Alice, or the Mysteries — Complete

								

carefully it was prized by the possessor.
Evelyn turned for explanation to her cicerone.
"This is the second time I have seen that picture," said Caroline; "for
it is only by great entreaty and as a mysterious favour that the old
housekeeper draws aside the veil. Some touch of sentiment in Maltravers
makes him regard it as sacred. It is the picture of his mother before
she married; she died in giving him birth."
Evelyn sighed; how well she understood the sentiment which seemed to
Caroline so eccentric! The countenance fascinated her; the eye seemed to
follow her as she turned.
"As a proper pendant to this picture," said Caroline, "he ought to have
dismissed the effigies of yon warlike gentleman, and replaced it by
one of poor Lady Florence Lascelles, for whose loss he is said to have
quitted his country: but, perhaps, it was the loss of her fortune."
"How can you say so?--fie!" cried Evelyn, with a burst of generous
indignation.
"Ah, my dear, you heiresses have a fellow-feeling with each other!
Nevertheless, clever men are less sentimental than we deem them. Heigho!
this quiet room gives me the spleen, I fancy."
"Dearest Evy," whispered Cecilia, "I think you have a look of that
pretty picture, only you are much prettier. Do take off your bonnet;
your hair just falls down like hers."
Evelyn shook her head gravely; but the spoiled child hastily untied the
ribbons and snatched away the hat, and Evelyn's sunny ringlets fell down
in beautiful disorder. There was no resemblance between Evelyn and the
portrait, except in the colour of the hair, and the careless fashion it
now by chance assumed. Yet Evelyn was pleased to think that a likeness
did exist, though Caroline declared it was a most unflattering
compliment.
"I don't wonder," said the latter, changing the theme,--"I don't wonder
Mr. Maltravers lives so little in this 'Castle Dull;' yet it might be
much improved. French windows and plate-glass, for instance; and if
those lumbering bookshelves and horrid old chimney-pieces were removed
and the ceiling painted white and gold like that in my uncle's saloon,
and a rich, lively paper, instead of the tapestry, it would really make
a very fine ballroom."
"Let us have a dance here now," cried Cecilia. "Come, stand up, Sophy;"
and the children began to practise a waltz step, tumbling over each
other, and laughing in full glee.
"Hush, hush!" said Evelyn, softly. She had never before checked the
children's mirth, and she could not tell why she did so now.
"I suppose the old butler has been entertaining the bailiff here," said
Caroline, pointing to the remains of the fire.
"And is this the room he chiefly inhabited,--the room that you say they
show as his?"
"No; that tapestry door to the right leads into a little study where he
wrote." So saying, Caroline tried to open the door, but it was locked
from within. She then opened the other door, which showed a long