four

66

Twenty-four!" echoed the Earl of St. Clair with amazement, "my dear Lord De la Zouch, what do you mean? Eighty-four at the very lowest."

to be settled upon her with satisfaction. | musing manner, "one were to say-twentyThe fact was, that he penetrated at a first glance beneath the mere surface of an arch, sweet, and winning manner, and detected a certain strength of character in Miss Aubrey which gave him more than usual interest in her, and spread over his iron-cast features a pleasant expression, relaxing their sternness. It might indeed be said, that before her, in his person, “Grim-visaged war had smooth'd his wrinkled front."

“Eh! what! oh-yes, of course-I should say ninety-I mean-hem!-they will muster about twenty-four only."

"Yes, there you're right, I dare say." Here the announcement of dinner put an end to the colloquy of the two statesmen. 'Twas a subject for a painter, that deli- Lord De la Zouch led down Miss Aubrey cate and blooming girl, her auburn hair with an air of the most delicate and cordial hanging in careless grace on each side of courtesy; and felt almost disposed, in the her white forehead, while her eyes were fix- heat of the moment, to tell her that he had ed with absorbed interest on the stern and arranged all in his own mind-that she was rigid countenance which she reflected had to be the future Lady De la Zouch. He been, as it were, a thousand times darkened was himself the eleventh who had come to with the smoke of the grisly battle-field. the title in direct descent from father to son; But I must not forget that there are others 'twas a point he was not a little nervous and in the room; and amongst them, standing anxious about-he detested collateral sucat a little distance, is Lord De la Zouch, cession-and he made himself infinitely one of Mr. Aubrey's neighbours in York- agreeable to Miss Aubrey as he sat beside shire. Apparently he is listening to a bro- her at dinner. The Duke of sat on ther peer talking to him very earnestly about the right hand side of Mrs. Aubrey, seemthe expected division; but Lord De la ingly in high spirits, and she appeared Zouch's eye is fixed on you, lovely Kate proud enough of her supporter. It was a and how little can you imagine what is delightful dinner-party, elegant without ospassing through his mind! It has just oc- tentation, and select without pretence of curred to him that his sudden arrangement exclusiveness. All were cheerful and anifor young Delamere-his only son and heir, mated, not merely on account of the overcome up the day before from Oxford-to night's parliamentary victory, which I have call for him about half-past ten, and take already alluded to, but also in contemplahis place in Mrs. Aubrey's drawing-room, tion of the coming Christmas! how, and while he, Lord De la Zouch, goes down to where, and with whom each was to spend the house may be attended with certain that "righte merrie season," being the chief consequences. He is speculating on the topic of conversation. As there was nothing effect of your beauty bursting suddenly on peculiar in the dinner, and as I have no time his son-who has not seen you for nearly for describing such matters in detail—the two years; all this gives him anxiety-but clatter of plate, the jingling of silver, the not painful anxiety-for, dear Kate, he sparkling of wines, and so forth-I shall knows that your forehead would wear the request the reader to imagine himself led by ancient coronet of the De la Zouches with me quietly out of the dining-room into the grace and dignity. But Delamere is as yet library-thus escaping from all the bustle too young-and if he gets the image of and hubbub attendant upon such an enterCatharine Aubrey into his head, it will, tainment as is going on in the front of the fears his father, instantly cast into the shade house. We shall be alone in the library— and displace all the stern visages of those here it is; we enter it, and shut the door. old poets, orators, historians, philosophers "Tis a spacious room, all the sides covered and statesmen, who ought, in Lord De la with books, of which Mr. Aubrey is a great Zouch and his son's tutor's judgment, to collector-and the clear red fire (which we occupy exclusively the head of the aforesaid must presently replenish or it will go out) Delamere for some five years to come. is shedding a subdued ruddy light on all the That youngster-happy fellow!-frank, objects in the room, very favourable for our high-spirited, and enthusiastic and hand- purpose. The ample table is covered with some to boot-was heir to an ancient title books and papers; and there is an antiqueand great estates; all he had considered in looking arm-chair drawn opposite to the fire, looking out for an alliance was-youth, in which Mr. Aubrey has been indulging in beauty, blood-here they all were ;-fortune a long revery till the moment of quitting it -bah! what did it signify to his son-but to go and dress for dinner. This chair I it's not to be thought of for some years. shall sit in myself; you may draw out from "Suppose," said he aloud, though in a the recess for yourself, one of two little slo

ping easy-chairs, which have been placed | evidently in the style of Queen Elizabeth's there by Mrs. and Miss Aubrey for their reign, another in that of Queen Anne: and own sole use, considering that they are ex- it is plain that on the site of the present cellent judges of the period at which Mr. structure has formerly stood a castle. There Aubrey has been long enough alone, and at are traces of the old moat still visible round which they should come in and gossip with the rear of the house. One of the ancient him. We may as well draw the dusky towers, with small deep stone windows, green curtain across the window, through still remains, giving its venerable support which the moon shines at present rather too to the right-hand extremity of the building. brightly. So now, after coaxing up the The long frontage of the house consists of fire-I will proceed to tell you a little bit two huge masses of dusky-red brick-work, of pleasant family history (you can hardly call them wings,) connected together by a lower building in the

The Aubreys are a Yorkshire family. Their residence, Yatton, is in the north-centre, which contains the hall. There are eastern part of the country, not above fifteen three or four rows of long thin deep winor twenty miles from the sea. The hall is dows, with heavy-looking wooden sashes. one of those old structures, the sight of The high-pitched roof is of slate, and has which throws you back nearly a couple of deep projecting eaves, forming in fact, a bold centuries in our English history. It stands wooden cornice, running along the whole in a park, crowded with trees, many of them length of the building, which is some two of great age and size, and under which some or three stories high. At the left extremity two hundred head of deer perform their ca- stands a clump of ancient cedars of Lebapricious and graceful gambols. You strike non, feathering in evergreen beauty down to off the great North road into a broad by the ground. The hall is large and lofty; way; after going down which for about a the floor is of polished oak, almost the whole mile, you come to a straggling little village of which is covered with thick matting; it called Yatton, at the further extremity of is wainscotted all round with black oak, which stands an aged gray church, with a some seven or eight full-length pictures, very tall thin spire; an immense yew tree, evidently of considerable antiquity, being with a kind of friendly gloom, overshadow- let into the panels. Quaint figures these ing, in the little church-yard, nearly half the are to be sure; and if they resembled the graves. A little behind the church is the ancestors of the Aubrey family, those anvicarage-house, snug and sheltered by a line cestors must have been singular and startof firtrees. After walking on about eighty ling persons! The faces are quite white yards, you come to the high park gates, and and staring-all as if in wonder; and they see a lodge just within, on the left hand have such long legs, ending in sharp-pointside, sheltered by an elm-tree. You then ed shoes-just such as were worn in the wind your way for about a third of a mile reign of Edward III., or even Richard II. along a gravel walk, amongst the thicken- On each side of the ample fireplace stands ing trees, till you come to a ponderous old a figure in full armour; and there are also crumbling-looking red brick gateway of the ranged along the wall old swords and lances, time of Henry VII. with one or two deeply- the very idea of wielding and handling set stone windows in the turrets, and mould- which makes your arms ache, while you exering stone-capped battlements peeping claim, "they must have been giants in those through high-climbing ivy. There is an days!" On one side of this hall, a door old escutcheon immediately over the point opens into the dining-room, beyond which of the arch; and as you pass underneath, is the library; on the other side a door leads if you look up you can see the groove of the you into a noble room, now called the drawold portcullis still remaining. Having pass-ing-room, where stands a very fine organ. ed under this castellated remnant, you enter Out of both the dining-room and drawinga kind of court, formed by a high wall com-room, you pass up a staircase contained in pletely covered with ivy, running along in a line from the right-hand turret of the gateway till it joins the house. Along its course are a number of yew trees. In the centre of the open space is a quaintly disposed grass-plot, dotted about with stunted box, and in the centre stands a weather-beaten stone sun-dial. The house itself is a large irregular pile of dull red brick-work, with great stacks of chimneys in the rear; the body of the building had evidently been erected at different times. Some part is

an old square tower, two sides of each of them opening on the old quadrangle, lead into a gallery running all round the quadrangle, and into which all the bed-rooms open. But I need not go into further detail. Altogether it is truly a fine old mansion. Its only constant occupant is Mrs. Aubrey, the mother of Mr. Aubrey, in whose library we are now seated. She is a widow, having survived her husband, who twice was one of the county members, about fifteen years. Mr. Aubrey is her first-born child,

Miss Aubrey her last: four intervening chil-place she stops at, either from the children dren she has followed to the grave, the or the old people. When old Peggy comes grief and suffering consequent upon which to die, she will be missed by all the folk have sadly shaken her constitution, and round Yatton. Madam Aubrey, growing, made her, both in actual health and in ap- I am sorry to say, very feeble, cannot go -pearance, at least ten years older than she about as much as she used, and betakes really is for she has, in point of fact, not herself oftener and oftener to the old family long since entered her sixtieth year. What a coach; and when she is going to drive blessed life she leads at Yatton! Her se- about the neighbourhood, you may always rene and cheerful temper makes every one see it stop at the vicarage for old Dr. Tathappy about her; and her charity is un- ham, who generally accompanies her. On bounded, but dispensed with a most just these occasions she always has a bag condiscrimination. One way or another, al- taining Testaments and Prayer-books, most a fourth of the village are direct pen- which are distributed as rewards to those sioners upon her bounty. You have only whom the parson can recommend as deservto mention the name of Madam Aubrey, the ing of them. For these five-and-twenty lady of Yatton, to witness involuntary ho- years she has never missed giving a copy mage paid to her virtues. Her word is of each to every child in the village and on awe; and well indeed it may be. While the estate, on its being confirmed; and the Mr. Aubrey, her husband, was to the last old lady looks round very keenly every Sunstern in his temper, and reserved in his ha- day, from her pew, to see that these Bibles bits, bearing withal a spotless and lofty and Prayer-books are reverently used. I character, she was always what she still is, could go on for an hour and longer, telling meek, gentle, accessible, charitable, and you these and other such matters of this expious. On his death she withdrew from emplary lady; but we shall by and by have the world, and has ever since resided at some opportunities of seeing and knowing Yatton-never having quitted it for a single more of her personally. In manner she is day. very calm, and quiet, and dignified. She looks all that you could expect from what I have told you. The briskness of youth, the sedate firmness of middle-age, have years since given place, as you will see with some pain, to the feebleness produced by ill-health and mental suffering-for she mourned after her children with all a fond and bereaved mother's love. Oh! how she dotes on her surviving son and daughter! And are they not worthy of such a mother? Mr. Aubrey is in his thirty-sixth year; and inherits the mental qualities of both his parents-the demeanour and person of his father. He has a reserve that is not cynical, but only diffident, yet it gives him, at least at first sight, an air of hauteur, if not austerity, which is very far from his real nature, for within is, indeed, the rich "milk of human kindness." He has the soft heart and benignant temper of his mother, joined with the masculine firmness of character which belonged to his father. Sensitive he is, perhaps to a fault. There is a tone of melancholy or pensiveness in his composition, which has probably increased upon him from his severe studies, ever since his youth. He is a man of superior intellect, though not, perhaps, of the highest or most brilliant order; and is a most capital scholar. At Oxford he plucked the prize from a host of strong competitors, and has since justified the expectations which were entertained of him. He has made several really valuable contributions to historic literatureindeed, I think he is even now engaged up

There are in the vicinity one or two stately families, with ancient name, sounding title, and great possessions; but for ten miles round Yatton, old Madam Aubrey, the squire's mother, is the name that is enshrined in the people's kindliest and most grateful feelings, and receives their readiest homage. "Tis perhaps a very small matter to mention, but there is at the hall a great white old mare, Peggy, that for these twenty years, in all weathers, hath been the bearer of Madam's bounty. A thousand times hath she carried Jacob Jones (now a pensioned servant, whose hair is as white as Peggy's) all over the estate, and also oft beyond it, with comfortable matters for the sick and poor. Most commonly there are a couple of stone bottles, filled with cowslip, currant, ginger, or elderberry wine, slung before old Jones, over the well-worn saddle-to the carrying of which Peggy has got so accustomed that she does not go comfortably without them. She has so fallen into the habits of old Jones, who is an inveterate gossip, (Madam having helped to make him such by the numerous inquiries she makes of him every morning as to every one in the village, and on the estate, and which inquiries he must have the means of knowing,) that slow as she jogs along, if ever she meets or is overtaken by any one, she stops of her own accord, as if to hear what they and her rider have to say to one another. She is a great favourite with all, and gets a mouthful of hay or grass at every

dotes upon him, she studies, or rather per-
haps anticipates, his every wish; in short,
had the whole sex been searched for one
calculated to make happy the morbidly fas-
tidious Aubrey, the choice must surely have
fallen on Miss St. Clair; a woman whose
temper, whose tastes, and whose manners
were at once in delicate and harmonizing
unison and contrast with his own. She
has hitherto brought him but two children,
a boy between four and five years old, and a
girl about two years old. If I were to hint
my own impressions, I should say there
was a probability-but be that as it may,
'tis an affair we have nothing to do with at
present.

on some researches calculated to throw | hour, loves her with all the passionate armuch light upon the obscure origin of seve-dour with which she had first inspired him. ral of our political institutions. He has en- And richly she deserves his love, for she tered upon politics with uncommon ardourperhaps with an excessive ardour. I think he is likely to make a considerable figure in parliament; for he is a man of very clear head, very patient, of business-like habits, and, moreover, has a very impressive delivery as a public speaker. He is generous and charitable as his mother, and careless, even to a fault, of his pecuniary interests. He is a man of perfect simplicity and purity of character. Above all, his virtues are the virtues which have been sublimed by Christianity-the cold embers of morality warmed into religion. He stands happily equidistant from infidelity and fanaticism. He has looked for light from above, and has heard a voice saying " This is the way, walk thou in it." His piety is the real source of that happy consistent dignity, and content, and firmness which have earned him the respect of all who know him, and will bear him through whatever may befal him. He who standeth upon this rock cannot be moved, perhaps not even touched, by the surges of worldly circumstances of difficulty and distress. În manner Mr. Aubrey is calm and gentlemanlike; in person he is rather above the middle height, and of slight make too slight, perhaps, to be elegant. From the way in which his clothes hang about him, a certain sharpness at his shoulders catching the eye of an observeryou would feel an anxiety about his health, which would be increased by hearing of the mortality in his family; and your thoughts are pointed in the same direction, by a glance at his long, thin, delicate white hands. His countenance, though not to be called handsome, has a serene manliness about it when in repose, and an acuteness and vivacity when animated, which are delightful to behold: it often beams with energy and intellect. His hair is black as jet, and his forehead ample and marked.

Mr. Aubrey has been married about six years; 'twas a case of love at first sight. Chance threw him in the way of Agnes St. Clair, within a few weeks after she had been bereaved of her only parent, Col. St. Clair, who fell in the Peninsular war. Had he lived only a month or two longer, he would have succeeded to a considerable estate; as it was, he left his only child comparatively penniless-but heaven had endowed her with personal beauty, with a lovely disposition, and superior understanding. It was not till after a long and anxious wooing, backed by the cordial entreaties of Mrs. Aubrey, that Miss St. Clair consented to become the wife of a man, who, to this

Of Catharine Aubrey you had a momentary moonlight glimpse, at a former period of this history: and you have seen her this evening under other, and perhaps not less interesting circumstances. Now, where have you beheld a more exquisite specimen of budding womanhood?but I feel that I shall get extravagant if I begin to dwell upon her charms. You have seen her-judge for yourself; but you do not know her as I do; and I shall tell you that her personal beauty is but a faint emblem of the beauties of her mind and character. She is Aubrey's youngest-his only sister; and he cherishes her with the tenderest and fondest regard. Neither he, nor his mother-with both of whom she spends her time alternatelycan bear to part with her for ever so short an interval. She is the gay, romping playmate of the little Aubreys; the demure secretary and treasurer of her mother. I say demure-for there is a sly humour and archness in Kate's composition, which flickers about even her gravest moods. She is calculated equally for the seclusion of Yatton, and the splendid atmosphere of Almack's; but for the latter she seems at present to have little inclination. Kate is a girl of decided character, of strong sense, of high principle; all of which are irradiated, not overborne, by her sparkling vivacity of temperament. has real talent; and her mind has been trained, and her tastes directed, with affectionate skill and vigilance, by her gifted mother. She has many accomplishments; but the only one I shall choose to name is music. She was a girl to sing and play before a man of the most fastidious taste and genius. I defy any man to hear the rich tones of Miss Aubrey's voice withont being exquisitely moved. Music is with her a matter not of art but of feeling-of passionate feeling; but hark,-hush!—

She