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CHAPTER XXVIII.

Lady Ellen Revis to Mary Brown Lorton.

Grosvenor Square, April 4, 18—.

"ALTHOUGH you have cast us off, dearest Mary, and sit 'alone in your glory'-the glory of a proud, proud heart -I think of you more frequently than while we were in the daily, almost hourly habit of meeting. When first I knew you, the freshness of your nature gave me unspeakable delight; it was, to my mind, what a green field would have been to the eye amid an arid landscape. During the last few, but full weeks I was near you, you ripened that feeling into an esteem-a veneration, I may say, which I never imagined I should feel for one of my own poor silly sex -the trembling, timid, playful girl, burst into the resolved and high-souled woman! I was astonished at the change, and almost tempted to pronounce it unnatural. Alas! we often libel nature—we do not understand either why she gives or why she withholds,-we look upon, and yet we know her not! Were we not convinced, by long experience, to the contrary, we should deny that the acorn could rise into the oak.

"Why have you not written to me? Why is it that I am obliged to learn all that concerns you from Magdalene? What wrong have I committed? Has your uncle impressed you with the notion, that the Lady Ellen could not feel, as the simple Ellen would? Oh, no,---Uncle Horace never did injustice to English born,---and after the singular adventure of Madame, I am not sure but even the French find favour in his sight.

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'Magdalene tells me that your poor invalid has sunk into a state of low and melancholy feeling, from which nothing seems to arouse her; that her mind slumbers; but that the repose is undisturbed ;---even this, my sweet friend, is a blessing,--to see her amused as a mere child, by gauds, and flowers, and birds, is surely preferable to witnessing the fearful ravings which once lacerated your poor heart.

Tell Uncle Horace I have really learned to love, as well as to esteem him ;---I can fancy him taking his hat off its own particular peg, which, in by-gone days, you used to describe and laugh at, walking to your gigantic market, culling such flowers as your own conservatories have not yet produced, and carrying an enormous bouquet through your busy streets, in order that your mother might find amusement in assorting them according to her fancy. How I long to be with you, my sweet friend!---how gladly would I share your vigils--vigils far more suited to such as I am, than to you! You will hardly believe it, Mary, but the event, or rather the events which your delicacy led you to suppose would operate to your disadvantage in society, have produced a directly contrary effect. Were you to come among us now, you would be fêted and worshipped in a manner that would surpass the longings of the most romantic damosel on earth.

“Our chaperons and maiden aunts never venture to hint more, than 'that you were placed in a peculiar situation ;'---our young ladies, one and all, protest that the adventure was one of extraordinary interest, that they would give the world either to know you, or see you again,' as the case may be ;---that you were always a 'beauty,' and a 'love,'---all agreeing, in conclusion, that you are the delightful heroine of a charming romance;--the young men extol you beyond the skies; the middle-aged ones speculate on the probable amount of your fortune; while Major Blaney, notwithstanding he is really going to be married to Lady Cecilia Delaval, declares, with all the enthusiasm of Irish warmth, and in genuine Irish brogue, that you are a fortune in yourself. The truth is, Mary, that though we have had one new actress, two new novels (that have made a sensation,) and two elopements, besides various other little affairs tending to distract the public attention, still you are Lady Paramount of the world !---by the world, I mean our world,---and so you are likely to remain. Are you proud of this?---No: you are not; and if I asked such a question soberly, I should be a fool! Pardon this badinage. I know you care but little for us, or for our ways. The skilful oculist, Truth, has removed the film from your eyes, and you see us--AS WE ARE---human nature gilt, instead of human nature plain,---still only human nature after all. And tell Uncle Horace the fault is less in us than in those who expect us to be different, altogether different from our fellow-beings.

VOL. II.-18

Not my

Oh,

"Are there any you care to hear about? cousin, or you could not have driven him from you. Mary, Mary, it was not wise-it was not kind—on a point of your own imagining, to turn from you such a heart as his. If his own eloquent pleadings—his long-tried affection-his ill-suppressed agony-did not triumph over your prejudices in those hours of trial, I cannot hope to win your attention on his behalf, by a recapitulation of his success, or a prolonged account of his projects and prospects.

"My father!-his lordship has absolutely commanded me to write to Uncle Horace concerning some corporation matters, which a word from the Liverpool merchant can place exactly in the position he desires. I was tempted to call this meanness, but reflection (the reflection which visits the daughter of a politician) reflects that it is only 'expediency.' Memory, which to some is an inconvenience, Lord Norley has in admirable subjection; he has completely forgotten our scenes at Southampton, though he perfectly remembers your existence; indeed, the account of the extraordinary increase to your uncle's already overflowing fortune has strengthened his good opinion of your many virtues, and he has repeatedly pronounced you the finest girl of the past season.

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My beloved mother continues the same hallowed and holy being she ever was-in the world-not with it— steering her course to that blessed immortality to which the prayers and blessings of thousands will waft her disembodied spirit on some not very far distant day.

"Who do you think had the impertinence to address me the other morning at Howel and James's? Miss Maxwell! I had observed her for some time toadying a very old lady, assuring her that nothing could be more becoming to her complexion (she was as yellow as a bird of Paradise) than an amethyst ferrońierre! while all the time she bestowed sundry tender smiles upon an antiquated Brummel, who, disdaining the advances of a person of his own age, lavished his attentions upon two young and lovely girls, whose smiles, amounting to laughter, evinced their conviction that he was a very great bore.

"I had derived considerable amusement from this succession of by-play, when Maxy suddenly perceived me. I was vexed with myself for feeling so much indignation at the address of a person I so thoroughly despised, and still more vexed at finding it impossible to control my feelings.

She made many rapid inquiries as to the health of her interesting Mary,' and I fancied, had the grace to blush, when she asked after 'Uncle Horace.' Think of her impertinence interesting-her interesting Mary,'-and Uncle Horace.' I made her no reply, but turned away, crimson with ill-suppressed anger.

“You remember Claggitt,—my mother's maid has left her, and Claggitt applied for the situation.

I addressed her by name, as usual,—she drew from a puce-coloured reticule a handkerchief of large dimensions, trimmed with lace, and perfumed with lavender, and applying it to her rubicund countenance, wished me to suppose she was shedding tears.

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"Yes, my lady, but the willain left me the day we were married, and is gone abroad with another lady!— but I have my certificate here, my lady, and so has shethey say!

"Kitchen morality, thought I. The unfortunate woman had, I really believe, been deceived by the exquisite Jobplundered of her plunder, and left again at large upon the public, to collect what waifs and 'vails' fortune might throw in her way. Oh, what a world is this!-what great and little rogues?-what slides and shifts!-what ins and outs!—And yet we live for it, and not for ourselves.

"Muskito, they say, was choked on his well-earned passage to a foreign land, by a huge lie; but I do not believe the statement, do you, sweet Mary? This letter is like the vase, where 'perfume has once been distilled,'— there is nothing in it ;---yet I know it will be sweet to you, from the remembrance of what has been."

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"You have been a long time reading that letter, Mary!" said Uncle Horace to his niece; "is there anything in it new or interesting "

"It is from Lady Ellen,” replied Mary, as she slowly folded it up, and placed it on her desk.

Mary was seated on a low chair, close to a table covered with books and bijouterie of various kinds; the room was spacious, the ornaments rich and profuse. Uncle Horace had been reading the newspaper, as he did, or pretended to do, every day after dinner. I say pretended, because he very often fell asleep ;--he had dined early on this particular day and it would have been difficult for

him to have slept, for the noise of hammering, sawing, and that peculiar click-click which intimates that masons are at work, sounded close to the windows. He arose, after looking anxiously at Mary, who had not recovered either her bloom or freshness, and walked across the room. He halted slightly, but was not, of course, as lame as poor Bright, who, when his master moved, roused from his slumbers, and balancing very judiciously on three legs, looked out of the window also.

“Our workmen will have finished, my dear Mary, by the time fixed; and I shall see you occupied in arranging and furnishing these rooms after your own fashion, long before autumn. Indeed, this house of mine must have felt inconveniently small, but now, I hope, it will please you."

"It has always pleased me, dear uncle," said Mary.

“Yes, my love, you are not at all spoiled; but I felt the house that did very well for Horace Brown, would not do for you as a permanent residence-permanent I mean, of course, until you marry.

Mary shook her head.

"Does Lady Ellen know," persisted Uncle Horace, "that Magdalene is gone to Italy with poor Philip ?”

"No, I suppose not, or she would have said something about it," replied Mary; "his desire was so sudden, and your generosity, my dear uncle, so quickly followed his desire, that it was impossible for Magdalene to find time to write to Lady Ellen of her movements.-Poor fellow! -I fear he will never return!”

"He is young," said Horace Brown.

“But worn, more than age would wear in thrice as many years!" sighed Mary.

"For the first time in my life," replied her uncle, “I am inclined to believe that the warm air of the south will restore health, and make him strong again."

"It will cause flowers to spring quickly from his grave," said Mary, with a still deeper sigh: and the tomb he is gone to place over the remains of his poor brother, will very soor cover his own!"

At that instant poor Bright yelled, and Mary turned round. Uncle Horace was looking very red and very angry.

"Curse the dog!" exclaimed the worthy merchant,"I did not mean to kick him, but he is always getting under my feet." He patted Bright's head for a moment; the

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