Modern Flirtations: A Novel

by Catherine Sinclair

  CHAPTER VI.

  The most popular girl at Mrs. Penfold's "Seminary for Young Ladies,"near Edinburgh, was Marion Dunbar, too much loved by her companions tobe envied; admired by all, and almost idolized by each, while beneaththe gay, sparkling surface of her joyous disposition, there rolled ona warm current of sensibility and feeling sufficient to repay, andmore than repay, all the deep tenderness and enthusiastic affectionshe excited among the little circle of her young and ardent friends.

  Cast in the finest mould of classical beauty, and formed mentally aswell as personally in the very poetry of nature, the perfect grace andsymmetry of her features became enlivened frequently by a rich andradiant smile, like a Hebe, glowing with the richest hues of healthand joy. Her splendid eyes sparkled with every passing emotion,sometimes dimmed for a moment by tears of sensibility, but usuallyglittering with smiles, while occasionally, when amused or delighted,she burst into a comic, elfish laugh, the very essence of glee andjoyousness--a most enlivening accompaniment to what she said, whileher conversation, always fresh and unpremeditated, rushed straightfrom her heart, fresh and natural as a mountain stream.

  The color of a violet was not more deeply blue than the dark,unfathomable eyes of Marion, shaded by a fringe of eye-lashes thatmight have been mistaken for black. No description could do justice tothe fascination of her smile, without one shade of affectation, whileher pure transparent complexion, fresh as a bouquet of roses, took aricher tint from all the fleeting emotions which chased each otherthrough her mind. A rich profusion of nut-brown hair played around herhigh arched forehead of alabaster whiteness, and a thousand laughingdimples quivered around her delicately-formed mouth, giving her amerry, joyous look of girlish beauty, varied occasionally by a meltingsoftness of expression when she looked on any countenance that sheloved. On one occasion, a celebrated sculptor asked Sir Patrick'spermission to take a cast of Marion's head, and on obtaining thedesired permission, he observed, that if those features could beturned into marble, he would stake his whole fame on the impossibilityof any critic pointing out a single defect. But while admiration isgiven by the eye of an artist merely to symmetry, expression is themystery of beauty; and the charm of Marion, in the estimation of herfriends, was, that her face seemed like a mirror formed to reflectevery emotion of their own hearts.

  The most stern and morose of human beings must have been conciliatedinto some degree of regard by the deep tenderness of a character"without one jarring atom form'd," which seemed made only to love andto be loved. While her gay fancy revelled in "cheerful yesterdays andconfident to-morrows," the flowers that grew around her path, thebirds that sang as she passed, the very turf beneath her feet, and thesky above her head, called forth her feelings. She had a tear to sparefor the sorrows of every one who claimed her sympathy, and a readysmile for the joys of all her companions, while yet a great deal ofunoccupied love remained at her disposal, the chief portion of whichwas bestowed with prodigal enthusiasm on her indulgent uncle SirArthur, whose doting affection would have spoiled any otherdisposition, but only rendered her more keenly to merit and to deservehis partiality.

  In the estimation of Sir Arthur, his "little Marion" never became aday older, and he considered her a perfect prodigy in everything shesaid or did, watching all her words, and entering into all herjuvenile feelings with a versatility of mind astonishing at hisadvanced age. Nothing on earth is more touching than to see the warmthof sensibility and enthusiasm yet surviving the chill of many a yearin this disappointing and sorrowing world; but there was a degree ofmutual confidence between Sir Arthur and his young niece which canseldom exist with a disparity of years and circumstances. Besides allher feminine gentleness, and almost poetical gracefulness ofcharacter, Marion yet displayed at times a power of intellect and anenergetic strength of character for which a superficial observer wouldhave been totally unprepared; for her mind seemed always to rise inproportion to the occasion, while she had been born apparently topractise without reserve that beautiful Christian rule, for eachindividual always to consider himself last. Rarely are deep feelingsand intense sensibility united with that high intelligence of mind,and that vivid gladness of spirit peculiar to Marion; but the streamof her mind was deep as well as sparkling, while during her earlyyears sorrow flitted through her cheerful, laughter-loving mind, likethe shadow of a butterfly in a bright sunny flower-bed. Pleased "sheknew not why, and car'd not wherefore," there was a peculiar grace inall she did, and an infectious merriment in all she said, whichattracted a joyous group of companions continually around her, on whomthe light of her own buoyant vivacity seemed to be continually andbrightly reflected.

  Nothing could be more pleasing and characteristic than to observe therefined ingenuity with which, from the earliest age, Marion tried toevade receiving the multitude of little presents with which it was SirArthur's delight to surprise her. Trinkets and toys would havemultiplied around her, if she had not frequently made an ostentationof possessing more than it was possible for her to use; and when SirArthur allowed her a choice in any gift he was about to force on heracceptance, she invariably selected that which seemed least expensive;and her uncle afterwards told, that when, on the twelfth anniversaryof her birthday, he clasped a beautiful Maltese chain round her neck,she said to him, with a deepening color and faltering voice, "I wouldlike better to love you for nothing, uncle Arthur! My drawers upstairs are like a jeweler's shop already. You know I inherited halfdear mamma's ornaments, and Patrick says you bring Rundell and Bridgein your pocket every time I have a holiday; but I would be quite ashappy to see you all for yourself."

  The merry-eyed Marion seemed to "wear her heart upon her sleeve," andto see only what was best in all those with whom she associated. Withher small means, it was truly astonishing how frequently andingeniously she invented some unobtrusive way of conferring a favor onher companions, as if she were receiving rather than bestowing one;and it certainly appeared as if she scarcely knew the difference.There was not an individual among her numerous young contemporarieswho did not often relate traits of goodness in one whom they alwaysfound ready to answer the largest drafts that could be drawn upon hergood offices, while the cheerfulness of her mind reflected itself onall.

  If one of her young friends rushed joyously forward to announce someunexpected success, Marion's features seemed as if they had been puttogether only for smiles and laughter, while her bright eye glitteredwith instant gladness, and a glow of color mounted to her dimplingcheek, as she felt and expressed with spontaneous warmth all thatkindness could dictate, and more; but if some unforeseen afflictionvisited the hearts of her juvenile associates, there seemed no limitsto the patience with which she listened to their complaints, or to theeager assiduity with which she endeavored to alleviate their sorrow.The most trifling attentions she never overlooked, were it merely thetying of a string, or the picking up of a handkerchief, which she didwith a good-humored grace all her own, and the trifling actions oflife are those by which the character can generally be most justlyappreciated. Great achievements are a conspicuous embroidery laid onthe surface often for effect, but the ground-work and material areformed of what is most unobtrusive and often scarcely noticed. WithMarion, every kind and generous feeling was as natural as perfume tothe violet, and equally inseparable from her daily existence; herideas were fresh and vivid, while her manner was thoroughlyfascinating and thoroughly feminine, at the same time that all thegrace of look and expression added a surpassing charm to her livelyand intelligent conversation, every word of which sprang from thespontaneous impulse of a heart full of natural emotion andstraightforward sentiments.

  Many a difficult exercise she had secretly assisted to write for heryoung contemporaries, many an unintelligible drawing she had touchedup, many a dress she had privately mended, many a little debt she hadclandestinely paid for her juvenile friends, and far from wishing tobe thanked, she shrunk with modest sensibility from letting herservices be over-estimated, even by those whom she had most exertedherself to oblige. Whenever a
kindness had been privately done atschool, the author of which could not be guessed at nor discovered,few hesitated to declare that it must have proceeded from MarionDunbar, and none were ever mistaken in saying so.

  It was indeed wonderful that the lovely and gay young school-girlfound time for a tenth part of her kind and tender affections, at Mrs.Penfold's first-rate seminary for what Sir Arthur called"fiddle-faddle education." There no taste was inculcated for quietpursuits or domestic intercourse, and it was one of Mrs. Penfold'sfavorite axioms, that nature is always vulgar; but in her zeal for thehonor of her establishment she seemed resolute to make every pupil anAdmirable Chrichton,--or more,--not in studying the experience of pastages, and reading the thoughts and feelings which have been recordedfor their instruction by millions of the best and wisest of theirpredecessors in life, but in all the frivolities of existence; and tothis end the pupils were stinted in sleep and food, while they pursueda course of application more incessant, though not so profound, asthat of students for a double first class at Oxford. The most eminentmasters were in hourly attendance to cultivate every thing but theheart or understanding. The various arts of killing or of wasting timewere taught in perfection, by the best, or at least by the mostfashionable teachers; and, as the Admiral disapprovingly remarked toher brother, "little Marion was surrounded by professors of everything on earth,--by professors of trumpery in all its branches, but byno professors of common sense!"

  With Mrs. Penfold each pupil was a favorite in exact proportion as sheappeared likely to acquire a talent for the difficult art of rising inthe world, by which she might reflect credit and celebrity on thetheatre of her education; and it seemed, therefore, by no meansintended as an expression of kindness, when the lady was heard one dayimpatiently to exclaim in accents of reproach, "Marion Dunbar is allheart, and no head! Some girls do nothing, but she does less thannothing; and though she gets on in years, she gets on in no otherthing!"

  Wearily busied in being taught, Marion yet felt that there was noincitement, and one only, which made every effort a pleasure, while itgave life to the dull routine of her heartless labors, and thatincitement was her fervent, incessant desire to please, not thedictate of vanity, but of spontaneous sensibility; and while, with herbright and beaming looks, she was by no means a prodigy, Marion verymuch under-rated her own powers, believing, in the simplicity of herheart, that she really was the most hopeless dunce on many subjects,only able to recommend herself by diligence and by alacrity to oblige.

  Even Mrs. Penfold was disarmed of half her severity, by the eagernesswith which Marion, buoyant with youth, and joyous as a bird on wing,undertook any task, or suffered any penance to compensate for suchlittle _etourderies_ as had caused her to be in temporary disgrace; andthe stern schoolmistress herself could not but smile sometimes in themidst of her gravest lecture, to observe the look of extreme anxietyand self-reproach with which Marion listened to the catalogue of hersmall indiscretions, and the grateful joy with which she heard thatthere were any terms on which she might yet be restored to favor.Caroline Smythe, her most frolicsome companion, frequently amusedherself by inventing imaginary scrapes into which Marion was supposedto have fallen, and by sending her express to Mrs. Penfold for areprimand, while the lively girl watched, in laughing ambuscade, forthe bright beaming smile which flashed into the supposed culprit'scountenance, the instant she unexpectedly found herself honorablyacquitted.

  Thus the foundation of Marion's mind was laid, and these were thelight breezes that ruffled the smooth current of her life; butenchanted by the slightest pleasures, few ever bore the burden of herannoyances so lightly, while a brilliant painted curtain hung over thefuture, filled with images of anticipated joy, to be realized in alltheir brightness and beauty, as soon as she became emancipated fromthe dreary thralldom of Mrs. Penfold's manufactory of young ladies.

  Meantime, Marion's mind grew and flourished, like some rare andbeautiful plant injudiciously cultivated, yet glowing in almostunprecedented luxuriance. Plunged in this inextricable labyrinth ofeducational troubles, she had to undergo lessons from sunrise tillsunset, while all the varied arts, sciences, and languages were piledpromiscuously on her brain, like an ill-grown coppice, distorted andstunted for want of more judicious thinning and training. She couldname things in every language, but was told nothing of their natureand properties; while, as Sir Arthur complained, "poor little Marionwas taught plenty of sound, but no sound sense, except what she hadinherited by nature, without paying L100 a-year for it."

  In music Marion displayed great taste and expression, while herflexible, richly-toned voice poured out sometimes a flood of harmonymost exquisite to hear, as the pathos of her full round intonationsdrew forth the feeling and sympathy of all her auditors. Expression inmusic is like expression of countenance, not to be taught or acquired,but the spontaneous result of natural emotion, and with Marion musicwas almost a passion, for her whole spirit seemed instinct withmelody, while her lark-like voice trilled its liquid notes with joyfulhilarity.

  Signors and Signoras, who might have fitted their pupils to becomechorus-singers at the opera, were multiplied around the young ladiesat Mrs. Penfold's "College of Frivolity," followed in ceaselesssuccession by Messieurs and Mesdames, who taught the young ladies tomaltreat pianofortes, by playing on them at the rate of 100 miles anhour, or to speak foreign languages better than the natives, and towrite them better than they could write their own;--

  While hands, lips, and eyes were put to school, And each instructed feature had its rule.

  On Sunday evenings, for the sake of effect, the girls were regularlyassembled to prayers, which were conducted like those of Frederick theGreat's soldiers, being performed simultaneously at the word ofcommand as a part of their exercise, without a semblance of reverence,and within a very limited number of minutes, while they were hastilyslurred over by Mrs. Penfold herself, with scarcely an external aspectof solemnity or interest. Sunday had long been considered by all thepupils at Mrs. Penfold's as a privileged day for writing letters,wearing best bonnets, peeping from behind a red silk curtain at thecongregation, criticising the clergyman's manner, dress, andappearance, discussing, in suppressed whispers, who it would bepossible or impossible for them to think of marrying, and enjoyingrather a longer walk than common in strolling to church and returningagain.

  Any knowledge of the Bible inculcated at Mrs. Penfold's was like allthe other acquirements taught in that establishment, more for showthan use. Each young pupil could repeat by heart, without hesitationor mistake, the whole history of Jacob, Abraham, and any of thepatriarchs, prophets, or apostles, and enumerate all the kings whoever reigned over Israel, but they remained utterly uninstructedrespecting the influence which the Divine revelation should obtainover their own life and character, nor were they ever taught toinquire what was their own nature, why they were placed upon theearth, and whither they were likely to go after this perishable worldhad passed from their sight. Summer flowers alone were implanted intheir minds, but no thoughts, hopes, or affections, such as may lastfor winter wear. To them their birth seemed merely to have been thecommencement of an existence, given entirely for their own individualpleasure or advantage, which was finally to terminate at their death.

  Before Marion had been long at school, however, she formed an intimacywhich produced a permanent and most happy effect on all her subsequentlife and feelings. Clara Granville, several years older than herself,had been nurtured, like her brother, in holiness, and in everydomestic excellence, while she lived only for the dictates of achastened and sanctified heart. Delicate in health, and fragile inextreme to appearance, there was something almost seraphic in thedelicate purity of her lovely countenance, and in the tranquilcomposure of her graceful manner. During a long and tedious illness,with which Clara was seized, a short time before leaving school, shetestified a tender and almost exclusive affection for Marion, whospent all her leisure hours--or rather moments, for hours were scarceat Mrs. Penfold's--in the most assiduous attention to
the belovedinvalid, and in imbibing those elements of good, those feelings andprinciples of religion which were to be guides of all her future life,and thus she became, before long, an enlightened, well informed, anddeeply pious Christian, not shrinking from the society of one whoexcelled herself, but humbly and gratefully seeking, on all occasions,her advice and instruction, while both had their hearts filled with afervent desire, steadily and consistently to pursue their own bestinterests, and an anxious wish also to succor and benefit others, inall the troubles and sorrows of life, though Marion was apt to feellike the poet,--

  Ready to aid all beings, I would go The world around to succor human woe, Yet am so largely happy, that it seems, There are no woes, and sorrows are but dreams.

  Marion's health and spirits were refreshed and invigorated by frequentexcursions to visit Sir Arthur, who endeared himself to his eageryoung auditors, Henry and Marion, by expatiating with all thefreshness of youth, to their wondering ears, on the times long past,when holidays, romping, sight-seeing, birth-days, and festivals, werestill in fashion, but these were the days of his own boyhood, beforechildren were too wise and busy to have time for natural enjoyment.The Admiral was thought, by Mrs. Penfold, a sad marplot, havingalready, as she knew, done all in his power to dissuade Sir Patrickfrom placing the "little fairy," as he called his favorite, in such atread-mill as her school-room, where he said the only knowledge to beacquired was, that knowledge of the world which ruins the heart, andwhere fascination was to be taught as one of the fine arts, but allhis representations, whether in jest or in earnest, were in vain. SirPatrick, being the guardian of both his sisters, had determined toexpend a considerable part of the provision bequeathed by their fatherin training them up as carefully, for the course of fashionable life,as he would have trained a promising race-horse which was expected towin the St. Leger, confidently anticipating a short and brilliantcareer of admiration and success, ending with a splendid trousseau, achariot and four, and a profusion of wedding favors.

  Even the gay, frolicsome Caroline Smythe, many years older thanMarion, and the most seditious and unruly of pupils, became speedilytamed down to mechanical obedience at school, where, losing hernaturally intense enjoyment of mere existence, she seemed at bestalmost a habitual drudge in the usual routine of labor. There was amystery never apparently to be fathomed about this lively girl, whichexcited the most intense curiosity among her companions, but thoughshe was gifted with an extraordinary degree of volubility, whichastonished and diverted the whole school, talking in a rapid andirregular manner of all events, past, present, or to come, with abrilliant confusion of drollery and humor, still she never dropped ahint which threw the most transient light on her own situation andaffairs. No one knew whence she came or who she was, but thoughdefying all the powers of all the masters to render her accomplished,yet Mrs. Penfold evidently treated her with extraordinaryconsideration, and almost with respect.

  Many were the restrictions and directions given respecting her to thescholars and teachers, which seemed to them most unaccountable, andseveral of which were voted by the juvenile community to be sopeculiarly barbarous and oppressive, that though the young ladyherself seemed neither surprised nor annoyed by the rigid watchfulnessexercised over all her motions, it excited among her companions anindignant pity, and a keen spirit of partizanship. She was never onany occasion known to walk with the governesses and the other girlsbeyond the narrow limits of the high garden walls, and on Sundays,instead of attending the parish church, it was observed that one ofthe teachers invariably remained at home to read prayers with her. Nogeneral invitations sent for all the pupils by the friends of othergirls, were ever accepted for Caroline, who had special permission tovisit with Marion at Sir Arthur Dunbar's, but at no other house in thevisible world.

  She never spoke of home,--received no letters, and once only had avisitor, an object of keen and eager scrutiny to the little gossipingcommunity of Dartmore House, who discovered nothing more, however,than that Caroline's aunt, Mrs. Smythe, was a gay, fantastic-looking,showily-dressed little woman of no certain age, for whom her nieceseemed to care very little, as the whole flood of her affections wasconcentrated on her companions at school. Money she had in the mostlavish abundance, while she squandered it with a degree of reckless,and almost contemptuous profusion, perfectly startling to those whoscarcely received as much in a year as she seemed able to spend in aday on presents for those she loved, which was the chief use to whichher large funds were devoted.

  Marion, the companion and pet of her two elder companions, Clara andCaroline, tried with all her powers to extend her affection also toMrs. Penfold, but her feelings found nothing to feed upon in the cold,formal, rigid manner, and stern upright appearance of theschoolmistress, who repelled all intercourse with her pupils,considering them necessary grievances to be endured in her house, as asource of existence to herself, but not of pleasure. Towards theselittle slaves of education, driven from task to task with ceaselesspertinacity, no confidence was shown, and between them conversationbecame systematically discouraged. A governess was appointed to sleepin each room to secure silence among the pupils, few of whom had thatglow of heart and imagination peculiar to Marion, and it wasfortunate, perhaps, that her large stock of sympathy was not morefrequently in requisition, as the most astounding confidences weresometimes imparted to her wondering ears.

  One young lady, in a high fever of romance, described to Marion atgreat length, in the strictest confidence, an elopement which tookplace from the school where she had last been educated, on whichoccasion the young narrator had accompanied the bride part of her way,and returned home without detection, by climbing in at an open window.Another of the pupils asked if she did not think Monsieur D'Ambereau,the Italian master, wore singularly handsome mustachios, adding thatit was a very common custom now for noblemen to go about in disguise,teaching at boarding-schools, in order to see the young ladies; and athird of Marion's young friends pointed out to her notice that many aringlet appeared to be more carefully curled than usual, and many adress to be put on with unwonted solicitude, when Monsieur Frescati,the singing-master, was expected.

  Girls in a boarding school are as unnaturally situated as nuns in aconvent, where the feelings and emotions, being checked in theirspontaneous course, are thrust into channels for which they never wereoriginally intended. Marion had a sufficient object in view, everytime she entered a room, from the desire she felt to please all withwhom she associated, which gave a vent to the warmth of her affectionsin seeking the reciprocal attachment of her companions; but many ofthe other pupils, shut out from nature with her sunshine and flowers,her feelings and emotions, and wearied by a monotonous, uneventfullife of dictionaries and grammars, snatched at every legitimate orillegitimate source of novelty or excitement, and their conversationbecame as frivolous as a toy-shop, while the hopeless vacancy of theirthoughts obtained relief if even a blind fiddler or a hand-organappeared beneath their windows. It was an object of romantic interestfor the day, to most of the girls, if an officer in uniform passedalong the high-road within sight; an equestrian in plain clothes, iftolerably mounted, furnished them with a subject of exclamationsduring the following half-hour, and even the very Doctor, a merecountry pill-box, who prescribed for Mrs. Penfold's pupils, beingwell-dressed, and not much above forty, would himself have beenastonished could he possibly have guessed the interest excited by hisvisits, and the keen discussion that ensued after his exit, respectinghis slightly grey hair, and brilliant yellow gloves.

  Each young lady at school had a large assortment of romantic storiesto relate, in a confidential under-tone, to her listening companions,of lovers who had committed suicide, gone mad, or been, at the veryleast, rendered miserable for life, in consequence of a disappointedattachment; while the whole party impatiently anticipated the time,not perhaps far distant, when their own turn would come to beidolized, admired, courted, and finally married to some "perfectlove," with title, fortune, and establishment all pre-eminentlysuper
lative. Pure as the swan that passes through the darkest and mostturbid stream, with plumage unsoiled, Marion's mind, in the meantime,remained untainted by the atmosphere of evil and frivolity around her.She caught at all that seemed good, avoided what was evil, andrejected every thought that might injure the unsophisticatedexcellence of her artless mind.

  There arose, however, in time, one source of individual anxiety toMarion, known only to herself and Mrs. Penfold; but it increased inweight and urgency every year, throwing occasionally a shadow of careover that bright young countenance, in general so beaming with joy,though with true philosophy Marion tried often to forget what it hadproved impossible for her to remedy. Once a quarter, or at leastduring every successive "half," the mortifying fact forced itself uponher observation, that no bills were so irregularly paid as her own;for while their amount rapidly accumulated, Sir Patrick's agentforwarded annually the very smallest instalments, with a thousandapologies, and many promises of a final satisfactory settlement atsome future period, which period never seemed any nearer; and Mrs.Penfold often dryly remarked, in the hearing of Marion, that "shortaccounts make long friends."

  An appeal to Sir Arthur for his interference often occasionallysuggested itself to the mind of Marion; but she knew that hisinfluence was less than nothing, and she greatly feared lest hisvehement partiality to herself might lead him to overlook the verylimited nature of his income, and to volunteer some generoussacrifice, such as she would rather suffer any privations thanoccasion. The pension and half-pay of Sir Arthur very barely sufficed,she knew, to defray his extensive charities, and to furnish sometimesthe hospitable table, and the bottle of first-rate claret, round whichit was his delight to gather a frequent circle of old brotheradmirals; but his purse was little calculated to stand the shock ofsuch a draft as Sir Patrick would unhesitatingly have drawn upon it,had the idea occurred to him that Sir Arthur might perhaps be inducedto take Marion's school bills upon himself.

  In no instance was it more obvious than in that of Sir Patrick Dunbar,how precisely in society men are generally estimated at their ownvaluation. He was, like his sisters, pre-eminently handsome, while thehauteur of his demeanor, bordering on a sort of well-bred contempt forothers, rendered his slightest notice an event of considerablemagnitude even to many whom the world might have deemed his superiorsin rank, fortune, and talents. There were a few exclusives, however,among his own exclusive set, whom he admitted to the most unboundedfamiliarity and good fellowship, inviting them to entertainments,given much more as an ostentatious display of wealth and taste, thanfrom any feeling that might be dignified with the name of friendship;and thus, by a reckless and unbounded profusion in dress, equipage,and hospitality, unchecked by one sentiment of justice or of prudence,the young Baronet obtained universal celebrity for his generosity andgood humor,--anecdotes of which were circulated with delightedapprobation in every house.

  He was known to have tossed a sovereign one day to an old woman at acottage door, for merely reaching him a glass of water; he paid thepost-boys double always when travelling; he gave ten pounds at aladies' bazaar, for a paper card-case, which he presented the nextmoment to Clara Granville; and he sent Marion a magnificent rosewoodbox, filled with crystal perfume bottles, and gold tops, which costtwenty pounds, when at that very time she had scarcely a frock to puton, and was in agonies of vexation under an unpaid shoemaker's bill.

  Sir Patrick's grooms and footmen always roundly estimated his incomeat L20,000 a year; and his rent-roll certainly exceeded that of allthe parents united who paid Mrs. Penfold regularly for cramming theirchildren's understandings; but while Sir Patrick made it a matter ofaccurate calculation to train Marion with skill and sagacity in theway most likely to take her speedily off his hands, yet it was no partof his calculation to pay for anything in money if he could do so inwords; and while he rattled off whole estates in a dice-box, and racedhimself into difficulties, entering horses for every cup, and dogs forevery coursing-match, he privately resolved that Marion and herembarrassments should always remain both out of sight and out of mind.

  Mrs. Penfold's grave and dry expression of countenance became graverand drier every time she contemplated the rapidly-increasing amount ofMarion's bill, while she urgently impressed on her pupil's mind theabsolute necessity of entreating more zealously than ever for thespeedy payment of such very old scores.

  Observing Sir Patrick so exceedingly profuse in his expenditure,however, Mrs. Penfold believed there could be no cause to apprehendany defalcation at last, being convinced that he might at any timedefray her demands with ease, though the only thing he never found itconvenient to command was ready money; and Marion soon discovered thatit made him frantic with ill-humor to be asked for any. Of thispeculiarity she had once an early instance, never afterwards to beforgotten. Having received from Sir Arthur, on her fifteenthbirth-day, the first five sovereigns which it had ever been her goodfortune to possess, she accidentally heard Sir Arthur laughinglycomplain during her mid-summer holidays at home, to Mr. De Crespigny,that he had arrived at the bank that morning too late to present adraft for money, and having given his last shilling to a beggar, hewas, according to his own expression, "completely cleaned out," nothaving enough even to pay for being admitted to the exhibition ofpictures, and actually put to some temporary inconvenience by hispenniless condition for that day.

  In all the pride of exhaustless wealth, Marion soon after stole up toher brother's side, and displayed her glittering treasure; but afraidto be suspected of conferring a favor, with intuitive delicacy sheasked Sir Patrick to take charge of it until the following Saturday,that she might consider what to purchase on that day. Scarcelyconscious of what she said or did, the young Baronet mechanicallydropped the sovereigns into his pocket, where sovereigns in generalhad a very short reign, and soon after sauntered away to the club.

  Day after day elapsed, week after week, and every time Sir Patrickentered the room, or drew out his pocket handkerchief, Marion thoughtshe was on the eve of being paid; but at length her holidays came to aclose, and still not a syllable transpired respecting her funds.Rendered desperate at last by anxiety to re-enter school, laden withpresents to her favorite companions, Marion, who valued money only asa means of being kind to others, ventured one day, with glowingcheeks, and faltering voice, to remind Sir Patrick, for the firsttime, of their little pecuniary transactions, which was so verytrifling that he had probably forgotten it.

  "You tiresome little dear! am I never to hear the last of thosesovereigns!" exclaimed he angrily, throwing down his newspaper. "Youdeserve not to be paid till Christmas! But here they are! No! I haveno change, I see, at present. Well! I shall remember it some othertime!"

  That "other time" never came, however, and Marion returned pennilessto school, sympathizing more fully than she had ever done before, inMrs. Penfold's lamentations respecting Sir Patrick's carelessnessabout money,--a subject which supplied that lady with a ready-madeexcuse, whenever she was out of humor at any rate, for venting it allon her unoffending pupil, whose sensitive heart became so imbued atlast with vexation and anxiety, that on attaining the age of sixteen,she ventured to pen an earnest appeal to Sir Patrick, begging with allthe eloquence of natural feeling, that if the expenses of hereducation were inconvenient, she might return home, where she wouldwillingly shew all the benefit derived from the advantages he hadalready afforded her, by continuing her studies alone, and by devotingherself entirely to his comfort, amusement, and happiness.

  This letter, which cost Marion agonies of thought, and a shower oftears, received no answer whatever; and with a sigh of unwonteddepression, she dismissed the subject from her thoughts, and trying tohope the best, quietly resumed the course of her occupations,comforted by the consolatory reflection, that in two years she wouldhave nothing more to learn--the whole range of human acquirement beingsupposed to attain its completion by each of Mrs. Penfold's pupils atthe age of eighteen.

  Clara Granville, and Caroline Smythe, having attained the highest acmeof perfecti
on under the finishing hand of Mrs. Penfold, were about tobe emancipated in a few months from the thralldom of school, and toastonish society by their brilliant acquirements; respecting the mostadvantageous mode of displaying which, great pains had been taken toinstruct them, though the inclination seemed wanting in both girls,being already surfeited with admiration and panegyric among theirmasters and governesses, who vied with each other in praising theirtwo most advanced pupils, by whose influence they hoped hereafter toobtain recommendations and employment.

  Marion had strolled one evening with Caroline, farther than MissSmythe had ever been known to venture before; and the two youngfriends were seated in an arbor at the extreme verge of the boundsprescribed by Mrs. Penfold, in earnest conversation, while watchingwith delight the declining sun, which superbly illuminated a heavymass of clouds in the western horizon. Time flew on, and darknessnearly closed around them while they discussed with lively, carelesshumor, all the petty annoyances of their daily life, and compared thelittle hopes and fears they entertained for the future. As the hourbecame later, Marion felt that the high exhilarating key in whichCaroline spoke, and her gay, well-rung-out laugh, made her almostnervous in the obscure and solitary retreat to which they hadwithdrawn; but ashamed of her own timidity, she determined to conqueror conceal it.

  Marion was flattered when a companion like Caroline, some years olderthan herself, thus treated her with familiarity; though certainly,neither on this occasion, nor on any other, was it with confidence, asno living being seemed entirely in the confidence of Miss Smythe, who,while she appeared gayly and heedlessly to rattle on in conversation,yet kept a cautious silence respecting all that concerned herself.

  Many very reserved persons pass for being perfectly open, by means ofa frank, free manner, and by speaking in a confidential toneconcerning the most private affairs of those with whom they converse;and this Caroline did to excess, asking Marion, with every appearanceof kindness, a hundred questions, which in her own case she eithercould not, or would not have answered, and testifying the mostcordial, unfeigned interest in all that related to the prospects orfeelings of her companion, who never attempted to conceal a wish or athought, and often forgot that the trust was not mutual.

  Caroline was talking eagerly with great animation, and telling Marionthat the only injury she never would forgive, was, if any of those sheloved had a sorrow that did not allow her to share with them; andespecially if they permitted themselves to suffer from any pecuniarydifficulties which it was within her power to relieve, when suddenlyMarion laid a hand on her arm, making a hurried signal for silence,while she whispered in a low undertone,

  "I have scarcely heard you for the last five minutes. Did you observethat strange-looking man, very much muffled up, who scrambled severalminutes ago to the top of the garden-wall? He was staring wildly abouthim for some time, then gliding noiselessly down, and has suddenlydisappeared?"

  "Where? where?" whispered Caroline, grasping Marion's hand with a lookof wild alarm, and speaking in a low, hoarse tone of extreme terror."For your life, Marion, do not stir! Tell me which way he went! Hemust not see us. O how on earth has he traced me out!"

  "Who?" asked Marion, bewildered and terrified, when she beheld adegree of frantic alarm depicted on the countenance of her companion,which seemed almost unaccountable. "Dear Caroline! whom do you fear?"

  "A madman!" replied Miss Smythe, in accents of mingled anger anddisgust. "He has haunted me for years! He threatens either to murderor to marry me; and you may guess which I think the worst! He has evenadopted my name! Did you never hear, Marion, that he actually put hismarriage to me last year in the newspapers! He besets myfootsteps--besieges my dwelling-place, persecutes me with letters,sends me his picture, follows me to church, throws stones at mywindows in the night, and frightens my very life out, yet the lawleaves me unprotected, because he commits no actual breach of thepeace. It was to avoid him that I begged my aunt to let me live here!How did he discover my retreat?"

  Caroline seemed to have lost all command of herself in the agony ofher fear, and poured out a flood of words in the rapid and subduedaccents of extreme terror, while she retreated into the darkest cornerof the arbor to screen herself from observation, hastily draggingMarion along with her, and whispering an eager request, if they werediscovered, that she would endeavor herself to get off, and flytowards the house for assistance. "Meantime I shall engage hisattention; but if he once sees me, all hope of escape on my part wouldbe vain, while the very endeavor might irritate him! Everythingdepends on you, Marion! Be resolute, and lose not a moment, or you maybe too late."

  In agonized suspense and apprehension the two friends remained duringseveral minutes, cowering behind the overhanging branches, andscarcely venturing to breathe, while Caroline bent her head eagerlyforward to catch the slightest sound, and grasped Marion's arm almostconvulsively, as if to secure her being perfectly immovable; atlength, after some time, she heaved a deep sigh, expressive of relief,and looked up, saying

  "He is surely gone! he must be gone! I never eluded his eyebefore!--his sight is almost supernatural; but he must be gone atlast! Let us hurry home!"

  "Stop!" whispered Marion, in an under tone, "I heard a rustling closebehind us, among the leaves and branches. Some one certainlyapproaches!"

  "Fly, then, Marion! all is over, and I must face the danger!" saidCaroline, with sudden energy, while rising and drawing herself up toher full height, with resolute countenance, though her limbs evidentlytrembled beneath her, she walked towards the door, saying, in a loud,commanding accent, to a tall man, much muffled up in a loosegreat-coat, who had now appeared at the door, "Who goes there?Ernest!!" added she, in tones of remonstrance. "How dare you enter mypresence again! How dare you intrude here!"

  "Be true to yourself and me!" replied the stranger, in a voice whichsounded harsh and excited, while the deep, full tones appeared toMarion as if she had heard them before; but the darkness prevented herfrom seeing him distinctly, even if his dress had not been sufficientto disguise him from the most penetrating eye. "Say what you will, Iknow you are glad to meet me," added he, in accents of increasingwildness. "All that you do is dictated by others; but Caroline, in hersecret heart, loves me! I know that! By your looks, by your voice, byyour manner, it was revealed to me years ago! Yes, you love me, andcannot deny it! Speak but the word, and we may both be happy,--happierthan the wildest dreams of fancy! No impediment can prevent it! Letyour aunt conceal you where she will, she cannot hide you from me. Inthe farthest corner of the earth--in the deepest dungeon that was everdug, I shall find you out, and still free you from persecution. Shemay do her worst, but love laughs at locksmiths, and I can stillenable you to elude her vigilance. I come now prepared, if you willbut consent to fly with me!--now,--this moment. If not,----"

  The madman's voice, which had been loud and vehement, here droppedinto a low, stern, inaudible murmur, and his hand plunged into thebreast of his coat, seemed as if it grasped some weapon there, whileMarion, taking advantage of his pre-occupied attention, darted offwith the speed of thought, and almost as noiselessly fled towards thehouse. A loud, angry cry to stop her, mingled with curses andimprecations, from the madman, while he waved his singularly long armsmenacingly above his head, only accelerated her pace, while hefollowed some steps in pursuit; but terror gave wings to her feet, andrushing into the entrance-hall, she instantly rang the large dinnerbell, and raised an alarm, which assembled the whole household, all ofwhom gazed with looks of panic-struck astonishment at Marion's paleand ghastly countenance.

  Not a moment required to be lost in explanation, for Mrs. Penfoldseemed at once to guess the whole nature and extent of Caroline'sdanger, the instant her name was mentioned; therefore Marion had butto point out the direction in which she might be found, when Mrs.Penfold hastened forward, preceded by several of the more activeservants.

  When Marion had rapidly executed some orders committed to her shequickly returned towards the arbor, but not a trace remained there ofany one. Th
e little table had been upset, several branches torn downthat surrounded the entrance, and the grass beneath was much trampledand disfigured; but all was silent and deserted. After one hurriedglance of alarm and perplexity, Marion hastened forward to the gardengate, which she found had been violently burst open, and on emerginginto the high road beyond, she there found Mrs. Penfold and herservants all crowding round Caroline, who remained in a dead faint onthe ground for nearly half an hour.

  A carriage was rapidly disappearing at full speed in the distance, butalready almost too far off to be distinguished; and Marion perceivedthe figure of a man lurking behind the hedge close beside her; butwhen she made it evident that he was observed, he rushed close up toher side, saying, in a threatening tone, between his clenched teeth,"You have provoked a madman!"

  Scarcely had Marion time to utter an exclamation of sudden affright,before he sprung over the hedge, and was seen running across theneighboring fields, until his figure mingled with the surroundinggloom, and vanished out of sight.

  Mrs. Penfold's chief care, after Caroline's recovery from her alarmingswoon, was earnestly to enjoin that the circumstances of thisadventure should never be mentioned, or so much as remembered by thosewho had witnessed them; a story so extraordinary and alarming, beinglikely to injure her establishment, besides causing much unnecessarygossip among the younger pupils; but had Marion ever been disposed toconsign, as desired, the whole adventure to oblivion, she could notbut be continually reminded of it for several weeks afterwards, by thestartled and agitated manner of Caroline, whose frolicsome spirits hadentirely deserted her, while she seemed for some time to be inimminent danger of a nervous fever. If any one appeared suddenly inthe room, she almost screamed with the start it occasioned her; shecould not bear for a moment to be left alone, and seemed as ifcontinually listening, even when safe in the house, for the sound ofsteps in pursuit of her. Gradually, however, her mind became morecomposed, and she ventured one day to take a stroll with Marion insome of the nearer parts of the garden, though even there she scarcelyspoke above her breath, and turning hastily round several times, as ifapprehensive that some one approached.

  Had the far-famed Upas tree grown over the arbor, Caroline couldscarcely have shunned more fearfully the slightest approach in thatdirection, and with equal care did she avoid any allusion to what hadoccurred there, not a hint of which ever transpired in her mostconfidential moments. The very sound of her own feet on the gravelseemed to startle her, and as she walked beneath the shade of sometall forest trees which overhung the garden-wall, Marion observed thatCaroline trod more cautiously; and though she dropped not a wordrespecting her feelings or fears, it was evident that her nerves werestrung to an agony of sensitiveness, for the fluttering of a bird inthe hedge, or the fall of a leaf, made her start, and she seemed aboutat last to give up the point in despair, and hurry homewards, whensuddenly a loud shrill whistle arose amidst the branches of anash-tree, almost directly over their heads, and before Marion had timeto look round, a small packet had dropped at the feet of Caroline.

  With a half-suppressed cry of alarm, the terrified girl fled, whileMarion, scarcely less frightened, instinctively picked up the parcel,and followed, while again she was pursued by a volley of oaths andimprecations, which ended in a laugh so wild, so maniacal, and sofearful, that for months afterwards it rung in her ears, causing her ashudder of horror and alarm.

  When Mrs. Penfold tore open an innumerable multitude of seals whichclosed the packet addressed to Caroline, she discovered within only along incoherent letter of several sheets, filled with the mostextravagant professions of ardent love, and the most vehementdeclarations, that nothing on earth could impede or discourage him inhis resolution to carry her off, which he seemed still persuaded, withthe self-delusion peculiar to madness, must be a welcome assurance toCaroline, whose words and actions he perseveringly attributed to thearbitrary influence of others. Accompanying this farrago of mostintolerable nonsense, was a black shade in a wooden frame,representing the profile of a young man, certainly handsome, and whichseemed to Marion like features she had known elsewhere, but beingfrequently addicted to observing resemblances, she felt at oncepersuaded that this must be some such vague and unaccountable likenessas she had frequently found or fancied before.

  Time wore on, and still Caroline lingered at school, unwillingapparently to forsake the comparative quietness of Mrs. Penfold's,where, though her age exceeded by some years that of the other pupils,and though her cotemporary Clara had been already introduced intosociety, she still seemed anxious to forget herself and her affairs inthe multitude of her masters and studies, so completely was sheengrossed by which, that she evidently grudged every moment and everythought which interrupted her progress. At length, on the eveningprevious to that fixed on for her final departure from school, whenMrs. Smythe was expected to convey her home, Mrs. Penfold wasbestowing on Caroline some of her last advice, of the most approvedmode of "getting on" in society, and especially on the manners andconversation most attractive to gentlemen, when a note was broughtinto the room, which had arrived by express, bringing the melancholyintelligence that Mrs. Smythe's carriage had been upset a few milesoff, causing so severe a blow on the head, that a concussion of thebrain had taken place, and she continued insensible, at a village somemiles off, where little hope remained of her recovery. The Doctor whowrote these hurried particulars had obligingly sent his own carriageand servant to accompany Miss Smythe to the spot, that she might takea last leave of her dying relative, and he recommended that she shouldnot lose an instant, or it might be too late to find the sufferer inlife.

  Struck with grief and consternation by this most unexpected andcalamitous intelligence, Caroline, though she had never before seemedmuch to love her aunt, yet now became overwhelmed with the shock, andlost not an instant in hastily preparing to obey the melancholysummons, by throwing on her coat and bonnet, while she rushed into thearms of Marion, and burst into an agony of tears in bidding herfarewell.

  The French governess who had been summoned to escort Caroline in thecarriage, was one of those nervous persons, who became perfectlyfrantic when hurried, and she flew about the room, uttering a volleyof incoherent exclamations, expressive of her wonder and perplexity atso sudden a call on her activity, while her preparations seemed tomake no visible progress. There is a secret, mysterious pleasure inbeing waited for, which every living mortal seems to enjoy when theyhave the opportunity; and without a thought of Caroline's impatience,her anxiety, and her sorrow, Madame D'Aubert expressed the most eagerand vehement solicitude about her own dress, and a resolution not tostir till equipped to her entire satisfaction, for so rare and almostunprecedented an event, as leaving the boundaries of Dartmore House.

  Every thing that has a limit, however, must come to an end, and MadameD'Aubert's toilette being at last completed she leisurely advanced,talking to herself and to everybody else, arranging her shawl, andgiving a last finish to the contour of her bonnet, before she threwherself with dignified deliberation into the chariot.

  Marion had affectionately insisted on conveying her weeping friend tothe carriage, while, with all the little arts of affection, she triedto console and encourage her, till at length they exchanged a finalembrace, and parted. Scarcely, however, had Miss Smythe placed herfoot upon the steps, while the man-servant who accompanied thecarriage carefully assisted her in, before Marion suddenly sprungforward with an exclamation of terror, seized hold of Caroline'sdress, and before she could speak, dragged her forcibly into thehouse, exclaiming in accents almost inarticulate from alarm,

  "Come back, Caroline! come back! This is some mistake! some dreadfultrick! Caroline! dear Caroline! come back! That servant wears the verydress of the person who attacked you in the garden! I cannot see hisface, but I am certain it is he!"

  Before Marion could finish her sentence, the supposed servant hadviolently seized Miss Smythe by the arms, and was about forcibly todrag her towards the carriage, when the loud cries of Marion broughtassistance. The
almost fainting girl was rescued, and the post-chaisesecured; but not a trace could be seen of the madman, who instantlyvanished; and the post-boy could give no intelligence respecting him,except that he had been ordered out at an inn close by, in urgenthaste, that evening, with a promise of double payment if he implicitlyobeyed the gentleman, who seemed highly irritable, and swore at him ina most fearful manner, if he made the slightest delay, or so much asasked a direction which way to turn.

  The most diligent search was made, but made in vain, by the officersof police, to find out the lunatic's retreat, which eluded theirutmost research; and as Caroline Smythe was privately removed soonafterwards from school, where the subject was forbidden ever to bementioned, the whole story seemed almost buried in oblivion, andMarion herself felt at last as if the entire adventure had been anagitating dream, remembered by no one but herself.