The Weird of the Wentworths: A Tale of George IV's Time, Vol. 2

by Johannes Scotus

  CHAPTER VIII.

  "When hope is chidden That fain of bliss would tell, And love forbidden In the breast to dwell,-- When, fettered by a viewless chain, We turn and gaze and turn again, Oh! death were mercy to the pain Of those that bid farewell!"--_Heber._

  "On India's long expected strand Their sails were never furled." _James Montgomery._

  We turn with pleasure from these dark outlaws to pure affections in purebosoms. Johnny Ravensworth was growing up all that his father coulddesire; he was full of the most exhilarant spirits, but had beenstrictly moral in his private character, amid all the temptations of adissipated military school. He took away such a character for diligence,good conduct, and steadiness, that the highest hopes were formed that hewould prove an ornament to the profession he had chosen. His talents,though not brilliant, were of a high order,--his attainments were steadyand solid. To these he added the gifts of excellent good temper, andthorough unselfishness, the main-spring of all real politeness; forthough it often happens a finished gentleman like the Earl ofChesterfield may be exceedingly selfish, yet we never find an unselfishman who has not the principles of true politeness, and is not a thoroughgentleman. It was, therefore, with feelings of pride and delight thatJohn Ravensworth, as we must now call him, after passing a severeexamination, yet gaining a high place, bade adieu to his masters, withwhom he was a great favourite, owing to his steady progress andunimpeachable conduct whilst under their discipline; and to his fellowstudents, who lost in him their captain in all manly amusements; for,while Ravensworth would never join them in any ungentlemanly, or foolishexpedition, in riding, rowing, cricketing, and all the healthful anduseful accomplishments, he took the lead that his well-knit frame andunimpaired physical strength entitled him to hold. Assuredly all who sawhim as he walked forward, amid the plaudits of his fellow companions,and the waving of fair ladies' kerchiefs, to receive the gold medal forgood conduct, and contrasted his handsome face, glowing with health andconscious pride, his manly form proportioned like a young Adonis, couldnot but contrast health and vigour of mind and body, arising fromsubjecting them to their proper discipline, with the sallow looks andimpaired constitutions of many of his collegiates, which told tooplainly the ravages of youthful intemperance on unperfected frames. Butwho could look for a moment on the bright, healthful, young Ravensworth,and the dull impoverished devotee of pleasure, and not see howtemperance has the promise of this life as well as the next? And whatyoung beauty would not rather gaze on him than on those poor debilitatedcompanions in learning? Thus, at the youthful age of eighteen, afterhaving won golden opinions from every one he was connected with, youngRavensworth, with a light heart, bade farewell to the south, and startedby coach for the Highlands, in order to spend a couple of months withhis father before sailing for India, as the regiment to which he wasgazetted was on service at Delhi. The third, and last month of his leavewas promised to his sister at the Towers, and we must say that in theyoung soldier's breast an inmate of those towers claimed a large part.It was now more than two years since he had seen his sister or LadyFlorence, whose fair face and sunny tresses had made so deep animpression on his youthful fancy.

  The two months passed away swiftly but pleasantly among the hills, thevalleys, and dark rolling burns of the North. In rambles with Maude, orriding excursions with his father over the romantic county of Perth, thedays were fleeting away, and he was able to have a week's slamming atthe grouse ere he bade adieu to his home. The pangs of parting with hisfather and his sister, who was now growing into girlhood verging on herfourteenth year, were alleviated by two thoughts,--the first that he hadhigh hopes of a future meeting ere long, when he came back with laurelsto be welcomed by his friends and relations as a hero; the second, thathis parting was only the prelude of his meeting with Ellen, and one,still dearer, of whom he thought morn, noon, and even; and it was thatuncertainty if he should find her still the same Florence he had lefttwo years ago--if he dwelt in her heart as she did in his--that made hispulses beat higher. That very uncertainty which like clouds on a sunnyday lend their beauty to the sky, for without the shades of doubt lovewould often lose half its charms. It would be difficult to depict hisfeelings as his post-chaise entered the gates, and drove up the parktowards the Towers. The past and the dim future so possessed his mind hecould not but lose sight of the present. The two years seemed but somany hours; it was but yesterday he had scampered across that park, butyet how had those years altered him, and all his ideas. He was then acareless boy, he was now a young soldier just entering on the campaignof life. Burning hopes of high renown, lawful ambition that pointed onto glory, were his now. In one thing he was unchanged, in one matter hisheart was the same as then--in love to Lady Florence. It was then aboyish flame--time and absence had deepened it into real attachment. Hehad seen much beauty, he had been courted by fashion, but he had neveraltered in sentiments to her! Now he was about to see her again--wouldshe be the same to him?--had time altered her sentiments? No letter, nomessage had passed between them all that time; it would have beenpresumption in him, it would have been unmaidenly in her, to have sentsuch--that was nothing. He had hopes; she had often and often, when hewas a boy, declared Johnny only should be her husband--that she wouldnever forget him. Ah, how would it be? how would she receive him now?would it be with the cold politeness of the world, as if they had neverloved, or with the warm affection of those who meet to love again?

  Whilst these and many such thoughts occupied his mind, the post-chaisewhirled on, and ere he hardly woke from his reverie it stopped beforethe arched doorway. He leaped out, and saw old Andrew, who gazed for amoment as if he hardly recognized him, and then, with a beaming face,shook hands, exclaiming--"God bless you, Master Johnny, ye are grown abraw sodger noo, I wad scarce hae kent you."

  Delighted at the warm reception even from the faithful old servant,young Ravensworth hastened up stairs to the drawing-room, where he foundhis sister the Countess, with her infant son in her arms, and her littleEdith Augusta, such was the child's name, prattling at her feet on thesoft Turkey carpet. Ellen's warm heart swelled with joy when she sawJohnny, a fine soldierly young man, and as he clasped her in his arms,her eyes filled with tears of joy, and a sort of bright sorrow as sherecollected how George had thus come home, and then parted never to comeback.

  "My dear soldier brother," she said, "welcome to the Towers. Why,Johnny, how tall and handsome you are grown, and so like poor dearGeorge! sit down and tell me all about yourself, and papa, and dearMaude--and look, Johnny, at baby; I am so glad he was a boy,--howWentworth did rejoice; and my little Edie, isn't she a darling? Come,love, and kiss your uncle."

  The little girl toddled up, and with her outspread arms, salutedhim--his was that open face children like.

  The beautiful Countess, whom time had moulded into a more lovely beingstill, gazed with a mother's pride on her fine children, and a sister'sjoy on her youthful brother. Certainly if there was a happy mind on theface of the earth it was hers then--happy in her husband, who loved herwith the most faithful adoration, happy in her children, pledges of thatholy tie; happy in her brother--her family; and happiest of all inherself--her own virtues; a mind in unity with God and herfellow-creatures; a heart full of charity; a love faithful and true; onein which her husband's heart could safely trust, above even the breathof suspicion, as the poet beautifully says--

  "And on that cheek, and o'er that brow So soft, so calm, so eloquent, The smiles that win, the tints that glow; But tell of days in goodness spent, A mind at peace with all below, A heart whose love is innocent!"

  Such was Ellen; and if she looked with pride and joy on her brother, whowas growing all she could wish, it is not too much to say, he gazed onher with a feeling bordering almost on adoration. She seemed a beingalmost too good for earth, and exciting worship as her adequate homage!So far his most sanguine hopes were realised,--at least he had a fondsister there, and he had also th
e Earl, whom alone he had often seen,and who was the most delighted at his conduct. Still, there was one hehad not seen, and it was long ere he summoned resolution to ask even hissister after Lady Florence.

  "Oh, Florence is out riding with Wentworth. If I had not had baby totake care of I should have gone too, and you would have had a coldwelcome, Johnny! How glad I am I was at home!"

  After speaking on many other things, at last the door opened, and a facetoo dearly remembered appeared;--Lady Florence was eighteen,--still inher teens,--that delightful affix to the numbers that afterwards moveless musically! Her face seemed exactly the same,--as did her figure,shown off to perfection by her riding habit, save that the girlishexpression was softened into the more sober air of riper, though stillyouthful years, and the light form more rounded, and developed into thecontour of woman's figure. She wore a black velvet hat with a whitefeather coquettishly displayed, and in one of her little hands, coveredwith white gauntlets, she balanced a riding-whip, whilst the other heldup her train. John was partly hidden by the white muslin curtains, andthe young lady did not observe him.

  "Oh, Ellen,--you in yet? I thought you would have been out this fineday!" and she was on the point of shutting the door, when the Countesssaid--

  "Why, Florence, love! where are your eyes? Do you not see my brotherJohn, who is just arrived?"

  A faint blush for a moment crimsoned her face; then, apologizing for hermistake, she walked gracefully forward, while young Ravensworth leapt upand hurried to meet her.

  "So you have arrived, Mr. Ravensworth;--I am glad to renew our oldacquaintance."

  "Not more than I am, Lady Florence. Why you are not altered the least; Ishould have known no difference!"

  "You flatter me," answered the lady, giving her hand; "but I must say, Idoubt if I should have known _you_ again. Why, dear me, Ellen, when lastI saw him he was not so tall as I am, and now he is a head over me! Imust now look up to you, Mr. Ravensworth,--you are grown out of myrecollection almost!"

  "I trust not out of your remembrance, Lady Florence?"

  "Certainly not out of yours, if I am to judge by your shakes of hand.You forget you are now so strong;--you nearly wrung my poor hand off!Excuse me now; I must go and change my habit,--_Addio!_"

  The light-hearted girl then sailed away, leaving her admirer inhalf-hopefulness, half-fearfulness, and scarce knowing what to think.

  The Earl's reception was as warm as he had anticipated; and he then leftin order to dress for dinner. Several guests besides himself werenumbered at the table, and, of course, Lady Florence fell to the care ofa young peer, and not to him; she sat a few paces from him on the sameside,--just too far for him to address, and not too far for him tolisten to. Her partner seemed to pay the most assiduous attentions,which were certainly, as far as he could judge, far from unacceptable,and he was not altogether sorry when the ladies left. When they rejoinedthem in the drawing-room, he was quite monopolized by his sister, whilstLady Florence was disengaged; and when, at last, he got free, the sameyoung man walked up to her, just before him, and kept up incessantflirtation. During the whole evening he but once addressed her, and onlyreceived a laughing repartee. Time wore on; Lady Florence was one of theearliest to retire, and by-and-by the visitors departed, and he too wentto his room anything but pleased:--it seemed quite certain she hadforgotten him. Next morning, at breakfast, he sat next her, and sheseemed so like herself again his spirits quite rose; but during the restof the day she hardly noticed him; and again he sought his couchthoroughly discontented. During the days he was of course carried off tothe field by the Earl, who was a keen sportsman; and as a large shootingparty gradually gathered at the Towers, his chances for a _tete-a-tete_with Lady Florence grew more and more hopeless. He saw her the star ofevery drawing-room; she danced and laughed with him, and quite wonhim,--often thrice in an evening; and then he saw her treating some oneelse exactly the same; and at length came to the conclusion that she wasa heartless flirt! The days hurried by, and soon he would have to sayadieu! and sail for India. He tried to reason with himself, how he couldbe so foolish as to think the reigning belle of town and country, anddaughter of an Earl, could deign to look on him, save as on any otheryoung man. But love will not listen to reason,--and he loved! Yet hesoon came to the sad conclusion, he would have to leave without evenspeaking to her on the subject; he would soon hear of her alliance withsome noble family, and then he would throw his life away in the firstbrush with the enemy! All his high hopes of coming home a conqueringhero, and receiving as his guerdon the hand of the lady of his choiceseemed to "moulder cold and low!" When she saw his death, she wouldperhaps say, "Poor fellow!--he is gone at last!"--this all from one whohad said she would be his wife:--oh, the thought was maddening! Thosewere her girlish vows,--unstable as the name traced on the sands,--soher vows were washed away by the stream of years! Oh, woman, thy faithis written on sand!

  The most provoking part was, she would often walk with him, ride withhim, sit with him alone; she would listen to all his nonsense, and flirtin her turn; and after these interviews he used to return vexed withhimself for frittering precious time in folly, and vexed with her forreturning it too well.

  In this way three weeks passed away. During the next few days he fanciedhe saw a change in Florence: she was less frivolous,--she seemed morequiet; and he could not but connect it in his own mind with hisapproaching departure, and said to himself, "She has a heart, afterall!" Three days only of his tether remained, when, one afternoon, hefound himself walking with Florence alone in the shrubberies; he nervedhimself up, and determined he would speak his whole mind, and began byasking her "if she remembered what she had told him two years ago?"

  "Indeed, Mr. Ravensworth, if I remembered all the foolish things I said,I should have enough to do."

  "Then, Lady Florence, those days are gone. I would I were JohnnyRavensworth again,--could you be the same you were then to me."

  "I scarcely understand you. I have always been amused at yourpleasantries; I have always liked your company,--but you did not, Ihope, imagine more."

  "Oh, Lady Florence, do not say so! Have you, indeed, forgotten all youonce said,--how often you promised and vowed affection to me?"

  "Mr. Ravensworth, I was then a girl, and you were then my playmate.There was no harm, then, in our being so much together, or in all thefoolish things we said to each other. We are now nearly grown up; and Ihope your good taste will allow, we could not go on as we didthen,--why, the world would never let us hear the end of it."

  "Would God, Lady Florence, I was the same heedless boy again! Oh! togrow beyond our childish loves is surely the bitterest part of life! Tobe brief,--you love me no more?"

  "I am grieved to hurt your feelings, Mr. Ravensworth,--I really neverdreamed of this! You are a friend,--a near and dear friend,--and shallever remain so."

  "Then, all my hopes sink,--all my fondest hopes are crushed! Oh! why didyou draw me on only to crush me? Why did you lead me,--why did youencourage me,--only to blight my best affections? It cannot be you haveceased to regard me! Oh, Lady Florence,--dear Lady Florence, have pityon me!"

  "I shall ever regard you as I have done, and still do, Mr. Ravensworth;no one could feel more sorry than I do. If I have awakened hopes I neverdreamed of raising, it will read me a lesson to be more careful infuture. I sincerely regret I cannot reciprocate your feelings;--may youmeet some one who can, and who will make you happier than Florence deVere!"

  The young girl broke away without listening for a reply, and hurried toher room. When she was alone she threw herself on her bed and burst intotears, exclaiming, "God forgive me!--how could I tell him such afalsehood? I do,--I do love him! What made me so foolish, so mad, as torefuse him?"

  At dinner they met. You could hardly tell anything was wrong, to listento those two, speaking so merrily; but, could you have read theirhearts,--what a tale of wretchedness was there! Young Ravensworth feltutterly cast down at heart: he had heard from the lips he best loved tohear the words that spoke
his doom! He had proved her he thoughtfaithful, false! His trust in womankind was gone; but he felt he mustveil his feelings. "I will show her," thought he, "I can laugh, andsing, and, with false smiles on my face, throw a light on sorrow's darktide. I will not let the cold world know my misery; but, after oncefinding the fickleness of the sex, I will not try it again."

  Alas! Ravensworth did not know how often a proud beautiful girl rejectsthe love she would accept from a vanity man knows not--the vanity andpleasure of playing with hearts! Lady Florence felt grieved that sheshould have dallied with deep feelings, all for the silly pleasure ofseeing her powers; but she felt faith in those powers, and thought hersmiles would tempt the moth, even after singeing its wings, once more towoo the flame. Alas! Lady Florence knew not there are hearts which, oncerefused, are too haughty to ask again. Time was short--two daysonly--and early on the morning of the third John Ravensworth must start.Florence, by all means in her power, strove to rekindle the flame herrefusal seemed to have quenched. Young Ravensworth was partly surprised,partly angered at this, to his idea, heartless trifling. A word wouldhave set all right; had he asked again she would have become hisbetrothed, but he asked not. Had she only whispered, "I do love you," hewould again have asked--she spoke not. And thus whilst she fancied hewas too proud to ask, and resolved to lower that pride by appearingeverything he wished, all to make him ask once more, he fancied it wascruelty in her appearing so affectionate, all to induce him to askagain, that she might once more have the pleasure of refusing, and heresolved he would not give her the chance. Thus a mutual feeling ofrestraint prevented each of them from saying the word or making theconcession on which their future joy or sorrow depended! Time, whichstays his course not for mortal man, wore on; the day--the lastday--hurried by! The excitement of packing, preparing, and looking atthe beautiful presents showered on him from all sides, partly distractedRavensworth from gnawing care; yet through all he felt that sinking,aching void within which only one could fill. He had no present from herhe valued most, not even a flower! and a flower from her were worth thewealth of Golconda from others. The evening--though he wooed its stay asif it were his last below--passed away with the rapidity happy hours dopass. He sat by her--talked to her; she played and sang to him, and hewas at once happy and wretched. One song--

  "When we two parted In silence and tears,"

  the latest production of Lord Byron's muse then set to music, she sangwith such pathos the tear sprang to his eyes. But afterwards shelaughed, and his spirits sank again as she bade him good evening andgood bye.

  "Good bye; I shall not see you again, Mr. Ravensworth; you will be goneearly, I suppose. When we meet again you will be a captain perhaps. Ihope you will have a nice voyage. Good bye, I sha'n't forget you."

  Poor Ravensworth could only press her hand as she was leaving the room,and offer a little packet, probably containing a costly keepsake, butLady Florence fathomed his meaning, and said, "Thank you, but I couldnot accept it, it would not be right; I shall require no souvenir tocause you to be remembered! but if you want one, there is a flower foryou." As she spoke she took a sprig of blue forget-me-not from thewreath that bound her hair, and playfully gave it. She then hurried awaywith a light step, but a heavy heart. Young Ravensworth stood mute, withthe rejected gift in one hand and the flower in the other, gazingabstractedly on his retreating vision of beauty. He thought he heard hersigh. He then slowly retraced his steps, bade farewell to the Countess,and retired to his own room, heavy and discontented. He could not sleep,so fevered grew his head, and thinking the cool night air might do himgood, he left the castle, crossed the span-bridge, and sought the HollyWalk. The night was extremely beautiful, the moon walking on high inbrightness, the air warm and perfumed as it swept o'er theflower-gardens, and gently whirled the sere leaves from the beech-treesbehind the hedge.

  What a different scene had been enacted there a few years ago! Awful asit was, to him it was brighter than now, and as he marked the leavesfall, silently but surely, before the touch of the waning year, so, hethought, fall my hopes one by one, till old age will leave me without aleaf to bless the bare branches. He sat down on a bench, and theretaking the little rejected packet, he broke the seal, tore to fragmentsa few lines of poetry he had written and wrapped the little brooch in,and scattered the fragments amongst the dried holly-leaves at the rootof the hedge. We are, however, able to state they ran thus:--

  When morning is beaming, And dew-drops are gleaming, My heart is still dreaming Of Florence de Vere! No eye owns such splendour, No heart is so tender, All--all I'd surrender For Florence de Vere!

  While this even of sorrow Bodes darker to-morrow, Some ray I still borrow From Florence de Vere; On my spirit repining The pole-star is shining, That knows not declining,-- 'Tis Florence de Vere!

  When parted our dwelling By ocean proud-swelling, Hope will still be foretelling, My Florence de Vere! A day of glad meeting, A voice of kind greeting, And echo repeating-- "Sweet Florence de Vere!"

  Be my cynosure yonder;-- The further I wander I'll love thee the fonder, My Florence de Vere! And vain's fate's endeavour Our hearts to dissever, They're mingled for ever, Loved Florence de Vere!

  "It is false! she is no pole-star, and my nonsense isn't worth burning,"exclaimed the unhappy lover. "And thou, poor rejected souvenir, no eyeshall ever see thee!" dropping it on the ground, he stamped the broochinto the greensward in his fury. He looked up,--you could scarce havetold that pale livid face to be the same bright visage that smiled as hereceived his medal. He arose and retraced his footsteps towards theTowers. Once or twice he fancied he heard a rustle among the branches atthe back of the hedge; as he neared the end of the walk the sound roseso distinctly on his ear it made him start. He was brave as a lion, butnot untinctured with the superstition of the North. The idea at oncestruck him it was the spirit of Musgrave haunting the walk where he hadbeen murdered. An involuntary thrill ran through him; he stood as ifrooted to the ground, and he felt his hair somewhat bristle on his head.Had it been twenty robbers he had not known a particle of dread, butanything supernatural was horrid! It was some moments ere he found hisvoice, and he was almost ashamed of himself to hear how it quavered ashe asked, "Who goes there?" No answer came; the rustling came nearer,and through the branches he saw a dim white figure approaching. Hisheart sank within him, and in a voice tremulous and hollow he asked, "InGod's name who are you? avaunt! away! by all that is sacred go!" Thecold drops stood on his brow like icicles, and his whole frame shook.

  "Hist, speak low--follow me," replied a female voice, and at the samemoment the form broke through the bushes. For an instant he thought itwas Lady Florence, but no, she was an inch taller at least, and it wasnot the light beautifully-moulded figure of the lady of his love. "Areyou ill? are you glamoured, that you will nae speak nor move? You lookdumbfoundered as if a ghaist had speered on you. Quick, follow me, Mr.John."

  "By heaven! I did think it was a ghost! What, in the name of God, bringsyou here in such a place, at such an hour? By my troth I did think itwas Sir Richard's spirit."

  "Whisht, for the love of God dinna speak sae. Dinna ye ken the place isno canny? Follow me. But you are a brave sodger."

  Young Ravensworth felt his blood kindle, and felt angry at his folly inimagining she was a ghost, and eager to disabuse her of the idea, said,"No, Jenny, speak here--it is all trash--what is it?"

  "Na, na, not here. Either come, or I maun tell her ye willna come ava."

  "Her, who is her? I will come."

  And he hastened to follow Jeanie Forbes, who, when the rest of thefamily had left, was promoted to the rank of lady's-maid to LadyFlorence, as a reward for her uniform kindness to the Countess in herimprisonment. Following his guide, he entered the castle by a back-door,and ascended the back-stairs till he reached the door of Lady Florence'sroom. "Tap thrice," said his guide, and disappeared in the darkness. Fora
minute he stood irresolute whether he should tap or not. Love overcamepride, and he gently struck the door thrice. A light step crossed theroom, the door was opened, and he stood face to face with his lady love.

  "Come in; tread lightly," said the lady. "Oh! I am doing very wrong, Mr.Ravensworth! but I could not let you leave this without seeing you oncemore. It is very wrong--it may be, unmaidenly--I cannot help it! Sitdown--there," pointing to a sofa.

  Hardly knowing what he did, he sank down on the sofa as he was bid.

  Lady Florence still kept standing.

  "Why have you brought me here, Lady Florence? For heaven's sake relieveme of my doubts!"

  The lady stood speechless.

  It was a fine picture: the despairing look of the lover, with his eyescast on the ground, as if unable to lift them to the idol of hisaffections; the half earthly, half heavenly look of the lady, as ifdying to breathe a word and kept back by an irresistible chain. She wasstill, of course, dressed as he had last seen her, save that her hairwas let down, and in long tresses almost swept the ground as she bentforward, and with eyes swelling with tears, and hands clasped together,exclaimed, "Johnny, I _do_ love you!"

  As though he heard not, or understood not, he was silent as death forsome seconds, and contending passions strove for mastery in his bosom.The pride, that would rather suffer than bend, fought against the lovethat would rather die than cause its object to suffer. For a few dreadmoments they fiercely contended, and, alas for love! pride vanquished,and he replied, "Lady Florence, you have trifled once with my tenderestfeelings; you shall not again. Once refused, I am too proud to imploreagain the love denied me. Would we had not met! My peace isgone,--perhaps yours also."

  "Hear me, Johnny--hear me! I repent,--I bitterly repent of my folly. Whythis false pride? Your peace, you say, is gone. I can give it back. Mypeace is gone. You can give it me again. Let me not ask in vain!"

  "Alas! it is too late now, Florence!" said her lover, relenting. "I hadmy resignation penned when I asked you. I had given up all my dreams ofglory for you! I have sent the letter stating I am ready for service. Atthe least, it will be years ere we meet again; but if my Florence willbe true, she need not fear my infidelity."

  "My God!" exclaimed the unhappy young lady, "I am punished indeed! But,oh, Johnny! it is not too late! it is not! Wentworth has such interest;he will get your discharge. You can sell your commission. What is glory?An empty dream! The mere bray of the trumpet! Oh! stay, stay with yourFlorence--your beloved, loving Florence! Do not leave me!" and the younggirl threw her arms round him, as if she would not let him go.

  He felt the embarrassment of his situation; he felt a softness stealingover his soul, he felt his decision all melting away; he saw how muchshe was devoted to him. He then thought of martial glory; high fame; andhis honour; his duty; and then again of love and home delights! Half hewas inclined to throw over all, and spend his life in ingloriousindolence,--in retired, blissful, domestic happiness! but again feelingsthe young soldier only knows--the sound of the trumpet,

  ----"whose breath May lead to death, But never to retreating,"

  spoke in his ear, and again love failed, and glory won the battle.

  "Nay, my gentle Florence, not even love must bring dishonour. I havepledged myself a soldier of the King. I am no more my own. Myfellow-soldiers are bleeding, and suffering hunger, vigil, heat,marching; and shall I in indulgent ease stay at home in beauty's arms?No; had it been earlier, before that letter went, it might have been.But regrets are vain. It is too late now! Honour, and glory, and dutybefore even love! But weep not, my own darling, I will soon come homecrowned with laurels; and you shall welcome me home! And the thought ofthe girl I left behind me will steel my sword, nerve my soul; and inbattle I will think both of you and my country, and fight for each morevaliantly! And, should I fall, I will die happy, knowing that Florencewill weep over her soldier lover!"

  "No! no! you shall not, must not go! I should never see you again! Theywould kill you! If you must go, let me go with you. I will share yourtent and your danger, and bind your wounds, and--and--"

  The rest was lost in sobs.

  The lover disengaged himself tenderly from the weeping girl's arms, andagain and again kissing her velvet brow, bidding her farewell, andlingering, and again kissing her, at last left her, with, "God blessyou, my own darling! Adieu! adieu! I shall not see you again; let thisbe our parting. Your tears might shake my purpose; and even Florencewould not wish that."

  He then sought his own room, first asking Jeanie Forbes, who watchedoutside, to wait a few minutes whilst he penned a note. He sat down andhurriedly wrote the verses we have already made our readers acquaintedwith, from his memory, and, folding them up, sent them to Lady Florenceby Jeanie, to whom he gave a valuable ring, as a memento.

  Early next morning our hero arose, and, unable to eat more than anapology of a breakfast with Lord Wentworth, who alone was up, preparedto leave for ever. He never came back.

  "Give my love to Ellen, and to your sister," he said, as he got into thepost-chaise, which was to tear him from all he prized. He felt a chokingsensation from grief as he said the words.

  "I will. God bless you, my boy! win laurels and then lady-love!" saidthe Earl, shaking hands.

  Just as the carriage was starting Jeanie Forbes hurried up and pressed anote into his hand. He could hardly read it, so dizzy grew his brain. Onthe outside were the words "Look to my window."

  The carriage started. As it crossed the bridge he looked towards thewindow of the room in which all that was dear then was. He saw a whitefigure, and a whiter arm that waved a kerchief. He kissed his hand; andthen an envious corner of the castle hid all from his view. Again thewindow re-appeared as he drove smartly down the park road. He lookedback, his eye fixed on that lattice, and the white kerchief and the armthat waved it! But the horses cruelly trotted on; it grew fainter andfurther--further and fainter--dimmer still--until not even an eye offondest hero could detect it any more.

  He sank back with a feeling of utter heartbroken and sickening grief--asif deserted by all he loved. Had she asked him then, he had thrownhonour, glory, duty to the winds!

  As he drove on, the first poignancy passed away, and he began to breakthe seal of the note he had not yet read. As he opened it a long tressof her golden hair fell out at his feet. He picked it up and pressed itto his lips. The letter ran thus:--

  "DEAREST JOHNNY,

  "I am punished for my vanity; but let it pass. It is vain to lament what is done. You did right. Had you stayed I would not have loved you half as much as I now do, though it would have gratified my wishes. Johnny, I shall ever think of you in my prayers--when tossed on the restless billow--when on the battle-field--when on the sultry march. When at even you see the star we have gazed on so oft, you will think it is the morning star of my hopes! Farewell, Johnny! And whether we meet again or not, our vows shall never be broken. Farewell! If you come back you will find Florence faithful. Nothing but death shall then part us. And, if you die a soldier's death, you shall have it watered with Florence's tears.

  "Go where glory waits thee, But while fame elates thee, Oh! still remember me!"

  Bind my hair in your plume; and, when you fight, remember your

  "FLORENCE DE VERE."

  We shall no longer spin out this already long chapter, but merely add,the vessel that bore John Ravensworth, and many other brave and fineyoung officers, sailed for India, but

  "On India's long expected strand, Their sails were never furled."

  Whether she ran on a sunken rock, or went "down at sea, when heaven wasall tranquillity," or was overtaken and shattered in a typhoon, or fella prey to the pirates off Madagascar, who even then were not quitesmothered, was long unknown.

  John Ravensworth was an expert swimmer, and we can fancy how he struckmanfully out on the wide waters; and, perhaps, holding high that goldenlock, sank with her name on his lips to w
hom it belonged!

  "There are to whom that ship was dear For love and kindred's sake, When these the voice of rumour hear Their inmost breast shall quake, Shall doubt and fear, and wish and grieve, Believe and long to unbelieve, But never cease to ache. Still doomed in sad suspense to bear The hope that keeps alive despair!"