Retribution. A novel

Chapter I

Are we not brothers ? So man and man should be ; But clay and clay differs in dignity, Whose dust is both alike. — Shakespiare. So, through the cloud of death, her Spirit passed Into that pure and unknown world of love Where injury cannot come. — Wordsworth. So, when all the limbs were still, Moved no more by sense or will, Reverent hands the body laid In the Church's pitying shade, With the pious rites that fall Like the rain-drops upon all. — Monkton Miwtes. Wonder and astonishment were de picted on every face the following Sunday, when Mrs. Mortimer walked quietly to her pew, followed by Lord and Lady Ethelston. The latter looked round the quiet little church, and VOL. II. B RETRIBUTION. thought how often her sister had knelt there, and her prayers risen to One whose merciful ears were open to receive them, and to bless her as she knelt.

Kate, therefore, noted not the looks bent on her from all sides, nor how she distracted the congregation at their devotions. When the service was concluded, and they passed along the narrow pathway from the church, several ladies, who sor months past had cut Mrs. Mortimer, bowed and smiled in passing ; but Mrs. Mortimer walked on, looking neither to the right or left, and in no way returning these gracious condescensions on the part of her neighbours, except to one somewhat quaint-looking little lady in a crimson velvet mantle, whom she walked home with, talking to her in a manner that proved to Kate she was on very intimate terms with her. She noted all this ; and learned from her sister afterwards, how cruelly these RETRIBUTION. people had acted towards her best friends on her account, with but one exception ; and that Miss Larkin's friendship had never for one moment failed ; and that her kindness and con sideration for her, had been extreme.

Kate listened, and resolved in her own mind, to help and befriend, by every means in her power, those who had sheltered and loved her sister. " Laura and Carey," she said to her husband, " will soon be old enough to go to school, I shall be looking out for one to send them to, where I can see them constantly ; and they shall have a first-rate education at our expense." Lord Ethelston smiled on his beauti ful wife, and said, " Anything you like ; for all you do is right : and how generous is your every impulse ; would there were more like you !" And so the agreement was made ; and the thanks of the parents showered B RETRIBUTION. on their benefactress. Kate, also, the next time she saw Miss Larkin, thanked her warmly for the great kindness she had shown her sister, and gave her a pressing invitation to visit them at their country place in Berkshire that autumn, which Miss Larkin accepted ; so charmed was she by Kate's fascination and goodness.

Mr. Forrester had remained with Millicent while the others were at church : he knew her hours were num bered : and those tried and purified spirits rose together in the simple, earnest prayers, that are not uttered in vain. *#**#♦ Re-united at last ; yet so soon to part, were these three loving hearts, that but a few more days were granted them on earth ! — ere the bells rung for church the following Sunday, Millicent's spirit had fled to that heaven she had longed to reach, and lived in the presence of RETRIBUTION. God who gave it. Her last words were peace ; her last smile was radiant with the glory she already tasted ; and the weeping husband, father, and sister, knelt beside her when she breathed her last. Mr. Otway had set off, the moment he got Kate's letter, and had reached them the day before Millicent died.

Strong as his resolve had been never to behold her again, the stronger ties of nature prevailed ; and he felt he must press to his heart his lost and erring child, ere her spirit passed away from earth. Touched, and humbled, was this once proud man, when, kneel ing beside her, he heard the blessed words from her lips, assuring him that her Heavenly Father had been more forgiving than her earthly parent had been, and he learnt a lesson he never forgot, even by the death-bed of her he had once cast from him, as a being too polluted and lost, ever to take shelter in his arms again. RETRIBUTION. Kate had known her end was at hand ; for she noted how her sister's weak arms had pressed close to her heart the sweet face of her baby, how she had blessed her, and, with eyes uplifted to heaven, had prayed that Christ would sustain her children through the waves of this troubled world, and lead them by gentle steps to Him ; then she had said, in low and earnest tones, *' Kate, love and help my little Rosamond.

Would that I had been permitted to press her also to my heart before I died ! but God's will be done!" Kate promised to do so, with many tears, and called Mr. Forrester ; who pressed his dying wife in his arms receiving her last loving words, and earnest prayers for forgiveness. He remained beside her long after all had quitted the room. Then, struggling with his great agony, he knelt till the RETRIBUTION. 7 pale light of evening streamed over the lifeless body of his beloved Millicent. Then, rising, calm as the sleep of her who lay beside him, he slowly and reluctantly quitted the room. It was then that he experienced the soothing influence of Mr. Mortimer's words; then he felt, indeed, who it was that through God's assistance had given her peace, and made her death the death of the righteous.

Under the trees that wave in the lonely mountain church-yard, is a grassy grave, with a simple stone cross at its head, upon which is carved the name of ** Millicent." Flowers bloom there early and late ; and in the over hanging branches that shadow it, the birds carol as of old ; only, their music seems, to those who listen, like a prayer floating heavenward for the soul of her who once loved to sit there in the sweet spring time ; but whose ashes now lie under the green sod. RETRIBUTION.

Chapter II

Like leaves on trees the race of man is found, Now green in youth, now withering on the ground ; Another race the following spring supplies ; They fall successive, and successive rise : So generations in their course decay ; So flourish these, when those are past away. Pope's Hosier. It was the close of a beautiful autumn day, and the lingering rays of the sun's light, tinted with rose and purple lines the banks of cloud that floated round it ; one of those days, when summer, in taking her farewell of earth, bids us think of the chill blight of winter withering the flower and leaf, perhaps never again for us to bud and blossom. RETRIBUTION. 9 Watching the declining light, and commenting on its loveliness, were three persons, standing in one of the deep-set oriel windows of an old fashioned Parsonage-house : one of them, a man apparently about fifty years of age, whose hair was just beginning to show the silver lines of time, and in whose fine open counte nance, you read at once the soul full of goodness, and intelligence that dwelt within : beside him stood his wife, pleasing looking, though no longer 37oung, who gazed on the sunset with the calm light in her eyes that speaks of a life spent in the service of God, and reaping the reward it merits ; and near her, a young girl, so graceful fct figure, and with such a sweet beaming face, that, although possessing no actual beauty, she charmed all who beheld her.

"How late Milly is this evening!" said Mrs. Mortimer, addressing her husband ; b RETRIBUTION. For, in the little group there assem bled, we recognize Mr. and Mrs. Mortimer, and the baby we left rolling and tumbling on the floor — for eighteen y ears have passed since we last met. " She is late," answered Mr. Mor timer, " but there is so much sickness abroad, she may have many poor peo ple to visit, and Millicent is ever ready to help the suffering." " That she is, papa," said the young girl, her face kindling with some emotion, " she is always unselfish and kind." " She seems to have supplied the place of your sisters to you," said her mother : " I feared, Lizzie, you would have felt it dreadfully when your sisters married ; but dear Milly seems to have fitted herself exactly to the vacant places, and you are as merry and happy as the day is long."

" We are, indeed," answered Lizzie. " I thought once I should have pined RETRIBUTION. to death wrhen Laura and Carey married ; but I have plenty to do and think about, and Milly is as dear to me as a sister." " The great happiness of life," said her father, " is to be contented ; to know that whatever befalls us, is the will of One who rules our destinies with a loving hand : thus do we see that, if one blessing is taken from us, generally some other, equally grateful, is given in its place. But here comes Millicent with an empty basket." And the door opened, and Millicent Hope entered the room. She had grown up slight and graceful as a nymph ; her small slender figure, almost child-like in appearance ; her eyes, of a soft light hazel ; her mouth, small, and expressive of great sweetness : otherwise, her features were not regularly beautiful : her hair, of a rich brown, was twined in glossy rolls round her small classical head.

RETRIBUTION. The small hands put the large basket down ; and then she said, " I am very late, but I had so many poor people to see, that I could not get home before ; besides, I did linger a little to watch the sunset ; but I will make haste ; for 1 know dinner is waiting." Mrs. Mortimer watched the young girl as she quitted the room ; and when Lizzie had followed her friend, said to her husband, " How like Milly is to her mother ! how those sweet eyes of hers seem to glow with the same tender light ! if I were describing her, I should say she was " fascinating ;" and in that one word, her beauty is comprised." " Yes," said Mr. Mortimer, " she often reminds me of Mrs. Forrester ; and, yet, she is not so beautiful, nor in some points so amiable." " Not so amiable?" said Mrs. Mor timer, looking up doubtfully.

RETRIBUTION . " Higher principled, of course," he replied ; but I alluded to the natural disposition and temper. Milly is im petuous, and somewhat haughty, too at times : but she has fine generous, impulses, and is loving, sensitive, and high minded : but let us take care we do not spoil her," he added, smiling at the earnest face of his wife, " because, remember, one little act of pride or temper, might ruin her happiness for life." "What do you mean, Edmund? what is it you dread for her ?" she asked anxiously : " is any storm hang ing over her head we can avert ? I cannot see it : but if there be, I would dispel it if possible, and that at once." " Nothing now," he replied quietly : " yet bear in mind, Annie, what a charge Millicent is to us ; far more than our own dear ones. Strive, there fore, to subdue in her the faults I have spoken of, and endeavour to make her RETRIBUTION. a little more practical.

She is very romantic ; and I fancy of late she has lived in a dream-land of her own, from which she will have to retrace her steps some day ; and then, how will she learn to tread the rougher paths of life !" Milly now entering, the conversation was put a stop to ; but the fear raised in Mrs. Mortimer's mind, was not quieted. She had indeed remarked, of late, the somewhat saddened air of Millicent, and something restless in her manner, that did not speak of repose ; that often, she seemed about to utter something that weighed upon her mind, but suddenly closed her lips, as if too terrified at her own boldness, and re mained silent. That evening, however, there was a flutter of manner unusual in her, and her cheeks were suffused with the deep flush of some perturbed feeling : she scarcely tasted her dinner, and appeared abstracted and absorbed by something.

The evening passed RETRIBUTION. away silently ; and Milly at an early hour, sought her room. She gently opened the window. The rich flood of the autumn moonlight slept on the yellow fields of stubble, and low underwood, from which a range of downs rose abruptly. This scene laid in the arable part of Wiltshire, was not perhaps very beautiful, yet had a rural beauty and wildness quite its own : and Milly coming there a very young child, loved it because it was the only home she had known, and every tie bound her to it. The keen air of the autumn evening blew on her flushed cheeks, and cooled them. She saw masses of white clouds floating on slowly in the heavens ; and she watched them sailing on and on through the endless space, and sighed. A few hot tears fell on her clasped hands — no sob, no sound, for some time ; and then, in low, murmuring accents, she uttered the word " mother!"

RETRIBUTION. and sank, weeping, on her knees. She rose comforted ; and, closing the window, she remained looking down on the pretty quaint flower garden. Dah lias of every hue glowed in the subdued light of the moon, and paler flowers blooming modestly beside them, looked not less lovely than their gorgeous neighbours ; while the dark heavy branches of the old yew trees on the lawn, seemed like the foreshadowing of darkness and death. ' How many years,' she thought, ' have I looked on this dear old garden, and the downs beyond ! I can remem ber no other home ; yet, I am told I was born in Wales. I will go there some day, and perhaps,' Her thoughts here perplexed her : she stood blushing, as though a thousand eyes beheld her ; and lowered hers. ' Why did that strange woman look at me so this afternoon, when I went into Mrs. Benson's cottage ?

True, she RETRIBUTION. was raving from fever, but she uttered words I cannot forget. Who am I ? I have asked myself this question a hundred times, and yet, coward that I am, I dare not speak of it : what is it I fear ? Other lips utter the holy name of mother, without dread or shame : what am I, that I shrink from doing so? I have seen mothers nestle their babes on their breasts so lovingly, that there seems a heaven of love in every woman's heart. Mine died ere my lips respon ded to her tender kiss. I see her before me like a rose half-blown, which the wind has killed. She died so young, they say, that I cannot remember her ; perhaps not ; yet every day her image is before me. Let me consider what that woman's words were, that terrified me so much : — " Oh, Mrs. Forrester ! you are here are you? looking so beautiful, just as you looked the night you left your home, shameful woman that you are to RETRIBUTION. leave my master and your child ! go away, you should not come among honest women ;" And then how her eyes glared on me ! yet, Mrs. Benson quickly said, " Don't be afraid, Miss Hope, she is wandering in her head, poor thing, from rheumatic fever, and takes you for some one else.

Never heed her." And so I knew there was nothing in what she said, that concerned me : yet^ her words have rung in my ears ever since. Who was Mrs. Forrester, that I so closely resemble her ? my name is Hope, and I have no relations, at least none that claim me : that again is strange : I seem to stand alone. Why from my childhood up, whenever I have questioned Mrs. Mortimer about my mother, has a shadow not for me to see, fallen upon her face ? Why has she merely answered, " Your mother is in heaven now Milly ;" RETRIBUTION. Or some such words, given so sparingly. She loved her well, I know i else, how could she lavish her love upon me so bountifully, tend me so carefully' and fondly anticipate my every wish ? No ; my mother was good and pure ; else, Mrs. Mortimer, angel of goodness that she is, would not have been her friend ; and soothed with this reflection* Milly laid herself down to sleep. RETRIBUTION.

Chapter III

Our birth is but a sleep and a forgettin g Wordsworth. The sun rose in full splendour the following morning, and ushered in a calm sunny day. Its light fell on Millicent's room, and roused her from her slumbers, happier and more tran quil than on the preceding night. It also glanced on the windows of a small cottage, not far from the Par sonage, and seemed to light up one room in particular. If we had peeped into it, even at that early hour, we should have seen a young man, looking out towards the gable-ends of the Parsonage-house, dressed, as if waiting for the hours to RETRIBUTION. pass more quickly, and seemingly im patient of the time that passed so tardily. He was young, slight, and very pale, with a thoughtful face, and light eyes shaded by long lashes : his hands were delicately white, and well shaped ; his dress, neat and carefully arranged ; — and now we have seen the Rev. Alfred Langton — Mr. Mortimer's curate. - Yes, I must go to the Parsonagt early this morning,' he thought, ' foi the school feast begins at two o'clock, and there is much to arrange with Mrs Mortimer ; of course I ought to go there soon after breakfast.' So thinking, he commenced reading but some thought, half painful, half pleasant, seemed to disturb his mind, for he continually rose and looked out of the window, from which he com manded a view of the village.

The woods were just tinged with the first red tints of autumn ; the rivulet glanced RETRIBUTION. on, flashing in the bright morning sun light, and the beautiful downs rose clear and soft before him ; yet his eyes seemed more particularly bent on the old Parsonage-house, with its gables now clothed with the crimson leaves of the Virginian creeper, which, lower down, clung closely to the old-fashioned latticed windows and overhanging porch. Sitting down again, he read for some time, and then rang for breakfast. His landlady entered, and on the tray was a note from Mrs. Mortimer, asking him to breakfast, as she required his help in the arrangements of the coming feast. The book was thrown down : a slight flush passed over the pale face of the young man, as he said, " I shall not breakfast at home :" And rising up, he took his hat and left the house.

Mrs. Thompson smiled, as she saw him take the road to the Parsonage ; then taking the tray up, she went down RETRIBUTION. stairs to the kitchen, where her husband sat smoking. " Mr. Langton has gone to the Parsonage to breakfast," she said significantly : But Mr. Thompson making no com ment on this remark, she merely raised her eyes knowingly, and said no more. How beautiful the morning seemed to Mr. Langton! what a sense of beauty and of gladness filled his soul as he walked towards the Parsonage ! His slight hands trembled as he opened the door, and entered the breakfast room. Mrs. Mortimer rose to greet him with a smile of welcome, and said, " Thank you for coming so quickly. I thought it would save time if you breakfasted here, and then went with us to the school to help us in decorating the rooms.

Miss Hope and Lizzie have been gathering flowers the last RETRIBUTION hour, and I think we shall have sufficient now, with the presents of flowers we got yesterday, to make the room look very gay." Mr. Langton thought so too, and looked at Mrs. Mortimer as though she were an angel. Millicent sat there, graceful as a fawn, in her light morning dress. She remained silent and abstracted, and there lay an expression of sadness in her beautiful large eyes. She had not spoken to the curate, except to say good morning. The light eyes shaded by long lashes, now and then glanced towards her, and fell as they encoun tered her glance. Milly heeded them not : she seemed busy with other thoughts. Mr. Langton turned and talked to Lizzie, who was merry as a lark, and chatted with the innocent gladness of a young unsophisticated girl.

RETRIBUTION. " I am sure it will be so pretty," she said ; " we have such a show of dahlias." Milly gave a little start : she thought of the dahlias in the moonlight, and her own strange thoughts : blushing, she quickly said, " Yes, they are such beautiful flowers, so showy and gorgeous looking." At which remark, Mr. Langton's face gladdened. He commenced talking to her of different common-place events in the village, which now seemed sur rounded with some extraordinary in terest to him. And a quiet smile passed over Mrs. Mortimer's face, as she noted the rapt attention with which he received every word that fell from Millicent's lips. " How is Mrs. Benson's sister," asked Mrs. Mortimer. " I hear she is so very ill. I have sent her different things, but have not seen her yet ; and that reminds me, Milly, that you were VOL. II. c RETRIBUTION. there yesterday, and yet you never told us how she was."

Millicent's face flushed all over : she stammered forth some incoherent words, and rose from the table to place some flowers in a vase ; then, turning round, said with forced composure, " She is very ill still, poor thing ; I forgot to mention it yesterday." Her flushed face bent over the fresh flowers. Mr. Langton watched her every movement narrowly. Mr. Mortimer instinctively felt that something had occurred to Millicent the preceding day ; of what nature he could not tell ; but he had noticed her agitation, and felt it was but right that they should know the cause. Some suspicion crossed him, that Mr. Langton had met her, and spoken of the love which both Mr. Mortimer and his wife knew he experienced for Millicent, and that might be the cause of her change of manner. Something, he scarcely RETRIBUTION. 27 " Yes, years ago, I did know a Mrs. Forrester."

"And was she like me?" asked Millicent ; " could it be the same this woman spoke of?" she gasped : While the hot blood rushed to her temples, — laying her hand on Mrs. Mortimer's arm the while. " Yes, perhaps, I really do not know, Milly," was the quiet answer : " but is this all that has pained you lately ? I fancy I have seen the same sad absent manner, long before you went to Mrs. Benson's cottage." Millicent sank down trembling ; and Mrs. Mortimer pressed her in her arms, and kissed her. " Oh ! forgive me, if my strange restless thoughts disturb the usual serenity of my manner," said Millicent; " I cannot change them ; I seem a mystery to myself : I am cut off from the ties that bind others closely together, I feel alone ; no one claims me : never RETRIBUTION, have I uttered those holy words, which children's lips lisp with such thrilling tenderness — no parents have ever in my remembrance, pressed me to their hearts; and you," she continued, "never breathe to me my mother's name.

You say you loved her, and she is dead : are the dead never spoken of, never remem bered ? I sometimes feel that I am a child again, and that, nestled in my mother's breast, I gaze up into her face, and her gentle eyes rest fondly upon me. No letter, no picture have I got ; only the image enshrined in my heart, of what she was to me ; that is mine, it is heaven-born, and therefore true. Where is her grave? I would kneel before it, and water the sacred soil with my tears. Oh ! tell me of her, dearest and best of friends ; she was your friend, and my mother ! sometimes tell me of her, will you not ?" " And this is what grieves you so, poor child !" said Mrs. Mortimer, in RETRIBUTION. supposed Mrs. Mortimer would have laughed, and thus dispelled for ever from her mind, any thought of the unaccountable language addressed to her by a stranger ; but, to her surprise and terror, Mrs. Mortimer turned so pale, that Millicent thought she was fainting, and gazed upon her almost livid countenance with a strange fear.

Then Mrs. Mortimer said, calmly, " Poor thing, she must be raving indeed ! I will see her this evening ;" And she slightly turned her face from Millicent. " But, dear Mrs. Mortimer," ex claimed Millicent, " if, by my merely repeating these words to you, you feel them thus, for your cheeks paled as I spoke, what must they seem to me ? I cannot yet believe that they were the mere idle words of a diseased brain ; oh, had you but seen the look that accompanied them ! And I am like this wretched woman — this Mrs. For- RETRIBUTION. rester, who deserted her husband and little child ! I do not know why I should care, but it troubles me ;" And she still fastened her eyes upon Mrs. Mortimer's face. " Dearest Milly," said Mrs. Mor timer, " consider one moment ; why should your resemblance to anyone, however lost and wicked, pain you ? thank God you are good and pure ; and if your face bears any likeness to one more unfortunate, because more guilty, why should it necessarily affect your mind thus?"

" Did you ever know a Mrs. For rester?" asked Millicent, not withdraw ing her gaze from Mrs. Mortimer's face. For the space of some moments, there was no reply. The look that Millicent had so often seen before, that always came, as if unbidden, when, as a mere child she had asked questions about her mother, now overshadowed Mrs. Mortimer's face, as she said, RETRIBUTION. knew what, convinced him that Milly did not return Mr. Langton's affection. Soon after this, the whole party, except Mr. Mortimer, were busy deco rating the schoolroom for the afternoon feast, and arranging the long tables with cakes of such prodigious size, that Millicent, laughing, said, " They can never be eaten ; the very sight of them is sufficient to stay anyone's hunger." " We shall see," said Mrs. Mortimer ; " but it is nearly luncheon time, and I am tired, so let us go home and rest ; we shall have plenty to do this after noon."

Mr. Langton had some poor people to visit : but the remainder of the party retraced their steps to the Parsonage. On reaching home, Mrs. Mortimer and Millicent sat together in the drawing-room, and for some time in silence : the former looked on the young girl attentively : — c RETRIBUTION. " Milly," she said, " I have fancied lately you have not been so happy as hitherto : can I help you ?" The kind tone in which this was spoken, moved Millicent almost to tears ; and she answered, " I am not unhappy, how could 1 be with such a friend ? but," She stopped abruptly, lowered her eyes, and sighed. " I imagined, dear child, that some thing had annoyed you yesterday ; your manner evinced some agitation, and you seemed ill at ease." Millicent half rose from the sofa, and then sat down again ; and, as if master ing some feeling, she said, " I was rather frightened yesterday afternoon in Mrs. Benson's cottage, by the woman who is ill ; she is raving , you know, and said such strange words to me : " And Milly, half smiling, half in tears repeated what had been said.

She had RETRIBUTION. Mrs. Mortimer repeated this conversation to her husband ; and he said, " I felt that the time would come when Millicent would brood over the mystery in which she lives, and ask questions ; it is but natural she should ; and sometimes I fancy she guesses the truth : but this woman, Mrs. Benson's sister, was doubtless a servant in Mr. Forrester's service at the time her unhappy mother eloped with Mr. Leicester. I must forbid Milly to go to the cottage, while she raves in this way: when she recovers, she will not say anything, whatever she may think, for she is a good, kind, creature." " When did she come here ?" asked Mrs. Mortimer. " Only last week," answered Mr. Mortimer, " she came to see her sister ; and catching a violent cold on the journey, it has taken the form of rheu matic fever, and her sufferings are great : I have ?een her this morning.