Scenes and Characters | Page 4

of the household, and who looked forward to their new
offices with the various sensations of pleasure, anxiety, self-
importance, and self-mistrust, suited to their differing characters, and to
the ages of eighteen, sixteen, and fourteen.

CHAPTER II
--THE NEW COURT

'Just at the age 'twixt boy and youth, When thought is speech, and
speech is truth.'
The long-delayed wedding took place on the 13th of January, 1845, and
the bride and bridegroom immediately departed for a year's visit among

Mr. Hawkesworth's relations in Northumberland, whence they were to
return to Beechcroft, merely for a farewell, before sailing for India.
It was half-past nine in the evening, and the wedding over--Mr. and
Mrs. Hawkesworth gone, and the guests departed, the drawing-room
had returned to its usual state. It was a very large room, so spacious that
it would have been waste and desolate, had it not been well filled with
handsome, but heavy old-fashioned furniture, covered with crimson
damask, and one side of the room fitted up with a bookcase, so high
that there was a spiral flight of library steps to give access to the upper
shelves. Opposite were four large windows, now hidden by their ample
curtains; and near them was at one end of the room a piano, at the other
a drawing-desk. The walls were wainscoted with polished black oak,
the panels reflecting the red fire-light like mirrors. Over the
chimney-piece hung a portrait, by Vandyke, of a pale, dark cavalier, of
noble mien, and with arched eyebrows, called by Lilias, in defiance of
dates, by the name of Sir Maurice de Mohun, the hero of the family,
and allowed by every one to be a striking likeness of Claude, the youth
who at that moment lay, extending a somewhat superfluous length of
limb upon the sofa, which was placed commodiously at right angles to
the fire.
The other side of the fire was Mr. Mohun's special domain, and there
he sat at his writing-table, abstracted by deafness and letter writing,
from the various sounds of mirth and nonsense, which proceeded from
the party round the long narrow sofa table, which they had drawn
across the front of the fire, leaving the large round centre table in
darkness and oblivion.
This party had within the last half hour been somewhat thinned; the
three younger girls had gone to bed, the Rector of Beechcroft, Mr.
Robert Devereux, had been called home to attend some parish business,
and there remained Emily and Lilias--tall graceful girls, with soft hazel
eyes, clear dark complexions, and a quantity of long brown curls. The
latter was busily completing a guard for the watch, which Mr.
Hawkesworth had presented to Reginald, a fine handsome boy of
eleven, who, with his elbows on the table, sat contemplating her
progress, and sometimes teasing his brother Maurice, who was
earnestly engaged in constructing a model with some cards, which he
had pilfered from the heap before Emily. She was putting her sister's

wedding cards into their shining envelopes, and directing them in
readiness for the post the next morning, while they were sealed by a
youth of the same age as Claude, a small slim figure, with light
complexion and hair, and dark gray eyes full of brightness and vivacity.
He was standing, so as to be more on a level with the high candle, and
as Emily's writing was not quite so rapid as his sealing, he amused
himself in the intervals with burning his own fingers, by twisting the
wax into odd shapes.
'Why do you not seal up his eyes?' inquired Reginald, with an arch
glance towards his brother on the sofa.
'Do it yourself, you rogue,' was the answer, at the same time
approaching with the hot sealing-wax in his hand--a demonstration
which occasioned Claude to open his eyes very wide, without giving
himself any further trouble about the matter.
'Eh?' said he, 'now they try to look innocent, as if no one could hear
them plotting mischief.'
'Them! it was not!--Redgie there--young ladies--I appeal--was not I as
innocent?'--was the very rapid, incoherent, and indistinct answer.
'After so lucid and connected a justification, no more can be said,'
replied Claude, in a kind of 'leave me, leave me to repose' tone, which
occasioned Lilias to say, 'I am afraid you are very tired.'
'Tired! what has he done to tire him?'
'I am sure a wedding is a terrible wear of spirits!' said Emily-- 'such
excitement.'
'Well--when I give a spectacle to the family next year, I mean to tire
you to some purpose.'
'Eh?' said Mr. Mohun, looking up, 'is Rotherwood's wedding to be the
next?'
'You ought to understand, uncle,' said Lord Rotherwood, making two
stops towards him, and speaking a little more clearly, 'I thought you
longed to get