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"I will not say any more at present. You know | dress at all, except in case of necessity. This my wishes; I leave the rest to time and your added another shade to Zaidee's heaviness. She own heart, and-Mr. Vivian. Now, my dear felt that something was amiss, though, in perchild, go back to your book; I have said all I have to say."
fect innocence of all offence, she could not tell what the something was; the house was out of joint; there was a universal jarring of all its members. Mrs. Burtonshaw, too, was clouded and perturbed, by turns anxious and angry; and Mary had deserted all her usual amusements, and sat perpetually by her work-table plying her needle, while Zaidee all unwittingly fanned the flame which Mrs. Cumberland had kindled, by a continual study of Mr. Vivian's book.
When Zaidee rose, the first thing which caught her eye was the reflection in the mirror of Mary Cumberland standing within the half-opened door. As Zaidee raised her troubled face to the light, she caught through this medium the keen look of her friend fixed upon her. Mary's lips were closed tight; Mary's face was very pale, and her hair fell down strangely lank and disordered upon her cheek. It looked like an im- When things were in this condition-when, personation of startled suspicion and self-de-between her fears for Sylvo and her doubts of fence; it did not look like pretty Mary Cumber- Mary, Aunt Burtonshaw led a very troubled exland returning with fresh roses on her cheeks istence, and Zaidee and Mary, each of them, fell from her drive with Aunt Burtonshaw. Zaidee's into strange solitude-it was intimated one day beautiful face, full of dismay and agitation, but with great solemnity that Mr. Vivian was comof no evil emotion, met with a gaze of astonish- ing to dinner. Mr. Cumberland had encounterment the angry scrutiny of Mary. It struck her ed him in London, had taken advantage of the with a painful surprise; and she went quickly opportunity, and the great author was to dine forward to ascertain, if it was ascertainable, with them to-day. Zaidee, who could not help what the import of this silent defiance might looking up with great and sudden interest at be; but Mary turned before her friend could this announcement, found Mrs. Cumberland lookreach her, and Zaidee only saw her figure dis-ing at her with a smile of private communicaappearing up the stair when she came to the tion, while Mary's face, full of clouds and storms, door. Pausing a moment to give Mary time to was also full of the keenest observation, though reach her retirement, Zaidee hastily sought her she had turned her head away. Zaidee colored own room. She was uneasy and disturbed by painfully, and cast down her eyes full of tears. Mary's look; but Mrs. Cumberland had quite She felt herself in an unnatural and false posiunintentionally thrown a new light upon Zai- tion between this mother and daughter. It was dee's life. Her real name and all her circum- impossible to avoid being interested, impossible stances-Zaidee shuddered at the possibility of to resist a rising eagerness and anxiety. She any one having a right and a necessity to be in- could not anticipate Percy's visit with the tranformed of these. The sudden revelation sent quil expectation of a stranger; but Mrs. Cumher back with a shudder from all the dreams of berland's smile and audible whisper of the dress youthful existence. That any one could think she should wear to-day gave her singular pain. of Percy paying his addresses to her," our Aunt Burtonshaw said "humph," and Sylvo Percy," of whose fame she was so proud-was a yawned in anticipation over Mr. Vivian's visit, hallucination at which Zaidee only smiled. But while a gleam of excitement in consequence with quite a different regard she looked at the came into Mary's gloom; but Zaidee withdrew great principle which Mrs. Cumberland had very sadly from the family assemblage. She stated as a thing of course, and which her own did not know how to subdue these jarring elejudgment immediately approved. Who but Zai-ments into concord, or how to place herself in dee Vivian could understand why Zaidee Vivian her natural position again. fled from home and name and fortune? Who Zaidee was in the drawing-room early, in Aunt but herself could feel the weight of Grandfather Vivian's legacy? the dreadful burden and guiltiness of disinheriting Philip? Zaidee turned to go down stairs again, with a blank in her face and in her heart. She must guard herself now with a strange and jealous care. She must suffer no stranger to come into her young affections. She must never put her secret in the power of another-nor betray her home and name.
CHAPTER X.-THE GREAT AUTHOR.
Burtonshaw's corner by the embroidery-frame, hoping to escape the especial notice which she must have gained had she entered the room after Mr. Vivian's arrival. Mary, on the contrary, was late of making her appearance. Mr. Vivian arrived with a dash of wheels, drawing up a high stepping horse before the gate, in a manner which called forth the cordial piaudits of Sylvo, who hurried through the trees to report him "none of your spooney fellows after all," before the stranger made his formal entrance. Then the All that day Zaidee was left alone-it did not door opened with great solemnity, and Mr. Peroccur to her to inquire why Mary so pertinacy Vivian entered the room. Žaidee, bending ciously avoided her company, rather sitting by over the embroidery, looked up with great eagerherself or leaving the room than sharing Zai-ness from under the shelter of her curved hand. dee's seat and occupation, as was usual to them. He was but nineteen when she left the Grange; Mary's pretty face did not look the fairer for the she thought he was no older still in his bright sullen cloud upon it, and her manners, already and versatile youth. The eyes that were full of strangely changed, grew still more perplexing a hundred laughing fancies; the white brow all under this veil of resentful silence. When she lined and puckered under its wiry hair; the cloud addressed her mother, it was with scarcely re- that rose and descended upon his face like a strained impatience, and Zaidee she did not ad-veil, making the sunshine all the brighter by its
dubiousness; the curved expressive lip which was | Mr Vivian start with a singular astonishment never quite at rest-these were all unchanged; when he first observed her companion. She perand Percy could not well be more easy in his ceived his eyes turn to Zaidee again and again, acquired eminence than he had been in his nat- not so much with admiration, as with wonderural boyish place at home; yet something there ing curiosity and interest. Every time she perwas that told a man accustomed to the world-ceived this look, she repeated her struggle with much that denoted one aware of his own bril- herself. She was so intent upon Zaidee that she liant powers, and of the universal notice which followed him. Yes, it was Percy; but it was Percy the Poet-Percy the Author-Percy the man of fame; he had come to dwell among every-day people, and win reputation for himself among them. It was not quite that boyish, triumphant Percy, looking forth upon the world which lay before him to be conquered, and spurning all its difficulties in his glorious youth-oppressed with the mirth round her that it was
did not perceive how the great author manœuvred to be placed near herself, and how his wit was perpetually shooting chance arrows over her to rouse her to answer him. Mary's mind was too much absorbed by far for the sprightly retorts with which she had met him at Hollylee. She scarcely spoke, except to Zaidee, all this lingering time of dinner, and felt so heavy and quite a relief to her excited feelings when the door of the dining-room closed upon them, and made a temporary pause in the excitement of the night.
"Now, pray, Mr. Vivian, how do you do when you are going to write a book?" asked Mrs. Burtonshaw, with serious curiosity, when the gentlemen came to the drawing-room. Do you just sit down with a clean sheet of paper before you, and a pen in your hand, without knowing what you are to say?"
And then he addressed himself to the commonplaces of introduction with such a laughing, saucy contempt of them in his eye, and solemnly commented on the weather, and on Mr. Cumberland's beautiful place, with a sort of mock formality, which called a smile even to the lips of Aunt Burtonshaw. "Do you know, I think he could say something very clever, if it were not just for form's sake, my dear," said the good lady, whispering over the embroidery-frame. The stranger had half disarmed Mrs. Burton- "I think he is a happy man who knows what shaw already; and Sylvo, with Mr. Vivian's cab he has had to say, after he is done saying it," in his mind's eye, and the splendid action of the said the young author. "Now, fancy the misery, high-stepping horse, was much disposed to make Mrs. Burtonshaw, of having nothing to say at all." Mr. Vivian's acquaintance, and had already inti- "Yes, that is exactly what I was thinking of," mated to the company from behind his moustache said Mrs. Burtonshaw: for instance, writing a letthat "to-day was as good as Italy." In pur-ter, it is only polite to fill three sides. I never suance of the same laudable object, Mrs. Cum- think a letter is a letter that is shorter than that berland sat placidly listening to Mr. Vivian's and how if you have said everything in the commonplaces, and Zaidee was unintroduced. first page?" She watched the stranger with exceeding inter- "You sympathize with bookmakers, I can see," est over Aunt Burtonshaw's embroidery-frame. said Percy, laughing. "To say all in the first And now the door slowly opened, and Zaidee volume, yet have two more to write-and nosaw Mary, somewhat pale, and with question- thing before you but that aforesaid sheet of clean ing eyes, pause a moment, and look round the paper, and no inspiration in the poor goose-quill, room. Her cheek gradually flushed with return-Mrs. Burtonshaw-only a reminiscence of its ing color, though it was evidently not Mr. Vi- primitive possessor- that is a state of things vian she was looking for. It was Zaidee whom which we poor scribblers have to deplore every Mary sought, and Zaidee was safe in the corner, rather more simply dressed than usual, and veiling her beauty in her remote position and earnest employment. Mary entered the room after that so noiselessly, and with such a burning blush, that Zaidee saw she was ashamed of something. What was she ashamed of? The unwitting offender watched her friend passing with that sudden air of humility about her, across the shining surface of the mirror-watched her slight and hurried salutation of the guest as she passed and sat down, out of sight of him, at her work-table. The secret shame of repentance was on Mary's face; her better nature had asserted itself; and when the elders of the party had moved forward in their solemn procession to the dinner-table, Mary put Sylvo away, and laid her soft dimpled hand on Zaidee 's arm. There was nothing said between them, but they were friends again—and Mary had heroically resolved, if need was, to stand aside, and suffer her beautiful adopted sister to win the day.
"You write with quills, then, Mr. Vivian?" said Aunt Burtonshaw. "I always call your gold pens and your steel pens disagreeable things, Maria Anna, and here Mr. Vivian is of my opinion. Is it not very hard, now, to put such distresses upon people as you do in your books? I should think one trouble at a time was very good measure for me; but one after another, how you do pile them upon that poor dear, in the book that Mary made me read to-day."
"I should think one trouble quite over-measure for you; I should certainly vote you none at all of that disagreeable commodity, if I had any voice in the matter," said Percy, smiling and bowing to Mrs. Burtonshaw, all unconscious that he himself was a fruitful source of disturbance to his kindly critic; "but life and Providence have another deliverance to make on the matter," continued the young man, his eyes flashing from gay to grave: in our reflected world we must dispense as Heaven dispenses, and Heaven has This resolution gave a touch of pathos and no terror of such words as inconsistency or extenderness to Mary's own fair face. She saw travagance. 'When sorrows come, they come,
not single spies, but in battalions.' There is that another shock to set her right, but she wants
Percy laughed, yet was so unsophisticated as to blush too all over the puckers of his forehead. "Is she such a sweet Lucy?" said Percy; "the young lady did not strike me much; but since you recommend her, Mrs. Cumberland, I will consider her claims again."
"Mansfield puts all his book down out of his journals-isn't that the truest way-eh ?" said Sylvo from behind his moustache.
But almost while Mr. Cumberland speaks, and while Mrs. Burtonshaw bustles away to minister to the hapless victim of curiosity in the kitchen, Mr. Vivian has managed. in the course of conversation, to glide outside the opened window, and stands there in conversation with Mary Cumberland; she, somewhat shy and timid, with eyes once more dazzled and a cheek of varying color, stands within. Mr. Vivian is
"Mr. Mansfield's book is only adventure, Syl-looking in with his wayward brilliant glances vo," said Mary, with a little indignation.
"Well, adventure's the thing, isn't it?" said Sylvo, who, in the strength of Mr. Vivian's smile, kept his place.
"Adventure is the thing," said Percy solemnly; "and by far the truest way is to put down one's book out of one's journal; there can be no doubt of that. Mr. Mansfield lived his book before he wrote it; that is the true charm of success."
"Ah, Mr. Vivian, you give us a rare principle to judge you by," said Mrs. Cumberland, with a sigh of sympathy and admiration. "What a life yours must have been; how full of love and emotion, of passion and sorrow, before you could have written as you have done!"
into the deep alcove of this lighted room, and
"Mr. Vivian says that he and I have each a beautiful sister, Elizabeth, and they are very like each other-he thinks it quite strange," said Mary.
Once more Percy Vivian blushed uneasily, and through this blush there struggled a laugh of irrestrainable but somewhat annoyed selfridicule. "Pray, Mrs. Cumberland, do not make me the hero of these stupid books," he said, with comical distress. "My own life is the last thing I will write novels about, and I would, find it an extremely barren subject; no, we will do it in spasmodic poetry; that's the medium for re- She was standing with her arm folded tightly morses and horrors, the true vehicle for au- round Zaidee's waist, holding her before the mirtobiography, Mrs. Burtonshaw," said Percy with ror; the mirror gave a dim reflection of the great solemnity, once more returning to his first ques-room half lighted, of a morsel of blue sky, and tioner.
"You speak of remorses and horrors," said that lady, looking apprehensively at this dangerous neighbor of hers; "and I found a book lately, I am sorry to say, upon that very tableis it possible, Mr. Vivian, can you be that T. Percy Jones?"
a little lot of stars" looking through the window; of the chairs standing about in disorder where everybody had left them, and of only those two figures and no more within the room. Mary, with a good deal of resolution, and a color which varied rapidly from these sudden flushes of crimson to the whitest paleness, held Zaidee No, upon my honor," said Percy Vivian, closely with her arm. Zaidee, in much astonishtaking care to restrain the laughter which made ment, with even a slight degree of fear, resisted Mary Cumberland's blue eyes dance for the first this grasp a little, and looked not into the mirror time this evening. "No, I am not that redoubt- but into her friend's face. She did not know able incognito-there's your man now, who puts what to make of Mary's singular demeanor, nor down his book out of his journal-a tragedy in why they two should be here alone together, his own person, a walking fate with inexorable when every one else had gone to rest. But at shears; but I plead not guilty. I am a Percy, this speech Zaidee startled-she could not but be but I am not the genuine Hotspur-this is not me!" startled-she was like her cousin Elizabeth, her "There's somebody ill in the kitchen, Maria beautiful cousin; she, poor little brown Zaidee, Anna," said Mr. Cumberland, entering hurriedly; was like the pride of the Grange, the flower of all 66 some fool of a girl who has been trying ex- the country round! Unsuspicious of evil, Zaiperiments on my galvanic machine. I gave her dee did not know how Mary Cumberland watch
ed her face, and misinterpreted the rising flush | in the mirror, at the grieved and tearful look, the of gratification and family pride-for she could silent wonder, the patience and the innocence of not restrain her secret and innocent pleasure in evil which shone upon her in those wonderful being thought like Elizabeth. This pure natural eyes, and remain unmoved. She suddenly bent emotion came to her eyes with a sweet, surprised, down as she stood thus, and gave a cold but yet and almost tearful gladness, and with a flush of tender kiss to Zaidee's brow-loosened her grasp delicate color to her cheek. Mary looked at her of her, and with a sigh of weariness held out her steadily, and almost sternly; Mary held her fast hand and said, Good night. Zaidee followed her with the strong grasp of her arm. Secure in her slowly up the silent echoing stairs. Those two good resolution, in pride at once, and in friend-young figures, each so young and so fair in their ship, of sacrificing herself, Mary could see no harm in severely interrogating Zaidee. She would yield up to her the early dream which had just begun to gild and to brighten her own life; but she would not yield up the authority of a senior, the superiority of a patroness, and Mary was harsh and imperious in the sadness of her thoughts.
"Speak to me just once, Elizabeth. Look at yourself; will you not do as I tell you? Do you think you are beautiful? Do you think, like Mr. Vivian and all the rest of them, that there is scarcely any one as beautiful as you?"
differing degrees and kinds of beauty, each carrying a light in her hand, went up the broad staircase, one after the other, like vestals in a procession. When they had parted, and found shelter in their separate apartments, poor Mary Cumberland, disturbed with evil thoughts, with mortified and jealous pride, and with a bitter fear that in heedless prodigality she had thrown away her heart, sat gloomily at her table for a moment, and then rose to pace about the room in hasty wanderings. She had not been reasonable or prudent, as the whole scope of her previous life had been. She had suffered a fanciful and unfounded liking to creep close to her heart, and now Mary was sadly conscious that evil spirits had come into it, malice and envy, and all uncharitableness. She had no human guide to appeal to for counsel, and Mary had not Zaidee's early training; nor, in spite of Zaidee's long influence upon her, did this more stubborn spirit dare to have recourse to Heaven when earth was competent, as her companion did. She only said her prayers as usual that night; she did not pour out her heart, which was sorely rent and wound"Aunt Burtonshaw is not they," said Mary, ed; and so went sullen and uncomfortable to a rest with her merciless logic. "Who was the other? which was broken by dreams and starts of wakeor others, perhaps, I should say, Elizabeth; for a ful loneliness; for Mary's heart was sore within great many people admire my beautiful sister-her, and sore with a gnawing, cankering pain. who were they?"
"No," said Zaidee, looking up eagerly. "Mary, I have made you angry-do you think I I do not think it; but indeed I never thought of this at all till they spoke something about me the day Aunt Burtonshaw
"They! who were they?" asked Mary.
"It was-Aunt Burtonshaw." Zaidee faltered a little, and turned half away from the arm that held her. She would rather not have said
"I do not know what harm you think of me," said Zaidee, roused at last, and growing pale as she turned her shining dark eyes on Mary's face. "This word 'beauty' was twice mentioned to me that day. Aunt Burtonshaw said it, and so did Sylvo. I had never thought of it before, and did not think of it then-I do not think of it now," and Zaidee lifted a glance of brave defiance at the mirror. "I may be like Mr. Vivian's beautiful sister, and not be beautiful; but however that is, I am as God made me: if He sends one thing or another, have nothing to say, Mary-it is God, it is not me."
"Look in the glass, Elizabeth," said Mary Cumberland.
Zaidee looked up; her face was pale, her eyes a little dilated, her hair falling down upon her slender stately neck. She was more beautiful than Mary had ever seen her. While Zaidee met the sorrowful startled gaze of her own eyes, Mary looked at her in the mirror with an intent and steady look, owning in the depths of her heart, and against her will, the magic influence which broke forth from the "Why" of logic, with contemptuous triumph. Why admire this form of feature, this shade of complexion ?-why be charmed with this face more than with any other? Mary could not answer the question; but she could not look at that beautiful reflection
Zaidee, who was deeply distressed, bewildered, and wondering, fared better, for neither malice nor envy had found a place in her maiden thoughts. She could not understand Mary, but was glad to forget this strange conduct of hers in a burst of pleasant wonder over what she said. Zaidee came to her toilette-glass, and looked into it shyly. "Am I, indeed, like Elizabeth ?-like Elizabeth!" said Zaidee. And as she looked upon herself with her eyes thus enlightened, she discovered the resemblance. It filled her with the purest simple delight; it was a new visionaIry trace of this mysterious link of blood, a confirmation of her title to be Zaidee Vivian still— a sign of the family name, and lofty long descent, secretly marked upon her brow. It was not the beauty which Zaidee rejoiced over in her solitude. She was like Elizabeth who was the present representative of all those lovely Vivians of many generations, whose sweet looks had embellished the name. Her very face was her charter of family right and kindred. She could not sufficiently rejoice at this; and as she sat down to think over Percy's visit, she remembered her cousin with yet a kinder heart.
Yes, this Percy was our Percy, and Zaidee's heart warmed to him like a sister's, and rejoiced in his fame; but she began to think of Philip, who was not famous -Philip, who, though the head of the house, would only be " Mr. Vivian's brother" in the world which made an idol of Mr. Vivian; and
Zaidee began to think, looking back upon her young experience, that she had never seen any one like the Head of the House-never another who came near to her ideal of manhood—so simple, so noble, so full of truth and honor. Percy was a poet and a genius, but he was not Philip; yet, perhaps, Philip was not half so brilliant as Percy, and certainly was not known to the world like 'his younger brother. With a woman's pride she regarded the family hero; but, looking back with her child's imagination, she thought she could put her hand in Philip's hand, and suffer him to lead her over the world.
poor picking for a dinner; whereas, here is the richest savory jelly in the world, the result of a little care and trouble. Ignorance manures its land with bones, Sylvo. We shall have all England getting fat upon them when my machine is properly known."
"A couple of fowls! and you call that economy?" cried Mrs. Burtonshaw, in dismay. "When poor Roberts, the cook, told me she had got a pair of fat capons for Mr. Cumberland, did I think that was what the poor birds were to come to? Economy! a tea-cupful of potted stuff out of two beautiful capons! Do you mean to ruin yourself, Mr. Cumberland? and Maria Anna to give in to you!"
These two friends woke in the morning to look with a little dismay on the proceedings of the night. Mary, who was guilty and self-humiliat- "Pure prejudice, sister Burtonshaw. Women ed, carried matters with a high hand. She came are the most bigoted of conservatives," said the down, resolved to have a condescending conver-philosopher, with his chuckle of laughter. "You sation with her "beautiful sister," and speak to may innovate as you will in other spheres, but her of Mr. Vivian-to be so entirely self-restrain- touch their privileged department, and there is ed and decorous that Zaidee should think the no quarter for you. But the sacred institution of harshness of last night only a dream, and to fol- the kitchen must bow to science, my good sislow up her mother's counsel so warmly that the ter. Wait till I have proved the powers of my poor girl should be ashamed to meet Mr. Vivian digester on the larger-boned animals. Wait till again. All this Mary resolved to do, because I present the English peasant with such a delicashe felt herself in the wrong, and with natural cy as this, made of the beef-bone which your igperversity persisted in it, though her heart long-norance would throw to your dogs, Sylvo, my ed to be set right. Zaidee, on the contrary, was boy. I look for a testimonial of gratitude by very humble, and full of anxious solicitude. that time, sister Elizabeth. My digester is a She had no weight on her conscience. She long way improved from Papin's, I assure you. could afford to make overtures of kindness, and That was incomplete-decidedly incomplete ; little sisterly submissions to win the offender. that is why it failed to make a revolution in our She, who had not harmed her companion either cookery two hundred years ago." in deed or thought, anxiously sought Mary's eye "I am sure I thought I had given up being and Mary's hand, and watched for a return of surprised at anything," said Mrs. Burtonshaw, cordiality-such a silent reconciliation as that with a sigh of resignation. "But I am sorry for which brought Mary to her side the previous day, Roberts-I confess I am sorry for Roberts, poor in the journey from the dining-room to the draw-thing; to see such destruction before her very ing-room. Looking out from behind the grate eyes. I suppose it would be all the same to you, of misunderstanding and wounded pride which Maria Anna, if Mr. Cumberland were making imprisoned it, Mary's frank and candid natural jelly of the trees!" heart looked on and observed all this; but Mary was not delivered from her "black dog," her evil spirit; she had something more to undergo to work a thorough cure.
"That is a suggestion to be considered, sister Elizabeth," said Mr. Cumberland. "The vegetable juices and the animal are considerably different, you see, but worth an experiment-decid edly worth an experiment-and of singular utility, too, if it should happen to be practicable. "I do not know what this dish may be called, Your mother has invention, Sylvo," said the phiMaria Anna, but I know it is Mr. Cumberland's losopher, taking a memorandum on his tablets of cookery," said Mrs. Burtonshaw at the breakfast-this valuable suggestion. I might have talked a table, looking suspiciously over the coffee-pot month, I assure you, to these girls and to Maria from her presiding chair. "I can recommend Anna, without the ghost of an idea from one of the fresh new-laid eggs; the shell is as pure as them." cream, you see, Sylvo-but I really will not undertake to say what Mr. Cumberland's dish may be."
"An adaptation of the ancient machine called Papin's digester, sister Burtonshaw," said Mr. Cumberland briskly, "with our modern means and appliances, will be an infinite benefit to every family by-and-by. The digester is the very impersonation of thrift, sister Elizabeth-pure economy, I assure you. What do you suppose this is made of, now? Why, a couple of fowls are in it, every morsel, yet I defy you to find a bone. The action of heat is a marvellous thing when properly applied. Take a chicken now, in the ordinary way of cooking. I grant you it may be valuable as a lesson in anatomy, but it's
Mrs. Burtonshaw's indignation was too great to be softened by this compliment. "If breakfast is over, I will go to the drawing-room," said Mrs. Burtonshaw solemnly; "and I think, Mary and Elizabeth, you will be a great deal better doing something than sitting here."
They followed her one by one as she took her way to this favorite apartment. It was Zaidee's turn to-day to seek the solace of needlework. Mary, too restless for this thoughtful occupation, seated herself on the marble step outside the window, with a book on her lap. Zaidee sat sewing within. Sylvo lounged about the room, not knowing what to do with himself, and much inclined to set out again without delay for his "place." It was he, poor fellow, in innocent va