CHAPTER X. Disappointments begin. O how this spring of love resembleth SHAKSPEARE: The two Gentlemen of Verona. BUT the life of man cannot all pass in excitement, at least in excitement of one kind. The angry feelings of the election soon passed away. The triumph of one party, and the disappointment of the other, were soon forgotten; and Laxington relapsed into its usual tranquillity. We must now return to our honest friend the farmer. The house in which farmer Franklin lived, and which, by the way, was his own property, was just one of the prettiest places in the county. It was an old mansion, half of wood and half of brick, with several old gables without, and a number of odd old rooms and passages within, in which you might have almost lost yourself. But all these old places were in such beautiful order, and the old house was so comfortably roofed and weather-tight and kept in such thorough repair, and the apricot and pear-trees and jasmines were trained so carefully on the walls and taught to wander in such graceful festoons about the old stone windows, that it was the very pattern of picturesque comfort. The house looked upon a clear small river, which flowed calmly onward, without noise or haste, at once fertilizing and adorning the valley through which it passed. On one side, in a bend of the stream, at the distance of about half a mile, the eye rested on a water-mill, the wheel of which went busily round, whitening the pool with foam. About half a mile further on was the old tower and town of Laxington, standing on a gentle eminence, which served to relieve the uniformity of the outline. So noted was farmer Franklin's house for the extreme loveliness of its situation, that people from the town would continually walk out with their friends to see it, and were always sure to meet with a courteous welcome from the worthy farmer. The best time to visit Rickerscote Grange was on a calm summer evening, when the business of the day was over, and the farmer's dairy cows, four-and-twenty in number, of the finest Durham breed, were wending slowly from the pastures to yield their rich stores of milk. It is difficult to say whether the agriculturist or the artist viewed the scene with the greatest delight. But it was not the calm still river, nor the cheerful mill, nor the distant tower, nor the twenty-four Durham kine, nor the jasmines and apricots clinging to the old gabled farmhouse, nor even the farmer himself with his ruddy cheek and cheerful brow, which formed the chief attraction at Rickerscote Grange. There was another object more beautiful than them all. Farmer Franklin had a daughter, who was a few years younger than his son George, a nice, modest, unaffected, warm-hearted girl as any in the country round. To a fine face and figure Margaret Franklin joined a gracefulness and elegance of mind and character, which, though perhaps less frequent, is far from being uncommon in her station. Margaret had lost her mother some years previously; and her father, though a plain farmer, had all the dignity of a man of high and upright principle. A man who behaves consistently with his station, whatever it may be, is never vulgar: it is your upstart, conceited person, who pretends to a higher station than is his due, or the low-minded person, who affects the society and manners of those who are beneath him, who fall into vulgarity. Farmer Franklin and his family were free from these errors, and kept the even tenor of their way in the station in which God had placed them, neither envying the great nor despising the poor and hence Margaret acquired that grace and loveliness which naturally spring from an artless, chaste, and unaffected heart. Charles Lever saw and admired his fair cousin. He admired her character as well as her person,-for it often happens that those who are blind to their own defects can discern beauty and worth in others. The neighbourhood of farmer Franklin's house to the town, and the relationship which existed between them, as well as his former intimacy with her brother, gave Charles Lever opportunities of cultivating the acquaintance of Margaret, of which he was not slow to avail himself. He took a sudden fancy for fishing, and easily obtained, through the means of his friend, permission to troll in the river which skirted the farm; and being well aware that he was not a favourite with the farmer, he contrived to make his fishing-excursions on the market-days, when he knew the worthy man was absent from home; so that his intimacy with Margaret, who received him on friendly terms, as the schoolboy-companion of her brother, had proceeded to considerable lengths before her father was aware of it. However, these things are sure to transpire sooner or later. Farmer Franklin came home one day from market rather earlier than usual, and was surprised to find a fishing-rod resting against the rails of the little garden in front of the house. Proceeding onwards, he heard voices, and perceived his daughter and Charles Lever in the porch; the former sitting on the seat, the latter leaning against the pillar, and both so much interested in the conversation which was going on between them, that they did not observe the farmer approach. A beautiful jack was lying at Margaret's feet, which had evidently just been taken from the water. "How now, young man!" said Franklin. "SoI am glad to see you have had some sport. I dare say you will catch another like it, if you do not waste your time." Charles took the farmer's hint, that his visit was |