Lucy, Francis and Cousin Bill. A novel, etc

Chapter I

" There's not a leaf, however green, But soon mast feel decay ; There's not a joy that glads the heart, But passes swift away." L. M. L. " How rapidly the winter has flown ! The snow drops have disappeared, and here are the sweet scented violets ! " The speaker stooped to gather the flowers. Her auditor, standing slightly apart on a hillock, with one hand extended horizontally from the brow, shading the glare of sunlight off her eyes, was drinking in a vista of moorland showing through a clearing of trees, and did not at once respond. It was a sunny day, in striking con trast to the bleak, snowy one on which the two girls first traversed this bit of Highland ground together ; then, the eye tired of unending glacial ridges; now, it rested on coolest emerald shades, crest after crest stretching away in long, soft, wavy outlines ; overhead the birds a-circling, soaring heavenward with happy songs ; a beatific whole.

VOL. III. B " Lost in dreamland ! " adds Miss Manovella, throwing a shot over her shoulder. " Yes," assents Lucy, slowly, stepping down beside her companion. " I think those hills were visible from St. Clair Hall ; but did you pass an observationon the flight of time ? You get so many letters ; I don't wonder at you not weary ing" . „ " Ah ! but I do weary," says Miss Manovella, rising, and glancing askance at Lucy, " but you don't know." Didn't she know ! Who knew better ? Poor Lucy ! She whirled round in quest of Alfred. " I don't know what to make of you, I'm sure ! " resumes Miss Manovella. " Have you resolved to consign yourself to spinsterhood ? The other young ladies were always telling me of their beaux." " I have not formed any resolutions one way or the other," returns Lucy, quietly.

" I'll send some of these violets in a letter to Vincent, and beg him to bring one or two of his friends with him when he comes, for company to you." "No, don't ! " impetuously objects Lucy, laying a detaining hand on her friend's arm as if to stay her there and then. " Why not ? " questions Miss Manovella, with evident surprise. " Would not you like to have someone to send violets to ? " Lucy dropped her glove — she had taken it off when culling flowers — and stooped to pick it up. " What have you lost ? " cries Alfred, running up to her. " My glove, Alfred ; I've found it again. I think our time is expired." " I've been expecting to hear you say that for the last fifteen minutes ! I've a good mind to sMt-truant, all the afternoon ! I wish papa would give me that watch he's promised me ! " " You are not to get it till you go to school," his sister reminds him.

Lucy was glad of the interruption ; it relieved her from an embarrassing conversation, and listening to Alfred's childish braggadocio they returned to the house. There had been little change in the daily life at Grovewood. A few visitors they had occasionally — but these dropped in by chance. They were gentle men, who always came on horseback ; and very often Mr. Manovella and his daughter sallied forth in the same equestrian style. They had merry evenings, too, at times, when Miss Manovella played her harp and sang, Lucy frequently accompanying her on the piano ; but though on these occasions Mr. Manovella relaxed the apparent sternness of his manner, he was to Lucy then, as at first, coldly distant, a circumstance she did not regret, for her dislike to him was insurmountable. Yet she had always ob served that he was uniformly kind to his daughter, and the evil influence in his nature — whatever it was that repelled Lucy — was unseen and unfelt by his own child.

Spring wore into summer, but Vincent came not. Important business detained him, he wrote, and autumn's sun would shine ere he could reach Grove wood. So the summer waned — pleasantly at least for Alfred, who had really his new boat to sail on the artificial lake, and with archery andother out door games in which his sister and Lucy united. One morning towards the close of August, Lucy and Alfred being, as usual, in the schoolroom, Miss Manovella rushed in with an open letter in her hand, and clasping her arms round Lucy, cried in a happy voice — "He's coming! he's coming! he'll be here to morrow ! " . "Well, you needn't choke Miss Fairplay! flings Alfred, laughing. " She's not Vincent ! or do you want to get her out of the way ? Are you afraid Vincent will fall in love with her? " " You naughty boy !

" cries his sister, making for him. " If I catch you — " With a quick flank movement Alfred gained the door, darted outside and held it open a few inches, while he said — " I'll leave you to read your letter ; time's up, isn't it, Miss Fairplay ? " " No, it's not. it wants a quarter of an hour yet ! " " Let him go," thrusts in Miss Manovella. "All right, Cina! I knew I might go," he laughed, and shut himself out. " And you have come to read me my dismissal warrant," sighs Lucy, mournfully. " Not at all, I shall not leave papa this year for certain, but aren't you glad? " " I am, Miss Manovella ! glad to see you so happy." "And you'll see Vincent to-morrow ! " repeats Miss Manovella. " Sooner than you thought he would, after all ! " " Yes, I did not expect him for several weeks yet, but I knew he would come whenever it was possible.

Now will you come out ? " Out they rambled, Miss Manovella clutching Lucy's arm the while, and smiling and talking of Vincent as she could talk of no one else until the day was over. The morrow came, a day destined to prove memorable to Lucy. It was near midday when Miss Manovella entered the schoolroom from the library, doing her best to appear indifferent by carelessly remarking, " Are you still at lessons ? Is it not play-time ? " " Has Vincent not come yet ? " demands Alfred. " I wish you'd see if the carriage is in sight ; you can see it a good way off." " All right, Cina, I'll go ! " returns Alfred, bombastically. " Vincent's here," she whispers to Lucy when Alfred had gone, " in the next room." " There ? " says Lucy, waving her arm towards the library door. " Yes, alone. Papa rode out, he's not back yet.

We have been sitting in there for the last half hour — Are you ready ? " Miss Manovella turned the handle of the door, and Lucy, who had been laying aside the books, seeing her impatience, followed her at once. She crossed the threshold. '• Mr. Haiton — Miss Fairplay," said the hostess, introducing them. Lucy had crossed the threshold, and there remained riveted, statue-like, frozen, speechless, her eyes fixed on Mr. Haiton. " Miss Fairplay ? Is it possible ? " he ex claimed, going forward to meet her. Lucy's arms extended ; her hands moved with a nervous twitch ing ; one step and she would have staggered. " Water, Cina, quick ! " cries Mr. Haiton, seizing Lucy and resting her on a chair. " Are you better ? " asks Miss Manovella, softly. " Were you faint ? " "It was such a surprise," gasps Lucy.

"I thought I was falling; such a fluttering tumult here — in my breast." " Shall I leave you and Vincent alone for a little ? " she whispers. " No, no, sit down. I am quite better now — I can talk. Mr. Haiton, how is Mr. Beaumont ?— and where is he ? " " He was well the last time I heard of him," answers Mr. Haiton. "Was," re-echoes Lucy, in extreme anxiety. "Where is he?" " Is it possible you don't know ? " Lucy shook her head. " In the Crimea." " In the Crimea," repeated Lucy, breathlessly. " And Cousin Bill?" " There also." " When did they go away ? " " They have been away for a long time — more than a year." " Where were they before that ? " " In Edinburgh." " Surely they couldn't have been there ! I wrote two letters to Cousin Bill, and they were both returned with the information that he had gone abroad and his address was not known."

" How long ago is that ? " " Nearly four years." " Four years ! " ejaculates Mr. Haiton, " not heard from them for four years ! It's the strangest thing in the world ! What came between Beau mont and you ? 1 thought the attachment was mutual ? " " So it was, and is ; there is nothing between us but a string of misfortunes that I know of." " Well, Beaumont didn't tell me. I only knew you were separated ; I didn't know the cause. But, of course, Williams was his great friend ; and now I think of it, that must have been the winter they were in Italy that you wrote. It was the first winter after that picnic we were all at." "Yes; it was just before Christmas I wrote. Were they in Italy ? Why did they go ? " " Beaumont's health gave way terribly." " Francis ? " asks Lucy, eagerly. " He was very ill, and they went abroad, the whole of them — Williams too — and shut up the hotfse."

"Lucy's cheeks blanched as she listened. "I know that ; I was at the house. Was he long ill?" " Some months. They stayed abroad for a year ; he was tolerably well when they came home. He and Williams finished the following year, and took their degrees." " And they are both doctors now ? " "They are ! But where were you, or where have you been, not to know this before ? " "I had gone to a school in Northtown for a couple of months only. Alas ! ere that time my aunt died suddenly, and I was ill for several months in consequence, but managed to write, as I've told you, to Cousin Bill." " I see, and they were away ; but where have you been since ? " Lucy narrated briefly her sojourn in America, her meeting with Mr. Naysmyth, and how the intervening months had been spent. " It's a jumble of mistakes," he thinks, when Lucy concludes her record of the past two years.

However, I heard the other day that Williams intends returning — that will settle it." " Did you ? " cries Lucy, a smile of joy lighting up her face for the first time. " I did ; he may be on his way now." "And Mr. Beaumont, is he also coming? " " I didn't hear, but I should think it probable he'll come with Williams." " When do you think they'll arrive? I might write to Cousin Bill and send it to Mr. Beaumont's in Great King Street." " Oh, he's retired." " Is he ? But they'll live in the same place ? " " No ; at least, I think not." " Then where can I address a letter to ? " "I can't say," rejoins Mr. Haiton, reflectively. " But I think the best way will be for you to write the letter and give it to me, because if they've left the Crimea it's no use sending it there, and they're sure to come to Edinburgh first, although there's no saying what part of the globe Williams will take himself to next.

At any rate, Beau mont's sure to remain when he comes, and he's the principal." He smiled in concluding. " He is," adds Lucy, smiling too. "Then hadn't you better write to Beaumont in the first place?" " No ; I'll write to Cousin Bill, and give it to you with the proviso that if Mr. Beaumont is in town first he is to open the letter." " You must write that on the outside," is Mr. Haiton's laughing injunction. " Of course I shall," is the laughing retort. Then seriously — " I've been writing a diary ever since I left Edinburgh for Mr. Beaumont to read. I might send it to him, but it would burden you too much." "Not in the least. I'm sure he'd be delighted to get it ; but he's ' Dr. Beaumont ' now." "Oh, I'll come to that by-and-bye! I can't think of him otherwise than as I saw him last; or Cousin Bill either."

" You'll know a difference on both when you see them, though Williams is little changed." " He always looked older than he was. I shouldn't think he would change much for many years. I know a slight difference on yourself, but I recognized you instantly, nevertheless." " And you heard the name," he added, smiling to Miss Manovella; *' but I don't know any difference on you— not the least — you look just as you did at the picnic, except the dress." " I'm astonished to hear it," replies Lucy, sighing heavily. "It will soon be over," he remarked, under standing her sorrowful expression. "You'll see Beaumont before two months are out, or I'm much mistaken." " I hope I shall ! " " What became of that Miss Malcolm ? " " I don't know ; I've never heard of her since." Wide open flew the door, and in stalked Alfred, stopping short in the middle of the room, scowling from one to the other with lowering eyebrows.

" Oh, you ! " he cried, leaning his head to a side, and shaking his fist at his sister ; afterwards making a dart at Mr. Haiton. "Well, old boy," says Mr. Haiton, "how are you getting on, eh ? When are you coming to Edinburgh?" " Oh, I'm all right ! " Alfred chucks out, as news of the first magnitude. " When is Cina going?" " Whenever she pleases." "I'll go then; only Miss Fairplay must go as well ! " " Miss Fairplay is going ! " affirms Mr. Haiton, and then there was a burst of laughter, Alfred vaulting his cap high in the air. " Hurrah ! " he vociferates. " Shall I be groomsman, Miss Fair play ? " " Come away, Miss Fairplay," says Miss Mano vella ; " we can't listen to this sort of talk." " You'll listen to something more definite, won't you, Cina?" hints Mr. Haiton, opening the door. The young ladies ran upstairs, nor halted till they breathlessly shut themselves in and sat down.

"To think that it should be Mr. Haiton," mused Lucy. "Yes, it's singular, isn't it? And to think that he should know your friends ! And to think that you should be engaged all the time and cunningly keep it to yourself ! " "I am not engaged, Miss Manovella; at least, I am not bound by a promise, and I did not keep the knowledge of my intimacy with Mr. Beaumont from you with the intention or idea of being cunning, but merely because I think it would have been imprudent for me to speak of it. I didn't know whether I should ever set eyes on him or my cousin more ; but since you have become so astute, know so much, you are welcome to the balance." " I'm glad you'll be settled so soon ! "—confi dently. "Shall I?" asks Lucy, her lips curved into a happy smile. " I should infer so from what I've heard.

There's papa coming ; it's time for us to dress." " Mr. Manovella will miss you and Alfred when you leave him." " Papa would not live here — he'll go to London." " How long is Mr. Haiton to remain? " "For a week — plenty of time to write your letter." Lucy smiled and withdrew. Miss Manovella met her at the foot of the stairs when she came down again. "You only want wings to fly, Miss Fairplay," she declares, with a laughing poke in the ribs. " This is a red letter day ! " Lucy answers back, appreciating Miss Manovella's fun, "and I've been furbishing up a bit ! This brooch with the pink stone — a keepsake from dear Mrs. St. Clair — I am wearing to signalize it ! " "It looks well in your white chemisette; you should have your portrait taken as you are now." " Perhaps I shall," cries Lucy, gaily.

During dinner Lucy was unusually absent minded. More than once Miss Manovella ad dressed her a second time ere attracting her attention. She could hardly have told whether she was eating fish, flesh, or fowl, so roving were her thoughts. She was smiling and happy, believing the sufferings of the past years at an end ; she would so soon meet Francis and her cousin, a prospect difficult of realization. But when a doubt did cross her mind she lifted her dancing eyes to Mr. Haiton to reassure herself she was not dreaming, and smiled anew to her plate with eminent satis faction. Miss Manovella and Mr. Haiton under stood the cause of her remissness, but neither made any comment upon it, and Mr. Manovella, if he deigned to think of her at all, thought — - but perhaps he did not bestow a thought upon her.

The gentlemen discoursed on business and other matters, but chiefly of the war — the subject that roused Alfred's interest most. " How long will the siege of Sebastopol last, Vincent ? " he wishes to know. "Alfred thinks you're an oracle, Vincent," says Mr. Manovella. " I hope it won't last long — don't you ? " rejoins Mr. Haiton. Alfred nodded, ate a mouthful of food, and then resumed — "Are your friends home yet ? Those nice young fellows that you spoke of." " Not yet, but they're coming." " I'm glad of that ! " cries Alfred, with anima tion, and a jaunty toss of the head. " Why, Alfred ? " « Oh ! " — a very big oh — " I didn't want your friends to be shot, you know ! " Lucy heard the last words ; the war had acquired a new interest for her, and she listened to any remarks concerning it, although heedless of other conversation.

Involuntarily she met Mr. Haiton's eyes with a look of inquiry in her own. His answering smile was hers, his confident words Alfred's. " My friends are all right, Alfred, so far as I know. You'll see them in Edinburgh when you come. I'll be sure to tell them how solicitous you were for their welfare ! " " Yes, do ! " chimes Alfred, with another wag of his head. " I'm going to the University myself, you know ! " The telegraphic communication between Mr. Haiton and Lucy had not escaped Mr. Mano vella's notice, and when the ladies and Alfred had withdrawn he adroitly questioned Mr. Haiton in reference to his former acquaintance with her, which he discovered had existed ; and thus Lucy's long kept secret became known to him as well as to his daughter. Mr. Haiton related the circumstance innocently enough, thinking naturally that Lucy's stay at Grovewood would in a short time be over, and from what he knew of the past, coupled with her steadfast devotion to Francis, concluded that the latter and she could not meet too early.

Mr. Manovella appeared to exhibit great indifference when listening, holding up his glass and looking through it, commenting upon the wine ; telling Mr. Haiton its age, and asking if he thought it good ; then begging his pardon, and requesting him to repeat what he had been saying ; but not a word escaped him. The affectionate regard between Miss Mano vella and Lucy became doubly cemented by their now having so much in common. It was gratify ing to know that Francis and Vincent were friends, and the relative qualities of each were frequently discussed by the girls — a natural topic to both. " You ladies are always putting your heads to gether," said Mr. Haiton, coming upon them in the garden. " What are you plotting?" " They were talking of you, Vincent," cried Alfred, who was near ; " I heard them mention your name and that other — one of your friends, you know."

" Beaumont ? " suggests Mr. Haiton. "That was it. They're always speaking of — " " Alfred, you naughty boy," said his sister, making a rush at him, which he dexterously eluded by springing behind a tree, where he was able to say more pert words with impunity. " Have you written that letter, Miss Fairplay?" queries Mr. Haiton. " My eight days here have nearly expired." " I shall write it to-night," replies Lucy. " How the week has flown ! I'm sorry you're going, and yet I'm glad. The sooner you see my friends, the sooner I'll see them." " You may depend upon it one or other of them will be at Grovewood without an hour's delay, whenever they know where you are — that is, as soon as possible after they are home." " Then I think I'll not send the diary," con siders Lucy, temporising. " Mr. Beaumont would not stop to read it, so I may as well keep it until I see him."

" As you please. I'm quite willing to carry it, however," adds Mr. Haiton, decisively. The diary was not sent. Being written for Francis only, Lucy thought it the wisest policy not to risk it falling into the hands of another. _ Miss Manovella rejoiced with Mr. Haiton in Lucy's future prospects. But who could describe her own thoughts and feelings? Half delirious with joy she had but one regret — that her dear aunt was not alive to witness the consummation of the happiness she so much desired to see, and which Lucy herself had not the slightest doubt was close at hand. That night she wrote the letter as follows : — " My Dear Cousin Bill, " After a separation of four years, during which time I have been driven by the remorseless hand of fate far from those ivho are most dear to me, how gladly I avail myself of the opportunity of writing to you, no words of mine can tell !

Mr. Haiton, by whom I send this, will tell you much I need not write, and I will tell you all when we meet. Often, dear Bill, I have remembered our compact, and wished for your counsel when I could not get it ; but now we shall soon be as happy as we were in those bygone days, and even more so, for do not misfortunes endear true friends to each other ? And does not ' absence make the heart grow fonder ? ' " How is Alice ? Are you married yet ? If not, is the happy day near ? And how is Francis ? Give him my love, not once, but a thousand times ! I don't expect written answers to my questions, and I could ask many more ; but oh ! the days will creep slowly until I hear the verbal ones. Till then, and ever after, believe me, dear Bill, your affectionate cousin, "Lucy Fairplay." Laden with many messages of love, in addition to the letter, Mr. Haiton departed.

Two days afterwards Miss Manovella entered the schoolroom with another open letter in her hand. "This is an invitation," she said, in answer to the inquiring looks of Lucy and Alfred, " from Miss Haiton. Vincent saw her on his way south. She wishes Alfred and me to go and spend a week with her, or, at least, a few days. There is to be a grand concert in the City Hall." Lucy did not say anything ; the announcement rather saddened her. It had an opposite effect upon Alfred. " I hope you'll go, Cina," he cried out in great glee. " Well," replied Miss Manovella, dolefully, " if it were not for leaving Miss Fairplay — " " Oh ! don't think of that," interrupted Lucy. " I'll be very lonely till you come back, no doubt, but I'll do the best I can to pass the time." " I don't like leaving you, really ; but papa thinks we should go."

" Go by all means ; at least, don't defer it on my account," reiterates Lucy. And they went. After an early dinner Lucy saw them depart, accompanied by their papa, who was to see them in the train. With a sense of isolation she then turned into the house, wondering what she should do, when one of the servants burst in upon her from the back premises with an outcry — " Oh, Miss Fairplay ! Benson has cut his finger, an' it's bleedin' awfu'; hae ye' ony bit white rag ? " Benson was a man who worked in the garden and did the errands. "I'll get a piece," said Lucy, running upstairs. She hurried down to the kitchen, where the man was laughing at the maid-servants, who were, as he said, " Makin' a fuss aboot naethin' ava." " Let me see your finger, Benson ? " said Lucy. "It's no muckle" — shaking the blood from his hand — "jist a bit scratch.

I wis awa' at the station wi' the mistress's boxes, an' wis cuttin' a bit cudgel on the way hame, an' the knife jist slippet ower ma finger." Lucy tore a piece of linen into strips and bound up the wound, although he was protesting all the time against her "troublin' herseP," and saying, "ane o' the lassies cud dae't," nor could he thank her sufficiently when she had done. Lucy laughed at his honest thanks and praises, ran up to her room, and thought no more about it. Singing merrily, scanning over her wardrobe in search of anything wanting repair, calculating how long it would take to reach England from the Crimea, and from England to Edinburgh, and from the latter City to Grovewood, Lucy spent the afternoon, not wishing to begin writing until she could remain at it for the night. It was several hours before the carriage wheels apprised her of Mr. Manovella's return, and shortly after she went down for tea.

Knowing Mr. Manovella frequently preferred remaining in the dining room for the evening, she sent his tea down without asking if he would come to the drawing room, and was glad when she found he had taken it. Having finished her own, she hastened to her room and prepared for a lengthened spell at the writing. It was the early part of September, the night was drawing in, and her candle was lit ; but ere sitting down, a weird, eerie feeling crept over her, and, glancing round, she half expected to see someone emerge from a shadowy corner. Shaking off the momentary terror as a folly, she did what she had never thought of doing before looked into the wardrobe and under the bed, and satisfied she was alone, turned the key in the lock of the door, and then began to write. Engrossed with her work, the night sped by, until she at last bethought her of the hour and took out her watch.

" Quarter to twelve," she said ; " I didn't think it was so late, but I must put down a few more thoughts," and, dipping her pen in the ink, she went on again. The silence of midnight reigned. She knew the servants had retired at least two hours ago, and she was alone in this upper part of the house. Suddenly, while she wrote, she heard a creak on the stair, and raised her head to listen. Electrified with an unknown fear, she sat with bated breath, her hand outstretched grasping the pen, her eyes fixed in affright on the door, knowing it was locked, yet thinking it must open ! She listened for several minutes, but, hearing nothing, laid down the pen, thinking it must have been fancy, when the same sound again caught her ear, this time a little nearer, and she paused in her motion, transfixed with terror, gazing on the handle of the door !

Who could it be ? What could it be ? She was certain she had heard Mr. Manovella ascend from the dining-room to his bed-chamber an hour before, and there was no one but he and herself in this part of the building ! What could it be ? She scarcely breathed as she watched and listened, her very senses seemed suspended, her hair rising from her head, her eyes starting from their sockets ! On it came, a stealthy, cat-like tread, noiseless, save for the occasional creak, but she knew it was there, knew it was approaching, nearer, nearer, till it reached the door ! Uncon sciously, with protruding eyes, her body swayed forward to meet the evil she dreaded ; and as she gazed — oh ! the horror of those moments — the VOL. III. C door was pressed, the handle turned, noiseless too, but turn it did ! Another pressure, another turn, but Lucy moved not; every nerve was strung _ to its utmost tension, every muscle paralyzed with fear !