"My good girl," said Mr. Villars, taking her hand with considerable emotion; "you little know the obligations you have conferred upon me to-day. I would give you all I possess for the power of conferring happiness as skilfully as you can. Heaven bless you for it."

"Providence often chooses the weakest instruments," said Mabel, "to fulfil its missions; and I endeavour to keep myself ready for service, lest I may lose the chance of being employed;" then blushing at her own speech, she withdrew her hand, and hurried from the room.

When they met at dinner, she begged Caroline to allow her to dress her hair for the evening, to suit the head-dress she had been preparing.

The offer was readily accepted, and they retired together to the dressing-room already mentioned. The comfort, and almost finical luxury with which it was furnished, occurred to Caroline, as no very agreeable contrast to that which she had prepared for the houseless orphan, so lately deprived of all the comforts of home--but her attention was soon occupied by her toilette, in which she took so great an interest.

Perhaps she would have been glad if their maid could have performed the same services for her, with as much taste as Mabel; but as she could not, she forced herself to accept her kindness with the best grace she could command. The beautiful head-dress, contrasted well with her raven hair; and when Mabel held the mirror before her, she scarcely believed her eyes as she gazed upon her reflected self.

"Come, I do believe you are a good girl," exclaimed Maria; "one of the right sort, after all. I wish you would concoct something for me--singularity is what I affect--but, I fear me, nothing will do," she added, going off singing.

There's n.o.body coming to marry me, n.o.body coming to woo; O dear what can the matter be, Oh dear what shall I do.

The gay party were soon a.s.sembled in the drawing-room. Hargrave looked pleased when he saw the head-dress, and made many observations on its beauty, which delighted Mrs. Villars, and made Caroline's cheek flush with pleasure.

"Who knows," whispered Mrs. Villars, playfully pinching Mabel's arm, "but that your pretty cap may hasten the denouement; look how pleased he is."

Mabel felt sick, but no one saw the sudden pallor of her cheek, for the carriages which were ordered to take them to the rooms were announced.

Caroline, drawing her ermine tippet closer round her shoulders, took Hargrave's un-offered arm, saving:--

"You must be my first partner to-night, remember," and then walked down stairs with him, talking playfully, and gaily. Mabel thought she had never seen her look more beautiful. When they had all gone, she sunk upon a chair, suffering from the revulsion of over exerted feelings. She laid her hand upon her heart to still its beating; that heart, which spite of all its chastenings, beat true to nature still. Had she only decked Caroline to win a heart which was dearer to her than life--dearest when she had rejected it, in the name of heaven.

Oh, if Caroline were but one likely to lead back his truant heart to the duties he had more than neglected. Yet she felt little hope when she remembered her lifeless and listless Sundays--her wandering eyes in church, and the witty remarks which told how her thoughts had there been occupied.

But she also felt that she had done right, and with this consciousness, she could afford to abide by the consequences of her actions. Her delicacy, also, soon reminded her of the necessity of putting a strict guard over her imagination, lest even the pity and sorrow she felt for him, might shew themselves, and be misunderstood. Grieve over him she must, but she resolved that even he should not know it. It was a difficult part for one so candid to play, but her delicacy stood upon the defensive, and warned her to be firm.

CHAPTER XIV.

Lady Clara Vere de Vere, Some meeker pupil you must find, For were you queen of all that is, I could not stoop to such a mind.

TENNYSON.

Mrs. Villars returned from the ball full of triumphant feelings. Never, since her first appearance at the rooms, had Caroline appeared to such advantage. Hargrave, who seldom did more than walk through a quadrille, had twice asked her to waltz. Mrs. Villars had received, with gracious smiles, many premature congratulations--and her husband, who had despaired of Caroline's marriage, looked on with satisfaction, and began to think everything was taking a brighter turn.

The next morning, Mrs. Villars overwhelmed Mabel with thanks for her ingenuity--and even, in the excess of her grat.i.tude, confided to her a long and exaggerated account of the ball, mixed with many speculations on the probable causes which led Hargrave to delay his proposals. She ended by announcing her intention, (if she did not consider it hurtful to her feelings,) of giving a grand rout the following week.

Mabel begged her not to think of her, as she could easily, if she preferred doing so, spend the evening alone. Her aunt was, however, bent on displaying herself as her benefactress, though she thought it better to be contented, at first, with getting no opposition to her plan.

Invitations were soon issued. Colonel Hargrave was persuaded to give up a hunting party he had intended joining, and even to discuss the numerous arrangements, of which none but good entertainers can appreciate the difficulty. The music, the dances, the company, the decorations of the rooms, were all thoroughly talked over, and everything promised to make it the most popular party of the Bath season.

The girls were in high spirits, and congratulated themselves on Hargrave's continued good humour.

Selina declared he must have made up his mind, at last, and antic.i.p.ated looking pretty on a Shetland pony, at Aston, while Maria declared that she had nearly "hooked" a Gloucestershire squire, and hoped Caroline would give her an opportunity of landing him.

On the morning of the party, Mabel was sitting in the library alone, finishing some ornaments for the wax tapers, which her aunt had requested her to make. Mr. Villars was gone to put a letter to a London publisher in the post--and finding herself alone, she had given herself up to thoughts of her mother and Amy--that dear sister, whose life she had hoped to see so much happier than her own--then came to her memory, which was well stored with every antidote to discontent, those beautiful lines of Milman--

"We thank thee for our lost, our beauteous child, The tears less bitter she has made us shed."

And these told her how Amy's artless love had beguiled her first disappointment of its bitterness, and called her to exert her energies in a life of activity.

As she continued this more cheerful train of thought, she heard a step in the pa.s.sage, whose echo thrilled to her very heart. How often had she sprung at that signal in all the buoyancy of unchecked love; cold and dark had been the change--the elastic step was now firm and majestic, and she listened to it with attempted indifference, for they had learnt to meet as strangers.

Colonel Hargrave entered, and instead of leaving the room, as he now always did, when he found her alone, he walked up to the fire, and stood looking at her, for a moment, as her varying color made her face look something more than beautiful.

"I have a request to make," he said, at length.

"One that I can grant, I hope," said Mabel; for the silence broken, her courage was at once restored.

"I would ask you to do violence to your own feelings, and appear at the dance to-night?"

"Why need I appear in a circle, where, being unknown, I cannot be missed, when I feel naturally disinclined for gaiety?"

"Because your influence is needed there. Do not think I am frivolous enough to believe, that the admiration you may possibly excite, would give you any compensation for the pain of appearing in that mourning dress, amongst the light and gay; but there is one over whom you seemed once to have some influence, who must be there, and you will have an opportunity of seeing her in society."

"Do you mean Lucy?"

"Yes--I have watched her narrowly, for some time, and think she may be made something better under proper guidance. Where is she to find that but in you? She is now attracted by a man, whose attentions are, I fear, too general to mean anything."

"Are you certain Mr. Beauclerc means nothing?" said Mabel, incredulously; "it is so difficult to decide--and almost impossible to interfere."

"Except by advice. Could you not persuade her to remain pa.s.sive, and not to pay him so much open admiration?"

"Impossible;" said Mabel, "it must be that he is more reserved in the display of his attentions than she is. Are you not severe?"

"Depend upon it," returned Hargrave, "the truth is often more charitable than falsehood, and I am not speaking now in the common spirit of criticism. Lucy is rendering herself an object of general observation, and even ridicule, to the gentlemen of her acquaintance, and though I may be able to prevent such remarks being made in my presence, my influence cannot extend further. She offends all her former ball-room admirers by having eyes for no one but Beauclerc--she will dance with no one else, and pays him an open tribute of admiration, which cannot but be flattering from a pretty girl."

"But I do not see why you suppose he is indifferent to her?"

"If my observation has not deceived me, he shares, in common with many men of talent--a belief in a feeling warmer than friendship, but colder and more spiritual than love. I once knew a man, in fact, who carried on such a flirtation, for I can give it no other name, with a very superior, enthusiastic girl, but when every one expected him to propose to her in form, she heard of his marriage with a woman of the most ordinary understanding, but who, I dare say, made him a very good wife.

As I was attached to him, I ventured to remonstrate with him on his conduct. In excuse, he brought so many really flimsy and poetical apologies, and proofs of the pure minded nature of his attachment, that though they appeared to me in their right light, they yet convinced me that he had not intended wrong, but that his vanity had led him astray, into the belief that he could be the object of an admiration superior to love; altogether foolish, but he was sincere, I believe. When I last heard of the poor girl she was sinking in a decline. Now I suspect Beauclerc to be such another as I have described, and I want you to see if you can make Lucy aware of it." "But you must first judge for yourself, and no such opportunity is likely to occur again, as you might not like to go out."

"You set me a difficult task; the more difficult, because Lucy has seemed so estranged from me lately."

"Ah, that reminds me of something else, I had to say. Do you happen to have met Miss Foster, a beautiful girl, one of the most striking women in Bath?"

"No, but I have heard Lucy speak of her."

"Yes, so she used to do, most enthusiastically; and her beauty, if nothing more, deserved admiration. I remember meeting her in the park--she was sitting down, and, as I afterwards learnt, had sprained her ankle. She looked so near fainting, that I did not hesitate to dismount--(for I was riding)--and offer her my a.s.sistance. After a little persuasion she gave me her direction and suffered me to place her on my horse, which I carefully led to her house, in the Circus. The grace with which she accepted my services, and the reserve with which she withdrew from my attentions, when they were no longer required, excited some curiosity in me; but, though I was repeatedly congratulated for such a singular opportunity of meeting the mysterious beauty, I am afraid I must confess that I was never able to improve the acquaintance.

Now, lately, she has withdrawn entirely from society, and, indeed, up-stairs there is a polite note from her, declining Mrs. Villars'

invitation for to-night. I have heard it frequently remarked that she is never seen out of doors, though some of her professed admirers have been anxiously watching for her. Lucy seems entirely to have forgotten her, and colored violently when I asked for her, the other day."

"A long string of evidence," said Mabel, with a half smile, "now tell me how you connect Miss Foster, with Lucy and Mr. Beauclerc."

"Why, she was at an evening party the day before he arrived in Bath, and has not been seen since; but this would be nothing perhaps had not my groom--who, one morning, took my horses to air, through the Circus--seen him call at her house, early, and thought, that when he was denied, he turned away with disappointment. I immediately ordered him to air the horses every morning in the Circus, though certainly not the best place for them, which I might have chosen. However, the result of his information is, that almost every day, before the fashionable world is stirring, Beauclerc calls on Miss Foster, and is as strictly denied. To me, this looks suspicious, and Beauclerc seems carrying on a double game."