Charles Auchester, Volume 1 of 2

s perfectly blank, like a sunless autumn day, with no wind about. I lay very late in bed, and as I lay there I no more believed the events of yesterday than if t

daily sprang, summer and winter alike;

, I could tell very easily that she had not expected me, and was very much pleased I should come. Her approbation overcame me, and instead of blotting my copy with ink, I used my tears. They were tears I could no more have helped shedding than I could have hel

ld in our house went on just the same as before the festival, and as I had no hand in keeping the house so charmingly, nor any part in committees for di

emed to annihilate my future. I quite drooped, I could not help it; and my mother was evidently anxious. She made me bring out my tongue a dozen times a day, and she continually sighed, as if reproaching herself with something. How long it seemed! quite four months, as I used to reckon. I never once alluded to Lenhart Davy, but others did,-at least not Millicent, but Lydia and my eldest sister. Lydia made the observation that perhaps he was too modest to come without a special invitation; but Clo hurt me f

a question you will li

to answer any question. Oh, Millicent!" and I hid

ould not deceive you. Darlin

ead, and when we reached the door of the dressing-room, I went in crying. My mother sat in a great white

ou must not give up your old lessons, nor must you forget to take great pains to write, to cipher, and to read as well; but I think you are very fond of singing since you found y

. I will not dwell upon the solicitude of Clo, lest I should become unmanageable in the midst of my satisfaction, nor upon Lydia's amazement at my mother's allowing me to join the class; but I well recollect how Millicent kept fast by me, her will, as it were,

reth. He told me that I must not mistake his silence if he spoke not to me nor noticed me when he was a

d it in was one he hired expressly. My mother sent me with Margareth, who was to fetch me a

festival, I should have been at

it of a musical temperament, I had perhaps never been taught to give that name wher

d the grand rehearsal hand in hand with Lenhart Davy. He was my master, though,-I remembered this, and also that he expected a great deal of me, for he had told me so, and that he had appointed me a high p

own footfall upon the boards as I traversed the backs of those raised forms, one above the other, full of people. Boys and men, and women and girls, seemed all mixed up together, and all watching me; for I was late, and qui