joying Cecil's delight, and pacifying Mary's fears, whose pleasure was more doubtful. Cecil was passionately fond of animals, and amused himself with detecting the resemblance between them and his acquaintance of the human species. The giraffes, he said, were like mamma in their graceful movements, and the expression of their soft, appealing eye. The bear's sedate dignity reminded him of Frank; and when they came to the laughing hyena, he eagerly exclaimed, "That must be the gentleman who sat next to me at dinner." Sophy laughed, and remarked, that the creature certainly resembled Mr. De Cressy in its sneering and painfully human expression; and then Kathleen asked, "Is it like Lord De Cressy also?" "Like Lord De Cressy!" the boy repeated, indignantly. "Oh, Aunt Katlin! he is a great deal more like the young lion we saw first." Sophy understood the bitterness of feeling which had prompted the inquiry, and she felt that, gentle and yielding as Kathleen had ever seemed, her pride, when once aroused, might prove more indomitable than that of Lionel De Cressy himself. CHAPTER VIII. Seele des Menschen, Wie gleichst du dem Wasser! GOETHE. SOME days passed, and Kathleen saw no more of Lord De Cressy. He came no more to watch the progress of Walter's carving, and all her time was spent in Adam's Mews, teaching the children, reading with Walter, and doing more work than Agnes herself. It could not, however, escape her sister's notice that something was amiss, for though constantly occupied, and even full of animation, she did not look happy; she would start and colour when the door was unexpectedly opened, and then take up her work again, as if ashamed of her eagerness to ascertain who the new-comer might be. When she returned to Lowndes-square, Sophy generally found an opportunity of telling her that Lord De Cressy had not called. She added a surmise, that he might have gone out of town with his uncle, and Kathleen heard her in silence, and with an air of such indifference as she might assume. In the drawing-room, the silence respecting him was so profound, that it might appear as if his very existence was forgotten by Lady Harriet and Adelaide. So the days went by, with a degree of out ward monotony which mocked the tide of fluctuating feeling in Kathleen's breast. Now she strove to build up again the confidence so difficult to restore when it has once been shaken, and now to stifle the attachment which she felt to be unworthy. And then, again, she strove to justify him, recalling her sister's assertion, that he might think it necessary to yield to the wishes of his friends, however great the sacrifice might be. Why should she blame him? He was the best judge of his own happiness, and she had been weak and unwise in fondly imagining that its attainment rested with her. A doubt thrilled through her with a pang of acute suffering, whether it was not her duty to end the present suspense by seeking an engagement as governess at once. But not now, she thought—not yet. Lady Harriet had said nothing, and she would wait a little longer, as Agnes had advised. One afternoon, Edward Lisle returned from his office, looking more harassed than usual, after Kathleen had gone back to Lowndes-square. Agnes saw that he had something to communicate, and as it was difficult to obtain a private conference at home, she suggested that they should put off tea for an hour, and take the children to the Park. Baby was committed to Hannah's care, Walter was left with his carving tools, and the rest of the family set forth, the younger members very much elated by the unwonted privilege of walking with papa on a week-day. With papa, however, they had not much to do. As soon as they reached Grosvenor-gate, he sent the children racing along the broad walk, and sat down with Agnes on one of the benches. He retained her hand with a still closer grasp, and she looked up with the expression of patient expectation most habitual to her countenance. "Well, Edward, what is it?" "Great news, Agnes, news to make a sensation in both worlds. What do you think of exchanging our clerkship for a consulship in South America?" "If it is in our option," said Agnes, in the tone of one little disposed to undertake needlessly the burden of decision. "It is in our option, not merely among the things possible, but a definite offer, conveyed in due form, in a letter signed and sealed with the Government seal, such as I am more used to draw up for my neighbours, than to receive on my own account. I found the letter lying on my desk, when I went down to the office this morning. It was odd enough to quill-drive as usual, answering the small talk of my fellow scribes with my accustomed suavity or acerbity, and indulging all the while in dreams of escape from this treadmill, to make a fresh start in life, to earn independence and a name." "And so you mean to accept the offer?" said Agnes. "Not while you wear that prudent, perplexed face. I know that there are many difficulties in the way money, of course, first, for the expense of the outfit will be great. But I think that these might be overcome." "By involving ourselves in fresh embarrassments, just as we are free, or almost free, and without knowing how your health will stand the climate. And then there is Walter: how could he ever bear the voyage or the heat, when even here he seems to lose in summer all the ground he gains in cold weather?" Instead of replying to the objections he had foreseen, and could not refute, Edward remained silent, until Agnes insisted with gentle force on hearing his thoughts. "If they were more flattering," he rejoined, "I should have spoken them at once. There is, certainly, much truth in Kathleen's saying, which amused me at the time, that you have no ambition." "yet I should be And in one way "I did not deny it," said Agnes; sorry to thwart more aspiring views. all might be easy: if you were to go alone, the expense would be small, and then we should ascertain whether it would be worth while for us to follow. And in a year or two Walter may be stronger." "You could have said nothing more severe, Agnes," said her husband, with a sudden change of look and manner; "you think me capable of leaving you to struggle on alone, after all that we have endured together." "For the children's sake, it might be your duty." The tears which Agnes had restrained when her heart was sinking, now rose unbidden to her eyes, as her husband spoke again in his natural tone, rallying, and yet so full of tenderness. She only asked, however: "Then do you give it up?" "Yes; and forget that the offer was ever made, so far at least as is consistent with gratitude." "Do you know from whom the offer came?" "Immediately from Lord Etherington, in whose patronage the appointment lies. And you know that his son is very intimate with De Cressy." |