From that hour, the curse of Augusta has reigned malignantly over all his race;—the brave, the beautiful, have alike paid the debt, and one by one, but surely as the leaf falls before October's blast, have the members of that noble house succumbed to their fate. Some on the battle-field, some on the fevered couch, some in the blue lone sea, some by accidental death, some in mortal fray; but of all the many hearts that have braved life's storms, none have lived to be old in this world of sin and sorrow. They learned to love despair, ay, even to be proud of their doom!
We trust we have not wearied our reader by this introductory chapter, without which the strange fates and vicissitudes of the family whose history we are about to narrate might perhaps seem overdrawn, but whose early fall will no longer seem strange to one who knows the origin of the Weird of the Wentworths.[B]
CHAPTER II.
"Where, perhaps, some beauty lies,
The cynosure of neighbouring eyes."—L'Allegro.
In a comfortably furnished parlour a family party were gathered, and about to sit down to their breakfast. The urn was hissing cheerily, as if inviting them to hasten to the repast. A handsome girl, perhaps eighteen years of age, presided over the tea-making, and was apparently too busily engaged to give much attention to the assiduous addresses of a young officer who sat on her right hand. In the window a boy of fifteen was aiding his younger sister in mastering her French lesson, while the head of the family stood with his back to the blazing fire, and read the papers. A pretty Skye terrier, looking wistfully into his master's face, as if to remind him he too was waiting for his morning supply of milk, completed the picture.
"Do come to your breakfast, Johnny and Maude," said Ellen.
"In one minute, we are almost finished," answered her brother.
"No, come at once, or you will be late for your school."
Both silently obeyed, and took their seats at table.