Alice | Page 2

be most desirable that she should prefer
him to all others. But if he be what I hear he is considered in the
world,--an artful, scheming, almost heartless man, of ambitious and
hard pursuits,--I tremble to think how completely the happiness of
Evelyn's whole life may be thrown away. She certainly is not in love
with him, and yet I fear she is one whose nature is but too susceptible
of affection. She ought now to see others,--to know her own mind, and
not to be hurried, blindfold and inexperienced, into a step that decides
existence. This is a duty we owe to her,--nay, even to the late Lord
Vargrave, anxious as he was for the marriage. His aim was surely her
happiness, and he would not have insisted upon means that time and
circumstances might show to be contrary to the end he had in view."
"You are right," replied Lady Vargrave. "When my poor husband lay
on his bed of death, just before he summoned his nephew to receive his
last blessing, he said to me, 'Providence can counteract all our schemes.
If ever it should be for Evelyn's real happiness that my wish for her
marriage with Lumley Ferrers should not be fulfilled, to you I must
leave the right to decide on what I cannot foresee. All I ask is that no
obstacle shall be thrown in the way of my wish; and that the child shall
be trained up to consider Lumley as her future husband.' Among his
papers was a letter addressed to me to the same effect; and, indeed, in
other respects that letter left more to my judgment than I had any right
to expect. Oh, I am often unhappy to think that he did not marry one
who would have deserved his affection! and--but regret is useless
now."
"I wish you could really feel so," said Mrs. Leslie; "for regret of
another kind still seems to haunt you; and I do not think you have yet

forgotten your early sorrows."
"Ah, how can I?" said Lady Vargrave, with a quivering lip.
At that instant, a light shadow darkened the sunny lawn in front of the
casements, and a sweet, gay young voice was heard singing at a little
distance; a moment more, and a beautiful girl, in the first bloom of
youth, bounded lightly along the grass, and halted opposite the friends.
It was a remarkable contrast,--the repose and quiet of the two persons
we have described, the age and gray hairs of one, the resigned and
melancholy gentleness written on the features of the other--with the
springing step and laughing eyes and radiant bloom of the new comer!
As she stood with the setting sun glowing full upon her rich fair hair,
her happy countenance and elastic form, it was a vision almost too
bright for this weary earth,--a thing of light and bliss, that the joyous
Greek might have placed among the forms of Heaven, and worshipped
as an Aurora or a Hebe.
"Oh, how can you stay indoors this beautiful evening? Come, dearest
Mrs. Leslie; come, Mother, dear Mother, you know you promised you
would,--you said I was to call you; see, it will rain no more, and the
shower has left the myrtles and the violet-bank so fresh."
"My dear Evelyn," said Mrs. Leslie, with a smile, "I am not so young as
you."
"No; but you are just as gay when you are in good spirits--and who can
be out of spirits in such weather? Let me call for your chair; let me
wheel you--I am sure I can. Down, Sultan; so you have found me out,
have you, sir? Be quiet, sir, down!"
This last exhortation was addressed to a splendid dog of the
Newfoundland breed, who now contrived wholly to occupy Evelyn's
attention.
The two friends looked at this beautiful girl, as with all the grace of
youth she shared while she rebuked the exuberant hilarity of her huge

playmate; and the elder of the two seemed the most to sympathize with
her mirth. Both gazed with fond affection upon an object dear to both.
But some memory or association touched Lady Vargrave, and she
sighed as she gazed.
CHAPTER II.
Is stormy life preferred to this serene?---YOUNG: Satires.
AND the windows were closed in, and night had succeeded to evening,
and the little party at the cottage were grouped together. Mrs. Leslie
was quietly seated at her tambour-frame; Lady Vargrave, leaning her
cheek on her hand, seemed absorbed in a volume before her, but her
eyes were not on the page; Evelyn was busily employed in turning over
the contents of a parcel of books and music which had just been
brought from the lodge where the London coach had deposited it.
"Oh, dear Mamma!"