Mr. Clifford was easily persuaded to grant Mabel's request, that, upon the site of her once happy home—one might be built for the old servants; and he readily took the opportunity of interesting her by making her choose and alter the plans for the new cottage, which they agreed should be in the same style as the other, though, of course, a real cottage.
Mabel might soon, perhaps, have recovered the harmony of her spirits, amongst those dear friends who were so studiously attentive in every imaginable kindness, but she was not suffered to enjoy their society very long—for her aunt was impatient to return to Bath, and wrote to tell her at what stage upon the road they were to meet.
She dared not delay—neither did she much wish to do so, when she perceived Clair's unhappiness rather increased by time; and she, therefore, felt it right to depart as soon as possible. But, in leaving Aston, she began more and more to realise the true nature of her recent loss; and when Mr. Ware drove her to the little town where she was to meet the coach, he tried in vain to rouse her from the despondency into which she had fallen.
"My child," he said, as he took leave of his weeping charge; "you will remember, though not yet, that your past life calls upon you for future exertion."
Mabel endeavoured to smile her thanks, and her promises, but the light appeared in her eyes only to vanish again, put out by tears—yet, as the coach rolled off, she leant forward, and kissed her hand with an air of cheerfulness. Mr. Ware turned musingly away. As he drove home by himself, the road seemed unusually long, and the large flakes of snow, as they lazily fell through the freezing air, seemed even more cold and comfortless than they usually do: he could not conceal from himself that a gap had been made in his little circle, which he had no opportunity of supplying; and that, with the loss of the Lesly family, he must part with much that had tended to render his life happy.
CHAPTER XI.
I grew up selfish, full of hopes and cares,
For my own welfare, unconcerned for theirs—
With many different feelings, Mrs. Villars' return, with her niece, was expected in Bath, by her family—jealousy is, indeed, "strong as death," and uncertain and wayward in its effects—Caroline had, with unfeminine obstinacy, determined on becoming mistress of Aston Manor and its owner; and every object that came in her way, was regarded with dislike. She had heard from Lucy, of Mabel's beauty and winning manners; and such beauty, in distress, she fancied more dangerous still. What her mother could be thinking of to bring her to Bath she could not imagine! but it was in vain for her to write an angry appeal: the answer was decisive. "Mabel must come," the letter said, "and," added Mrs. Villars, "my Cary must make preparation for her proper accommodation; but should you object to our giving up the spare room to her, which certainly would be a sacrifice, you must fit her up a room somewhere, as well as you can—she must not be particular; still, as she is dependent on us, I should not like to stint my favors exactly, though, perhaps, she ought to take rather a more humble footing than my own dear girls." Caroline well understood this letter, and acted accordingly. She knew that her mother's generous fit was passing, and that she was preparing to be more worldly wise.