Mabel Volume Iii Part 13

Mabel's lip quivered, for she perceived the hidden purpose of this command.

"I should like you to stay very, very much," said she, "but yet I must persuade you to go, yes, even for my sake, do not let it be said that I encourage you in disobedience."

"No, no, nothing shall be said against you which I can help," cried Lucy, "and I will go to the ball, if you wish it--but I should be so happy to stay with you, I shall try and get some friend to bring me home early; but let me help you, dear Mabel."

"I have done, thank you, only, like all travelling trunks, this lid will not close--jump upon the top of it and press it down for me."

Lucy did so, but her light weight had very little effect on the obstinate trunk, so that they were obliged to stand hand-in-hand upon it, and stamp it down with all their might. They could not do this without laughing, and then Mabel leant down and turned the key in the lock, and kissed her fair-haired companion, when she raised herself again, and they jumped off the defeated trunk.

But now that all was packed but the bonnet and travelling cloak, and the neatly folded umbrella, the room looked again as desolate as it did when she had first entered it; and yet so many hallowed recollections of resignation learnt, and evil thoughts subdued, were connected with that poor room, that Mabel felt that she could readily have wept at parting from it, for the last time, but checking herself, she went with Lucy down stairs, and busied herself in choosing her a dress for the ball.

After dinner, she retired immediately with Caroline, and, glad of employment, was soon, almost gaily, twining the silken tresses of her raven hair, with more than her ordinary skill, and talking, all the while, of flowers, and braids, and ornaments, as if she had no other thought that night. And how could Caroline fail to be satisfied, when she cast her proud glance upon the mirror, where dark eyes spoke back the same proud smile of conscious beauty--yet, as they turned in their fever of admiration, from their own reflection, to that of Mabel, an uneasy sensation of envy again fired her jealous fancy.

In the simple dress of the orphan girl--simpler even than usual, for it was the travelling dress of the following day; in the delicate color, scarcely heightened by the interest she had been taking in her toilet, there was surely nothing which could account for Caroline's uneasy look, and yet she felt herself inferior.

"Come girls, come Carry," cried Mrs. Villars as she pa.s.sed the dressing-room door. "Why, Carry, love, you do look brilliant to-night; just one more peep at the gla.s.s, and then come down."

Caroline drew over her shoulders an ermine tippet, with considerable attention to the becoming, and, having adjusted it in graceful carelessness--followed, with her sisters and Mabel, to the drawing-room.

Colonel Hargrave was standing by the fire, fitting on a pair of white gloves, looking remarkably handsome and _distingue_, and certainly well deserving the approbation of the proud beauty.

"You look positively killing," said Caroline, who had no eyes for any but him, "you must dance first, as usual, with me, remember."

"With much pleasure," said he, bowing, and at the same time offering his arm.

Mabel looked at them, for a moment; truly they were a handsome couple as they stood side by side, prepared to leave the room.

Hargrave's eyes met hers with that look of almost infantine joyousness, which Clair had described as peculiar to him. From that time Mabel felt as under the influence of a shadowy dream. She turned aside to put on Selina's shawl.

Selina needed every body's a.s.sistance, she never did any thing by herself.

It was time to go.

"Well, my dears," said Mrs. Villars, "we had better wish Mabel good-bye, to-night, as I fear we shall not be up in the morning. I have given orders that your breakfast shall be all comfortable," she added, half turning to her niece, but avoiding her eye, "good night, my dear, a pleasant journey."

"Good bye, aunt," said Mabel, seriously. How she pitied her shuffling confusion!

"Good-bye, dear," said Caroline, with an a.s.sumption of kindness which she could well afford, as she leant on the arm of the handsome Hargrave, "you will write and tell us how you are going on."

She did not answer; she felt her heart swelling, and she wished them gone.

Selina gave her a pretty, insipid kiss, and Maria bade her good-bye, hoping she would soon learn to keep the brats in order. But Lucy lingered, to fling her arms round her, and promised to be up so early in the morning; and when she tore herself away, and ran down stairs, they were all gone. Hargrave had gone without a word. The slight bustle of retreating steps followed the closing of the hall-door, and she was left to spend her last evening alone.

It is very sad to be alone--quite alone, in every earthly sense; yet, she tried hard to reconcile herself to the coldness and unkindness of those who, while they enjoyed their charming party, had left her without one soothing word, to encounter what, to the most resigned, must still be a trial--the entering, for the first time, upon a strange home. Mabel thought of Mr. Morley's rallying words; but the heart will not always be heroic, and she seated herself at the table, with little inclination for any employment; yet, trying hard not to think all the while.

At length, after she had sat there--she knew not how long, but it seemed an age--the door stealthily opened, and the cook, who seldom, on ordinary occasions, emerged from the kitchen, forced half her body into the room through the opening, which was as small as possible; sufficient to admit her head and shoulders, and no more.

"Please, Miss," said she, "you'll excuse my bringing in your tea, for the rest are gone to a dance, and there is n.o.body in the house but me.

Miss Maria begged Missis to let them go to-night."

Mabel instantly a.s.sented, and she presently appeared, shyly, bringing in the tea-tray, on which she had placed a tiny tea-pot, which she said her master always used when he breakfasted alone, and she said that the great one looked unhandy for one.

"Thank you, cook," said Mabel, on whom an attention was never bestowed in vain; "that looks nice and comfortable."

"I am sorry you are going, Miss," said she, stopping to look at her, "for I like to see a kindly face about the house; but, I beg your pardon, Miss, here's the toast nice and hot, and the tea has been made some time."

Saying this, she retreated, leaving her to wonder how the influence of a kindly face could penetrate to the kitchen. The few kind words of the servant, however, had not been offered without effect.

Presently, cook again appeared, and peering in as before, with a face full of mystery, said--

"If you please, Miss, Colonel Hargrave is come in, and wants to know if you will give him a cup of tea."

"Certainly," replied Mabel, in surprise.

"I told him you would," said the cook, handing in a cup and saucer, which she had providently provided, and then departing again.

In a few more seconds, Hargrave himself entered the room.

"What!" said Mabel, "are you so soon tired?"

"Yes," he replied, "and do you not think I have done my duty?--for I danced once with Caroline, and took the trouble of seeing them all provided with partners, two or three deep, before I stole away."

"Here is tea and toast then," said Mabel, trying hard to speak cheerfully; but, to be at ease, was out of the question, with Hargrave seated directly opposite to her, and looking at her, as she felt, only more steadily, because she had not courage to raise her eyes. She played with her spoon, as if it were a curious piece of mechanism, which possessed some secret spring, which careful handling might discover, and then, seeming to fail in this, she traced, in imagination, the flowers on the table-cloth, with so much attention to the subject, that she quite started when he spoke again, and the voice was so like that of years gone by, that it seemed to come from the grave of old recollections.

"Does not this remind you," he said, "of a time, long ago, when we used to have tea in your shady arbour, on the old table I made for you; when that dear child was on my knee, and there was the dish of strawberries, on which you so prided yourself, and the little tea-pot, which Betsy used to keep so bright?"

Mabel turned away her head.

"Yes--that was a sunny time--I see you have not forgotten it, nor our long walks, when I carried Amy over the wet fields, with you by my side, caring very little for all the stiles, and broken hedges, and deep ditches, which only made the walk more pleasant and exciting; and then, as we went, how we talked of n.o.ble deeds, and seemed, in our fancy, to emulate them--how many bright visions came with the merry carol of the birds, the glad sunshine above us, and the innocent flowers at our feet, and with the echo of our own wild gaiety, as the hills sent it back upon our ears. But do you remember that sparkling trout-stream, where, as I fished, we sat for hours, without speaking a word, thinking of--I know not what; but quite enough to make us still and happy. Oh, Mabel, Mabel, will you refuse to recall those happy scenes again. Will you not say the word which would send me back, almost a boy, to my native hills again?"

For an instant a bright, sunny light, illumined her countenance, but in that same instant it had pa.s.sed, leaving nothing but darkness and sadness behind, and her lip quivered with agitation, when she rose and tried to answer him, but her voice failed her many times before she could say, in trembling accents--

"You have placed a gulf between us, and you know I dare not pa.s.s it."

Hargrave rose also, and staying her in her purpose of leaving him, he took both her hands, holding her from him, that she might see all the intense affection, which glowed in every line of his manly face.

"Only tell me you love me still," he said, in a low, thrilling voice.

"Oh! Henry, let me go," she cried, looking timidly at him; "this night of all others. Oh! let me go."

"What!" he said, loosening her hands; "am I not worthy to speak to you?

But I have deserved all this--richly deserved it; the guard I have placed upon my feelings must have seemed an insult."

"No, no, Henry; oh! do not be angry," she said, entreatingly.

"At least hear me then," said Hargrave, advancing one step to meet her, while his face grew pale as he spoke. "I am no longer that daring infidel you believe me, but a sinner condemned by the very creed I profess; little as I deserve it, will you take me back--back to that very innermost heart, in which I was once enshrined?"

Was there any doubt to be implied in the cry of joy, with which Mabel sunk upon his breast. He looked down upon her with love and pride--such love, breathing in every changing expression of his features; but they were silent, there were no words that could have spoken all the happiness of that one moment. Time seemed to have gone back, and placed them as they were six years before, in all the fond and trusting confidence, which, till then, had received no check.

But now a loud knocking and ringing announced the return of the gay party, much sooner than had been expected, indeed, for they had missed Hargrave, and, without him, and the certainty of knowing where he was, the ball was nothing.