Mount Royal, Volume 3 of 3

u had returned from Bodmin, and they were grouped in front of the fire talking in undertones with Mr. Tregonell, while Christabe

person of her calibre inevitably makes upon such an occasion. "It is like a

is always awful," answere

orld to see that she mourned for him only as a friend grieves for the loss of a friend-soberly, with pious submission to the Divine Will that had taken him away. For two hours she had remained on her knees beside her bed, drowned in tears, numbed by despair, feeling as if life could not go on witho

e remember that I am a mother as well as a wife. If I

n the feeblest scandal, she had washed the tears from her pale cheeks, and put on a dinner g

ashed and gone back to the business of life. "What use are my tears

g-room; but Mopsy was there, dressed

her bed crying ever since she heard the dreadful news. She is so sensitive, poor girl; a

has been dreadful for her-for every one in the house. Perhaps

h of real feeling. "I had rather be with you. You must feel

Royal. Five years is not much in the lives of som

rid of us: it will be a relief, I mean. Perhaps at some future time you will

here," answered Christabel, kindly, moved by Mopsy's na?veté: "one

omy silence, broken now and then by dismal attempts at general conversation on

ing, Jack?" she asked,

ging to-day: the limp, helpless, figure, swaying and trembling in the hangman's grip while they put the noose on, the cap dragged roughly over the ghastly face, the monotonous croak of the parson reading on like a machine, while the poor wretch was being made re

much nicer,

suddenly, looking round the table, as if

r. Mary thinks she has gone

n her motive for going out at such an h

been sent for by some sick per

iel, go and find out if any messenger came for Miss B

five minutes. No one had seen any messen

g. There are twice too many servants for one to be decently served. Well, it doesn't matter much. Miss Bridge

rson whom your mother loved-and who is my most inti

ok her fair share of champagne, allowed the butler to fill her glass rather oftener than usual-sighing as she sipped the sparkling bright-coloured wine, and remembering, even in the

when last she had been there she had not known of Angus Hamleigh's death. He had been lying yonder by the water

an episode in the records of dead and gone ages-as old as the story of Tristan and Iseult. She sat with her boy till he fell asleep, and sat beside him as he slept, in the dim light of the nigh

often returned to since that time-a book in which the secrets of the future are touched lightly by a daring but a delicate hand-a book which accepts every promise of the Gospel in its most literal sense, and overflows with an exultant belief in just such a Heaven as poor humanity wants. In this author'

d, and the end was near; and of that farewell discourse in the upper chamber of the house at Jerusalem which seems dimly foreshadowed

s Miss Vandeleur had gone upstairs to sit with the afflicted Dopsy-who was bewailing the dead ve

most as if he did: he was so attentive-but then he had such lovely manners-no doubt he was just as attentive to all girls. Oh, Mop, if he had c

distant sea, beating for ever and for ever against the horned cliffs, and dashing silvery white about the base of that Mechar

oy's bedside, and, on her way to her own room,

there was no answer, and then she opened the doo

glow and flame of the fire, but even in that cheerful light Jessie looked deadly pale. "Jessie," exclaimed Christabel, going up to her

n? Surely you can guess!

arm-alone

d fire-I would have walked through--" she set her lips li

how foolish! What

reeling as I sat and thought of him in the twilight, and then it seemed to me as if the only comfort possible was in looking at his de

abel, bending over her lovingly, tears raining

, staring at the fire, in blank tear

ear. You know that, under the fairest circumstances

u, a piece of statuesque perfection. I cannot say 'Thy will be done,' when my dearest-the only man I ever loved upon this wide earth is snatched from me. Does that shock your chilly propriety, you who only half loved him, and who broke his heart at another woman's bidding? Yes! I loved him from the first-loved him all the while he was your lover, and found it enough for happiness to be in his company-to see and hear him, and answer every thought of his with sympathetic thoughts of

nd you were so true and loyal. You

ouled creature I was-so weak that I could not cure myself of loving another woman's lover. While he lived I hated myself for my folly; now he is dead, I glory in the thought of how I loved him-how I gave him the mos

nate lips; and, kneeling by her friend's

for him, Jessie?" she said re

e, in your way; but i

shall remember him till the end of my days, with unspeakable sorrow. He was like sunshine in my life; so that life without

bloody shroud-shot through the heart-shot through the heart! Well, the inquest will find out something t

at

e spot whe

know the place too well; it has

nd if there ever was any reality in your love, if you are not merely a beau

ish it I

is light-say at

just as calmly as if this calamity had never happened. I don't want any one t

le to suppose that you

All I want is that no one should think I loved him too well afte

at you were a ha

rd things of me when I am dead-h

's limit. There is no friction for natures of your calibre. When Werther had shot himself, Charlotte went on cutting bread and butter, don't you know? I

ondly longed for, so piously believed in by the woman who had learnt her creed at Mrs. Tregonell's knees. Many tears

said Jessie, as Christabel left her. "Would it be

ment I am free. G