THE NEW MONTHLY BELLE ASSEMBLÉE. OCTOBER, 1847. GRANTLEY MANOR, BY LADY GEORGIANA FULLERTON.* there is an excellent description of the diseased This is a practical age, and yet a visionary one-railways and mesmerism, international alliances, and a return to the dreams of the middle ages; more light, and a yearning after darkness-Liebig and Hahn Hahn, D'Israeli and Dr. Pusey. It would seem that the love of contradiction threw people back on the exploded follies of the past, in order to avoid the growing empiricism of the present. In this nineteenth century, English Protestants are found fleeing to the spiritual slavery of Papistry; and clever Colonel Leslie marries at twenty a young women sit down to blazon forth the journey country girl, who in two years dies, leaving one from Oxford to Rome, and to weave novels, in only daughter. The widower is inconsolable at which the loveliness of Rome's teaching shall first, but as the writer well says, "What is true shine forth luminously. It is all very well, is not always deep, and what is vehement is not Lady Georgiana Fullerton, to expel the sin of always lasting." He travels, falls in love at bigotry, and the falsehood of those rampant Verona with a painter's sister; his suit is Calvinists, who teach children that the Pope is frowned on by his own parents, and by his bethe devil without his horns. We know there loved's uncle, an old and saintly friar. Oppoare many excellent Christians in that other sition increases the young man's passion; at faith, though it be full of pitfalls, and that last he marries this exquisitely lovely Italian, through the twilight of superstition glimmers and is rapturously happy in the sunny land of many a clear star; but we do not see either art. Two years, a period fatal to all wedded profit or pleasure in the task of illuminating bliss by all accounts, terminate this dream of with the pictures of your genius the dull old joy; beside the corpse of his adored Ginevra, missal which has been forgotten in England who dies of sudden fever, leaving, like her since the glorious Reformation. Internal evi- English predecessor, one only girl. Her dying dence leads us to think that when Lady request is, that the child may be reared in her Georgiana Fullerton wrote her powerful yet own faith. The twice-bereaved man throws morbid tale of Ellen Middleton, she was then a himself into the excitement of war, allowing his member of our Anglican communion-what is two children to grow up separately in their own gently termed " very high church;" in simple homes, and with their maternal relatives. Marwords, a wavering Protestant. From her new garet, the elder, is a wilful-petted beauty, the work, Grantley Manor, now before us, we idol of her grandparents, and the mistress of might deem her Catholic entirely. It is the her good-natured governess. A college friend common course of these deluded imaginations; of her father's lives on the next estate, and suthey begin by over-estimating the forms and perintends her education. He is about twenty ritual of that church which they end by altoge-years older than herself, a grave and thoughtful ther abandoning. In the last Quarterly Review * Moxon. man. He had loved her mother with a boyish fancy; he loves the daughter with a mature and intense devotion. He spares no pains to rear the capricious darling in all theory and practice | profound conviction of her own wisdom-a steady, of right. Her impressions of his teaching are vivaciously described about her catching cold. simple-minded conceit, which carried her through "It is not to be imagined that because Margaret's mind was naturally formed to admire what was heroic, and had been trained by Walter to appreciate the true heroism of patience and self-denial, that at the present time of her life she was settled a heroine or a model of self-control. His lessons and his example were so far useful to her, that they presented to her mind an ideal standard, which prevented her from looking upon her own character and habits with the complacency which she otherwise would have indulged; for it must be confessed, that whereas at times her heart beat high at the ideal glories of Joan of Arc, or the Maid of Saragossa; at others, it beat with a very hurried pulsation at the least appearance of danger threatening the pretty mistress of Grantley. It must be owned that though her eyes would fill with tears at the account of two Sisters of Charity who set out on foot from Paris on one of the coldest In this state of things, Colonel Leslie returns, winters of this century, to go and nurse the sick at Barcelona, and never left the afflicted town till the after ten years' absence, to his English home. plague had passed away, she was apt to shut herself It must be premised that Mrs. Thornton, not up for days together in her comfortable boudoir, with liking his second marriage, had never spoken her little feet on the fender, and her graceful figure to Margaret of her Italian sister, and that the reclining in the softest and most luxurious arm-chair, young lady's knowledge of the whole affair was because it was too cold, or too wet, to venture out to limited to a confused idea which she had gained the cottages or the schools, and that Mrs. Dalton from overhearing a casual remark in her childgoing alone would do just as well, especially as her hood. She has been all along the first consigrandmamma was so afraid of her catching cold. I wish that it was not on record that Margaret had deration, and she is rather surprised and excesbeen heard to declare on other occasions that there sively disappointed, when her father meets her never was such nonsense as her grandmother's fancies with little emotion, and seems more scornful than sympathetic in her warm enthusiastic rhapsodies. So Margaret turns back to her dear Walter Sydney, sure of being appreciated by him. In a ride with him, his horse falls, and injures the rider's ankle. He is taken to Grantley Manor, and confined there for some weeks with a sprain. Colonel Leslie invites a youth, named Edmund Neville, who had been residing with Walter's father, to bear the invalid company in his confinement. This is very agreeable to Margaret, who had seen and fancied the stranger. He is the only son of an Irish landed proprietor, one of whose estates is quite contiguous to Grantley. He is pourtrayed as fascinating, though not handsome; a little wayward, and bent always on having his own willnew materials for a jromance hero. He sometimes is very attentive to Margaret, and sometimes almost rude. This piques the pretty heiress, and gradually she falls seriously in love, particularly when he speaks of her sister asking many questions, which she is unable to answer except by her tears, and an ebullition of affectionate longing for such a holy and close affection. The young man seizes her hand and kisses it, crying, Margaret, dear Margaret, I have something to say to you; something that, day after day, I have been longing to say to you. Will you listen to me now-will you me, dearest Margaret?" This looks serious, thinks the latter lady, and agitatedly tries to stop him in his avowal, which stoppage is more effectually achieved by the entrance of her father. "It is true that she read with real enthusiasm the lives of St. Elizabeth of Hungary, and St. Margaret of Scotland, those loveliest of women and gentlest of saints, daughters of a royal race, and the brides of heroes who with their own hands attended upon lepers, and nursed with a mother's tenderness those from whom their own mothers turned with disgust; but it is unfortunately equally true, that she could hardly bring herself to visit Mrs. Jones, an old woman in the village, whom Walter had particularly recommended to her notice, because her room was intolerably close, and that she was apt to show her the wound in her leg. "It is true, that when she heard the account of Mrs. Fry's first visit to Newgate, when quietly shutting the door behind her, she advanced alone, the Bible in her hand, among the fierce and reckless women who at that time were controlled only by armed men, and addressed them as sisters and as friends, in those tones and with that expression which none can conceive who have not seen her, and which those who have can never forget. It is true, that as she listened, her heart burned within her, and she longed to go and do likewise; but at the next opportunity of exercising courage, of conquering disinclination, of enduring pain, of overcoming weariness, these high resolves and noble projects were apt to vanish into air, or to swell that amount of good intentions with which St. Bernard tells us that hell is paved. The fact must be confessed, Margaret was a spoiled child." Nor is our authoress less happy in her masterly sketch of the old grandmamma— "Mrs. Thornton was a good woman, nobody could deny that; but to her goodness she joined a 66 hear We shall see that what Margaret naturally surmised to be the commencement of a love, Edmund had known and loved Ginevra in Italy, scene, had in reality nothing to do with her and had won on the dying Leonardo, with whom feelings at all. Edmund Neville is no lover of she dwelt, to consent to his niece's marriage. hers, though interested deeply in her character The pure-hearted girl begged them first to conbecause of another. Who that other is, very sult her father; but Leonardo wished to see her soon comes out. Walter gets well, and is going safe under better guardianship before his death. home, when unexpectedly Colonel Leslie is in- So they were married. Edmund's father, a formed of the death of his brother-in-law, the stern obstinate Puritan, was not likely to agree Italian artist, who had educated his other to such a match; so the lover, like many headdaughter, Ginevra. She is thus left solitary in strong men, resolved on acting first, and asking her southern home, her only surviving relation, permission afterwards; on the principle, that it Father Francesco, her mother's uncle, being ab- is easy to reconcile oneself to necessity, Leonardo sent in Brazil. She is committed to the care of dies three months after the wedding, and Edsome friends of her father's, relatives also as it mund receives a letter from his father, who had happens of Edmund Neville, and she accompa- heard a report of his attachment, and announces nies them to England. Margaret is at first to him that he can and will disinherit him if he jealous and embittered, by the passionate love marries a Catholic. This fearful news is conshown by her father to the young stranger; but firmed by a letter from Mr. Warren, his uncle, the angelic sweetness of Ginevra overcomes her and he is implored to return home. The agony prejudice, and the sisters become inseparable, of Ginevra is only surpassed by the despair of and devotedly attached. Ginevra is about se- the rash Edmund, whose heavy debts forbid venteen, not very Italian, according to the him to brave his father's wrath. He at length common notions, for she is pale and fair, persuades his wife to conceal their marriage for with light hair, and very light blue eyes- a time; and at this very period his own relaShe is reserved and calm, wins her way into tions, the Warrens, write to offer to convey her Margaret's confidence, but returns her none to England, according to her father's arrangeof her own. In spite of her fascinations, Mar-ments. Edmund accordingly leaves her, and garet cannot make her out. The child of she goes to Genoa, where, however, he secretly the South has all its genius, and is an im- follows her; and one of these clandestine meetprovisatrice both in music and poetry. She ings is seen by Maud Vincent, Margaret's friend is also very holy, a rigid Catholic in ob- aforesaid. Edmund visits his home, and tries servance, but full of charity and gentleness to speak to his father of his love; but the inLady Georgiana has carefully omitted every flexible old man points to the broad lands of touch which might shock a strict Protestant. which he is sole master, and swears on the Bible It is a picture of a saint, full of good works. never to consent to such a marriage; of course Edmund Neville, who has been away, returns Edmund is too frightened to tell him that it has shortly after her arrival: he seems as if he had already taken place. The weak foolish youth never seen her before; but after a little while, then repairs to the vicinity of Grantley, where Margaret's quick eye perceives that there is some he makes Margaret's acquaintance, in order to strong sympathy between him and Ginevra, and see if she is likely to influence her sister, for his she more than suspects that she is outrivalled sole hope now is in altering Ginevra's faith, the by her new-found sister. Her suspicions are only barrier between him and happiness. Thus heightened by the insinuations of a female friend Margaret, deceived by his interest, takes his who knew Ginevra at Genoa, and had seen her curiosity for love. Then comes Ginevra, and meet a man in one of the retired walks there, the painful situation the young wife must bear— aye, and even seen a kiss interchanged. She under the same roof as her husband, and yet tells Margaret this, which makes her very un- obliged to be as strangers. Nature will have happy and irritable. However, her own maid way sometimes, and thus gives rise to Marlet out that she had met Ginevra and Edmund garet's suspicions; and when Edmund is sumNeville walking privately together; and, to moned to Ireland by his father's illness, he has crown it all, the latter is hastily summoned to a last interview with his wife; and the dropping Ireland, and not only leaves with only a com- of his glove in her chamber, betrays their intermon farewell to Margaret, but she finds his tra- course to Margaret. He finds his father dead velling glove on the floor of her sister's bed- on his arrival. The will is read-he has all, room. There is a terrible scene between the unless he marry a Catholic, in which case he is two girls, upbraiding on the part of the elder utterly disinherited, and his only sister, who is one, and nothing but meekness on the part of engaged to her cousin, is next heir. A " conthe younger. Ginevra neither attempts to ex-siderable fix," when he had married a Catholic! culpate herself from the unexpressed suspicions of her sister, nor to explain the appearances which are so much against her; but she says distinctly and firmly, that Edmund Neville can never be either lover or husband to Margaret; and this last, convinced by her air of innocence, flings herself into her arms, not more wretched than forgiving. And now for the unravelling of this mystery. He is overwhelmed with debt; he passionately He |