"Of course. Prudence at first starting, but that isn't to say courage is never to come in. First creep within the fortification wall; but, once inside, if you don't storm the city that minute, woe be unto you.

Come, cheer up! it is only for a few days, and then she goes where you will have her all to yourself; besides, you shall have one sweet delicious evening with her all alone before she goes. What! have you forgotten the pedigree? Wasn't I right to keep that back? and now march and take a good long walk."

Her tongue was a spur. It made David's drooping manhood rear and prance--a trumpet, and pealed victory to come. David kissed her warmly and strode away radiant. She looked sadly after him.

She had never spoken so hopefully, so encouragingly. The reason will startle such of my readers as have not taken the trouble to comprehend her. It was that she had never so thoroughly desponded. Such was Eve.

When matters went smoothly, she itched to torment and take the gloss off David; but now the affair looked really desperate, so it would have been unkind not to sustain him with all her soul. The cause of her despondency and consequent cheerfulness shall now be briefly related. Scarce an hour ago she had met Miss Fountain in the village and accompanied her home. For David's sake she had diverted the conversation by easy degrees to the subject of marriage, in order to sound Miss Fountain. "You would never give your hand without your heart, I am sure."

"Heaven forbid," was the reply.

"Not even to a coronet?"

"Not even to a crown."

So far so good; but Miss Fountain went on to say that the heart was not the only thing to be consulted in a matter so important as marriage.

"It is the only thing I would ever consult," said Eve. As Lucy did not reply, Eve asked her next what she would do if she loved a poor man.

Lucy replied coldly that it was not her present intention to love anybody but her relations; that she should never love any gentleman until she had been married to him, or, correcting herself, at all events, been some time engaged to him, and she should certainly never engage herself to anyone who would not rather improve her position in society than deteriorate it. Eve met these pretty phrases with a look of contempt, as much as to say, "While you speak I am putting all that into plain vulgar English." The other did not seem to notice it. "To leave this interesting topic for a while," said she, languidly, "let me consult you, Miss Dodd. I have not, as you may have noticed, great abilities, but I have received an excellent education. To say nothing of those _soi-disant_ accomplishments with which we adorn and sometimes weary society, my dear mother had me well grounded in languages and history. Without being eloquent, I have a certain fluency, in which, they tell me, even members of Parliament are deficient, smoothly as their speeches read made into English by the newspapers. Like yourself, Miss Dodd, and all our s.e.x, I am not dest.i.tute of tact, and tact, you know, is 'the talent of talents.' I feel," here she bit her lip, "myself fit for public life. I am ambitious."

"Oh, you are, are you?"

"Very; and perhaps you will kindly tell me how I had best direct that ambition. The army? No; marching against daisies, and dancing and flirting in garrison towns, is frivolous and monotonous too. It isn't as if war was raging, trumpets ringing, and squadrons charging. Your brother's profession? Not for the world; I am a coward" [consistent].

"Shall I lower my pretensions to the learned professions?"

"I don't doubt your cleverness, but the learned professions?"

"A woman has a tongue, you know, and that is their grand requisite. I interrupted you, Miss Dodd; pray forgive me."

"Well, then, let us go through them. To be a clergyman, what is required? To preach, and visit the sick, and feel for them, and understand what pa.s.ses in the sorrowful hearts of the afflicted. Is that beyond our s.e.x?"

"That last is far more beyond a man at most times; and oh, the discourses one has to sit out in church!"

"Portia made a very pa.s.sable barrister, Miss Dodd."

"Oh, did she?"

"Why, you know she did; and as for medicine, the great successes there are achieved by honeyed words, with a long word thrown in here and there. I've heard my own mamma say so. Now which shall I be?"

"I suppose you are making fun of me," said Eve; "but there is many a true word spoken in jest. You could be a better, parson, lawyer or doctor than nine out of ten, but they won't let us. They know we could beat them into fits at anything but brute strength and wickedness, so they have shut all those doors in us poor girls' faces."

"There; you see," said Lucy archly, "but two lines are open to our honorable ambition, marriage and--water-colors. I think marriage the more honorable of the two; above all, it is the more fashionable. Can you blame me, then, if my ambition chooses the altar and not the easel?"

"So that is what you have been bringing me to."

"You came of your own accord," was the sly retort. "Let me offer you some luncheon."

"No, thank you; I could not eat a morsel just now."

Eve went away, her bright little face visibly cast down. It was not Miss Fountain's words only, and that new trait of hard satire, which she had so suddenly produced from her secret recesses. Her very tones were cynical and worldly to Eve's delicate sense of hearing.

"Poor, poor David!" she thought, and when she got to the door of the room she sighed; and as she went home she said more than once to herself, "No more heart than a marble statue. Oh, how true our first thought is! I come back to mine--"

Lucy (sola). _"Then_ what right had she to come here and try to turn me inside out?"

CHAPTER X.

As the hour of Lucy's departure drew near, Mr. Fountain became anxious to see her betrothed to his friend, for fear of accidents. "You had better propose to her in form, or authorize me to do so, before she goes to that Mrs. Bazalgette." This time it was Talboys that hung back. He objected that the time was not opportune. "I make no advance," said he; "on the contrary, I seem of late to have lost ground with your niece."

"Oh, I've seen the sort of distance she has put on; all superficial, my dear sir. I read it in your favor. I know the s.e.x; they can't elude me. Pique, sir--nothing on earth but female pique. She is bitter against us for shilly-shallying. These girls hate shilly-shally in a man. They are monopolists--severe monopolists; shilly-shally is one of their monopolies. Throw yourself at her feet, and press her with ardor; she will clear up directly." The proposed att.i.tude did not tempt the stiff Talboys. His pride took the alarm.

"Thank you. It is a position in which I should not care to place myself unless I was quite sure of not being refused. No, I will not risk my proposal while she is under the influence of this Dodd; he is, somehow or other, the cause of her coldness to me."

"Good heavens! why, she has been hermetically sealed against him ever so long," cried Fountain, almost angrily.

"I saw his sister come out of your gate only the other day. Sisters are emissaries--dangerous ones, too. Who knows? her very coldness may be vexation that this man is excluded. Perhaps she suspects me as the cause."

"These are chimeras--wild chimeras. My niece cares nothing for such people as the Dodds."

"I beg your pardon; these low attachments are the strongest. It is a notorious fact."

"There is no attachment; there is nothing but civility, and the affability of a well-bred superior to an inferior. Attachment! why, there is not a girl in Europe less capable of marrying beneath her; and she is too cold to flirt---but with a view to matrimonial position. The worst of it is, that, while you fear an imaginary danger, you are running into a real one. If we are defeated it will not be by Dodd, but by that Mrs. Bazalgette. Why, now I think of it, whence does Lucy's coldness date? From that viper's visit to my house.

Rely on it, if we are suffering from any rival influence, it is that woman's. She is a dangerous woman--she is a character I detest--she is a schemer."

"Am I to understand that Mrs. Bazalgette has views of her own for Miss Fountain?" inquired Talboys, his jealousy half inclined to follow the new lead.

"In all probability."

"Oh, then it is mere surmise."

"No, it is not mere surmise; it is the reasonable conjecture of a man who knows her s.e.x, and human nature, and life. Since I have my views, what more likely than that she has hers, if only to spite me? Add to this her strange visit to Font Abbey, and the somber influence she has left behind. And to this woman Lucy is going unprotected by any positive pledge to you. Here is the true cause for anxiety. And if you do not share it with me, it must be that you do not care about our alliance."

Mr. Talboys was hurt. "Not care for the alliance? It was dear to him--all the dearer for the difficulties. He was attached to Miss Fountain--warmly attached; would do anything for her except run the risk of an affront--a refusal." Then followed a long discussion, the result of which was that he would not propose in form now, but _would_ give proofs of his attachment such as no lady could mistake; _inter alia,_ he would be sure to spend the last evening with her, and would ride the first stage with her next day, squeeze her hand at parting, and look unutterable. And as for the formal proposal, that was only postponed a week or two. Mr. Fountain was to pay his visit to Mrs. Bazalgette, and secretly prepare Miss Fountain; then Talboys would suddenly pounce--and pop. The grandeur and boldness of this strategy staggered, rather than displeased, Mr. Fountain.

"What! under her own roof?" and he could not help rubbing his hands with glee and spite--"under her own eye, and _malgre_ her personal influence? Why, you are Nap. I."

"She will be quite out of the way of the Dodds there," said Talboys, slyly.

The senior groaned. ("'Mule I.' I should have said.")

And so they cut and dried it all.

The last evening came, and with it, just before dinner, a line by special messenger from Mr. Talboys. "He could not come that evening.

His brother had just arrived from India; they had not met for seven years. He could not set him to dine alone."

After dinner, in the middle of her uncle's nap, in came Lucy, and, unheard-of occurrence--deed of dreadful note--woke him. She was radiant, and held a note from Eve. "Good news, uncle; those good, kind Dodds! they are coming to tea."