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the cream-jug as it passed him on the tray, | duke; "what do you bet I won't go into the and compelling Towser to hold him the sugar- parlor, and ask them, this very minute? basin, from which he abstracted lump after "Bet!" exclaimed the duke, plunging his lump, dipped them in the cream, and crunched hand into his pocket; then, seeing the absurdthem deliberately, - Towser uttering a pro-ity of betting with Towser, he turned away, longed oh! at each repetition of the offence. laughing, and said to Master George: — "I say, George, is this true that Mr. Scawen "What a rascal it is! she will come to the is come down here?" asked the duke. gallows yet."

"Yes, my lord."

"Come, Martha, you sweep up the hearth;

"And what are his plans? What does he don't you mind the duke!" said Towser, with mean to do with Miss Scawen?" a patronizing air; then, folding her arms de

"They go to Italy as soon as Miss Scawen murely, she walked quietly out of the room. is able to bear the journey."

"She will not do it, George?" said the duke,

"Italy!" said the duke with a prolonged anxiously. whistle.

"Italy," echoed Towser, giving him a saucy

stare.

"There, take your confounded sugar away," said the duke, pushing the basin from him.

"Not much left to take," said Towser, gazing down into the vacancy caused by the duke's fingers.

"I say, George, do you think I could have an interview with Mr. Scawen?" asked the duke, after sitting silent for some minutes.

"To be sure you could," returned Towser, not giving Master George time to answer; "there's the dairy, the only room that's disengaged; only your Grace- if your Grace will be so good as not to sit down in the cream."

The duke sprang from the table, and pursued Towser, who fled from him under the dresser, where, crouching among the copper stewpans, she thrust forth her sharp face, and nodded to him familiarly.

"If my mother was here, Towser, she would send you to bed at once," said Master George. "Ah! but she's not here, Master George; and there's his Grace could not spare me; he has got something particular to say to me presently."

"I'll put you on the fire, if you bother me!" said the duke, returning to his seat. "Well, George, do you think I can see Mr. Scawen?"

I

"I will inquire, if your Grace wishes it," said Master George; "but I think not. Mr. Scawen has declined seeing Dr. Lascelles. don't think he is equal to receiving any one." "Well, then-I- How long do you suppose they will remain abroad?”

Master George could not at all guess, but Towser, with great alacrity, said, "Shall I ask 'em?"

"Why, you audacious little vixen," said the duke, "you don't mean to say you would dare to do that?"

"Oh, no, my lord," said Master George; "she cannot."

"She's the most daring little devil on the face of the earth," said the duke.

"That she is," said Master George.

"I should like to have her for a tiger," said the duke, musing; "she is just the size." "She's more like a boy than a girl," said Master George.

"More like a shark than either," returned the duke.

Having made this complimentary remark, he sat silent, swinging his foot, and gazing at the bars of the grate. Master George took up his book, and there was nothing heard but the clinking of Martha's pattens, as she moved about the wash-house, which adjoined the kitchen.

After an absence of about half an hour, Towser came flying back into the kitchen, whirling round and round like a leaf driven by the wind, and uttering a succession of shrill screams, indicative of intense satisfaction.

"I'm going, Master George, I'm going! I'm going!" cried Towser, alternately spinning and bounding in the air; "who'd have thought it? Your Grace, don't you wish you was me?"

"What do you mean?" asked the duke, angrily.

"I'm going to Italy along with Miss Scawen! Martha, do you hear? Come and listen to the news. I'm going to foreign parts, across the sea, and we shall be away a whole year. I don't know where to put myself; that I don't!"

"I know where I'll put you, if you make that confounded noise!" said the duke, seizing Towser as she was hopping across the kitchen. "Come here, and tell me if you dared to bring my name before Miss Scawen in the matter."

"Your name, sir? Lor, I should think "Don't I?" said Towser, coming up to the not; we had something else to talk about,"

said Towser, with much contempt; "I'll tell another fandango, in the midst of which Mrs. you, Master George, how it came to be settled; Ford entered, and commanded her to go to but I should think his Grace had better go bed. home; the doctor won't like him to be out of bed so late, going on for nine o'clock."

"Look here, Towser, I'll send for my mother, if you behave in this manner," said Master George.

"Oh, mercy! Master George, do forgive us this once," said Towser, making a horrible grimace.

"And get on with your story! " said the duke, who had established himself again on the corner of the table.

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Anne and her father were still seated together at the parlor fireside; and Mr. Scawen, observing her extreme paleness, and feebleness of manner, urged her to go to bed. Anne, who had been for the last half hour on the verge of her awful confession, but had constantly paused with the words half spoken, her lips trembling, and her heart failing her altogether, now took a sudden resolution. "Before I go, papa," she said, "I must tell you what is on my mind, the only secret I now have from you, and which I cannot rest until you know; for I feel that I receive your kindness on dishonest terms, until you see me as I am."

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"Well, my dear, what is it?" said her father, leaning kindly on the arm of her chair. 'Papa, when I refused to marry Mr. Clavering," said Anne, trembling, "I had a reason which I dared not own to you then, — I was married already."

Mr. Scawen looked at his daughter with a sort of pitying kindness, as if he thought her sorrows had unsettled her memory; but, hav

"Why, you see, Master George," said Towser, turning her back on the duke, and facing George Ford, with her arms wrapped up in her pinafore, "I went in and said I thought the bell rang, and there was Miss Anne, sitting in her low chair by the fire, laying back, and looking very white, and her pa sitting by her side and holding her hand, and missis a-sitting on the sofa marking your handkerchiefs; and missis said the bell did not ring, and I was a-turning round, when Miss Anne said, 'O Towser, we were speaking of you. I want to know if you would object to going abroad with us?' Oh, didn't I catch at it, Mastering begun, she went through the whole story, George! And Mr. Scawen said that his daughter was used to me, and liked me better than an older person to wait on her, and that, if my parents approved of my going, he would engage me. And as I have no parents, only a grandmother, who will be uncommon glad that I have got such a place, it was settled directly. I shall talk French like anything before I come back; and as for my dancing

" Towser here began to execute a very rapid pas seul before the fire, which made the duke laugh heartily, and even Master George could not keep his countenance.

even to where she found, from Lucy's account, that her lover was unworthy, and ended by imploring him to pardon her fault, and to help her in her need, should Mr. Hardwicke ever return to England.

Mr. Scawen listened with the deepest feeling and attention; far from being angry, the way in which he viewed the matter made him still more disposed to regard her with affection. Since she was married already, it was no wonder she did not comply with his wishes; it was no feeling of self-will, but an absolute impossibility that prevented her from accept

"And you will be gone a year, " said the ing Mr. Clavering. He therefore embraced

duke.

her affectionately, assuring her that he would take every care that she should never fall into the hands of Mr. Hardwicke.

"A whole year," said Towser. "We go as straight as ever we can go, to Genoa; and then to to other places; we haven't made up "Your first object in such a case," he said, our minds exactly where, but I'll let you know," must always be to avoid publicity; therefore, Master George. I shall write to missis - I'll if he never returns to this country, which is write to you if you like it."

"Do," said Master George.

"Well, there's nothing for it, then, but to wait," said the duke, rising slowly. "Goodnight, Master George. What are you grinning at, you little villain?"

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likely enough, you will not have to come forward in any way; but if he should do so, and should refuse to be bought off, — which you had better try, for I imagine he must be a needy man, you must throw the affair into our lawyer's hands at once. A marriage such as Towser, throwing open the door for his yours can be set aside; not without a most Grace's exit, replied by her very lowest cour-painful degree of publicity, such as I hope tesy, and a gesture of the extremest derision may yet be avoided; but it can be broken, and as soon as ever his back was turned; after let that be your immediate care, should he which, her excited feelings led her to execute ever insist in claiming you. I give you these

directions, in case I should not be living at the time. We have both had a warning lately that life is uncertain."

Anne felt a freedom, and a peace of mind after this confession that she had not known before since her unlucky marriage.

Her father's kindness was redoubled if possible, for he seemed to think that she had an additional claim upon his protection.

happiness, that you should be free, that unfortunate connexion can be broken."

"I foresee no such contingency," said Anne; "all I can dare to hope is, that I may live always single and retired."

It was a sad day to all parties when they left Datchley; poor Mrs. Ford was dissolved in tears, and Anne hung weeping round her neck, until the last moment; and Master George, who stood at the door, plunged in the deepest melancholy, was very much inclined

It was settled that Mrs. Scawen should remain at King's Cope, while Anne and her father were in Italy; for she did not like trav-to fall on his knees, as Anne, in passing out, elling, and she suggested that it would be as well to keep a home open for Henry, whenever he might be disposed to avail himself of it.

extended her hand to him like a queen.

Towser, who had kept up bravely, till the instant of parting, and who had, five minutes before, been pelting the duke's owl, to the great edification of Jack Ridge, now burst into a vehement and sustained roar, which lasted long after Master George had hoisted her into the seat behind the carriage, in company with Mr. Scawen's servant, a phlegmatic sort of person, who looked at her with some curiosity when she first began her vocal exhi

Directly Henry received the news of his brother's death, he wrote to his father to learn whether he could not have Datchley; and, hearing that it devolved upon Anne, he consulted a lawyer to find out if it would be possible to dispute this arrangement. He could not see how he would be the better for Hugh's death, unless he came into his prop-bition; and then stared vacantly forward, erty; and he had learned to view every occur- without attempting to offer her any consolarence, whether public or private, solely as to tion. whether it could conduce in any way to his own benefit.

The father and daughter went to church together the Sunday before they left Datchley. The little duke could not refrain from lingering at the door, and handing Anne into the carriage. As he did not speak, and looked extremely sorry, it was rather pleasing to her than otherwise, to see him in this manner, before she went away. It was many years before she saw him again.

"Who is that handsome boy?" asked Mr. Scawen.

"The Duke of Dalmayne," said Anne. "Ah! a cousin of the Orringtons. I suppose you have met him at the Lascelles'."

"Yes, and he was very often at the Homestead," said Anne.

"I think now, Towser," said Anne, when they were seated on the deck of the steamer, which was to convey them to Rotterdam, "I think we must begin to call you by your real name, Jane Lawrence; 'Towser' was very

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well at the farm."

"No, thank you, miss," said Towser, steadily; "it was Master George gave me that name, he did, because I had a way when I first came to the Homestead of barking, to amuse myself."

"Barking, Towser?" said Anne.

"Yes, miss; I could bark beautiful, just like a little dog; and as Master George called me Towser, I had rather keep the name, just to put me in mind of the Homestead."

Anne did not oppose the wishes of her suivante in this particular, and Mademoiselle "What did you think of him?" asked Mr. Tozère sounded very respectable at the hotels Scawen.

"I thought him a pleasant, idle boy," said Anne.

where they put up.

The Scawens went first to Genoa, where they passed the remainder of the winter. They

"And a great admirer of yours," said Mr. then proceeded to Florence for the summer, Scawen.

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and thence to Milan, and the other places of

"I believe so," said Anne; 'boys take note in the north of Italy. those fancies sometimes, it appears."

Anne spoke so artlessly, that her father could not suppose that she built any ambitious hopes on the duke's admiration; nevertheless he thought proper to give her the following advice:

"Remember, Anne, that should any peculiar circumstances render it important to your

Mr. Scawen was highly cultivated, Anne intelligent, and anxious for improvement. She could not have visited the treasures of art and antiquity with which that country abounds, with a better cicerone than her father; and he experienced the greatest delight in showing her whatever was worthy of observation.

She wrote constantly to Lady Lucy, and

received from her in return frequent and affec-| of his affairs and those of her neighbors, and tionate letters. She also wrote now and then expressing a respectable degree of interest in to Mrs. Ford, giving her tidings of her health, Mr. Scawen's health and enjoyment. which mended very slowly; but Towser was a Anne was still very delicate; her complexmost indefatigable correspondent to the Home-ion never recovered its healthy hues, but she stead. She wrote perpetually to Master was, if possible, more beautiful and more adGeorge, describing the different wonders that mired than ever. Little as they went into she saw, always in a very off-hand and dispar- society, they could not pass several successive aging manner, for she was no admirer of any-winters at Rome without becoming known to thing foreign; but clearly, and with a great a good many people, both English and foreign; deal of good sense. Anne received one letter and Anne had several opportunities of giving from Mr. Clavering when she was at Milan. a successor to Mr. Clavering. But none of It seemed that he had returned with his father them excited even a passing interest in her mind. to London, and that he had very much recov- She was thoroughly indifferent to general adered his health. It had the merit of brevity, miration, and conscientiously desirous never at any rate. to bestow on any one else any of those feelings which, from his own conduct, she was unable to entertain for Mr. Hardwicke. She perfected herself in languages, in music, and in singing; she learned something of sculpture, and studied history with an ardor she had never known before, on a spot where every foot of ground has been trod by heroes whose names once filled the world.

"I say, Old D- has had another stroke; so now, come, what do you say? Will you make it up?

"W. CLAVERING."

"I am afraid this will not be very tempting, my dear," said Mr. Scawen, smiling, as Anne handed her father the letter; "after the Duke of Dalmayne, 'Old D's title' will hardly be an inducement."

"No, indeed!" said Anne; "but if you are writing to the general, I should be glad that you would tell Mr. Clavering I am very willing to make it up,' in the ordinary sense of the word. I like him very well, now I am out of his way."

When she came of age she was installed into the possession of Datchley, and very soon had to exercise one of the privileges of proprietorship.

Dr. Lascelles, who had always fancied himself ill when nothing was the matter, became ill in real earnest, and died. The living was in Anne's gift. She laughed first when her father told her so, and then became agitated; for she was very artless and unpresuming, and the notion of having such a responsibility on

She recollected that Mrs. Morton's youngest son was brought up for the church; he was then old enough to take a living; what she had heard of him made her believe that her choice could not fall on a fitter person. Her father approved of her selection, and she wrote at once to Mrs. Morton, with that affection which had never diminished since she left Parkindale, offering the living of Datchley (a very valuable one) to her son James.

The Scawens went for one year, and they stayed five. They travelled into Switzerland and the Tyrol; they went all over Italy, win-her hands frightened her. tering at Rome, and going north or south for a summer excursion, as their fancy dictated. A perfect understanding and friendship had grown up between the father and daughter; as their great sorrow had been borne together, so all their pleasures were now shared. Time softened the agony of the blow to both by equal degrees; they sustained one another, they accepted in the same spirit the affliction that God had sent, and they sought together the alleviations which he has promised and be- It was accepted with gratitude by the son, stowed on those who mourn. Every now and and not less so by the mother. Mrs. Morton then there was some talk of Mrs. Scawen com- wrote to her "little Anne "with all the warmth ing over to join them; but their return was so of her affectionate nature, to thank her for beuncertain, that this was only talked of. She stowing the living on "her good James." had not the least inclination to come, for it But Anne little knew how acceptable the gift may safely be said that she had no affection was to both mother and son. The eldest for anybody in the world; and she was as brother's extravagance had nearly ruined thoroughly comfortable at King's Cope as any them. James had given up all but the merest one can be, with a bitter temper and a bad pittance of his own fortune to save his brother heart. from disgrace, trusting to his own industry to She wrote, however, regularly every six support himself; and Mrs. Morton had let weeks to Mr. Scawen, giving him an account | Parkindale, and was living in Edinburgh on

less than she had been used to spend with her milliner. James would now have a home to offer his mother, almost as comfortable as that to which she had been accustomed; while he could devote his zeal and talents in the way he most desired, in the cause of religion. But a new trial awaited Anne. Her father, whose health had been much shaken, caught a fever at Rome, and died after a short illness. It was an inexpressible comfort to her that she had been for so long a time on such affectionate terms with him, and that her society had been to him a source of constant enjoyment and consolation. His name was perpetually associated in her mind with that of her beloved brother; and the thought which gave most peace and tranquillity to her heart was one of the last he had suggested himself, - that the memory of Hugh had done what perhaps his presence would never have effected, and set the father and daughter "face to face."

CHAPTER XXIX.

Gloom is upon thy lonely hearth,
O silent house! once filled with mirth.
Sorrow is in the breezy sound
Of thy tall poplars whispering round.
The shadow of departed hours
Hangs dim upon thine early flowers;
Even in thy sunshine seems to brood
Something more deep than solitude.

MRS. HEMANS.

THOSE very few persons who have had one great wish or motive in life utterly frustrated and disappointed can alone imagine the desolate stillness of the heart with which Anne took possession of her estate at Datchley.

Although she had still something to fear in life, she felt that she had nothing to hope: the plans to which her eagerness had assigned all the distinctness of certainty, so cruelly scattered, and the only part of her future life that threatened change, the dread lest she should be ever claimed by one whom she had ceased to regard.

As the green gate was thrown open, at which she had so often wistfully lingered, and her carriage drove into the winding shrubberies, she sat upright and looked fearfully around, as if determined to get over the pain of the first view at once. This was the moment so yearned after since her childhood, when she and Hugh, side by side, were to begin their fairy life together; a life in which there were to be no clouds in the sky, no shadows on the heart; when she was to live in the sunshine of a generous nature and an equal temper, such as she

had never yet known; when she would be always understood, and considered, and indulged, and always have some one to respect and be proud of, as well as to love.

She did not believe for a moment that such a lot might not have been hers; she only asked herself, with a despairing effort to quiet the pang gnawing at her heart, what she had ever done to deserve that such happiness should befall her. She failed to imagine that Hugh could have disappointed her expectations.

She had been so fortunate as to secure Miss Elder as a companion; for that lady had just quitted the situation she had held since she left King's Cope, and she gladly availed herself of a position far more congenial to her feelings and tastes than trying to educate those perverse and ignorant little animals, concerning whom so many pretty things are said in poetry.

She had preceded Anne to Datchley by a few days, that she might find the place prepared for her reception; and it was a comfort to Anne, on entering the house, quiet with that peculiar stillness that belongs to unoccupied dwellings, to find herself welcomed by an old face and a friendly voice.

It was something to meet a person whom she had not seen for five years; something to prevent her dwelling too keenly on the vacant hearth, where Hugh was to have given her his affectionate welcome.

It was a fine fresh evening early in June; the trees had not long been out in leaf, for the spring had been bitterly cold; and the lilacs and laburnums were bending under the weight of their blossoms; the double violets were not yet over, and the roses were stealing into bloom. The rustling air was perfumed, not with the rich, lazy sweetness of the summer breeze, but touched with the fresh and capricious odor of spring flowers.

"I had a fire lighted," said Miss Elder, as she drew her former pupil towards the drawing-room; "I thought that, coming off a journey, you were likely to be cold." "Oh, so cold!" replied Anne.

Her tone, full of that suppressed feeling which those only who have suffered can interpret, was understood by Miss Elder.

"Poor child!" she said, drawing Anne towards her.

The tone of sympathy quite destroyed the slight remains of fortitude that Anne possessed. She dropped her head on Miss Elder's shoulder and sobbed without restraint.

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