They were approaching at that moment, Francis Levison
and Lady Isabel. He was expressing his regret
at the untoward accident of the cross for the tenth
time that night. “I feel that it can never
be atoned for,” whispered he; “that the
heartfelt homage of my whole life would not be sufficient
compensation.”
He spoke in a tone of thrilling gentleness, gratifying
to the ear but dangerous to the heart. Lady Isabel
glanced up and caught his eyes gazing upon her with
the deepest tenderness—a language hers had
never yet encountered. A vivid blush again arose
to her cheek, her eyelids fell, and her timid words
died away in silence.
“Take care, take care, my young Lady Isabel,”
murmured the Oxonian under his breath, as they passed
him, “that man is as false as he is fair.”
“I think he is a rascal,” remarked the
earl.
“I know he is; I know a thing or two about him.
He would ruin her heart for the renown of the exploit,
because she’s a beauty, and then fling it away
broken. He has none to give in return for the
gift.”
“Just as much as my new race-horse has,”
concluded the earl. “She is very beautiful.”
Barbara Hare.
West Lynne was a town of some importance, particularly
in its own eyes, though being neither a manufacturing
one nor a cathedral one, nor even the chief town of
the county, it was somewhat primitive in its manners
and customs. Passing out at the town, toward the
east, you came upon several detached gentleman’s
houses, in the vicinity of which stood the church
of St. Jude, which was more aristocratic, in the matter
of its congregation, than the other churches of West
Lynne. For about a mile these houses were scattered,
the church being situated at their commencement, close
to that busy part of the place, and about a mile further
on you came upon the beautiful estate which was called
East Lynne.
Between the gentlemen’s houses mentioned and
East Lynne, the mile of road was very solitary, being
much overshadowed with trees. One house alone
stood there, and that was about three-quarters of a
mile before you came to East Lynne. It was on
the left hand side, a square, ugly, red brick house
with a weathercock on the top, standing some little
distance from the road. A flat lawn extended before
it, and close to the palings, which divided it from
the road, was a grove of trees, some yards in depth.
The lawn was divided by a narrow middle gravel path,
to which you gained access from the portico of the
house. You entered upon a large flagged hall
with a reception room on either hand, and the staircase,
a wide one, facing you; by the side of the staircase
you passed on to the servants’ apartments and
offices. That place was called the Grove, and
was the property and residence of Richard Hare, Esq.,
commonly called Mr. Justice Hare.
The room to the left hand, as you went in, was the
general sitting-room; the other was very much kept
boxed up in lavender and brown Holland, to be opened
on state occasions. Justice and Mrs. Hare had
three children, a son and two daughters. Annie
was the elder of the girls, and had married young;
Barbara, the younger was now nineteen, and Richard
the eldest—but we shall come to him hereafter.
