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ought not to be too hasty,” she said to May. merciful harshness and contempt which “ We ought not to blame any
had run through her representations of “I do not say a word against her,” said human nature. May. And she doubled up her little fist The next morning Paul came to breakunder her apron with the mighty effort to fast, and May, as was usual on such control her tongue.
occasions, went tripping over the snow to These remarks were interchanged in the meet him. Paul's high spirits still endured. hall, as Miss Martha, who had stepped out He had not had a fit of gloom since he had for the express purpose of thus relieving become agent to the miser. Naturally the her feelings, met May bearing towards the conversation turned upon
Katherine. parlour that antique silver teapot which “She is a beautiful creature,” said Paul. was the pride of her aunt's heart, followed "She is very beautiful,” said May: by Bridget swaying under a tray of good “And friendly,” said Paul. “She rethings which might have nourished a small members quite freshly every circumstance family for a week. May, entering with of my former acquaintance with her. There her teapot, found Paul and Katherine was so little of it one would think she sitting on either side of the hearth, as might have forgotten. With all her flatfriendly as possible, and engaged in lively terers and admirers, of whom we have conversation. Katherine was laughing heard so much, one would hardly expect gaily, and Paul was looking very well that she could have a lively recollection of pleased, seeing that he had succeeded so
an me.” thoroughly in amusing a pretty and witty **** Paul," said May, with a sudden and
The visitor was looking dazzling passionate impulse,“ don't let her push me after her madcap ride-glowing and glit- out of your heart. Little and poor as I am tering with all' that bewildering light and I can be more to you than she could be.”. colour which made her beauty so fascinat- “My darling,” said Paul, surprised. ing. All traces of the half-weird, half-satiri- "you might as well ask me with tha: cal vein of humour which she could show wistful face not to give myself over to the to May, had vanished. Her manner to Evil One. You will not let me stray away Paul and Miss Martha was gentle, admir- from you ? This little hand, though small, ing, winning, and deferential, whilst her will hold me.” brilliant chatter brimmed with wit, and her “I do not know that,” said May. “If readiness to be amused was surprising and I saw you willing to go I don't think I delightful. May was scarcely suffered to could bring myself to hold you.” add a mite to the conversation, for Kathe- “ You could,” said Paul, “and it woul] rine bad a trick of stealing the words from be as much your duty as if you wer? her mouth before they were spoken, and of already my wedded wife. No marriage vow gracefully throwing ridicule over every re- can bind us to each other more solemnly mark which she permitted her to make. than we are bound. But of one thing be Yet this was done so cleverly, that nobody certain ; my heart has no room to spare but May felt its meaning or its persistency for any woman besides yourself. Mis
May bore it patiently and with good Archbold is beautiful and charming in a humour. Here, in Paul's presence, the wonderful degree, but she is the last superstitious sense of uneasiness could not woman in the world whom I could assotouch her. She was thoroughly satisfied ciate with a thought of tenderness. You with Paul's love for herself, and did not had much better be jealous of your good fear for a moment that any man or woman Aunt Martha." could destroy or even weaken their mutual “I used to think that I could not be tenderness and trust. So she laughed with jealous,” said May, “ but now I fear tha: Katherine at every jest that was turned I could, if it were not that I so atteris against herself, and submitted to play the hate and despise the feeling.”. simpleton with a very lovely grace. The “ Hate and despise it more,” said Paul
, little parlour rang with merriment that “though that is scarcely worth your evening. Katherine mimicked everybody, while, for I swear to you that provocation
. visitors, servants, peasants, and aristocrats, shall never come in your way. We want giving vivid pictures of various phases one another my love, and divided we could of life. It was only when the play was not thrive. I, at least, want you. Any; played out
, and her voice hushed for the thing that parted us would be the sure and night, that one might remember, in the complete ruin of Paul Finiston. Then, quietness which succeeded, the vein of un- indeed, would the curse have its will of me.
I should go down to destruction just as as two children. Katherine had not all the certainly as any Finiston of them all.” wit to herself at the breakfast-table, for
“ You must not think that,” said May; May's tongue was so loosened by joy that but instinctively she tightened her hold it did clever work just as prettily as any upon his arm.
innocent tongue that ever yet sent music May was used to this kind of talk, and out of a woman's smiling mouth.
a she had ceased to be frightened at it. She After breakfast Bridget announced that believed very earnestly in the mystery of a travelling-carriage was on its way down the Finistons, and the idea was a rapture to the road to Monasterlea. Aunt Martha her that she was thus strong in her weakness vanished to put on her afternoon cap, Kato be a safeguard to Paul. Yet on this special therine was in her room, and May received morning there was something that pressed Lady Archbold in the cottage parlour. on her with a vague fear of danger; and “My daughter is here ?" she said somehow, despise it as she would, the un- eagerly, looking in May's face. easiness was associated with Katherine. “Yes," said May, "since yesterday in The thought of jealousy was indeed a folly the evening.” to her, and it was not now jealousy that Lady Archbold was relieved. Her child she felt. The fear was not of sorrow nor at least was safe. But now that her fears of disappointment for herself, but of harm were allayed, the uneasiness that she had for Paul, through whom alone she could be suffered showed itself in irritation and made to suffer. She had no separate in anger. terests, no selfish feelings to be hurt, no “You should not have taken her in; pride to be wounded, no vanity to be stung. you ought not to have kept her here," she She felt herself indeed a part of Paul. said. Why did not your aunt send her There was something in the idea of the home to me at once ?" possibility of their being separated, as put “We never thought of such a thing. forth by him at this moment, whilst her We could not have done it. The night own mind was troubled, that struck her was wild ; and think of the distance !" with unusual sharpness; as if, indeed, there Lady Archbold moaned a little, and had been some invisible and unholy power, wrung her hands slowly as she held down whose strength was pitted against them, the storm of her indignation. She looked and who would strive to tear them asunder. up with her feverish glance and saw a In the deathly quiet of the winter morn- sympathy in May's eyes which invited her ing they stood still upon the road, and to speak. looked in each other's faces. The Woods “Katherine is not good to me,” she said ; of Tobereevil lay in gaunt masses be- “ Katherine is not good to me.
Now, fore their eyes, frowning out of a ragged promise me that you will never repeat this
In the snow-time the to any one in the world.” old legend always seemed more real than “ľ promise,” said May; “but, Lady at any other moment, and there was always Archbold, don't be hard upon her. You a ghastliness upon the country while the have spoiled her a little, I dare say.” And white sheeting covered the wicked trees and May took part with Katherine in pity to The “ awful babe of death, the
poor mother who was blaming her. and his frozen mother, seemed to lie stark * Ah, that is it, but she might at least and stiff under every snow-wreath; and remember that it was our love for her that
to imagine that the feeble shred did it. I would give the heart out of my of smoke from one chimney of the man- bosom if only she would love me, and be a sion ascended at that moment from the little tender with her mother. Look at me, blighted hearth-place of the first Paul young girl! I was as proud as the very Finiston. May locked her hands together eagles in the mountains, and yet love for her upon Paul's supporting arm, and her eyes has brought me to this, that I am whimperHashed defiance at the ranks of the wicked ing here to you like the beggar that comes
to your gate. I reared her, and fashioned her "I tell you,” she said, as the flame to be a fit wife for a prince, but I would give softened in her eyes, when they met Paul's her cheerfully to the poorest gentleman gaze,“ be they men, women, or demons, that ever get loved her, and portion her they shall tear me in little pieces before I with every penny and jewel I possess, if loose my hold of you! !”
she would only show me one warm spot After that the mood of both changed, in her breast where I might live and find and they returned to Monasterlea as merry comfort for the remainder of my days.
shroud of snow.
But, oh me! how she wounds this poor “Lady Archbold is here, and wants to aching heart !”
“She does not mean it,” said May, still “Lady Archbold already! Nonsense. pleading for the mother's heart rather than Well, we must allow that the old lady has for the daughter. “She will be sorry when been pretty active. I shall go to her preyou talk to her. She is wilful and impul. sently, when I have finished dressing my sive, but she will be wiser by-and-bye.' hair. I wonder what she has come for.” “Ah, you do not know her. By-and- -14
“She hopes you will return with her," bye I shall grow as cold and indifferent as said May. she is. I shall be harsh with her, for she “Then her hopes are vain, my dear, will have turned all my love into bitterness. for you are not going to get rid of me But she will soon be freed from me, for so quickly. Your good Aunt Martha has I shall die. In the mean time, I came invited me to stay here as long as it suits bere to bring her back with me to Cam- my humour; and it very much suits my lough."
humour to take advantage of her kind"I am afraid she will not go,” said May, ness. So you may tell Lady Archbold, knowing that Katherine had a great mind without waiting till I am ready, that to stay at Monasterlea.
she can trot the fat horses back to Cam. “Ah, will not go!” panted Lady Arch- lough when she likes." And Katherine bold. “Perhaps, Miss Mourne, you sym- swept a glittering braid upward as she pathise with her in this. Perhaps you spoke, and added its weight to the golden wish to keep her against my will. You coronet which she was building up on her will repent it if you do. Mind, I say to head. you, you shall repent it !"
“I cannot take that message," said May. "s do not sympathise with her," said “I should go to her at once if I were May, “nor wish to keep her here. But if you." she insists on staying we cannot drive her “ But you are not me,” said Katherine, away.'
with complacency, and she surveyed May " But you ought to drive her away,” all over with a slight sweeping glance, and “
, flashed forth Lady Archbold, whose passion with a faint smile upon her lip, as if to say, rose against opposition. “You have a “How audacious to suggest such a comlover, I am told, and you had better look to parison !” “However, I will go to her now, it. You will not stand beside my Kathe- and I will beg of you to have my trunks rine. If you persist in keeping her by you, carried here in the mean time.” your lover will not be your lover many days. “I believe there are no trunks," said She will delight in taking him from you; in May; “I have not seen any." breaking both his heart and yours.
No trunks!” cried Katherine, and her May grew a little pale at the coarse way brows lowered, and an expression of rode in which so sacred a subject was handled. anger gloomed out and extinguished the
“I don't think that will be in her beauty in her face. “I think Lady Archpower,” she said.
bold would not come here without the “You think so, do you ? Well, I have trunks.” warned you to keep watch over your pro- But evidently she admitted the idea that
the trunks had not been brought, for her * Lady Archbold,” said May, "you do face did not brighten as she took her way not understand me. I shall neither watch to the parlour. nor fear."
The door was closed upon mother and “You are a fool,” said Lady Archbold, daughter. By-and-bye sounds were heard a great fool, but an honest one. Oh me! from the room ; echoes of voices speaking oh me! Will not my child come to speak in high-pitched tones, vibrating with pasto me?"
sion. Afterwards there was silence, and “She does not know you are here,” said then low murmurs and sobbing. Aunt May. “I will go at once and send her to Martha came creeping softly into her niece's you.” And she hurried away, leaving the room. mother rocking herself sorrowfully in her “ May, this is dreadful! That harsh, chair, and making again that slow wring. haughty woman will break the brigt: ing movement with her hands, as if she young creature's heart. Only to hear the would force back the tide of bitterness that poor child sobbing through the wall !” as always seething in her breast.
“ Are you sure it is she who is sobbing?" May went and knocked at Katherine's asked May. door.
“My dear, come into the store-room,
and believe your own eyes.
I have been leuse will cause destruction. In both cases there making some custard, and it is all some waste of force, and some failure of curdled with the excitement."
plan, are almost inevitable. "Well, Aunty, the poor lady was in great A great satirist invests with importance trouble when I left her, and she only wants the objects of his satire. However severe her daughter to go home.”
may be his usage of them, he yet kicks Home, indeed! Don't tell me. Does them up-stairs as it were. Pope has really a girl run away from home when she is embalmed in the Dunciad the poetasters treated there with gentleness? Did you and witlings he sought to exterminate. But ever run away from here? Just answer for him we should know nothing of them. me that! A proud, hard woman, not fit In lieu of the vitriol that destroys, he to bring up a daughter."
poured upon them, in truth, the spirits of “ If the mother wants to take her, I don't wine that preserve. Fame clings to them see how you can keep her.”
from the fact that they were deemed "But I will keep her; that is, if she is worthy the furious attack of one so famous. anxious to stay with me.
Let the mother James and Horace Smith were not sago home and cool her temper a little. The tirists of the Pope school. Avowedly they girl has asked me for shelter, and I promise designed but to raise "a harmless laugh" you she shall get it.”
at the expense of the more eminent and As Miss Martha spoke the parlour door popular writers of their time. Some of opened violently, and Lady Archbold made these even-Rogers and Campbell for in
, her way rapidly down the garden path to stance--were passed over from a feeling her carriage. Miss Martha thanked Heaven, that they did not present sufficient opporand went back to her store-room, and May tunities to the caricaturists. And throughmet Katherine returning to her chamber. out their undertaking the joint authors There were two red spots on the young were intent upon producing inoffensive lady's cheeks; but her eyes were dry and parodies rather than acrimonious satire. bright. It was not sbe who had wept so As a rule, therefore, we must not look in piteonsly as to spoil Miss Martha's custard. their pages for the kind of ridicule that
eyes that had shed the tears were still confers long life upon its victims. Someweeping themselves blind as they were thing like this has happened, however, in hurried along through the snow back to two or three cases. Effusive Fitzgerald Camlough.
and his benedictory verses would perhaps The next day Katherine's trunks did long since have been forgotten but for the actually arrive ; laden with the costly and burlesque of his muse by the Smiths. The beautiful raiment in which Miss Archbold Honourable William Spencer's name as a loved to deck herself. Miss Martha mar- poet would scarcely have survived if the velled not a little when she saw their humorous travestie of his style and sentinumber and proportions; and Bridget's ments, commencing with the line “Sobriety head was completely turned for a whole cease to be sober," had not been written. week by the visions of grandeur which Spencer bimself, “in comic confidence at dazzled her eyes whilst she was engaged his villa at Petersham," said to Horace in making up Miss Archbold's room. Smith: “It's all very well for once, but
don't do it again. I had been almost for
gotten when you revived me; and now all THOMAS BUSBY, MUS. DOC. the newspapers and reviews ring with this
fashionable and trashy author.' Taere is a story of a country clergyman third bard, mainly remembered now by the observing of Rejected Addresses, that he parody of his verses in Rejected Addresses, could not understand why they had been was a certain Thomas Busby, Mus. Doc., rejected; they seemed to him very good concerning whom we propose to make some addresses. And a certain critic of the brief mention. period is reputed to have said of Gulliver's The arrow sped at Doctor Busby was Travels that he thought the narrative in the one failure of the satirists. He could teresting, but rather improbable in regard thereafter claim fame both on the score to some of its details. It is plain that, in that he had been thought worth aiming at, the judgment of many lookers-on, satire and that he had been missed. But he was must often miss mark Indeed, when in truth too vast and too dense a butt. He it is of a comprehensive kind, one can no had already clothed himself so completely more expect that its every shaft will tell, in ridicule, that there was no room for any than that every shot fired from a mitrail- one to add more. What can the satirist
do against a man who has more than suffi- brace the whole British drama in that ciently satirised himself? The doctor's mysterious form of entertainment. Doctor own writings, as the Quarterly Review re- Busby provided a prologue to this ballet marked at the time, “ for extravagant folly, of Macbeth. It was a curious composition, tumid meanness, and vulgar affectation, set which reciting that “with nature and the all the powers of parody at utter defiance." energies of man, the reign of poesy and Jeffrey, in the Edinburgh, said of the ad- song began,” enumerated all the great dress, Architectural Atoms, which the dramatists from Æschylus to Shakespeare, Smiths had ascribed to Busby, that it ap- and concluded with a reference to the peared to be “ far more capable of com- peculiar difficulties of the Surrey managebining into good poetry than the few lines ment: we were able to read of the learned doctor's
Though not endowed with fullest powers of speecb, genuine address.” Did ever satirists be
The poet's object we aspire to reach; fore over estimate the merits of their sub- The emphatic gesture, eloquence of eye,
Scenes, music, every energy we try, ject, or parody so mildly as to raise less
To prove we keep our duties full in view, laughter than the thing parodied?
And what we must not say resolved to do; Yet this Busby, apart from his distinction Convinced that you will deem our zeal sincere,
Since more by deeds than words it will appear. as a butt, was a person of some note in his day. Absurd almost to craziness, he yet Many other addresses were afterwards had fair title to respect on the score of his written by Busby for Elliston; the great abilities and accomplishments. Born at manager and his proceedings supplying Westminster, in 1755, he had studied music sufficient themes for the poet. “ They conunder Jonathan Battishill
, at that time a tributed to each other's fame,” writes a famous composer of anthems, catches, and critic; “it was a joint policy of immortality;" glees, who lies buried by the side of Doctor and it was noted at the time that although Boyce, in St. Paul's Cathedral. Busby Kean was the first actor who talked of his became organist at the churches of St. secretary,” Elliston was the first manager Mary Woolnoth, Lombard-street, and St. who for his own greater glorification Mary, Newington ; produced oratorios at the specially retained the services of a bard. Haymarket and Covent Garden Theatres ; Occasionally it would seem, however, that published selections of music in a serial Elliston, unable to commit to memory the form, such as the Divine Harmonist and rhapsodies of Busby, or preferring his own the Beauties of British Song. In 1800 the impromptu ingenuity as a speech-maker, University of Cambridge conferred upon would pause in the middle of the doctor's him his degree of Doctor of Music. He address, and conclude with an oration of supplied the accompaniments to the popular his own contriving. Something of this melodramas of a Tale of Mystery and kind happened at the opening of the Surrey Rugantino, and the music of the opera of in 1810. The first poetry lines of the the Fair Fugitives. He published a gram- managerial address were Busby's, but premar of music and a new musical dictionary. sently Elliston was found to be delivering Moreover, he produced a translation of in his happiest manner his own florid prose. Lucretius, which was thus cruelly an- "The poetry was conventional, the speech
, nounced by one of the newspapers in the was special,” writes Elliston's biographer, register of births : “Yesterday, at his house “and though the unhappy rhymester was in Queen Anne-street, Doctor Busby of a sadly shorn on the evening in question, still-born Lucretius.”
he had the satisfaction of viewing himself It was the doctor's delusion that he was at full length in the newspaper columns of a poet. He was continually pestering the the following morning." newspapers with his effusions. He especi- When the committee of management of ally prided himself upon his prologues and Drury Lane Theatre publicly advertised in occasional addresses to theatrical audiences. August, 1812, for an address to be spoken Elliston, who had become manager of the on the opening of the new building on the Surrey Theatre, humoured the doctor's 10th of October, be sure that Doctor Busby foible, enlisted his services, and designated availed himself of the opportunity to crhim “the laureate of the Surrey stage.” | ercise his muse. It does not appear from In evasion or in defiance of the restrictions the terms of the advertisement that
any re. of the licenser and the privileges of the ward was offered for the most successful patent theatres, Elliston had produced poem. But no doubt an understanding preMacbeth as “a grand ballet of action with vailed that the chosen bard would be daly music, &c.” He was only entitled to per- recompensed. Nearly a gross of addresses form “burlettas," but he contrived to em. was sent in, each in obedience to the pro