The next day brought a pleasing change to the current of Emma's thoughts. She was walking slowly under the old trees on the lawn, and was not aware of any one's approach until an arm was suddenly clasped round her waist, and she found herself obliged to submit to several very unceremonious kisses from her lover, who had contrived as usual thus unexpectedly to meet her.

"How you do startle one," cried she struggling to release herself. "I will have you indicted for assault."

"Tears, Emma," said he looking at her attentively; "what are those red eyes for?"

"You had better not ask questions," replied she, "lest you should hear unpleasant truths."

"But I will ask questions, and you must answer me!" said he earnestly; "I cannot let you cry without knowing the reason."

"But suppose there is none, what then?" suggested she playfully.

"Then I shall feel under the necessity of effacing the marks of your tears in the best way I can," replied he.

She then relieved her mind and his feelings by telling him the whole history of their yesterday's excursion and its termination, which led of course to almost interminable references to past events, explanations and details relative to Mr. Morgan himself, of all which until this moment he had been profoundly ignorant. The slanders circulated relative to Emma, the expedition of Lord Osborne to rebut them, and the trouble he had taken on her account made a great impression on him, and he took a vehement dislike to Croydon and everything connected with a place where Emma had been exposed to such misrepresentations. Of course he would not admit that she was in the least degree to blame for past events, or that she had showed any undue severity towards Mr. Morgan—on the contrary, he thought she had throughout been too lenient towards him; but this was an error arising from the rare goodness of disposition which led her in so remarkable a degree to tolerate the imperfections and weaknesses of those around her, of which her attachment to himself was a conspicuous example.

He had some news to communicate in return for hers, which though not of quite so tragical a nature, was to him a great disappointment.

The rectory house at Carsdeane proved to be in so extremely dilapidated a state that, in order to make it at all a comfortable residence, Lord Osborne proposed to rebuild it entirely. In the meantime there was no suitable home for Emma, and he feared their marriage must be delayed at least for some months, instead as he had hoped of taking place immediately.

This was a very great disappointment to them both. Emma had ventured to hope that the Autumn would have seen her installed in a settled home, of which she would be the mistress, and they tried very hard to persuade themselves and each other, that it would not be more prudent and advisable, to wait till Mr. Howard had a house to receive his bride. They might have succeeded perhaps in thinking so themselves, but they could not induce their friends to agree in the decision. On the contrary, like most friends when two young people wish to marry, they all concurred in considering it a very great advantage that they should wait a little.

And I am far from supposing them wrong in the idea. Taking into consideration Emma's youth, for she was not yet quite twenty, and the shortness of their acquaintance, which had as yet lasted barely six months, I am of opinion that the delay even of a whole year would have been by no means detrimental to their future happiness. It was perfectly natural that both Mr. and Miss Bridge should adopt this idea, and I trust equally so that since they urged it, Emma should yield to their prudent persuasions: the more especially as appearing to yield at this time and agreeing to wait a twelvemonth, would by no means preclude them from entirely changing their minds in a couple of months time, in case they should see any occasion for so doing.

As to any difficulty about Emma's home in the meantime, Miss Bridge declared it could not exist, since her house was always open to her, and she could regard her in no other light than as her adopted child. In vain Mr. Howard remonstrated. Miss Bridge was so firm in her conviction that Emma had better spend the next year in her house, and professed so much satisfaction at the idea, that he at last declared, in despair, he was certain it was for the sake of securing her company that Miss Bridge interposed to prevent the marriage.

Before however the two disputants could settle their conflicting claims on Emma's society, a new turn was given to the affair by the intervention of her youngest brother. He should want a companion at Chichester, and it had always been an understood thing he declared, that Emma was to live with him till she married. She readily admitted the fact, and so it was settled; she was to accompany him to Chichester immediately after Elizabeth's wedding, and remain there as he said, "until they were tired of one another."

Howard yielded this point much more readily than the other. Carsdeane was much nearer Chichester than Burton, and he could easily visit her there. Besides his penetration led him to surmise that Sam would be soon desirous of placing another person at the head of his establishment; that a sister's society would not long content him, and that when this change took place, he would probably be thankful to be relieved from the charge he was undertaking. He thought it likewise a great advantage that she should be removed entirely from Croydon for a time, and from the painful impressions which he observed seemed still to haunt her. She had suffered so much there, as he now began to understand, that he could not help wishing that she should see the place no more; a wish in which she certainly did not concur when she remembered it would be Elizabeth's future home.

The wedding that week was a very quiet one: the death of Mr. Morgan had thrown a damp over the whole town from which it could not at once recover, and no one felt inclined to indulge in festivities where he would be so much missed. Accordingly everything was conducted in the simplest manner, to the great disappointment of Mrs. Watson, who vowed it was hardly worth putting on her new and handsome clothes, when there would be no one to see her at Church.

It was some alleviation to her distress of mind however to remember that they would be equally handsome and more interesting after the wedding was over, and she should be able to appear in uncommon splendour, when returning all the congratulatory visits on some subsequent occasion.

When all was over, and Mrs. George Millar and her husband had set out from Croydon to make a short visit to London, which the bride had never seen, Emma took an affectionate leave of Annie Millar, and returned to the Rectory to prepare for her journey.

Sam remained a few minutes behind; it was only to ask Annie if she still thought marriages as foolish as she had always declared them to be.

"Twenty times worse," said she, "they are not only foolish but sad, and I shall consider myself particularly fortunate when this miserable day is fairly over."

"What do you consider the worst part of the affair," enquired he, still lingering.

"Oh the leave takings," said Annie hastily, "if Elizabeth had never married you would all have stayed on here waiting for it, and we have been so happy for this last week. Now you are going, and you must take Emma too!"

"And will you give me leave to flatter myself that you are sorry at my going."

"I dare say you would not wait for my leave; men always take it for granted that women sit down and cry when they leave them," said she saucily.

"I should certainly entertain no such expectation Miss Millar; I am aware my profession renders me too unpleasant in your eyes for you to do otherwise than rejoice at my departure."

"Upon my word you make me out to be a very rational young woman," replied she; "when did I ever find fault with your profession, or express a wish that you were other than what you are? Because I should never have chosen the surgical profession myself is that any reason that I should detest a man who did—or so long as you do not exercise your skill on me, or in my presence, do you imagine I object to your exhibiting it elsewhere?"

"I had much rather you should detest my profession than consider it with indifference, Miss Millar."

She only looked down and blushed, then holding out her hand, said in a hurried manner,

"Good bye, I must go!" and left him, to his great disappointment.

If Sam felt discouraged by this sudden termination to his interview, the feeling lasted no longer than till the receipt of Annie's first letter to his sister after they were settled at Chichester; for there the allusions and reminiscences were of a most flattering kind, and the frequent mention of his name, and the manner in which it was introduced gave him very great pleasure.

Emma became reconciled to Penelope's marriage when she saw how well she was suited to her situation in life, and though she did not greatly admire her brother-in-law, he was so very superior to Tom Musgrove, that she thought her sister quite fortunate in comparison with Margaret. To forget everything that had passed of an unpleasant nature previous to her marriage was the wisest source which her friends could adopt; and it is so exceedingly common that there should be something which requires forgetting, that if the relatives of all married couples acted in the same way, there would be a great deal more of unity in the world than at present.

Before she had been resident at Chichester three months, two events occurred, which effected a change in her plans. One, as Mr. Howard and many others had foreseen, was the engagement of Sam and Annie, and preparations for their speedy marriage. The other was more unexpected.

Her aunt, whose sudden and ill-advised marriage had originally deprived her of her home, exasperated by the unkind and unprincipled conduct of her young husband, quitted him abruptly; procured a separation, and as she still retained the control of her income, he was left very much as he deserved to be, no better off than when he made his mercenary marriage. She returned to England, wrote to Emma, then came to her; was delighted with Sam, with Mr. Howard, and with everything she learnt of their doings, past, present, or future. She made Emma a magnificent wedding present, both in money and clothes, and declared her determination of ultimately dividing her fortune between her youngest nephew and niece. In the meantime, she took an elegant mansion in the parish of Carsdeane, and insisted on the marriage taking place immediately, and the young couple taking up their residence with her, until the rectory house was prepared for them.

This advice was much too agreeable to be long resisted, and before Emma and Mr. Howard had seen the anniversary of their first meeting, they were man and wife.

Whether they ever repented the interference of Miss Bridge to delay, or of Mrs. MacMahon to hurry the union, I leave entirely to the imaginations of my readers to settle; satisfied with having done my duty in detailing events as they really occurred.

There is but one more circumstance of any importance to relate; but that is, that Lord Osborne, after Emma's marriage, joined a regiment abroad as a volunteer—fought for some years in the Peninsular, and returned to England about ten years after he had been refused by Emma, accompanied by his wife, a very charming young Spanish lady, with whom he fell in love, because her dark eyes reminded him of Mrs. Howard's.

He had forgotten the likeness long before he reached Osborne Castle; and no one who saw Mrs. Howard when visiting the young bride, or watched his devotion to Lady Osborne, could, for a moment, have imagined that Lord Osborne's love could have had such a foundation.

I have nothing more to say of any of the party, and only trust that all who read my tale, may be convinced, as I am, that prudence, gentleness, and good sense, will secure friends under the most disadvantageous circumstances; but that marriage alone, unless undertaken with right feelings and motives, cannot be considered a certain recipe for worldly happiness.

This is a very excellently-written novel, and in tone and manner is far above the ordinary standard of fashionable fictions that are still so prodigal in their number. The title of the story does not imply the depth, the intensity, and the fine passion which it certainly embodies, because it is far more suggestive of gilded folly, of brilliant vanity and of meretricious attraction. In itself, however, it is a worthy evidence of the talents for authorship which the fair writer undoubtedly possesses. The dialogues are good, the plots excellent, and bears upon them more than the impress of probability. The descriptions are true to nature, when speaking of nature and form, otherwise, absolute pictures in themselves, worthy the pencils of Watteau or Laneret, or any of those charming triflers which the age (and the one subsequent) of the grand monarque, produced.... In the Italian scenery and in the Italian intrigue, there is a freshness and attraction which the reader will find in these pages much to his sympathies, while the fidelity and tact with which the accessories of place, and character are blended together, constitute not the least attractive charm of a very charming tale.—Despatch.

One of the most striking and admirable traits of the authoress, is the strength and yet severe simplicity of the diction. The reputation which Mrs. Daniel has already obtained by her former works, such as 'My sister Minnie,' 'Poor Cousin,' &c. will be considerably increased by the real merits of this novel. Our extracts will give a fair specimen of Mrs. Daniel's literary power.... Dispatch.

It exhibits Mrs. Daniel's wonted elegance of style and pathos.—Spectator.

We must rank this production as one of the 'upper form,' of its class.—Atlas.

'It is a general attack upon all persons who have rendered their names well known by railway enterprise. It will excite a sensation in drawing-rooms, counting-houses, and circulating-libraries.'—Morning Herald.

The way in which it is worked out is worthy of Dickens in his happiest moments—the scenes are graphic and life-like, and there are touches of deep pathos and strokes of humour which bespeak a master hand.—Gloucester Standard.

We have few Christmas books this season. The 'Shadows,' is the largest we have seen. It is a very neat volume got up in the style of Dickens's works, and well written.... The illustrations are good and numerous.... The passages in the world of spirits, contain remarkably powerful writing.... The book will be popular.—Tait's Magazine.

It carries with it an excellent moral in favor of the working classes, and especially of females doomed to starvation of the needle.—Literary Gazette.

Mr. Torr's pictures of rural scenes are charming and life like as the farm-yard of Moreland, but elevated and refined by an accomplished taste.—Court Journal.

In all his pages there is an honest, cordial, healthy English morality. The novel merits perusal.... Morning Herald.

This novel possesses a merit to which few of the present day even pretend ... its story is exceedingly well constructed.... Atlas.

This is the best romance we have read since the days of Sir Walter Scott. The scene in which it is laid is new to the English reader, and there is in the portraiture of its principal characters all the freshness of originality. We doubt if any one, even the most hackneyed of novel and romance readers, can venture upon perusing the first chapter, without feeling deeply interested in the progress of the tale, and anxious to proceed with it to its close. In the perusal of this romance, there is the conviction that the plot, which makes the work a romance, is the only thing that takes it out of the range of history; for its incidents are facts to which only new names are given. Its portraiture of manners and of classes as they exist in Servia is as correct as that given of England in the reign of Richard Coeur de Lion, in Ivanhoe. Thus forewarned that a new and eventful period in the history of a strange country and an extraordinary people is embodied in this romance, the public is invited to its perusal. We can assure them that it will be found well worthy of their attention, and our only regret is, that we cannot spare space for even a single extract from this truly affecting and interesting romance.—Morning Herald.

One of the finest, most powerful, most truthful romance of the age.—The Naval and Military Gazette.

The great act of the opening is intensely striking, and colours all the future.... There is general simplicity. No effort to be fine, or sentimental, or pathetic. The 'Forest and the Fortress' a genuinely good historical novel, and does infinite credit to a female pen. We recommend it as one of the best of its order: keeping close to the realities and truths of history, and most ingeniously and skilfully impregnated with inventive charms, to render those realities and truths, dramatically popular.—Literary Gazette.

We have read it with a pleasure in which method and reason have as much share as imagination. It is more readable than ninety-nine hundredths of so called historical novels.—AthenÆum.

The author must have read a great deal to enable him to acquire the information, paint the portraits, dress up individual traditions in the clever fashion he has reached in his "Rizzio"—the volumes are, in every respect, curiosities of literature.—Literary Gazette.

A most valuable and interesting publication, valuable to the scholar, who is well acquainted with the history of the times of which it treats, and interesting to all who read merely for amusement.—Morning Herald.

"Rizzio" is a curious work. The author has read a good deal upon the history of the period in which he lays his story, and looked into its habits and manners. There is a certain imitation of reality about it, which really carries the reader along.— Spectator.

These volumes will be read with avidity.—Economist.

A most amusing book.—AthenÆum.

• Transcriber's Notes
  • A few cases of inconsistent spelling were regularized.
  • Word combinations that appeared with and without hyphens were changed to the predominant form if it could be determined.
  • Punctuation and spelling were made consistent when a predominant form was found in this book; otherwise they were not changed.
  • "beant" volume I, page 70, word retained. A contraction of be not, probably. See also "woant" on volume I, page 143.
  • The spelling of Shakespeare was corrected. There were two instances of the name, one spelled correctly, the other incorrectly.
  • The second chapter of volume II was relabeled from CHAPTER XIII to CHAPTER II.
  • Volume 3, page 223: Rosa changed to Fanny ("You give me more credit than I deserve a great deal, Fanny;)