Alice, or the Mysteries — Book 02

								

to weigh upon her spirits: she was often moody and thoughtful.  She was
the only one in the family not good-tempered; and her peevish replies to
her parents, when no visitor imposed a check on the family circle,
inconceivably pained Evelyn, and greatly contrasted the flow of spirits
which distinguished her when she found somebody worth listening to.
Still Evelyn--who, where she once liked, found it difficult to withdraw
regard--sought to overlook Caroline's blemishes, and to persuade herself
of a thousand good qualities below the surface; and her generous nature
found constant opportunity of venting itself in costly gifts, selected
from the London parcels, with which the officious Mr. Merton relieved the
monotony of the rectory.  These gifts Caroline could not refuse without
paining her young friend.  She took them reluctantly, for, to do her
justice, Caroline, though ambitious, was not mean.
Thus time passed in the rectory, in gay variety and constant
entertainment; and all things combined to spoil the heiress, if, indeed,
goodness ever is spoiled by kindness and prosperity.  Is it to the frost
or to the sunshine that the flower opens its petals, or the fruit ripens
from the blossom?

CHAPTER III.


Rod.    How sweet these solitary places are!



    .  .  .  .  .  .


Ped.    What strange musick

            Was that we heard afar off?


Curio.  We've told you what he is, what time we've sought him,

            His nature and his name.


BEAUMONT AND FLETCHER.  The Pilgrim.
ONE day, as the ladies were seated in Mrs. Merton's morning-room, Evelyn,
who had been stationed by the window hearing the little Cecilia go
through the French verbs, and had just finished that agreeable task,
exclaimed,--
"Do tell me to whom that old house belongs, with the picturesque
gable-end and Gothic turrets, there, just peeping through the trees,--I
have always forgot to ask you."
"Oh, my dear Miss Cameron," said Mrs. Merton, "that is Burleigh; have you
not been there?  How stupid in Caroline not to show it to you!  It is one
of the lions of the place.  It belongs to a man you have often heard
of,--Mr. Maltravers."
"Indeed!" cried Evelyn; and she gazed with new interest on the gray
melancholy pile, as the sunshine brought it into strong contrast with the
dark pines around it.  "And Mr. Maltravers himself--?"
"Is still abroad, I believe; though I did hear the other day that he was
shortly expected at Burleigh.  It is a curious old place, though much
neglected.  I believe, indeed, it has not been furnished since the time
of Charles the First.  (Cissy, my love, don't stoop so.)  Very gloomy, in
my opinion; and not any fine room in the house, except the library, which
was once a chapel.  However, people come miles to see it."
"Will you go there to-day?" said Caroline, languidly; "it is a very
pleasant walk through the glebe-land and the wood,--not above half a mile