WILL HE ESCAPE?

BOOK THE THIRD.

(Continued.)

CHAPTER VIII.

ROLAND FOR OLIVER.

HE party at the Towers was plainly in honour of the marauding Shipleys-a sort of testimonial banquet. That lady and her daughter had indeed made good their ground, and carried away vast spoil from the fruit-trees and gardens of the place. She had specially marked the head of the family for her own-would pay him visits, and consult him on trifling points in the most confidential and friendly manner. It was "My dear Mr. Hardman, tell me this, like a good creature. I look on you as a rock of sense: " which was answered by, "Really, my dear Lady Shipley:"-" And," goes on the lady, "my daughter Mony so looks up to you; and that nice son of yours, I can't tell you how she likes him. Of course, as he is to be married, and all that, I tell her it is very wrong."

"It is very flattering indeed, madam," said he, much pleased. "You do me great honour, indeed."

"Not at all. And now, my dear Mr. Hardman, just sit down, and tell me about this match, for it quite came on me by surprise. I hear those Talbots are very clever people."

"I say openly," said Mr. Hardman, with a loud voice, "I did not approve of the business. From the beginning I set my face against it. There is no money-no connection-nothing. my hands of the whole affair."

I wash

"Dear me! this is quite a new idea. I said so to Mony. She will tell you I said so the other morning. It was impossible, I said. that it could have the approbation of Mr. Hardman—a man who could be anything-whose son would be a match for anybody; and I'll tell you candidly what I said to her then, Mr. Hardman, for I always speak my mind, and conceal nothing-'I wish to Heaven, Mony, you had been married into such a family.'"

"Indeed, ma'am, it is very good of you to say so.

a great compliment."

I take it as

"Now that it is past and done for, I may speak out. it is a good thing to be connected with a man like you.

I say

You may

be proud of yourself: and though those Talbots, I am told, are fine upon the matter, and talking queerly."

In this way did this crafty old lady proceed to work upon the manufacturer, and sent him home in quite a rage.

This was the morning after the dinner; and the first person he met was his son.

"Where are you going, sir?"

"I was going over to see Olivia.”

"Yes, and be sneered at behind your back. You don't care for that, but I do. You are a fool, and have been a fool, and always will be one."

"How, father? About this marriage?"

"Yes, sir. But I don't give my consent still. If you have no self-respect, I have. I am not going to be insulted-belled about the parish-by these snobs. To have them sneering here, and sneering there. Then, I tell you what, I have made up my mind they shall have none of my money to sneer at. I'd sooner leave every half

penny I have to-the Queen."

"But they don't sneer, father—at least

"You know that's untrue-you can't deny it, sir. It's too much, and I shan't put up with it-there."

Confounded at this new turn, the young fellow turned away bewildered. He went to his sister.

"I have always had the same opinion," she said. "Do me this justice I have been above-board in my dislike of your new connections. Olivia is a charming girl: but her mother-well, you know, she don't like me."

"Yes, unfortunately."

"Well, papa has some reason on his side, I think, though we do not often agree. He is the head of the house; he has made all our money for us; he has had a hard, laborious life; and I do think it is very bad taste of these people to go about trying to put us down in this way to be jeering at what they condescend to accept. You are in love, and it is very natural you shouldn't see this; but it is a deep mortification to papa and to me. Even to-day-to be obliged to ask them here! to humble ourselves to her! and all for you. You ought to be grateful."

The youth looked bewildered.

"But what can I do! Rose, tell me; you always advised me. I don't want to be selfish."

"Well, you can do this, at least: what is, indeed, only decency. Speak firmly to them; require the respect that is due to our familyour low family, as they seem to think it. They will respect you the more for it. As it is, they seem to consider you a mere boy-that they can do what they like with. You would not be so wholly selfish, after all that has been sacrificed for you ?”

The youth looked grave and disquieted. The thing had never been put in this way before.

"But Olivia!" he said. "Surely you cannot think that——”

"I, of course, except her; I have done so all along. This is no question about her. But there is question of your own self-respect. Heavens, how I have suffered-how we have all suffered ! And I tell you how you have a position with regard to them, and are really bound to make some exertions and see that you are respected, by your family's being respected."

This was a new light for the young man, who felt a little humiliated in presence of his worldly-wise sister, and who had put it very forcibly before him. She was right. Livy was all that could be wished; but he was under no obligation towards the rest of the family. And he recalled now the implied tone, and the scarcely concealed contempt, with which Mrs. Talbot spoke of them before him.

When it was time to set out for the dinner party, the Beauty was confounded, and "put out," by seeing his wife come down splendidly dressed, and looking really magnificent. Excitement, or anger, gave that tender flush to her cheeks, which was her charm in the days of Mr. Chalon, and the old light seemed to have come back to her eyes. She had, besides, the true refined stateliness-the air of the high-bred lady.

"I thought you were not going," said the Beauty, angrily.

"I persuaded her, Beauty dear; so we are all going together, and mean to have such a pleasant night."

They were very silent as they drove along, the Beauty much out of humour at his not being allowed to perform alone on his favourite boards. "This was the way in which he was always interfered with."

When the Talbots arrived they found that they were late, and that all the company were assembled-Lady Shipley already enthroned, as it were, in a divan, and talking volubly. Mr. Hardman had quite a displeased air; indeed, he had been inflamed by a speech of that lady.

"At all the great houses in town, as you know, my dear Mr. Hardman, it is the thing to be before the time. Your friends, I suspect, have forgotten the hour.”

Mrs. Labouchere struck in,

"We must submit, Lady Shipley. They are our masters and mistresses."

"I dined once at poor Lady Greyplover's, and they expected the old Duke of Banffshire. They just gave him a quarter of an hour, and then went to dinner. He came in a little after they had sat down, and was not the least put out. He knew it was the regular course of things."

His son was very restless, and rather annoyed. It did look as if Mrs. Talbot delighted to try and mortify his family.

The moment they entered, Mr. Hardman called to his servant, 'Now, dinner!"-a shocking barbarism, as Mrs. Talbot took care to show the company she thought it, by turning round with a sort of haughty start. The room was crowded; and, almost at once, Mrs. Labouchere went over to our Beauty and brought him to a pink. cheeked, good-looking gentleman, who was in the window.

"To be sure," said Major Fotheringham, delighted. "We did not see each other in the dark. I was out of humour that night.”

The Beauty was enchanted at this amende. His wife was looking over, and must have heard it. He was growing more important every hour. Colonel Fotheringham began to talk pleasantly on other matters; and then the procession was formed down to dinner. That meal was a more tremendous effort of state than Mr. Hardman had yet attempted. He had never yet got such distinguished people together at his board. But, though Mrs. Talbot had priority of rank, Lady Shipley was the leading lady. Her voice was heard above all. She was seated beside the host-was now loud, now extravagantly confidential. She ate of everything, and praised everything.

"Never saw anything better done, or in better taste. Charming. And now, my dear Mr. Hardman, tell me about these people. I shouldn't call them these people, because”

She had to be very confidential here, as Mrs. Talbot was on the other side of the host.

"She seems quite a monarch-of-all-she-surveys sort of person. Even patronised me ?-ha! ha! You saw that? Of course, you did. And that little girl is your son's intended? Nice, amiable little thing, she seems; I am sure, she will turn out a good domestic wife."

All this was very low and confidential.

"But I wish she had more mark and character; virtue alone will not do nowadays, my dear Mr. Hardman. We must all pushpush-push! You and I have had to do that."

"What you say is admirable, my dear Lady Shipley. No one puts a thing better."

The conversation wandered off into pictures, last Academy Exhibition, very favourite topics at country dinner parties, where people talk familiarly of such shows, Rotten Row, &c., as if they were in the next street. Mrs. Talbot, excellent actress as she was, being now in front of the foot-lights, was unconstrained and easy, "the great lady" in short; just as if she had no wolf gnawing at her very heart. She was easy, smiling, gay. But it was almost with horror, that she heard the bold Lady Shipley make this remark,

"By the way, there is a little picture in your drawing-room, Mr. Hardman, which shows you have real taste. It seems to me a master-piece, and-"

"Which one, Lady Shipley? I can assure you, I get ashamed sometimes when I think of all the cheques I have drawn for pictures."

"This was a small picture, finely done; such force, such power, such colours. I assure you, I don't know when I was so pleased; Honoria, too, was quite struck with it."

"Oh, it was charming, mamma. I could stand hours before it."

It would be impossible to convey the arrogance with which he turned to Mrs. Talbot. Every moment, indeed, he began to feel his wrongs coming back on him with fresh force, and some new circumstances were making him regard the whole family with an increasing dislike.

"I am glad to hear you say this," he said, "as Mrs. Talbot was of quite an opposite opinion, and treated the picture with great contempt."

"How, why?" said Lady Shipley, leaning forward; "I am sure she is too good a judge."

"This is the most astonishing mistake," said Mrs. Talbot, looking round; "on the contrary, I admired it immensely: in fact, I said it was worth all the rest of the collection."

"Oh, how severe !" said Lady Shipley. "What a wicked stroke." "My collection is good, and can take care of itself," said he, growing red. "No one can say I have not encouraged art. The cheques I have drawn for pictures could not be exceeded by any nobleman in the country. I have outbid dukes and lords before now."