Wordes sharply wound, but greatest grief of scorning growes.
SPENSER.

Tal d'un alma l'effanno sepolto
Si travede in un riso fallace,
ChÉ la pace mal finge nel volto
Chi si sente la guerra nel cor.
METASTASIO.

Mr. Singleton breakfasted at nine o'clock; and it was the custom of the house for everybody to appear at that meal. At half past eight, the worthy squire read prayers in the chapel; and at this ceremony all the servants, and such visitors as pleased, attended.

This had been a custom in the house from the days of Edward the Sixth; and Mr. Singleton would on no account have omitted it; though his performance of this duty was something odd. Any one might have thought from his tones, that he was calling over the names of his hounds. Margaret made a point of attending; and found Mrs. Singleton, Harriet, and Mr. Humphries assembled.

As soon as prayers were over, Harriet hurried off to make breakfast; and commanded Margaret to sit beside her; and by degrees the rest of the visitors assembled round the table. Some little time after they were all collected, George Gage came into the room; made some very earnest inquiries after Mrs. Singleton's health; which that lady imperfectly heard, and replied to very mildly; and then begged to know whether Miss Capel had recovered the fatigue of her journey. Having received a satisfactory answer to this question, he remained standing on the hearth-rug, looking at all the people, as if they were eating and drinking for his sole amusement.

"Do you ever eat breakfast, Mr. Gage?" asked Harriet, after he had remained some time in the same position.

"Thank you—yes. I breakfasted an hour ago."

"How was that?" asked Mr. Singleton. "What made you so early afield?"

"I was anxious about one of my horses," said Mr. Gage. "I was afraid he had sprained his shoulder; and as I wished to see him early this morning—I breakfasted at the same time."

"Oh, but that is important!" said Mr. Humphries, rising hastily, and pulling the table-cloth crooked as he rose, "shall I go and have a look at him?"

"Sit still, Mr. Humphries;" said Harriet. "Horses, we know, are much more amiable and important than their masters. Still, as the masters must be fed some time or other, they had better take their meals at the proper hour. The horse will wait till you have finished your breakfast."

Mr. Singleton and Mr. Humphries laughed heartily at this address; and Mr. Gage informed Mr. Humphries, that he need not trouble him to look at the horse, for that he seemed to be perfectly well this morning.

Mr. Humphries nodded to express his acquiescence in this remark, and continued eating; and Mr. Singleton noticing, for the first time, that Harriet was not dressed in her habit, asked in astonishment why she was not going out hunting with them as usual.

"Yes, you will have a great loss in me," said Harriet laughing. "I intend to disappoint the field. I am not going to run off this first day that I have Miss Capel with me; and I have something to do—I intend to call on the Veseys in the course of the morning."

"Wait till to-morrow, and I'll drive you over;" said Mr. Singleton. "I should like to call on the Veseys myself."

"Indeed you won't, Uncle Singleton," said Harriet. "You always knock my bonnet with your elbow as you get in and out of the carriage. I vowed the last time I let you drive me, you should not sacrifice my next best bonnet in that worthless way."

"Ha! ha!" said Mr. Singleton, "what does it signify? You have the best seat and the best horse in the country, and what matters spoiling your bonnet."

"Go! you have no feelings," said Harriet. "I mean to ride to the Veseys to-day, and Margaret and Evan shall accompany me; and so we shall trouble nobody, good uncle. Another cup of tea, Mr. Humphries? Why you make absolutely no breakfast! Is this a preparation for a day's hard hunting? Try that curried lobster."

"Ha! ha! thank you Miss Conway, I think I have done very well," said Mr. Humphries; looking on the wrecks scattered on and around his plate.

Everybody was inclined to be of his opinion; and Margaret wondered how Harriet could say such things with a grave face.

"I wish," pursued Mr. Humphries, "this was not a hunting morning, because it would be so pleasant to ride with you to the Veseys."

"But which is the attraction, Mr. Humphries? Is it Mrs. Vesey, or I, or my friend, Miss Capel? Do now be confidential and tell me; I will keep your secret, upon my word!"

Mr. Humphries laughed bashfully; he could not very well scrape his foot when seated; but he made a gesture something as if he wished to lift up the table-cloth, and disappear beneath it. George Gage, looking every moment more haughty, stared down upon Harriet and Mr. Humphries in speechless contempt.

At last he coldly recommended Mr. Humphries not to lose a day at that time of year; for that his groom predicted a frost soon, and he had never known the fellow mistaken in the weather.

"Is that the man you had from Mr. Singleton's," asked Harriet.

"Yes—Thompson," replied Mr. Gage.

"Ah!" returned Harriet, "he was well brought up; it would be his own fault if he did not learn to understand horses here."

"Did Captain Gage keep the lad I recommended him?" asked Mr. Singleton.

"Not long," replied Mr. Gage. "I never saw any thing so wretched as my father's management of his stables. He never bought a horse that he was not palpably cheated; and, if he chanced to buy a good one, the animal would be ruined, with that lame old sailor at the head of affairs."

"Don't say one word against Captain Gage," exclaimed Harriet. "Whatever he does is sure to be better than any body else. I do not mean wiser, Mr. Gage, but better. Perhaps no one else would choose to have a lame sailor with one eye to superintend his stables. It shows he has more kindness than his neighbours."

"He might have pensioned the old fellow, if he was so fond of him, instead of keeping him to do mischief," said Mr. Gage; pleased, however, with the tribute to his father's goodness of heart. "He once ruined a splendid pointer of mine with his nonsense; and even Hubert, a fellow who has spent his life in a frigate, could not help seeing how things were going on."

Here Mr. Humphries, whose extraordinary face had brightened up as much as it could, during this discussion, attempted to express incoherently, his admiration of Captain Gage's conduct.

"Depend on it, Mr. Humphries," said Harriet, "that sailors are the best people extant. They are all that is left of the romance of warfare. Like the knights of the Middle Ages, there is a simple reality about them that does not belong to the present time."

"Harriet means to say, they are the only people who are not humbugs," said Evan Conway, translating his sister's remark.

"It is very true, Miss Conway," said Mr. Humphries; who, it need not be said, did not understand one word that she had uttered; "I always liked sailors very much. Don't you think Miss Capel would be generally considered pretty?"

"Undoubtedly, Mr. Humphries. I was sure your good taste would discover that."

"They are bringing round the horses, Miss Conway. I wish we were to have the pleasure of your company."

"It is a great temptation, Mr. Humphries; but another time. How well you look in your red coat—it is the most becoming dress—"

"No—do you think so!" said Mr. Humphries, with a visible desire to vanish under the table. "No—I never noticed. I say, Miss Conway, I hope we shall have another duet this evening."

"So do I. You cannot suppose I often meet with such a second; and I am very fond of music."

"Come, Humphries," said Mr. Gage, stalking past them as he spoke; "there is your horse playing the deuce out yonder, standing so long."

This was a summons he could not neglect; and after scrambling for his pocket handkerchief, which had dropped under his chair, Mr. Humphries quitted the room.

"Oh, Harriet!" exclaimed Margaret, with a serious look, when the other ladies had disappeared in company with Mrs. Singleton.

"Oh, little Puritan! what is the matter now?" returned Harriet, catching her round the waist, and whirling her in a rapid waltz round and round the large room.

"How you do flirt," said Margaret, pausing, with her hand to her side.

"You should be the last person to accuse me," said Harriet, laughing. "I asked you, if you would have the man. You declined the honour, and therefore it is no business of yours."

"It is a business of some other persons, then," said Margaret, archly.

"What other person?"

"Mr. Gage."

"You don't say so!" returned Harriet, crossing the room, and leaning through the deep oaken door-way, "Evan!"

"At your service," returned her brother, coming in with the morning paper in his hand.

"We mean to ride at two; and you may accompany us."

"Thank you very much."

"Will this be your first essay in horsemanship?" asked Margaret, smiling.

"Ha! Miss Capel, you remember what I said to you. A great point that—I feel highly flattered by it."

Margaret smiled quietly, and moved away. She had too much self-possession to be either flattered or pleased by his ironical civility.

When they went up-stairs to prepare for their ride, Harriet, whose ways were singularly independent, came into Margaret's room, half attired, and stood before the large glass arranging her habit.

"Look here, Margaret," said she, "you should wear a waistcoat."

"Masculine?"

"Not at all; copy me, my dear, I dress very well on horseback."

"So you do at all times, I think," said Margaret.

"Much obliged. I say, what do you think of Evan?"

"I should be so very likely to tell you truly," said Margaret.

"Then I will tell you what to think of him," said Harriet, "he has an excellent head, my dear, but no heart; he thinks he will be a very great man. I differ from him; no very great man ever was heartless. He will be only a little above the middle size. I like him very much."

"How odd you are, Harriet."

"Do you think so, ma mie? What a pretty Victorine you have—sable I see."

"Now, Mr. Humphries—ha! ha! one cannot help laughing when one thinks of him—has a capital heart, but no head. Which do you like best, Margaret?"

"The heart," replied Margaret.

"But then, my dear, like most Englishmen, his nerves are actually made of pack thread; he has not a grain of sensibility. He is ugly. I tell Evan sometimes that he is ugly to a misfortune; but this man is ugly to a fault. But he is an excellent son to a very tiresome old mother; honest, good-natured, rich, obstinate. I do not know if he has any other qualities, or I would tell you. I think it my duty to walk you over the course, you perceive."

"You make an excellent chaperon, Harriet."

"But Margaret," said Harriet with a hurried change of manner, "I never knew any-thing so good as George coming here just now. It gives me pleasure to see that I can torment his pride, not his feelings; but his absurd haughty conceit, that I was to remain his slave under all treatment. I do not care for him the least atom, and I despise his coming to pry into my concerns, to investigate and to triumph in my distress, as he thinks, on Lucy's marriage. I can turn the tables on him, and I will!"

"Indeed, Harriet," said Margaret, "it is hardly generous in you to take that view of Mr. Gage's conduct. I think he would not have taken so much trouble, if he had not been very much interested about you. I think ever since I have known you both, he has appeared to feel any-thing but indifference to you; and if you cannot return his feelings, is it fair to treat them with contempt?"

Margaret spoke earnestly, yet half afraid of giving offence; but to her surprise, as soon as she had finished, her eccentric friend caught her in her arms, and kissed her heartily; then gathering up the long folds of her habit she hastened down stairs.

Mr. Evan Conway was leaning against the neck of his sister's horse, without his hat, or any sign of being prepared to accompany the ladies; a groom was mounted, and in waiting. He helped them both to mount, arranged their dresses with great care and then left them.

"So we are not to have the honour of your company," Harriet called after him.

He replied by a shake of the head, and went into the house.

They paid their visit. Mrs. Vesey was a young married woman, with four or five small children, who very much occupied her time and thoughts. The conversation was chiefly made up of things which Johnny and Matilda had said; of the quarrel which Harry had with the nurse, and the beautiful cake which uncle Richard had sent to Mary on her birthday. Then the children were produced, in velvet frocks, and long trained ringlets of white hair, and these having been kissed and praised enough, the two friends took their leave.

"Ah, that is over!" said Harriet, when they rode off, "I like children well enough, Margaret, to make hay with, or play at blindman's buff; but I always long to pinch those little dressed up dolls. If Lucy should have any olive branches, I shall make them as rude and as natural as possible."

"How soft the wind is," said Margaret, "it is often colder than this in summer."

It was certainly a mild day for November. Although the twilight was coming on, there was nothing chilly in the air. The wind drove slowly before it large floating masses of grey clouds; the leafless trees rocked majestically to and fro in the dim light; and the scent of the air, and of the fallen leaves was soft and refreshing.

Before they had gone very far they were overtaken by Mr. Gage and Mr. Humphries, who were returning from hunting.

"Well—oh! now—come!" exclaimed Mr. Humphries, who was sometimes troubled with incoherence, "how glad I am that we came home this way."

"It is, indeed, a very fortunate circumstance," said Mr. Gage, addressing himself pointedly to Margaret, "I hope you will really value our escort now that it is growing so dark."

"Yes, it is a lonely road about here," said Mr. Humphries, closing up to Harriet.

"I never am afraid of any-thing," said Harriet, "but I am glad of your company, because I wish to know what sort of a run you had."

Mr. Humphries was very much enlivened by this demand upon his descriptive powers. By the aid of a very few words, and a great many extraordinary gestures, he conveyed to Harriet the information she desired.

Mr. Gage, looking the very impersonation of injured pride, suffered them to take the lead, and then riding up close to Margaret, and laying his hand affectionately on the mane of her horse, he exerted all his powers to make himself agreeable.

He was intent on persuading Margaret to ride some day to the place where the hunters met. It was a very gay scene on a fine morning, and would make a pleasant change for her. Although nobody could disapprove more strongly than he did, a lady following the hounds, yet just to ride to cover, and go quietly home again, he thought quite feminine, and perfectly allowable.

Margaret, who readily perceived that Mr. Gage was extremely angry with Harriet, and that this was the cause of his invectives against ladies hunting, could not help smiling, but she willingly consented to his plan, provided he could secure her a horse so conveniently stupid, as not to become excited by the scene. And then, the spirit of romance being not yet extinguished within her, she began turning over in her own mind how she could manage that Mr. Gage should ride next to Harriet. Chance effected the transfer for her; in turning down a lane, Mr. Humphries reined back his horse, and Mr. Gage pushing forward at the same time, the manoeuvre was accomplished. But it seemed to very little purpose. Harriet kept her head perversely turned to the hedge-row, as if bent on counting the feathered clusters of traveller's ivy, which adorned the wayside, or else leaning back in her saddle, she addressed some laughing remark to those behind. While Margaret rose very high in the opinion of Mr. Humphries, from the simple and kind answers she gave to all his questions, and from the grace with which she guided her delicate looking steed. He began to think that she might be deserving of a share in the rich estates which his prudent mamma was always cautioning him against offering to any lady who gave evidence of particularly wishing for them. It was very easy to see that this worthy young man was not gifted with any great degree of sensibility, but yet Margaret was a little surprised when, after a few remarks interchanged about their favourite colours for dogs, horses, &c.; her companion, looking rather uncomfortable, which was his nearest approach to a sentimental state of mind, suddenly asked her if some fellow who wrote had not said that music was the food of love, and if she thought it was.

Margaret, with her gentle voice, turned to him and said that Shakspeare was very great authority; and that such love as he depicted in his lighter plays she dared say could be fed very well upon music. That she thought, after all, he put it as a question, not as a remark, but that she would ask Harriet, who was a great reader of Shakspeare.

"No, don't," said Mr. Humphries uneasily, "Miss Conway would only laugh."

But Harriet, having caught the word love, insisted on the question being referred to her, and as soon as she could speak for laughing, "Look you, Mr. Humphries," she said, "music is the food of love, and love is the food of fools; but if you have any curiosity to hear the line in question it is this,—

'If music be the food of love, play on.'"

Mr. Humphries thanked Harriet, made several gestures expressive of great confusion, and then resumed his dialogue with Margaret.

"Do you think, Miss Capel," he continued, "that anybody can love twice?"

"No, Mr. Humphries," returned Margaret quietly.

"No, Miss Capel?" said Mr. Humphries uneasily.

"I think not," replied Margaret smiling at the question.

"But then, Miss Capel, if one is prevented from marrying one's first love, what can one do?"

"Those who think love necessary must remain, single you know, Mr. Humphries; but most people will marry some one else."

And so completely did she feel that love with her was past for ever, that she discussed the topic with as much calmness as if she had been fifty years old.

"But one would not like to keep single for ever, you know, Miss Capel," said Mr. Humphries.

Margaret highly amused at the idea of being selected as a confidante on such short notice, merely laughed at this declaration; which Mr. Humphries enforced by one of his widest smiles thereby disclosing, the only beauty he possessed; namely, a singularly fine set of teeth.

It was almost dark when they arrived before the Manor House, but Harriet insisted that there was light enough to see some remarkably curious birds, which were kept in a part of the ornamental grounds.

Mr. Gage and Margaret could not but follow, although he represented to her the imprudence of hanging over a pond at sunset after being heated with riding.

The pond turned out to be a very pretty lake with little rocky dwellings for the water-fowl.

Harriet stood almost in the water feeding them with bread, which she had provided herself with at the house; she offered some to Margaret, but Mr. Gage urged so strongly the danger of remaining in the damp, that Margaret, a little frightened, complied.

Harriet laughing at her caution remained with Mr. Humphries making ducks and drakes, to the great surprise of the water-fowl.

Mr. Gage, as usual, to relieve his feelings, paid the most careful attention to Margaret; selected the dryest paths for her; insisted on disencumbering her of her riding whip, which might weigh a quarter of an ounce; admired its agate handle, pitied the troublesome draperies in which she was enveloped, and pointed out, as they went along, the most beautiful parts of the land-scape; all the while with his moustache so close to the rim of her hat, that any one looking from the windows, might have imagined, with some show of reason, that he intended to salute her.

Mr. Singleton seemed surprised to see Margaret enter the drawing-room without her friend; but on hearing where she had left her, he laughed heartily, and said it was all right; for that Humphries was the best fellow in the world, and if a young lady were to run off with him, she would never be sorry for it afterwards.

Just as dinner was announced, Harriet hurried into the room followed by Mr. Humphries, still attired in her riding habit; threw her hat on an ottoman, put her hand on her uncle's mouth to stop the remonstrance he was beginning to make, and desired him to find her a beau.

Mr. Singleton turned to look for George Gage, but he, in the same moment, offered his arm to Margaret and led her off. Harriet saw the manoeuvre by which he avoided being her neighbour at dinner; she willingly accepted the arm of Mr. Humphries, transferred herself to the opposite side of the table, just under Mr. Gage's eye, and then began a very systematic flirtation with her partner. She talked to him of dogs and horses until he became really animated, and so engrossed that he could hardly be made to understand that Mr. Singleton wished to take wine with him. She complimented him on his choice in those articles until she so overpowered him with pleasant confusion that he repeatedly threatened to disappear under the table-cloth, and she suffered him to talk upon choir singing, opera singing, glee singing, and all other singing, with an eager interest that was sufficiently visible to the whole table.

Margaret glanced uneasily at Mr. Gage, who had placed himself beside her. Once or twice, when Harriet was most animated, he glanced at her and her companion with an air of some surprise and curiosity, but with a more complete appearance of indifference than might have been expected. It was plain that he was not quite so much the slave of her flexible moods as Harriet would fain have made him.

And Margaret thought with a sigh, that these two persons, so strongly and constantly attached, would go through life without ever coming to an understanding, because each was too proud to let the other see how unchanged their first feelings had remained.

To the company around the table, Mr. Gage appeared to be entirely engrossed by his beautiful neighbour, in whose ear he was whispering a variety of pleasing nothings; while the match between Harriet and Mr. Humphries, long pending and often doubted, was now declared to be finally arranged. They had made and accepted the proposal at the pond, and she was civil to him, at last, in her manners. It was high time that she should be civil to some one—perhaps marriage would improve her—and really she had been out some years, and was glad, no doubt, to take any one who came for ward. So said Mrs. Pottinger and Mrs. Markham; and Harriet's spoilt and wayward temper left no milder impression upon the greater number of her country neighbours.

But Mr. Singleton, when the dessert was set on the table, observed, with some alarm, the flushed cheek and sparkling eye of his niece.

"Hallo, Harriet!" he exclaimed.

"Well, Sir," she replied.

"What is the matter with you?"

"Nothing at all, good uncle; let me recommend you to attend to your claret, instead of staring me out of countenance."

"Don't go and catch cold again—that's all," said Mr. Singleton.

"Never fear, Sir," returned Harriet, shortly.

"Are you subject to colds?" asked Mr. Humphries.

"Not at all. I have one now and then, like other people."

"You have them very badly when they do come," said Mr. Singleton.

"I don't know a greater bore," said Mr. Humphries, "but if you will do what I tell you, Miss Conway—now don't laugh, I will undertake to cure you."

"Thank you, I will be sure to apply to you, when I have any occasion for your skill," said Harriet, glancing at her aunt, who being too deaf to follow the progress of conversation, trusted to the bright eyes of her niece for intelligence of the moment at which it was desirable to make the move. Mrs. Singleton rose, and the ladies flocked into the drawing-room.

Harriet, not caring to remain the whole evening in her habit, went up-stairs to change her costume, while Margaret placed herself beside Mrs. Singleton, and helped her in some of the work she had in hand. She possessed the art of making herself heard by means of a very low and clear intonation; and Mrs. Singleton enjoyed with her a pleasure she had almost surrendered in general; the pleasure of maintaining an unbroken conversation.

"I'll warrant, now," said Harriet, when she returned, "I'll warrant, my good aunt is becoming fonder of that little staid piece of propriety than of me. How say you, Aunt Singleton?"

"Why, niece Harriet," said the old lady, looking up quaintly from her canvass, "if you do not take great care, and behave very well, there is no saying what may happen."

"I defy you, aunt!" said Harriet, suddenly kissing her. "Come here, ma mie," she added, drawing Margaret aside; "were you flirting with George at dinner."

"No, indeed, Harriet," returned Margaret, smiling; "ever since I have known you, he has found it very convenient to be civil when you are present; but I should be silly, indeed, if I could not read through that."

"Ha, ha!" said Harriet. "You are a surprising little creature; for he is not a person to despise. I mean in point of manner and appearance."

"I wish you made that opinion of yours a little more evident," said Margaret, archly.

"Why, you bold little creature," returned Harriet; "advising me to tell a gentleman I admire him. What do you say to that, Aunt Singleton."

"Oh, fie! Niece Harriet," said Mrs. Singleton, shaking her head.

"No, but you don't understand, Aunt Singleton: this is Margaret's plan, not mine."

"Oh fie! Niece Harriet," repeated Mrs. Singleton.

"It is not my plan, is it, Margaret?" said Harriet, laughing. "By the way, do I talk hoarsely?"

"I think you do, a little."

"Then my good uncle is right, and I am going to have a cold: my throat is very uncomfortable. I will tell you what you must do to-night—take my place at the piano with Mr. Humphries. You can sing ten times better than I can."

"But I do so dislike singing in company. People are always bored by good music."

"People, my love, are bored if you sing; but they are enraged if you don't. Choose the least evil."

"Mr. Humphries, Miss Capel will take the first of that fine duet in Norma, 'Qual cor tradisti:' you will then hear the purest mezzo soprano in England."

Mr. Humphries gave a wide smile, and offered his hand to lead Margaret to the piano. Harriet drew a low, easy chair, close to the instrument, wrapped a scarf round her throat, and gave her attention to the singing.

"How greatly you have delighted us all," said Mr. Gage to Margaret, when she left the piano; "you have never before allowed us to know that you were a very beautiful singer."

"Won't you sing something now, Miss Conway?" asked Mr. Humphries.

"I cannot—I have a sore throat coming. You must sing for me," said Harriet.

"Dear me, I am very sorry," said Mr. Humphries, "then I am afraid you won't be able to hunt on Thursday."

"Not a chance of it," replied Harriet. "Evan, are those new books ever coming down from London?"

"I am sorry I cannot inform you; but I am not a prophet even in the small Highland way of second sight. Only that as all the ladies are wishing to get the new novels first, one may presume that some among them are doomed to be disappointed."

"I shall send you up to town for Coningsby," said Harriet.

"There is nothing at all unreasonable in that," replied her brother calmly. "But, perhaps, it would be cheaper for me, and quite as rapid for you, if you were to order it of the T—— bookseller."

"I have a great many books at home, Miss Conway, if you want any-thing to read," said Mr. Humphries.

"I am much obliged; you are all kindness," returned Harriet very gravely, "I dare say you read a great deal."

"No, not so much as you would think," said Mr. Humphries, all unconscious of irony; "what with hunting, and shooting, and angling—I am very fond of angling—the whole year passes away. But my mother is always reading."

"Said mother," said Harriet, pulling Margaret close to her, and wheeling her chair a little out of the circle, "said mother has a dower-house to which to retire whenever the seal marries; so don't let the vision of a cross old woman always reading 'Nelson's Fasts and Festivals' deter you; if you have a mind."

"Oh, Harriet! you should not make me laugh before all the people."

"No, you stand it vastly well; you look very demure I assure you. His name is William."

These last words pronounced in a very pathetic tone of voice, rather tended to discompose the tranquillity upon which she had complimented her friend; but Margaret took the chair at a sufficient distance to protect her from Harriet's provoking asides. George Gage and Mr. Humphries came and talked to her; the other young ladies occupied the piano in turn, and so the evening passed.