CHAPTER XV.-GOING HOME. * AFTER this, the family made immediate | any difference to Agnes; she can write anypreparations for their return. Upon this where," said Mrs. Atheling. "I often wonmatter Rachel was extremely uncomfortable, der how she gets on amongst us all; but my and much divided in her wishes. Miss Lucy, husband has been left so long by himselfwho had been greatly solaced by the gentle and now that the trial does not come on ministrations of this mild little girl, insisted till spring, we are all so thankful to get very much that Rachel should remain with home." her until her friends returned in spring, or "The trial comes on in spring?—I shall till her brother had " established himself." endeavor to be at home," said the RectorRachel Merself did not know what to do;" and I trust, if I can, be of any service. and her mind was in a very doubtful condi- I am myself going to town; I am somewhat tion, full of self-arguments. She did not unsettled in my plans at present-but my think Louis would be pleased-that was the friends whom I esteem most are in Londondark side. The favorable view was, that people of scientific and philosophical purshe was of use to the invalid, and, remain-suits, who cannot afford to be fashionable. ing with her, would be "no burden to any Shall I have your permission to call on you Rachel pondered, wept, and con- when we are all there?" one." sulted over it with much sincerity. From "I am sure we shall all be very much the society of these young companions, whom pleased," said Mrs. Atheling, flattered by the simple girl loved, and who were so near his tone you know what simple people her own age; from Louis, her lifelong ruler we are, and we do not keep any company; and example; from the kindly fireside, to but we shall be very pleased, and honwhich she had looked forward so long-itored too, to see you as we have seen you was hard enough to turn to the invalid here." 66 chambers, the old four-volume novels, and Agnes was a little annoyed by her mothpoor pretty old Miss Lucy's disappoint- er's speech. She looked up with a flash of ment in love." "And if afterwards I had indignation, and met, not the eyes of Mrs. to sing or give lessons, I should forget all Atheling, but those of Mr. Rivers, who was my music there," said Rachel. Mrs. Athe-looking at her. The eyes had a smile in ling kindly stepped in and decided for her. them, but there was perfect gravity upon "It might be a very good thing for you, my dear, if you had no friends," said Mrs. Atheling. Rachel did not know whether to be most puzzled or grateful; but to keep a certain conscious solemnity out of her tone -a certain mysterious intimation of some thing great in the future was out of the power of Mamma. the face. She was confused by the look, though she did not know why. The words upon her lip were checked-she looked down again, and began to arrange her papers with a rising color. The Rector's look wandered from her face, because he perceived that he embarrassed her, but went no further than her hands, which were pretty hands enough, Accordingly, they all began their prepara- yet nothing half so exquisite as those rosetions with zeal and energy, the only indiffer- tipped fairy fingers with which Marian ent member of the party being Agnes, who folded up her embroidery. The Rector had began to feel herself a good deal alone, and no eyes at all for Marian; but he watched to suspect that she was indeed in the enemy's the arrangement of Agnes' papers with a interest, and not so anxious about the success quite involuntary interest-detected in an of Louis as she ought to have been. A few instant when she misplaced one, and was days after Miss Anastasia's visit, the Rector very much disposed to offer his own assistcame, to find them in all the bustle of pre-ance, relenting towards her. What he paration. He appeared among them with a meant by it-he who was really the heir of certain solemnity, looking haughty and of- Lord Winterbourne, and by no means unafended, and received Mrs. Atheling's inti-ware of his own advantages-Mrs. Atheling, mation of their departure with a grave and looking on with quick-witted maternal obpunctilious bow. He had evidently known servation, could not tell. it before, and he looked upon it, quite as evidently, as something done to thwart him -a personal offence to himself. "Miss Atheling perhaps has literary occupation to call her to town," suggested Mr. Rivers, returning to his original ground of displeasure, and trying to get up a little quarrel with Agnes. She did not reply to him, but her mother did, on her behalf. "Indeed, Mr. Rivers, it does not make Then quite abruptly after he had watched all Agnes' papers into the pockets of her writing-book-he rose to go away; then he lingered over the ceremony of shaking hands with her, and held hers longer than there was any occasion for. time I hope to resume our argument," said Mr. Rivers. He paused till she answered him. "I do not know about argument,' said Agnes, looking up with a flash of spirit "Some -"I should be foolish to try it against you. | these days would be taken from him in a I know only what I trust in-that is not moment. If she could only let him know argument I never meant it so." what she knew, her conscience would be He made no reply save by a bow, and easy. As she thought of this, she remem. went away leaving her rather excited, a lit-bered how people have been told in fables tle angry, a little moved. Then they began secrets as important; the idea flashed into to plague her with questions-What did Mr. her mind with a certain relief-then came Rivers mean? There was nothing in the the pleasure of creation, the gleam of life world which Agnes knew less of than what among her maze of thoughts; the fancy Mr. Rivers meant. She tried to explain, in brightened into shape and graceful fashion a general way, the conversation she had she began unconsciously to hang about it with him before, but made an extremely the shining garments of genius-and so she lame explanation, which no one was satisfied rose and went about her homely business, with, and escaped to her own room in a very putting together the little frocks of Bell nervous condition, quite disturbed out of and Beau, ready to be packed, with the visher self-command. Agnes did not at all ion growing and brightening before her know what to make of her anomalous feel- eyes. Then the definite and immediate pur ings. She was vexed to the heart to feel pose of it gave way to a pure native delight how much she was interested, while she dis- in the beautiful thing which began to grow approved so much, and with petulant an- and expand in her thoughts. She went noyance exclaimed to herself, that she down again, forgetting her vexation. If it wanted no more argument, if he would but did no other good in the world, there was let her alone! the brightest stream of practical relief and consolation in Agnes Atheling's gift. And then came the consideration of Lionel's false hope-the hope which some of CHAPTER XVI.-NEW INFLUENCES. ONCE more the Old Wood Lodge stood | est-took no small degree of heart and spirit solitary under the darkening wintry skies, out of those joint family pleasures and ocwith no bright faces at its windows, nor cupations into which Marian constantly gleam of household firelight in the dim brought a reference to Louis, which Agnes little parlor, where Miss Bridget's shadow passed through with a preoccupied and abcame back to dwell among the silence, a stracted mind, and from which Charlie was visionary inhabitant. Once more Hannah far away. The stream widened, the sky sat solitary in her kitchen, lamenting that grew broader, yet every one had his or her it was "lonesomer nor ever," and pining for the voices of the children. Hannah would have almost been content to leave her native place and her own people to accompany the family to London; but that was out of the question; and, spite of all Mamma's alarms, Susan had really conducted herself in a very creditable manner under her great responsibility as housekeeper at Bellevue. separate and peculiar firmament. A maturer, perhaps, and more complete existence was opening upon them; but the first effect was by no means to increase the happiness of the family. They loved each other as well as ever but they were not so entirely identical. It was a disturbing influence, foreign and unusual; it was not the quiet, assured, undoubting family happiness of the days which were gone. The journey home was not a very eventful one. They were met by Papa and Louis on Then there were other unaccordant eletheir arrival, and conducted in triumph to ments. Rachel, whom Mrs. Atheling intheir own little house, which did not look so sisted upon retaining with them, and who attractive, by any means, as it used to do. was extremely eager on her own part to find Then they settled down without more ado something to do, and terrified to think herinto the family use and wont. With so self a burden upon her friends; and Louis, great a change in all their prospects and who contented himself with his pittance of intentions so strange an enlargement of income, but only did his mere duty at the their horizon and extension of their hopes office, and gave all his thoughts and all his it was remarkable how little change befell the outward life and customs of the family. Marian, it was true, was "engaged;" but Marian might have been engaged to poor Harry Oswald without any great variation of circumstances; and that was always a possibility lying under everybody's eyes. It did not yet disturb the habits of the family; but this new life which they began to enter -this life of separated and individual inter powers to the investigation which engrossed him. Mrs. Atheling was very much concerned about Louis. If all this came to nothing, as was quite probable, she asked her husband eagerly what was to become of these young people-what were they to do? For at present, instead of trying to get on, Louis, who had no suspicion of the truth, gave his whole attention to a visionary pursuit, and was content to have the barest And Marian of late had become actively suspicious and observant. Marian attacked her mother boldly, and without concealment. "Mamma, it is something about Louis that Charlie has gone abroad for!" she said, in an unexpected sally, which took the garrison by surprise. "My dear, how could you think of such a thing?" cried the prudent Mrs. Atheling. "What could Miss Anastasia have to do with Louis? Why, she never so much as saw him, you know. You must, by no means, take foolish fancies into your head. I dare say, after all, he must belong to Lord Winterbourne." Marian asked no more; but she did not fail to communicate her suspicions to Louis, at the earliest opportunity. "I am quite sure," said Marian, not scrupling even to express her convictions in presence of Agnes and Rachel," that Charlie has gone abroad for something about you. 66 Something about me! Louis was conBiderably startled: he was even indignant for a moment. He did not relish the idea of having secret enterprises undertaken for him, or to know less about himself than Marian's young brother did. "You must be mistaken," he said, with a momentary haughtiness. "Charlie is a very acute fellow, but I do not see that he is likely to trouble himself about me." "O, but it was Miss Anastasia," said Marian, eagerly. Then Louis colored, and drew himself up. His first idea was that Miss Anastasia looked for evidence to prove him the son of Lord Winterbourne; and he resented, with natural vehemence, the interference of the old lady. "We have come to a miserable pass, indeed," he said, with bitterness," when people investigate privately to prove this wretched lie against us.' "But you do not understand," cried Rachel. "O, Louis, I never told you what Miss Anastasia said. She said you were to take the name of Atheling, because it meant illustrious, and because the exiled princes were named so. Both Marian and Agnes heard her. She is a friend, Louis. Ŏ, I am sure if she is inquiring any thing, it is all for our good! The color rose still higher upon Louis' cheek. He did not quite comprehend at the moment this strange, sudden side-light which glanced down upon the question which was so important to him. He did not pause to follow, nor see to what it might lead; but it struck him as a clue to something, though he was unable to discover what that something was. Atheling! the youth's imagination flashed back in a moment upon those disinherited descendants of Alfred, the Edgars and Margarets, who, instead of princely titles, bore only that addition to their name. He was as near the truth at that moment as people wandering in profound darkness are often near the light. Another step would have brought him to it; but Louis did not take that step, and was not enlightened. His heart rose, however, with the burning impatience of one who comes within sight of the gaol. He started involuntarily with haste and eagerness. He was jealous that even friendly investigation should be the first to find out the mystery. He felt as if he would have a better right to any thing which might be awaiting him, if he discovered it himself. Upon all this tumult of thought and feeling Agnes looked on, saying nothing-looked on, by no means enjoying her spectatorship and superior knowledge. It was a "situation" which might have pleased Mr. Endicott, but it terribly embarrassed Agnes, who found it no pleasure at all to be so much wiser than her neighbors. She dared not confide the secret to Louis any more than she could to the Rector; and she would have been extremely unhappy between them, but for the relief and comfort of that fable, which was quickly growing into shape and form. It had passed out of her controlling hands already, and began to exercise over her the sway which a real created thing always exercises over the mind even of its author; it had ceased to be the direct personal affair she had intended to make it; it told its story, but after a more delicate process, and Agnes expended all her graceful fancy upon its perfection. now that Louis might find it out as well as the Rector. It was an eloquent appeal, heart-warm and touching to them both. CHAPTER XVII. RACHEL'S DOUBTS. She thought AFTER Louis, the most urgent business in | Rachel's education-or rather Rachel's want the house of the Athelings was that of of education-had been very different from Rachel, who was so pertinaciously anxious that of Marian and Agnes. She had no to be employed, that her friends found it traditions of respectability to deter her from very difficult to evade her constant entreaties. any thing she could do; and she had been accustomed to sing to the guests at Winter- rather obey you than Miss Rivers, a great bourne, and concluded that it would make deal. Why should we consult her?" very little difference to her, whether her "My dear," said Mrs. Atheling, with imperformance was in a public concert-room portance, "you must not ask any questions or a private assembly. "No one would at present. I have my reasons. Miss Anascare at all for me; no one would ever think tasia takes a great interest in you, and I have of me or look at me,' " said Rachel. "If I a very good reason for what I say.' sang well, that would be all that any one thought of; and we need not tell Louisand I would not mind myself—and no one would ever know." "But I have great objections to it, my dear," said Mrs. Atheling, with some solemnity. "I should rather a hundred times take in work myself, or do any thing with my own hands, than let my girls do this. It is not respectable for a young girl. A public appearance! I should be grieved and ashamed beyond any thing. I should indeed, my dear." "I am very sorry, Mrs. Atheling," said Rachel, wistfully; but it is not any thing wrong. "Not wrong-but not at all respectable," said Mrs. Atheling, "and unfeminine, and very dangerous indeed, and a discreditable position for a young girl." This made an end of the argument; but Rachel was extremely puzzled, and could not understand it. She was not very quickwitted, this gentle little girl; she began to have a certain awe of Miss Anastasia, and to suppose that it must be her superior wisdom which made every one ask her opinion. Rachel could not conclude upon any other reason, and accordingly awaited with a little solemnity the decision of Miss Rivers. They were in a singular harmony, all these young people; not one of them but had some great question hanging in the balance, which they themselves were not sufficient to conclude upon-something that might change and color the whole course of their lives. Another event occurring just at this time, made Rachel for a time the heroine of the family. Charlie wrote home with great regularity, like a good son as he was. His Rachel blushed and was very much dis- letters were very short, and not at all explanconcerted, but still did not give up the point. atory; but they satisfied his mother that "I thought it so when they tried to force he had not taken a fever, nor fallen into the me," she said, in a low tone; "but now, no hands of robbers, and that was so far well. one need know; and people, perhaps, might In one of these epistles, however, the young have me at their houses; ladies sing in com- gentleman extended his brief report a little, pany. You would not mind me doing that, to describe to them a family with which he Mra. Atheling? Or I could give lessons. had formed acquaintance. There were a lot Perhaps you think it is all vanity; but in- of girls, Charlie said; and one of them, deed they used to think me a very good singer, called Giulia Remori, was strangely like long ago. O, Agnes, do you remember" Miss Rachel; ""not exactly like," wrote that old gentleman at the Willows? that Charlie,-"not like Agnes and Marian " very old gentleman who used to talk to you? (who, by the way, had only a very vague reI think he could help me if you would only speak to him." "Mr. Agar? I think he could," said Agnes; "but, Rachel, mamma says you must not think of it. Marian does not do any thing, and why should you?" semblance to each other). "You would not suppose them to be sisters; but I always think of Miss Rachel when I see this Signora Giulia. They say, too, she has a great genius for music, and I heard her sing once myself, like. ; well, I cannot say what it was like. The most glorious music, I believe, under the skies." 66 "I am no one's daughter," said Rachel, sadly. "You are all very kind; but Louis has only a very little money; and I will not Mamma, that cannot be Charlie!" said -indeed I will not be a burden upon you." "the girls simultaneously; but it was Charlie, "Rachel, my dear," ," said Mrs. Atheling, without any dispute, and Marian clapped "do not speak so foolishly; but I will tell her hands in triumph, and exclaimed that he you what we can do. Agnes shall write must be in love; and there stood Rachel, down all about it to Miss Anastasia, and ask very much interested, wistful, and smiling. her advice, and whether she consents to it; The tender-hearted girl had the greatest proand if she consents, I will not object any pensity to make friendships. She received more. I promise I shall not stand in the the idea of this foreign Giulia into her heart way at all, if Miss Anastasia decides for in a moment, and ran forth eagerly at the you." time of Louis' usual evening visit to meet him at the gate, and tell him this little bit of romance. It moved Louis a great deal more deeply than it moved Rachel. This Rachel looked up with a little wonder. "But Miss Anastasia has nothing to do with us," said the astonished girl. "I would time his eye flashed to the truth like lightning. He began to give serious thought to what Marian had said of Charlie's object, and of Miss Anastasia. "Hush, Rachel,' he said, with sudden gravity. "Hush, I see it; this is some one belonging to our mother." "Our mother!" The two orphans stood together at the little gate, silenced by the name. They had never speculated much upon this parent. It was one of the miseries of their cruel position, that the very idea of a dead mother, which is to most minds the most saintlike and holy imagination under heaven, brought to them their bitterest pang of disgrace and humiliation. Yet now Louis stood silent, pondering it with the deepest eagerness. A burning impatience possessed the young man; a violent color rose over his face. He could not tolerate the idea of an unconcerned inquirer into matters so instantly momentous to himself. He was not at all amiable in his impulses; his immediate and wild fancy was to rush away, on foot and penniless, as he was; to turn off Charlie summarily from his mission, if he had one; and without a clue, or a guide, or a morsel of information which pointed in that direction, by sheer force of energy and desperation to find it out himself. It was misery to go in quietly to the quiet house, even to the presence of Marian, with such a fancy burning in his mind: He left Rachel abruptly, without a word of explanation, and went off to make inquiries about travelling. It was perfectly vain, but it was some satisfaction to the fever of his mind. Louis' defection made Marian very angry; when he came next day they had their first quarrel, and parted in great distraction and misery, mutually convinced of the treachery and wretchedness of this world; but made it up again very shortly after, to the satisfaction of every one concerned. With these things happening day by day, with their impatient and fiery Orlando always in some degree inflaming the house, it is not necessary to say how wonderful a revolution had been wrought upon the quiet habitudes of this little house in Bellevue. CHAPTER XVIII.—AGNES. sublime general terms; for she was not at all an experienced young lady, though she was an author, but herself regarded her hero with a certain awe and respect, and imperfect understanding, as young men and young women of poetic conditions are wont to regard each other. From this cause it resulted that you were not very clear about the Sir Charles Grandison of the young novelist. Her pretty heroine was as clear as a sunbeam; and even the Louis of her story was definable, and might be recognized; but the other lay half visible, sometimes shining out in a sudden gleam of somewhat tremulous light, but for the most part enveloped in shadow: everybody else in the tale spoke of him, thought of him, and were marvellously influenced by him; but his real appearances were by no means equal to the importance he had acquired. YET the household felt, in spite of itself, a | the prettiest fiancée in the world; but about difference by no means agreeable between the her hero Agnes was timid, presenting a grand Old Wood Lodge and Bellevue. The dull vague outline of him, and describing him in brick wall of Laurel House was not nearly so pleasant to look upon as that great amphitheatre with its maze of wan waters and willow-trees, where the sunshine flashed among the spires of Oxford; neither was Miss Wilsie, kind and amusing as she was, at all a good substitute for Miss Anastasia. They had Louis, it was true, but Louis was in love, and belonged to Marian; and no one within their range was at all to be compared to the Rector. Accustomed to have their interest fixed, after their own cottage, upon the Old Wood House and Winterbourne Hall, they were a little dismayed, in spite of themselves, to see the meagreness and small dimensions even of Killiecrankie Lodge. It was a different world altogether-and they did not know at the first glance how to make the two compatible. The little house in the country, now that they had left it, grew more and more agreeable by comparison. Mrs. Atheling forgot that she had thought it damp, and all of them, Mamma herself among the rest, began to think of their return in spring. And as the winter went on, Agnes made progress with her fable. She did not write it carefully, but she did write it with fervor, and the haste of a mind concerned and in earnest. The story had altered considerably since she first thought of it. There was in it a real heir whom nobody knew, and a supposed heir, who was the true hero of the book. The real heir had a love-story, and The sole plot of the story was connected with the means by which the unsuspected heir came to a knowledge of his rights, and gained his true place; and there was something considerably exciting to Agnes in her present exercise of the privilege of fiction, and the steps she took to make the title of her imaginary Louis clear. She used to pause, and wonder in the midst of it, whether such chances as these would befall the true Louis, and how far the means of her invention would resemble the real means. It was a very odd occupation, and interested her strangely. It was not very |