Won at last

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Chapter I

fTIHB happiest hour of a woman's life is -*- probably when she has just received an unexpected proposal from the man she loves best. To any girl possessing, like Edith FreviUe, a very low opinion of herseK, the enchanting hour of fulfilled hopes, or rather wishes — ^for in such a case they scarcely assume the form of hopes — must be happiness indeed.

Edith FreviUe was not even beautiful, although the changing expression of her dark eyes, the playful, kindly smile that

VOL. I. B often lighted up features whicli, somewhat large and strongly marked, might otherwise have been too harsh to charm — ^her quiet, yet graceful movements, and the pleasant tones of her voice, rendered her one of the most winningly attractive girls I ever saw.

But she was quite unconscious of this attracting power ; and when she became acquainted with Captain Morton, who, she heard, was a great admirer of her friend, the beautiful heiress, Clarissa Fairleigh, she never dreamt of the possibility that he could care for herself. She looked upon him at first as actually engaged to her friend ; and perhaps this idea had rendered her less shy than usual. She talked to him with a kind of haK-sisterly interest, entirely devoid of self-consciousness, which imparted a dignity and grace to her hitherto child-like manner, that both surprised and pleased her motlier. For it was the first time Edith had accompanied her parents to visit a friend's house. She was not yet out ; and their old residence, Freville Court, had few neighbours, and was so far from any large town that, for the sake of masters, Edith had been sent for the last five years to a school in London, where she met the beautiful Clarissa, and a real friendship had sprung up between the two girls. Clarissa had been her heau idial of perfection, but during the only week they had spent together since they left school, a slight feeling of disappointment was experienced by Edith.

The beauty was full of her engagements to balls and parties, and confided to Edith all her wonderful conquests — even to the names of her devoted admirers, and the number of proposals she had abeady refused. AU this clashed against the simple-

b2 minded girl's perceptions, and her naturally harmonious tone of mind, so that she somewhat shocked her lovely friend by expressing sorrow for all the poor gentlemen's disappointments. Clarissa, in consequence, made up her mind that Edith was a silly creature, unable to appreciate the full value of her friend's triumphs, and of her high position as the reigning beauty of the county.

However, she said nothing; but there was a slight coldness in her manner, and Edith had returned home fuU of vague regrets, which she scarcely allowed herself to embody in thoughts ; and she could no longer look forward to the ball, to which Mrs. Fairleigh had invited her, with the same enthusiasm as before. It was to be on Clarissa's birthday, which would not take place for more than two months, and Edith was to make her dibut at it.

In the meantime, the Frevilles went to spend a week at the house of an old friend, Mrs. Bevan, and there she became acquainted with the Captain Morton of whom she had heard Clarissa talk so much. She knew he had not made her friend a positive proposal, but Clarissa had declared that he was more deeply in love than any of the others who had proposed, and that he was only withheld from declaring his love by a feeling of bumiUty, for, although of a good family, he had very little fortune. *^ Only about a thousand a year, I believe," said Clarissa, one day, when talking to Edith about him; "and that is nothing, when I shall have at least thirty thousand a year, two fine country houses, and a large house in London.

" But if you care for him more than you do for any of your great or rich admirers, would you not be happier with him ?" said Edith.

"I don't know — I might get tired of him, perhaps," said Clarissa.

These words had often haunted Edith after she became acquainted with Captain Morton, and a feeling approaching to indignation began to take possession of her mind. That charming man ! — the handsomest and most attractive person Edith had ever seen 1 He so completely realized her ideal of manly perfection that she began, unconsciously, to envy her friend's extreme beauty, and even her riches, if their possession would cause him to care for her — ^but to her astonishment she gradually discovered that he regarded neither. The last evening they sang and talked together — or rather he talked to her for nearly an hour in one of the old bay windows, while they were nominally admiring the moonlight view of the garden. The next morning they had a long walk before breakfast, and in that hour the wondering and perplexed Edith's fate was decided. It could not be real — she must be dreaming !

"It is quite impossible you can really care for me," she at last foimd words to say. " I am not even accomplished — I could never learn to play and sing — I am not beautiful, like Clarissa ; besides, I know she cares for you more than for any of the men she has refused — she told me so."

" Only a passing fancy— I was convinced of that the last time I met her. She has. transferred her affections, if she had any, to my friend, Mr. Lethbridge ; and he would suit her far better."

" But he has no fortune at all, I thought."

*' Very little ; but he is much more clever than I am — quite a genius, and such a kind-hearted fellow, and yet with a strong mind and determination. He would influence

— ^the suspense is intolerable ; and I shall retiim to you in half an hour."

The interview was successful, and the surprised Edith returned home with her parents after breakfast in a most bewildering state of bliss.

WON iT LAST.

VOL. I.

the Fairleigh family. How you can be so infatuated as to take such an interest in the family of the man who "

*' Who jilted me. Well, I suppose it is very foolish, but Clarissa Fairieigh is so like "

" And you think that, if she can marry such a man as Captain Morton, she would be saved, and that he would make a really good use of her large fortune ; but I think, from what I gathered, she does not really care for him. I doubt whether she will ever love anyone deeply but herself."

'^ You are very hard upon her, my wise sister ; but you are generally right in your judgment of character — ^in fact, the success of our school was very much more owing to your insight into the disposition of our girls than it was to all my learning and accomplishments."

'^ No, no, that is not so ; but I think your pet Captain, now, is only dazzled by Miss Fairleigh's extreme beauty; lie is blind to her defects, and if he makes you his conj&dante, you should be glad if he meets with anyone to distract his attention. I think his friend,. Mr. Lethbridge^ would be a more suitable husband for Clarissa ; he would rule the wild and spoilt heiress with a steadier hand, and her fortune would help him to restore that beautiful old place. I beheve all the young oflficers tell you their secret histories, and you have saved some of the poor young men from grievous scrapes."

"Well, I do pity some of these poor boys, who are thrust into the army sometimes at seventeen ; and I think it is very cruel of their parents to launch them forth on such a world of temptation without any real education."

" Yes, unless there could always be some dear good old maid like you to win their conj&dence, and take sucli a kindly interest in their hopes and joys, and help to keep them out of scrapes and foolish entanglements. But you have not yet told me your news, and what poor Edith Dalton's daughter can have to do with it."

" I find that Captain Morton has been staying at Freville Court; he went there from Mrs. Bevan's, and the Previlles, as well as that old miser, Mr. Dalton, from what I hear, seem to have taken a great fancy to him ; and Mrs. Snooks, who told me the news, says that Edith FreviUe is the most charming girl she ever saw— not so pretty as her grandmother, our darling Miss Delamere, and nothing to be compared with the heiress Clarissa ; but she is sure Captain Morton is ' vastly smitten,' as she expresses it, and says the Captain would be a ' monstrous ' good match, for Edith will have no fortune, because her miserly grandfather will leave all his fortune to her brother."

" But I thought she was a schoolfellow, and a great friend of your favourite heirless. Surely Captain Morton would never give up the beauty, who seems, by your account, so devoted to him, for a girl with no fortune, and not even very pretty, as you say."

" He is quite capable of doing so, if he had ,any misgiving as to the sincerity of Clarissa's affection."

*^ Yes, I can fancy that ; and perhaps I shall prove to be right after all, and that she will betray her self-love in time; or she may meet some one else she prefers, and who would give her more rank, I am certain she is very ambitious; don't look so grave, Susan, at your little romance falling to the ground."

" How I should like to see our dear Miss Delamere's grand-dauglitej* ! for I could almost cry when I think of her grandmother's sad fate and untimely death. How cruel her father was to force her to marry that terrible miser, to save him from complete ruin, when, after all, it did not answer to him, for he died at the consummation of his daughter's sacrifice."

" Yes, I would give anything to see Mrs. Preville and her daughter, and it seems so strange thistt I should never have seen her ; in fact, scarcely even heard anything about her."

" Well, you might see them now," said Kitty, " if you will but leave me for a few days* I know Mrs. Snooks's sister, who lives in the village near Freville Court, has asked you to come many a time, and really old Suky could take very great care of me."

" Yes, and let you fall down stairs, as she did that frosty day last Winter, and — ^but stay, there is a ring at the bell, and Miss Fairleigh's pony-carriage actually stopping at the garden gate. What could have induced her to visit an old maid like me ? And she is getting out ; so now, dear Kitty, y you will have a better opportunity than you have had yet of seeing her beautiful face."

VOL. I.

Chapter III. *

T MUST now say a few words about the *- old lady thus visited by the reigning popular beauty and heiress of the neighbourhood. Miss, or rather (as single women of a certain age were called fifty years ago), Mistress Susan Warburton was one of the happiest of her sex, and she was the first to hear and circulate every piece of news which the sleepy little town of Suttonfields produced. She was called a gossip — ^but it was of that innocent kind of which I used to meet several dear old specimens in my early youth, at a cathedral town.

Susan Warburton, like some of my old friends, had been pretty, was pretty still, and had experienced in early life a dire disappointment. But if a person lives through such a fate without being soured or completely crushed, he or she is likely to come out of the trial an improved and often a most unselj&sh and sensible being. This is more particularly the case when the j&rst love has been so deep as to keep the individual constant to its memory — ^when he or she has learnt to forgive, and is able still to venerate the loved one.

The man to whom Susan Warburton had in youth been engaged, proved faithless. But she knew how strong the temptation had been. They were both poor, and his father of course strongly objected to the match, and a rich heiress fell desperately in love with him, when he was on a visit to

some friends in Scotland. The heiress

c2 was handsome and attractive, and the rumour reached Susan's ears. She had once seen and greatly admired the beautiful girl, and I was told that at her next interview with her betrothed, who was no other than the father of the fair Clarissa, she determined to release him from his engagement. People said that she could not have had much deep feeling : perhaps not ; but still it was deep enough to keep her constant to his memory, although she never saw him again.

After a long and most painful illness she recovered, and surprised all her friends by her happy looks and the uncomplaining manner in which she bore, not only the disappointment, but a loss of income her father experienced from some mercantile failure during that same fatal year. She, with her sister Katherine, set up a school, which succeeded so well that, after some thirty years, she and this sister, who had never enjoyed strong health, and was now a confirmed invalid, were able to retire to a comfortable little old house and garden at Suttonfields.

At first they were only visited by the chief inhabitants of the little town, but when one of their favourite pupils married a gentleman of large fortune and old family, Susan Warburton was drawn out from her retirement, and soon became a ' great favourite with all the children, and a few of the most sensible people in the neighbourhood. But nothing could induce her to pass a night away from her invalid sister Kitty, who was too lame to walk, and whose eyes were now failing so much that she could scarcely see to read.

Suttonfields was only two miles from the old cathedral and garrison town. Some of its inhabitants, who were chiefly retired tradespeople who had made their fortunes in the great manufacturing town in an adjoining county, were most hospitable to the officers; consequently they often met the old maid, and it became quite the fashion to spend part of the afternoon in her cheerful little drawing-room. Among the officers now quartered at Minsterton the two most agreeable, but not perhaps the most popular, were the Captain Morton in whose fate Susan Warburton expressed such interest, and his friend Mr/ Lethbridge. The latter was poor, and was distantly related to the Delameres; and their old hall, Delamere Hall, would have been his on the death of the last of the name and his daughter, had not his father joined with his old cousin in cutting off the entail.

It was the finest old place in the county, and, from having beloiiged to an old

Catholic family who did not change their faith till the beginning of this century, it was full of curious secret passages and hiding-holes, in which priests had been concealed during the years of persecution. There was a fine old banqueting-hall and ball-room, where many a gay dance took place in past centuries ; and the moat, which still surrounded it, flowed into a large lake on the south side ; while, on the north, a clear stream dashed down from the woody heights, and formed a cascade at some little distance from the entrance front. Thus the waters of the moat were always clear and deep, and on still days the reflection of the fine old pile of irregular buildings, pointed gables, castellated walls, and pinnacled towers, with their projecting oriel windows, formed a most beautiful double picture.

The ancient drawbridge had given place to a solid bridge, over whicli a carriage could drive into the large outer courtyard, and enter a second archway through massive doors, and then set down their occupants in the centre of a large hall. In the time of the last Mr. Delamere there was always, in Winter, fires burning in the two great fireplaces on either side, like those at Raby Castle, and the whole place was kept up with true old-fashioned hospitality and splendour. But now all was changed. In his latter years, the last Mr. Delamere was induced, by a certain Mr. Dalton, his agent, to speculate, and to join with the next male heir in cutting off the entail ; and this agent's extreme mismanagement, and some said cheating, contrived to ruin his master, and, in fact, he eventually possessed himself of all the mortgages on the property. Mr. Delamere's wife had died at the birth of their only child, the Edith Delamere about whom our old maids evinced so much interest and compassion. This poor girl adored her father, and on hearing that, if she would consent to marry the agent into whose power her father had fallen, his fortune would be restored to him, she sacrificed her own inclinations, and consented to the fatal marriage. Old Mr. Delamere had become almost paralytic, and his great object was to see his daughter married, and thus put into possession of the old place and its vast estate before he died. He was carried into the chapel where the marriage ceremony was performed, but as soon as it was ended, and his beautiful daughter approached him to receive his blessing, he fell heavily forward, and never spoke or opened his eyes again.

The unfortunate bride was so horror-struck at having thus sacrificed herself in vain, that she fled to her own apartment, and, locking herself in, would admit no one but her old nurse. Thus she remained in strict seclusion for a year and a day, in spite of the remonstrances of the bridegroom ; but she promised that, at the end of the period of mourning for her father, she would endeavour to fulfil her duties, and try to make him a good wife. At the end of the appointed time, however, her courage failed, and, with the assistance of her old nurse, she made her escape through some of the numerous secret passages and hiding holes, and for some considerable time all traces of her whereabouts were lost.

Mr. Dalton at last discovered that she was concealed in an old farmhouse which was inhabited by a faithful servant of the old family. His anger was deeply excited. He dragged her from her concealment, and forced her back to the old Hall, and made her live in the state apartments there. Great banquets were given, and the poor bride put so far a force upon herself as to receive his guests with civility. But she was never seen to smile again, and at the end of another year she died in giving birth to a daughter.

This child was the Miss Dalton whom the old maiden sisters had refused to admit among the pupils of their school, because it was known that the last Mrs. Delamere, as well as her daughter, had been Catholics, although Mr. Dalton belonged to the national faith. It was said that a priest had still occasionally found his way through the secl*et entrance to the old Hall, and said mass in one of the old chapelrooms.

The Miss Warburtons — or rather the younger, and now invalid sister, Kitty — s had misgivings that the friends of their numerous pupils would be alarmed at the companionship of a possible Papist for their children; and thus, to the great and lasting regret of Susan, she refused Mr. Dalton's offer to send his only daughter and heiress to their school.

The poor young girl passed rather a melancholy time of childhood and youth, in a kind of solitary imprisonment at the . old Hall. He was very jealous of any influence being exerted over her, and took a dislike to her mother's old nurse, and all the persons whom his daughter appeared to Hke best. He would not have any governess, but after Miss Warburton refused to admit her into their school, he sent her to one in London, where she remained in great happiness for ten years. She became acquainted there with the brother of one of her companions, Mr. Freville, of Freville Court, in the adjoining county to Delamere Hall.

The Freville family was nearly as old aa the Delameres, but the estates were much smaller, and Freville Court was only a moderate-sized house, built in the time and style of Queen Elizabeth, with terraced gardens, and a corner Summer-house, added in succeeding reigns, but escaping, aa yet, modern innovations. The Freville estate did not now produce more than £1,600 a year, but the young Squire, Reginald Freville, contrived to live very hospitably, and yet to pay a sum every year for his only sister, who, at the death of her parents, was only ten years old. He often went to visit her at the school in London, and soon fell in love with the beautiful, young, so-called heiress, Miss Dalton. But he did not think it at all likely that Mr. Dalton would not marry again, for he waa still in the prime of life, and though all the property was entirely his own, he might not give much to his daughter. He was right in his surmises, for, on going to demand the young girl's hand, Mr. Dalton told him that, if she loved him, he was at liberty to marry her, but that he would not promise to give her a farthing, unless he saw fit to do so.

"If she were to marry a duke I might settle Delamere Hall on her, but if she chooses to marry a poor man like you, she shall have nothing from me."

Mr. Freville was quite contented with this, and they were shortly afterwards married, and lived in great happiness at Freville Court. Their son and daughter were now growing up, and Edith Freville, though not very pretty, as Miss Warburton had heard, was much admired by the old maid's favourite. Captain Morton, the very man whom, in her enthusiastic day-dreams, she had chosen for the handsome daughter of her own once betrothed husband, Mr. Fairleigh.

Old Mr. Dalton still lived, but he had become a confirmed invalid, and scarcely ever left Delamere Hall. He showed some interest in his grandson, but never took the slightest notice of Edith, and some people imagined that he meant to leave all his fortune to the boy ; but others thought that the handsome niece of his housekeeper, who lived at the Hall, was secretly married to him, and that when the old man died other claimants to the property would spring up.

Chapter IV

TT7E will now return to the old maids at ^ ' Sattonfields, whom we left in great surprise at seeing the celebrated beauty drive up to the gate of their little garden. Miss Fairleigh was dressed in the extreme of the fashion of those days, and as she walked with a most majestic step along the narrow path, her large sleeves and headgear caught in the trellised roses which formed a low arch over the path. Susan Warburton perceived the dilemma from the window, and hastened out to help to disentangle from the thorns the splendid lace of the towering fabric which surmounted the young lady's head.

'* It is quite torn. I may as well throw it away at once," said the petulant beauty, frowning at Susan s endeavours to extricate it. "Never mind, you may have it yourself, new bonnet and all, for I shall never wear it again. But I wonder why they let their roses grow on such a low arch," she added, as she proudly refused the offer of assistance, and thrust the bonnet into the old maid's hand. " Oh 1 I beg pardon, but I thought you were the servant. Are you really Miss Susan Warburton ? It's so dark in this thick shade, I could scarcely see, but now I remember having met you several times at the Wyndhams. I am glad to find you at home," she added, as she put out one of her weUgloved fingers, and slightly touched the old lady's hand. "Well, please to show

VOL. I. D me the way to your drawing-room, for I want to ask a few questions about the Delameres, or rather about old Mr. Dalton, for I have heard that you knew his wife very well, and that you were very fond of her daughter when she was a child, though you refused to admit her into your school."

When they had sat down in the drawing-room, and she had been duly presented to the invalid sister, who lay on a sofa in the recess of the bay window, she said,

" I suppose you will wonder what interest I can feel in such an eccentric, and, as they say, wicked old man as Mr. Dalton ; but it so happens that his grand-daughter was my favourite schoolfellow, and the greatest friend I have in the world."

As she said this, a glow of the loveliest pink overspread her fair cheeks ; tears seemed to glisten under the long lashes which overshadowed her dark eyes, and the ringlets of her light auburn hair appeared to tremble with emotion.

" What a lovely creature !" was Susan Warburton's mental exclamation as she gazed on the young heiress ; and her love of beauty was deeply gratified as she watched her graceful movements, and the changing expression of her perfect features. " A thing so lovely must be good, or must become so," she thought, when a quick flash, a strange look, vividly lighted up Clarissa's eyes as they suddenly opened, and she fixed a searching and earnest gaze on Susan's countenance.

" Do tell me all you know about old Mr. Dalton, or his real character — I mean his real disposition. Is there any good in him ? — is he likely to be touched by the real charm of my friend Edith, whom, they tell me, he now actually dislikes."

Miss Warburton answered that it was

d2 impossible for her to pronounce any opinion about his character. It was well known that his conduct towards his unfortunate wife had been most cruel ; and the manner in which he had obtained possession of the greater part of her father's property had also been strongly blamed; but still she always believed that no one was totally devoid of some redeeming qualities, and if any really good influence could be ex* erted ....

" How I should like to see the old gentleman !" interrupted Miss Fairleigh. "Will he really see no one at all ? And I do so long to see that curious old place, and explore the secret rooms and passages. I thought you used to be there in the last old Mr. Delamere's time. Could you not tell me of some secret entrance, by which I could get into the house, and roam about, and then come suddenly upon the old man, and, by putting on my most bewitching fimile, appeal to "his feelings in favour of his grand-daughter. Ah I you are laughing at me ; but I see you do think I might touch the old man's heart."

" I do certainly, if — if your intentions are really good," she added, after a pause, as she saw a momentary expression of — could it be malice ? — overshadow the set or would-be-permanent kind and disinterested expression which Clarissa seemed to have determined to assume.

" Ah I you mistrust me, I see ; you fancy, as many do, that I must be spoilt ; but you know my father never indulged me, and yet I love him, oh I so dearly I" And this time real tears gUstened in her «yes, and she suddenly resembled him so strongly, that Miss Warburton longed to fold the beautiful girl in her arms and kiss those gratifying, grateful tears away.

" I wish I could help you to an interview with Mr. Dalton/* she then said, with increased kindness of manner ; " but I thought your mother's lady's-maid belonged to the Swindledrift family, and you would hear a great deal about Mr. Dalton's strange habits, and about the old house too, for her cousin lives with his old housekeeper at Delamere Hall."

"Ah! so she does, and I am so glad you reminded me of it. I must go now^ for mamma will wonder what has become of me ; but you will let me come and see you again, dear Miss^Warburton, for I like you very much, and I will bring your sister some beautiful flowers the next time I come," said Clarissa ; and as she rose from her chair, the usually haughty beauty took both the old maid's hands in hers, and gave her a most unexpected kiss.