THE COMMONER'S DAUGHTER. By the Author of "A Few out of Thousands." CHAP. XII. Betsy came up, one afternoon, breathless: I was standing at the nursery window, from whence I had been looking at Lady Laura, who, accompanied by Mr. Castlebrook on horseback, had just departed in her barouche for an airing. "Oh, miss, there is such a nice young gentleman asking for you the footman called meand he sends his card, and a request to speak with you if possible." Of course Vincent was first in my thought; but, on looking at the card, I saw a name too well known and esteemed to be forgotten-it was that of Russell Thornmead. "Indeed, Betsy," I said, "I must see this gentleman; but do not show him in any room where we shall be interrupted." "The back drawing-room, then, miss," said the girl, "is the place: my lady don't go there often, nor master neither. I'll tell him you're coming, miss." shall be safe. I am sorry to receive you with any reserve; but you know, now, how severely my family regard all my proceedings. I will call my servant - I call her mine, though she is in reality the nursery attendant; but she is devoted to me." "I am glad of it; you need some devotionsome one of your own sex, to be a consolation." Betsy entered. I spoke to her in a low tone : "See that no one comes here, or let me know if your master or mistress return. Pray be seated," I said, as she left the room, to Russell who stood hat in hand all this time. Oh! "You wonder what I am about to say. Isabella Castlebrook, if I did not believe you above the paltry feelings in which your sex so often indulge-if I did not deem you intelligent and higher-minded than most women-if I did not think you capable of imagining a man, differing from the puny, feeble-minded, and hypocritical beings, women are so fond of creating into heroes, I should not dare reveal the history I am about to tell you. Strong passions, deep affections, Isabella, are at the root of most men's faults-so have I erred; but have also suffered and repented." I felt no little emotion when I beheld the kind being who had so often befriended me. On his part there seemed considerable agitation. I observed that he was now, also, in mourning, and I hastily asked if he had lost any member of his family. "Is dear little Mary quite well?" II added, in fear. "Quite well. It is not a relative I am in mourning for. Dear Miss Castlebrook, are you kindly treated--are you happy? Nay" (seeing me change colour), "forgive such pressing questions; I have scarcely a right to ask them; but my business in London has unexpectedly come to a termination, and I shall return with Mary to Manchester, unless"lowering his voice-"I have any inducement to remain here." I remained silent, for I had no clue to understand his meaning. He became strangely embarrassed. "Are we likely to be interrupted? After so stormy an introduction, Mr. Castlebrook might probably resent my intrusion in his house-but there was no other way to see you. I have a good deal to say-nay, do not be alarmedonly about myself." "Mr. Castlebrook and Lady Laura are both out; they have not long gone; so I think we I He paused a moment, and, much interested, waited while he collected himself, and continued 66 Though my parents came from a poor stock, my own boyhood was far from a neglected one. I had a plain education, but one suitable for a a business life; and even the elements of poetry and imagination were not wanting in my existence. At eighteen my father determined on admitting me into his business-now become an important one in the commercial world. I commenced by gradations, and at last became overlooker of the work people. You know many children and girls are employed in factories; one of the latter, about sixteen years of age, who worked at our looms, had already acquired a kind of celebrity in her native town. She was, indeed, of that order of perfect beauty which shines through all the disadvantages of obscure station, low birth, and even ignorance. I have never seen her equal yet. You cannot suppose it unlikely that a youth of nineteen soon became powerfully attracted by this lovely, illiterate being. I found little opposition from her to the F Ah! Very good.' So he passed on to other novelties. Mary Anne's perfections, however, broke from his lips ever and anon, greatly to my annoyance, which I was obliged to control, less easily because I had seen at one glance the extreme delight which the mother of my child testified at the royal admiration. declaration of my deep and earnest passion. The blankness of her mind, indeed, startled me; but, with the fervid eagerness of youth, I saw nothing but increase of happiness in the attempt to mould the intellect of a being so outwardly charming. I swear to you, Miss Castlebrook, that no thought of sin came across me as I worshipped the beauty which was para- "I will not dwell on this miserable story mount even in the factory-girl's cotton gown longer than I can help, Miss Castlebrook; why and coarse apron. I knew my parents might I do so at all you will soon know. In one month oppose the marriage I contemplated; but to a from that day both mother and child had disapvirtuous girl they would not be inexorable: and peared! The landlady of the house told me that I saw few obstacles in the future which love and a gentleman had called on Mary Anne several perseverance might not ultimately conquer. times; and a letter-the fruits of the education Well-how shall I proceed? There happened I had given her-enlightened me still further. the old, old story. What are youth's resolu- It told me that, sooner than accept marriage as tions? The master and the pupil! What oc- a favour, she had consented to receive the procurred in the earlier pages of the world's history tection of one higher in station than she could occurred to us-I tempted: we both sinned; ever have dreamed of captivating-that she and and when did sin ever produce aught but the the child were lost to me forever. She warned most intense suffering? When Mary Anne me that the rank of the man she had chosen gave me a daughter, I knew how much more was too high for revenge, and besought me gladly I should have held the little creature in as a personal favour never to think of my arms if I had not, in betraying the mother, her more. At first I believed that the inflicted indelible disgrace on the child. I Duke was himself my rival; I soon traced out, will not represent myself better than my kind. however, that one of the Prince's vile emissaries When I resolved on reparation, it was not with-had made proposals to her for his profligate and out a hard struggle. I had to reflect on the unscrupulous master. It was only a poor factoryseeming hardship and injustice of woman's lot girl-only a low cotton-spinner's son, whose -that she must bear the largest portion of re-hearts were wrecked, and whose happiness was tribution! while her tempter may walk forth unscathed, and the most scrupulous virtue will hardly throw a stone at him. I did battle with my own repugnance, and I conquered. Mary Anne Fielding had returned, as beautiful as ever, to the factory. I told her my resolution, and, indeed, was only waiting a fit opportunity to place it in execution, although I knew the consequences might be serious, for my father and mother were strictly moral persons, and I risked even my participation in the business. One day we received an intimation that the factories become famous through some mechanical inventions of my father, aided by my more modern scientific attainments-would receive the honour of a royal visit. One of the royal dukes, visiting in the neighbourhood of Manchester, desired to see our factory as a portion of the wonders of Lancashire. There were garlands and devices, the workpeople in holiday attire, and my father and myself in attendance to explain the processes of manufacture and the recent improvements. The illustrious individual for whom we took so much trouble, hurried over everything with the rapidity and impatience of detail which characterize the English princes; and at length we came to the room where the young women worked. The Duke of instantly picked out Mary Anne from a host of girls far from uncomely. "What-what-what a beautiful creature!' he said, with the quick speech of his race. Don't think I ever saw her equal! Only a factorygirl! Shame! shame! See what can be done for her. Tell me her name. What-what is your name? Mary Anne Fielding, eh? Good name. Where do you live? No mother? sacrificed. You have never felt the sting of betrayed love-for I did love this girl with the strong, deep attachment which would have yielded all to her. You cannot tell the bitterness of my heart, when I found that my love had been surrendered for the ill-gotten luxuries of a life of infamy. It was to the recovery of my child that I then turned all my thoughts. I confided all to my parents, and no word of anger or reproach passed their lips. To my mother, with all the prejudices of her sex, I believe Mary Anne's infidelity came with a welcome shockshe has since confessed she could never have taken cordially to her heart and love, a daughter who brought a dowry of shame. My mother is a good woman, Isabella; yet I could never persuade her that mine only was the crime, and that my unhappy victim's guilt arose solely from her love. 'You were the first, to be sure,' she has said; but anyone else would as soon have prevailed on her to do wrong. You have done very, very ill, my son; but women have two duties in this world-to endure and to resist. If we were all weak, what would become of the world? How many children would have to curse their mothers for an inheritance of shame! No: a woman's strength is man's honour. If men must tempt, let them learn that we know how to deny. Ah! men and women share the evils of this world pretty evenly; only, if we remained strong always, you could not be so weak !' "To recover my daughter, now about three years of age, has been the object of my residence in London. Believing the mother to be still with her royal paramour, my efforts were directed to ascertaining her abode. I was pass love so often turns to gall and bitterness, inducing the pettiness of revenge. I was, however, sure of the noble spirit of him with whom I had to deal. How perverse is woman's affection! How often we cling to the untrue-unreal, and accept the false, staking our lives and hearts on its vitality! He stood, diffident, but-I had a keen perception-certainly not unhopeful. How the first cold words of denial came from my lips I scarcely know. Spite of his tribute-conceived in the halo of a lover's imagination-to my superior nature, a feeling of annoyance that, with such poor encouragement, he had allowed himself to hope, lent me a firmer voice than otherwise I might have found. ing, about a month ago, one evening, down one of the great thoroughfares of London, when I was attracted by a mob which had gathered round a woman who, some of the bystanders said, was intoxicated, others in a fit. No one seemed to know what to do. Her unhappy class was evident by her tawdry and inappropriate attire. I made my way through the people to see if I could render help; and in the wretched creature before me, who was writhing in an epileptic fit, I recognized the object of my search-Mary Anne Fielding. I placed her in a cab, and engaged lodgings for her. The rest of her wretched history is soon told. Her royal lover had soon wearied of her; she became transferred from one to another of his satellites, till she had sunk into the frightful life of the streets from which I rescued her-rescued her what you have suffered, still more so that"-he "I am very, very much grieved indeed for only to die. Every trace of beauty had fled from sprang forward-" that you have mistaken with her. The once-prized rose, faded, crushed in the regard to myself! If I had had an idea of this, I mud and dirt, was a fit emblem of her. My should have confided in you, as I must do, now own deep self-reproach will haunt my life. She that confidence comes too late. I-I have long is dead; and the child, whom she had placed been attached to-to another-my stepmother's with some poor woman in the suburbs of Lon- brother-Lord Tarragon. My family are averse don, has been restored to me." He became to it. You know how little they regard my greatly agitated. happiness. Had I not had a previous prepos"Isabella, since the time of that first shock, session, I am sure you must have inspired one. when the woman I loved forsook me, I have been Although you committed grievous wrong with sensible of the wide difference between the fevered regard to-to the person you spoke of, few are passion of youth, and the deep, earnest venera- blameless, I am afraid. We all need mercy. I tion for woman, which forms the love of mancould not have refused repentance so sincere, hood-love which must have esteem, confidence, knowing I need mercy for my own shortcomings and trust for its basis, or die speedily. Such in good. But such love as you merit, is not love has grown in my breast for yourself! Imine now to give. I live in hopes of becoming deemed it right, before I offered it, to tell you the wife of one who, though I must say I fear he all. I am inferior to you in birth, but you are is less good than you, is dearer to me than saint unhappy at home; you have no ties of kindred or hero!" I sank down into the nearest seat; to obscure a husband's deep, true regards. We tears came fast and unbidden as I spoke. Every are wealthy: I have prospects of elevating my-word I had spoken I knew was a dagger. I tried self in the world, and I ask you to share in those next minute to heal the wounds I had made. "I prospects, and trust your future happiness in esteem and respect you more than anyone I ever my hands. I have done. How mine depends knew, save and except Mr. Benvolere." on your words it would be vain to say." And at this unlooked-for termination to his history I stood aghast, stupified, confounded. I had listened to his recital with the keenest interest. His character had always excited that feeling; and interest from subsequent events had resolved itself into gratitude: there I stopped. There was no love for him in my heart; not a thought of it had ever come across my mind, except when Mrs. Candy rallied me; and then I banished the idea of his attachment almost directly, and it seldom afterwards recurred. If a woman feels as she ought to feel, she denives the greatest pain in rejecting the love of a man she esteems. In such a predicament I now stood; and, of all the trials and sorrows I had hitherto felt, I avow this to have been the most bitter. Love again crushed in such a heart, what consequences might not the event produce? I think, in general, women have too little regard for the pain they must inevitably inflict on the least-feeling of men, when they refuse an offer of affection. It is the keenest sting of which a man's life is perhaps capable. No wonder that, in inferior natures, skeletons of love and trust. Can it be? Isabella, "Oh, talk not to me of respect, esteem-lifeless you do not know what you say. I thought you were above the everyday cant of your sex, who them to amuse themselves with for an idle hour, think men's hearts are playthings, offered for and then to be thrown by in any dark and outof-the-way corner, to decay or harden as the case may be!" "Mr. Thornmead, do not speak so harshly: I never meant to trifle with you: but all the time you thought I encouraged you, my heart and soul were filled with another image!" "That will do: torture me no more! Isabella Castlebrook, I shall remember you as long as I have life; and, when I am dying, you will stand between my God and me! You will forget me soon enough; but I tell you, that you are the real passion of my manhood-the hope of my futurity on earth; and, wanting your existence blended with mine, I shall sink into nothing. Farewell! I do not tell you I will always be your friend. Let him you have chosen standas I would have done-between you and mis |