WILL HE ESCAPE?

BOOK THE SECOND.

(Continued.)

CHAPTER IX.

UNEXPECTED VISITORS.

EVER were people so surprised as Mrs. Talbot and our Livy, when a card was brought with his lordship's name upon it. The affectionate creatures first thought that something dreadful had happened to their dear Beauty, and that this ambassador had come to break the news to them. His smiling face reassured them, and he at once opened his business.

"I want you, Mrs. Talbot," he said, "to come to us—you and your daughter. It will give us the greatest pleasure. Your father and I were great friends. I can promise you music, the like of which, they tell me, cannot be matched by amateurs in the three kingdoms. I assure you the concert has made quite a sensation; and, I am told, a critique will be in the Era. O, you must come." The artful peer, it will be seen, said nothing of the motive for this invitation, or of the end to which it was to be the means.

Livy was enchanted at the notion, especially as she was told that "he hoped to have a very nice, off-hand young fellow-a son of that Hardman over there, but a very different sort of character."

His lordship was very pressing indeed: but Mrs. Talbot listened coldly. She was engaged-she was busy-she could do nothing. "And, indeed, Lord Bindley, I wish you would send me home my foolish husband. I am not well, and you are demoralising him there. Surely Lord Bindley does not believe he has found a Mario in our poor Beauty, who has never learned a note ?"

"Well-er-I don't know; but they all say so. And a lady there, who is one of the most accomplished musicians of the day-you must have heard of her, a daughter of that Hardman—-”

Daughter of that Hardman!" she repeated, half rising. "Do you mean to tell me that she is there ?”

"Yes; Mrs. Labouchere. Very great gifts!"

Mrs. Talbot remained, her eyes fixed on the ground, while his lordship expatiated on the charms and attractions of his guest. Mrs. Talbot had not forgotten her old training. A rush of ideas was pouring in upon her; and she was only thinking how she could beat, and, without abruptness, change her front. The news overwhelmed but no one could see any change in her face.

her;

"It is so tempting," she said; "and it is very hard to resist such inducements. Our poor girl, too, gets so little amusement. I should like to go."

She was irresolute. The lord thought this was due to his skilful way of putting the matter, and pressed it warmly. A reluctant consent was wrung from her, on one condition. It must be kept a secret. She had a reason. This was agreed to, and his lordship

departed.

When he was gone Livy was confounded by the wild and tragic look that had come into her mother's face.

"I knew it would come to this. I had an instinct that that vile woman was at the bottom of it. The poor creature had not wit enough to compass such a thing himself."

"But who, dearest ?" said the daughter.

"Who? That woman-that Hardman woman! The mill hand! Born in a mill, as I believe she was! How dare she do it? I knew it; I had a presentiment. This low, mean soul, has treasured up the grudge; and she is determined to spite me in this way. Yes, I see it all. It is nothing new; and you are a child, Livy, and can't understand to what lengths women of this sort will go."

Livy was aghast at this vaticination.

"What are we to do?" she said.

“Do!" said her mother. "Why meet, defeat her, crush her, as you will see me do. Though I have left off that for years, I have not forgotten my old ways. spiteful and clever, and hurting me."

I have met others before her, and twice as left them to rue the day they thought of

That night Livy's sleep was troubled, and for the first time she had a sort of glimpse of what a cold, cruel, terrible place the world

was.

On the Tuesday evening there was to be a fresh rehearsal for this wonderful concert, which really, from the treatment it is receiving, seems magnifying into an almost Homeric event. Again the Hall VOL. IV., N. S. 1870.

A A

was crowded with obsequious retainers, who, in truth, were growing a little wearied with an entertainment that was above their level, as it might be thought by the performers.

Even the farm labourers-the men about the stables-were required to attend, in Sunday suit, by special "favour" of his lordship.

"I think," he said, benevolently, "we should not draw the line too close; and I am determined to give those poor fellows about the farmyard a chance of hearing some good music. No, I am none of your feudal tyrants."

Hodge and his friends had a miserable night-thought very poorly of the singing, and had often heard better at the ale-house.

It was about the beginning of the second part that the gate bell was heard to clang afar off, and Lord Bindley seen to hurry out to "meet guests." The singers looked at each other with complacency. Here were fresh witnesses, hurrying to admire. It was all fish to their vain net. The Beauty felt the same excitement, and, after an interval, was getting ready for his new song, composed specially for the occasion. These poor vocal ostriches, who have their bill firmly in the sand, actually endow the more vulgar with intellect, a criticism, and a relish, far above even their own level.

The previous song was finishing-"a poor thing, which should never have been allowed into the programme "—and Mr. Talbot was looking down the crowded room, when he noticed a rustle and confusion at the door. It was the host ushering in the new guests. Could he believe his eyes-his senses? Mrs. Talbot and his daughter, Olivia !

They to come, too! And what did it mean? He was bewildered, confounded; and when he went out to get his music, he met Mrs. Labouchere, with a flushed cheek, stern eye, and lip of scorn.

"The naughty boy would not go home to school, so mamma had to come and fetch him! It is rather hard on you."

It was, he felt, going too far: and he went out with Mendelssohn Jackson, to sing the new song, composed in honour of the occasion. Down below, among the faces, he saw his wife's-cold, and but half interested; but Livy's was fixed on his with an absorbed interest and adoration. That devoted face attracted the attention of many more besides her father, and interested them, too. He was "put out." He felt it as an intolerable slavery, so degrading, so mean; what must they all think of him? Even Mrs. Labouchere pitying his subjection! There was something ludicrous in it. They were fools, and wicked, and deserved a lesson. Alas! for the new song; under such conditions it was an utter failure. Mendelssohn Jackson

"putting him in " largely, adding "ridiculous accompaniments" and flourishes and comments sotto voce, "running wild," "keep yourself in "-" steady there!" It was quite a fiasco; in fact, he "broke down," and Lord Bindley was much annoyed.

"I think," said Mendelssohn Jackson, in the " green room we had better go back to the 'Long-drawn Smile.' It's safer, of the two. If you consulted me, I'd take 'My Pretty Jane' or something of that kidney; but this last business-no. Rather too loose and rambling-ground gives under us here and there, you see." Mr. Jackson knew perfectly well the name of our Beauty's song; but he chose thus to misdescribe it.

The Beauty met his relations with that "put out" manner which he could not disguise before company. "So you are come !" he said, according to the unmeaning formula of people who know not what to say. He really did not know what to say or to think; but a sort of hopelessness and despair of defending himself took possession of him.

"You are not in voice to-night," she said, gaily. "You will sing better at the concert, dear. We have come some distance to hear you."

This seemed to say he was to be allowed to remain.

Great curiosity was among the guests as to these new arrivals. Louisa Mary, Countess of Seaman, knew all about her, in that wonderful way in which certain women of rank "make up," and make out, about any one connected with their order. It is like a book collector, and the books he has never read. Mrs. Talbot was a veteran in fields in which she herself had fought. The ladies Mariner came about Livy with very much the cold approaches of fishes.

The meeting of the two ladies conveyed nothing to any one present. Do what she would, Mrs. Labouchere found that it would take the shape of her being brought to Mrs. Talbot. The latter had become her old self again; one of the stately band, with a commanding and assured manner there was no resisting. The host at once gave her this place; at once she seemed to combine with the other great dames in a sort of "House of Ladies" in the place. Her manner was haughty, and even genteelly scoffing, and Mrs. Labouchere fancied she heard the words of depreciation :

"Neighbours, you know," and the tone seemed to convey that that local relation obliged a certain sort of acquaintance.

"You are going to stay in this country, I suppose?" she said; "or were you stopping in France? I forget. I did hear something."

"My brother knows everything about me. been with you every day during this last week." back.

I believe he has

This was a thrust

"All the officers make their way to our house," said Mrs. Talbot, to "Louisa Mary," as if explaining. "Mr. Talbot likes to see them.

By the way, I hear they have been pressing him to sing-exhibit himself before the whole country. Why, it's not fair to him; he has only a small drawing-room voice."

Lord Bindley grew uneasy. He was always impressed by the last speaker, or last comer.

"He did very well, though; very fairly, so they said."

"O! a rustic audience is not difficile."

"It is curious," said Mrs. Labouchere, smiling; "that those who heard the concert should have been pleased: while those who were absent, and heard nothing, condemn the performance. Poor Mr. Talbot! It is very hard on him."

She looked round with a smile, for support. But her faithful backers, "the men," were not there; the cold, haughty stare of the great ladies, understanding nothing, wondering coldly, shut off sympathy. The expression was reflected on to Lord Bindley's face, who looked only half pleased. "Louisa Mary" then says calmly, as if wishing to change the subject, "Have you heard of the Longs of Eaton, lately?" It will not do; no boldness, courage, wit, sarcasm, can ever fight against such combination. Most curious, too, was the attitude taken by Mrs. Talbot, the calm air of superiority and contempt, so that Lord Bindley at once invested. her with the ensign of musical criticism, and began to say, "You think so? Now, tell me, do you think we are right in that?"

It was impossible, too, not to notice the change in the Beauty since this unlucky arrival-as one of the men said, "It was as though he had had his ears cropped." He seemed to have lost his independent way, and appeared to slink about in a very abject manner, indeed. It had all the look as if he had been fetched away, and having presumed on the indulgence allowed him, was now to be punished. His wife still pursued her fashion of being amused at the Beauty's coming before the public. "So it is to be that new composition. Better keep to our old friend, the 'Lingering Smile.'"

"Yes, yes," said one of the gentlemen, "as he has lingered so long, he may as well finish with it."

"Ha, ha!" the host said, innocently. "Very good; but I think it wasn't fair of Mrs. Talbot to come for you in this way. Eh, Mrs. Labouchere ?"