Anne Hereford. Mrs. Henry Wood

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      "You see, Anne. Don't you get fanciful, my dear; that is what your mamma was:" but I shook my head in answer.

      "Selina, did not Mr. Edwin Barley want me to go to Mrs. Hemson's instead of coming here?"

      "Who told you that?"

      "I heard Mr. Sterling talking of it with mamma."

      "Mr. Edwin Barley did, little woman. Did you hear why he wished it?"

      "No."

      "You should have heard that, it was so flattering to me. He thought I was too giddy to take charge of a young lady."

      "Did he?"

      "But Ursula would not accept the objection. It could not matter for a few weeks, she wrote to Mr. Edwin Barley, whether I were giddy or serious, and she could not think of consigning you, even temporarily, to Mrs. Hemson. Ah! my cousin Frances Carew and I took exactly opposite courses, Anne; I married for money, she for love. She met an attractive stranger at a watering-place, and married him."

      "And it was not right?"

      "It was all wrong. He was a tradesman. A good-looking, educated man--I grant that; but a tradesman. Never was such a thing heard of, as for a Carew to stoop to that. You see, Anne, she had learnt to like him before she knew anything of his position, or who he was. He was a visitor at the place, just as she was. Of course she ought to have given him up. Not she; she gave herself and her money to him, and a very pretty little fortune she had."

      "Did she marry in disobedience?"

      "That cannot be charged upon her, for she was alone in the world, and her own mistress. But a Carew of Keppe-Carew ought to have known better."

      "She was not of Keppe-Carew, Selina."

      "She was. Don't you know that, Anne? her father was Carew of Keppe-Carew; and when he died without a son, his brother, your mamma's father and mine, succeeded to Keppe-Carew. He died in his turn, leaving no son, and Keppe-Carew and its broad lands went to a distant man, the male heir. We three Carews have all married badly, in one way or another."

      Mrs. Edwin Barley was speaking dreamily then, as if forgetting anybody heard her.

      "She, Frances, married Hemson the tradesman, throwing a barrier between herself and her family; Ursula married Colonel Hereford, to wear out a few of her best years in India, and then to die in poverty, and leave an unprovided-for child; and I have married him, Edwin Barley. Which is the worst, I wonder?"

      I thought over what she said in my busy brain. Few children had so active a one.

      "Selina, you say you married Mr. Edwin Barley because he is rich."

      "Well."

      "Why did you, when you were rich yourself?"

      "I rich? You will count riches differently when you are older. Why, Anne, do you know what my fortune was? Four thousand pounds. Ursula had the same, and she and Colonel Hereford spent it. That put a notion in my father's head, and he tied mine up tight enough, securing it to my absolute use until I die."

      "Will it be Mr. Barley's when you die, Selina?"

      "Were I to die before next Monday, it would be yours, pussy, for it is so settled. After that, if I die without a will, it would go to Mr. Edwin Barley; but I shall be of age next Monday, and then can make one. I think it must be my first care--a will;" she laughed. "So munificent a sum to dispose of! Shall I leave it to you?"

      The room-door was pushed open, and some one entered. A shortish man, of nearly forty years, in a velveteen shooting-coat and gaiters, and with a dark face: the same dark face that looked out from the trees in the avenue. I shrank round Selina with a sudden fear. Not that the features were particularly ill-favoured in themselves, but so dark and stern. And the remembrance of the fright was on me still.

      "Where are you coming to, child?" she said. "This is Mr. Edwin Barley."

       CHAPTER II.

      IN THE WOOD.

      That Mr. Edwin Barley! My imagination had been setting the face down for a robber's at least; and the thought flashed over me--How could Selina have married him? Another thought came with it--Had he been the intruder at the door?

      "Who is that, Selina?" he asked, in a very strong, determined voice, but not an unpleasing one.

      "Anne Hereford. Fancy my making so stupid a mistake as to conclude it was next Thursday the lawyer meant. And she has had to find her way from Nettleby in the best way she could."

      He looked at me with his black eyes, the blackest eyes I had ever seen. Either they wore a warning expression, or I fancied so, and I took it to mean I was not to say I saw him watching the house from the avenue. No fear, after that, that I should speak of it.

      "Did you walk from Nettleby, little one?"

      "No, sir. I came in the omnibus to the gate."

      "She has been asking me if you were very handsome and I told her to wait and see," observed Selina, with a laugh, and somehow it grated on my ears. He made no reply in words, but his brow contracted a little. I noticed one thing--that he had very pretty teeth, white and even.

      "How is it you are home before the others?" she resumed. "And where are they lingering? Charlotte Delves says the dinner is spoiling."

      "They cannot be far behind," was Mr. Edwin Barley's answer. "I'll go and dress."

      As he went out of the room we heard sounds of voices and laughter. Selina opened the window, and I stood by her. The night had grown clearer, the moon was bright. Three gentlemen, dressed something like Mr. Edwin Barley, were approaching the house with game, guns, and dogs.

      "Can you see them by this light, Anne?"

      "I can see that two are young, and one looks old. He has grey hair."

      "Not very old, not more than fifty--but he is so stout. It is the parson, Mr. Martin."

      "Do parsons go out shooting, Selina?"

      "Only when they can get the chance," she laughed. "That young one is Philip King, a ward of Mr. Edwin Barley's. He and I are not friends at all, and I do what I can to vex him. He is terribly ill-tempered."

      "Is he!"

      "He fell in love with me at Easter, the silly boy! Fancy that! One can't think it was in earnest, you know, but it really seemed like it. I asked him if he would like his ears boxed, and Mr. Edwin Barley gave us both a sharp talking-to, saying we ought to be sent to school again."

      "Both! But if it was not your fault?"

      "Mr. Edwin Barley said it was my fault," she returned, with a laugh. "Perhaps it was. He has not, as I believe, loved Philip King since."

      "Who is the other one with them, Selina?" I asked, as the gentlemen below disappeared.

      "The СКАЧАТЬ