"No, ma'am," said Baldwin soothingly.

"Do you doubt me?" asked the lady, with a touch of sharpness that did not seemed called for by Baldwin's humble acquiescence.

"Oh, no, ma'am; it is a very natural thought under the present affliction, and most becoming the sad occasion. Well, ma'am, the deepest mourning, if you please, I should say cashmere and c.r.a.pe."

"Yes, that would be deep. Oh, Baldwin, it is her violent death that kills me. Well?"

"Cashmere and c.r.a.pe, ma'am, and with nothing white about the neck and arms."

"Yes; oh yes; but will not that be rather unbecoming?"

"Well, ma'am--" and Baldwin hesitated.

"I hardly see how I _could_ wear that, it makes one look so old.

Now don't you think black _glace_ silk, and trimmed with love-ribbon, black of course, but scalloped--"

"That would be very rich, indeed, ma'am, and very becoming to you; but, being so near and dear, it would not be so deep as you are desirous of."

"Why, Baldwin, you don't attend to what I say; I told you I was never going out of mourning again, so what is the use of your proposing anything to me that I can't wear all my life? Now tell me, can I always wear cashmere and c.r.a.pe?"

"Oh no, ma'am, that is out of the question; and if it is for a permanency, I don't see how we could improve on _glace_ silk, with c.r.a.pe, and love-ribbons. Would you like the body trimmed with jet, ma'am?"

"Oh, don't ask me; I don't know. If my darling had only died comfortably in her bed, then we could have laid out her sweet remains, and dressed them for her virgin tomb."

"It would have been a satisfaction, ma'am."

"A sad one, at the best; but now the very earth, perhaps, will never receive her. Oh yes, anything you like--the body trimmed with jet, if you wish it, and let me see, a gauze bodice, goffered, fastened to the throat. That is all, I think; the sleeves confined at the wrist just enough not to expose the arm, and yet look light--you understand."

"Yes, ma'am."

"She kissed me just before she went on that fatal excursion, Baldwin; she will never kiss me again--oh! oh! You must call on Dejazet for me, and bespeak me a bonnet to match; it is not to be supposed I can run about after her trumpery at such a time; besides, it is not usual."

"Indeed, ma'am, you are in no state for it; I will undertake any purchases you may require."

"Thank you, my good Baldwin; you are a good, kind, feeling, useful soul. Oh, Baldwin, if it had pleased Heaven to take her by disease, it would have been bad enough to lose her; but to be drowned! her clothes all wetted through and through; her poor hair drenched, too; and then the water is so cold at this time of year--oh! oh! Send me a cross of jet, and jet beads, with the dress, and a jet brooch, and a set of jet b.u.t.tons, in case--besides--oh! oh! oh!--I expect every moment to see her carried home, all pale and wetted by the nasty sea--oh! oh!--and an evening dress of the same--the newest fashion. I leave it to you; don't ask me any questions about it, for I can't and won't go into that. I can try it on when it is made--oh! oh! oh!--it does not do to love any creature as I loved my poor lost Lucy--and a black fan---oh!

oh!--and a dozen pair of black kid gloves--oh!--and a mourning-ring--and--"

"Stop, aunt, or your love for me will be your ruin!" said Lucy, coldly, and stood suddenly before the pair, looking rather cynical.

"What, Lucy! alive! No, her ghost--ah! ah!"

"Be calm, aunt; I am alive and well. Now, don't be childish, dear; I have been in danger, but here I am."

Mrs. Bazalgette and Mrs. Baldwin flew together, and trembled in one another's arms. Lucy tried to soothe them, but at last could not help laughing at them. This brought Baldwin to her senses quicker than anything; but Mrs. Bazalgette, who, like many false women, was hysterical, went off into spasms--genuine ones. They gave her salts--in vain. Slapped her hands--in vain.

Then Lucy cried to Baldwin, "Quick! the tumbler; I must sprinkle her face and bosom."

"Oh, don't spoil my lilac gown!" gasped the sufferer, and with a mighty effort she came to. She would have come back from the edge of the grave to shield silk from water. Finally she wreathed her arms round Lucy, and kissed her so tenderly, warmly and sobbingly, that Lucy got over the shock of her shallowness, and they kissed and cried together most joyously, while Baldwin, after a heroic attempt at jubilation, retired from the room with a face as long as your arm.

_A bas les revenants!!_ She went to the housekeeper's room. The housekeeper persuaded her to stay and take a bit of dinner, and soon after dinner she was sent for to Mrs. Bazalgette's room.

Lucy met her coming out of it. "I fear I came _mal apropos,_ Mrs.

Baldwin; if I had thought of it, I would have waited till you had secured that munificent order."

"I am much obliged to you, miss, I am sure; but you were always a considerate young lady. You'll be glad to learn, miss, it makes no difference; I have got the order; it is all right."

"That is fortunate," replied Lucy, kindly, "otherwise I should have been tempted to commit an extravagance with you myself. Well, and what is my aunt's new dress to be now?"

"Oh, the same, miss."

"The same? why, she is not going into mourning on my return? ha! ha!"

"La bless you, miss, mourning? you can't call that mourning--_glace_ silk and love-ribbons scalloped out, and cetera. Of course it was not my business to tell her so; but I could not help thinking to myself, if that is the way my folk are going to mourn for me, they may just let it alone. However, that is all over now; and your aunt sent for me, and says she, 'Black becomes _me;_ you will make the dresses all the same.'" And Baldwin retired radiant.

Lucy put her hand to her bosom. "Make the dresses all the same--all the same, whether I am alive or dead. No, I will not cry; no, I will not. Who is worth a tear? what is worth a tear? All the same. It is not to be forgotten--nor forgiven. Poor Mr. Dodd!!"

Mr. Fountain learned the good news in the town, so his meeting with Lucy was one of pure joy. Mr. Talboys did not hear anything. He had business up in London, and did not stay ten minutes in ----.

The house revived, and _jubilabat, jubilabat._ But after the first burst of triumph things went flat. David Dodd was gone, and was missed; and Lucy was changed. She looked a shade older, and more than one shade graver; and, instead of living solely for those who happened to be basking in her rays, she was now and then comparatively inattentive, thoughtful, and _distraite._

Mr. Fountain watched her keenly; ditto Mrs. Bazalgette. A slight reaction had taken place in both their bosoms. "Hang the girl! there were we breaking our hearts for her, and she was alive." She had "_beguiled_ them of their tears."--Oth.e.l.lo. But they still loved her quite well enough to take charge of her fate.

A sort of itch for settling other people's destinies, and so gaining a t.i.tle to their curses for our pragmatical and fatal interference, is the commonest of all the forms of sanctioned lunacy.

Moreover, these two had imbibed the spirit of rivalry, and each was stimulated by the suspicion that the other was secretly at work.

Lucy's voluntary promise in the ballroom was a double sheet-anchor to Mr. Fountain. It secured him against the only rival he dreaded.

Talboys, too, was out of the way just now, and the absence of the suitor is favorable to his success, where the lady has no personal liking for him. To work went our Machiavel again, heart and soul, and whom do you think he had the cheek, or, as the French say, the forehead, to try and win over?--Mrs. Bazalgette.

This bold step, however, was not so strange as it would have been a month ago. The fact is, I have brought you unfairly close to this pair. When you meet them in the world you will be charmed with both of them, and recognize neither. There are those whose faults are all on the surface: these are generally disliked; there are those whose faults are all at the core: they charm creation. Mrs. Bazalgette is allowed by both s.e.xes to be the most delightful, amiable woman in the county, and will carry that reputation to her grave. Fountain is "the jolliest old buck ever went on two legs." I myself would rather meet twelve such agreeable humbugs--six of a s.e.x--_at dinner_ than the twelve apostles, and so would you, though you don't know it. These two, then, had long ere this found each other mighty agreeable. The woman saw the man's vanity, and flattered it. The man the woman's, and flattered it. Neither saw--am I to say?--his own or her own, or what?

Hang language!!! In short, they had long ago oiled one another's asperities, and their intercourse was smooth and frequent: they were always chatting together--strewing flowers of speech over their mines and countermines.

Mr. Fountain, then, who, in virtue of his s.e.x, had the less patience, broke ground.

"My dear Mrs. Bazalgette, I would not have missed this visit for a thousand pounds. Certainly there is nothing like contact for rubbing off prejudices. I little thought, when I first came here, the princ.i.p.al attraction of the place would prove to be my fair hostess."

"I know you were prejudiced, my dear Mr. Fountain. I can't say I ever had any against you, but certainly I did not know half your good qualities. However, your courtesy to me when I invaded you at Font Abbey prepared me for your real character; and now this visit, I trust, makes us friends."

"Ah! my dear Mrs. Bazalgette, one thing only is wanting to make you my benefactor as well as friend--if I could only persuade you to withdraw your powerful opposition to a poor old fellow's dream."

"What poor old fellow?"

"Me."

"You? why, you are not so very old. You are not above fifty."

"Ah! fair lady, you must not evade me. Come, can nothing soften you?"

"I don't know what you mean, Mr. Fountain"; and the mellifluous tones dried suddenly.