STREET & SMITH, Publishers NEW YORK
OLIVIA.
CHAPTER I.
SOMETHING OF A MYSTERY.
It was in the “merry month” of May, the “beautiful harbinger of summer,” as the poets call it; and one of those charming east winds which render England such a delightful place of residence for the delicate and consumptive, and are truly a boon and a blessing to the doctors and undertakers, was blowing gaily through one of the lovely villages of Devonshire, and insidiously stealing through the half opened French windows of the drawing-room of Hawkwood Grange.
Three persons were seated in this drawing-room. An old gentleman, a lady—who would have had a fit on the spot if any one had called her old—and a young girl.
The old gentleman was called Sparrow—Mr. Sparrow, the solicitor, of Wainford, the market town and borough three miles off. The old—the middle-aged and would-be youthful lady—was Miss Amelia Vanley, the maiden sister of the master of Hawkwood Grange; and the young lady was Olivia Vanley, his daughter, and, therefore, Miss Amelia’s niece.
Miss Amelia was presiding at the five o’clock teatable; Mr. Sparrow was performing the difficult feat of balancing a teacup in one hand and a bread-and-butter plate in the other; and Olivia was seated at the piano, which she occasionally touched absently as she half listened to the other two. On a chair beside her was a sealskin jacket—there had been snow on this “merry” May morning, if you please—and she still wore her hat.
Above the piano hung one of those old-fashioned circular mirrors which reflect the face and bust of the player, and it presented a face which was beautiful, and something more than beautiful.
We have lost our climate and our trade—so it is said—but thank Heaven, there are still pretty girls left in England. When they disappear, it will be time for us to put up the shutters and vacate the island; but until that happens, it will still be worth living in.