Mrs. Villars was now heard coming up-stairs, giving orders to the servants, as she did so. Her voice became more distinct, as she approached the room, and entered, followed by the dark, black figure of her orphan niece. She presented her to her daughters in turn, who each gave her a hand rather in curiosity than kindness. Lucy, unable to remain longer inactive, advanced with the impulse of throwing her arms round her neck, but feeling checked by the presence of her sisters, she only kissed her with a shy timidity, which very little expressed the real warmth of her welcome.
"Welcome, my poor child," said the kind and fatherly voice of Mr. Villars, to the silent girl, "you will find here, I hope, kind companions, and a comfortable home."
Mabel gently raised the heavy veil, which had completely shrouded her face, and seemed almost to bow down her head, and, as she did so, displayed a countenance, which the beautiful and haughty Caroline regarded with triumph and satisfaction. Tears stained her colorless cheeks, and grief and watching were deeply marked in her sunken eyes. There was no affectation of suffering there; but, as she looked up in reply to Mr. Villars, a light ray passed over her countenance, and at once spoke the loveliness which no sorrow could darken. She tried to speak, but her parted lips refused to utter expressions of feeling, which her eloquent eyes had already conveyed.
"You will now," said her aunt, pompously, "have an opportunity of thanking Colonel Hargrave for the hospitality he has afforded you."
But Colonel Hargrave was gone. No one had seen him leave the room; but when his absence was perceived, Caroline felt a sensation of pleasure she could not account for, and, in great, good humour, turned to assist Mabel in relieving herself of the heavy cloak which encumbered her; she then perceived that she was trembling with cold and agitation—and when she begged leave to retire for the night, every one saw that there was necessity for repose to soothe her spirits.
Maria, whose good nature was, at times, greater than she would acknowledge, almost forced her to swallow the wine she had declined.
Mrs. Villars, taking a light, requested Mabel to follow her, with stately kindness.
The drawing-room they left was on the second floor, and yet she led her up two flights of stairs, and then across a narrow passage, before she stopped at the door of the room destined for her.
"My house is so very crowded," Mrs. Villars said, apologetically, "that I am obliged to put you up here; but it will be a little home to you, and you must make yourself snug and comfortable. Oh, those naughty girls have forgotten to put you a chest of drawers; but you must contrive for a day or two, and I will see to it."
Possibly she forgot; for she did not see to it.