“As you don’t mean to drive out till after luncheon, aunt, and as there is still plenty of time, Mildred and myself would like to take a walk in the Park, if you have no objection. Chetwynd will accompany us.”

“With the greatest pleasure,” he said. “You will see all the world, for people now go to the Park in the morning as well as later in the day.”

“So I understand,” she replied. “May we go, dearest aunt?”

Lady Thicknesse assented, upon which the two girls withdrew to make the necessary preparation for the promenade. In these they were assisted by their new lady’s maid, Rose, who had commenced her duties that morning, to their great delight.

As soon as they were ready, they set out with Chetwynd, and took their way along Wilton Street and through Albert Gate to the Serpentine.

The morning being extremely fine, a great many people were about, and, even at that early hour, the banks of that lovely sheet of water were thronged with fashionable pedestrians, while the adjacent rides and drives were crowded with well-mounted equestrians of both sexes, and splendid equipages.

Unaccustomed to such a display, our two country girls were struck with admiration. How could they be otherwise? Passing in review before them, or grouped around, were some of the loveliest and best dressed women in the land; and certainly no better specimens of the youthful aristocracy could be found than might be seen mounted on those thoroughbred steeds, guiding those well-appointed drags and lighter vehicles, or lounging, cigar in mouth, against the iron railing. In its way the scene was very striking.

To the regular frequenters of the Ring, crowded as it was, it was not difficult to decide that the two lovely girls, dressed in deep mourning, were strangers.

Every one was struck by their remarkable beauty, and wondered who they were. Information on this point could not be had, since no one possessed it. Some persons remembered Chetwynd Calverley, who was standing beside the unknown fair ones, and fancied they might be his sisters; and this notion being promulgated, soon obtained general credence.

Among the equestrians was one who instantly recognised them – this was Sir Bridgnorth Charlton.

Riding up to the railing, he made his presence known to Chetwynd, who instantly went to speak to him, and explained that the girls had just come to town, and were staying with Lady Thicknesse in Belgrave Square.

“Delighted to hear it,” said Sir Bridgnorth, bowing and waving his hand to the girls. “Tell them I’ll call to-morrow.”

“Why not call to-day?” said Chetwynd. “They will be charmed to see you, and so will Lady Thicknesse. She was talking of you not an hour ago, but had no idea you were in town. Come, if you can.”

“I will,” replied Sir Bridgnorth.

And with another friendly salute to the two girls, he rode on.

Among the loungers collected near the rails when Sir Bridgnorth pulled up, was Romney. His quick ears caught all that was said. He learnt that the two girls were staying with Lady Thicknesse, and that Chetwynd was on intimate terms with her ladyship, together with some other information that he thought might be useful to him.

Though he was quite close at hand, Chetwynd did not observe him, but returned to the young ladies, who were very glad to learn that Sir Bridgnorth meant to call upon them.

It was now almost time to return, but the scene was so lively and amusing that they remained for a few minutes longer.

During this interval rather a smart mail-phaeton passed by slowly, containing a couple of showily-dressed but decidedly pretty girls, and driven by a young man who tried to look a swell, was rather loudly dressed, and seemed very vain of his coachmanship.

In the occupants of this vehicle, Chetwynd, to his great astonishment, recognised some acquaintances of his own – the loudly-dressed young swell, who appeared to think so much of himself, being no other than Tom Tankard, and the young ladies with him Miss Clotilde Tripp and Flora Sicklemore.

How Tom came to be possessed of such an equipage, and such a pair of horses, Chetwynd could not conceive.

Perhaps he had hired them? Perhaps some friendly coachman, whose master was out of town, had lent them to him? In any case, Tom paraded them as his own.

The supercilious air with which he gazed around, and which only excited ridicule and contempt, though he thought otherwise, was intended to convey that impression. He fancied people were staring at him in admiration, when they were merely laughing at him as a fool.

At last his eyes alighted on the tall figure of Chetwynd, conspicuous amid the throng, and he gave him a familiar nod; but Chetwynd pretended not to see it.

Enraged by the slight, Tom turned to the girls with him, and said:

“There’s that tall fellow whom you saw dressed up as a footman at our house. He chooses to cut me, but I’ll be even with him. He shan’t ‘cut and come again,’ I can tell him!”

“Perhaps he didn’t see you,” suggested Clotilde.

“Oh, yes, he did!” rejoined Tom. “He couldn’t help seeing me, since he was looking this way at the time. Never mind; I’ll serve him out!”

“What two pretty girls those are with him!” cried Flora.

“Not to compare with two others close at hand!” rejoined Tom, gallantly.

“Ah, we can’t accept that compliment, Mr. Tom,” said Flora. “Those are two very stylish young ladies, indeed.”

“I can’t see it,” remarked Tom. “I don’t admire women in black. I like something bright – something in your style, Miss Flora.”

“Or in mine?” suggested Clotilde.

“Exactly,” said Tom. “I hope that fellow won’t tell the guv’nor that he saw me driving you in the Park.”

“Good gracious! I hope not!” exclaimed both girls.

“But he’s not likely to see Mr. Tankard, is he?” observed Clotilde.

“Don’t know – just possible! If he should, there’ll be a jolly row. The guv’nor ‘ll never rest till he’s found it all out.”

“Well, don’t let us spoil our pleasure by thinking about it,” said Flora. “It’s very charming! never enjoyed anything so much in my life as this drive!”

“Not even our drive to Hampton Races?” said Tom, with a knowing look.

“Not even that,” she replied.

“I’m sure we shall always feel indebted to you for a most delightful day, Mr. Tom!” said Clotilde.

“Well, it is pleasant,” cried Tom. “I like to see all these fine folks, and I like to be seen myself, but I don’t like to be cut. Confound that fellow! I can’t forget him!”

“That’s not like you, Tom, to let such a small thing worry you,” observed Clotilde.

“You’re right,” said Tom. “My maxim is – never bother yourself if you can help it. And now let us move on a little faster.”

V. LORD COURLAND CONTINUES UNDECIDED

|While Tom and his fair friends were pursuing their course, Chetwynd and the two young ladies were quitting the gay scene

As they made their way through the throng, they encountered Lord Courland and Scrope Danvers, who had been watching them from afar, and had both come to the conclusion that the two prettiest girls to be seen in the Park on that morning were Miss Barfleur and Miss Calverley.

Lord Courland did not know which he admired most; at one moment he thought Emmeline the prettiest, but the next he gave the preference to Mildred.

“Your cousin, Miss Barfleur, is certainly a most charming girl, Scrope!” he said; “but – ”

“You prefer Miss Calverley,” supplied the other. “No; I don’t say that,” rejoined Lord Courland. “But Miss Calverley has lovely features, and an enthralling expression – at least, I find it so.”

“I see you are half in love with her already, my lord,” said Scrope, rather disappointed. “I quite admit that Miss Calverley is very beautiful; but don’t forget that my cousin Emmeline is a great heiress.”

“I am only indulging in a little sentiment, my dear boy,” said Lord Courland. “Either of those girls must be admired for herself alone. Your fair cousin needs no large fortune to enhance her attractions – neither does Miss Calverley. Looking at them as equally well endowed in this respect, I should be puzzled to choose, even if choice were allowed me. But when to almost matchless beauty Miss Barfleur adds the possession of great wealth, there can be no hesitation.”

“There I entirely concur with your lordship’s opinion,” said Scrope; “and had not my uncle, Sir Leycester, been a very crotchety fellow, she would have been married long ago. Even your lordship would have found some difficulty with him.”

“I dare say,” he replied. “But who is that with them?”

“Miss Calverley’s brother Chetwynd.”

“I thought so. He is uncommonly handsome.”

“He has been very wild and extravagant; but, I believe, has taken to better ways. I don’t know him myself; but my brother Charles, who has seen a good deal of him, gives a very favourable account of him, and says he is an excellent fellow. By-the-by, Charles has been very much in love with Miss Calverley; but, I believe, all that is at an end.”

“And Chetwynd Calverley is not a suitor to Miss Barfleur?” asked Lord Courland.

“That would never be heard of for a moment,” rejoined Scrope. “He has run through all his property; and, as far as I can understand, is entirely dependent upon his step-mother.”

“He may desire to repair his fallen fortunes.”

“He won’t repair them by a marriage with Miss Barfleur,” said Scrope, in a decided tone. “But see! they are evidently going away. Shall we join them?”

“By all means,” replied Lord Courland.

So they went up to them, as previously mentioned; and the two gentlemen having been introduced to Chetwynd, with whom they were much pleased, the whole party walked on to Albert Gate, where Lord Courland and Scrope took leave, the others proceeding to Belgrave Square.

Lady Thicknesse had always been noted for her dinners, and she still maintained her reputation. She had a good French cook, and an excellent butler, as we know. Her chef, Monsieur Zephyrus, had been a pupil of the renowned Olivier Givors, of Orleans, and did credit to his master.

On this occasion, Zephyrus sent up a charming little repast, that pleased all who partook of it.

A small round table sufficed for the party, which only numbered seven. Among the guests was Sir Bridgnorth, who was asked at a very late hour; but he stood upon no ceremony, and was delighted to meet the two girls.

Again, it was quite impossible to say whether Lord Courland intended to devote himself to Emmeline or Mildred.

As a matter of course, he took down Lady Thick-nesse to dinner, and sat between her ladyship and Emmeline; but he managed to talk a great deal to Mildred, who was placed opposite him; and had the girls been rivals, neither of them could have boasted of a triumph.

Next to Mildred was Sir Bridgnorth, and Emmeline was separated from Chetwynd by Scrope Danvers, who sat on her left, and prevented all conversation between them.

Chetwynd’s deportment was very quiet during dinner, and he said little; but in the evening he talked a great deal to Lady Thicknesse, and pleased her so much that she gave him a general invitation to the house – a point he was very desirous to gain.

VI. LADY THICKNESSE HAS A CONFERENCE WITH SCROPE

Nearly a week passed much in the same way.

The young ladies walked out in the morning with Chetwynd 5 drove out in the afternoon with Lady Thicknesse; and dined at eight, with nearly the same party, and on an equally good dinner.

Very little progress, however, seemed to be made with the important affair Lady Thicknesse had in hand. Her ladyship began to get tired, and had a private conference with her nephew, Scrope, but he could not help her.

“I cannot make out whether or not Lord Courland has spoken to Emmeline,” she observed. “If he has, she has said nothing to me.”

“Nor has his lordship said anything to me,” rejoined Scrope, “though I have given him several pretty strong hints. The affair must take its course. We shall spoil all by precipitation.”

“I sometimes think Emmeline has a secret attachment,” observed Lady Thicknesse, after a short pause. “If my conjecture be right, it must be for Chetwynd Calverley.”

“Impossible, my dear aunt!” exclaimed Scrope.

“No, it’s not impossible,” said Lady Thicknesse. “Chetwynd is an exceedingly fine young gentleman, and calculated to inspire an attachment. I have half resolved to question her.”

“Better write to Lady Barfleur, I think.”

“I have written to my sister, and very cautiously; but, as yet, I have received no answer to my letter.”

“Well, then, wait till you do before taking any steps. Things are going on very smoothly.”

“But very slowly – too slowly for me.”

“That can’t be helped. You must control your impatience, dear aunt.”

“I didn’t count on this delay. I expected the matter would be concluded in a week. I think I shall consult Sir Bridgnorth Charlton. If any one is in young Calverley’s secrets, he is.”

“But he won’t betray them.”

“He may give me some advice.”

“His advice will be exactly the same as mine. He will recommend you to keep quiet. I really don’t see any occasion for alarm. Things appear to me to be going on very well – if you could only think so. Cour-land won’t be driven.”

“Mildred Calverley is decidedly in the way. Pm very sorry I invited her.”

“Perhaps it was a mistake. However, she can’t be got rid of now.”

“And Pm not sure Emmeline would have come without her.”

A slight pause ensued, after which Lady Thicknesse said: – “By-the-by, your brother Charles is coming to town. I’ve just got a letter from him. I think I shall ask him to stay with me for a week. Is he really going to marry Mrs. Calverley? He says nothing about her.”

“I believe the match is broken off. She wants to keep all her property to herself. Had she behaved generously, as she ought to have done, and settled a handsome sum on Charley, it would have been a famous thing for him, no doubt. But it never does to be dependent upon an imperious woman like Mrs. Calverley. So he is quite right, in my opinion, to beat a retreat while there is yet time.”

Lady Thicknesse seemed to take a different view of the matter.

“Pm sorry he has thrown away such a chance,” she remarked. “Has she a large income?”

“Four or five thousand a year, Charley tells me. Old Calverley was very rich, as you must be aware, and she has got all his money.”

“Not all, surely? Chetwynd and Mildred must have some of it.”

“Both are dependent upon her. Chetwynd has had a very bitter quarrel with her, and has only just made it up. I think he acted very wisely, since he is completely in her power.”

“What a singular position she is placed in!”

“Old Calverley must have been in his dotage to give it her.”

“She is still young and handsome?”

“Not many years older than Mildred, and quite as good-looking. I saw her at Sir Leycester’s funeral, and was charmed with her. No doubt, she is very fascinating.”

“You excite my curiosity. I should like to see her.”

“I dare say you will have the opportunity. But you won’t see her as Mrs. Charles Danvers.”

“Why not? They may still come to an understanding.”

“Well, if you can bring them together again, and prevail upon her to make a handsome settlement on Charley, you will do a great thing,” remarked Scrope, with a laugh.

“I will consider what can be done,” replied Lady Thicknesse. “Meantime, I will write and ask Charles to come and stay with me.”

Thus ended their conference.

VII. THE VISIT TO MRS. HARTLEY’S

Rose Hartley made a charming lady’s maid.

She was so pretty, dressed so neatly, had such nice manners, and was so cheerful, good-natured, and obliging, that the two young ladies were enchanted with her.

They had a dressing-room in common, and nothing pleased them better than a chat with the lively little damsel, while she dressed their hair, or assisted in making their toilettes. While thus employed, Rose appeared to the greatest advantage, and the pretty soubrette, whose figure rivalled those of her mistresses, in her neat morning dress, and the two lovely girls, in their very becoming dishabille, formed a picture of grace and beauty.

Brought together in this way, it was quite natural that she should relate her little story to them. They had listened to it with much interest, and expressed the greatest indignation at the annoyance she had experienced, but advised her not to trouble herself, as they felt sure her persecutor would not dare to annoy her now.

One morning, however, she showed them a letter she had just received, and evidently from the same source. In it the writer said he had just discovered her abode, and would pay her a visit ere long.

They were inclined to laugh at it, and treat it with contempt; but, as she seemed uneasy, they advised her to consult Mr. Higgins, the butler, who had been very kind to her, and treated her like a daughter.

Higgins recommended her not to go out unattended for a few days, as she might be annoyed; but added if the gentleman ventured to call at the house, he would have reason to repent his audacity.

When the young ladies heard what the butler said, they thought he was quite right; but Emmeline added, “You sha’n’t be kept in-doors by this impudent varlet, who deserves to be horsewhipped. Lady Thicknesse says we can have the carriage whenever we please. We’ll take it out this morning, and you shall go with us.”

Delighted beyond measure, Hose essayed to express her thanks.

“We’ll pay your mother a visit,” pursued Emmeline. “We want to see her.”

“But I should have liked to give her some notice of your kind intentions,” said Rose, rather embarrassed.

“No; that would defeat our object,” said Mildred. “We wish to take her by surprise.”

Rose had nothing more to say, so the carriage was ordered at once.

All three got into it, and were driven to the esplanade near Lambeth Bridge, where they alighted, and walked towards Spencer’s Rents. Emmeline would not allow the footman to accompany them.

Great was Mrs. Hartley’s confusion at this unexpected visit.

She was busy in the kitchen at the time, and when Rose rushed in to tell her Miss Barfleur and Miss Calverley were at the house, she uttered a cry of astonishment, and blamed her daughter for not letting her know beforehand.

“Don’t scold her, Mrs. Hartley,” cried Emmeline, who heard all that was passing. “We wouldn’t allow her to prepare you for our visit. We wanted to see you just as you are.”

“Dear me! it’s very kind of you, miss!” cried the good dame, not venturing to show herself. “Be pleased to step into the parlour, and I’ll come to you as soon as I’ve put myself a little to rights. Rose will show you the way.”

Smiling as they went into the little room, which they thought very tidy and well furnished, the young ladies sat down, and sent Rose to her mother, who presently came in, and made many apologies for keeping them waiting.

Both were very much pleased by her appearance, and after she had been presented to each of them in turn, she said to Mildred:

“And so you’re Mr. Chetwynd’s sister, miss? Well, I don’t see any great resemblance.”

“I never was considered very much like my brother,” observed Mildred, smiling.

“Ah, you might be proud of resembling him, miss; for he’s a very fine young gentleman. Don’t you agree with me, miss?” she added, turning to Emmeline.

“Yes; he is generally considered very good-looking,” replied the young lady, slightly blushing – a circumstance that Mrs. Hartley did not fail to remark, “Whoever gets Mr. Chetwynd for a husband will do well,” she said. “Of that I’m certain.”

And she would have launched still more strongly into his praises, had not Rose checked her.

“I’m very glad to have an opportunity of thanking you for your great kindness to my brother, dear Mrs. Hartley,” observed Mildred. “He always speaks of you with gratitude, and says you were quite like a mother to him.”

“I felt like one,” she replied. “It touched my heart to see him. But, Heaven be thanked! all that’s gone by, and I trust he’s happy, as he deserves to be Nothing would please me better than to hear that he has found some charming young lady to – ”

“All in good time, Mrs. Hartley,” interrupted Mildred. “You shall be let into the secret, I promise you, as soon as there is one to communicate.”

Mrs. Hartley looked as if she thought that would be very soon, but she didn’t venture to give utterance to her sentiments.

“And now let us speak about your daughter, Mrs. Hartley,” said Emmeline. “We came to talk of her. She will tell you, I think, that she is happy in her new place.”

“I ought to be,” said Rose; “since every kindness is shown me.”

But she sighed as the words were uttered.

“Ah, you can’t help thinking of Harry Netterville, I suppose?” observed her mother. “He doesn’t deserve your love. These dear young ladies shall hear my opinion of him.”

“Not unless it’s favourable,” said Emmeline.

“Well, I’ve nothing to say against him, except that I don’t want to have the engagement renewed,” replied Mrs. Hartley.

“Why not?” asked both young ladies, eagerly.

“Because I don’t think it would be for my daughter’s advantage.”

“I’m afraid she will never be satisfied without him,” said Mildred.

“If I thought so, I wouldn’t oppose it,” rejoined the good dame.

“Then take the assurance from us,” said both young ladies, earnestly.

“After that, I have nothing to say,” observed Mrs. Hartley. “Rose must decide for herself.”

“Oh, thank you, dearest mother!” exclaimed her daughter, kissing her. “I should then say that if – ”

Her speech was here interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Good gracious! I hope nobody is calling,” said Mrs. Hartley.

“Don’t mind us,” cried the young ladies.

“You had better not let anybody in, mother,” whispered Rose.

As Mrs. Hartley went out she closed the parlour door after her.

But some conversation could be heard going on in the passage. Familiar tones reached Rose’s ears, and she said to the young ladies:

“I do believe it is Harry Netterville himself!”

“How strange if it should be!” cried Mildred.

Next moment Mrs. Hartley returned, her countenance wearing a very singular expression.

“Who do you think has just come in?” she said to her daughter.

“I know very well – Harry Netterville,” replied Rose.

“Yes; he knows you are here. What shall I say to him for you?”

Before answering, Rose looked at the young ladies, as much as to ask, “What do you advise?”

“See him, by all means,” observed Emmeline.

“Alone?”

“No; here.”

“Bring him in, my dear mother,” said Rose.

No culprit ever presented a more abject appearance than did Harry Netterville, as he entered the room with Mrs. Hartley. He seemed thoroughly ashamed of himself, and could hardly look at the young ladies.

“May I ask what has brought you here this morning, Mr. Netterville?” inquired Rose.

“I didn’t expect to find you, dearest Rose,” he replied, in a penitential tone, that touched all the listeners except the one it was meant to move. “I came to see your mother.”

“Why do you address me as ‘dearest Rose?’” said the young damsel, rather severely.

“You are still dear to me, and must ever remain so,” he replied. “I confess I have behaved very badly.”

“Well, the poor fellow can’t say more,” said Emmeline, moved by his looks and manner. “I hope you will forgive him.”

“Do,” added Mildred.

Netterville awaited his sentence with anxiety; but Rose did not seem inclined to pardon him at once.

“You have acted so unreasonably that I cannot forgive you till you have made some amends,” she said.

“I am ready to do anything you may enjoin,” he replied.

“You shall deliver me from the annoyance to which I have been subjected, and which has caused our disagreement,” she replied. “You shall find out the writer of that anonymous letter to yourself, and who has likewise written other infamous letters to me, and punish him – punish him as he deserves. When you have done this, I will forgive you, but not till then.”

“We quite approve of your decision, Rose,” said Mildred, “and till Mr. Netterville has done this he doesn’t deserve your regard. He ought not to hesitate.”

“I don’t hesitate,” he replied, energetically.

“That’s right,” said Rose. “I begin to like you again. Here is the last letter I have received. Read it,” she added, tossing it to him.

After scanning its contents, Netterville turned pale. “And this has just reached you?” he asked, with quivering lips.

“Yesterday,” she replied.

“The writer must be discovered,” he said.