THE

CHAPTER XVIII.

The world goes up, and the world goes down,
And sunshine follows the rain,

And yesterday's tear and yesterday's frown
Can never come over again,

Sweet wife,

No, never come over again.

C. K.

HE relations on the lady's side of the house mustered strong at her wedding to Colonel Mowbray, and it was considered a still gayer affair than that of Lady Allan, three months before. No one could object to the disparity of years, since it did not overcloud the satisfaction of the bride's family; and the Colonel was certainly a wonderful man for his age. Mrs. Parker cried profusely; but she told all her friends that she was the happiest woman in the world. Her younger daughters were in a flutter of gratified vanity, conscious of being well dressed for the first time in their lives, and also exactly like Miss Mowbray, who was among the bride's-maids. The spirits of the boys exploded in crackers and fire-works, provided by the Colonel's liberality, so that they decided that a wedding was not half a bad thing.' Sir Stephen came in for a

share of approbation; he always said the right thing, or bowed and smiled when he had nothing to say, and then they were such a handsome couple ; Lady Allan was more admired than ever, though she had been popular as Blanche Mowbray. Dorothy's pale and quiet face attracted little notice in the crowd; some people supposed that she was not very well pleased, and charitably hoped that it was all for her good, although that pretty young bride was hardly likely to tame her.

Sir Stephen filled up his measure of popularity by sitting down to dine with the tenantry in the great barn at the home farm, so that Dorothy and Blanche passed the evening together. They were, however, too weary to make much of their opportunities, and they lay on their respective sofas, sleeping a good deal and saying little until roused by the entrance of the evening letters, with tea.

'Lie still, my dear child,' said Blanche, instinctively resuming her old habits of attendance on her younger sister; 'I am going to make tea.'

'Very well,' said Dorothy, sleepily, and you may read my letters, and answer them too, if you like. I am so tired of congratulations.'

But they were not all congratulations, as presently appeared from the excited exclamation which followed the opening of one of them. 'Oh, Dora, only think! weddings will never cease; here is Robert Selby going to marry Mrs. Lennox—a widow.'

'No, is he?' said Dorothy, sitting up, and now fully awake 'what a comfort!'

6

Bessy says that it has been going on some time,

P

continued Blanche. Did you perceive anything when you were at Broadstairs?'

'It was going on after a fashion,' said Dorothy, with a smile; 'but the last thing I heard him say of his love was, that she was 'an odious, unfeeling woman !'

Further questioning extracted particulars in which Blanche was much interested. And so it did actually come to a proposal?' she said. 'Did poor Robert take it much to heart?'

'We may hope not,' said Dora, drily; 'at least, he has lost no time in consoling himself.’

'No,—but that may be from pique. What sort of person is this Mrs. Lennox? Bessy seems quite pleased with the marriage.'

'Yes; she had great success with the whole family, my cross-grained self excepted. She is a connexion of the Parkers, and I dare say their first visit will be here. Her dear Edgar will be raging through the house, carving his name on the oak staircase, and blowing tin trumpets in my ear, and she will say, in her sweet voice, 'So like his dear father!' Well, Blanche, what were you going

'What, perhaps, I had better not say, lest it should vex you. I was only thinking that if Lance were here, he would tell you not to be satirical.'

'Oh! if Lauce were here,' repeated Dorothy, while she pillowed her cheek on her folded arms in an attitude of listless dejection. But Lance is not

here.'

'I did not mean to vex you, dear,' said Blanche, tenderly.

You have not vexed me. I am vexed with

You

myself; out of heart, and so out of temper. will never know that reckless humour which prompts me to turn all things into ridicule, because life is, in itself, such bitter earnest. I do not need Lance to tell me that I am wrong, but I do need his counsel and sympathy to keep me right. If I had heeded him more then, it would not be so hard now.'

'And yet,' observed Blanche, 'when you and Lance were together, you were more apt to differ than agree, and you generally gained the day.'

'Not always,' replied Dora, quickly; 'Lance was ready to give up his own fancies, but he was always firm on really important matters, and could give reasons which were quite convincing, though I did not choose to allow it at the time. There lies the likeness between him and Mr. Vaughan, who are in many things so different; I mean the way in which they refer all things to the one standard of right and wrong, and act accordingly, without considering consequences. With them, I feel as if I could do and suffer anything, and I am ashamed of the littleness of mind, the petty jealousies, the coldness and faintness of heart, which make up the sum of most men's lives. But when I am left to struggle on alone, I struggle only to fail; and then I lose heart, and get entangled in all these cares, and am myself the meanest and most despicable of any.'

Blanche listened with patient bewilderment to this torrent of words, poured forth with a passionate eagerness which left much untold, or but half expressed. She could not enter into the nature of stormy passions, such as had never ruffled the

smoothness of her placid temper, but she understood that Dora was unhappy, and she pitied her accordingly.

'You should not say such things, dear,' she said, gently, or speak so hardly of yourself, for it is not true, and so I am sure Lance himself would tell you. I wish that he were here to comfort you.'

'And as he is not here,' said Dora, 'he is best represented by Mr. Vaughan, and that was one of Lance's chief reasons in bringing him here. Oh, Blanche! it does seem hard to be forbidden to see him, even as often as common politeness requires, and to be cut off from all my work at Bagley, which was such a help in driving away all vexing thoughts.'

'Still, I suppose papa knows best,' said Blanche, in a tone of constraint.

'Yes; but papa's objections were suggested by Stephen, and due to a suspicion which is, as you know, unfounded. If you could only convince Stephen-prove to him that I have no interest in Mr. Vaughan, except as Lance's friend and the curate of Bagley, and that he cares as little for me, he might believe you, though he will not listen to me.'

'I should not like to say anything about it to Stephen,' said Blanche. 'It always pains him to talk of Mr. Vaughan; and, besides, it would be of -he is convinced he is right.'

no use

'Still, he may be mistaken-he is mistaken, in this instance,' said Dorothy.

'I do not know. I should not like to persuade him to do anything which he thought wrong.'