"Perhaps she is only some relation, and he calls to leave the morning paper," said Mabel.

"Well, only judge for yourself, if he is sincere with Lucy; if you think he is, we will leave them to themselves, but if not, the poor girl should be warned before her affections are too deeply implicated."

"Yes, I will appear to-night," said Mabel.

What more she might have added was stopped by the entrance of Caroline, whose jealous surveillance had discovered the _tete-a-tete_. Casting a fiery glance of suspicion on both, which was received with admirable coolness, she turned to Hargrave, and rather peremptorily informed him, that the case of fruit and flowers which he had ordered from his gardens, at Aston, was arrived, and they waited his permission to open it.

"Oh, I will come," said he, looking rather amused, than either sorry or angry at her displeasure. "Miss Lesly, you will like to see some flowers from Aston."

Accepting the half implied invitation to accompany them, Mabel followed to the morning room, where an immense basket was surrounded by Mrs.

Villars and her daughters, in anxious expectation, while china and gla.s.s dishes were waiting to receive the fruit.

The basket fully answered the demand upon it--and satisfied Hargrave as to the state of his green-houses and hot-house, by producing some excellent specimens of forced early fruit, which Mrs. Villars had been antic.i.p.ating, not only as an additional charm to her supper-table, but as a public proof of his anxiety to please her.

Besides flowers for vases, Hargrave drew from the basket, bouquets, arranged with a gardener's nicety, which he presented to Mrs. Villars and her daughters. They were composed of the most beautiful hot-house flowers, and were all in exquisite taste--but by some chance, it happened that the one presented to Caroline, far excelled the others in beauty. The sisters exchanged glances, and Caroline's haughty eye beamed with triumph.

"Stay, what is this?" said the unconscious Hargrave, dipping his hand again into the basket, and drawing forth from the moss, with which it was carefully packed, a bouquet, much smaller in size, and singularly pretty, because composed entirely of white flowers of the rarest kind.

"Is it not beautiful?" he exclaimed, holding it up to view; "it really does my gardener credit."

"Beautiful indeed!" exclaimed every one.

"What is that paper round it?" said Maria.

Hargrave turned to the small strip of rather untidy paper, which was fastened to it, and read--

"Miss Lesly will accept this, with my respects."

"From my gardener, Dibden, I declare," said he--a look of childlike pleasure taking possession of his features, as he regarded the flowers which smelt sweeter than all the rest--and then handing them to Mabel, he begged her to accept them.

Mabel held out her hand, and looked much gratified as she took them; but no sooner had she done so, than the color rushed to Caroline's cheek, and a scowl darkened her beautiful features, as she regarded her with ill-concealed malignity. Her own bouquet no longer appeared the finest, and flinging it on the table with such violence, that the head of a camelia was broken from it, she said, angrily--

"I will have no second bests."

"My dear," said her mother, trembling, "yours is, I am sure, the prettiest."

"Do you think I have no eyes," returned Caroline, "or that I am going to be eclipsed in my own house?"

Hargrave stood amazed, for hitherto her temper had been greatly concealed from him, and he was surprised to see features, lately beaming with smiles, now darkened and disfigured by rage, while he felt something very like disgust at the jealousy which so openly betokened a preference for himself. Mabel stood, with her eyes fixed on the flowers she held in her hand, too pained to look up; then suddenly remembering herself, she offered them to Caroline, saying--

"I am glad I have anything to offer you, that you really like--pray take it."

Caroline, however, was too provoked to be easily pacified by this display, as she believed it, of superior sweetness of temper, and roughly pushing aside Mabel's extended hand, the flowers fell to the ground.

Hargrave looked from one to the other in mute surprise; and Mrs.

Villars, terrified at her daughter's ungovernable temper, and mistaking his look for vexation, hurriedly interposed.

"Oh, my dear, now do take what Mabel offers you--do, my dear, if you have a fancy for it--I am sure Henry intended to give you the best--who could think you would prefer a few white flowers to that lovely collection of geraniums. Come, my dear, now do have it."

"I am sure," said Hargrave, indifferently, "I knew no difference in the bouquets--I have nothing to do with poor Dibden's unfortunate present."

"There now," said Mrs. Villars, "now do take them, if it is a fancy of yours."

"Don't be angry, love," said Selina; "only think what is to become of the party if you and Henry quarrel. No one will have spirits for anything. Don't, dear, be angry."

"For my part," said Maria, "I see nothing to be angry about."

"Nor I," said Hargrave, as he left the room.

"Now see," said Mrs. Villars, "how you have vexed him."

"Something more than that, I fear," said Maria.

"Well, I really have no patience," observed her mother; "with lovers'

quarrels--there, smile and make it all right again. We all know what your feelings are; but do, there is a dear girl, cheer up, for all our sakes. Is she not a silly girl, Mabel."

The latter was too candid to venture on a reply, as she stood busied in restoring the bouquet to order.

Caroline received these offerings to her wrath, with haughty indifference; but, at length, she suffered herself to be appeased by their repeated entreaties, and Mrs. Villars whispered to her niece, that if she now offered the flowers, she thought the dear girl would receive them.

Mabel could scarcely allow herself to minister to so much selfishness, and it was with some appearance of reserve, that she placed the bouquet on the table, by her side, not choosing to subject it to a second rebuff.

But Caroline's good humour was now happily restored, for she had gained all she could by her violence. Not only obtaining possession of the desired object, but being entreated to accept it. She, therefore, rewarded the patience of her mother and sisters, by entering into the arrangements of the evening with renewed animation.

"Mabel," said Lucy, as pa.s.sing her arm through hers, they walked up stairs together; "where did you get such an angelic temper?"

"Whatever good I do possess," said Mabel, gravely; "is not mine; but is borrowed from a treasure house, which is as free to you as to me."

"But, tell me," urged Lucy, stopping on the landing place; "do you not despise the weakness to which you minister."

"What right have I to do so," answered Mabel; "who knows how proud and self-willed I might have become, if I had not early suffered deprivation, sorrow, and humiliation, as I have done. And who can say, I shall be as strong to-morrow as I am to-day; when a thousand temptations surround us on every side; and we cannot tell under which we may fall, if we once lose sight of the true humility which alone brings strength and power. How, then, can I dare to despise the frailty of others. But, dearest, what is the matter, how can I have pained you."

"You have not pained me," replied Lucy, a momentary color banishing the pallor of her cheek; "but sometimes I feel as if there were something wanting in me, which I find in you--yet, if it has been purchased by suffering, I must not wish for it, for I have not courage for such an ordeal."

"But, only consider," replied Mabel; "how much more n.o.ble, how much more worthy--if any could be worthy--would be the offering, to heaven, of a young heart, in the midst of joy and prosperity--than the tearful tribute of the worn spirit, which can find no other refuge. It is only our own rebellion which makes sorrow needed."

"Beautiful words," said Lucy, mournfully, "and something within tells me that they are true;" she stopped for a moment, and looked down upon her own share of the beautiful flowers, which she held in her hand, and a tear hung upon the lash, which shrouded her bright blue eye; then turning again to her cousin, she said:--

"To-morrow, dearest, I will think: to-night, must be all mirth and gladness."

Mabel would have remonstrated, but she saw that the serious fit had pa.s.sed away, by the beaming smile that lighted her face, and dimpled round her mouth; and she knew her temper too well, to hope to recall it.

So the two girls separated. Lucy to think over the pleasures of the evening; while Mabel, meditated how she might serve her, by screening her from the consequences of her indiscretion. She could not, however, refrain from reverting to the disagreeable scene in which she had taken a part. She could not help feeling almost humiliated for Caroline, while she regarded Hargrave's situation with commiseration; for she fancied that, however he might have implicated the honor on which he so strictly prided himself, with regard to Caroline, he displayed very little love; and she sincerely pitied him, as she knew that, if he had once committed himself, he would probably be too proud to retract.

CHAPTER XV.

He spake of virtue: not the G.o.ds More purely, when they wish to charm-- Pallas and Juno sitting by.