mind misgave her as she saw the brightening eye with which he said it; but she could not but like the youth himself, he was so bright, unspoilt, and engaging that she could not think him capable of doing wilful wrong to her darling. Yet how soon would the young soldier, plunged into the midst of fashionable society, learn to look on the fair girl with the dissipated eyes of his associates? There was some comfort in finding that Mr. Wayland was expected to return in less than a year, and that his stepson seemed to regard him with unbounded respect, as a good, just, and wise man, capable of everything! Indeed Sir Amyas enlightened Mr. Arden on the scientific construction of some of Mr. Wayland’s inventions so as to convince both the clergyman and the soldier that the lad himself was no fool, and had profited by his opportunities.
Major Delavie produced his choice Tokay, a present from an old Hungarian brother-officer, and looked happier than since Aurelia’s departure. He was no match-maker, and speculated on no improbable contingencies for his daughter, but he beheld good hopes for the Delavie property and tenants in an heir such as this, and made over his simple loyal heart to the young man. Presently he inquired whether the unfortunate Mr. Belamour still maintained his seclusion.
“Yes, sir,” was the reply. “He still lives in two dark rooms with shutters and curtains excluding every ray of light. He keeps his bed for the greater part of the day, but sometimes, on a very dark night, will take a turn on the terrace.”
“Poor gentleman!” said Betty. “Has he no employment or occupation?”
“Mr. Wayland contrived a raised chess and draught board, and persuaded him to try a few games before we went abroad, but I do not know whether he has since continued it.”
“Does he admit any visits?”
“Oh no. He has been entirely shut up, except from the lawyer, Hargrave, on business. Mr. Wayland, indeed, strove to rouse him from his despondency, but without success, except that latterly he became willing to receive him.”
“Have you ever conversed with him?”
There was an ingenuous blush as the young man replied. “I fear I must confess myself remiss. Mr. Wayland has sometimes carried me with him to see my uncle, but not with my good will, and my mother objected lest it should break my spirits. However, when I left Gibraltar, my good father charged me to endeavour from time to time to enliven my uncle’s solitude, but there were impediments to my going to him, and I take shame to myself for not having striven to overcome them.”
“Rightly spoken, my young kinsman,” cried the Major. “There are no such impediments as a man’s own distaste.”
“And pity will remove that,” said Betty.
Soon after the removal of the cloth the ladies withdrew, and Eugene was called to his catechism, but he was soon released, for the Tokay had made her father sleepy, while it seemed to have emboldened Mr. Arden, since he came forth with direct intent to engross Harriet; and Sir Amyas wandered towards Betty, apologising for the interruption.
“It is a rare occasion,” said she as her pupil scampered away.
“Happy child, to be taught by so good a sister,” said the young baronet, regretfully.
“Your young half-brothers and sisters must be of about the same age,” said Betty.
“My little brother, Archer, is somewhat younger. He is with my mother in London, the darling of the ladies, who think him a perfect beauty, and laugh at all his mischievous pranks. As to my little sisters, you will be surprised to hear that I have only seen them once, when I rode with their father to see them at the farm houses at which they are nursed.”
“No doubt they are to be fetched home, since Mrs. Dove is gone to wait on them, and my Lady said something of intending my sister to be with her young children.”
“Nay, she must have no such troublesome charge. My mother cannot intend anything of the kind. I shall see that she is treated as–”
Betty, beginning to perceive that he knew as little of his own mother as did the rest of his sex, here interrupted him. “Excuse me, sir, I doubt not of your kind intentions, but let me speak, for Aurelia is a very precious child to me, and I am afraid that any such attempt on your part might do her harm rather than good. She must be content with the lot of a poor dependant.”
“Never!” he exclaimed. “She is a Delavie; and besides, no other ever shall be my wife.”
“Hush, hush!” Betty had been saying before the words were out of his “You are but a silly boy, begging your Honour’s pardon, though you speak, I know, with all your heart. What would your Lady mother say or do to my poor little sister if she heard you?”
“She could but send her home, and then flood and fire could not hold me from her.”
“I wish that were the worst she could do. No, Sir Amyas Belamour, if you have any kindness for the poor helpless girl under your mother’s roof, you will make no advance to excite alarm or anger against her. Remember it is she who will be the sufferer and not yourself. The woman, however guiltless, is sure to fall under suspicion and bear the whole penalty. And oh! what would become of her, defenceless, simple, unprotected as she is?”
“Yet you sent her!” said he.
“Yes,” said Betty, sadly, “because there was no other choice between breaking with my Lady altogether.”
He made an ejaculation under his breath, half sad, half violent, and exclaimed, “Would that I were of age, or my father were returned.”
“But now you know all, you will leave my child in peace,” said Betty.
“What, you would give me no hope!”
“Only such as you yourself have held out,” said Betty. “When you are your own master, if you keep in the same mind till then, and remain truly worthy, I cannot tell what my father would answer.”
“I am going to speak to him this very day. I came with that intent.”
“Do no such thing, I entreat,” cried Betty. “He would immediately think it his duty to inform my Lady. Then no protestation would persuade her that we had not entrapped your youth and innocence. His grey head would be driven out without shelter, and what might not be the consequence to my sister? You could not help us, and could only make it worse. No, do nothing rash, incautious, or above all, disobedient. It would be self-love, not true love that would risk bringing her into peril and trouble when she is far out of reach of all protection.”
“Trust me, trust me, Cousin Betty,” cried the youth. “Only let me hope, and I’ll be caution itself; but oh! what an endless eternity is two years to wait without a sign!”
But here appeared the Major, accompanied by Captain Herries and Dean Churchill, who had ordered out his coach, Sunday though it were, to pay his respects to my Lady’s son, and carry him and his hosts back to sup at the Deanery. It was an age of adulation, but Betty was thankful that perilous conversations were staved off.
CHAPTER VII. ALL ALONE
By the simplicity of Venus’ doves.
Merchant of Venice.
That Sunday was spent by Aurelia at the Bear Inn, at Reading. Her journey had been made by very short stages, one before breakfast, another lasting till noon, when there was a long halt for dinner
