Parlar di te non voglio, e fra le labbra
Ho sempre il nome tuo: vÓ dal pensiero
Cancellar quel sembiante e in ogni oggetto
Col pensier lo dipingo.
METASTASIO.

In rapid attacks of illness, like that which Harriet suffered from, there is, fortunately, no very long interval of suspense for those interested in the patient.

The next day she was much better, and the day after was able to sit up by her dressing-room fire, and talk and laugh pretty much as usual.

"Oh! by the way," said Harriet, interrupting a lively discussion upon some trifling subject, "did Mr. Gage ever condescend to enquire after me while I was ill?"

Margaret had rather feared this question, but she was obliged to reply that he had not.

Harriet seemed more disturbed by this proof of his indifference than Margaret had ever before seen her.

After a pause she said: "Did he seem—" then, suddenly interrupting herself, she exclaimed, "Pshaw! I will not stoop to enquire what he seemed. Perhaps," she added, after another pause, "I had no reason to expect any-thing else from him."

"I thought it very unkind," said Margaret.

Harriet nodded her head in acquiescence, and remained silently gazing into the fire. Once or twice she felt for her handkerchief, and drew it hastily across her eyes as if she did not wish to be observed.

"The fire makes one's eyes weak," she said at last.

Margaret agreed to it.

"Oh! by the way, how do you get on with Mr. Humphries?" said Harriet, rousing herself.

"He was always very considerate," said Margaret, "and extremely sorry for your illness."

"He is a good soul," said Harriet, "You had better think twice, before you throw him away."

"I do not throw him away," said Margaret smiling; "but I confess I have no desire to captivate him."

"He would make a very good husband, ma mie."

"I dare say," replied Margaret, "but it is all very much out of my way."

"Why you cannot mean to be single for ever," said Harriet. "I assure you I often think who I shall entrap, now that George won't have me."

"Whose fault is that?" asked Margaret.

"I detest him—I hate him from my heart!" exclaimed Harriet. "I would accept Mr. Humphries, to-morrow, or Sir Hawarth Fane, with all the readiness in the world. How dare he remain in this house, when I ordered him to leave it?"

"I told you what he said," replied Margaret.

"Is not Charlotte very late with my tea?" asked Harriet, in her usual manner.

"I think it is rather past the time," replied Margaret.

"The girl grows more careless every day," said Harriet. "I hope George does not make love to her."

"Oh! Harriet—impossible! a gentleman—"

"Why my dear," said Harriet drily, "such things have been done once or twice—it is a very wicked world; she has some nonsense in her head, I am sure, for she marked a whole set of handkerchiefs wrong for me the other day."

At this moment Charlotte came in with the tea-things, Harriet leaned over the tray, and surveyed the cups.

"Charlotte!" she exclaimed, "where is the cream jug?"

"Oh, dear, Miss Conway! I forgot it. I will bring it up in a minute."

"Charlotte!" exclaimed Harriet, with a tragic frown, "you are in love."

Charlotte gave a prodigious start, but she denied the charge.

"Oh! dear me, Miss Conway, how you can say so," she simpered. "It is only your fun. I thank goodness, I keep myself to myself."

"Very good," said Harriet, "I don't care how many hearts you break, only don't lose your own."

Charlotte thought this a famous joke—she tossed her head, laughed and disappeared.

But a few days after, while she was dressing her young mistress; after having committed a series of blunders, which were enough to try the patience of anybody, she stood quite still, and began to cry.

Harriet was very good-natured to her servants; she threw herself into a chair, stifled a strong inclination to laugh, and begged to know what was the matter.

"If you would please to speak for me, Miss Conway," sobbed the agitated Charlotte.

"Speak for you? Do you mean that you wish me to give you a character? Certainly, when you leave, if you mean to leave me. I did not know you wished to go away."

Charlotte shook her head.

"What can be the matter then, Charlotte; is my Aunt Singleton displeased with you?"

Another shake, and a burst of sobbing.

"Are you ill! You had better let me give you some medicine," said Harriet, looking for the key of her medicine chest.

"Perhaps, Miss Conway, did not know that Mr. Gage was going to leave Singleton Manor."

Harriet turned pale. No she did not know it. "When was he going?"

Charlotte knew nothing about Mr. Gage; she only knew that his horses were to set off for Chirke Weston the day after to-morrow.

"But you are hardly crying after Mr. Gage's horses," said Harriet, making a desperate effort to rally her spirits.

"Mr. Thompson!" sobbed the damsel.

"Oh! he is the objection—what have you to say against Mr. Thompson? Mr. Gage's groom, I conclude."

Mr. Thompson had made Charlotte an offer; very respectful, and very devoted, Charlotte said he was. She confessed that Mr. Thompson was not indifferent to her, but he was so much in awe of his master, that he could not muster up courage to confess his weakness.

"But why does he not give Mr. Gage warning?" asked Harriet.

"Because," Charlotte said, "Mr. Thompson had a very good salary; (Charlotte was always genteel in her language; she never hinted at wages,) and it might be a very long time before he got such another situation, and he could less afford to lose it, if he had a wife to support."

"Then, Charlotte, you must wait," said Harriet with decision; "it is no great hardship, how many ladies are obliged to wait—Mr. Gage will never suffer a married man in his service, moving as he does from place to place. You can never expect to have every thing you wish, I shall be happy to forward your interests when it is in my power, but just now it is clearly impossible."

"If you would only speak to Mr. Gage for Henry," said Charlotte, hiding her face in her apron.

"I do not believe an angel would be able to persuade him to keep a married man in his service," said Harriet, "as for me I have no influence at all with Mr. Gage—Thompson and you must wait."

"We were married this morning!" cried the waiting-woman with another torrent of tears.

Harriet felt very angry at first; and she exclaimed, "Charlotte, I am ashamed of you!" but she disliked to see people cry, and it occurred to her that it was rather a dreary method of spending one's wedding-day; so she softened down, said that she would consult with her aunt about them, and try to make the best of a bad bargain. "But I warn you," she said "that you will both lose your places, the only thing left is for us to try and find you others."

"If Miss Conway would be so good as to break the news to Mr. Gage, for Henry dared not."

"Very good," said Harriet, "I have no objection. Thompson need not be afraid that Mr. Gage would shoot him; but if he is too delicate, I will undertake it, I am not afraid of Mr. Gage. But how, in the name of goodness, Charlotte, did you become so intimate with Thompson. Living as you do in the housekeeper's room, where Aunt Singleton does not allow any of the men?"

For Mrs. Singleton had a peculiar custom of having every female servant under the eye of the housekeeper, at meals, and other leisure times; while the butler presided over the men servants, both high and low, in like manner; so that they had no business together at all in that house.

Charlotte blushing very much, said that "Mr. Gage was in the habit of sending Thompson to enquire of her how Miss Conway was, three or four times a day, during her illness; in consequence of which he was always laying in wait for her, first on his master's account, and next upon his own. So that it was Mr. Gage's fault after all."

"Beg Miss Capel to come to me," said Harriet, with sparkling eyes; "and then let Mr. Gage know that I desire the favour of his company for half a minute. But first, Mrs. Thompson, wipe your eyes if you please, or Mr. Gage will think I have been beating you."

Charlotte with a smiling face, departed upon her errand; and Harriet walked to the looking glass.

"Come, I am not so very much pulled down by my illness," said she with a smile.

Margaret came in, heard the delinquency of Charlotte with much surprise; and readily agreed to ply her worsted work in the boudoir during Mr. Gage's visit. She anticipated, with some pleasure, the scene that was about to be enacted. Harriet began to grow nervous, as he did not come directly, and turned over in her mind how she should introduce the subject—a rare occurrence with her.

At last Mr. Gage who had been found in the park, and forwarded up-stairs by the butler, made his appearance, walked calmly in, shook hands with Harriet, on the strength of her absence, and "trusted that she was recovering."

"Oh, yes, quite! I am much better, I shall be able to go to the Veseys on Thursday, Mr. Gage, which is the extent of my ambition at present."

Mr. Gage rather wondered whether she had sent for him into her own particular sitting-room to talk to him about the Veseys; but he merely remarked that he was going into Devonshire on that day, or he believed he should have joined their party, as Mrs. Vesey had been so polite as to ask him.

"Ah! so I hear," said Harriet, in a friendly tone. "How dull poor Chirke Weston will look, now they are all away."

"Dull enough," said Mr. Gage; and he sighed, thinking of his sister, and all the troubles she had gone through.

"I have not heard from Bessy, I don't know when," said Harriet.

"Nor I," said Mr. Gage. "I imagine she has not much to say."

"And writing is such a bore," said Harriet.

"A great bore," said Mr. Gage.

"I will tell you who writes a great number of letters," said Harriet. "My brother, Evan."

"And really clever ones," replied Mr. Gage.

"No! Does he ever write to you?" exclaimed Harriet.

"Now and then," said Mr. Gage. "I think he writes to Hubert more than to any of us."

The conversation had been very placid hitherto: Margaret hardly thought it could last.

There was a short pause; during which Harriet sat playing with her rings. It was such an unusual thing for Harriet to appear constrained in her manner to any one, that Mr. Gage was considerably puzzled.

Although by no means addicted to holding himself in low estimation, he did not suppose that Harriet had sent for him to make a pathetic declaration; more particularly as Margaret was present, and did not appear likely to leave the room.

"Well, Mr. Gage," said Harriet, looking up, "I heard something this morning which surprised me very much."

"Really!" said Mr. Gage, bending for wards; "I trust, nothing of an unpleasant nature?"

"Oh, yes! I was displeased too," said Harriet.

"Can I be of any service?" asked Mr. Gage, very civilly.

"Oh, dear me, George, no!" said Harriet, suddenly. "The thing is past mending. Your plague of a groom has been making love to my Charlotte, and married her this morning."

Mr. Gage never swore before ladies; though he had seldom felt more inclined to relieve his mind by that simple process. But after the angry pause of a minute, he ejaculated, with raised eyebrows, the words, "Highly impertinent!"

"And so ridiculous—so imprudent!" said Harriet; "how are they to live, I wonder?"

"Oh! Heaven knows how they are to live," said Mr. Gage, drawing his chair wonderfully near to Harriet; "that is their affair—not ours, you know."

"Our affair!" How odd the words sounded. Harriet blushed.

"I am so sorry about Charlotte," she said; "she does know how to dress hair!"

Mr. Gage cast an admiring glance upon Harriet's shining tresses, and added:

"I am sorry, too, to lose Thompson. He understands his business very well."

"It is very provoking. Such things are the last extent of folly," said Harriet.

"In that class, certainly;" said Mr. Gage.

"Well, but, George, what is to be done?" asked Harriet, suddenly.

Now, if she ever desired Mr. Gage to exert himself to the utmost in her service, she had only to call him George. The effect was cabalistic.

"I must get rid of Thompson, you see," he said, in a deprecating manner. "The man never could wander about with a wife and children at his heels."

"It is very odd how my maids always do marry," said Harriet. "One would think Aunt Singleton kept them close enough. You remember, Anne?"

Yes—he remembered Anne, perfectly; and it was very probable that Anne remembered him, for he had often given her a guinea to convey flowers and notes to her young lady's dressing-table, in the days of their early courtship.

"Well! two have actually married since Anne's time," said Harriet, in an injured tone; "and now Charlotte, whom I always did consider rather a plain woman; she must needs do just the same."

"It is too annoying," said Mr. Gage, examining the fringe of Harriet's beautiful shawl. "I am very sorry you should be so put out of your way."

"Shall you take Thompson away with you, on Thursday?" said Harriet, looking up in his face.

"Oh! I think I had better pay him off at once, and have done with him," said Mr. Gage.

"But I am interested for the bride and bridegroom," said Harriet, "I want to know what they had better do."

"Thompson should get into a gentleman's family, where his wife could be lodge-keeper," said Mr. Gage.

"I'll tell you what," said Harriet, who had observed Mr. Gage's arm on the back of her chair, and whose restless spirit delighted in mischief; "I will ask that dear Mr. Humphries to look out for such a place. I am sure he will use his best endeavours; kind, good creature that he is."

"Then you have no farther commands with me," said Mr. Gage, rising directly, and preparing to leave the room.

"Not any; only you won't be very angry with poor Thompson!" said Harriet, her eyes flashing with merriment as the door closed upon Mr. Gage. "Come here to me, Margaret, and don't shake your head at me in that way, for I will not bear it."