Alice, or the Mysteries — Complete

								

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 by the foot-path."
"I should like it so much."
"Yes," said Mrs. Merton, "and you had better go before he returns,--he
is so strange. He does not allow it to be seen when he is down. But,
indeed, he has only been once at the old place since he was of age.
(Sophy, you will tear Miss Cameron's scarf to pieces; do be quiet,
child.) That was before he was a great man; he was then very odd, saw
no society, only dined once with us, though Mr. Merton paid him every
attention. They show the room in which he wrote his books."
"I remember him very well, though I was then but a child," said
Caroline,--"a handsome, thoughtful face."
"Did you think so, my dear? Fine eyes and teeth, certainly, and a
commanding figure, but nothing more."
"Well," said Caroline, "if you like to go, Evelyn, I am at your
service."
"And--I--Evy, dear--I--may go," said Cecilia, clinging to Evelyn.
"And me, too," lisped Sophia, the youngest hope,--"there's such a pretty
peacock."
"Oh, yes, they may go, Mrs. Merton, we'll take such care of them."
"Very well, my dear; Miss Cameron quite spoils you."
Evelyn tripped away to put on her bonnet, and the children ran after
her, clapping their hands,--they could not bear to lose sight of her for
a moment.
"Caroline," said Mrs. Merton, affectionately, "are you not well? You
have seemed pale lately, and not in your usual spirits."
"Oh, yes, I'm well enough," answered Caroline, rather peevishly; "but
this place is so dull now; very provoking that Lady Elizabeth does not
go to London this year."
"My dear, it will be gayer, I hope, in July, when the races at
Knaresdean begin; and Lord Vargrave has promised to come."
"Has Lord Vargrave written to you lately?"
"No, my dear."
"Very odd."
"Does Evelyn ever talk of him?"
"Not much," said Caroline, rising and quitting the room.
It was a most cheerful exhilarating day,--the close of sweet May;
the hedges were white with blossoms; a light breeze rustled the young