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ven o'clock, and on it came the York divine story of redemption from the nursetender and her husband, who was heavenly volume; and commented on a stalwart young gardener; and Grace it with such simplicity, earnestness, felt that her dreary vigils were over. and perspicuity, that Miss Beaufoy was The old groom also said that her father first

interested, then excited, and evenhad arrived the previous night, and tually absorbed in the subject; and a was now in his bed at the Vicarage. As new and delightful dawning began to Grace passed down the staircase, she arise in her heart, accompanied with a saw the idiot boy lounging lazily at the sense of happiness to which she bad door of the cloisters; and stopping, long been a stranger, and which senshe said, “ James, what were you sibly, though gradually, affected her doing in the corridor and hall last whole tone of mind and temper. At night, and what had you in the bag other times, when Miss Beaufoy was on your shoulder ?" The face of the dejected, Grace would go to the piano, boy expressed amaze, cunning, fear, and sing some of the wild melodies of and folly, all grouped together, like her native land, with a voice at once so quarterings on a scutcheon.

rich and thrilling, as would bring plea“I was a-feeding the house-rats, sant tears into Miss Beaufoy's eyes. Miss. I gets out of my bed to meet Mr. O'Donel frequently now called as them and feed them. I feeds them a minister and friend. twice a-week, when the moon is full, The Pompadours had fled the counfor then I cannot sleep at all, except try. They had evaporated in the yel. all day; so when night comes, I low coach one fine morning on the steals meat, and meal, and scraps wings of Febriphobia, perfectly horrifrom my grandaunt's room, to give fied at the gipsy irruption, their camp, the rats their supper; and they know and their contagion, and taking with me, and keep me company. They them the lowest possible estimate of are the cloister rats, Miss—boly rats the common sense of Grace O'Donel, from the old abbey-walls ; and so, whose conduct her ladyship was so Miss, when I fall asleep on the grass, far hurried into unwonted emotion as they watch me, and will not allow the to pronounce "extremely improper." Black Angel to hurt me, or wicked old They were now seeking and finding Friar Peter's ghost to bob at me with repose for their wounded and lacehis big grey head, or to tramp poor rated minds in the listless dolce fur silly James with his great flat, naked niente of a Leamington life. feet, when I am lying on the cloister. The gipsy wife was convalescent, green."

and the Zingaree tribe had wandered The meeting between Grace and her elsewhere. father was fervent and affecting. He One morning, during Miss Beaufolded her in his arms, and said, foy's recovery, as the friends sat to“ Dearest child, had I been at home, gether, the old lady said I could not have permitted you to go “Grace, no one can doubt your through so severe an ordeal, yet I bless courage after so many proofs of your God who has given you strength to heroism, especially your nocturnal admeet it."

venture with poor James and his clois. Grace smiled, and then told her fa. ter pets; but now let me see has my ther her adventure with James Simp- little friend sufficient prowess to take son, and how glad she was to have this key and unlock the door at the acquired an argument which would foot of the stairs which lead to the enable her, at all times, to disprove the black wing.' I promise you that the silly ghost-story of the discalced phan- rooms there are not haunted, save by tasm.

the demon of dust, and, I suppose, a Every day now Grace visited Miss few ghostly cobwebs. In the second Beaufoy, whose recovery was rapid. chamber you will find, in the old She who had so well nursed her body, ebony cabinet, the box which contains now as faithfu ministered to her the silver collar of Guy Martenbroke, mind, which was naturally strong and which is really a curiosity, and which highly educated, and was now greatly I have promised to show to your fa. mollified and subdued by kindness, ther when he calls this morning. Ile and ready to embrace anything which has told me that his family possess a her dear young nurse might wish her relic as old, if not much older, than to receive. Grace read to her the this ; for I am well aware that your Irish O'Donel blood is royal, and much habit, her horse behind her, pawing nobler than what we poor Norman the ground, a stately and handsome adventurers can boast or pretend to." woman about thirty years of age. The

Grace, smiling, took the key, and third picture was standing on the floor, having opened the door, found herself but, like a naughty boy, its face was in a square chamber, with small win- turned to the wall. Grace took the dows defended by iron bars, and look. trouble to reverse it, and, as the nooning out on what had been the Abbey day light fell upon it, she saw it was garden. This apartment opened into the likeness of a very young and lovely a very spacious, though low-ceiled, girl of about seventeen, a Beaufoy, no room, with large windows, stoutly doubt, from the likeness to the other barred also, and a huge fire-place, with pictures, but wanting their distinguishancient dogs. On the walls were some ing trait of pride. Grace gave but half-dozen pictures of the Beaufoy one look, and hastily replacing the family; and Grace, who loved deeds picture as it had been, she sped back of chivalry, and was an admirer with Sir Guy's collar in her hands. of Froissart's, recognised Sir Foulke Too frank to conceal where she had Beaufoy, who fought side by side with been and what she had seen, she at Chandos and Clisson in Edward the once said Tbird's French wars. Ilere, too, was “Dear Miss Beaufoy I have exHenry Beaufoy, first and last Viscount ceeded my commission, for I was not Martenbroke, a royalist, who was contented with forming a friendship knocked on the head by a crop-eared with your ancestors in the large room, corporal in Oliver's regiment of Iron- but, in an over-curious spirit, I penesides, in the rout at Naseby. This trated into the little boudoir, saw your was the picture of a very handsome picture and your

brother's, and bad the man, with a sallow, melancholy face, audacity and, I fear, the bad taste, to painted by Vandyke. Here, too, was turn the third picture, and looked Peter Beaufoy, a privy-councillor of upon some lovely Beaufoy, of whom I Henry VIII., with a low forehead and know nothing.” a crafty eye - a fine Holbein. Over During this speech Miss Beaufoy the manteipiece was Miss Beaufoy's was much agitated. She covered her grandfather, the Bishop of D- face with her hands, and appeared to looking as humble on the canvas as be mastering some strong feeling. Apprelates usually look in common life. parently, she succeeded; for, withGrace knew all these pictures, and drawing her bands, she addressed whom they represented, at once, from Grace in a calm voicefrequent descriptions of them by Miss “Six months ago, no one had dared Beaufoy. The collar was in an oak to speak to me of that picture ; but box, lined with tarnished blue velvet. now I feel it to be a relief and comfort Just as Grace had lifted the case, she to my mind to tell you of her whom it saw, at the angle of the room, a door, represents, and only hope you will not which, painted like the rest of the hate me for the wicked pride and wall, she had mistaken for a large cruelty in which the narrative will panel. She advanced, and passing portray me. The picture is that of through it, found herself in a small my half-sister, Flora; she was the only bedroom and boudoir furnished in daughter of my father's second wife. French fashion. Here were three For fifteen years he mourned for my large pictures. First in the catalogue mother, and then married a Miss Hi. was the late Mr. Beaufoy, in faultless lary, who was an amiable and attracclerical costume, with the snowy su. tive person. She survived the birth perciliousness of his surplice — his of her child only a few days; and my bands falling like two correct cataracts father, broken by age and sorrow, outof cambric over his cravat — his Ox. lived her but one short year, leaving ford hood floating down his back, and Flora to the care and guardianship of his gentleman-commoner's cap in hand, my brother and me. We then lived looking decidedly handsome and aris- in Cumberland, on a small property of tocratic, yet with an expression in his my brother's; but afterwards, on his face as if he were displeased with the entering the ministry, we removed to artist for looking at him too familiarly London, and finally to the city of as he painted him. The next picture York, where Reginald had a living exhibited Miss Beaufoy in her riding and church. I was then thirty years


of age, and my picture faithfully tells kinsman, too—and my almost certain. what I was in appearance. The beauty ty of a countess's coronet. My love, has past away, and I ardently pray my pride, my ambition-all crushed that the pride may also depart; for it out by the cruel contretemps of a child. tortured that poor young sister, then sister coming home a few days too only seventeen, and engendered pas,

I confess I hated her for it, sions and produced actions, the re- and poured reproaches on her, accusmembrance of which now covers me ing her of having acted deceitfully, with shame and remorse

and done this thing of design; for, “A regiment of the King's Horse dear Grace, the actings out of pride Guards were then quartered in York, are amongst the meanest things our and a gentleman who had a troop in nature is capable of. the corps, and was a cousin of my mo- “ These charges, which I knew were ther's, came often to visit us. Ile was untrue, Flora responded to meekly, about forty-five years of age -- not but firmly; and for five years, during young, indeed, but a fine, soldierly- which she lived with us, I continued to looking man, and the only son and heir treat her with harshness and want of of an old Scotch Earl. As we were affection. My brother did not know near relatives, we soon became intimate, of this domestic persecution; he was and passed much happy time together, wrapped up in antiquities and ecclewalking on the ramparts of the ancient siology, and was writing a Treatise city, or making excursions to Studely on the Minster.' Had he seen it, he or Knaresborough on horseback, Lord would not have suffered it; for, with St. Hilda was much to my taste; he many faults, poor Reginald was a gen. was high and reserved in his manners, tleman. And Flora never told him; but a man of the strictest conduct, and but I have reason to believe she was a splendid cavalry officer, lle was not so silent to her mother's family, fond of music, and we sung together: for, at the age of twenty-one, her each day found him at our house, and uncle, Sir John Hilary, came to claim though, as yet, he had made no formal ber, and his manner was very distant declaration to me, yet his manner and reproachful to me. Iler fortune could not be mistaken ; and it was was then to be made over to her, and the common topic of the York coteries she was to live in Wales. She took that I was engaged to my cousin. leave of my brother with tears; and

" Just then Flora, who had been in then coming to my room, she said Wales with a delicate aunt, returned • Dear sister, I have ever loved you, home - and certainly a more lovely and do so still. I forgive you all your young creature you could scarcely see unkindness, which God he knows I anywhere. Her manner, too, was never deserved. Now, kiss me, and charming, simple, easy, affectionate- let us part friends.' But, God forgive with a good sense pervading her whole me, I turned away, and cried . No, bearing and converse. Like

you, too, never; you have ruined me, and poi. dear Grace, she was unaffectedly pious, soned my life. I never will forgive which I did not then understand; and you.' (Miss Beaufoy here paused, in a short time I perceived my noble and went on, with a broken voice), admirer was utterly captivated by her. She went to live with the Hilarys, and To do her justice, she never encou- shortly afterwards married well, with raged him; nay, when he offered her a young gentleman of some property, his hand and coronet, she refused him, a Mr. Mostyn; but, unfortunately, a on the simple plea of the difference of relative bequeathed him, the year after their ages, and her affections being their union, a district of leadmines, to still her own; but her rejection, though work which he dipt his estate, and lost gentle, was decided; and next day he all he had by the mines proving a quitted our house for ever, in a trans- failure, and then he and his wife

report of wounded pride and affection. tired to the Continent. I think they I am sure the former passion was much had a daughter; but I cared not to stronger than the latter; though, when inquire for them—the bad and wicked men love in the meridian of their life,

feeling remaining with me year after the feeling is of a more absorbing, as year, and so intense at times, that I it is of a more exacting and jealous da- turned her picture to the wall as you ture than more youthful fancies. found it, for I could not bear to look

" Thus I lost my lover-my own upon it; and, as if I was not, or had not been, wicked cnough, another bright and sunny evening seemed to wretched passion sprung up, as age have set in to gild and to gladden the came on for our vices, dear Miss decline of Ler chequered life. O'Donel, like flowers, have their sea- About this time Mr. O'Donel hapsons; and what suits the springtime of pened to have some business with one life, will scarcely bud or bear fruit in of his churchwardens, who was a rethe more advanced autumn of our spectable village lawyer. And when days; and thus many obtain credit for sitting together in the Vicarage study, parting with wrong babits, when it is

the good man was speaking of Miss the sin which leaves them. My new Beaufoy's illness; and after eulogising passion was avarice-a vice which had Grace's conduct, which he declared to been taught me by poor Reginald. have been as heroic as any deed of People thought me poor, and I was fame in ancient story, he added, “I glad of it, for the plea of poverty am Miss Beaufoy s legal adviser; and screened and excused the viler habit. though she has bound me up to silence I am not poor-I am wealtlıy. I live as regards the details of her new will, in this old chateau because it is my yet I may say so far, that when somehumour, and on a tenth of my avail. body dies, a person whom we all love able income, and I have saved enough and admire will turn out to be a great of money for the last thirty years in heiress.” the old Bank at York, as would build Mr. O'Donel coloured up painfully me, at my death, a monument in the at this intelligence ; and when the Minster, equal, for price, to that of good but gossipy lawyer had taken his King Mausolus. I intended leaving departure, the father sought his daughall this money to a young relative of ter, and told her all he had heard, my mother's, whom I never saw. He Grace was beyond measure distressed is an officer of hussars, and I condi. at the tidings, for, from various little tioned that he was to assume our name phrases which Miss Beaufoy had let and coat of arms, for, alas! we Beau- fall of late, she felt certain it was subfoys are a few and a failing race; but stantially true. Her simple and upsince this illness I have made other right mind could now see but the one testamentary dispositions, more con- path of action, and that was the genial to new feelings, and to my sense straightforward way; and in all her of what is right.

views on the matter her father, who “And now, my dear, that I have was one with her in feeling, cordially confessed my sins unto you, we will agreed. She instantly rode over to look at Sir Guy's collar; and when I Darkbrothers, where she found the old am strong enough, we will make a lady superintending the re-creation of pilgrimage together to the Dark a garden, and putting down violetWing,' and turn poor Flora's beautiful roots in the rich loam, where formerly face once more to the sun's gaze; nay abbots walked and mused, and monks more, to show you how entirely I hate delved, her hands being protected by myself for past haughtiness, and how a pair of gauntlet gloves, so thick and changed I am, I will hang the fair long that they might have been worn creature up in this very room, and by old Sir Guy himself, when he was will begin to love her now as much as knocking the Saracens about. Grace I formerly used to dislike her.”

asked her to walk with her towards From that day forward, Miss Beau- the house, and at once entered upon foy's health rapidly amended. Much the subject, which she treated with of her moral dross appeared to have great delicacy and tact, but with perbeen consumed by the fire of her fever; fect candour. At first Miss Beaufoy and her attachment to her fair young was more amused than offended. She nurse seemed to have opened a new acknowledged that it was quite true, existence to her. Her pride gradually and that she had left all her property, lost all its offence, and was now no- to the amount of £40,000, to Grace thing more than simple dignity; her alone. acrimony had softened down to per- “Surely you must permit me to be ception of character; and her penu- grateful. There is no one on earth so riousness had all melted, like a bank justly dear to me as you. I owe you my of ice, and was flowing round her in life-nay, more than life, and I have a hundred kindly channels of benefi- positive happiness in making you my cence to her poorer neighbours, and a heir,"

“ And I," said Grace, “ shall be per- deal tried, he consulted a London fectly miserable in being so. I want it physician, who ordered bim travel not; I wish not for it; and my father and a two months' holiday. On is, I assure you, as much distressed as this he determined to pass into Ire. I am at the idea. Dearest Miss Beau- land, and visit some property he had foy, if you so love me, give me simply there, which extended along the wild your heart; reserve your wealth for and rocky coast of Donegal, and where those who need it. Do not disinherit he had not been for several years. the young gentleman you told me of; Grace was to accompany him. Crossor rather, seek out your sister's family ing the Channel, they travelled in a -surely they are to be found - and light carriage of Mr. O'Donel's, with think of the happiness of seeing them, post-horses, taking their time, and receiving them here, perhaps enrich- seeing the country.

seeing the country. The father and ing them, if they should prove to be daughter were greatly attached poor. And,” continued Grace, in a Grace loving him as a superior being, lower tone, “Oh, think of the blessed. and the deep affliction he sustained ness of making reparation for what in the loss of her mother throwing you have so often lamented over. I round him a loving interest ever in beseech you, cancel, destroy this unjust her eyes; and he having the truest will. I never will be, or could be, perception and admiration of the simyour heir. As long as God spares you, ple, noble, and resolute character of I am rich in the many pleasant hours the young girl, while her beauty and I pass with you; and when I shall lose her youth delighted him. Their tastes, you, I shall need nothing to remind too, were similar. They both loved me of my dear Miss Beaufoy, for the books, pictures, music, and wild scenthought of her will be sweet in my me- ery ; and on matters connected with mory as long as life shall last."

the invisible world which is around us, Grace spoke this with flushing cheek, or the better, brighter world which is and her eyes full of tears, and with the above us, their thoughts and aspiratones of her most musical voice all tre. tions all travelled in the one path. mulous with emotion. The old lady Their journey was, therefore, delight was greatly affected, and kissed her, ful; and before a week had elapsed, weeping.

Mr. O'Donel's health was almost re"Ah, dear child, how are you

established. so noble, so unselfish, and so gene- It was late in the evening when rous! Ah! would that I were like they reached a small sea-side village you. However, all must be done as in Donegal; and on driving to the you please; and since you will not inn, they ascertained that every room consent to be mistress of my fortune was engaged, in consequence of a when I die, you shall be mistress of great wool-fair having been held there my actions while I live-as indeed you on that day. In this dilemma, the have been the little queen of my heart landlady, who knew who Mr. O'Dofor many a day. Rely on the honour of nel was, and who was struck with Jane Beaufoy, the will shall be burnt the charm and sweetness which ever before the sun sets, and my agent in hung around Grace, despatched a York shall have the amplest commis- message to a lady who lived near the sion to advertise in all the English town; and an answer came back at journals for the widow or heirs, if any, once, saying how happy Mrs. Ashley of Owen Mostyn, Esq., late of Lland- would be to accommodate Mr. and wyllyn Hall, Flintshire. And now, Miss O'Donel for the night. The Grace, come in and rest on my sofa- house was on the cliff, a few perches for I never saw you look so tired or so from the town. It was small, but airy, distressed, while I am performing the and exquisitely bright and neat. "Mrs. auto-da-fe on the parchment body of Ashley they saw but for a moment after the wicked will — an adjudged heretic, they had had their supper. They were at all events, in your eyes ; and then both travel-dulled and sleepy, and eaI shall order my horse, and ride with gerly embraced their hostess' offer to you back to the Vicarage, and we will retire to their rooms, where in a short think and talk no more on this sub- time father and daughter were locked ject.

in soundest slumber. In about a year after this, Mr. The early sun darting through the O'Donel's health having been a good snow-white drapery of her bed, caused

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