THE ROCK.

66
BY THE AUTHOR OF MOAT GRANGE."

A STATELY mansion, resting on a gentle eminence, and reposing amidst its extensive and beautiful grounds, was that of the Rock. Whence it took its name, suggestive of bleak cliffs and barren heights, none, now living, could tell: certainly no rocks or bleak barrenness were near it, but sunshiny dales, and sheltering woods, and silvery brooks of water that murmured as they ran-giving, to an imaginative mind, thoughts of the flowery plains of Arcadia.

The family inhabiting the Rock were named Canterbury. Mr. Canterbury, a man turned sixty, had lost his wife several years before, and, more recently, his only son. He had four daughters: three lived at home with him, and one, who had been married and was now a widow, had just come on a visit. Mr. Canterbury was a very rich man. His father had realised an immense deal of money, chiefly in mining speculations, so that he came into his fortune ready made. The Rock was his own purchase.

In a room which commanded a view of the fine landscape before the house, were gathered, one day, all the daughters of Mr. Canterbury. It was their favourite sitting-room. The two elder ones, Olive and Jane, were turned thirty; the next, Mrs. Dunn, was approaching it; and the fourth, Millicent, was considerably younger, being only in her twentieth year. She was frequently called "Leta," from having when a child, before she could speak plain, so pronounced her own name, Millicent. Staid, steady, well-conducted ladies, the Miss Canterburys were looked up to, and respected, by all around.

Olive and Jane were busy; the one cutting out work for the charityschool, the other tacking it together: Mrs. Dunn was leaning back in an easy-chair, doing nothing: and Millicent, who had been practising, rose from the piano, and going to the writing-table, opened one of the desks there-her own.

"Olive," said she, "may I write to ask Caroline Kage to come and spend the day?"

Miss Canterbury was puzzled over her work, just then, counting pieces. Thirteen years difference between them, Millicent had looked upon and obeyed her as a mother. Miss Canterbury had long taken the head of the house, and acted as its mistress.

“This is wrong, Jane. Nine pairs of sleeves, and only eight pairs of gussets: you must have miscounted. What was it you asked me,

Leta ?"

"If I may send for Caroline Kage."

"Caroline Kage is always here," interrupted Mrs. Dunn.

"She was

here to tea yesterday, and to luncheon the day before; and for the whole morning, with her mother, the day before that. You had better have her to live here, Millicent."

"Millicent would, if she had what she liked,” returned Olive.

"I am sure she is very pleasant, and we all like her," cried Millicent, looking towards her eldest sister.

"A pretty, good-natured sort of girl," somewhat slightingly spoke Miss Canterbury in reply.

"If she were one of earth's young lady angels, her constant intrusion would grow irksome in time," returned Mrs. Dunn. "The Chinese have a proverb, 'Pay your visits only on alternate days, lest you weary your friends and they become estranged from you.' It is full of wisdom."

Jane Canterbury lifted her scissors from the calico, and turned round to address Mrs. Dunn.

"The fact is, Lydia, they have grown thus intimate from Leta's want of other companions. The Kages are our nearest neighbours, you know, and she and Caroline have been so much together that an affection has sprung up between them."

Mrs. Dunn laughed. "Ever the same, Jane; smoothing down difficulties for everybody. But I do think it is time you left off that unmeaning word, Leta:' I assure you it does not contribute to Millicent's dignity."

"I don't think it does," smiled Jane. "But it is a long-used habit, like the coming here of Caroline Kage: and every-day habits are hard to relinquish."

"May I write, Olive ?" resumed Millicent, who had sat with her pen in hand and paper before her.

Mrs. Dunn made a gesture of impatience, and her words, for she spoke before Olive could, were impatiently uttered.

"Caroline Kage is better where she is than here. Let her be."

"Yes, yes," decided Olive, detecting that Mrs. Dunn, who in her position, as a married woman, was especially deferred to, had really an objection to the young lady's visit; "we will not have her to-day, Millicent."

Millicent slowly closed her writing-desk, and then leaned her elbow upon it and her cheek upon her hand, her face plainly expressing disappointment. At that moment the door opened, and Mr. Canterbury entered the room. He was a tall, thin man, with auburn hair (looking as natural almost as if it were real, but looking too young for his crow's feet), and an eye-glass dangling on his waistcoat. He had been a handsome man in his day, and his features were good still: Jane and Millicent were like him.

"How is your head now, Lydia ?" inquired he.

"It aches still, papa. I have had it a good deal lately. I think these hot caps help to give it me," she added, pushing her widow's cap back on her head.

"You look as if you had the headache also, Millicent," observed Mr. Canterbury. "What is the matter?"

"Not much, papa," replied Millicent, rousing herself and rising from her seat. "I only felt disappointed."

"Disappointed at what?" returned Mr. Canterbury.

"I wanted to send for Caroline Kage, and Olive will not let me." "Caroline Kage is here for ever; she inundates us," sharply inter

rupted Mrs. Dunn. "Not a day since I have been at home have we been free from her. I tell Millicent she had better have her to live here, at once."

There was a pause: Mr. Canterbury broke it.

"Why do you dislike her, Lydia?"

“Oh, I don't dislike her, papa," returned Mrs. Dunn, suppressing her irritation badly, "but I consider that she is here too much."

"Here is Caroline herself, coming up to the house," exclaimed Millicent, who had gone to the window.

"Then, as she is here, you can ask her to remain for the day," observed Mr. Canterbury, looking at Olive. "Why not? I do not like to see Millicent with a clouded face," he concluded, as if explaining his decision.

He left the room, and they heard him meet Miss Kage in the hall and talk to her.

She came in alone. A remarkably pretty girl of eighteen, in a pink muslin dress, and a white bonnet as pretty as herself.

"You have come to save us the trouble of sending for you, Caroline," spoke Millicent, in the exuberance of her spirits. "We want you to remain the day."

"I cannot remain ten minutes," replied Miss Kage. "Many thanks. My cousin arrived this morning, to leave again to-night; and his visits are not so frequent, that I could absent myself just the day he is here."

"Oh, I am so sorry," returned Millicent, much vexed. "Ten minutes, Cary! where was the use of your coming at all?"

"I came for mamma. She has had one of those tiresome letters again, and sent me with it to Mr. Canterbury. I have given it to him."

"Caroline," said Jane, archly, "I fancy that cousin of yours has some other motive than cousinship in his visits, rare though they are."

Miss Kage tossed her head; she had caught aptly at Jane's meaning. "Certainly not. He is as grave as a judge, and as poor as a church mouse. You are quite wrong."

A vivid blush had risen to her cheeks, which might seem to contradict her denial, and to hint that Jane Canterbury was not wrong. Jane of course did not pursue the subject, and Miss Kage left the house again. "What brought her up with that letter?" abruptly asked Mrs. Dunn.

Jane answered.
Poor Mrs. Kage has
lately, and papa often

They were all surprised at the words and tone. "You heard her say Mrs. Kage sent it, Lydia. had some troublesome law business to contend with advises her upon it. How lovely Caroline was looking!" "And how well she does dress!" remarked Olive. "Those lace sleeves were real Brussels. I wonder how they manage

it."

"I mean, what brought her up with it?" returned Mrs. Dunn. "Why could they not have sent it by a servant?"

"I dare say Caroline was glad to bring it herself, and take advantage of the fine morning. What has put you out, Lydia ?"

Mrs. Dunn did not say. She took up a book and began to read. But she seemed to grow restless: now turning the leaves forward, now back:

finally, she laid it down again, and approached the window. But ere she had stood there many moments, she turned away with a hasty movement, and opened the door of an ornamental cabinet.

"Where's the glass that used to be kept here?"

"The small telescope, do you mean? Poor Edgar took it out with

him."

"The large one, then ?"

"Oh, that's- -I don't know where that is," added Miss Canterbury, more slowly. "Somewhere in papa's possession, I fancy."

"The house seems quite upset since I left it; nothing to be found,” muttered Mrs. Dunn, taking up her post at the window again.

"Did you want to discern anything ?" asked Jane, kindly leaving her seat to join Mrs. Dunn. "Perhaps I can see it for you: my sight was always so much better than yours.'

"Look at those two in the distance, leaning-as it seems to me-on a stile, and talking. Is not one of them papa ?"

"Yes," said Jane, casting her good sight to the spot. "Papa, and -yes, and Caroline Kage. He has gone after her, I dare say, to send a message to her mother."

"And to invite her for to-morrow, perhaps," added Olive. "Oh, I do hope he has !" uttered Millicent. "Kind papa!" "You blind geese! you simple women!" exclaimed Mrs. Dunn, in an accent of such impassioned earnestness that they all dropped what they held, and gazed at her in startled alarm. "Is it possible that your eyes and understanding have been closed ?" she continued, flinging herself back in the arm-chair. 66 Olive, where have yours been? Jane is meek and unsuspicious; Millicent is young; but you! Olive, are you quite blind, quite oblivious to what is going on?"

"What is going on?" demanded Olive, when her astonishment allowed her to speak. "I look carefully after the servants and the ways of the household: what is it that you detect amiss?"

"More closely than you will look in future; more closely than you will have the opportunity of doing. You will not be long the house's mistress."

Miss Canterbury did not reply: the words were so strange that she could not collect her senses to do it. Jane and Millicent thought that

Lydia's intellects must be wandering.

"Olive is well," observed Jane. "Did you fear she was ill; thatthat she was going to die? She is looking a little pale, but that she always does, in summer. She is quite well."

"Oh you-you-simpletons !" returned Mrs. Dunn, wringing her hands; 66 was there ever blindness like unto yours? It is not Olive that there's anything the matter with, but your father. He is turning foolish in his old age. He is going to put a mistress over you." They were, indeed, blindly unsuspicious. "A mistress?" slowly repeated Miss Canterbury, not yet understanding.

"Yes, a mistress; for the house and for you. A second wife." Even Jane's face, generally so calm, was painfully agitated. Olive was scarlet and indignant; she did not believe it.

"Of whom can you be thinking, Lydia?" she reproachfully said, casting her thoughts round the neighbourhood. "Of Mrs. Kage?"

"No. I wish it was: it would be the less evil of the two. Caroline."

"Oh, Lydia!" was uttered by all, in resentful incredulity.

It is

Mrs. Dunn rose from her seat again: she seized Olive with one hand, Jane with the other, and pulled them towards the window.

"Are they gone? No: not yet. I can see the figures, indistinct figures to me to Jane they are plain; perhaps to you also, Olive. They are talking still.”

"And if they are," said the angry Olive, "what does that prove? If papa chooses to stand talking to a child, and to talk all day long, what is there in that?"

"Not much-in that alone: he might so stand talking to me or to you. You have no cause to be angry with me, Olive: you will find it too true. I had my suspicions the very first day of my return."

The idea presented to the young ladies was exceedingly unpalatable and unpleasant and in spite of their hitherto complete unconsciousness, an uncomfortable feeling of doubt arose within them.

"A child like Caroline Kage!" remonstrated Miss Canterbury, determined to combat to the end.

"Had he

"There's the worst of the evil-a child," said Mrs. Dunn. married one of his own age, or near to it, it would not have been so bad for us, it would have been more seemly in every way. Though what on earth he can want to marry at all for, after being a widower all these years, I cannot tell."

Jane's

eyes were

full of tears. "It is not likely that it can be true, Lydia; it is not probable. How can you have formed such an idea?" "Just as you might have formed it, had scales pot been before your sight. The most extraordinary events take place under people's noses every day, and they cannot see them. This was your case. I came fresh into the house, with my eyes and understanding wide awake, and I saw it all."

"Saw what? What is there to see?" persisted Miss Canterbury. "Various little points, which, taken together, make an ominous whole," replied Mrs. Dunn. "On my arrival, when papa came out to the carriage, I was so struck with his appearance that I could not greet him. Where do you find so negligent a dresser as he used to be? Yet he wore a white waistcoat, his white wristbands displayed, and an eye-glass. When did he ever put on a white waistcoat for us? or display the ghost of a wristband? or discard his spectacles for an eye-glass?"

"I think he took to show his wristbands when he was in mourning for Edgar," interposed Jane.

"I don't care when he took to show them; it is a new thing; everything's new about him, and it must have a purpose," argued Mrs. Dunn. "And his wig: was there ever such a dandified thing seen?"

"The top of his head was getting bald; that is why he had it made." "Then turn to Caroline Kage," continued Mrs. Dunn. "Do you suppose she comes here, so persistently, for you girls ?-dresses up her pretty face for you? Why does papa stand by when she is singing? Why does he laugh, and joke, and whisper-I have seen him whisper to herand why does he walk home with her?"

"But I thought he only paid her these attentions as he might pay