Page:ONCE A WEEK JUL TO DEC 1860.pdf/469

 20, 1860.] the family, and received them with little stiffness for her—still, stiffly enough. The old Squire was too ill to be in the drawing-room, they were to find him at the dining-table; thus the Colonel gave Lucy his hand, and led her through the grand hall amid the powdered men; my dear, if Lucy had thought, she might have known that she never could be mistress in such a house, or wife of such a fine gentleman—her father was but a solicitor.”

“Oh!” said Isabella, as if this announcement made the heroine much less interesting.

“So good, so upright, so honoured a man,” pursued Mrs. Margaret, with her calm smile, “that Lucy never wished it otherwise. Well, I am talking of the Colonel handing Lucy across the hall—her first touch of the strong, tender hand of that good gallant man. How she treasured it, and still treasures its memory. Well, after dinner the four elders fell to whist, and the Colonel and Lucy were left alone. She was well educated for those days, and if he had not profited much by his education, in early life, he had seen much service, and used his wits since. He talked, and she was at home enough in his subjects to make a good listener, and to make proper answers. Once or twice she fancied my lady turned and eyed them a little sharply, but this, I think, was only her fancy. Lady Anne then never for a moment dreamt of her son’s thinking of such a simple girl. Well, the next day Lucy and her father went home. Augusta was the first to come and see her. Lucy was wonderfully shy and unwilling to speak of her visit. Augusta pressed and rallied her, until she laid her head on her friend’s shoulder, burst into tears, and told of that frank, gracious gentleman, Thomas Red—worth. She poured out her full heart in praise, till Augusta laughed, and said, ‘Take care how you let me see him. If he be such perfection, I shall want him for myself.’

“My dear, ‘There is many a true word spoken in jest.’ The next assembly night came, and there, to Lucy’s surprise, was Colonel Redworth. How she blushed and started—how her heart beat. He made his way to her, he asked the honour of her hand for all the cotillons that evening. Poor silly girl, she consented. How happily she danced, every step a pleasure. Well, it is well to be young and happy after all! At supper Lucy sat next Augusta. She longed to hear her opinion of her partner. It did not come. At length she ventured to say:

‘Did I say one word too much?’

‘No, no, indeed,’ answered Augusta, quickly. Then, laughing, ‘He is vastly superior to any one here.’

“They left the room together. Lucy saw Colonel Redworth’s eye follow them, glance from her to her companion, back to her, and then rest upon her companion. Isabella—from that moment she was jealous of her friend. She sat down on the nearest seat, Augusta lingered only a moment beside her, and then went to her mother. She, too, felt that they were henceforth rivals.

“Elsie,” continued the old lady, clasping her hands upon her lap, “I cannot follow that winter through, it was shameful to both; they set themselves one against the other, they struggled each to be the lovelier. Sir Thomas and Lady Anne came to town; their weight went with the better born and more wealthy, otherwise I think Lucy would not have been forgotten. As it was, she was. She felt her chance was hopeless; Elsie, in her weak love she knelt and prayed Augusta to have mercy, and—was mocked and scorned. Each night Augusta gained ground, Lucy sat by and watched her triumph. My dear, early in the spring, Mr. Redworth married her.”

“And she led him a dog of a life ever after, I hope?”

“My love, I never wished so. I cannot justify Augusta, but I do not judge as I did then. Then Lucy had many admirers but few lovers, for she had little position and no fortune—then all I thought of was David and the ‘one ewe lamb.’

“My dear, I need not tell you that from that day Lucy and Augusta never met, never wrote. Lucy thought her heart would break. My dear, how often we think so, when life has plenty of cares and pleasures yet. Pride made her first bear up, then, thank God, the Bible. And she had a father for whom to live, who never again lost his first place in her affections.

“Well, my dear, only three years later, I saw Colonel Redworth’s death in the Gentleman’s Magazine. The name never met Lucy’s eyes again. Years passed on, her father died in a good old age; Time had healed her wound. She smiled now at her simplicity in thinking ever to be the wife of such a man: and rejoiced that the temptation to leave her father alone, yea, to desert him—what must she have done else in becoming daughter-in-law to Sir Thomas and Lady Anne?—had never been set before her. Time, I say, had healed this wound, but there was one he could not heal. The rankling indignation and shame at Augusta’s treachery. She still called her friend’s conduct by no gentler name. So sharp had been the fight, each had learnt well nigh to hate the other, and they forgot, as we too often do, ‘he that hateth his brother is a murderer.’ And yet this, when Lucy thought the grave must have closed over Augusta, and that her own time must be short.

“Well, my love, Lucy had grown an old woman. Her ties were very few. My love, when life is waning away, it is hard to feel we shall leave no one behind to mourn us and to miss us,—so selfish are we to the end! She was staying for a few days in the new home of one of the few friends left her, the daughter of a friend of early days, now a grandmother herself,—one who at the time of Lucy’s fiercest trial had been yet unborn. The young people were going to explore an old manor house twelve miles distant, open to the public by the courtesy of the owner one day in each week. The day came. Mrs. Tylecote was not able to go with them. Poor things! no one could bear them to be disappointed, and Lucy offered to take her place, little used to such doings now.

“She was very sad and lonely just then. Two days before she had heard, as she believed, of the death of the last friend left her of her own generation. But the morning was bright and sunny, her young friends happy and merry, and, my dear, before they reached the manor house, Mrs. Lucy