"I must go in," replied Mabel, hurriedly, "talking of my dear father has cheated me into staying longer than I meant to have done. I must go to my dear child—good bye," said she, extending her hand frankly. "Go, and do anything but be sad about me."
Without waiting for a reply, she ran into the house, and Clair leant upon the gate and watched her departing figure, like one entranced, till, fearful of attracting observation, he briskly roused himself, as if from some pleasant dream, and pursued his walk through the village.
Meanwhile, Lucy continued her journey. At first the natural pain of parting from Aston led her to a train of sorrowful reflection. Perhaps she too remembered how different the home she had left had been when she entered it; but she had also to remember many mortifying things besides. Her easy conquest, as she imagined, had ended in total failure. If she had unintentionally brought evil on Mabel, she had also brought good, in the admiration of the fascinating Clair. Her recollections soon became too painful to be encouraged, and she took the ready source of comfort open to those who do not care to probe the conscience, and tried not to think at all. It was easiest and most agreeable, but she had to arm herself for the reception she would probably meet at home. How could she say she had entirely failed; and what reason could she give for believing that Clair was in earnest; she had not the heart to blame him. "If Mabel had not been there," she thought, "he never would have changed, but I will not think any harm of her, I suppose she could not help it."
"Once in Bath, this country dream will be over, and I shall have the pleasure of preparing for the fancy ball—and then, the arrival of Colonel Hargrave, and possibly—if he is not attracted by Caroline's majestic style of beauty, who knows but he may find other objects of admiration—" and she glanced down upon her pretty little foot, with an air of condescending affection, as it rested on the shawl which lay beneath it. Then came the remembrance that Mabel had lent her that shawl, and had herself wrapped it round her with that attention to the comfort of others, which was so peculiar to her, and she lent back and wept bitterly for some miles.
At Cheltenham, however, she was joined by her promised fellow traveller, also returning to Bath for the season. Mrs. Richardson, for this was her name, was a good-tempered, stout little lady, who possessed a great fondness for young people, particularly for those who, either pretty, witty, or engaging, were sure to be popular in society. She formed a very useful chaperone, in case of necessity, never being unwilling to join any party of pleasure, from the most crowded rout, to the dullest and quietest card party.
Lucy had not been slow in finding out this useful virtue, and, Mrs. Richardson being a great admirer of hers, they usually got on very well together. But now, the badinage she had to endure, on the many conquests she must have made, during her country visit, amongst rich squires, grated sadly on her ears; while her attempts to divert the conversation, only renewed her companion's desire to obtain an account of all she had been doing and seeing.
The tedious journey, however, drew at length to a conclusion, and she found herself once more in Bath. Again settled at home, she was not a little surprised, and not quite pleased to find that her Aston adventure had occupied far less of the family attention than she had imagined. Indeed, so thoroughly were they occupied in preparing for Colonel Hargrave's visit, that they scarcely listened to her accounts. The whole house, and household furniture, seemed stirring up to look their best welcome to the rich Indian wanderer. The best stair carpets were laid down, and the best drawing-room was uncovered and made habitable, and a thousand little expenses were excused, under the pretence of necessity, on such an occasion. The name of Hargrave was passed perpetually from one to another, and Caroline already fancied herself mistress of Aston Manor.
"Oh!" thought Lucy, "could I have thought they cared so little about me, I would have been more independent of their opinion."
She, however, soon endeavoured to dispel the listlessness which followed her return to old pursuits, by entering into the subject of general interest, with as much seeming zest as her sisters; but, sometimes, when she seemed the merriest of them all, her thoughts would revert to Aston, and her gay laugh would find a check. Gaiety may sear, but it never yet has healed a wounded heart.