Chapter IV: Part 4

"Miss Bedford--our governess!" stammered Laura, completely taken aback.

But she was herself again the next instant, as she saw through the arrangement.

"Sir Philip has been deceived," she thought; "but I am not so easily put off, nor yet cast off," she muttered.

What should she do? Display open anger, or temporise until Ella Bedford could be dismissed--ignominiously dismissed--from her situation?

Laura Bray was angry, and therefore she talked to herself in strong language, and called things by unpleasant names. But she must act in some way, she thought; it would never do for her to give up all for which her ambitious nature thirsted. She had set herself upon being Lady Vining, and after a fashion she loved Charley, who, from being free and friendly, and on happy laughing terms with her, seemed daily to be growing more and more distant; for she was not deceived by his assumed sociability. She herself had acted so as to try and efface the past; but there was still the recollection of the conservatory scene, and though she tried to set it down as merely a bit of flirtation--one that she ought to pass over without notice--her heart would not accept of the flattering unction; for she knew Charley Vining to be too sterling, too generous a man to trifle with the feelings of any woman.

Then why was he trifling with her? she exclaimed vehemently. Had she no claims to his consideration? There was a dull heavy feeling came over her, as she thought of how he had never been more than friend to her, and that the warmth had been entirely on one side.

But she felt that it would not do to show her anger--kindness would perhaps work a change; and until her rival--no, she would not dignify her with that title--till this governess had gone, she would assume an appearance of sorrow, trying the while to win Charley back from his passing fancy. She could have bitten her tongue for the ill-judged hasty words she had spoken; but O, if she could but detect this Miss Bedford in some light coquettish act, some behaviour too frivolous for her position, it should go hard with her!--for at the present--probably on account of the dislike openly shown--Mrs Bray and her hopeful son seemed disposed to treat their dependent with more consideration, which was really the case on the part of the former, whose mental constitution was such that she could not conceive the possibility of any one holding a paid position to perform certain duties possessing the sensitiveness and thoughts of a lady.

Laura had determined to temporise, and also to counterplot. It struck her that Sir Philip had been deceived, and hurriedly rising, she left the room.

It was evident to her sharpened perceptibilities that it was Charley's doing that Miss Bedford was invited; and she determined Sir Philip Vining should see who was the lady his son wished to be of the party.

Laura's heart beat quickly, as, with assumed kindness and gentleness of mien, she returned from the schoolroom with Ella, and introduced her to Sir Philip.

"I thought that Miss Bedford would like to thank you herself, Sir Philip, for your kind invitation," she said, by way of explanation of her sudden act; and then she watched attentively the effect produced.

She was right. Sir Philip was startled, and as he rose to cordially greet and repeat his invitation, he gazed almost wonderingly at the sweet mien and gentle face before him, raising Ella's hand, and with all the grace of an old courtier, kissing it respectfully, moved by the true homage he felt for so much youth and beauty. But as he released her hand, there was a troubled puzzled look in the old gentleman's face--a look that was still there when at last he took his leave to go thoughtfully homeward; for now it again struck him that Charley's impressive demand that the governess should be asked was a little strange, though here was the key.

Sir Philip dismissed the thought that oppressed him, though. Charley was too noble to be moved by any disloyal acts; and as to stooping-- pooh! it was absurd! He was growing an old woman, full of nervous fears and fancies; and casting his "whimsies," as he called them, away, he entered with all his heart into the preparations for the little fete.

And now the day had arrived, and the ladies were assembling in the drawing-room, where Mr Bray and "Mr Maximilian" were already waiting. Mrs Bray had sailed and rustled into the room in a tremendously stiff green brocade dress, to be complimented by her lord as resembling a laurel hedge, and by her son for her May-day aspect and Jack-in-the-green look. But Mrs Bray was satisfied, and that was everything. Her satisfaction was evident by the way in which she swept round the room, making a vortex that caught up the light chairs and loose articles that came within its reach.

"Bai Jove, there, why don't you mind!" exclaimed Max, as the glossy hat left upon the couch was sent spinning across the room. "Why don't you sit down?"

Mrs Bray did not reply, but she would not have sat down in that dress, save in the carriage, upon any consideration--at all events, not until after it had been seen at Blandfield.

Max's hat was made smooth sooner than his temper, and he was still muttering and grumbling when Nelly and her sisters came bounding in, like three tall, thin, peripatetic tulips, followed closely by Laura, glorious with black hair, flashing eyes, amber moire, and black lace.

Mr Onesimus Bray placed his hands in his pockets and walked smilingly round his daughter, in whom he took immense pride; but the attempt that he made to kiss her was received with a shriek of horror, his daughter darting back beyond his reach, and at the same time bringing forth an oath from her brother's lips, as she swept the glossy, newly-brushed hat from the marqueterie table whereon it had been placed for safety.

"For shame, Max!" exclaimed his mother.

"Bai Jove, then, it's enough to make an angel swear! How would you like a fellow to tread on your bonnets?"

The ladies shuddered.

"Never mind, then--a poor old Max!" exclaimed mischievous Nelly, who had but a few minutes before been snubbed by her brother; and, stooping down, she picked up the unfortunate hat, and, before she could be arrested, carefully brushed all the nap up the wrong way, Max sitting completely astounded the while at the outrage put upon him.

What he would have said remains to this day unknown. His mouth had gasped open after the fashion of an expiring aquarium pet, and he was about to ejaculate, when he stopped short; for Ella Bedford came quietly into the room, the centre, as it were, of a soft cloud of grey barege, which gave to her pale gentle features almost an ethereal expression, but which called forth from the gorgeous amber queen the remark standing at the head of this chapter:

"Surely, Miss Bedford, you never think of going to Sir Philip Vining's party such a figure as that!"

Ella coloured up, and then said gently: "Shall I change the dress for a plain muslin, Miss Bray?"

"O, I'm sure I don't know!" exclaimed Laura, with a toss. "I think--"

"I think the dress looks uncommonly nice, Miss Bedford--I do, bai Jove!" drawled Max, fixing his glass in his eye, and staring furiously.

It was the first act of kindness Max Bray had done for many a long day; but it caused a shrinking sensation in her for whom it was intended, while Laura darted at her a fierce look of hatred, and then an angry glance at her brother.

Ella looked inquiringly at Mrs Bray, as if for instructions; but that lady always sided with son Max, as did Mr Bray, as far as he dared, with his daughter.

"I almost think--" he ventured to observe.

"Don't talk stuff, Ness!" shrieked his lady. "What do you know about a lady's dress? If it was a fleece or a pig--There, I think Miss Bedford's things will do very nicely indeed; and if some people would only dress as neatly, it wouldn't half ruin their parents in dressmakers' bills."

Laura did not condescend to answer, but throwing herself into a chair, she took up a book, pretending to read, but holding it upside down, till Nelly laughingly called attention to the fact.

"Pert child!" exclaimed Laura fiercely.

"Don't care!" laughed Nelly. "So the book _was_ upside down; and I'd rather be a pert child than a disagreeable, sour old maid!"

"You'd better send that rude tom-boy to bed--you had, bai Jove!" drawled Max.

"Ah!--and I'd rather be a rude tom-boy than a great girl, bai Jove, Mr Max!" cried Nelly; whereupon Mr Bray laughed, Mrs Bray scolded, and Nelly pretended to cry, directing a comical look the while at her father, who, whatever his weakness, was passionately fond of his girls.

The crunching of the gravel by the wheels of the wagonette put a stop to the rather unpleasant scene, when, to Laura's surprise, Max jumped up and handed Ella down to the carriage, returning afterwards for his sister, who favoured him with a peculiarly meaning look; one which he replied to in as supercilious a manner as he could assume.

"What does it mean, Max?" she whispered, as they descended the stairs. "More affection for your little sisters?"

"My dear Laura," drawled Max, "will you take my advice and adopt a motto?"

"Motto?" said Laura inquiringly.

"Ya-as, bai Jove! the very one for you--just suited to the occasion: _Laissez-aller_. Do you understand?"

Laura looked at him meaningly, but made no reply, for they had reached the carriage.

Volume 1, Chapter XV.

CHARLEY'S FETE.

In spite of her annoyance, Laura's eyes sparkled when they reached the Court; for Sir Philip hurried to the carriage, welcoming the party most warmly, and, handing her out, he led her himself to the beautiful little kiosk, and then took her from place to place, according to her attentions that made more than one match-making mamma with marriageable daughters look meaningly at the same daughters, and then think of Charley Vining with a sigh.

But if Laura was in high glee, so was not Max, who had to stand by while Charley carried off Ella Bedford, Nelly laughingly fastening upon his other arm.

"A rude coarse beast, bai Jove!" muttered Max elegantly, as he tried vainly to get the little button of his glove secured. "Let him have a fall again, and see if I'll go to his help!"

"I shall come with you if I may," said Nelly demurely.

"To be sure!" laughed Charley, whose heart throbbed with pleasure as he felt--nay, hardly felt--the light pressure of the grey glove upon his arm. "Miss Bedford won't mind, I hope. Do you know, Miss Bedford, I'm rather glad you are with us? I'm almost afraid Nelly means some inroad upon my purse."

"No, I don't," said Nelly, "so don't be afraid;" and then she walked very demurely by their side, Charley encouraging her to stay upon observing Ella's constraint and troubled looks.

"She'd be off like a frightened pigeon--dove, I mean!" muttered Charley, as he looked down at the almost painful face beside him. But a little quiet conversation upon current topics seemed to set her more at ease, and, after a while, Hugh Lingon approaching, Charley Vining whispered, loudly enough, though, for Nelly to hear:

"Now I'm going, Miss Bedford, for here comes Nelly's intended. I hope you will play the _chaperone_ most stringently."

Nelly rewarded him with a sharp pinch as he left them, Hugh Lingon taking his place; and Ella, whose heart beat almost painfully, asking herself the reason why.

But Charley Vining had laid his plans that day, and he felt he must proceed with caution. So hurrying himself, he acted the part of host with admirable tact, picking out the ladies who seemed neglected, forming sets for croquet, handing refreshments, or escorting little parties to the lake-like river for boating; distributing himself, as it were, throughout the grounds, and at last interrupting a tete-a-tete between Laura and Hugh Lingon, who had soon forsaken the ladies left in his charge.

Laura commenced a little _minauderie_, professing to be unable to leave Mr Lingon; but she gave up directly she saw Charley's laugh, for she knew that it would be--nay, was--seen through. She knew Charley Vining to be different from most men of her acquaintance; and accepting his offer, she gladly took his arm, making the match-making mammas to whisper, as the handsome couple passed through the grounds, "There, didn't I tell you so?" and then to gossip about how they had had their suspicions concerning the purpose of the fete.

But Laura's pleasure was but short-lived; for though Charley was pleasant, gay, and chatty, he was nothing more, and though he carefully avoided referring to the croquet-party, she felt that he was not as she could wish.

"He'll go back to her as soon as, with any decency, he can," she thought; and her teeth were set, and her fingers clenched, pressing the nails almost through her gloves, as she forced back a sigh.

But she soon cheered up, for she told herself it was not for long, and determined to try if gentleness would gain the day; she listened to all her companion said, striving the while, without being obtrusive, to obliterate her past words of anger.

Laura was wrong; for it was not for a considerable time, and until he had played cavalier to many a lady--winning the thanks and smiles of Sir Philip, who was delighted at his son's efforts--that he sought once more Ella Bedford, followed by Sir Philip's eyes; the old gentleman gazing uneasily after him as he went up and offered his arm, which was reluctantly taken.

"I'm going now," said Nelly, who had kept with her guard the whole time; "I want something to eat. I declare, Charley Vining, I've only had one thin slice of butter spread with bread-crumbs, and a cup of tea;" and before a word could be said, she had darted off.

Sir Philip's were not the only eyes that followed Charley Vining to where sat Ella Bedford; for as Max Bray followed him at a distance, as if by accident Laura did the same, and brother and sister gave genuine starts as they encountered at the union of two alleys.

"Grows quite romantic, bai Jove!" sneered Max; but he relapsed into an uncomfortable look on seeing the penetrating gaze directed at him by his sister.

"Let me take your arm," she said coldly; and then, as the shades of evening were fast falling, they walked slowly on together, towards a part of the grounds now apparently deserted.

Meanwhile Charley Vining had led Ella across the lawn, pressing her to partake of some refreshment, but in vain; and at last, in spite of herself, she found that she was alone with him, in a secluded part of the grounds.

"There is a seat here," said Charley. "Shall we rest for a few minutes?"

"It would hardly be advisable," was the quiet reply; "the evening is damp." And then for a few moments there was a pause, as they still walked slowly on, Charley with his heart beating heavily, and Ella eager to return to the throng upon the lawn--a throng that the afternoon through she had avoided--and hardly liking to speak, lest she might betray her agitation, and that she looked upon this otherwise than as an ordinary attention of host to one of his guests.

For Ella was not blind: her woman's instinct had whispered to her respecting the many attentions pressed upon her, and she trembled as she recalled the night when the cross was returned; for her heart told her that such things must not be--that she must be cold and cautious, guarding and steeling herself against tender emotions, for she was but the poor paid governess, and this man, whose arm she lightly touched, was almost engaged to Laura Bray.

But the silence was broken at length by Charley, who spoke deeply, as he stopped short by a standard covered with pale white roses, whose perfume seemed shed around upon the soft night air.

"Miss Bedford," he said, "I have been in pain, almost in agony, for many days past; and till I found that I had been wronging you, it seemed to me that life was going to be unbearable."

"Pain!--wronging me!" exclaimed Ella.

"Yes," he said; "but hear me out. I am no polished speaker, Miss Bedford--only a simple, blunt, and I hope honest and truthful man. A week or two since I believed that you favoured the suit of Max Bray: to-night I will not insult you with questions, but tell you honestly I do not believe that to be the case; and when the conviction flashed upon me that I was wrong, I tell you frankly my heart leaped with joy. You may ask why: I will tell you."

"Mr Vining," exclaimed Ella, "this must not be; you forget yourself, your position--you forget me when you talk so. Pray lead me back."

"You speak as if my words pained you, Miss Bedford," said Charley huskily. "Pray forgive me if they do. Nay, but a few minutes longer."

He caught one hand in his, and as she glanced for an instant in his direction, the rising moon gleaming through the trees lit up his handsome earnest face, photographing it, as it were, upon her brain; for to her dying day she never forgot that look--that countenance so imploringly turned upon her.

"Miss Bedford--Ella," he whispered, "I love you tenderly and devotedly! This is no light declaration: till I saw you, woman never occupied my thoughts. You see by my brusque ways, my bluntness, that I have been no dallier in drawing-rooms, no holder of lady's silk. Till now, my loves have been in the stables, kennels, fields. Blunt language this-- uncomplimentary perhaps; but I am no courtier. I speak as I feel, and I tell you that to win your love in return would be to make me a happy man."

"Mr Vining," exclaimed Ella, vainly trying to release her hand, "lead me back, pray!"

"Nay," said Charley, with sadness in his tones, "I will not force you to listen to me;" and he released her hand. "I was hopeful that you would have listened to my suit."

"Indeed--indeed," said Ella, "I cannot, Mr Vining: it can never be. You forget--position--me!"

She could say no more--her words seemed to stifle her; and had she continued speaking, she felt that she would have burst into tears.

"I forget nothing," said Charley, almost sternly. "How can I forget? How can I ever forget? But surely," he said, once more catching her hand in his--"surely you cannot with that sweet gentle face be cruel, and love to torture one who has spoken simply the truth--laid bare to you his feelings! You believe what I say?"

"Yes, yes!" almost sobbed Ella. "But indeed--indeed it can never be. Do not think me either harsh or cruel, for I mean it not."

"What am I to think then?" said Charley bitterly. "Is it that you reject me utterly, or am I so poor a wooer that you would have me on my knees, protesting, swearing? No; I wrong you again: it is not that," he exclaimed passionately. "Look here, Ella"--he plucked one of the white roses, tearing his hand as he did so, the blood appearing in a long mark across the back--"emblematic," he said, smiling sadly, "of my love. You see it has its smarts and pains. You refused me so slight a gift once, but take this; and though I am a man I can freely say that my love for you is as pure and spotless as that simple flower. You will not refuse that?"

He could see the tears in her eyes, and that her face was drawn as if with pain; but one trembling hand was extended to take the flower; then, before he could recover from his surprise, she had turned from him and fled; when, with almost a groan, he threw himself upon the garden-seat, remaining motionless for a few moments, and then rising to hurry back to the marquee.

Volume 1, Chapter XVI.

THE ECHOES OF CHARLEY'S DECLARATION.

Two minutes had scarcely elapsed before there was the faint rustling of a lady's dress and the creaking of a boot, and then two pale faces-- those of brother and sister--appeared from a neighbouring clump of evergreens, gazed cautiously about for a few moments, and then moved away in another direction; the moon just beginning to cast their shadows upon the dewy lawn upon whose turf they walked, perhaps because it hushed their footsteps.

They had hardly disappeared before there was another faint rustling, and, eagerly peering about, Nelly Bray appeared, her girlish face looking half merry, half anxious, in the moonlit glade.

"A nasty, disagreeable, foxy pair of old sneaks!" she exclaimed--"to go peeping and watching about like that, and all because they were as jealous as--as jealous as--well, there, I don't know what. I know I was watching too, but I wouldn't have done so for a moment, if it hadn't been to see what they were going to do. I wouldn't have been so mean and contemptible--that I wouldn't! But O, wasn't it grand!" she exclaimed, clasping her hands. "Ah, don't I wish I was like Miss Bedford, to have such a nice boy as Charley Vining to fall in love with me and tell me of it, and then for me to reject him like that! I don't believe she meant it, though, that I don't. She couldn't! Nobody could resist Charley Vining: he's ever so much nicer than Hugh Lingon, and I'd run away with him to-morrow, if he asked me--see if I wouldn't! But there ain't no fear of that. I knew he was in love with her--I was sure of it. And didn't he speak nicely! Just as if he felt every word he said, and meant it all--and he does, too, I know; for he's a regular trump, Charley is, and I shall say so again, as there's no one to hear me--he's a regular trump, that he is; and I don't care what any one says. Wouldn't it be nice to be Miss Bedford's bridesmaid! I should wear--Here's somebody coming!"

Nelly darted off, reaching the door just as leave-takings were in vogue; Sir Philip and Charley handing the Bray family to the waiting carriages; but in spite of then efforts, there was an appearance of constraint visible.

"Why, here's the little rover!" exclaimed Charley, as Nelly appeared. "Where have you been?"

"Looking after and helping my friends, as a rover should, Mr Croquet-player!" exclaimed Nelly pertly, as she looked Charley full in the face; while, as he was helping her on with a shawl, she found means to make him start by saying:

"Look out! Max and Laura were listening!"

The next moment the carriage had driven off, leaving Charley standing motionless, and thinking of the pale-faced girl who had leaned so lightly upon his arm as he handed her to the carriage, and wondering what would follow.

"Charley, my dear boy, the Miss Lingons!"

So spoke Sir Philip, rousing the young man from his abstraction, when he hastened to make up for his want of courtesy as guest after guest departed, till the last carriage had ground the gravel of the drive, for the fete was at an end. But as Sir Philip sat alone in his library, thoughtful and fatigued, it seemed to him that the affair had not been so successful as he could have wished; and that night--ay, and for many nights to come--he was haunted by a vision of a fair-haired girl, with soft grey eyes which seemed to ask the protection of all on whom they rested; and somehow Sir Philip Vining sighed, for he felt troubled, and that matters were not going as he had intended.

Meanwhile the Brays' wagonette rolled on till it reached the Elms. Hardly a word had been spoken on the return journey; for Mr Bray was hungry, Mrs Bray cross, and Max and his sister thoughtful, as was Ella Bedford. Nelly had spoken twice, but only to be snubbed into silence; and it was with a feeling of relief shared by all, that they descended and entered the house.

Mrs Bray and her lord directly took chamber candlesticks, Mr Bray whispering something to the butler respecting a tray and dressing-room. Ella hurried away with her charges, while Max opened the drawing-room door and motioned to his sister to enter; but she took no heed of his sign, as, with angry glances, she followed Ella till she had disappeared.

"Come here," said Max. "I want you."

"I'm tired," said Laura. "You must keep it till the morning."

"I tell you I want you now!" he exclaimed almost savagely, the man's real nature flashing out as he cast the thin veil of society habit aside, and spoke eagerly.

"Then I shall not come," said Laura, turning away.

"If you dare to say a word about all this, I'll never forgive you!" he whispered.

"I can live without Mr Max Bray's forgiveness," said Laura tauntingly.

"Confound you, come down!" he exclaimed, as Laura ascended the stairs. "I will not have her spoken to about it unless I speak."

"Good-night, Max," was the cool reply; and he saw her pass through the swing door at the end of Mr Bray's picture-gallery; while foaming and apparently enraged, he made a bound up a few stairs, but only to descend again, enter the drawing-room, and close the door.

The door had hardly closed before Laura appeared again, without a chamber candlestick, to lean over the balustrade eager and listening as she peered down into the hall. But there was not a sound to be heard; and hurrying back along the gallery, she stopped at Ella's door, and then, without knocking, turned the handle and entered.

Volume 1, Chapter XVII.

A VIAL OF WRATH.

"And, pray, what are you doing here?" exclaimed Laura Bray, as she saw the tall slim form of her sister Nelly standing between her and the object of her dislike.

"Talking to Miss Bedford, if you must know, my dear sister," said Nelly pertly; but the next moment she encountered a glance from Ella, in obedience to which she was instantly silent; and, crossing over, she kissed the pale girl lovingly, and said, "Good-night."

But all this was not lost upon Laura, who bit her lips till Nelly had half hesitatingly quitted the room.

"What sweet obedience!" she then said sarcastically. "Really, Miss Bedford, you must give me some lessons in the art of winning people's affections. I have no doubt that papa will satisfy you if there is any extra charge."

Ella did not speak; but her gentle look might have disarmed animosity, as she turned her soft eyes almost appealingly towards her irate visitor. She was in some degree, though, prepared for what was coming, for Nelly had lingered behind to place her on her guard; and as she stood facing Laura she did not shrink, neither did she make answer to the taunts conveyed in those bitter words.

"I trust that you have enjoyed a pleasant evening, Miss Bedford," continued Laura, who seemed to be working herself up, and gathering together the battalions of her wrath, ready for the storm she meant to thunder upon the defenceless head before her. But still there was no reply in words--nothing but the calm pleading gaze from the soft grey eyes.

"Can we make arrangements for you to be introduced to some other family, where you can carry on your intrigues?"

Still no answer--only a pitiful, almost imploring look that ought to have disarmed the most wrathful. But at this moment Ella involuntarily raised a white rose, which till then had remained concealed, as her hand hung down amidst the soft folds of her dress; and no sooner did Laura catch sight of the blossom than, interpreting the act to be one of insolent triumph, she threw herself upon the shrinking girl, tore the flower from her hand, and flung it upon the floor, where she crushed it beneath her foot as she stamped upon it furiously.

"How dare you!" she almost shrieked, in tones that bade fair some day to rival those of Mamma Bray. "Such cowardly--such insolent acts! To dare to insult me after practising your low cunning to-day, laying your snares for my poor unworldly brother, and then setting other traps--to-- to--inveigle--to entrap--There, don't look at me with that triumphant leer! You shall be turned out of this house, into which you have gained entrance by false pretences, so as to act the part of a scheming adventuress!"

For a few moments Laura seemed as if she would strike the object of her resentment, so fierce was the burst of passion that came pouring forth-- the unlucky act having roused every bitter and angry feeling in her breast: disappointed love, ambition, hatred--all were mingled into a poison that was like venom to her barbed and stinging words, as she stooped even to abusing the innocent cause of her dislike.

At length Ella raised her hands, and spoke deprecatingly; but each appeal only seemed to rouse Laura to fresh outbursts of violence, so that at last the bitter taunts and revilings were suffered in silence, the angry woman's voice rising louder with her victim's patience, till, alarmed by her daughter's angry, hysterical cries, Mrs Bray hurried into the room.

"What is the meaning of all this?" she shrieked. "Laura!--Miss Bedford! Are you both mad?"

Ella was about to speak, but Laura fiercely interrupted her.

"Speak a word if you dare!" she said. "I will not have anything said! Such insolence is insupportable."

"But what has Miss Bedford been doing?" shrieked Mrs Bray. "You are alarming the whole house. What does it mean?"

"Nothing. Let it rest," cried Laura, cooling down rapidly, but with face a-flame; for she could not bear her mother to be a witness to her humiliation, there being, based on Laura's slight exaggerations of one or two attentions, a full belief in the Bray family that even if the question had not been put by Charley Vining, matters had so far progressed that he was sure to be her husband: hence her objection to a word being uttered; and, shrinking back, Ella stood with bended head, while a passage of arms took place between mother and daughter, Mrs Bray's curiosity increasing with Laura's reticence.

Finding though, at last, that nothing was to be gained, Mrs Bray followed Laura from the room; and Ella, trembling with excitement and the agitation of many painful hours, was about to welcome the solitude hers at last, when once more the door opened, and, pale and wild-looking, so that she felt to pity her, Laura again appeared, closing the door carefully behind her, and then standing to gaze thoughtfully in Ella's face.

She had come to threaten--to try and enforce silence; but her voice was husky; the fierce passion which had before sustained her had now passed away, and the weak woman, cut to the heart by disappointment, was once more asserting herself.

For quite five minutes she stood with heaving breast, trying to speak, but the words would not come; and at last, dreading to let the woman she hated and despised, one whom she looked upon as full of deceit and guile, gaze upon and triumph in her tears, Laura turned and fled from the room; and once more Ella was alone.

Volume 1, Chapter XVIII.

ANALYSIS OF THE HEART.

Alone--alone once more in her bedroom, the scene of so many bitter tears, Ella stood with flushed cheeks, and eyes that seemed to burn, thinking of the words that had been uttered to her that day. She held the crushed rose in her hand--the flower Laura had with cruel hand snatched away and cast down, and upon which she had trampled with as little remorse as upon her feelings. But the agitated girl had once more secured the torn blossom, to stand gazing down upon its bruised petals.

What did he say? That he loved her--her whom he had seen so few times! He loved her: he, the heir to a baronetcy, loved her--a poor governess, the persecuted, despised dependent of this family--that his love for her was as pure as that white blossom! It could not be. And yet he had spoken so earnestly; his voice trembled, and those low soft utterances so tenderly, so feelingly whispered, so full of appeal and reverence, were evidently genuine. They were not the words of the thoughtless, the lovers of conquest, the distributors of vain compliments, empty nothings, to every woman who was the toy of the hour. And he was no weak boy, ready to be led away by a fresh face--no empty-headed coxcomb, but a man of sterling worth.

There was a plain, straightforward, manly simplicity in what he had said that went home to her heart; there was a nobility in his disappointment and anger which made her thrill with the awakening of new thoughts, new senses, that had before lain dormant in her breast; there was the sterling ring of the true gentleman in his every act and look and word, and--Ah, but--no--no--no! She was mad to harbour such thoughts, even for an instant; it was folly--all folly. How could she accept him, even if her heart leaned that way? It would be doing him a grievous wrong, blighting his prospects, tying him down to one unworthy of his regard. She could not--she did not love him. Love! What was it to love? She had loved those who were no more; but love him, a stranger! What was it to love?

Beat, beat!--beat, beat!--beat, beat! Heavy throbbings of her poor wounded heart answering the question she had asked, plainly, and in a way that would not be ignored, even though she pressed that flower-burdened hand tightly over the place, and laid the other upon her hot and tingling cheeks. But even if she knew it, could she own to it? No! impossible; not even to herself. That was a secret she could not ponder on, even for an instant.

And yet he had said that he loved her! What were his words? She must recall them once more: that his love for her was as truthful and as pure as that flower--that poor crushed rose.

As she thought on, flushed and trembling, she raised the flower nearer and nearer to her face, gazing at the bruised petals, crushed, torn, and disfigured. It was to her as the reading of a prophecy--that his pure love for her was to become torn and sullied, and that, for her sake, he was to suffer bitter anguish, till, like that flower, his love should wither away. But there would still be the recollection of the sweet words, even as there stayed in the crushed blossom its own sweet perfume, the incense-breathing fragrance, as she raised it more and more till the hot tears began to fell.

No, she did not love him--she could not love him: it was folly--all a dream from which she was awaking; for she knew the end--she knew her days at the Elms must be but few--that, like a discarded servant, she must go: whither she knew not, only that it must be far away--somewhere to dream no more, neither to be persecuted for what she could not help.

No; she did not love him, and he would soon forget her. It could be but a passing fancy. But she esteemed him--she must own to a deep feeling of esteem for one of so noble, frank, and generous a nature. Had he not always been kind and gentle and sympathising--displaying his liking for her with a gentlemanly respect that had won upon her more and more? Yes, she esteemed him too well, she was too grateful, to injure him ever so slightly; and her greatest act of kindness would be to hurry away.

The fragrance from the poor crushed flower still rose, breathing, as it were, such love and sweetness; recalling, too, the words with which it was given so vividly, that, betrayed beyond her strength to control the act, for one brief instant Ella's lips were pressed softly, lovingly, upon the flower--petals kissing petals--the bright bee-stung and ruddy touching the pale and crushed; and then, firmly and slowly, though each act seemed to send a pang through her throbbing heart, Ella plucked the rose in pieces, telling herself that she was tearing forth the mad passion as she went on showering down the creamy leaflets, raining upon them her tears the while, till the bare stalk alone remained in her hands--her cruel hands; for had she not been tearing and rending her own poor breast as every petal was plucked from its hold? For what availed the deceit? The time had been short--they had met but seldom: but what of that? The secret would burst forth, would assert itself; and she knew that she loved him dearly--loved him so that she would give her life for his sake; and that to have been his slave--to have been but near him--to listen to his voice--to see his broad white forehead, his sun-tinged cheeks, and clustering brown hair; not to be called his, but only to be near him--would be life to her; while to go far--far--far away, where she might never see him more, would be, as it were, tottering even into her grave.

No; there was no one looking: it was close upon midnight, but she glanced guiltily round, as with burning cheeks she sank upon her knees, whispering to that wild beating heart that it could not be wrong. And then she began to slowly gather those petals, taking them up softly one by one, to treasure somewhere--to gaze upon, perhaps, sometimes in secret; for was it not his gift that she had cast down as if it had been naught? She might surely treasure them up to keep in remembrance of what might have been, had hers been a happier lot.

Then came once more the thoughts of the past evening, and more than ever she felt that she must go. She would see him no more, and he would soon forget it all. But would she forget? A sob was the answer--a wild hysterical sob--as she felt that she could not.

One by one, one by one, she gathered those leaflets up to kiss them once again; and that night, flush-cheeked and fevered, she slept with the fragments of the blossom pressed tightly to her aching breast, till calm came with the earliest dawn, and with the lightening sky dreams of hope and love and happiness to come, with brighter days and loving friends, and all joyous and blissful. She was walking where white rose petals showered down to carpet the earth; the air was sweet with their fragrance, and she was leaning upon his stout arm as he whispered to her of a love truthful and pure as the flowers around; and then she awoke to the bare chill of her own stiffly-papered, poorly-furnished room, as seen in the grey dawn of a pouring wet morning, with the wind howling dismally in the great old-fashioned chimney, the rain pattering loudly against the window-panes, and hanging in great trembling beads from the sash. It was a fit morning, on the whole, to raise the spirits of one who was dejected, spiritless, almost heart-broken; find it was no wonder that Ella Bedford's head sank once more upon the pillow, which soon became wet with her bitter tears.

For how could she meet the different members of that family? She felt as if she was guilty; and yet what had she done? It was not of her seeking. She could have wept again and again in the despair and bitterness of her heart; but her eyes were dried now, and she began to ponder over the scenes of the past night.

She rose at last to go down to the schoolroom, for it was fast approaching eight, and as she descended, her mind was made up as to her future proceedings. She would go carefully on with her duties; but in the course of the morning, if not sent for sooner, she would herself seek Mrs Bray, and ask to be set at liberty, so that she might elsewhere seek a home--one that should afford her rest and peace.

Volume 1, Chapter XIX.

THE MAKING OF A COMPACT.

Breakfast over at the Elms, and no improvement in the weather. Maximilian Bray said that it was impossible to go out, "bai Jove!" so he was seated in a low _bergere_ chair in the drawing-room. He had taken a book from a side table as if with the intention of reading; but it had fallen upon the floor, Max Bray not being at the best of times a reading man; and now he was busy at work plotting and planning with a devotion worthy of a better cause. His head was imparting some of its ambrosia to the light chintz chair-cover, for he had impatiently thrown the antimacassar under the table. Then he fidgeted about a little, altered the sit of his collar and wristbands, and at last, as if not satisfied with his position, he removed his chair farther into the bay, so that the light drapery of the flowing curtains concealed his noble form from the view of any one entering the room, when, apparently satisfied, he gazed thoughtfully through the panes at the soaked landscape.

Max Bray had not been long settled to his satisfaction when Laura entered, shutting the door with a force that whispered--nay, shouted--of a temper soured by some recent disappointment. She gave a sharp glance round the room, and then, seeing no one, threw herself into a chair, a sob at the same moment bursting from her breast.

"She shall go--that she shall!" exclaimed Laura suddenly, as she gave utterance to her thoughts. "Such deceit!--such quiet carneying ways! But there shall be no more of it: she shall go!"

Laura Bray ceased speaking; and, starting up, she began to pace the room, but only to stop short on seeing her brother gazing at her with a half-mocking, half-amused expression of countenance from behind the curtain.

"You here, Max!" she exclaimed, colouring hotly.

"Bai Jove, ya-a-as!" he drawled. "But, I say, isn't it a bad plan to go about the house shouting so that every one can hear your bewailings, because a horsey cad of a fellow gives roses to one lady and thorns to another?"

"What _do_ you mean, Max?" said Laura.

"What do I mean! Well, that's cool, bai Jove! O, of course nothing about meetings by moonlight alone, and roses and vows, and that sort of spooneyism! But didn't you come tearing and raving in here, saying that she should go, and that you wouldn't stand it, and swore--"

"O, Max?" cried Laura passionately.

"Bai Jove! why don't you let a fellow finish?" drawled Max. "Swore, I said--swore like a cat just going to scratch; and I suppose that you would like to scratch, eh?"

"But, Max, did you really hear what I said?" cried Laura.

"Hear? Bai Jove! of course I did--every word. Couldn't help it. Good job it was only me."

"How could you be so unmanly as to listen!" cried Laura.

"Listen? Bai Jove, how you do talk! I didn't listen; you came and raved it all at me. And so she shall go, shall she?"

"Yes!" exclaimed Laura, firing up, and speaking viciously, "that she shall--a deceitful creature! I see through all her plots and plans, and I'll--"

"Tear her eyes out, won't you, my dear, eh? Now just look here, Laury: you think me slow, and all that sort of fun, and that I don't see things; but I'm not blind. So the big boy has kicked off his allegiance, has he? and run mad after the little governess, has he? and the big sister is very angry and jealous!"

"Jealous, indeed!" cried Laura--"and of a creature like that!"

"All right; only don't interrupt," said Max mockingly. "Jealous, I said, and won't put up with it, and quite right too! But, all the same, I'm not going to have her sent away."

"And why not, pray?" cried Laura with flashing eyes.

"Because I don't choose that she shall go," said Max coolly.

Laura started, and then in silence brother and sister sat for a few moments gazing in each other's eyes, a flood of thought sweeping the while across the brain of the latter as she recalled a score of little things till then unnoticed, or merely attributed to a natural desire to flirt; but, with the key supplied by Max Bray's last words, Laura felt that she could read him with ease, and her brow contracted as she tried to make him shrink; but that did not lie in her power.

"Max!" she exclaimed at last, "I'm ashamed of you! It's mean, and contemptible, and base, and grovelling! I'm disgusted! Why, you'll be turning your eyes next to the servants' hall!"

"Thank you, my dear!" drawled Max. "Very high-flown and grand! But I shall be content at present with the schoolroom. And now suppose I say I'm ashamed of you; and, bai Jove, I am! A girl of your style and pretensions, instead of winking at what you've seen, or coming to your brother for counsel, to go howling about the house--"

"Max!" half shrieked Laura. "I don't care--bai Jove, I don't!" he exclaimed. "So you do go howling about the house like a forlorn shepherdess, bai Jove, so that every one can see what a fool you are making of yourself!"

"And pray what would my noble brother's advice be?" cried Laura sarcastically.

Max Bray was another man for an instant, as, starting up in his chair, he caught his sister by the arm, drawing her towards him until she sank down in a sitting position upon the ottoman at his feet, when, with the drawling manner and affectation gone, he leaned over her, talking in a low earnest voice, and so impressively, that Laura's mocking smile gave place to a look of intense interest. She drew nearer to him at length, as he still talked on eagerly; then she clasped her hands together, and rested them upon his knees.

"But no!" she exclaimed, suddenly starting as it were from something which seemed to enthral her, "I will not be a party to it, Max!"

"Very good, my dear," he said cavalierly; "then you shall have the pleasure of watching progress, and seeing yourself thrust out, if you please. Bai Jove, though, Laury, I did think you were a girl of more spirit! Seems really, though, a good deal smitten, does Charley."

Laura's countenance changed, and her teeth were set together.

"I shall let him go on, then, for my part, if you choose it to be so."

"I choose!" cried Laura, with the tears in her eyes. "O, Max, why do you torture me?"

"Then look here!" said Max.

And once more he leaned over towards her, assuming a quiet ease, but at the same time it was plain to see that he was greatly excited. He talked on and on impressively, with the effect of making Laura's lips part and her eyes to glisten with a strange light. Then a pallor overspread her countenance, but only to be swept away by a look of exultation as Max still talked on.

"But it is impossible, Max!" cried Laura, at length.

"Perhaps you'll leave me to judge about that, and think only of your own part!" he said coolly. "Is my advice--are my offers--worth accepting?"

"O yes, Max, yes!" cried Laura excitedly; "I'd do anything!"

"I don't want you to do anything," said Max, smiling with triumph; "only what I advise. Help me, and I will help you with all my heart. But I always knew that you would. You say that you don't like my choice. Well and good; I might say that I don't like yours. Perhaps my affair will come to nothing; but, anyhow, you are the gainer. I won't say anything about hating, but let you have your selection. Now let me have mine. But if you have anything better to propose, I am ready to listen."

"But I have no plans, Max. I only thought of her being sent away; I'm half broken-hearted and worn-out with disappointment!"

"Yes, just so. I expected as much, and I was waiting here to see you," said Max. "I'm not blind, Laury, nor deaf either. I heard you two shouting across the hall. So you've been telling the old lady that some one shall go, have you?"

"Yes, I have!" exclaimed Laura, ignoring the past conversation; "and she shall go too! Mamma did promise me."

"Ya-a-as, I know," said Max, relapsing into his drawl; "but that was before she promised me. The second will counts before the first made. But, as I said before, and we understand now, she's not going--so there's an end of it."

"O, of course!" cried Laura passionately. "Everything must be as mamma's dear boy wishes! He shall have everything he likes, and do as he likes, and say what he likes, and every one else is to give way to him!"

"Bai Jove, now, don't be an idiot!" exclaimed Max. "What's the good-- now that I'm working on your side, and we have got to understand one another--of running back like this? I'm obliged to speak plain, and to tell you that you are only a stupid child, Laury, and that you've taken a liking for another stupid child--and there's a pair of you; but all the same, if you do as I tell you, all will come right!"

Laura tossed her head, and seemed somewhat mollified, perhaps from being reminded of her folly.

"There," said Max, "that will do for this morning; so now do just as I tell you, and leave all the rest to me. But is it a bargain?"

Laura Bray was thoughtful for a few minutes. She was placed in a position which required consideration: the languid brother, whom she had hitherto almost despised, was asking her to forego one purpose for the sake of an equivalent; but it was the fact of his asking her to trust herself entirely to his guidance that troubled her; and for a while she shrank from yielding.

"Well," he said again, "is it a bargain?"

Still Laura did not answer, but remained gazing fixedly at the speaker, who watched her as attentively, his flushed cheek and eager eyes displaying the interest he took in the affair. At last, though, she leaned forward, and taking one of his arms between her hands,

"I never trusted you yet, Max," she said.

"Sisterly, very--but perfectly true," he exclaimed, laughing.

"But I will, Max, this time. But if you play me false--"

"Hush!" ejaculated Max, throwing himself back in his chair, and forcing his glass beneath his brow to stare at the new-comer; for at that moment the drawing-room door opened, and Ella Bedford stood upon the threshold.

Volume 1, Chapter XX.

ELLA'S RESOLVE.

"I beg pardon," said Ella, upon seeing who occupied the room. "I thought that Mrs Bray would be here."

"No, not here now, Miss Bedford," said Max, in his best style. "But take a chair; she won't be long first. Don't run away, Laury."

"I must; I have a letter or two to write," said Laura, trying hard to appear calm, and play into her brother's hand. But so far the efforts of brother and sister were without effect; for, with a few words of thanks, Ella withdrew; and a minute after the tones of Mrs Bray's voice were heard in loud expostulation, and coming nearer and nearer, till the door was flung open, and she entered, literally driving Ella before her.

"There, only think, Maximilian dear," shrieked Mrs Bray; "here's Miss Bedford been to say she must go!"

"Quite out of the question," said Max. "Bai Jove, what can you be thinking of, Miss Bedford? Why, poor Nelly would break her heart."

Ella started slightly, for Max Bray had touched a tender chord, and she remained silent, with the tears standing in her eyes, as the form of Nelly forced itself upon her imagination.

"It would be so inconvenient," shrieked Mrs Bray; "and you suit us so very well. I was only yesterday saying to your master--I mean, to Mr Bray--that the way in which those children have improved is perfectly wonderful."

"Perhaps Miss Bedford will reconsider her sudden determination," said Laura, in a voice which trembled with the struggle she had with self to obey the intelligent look darted at her by her brother.

"I have quietly thought it over," said Ella, looking with wondering eyes at the last speaker, as she felt unable to comprehend this sudden change, "and it is really absolutely necessary that I should leave."