[figure description] Page 304.[end figure description]

To explain the young man's presence at
Westbrooke Hall, it will be necessary
to return to Wentworth Castle for a
brief space.

Earle had fainted in the arms of the Viscount
Cecil, as we have seen, and it was only
with the assistance of several servants, who ran
out, that he was borne into the castle.

The viscount, pale and lost in wonder at the
strange scene he had witnessed, saw to all his
wants, and a sound night's rest seemed to restore
the young man to his senses.

He descended on the next morning and managed
to swallow a little food, but it was plain
that he was laboring under fever. The viscount
endeavored to prevail on him to go to his

[figure description] Page 305.[end figure description]

chamber and lie down, but he refused, and in
the midst of his host's urging, a carriage drove
up to the door, from which descended Arthur
Maverick and his sister Rose.

Rose entered, pale and pensive, and the viscount
hastened forward to greet her.

“My dear child!” he said,—“and you must
permit your old consin to thus address you!—
what has become of your roses? Your appearance
distresses me!”

Rose smiled. All at once she saw Earle and
turned crimson.

“You, sir,—you here!” she faltered.

The young man bowed, and his face flushed
too.

“You did not know that my poor face would
meet your eyes here, Miss Maverick?”

“No, sir; but I rejoice to see you—”

There she stopped with a deep blush.

“And I to see you again,” he said, in a low
tone, with much emotion. “I remember that
night—what you said—have thought of it
often! On the ocean—in my hours of musing—
in France, and everywhere, I have seen your
beautiful face and heard your voice!”

The young girl blushed crimson. The viscount,
busy in greeting Arthur, had heard

[figure description] Page 306.[end figure description]

nothing. Now he turned and saw Rose and
Earle conversing like old friends.

“You know my friend, then, the Baron Delamere,
my dear Rose!” he exclaimed.

“Very well, cousin—that is—yes, we know
Mr. Delamere.”

“And are glad to call him our friend,” said
Arthur, cordially pressing his hand.

Turning to the viscount as he spoke, he
explained how their acquaintance had taken
place.

“You saved Rose, then,” said the viscount to
Earle, with deep emotion. “For that alone
you deserve and have my gratitude—my very
profound gratitude, sir. This young lady is my
cousin, and all I love upon earth very nearly.
My life has been sad, sir,—her smiles have
brightened it. She would live here at Wentworth
Castle, as its mistress, after my death, if I could
compass that. I cannot. This property goes
to a personage very distasteful to me, Sir Murdaugh
Westbrooke. Thus, my very dear Rose,”
he said, turning with a tender smile toward the
girl, “you will remain poor in comparison with
what you would be, had I my will! And now,
the news! I am just from France, you know!
How is Miss Ellinor Maverick?”

[figure description] Page 307.[end figure description]

And the viscount suddenly cooled.

“That young lady is not a favorite with
me, to be frank; but she is your relative,
Arthur,” he added.

“I am sorry for it,” said the young man.

And he narrated every thing relating to the
young lady, winding up with the statement
that in three or four days she was to be married
to Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke.

The viscount knit his brows.

“I had heard something of this! But so
soon! Then she, instead of Rose, will be
mistress here!”

All eyes were directed toward the viscount
with surprise.

“You do not know the tenor of Lord Wentworth's
will, I see,” he said, gloomily. “In case
of my death without issue, Sir Murdaugh Westbrooke
inherits my estate, as, in the case of his
death without issue, I would inherit his. Well,
my child,” he said to Rose, “he is about to
marry, and is younger than I am. Thus he and
his children will possess this castle after my
death. I attempted to secure you one-half, in
consideration of relinquishing to the baronet the
other half now. He refused. There all ends.
Would to God my poor son had—”

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He stopped suddenly.

“Your son, sir?” said Earle, looking at him.

“I had a son. I have been married, sir.
Lady Cecil died early, and my poor child
strayed away and was drowned. We followed
his footprints to that torrent yonder, and he was
never more heard of. But this is sorrowful,—
let me try not to cloud your smiles, my dear
Rose.”

As he spoke a servant entered, and presented
a note on a silver salver.

The viscount looked at it, and an expression
of vexation came to his face.

“A meeting of magistrates on a matter of
importance. My presence is indispensable,” he
said. “But you will stay and dine with me,
my dear Rose and Arthur.”

“I regret to say 'tis impossible, my lord.
You will come soon to see us.”

“Very soon; but remain and entertain my
friend, the Baron Delamere. I beg you to do
so. You are my own family.”

And, with a courteous smile, the viscount
took his departure.

Rose and Arthur remained until evening.
With every passing moment, Earle found himself
gazing with deeper tenderness on the

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beautiful girl. His wild passion for Ellinor seemed
to have merely smoothed the way for this new
emotion, as profound and durable as the first
was transient, as serenely tender as the former
was passionate.

For the first time Earle felt that he loved indeed;
and when at last the young lady rose,
and took her departure with her brother, Earle
felt as though the sunlight had suddenly disappeared
from the earth with her smile and the
light of her eyes. He fell back into despondency.

The coach, containing Arthur and Rose,
rolled away just as night descended upon Wentworth
Castle.

The viscount had not yet returned, and Earle
sat down, gloomy and lonely. Then all the
violent passions, which the presence of the girl
had banished, began to tear him once more.
He rose and paced the floor, burnt up by the
one thought of his mother. Finally a fever
seized him; he felt as though his head were
burning, and going to a bell, rang it violently.

A servant hastened in.

“My horse!” said Earle, feverishly.

The servant hesited, looking with astonishment
at his flushed face.

[figure description] Page 310.[end figure description]

“Well, my horse! My horse, I say! Saddle
my horse, without delay!”

The servant bowed and went out, reduced to
submission by the authoritative voice.

Earle then coolly descended, put on his hat
and gloves, and went to the great door.

A horse, saddled and bridled, already awaited
him. At Wentworth Castle the master never
waited.

“Inform the viscount that I have gone out to
take a short ride,” he said, getting into the
saddle.

And leaving the groom gazing with amazement
on his agitated face, like the first servant,
Earle rode down the great avenue, and, crossing
the bridge, went straight on.

What was his destination? He scarce knew.
His brain was reeling, and he was burnt up by
fever. Only a vague sensation of rage and
thirst for revenge upon the baronet possessed
him. His mother—that paper—Sir Murdaugh
Westbrooke—such were the thoughts
that flitted through his weak brain. And setting
spur to his horse, he rode toward Westbrooke
Hall.

The animal broke into a gallop, and it was a
miracle almost that Earle kept his seat as the

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horse sped on through the darkness. He tottered
from side to side, his eyes half-closed, his
bosom heaving. With heated brain and burning
cheeks, which only rendered more shocking
and terrible his death-like pallor, he went on
at at full speed, clinging to his animal rather by
the instinct of excellent horsemanship than any
thing else;—and so, feeble, reeling, feverstricken,
out of his senses nearly, reached Westbrooke
Hall, and stood before Sir Murdaugh
Westbrooke the moment after he had uttered
the words in reference to Earle,—

“He must die!”

p517-317

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