than any of the officers under him. My dear child, I find military men very illiterate in general, and above all subjects do I find them deficient in a knowledge of history. Are you fond of history ?" "I don't know, sir. I have very little time for reading; and I don't think that ever any work upon history came in my way. I am fond of reading; but Sunday is the only day left to me to read anything." "Well, my dear," said he, "above all things read history. You will find it agreeable and amusing; quite a recreation for a young woman like you. Now, God bless you, my child. Put your trust in Him, and don't suffer yourself to be tempted by such persons as Mr. Clinton, or the base proposals he may make you. Think and reflect that you must appear before your Almighty Judge with a soul pure and unspotted." "It is only on God," replied Maria, "that I rely; and next to him, on you, who are his minister. I trust sir, you will protect me as far as you possibly can, and that you will prevent Lieutenant Clinton from making my life wretched and unhappy." "Depend upon me," he replied, "I shall not neglect the task-but it is none-which you have asked me to perform. If he should continue to annoy you, let me know without loss of time." We have said, a few pages back, that truth and candour constitute the safest principle of conduct in life, even where circumstances may appear to be against our selves. In the course of that day, Maria experienced the justness of this observation On her way to Dr. Spillar's and on her return from the interview she had with him, she felt deeply and deplorably wretched. The lying -or rather, the exaggerated-revelations which Miss Travers had made concerning the character of Clinton, taught her, with painful and agonizing effect, that she had set her affections upon a rake and a reprobate of the worst character. She thought she saw in his conduct towards her, on the preceding night, gleams of honour and manifestations of affection which could not be mistaken. Her conversation with Miss Travers, however, set all that to rest, He was merely one of those unprincipled seducers of whom she had heard, and who sacrifice truth, honour, and conscience to effect their object. Perhaps there is not in the whole history of human feeling a state of mind, especially in matters of love for we place the death of our nearest relatives out of the question-so severe and distressing upon the heart as the discovery that we have placed our affections upon a vile and worthless object. The revulsion of feeling which it produces rends the very heart asunder, and can be only illustrated by the terrific agony which a trusting and affectionate husband feels on discovering that the wife of his bosom has been faithless to him. Maria, in fact, was wretched, and returned home pale and with every appearance of melan choly and distress. And yet we may ask, why all this suffering? She knew and felt that she could never be married to Clinton; she knew and felt that she possessed the power and the virtue to resist all his solicitations; and that, in point of fact, she ought to look upon him as a being so far removed from her, that there could be nothing common to either in their destiny, unless mere existence. Still, we may ask, why did she feel the discovery of his perfidy and profligacy with such indescribable anguish? Simply, because she loved him deeply and devotedly. In the meantime, and during her absence at Dr. Spillar's, a scene took place between Miss Bennet and Miss Travers, which we are called upon to place on record. This, indeed, was a busy and an agitating day with Miss Travers. Miss Bennet accidentally saw Maria going out; and as there are no persons so jealous as those who are themselves conscious of secret guilt, she took it for granted that she was following up the proceedings of the foregoing night. She had heard Maria's knock, who, poor girl, was not furnished with a latch-key for that unusual hour, and, as the proverb has it" measured her neighbour's corn in her own bushel." She too, begged to have a private interview with Miss Travers, which, of course, was granted, and the parlour became the scene of the following dialogue. Miss Bennet, bridling, commences it: "Miss Travers, I trust I have conducted your very respectable establishment ever since my arrival here entirely to your satisfaction "—(a lofty consciousness of merit and professional accomplishments displayed). "Why, indeed," replied Miss Travers, with a good deal of offended dignity, "It so happens that I conduct my own establishment, Miss Bennet. A forewoman I must certainly have, because I cannot myself be everywhere, nor attend to everything at the same time." "Nor understand the new fashions without my assistance," added Miss Bennet, with peculiar bitterness. "But I do not find it necessary that Miss Brindsley should correct your blunders occasionally," retorted Miss Travers, ironically. "She has too many errors of her own to correct, if she would do it," replied the other. "Not in her business, Miss Bennet.” "No, but in her conduct, which is worse," returned the other. "The truth is, Miss Travers, I am here to inform you that you must part either with Miss Brindsley or me. I do not feel that it is either safe or creditable to live in the same house with her, and I am resolved not to do it." "Pray, why so, may I ask ?" "She cannot be a safe companion to any young woman here," continued Miss Bennet, or any person who is engaged in an intrigue with Captain Doolittle." "With Captain Doolittle!" exclaimed her com panion, starting. "I rather think you are mistaken, Miss Bennet." "I rather think I am not," replied the other; "she gives him secret meetings-nightly meetings-improper meetings-guilty meetings; and you cannot expect any proper girl to live in the same house with her. I know, for my part I wont.". "But what's your authority for this serious charge against the girl?" "I am not at liberty just now to state my authority, but I can night." assure you she was out with him last "I know you are mistaken there; at all events, at least I think-but indeed it is a very difficult thing to know some people," she added. "Ask Becky," continued the forewoman, "whether she did not let her in late last night. In fact, Miss Travers, I considered it my duty to you, and to the high respectability of your establishment, to make you acquainted with the impropriety of her conduct. Her remaining here will ruin you both in reputation and circumstances; and of course you must feel that it is your duty to part with her; if not, you part with me.' "But I don't wish to part with either of you," replied Miss Travers. "You must, however," said the other. "I have now put you on your guard, and I will give you till to-morrow to make up your mind on the subject. If she remains here I go; and now I leave you to think of it." There ran such an indignant spirit of offended virtue through this complaint, that Miss Travers felt puzzled, and began to doubt whether Maria had not artfully misled her, and that the confession of her last night's adventure was resorted to as a ruse to meet discovery. Yet surely she could not think so. There was too much sincerity in Maria's words, and especially in her tears, to justify this ungenerous suspicion against her; and then there was the fact of her visit to Dr. Spillar, and her determination to place herself under his protection. No, it could not be; the charge must be false; and besides, she knew that Miss Bennet was her bitter enemy. On the other hand, how could she dare to make such a dreadful charge if she were not in a condition to sustain it? Well, she would think it over, and in the course of the evening, consult Betty M'Clean upon the subject; for notwithstanding the squalls that occasionally took place between them, she seldom took any important step without the advice and counsel of this honest but somewhat fiery confidant. CHAPTER X. AN EXPLANATION SATISFACTORY TO ONE PARTY, BUT WORMWOOD TO ANOTHER-MARIA CONSENTS TO SEE HER LOVER. THE next morning Clinton, anxious to sound Doolittle upon the proceedings of the previous night, paid that swaggering gentleman an early visit. "Well, Dooly," said he, "how do you get on with your intrigue? Prosperously, of course." "Prosperously, of course-to be sure you have said it 'She's all my fancy painted her, The Brindsley I mean. My seraph—my Maria !” "You utter a falsehood, sir," replied Clinton. "Then that, I say, is a lie; nothing more nor less, for I know it to be such." "Clinton, go and get a friend; no man shall give me the lie with impunity. There remains now only one way of settling this affair." "Sir, it remains for you to apologize for basely and unjustly slandering the reputation of a virtuous and innocent girl-a girl to whom you never spoke; but pardon me-I forgot myself-I should have been cooler. You are imposed upon, you are egregiously misled, and I will prove it to your satisfaction." "That cannot be possible; I have her letters, signed Maria Brindsley." "Yes, you have-signed Maria Brindsley, but not by Maria Brindsley. I say, then, let matters rest as they are until to-morrow, and if I don't distinctly prove that you are imposed upon, I pledge myself, as an officer and a gentleman, that I will be as ready to give you the usual satisfaction as you can be to demand it.” "Very well, then, be it so. I know I often draw the long bow, but in this I told you no deliberate falsehood, Clinton." "Well, then, we shall see more of this to-morrow. I will call in upon you about twelve o'clock, and you will come whither I shall conduct you. If I find I have done you injustice, I shall apologize as a gentleman of spirit ought to do; if not, no apology; and so good-bye until then." "But stay a moment; you seem to feel a particular interest in this girl, whilst, in the meantime, the devil a bit of interest she seems to feel in you." "She is under the protection of my mother, Mr. Doolittle, and on that account I shall have her neither calumniated nor misrepresented; she is an orphan, too, and has, besides, in right of the interest which my mother takes in her welfare, a double claim upon me, as my mother's son and a gentleman." Any other motives, Clinton, eh ?" "Yes; my personal respect for her." 66 Any other? You don't stop there, I presume." "I have nothing further to say, but that I shall call upon you to-morrow at twelve o'clock, and I am much mistaken or you will have your eyes opened, and find that you have been the dupe of an artful womanhackneyed, I apprehend, in the profligacy of Dublin life, and life, too, of not the most reputable character in the world. Now, good-bye again; I have not time to stop, but be ready to-morrow at twelve. For, mark me, I shall make a dash; I fling scruples and delicacy to the winds. The character of an innocent, virtuous, and most beautiful girl is at stake, and I shall see justice rendered to her." He abruptly left Doolittle, who wished to tease him a little more upon the subject, and returned to his own room. Now, to render Doolittle justice, we must say, that out of the subject of gallantry, he was as thick-headed a blockhead as you might meet of a summer's day. Miss Bennet, in Maria's name, had gained a partial ascendancy over him-or rather had become a kind of favourite for the man was so utterly devoid of feeling, and of such empty and licentious levity, that he was incapable, like every man of his class, of entertaining a serious regard for any woman. Men of his calibre never fall in love; they do not understand the sentiment; their object is only to gratify their passions, and that accomplished, they pass to new pursuits of the same character. Doolittle then was really taken in by Miss Bennet, who actually imposed herself on him as the innocent heroine of our story. As for him, he knew very little of either of them, and took it for granted that whatever Miss Bennet told him was true. He, consequently, never suspected the imposture, and gave himself no trouble whatsoever about it. With regard to what he was told by the sextoness, Miss Bennet assured him, that the simple woman had merely make a mistake in bestowing wrong names upon the parties, supposing that her name was Bennet and that of Maria, Brindsley-the fact being precisely the reverse; than which to Doolittle, who never was remarkable for penetration, nothing seemed more probable, and so he was artfully led into the error. Both girls were beautiful; and although he would certainly have preferred Maria Brindsley, yet as the other had fallen into his scheme without reluctance, he felt satisfied at the event as it occurred, precisely as a man of his easy and voluptuous character might be supposed to do. Many a time have men of his disposition and intellect been duped in a similar manner, In the course of that evening, after tea, Miss Travers detained Betty M'Clean in order to communicate to her the charge which Miss Bennet had brought against Maria. She told her all which the reader already knows, and asked her opinion upon the circumstances as she detailed them. This was precisely the moment for which honest Betty had been lying in wait. "Ah!" she exclaimed, "a knew it would come to this; but a hev had my eye upon her when she didn't think it. Now listen, Miss Travers; instead of poor Miss Brindsley meeting Captain Doolittle, it is she herself that meets him; deil damn the word o' lie in that, bekaise a know it." "You know it! no you dont; how could you know it ?" Betty then recited to her the fact of Miss Bennet having purloined Doolittle's letter; stated how she had seen her break it open, place it in her bosom, and how she had traced her to the post-office, and discovered that she had answered it-most likely, as she said, in Maria's name; but at all events she had dogged her one night in disguise, she admitted, and saw her meet Captain Doolittle on the Ny road. Then she assured her that she had been out the night before, and let herself in by a latch-key, and "you know very well that your latch-key was amissing for two or three days." "Well Betty," said Miss Travers, "keep quiet for a day or two; I believe every word you say, but I shall write to Dublin for a person to replace her, and the moment she comes Miss Bennet must leave this." "You need not write to Dublin for any person," replied Betty; "Miss Brindsley's a better forewoman than ever she was, so that on that account you may spare yourself both the expense and the trouble. How could you keep your accounts without her? answer me that ?" "Why, indeed, Betty, she is very valuable in that respect; but, in the meantime, as our business is increasing, I must have a fresh and clever hand from Dublin." And she wrote that very evening to Dublin for the purpose. The next day about one o'clock, Miss Travers was sitting with her workwomen, keeping a strict eye on the conduct and bearing of the two rivals, when a loud knock came to the hall-door, and to their astonishment Doolittle and Clinton entered the apartment. If on this occasion any thing like guilt could be inferred from the deportment of either of them, unquestionably poor Maria sat for the criminal. On seeing Clinton she blushed deeply, and her hands became so tremulous that she could not work. Miss Bennet, on the contrary, was cool and undisturbed, and sufficiently collected to observe the confusion of the other, which she did with a significant glance at Miss Travers, which passed with one of scorn and vindictive triumph to Maria herself. Miss Travers, who knew not how to account for their unexpected appearance, or rather intrusion, into such a place without permission either given or asked, rose up, and with a sharp and offended manner, said: "Gentlemen, may I beg to know what has occasioned us the honour of this extraordinary, and, I must say, not very welcome visit ?" "It is certainly a visit," replied Clinton, " for which, Miss Travers, we ought to offer the deepest apology; but if it may seem offensive, although it is not intended to be so, I alone am responsible for it, and ought to offer the apology, which I do sincerely, and ask your pardon." "Oh, Mr. Clinton," she replied, "I have the pleasure of knowing who you are, and I believe you incapable of offering an unnecessary offence to any person, much less a female placed in my peculiar circumstances; but, in the meantime, you have not accounted for the presence of yourself and this gentleman here." "That's very easily done, Miss-Miss Travers is it?" said Doolittle; asking Clinton, parenthetically, "why the deuce don't you introduce me, Clinton ?" "Miss Travers, Mr. Doolittle-that is, Captain Doolittle-a perfect hero among the ladies, Miss Travers; but whether he will carry his conquests farther, is yet to be known.” Oh, the inhuman man!" exclaimed Miss Travers, with a smile in which there was a good deal of sarcasm, "is this he; I have heard of him, and I think he is known as the Lady-killer!" "And I wish I could add you to the number of my victims, Miss Travers," replied Doolittle, with a grin ; "your age and experience would render such a triumph an honour." "Gentlemen," said Miss Travers, somewhat nettled, "you have not explained your presence here?" "It is easily done, Miss Travers," replied Doolittle. "Will you have the goodness to point out a young lady named Maria Brindsley? and I beg to assure you that I have no object in this request that can be in the slightest degree offensive to her; I only wish to make myself certain of her identity." "That is she, sir,” replied Miss Travers, pointing her out; "but I really cannot understand this," she proceeded, with something like astonishment. "Well now," added Doolittle, "will you be so good as to point me ont Miss Bennet ?" "There she is," replied Miss Travers again; "but really this is very strange, Captain Doolittle, and I beg you will explain it." Why-a-a-nothing but a wager," replied Doolittle, evidently much mortified at having been made a dupe of; "I thought-or rather was led to thinkthat this young woman," pointing to Miss Bennet, 66 was Maria Brindsley, but I find I was mistaken ; that is all. Clinton, you have won the wager!" Clinton felt mortified in turn, especially in the presence of Maria, at the bare imputation of making such an indelicate and ungentlemanly wager. "Never mind him, Miss Travers, nor you, Miss Brindsley; I assure you I never made, nor am I capable of making such a wager. Nothing on earth could induce me to make Miss Brindsley the subject of a wager, or of any thing that does involve the highest respect for her on my part. She, at least, is incapable of making a false representation of herself, or of assuming the name and character of another, for the unworthy purpose of injuring the reputation of that other. Your conduct is now set in its true and proper light, Miss Brindsley, and Captain Doolittle can be no longer misled by that young woman, who ungenerously and basely took your name upon her "Hold, Clinton!" said Doolittle, interrupting him; "enough of this." "No, sir," returned Clinton, whose brow was red with indignation at the risk which Maria's character had run by Bennet's profligacy and imposture, “I will not hold. I tell you now, Miss Travers, that she is a young woman of improper morals, and utterly unworthy to associate or live with those interesting young persons whom I see about me." "Good-bye, Clinton !" said his companion; "you are a d-d goose, and so I will leave you to cackle away there as long as you like." "Don't go, Captain," said Miss Travers, "at least for a minute or two. As for Miss Bennet, I assure you, Mr. Clinton, she will not be two hours, nor one, under this roof. I had, even before your visit here, gentlemen, discovered her treachery to that innocent and pureminded girl, Maria Brindsley, and the diabolical attempts which she made to ruin her character. Miss Bennet, prepare your things, you must leave this house immediately! Your iniquity and profli gacy are laid bare, and you must, with as much alacrity as possible, take yourself out of this esta blishment. The pit which you dug for that sweet girl must now receive yourself." "Feth, and a knowed it would come to this," observed Betty M'Clean, "and am the very girl that made the mistress acquainted with your whole conduct. I watched you well, and if it wasn't that I respect the dacent girls that's to the forc, deil a one o' me but would expose you like a scarecrow. Aff wi' ye now, you have been too long here, but thank God, you weren't able to do the mischief against Maria Brindsley that you intended. Pack aff, then, out o' this, and fair weather be efther ye, whatever be before ye." may Now, we are bound to say, that a shade of any feeling indicative of shame at this severe exposure of her conduct, or of that agitation which one might suppose it must naturally occasion, was not visible even for a moment upon the very handsome face of the Dublin belle. Her self-possession and the intrepidity of her assurance were astonishing. Indeed, if she felt anything at all, it evidently was the most supreme contempt for every one around her. The serenity of her smile was unbroken, and, in truth, we may add, that it was worthy of a better cause. Nay, she did not even glance at Doolittle, nor seem once to notice him, but kept humming a tune in a low voice, as if to indicate her scorn of the whole company. When Betty M'Clean had concluded, the lady rose up to leave the room, and on reaching the door, she turned round, and with a good deal of ironical grace, made them a low curtsey, but uttered not a single syllable, and so we dismiss her from our pages. Clinton and Doolittle now took their departure, the former having still further apologized to Miss Travers, to whom he now explained in the parlour the cause of his for mer visits as well as of this, assuring her that it was his anxiety to save the reputation of Maria in the first instance, and his determination to take her out of the false and dangerous position in which the malignant antipathy -for he could call it nothing else—of Miss Bennet had placed her that, had brought him there accompanied by Doolittle, on that occasion. She highly applauded his conduct, and assured him that Maria was worthy of all the interest which either he or any man living, no matter what his rank might be, could feel for her; a sentiment in which Clinton expressed his hearty concurrence. In the meantime, Doolittle, who was waiting for him outside, addressed him as follows, when he made his appearance : "Clinton, I offer you every apology; it is I that am the goose; that d-d jade bit me fairly." "Fairly !" "No, not fairly, she duped me egregiously; but still, she is devilish handsome, although by no means so beautiful as the other; yet I thought I had no right to complain, but I certainly never suspected that she had assumed her name. What do you think was the cause of it ?" "Why, envy of her beauty, and a wish, I should suppose, to get her out of the establishment. This principle operates strongly with women, and may be too frequently illustrated by the analogy of ambition or superior excellence among men." I "Clinton I don't wish to press you on the point, but my impression is that you love the other girl;-I say don't press you, but it is no harm to caution you to be on your guard, and not, in fact, to make a fool of yourself about her." "That's a point, Doolittle, in which I require no instructions from you or any man. I trust I am able to regulate my own conduct as I ought." "My dear fellow, do not be angry; I meant well, and in kindness." "I am not angry, Doolittle, and I believe you did mean well; but that girl is fit to be-ahem-angry ! no, so far from that, I feel perfectly delighted and happy at the result of this day's visit, simply because I have satisfied "Me?" "No, faith, but myself." "Rather enigmatical that, but let it pass. surely would not think of marrying her ?" "And why not, if I took the notion ?" You "Why, nothing, only in that case you would have to travel towards Coventry-in other words, you should sell out." "Well, and suppose I should ?" "Why, to be sure that's your own affair; but you should think of your family and connexions." "Doolittle, my good friend, don't become a Solon on our hands. When you have it from good authority that I am about to marry her, it will be time enough for you to speak. In the meantime, until then, I shall trouble you not to introduce the subject to me again, and her name not at all." After their return to barracks, Clinton rode out to the country, and sooth to say, it would be difficult either to detail or attempt to develop his thoughts and sensations. That he loved Maria Brindsley was now a fact which his own heart could no longer dispute; but what was to be done? The moral code of the messroom was that love on the part of a British officer for a girl in her situation of life meant nothing but that mere animal passion which prompts to seduction. Here, however, was a very different species of affection. Here were virtue, purity, firmness, and self-respect, associated with the most brilliant and marvellous beauty, with a grace so natural-yet so delicate and fascinating -with an intellect and ease of expression which were but seldom excelled, even among the high and educated. Here, in fact, was everything calculated to fire a young and ardent imagination; everything but birth and fortune alone; but, although he could not elevate her birth, he could raise her to fortune. In fact, his feelings were in a perfect whirlwind; he could scarcely think of any other object, and so completely was he absorbed in the contemplation of it, that he began to feel a disrelish for society, and a corresponding love of solitude. The great object of his immediate existence was to see her, for in fact, her image was associated with that wonderful charm of delight and ecstacy which always characterises first love, but no other, for alas, it is the Eden of youth into which the heart can never enter a second time. This active and perpetual contemplation of her, was not, however, unattended by pain, amounting almost to distraction. Clinton, though warm and enthusiastic, was yet possessed of strong sense. In developing, for instance, the tendencies of his own heart, he could not help asking himself what must be the practical and ultimate result; could he marry her without dishonouring his family and connexions? Could he introduce her to the society in which he himself and all his relatives had for generations moved; and even if he should make the experiment, what would be her reception? She had fine sense, and very lady-like manners; but then she was unacquainted with those accomplishments and acquired habits, without which no woman, however naturally graceful or elegant, can acquit herself in the circles of high-bred and polished life. The conflict, in fact, between love and the spirit of the world was so severe and desperate, that it began to affect his health, and the usul buoyancy of his spirits was succeeded by such depression and melancholy, as kept him almost isolated from society. His brother-officers suspected the cause of this dejection; but as they highly respected him, and knew besides that he was not a person to be tampered with, they never alluded to Maria in his presence. She, in the meantime, was not without her own trials and struggles in connexion with the state of her heart and affections. The warm and manly interest which Clinton had taken in her happiness by the exposure of her deadly enemy, Miss Bennet, and the candid avowal he had made of the respect which he entertained for her, sank deeply into a heart already too decidedly biased in his favour. She felt that she loved him with a most devoted and disinterested attachment; but she felt besides that that attachment, pure and generous though it was, must never be avowed, and that by the peculiar calamity of her fate, it must accompany her in secret to the grave, there to rest for ever. Such was the condition of those two lovers, when Clinton, after the expiration of a fortnight, found that he had argued away-at least with sufficient satisfaction to his own heart-every objection which the cooler dictates of reason and prudence had suggested. He could not lead the wretched life he was passing; he could not think of tearing himself away from her; he could scarcely rest either by night or day; he had become nervous, and was visited by such lengthened fits of gloom as began to fill him with alarm. At length he resolved to seek |