The little beauty

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Chapter I

It was with some jij^gree of trepidation that Julian found himself arrived at the entrance gates of Lilford Towers. The massive iron portals were opened by a grim-looking old porteress issuing from the gothic-structured lodges overshadowed by the sombre foliage of trees, and a grand old avenue of lime-trees winding with the carriage-drive brought him to the front of the stately mansion. Everything around bespoke the existence of proud affluence. Several servants appeared at the door, and Julian was at once conducted through the lofty hall into the library, an enormous

» THE LITTLE BEAUTY.

IHH>m oxtonding the whole length of one of the wiugH.

Julian looked wonderingly around him, as he still followed the servant, until they arrived at a far distant oriel window ; in its embrasure lay his cousin Jerrold, and he almost started as he looked on that pale corpse-Uke form.

"My dear Juhan, I am so rejoiced to welcome you ! " Jerrold exclaimed, aflFectionately taking his hand, and looking stedfastly at him ; *' I thank God that I have been spared to see you ; you are indeed a perfect likeness of my uncle Juhan.*'

JuUan was much touched by the sight of this poor cripple, whose gentle voice and kindliness went straight to his heart, and the tender emotion which displayed itself on his counte- Bance was not unperceived or unappreciated by his cousin.

He made Juhan sit by him, and with his gaze fixed upon the pleasant face of the youth, upon whose brow sense and talent were so plainly marked, they were the happiest moments of a life so darkened by loneliness and pain.

And Juhan, too, felt that it would be no small satisfaction to be able in any way to solace the sufferings of this a£3icted cousin ; he told him so in a few, true, simple, affectionate words, and soon they talked freely, as with the confidence of years of acquaintance.

" My father was obUged to go to a county meeting at ,G — , but will return to dinner," Jerrold at length said ; " but, Juhan, I must ring for Nurse Martha ; she will be all impatience to see you," and ringing a bell within his reach. Nurse Martha almost instantly appeared.

" Welcome, welcome to the home of your fathers, dear Mr Julian!'' she exclaimed, as with the freedom of the old friend of the family she presumed to embrace the young son of one she had so dearly loved, " and may your presence bring peace and comfort to the hearts of those within this house."

" But you must let Nurse Martha show you your room, Julian," said Jerrold, after some time had elapsed, during which much had been spoken and discussed, bringing tears of mingled emotions to the young man's eyes. And he was conducted through the great hall up the magnificent staircase, through galleries interminable, to a room situated in one of the turrets of the old mansion.

It was a pleasant apartment, conunanding a view of the park, and beyond it, vistas which opened out to sight choice portions of distant scenery. His guide opened a door leading into a smaller inner room, and Julian on entering it was struck by the sort of home feeling which its aspect conveyed.

There was a book-case filled with books, a writing-table, fishing-tackle on a shelf, and more than one fishing-rod and basket suspended on the wall ; a gun-case was also in the room, and whips and walking-sticks, in short, everything calculated to give the impression that it had been lately inhabited.

Julian approached the sporting treasures, and began with interest to examine them; whilst Nurse Martha stood by with tearful eyes.

"No one," she at length said, solemnly, "has set foot in this room for more than twenty years, save myself and Elizabeth, Mr JuUan."

JuUan started, and looked at the old nurse. His smile of youthful pleasure gave place to ja grave, reverential expression; he knew at once that he found himself in his father's apartment, that he stood surrounded by all the boyish possessions he had once so prized.

One valuable addition, however, had been made to all which had been left, untouched — as the old woman proceeded to inform him — since that father's occupation of it.

" And it cost Mr Jerrold not a little to part with it," she said, " this picture,'' pointing to one over the chimney-piece, before which a green curtain hung. She drew it aside, and Juhan beheld his father s face — not the pale/ worn ont he had looked on when the dying man blessed his boy and bid him a heartbroken farewell — but the picture of a being as young, as happy, as highly-favoured in all ways as himself.

And Nurse Martha left Julian alone in his father's room, gazing on his father's picturedface ; and the thoughts and feeUngs inspired by aU surroimding him were such as, probably, gave the colouring to his future days.

He was roused from his meditations by the sound of the half-hour bell, and the knock of a servant at the door, who came to offer his services, and informed him he was appointed his attendant during his stay at the Towers. Just when Julian was dressed and about to leave his room, Nurse Martha appeared to request he would go to his cousin in his own sitting-room, before he appeared in the library to meet his uncle.

"But, my dear boy," said the old nurse, admiringly surveying Julian, now equipped in his evening attire, "let me have a good look at you first; you are tall, and well favoured ; no one can deny, an improvement on the race of Hope's, truly. I should like one of them to show such a specimen as tkis,'' she continued, growing quite excited by the pride that swelled her heart, as she gazed on the fine young man.

Julian was much amused.

" I can assure you. Nurse Martha, that I am not at all accustomed to such compliments; no one ever told me before I was worth looking at ; you will make me quite vain."

" No, I am sure that I never shall," was the reply, as she conducted him to Jerrold, " you have too much sense for that. I wonder what Mr Hope wiD think of his nephew ? his sons, poor souls, are sad contrasts to you, Mr Julian. Well, this is a queer world," she continued to murmur, " how things right themselves — ^the prosperous brought low ; and those who are fallen, raised up ! "

And so she went on till they reached Jerrold's apartment, which was on the ground-floor, his bed-room opening out of it.

" I wished to see you once more, Julian," Jerrold said, " before you meet my father, to tell you that he is most kindly disposed towards you, therefore you have no cause to dread the meeting. I trust this will be the commencement of happier days to my father, as well as to all of us. Now go, my dear fellow," he said, whilst he gazed with undisguised dehght upon his young cousin. And Julian went to the hbrary, where he found his uncle, and two gentlemen who were guests in the house.

We believe Mr Hope experienced a firr greater degree of nervousness at the idea of this meeting with his nephew than was reciprocated by Juhan. The only feeling which could have disturbed the equanimity of the latter would have been the recollection of the treatment his parents had received from his uncle, as well as the rest of the Hope family ; but Julian had been taught the divine lesson of forgiveness ; and he now endeavoured only to keep in mind that his uncle had volunteered the oUve branch of peace, and that it was his part to receive it cheerfully. At once, then, he advanced through that formidably large library to meet Mr Hope, who was conversing with a gentleman at the further end of the room, and was greeted calmly, though kindly, by his stemlooking uncle, who at the same time scanned his nephew with his keen grey eyes, scrutinizingly. Then making a few casual remarks, he presented him to the strangers as his nephew, Julian Hope. At the dinner-table JuKan could not help feeling inwardly amused at his novel situation, so different from anything he had ever before realised.

In that sombre dining-room, with so many grim-looking ancestors frowning down upon their young descendant, surrounded by gravelooking servants waiting noiselessly and punctiUously upon him, even the massive plate conveying a sense of weight and formaUty, adding to the gloomy grandeur of all around ! And then his three companions, all elderly men, of grave aspect, and Julian thought of the light cheerful Rectory, and of the easy social circle of the kind Glenmore family, which had ever been to him as a second home. But it was only to make him more thankful for the happiness from which he was for a while parted — he felt not a whit depressed, his bright face was indeed pleasant to behold, and his three companions were all attracted by its charm.

The gentleman at the bottom of the table, who seemed to be an habitue of the house, was a Mr Gresham, Mr Hope's right hand, who assisted him in all business matters connected with his large properties. He occupied apartments in the house. The other was Sir John Forbes, a guest for a short period.

Sir John made many inquiries after Lady Glenmore and her family, with whom he was acquainted. JuUan, when once launched upon this subject, so dear to him, grew eloquent, and with that .youthful enthusiasm which prompts the words to flow so abundantly when the theme is one which touches upon favourite associations and feelings, linked with the memory of home and happiness, was soon descanting with great enthusiasm upon the delights of Lyle Court and Brooklands. Lord Glenmore! — how his grateful heart poured forth when his name was brought forward, the acts of kindness which he had continually showered on him ; but with ready tact he changed the subject, when happening to turn his eyes upon his uncle's face^ he thought he perceived a deeper shade of gravity, and some returning severity upon his coimtenance.

** Have you seen Lord Glenmore's stud?" he inquired of Sir John; and then began to describe its perfections, and descanted upon the merits of some of his favourite horses with much zeal.

"You seem fond of horses, Julian,'* Mr Hope remarked.

" Indeed, I am ; and thanks to Miller, the stud groom, I have ridden ever since I was a very small boy."

" I am glad to hear it," his uncle replied, with a degree of kindness very imusual to him, " I think that new horse, Gresham, will suit him."

"If Mr Julian can manage it. Hopkins tells me he is rather hot."

" Oh, I shall not think so, I dare say ;• I am used to all sorts."

And JuUan talked on, encouraged by the three elders, who seemed quite amused and refreshed by their proximity to this free, fresh, young spirit.

On returning to the library, Julian found his cousin again recUning on his couch in the oriel window.

"Well, Julian, how have you got through

THE LITTLE BEATJTT. 11

your formidable dinner? " Jerrold asked, as he approached him, and drew a chair close to his side.

" It was very agreeable, and really I did not find it at all formidable," Julian answered; " I only hope I was not too much at my ease. Do you know, Jerrold, I beUeve I had all the talk to myself after dinner/'

Jerrold looked quite pleased, and as his eyes fixed themselves upon that radiant face, he felt quite certain that his father s heart must be drawn towards him — and of this fact he was soon made sure — for Julian soon after having gone to a distant part of the room, Mr Hope approached his son, and said to him :

" Jerrold, I am obhged to you for having been the means of making me acquainted with that youth. I Uke what I have seen of him particularly ; he seems most ingenuous and amiable, and thoroughly well-bred and gentleman-like. You must draw him out, and dis^ cx)ver what are his tastes and acquirements as to learning, and what he is fit for." Then perceiving that Julian had again approached them, he motioned kindly to him to resimae his seat by Jerrold, and left them.

" It is very strange," JuUan said ; " but I cannot help fanc3dng that I have seen my uncle somewhere before : I never forget faces* I wonder whether he can be the gentleman who travelled up to London with me in the train, when I first went to Burleigh House."

"You must ask him some day," said Jerrold.

The two cousins' soon became greatly interested in the conversation that ensued. Jerrold led his companion on to talk of his home and previous life — all was so new and fresh to the invalid, who had spent his weary existence in the dull, imeventful sameness of sickness. JuUan's details were Uke the most amusing stories, his school- days and home-days full of absorbing interest to the cripple. And how he loved to Usten, which he did, day after day, with untiring pleasure, when Julian talked of his mother, that theme on which the young man loved tenderly to dwell.

His sister Mary, too, was much inquired after by Jerrold, and Julian told how he had been from a boy almost like a father to

her.

" I must see her soon," Jerrold said.

But Julian did not so readily assent to this idea, for he knew that his mother's consent would not be so readily given.

" Mary," he said, " is a delicate little creature, shy and timid. She has never been separated from my mother and Sylvia ; I fear she would shrink from strangers.'*

"But tell me about this Sylvia. Nurse Martha is never weary of descanting upon her perfections and peculiarities ; is she not a very interesting creature ? "

A bright flush suffused Julian's face and brow, as the remembrance of his mother's words respecting Sylvia, and the new train of thought they had suggested, occurred to him.

Jerrold considerately turned his eyes away from him, and the next moment JuUan spoke.

" I have always, so completely since my mother's marriage, considered Sylvia as my sister, and indeed have known her so long, that I am scarcely a fair judge of the perfections of her form and features, but I am very fond of her ; she is a most affectionate warm-hearted girl, and her extreme love for my mother has always endeared her to me ; and/' he said hurriedly, as if to change the subject, "I have such a dear Uttle brother — ^we all dote on Arthur."

" Well, I never expected to live to see this day," said old Martha to Jerrold Hope one morning ; " could you have believed, sir, that your father would ever take to any one as he does to our JuKan ? Why he is quite fooUsh about him; and would be like to spoil him if that were possible, dear boy ! "

" Oh, thank God for it ! " exclaimed Jerrold, with a sigh of relief.

" Yes, indeed, and I do thank God for it," continued the nurse, " and it is so pleasant to see master's face now, when he smiles at the dear boy's free talk; not a bit does Mr Julian stand in awe of him, but behaves towards him just as if he felt he was a Hope as much as himself. I love to see his independent spirit. Oh ! Mr Jerrold, all the servants seem so surprised. Mr Davenport says it is quite a new thing to wait at table now, and he has been butler here, you know, coming thirty years. And in the stables Mr Hopkins is now no longer supreme ; Mr JuUan is to do just what he pleases, ride and drive anything he fancies. Mr Hope, I hear, is not satisfied with

THE LITTLK BEAUTY. 15

the horses now, and says he must have some better ones, as his nephew is such a fine rider. Hopkins is rather hujSy, I beheve, sometimes, but even he in his heart is glad that some one of the family takes an interest in the stud."

" But, nurse, I want to speak to you about that beautiful girl you saw at Brooklands, who is so Uke that picture," and Jerrold pointed to the Raphael angel.

" Well, what of her ? " said the nurse quickly.

" Why, the first time Julian came to sit with me here he went round the room examining the pictures. When he came to the Raphael, I shaU never forget the start he gave, and when I looked at his face, he had turned very red at first, and then quite pale ; he stood still gazing for some moments, and then moved away. I said, * Is not that an exquisite face ? ' ' It is indeed,' he answered, and as there was a tremulous sound in his voice, which seemed to bespeak emotion, I did not pursue the subject ; since that time I have remarked that he studiously avoids looking at it. I think that I shall remove the Raphael and put the Guido that hangs before my bed in its place."

" Yes, put it out of the way by all means^ Mr Jerrold. Did not my heart misgive me in some way when I looked at the girl at Brooklands ? Why, I told you all about the nurse's daughter, the very image of that angel, whose mother I took a disUke to the very moment I set my eyes upon her, and I began to think they were not the pair to be always in the way of young men — ^the daughter from her beauty, the mother because she looked a bold designing woman/'

So the Raphael was removed the same day, and Jerrold, on calhng Julian's attention to the change, said that he often altered the positions of his pictures, which was strictly the case.

Every day seemed to draw the heart of poor Jerrold Hope closer to his cousin, and Julian felt that it would be a real act of charity to divide his time between Lilford Towers and Brooklands. The distance was not very great, so he went backwards and fonvards during the summer, and then returned to Oxford, — Mr Hope insisting upon taking the expenses of his nephew on himself, and most liberal was he in all the arrangements.

In September the Vemons joined the Glenmore family at the sea-side ; Mary always required the change, and Mrs Vernon thought that Sylvia looked less blooming than usual, and, certainly, to them all, Brooklands was less attractive than at that season it had generally been. Mrs Vernon felt heavily the monopoly of her son by his newly-recovered relations, and it required all her fortitude and strength of mind to enable her to bear the change vrrought by Julian's absence from that home, in which his presence had so long gladdened all their hearts.

But it was the right path which was pursued, therefore there was nothing to be done but to submit.

VOL. n. a

Chapter II

Mrs Miller was determined to accomplish a trip to London. She felt sure that a good portrait of Violet would prove a most useftd reminder to the enamoured young lord. " And oh, what a beautiful picture would she not make ! " was the vain mother's reflection.

She soon managed the matter as cleverly as she generally contrived to arrange her schemes. To Frank Miller she represented Violet as not at all well, requiring change of air and scene, and really the little girl did look pale and unlike herself. Poor child ! her mother s plots were beginning to take effect, her poisonous words, which, with crafty skill, she knew how to interft

sperse in her conversation, to slowly work in her mind.

She began to feel that her present condition was not one that could fill up the measure of what she considered happiness, that she ought to press on to obtain something better, higher.

But how was this to be done ? not by the means her mother pointed out, from which she shrunk and shuddered with imfeigned horror.

But Violet was so obtusely innocent and artless, that her mother could not, with the childish and immatured feehngs of her daughter, touch the purity of her mind. All, therefore, that she could accomplish, was to make her unhappy and dissatisfied — in a very sUght degree, however — with her present lot; could all have remained as it had been, Violet desired nothing more.

Her remarkable beauty had, from the moment of her birth, been her bane, making her so unfortunately conspicuous for one in her grade of life, and placing her in a totally false position, — thus inducing tastes and habits perfectly at variance with her home life.

And now a change had come over everything ; not so much from the rectory family, for they were kind and consistent in everything they did, and Sylvia, who really loved Violet tenderly, and with a steady, anxious desire, to evince her interest in her proUgi, redoubled her aflFectionate attentions; still there was a diflference perceptible to Violet, even in Sylvia ; there was a graver, more touching kindness in her manner, the joyous freedom and ease of former days were gone; now she seemed to endeavour more than ever to instruct the girl — to induce her to improve herself, — not, as before, only in the songs she loved to hear her warble so sweetly, but in those useful matters, which were more consistent with her line of life. And Mrs Vernon, with feelings of real compunction for the part which she, as well as every one else had taken, in making Violet unfit for her life of mediocrity, made every effort to §erve her substantially with reference to the future. But all this came far too late ; poor Violet, with her mother to aid in keeping up the delusion, was ruined for ever for her humble vocation.

The Glenmore family were much less scrupulous in the matter ; fain would they have put the poor girl at once back into her proper place. They had been so discomfited by Lor^ Victor's conduct towards her, and his

^HE LITTLE BI^AtTT. 21

open demonstration of admiration, that they were indignant, and, for such really kind people, almost severe.

They began much to disapprove of the fantastical dress of the beautiful gh*l, forgetting that from them had Mrs Miller hitherto derived both the power and taste to enable her to attire her daughter so elaborately.

Lady Glenmore, for the first time in her life, ventured to speak openly and seriously to Mrs Miller, upon the impropriety of her manner of bringing up her daughter. She did not choose to allude to Victor's boyish admiration, considering that it was making a serious business of what was only the passing folly of a yomth, but the idea of it rankled in the lady's breast, for she weU knew the uncontrollable, indomitable nature of her son, and it induced an endeavour on her part to assume a severity of manner very foreign to her gentle nature and usual bearing.

Mrs Miller was deeply offended ; however, she had recourse to her old weapons, tears and flattery, and the old story of all she had done for the family harrowed up jJBor Lady Glenmore's sensibiKties, by dragging before her tender mind by-gone scenes of affection.

in which the nurse had acted the part of the good Samaritan, till she ended by making her think that she had been a perfect demon of ingratitude and cruelty, and dear Miller the best and most ill-used of creatures. She even shed tears of contrition, whilst she loaded Nurse Rose with presents and kindness, to make up for thus hurting her feehngs. However, the words had been spoken, and were not re-called, and Mrs Miller saw that a new leaf must be turned for the present; she must play her cards cleverly, and after a new fashion.

Her Ladyship she could soon get over, but the yoimg ladies were very different, particularly Lady Sophia, who was as sharp as a needle ; and indeed both of them had looked mighty cold of late, and were always lecturing poor Violet, and telling her to mend stockings and make shirts, instead of wasting her time on trumpery, and everlastingly playing on the guitar.

"They shall see some of these days," she soliloquized. " My Violet will be able to snap her fingers at them, put her pretty foot upon the neok of them all, the proud pack ! Lady Sophia, forsooth, a pert, haughty thing, even in the nursery! And as for ber looks, she was always the plainest of the family. It shall be, even if it is only to spite them all."

But Mrs Miller's part was to look very humble and meek. And Lady Glenmore's carriage was oftener than ever to be seen at the Cottage gate, and the nurse hurrying forth to receive some kind words, or some little token of friendship from the lady, fruit or game, or some such remembrance.

At last Mrs Miller went to the Court one morning, and opened out her project. She had some matters of business to accomplish in London ; a sister., whom she might never have the chance to see again, was there. Might she and Violet go to the house in Whitehall Gardens for a couple of weeks or so? Her tongue had got into such a habit of lying, and her imagination was so fertile, that anything to suit her purpose was manufactured. The request was immediately granted. The servants in charge of the house were desired to make Mrs Miller and her daughter perfectly comfortable, and after Frank Miller's consent had with difficulty been bullied out of him, the day was fixed upon for their departure, Erank Miller mystified to think how London,

24 THE LITTLE BEAtJTT.

in the hot month of August, could possibly be the place calculated to bring back the roses to his darling's cheeks.

" You had much better let me take her with me into Yorkshire, where I shall soon be obliged to go. I have a friend who will give her board and lodging, and take good care of her into the bargam."

" Oh, let me go, mother," implored Violet.

" And pray, may I ask, Mr Miller, who is this friend of yours ? " Mrs Miller said, without heeding Violet.

" Who ? why, a very creditable one, I can tell you. He is WiUiam Taylor, of the Wentworth Arms, at Ferrybridge, and his missus a pattern ofawifeandlandlady.''

"Thank you, Mr Miller, I dare say they are excellent people, but Violet has not been accustomed to associate with innkeepers."

" And a pity too ! " exclaimed Frank Miller, waxing wroth, "they are much more in her way than gentlefolks, and I intend in future not to be such a stock and stone as I have been, but to take another line with my daughter."

Mrs Miller began to be hysterical, and Frank Miller walked oflF, as usual, when a storm had commenced. But, as it always happened, the

THE LITTMB BEAUTY. 25

affair ended in the wife gaining her points Frank at this time was full of business of his own, for he also had a plan in contemplation, which he thought would be profitable, and likewise gratify the ambition of his wife.

There was a large establishment about to be disposed of in the town of Selbome, about ten miles from Brooklands, and Frank's wish was to sell the Cottage and forge, and remove to Selbome, where this most lucrative business awaited him. He had not yet mentioned his intention to Mrs Miller. Perhaps her being out of the way during this time of negotiation might be as well, as she would only gossip about the affedr, and worry him.

Violet was not at all elated at the idea of this expedition to London. Far rather would she have gone with her kind father to his Mends at the Wentworth Arms, than be left to the tender mercies of her mother, in great hot London ; she well knew how it would be, how she should be dressed up and teazed, and obliged to show off from morning till night ; and then to leave all her kind friends, and her garden with the flowers in full bloom! She did not like it at all.

The day before her departure, Sylvia had asked permission to take a walk with Violet. "The poor little thing/' she said to Mrs Vernon, " looks so pale and sad, and seems so to hate the idea of going to London, I really must try to cheer her a little."