osity."

" Have you heard from her ? Do you know
where she is ?"

" I have come here for information respect-
ing her."

" We know nothing of her. She has left

HILARY ST. IVES. 143

Hazlemere several monttis ago. I have made
many fruitless attempts to find her."

"Perhaps I may be more fortunate/' said the
young man, raising his hat. "I wish you good
day, sir."

Mr. Radcliffe did not attempt to stop him, for
at the moment May and Lady Richborough issued
forth from the library window.

" What have you done with Mr. St. Ives, sir ?"
said her ladyship, as she came up. " He has
brought me a letter which requires an answer."

" He will be back presently," observed May.

« I don't think he will," said Mr. Radcliffe. " I
shall be veiy mucli surprised if he makes his
appearance here again."

" What have you said to him, papa ?" cried
May, in consternation.

" Quite enough to prevent his return," remarked
Mr. Radcliffe, drily. "I have a decided objec-

144 HILARY ST. IVES.

tion to the young man. Besides, his appearance
at this juncture is excessively inopportune."

"Yes, I quite admit that," observed Myrtilla.
"And perhaps it is as well he is gone. He might
have caused some unpleasantness. You must really
take your daughter to task, !Mr. Radcliffe. She
has behaved infamously, and if the marquis were
not the most amiable creature alive, and devotedly
attached to her, he could not fail to have taken
offence."

"What have I done?" said May.

" Everything in your power to defeat our plans.
You almost show the marquis that you are in-
different to him. You will not grant him a
tete-a-tete. You allow that grand brouillon,
Oswald, to interrupt him, just as he is making a
declaration ; and when I have set matters straight
you run away from him altogether."

*'My excuse is that I wished to speak to Mr.
St. Ives," replied May.

HILARY ST. IVES. 145

** Will your ladyship now blame me for dis-
missing the yomig man so unceremoniously ?"
cried Mr. Radcliffe.

" Far from it. I think you acted very properly
— very judiciously. Really, my love, we have had
rather too much nonsense this morning. It is
time to be a little sensible. Perhaps you may
not have any very strong liking for the Marquis
of Hartlepool — nor is it absolutely necessary that
}'ou should be in love with him — but you must
allow that he is very agreeable, and if not posi-
tively handsome, is the next thing to it. He has
a thousand recommendations, which I could
enumerate if I had time, but they may be all
summed up in the fact that he has the power
of making you a marchioness. We all desire the
alliance — papa, mamma, grandpapa, myself — we
all urge it — and if you prove rebellious, we shall
insist — yes, insist upon compliance with our

VOL. III. L

146 HILARY ST. IVES.

wishes. Have I said more than I ought, Mr.
RadclifFe f '

"Not a word," he rejoined. "I hoped that a
very different reception would have been given
to the marquis." Then turning to May, he
added authoritatively, " If you refuse him, I will
never forgive you."

Disregarding her entreating looks, he walked
away.

" You must extricate me from this dilemma,
Myrtilla," cried May. " I will not be forced
into a marriage against my inclinations."

" Don't expect the slightest sympathy from
me, my love. I am dead against you. You are
in no dilemma. Your course is perfectly clear ;
and everybody, except Oswald and his mother,
will blame you if you do not take it. But here
comes the marquis. Attend to what your papa
has said to you."

HILARY ST. IVES. 147

Presently, the Marquis of Hartlepool came
up accompanied by Mrs. Radcliffe and Mr.
Thornton. ^lay was obliged to offer some apo-
logies for quitting him so abruptly in the por-
trait-gallery, and though annoyed by the treat-
ment he had experienced, he was easily appeased.

Resolved to bring the affair to an immediate
issue. Lady Richborough suggested an extension
of their promenade, and they strolled on in the
direction of the yew-tree alley.

To prevent May's escape Myrtilla took her
arm, and very soon engaged the marquis in a
lively discourse, which enabled him indirectly to
renew his suit. They were left to themselves,
for ISIrs. Radcliffe and grandpapa, who compre-
hended Myrtilla's tactics, discreetly kept back.

Unquestionably there is something in a dim
yew-tree alley favourable to utterances of love,
but the presence of a third person is not calcu-
L 2

148 HILARY ST. IVES.

lated to heighten their effect. The marquis's
protestations being intercepted by Myrtilla, failed
to move ]May, and though her silence might
have been construed into assent, her looks be-
trayed her indifference. They had nearly reached
the further end of the alley, when a tall dark
figure suddenly appeared before them. Recog-
nising the unwelcome intruder, Lady Richborough
endeavoured to get rid of him.

" Pray go to the house, IMr. St. Ives," she cried.
*'I will join you almost immediately. I want
to talk to you about the colonel's letter."

"Your ladyship must excuse me," he said
"After what has passed between Mr. Eadcliffe
and myself, I cannot re-enter the house."

"Have you seen her?" inquired May, in a
low tone.

"No," he replied. "I merely returned to let
you know that my search has been unsuccessful."

HILARY ST. IVES. 149

" I am so Sony I cannot aid you further," she
rejoined. " But you must not go till I have had
some explanation with papa."

" You are very kind. I cannot remain longer."

And he turned to depart, but was arrested by
the Marquis of Hartlepool.

" Stop ! stoj), my dear fellow," cried the latter.
" You shall not go without shaking hands with
me. Not expecting to see you here, I did not
recognise you at first. How are you, and how is
my worthy friend, the colonel ?"

" Do you know Mr. St. Ives ?" exclaimed May,
surprised.

" Know him ! I ought to do. He is my pre-
server."

" Your preserver ! What do you mean, mar-
quis?"

"Yes, I repeat, my preserver. He saved my
life last winter at Rome. I will tell you the
story in two words."

150 HILARY ST. IVES.

"Not now, I beg," said Hilary.

"Yes, now," cried Myrtilla.

" Thus it happened. One moonhgh night,
during a visit to the Coliseum, I was set upon
by brigands, who had concealed themselves in
the passages. Lly dastardly valet-de-place aban-
doned me, and I should certainly have been assas-
sinated but for the gallant assistance rendered me
by Mr. St. Ives. There were three of them —
three athletic ruffians — and he had only a stout
stick against their stilettoes. But he beat them
off till the arrival of the sentinel."

"You greatly overrate the service, my dear
marquis," said Hilary.

*' Impossible to overrate it," replied the other.
" You have laid me under an eternal obligation.
But you have not answered my inquiries about
the colonel. Where is he?"

" Still in Paris. I shall have good news for

HILAKY ST. IVES. 151

him when I go back. It will delight him to hear
of the alliance you are about to form. Accept
my congratulations."

" Would I were in a position to accept them,"
replied the marquis, glancing at May.

" I fear I have been indiscreet," observed
Hilary to Lady Richborough.

"A little so, perhaps," she rejoined. "Your
appearance was rather mal a propos. But the
affau' may be considered settled."

" I am glad to hear it," said Hilary. " Adieu,
my dear marquis. I need not wish you success,
for I know your cause is won." ,

And bowing around, he departed.

152 HILAEY ST. IVES.

VIII.

UOW HILARY FOUND THE PERSON HE SOUGHT.

Hilary did not leave the neighbourhood of
Boxgrove. After a little debate with himself, he
returned to the cottage, and asked the old dame
whether she could accommodate him for the
night. At first she hesitated, bu.t at length said
lie might have the room which had been occu-
pied by her late lodger, and took him to it. It
was very simply furnished, but scrupulously clean.
In one corner there was a chest, which imme-

HILARY ST. IVES. 153

diately caught his eye, and he felt sure it be-
longed to Mrs. Sutton. On questioning the
good dame as to the state of her larder, he
found that it would be necessary to seek a meal
elsewhere. Luckily, this was easy of accomplish-
ment. Within half an hoiu''s walk, there was a
well-known inn, much resorted to by visitors
from town on account of its picturesque situation,
and at this comfortable hotel he knew from
former experience he could get a good dinner.
Accordingly, he set out thither.

Having dined very satisfactorily, he came
forth, and was standing at the door of the inn,
conversing with the landlord, when a well-ap-
pointed barouche came in sight. It was !Mrs.
Radcliffe's carriage, and with her were Lady
Richborough and the Marquis of Hartlepool,

No sooner did the marquis descry Hilary than
he stopped the carriage, and beckoning to him.

154 HILARY ST. IVES.

said, in a low voice, as tlie young man came
up,

*'You may now really congratulate me. The
thing positively is settled."

We are not sure that the announcement did
not cause a shai-p pang in the breast of the hearer,
but he forced a smile, and declared he was de-
lighted.

" I owe everything to Lady Eichborough,"
pursued the marquis. " She has won me my
bride."

"Expedited matters a little, that is all, my
dear marquis," observed M}T.'tilla. " The wooing
might have been more tedious without me."

" And might not have ended as it has done,"
cried the marquis.

"Her ladyship has a vast deal more influence
with May than I have, so I would not interfere,"
observed Mrs. Radcliffe.

HILARY ST. IVES. 155

" Well, I am quite willing to take all the credit
you give me," said Myi'tilla, smiling. "Don't
you think I have reason to feel proud of my
success, Mr. St. Ives?"

"Indeed I do," he replied. "But I did not
suppose the marquis required any advocacy."

"You are very much mistaken, my dear
fellow," cried the other. " I almost began to
despair, when Lady Richborough put in a word,
and all difficulties vanished as if by magic."

" Her ladyship must be an enchantress — I have
always thought so," remarked Hilary, gallantly.

" I am so sorry we can't take you on with us
to Hazlemere," remarked Mrs. Radcliffe. "No-
thing would have given me greater pleasure than
to see you there, had circumstances permitted."

"Don't say another word, I entreat," rejoined
the young man. "I am overjoyed by the intelli-
gence I have just received, and hope, ere long,

156 HILARY ST. IVES.

to have some good news to communicate to you
in return. Mr. Radcliffe's prejudices against me
will soon, I trust, be removed."

With this he bowed and retired, and the carriage
went on.

In asserting that he was overjoyed, Hilary
had belied his feelings. The intelligence had
greatly disturbed him. He had not recovered
when ]SIr. Malliam drove up in his gig, and,
alighting, greeted him cordially.

" What, are you come to look at us again, ]\Ir.
St. Ives?" said the sui'geon. "We have had
many changes since I saw you last, and more
are Kkely to occur. We have lost your excellent
nurse, IMi's. Sutton."

"So it seems. Can you tell me what has
become of her ?" asked Hilary.

"I wish I could. But I have no idea where
she is gone. I never could understand wliy she
left Hazlemere, but the house has not been like

HILARY ST. IVES. 157

itself since. Mrs. Trapp, the present housekeeper,
is not to be compared to her. Mrs. Sutton, as you
may remember, had quite the air of a lady. It
was her own fault, I'm persuaded, that she didn't
marry well."

"Yes, I've heard so," remarked the landlord,
who was standing by. "She was certainly a
superior woman."

" Superior ? Yes, I believe you. She was
superior to any one in this neighbourhood. I'm
afraid we shall never have her back."

" I'm by no means sure that she ain't back
already," remarked the landlord.

" What do you mean, Crowder ?" demanded the
surgeon.

"Why, Frank Mowatt, one of the Boxgrove
keepers, who was here just now, told me he saw
her this very morning, soon after daylight, near
the park, and other folks have seen her."

"Not likely, that," cried Mr. Malham, in-

158 HILARY ST. IVES.

credulously. "Mr. Eadcliffe would have heard
of her return, and so should I, if there were any
truth in the report."

" Well, Mowatt declared he saw her, that's all
I know," remarked Crowder.

" Send him to me," cried the surgeon. " I'll
give him a guinea if he can satisfy me she has
come back."

Nodding to Hilary, he then entered the house
with the landlord.

Having already paid his reckoning, the young
man walked away at a leisurely pace, meditating
upon the information he had thus accidentally
obtained.

The Fox and Hounds, where Hilary had dined,
is situated at the foot of a hill wdiich forms part of
the same range as Boxgrove, being divided from
the latter by a lovely valley, through which runs a
celebrated fishing-stream. The valley abounds in

HILARY ST. IVES. 159

fine timber of various kinds, and on the banks of
the river, and close to an old stone bridge that
crosses it within a bow-shot of the inn, grows a
row of tall Lombardy poplars.

Viewed from this bridge the scene, which com-
prehended the woody heights of Boxgrove and the
ancient mansion that cro\Aaied them, was perfect.
The noble park and the stately mansion had a
strange fascination for Hilary. While sketching
in the park, he had familiarised himself with the
locality, and stamped its beauties so forcibly on
his memoiy that they had ever afterwards haunted
him. As he now gazed upon the enchanting
prospect from the little bridge, the temptation to
revisit these fair sylvan scenes was irresistible.

Descending from the bridge to the meadows,
and following the course of the river for a few
hundred yards, he struck into a footpath, wdiich
brought him to the outskirts of the park, and

160 HILARY ST. IVES.

clearing the pales, he was presently in the midst of
the thicket that clothed this side of the hill.

Familiar with the spot, he knew where to seek
to strike towards the path that led to the uplands,
and pushed on witliout the slightest misgiving.
The thicket had charms of its own that misht
have delayed him had he not wished to reach the
brow of the hill before the shades of evening,
now rapidly coming on, should obscure the beauties
of the view. It was an object with him, therefore,
to gain the footpath as expeditiously as possible,
but he failed in his design, for the intricacies of
the wood were more difficult than he imagined,
and when at length he extricated himself it had
become almost dark. Still he went on, and scaled
the hill-side with rapid steps. The uj)lands were
quickly reached, but the beauties of the view were
shrouded in gloom. The ancient mansion was
distinguishable, but only as a dark mass. He

HILARY ST. IVES. 161

walked on in that direction, but though sorely
tempted did not enter the garden. However, he
remained for a short time in the vicinity of the
house, as if spell-bound.

Lights gleamed from some of the windows.
Was May there, or had she joined the party at
Hazlemere ?

Suddenly he heard footsteps, and perceived a
female figure moving quickly along the terrace.
His heart beat violently at the thought that it
might be May. Without considering the conse-
quences he hurried towards the garden-gate, and
reached it at the very moment that it was opened
by the person he had seen.

The person was Mrs. Sutton.

She knew him, and did not manifest the sur-
prise that might have been expected at so strange
a meeting.

She would not allow him to enter into any

VOL. III. M

162 HILAKY ST. IVES.

explanation, but bidding him follow her, speeded
towards a clump of trees that crowned a knoll
at some little distance from the garden-gate.
On arriving there, she stopped, and thus addressed
him:

"I know all — why you are in search of me
— what passed between you and Miss Radcliffe
this morning, and what subsequently occurred.
I know where you will lodge to-night, and con-
cluding I should find you at Dame Perrins's
cottage I was going thither to speak to you."

" Why give up youi' purpose ? Let us go there
at once," said Hilary.

" No," she replied. " I have little to say now,
and I would rather say it here, beneath these
trees, where the gloom shrouds my features, than
in the cottage. The time is not yet arrived when
we can talk freely together — when we can look
each other in the face. You have to learn who
and what I am — and till you have acquired that

HILARY ST. IVES. 163

knowledge, a meeting like the present, where
the darkness befriends me, is best for both of
us."

"If you have a secret to reveal to nie, this is
a fitting opportunity for its disclosure," said
Hilary.

" Not now," she rejoined. " Though I earnestly
desire to tell you all, I shrink from the task.
You must not — you cannot learn the secret from
my lips. I should die in the effort to reveal it
to you."

"Must I then remain in ignorance of a matter
which is of vital importance to me to learn ?" he
asked.

" No," she rejoined. " Nothing shall be with-
held from you. I have written down a state-
ment, which would have been delivered to you
after my death, but which you can now read.
You will find it in the chest which you may
m2

164 HILARY ST. IVES.

have noticed in my little cliamber in the cot-
tage. Here is the key. When you have read
the story of my life, you will know what to
think of me, and as you think of me, can
act. We may meet again, or we may not. Do
not be influenced by any feeling of pity for me.
I do not want pity. I want love — yes, love ! If
you detest me, as you may do after you have
learnt the truth, let us never meet again on
earth. I will shun you, and you must shun me.
But if you will feel that, in spite of all my
errors, you can love me, come here to-morrow
night at this hour."

" I will come,'^ cried Hilary, earnestly.

" Make no rash promise," she rejoined. " You
have not yet read my story. I am staying with
May Radcliffe — but you must not come to the
house. At nine to-morrow night you will find
me beneath these trees. Farewell !"

HILAEY ST. IVES. 165

And without waiting for any reply, she hurried
back to the garden.

Greatly perplexed and agitated, Hilary made
no attempt to follow her, but after a while took
his way through the chesnut grove to the cottage.

When he was gone, two men, who had been
lurking behind the trees during the interview,
came from then' hiding-place.

^' Shall we knock him on the head as we did
once afore, and get the key of the chest?" ob-
served one of them.

" Tut ! that would spoil all," cried his com-
panion. " We don't want the papers. We can
frighten Madam Sutton without 'em. We shall
find her here to-morrow night. Let us go and
reconnoitre the cottage."

And they moved off slowly in the direction
that Hilary had taken.

Dame Perrins was in no very good humour.

166 HILARY ST. IVES.

She liad been long expecting her guest, and won-
dered he should stay out so long. It was not
more than nine o'clock, but the old dame kept
good hours. Her little tea equipage was on the
table. The kettle was singing on the hob, and
she set about preparing a cup of tea.

All at once she suspended her task, and look-
ing at him mysteriously, and nodding her head,
remarked :

" JMrs. Sutton has been here."

"I know it," replied Hilary. "I have just
parted with her. She has given me the key of
her chest."

"In that case, it be all right," observed the
old dame. " She told me she wanted to see you
to-niglit, and I thought she might come."

Having made her guest as comfortable as she
could, and finding he had no fui'ther occasion
for her services, the old dame locked and bolted

HILARY ST. IVES. 167

tlie door, bade liim good night, and retired to an
inner room.

Left to himself, Hilary spent some little time
in reflection. Though his curiosity was greatly
excited, and though he could gratify it imme-
diately, he hesitated, because he felt assured, from
the terms in which Mrs. Sutton had spoken, that
some painful revelation was about to be made
to him.

At last he took a candle, and mounted to the
little chamber. How quiet it looked, and the neat
little bed seemed to invite him to rest, but he
had no thoughts of sleep. With a hand trembhng
with excitement, he unlocked the chest.

It contained several documents, bundles of old
letters tied together, with other matters, but the
first thing that caught his eye was a packet sealed
with black wax.

Not doubtine; for a moment that this was in-

168 HILARY ST. IVES.

tended for him, he took possession of it, and,
descending to the little parlom*, sat down and
broke the seals.

The manuscript -which then met his gaze was
penned in a firm, boldj almost masculine hand,
and showed no traces of the anxiety under which
the writer must have laboured.

HILARY ST. IVES. 169

IX.

MKS. Sutton's histoky.

As this sad story ayiII not be perused by him
for "whom it is narrated until the unhappy writer
is no more, she implores his pity and forgiveness.
Willingly would she spare him these painful de-
tails, but he ought to know them, and she can-
not depart in peace without lightening her breast
by a full confession of her crimes.

Would I had died when I was quite young.
How many years of bitter remorse should I have

170 HILARY ST. IVES.

escaped. "When I look back to that season of
innocence and happiness, I can scarcely believe
that so fair a child can have become the wretched,
despairing woman who now pens these lines.
Yet even in that child's breast there were seeds
of evil, which, not being crushed, ripened into
poisonous fruit. Excitable, wayward, capricious,
not devoid of generosity, not unforgiving, but
passionate — such was I as a young girl.

My mother died while I was almost an infant.
She was very beautiful, and rendered my poor
father extremely jealous, and I fear I must have
inherited some of her qualities, for she was pas-
sionate in the extreme, and vindictive as pas-
sionate.

Personally, I believe, I resembled her — at least,
when I was very young — though she was far
more beautiful than I could ever pretend to be.
But it was this resemblance that made my father

HILARY ST. IVES. 171

SO cloatingly fond of me — so blind to my faults.
Uncontrolled as a child, I became unmanageable
as I grew towards womanhood, and my father
perceived the sad consequences of his excessive
indulgence to me when too late.

I was born in Jamaica — at Kingston. My
mother was a native of the Island, but of Eng-
lish extraction ; my father was of an ancient
family, and brother of a baronet. He was a
West India merchant, but did not prosper. He
was indolent, and not a man of business — very
hospitable, and very extravagant. He left me
to the care of my nurse, Bonita, an Octaroon,
who was devotedly attached to me, and supplied
the place of a mother.

Nursed in luxury, I had scarcely a desh'e un-
gratified. My father studied ever}^ whim, and I
was treated by those around me as if I had
been a little princess. My education was neg-

172 HILAEY ST. IVES.

lected, but I was quick enough, and learnt many
tilings that I ought not to have done. In short,
I was very badly brought up, as could not fail
to be the case under such circumstances.

In that warm climate young persons arrive early
at maturity, and before I was sixteen, my charms
— such as they were — were sufficiently develoj)ed
to attract many admirers, and I received several
offers of marriage from sons of rich merchants
and planters, but would listen to none of them. I
could not foresee the future, or I should have
married then.

Though I did not know it at the time, my
father was in difficulties. His large plantations
and his very residence were mortgaged to a
wealthy merchant, named Osborne. A widower,
but without family, and nearly as old as my OAvn
father, ]\Ir. Osborne was violently enamoured of
me, and determined to make me his wife. I de-

HILARY ST. IVES. 173

tested lilm, and did not scruple to show my dislike,
but he did not mind that. He gave my father
clearly to understand that my hand was to be the
price of his forbearance towards him. But though
menaced by the seizui'e of all his property, and
aware that Osborne, if thwarted, was quite capable
of any vindictive measures, my father would not
sacrifice me thus. He had written home, and
had some hopes of obtaining from his brother the
means of relieving himself from the frightful posi-
tion in which he was placed. But in the interval
Mr. Osborne became impatient, and declared he
would not brook longer delay. In vain my father
urged that he must first gain my affections. He
treated the suggestion with contempt, and my poor
father, driven to his wit's ends, was obliged to
appeal to me.

Then for the first time I comprehended his
position, and saw my own peril. But my detesta-

174 HILARY ST. IVES.

tion of Mr. Osborne was increased, and I declared
I would rather die than wed him. With tears in
his eyes, my father besought me to have some con-
sideration for him, but I remained inflexible.
However, in order to gain time, I consented to
permit ISIr. Osborne's addresses, and gave him
some slight show of encoui-agement. This was a
hard task to one of my impetuous nature, but I
fulfilled it with tolerable success, consoling myself
with the thought of the scorn with which I would
requite him anon.

At last the mail, so anxiously expected, arrived^
but it did not bring the hoped-for assistance from
my uncle. He could not, or would not, help my
father — at least, to the extent required. But he
sent out a young man, who had been a clerk in a
mercantile house, to assist him in winding up his
affairs.

John Bromley, the young clerk, was very shrewd
and intelligent, and, moreover^ very handsome. He

HILARY ST. IVES. . 175

pleased me better than any one whom I had seen
in Jamaica. On being made acquainted with the
exact state of my father's affairs, which was worse
than he had been led to anticipate, Bromley
evinced great alarm, and at once stated that the
only chance was an arrangement with Mr. Osborne.
My father then explained to him the condition
exacted by his creditor, and that no other arrange-
ment was possible. I was present at the time,
and the young man glanced at me before making
an observation. Reading my repugnance to the
plan in my looks, he shaped Ids answer ac-
cordingly.

"It is quite clear you are in Mr. Osborne's
power, sir," he said to my father; "but were I in
yom' place, I would let him do his worst, rather
than yield my daughter to him."

" I cannot help it," was the reply, accompanied
by a groan. " I must yield to circumstances."

"Before you take any decisive step, sir," said

176 • HILARY ST. IVES.

Bromleyj " let me consider the matter, and see
if I cannot discover some remedy."
..^ My father shook his head, but as I appealed to
him, he agreed to wait. As the young man quitted
the room, he said in a low tone to me, " I will save
you, if I can."

In the few days that followed I saw a good
deal of young Bromley, and soon found that he
had fallen desperately in love with me, nor did I .
disguise from him that he had excited a corre-
sponding feeling in my breast. He implored me
in the most passionate terms not to surrender
myself to the hateful man, who would purchase
me as he would a slave, but to resist my father's
commands, and, if he remained obdurate, to fly.
I half promised assent, but had no serious inten-
tion of complying.

Seeing no chance of escape, I consulted Bonita.
After hearing all I had to say, she reflected.

HILARY ST. IVES. 177

and then declared there was but one means of
liberation, but I might not like to have recourse
to it. I eagerly caught at the suggestion. Be it
what it might, I would adopt it. With a look that
frightened me, but did not shake my purpose, she
then said that she Avould apply for a charm to an
Obeah woman. I knew what that meant, but did
not forbid her.

I have now arrived at a period of my history on
which I cannot look back without horror and the
deepest remorse. I can offer nothing in extenua-
tion of my giiilty conduct, but I am amazed at it.

Accompanied by Bonita, I paid a stealthy visit
to the hut of the terrible woman who had promised
me deliverance, and she told me that her most
potent charms would be ineffectual against my
persecutor. Only in one way could I free myself
from him, and as she said this she held up in her
yellow, skinny hand a small phial, adding that a

VOL. III. N

178 HILARY ST. IVES.

few drops, mingled with wine, or any other drink,
would do the business. I did not wait to question
her further, but, giving her my purse, which
she thrust into her pouch with a fiendish grin,
hurried away with Bonita. I allowed myself no
time for reflection. My blood seemed on fire,
and fierce thoughts agitated my breast. My visit
to the Obeah woman's hut seemed to have changed
my natm'c. Had she dealings with evil spirits,
as was asserted, and had one of them taken pos-
session of me ?

^li\ Osborne was at the residencia that night.
He had dined with my father, and I left them
sipping their claret in the verandah, while I paid
my stolen visit to the Obeah woman. Bromley
was with them. My absence had not been noticed,
but he had been aware of it, for he knew my
errand. He regarded me anxiously as I re-
appeared, and I knew what his looks meant to

HILARY ST. IVES. 179

convey. Little doubt indeed was left me on tlie
subject, for ^fr. Osborne rose from his seat, and,
"witli a triumphant look, told me that I should
soon be his bride. He would have embraced
me, but I thrust him back vnth loathing, and
any lingering hesitation I might have felt was
then removed. He was greatly enraged, and
vented his displeasure on my father. I took
advantage of this moment to whisper a few words
to Bromley, who turned very pale, and, to hide
his trepidation, walked to a little distance in the
court. ]\Iy father and Mr. Osborne had just
lighted their cigars, when our black servant,
Diego, brought in coffee and liqueurs, leaving me
to serve them, as was my custom, and I went into
the room for that pm'pose.

Now was my opportunity. Into the cup of
coffee which I designed for IVIi'. Osborne, unper-
ceived by any one, save Bromley, who was
N 2

180 HILARY ST. IVES.

watching my movements from the court, I poured
a few drops from the phial. I then handed the
cup to Mr. Osborne, but he was still angry with
me, and declined it. He was not destined to
die thus. Fate had elected another victim. My
father bade me give him the coffee. I would
have retreated, but he snatched the cup from me.

Horror of horrors ! he had swallowed the
poisonous mixture ere I could prevent him.

I screamed and fainted. Bonita rushed into
the room, and, amidst the utmost confusion, bore
me off to my own chamber. They thought I
had trodden on a snake. Whien I recovered, I
sought for the phial, but it was gone. Bonita
had removed it, or I would have ended my
anguish at once. No discovery had as yet been
made. Mr. Osborne had departed, stating that
he should come betimes on the morrow with the
marriage contract. ^ly father had retired to

HILARY ST. IVES. 181

rest, but I was resolved to see him, and make a
full confession of my guilt, and, in spite of all
Bonita's attempts to dissuade me, I repaired to
his chamber. He was reclining on his conch,
reading. I flung myself on my knees before
him, and implored his forgiveness. At first he
thought me distracted, but the truth soon forced
itself upon him. Overcome for the moment, he
fell back on the bed, and I was rushing out for
assistance, but he detained me.

" I know the effect of this poison," he said,
with a composiu'e that astonished me. " There is
no remedy ; but the effect will not be immediate,
and will give time to make arrangements for your
safety, for on my death, which is inevitable,
suspicions are certain to attach to you."

I told him I would not survive him, but he
stopped me.

*' Do not add another crime to that which you

182 HILARY ST. IVES.

have unintentionally committed," he said. " My
sole consolation will be that you will escape. I
have prayed for death, but I did not wish it to
come in this way. A packet sails for England
to-morrow. You must sail by it."

" And leave you ? Impossible !"

" You must go," he said, solemnly and sternly.
" I must be obeyed now. Your presence would
double the pangs of death. Seek not to move
me with entreaties. I am inflexible. Bromley
will take charge of you. I intended to send him
back by this packet, though with very different
tidings. Bonita shall also go with you. Make
yom' preparations to-night. You must be off
before Mr. Osborne can learn anything of the
plan."

Again I besought him to allow me to stay.
Again he sternly refused.

"As you hope for my forgiveness you will
obey me," he said. " You have the night before

HILARY ST. IVES.

183

you. Employ it, so that you cau go on board at
daybreak. I shall not feel easy till you are gone.
Then I can die in peace."

I ,vept— I prayed— I clung to him— I bedewed
his hands with my tears— but I could not move

him.

All was done as he enjoined. How he passed
the night after I quitted him, I know not, but
when I tapped at his door, an hour before day-
break, to tell him all was ready, he was fully
attired. At that trying moment, when I felt
ready to sink from the weight of anguish, he
was perfectly composed. His countenance was
serene in expression, though deathly pale, for he
had already begun to feel the effects of the
poisonous draught. But he bore himself so firmly
and manfully, that I felt ashamed of my own
weakness, and strove to imitate him, though I
thought my heart would burst with the effort.
Never had I loved him so dearly as then. To

184 HILARY ST. IVES.

say that I would have wilHngly died for him is
simply to repeat the supplication I had addressed
a hundred times that night to Heaven. His
firmness never deserted him till the parting
moment came. He had pardoned me — had
blessed me — had bade me an eternal farewell,
and 1 was about to leave the room, when I saw
him reel and fall back on the couch. I rushed
towards him, but he motioned me away.

" Go ! go !" he exclaimed. " It is nothing. It
will pass. Farewell for ever !"

Many months afterwards, when I had reached
England, I learnt that he was found lifeless by
his bedside.

Before proceeding, I must state that Colonel
Delacombe is even now, as far as I am aware, |
wholly unacquainted with the portion of my his- j
tory which I have just related.

HILARY ST. IVES. 185

I suffered much during my passage to Eng-
land, but more in mind than body, and never
ceased to reproach myself with the crime I had
committed. But for Bonita's watchful care I be-
Keve I should have died. Bromley, also, strove
to mitigate my distress. We were constantly to-
gether, and his passion for me increased. But
mine had declined, for I began to fear him.
He wished to marry me immediately on our
arrival at Southampton, but to this proposition
I would not listen, and he became angry and
suspicious, declared that I was trifling with him,
and hinted that I was in his power, and must
comply. This menace changed any lingering
feeling of regard into positive aversion. But I
avoided a quarrel, and resolved to get rid of him
when we landed.

How I escaped from him at Southampton I
need not relate, but I got to London with Bonita.

186 HILARY ST. IVES.

Then I was safe. I had previously resolved not
to make myself known to my uncle, and if he
heard of my arrival in England, Bromley could
not tell him where to find me. But I had no
apprehensions on this score, and though Bromley
made diligent search for me, it was not till long
afterwards that he was successful.

For some months I lived in obscure lodgmgs
in Kensington. Bonita passed as my mother.

Tired of this life, which appeared ■wretched
indeed after the luxurious existence I had led in
Jamaica, I should have presented myself to my
uncle, had I dared to do so. But I thought the
haughty baronet would cast me off, and Bonita
was of the same opinion. However, I emerged
from my seclusion, and one day when walking
in the Park, accompanied by Bonita, I attracted
the attention of a very handsome young officer.
He made some excuse for addressing me, and

HILARY ST. IVES. 187

though I received his advances very coldly ho
would not be dismissed. Having ascertained
where I lived, he contrived to meet me again.

Other meetings followed, and Seymour Dela-
combe — for he it was — became desperately ena-
moured of me — so desperately, that he proposed
marriage, though he supposed my condition far
inferior to his o"s^^l. Subsequently, when the
violence of his passion had abated, he reproached
me with having duped him, but it is needless to
say the accusation was false.

When Bonita, whom he believed to be my
mother, told him in a decided tone that our
intimacy must cease, he became half frantic
vowed that his intentions were honourable, and
that he meant to wed me.

He kept his word — though not witliout hesi-
tation and delay — and we were privately maiTied.

Alas ! the union was fraught with misery

188 HILARY ST. IVES.

No sooner was the step taken than he repented
it. I had left London by his desire, and re-
sided at a little cottage in the neighbourhood of
Bath. Bonita was always with me. Ashamed of
me, irritated with himself for having made — as
he deemed — such a dreadful mesalliance, my hus-
band visited his anger on me.

I bore his reproaches at first with patience,
but my pride soon took fire, and painful scenes
occurred between us. When he taunted me with
my lowly origin, I could have retorted that my
family was better than his own, but I forbore, as
it would necessitate other explanations, and I
would not allow Bonita to reply.

Our quarrels grew more frequent — more fierce.
After the first few months he rarely came near
me. My life was now a burthen. But I had
a hope of brighter days. I expected to become
a mother.

HILARY ST. IVES. 18&

It was about this time, when I was driven into
a state bordering upon frenzy, that my evil
genius again appeared before me. By dint of
constant inquiries Bromley had traced me out.
He had learnt that I was married, and w^as
aware of my present unhappiness. He came
under the pretence of offering me advice and
assistance, and I was foolish enough to give
him Avelcome. Bonita warned me of my danger,
but I would not listen to her counsel.

Bromley took up his abode at Bath, in order
to be near me, and spent almost every evening
at the cottage. Utterly neglected by my hus-
band, and having no other society, he helped me
to pass the weary hours, but I did not foresee
— as I ought to have done — how my conduct
would be misconstrued.

^lischief-makers reported what was going on
to Seymour.

190 HILAEY ST. IVES.

One evening he arrived unexpectedly and found
Bromley with me. Thrusting him indignantly
from the house, he turned his fury upon me ;
heaping upon me every opprobrious epithet that
his rage dictated. He charged me with having
dishonoured him with a man who had been my
paramour before marriage.

Stung beyond endurance by his galling words,
and no longer mistress of myself, I snatched up
a knife, and should have plunged it to his heart,
but, thank Heaven ! I was spared that crime.
Bonita flung herself between us, and tried to
obtain a hearing, but in vain. He was deaf to
her entreaties.

After such a scene reconciliation was impos-
sible ; and I was not surprised to receive a letter
from my husband, informing me that he was going
to Ireland with his regiment, and would see me
no more. At the same time he enclosed a sum

HILARY ST. IVES. 191

of money, stating that the like amount would be
paid mc quarterly.

I wrote to tell him that he had wronged me by
his suspicions, but he did not deign to answer my
letter. Perhaps he had heard that I had been
indiscreet enough to continue my intimacy with
Bromley.

I will pass over several wretched months. I
would fain blot them from my memoiy. My
child was born, and I gave him my father's name
of Alberic. I wrote to Seymour imploring forgive-
ness for his son's sake.

My letter, like the one I had formerly ^vritten,
remained unanswered, but he sent a confidential
agent to me — a certain Mr. Courtenay. This
person's manner was kindly, and he displayed
much feeling. He told me his instructions were
to remove the child, and that if I refused to deliver
it up to him no further allowance would be made

192 HILAEY ST. IVES.

me. He gave me a solemn assurance that the
child would be well cared for, but added that I
could not be allowed to see it. I rejected the pro-
position. But alas ! I was weak and wicked
enough to yield to Bromley's persuasions, and
suffered my little Alberic to be taken from me.

The punishment of my heartless and unnatural
conduct was not long delayed. Bonita was absent
at tlie time, but when she returned she bitterly
reproached me. From that moment she conceived
a violent antipathy to Bromley, and sought to
drive him from the house.

Such an existence, as I then led, embittered
as it was by Bonita's ceaseless reproaches, was
unsupportable. Bromley, who thought his life in
danger, ui'ged me to fly with him, and the fatal
influence he had now acquired over me, compelled
me to assent.

vStep by step I went do^^aiward.

HILARY ST. IVES. 193

Before my departure I wTote a few hurried
lines to Bonita, bidding her farewell, and enclosing
her a sum of money.

No fixed plans. No precise destination. Our
journey soon came to an end.

We were crossing the Severn in the ferry-boat
from the Old Passage to Chepstow. A gale was
blowing at the time. The boat was upset, and
all within her perished except myself. I escaped
by miracle, but none knew that I had escaped.

]My marvellous preservation from a watery-
grave suggested a plan to me, and I resolved to
act upon it. Lost to the world — believed to be
dro\viied, I would begin life anew, under a new
name.

Perhaps I might have returned to poor Bonita.
But my letter had killed her.

When she found that I had abandoned her, she
had done with life. She had brought the phial of

VOL. III. O

194 HILARY ST. IVES.

poison with her from Jamaica, and the moment
was come to have recourse to it.

Li the part I had resolved to enact, I ran no
risk of detection. Few knew me in England,
and the few who did were unacquainted with my
real history. jNIy uncle had never seen me. I
had no fear of my husband. He would not doubt
that I had perished, when he read the account of
the disaster in the Severn. To one of my tempera-
ment there was a strange satisfaction in having
severed all ties. Freed from Bromley — divorced
as if by death from a husband who hated me, I
rejoiced at my deliverance. But, on the other
hand, I had lost the truest and best friend I had
on earth. I had also lost my child.

For good or ill, the step was taken. I could
not, and would not, retreat.

HILARY ST. IVES. 195

I took the name of Sutton, and described myself
as a widow.

How my pride revolted against the humble
situation I was compelled in the first instance
to accept. I, who had had a dozen servants to
wait upon me, whose slightest look was obeyed
— I, the niece of one of the proudest men in Eng-
land— to become nurse to the children of a woman
whom I felt to be my inferior in every respect ! I
could scarcely submit to the degradation. Yet
I discharged my duties so well, that I kept the
situation for nearly three years, and pleased my
mistress so much, that she recommended me to
Mrs. Radcliffe of Hazlemere, into whose service I
next entered.

I was then two-and-twenty, but I looked five

years older. Such beauty as I once possessed had

fled. My manner likewise was changed. All my

natural gaiety had forsaken me. From the first

0 2

HILARY ST. IVES.

my new mistress took a great fancy to me, and
was cm^-ious to learn my history. I told her I
was a Avidow, and that my married life had been
unhappy, but I avoided entering into details, and
she was considerate enough not to press me
fm'ther.

Mrs. Kadcliffe w^as in delicate health, threatened
with consumption, and I nursed her \Adth so much
care, that I may venture to affirm that I saved
her life. I had now become indispensable to her,
was promoted to the post of housekeeper, and the
entire management of the establishment devolved
upon me. Weak, vain, indolent as she was, it
was not difficult to gain an ascendancy over Mrs.
Eadcliffe.

My authority in the house became almost
absolute, for Mr. Radchffe, the best-hearted and
kindest of men, but also one of the easiest, never
interfered with me.

Having acted as nurse to May, I had won the

HILARY ST. IVES. 197

affections of that cliarming child, and her attach-
ment to me helped in some measure to fill up the
terrible void in my heart.

Thus my position was completely assured, and
I might have been happy, if I could but have
obhterated the past. But the undying wonn
gnawed incessantly at my heart. Though hidden
from the world, I could not fly from myself.
My rest was broken by dreadful di-eams. I saw
my father Avith a stern reproachful look— Bonita
—Bromley— but strange to say! for a time I
thought not of Seymour or of my little Alberic.

Though IVIi'S. Kadcliffe's weak and frivolous
character always inspired me with contempt, I
entertained a certain regard ior her, till one day
she confidentially informed me that she noiu'ished
a secret affection for one who ought to have been
her husband, and she showed me some of his

letters.

Judge my surprise— judge my consternation—

198 HILARY ST. IVES.

when I found these letters were from Seymour
Delacombe. A strange feeling of jealousy was
aroused. Though I knew that when Seymour
made love to Esther Thornton, he deemed him-
self released by death from his marriage ties, my
jealousy of her, my anger against him, were not
lessened by that consideration.

And these feelings were kept alive— nay,
increased — ^because, having enlisted my sympathy,
as she deemed, Mrs. Eadcliife constantly talked
to me of her old lover. He had given her his
miniature, which she now produced, and hung it
above the chimney-piece in her boudoir. There
it was constantly before me.

I did not alter my demeanour towards her —
I contrived to maintain a semblance of respect —
but I was often on the point of betraying myself
by an explosion of jealous rage, and I resolved
to have revenge for the torture she unconsciously
inflicted upon me.

HILARY ST. IVES. 199

It would not be true to say that the feelmgs
that I once entertained for Seymour were revived
by this constant reference to him, but it brought
him to my mind, and awakened my maternal
affections, which had so long lain dormant. I
could not rest till I had ascertained what had
become of my little Alberic. From inquiries,
which I caused to be made, I learnt that he was
with Mr. Courtenay at Exeter, and satisfied that
he was well cared for I was perforce content.

Time went on, and for many years nothing
occurred to distui'b my fancied secui'ity.

All apprehensions of detection had long since
ceased, when one day I received a letter that
filled me with alarm. It was from an elder
brother of Bromley, whom I had never seen, but
whom I had heard described as unprincipled and
unscrupulous. Daniel Bromley knew my unhappy
stoiy, for John had been imprudent enough to
reveal it to him.

200 HILARY ST. IVES.

At tlie time of the disastrous accident on the
Severn, Daniel Bromley had just sailed for Ame-
rica, and I think it was John's intention to join
him ^there. Hearing of his brother's death,
Daniel went on to San Francisco, and lost all
the money he gained in gambling and low
dissipation. ■

After a prolonged absence, and many dis-
reputable adventures, he returned to this country
in a wretched plight.

From the newspaper report of tlie accident he
had been led to beheve that I had perished at the
same time as his brother, but on making inquiries
on the spot he discovered that the body had never
been found, and his suspicions being aroused he
made further investigations that eventually led to
my discovery.

No sooner did the villain satisfy himself on
this point, than he ^vrote the letter I have men-

HILARY ST. IVES. 201

tionecl, and threatened to reveal all the details of
my early life, with which he had become ac-
quainted owing to John's indiscretion, my unhappy
man'iage, and every subsequent incident of my
career, unless he was paid handsomely for his
silence.

I had no alternative but compliance, and his ex-
tortionate demands being incessant, I could no
longer supply them.

Rendered desperate I defied him, and he then
informed me that he should go to Mi'. Courtenay,
and deposit with him a sealed packet containing
certain documents, to be despatched to India for
Colonel Delaconibe, if not reclaimed within three
montlis. I disbelieved this menace, but it proved
to be correct, for the packet eventually fell into
my own hands.

It contained fearful evidences against me. I
found within it all the letters I hacl'written to the

202 HILAEY ST. IVES.

villain himself, together with a statement which he
had drawn up, charging me with parricide. He
endeavoured to substantiate the horrible accusa-
tion by letters from his brother John, and extracts
from old Jamaica newspapers, in which mention
was made of the suspicious cu'cumstances under
which my father died, as well as of my sudden dis-
appearance.

The false \dllain likewise accused me of poison-
ing Bonita.

Death at last liberated me from the relentless
extortioner, and I was allowed some years of com-
parative tranquillity. With such a heavy load of
guilt on my soul, I could not have a tranquil mind,
but I was no longer in constant dread of detection
and disgrace.

Let me now turn to May EadcUffe.

HILARY ST. IVES. 203

Sweeter creature never breathed. Loving her
as I did with infinitely more affection than her
own mother, I became jealous of her as she
threatened to deprive me of my power. I despised
myself for the unworthy feeling, but I indulged
it nevertheless. A perpetual conflict was going
on in my breast between love for the dear girl,
and dread of the sway she was sure to gain over
her father, and which might be exercised to my
disadvantage.

My secret aim was to get her early married,
and I therefore encouraged an attachment that
appeared to be springing up between her and
her cousin Oswald. But I was foiled, for though
Oswald was passionately enamoured of her, she
was quite indifferent to him.

I was deliberately pursuing this plan, when an
event occurred that turned my thoughts into an
entirely different channel.

204 HILAEY ST. IVES.

One night a young man, who had been at-
tacked by robbers, was brought to Hazlemere..
He was almost insensible from the injuries he
had received, and was committed to my care by
Mr. Eadcliffe. While I was watching over him
that night, he became light-headed, and amid his
ravings frequently repeated the name of Courte-
nay. Already I had been struck by his re-
markable resemblance to Seymour Delacombe,
and the mention of this name confirmed my sus-
picions. A mark on the young man's shoulder
convinced me that he was my son.

Yes, he was indeed my son — my Alberic — whom
I had not beheld since he was an infant.

Oh ! with what rapture I gazed upon his fea-
tures. The flood-gates of my heart were burst
open, and the long, long repressed tide rushed
in.

My transports of delight were soon succeeded
by emotions of terror. I had found my son — my

HILARY ST. IVES. 205

dearest treasure on earth — but I should lose him
asain as soon as found. I dared not tell him
I was his mother. He would spm'n me from him
if he knew all. Oh ! the agony of that thought.
A thousand extravagant notions passed through
my brain. Nothing I would not attempt to keep
my Alberic near me. INIrs. Radcliffe might be
induced to aid my plan. She still loved Seymour,
and would befriend Seymour's son. But this
was the mere beginning of my wild scheme of
which the consummation was to be Alberic's mar-
riage with May. This scheme presented itself so
"vividly to my imagmation, and seemed so feasible,
that I resolved to act upon it. Nor was it so
mad as it would appear. JVIrs. Eadcliffe was a
mere puppet in my hands. I could move her
as I j)leased. May's heart was disengaged, and
I thought her susceptibilities could be excited in
favom* of the handsome youth.

Success in the first instance attended my de-

206 HILARY ST. IVES.

sign. Mrs. Radcliffe, as I anticipated, took the
liveliest interest in the young man, when con-
vinced that he was the son of her old lover, and
a strong and lasting impression was produced on
May by Alberic's good looks and romantic cha-
racter.

But all my combinations were destroyed by
the unexpected return of him I most dreaded on
earth. Fate, that had brought Alberic to Hazle-
mere, brought his father there likewise. Flight
alone seemed left me, but I would not fly. The
conflict was unequal, but I did not shrink from
it. I knew that Colonel Delacombe feared me
more than I feared him.

HILARY ST. IVES. 207

X.

THE PORTRAIT.

That niglit, about eleven o'clock, JNIay was
ill lier dressing-room. Seated beside her was a
woman, more than double her own age, whose
pale features bore traces of affliction. All at
once their discourse was interrupted by a tap at
the door. May's companion started up, and made
a quick exit by a side-door communicating with
the adjoining bedchamber.

Scai'cely had she disappeared than Lady Kicli-

208 HILARY ST. IVES.

borougli entered by the other door, bearing a
taper.

May expressed great surprise at beholding her.

" I thought you meant to pass the night at
Hazlemere," she observed.

"I have come back purposely to have a talk
\\dth you, dear," replied the other, putting down
the candle, and seating herself. " I hope you
don't feel very sleepy, for I have a great deal to
say."

"I don't feel at all sleepy," replied May. "I
almost fancy you have come to tell me that the
marqms has thought better of it, and desires to be
released from his engagement."

" No such thing. You have made him the hap-
piest of men, and depend upon it, he will hold
you to your promise. You will see him here to-
morrow. However, it is not of the marquis that I
desire to speak, but of Colonel Delacombe. I am

HILARY ST. IVES. 209

ashamed to say that I read his letter very hur-
riedly this morning, and the most important part
of it escaped me. What he mentions is so curious
that I could not rest till I had imparted it to you,
so I returned to-night with J\L's. Woodcot."

"You excite my cimosity very much," cried
May. " What can the colonel have told you ?"

" Have a moment's patience. I must first
make you acquainted with a strange tragical event
connected with my own family, or you will not
understand the motive of the colonel's inqumes.
My father, Sir Umfraville Ilminster, had a
younger brother, who became a West India mer-
chant, and settled in Jamaica. My uncle Alberic
married a Jamaica lady, by whom he had one
child — a daughter — named Barbara. My aunt
died about two or three years after her marriage.
I never saw my uncle, but I believe he was very
amiable, though unfitted for business. There was

VOL. III. P

210 HILARY ST. IVES.

not a good understanding between him and my
father, and they had ceased to correspond for some
years, when Sir Umfraville received a very ur-
gent letter from his brother, who it appeared had
got into difficulties. Without immediate assist-
ance, my uncle declared he should be ruined, and
his daughter sacrificed to a man she detested. My
father, I am sony to say, was insensible to this
appeal, and contented himself with sending out a "
clerk to Jamaica to assist in winding up his
brother's affaus.

" The events I am relating occurred about
four-and-twenty years ago. My cousin, Barbara
Uminster, was then very young, but to judge from
her portrait, which was sent to my father, she
must have been extremely beautiful. My uncle's
chief creditor, Mr. Osborne, a planter, demanded
her hand, and as he could not be refused — though
Barbara hated him — the marriage was arranged.

HILARY ST. IVES. 211

But just as It was about to take place, my uncle
died suddenly. Whether he sought deliverance
from his troubles by suicide, or was poisoned, has
never been ascertained.

" A terrible accusation was brought against my
cousin Barbara. It was hinted that she admin-
istered the poison. But I do not believe the
monstrous tale. If she had poisoned Mr. Osborne,
who would have forced her to become his bride,
I could understand it — but her father, who doted
upon her — no ! I cannot credit the accusation.

" Some colour, however, was given to the charge,
because she left Jamaica, quite suddenly, in a
packet that sailed a few hours before my uncle's
death. But ao;ainst this it was urged that her
father had enjoined her abrupt departure in order
to get her out of ISIr. Osborne's way. Another
circumstance has yet to be mentioned which
raises grave doubts. She was accompanied in the
p 2

212 HILARY ST. IVES.

voyage by lier nurse, and ]\ir. Bromley, the young
clerk, whom my father had sent out to Jamaica.
On landing at Southampton, Barbara and her
nurse unaccountably disappeared, and have never
been heard of since."

"A terrible and mysterious story indeed," ob-
served INIay, who had listened with gi'eat interest
to the narration. " It seems strange that I never
heard it before."

"Sir Charles and I agreed not to mention it
to you. It is one of those family histories that
are best buried in oblivion, as it reflects little
credit on our family. Sir UmfraviUe never spoke
of his brother or of his niece. Perhaps he re-
proached himself with his conduct. Had he sent
the money to Uncle Alberic — as he might have
done — as he ought to have done — this dire ca-
lamity— perhaps other calamities — might have
been averted. Heaven only knows I"

HILARY ST. IVES. 213

*' Though circumstances are against her, I do
not believe in Barbara's guilt," observed May.
"What became of her portrait, which you say
your imcle Alberic sent to your father ?"

" I have not seen it for years," replied jSIyrtilla.
"But I think I can find it. Let me consider.
Yes. It was put out of the way by Sir Umfra-
ville, but I know he concealed it in a secret
drawer of the old cabinet in your room. I dare
say it is there still. Let us see."

" Some other time," said INIay, with evident lui-
easiness. "Not now."

But Myrtilla would not be stayed. " 1 want to
look at it myself," she cried.

And snatching up the taper, she passed through
the side door into the bedchamber.

As she entered, the person who had preceded
her hastily concealed herself behind the hangings
of the bed.

214 HILARY ST. IVES.

May followed, and became reassured as she
glanced around. It was a large, gloomy-looking
chamber, panelled with black oak, partially hung
with faded ai'ras, and furnished with a large
canopied bed, having tall, twisted posts, and tar-
nished brocade hangings. Against the wall,
flanked by a couple of high-backed chairs, stood
the antique cabinet. The taper scarcely illumi-
nated the sombre room.

Giving the light to her companion, Myrtilla
unlocked the cabinet, and touching a spring at the
back, a secret drawer flew open.

As she anticipated, the portrait was there.
The featm'es, depicted by an artist of no mean
skill, were those of a young girl of great beauty
— the eyes large, dark, and full of fire, the
complexion clear though pale, the hair dark and
silky. There was an undefinable expression in
the countenance.

HILARY ST. IVES. 215

Myrtilla gazed at the miniature for a few mo-
ments, and then, handing it to May, said, with a
singular look :

" Have you ever seen that face before ?"

"Seen it! How should I? Ha!" she ex-
claimed, as she regarded it more narrowly. " Is
this your cousin Barbara Ilminster ?"

"Yes."

" Why, I trace a likeness — a strong likeness to
Mrs. Sutton."

"Barbara Ilminster and "Mrs. Sutton are the
same person," replied Lady Richborough. " That
is what Colonel Delacombe's letter informed, me.
That is what I came to tell you."

May's exclamations of astonishment were inter-
rupted by the sudden appearance of the woman
who was concealed behind the hangings of the
bed.

" Yes," cried this person to Mj^rtilla, who was

216 HILARY ST. IVES.

petrified ■svitli astonishment. " Tliere is no longer
any necessity for concealment. In me you behold
your cousin Barbara — the wife of Seymour Dela-
combe, and the mother of his son Alberic, whom
you have hitherto known as Hilary St. Ives. You
wonder to see me here, in your father's house,
which I could never have entered during his life-
time," continued the unhappy woman, still ad-
dressing Lady Richborough ; " and never at any
time under my own name. But I am here almost
against my will. I have striven to fly, but a
power, that I could not resist, has detained me.
An asylum has been offered me by May, and I
could not refuse it. I shall not need it long."

There was a brief pause, which was broken by
Myrtilla.

"Whatever errors you have committed," she
said, in a sympathising voice, "I am sui'e you have
atoned for them."

HILARY ST. IVES. 217

"Heaven only knows how much I have suf-
fered," rejoined Barbara. " But my troubles are
coming to an end. I have had enough time for
repentance — and I have repented."

" I fear you have still some burden on your soul
which would be relieved by confession," said Myr-
tilla. " Open your heart to us, and rest assured
of our sympathy. We will offer you every con-
solation in our power."

" I have written down the particulars of my sad
history for my son. He wall recount them to you
when I am gone."

"You seem to have a presentiment of some
impending calamity," observed Myrtilla.

"I have," replied Barbara. "In all that has
occurred lately I discern the hand of fate, and the
final event cannot be far off. I have struggled
against my destiny. My desire is to find a retreat
where I can hide my sorrows, and die unknown."

218 HILARY ST. IVES.

" You have found a refuge here, and you must
live for your son," said May.

"If he bids me live, I loill live," cried the
unhappy woman. " I have appointed to meet him
to-morrow night, but before then he will have
learnt my history, and may not come. In that
case nothing will be left me but despau'."

" Do not alarm yourself thus needlessly," said
May. "Be sure he will keep the appointment.
But open your heart to us. You need fear no
severe judgment, and you will feel easier for the
confession."

Barbara yielded. They repaired to the dressing-
room, where each having taken a seat, she com-
menced her relation, to which her hearers listened
with the deepest attention. They made no re-
mark, though now and then they could not help
exchanging a glance.

" I know you must condemn me," said Barbara,
as she brought her story to a close, " and you

HILARY ST. IVES. 219

will condemn me justly, for my conduct is iitterly
indefensible, but I may perhaps be shown mercy
hereafter, on account of my sincere contrition,
and the agonies of remorse I have endured.

" You now know what a wretched, guilty thing
I am, but you do not know, and never can know,
what I have suffered, because I cannot, dare not,
attempt to describe to you my sleepless nights,
when my pillow has seemed stuffed with thorns,
and when I have been driven to the verge of
madness by despah*. No stings so sharp as those
of a bad conscience. I have not exaggerated my
sufferings to excite your commiseration. I want
words to describe my mental anguish. I shall
find no peace — no rest — except in the grave.
Perhaps not there."

" Be comforted," cried May. " After so much
gloom brighter days must be at hand. You have
a son to love."

"If I felt sure of his love, I should wish for

220 HILARY ST. IVES.

life," rejoined Barbara. "But I believe I am
doomed."

" Doomed !" exclaimed both ber hearers.

" Yes. I need not remind you that there is a
superstition connected with this house. Poor Sir
Charles Ilminster was warned of his approaching
death. I, too, have had a warning."

The solemnity of her manner made both her
hearers shudder.

" On returning to-night from the meeting with
my son in the park, I passed through the library,
the window of which had been left open, and
hurried up the gi*eat staircase without interruption
of any kind.

I had gained the portrait - gallery, and was
hastening along it, when a dark figure seemed
to detach itself from the wall, and bar my way.
Fear nailed me to the spot. A pale phosphoric
glimmer showed me the features of my father,

HILARY ST. IVES. 221

but white as those of a corpse---and the look lie
fixed upon me was inexpressibly mournful. My
tongue clove to my palate, or I would have
spoken. As I still gazed at the apparition in
speechless terror, the ghostly glimmer died away,
and the figure melted into the darkness. How
I gained my room I know not."

Amid the profound silence that ensued, the
pendule on the mantel -piece struck twelve.
Warned by the strokes, Barbara rose to retire,
and Lady Richborough arose at the same time.

" Think over what I have told you, my dear,"
observed Barbara, as she bade good night to
May ; " and if you deem it best that I should
not remain longer here, I will depart to-morrow."

" Oh, no ! you must not go ! " cried May.
"Decide on nothing till you have seen your son."

" Well, I will trespass on your kindness till
then. Good night !"

222 HILARY ST. IVES.

She had nearly reached her own room, which
was at the further end of the corridor, when she
heard quick footsteps behind, and seeing Lady
Kichborough hastening towards lier, she imme-
diately stopped.

" It is very late, but I must keep you up a little
longer," said Myrtilla. " I have something to say
to you that I could not mention before May."

" Come with me, then," rejoined Barbara. " I
shall not sleep, so it matters not when I seek my
couch."

HILARY ST. IVES. 223

XI.

The chamber assigned to Barbara was not so
large as May's, but similarly furnished.

On their entrance, the room looked so dark,
owing to the black oak panels and the dusky
hangings of the bed, that Barbara lighted a couple
of wax candles on the dressing-table.

Since she had resumed her own name, a notice-
able change had taken place in this remarkable
woman's demeanom\ Her manner was prouder
than it had been as !Mrs. Sutton. Seeing Lady

224 HILARY ST. IVES.

Rlcliborongli gaze at lier steadfastly, she drew
herself up haughtily.

"I now recognise my cousin Barbara," said
Myrtilla ; " and the wonder is that I did not
recognise you before. I am sorry you have not
had a better welcome to my father's house."

"I have had a better welcome than I deserve,"
rejoined Barbara. " Pray be seated. You want
to talk to me. Put any questions you think
proper. I will answer them truthfully. I have
nothing to conceal. I cannot darken myself in
your estimation."

" I have no questions to ask," rejoined Myrtilla.
" I dB not want to talk to you of the past, but of
the future."

"The future!" exclaimed Barbara, gloomily.
" I have nothing to do with the future."

" Yes — yes — you must have some plans. Let us
discuss them."

HILARY ST. IVES. 225

^' Wliere would be the use ? Till I have seen
Alberic I can have no plans."

" I see you do not give me credit for the deep
interest I take in you, Barbara," rejoined Myrtilla.
*' You may be sure I am making no idle pro-
fessions, when I say that I will serve you, if I can,
and you will let me."

" I thank you much, Myrtilla, but I want
nothing — except rest. But you may serve my
son."

" It is too late to serve him in the way you
mean. Had I known your secret, I might have
acted otherwise. But May is now engaged to the
Marquis of Hartlepool."

" I am very sorry for it, and you will one day
regret that you have been instrumental in bring-
ing about that union. She will not be happy
with the marquis."

" Why not ? He is devoted to her."

VOL. III. Q

226 HILARY ST. IVES.

"Maybe; but she cannot give him her heart.
That is ah'eady bestowed upon my son. This is
no idle assertion. She told me so herself."

" Had I kno'O"!! this before, the mischief might
have been prevented. But it is now too late.
The match cannot be broken off. The Eadcliffes
desire it, and are pledged to it."

"Better their pledges should be broken than
May rendered miserable."

" None can know better than yourself that Mr.
Kadcliffe's word is his bond. His promise will
never be retracted."

"A promise made in error is not binding,"
said Barbara. "When Mr. Eadcliffe is told of
my marriage with Seymour Delacombe, and learns
that the so-called Hilary St. Ives is our son, his
objections will vanish, and he will rue his promise
to the marquis."

" Still, he will consider himself bound by it, and

HILARY ST. IVES. 227

most assuredly the marquis will never release May
from the eno-agement."

"Not for my son's sake — not for mine, but for
May's sake, I implore you to prevent the marriage.
You can prevent it, if you will."

" Impossible. I am too far committed."

"You will not, you mean," cried Barbara^
almost fiercely. " Mark what I say. If ill comes
of the marriage — as it will — the sin will lie at your
door."

"You cannot alarm me," rejoined Myrtilla,
with affected indifference, though not without
uneasiness. " But let us dismiss the subject, since
it is utterly impossible I can mterf ere in the matter,
even if disposed. Is there any chance of effecting
a reconcihation between you and Colonel Dela-
combe ?"

" None," replied Barbara, in a decided tone.

"I think otherwise. For his son's sake he
Q 2

228 HILARY ST. IVES.

might be content to overlook the past. A material
change has taken place in his sentiments since he
has ascertained that you belong to our family.
Shall I read you what he says in his letter to
me?"

"I do not care to hear it," rejoined Barbara,
coldly. "I have wronged him too deeply ever
to hope for forgiveness. He may forgive me when
I am gone — but not till then. With Alberic it
is diflerent. He may overlook my errors — may
love me — may pour balm into my bruised heart.
Heaven grant it ! Heaven grant it ! Oh ! with
what fear and trembling I look forward to our
meeting. Surely he will not cast me off! Yet
he may ! — he may !" she added, with a look of
inexpressible agony. "What will happen to me
then?"

The spectacle of her anguish was unsupport-
able, and Myrtilla prepared to quit the room.

HILARY ST. IVES. 229

*^ Heaven be merciful to you, my unhappy
cousin," she ejaculated, as she went forth.

Barbara did not notice her departure, so intense
was her affliction ; but at length, becoming aware
that she was alone, she flung herself on her knees,
and prayed long and fervently.

Somewhat comforted, she disrobed herself, and,
being completely exhausted, soon sank into a
heavy slumber.

A vision, for it seemed more vivid than a
dream, arose before her, and she beheld, bathed
in glorious sunshine, and surrounded by a sea
blue as the deep blue sky, the lovely island where
she first drew breath.

Once more she inhaled an atmosphere laden
with the scents of tropical flowers and trees.
Once more she felt the heat of the flaming sun,
which, fierce as were its beams, seemed to ex-
hilarate her. Once more she heard the cease-

230 HILARY ST. IVES.

less screams and chatter of the parrots mingled
with the screams and chatter of the negroes.
Once more her eye ranged over plains studded
with dazzlingly white habitations, long savannahs
fringed with groves of cocoa-trees, and thickets
of cactus, plantations of sugar-cane and coffee.
Once more she gazed on those bays of unequalled
beauty where she had often sailed, and those
blue mountains which she had often longed to
climb. The whole scene was before her, with its
fervid atmosphere, its fierce sunshine, its tropical
beauties, and its delights. She seemed to have
grown young again — to have become once more
an innocent cliikl. Her sad heart beat with
pleasurable emotions, and she echoed the light
laugh of her nurse Bonita. Yes, her dear de-
voted Bonita was alive again, smiling upon her
as of yore, and bringing her cates and fruits.
Suddenly she heard a voice. It was her father's.

HILARY ST. IVES. 231

He was calling for his dear little Barbara. She
flew to meet him. He clasped her in his arms,
and kissed her brow. But his lips seemed icy
cold, and with a start she awoke.

Was she really awake, or still dreaming?
Her father seemed to be bending over the couch,
but the expression of his countenance was
changed, and was now radiant. As she stretched
out her arms the apparition vanished.

232 HILARY ST. IVES.

xn.

PATHEK. AND SON.

Alberic Delacombe, as we shall henceforth
style him, remained for several hours occupied
with the history of his unhappy mother.

There was more of the confession than we
have deemed it necessary to lay before the reader,
but the latter portion was chiefly explanatory of
the motives that had led her to quit Hazlemere,
An insane desire to disappear from the world,
of which she was utterly weary, had again beset
her, and her precautions had been so well taken

HILARY ST. IVES. 233

that she might perhaps never have been heard of
more, if her strong maternal feehngs had not
overpowered her resolution and brought her back
to Boxgrove.

Nothing astonished Alberic Delacombe more
than to learn, as he did from the concluding lines
of his mother's sad story, that she belonged to the
llminster family.

Utterly unprepared for this revelation he could
scarcely credit it, and any satisfaction he might
have derived from the discovery was marred by
reflections that could not fail to occur to his mind.

For more than an hour after he had finished the
perusal of the painful story, he remained ponder-
ing upon its details. Greatly shocked, greatly
distressed, he still pitied his mother. Though
unable to absolve her, he could not condemn her.

At last he sought his coucli, but excitement
banished slumber. Rising at an early hour from

234 HILARY ST. IVES.

his sleepless pillow, he partook of a slight break-
fast, and telling Dame Perrins that he should
certainly return in the evening, set off for the
nearest railway station, and proceeded to town.
Eestless, over-excited, and uneasy, he could not
otherwise employ the interval of time.

On arriving at the Langham Hotel, where he
was staying, a fresh surprise awaited him. His
father had just arrived by the night mail from
Paris, and Alberic immediately repaired to his
room.

The colonel, who was still in bed, being a good
deal fatigued by the journey, told him he ha
started contrary to the injunctions of his physi-
cian, but he felt so unaccountably anxious that he
would not delay his departure.

" I was resolved to start, coute qui coute," he
cried ; " and I do not think I am the worse for the
journey. But what news do you bring me ? Have
you seen Mrs. Sutton ?"

HILARY ST. IVES. 235

The young man replied by placing in the
colonel's hands the packet containing his mother's
history.

"That mil tell you all," he said. "When
you have read it, summon me."

And he quitted the room.

More than an hour elapsed, and receiving no
summons, Alberic became uneasy, and went up
to his father's room.

He tapped at the door, but all remained silent
within, and his uneasiness increasing, he entered
the room, and found the colonel fully di'essed
and seated near a small writing-table.

Before him lay the manuscript wdiich he had
been reading. His hands were clasped against
his brow, and he was so absorbed that he appeared
quite unconscious of his son's presence, till Al-
beric touched him. He then uncovered his face,
which was ghastly pale.

The colonel was greatly changed — shaken and

236 HILARY ST. IVES.

enfeebled by illness. His splendid frame was
emaciated. His hair was blanched, but his dark
brows and moustaches contrasted forcibly with
the almost cadaverous hue of his countenance,
as did the large cicatrix with which his cheek
was marked.

Alberic gazed at him anxiously, alarmed by
the expression of his countenance, for it was
easy to perceive that a terrible struggle was
passing within.

The colonel made a vain effort to speak, but
his accents were broken and unintelligible, and,
rising from his chair, he flung his arms round
his son's neck, and gave way to an access of
emotion.

Very shortly, however, he recovered, and, as. if
ashamed of the display he had made, endeavoured
to assume a cold expression. But his lips still
quivered, and the voice was husky in which he
bade Alberic be seated.

HILARY ST. IVES. 237

" You have read this confession," he said,
laying his hand upon the papers, but keeping his
searching eye on his son as he spoke. "What
do you think of itf

" Do not ask me to pass judgment on my
mother, sir," rejoined Alberic.

"Well, if you evade my question," rejoined
the colonel, sternly, " I will put another. What
would you have me do?"

"I dare not ask you, — yet I would it were in
your power to forgive her."

A flush dyed the colonel's pale cheek, and his
eye blazed fiercely.

*' Alberic," he cried, " I would do much for
you — but not that."

"Father," rejoined Alberic, "have you read
that confession attentively?"

" Most attentively."

^^ And does it not move you?"

« Deeply."

238 HILARY ST. IVES.

" Shall I describe its effect on me ? Shall I
say how much those cries, which evidently pro-
ceed from a broken heart, have touched me ? A
fatal mistake has led to frightful consequences.
But there was a time when she was guiltless —
guiltless, at least, towards you — and when all this
misery might have been spared. I would bring
you back to that time."

" Yes, I am not free from blame," said the
colonel. "Had I known who she was I might
have acted differently."

"The past is irreparable. But I would try to
save you from further self-reproach. If my un-
happy mother has not expiated her errors by a
life of penitence, she has suffered much. By
those sufferings — by your former love — I would
intercede for her."

"Heaven, I hope, will forgive her," said the
colonel. "But do not urge me" further now," he

HILARY ST. IVES. 239

added, with a movement of impatience. " Here-
after, I may feel differently."

" Your forgiveness must not bo delayed, if it
is to be of avail. I am sure she has not long
to live!"

" Why do you think so f demanded the colonel.

" The impression was produced upon me last
night. I cannot divest myself of it."

"I do not think I shall live long myself,"
muttered his father.

" Then I would the more earnestly exhort you
to forgive her — and without delay," urged his
son. " Go with me to Boxgrove to-night. You
will see her. Console her with a word — one
word will suffice. You will make me happy, and
she will die in peace. Listen to me, I implore

you."

And he would have flung himself at his father's
feet, but the colonel checked him.

240 HILARY ST. IVES.

"You have conquered, my son," he said. "I
will do as you desire. I will go with you to-night.
I felt I had something to do when I could not
rest in Paris, I now discover what it is."

" Some good power inspired your return," cried
his son. " Had you delayed a few days, it might
have been too late."

" True," ejaculated the colonel, solemnly.

He then locked up the packet in his travel-
ling case. This done, he went down with his
son to the coffee-room.

HILARY ST. IVES. 241

XIII.

FURTHER EXPLANATIONS.

The colonel ordered breakfast, and Alberic,
Avho liad eaten nothing since he had left the
cottage at an early hour, Avas well disposed to join
him, and did far more justice to what was set
before them than his father did.

They had just finished their repast, when who
should come into the coffee-room, which happened
to be empty at the time, but Mr. Thornton and
Mr. Radcliffe. On seeing them the colonel im-
mediately arose, and his son followed his example.

VOL. III. R

M9. HILARY ST. IVES.

" God bless my soul, colonel, is that you ?"
exclaimed Mr. Thornton, hurrying towards him,
and shaking him cordially by the hand. " Just
returned from Paris, I suppose. Charmed to see
you back. Can't say you're looking very well,
though."

" I am very far from well, my dear friend,"
replied the colonel. "But I trust I shall soon
come round."

He then addressed himself to Mr. Eadcliffe,
wdio returned his salutation with great stiffness
and formality. After a few matter of course ob-
servations, the colonel drew Alberic forward, and
said,

" I am glad of this opportunity of presenting
my son to you, gentlemen. You have known him
heretofore as Hilary St. Ives. Pray know him
now as Alberic Delacombe."

" I am very glad indeed to know Mr. Alberic

HILARY ST. IVES. 243

Delacombe," said ]\Ir. Thornton, shaking hands
with the yonng man.

Mr. RaddifFe bowed very stiffly, and merely re-
marked,

" I have been told that you had adopted Mr. St.
Ives, colonel, but I was not aware that you had ac-
corded him yovir name."

"He bears the name to which he is lawfully
entitled," replied the colonel, haughtily. " He is
my son, sir."

"Bom in wedlock?" observed Mr. Radcliffe,
witli a half sneer.

"Hear me, Mr. Radcliffe," said the colonel,
" and let what I say remove all your doubts. He
is my son by my marriage with the only daughter
of Mr. Alberic Ilminster, of Jamaica."

" Is this the fact, colonel f cried Mr. Radcliffe,
astounded.

" The fact, sir ! Do you doubt my word ?"
K 2

244 HILARY ST. lYES.

" Heaven forbid ! Only I am so much
astonished."

"No wonder you are astonished," cried Mr.
Thornton. "So am I. Why, Alberic Ihninster,
of Jamaica, was the younger brother of Sir
Umfraville Ilminster of Boxgrove, consequently
your wife, colonel, must have been poor Sir
Charles's first cousin."

" Perfectly correct, sir."

" I presume she died many years ago ?"

" You are mistaken, sir. She is alive now."

" Zounds ! you have contrived to keep her in
the background in a very extraordinary manner,"
cried the old gentleman, winking at Mr. Radcliffe.
" We never heard of her."

" Never till this moment," echoed the other.

"Again you are mistaken, sir. Both you and
Mr. Radcliffe know her, and have seen her re-
peatedly."

HILARY ST. IVES. 245

" Pray explain the riddle," cried Mr. Thornton,
with a puzzled look, which, however, changed to
a cunning smile, as he exclaimed, " Aha ! I have
it !— Mi's. Sutton— eh f '

Colonel Delacombe nodded assent.

"Is Mrs. Sutton this young man's mother?"
demanded Mr. Radcliffe, eagerly.

'•'My wife and Alberic's mother," rejoined the
colonel.

The worthy gentleman looked inexpressibly re-
lieved.

" Would I had known this before," he ex-
claimed.

" I always thought ^Irs. Sutton a very superior
woman," observed Mr. Thornton. " But I little
dreamed who she was."

As the coffee-room began now to fill, they ad-
journed to a private room, where they could con-
tinue their conversation without interruption.

246 HILARY ST. IVES.

By this time an extraordinary change had he-
come manifest in Mr. Eadchffe's demeanour
towards Colonel Delacombe and his son, espe-
cially towards the latter. He was now just as
friendly with Alheric as he had previously been
cold and reserved, and strove to make amends for
the rudeness he had shown the young man. More
than once he repeated, "Oh, that I had known
this before !"

When the topic on which they had been
engaged was dismissed, Mr. Thornton alluded to
the engagement that had just been entered into
between the Marquis of Hartlepool and May, and
the colonel of course offered his congratulations to
the old gentleman and Mr. Radcliffe.

" I know the marquis very well," he said.
" My son and I saw a good deal of him in Rome,
and liked him. He is not very brilliant, but he is
amiable, and — a marquis."

"Yes, yes, it is a splendid match," cried Mr.

HILARY ST. IVES. 247

Thornton, rubbing his hands with delight. " We
are all enchanted witii it — eh V he added to Mr.
Radcliffe, -who did not, however, respond very
warmly to the appeal.

" It is a very important alhance, no doubt," he
said ; " but I think it has been entered into
rather precipitately. May has scarcely had suf-
ficient time for consideration."

" Why, whaf s this ? You insisted upon an im-
mediate decision, and I think you were perfectly
right," cried !Mi'. Thornton. " Don't you agree
with me, colonel V

" With most ffirls there would be none, that I
own," rejoined the colonel. " But Miss Rad-
cliffe is not an ordinary girl. I did not think
she was likely to be dazzled by rank and splen-
dour."

" Nor is she," replied ]Mr. Radcliffe. " I won't
say she sacrificed her own feelings, but she con-
sented to oblige us all — that's the fact."

248 HILARY ST. IVES.

The colonel slightly shrugged his shoulders,
but made no remark.

" She cannot fail to be happy, for the mar-
quis will let her have her own way in every-
thing," observed ISIr. Thornton. "We mean to
have the marriage celebrated with as little delay
as possible, and, in fact, it is on business con-
nected with it that we have come up to town
to-day."

To Alberic the subject under discussion was
exquisitely painful, and dreading lest he should
betray his feelings, he got up, and moved to a
window. He appeared to be watching the car-
riages in Portland-place, but he scarcely noticed
them, Avhen Mr. Radcliffe came up to him, and,
patting him in a friendly manner on the back,
said, in a low voice :

" All ! if I had only known as much yester-
day as I do now, a very different arrangement

HILARY ST. IVES. 249

might have been made — not so splendid, but more
satisfactory to me."

" I could not enter into any explanation then,
Mr. Radcliffe, even if you would have allowed
me," rejoined Alberic. " And now it is too late."

Here a slight cough from the colonel recalled
Mr. Radcliffe.

" I must claim your attention for a few minutes
more, sir," remarked the colonel. "You are ac-
quainted with the painful and peculiar circum-
stances connected with my marriage. You are
acquainted with my wife's sad story. You have
known her intimately for many years, and can
judge of her conduct during that term."

" Her conduct, ever since I have known her,
has been irreproachable," said Mr. Eadcliffe,
emphatically.

" Take my testimony to the same effect,
colonel," cried Mr. Thornton.

250 HILAKY ST. IVES.

"For my son's sake," pursued the colonel, "I
have resolved to forget the past. And though
others may censure me, I do not think you -svill
blame my determmation."

" On the contrary, I applaud it," cried Mr.
Kadcliffe. " And I can assure you it -will sin-
cerely gratify me to convey the joyful intelli-
gence to your wife."

" I thank you, sir," said the colonel. " But
she must receive her forgiveness from no other
lips than mine."

" Then return with me to Boxgrove to-night,
colonel," cried !Mr. Thornton. " See her with-
out delay."

" It Avas my intention to run doAra for that
purpose with my son," replied the colonel. "I
gladly accept your invitation. You shall precede
us," he added to Alberic. "Meet your mother
as appointed, and tell her all that has occm'red.

HILARY ST. IVES. 251

That will obviate the necessity of further expla-
nation, and when I see her, it will be with less
painful emotion either on her part or mine."

In pursuance of the arrangement, Alberic set
off for Boxgrove Park by himself, leaving the
colonel to the care of his friends.

The three gentlemen dined at the Langham,
and did not take their departure till late in the
evenincr.

252 HILARY ST. IVES.

XIV.

THE THTJNDEKSTOBM.

Alberic had returned to the cottage.

He was all impatience to see his mother, and
convey to her the joyful intelligence of which he
was the bearer. The minutes seemed to pass
slowly, but at last the appointed hour drew near,
and he was preparing to set out for tlie place
of rendezvous in the park Avhen a violent thunder-
storm came on, accompanied by a deluge of rain.

He waited, therefore, for a few minutes, ex-
pecting that the fury of the storm would abate,

HILARY ST. IVES. 253

but as no improvement took place, lie started, in
spite of all Dame Perrins's attempts to dissuade
him. The good old dame thought he must be
mad to venture forth on such a night. The rain
was coming doAvn in torrents at the time, and
the blue forked flashes nearly blinded him, but
he dashed ,across the road, and was soon in the
thick of the chesnut-grove.

Here an appalling incident occurred. A loud
peal of thunder rattled overhead like a discharge
of artillery. A bolt fell, and a large tree was
struck within fifty yards of him — one of its huge
arms shivered, and the bark stripped from the
side of the trunk.

Stunned by the dreadful concussion, he was
unable to move for a few moments, and when
his powers returned, he almost thought of turning
back, as it was not likely his mother would brave
such a storm — but he went on.

254 HILARY ST. IVES.

Not without great difficulty, and frequent in-
terru]3tion, did lie get out of the grove, and then
not at the point he expected. But for the inces-
sant blaze of lightning the night would have
been pitch-dark. However, he descried the clump
of trees, and strode on in that direction as
rapidly as the slippery tui'f would allow him.

Still, the thunder rolled awfully, the lightning
flashed, and the hissing rain descended in
torrents.

Suddenly, he underwent a new alarm. Amid
the silence that followed a loud crash, he heard
a piercing scream, and felt convinced that it pro-
ceeded from his mother.

Was she in danger, or merely alarmed by the
thunder ? Another scream followed, though
scarcely distinguishable amid the din of the
storm.

Full of terror, he hurried on, and was nearing

HILARY ST. IVES. 255

the group of trees when t^yo ruffianly-looking men
hurst forth. The foremost was armed with a
heavy bludgeon, hut the other grasped a weapon,
which, seen by the lightning, looked like a long,
sharp-pointed knife, and seemed dripping with
blood.

The countenances of the miscreants almost
proclaimed the murderous deed on which they
had been engaged. Alberic recognised them at
once as the two villains who had robbed and
maltreated him on Wootton Heath, and coupling
their presence on the spot with the screams he
had just heard, fearful apprehensions were
roused.

Perhaps they had assassinated his mother.

Maddened by the thought, with a fierce cry
he rushed upon them, regardless of any conse-
quences to himself. He was wholly unarmed,
but rage supplied him with superhuman strength,

256 HILARY ST. IVES.

and made him a match for his antagonistSj though
both were athletic men. Closing with the foi'e-
most ruffian, and catching him by the throat
before he could strike a blow with the bludgeon,
he hurled him backwards against his comrade.

In falling the wretch was seriously hurt by
a stroke of the knife intended for the young
man, who was thus released from one of his
assailants. The next moment he was in posses-
sion of the bludgeon, and a smashing blow with
it caused the other ruffian to di'op his knife.

Both villains then fled, but the one who was
wounded had not gone more than a hundred
yards when he fell to the ground exhausted by
loss of blood. There he lay, vowing, with hor-
rible oaths, that he would hang the comrade
who had abandoned him.

Alberic, however, thought no more of either
of them. A half-stifled cry directed him to the

HILARY ST. IVES. 257

spot where Ins unfortunate mother was lying, and
he instantly flew towards her. The lightning
gave a livid hue like that of death to her pallid
features, her eyes were closed, and but that she
still breathed, or rather gasped for breath, he
might have tliought that life was extinct.

But the life-blood was flowing fast from a
deep wound in her side, and he strove in vain
to stanch the crimson stream.

VOL. in.

258 HILARY ST. IVES.

XV.

A RETROSPECT.

How the unhappy Barbara came by her fate
must now be related.

The last day she was ever destined to see was
spent in perfect seclusion. May and Myrtilla
passed several hours with her, but could not induce
her to converse with them. Her thoughts were
elsewhere. She was told that ]\Ir. INIalham was
in the house, and wished to see her, but she
declined. She also refused to see Mrs. Kadcliffe,

HILARY ST. lYES. 259

alleoing tliat she was not equal to an interview
with any one.

"Beg your mother to excuse me," she said to
May. " If all is well I will see her to-morrow.
Pray let me he undisturbed to-day."

It was evident that she had not been able to
conquer her antipathy to her former mistress. But
her manner towards May was most tender and
affectionate, and when they were alone together
she expressed a truly maternal solicitude for her
happiness.

" I wish I could persuade myself that the
engagement you have entered into will make you
happy," she said. "But I know you can never
give the marquis your heart. On no account,
however, break off the engagement, unless your
father permits you to do so. Tell him all, and be
guided by his counsel. The sole desire of my
life would have been gratified if you could have
s 2

260 HILARY ST. IVES.

been united to Alberic, but fate seems against it,
and we must bow to its decrees. Whatever betide,
may you be happy !"

" The marquis has been here all day," said
May ; " and he must be blind indeed if he does
not perceive that I dislike him."

Barbara regarded her compassionately.

" You have been persuaded to take a foolish
step, my dear child," she said. " But your father
will never allow you to be sacrificed if you tell him
the truth. Hide nothing from him."

"He is gone to London with grandpapa, or
I would have spoken to him to-day. I will never
wed the marquis."

After this the unhappy woman begged to be
left entirely to herself for a few hours.

How she passed the time was not known, but
when May entered the room she found her on
lier knees, and her eyes were red with weeping.
However, she was perfectly calm, and almost

HILARY ST. IVES. 261

cheerful, and continued so until evening. But as
the hour approached when she was to meet her
son, she became nervously excited.

As there were indications of the terrible storm
we have described, her companions endeavoured
to dissuade her from goino; forth, but she would
not be turned from her purpose.

May and Myrtilla went with her to the library.
They took no lights, and as they hastily tra-
versed the galleiy, a dazzlingly vivid flash mo-
mentarily illumined the long line of portraits,
while a clap of thunder shook the mansion.

"I must meet Alberic," she cried. "I must
leani my fate."

Fearful of being detained, she resolved to set
out at once.

*' Do not go, I beseech you," cried May,
gi'eatly terrified. " Stop till the stomi has
passed."

But Barbara hurried on.

262 HILARY ST. TVES.

They had descended the great staircase, and
reached the library without being perceived.
Barbara paused for a moment only to strain
May to her bosom, and whisper a word in her
ear.

Just as the window was opened another vivid
flash of lightning drove them back, and almost
blinded them.

When the others regained their sight, Barbara
was gone. But they beheld her upon the ter-
race, speeding to her destination, unappalled by
the terrors of the storm.

"Heaven preserve her!" ejaculated May, fer-
vently.

Heaven's support was needed by the unhappy
woman. Her hour had well-nigh come.

She had gained the park, and though the storm
had increased in violence, though the rain beat
against her brow, and the lightning played around
her, she went on.

HILARY ST. IVES. 263

" I shall find my son there," she exclaimed.
" He will not fail me."

She did not find him. But she found others
■vvhom she did not expect.

As she entered the woody ring, two savage-
looking men who had watched her approach, as
shown by the lightning, burst upon her. One
of them seized her roughly by the arm to pre-
vent her flight, and, brandishing a knife, threat-
ened her with instant death if she uttered a cry.

" We knew you would come, in spite of the
storm," cried the ruffian, in a jeering tone.

The unfortunate woman glanced around, vainly
hoping that her son would appear.

" Ay, you may look round, madam," cried her
captor. " You'll see nothin' on him to-night."

" You lie, villain !" she exclaimed. " My son
will rescue me."

" Don't be too sure of that, madam. A^Hiat
money have you got about you V

264 HILARY ST. IVES.

"None. I have neither money nor valuables.
Release me at once, ruffian."

Both men laughed derisively.

"We ain't a-goin' to part with you like that,
madam," said the other robber. " You ought to
have known better than to come out on an arrand
like this, without purse, or pocket-book, or rings.
But since you've been so careless, you must come
along wi' us, and I'd recommend you to come
quietly."

"I will not stir from this spot," she cried,
resolutely.

They seized her and attempted to drag her
off, but she caught hold of the branch of a
tree, and screamed loudly for help.

" Hold youi' tongue !" cried one of the men,
with a terrible imprecation, "or I'll make you
keep silence."

But she struggled to get free, and continued

HILARY ST. IVES. 2 65

her outcries, hoping they would reach the ears
of her son. But for the ratthng of the thunder
he would have heard them.

The struggle continued for a minute longer.
Then giving utterance to a sharper cry, she fell
back into the arms of one of her assailants.

" Why, thou'st killed her, Seth Cooper !" cried
this ruffian, aghast at the dreadful deed.

" She forced me to do it, curse her !" cried
Seth.

They were debating what should be done,
when, to their great alarm, they became aware
of Alberic's approach, and laying do\Mi the body
of their still breathing victim, they rushed to
meet him.

The result has been already narrated.

266

HILARY ST. IVES.

XVI.

HOW BAKBAUA WAS BROUGHT BACK TO BOXGROVE.

Albeeic raised the dying woman tenderly, and
subduing the emotion that threatened to over-
power him, said,

"Do you not know me, mother? It is your
son."

The words seemed to recal her to life.

With a cry of delight she flung her arms round
his neck, and kissed him repeatedly.

But the effort was too great. Her hold re-

HILARY ST. IVES. 267

laxed. Her head dropped, and a slilver passed
through her frame, prelusive of death.

" Speak to me, dear mother ! speak to me !"
cried Alberic, greatly alarmed.

" You have read my history. You know all 1"
she rejoined faintly.

"All."

" And you forgive me ?" she asked, with
trembling eagerness.

"Dearest mother, I have nothing to forgive.
But I bring you my father's forgiveness."

"' Is he here ?" she cried. "' Bring him to me."

"Alas, I cannot!" rejoined her son. "He is
on his way to you."

"But he will not arrive in time. I knew we
should never meet again on earth. Bid him
farewell for me, and say "

Here her voice became inaudible.

Alberic placed his car close to her lips, but

268 HILARY ST. IVES.

could not catcli the words. Her eyes, however,
were fixed upon him, and did not quit him till
they gi'ew dim.

Another shudder, and all was over.

He gave way to no unavailing transports of
grief, but continued to hold her in his arms and
gaze at her rigid features, which, seen by the
lightning, sometimes looked as if life had re-
turned to them.

From this state he was roused by shouts pro-
ceeding from some men who had descried him
from another part of the park, and were hurrying
towards him.

Laying down the body, he answered their
shouts, and the men soon afterwards coming up
proved to be Frank Mowatt, the head gamekeeper,
and two of his subordinates. All three had guns,
and were attended by a couple of large hounds,
and the latter began to growl as they approached
the scene of the murder.

HILARY ST. IVES. 269

"Why, what's this?" cried Mowatt, horrified
by the spectacle that met liis gaze. " Who has
-done the foul deed ? Thou ?" he added, levelling
his gun at Alberic.

"Keep your shot for the right man," rejoined
the other, sternly. " One of the assassins is not
far off, and the other must be in the park, and
may be captured if you don't waste time."

His manner caused the keeper to lower his
gun, while instant proof of the truth of the
assertion was afforded by the hounds, who,
having discovered the fallen wretch, were threat-
ening to worry him, and had already given him
a taste of their sharp fangs. The two under-
keepers hurried to the spot, called off the dogs,
and secured the terrified caitiff.

"Leave this villain to our charge," cried
Alberic, who came up the next moment with
Mowatt, " and go in search of his accomplice.
You cannot fail to track him with these hounds."

270 HILAEY ST. IVES.

" Ay, they're on his trail already," rejoined one
of the keepers. " Must we go, ISIaster Mo watt ?"

"Ay, to be sui-e, Paul, and bring him back
dead or alive,", rejoined the head keeper. " I'll
take care of this chap, and shoot him if he gives
any trouble."

" Sarve him right, too," cried Paul, as he hui'ried
after his mate.

The hounds had evidently got on the scent,
and led them towards the thicket at the bottom
of the park.

While Alberic and Mowatt were considering

o

what it would be best to do under the circum-
stances, the head keeper thought he could discover
some persons in the neighbourhood of the mansion,
and in order to attract their attention, he not only
shouted lustily, but fired off one of the barrels of
his gun.

The signal was quickly attended to. The

HILARY ST. IVES. 271

persons whom the keeper had seen were some of
the men-servants, who had been sent by ]\Iay and
Lady Richborough to look for Mrs. Sutton. With
them was Mr. Malham, the surgeon, who chanced
to be at the house at the time.

Guided by the shouts and the report of the
gun, the whole party were soon on the spot, and
filled with consternation on learning the dreadful
occurrence. Mr. Malham was profoundly affected.
A glance at the body showed him that life was
extinct, but still he knelt down to examine the
wound.

By his direction a hurdle was brought, and on it
was carefully laid the body, -which he covered
with his own ample cloak. Alberic vras too much
overcome to take part in the melancholy proceed-
ings, and remained looking sadly on, with his arms
folded upon his breast.

The little procession then moved slowly towards

272 HILARY ST. IVES.

the mansion, tlie rear being brought up by Frank
Mowatt and two grooms, who had charge of the
prisoner.

Here we mention that Seth Cooper was captured
by the two keepers in the thicket, and being taken
by them to the Hall, was lodged with his partner
in guilt in an outbuilding until the arrival of the
officers.

Meanwhile, Colonel Delacombe had arrived at
Boxgrove, and was still in the entrance-hall with
Mr. KadcHffe and ^Mr. Thornton. They had just
been joined by May and Mrs. Woodcot, when
the principal door was thrown open, and Mr.
Malham came in, followed by the bearers with
their ghastly burden. Behind them appeared
Alberic.

Covered from head to foot by the cloak, as with
a pall, the body was laid by the bearers on an
antique carved oak table in the centre of the hall,
above which hung a lamp.

HILARY ST. IVES. 273

As the body was brought in, Oswald came forth
from the drawing-room, which opened upon the
entrance-hall, and was immediately followed by
Mrs. Kadcliffe, Myrtilla, and the Marquis of
Hartlepool.

Astonishment and horror kept the throng of
sj^ectators mute, but the climax was reached when
Colonel Delacombe stepped forward and drew
aside the cloak that shrouded the pallid features
of his wife.

Uttering a sharp cry, he would have fallen to
the ground;, if he had not been caught by the
surgeon.

VOL. III.

274 HILARY ST. IVES.

XVII.

AN EVENTFUL EVENING.

Three months had elapsed.

The ill-fated Barbara had found a resting-place
in the family vault of the Ilminsters, and her
murderers had paid the penalty of their crime.

Colonel Delacombe was still at Boxgrove. The
terrible shock he had undergone had well-nigh
proved fatal. At last he rallied, but was for
several weeks confined to his room.

A large state chamber was assigned him by
Mr. Thornton, fitted up with antique furniture,

HILARY ST. IVES. 275

and having bay windows that afforded him a view
of the gardens and the park. There he sat in an
easy chair, looking very pale, very thin, very
feeble, but still very handsome ; read the news-
papers or a novel ; dictated his letters to his son,
or chatted with his visitors, of whom he had
plenty.

For more than a month Alberic had been in
constant attendance upon his sire, but since then
he had been frequently in toAvn. jNIr. Thornton,
who, as we know, played the part of host at Box-
grove, made him feel quite at home, and he went
and came just as he liked.

May's engagement to the Marquis of Hartle-
pool still subsisted. Owing to recent events the
marriage had been postponed — indefinitely, it
seemed, for no entreaties on the part of the
marquis or Lady Eichborough could induce the
young lady to fix the da}'. Thoroughly impressed
T 2

276 HILARY ST. IVES.

with the importance of the alhance, ]\Irs. RadcHffe
prevented any positive rupture, though she could
not bring about the consummation she desired.
Mr. Eadchffe was secretly averse to the match,
but would not withdraw the promise he had given
to the marquis.

At length, the colonel came down-stairs, and
a few drives in the open carriage completely re-
stored him. A dinner-party was given to celebrate
his recovery. It was a tolerably large party, but
not at all formal, and comprised the Rev. Nisbet
Jones and JSIi's. Jones, Mrs. Clifford and her fair
daughter Gwendoline, Mr. Brooke of Sandhills
and his daughter Jessie, two or three young men,
and most important of all, though we have placed
him last in the list, the Marquis of Hartlepool.
The marquis was staying at the time at Hazle-
mere. The members of the family consisted of
Oswald and his mother, the Kadchffes, and, of

HILARY ST. IVES. 277

course, Mr. Thornton, who did the honours for
his grand-daughter.

May did not always dine with her guests —
perhaps we ought to call them gi'andpapa's
guests — but she favoured them on this occasion.
Lady Richborough was likewise present, and
Alberic.

The dinner was excellent, as the dinners always
were at Boxgrove, and passed off very pleasantly.
Everybody was delighted to see Colonel Dela-
combe down-stairs again, and the colonel himself
was in very good spirits, and ventured upon a
glass of champagne, which he had not tasted
since his illness.

But the Marquis of Hartlepool was really the
life of the party. Placed between May and
Myrtilla, he not only managed to amuse them
both by his pleasant sallies, but contributed
materially to the general gaiety.

278 HILARY ST. lYES.

After dinner, the ladies strolled out into the
garden to enjoy the delicious summer evening,
and the young men, who did not care for the
claret and still less for the old port, so dear to
Mr. Thornton and ]Mr. Radcliffe, sallied forth to
join them. Alberic, however, soon separated
himself from the merry party on the lovm, and
withdrew to a more secluded part of the garden.
He was seated on a bench near a bosquet,
wrapped in thought, when he was roused from
his reverie by May.

"I have come to look for you," she said.
"You must not desert us thus."

"I shall not contribute to your amusement,"
he replied in a melancholy voice. " I am out of
spirits this evening, and cannot for the life of
me shake off my despondency."

" I thought you looked extremely dull at
dinner," she rejoined, "and wondered what was

HILAKY ST. IVES. 279

the matter. But come with me. We will soon
chase away your gloom."

"Grant me a few moments," he cried, de-
taining her. "I have something to say to
you."

"Wliat is it?" she asked, taking a seat beside
him.

"You will not be surprised at my sadness
when I tell you that I have come to the reso-
lution of bidding you farewell. To-morrow I
shall leave Boxgrove — not to return. You cannot
be unaware of the hopeless passion that consumes
me. I have made every effort to conquer it —
but in vain. Nothing is left me but to withdraw
from the influence of an attraction that I find
irresistible. I ouo;ht to have fled lonfj a^o, but
1 could not tear myself away. I shall suffer ten
times more from the separation, which must now
take place, than I should have done at an earlier

280 HILARY ST. IVES.

period. I must, therefore, go while I have strength
enough for the effort."

"No, Alberic," she replied. "I will not allow
you to depart."

" You are very cruel. If you knew the torture
I endure you would not bid me prolong it. Bliss-
ful as it is to be near you, the ever-recurring
thought that I must lose you poisons my happi-
ness, while the conviction that you will soon
become the bride of another almost drives me
mad."

" You must bear the torture a little longer."
"To what end?" he cried, bitterly. "There
can be no hope for me. • You are plighted to
the marquis."

" He will give me back to my word."
" Do not think it. He is resolved to make you
his bride. Except your father, all the rest of
your family, including Lady Eichborough, are

HILARY ST. IVES. 281

most anxious for the nicarriage. You have made
a rash promise, and must perforce keep it."

"But I won't keep it!" exclaimed May, reso-
lutely.

"Your father considers himself bound by his
promise. The obligation is equally great on
you."

" I will speak to the marquis to-night. I will
appeal to his good feelings — to his generosity,
to liberate me from a promise that was in reality
extorted from me."

As she arose, two persons unexpectedly ap-
peared before her.

The two persons were the marquis and Myrtilla.

"When you have confidential matters to dis-
cuss you should not talk quite so loud," observed
the marquis. "Lady Eichborough and I have
unwittingly heard all that has passed, and of
course I am aware of the appeal you intended

282 HILARY ST. IVES.

to make to me. On one condition, and one only
will I release you from your promise."

" Wliat is tlie condition ?" cried May, eagerly.

" I do not tliink you will consider it very
hard," lie rejoined, with a smile. " The condi-
tion I exact is that you bestow the hand which
you have promised to me on my friend, Alberic
Delacombe. You have already, it appears, given
him your heart."

Nothing could equal the astonishment of his
hearers.

" My dear marquis !" exclaimed Alberic, trans-
ported with delight. " This generosity "

"Is quite unexpected, I know. But you are
rather mistaken in me. I am not altogether
devoid of gratitude. Kemember that you laid
me under an everlasting obligation by saving
my life at Eome. I am now able in part to
requite it."

HILARY ST. IVES. 283

" You have requited it a thousand fold, my
dear marquis," cried Albcric. " You have made
me the happiest of men — that is, if the condition
is accepted," he added to IMay.

" Very httle doubt about that," said the
marquis. " Still, to make sure, let us have a
precise answer."

'•'There is my hand," cried May, giving it to
Alberic, who pressed it to his lips.

" So the gipsy's prophecy will be fulfilled after
all," said Myrtilla. " You recollect what she told
you at Ascot. But what will papa and mamma
say to this sudden transfer of their daughter
without consulting them ? Above all, what will
grandpapa say ? I, too, have never been consulted,
and I do not at all like losing the dear marquis."

"You may still keep him if you choose," said
the marquis.

" Still keep him ?"

284 HILARY ST. IVES.

"Yes. You promised to lielp me to a wife, and
may still do so, if you are so inclined."

"Take care what you say, marquis," rejoined
Myrtilla. "I might construe that pretty speech
into an offer."

" It is so meant. And I here, in plain terms,
repeat it."

HILARY ST. IVES. 285

XVIII.

SEQUEL TO THE PREVIOUS CHAPTER.

By this time the elderly gentlemen, who had
remained rather longer over their wine than their
juniors, had come forth upon the lawn, where the
assemblage was broken up into little groups. JSir.
liadcliffe and ^Ir. Thornton were discussing some
political questions with the vicar, and Colonel
Delacombe was expatiating on the beauty of the
evening to Mrs. JRadcliire, when the marquis and
the others were seen approaching.

" The marquis looks as if he had something to

286 HILARY ST. IVES.

communicate," remarked the colonel. " I shouldn't
wonder if the wedding-day were fixed."

" High time it should be," replied Mrs. Rad-
cliffe. " I am quite tired of so much delay."

"Mrs. Radcliffe," said the marquis, stepping
forward before the others, " I have to inform you
that within the last few minutes a slight change
has taken place in my arrangements with your
daughter."

" A change !" exclaimed the lady. " You alarm
me, marquis."

"No occasion for alarm, my dear madam," he
rejoined, reassuring her with a smile. " But
perhaps your husband ought to hear my communi-
cation."

" Mr. Radcliffe, your presence is requu*ed,"
cried the colonel.

" And mine, too, I suppose," said Mr. Thorn-
ton, whose curiosity was aroused.

HILARY ST. IVES. 287

" Shall I retire, marquis V asked the colonel.

" On no account," replied the other. " You
are an interested party. JMr. Radcliffe," he pur-
sued, addressing that gentleman, who had come
up with My. Thornton, "I will state to you in
as few words as possible Avhat I have to say. I
cannot have the honour of becoming your son-
in-law !"

" Oh ! marquis, I did not expect this," almost
screamed Mrs. Radcliffe.

" I presume, marquis, that you have some
reasons for your withdrawal ?" said Mr. Radcliffe,
who did not look as discomposed as his wife.

"My reasons are not to be disputed," replied
the marquis. "I have just discovered that your
daughter entertains a preference for my friend,
Alberic Delacombe, and I have therefore at once
retu'ed in his favour. You cannot oblige me
more than by bestowing her hand upon him."

288 HILARY ST. IVES.

" My lord marquis," said Mr. Eadcliffe, much
moved, "I cannot suflficiently express my admi-
ration of your conduct. It is worthy of you."

" Then you consent ?"' cried the marquis.

"What says Colonel Delacombe'?" asked Mr.
Eadcliffe.

"Nothing would please me more," he rejoined.
" I have long been aware of Alberic's attachment
to your daughter, and discouraged it because
I considered it hopeless ; but now that there is
no obstacle I will ask your consent, and that of
Mrs. Eadcliffe, to the match."

"You have mine, colonel," replied Mr. Ead-
cliffe.

" Am I dreaming?" cried ^irs. Eadcliffe.

" No, my dear madam," repHed the marquis,
laughing; "both you and I have been dreaming
for some time, but we are perfectly awake now.
Make your daughter happy."

HILARY ST. IVES. 289

" Must 1 consent f said Mrs. Kadcliffe, ap-
pealing to ]\[r. Thornton.

" To be sure," replied the old gentleman.
" Since things have taken this turn we must all
consent."

The matter being thus satisfactorily settled,
the young couple came forward and received the
general felicitations of the assemblage.

" What a charming scene !" observed Lady
Richborough to the marquis.

" Well, you have acted admirably, marquis,"
said the colonel, coming up. " But though my
son is the gainer, I can't help feeling sorry for
you.''

" Spare your pity, my dear colonel. I am not
so unlucky as you suppose. I have rather gained
than lost, as I am sure you will admit when I
inform you that Lady Richborough has promised
me her hand."

VOL. III. U

290 HILARY ST. IVES.

" Then, indeed, you are to be envied, marquis,
and I offer you my sincere congratulations. I
almost wonder that her ladyship was not your
original choice."

"The fault is MyrtUla's, not mine," said the
marquis.

*' How is the fault mine ?" she asked.

"Have you not told me scores of times that
you would never marry again?"

"Not since you were Marquis of Hartlepool.
That makes all the difference. As a younger
brother you know "

"Precisely. I ought to have taken that into
consideration. But I didn't. However, it's all
right now."

Great was the astonishment of the assemblage
when it was buzzed about that an engagement
had just been entered into between the marquis
and Lady Eichborough, and a good deal of mer-

HILARY ST. IVES. 291

riment Avas excited among the young people, who
hardly knew Avhether to treat the matter se-
riously or not. Wlien convinced of the truth of
the announcementj they thought that the whole
thing must have been planned, and indeed it
looked lilve it.

"V^Hien Colonel Delacombe looked for his son
he had disappeared. May also was gone. They
had wandered together tow\ards the most secluded
part of the garden, where they could pour out
their thoughts Avithout restraint, and interchange
their vows. But the boundless love that each felt
for the other found but feeble and inadequate
expression in words. Alberic could only tell May
that he loved her better than life — that he had
always loved her — and should never cease to love
her, while life lasted. And with this assurance
she was content.

Nothing half so sentimental passed between
U 2

292 HILARY ST. IVES.

tlie Marquis of Hartlepool and Lady Eich-
borough. They had a long tete-a-tete, it is true,
but they did not talk of love. The marquis
made no protestations of undying affection, nor
did he indulge in common-places of any kind
which he knew very well she would not care to
hear; but he spoke about his plans for the
autumn, for the winter, and for the spring, and
quite satisfied her that it would be a very charm-
ing thing to be Marchioness of Hartlepool.

It is almost needless to say that the change
that had occurred was a great disappointment to
Mrs. Eadcliffe and Mr. Thornton. They had
looked forward to the alliance which was to
reflect so much splendour upon themselves as a
matter of certainty, and now that there was an
end of it, their vanity underwent a severe shock.
There was some slight consolation in reflecting
that the marquis was not altogether lost, since
Myrtilla had secured him.

IIILAUY ST. IVES. 29S'

However, before the end of the evening the
old gentleman's thoughts were turned into another
channel. Almost all the company had returned to
the drawing-room, where music was going on,
when Mrs. Woodcot asked for a song from Jessie
Brooke, who had a charming voice. The young
lady, however, was still on the terrace with
Oswald. ]\ii\ Brooke called his daughter in, but
when she came, she begged Mrs. Eadcliffe to
excuse her from singing, pleading a slight cold.
!Mr. Thornton had some suspicions of the truth,
and they were soon confirmed by Oswald, who
took him aside, and said :

" Well, sir, I've been and done it."

** Been and done what ?"

"Followed your advice, sir. You told me to
propose to Jessie Brooke."

" I don't recollect telling you so."

" Yes, sir, you did. You told me she would
accept me, and you were right. You added — and

294 HILARY ST. IVES.

I thought it extremely considerate on your part
— that you would make a handsome settlement
upon her, and a liberal allowance to me. I hope
you'll be as good as your word."

" Well, I suppose I must have made the pro-
mise, though I've quite forgotten it," replied the
old gentleman, with a comical look that quite
satisfied his grandson. " I'll go and talk the
matter over with Mr. Brooke, and ascertain what
he'll do."

" You are the best of granddads," cried the
grateful youth.

This is the last event we have to record of that
eventful evening, when an engagement was no
sooner broken off than two others were formed,
and a third entered into immediately afterwards.

HILARY ST. IVES. 295

XIX.

HOW THE GIPST's PROPHECY "WAS FULFILLED.

Never sure was man happier tlian Alberic.
Fortune, that so long had frowned upon him, had
now bestowed her choicest favours — had given
him a name, an excellent social position, and for
a bride, the loveliest and wealthiest girl in the
county. Not a wish was ungratified.

And May was just as happy. We have shown
that she did not care for rank and splendom', and
had she been condemned to such a life would have

296 HILARY ST. IVES.

been wretched. Even Mrs. Eadcliffe and Mr,
Thornton came to this conclusion after they had
got over their first disappointment, and felt that
things had been much better ordered by fate than
they could have ordered them.

As to Colonel Delacombe, he was almost as
happy as his son. If he could have selected a
wife for Alberic he would have chosen May, but
he deemed the prize unattainable.

Let us here state that the marquis had no
reason to regret that he had yielded to his gene-
rous impulses. With his tastes and with his
mode of existence, it is perfectly clear that May
would not have suited him, and Avould very soon
have been neglected and unhappy. But Myrtilla
had every qualification for the brilliant part which
she was called upon to play. As Marchioness
of Hartlepool she speedily eclipsed all her com-
petitors in the world of fashion, and reached the
pinnacle of her ambition.

HILARY ST. IVES. 297

Nor lias she been dethroned. No parties so
splendid, so attractive, as hers. Her toilettes are
perfection — her equipages the most elegant in
town. Wherever she appears, the haughty mar-
chioness dazzles all beholders. Her superb beauty-
excites universal admiration. Yet with all her
pride she is popular, for she is good-natured, and
can be condescending when she pleases. Not
•without reason is the marquis proud of her. Not
without reason does he congratulate himself on
his choice of a consort. If he has ennobled her,
she has materially heightened his influence and
importance.

It only remains to conduct Alberic and May
to the altar. Preparations for the marriage were
made as expeditiously as possible, and caused a
busy time both at Boxgrovc and Hazlemere.
Some little delay occurred, since it was aiTanged
that the marriage of Oswald with Jessie Brooke
should take place on the same day.

298 HILARY ST. IVES.

At last, however, all preliminary arrangements
were completed. The settlements were made,
and were entirely satisfactoiy to those princi-
pally concerned. !Mr. Thornton behaved very
liberally to his grandson, and settled upon the
young lady, whom Oswald had chosen, a sum
equal to that given her by her father.

The two marriages were celebrated, under the
most auspicious circumstances, at "\Yootton Church
— the ceremonies being performed by the vicar.

Bright sunshine gladdened the hearts of those
collected in the precincts of the ancient fabric
to witness the arrival of the wedding parties.
All the bridesmaids were extremely pretty, and
charmingly dressed, and Jessie Brooke looked re-
markably well, but an irrepressible murmur of
admiration burst from the throng as May stepped
from the carriage, and was led by her father to-
wards the antique porch, along a path strewn
with flowers.

HILARY ST. IVES. 299

How exquisitely beautiful she looked in her
bridal attire ! And her beauty was of a kind
to produce the greatest effect upon those who
pressed forward to gaze upon her. They were
charmed by the sweetness of her looks, as well
as by her rare loveliness. Audible wishes for
her happiness in her married life accompanied
her in her progress.

Amid these expressions of heartfelt interest,
which could not fail to move her, she entered the
sacred building, and, still led by her fathei', passed
along the crowded aisle — crowded with kindly
faces- -to the altar, where a large assemblage was
already collected.

A wedding in a country church is always a
pretty sight, if there is any interest in the bride-
groom and bride, but the double wedding we are
now describing formed one of the prettiest pictures
imaginable.

No handsomer couple than Alberic and May

300 HILARY ST. IVES.

ever knelt before the altar ; and our stalwart
friend Oswald and liis fair young bride were also
noticeable for their good looks. A bevy of as
lovely bridesmaids as could well be brought to-
gether surrounded them. Among the principal
figures was Mr. Eadcliffe, who stood beside his
daughter, and wdio seemed much affected. Near
him was JMrs. Eadchffe. On the other side were
Mrs. Woodcot and Mr. Thornton. But by far
the most striking personage in the group was
Colonel Delacombe, whose tall, thin, military
figure towered above those around him.

As the newly-married couples returned to the
carriages that were waiting for them at the gates,
amid the joyous pealing of the bells, there was
quite a tumult in the churchyard. Alberic then
came in for his share of admu-ation, and every-
body declared that he was worthy of his lovely
bride.

HILARY ST. IVES. 301

There were great festivities tliat day at Hazle-
mere. The wedding-breakfast was splendid, the
Ions table beina; decorated witli flowers and
choicest fruit. There was the usual speech-
making, by far the best speech being made by
the worthy vicar.

After the repast, a couple of carriages, each
having four horses, drew up near the hall-door.
In the foremost Alberic and his bride set out for
Tunbridge Wells, en route for Como; while the
other conveyed Oswald and his bride to Dorking,
whence they intended to proceed to Scotland.

After a delicious sojourn of a couple of months
at Bellagio, Alberic and his wife returned to
Boxgi'ove.

Though they had never tired of the scenery
of the lovely Italian lake, they were not sorry to
<ret back. Boxarovc had charms for them that no
other place could offer, and they would not quit it

302 HILARY ST. IVES.

again during the ensuing ■winter or spring, though
tempted by repeated invitations from the Marquis
and Marchioness of Hartlepool.

Little more has to be recorded.

The Radcliffes still reside at Hazlemere, which
is kept up as well as ever. Mr. Eadchffe is not
quite so active as he used to be, but otherwise
in good case. Mrs. Eadcliffe still describes her-
self as an invalid.

Mrs. Woodcot has left Boxgrove, and resides
with Oswald and his wife in the neighbourhood
of Chester, where grandpapa has bought them a
very pretty place.

Mr. Thornton himself, who is still very hearty,
and can get through a bottle of port after dinner
without feelmg any inconvenience from it next

HILARY ST. IVKS. 303

morning, passes liis time between Hazlemere and
Boxgrove, tliougli lie sometimes pa^-s a visit to
his grandson. j

Colonel Delacombe, we regi-et to say, is gone.
He died in India, whitlier lie had retm'iied.

The most important change remains to be
mentioned. By the influence of the Marquis of
Hartlepool, and in consideration of the large
landed property he has derived by his marriage,
our fortunate hero has been elevated to the dis-
nity of a baronet, and has assumed the name of
the ancient family to which he belongs on his
mother's side. He is now Sir Albeeic Dela-
combe Ilminstee, Bart., of Boxgrove.

THE END.

LONDON:
<5. WHITIKG, BEAUFORT HOUSE, DUKK STREET, LINCOLK'S-IKN-FIELDS.