Evan Harrington -- Volume 3

yed into the jaws of Demogorgon, dreadful to her. She has seen her brother pointed out unmistakeably as the tailor-fellow. There is yet time to cas

portion of the heavens. In resolute hands, much may be done with a star. As it has empires in its gift, so may it have

battalions of lies disciplined and zealous, and with one clear prize in view, besides other undev

enced thrills of proud pleasure at the prospect of being welcomed at a third-rate English mansion. But then, that mansion was Beckley Court. We return to our first ambitions, as to our first loves not that they are dearer to us, -quit that delusion: our ripened loves and mature ambitions are probably closest to our hearts, as they deserve to be-but we return to them because our youth has a hold on us which it asserts whenever a disappointment knocks us down. Our old loves (with the bad natures I know in them) are always lurking to avenge themselves on the new by tempting us to a little retrograde infidelity. A schoolgirl in Fallow field, the tailor's daughter, had sighed for t

some manner. As it did not suit her to think so, she at once encouraged an imaginary conversation, in which she took the argument that it was quite impossible Evan could have been so mad, and others instanced his youth, his wrongheaded perversity, his ungenerous disregard for his devoted sister,

l sweep of Beckley Court, the footman and butler of the enemy bowing obsequ

mornings after her arrival at Beckley Court; and which, if it should prove false in a few particulars, does nevertheless let us into the state of the Countess's mind, and gives the result of that general's first inspection of the field

AREST

as well be so in England. English Countess is certainly best. Always put the de. But let us be systematic, as my poor Silva says. He would be in the way here, and had better not come till I see something he can do. Silva has great reliance upon me. The farther he is from Lymport, my dear!-and imagine me, Har

, studying it so diligently under his directions! We never shall again! Sir Franks Jocelyn is the third son of Lord Elburne, made a Baronet for his patriotic support of the Ministry in a time of great trouble. The people are sometimes grateful, my dear. Lord Elburne is the fourteenth of his line-originally simple country squires. They talk of the Roses, but we need not go so very far back as that. I do not q

I gave him one or two political secrets which astonished him. Of course, my dear, I was wheedled out of them. His contempt for our weak intellects is ineffable. But a woman must now and then ingratiate herself at the expense of her sex. This is perfectly legitimate. Tory policy at the table. The Opposition, as Andrew says, not represented. So to show tha

will describe the people present,

ill the time for our retirement-he made no sensation. I saw her eyes watering, and she is not clever in turning it off. In that nobody ever equalled dear Papa. I attribute the attack almost entirely to the tightness of the white neck-cloths the young clergymen of the Established Church wear.

exquisite delicacy, no insinuating softness, mixed with respect, none of that hovering over the border, as Papa used to say, none of that happy indefiniteness of manner which seems to declare "I would love you if I might," or "I do, but I dare not tell," even when engaged in the most trivial attentions-handing a footstool, remarking on the soup, etc. You none of you know

e to drink wine. Before I had finished my bow his glass was empty-the man was telling an a

r the cold weather, and hunting. All I envied him was his mousta

ratuitously, you know) his post of secretary to him. So here is Evan fixed at Beckley Court as long as Melville stays. Talking of him, I am horrified suddenly. They call him the great Mel! 'Sir Franks is most estimable, I am sure, as a man, and redolent of excellent qualities-a beautiful dispo

with her yet. Now for the women, for

se lent me her lady's-maid-they call the creature Polly. A terrible talker. She would tell all about the famil

ee Rose and Evan walking out to the cypress avenue, and that no eyes are on th

is resumed the nig

xpose me, and take me to the dark room, is quite vanished, and I feel quite at home, quite happy. Evan is behaving well. Quite the young nobleman. With the women I had no fear of him; he

l laugh at it!-he is seen running away from an old apple woman, whose fruit he had consumed without means to liquidate; but, of course, he rushes bolt up to Evan before all his grand company, and claims acquaintance, and Evan was base enough to acknowledge him! He disengaged himself so far well by tossing his purse to the wretch

the moon, and all sorts of trees, I mu

e his most faithful dog. I fear he cannot be induced, and Conning will be snapped up by somebody else. You know how susceptible she is behind her pr

hite skin, and those ringlets, is really too ridiculous. Then there is a Miss Carrington, Lady Jocelyn's cousin, aged thirty-two-if she has not tampered with the register of her b

ild's temper. She has already begun to watch dear Evan-certainly the handsomest of the men here as yet, though I grant you, they are well-grown men, these Jocelyns, for an untravelled Englishwoman. I fear, dear Harriet, we have been dreadfully deceived about Rose. The poor child has not, in her own right, much more than a tenth part

e of this most interesting Juliana Bonner by- and-by. It is clear to me that Rose's fortune is

turer-bartered her blood for his money, and he failed, and here she resides, a bankrupt widow,

d the likeness I saw she knew at once, and I saw a truce in her eyes. She gave me a tacit assurance of it-she was engaged to dine here yesterday, and put it off-probably to

hat reminds me of the Madre. She is in health. She always will be overbearingly robust till the day we are bereft of her. There

mnant of the property. Third son! Don't commit yourself there. We dare no

derstood from Lord Livelyston, that Andrew's vote would be thought much of. A most amusing nobleman! He pledged himself to nothing! But we are above such a thing as a co

ace. Tell dear Carry her husband's friend-the chairman or something of that wonderful company of Strike's-you know-the Duke of Belfield is coming here. He is a blood-relation of the Elburnes, therefore of the Jocelyns. It will not matter at all. Breweries, I f

hat Andrew speaks not a word to his odious brother about our location here. It would set him dead against these hospitable Jocelyns. It will perhaps be as well, dear Harriet, if you do not accompany Andrew. You would not be able to account for him quite

es, and the Co

ing him Count Jocelyn for Fallow field! A morning dream. They might desire that he s

eserve great credit for your managing of that dear little good-natured piece of obstinate man. I will at once see to prepare de

eting. The family have not spoken of him in my hearing. He is not, I think, in good odour at home-a scapegrace. Rose's maid, Pol

n bed. The men, I hear, complain that there is no lady at the breakfast-table. They have Miss Carrington to superintend. I read, in the subdued satisfaction of her eyes (complete

ke a dream. There is nothing but the religion attaches me to England; but that

tuting toilette-receptio

rington

amuse him. He is always occupied. Bread!-he asks no more. Adieu! Carry will be invited with your little man .... You un

Cogglesby; which plebeian name, it struck her, would not sound well to the menials of Beckley Court. While she was deliberating what to do to conceal it, she heard, through her open window, the voices of some young men laughing. She beheld her

it strong. Fancy th

She put on her bonnet hastily, tried the effect of a p