CHAPTER V. "Who loves, raves—'tis youth's frenzy-but the cure The fatal spell, and still it draws us on." BYRON. We shall find her such an acquisition to our circle. It is said, when things come to the worst, they mend. General assertions, like general truths, are not always applicable to individual cases; and though Fortune's wheel is generally on the turn, sometimes when it gets into the mud, it sticks there. However, the present case is confirmatory of the good old rule; for Emily's situation was on the point of being greatly altered, by one of those slight circumstances which are the small hinges on which the ponderous gates of futurity turn. The entrance to Fonthill-that truly cloudcapt palace, so fantastic and so transitory— was by two stupendous doors, which seemed to defy the strength of giants. A black dwarf came, and opened them at a touch: the mighty doors revolved on some small spring. These portals are the seemingly insuperable difficulties and obstacles of life, and the dwarf is the small and insignificant circumstance which enables us to pass through them. A severe shower in the park, which wetted Frank Mandeville to the skin, gave him cold, and in a few weeks reduced the beautiful and delicate child to a skeleton. Half the doctors in London were summoned; Lady Mandeville never stirred from his bedside; when one of them said, "The child is being petted to death; -let him try his native air, run about, and don't let him eat till he is hungry." His advice was followed? Norville Abbey, uninhabited since the first year of her marriage, was ordered to be prepared. Windows were opened, fires lighted, rooms dusted, the avenues cleared, the shrubbery weeded, with all the celerity of the rich and the wilful. Ah! money is the true Aladdin's lamp; and I have often thought the Bank of England is the mys terious roc's egg, whose movements are forbidden to mortal eye. The village and the bells were alike set in motion; the butcher and the baker talked of the patriotism of noblemen who resided on their estates, and went up to solicit orders;- Mrs. Clarke wondered whether her ladyship would visit in the country; - Mrs. Arundel simpered, and hinted" she dare-sayed some time hence they would be delightful neighbours; "-Emily said that Lady Mandeville, whom she had seen in London, was a very lovely woman, and thought no more about her-except, one day, when she heard a carriage drive into the court, to be out of the way - and once, when she caught sight of a strange shawl, to turn into another path; for she had gradually sunk into that sickly and depressed state of spirits which dreads change, and nervously shrinks from the sight of a stranger;-when, one morning, her path was fairly beset by two fairy-like children, and Lady Mandeville stepping forward, said, laughingly, "My prisoner, by all the articles of war; I shall not let you go without ransom." Escape was now impossible. They took the remainder of the walk together; and, her first embarrassment past, Emily was surprised, when they reached the little shrubbery-gate, to find the morning had passed so quickly. The next day brought her the following note from Lady Mandeville : "In begging you, my dear Miss Arundel, to come to-day and dine with Lord Mandeville and myself, I only hold out, as your inducement, that a good action is its own reward. Hospitality is the virtue of the country; - do give me an opportunity of practising it. To be the third in a matrimonial tête-à-tête is, I confess, rather an alarming prospect; but we promise not to quarrel, and to make a great deal of yourself. "So do oblige yours truly, "ELLEN MANDEVILLE." Lady Mandeville, even in London, where only to remember any body is an effort, had always liked Emily; and in the country, which her ladyship thought might be healthy, but that was all that could be said for it- such a companion would be inestimable; and, to do her justice, she had other and kinder motives. A week's residence had given her sufficient knowledge of the statistics of the county to pity Emily's situation very sincerely. She foresaw all the disagreeables of her foolish aunt's still more foolish marriage, to one especially who was so friendless, and whose beauty and fortune seemed to be so singularly without their usual advantages. Lady Mandeville was, like most affectionate tempers, hasty in her attachments. The person to whom she could be kind was always the person she liked, and was, moreover, the most perfect person possible. Perhaps there was a little authority in her affection-certainly it was a very creative faculty; and long before Emily came, her new friend had sketched out for her a most promising futurity—a brilliant marriage, &c. &c. &c.; nay, had communicated a portion to her husband, who, as usual, smiled, and said, "Very well, my dear; we shall see." Whatever the future might be, the present was most delightful. It had been so long since Emily had spoken to any one capable of even comprehending a single idea, much less of entering into a single feeling, that conversation was like a new sense of existence. How irksome, how wearying, to be doomed always to the society of those who are like people speaking different languages! It re |