« السابقةمتابعة »
claims to the honour of admittance to the society of uDarrow House;" at once gave her 'opinion in that person's favour. And so Helen entered Ön's
Ön ''her new duties with no dissentient voice raised against her; for they had no jealous feelings (that family so self-engrossed and concentrated) of the claims or merits of their fellow men or women. They lived in the centre of their own property, and among their own so-called "dependents;” and, rarely coming in contact with those of more enlarged minds and extended experience, they had no opportunity of drawing contrasts between themselves and their (possibly) more gifted fellow-creatures. Not one of the lights that science and social sense have thrown upon the world ever gleamed through the darkness of their prejudices; and the first sod had yet to be turned above the soil which was hardened by the prejudices of generations. Hel
Helen could not be said to have companions: for the intellects of the old lady (never remarkable for brightness) were rendered still more misty by age and infirmity; 'and her nephew, too engrosed by his books (which he read mechanically, and from bodily 'indolence) to attend to what was passing round him, was only seen by the Companion" at the silent hour of dinner.
And so, among that unsuggestive eastern tribe, the bitter winter months rolled on. The showers of April were of snow and sleet, and even with the miscalled merrie month of May” warmth came not.
Still summer, with its roses and its sunshine, beamed at last; but ere that summer ended, the scene changed again for Helen.
She had not been discontented during those 'tedious months, though her life had been one of confinement,
and of rather monotonous and uninteresting work; for the old lady had seemed to value her attentions, and she hoped that the feeling towards her entertained by the other members of the family was rather favourable than otherwise. And thus she went on her way, if not rejoicing, at least cheerfully and hopefully.
But through all that season the woman, although she knew it not, was walking on ground beneath which a mine was dug. The train was laid by the hand of what men call Fate, but the match that was to blow into the air the frail fabric of Hope built upon that hollowed-out foundation, was applied at last by a mortal female's hand.
She was a great lady, that rich one in the rustling silks, but not too great to be above the listening to evil tongues; and the report of Mrs. Langton's beauty having spread abroad, the truth of the poet's axiom, that "Women, like princes, have few real friends," became again painfully exemplified. In some way (it boots not how) Miss Lennard's niece learned that Helen had been a castaway. There was no esclandre, no recrimination, and no questioning. The Lennards (one and all) were simply surprised that such an event could have occurred in a family so exalted; and the humbled companion was therefore merely told that she was to go to go, as any other “female domestic" might have been ordered to depart, who had been found unworthy to inhabit a house so highly placed, and breathe an air so pure from vile alloy.
There was little to regret in the home that she was forced to leave, and but that she was forced to leave it, Helen Langton might have rejoiced in the prospect of a more congenial mode of existence. Even as it
was, and though feeling that the tongues of men were again busy with her, name, she did not despond for the future; nor was there heaviness at her heart as the cold grey walls of that wind-rocked mansion faded from her view. IBA 14 u 10:47 Libor
flesta ha, i to Tus ,18117 917 010-3,44 jnne sitt buntong 196, "lli ve moglo oko itur
"Il est difficile de décider si l'irresolution rend l'honime plus malheureux
que, méprisable; de même s'il y a toujours plus d'inconvénients à prendre un mauvais parti, qu'à n'en prendre aucun."
IN Midland England, and in what is called a watering place which name (being in this case interpreted) means a town wherein distasteful waters may be imbibed, and whence men go forth to enjoy fieldsports by day, and return at evening-time to eat, to drink, and to be merry: in that gay watering-place, but hardly of it, there lived a lonely widower in a little street and that widower's name was Considine. He had résided in the town for many years, and was one of its oldest and most respected" inhabitants. His wife, who was said to have been a Spaniard and possessed of great beauty, had died soon after the birth of a second son. Her only children were those two boys; and they, after the death of their mother, were, for all their lives, totally separated and estranged from their father.
Mr. Considine was a man of very weak character, and of a temperament nervously sensitive. The death of his wife, to whom he was devotedly attached, and to whose stronger mind he had looked up as in some sort a protection to his feebler powers, was a blow from the effects of which he never thoroughly recovered. The legacy she had bequeathed to him, in the shape of two
fine noisy boys, was one that he was totally incapable of appreciating; for the sight of them reminded him of her who was gone, and the sound of them was as any. thing but music in his ears.
But what was to be done with them? He had no relations on whom to shake off the
annoyance and sponsibility that sat so heavily on his own shoulders, and but one intimate adviser with whom to consult on the best means to be adopted in order to free himself from a duty which some fathers would have considered in the light of a privilege. - But he had one intimate friend, and that friend was a host in himself, for he was a Jesuit priests!?..
Mr. Considine was a Roman Catholic, and a rich one. He lived in solitude, ' and was weakened by sorrow. Will it then be wondered at that the Rev. Mr. Carden obtained a great and overwhelming influence over his mind? 5i 55 Mange vil forn 45. Before a month had elapsed, the aboys (their dead mother's darlings) were no longer seen in the country home where she had breathed her last; and their father, moved by a morbid dislike to scenes where he had known sorrow, became an inhabitant of towns.).
For forty years and upwards had this somewhat singular individual lived in the gay watering-place where we now find him, and at the end of that period we introduce him to the notice of our readers. !
He was a grave, bilious-looking old gentleman, very thin, and bent, and shaky. His hands trembled, and his weak knees bent beneath their burthen; and it appeared as though life were to him little better than a state of wearisome 'endurance. Every day he might be seen wending his way to the reading-rooms