Lady Rosamond seemed in a sweet and uninterrupted dream of happiness, as she floated along in the mazes of the waltz, supported by the strong and graceful arms of her admirable partner, the young lieutenant. He likewise had his dreams, but of a different nature. He could not calmly enjoy the present in firm defiance of the future. A hopeless uncertainty lay before, which forbade approach. Lady Rosamond's reserve was a subject he dare not analyze. But the frankness which won him friends and passport had come to his relief just at the moment when his partner was most likely to chide with friendly courtesy. Both could look back to this evening during the course of after years.

When various amusements had succeeded, interspersed with dancing, the climax was yet to be reached. A grand surprise awaited. A tableaux was in preparation.

When the drawing-room was partially darkened the curtain rose, showing a simple background, with two children of the family sleeping quietly in the foreground. Standing over them was Helen Douglas; her hair fell over her shoulders. She wore a black dress, while a black lace veil, spangled with gold stars, covered her from head to foot. With her arms extended she is in the act of covering the sleeping children. A band of black, with silver crescent, on her forehead, and stars on the band, added to the beauty of the lovely Helen, and formed a true conception of the subject.

"Ah, the rogues," exclaimed Sir Howard; "how quietly they stole upon us."

Few failed to detect the word, showing a deep appreciation of the grace of Helen Douglas.

The second scene represented a parlor with a young girl in the foreground, having on her head an old-fashioned hood. This character is assumed by Arabella Farnham, the daughter of an officer retired from the service. Near the young lady stands a gentleman in the act of pulling off the hood to see her face. On the opposite side is another young girl in the person of Mary Douglas, in full evening dress, pointing to the hood, and laughing at its old and peculiar shape.

Much applause greeted the actors upon the success of these parts, but the crowning scene was the third and last—the united terms of the preceding ones. The effect was grand beyond description. The scene was supposed to be the great hall of Kenilworth, hung with silken tapestry, lit with numerous torches. The odor of choicest perfumes fell upon the senses, while soft strains of music floated in the distance. In the centre of the background forming this magnificent apartment was a chair of state, with canopy in imitation of a throne, and covered with rich drapery, on which is seated one personating Queen Elizabeth, whose smile is resting upon the courtly form of Walter Raleigh, upon whom she is in the act of conferring knighthood. Grouped around the throne are characters representing the Earls of Leicester, Essex, Oxford, Huntingdon, and a train of lords and ladies, conspicuous among whom was the Duchess of Rutland, the favorite maid of honor in Her Majesty's household. The character of Elizabeth was sustained by Lady Rosamond, arrayed in queenly robes and blazing with jewels.

"She looks every inch a queen," exclaimed one of the spectators.

"The young knight's heart is in a dangerous situation," said another.

"Beware, Sir Walter," said a third; "Essex and Leicester are dangerous rivals, especially the latter."

Kneeling with courtly grace was Lieutenant Trevelyan in the role of Sir Walter Raleigh. The young officer had performed his part with that graceful ease which had so won the affection of the great sovereign.

A slight shudder passed through the form of Lady Rosamond as she remembered his sad fate. Thinking the present no time for boding ill-starred events, she hastily turned her mind from the subject.

As the Earl of Leicester, Captain Douglas was apparelled in white. "His shoes were of white velvet, with white silk stockings, the upper part of white velvet lined with silver; his doublet, of cloth of silver; the close jerkin, of white velvet embroidered with silver and seed pearls; his girdle was of white velvet with buckles of gold. The scabbard of his sword was of white velvet and gold; his poniard and sword belt mounted with gold. Over he wore a loose robe of white satin with broad collar richly embroidered in gold. Around his neck was the golden collar of the garter, and around his knee the azure garter."[1] Truly was the costume executed, and raised admiration warm and long sustained.

[Footnote 1: Leicester's description taken from Sir Walter Scott.]

Mr. Stanley, the son of an influential citizen, personated Sussex, who wore a purple velvet doublet, lined with golden cloth, and a richly embroidered jerkin of the same color with broad golden collar, black silk stockings and shoes of purple velvet. A richly ornamented girdle and gold mounted sword completed the costume, being rich and elegant and next in splendour to that of Leicester. The remaining nobles were dressed in courtly apparel and becoming the scene. Mary Douglas was, it is needless to add, in the capacity of the favorite Duchess of Rutland, the friend and confidante of Her Majesty. The whole had a beautiful effect and gave additional eclat to the evening's series of entertainments.

When Lady Rosamond again joined the dance, she was playfully advised to act well the policy of the character, by preserving towards the rival earls a well balanced line of judgment, and concealing any strong attachment toward the knight of the cloak, to Squire Lack-Cloak, as Raleigh was termed by the attendants at court.

Throughout the whole evening there was one who entered with heart and hand into the spirit of such gaiety—one foremost in the dance, foremost at the whist table, and foremost in gay and animating conversation. Notwithstanding those demands, there was another subject foremost in the mind of His Excellency's private secretary. Mr. Howe was a man of the world, gay, fascinating and striving to please. He had some faults, (and who has not?) but he had his good qualities full as well. He had a generous nature—a heart that wished well to his fellow man, and above all, his friends.

Since his arrival in New Brunswick, Mr. Howe had formed a strong attachment to his "boy friend," as he often designated the young lieutenant. Sir Howard was pleased with the fact and showed every encouragement by allowing Guy Trevelyan full privilege in his household. There were on several occasions within our notice, a troubled and half defined expression on the hitherto radiant and joyous countenance of Guy Trevelyan. This fact had given much food for the mind of the secretary. After a scrutinizing search and untiring effort the hidden secret revealed itself in the bosom of Mr. Howe. He now possessed a secret that gave a secret pleasure by which the true nature of human sympathy could assert itself. Thus musing, and overjoyed at his recent success, Mr. Howe being reminded of the last dance, participated in the closing festivity celebrating St. John's Eve.



CHAPTER VII.

THE DISCLOSURE.

Winter had far advanced; its reign of severity and pitiless defiance was near its end. Already the genial days of joyous spring were heralded by a vigorous effort of the shrubs and plants to show themselves in resistance to the tyrannizing sway of the ice-crowned monarch. An occasional note from the returning songster was welcomed as the brightest harbinger of the truly delightful season. Merry voices mingled in tones of deep gratitude as they once more sallied forth to enjoy the pleasure of the woods.

None were more exultant than the inmates of Government House. From Sir Howard to the child at the feet of Lady Douglas, all shared alike in the pleasure of anticipation. Foremost in gleeful demonstration was the pioneer Johnnie, who danced and sang in the enjoyment of his native element—light and sunshine. Every hour that could be laid aside for this purpose was equal to a fortune.

But our young friend was no miser in this respect. Every available guest must be in readiness to join the incorrigible Johnnie when bent on his excursions. All stood on equal rights. Youth and age were all in the same order of classification. It was a remarkable trait of Johnnie's character that denials were not considered as sufficient excuse for delinquency on the part of any favored with invitations, and, in consequence, all made a point of being in readiness.

A bright Saturday morning had been arranged for one of those expeditions. April showers had already been the means of bringing forth flowers (if not May flowers), only to be found by the penetrating eyes of "Trapper Johnnie," as some of the more mischievous urchins had dared to designate their leader.

When, on the auspicious moment, at the marshalling of the clan, two had dared to break the rules, so strictly laid down, surprise was momentarily visible on many faces.

Lady Rosamond, the next in importance to Johnnie, had pleaded inability to attend, with a desire to retain her friend and companion. There was something in the pleading and beautiful eyes of Lady Rosamond that drove vexation at a respectful distance, and welcomed, in its stead, a feeling akin to sympathy within the heart of the manly boy. True chivalric dignity asserted itself in every form when necessity demanded. Her ladyship instantly received permission to remain, with a generous grace that made Johnnie a true hero in the estimation of his fair suppliant.

"Accept this favor, Sir Knight, as a token of the sincerity of your lady," said Lady Rosamond, stepping forward with a knot of pale blue silk in her hand.

With the brave gallantry of a Douglas, our hero knelt at the feet of her ladyship, and, receiving the favor, in graceful recognition kissed the fair hand that placed it there.

"Well done, my boy!" cried Sir Howard, who had been watching the ceremony from an open window, whence he had heard all that passed, and the circumstances which led to it; "you have already shown that spirit which I hope will always characterize my children."

After the picnickers had departed Lady Rosamond and Mary Douglas returned to the house, where they were met by Lady Douglas.

"My child, are you ill to-day?" said her ladyship; "you are unusually pale, while your eyes have a wearied look."

"I do not feel quite well this morning," returned Lady Rosamond, languidly.

"You need rest, my dear, after the fatigue of last evening; too much gaiety does not bring a bloom to my Rosamond," said her ladyship, kissing the pale cheek of the lovely girl, adding: "My dear, you must retire to your room, while I prepare a gentle sedative."

Lady Rosamond did retire. She also received the cooling draught from the fair hand of Lady Douglas, whose kindness shone in administering to the wants of others.

Poor Lady Rosamond's rest could not be gained by the simple sedative.

Physical ailments are not the worst form of suffering that afflict humanity. Lady Rosamond was enduring a mental conflict that was crushing in its intensity. The more she tried to baffle its power the more forcibly did it affect her. Vainly had she struggled within herself for aid, but no response. Faint hope dawned in the form of appeal. She now resolved to go to her dear companion with all her trials and tale of suffering. At intervals this hope died away, but in the end gained the mastery. It was this resolve that kept Lady Rosamond from joining in the festive train that set off that morning. It was this resolve that detained Mary Douglas as well. It was this resolve that bade Lady Rosamond to seek the quiet of her chamber preparatory to the trying disclosure.

Lady Douglas little divined the cause of those pale cheeks, as she ascribed them to the recent fatigue of an evening.

With heavy heart Lady Rosamond prepared for the reception of her confidante. A most beautiful picture is presented to the imagination in those lovely girls sitting side by side the arm of Mary Douglas around her companion.

"Mary, my love," began Lady Rosamond, "I have often longed for this moment, but could not summon the courage which the occasion demands."

"Rosamond, you startle me by your earnestness," said the former with deep surprise, dropping the title, as familiar companions, at the suggestion of her ladyship.

"Have patience, my darling; you shall hear it only too soon."

Between sighs and sobs Lady Rosamond told the whole history of her troubles—the letter and its stern proposal—not forgetting her father's kindness and his great love for her; "but oh!" she continued, "he cannot realize the depths of my misery."

"My poor darling," said Mary Douglas, with great tears dimming her beautiful eyes, "why did you thus suffer in silence? Can it be possible that you can have passed the long winter with such a weight upon your heart, my darling Rosamond?"

"Ah, my Mary," replied her ladyship, "I hope that you may never know how much the heart can bear, or how much woman, in her uncomplaining nature, may suffer. If I could only learn 'to suffer and be strong'—in that source lies my weakness. I am only one of the many thousands of my sex who have had such struggles. I do not wish to shirk the duty imposed on me, but if more strength were given me to bear it."

Mary Douglas sat in silence for some moments, as if waiting a sufficient reply. She knew her friend's disposition too well to venture any advice that would require a third person's knowledge of the matter. Gladly would she have referred it to her father or mother, but the idea gave no relief.

"Rosamond, my darling, if I could afford your mind instantaneous relief I would gladly do so, if even at a very great sacrifice. Of one thing rest assured—you have my service in any way that you wish to command me; besides, you have my sympathy and interest for life. It may be that I can slightly alleviate your sorrow. Can I not propose some plan in the future to re-arrange those affairs which at present seemed so irrevocably fixed? Kings have made laws to be broken when the cause demanded retribution. Darling, be more hopeful—trust in Providence and do the right—in the end you will be happy. Let me read your horoscope:—dark clouds within the visible horizon, succeeded by bright stars in ascension—hope and joy without fail."

A spirit of inspiration seemed to shine upon the face of Mary Douglas as she read her companion's future.

A smile lit up the features of Lady Rosamond.

"Thank heaven, darling, for that smile," said the gifted daughter of Sir Howard, throwing her arms around the sorrowing girl and kissing her affectionately.

Lady Rosamond felt happier and more encouraged from the fact of having such consolation and hope.

Mary Douglas had shed a ray of comfort in one unhappy heart. She knew not the load which was thus removed.

Lady Rosamond clung to those kind words with a fond pertinacity: not only the words, but the manner in which they were uttered.

Some evenings after the preceding interview had taken place, Sir Howard, Lady Douglas and family were assembled in the drawing room. Miss Douglas was seated at the piano, while Miss Mary Douglas sang the song so dear to every Scottish heart—Highland Mary. Lady Douglas listened to the melodies of her native land with heartfelt admiration. She loved to cultivate such taste on the part of her daughters. None could give a more perfect rendition of Scotch music and poetry than they.

When Miss Douglas sang "The Winter is Past," another of Burn's melodies, Mary Douglas fancied she saw the beautifully chiselled lips of Lady Rosamond tremulous with emotion. The first verse ran thus:

"The Winter is past, and the Summer's come at last, And the little birds sing on every tree; Now everything is glad, while I am very sad, Since my true love is parted from me."

The finely cultivated voice of the singer entered fully into the spirit of the song, giving both expression and effect as she sang the last verse:

"All you that are in love and cannot it remove, I pity the pains you endure: For experience makes me know that your hearts are full of woe, A woe that no mortal can cure."

"One would judge that my sister had some experience, if we take the face as an index of the mind," said Captain Douglas, in playful badinage directed towards his favorite sister, who in reality did have an experience, but not of her own.

She felt the blow thus unconsciously dealt at Lady Rosamond. Luckily for the latter, the coincidence thus passed over without any betrayal of feelings. In Mary Douglas was a firm and watchful ally. In her were reflected the feelings which passed unobserved in Lady Rosamond, or attributed to absence from home, separation from familiar faces, or clinging memories of the past. Another great source of protection lay in the composition of the character of the gifted ally.

Mary Douglas was possessed of a temperament most keenly sensitive to the finest perception of poetic feeling. Life to her was music and poetry. A beautiful picture either called forth joy or sorrow; a pathetic song thrilled her soul with well timed vibrations of feeling; a touching story brought tears to those lovely eyes, that would move one with pity. Thus was concealed the sympathy for Lady Rosamond, as none would sacrilegiously question those motives save in playful reminder from Captain Douglas, who bowed in fond adoration to the shrine of his sister's loveliness and goodness.

The entrance of Mr. Howe changed the current of conversation. Politics naturally took the lead. The House of Assembly being now three weeks in session, having opened April 15th, many important discussions took place. Much turmoil had to be suppressed by the sagacious judgment of Sir Howard. His predecessors had loudly contended against the troubles arising from the sources and expenditure of revenues. Happily, in the present administration, this matter had in a great measure subsided. For the general advancement of the Province, His Excellency left no means untried. His waking moments were almost entirely devoted to the interests of political welfare. His conversation within the family circle very often showed his zeal and the subject which lay near his heart. It was at this very time that he assembled all the legislators and influential citizens of Fredericton, addressing them in terms of burning eloquence, impressing on them the value of extending the progress of agriculture, showing the nature of the soil of New Brunswick; its perfect adaptation to the different kinds of products, and the independence of a country that can largely subsist upon its own resources. "The day will come, I hope," said Sir Howard, "when our farmers will be nobles of our land, and their sons and daughters ornaments to society, proud of the soil which raised them above the level of their less active fellow creatures."

As the speech had given rise to much comment throughout the different classes, it was freely discussed at Government House. This intelligent family often formed into a party of politicians and assumed the measured terms and knotty difficulties of political lore with an ease that was both instructive and amusing.

"If papa would favor this august assembly by taking the floor of the house, we might be more free to avow our feelings."

"I beg you will allow me to correct you, Miss Mary, as being rather sentimental in the choice of your last word," said Mr. Howe, appealing to Sir Howard with the question, "Your Excellency, have I not a right to make the correction?"

"I acknowledge your suggestion, Mr. Speaker," said Mary Douglas in her own defence, "and hope, before the session is over, to make a decided improvement both in views and technicalities."

"What!" exclaimed Captain Douglas, coming towards Mr. Howe. "Are you and Mary to take opposite measures already?"

"Not at all, sir," returned Mr. Howe, "I was merely setting her right on—" "technicalities," said the young girl, with a merry ringing laugh.

"Ah, Mary!" cried Charles Douglas, playfully pulling back the clustering ringlets from his sister's white forehead, "poetry and politics cannot exist on very intimate terms of friendship, at least too much poetry."

"Have a care, young man," said Sir Howard, laughing at the last remark.

"Ah! there are exceptions to every rule, sir, which you did not give me an opportunity to add, and I still make the former assertion to be, to a certain extent, counterbalanced by the latter."

From the appearance of different speakers the house seems to be out of order.

From playful remarks followed an interesting and varied stock of earnest political conversation, in which Lady Douglas joined with apparent ease. From agriculture the question led to education, one in which His Excellency had spent much time and labor.

It is to Sir Howard that the present university owes its first existence, its various stages of progress and final success. It was he who procured the first charter granting the privileges of a university. Few can realize the difficulties that Sir Howard met before accomplishing this great boon, and fewer still could see the way for raising the means necessary for the support of this institution. But an endowment was raised by grants from the revenue arising from the sale of unoccupied lands, and equal grants from the House of Assembly.

The next barrier presented by the colonists, for the suppression of the Thirty-nine Articles and the admission of Dissenters, was in itself a formidable array of difficulty, notwithstanding the next uprising of Episcopalian remonstrance. A sea of troubles! But reason, the true pilot, never deserted Sir Howard. The greatness of the cause was sufficient motive.

As the story progresses we hope to give a few facts which will prove what success awaited him. In the administration of this distinguished military ruler, New Brunswick found a warm and true-hearted friend and adviser—one whose memory is yet cherished within the hearts of those who had once seen his benignant and happy smile. Such is a faint picture of the domestic and political bearing of the gifted and distinguished Sir Howard.



CHAPTER VIII.

BEREFORD CASTLE.

In a beautifully remote district, between the celebrated towns of Hastings and Brighton, may be found the quaint old structure known as Bereford Castle. From the style of architecture it may be dated to the time of Edward the Third, bearing a striking resemblance to the castle re-erected in that monarch's reign by the Earl of Warwick. The castle of this period had degenerated or become more modernized. The closed fortress was rapidly assuming a mixture of the castle and mansion. Instead of the old Norman pile, with its two massive towers and arched gateway, thick walls, oilets and portcullis, Bereford Castle comprised stately and magnificent halls, banqueting rooms, galleries, and chambers. The keep was detached from the building, a stronghold in itself, surrounded by smaller towers and the important and necessary moat. During the civil wars it had stood many sieges, but, after repeated attacks, in the course of time it fell into decay. Much labor had been spent in repairing the part occupied as a residence until, at the present time, it was in good condition. The fine old park contained a valuable growth of trees—fir, spruce, pine, birch, elm, and the stately oak—which grew in luxuriant profusion. The north side of the castle commanded an extensive view of the surrounding hills, valley, and the winding river, with its numerous small inlets and tributaries.

The owners of Bereford Castle prided themselves upon their extensive gardens, for which purpose many obstructions had been removed. An artificial labyrinth of choice trees was contrived with marvellous effect, producing echoes of unceasing variety. In this enclosure, comprising many acres, were the most beautiful designs of parterres, borders, walks, galleries, cabinets, pavilions, porticoes, and many more intricate inventions of landscape gardening. Fountains gushed forth with untiring and fantastic wreaths of crystal foam; grottoes, cascades, mounts and precipices, seemed to steal away thought and quietly bear one to sleep to the music and dreams of fairyland.

The interior of the castle was in keeping with the grounds. The great hall which, in olden time, formed the most important part of the whole, was somewhat reduced in its dimensions. The windows of stained glass were emblazoned with the armorial bearings of the family, while the walls were adorned with life-size portraits of their ancestors. The richly carved roof, with its massive timbers and pillars supporting it; the old relics, in the shape of banners, helmets, swords, shields, and other implements of warfare, were arranged on every side. On each wing of the main building were spacious, modern rooms, occupied by the family as private apartments, viz: the drawing-room, dining-room, and sleeping apartments.

But perhaps the most attractive feature of the castle is the extensive library—an octagonal room in a small tower, apparently built at a recent date. The stained glass of its oriel window is very beautiful; the handsomely gilded ceiling and pannelled walls have a fine and striking effect; the floor is paved in marble, with inlaid mosaic; the shelves of rosewood and oak are filled with the most costly productions of literature, ancient and modern. This ancient family had cherished a fond taste for letters and science. The present lord, uncle of Lady Rosamond, still found leisure to devote many hours in his favorite resort—the library. Gerald Bereford cultivated a taste likewise. He was a young man of strong literary preferences, showing a desire for learning, with a keen appreciation of the pleasures and pastimes of daily life.

The drawing-room of Bereford Castle was indeed a superb display of taste, grace, wealth and classic design. Though firmly believing that a description will dispel the charm lingering around those beautiful rooms, I cannot resist the inclination to give one.

Lofty ceilings, frescoed and gilded, blazing in gold, with the arms of the family in bold relief; walls with wainscoting, arras and gorgeous tapestry. Furniture polished, carved and decorated; chairs embroidered in crimson and gold; Turkey carpets of fabulous price and texture; statuary, the work of ages; pictures, the work of a lifetime. Mediaeval grandeur in every niche and corner. Add to this a view of the gardens from the deep embayed windows, and you have a faint conception of the drawing-room scene at Bereford Castle, the intended home for Lady Rosamond Seymour.

Within this apartment are two occupants. Seated, or rather reclining, near the lower window is Maude Bereford, a young girl, graceful and intelligent, but possessing no claim to rare beauty. A second glance increases your approbation. Goodness of heart is indelible upon that face. The other occupant is a lady about sixty years of age. Time had been generous in its demands by drawing small usury from his allotted spoliations. Lady Bereford had been a beauty in her day, and, judging from the skilful devices practised, wished yet to retain her passing glories. Her fair complexion still showed a lingering bloom, the haughty eye still preserved a kindling glance, while her countenance and mien gave evidence of a stronger and more spirited cast of character than that of the young girl here mentioned.

"Maude," said her ladyship, "what news from Lady Rosamond?"

"Here is the letter, mamma, which you can read," said the young girl, at the same time placing a daintily folded letter in the lap of Lady Bereford.

With elevated eyebrows her ladyship looked over the contents of the letter. An occasional frown showed the displeasure which some sentences gave to the reader.

"It does not seem to please you, mamma," ventured Maude.

"I cannot think that Lady Rosamond is very complimentary to her friends in England. She makes no very kind allusions to her former companions here. You certainly will admit that fact."

"Oh, mamma, I am inclined to believe that you have formed mistaken opinions of dear Lady Rosamond. You see that she refers to scenes wherein all took a part, and I am sure that she is still my friend now as before she left us."

"Allow me, Maude," exclaimed Lady Bereford with impatient gesture, "you have neither age nor experience on your side; but I feel convinced that Rosamond has formed some attachment in New Brunswick, which she has cleverly concealed. Throughout her whole letter there is a want of earnestness that betrays her—an unsettled and vague uncertainty dictates every sentence. Sir Thomas did a very foolish action when he gave consent to his daughter's separation at a time when her nature is most susceptible to the temptations and flatteries of society."

"Mamma, I do not like to hear you speak thus of dear Rosamond. I love her dearly, and I could not bear the thought of her forming any attachment outside our family."

"That is one reason why I have been thinking so deeply upon the matter. That Gerald loves his pretty cousin, we know full well, and the mortification of his being refused would be a heavy blow to our pride as well. From a conversation with Sir Thomas a few weeks ago, he gave us every assurance of an alliance of the families. Gerald is living on the consummation of his hopes being realized, while I would fain remind him of the line—'Hope deferred maketh the heart sick.'"

"Mamma, dear, you always seem to prefer the dark side," returned Maude. "Let us change the subject, as it is surely unjust to Rosamond."

"It is to be hoped that your fond dream may serve you aright," said her ladyship, with a tinge of sarcasm in her voice.

At that moment Maude Bereford arose and playfully approached the door wherein stood the future Lord Bereford, the heir of Bereford Castle.

Tall, handsome, and affable, Gerald Bereford bore a strong resemblance to her ladyship, but lacking that severity which predominated in the latter. Bold, regular features stamped the face of the young man. There was firmness about the mouth that indicated a strong energy and perseverance, at the sacrifice of much feeling. On the whole there was much in favor of Gerald Bereford's preferences; his clear, grey eye showed keen intellect, combined with mirth and humor; a deep manly voice, with purity of tone, spoke of truth and conscientious convictions. Such was the character and personal appearance of the nephew and favorite of Sir Thomas Seymour.

Maude led her brother to a seat beside Lady Bereford, and seated herself on a stool at his feet.

"Is this not a golden evening, Gerald?" questioned the young girl, looking up in her brother's face.

"Yes," replied Gerald, "but to enjoy the golden beauty, as you term it, I enforce strict and immediate attention to my wishes, and request your ladyship, and this little girl, will accept the escort of your liege lord."

"My liege lord will need those gallantries in reserve," returned the sister, in arch and naive tones.

Lady Bereford waived the imperative demand by desiring to remain. Maude accepted the proffered arm of Gerald to stroll beneath the inviting branches of the dear old oaks, so firmly interwoven in the scenes of innocent childhood and succeeding girlhood. The tender, sensitive girl loved her brother too deeply to believe that any could supplant his place in the love of Lady Rosamond. Her true criterion was the pure, innocent, and trusting love of a sister.

"Gerald, my dear, I am glad this opportunity has been so timely chosen," said the fond sister in an earnest tone, placing her delicate little hand upon her brother's shoulder.

"Pray, what has happened, Maude, that you look so sad?" said Gerald, breaking out into a hearty laugh.

"Nothing has happened," answered Maude; "really, if I look sad I do most wrongfully disavow my intention, having news for you—good news, too, I assure you," said Maude, again looking at her brother wistfully. "Can you not guess?" said she.

"How should I?" returned Gerald; "that would be a fruitless task."

"Since you have exercised such patience I will tell you," said Maude: "I have just received a letter from Rosamond."

A blush quickly overspread Gerald's face as he bowed acknowledgment.

Maude did not produce the letter which had been the cause of such annoyance to Lady Bereford, but she disclosed part of the contents and part she kept for herself. Together they talked long and earnestly. Though she took no liberty in showing the relationship in which she considered Lady Rosamond, her simple and earnest nature seemed to give assurance to Gerald. He listened to his sister's repeated praise of her companion—of their girlish attachment—and heartily hoped that Lady Rosamond would return the deep love which he had unreservedly placed at her disposal—his heart, name, riches—all were given the absent and beautiful maiden.

Musing awhile, Gerald was aroused by his sister, who almost petulantly exclaimed:

"Oh, Gerald, I do wish that Rosamond was home again, never to leave us. Two years separation seems a long time in the future. I grow so impatient. Do you know, Gerald," added Maude, with a bright eagerness, "I am going to write and urge her to shorten this lengthy probation. I cannot endure the thought. Two years!" repeated she, a second time, with strong emphasis.

"But you must remember the fable of the boys and the frogs," said Gerald, with an amused smile.

This remark reminded Maude of the sentiments of her mother, but she would not repeat them in the presence of her brother. She did not wish to cherish or countenance anything that would be disloyal to Lady Rosamond. In her sincerity she would not believe any views relating to her friend unless they received her direct sanction.

Gerald Bereford had misgivings regarding his hopes, but trusted that time and the favor of Sir Thomas would eventually disclose a brighter prospect. No jealousy had crossed his mind. Had Lady Bereford expressed her opinion in his presence he might have formed a far different view of the matter. At present all was tranquil. Maude's earnestness momentarily affected him—nothing more.

Lord Bereford, the present incumbent, was a man of sterling integrity—a firm friend of his brother-in-law, Sir Thomas Seymour. Though a man of high birth, distinguished, and sought by the great and learned, he was gentle, unassuming, and benign.

From her father Maude Bereford inherited the quiet and unobtrusive demeanor, so strongly in contrast to the haughty and obsequious bearing of Lady Bereford. Gerald was a strange compound of both—a fact that gave birth to the honest convictions of his nature.

Lord Bereford was an ardent admirer of Lady Rosamond—"a true Bereford,"—the counterpart of her mother, Maria Bereford, whose beauty had been the theme of unusual admiration. For hours could he gaze upon his sister's child and recall the past, when a beautiful girl wandered through the old familiar spots and looked to him for brotherly sympathy when any annoyance rose before her. When the young girl grew to womanhood and gave her affection to his boyhood friend, Sir Thomas Seymour, he bestowed his blessing. Was he to repeat that blessing upon the child? Many times did Lord Bereford dwell upon this subject. His was a nature endowed with lasting qualities, true sympathy was the key note to his heart. He loved Lady Rosamond with devout, tender solicitude as his only daughter, and her happiness was his. If the love that Gerald Bereford bore towards his niece was not entirely reciprocated, and at the great sacrifice, would the true-hearted nobleman have urged upon Sir Thomas the error of his conduct? Such liberalism upon his part provoked the resentment of Lady Bereford, who could not brook any interference with the strictly defined principles of conservatism so long entailed upon every branch of her family. Sir Thomas Seymour was a staunch worshipper of his sister-in-law's doctrine. He cherished every idea with fondness, occasionally bringing them forth to view as opportunity favored. While Lady Rosamond is sadly watching the days and months drag slowly along within the bosom of Sir Howard Douglas' happy household, such are the motives actuating each of those who endeavor to seek her welfare; such is the state of their respective feelings, such their fond hope—their brightest dreams—laboring under the fatal delusion of giving happiness to her future.

Ah, your ladyship! were a kind fairy, in the form of a godmother, to breathe a few words into the ear of your loving and tender uncle, Lord Bereford, his kind heart would go forth to meet thee and save thee from a world of misery—from the fiery ordeal through which thou must pass!



CHAPTER IX.

MEMORABLE SCENES OF AUTUMN, 1825.

The summer and autumn of this year were indeed the most memorable in the annals of New Brunswick's history. Many there are still living who distinctly remember that awful visitation. The season of drought was unparalleled. Farmers looked aghast and trembled as they viewed the scanty, withered products of the land. All joined in the common uneasiness, daily awaiting relief. None felt more anxiety than Sir Howard Douglas, whose sole interests were those of his people.

Wishing to know the true state of the country, his Excellency made a tour of the farming districts, penetrating back settlements where the greatest suffering might be expected.

While absent on this errand of mercy, a sad misfortune befell the inmates of Government House. On the 19th of September their home was wrapped in devouring elements of flame, being almost entirely consumed.

It is on such occasions that the nobler side of our nature asserts its true dignity and shows qualities that otherwise would remain in obscurity. Lady Douglas, with calm and dignified composure, prepared her family to realize the situation, and with heroic firmness persisted in rescuing nearly all the valuables within Government House. The great assistance rendered by the citizens in their indefatigable labors, showed the unbounded and grateful respect borne towards this distinguished family. Every one was ready to offer aid. The daughters of Lady Douglas reflected her ladyship's cool intrepidity.

With tears in her eyes, Mary Douglas viewed the smoking mass where she had passed so many happy hours. Captain Charles Douglas, knowing well the tenor of his sister's poetic nature, kindly and encouragingly exclaimed, "Never mind, Mary dear; thank heaven no lives are lost. We will soon be united." Those simple words had the desired effect. The tender hearted maiden at once saw the ingratitude of her murmurs, and felt deeply thankful for her brother's gentle reproof.

Lady Rosamond, if possible, had stronger claims upon the heart of Mary Douglas and the entire household. She had wrought with a determination to do what she could—aye, more than she could. On being advised by Charles Douglas to desist, she firmly replied, "Not until everything is done that I can do."

A young officer, who happened to hear these words, received them as a valuable souvenir years afterwards, realizing their true worth.

It was, indeed, a most remarkable circumstance that so much valuable furniture and perishable articles were saved. One act of recklessness to be regretted was the cutting down of a valuable chandelier which, falling with a heavy crash, was shivered in a thousand pieces.

In a few days Lady Douglas and family sought shelter among their friends, from whom they received the strongest proofs of kindness. To a lady friend in England her ladyship writes: "The sympathy and real kindness received from the citizens of Fredericton I can never forget. The fire proved that the old adage, though homely, is a true one—'a friend in need is a friend indeed.'"

When Sir Howard returned, and was once more received in his family, he felt grateful to Providence for His kind deliverance. No vain or useless repinings marked the course of his conduct. With renewed energy this man of indomitable courage was again immersed in the public weal as well as the re-establishing of his family in comfortable quarters. A large and commodious building on King street, the property of Henry Smith, Esq.,[2] was now being prepared for the reception of His Excellency. The Government expended a considerable sum in making the necessary improvements, and within a very short time the citizens of Fredericton had the pleasure of seeing their beloved ruler and his family once more situated in a happy home. But Sir Howard was to face more terrific and threatening dangers. His unbounded sympathies had further and unlimited room for exercise.

[Footnote 2: The house at present occupied by Chief Justice Allen.]

October came, attended by the long continued drought. Gloom was depicted on every side. Many conjectures were afloat regarding the vicinity of the fire, which gave evidence of its existence in the density of smoke that filled the atmosphere.

In the midst of this impending danger, on the 7th October, a fire broke out in the woods surrounding "The Hermitage," the residence of the Hon. Thomas Baillie, on the Government House road. Here the forethought of Sir Howard was exhibited with unequalled prudence, having every available engine and means of succor close at hand. By great exertions the house was saved. Danger still lurked in the woods. Within an hour an alarm was given in the city. Sir Howard was the first on the spot, having ridden furiously his spirited and favorite steed. Engines were again in quick action, while the military were only a short distance behind, being ordered up at the double.

The scene was terrific. High winds blew the fire from one building to the next, until the third part of the city was a mountain of flame—cracking, roaring, tremendous in its fury. Water was kept up in constant streams, having but little effect. Many sat down and cried in their frantic emotion. Hundreds of families without home, food, or clothing.

In the midst of this sickening sight was one whose very presence lifted a weight from the hearts of the sad and homeless. Sir Howard never once deserted his post—working, encouraging, and aiding. By his advice the fire was stayed—two-thirds of the town still remaining. The stifling air and glowing heavens made the hearts of many grow sick and faint.

Perhaps it would be wiser to end the tale of misery here, but as the chapter would seem incomplete, it may be necessary to make slight allusion to a wilder and more terrible fire.

The consummation of terror, madness, and dismay, depicted in its most awful form, would fail to do justice to this sickening calamity—the Miramichi fire.

The forests, for hundreds of miles in every direction, were one solid mass of living fire, roaring louder than thunder; in its fury shaking the bowels of the earth and leaping up to the heavens which seemed, also, to be enveloped in flames. Nothing more awful will be witnessed until the judgment day. Many were of opinion that the time was at hand when "the heavens and earth shall melt away." Hundreds lost their lives, while property was destroyed to an immense amount.

An ordinary mind would have sunk under the weight of grievances that pressed on all sides; but Sir Howard Douglas rose above the situation. With Spartan firmness and unswerving courage he set about raising means for the distressed by subscription, both at home and abroad, in money, food, and clothing. Letters were sent to all parts of America, England, and Ireland. Not thus content, Sir Howard went himself to visit burnt districts where man or beast could scarcely penetrate, climbing over miles of fallen brushwood. Those poor creatures tried to show their gratitude by words, but were unable. Their tears were a more gracious tribute than jewels—being the grateful offering of a stricken community. Their benefactor had conveyed provision for their sustenance, and clothing for their wives and families. Many were the fervent prayers offered for their noble-hearted and humane ruler, and none more gratefully acknowledged these than he.

Much more might be told in connection with those sad events, but as the details might not be acceptable to the reader, therefore we refrain.

Once more gathered in their home, the family of Sir Howard were not inactive. The spirit of charity was manifest in every action of those lovely girls. Mary Douglas and Lady Rosamond had formed a sewing circle, to which they invited some of their young acquaintances. In this charitable employment they spent many hours. Clothing was made and distributed with increasing demand. The severity of winter caused many poor people to look for assistance in every possible form. Gaiety was for a time forgotten. Festive parties and sumptuous array were set aside for the necessities of the season.

It is a well established fact that the miseries of others often alleviate our own. To none could this application be more forcible than Lady Rosamond. In her bitterness of heart she experienced a quiet relief in assisting her companions to provide clothing for the sufferers. The scenes through which she had passed counterbalanced the feelings she had hitherto experienced and taught her gentle resignation. Her thoughts were of a more serious nature—a source whence she derived much comfort. Her parent's views were unaltered; her hopes were no brighter in the distant future, but, as afterwards expressed, she had more strength given her from the bitter trials of suffering humanity.

As Christmas drew nigh the inmates of Government House could not resist a desire to look back to the joyous season which they had passed in the home now laid low, its surrounding woods, their pleasant excursions, and the extensive preparations in decorating for the festive scenes that followed.

Pioneer Johnnie was loud in regrets for the apparent neglect which the sylvan deities must naturally feel by his temporary absence from their select and stately assemblages.

"Keep up your spirits, Master Johnnie," once remarked Lady Rosamond, "the next time we go back the trees will recognize the compliment with music and grateful homage."

"As none but you and Lady Rosamond regret being turned out, I presume," exclaimed Charles Douglas, who was always ready to join any conversation that afforded amusement. He continued passing careless jokes until the clock in the hall reminded him of his business.

"Really, Lady Rosamond, I credit you with driving away dull care and my forfeiting all claims to the future good will of my friend Howe by disregarding his message. Pardon me, ladies, for having almost forgotten to say that the sleigh will be in readiness in half an hour."

"Half an hour," exclaimed Mary Douglas, somewhat hastily, "really, Charles, I cannot pardon you for such neglect, as it sadly interferes with my plans."

"Come, little one, frowns do not become thy brow," returned Captain Douglas, kissing the forehead of his sister.

"That is much prettier," said he, pointing to the smiling face which in turn rested upon him.

Taking up a book which lay open beside the seat hitherto occupied by Lady Rosamond, Captain Douglas commenced to read some lines from Tennyson, when accosted by his companion, Mr. Howe:

"You seem to be taking things very cool, old fellow. Where are the ladies?"

"They are getting ready; come in while we are waiting."

"This is your fault again, Douglas. It is past the hour, and a large party awaits us," said Mr. Howe impatiently.

"Better late than never," vociferated Captain Douglas, as he went out singing, quickly returning with Mary Douglas and Lady Rosamond.

"It is all Charles' fault," said the former, by way of explanation.

"Ha, ha, ha," laughed Captain Douglas, "I knew this was coming, but I must be as jolly as I can."

"Your ladyship is under my protection," said the incorrigible delinquent, offering his arm to Lady Rosamond, while Mary Douglas was assigned to the companionship of the private secretary.

"This is indeed a merry party," said Lady Rosamond to her gallant, as he placed her beside him and wrapped the daintily lined robes around her.

"I am half inclined to be angry with Trevelyan," said Mr. Howe, turning around in his seat and facing Captain Douglas.

"What are your grounds?" questioned the latter.

"Enough to justify my declaration," said the former, apparently looking at Captain Douglas, but in reality casting sidelong glances at Lady Rosamond.

What did he seek there? Did jealousy cause that stolen glance? What was the motive? These important questions certainly deserve some attention, which, in justice to Mr. Howe and the parties concerned, and last, but not least, the reader, this concession must be granted.

As admitted, the private secretary of Sir Howard Douglas entertained a warm friendship towards Lieutenant Trevelyan, treating him with the tenderness of a younger brother. Being constantly thrown in the society of each other, there was much to be learned on both sides. That the young lieutenant returned this friendship he took no pains to conceal, knowing that in Mr. Howe he had an interested friend and adviser. For some time in the past the keen eye of the former detected a sudden strange and half concealed manner possessing his young friend, which completely puzzled him: Various conjectures presented themselves, but all unsatisfactory and vague. Still further watch was kept upon the actions of Guy Trevelyan, but nothing appeared to solve the difficult problem. An opportunity at last rewarded this perseverance. As explained in a preceding chapter, one side of mysterious question was solved without any effort or seeking the on the part of any one. By a mere accident Mr. Howe learned the cause which had so deeply influenced the course of Guy Trevelyan's actions, and, furthermore, his feelings. Here was something gained: did it bode good or evil to the young lieutenant?

These were questions that revolved themselves in the mind of the reasoner. Gladly would he do anything that would further the interest of his young friend, yet there might be a likelihood of stretching this prerogative if it in anywise interfered with the direct affairs of another. Whichever view of the matter was taken difficulty arose on every hand.

Let us hasten to the main point of the argument. That Lieutenant Trevelyan loved Lady Rosamond with a pure and ardent love was a matter beyond doubt. She was the ruling passion that influenced every action, guarded or unguarded. It was this knowledge that now gave the secretary so much perplexity. He entertained towards Lady Rosamond a kind and friendly regard; he was willing to serve her under any ordinary circumstances and in any friendly capacity. In the present instance Lady Rosamond was under the charge and protection of Lady Douglas, who would be, in a measure, responsible for any attachment thus formed while she remained her guest. On this point were many conscientious scruples to be overcome, which did not meet the approval of that course of honor which had hitherto characterized Mr. Howe's principles and actions. He must not sacrifice these even at the great risk of gaining the happiness of a young and respected friend.

But the sight of the young lieutenant pleaded more eloquently than the most glowing and pathetic language. His thoughtful eyes, his pure white forehead, and clustering ringlets of chestnut hair, had a wealth of appeal hidden beneath, conveying more subtle beauty than the production of the countless volumes of mystic ages. Thus situated, the secretary felt the awkwardness of his position. It was not curiosity that prompted; it was a secret influence which the young lieutenant inspired—an influence that held the former bound and enchained with no means of escape at hand.



CHAPTER X.

THE INTERVIEW.

In a small but handsome reception room adjoining the library of Bereford Castle sat its stately mistress, with an impatient and eager look upon her countenance. Trifling with a pretty trinket which she has in her hand, her ladyship is apparently ill at ease. Something has given cause for annoyance and grave deliberation. An anxious and hasty glance towards the door, shows that a visitor is momentarily awaited.

Taking advantage of these moments, I will occupy them in dilating upon a few of the qualities and characteristics of the distinguished occupant. Lady Bereford was a woman of shrewdness and capacity, possessing a subtle weight of influence that bore with irresistible force, and was stoutly prepared to resist an opposing element in any quarter. The daughter of a London barrister of considerable reputation, her ladyship dwelt with pride upon her fond preference for the legal profession. Her conversation was frequently interspersed with learned remarks, savoring of the inner temple, its dingy courts, volumes of dust and musty manuscripts. "Evidence and proof" were leading points always at hand. Caution was the inevitable watchword, based upon a scrutinizing and at times heartless penetration. In short, the character of Lady Bereford might be summed up in a few words—as a cool, clever and calculating woman of the world—one not to be baffled by ordinary circumstances. On the present occasion her eye has a fire in its depths that brooks no interference. Her brows are knotted with an angry frown; as she raises them hastily, the frown has departed. The small and still plump white hand is extended. Sir Thomas Seymour bows very low, receives the hand, kissing the tips of the taper fingers, is seated in an elegantly embroidered fauteuil opposite her ladyship.

After the usual pleasantries had passed, Sir Thomas commenced by way of explanation:

"Your ladyship will pardon this detention, from the fact of my being absent when your note arrived. Business demanding my presence at the admiralty office I was unavoidably detained for some days. On arriving yesterday I immediately telegraphed the fact to Lord Bereford, but hope that the present misfortune will not seriously interfere with any of your ladyship's plans."

Assuming an air of much importance, her ladyship began; "When I addressed you, it was merely in the form of a note, not wishing to convey a subject of such importance to paper, deeming that it demanded your personal attention. I fully exonerate you by the ready response as shown at this instance."

This remark Sir Thomas politely acknowledged with a deep bow, while a shade of uneasiness was visible upon his features.

With another assuming air to gain, if possible, a more wise and legal manner, her ladyship thus resumed: "Sir Thomas, you must certainly be aware of my motives in thus requesting an interview. You cannot be insensible to the fact that it entirely concerns the Lady Rosamond."

Here Sir Thomas became somewhat agitated, but her ladyship continued: "Strictly speaking, it concerns both families, as how can it apply to the former without a direct application to Gerald Bereford, in which case is involved that of his connexions."

Sir Thomas felt the necessity of waiving those points of nicety, but knowing too well that any interference would entail a more definite investigation, listened with utmost composure in the hope of instant relief.

With the stem gravity of a learned judge, ready to pronounce sentence upon the culprit arraigned, her ladyship in graver tone continued: "I cannot but admit that the matter has given me very great annoyance. I again refer to Lady Rosamond."

The affair, at each mention of the latter, assumed a graver importance, while Sir Thomas inwardly struggled to maintain a studied demeanor as becoming the grave occasion.

"You are possibly not aware of the position in which her ladyship is being placed by this temporary separation from her family?" ventured Lady Bereford, with full interrogative force that at length afforded an opportunity to Sir Thomas.

"The matter," returned he, "has never given me any serious apprehensions, and, pardon me, I must confess to your ladyship that there seem no apparent grounds for any. Lady Rosamond has been made acquainted with our views regarding Gerald, and knowing this, I have too much confidence in her nature to harbor a thought that she will either, in word or action, entertain a wish in opposition to that of a fond and solicitous parent."

"I admit that Lady Rosamond is indeed a worthy and dutiful daughter; yet, pardon me, there are many little undesirable and inconsistent fancies which, in the waywardness of youth, are ready to take form in the tender and susceptible nature of a young girl, and which, if not constantly watched, assume a degree of strength almost uncontrollable. Allow me to state the case," continued her ladyship, "when, perhaps, you may see the matter in a clearer light."

At mention of the word case Sir Thomas dreaded another succession of legal points, but demurely listened to the following version:

"You have unwittingly placed your child in a very dangerous position. To none would I so readily give the protection of my daughter as Lady Douglas, who is, in every sense, a true mother and a dignified woman; yet there are moments when Lady Rosamond can assert her right to control her own impulses and feelings. As a guest she has an entire right, while it would otherwise be a stretch of prerogative on the part of the guardian."

"You cannot but admit," said her ladyship, still bent on influencing her attentive listener, "that Lady Rosamond is indeed very beautiful, which alone has sufficient reason to sustain my argument. Beauty, through countless ages, has been the source of much misery. Through Helen was lost a Troy; Cleopatra, Roman glory."

Her ladyship was going to cite further examples when interrupted by Sir Thomas exclaiming:

"Your ladyship will pardon me, but it would certainly be deep injustice at present to raise an objection on this point; it surely did not bring misery in its train to Lord Bereford."

At this compliment to her beauty and vanity, a rare smile lit the face of Lady Bereford, while she gaily added:

"Sir Thomas, you still cling to your former gallantry with the pertinacity of an ill-favored suitor."

Seeing that the last evidence was ill-grounded, her ladyship, having reconsidered the situation, again resumed:

"You must admit that among the military staff of Sir Howard Douglas there are many attractive and eligible young gentlemen worthy of the hand of the fairest. Besides, there are many families holding high position in New Brunswick, the descendants of persons of rank equal to our own. Among these are gentlemen—brave, handsome, and equally fascinating. It would indeed be a very extraordinary case if the Lady Rosamond, with all her beauty and accomplishments, daily surrounded by an admiring crowd, should not unconsciously fall a prey to her already susceptible nature. Sir Thomas," continued her ladyship, with more vehemence in her manner, "you do not seem to weigh matters as I do, or you would certainly see the error you have committed—the great wrong you have done to your child. Were I to disclose the facts, they would astonish you, but if in the future, when too late you make such a discovery, you will have only yourself to blame. That Lady Rosamond has formed an attachment I am certain; of its value I am not prepared to say; but, in honor to Gerald Bereford, I have a right to demand your attention."

At this sudden declaration Sir Thomas was astounded.

"Where is the proof of this?" demanded he in startling surprise.

Her ladyship then referred to the letter—its unconnected and half-hidden sentences—and expressed her firm conviction of the certainty of those predictions.

Sir Thomas drew a sigh of relief when he found no stronger evidence against the straightforward and conscientious spirit that had hitherto pervaded his loved child.

Lady Bereford possessed the tactics of a clever reasoner. When she had failed in bringing her own arguments to bear directly she had recourse to more forcible measures. The mention of Gerald Bereford had instantaneous effect. Sir Thomas' eye brightened with renewed lustre; his whole expression betrayed the ruling passion within him. Her ladyship took advantage of the situation.

"If you will empower me to act in this case there will be no further trouble to be apprehended. Woman is the best judge of woman. Leave the matter in my hands, Sir Thomas, and you will have no further anxiety. I will assure you that Gerald will meet no refusal when he asks Lady Rosamond to become his wife."

Sir Thomas yielded. He knew that in this lay his child's happiness, which, as a parent, he was in duty bound to promote.

"Your ladyship is right," exclaimed Sir Thomas, "but in granting this I request that you will not in any way shorten the visit of Lady Rosamond."

"Rest assured," cried her ladyship, "that no such demands will be made. The happiness of her ladyship will be our sole interest; kind and friendly advice, with gentle admonition, is the only safeguard."

When Lady Bereford had gained the case (according to her legal version) her manner changed as if by magic. Gay smiles played over her features with inexpressible delight; her voice was soft, smooth, and bewitching with sweetness.

Sir Thomas was persuaded to remain to luncheon. The party consisted of the family, Sir Thomas, and Colonel Trevelyan, a gentleman whose acquaintance Lord Bereford formed while visiting an old friend. The conversation was friendly and animated. Many topics of general interest afforded them an opportunity to pass the hours in a pleasant, lively and genial manner. Having by accident referred to his connection with the Peninsula campaign, Lord Bereford was delighted to find another intimate friend of Sir Howard Douglas. Sir Thomas Seymour joined heartily in the general discourse. Colonel Trevelyan, or properly speaking Sir Guy Trevelyan, told many incidents of military and social life, in which Sir Howard and himself had figured quite conspicuously.

Great was Maude Bereford's delight when she learned that the young officer, so often alluded to in the letters received from Mary Douglas, was the son of their guest. At this intelligence a sudden frown rested on Lady Bereford's brow, but momentarily vanished. She had gained her point; such matters did not so forcibly affect her now. Naturally many inquiries were made respecting the young lieutenant, all of which were answered in a quiet and unassuming way. The character of the father betrayed that of his son. Without questioning why Maude Bereford felt a deep interest in the young unknown, she had already been forming plans of inquiry to ascertain a further knowledge. Lady Rosamond would certainly be able to give her a correct description. Certainly her ladyship must spend much time in the company of one who had such claims on the friendship of Sir Howard. Reasoning thus was the gentle daughter of Lady Bereford, while the latter was exultant in having formed a plan for the furtherance of a scheme which lay near her heart.

The next morning her ladyship was alone in her boudoir. A delicately folded sheet lay upon the exquisitely inlaid writing desk before her. Satisfaction beams upon her by occasional smiles. Again she seizes the unclosed letter, examines closely its contents, and, with evident ease, places it in an envelope which she seals and addresses. A servant in livery answers the summons of a silver bell standing beside the desk. Her ladyship, drawing aside a hanging of silver tissue, approaches the door where the missive is delivered in charge of the liveried attendant. With a sense of relief Lady Bereford returns to the library to await the morning mail.

Lady Bereford indeed lavished all the fondness of a mother's pride upon her first-born. Maude was to her a simple-minded, gentle girl, whose sole influence was her mother's will. The daughter of Lord Bereford was a true type of her father: gentle, conscientious and sympathetic.

In Lady Rosamond, Maude Bereford could see no reason for such anxiety as was manifested by her mother, yet she would feel disappointed if her companion would form another attachment. Maude loved her brother with all the tenderness of her nature, while Gerald Bereford returned this love with deep fervent gratitude. His sister was to him the connecting link with Lady Rosamond. He took pleasure in daily walks with Maude, whose playful childish ways often reminded him of the absent cousin. The future lord of Bereford Castle was worthy the love of the fairest, purest and truest. He possessed a spirit of independent manliness, and would brook no favor that was not warranted by honor.

When Gerald Bereford asked his uncle for a right to address the Lady Rosamond, it was from a spirit of honor. He dearly loved the beautiful girl, though he had never avowed his feelings, and when she treated his advances with coolness, he still cherished the hope that in the end his love would be reciprocated. On receiving the joyful assurance from Sir Thomas that the great object of both families was the consummation of these hopes, the ardent lover was happy beyond doubt. Sir Thomas had led Gerald Bereford to believe that the Lady Rosamond had always favoured his suit, but in girlish caprice had refused him any encouragement until the expiration of her visit, when she would return home ready to receive the courtly attentions of her relative.

Cheered by these fond assurances, Gerald Bereford did anxiously look forward to Lady Rosamond's return. Sir Thomas had indeed communicated this matter to his nephew with a firm assurance of the realization on the part of both. He doubted the true feelings of his child, but he was determined that the event should take place after sufficient time had elapsed. Lady Bereford knew that Sir Thomas was really deceiving himself as well as his nephew; but with the keen perception of her nature, kept her own counsel. She, as well as Sir Thomas, was determined to carry out her design, for which purpose she closely concealed part of her views from Maude upon the reading of Lady Rosamond's letter, also her message to Sir Thomas, their interview, concessions and result.

Practical and calculating woman of the world as was Lady Bereford, might it be possible that she could heartlessly seal that daintily perfumed missive which was to become the source of such almost unendurable anguish? Really, one would fain exculpate her ladyship of the great wrong—a wrong which for years could not be obliterated from the hearts of those whose sufferings were borne silently and without reproach, each bearing the burden with a sickening heart, feeling that death would be a happy relief.

What a world is ours. What a problem is life. Is there any word in the English language more suggestive? Life—its surroundings, aspects, all its outward associations. Is this the limit? Would to Heaven in some instances it were so, that the end be thus. What a hollow mockery does it impart to the heart of Lady Rosamond, whose cause of misery remains as yet half told. Life—a troubled dream, a waking reality, yet we cling to it with fond delusive hopes. What astute reasoner will solve, the intricacies of this problem? Can one who has suffered? The muffled throes of crushed hearts are the only response. God pity them!



CHAPTER XI.

FREDERICTON: ITS BUILDINGS, PUBLIC HOUSES, AMUSEMENTS, ETC

The year following the great fire was marked by great progress throughout the Province. Farmers were again in homes which they had built upon the site of those destroyed by the devouring element. Fields once more showed signs of cultivation. With Sir Howard Douglas to stimulate the prosperity of his people, progress was the watchword—the general impulse.

Fredericton, like the phoenix, had arisen from its ashes; buildings arose in rapid succession. Wooden houses of moderate pretensions lined Queen and King streets, from Westmorland to Carleton street, the limit of the burnt district.

Business was carried on by a few upright and enterprising merchants, foremost of whom stood Rankine & Co., the leading firm of the city. This establishment was situated on Queen street, between Northumberland and Westmorland streets, in which was constantly pouring an unlimited source of supplies for conducting the immense lumber trade established by this firm, whose name shall be remembered while New Brunswick shall continue to produce one stick of timber. Many farmers of that time yet have occasion to refer to the generosity which characterized this long established firm. Many yet bless the name of Rankine & Co.

The public buildings of our city were in keeping with the private residences. No Barker House or Queen Hotel adorned our principal street as now; no City Hall, Normal School, or Court House. On the present site of the Barker House was a long two-story wooden building, designated as Hooper's Hotel under the proprietorship of Mr. Hooper. This was the only accommodation for public dinners, large parties, balls, etc In this hotel the St. George Society annually celebrated their anniversary by a grand dinner party where heart-stirring speeches, toasts and patriotic songs, were the general order of programme, of which the following verses are an example. They were composed in April 1828, and sung by one of the members of this society at a public dinner that year, after the toast of "Lord Aylmer and the Colonies." The idea was suggested to the young law student by looking upon a map showing the territory explored by the Cabots and called Cabotia. The writer will be readily recognized as one of New Brunswick's most eloquent, gifted, and favored statesmen, recently holding the highest position in the Province:—

When England bright, With Freedom's light, Shone forth in dazzling splendor, She scorned to hold, The more than gold, From those who did befriend her; At space she spurned, With love she burned, And straight across the ocean Sent Freedom's rays, T' illume their days And quell their sons' commotion. Hail, Britannia! Thou loving, kind Britannia! Ne'er failed to wield Thy spear and shield. To guard our soil, Britannia!

But rebels choose For to refuse, The boon thus kindly granted, And with vile art, In many a heart, Black discord's seeds they planted; Now civil war, In bloody car, Rode forth—and Desolation, Extended wide, Its horrid stride For mock emancipation. O Cabotia! Old England's child Cabotia! No rebel cloud[3] Did e'er enshroud Thy sacred soil, Cabotia!

The purple flood Of traitors' blood Sent vapors black to heaven, And hid the blaze Of Freedom's rays, By a kind parent given; But Liberty, Quite loath to see, America neglected, Came to our land, And with kind hand Her temple here erected; O Cabotia! Them favored land, Cabotia! While we have breath We'll smile at death, To guard thy soil, Cabotia!

When foreign foes We did oppose, Britannia stood our second, And those we fought Were dearly taught, Without their host they reckoned; And should they now, With hostile prow, But press, our lakes and rivers, The Giant-stroke, From British oak, Would rend their keels to shivers. And thou, Cabotia! Old England's child Cabotia! Would see thy race In death's embrace Before they'd yield Cabotia!

While Shamrock, Rose, And Thistle grow, So close together blended, New Brunswick ne'er Will need to fear, But that she'll be befriended; We need not quake, For nought can break The sacred ties that bind us, And those, who'd spoil Our hallowed soil, True blue are sure to find us. O Cabotia! Our native land, Cabotia! For thee we'll drain Our every vein, Old England's Child Cabotia!

[Footnote 3: Long before the Canadian Rebellion.]

Here the St. Andrews Society also gave their national celebration. Last, but not least, came the St. Patrick Society. The last named might, indeed, be called the Society. Aided and encouraged by Colonel Minchin, Hon. Thomas Bailie, Mr. Phair, and many other distinguished Irish gentlemen, the St. Patrick's Society of Fredericton at that time attained a high social position. On St. Patrick's eve a yearly celebration also took place, the place of rendezvous being situated on Carleton street, adjoining the building now occupied as the post office. Eloquent and patriotic speeches were the leading features of those meetings. The following instance will serve to give an idea of the spirit which inspired those reunions. On one occasion a member of this organization—a well-known citizen of Fredericton for many years—spoke as follows: "Mr. President and gentlemen, I wish to call your attention to a subject which should fire the heart of every Irishman. Who was the gallant soldier, the true patriot, the hero who never once shrank from the fiercest of the fight, whose only glory was in his country's cause? Who led his army conquering and to conquer, facing the foe with the calm and intrepid coolness of one who knew not the meaning of fear? Who fought with fierce determination to conquer or die when surrounded by thousands of armed guerillas on the outskirts of Spain? Who dared to face Napoleon? Who dared to conquer the iron will of the Bourbon mandate? Who but the proud 'hero of a hundred fights,'—the Duke of Wellington! What country gave him birth?" "Ireland!" was the answer, amid deafening shouts of applause which caused the building to shake beneath their feet. This is but one of the stories told of those meetings, showing the spirit of interest manifested.

To return to hotels. On the site at present occupied by the Queen Hotel formerly stood the Market Inn, kept by Mr. Richard Staples. This was a comfortable and convenient house, frequented by farmers as they came to the city to dispose of their produce. In those days people settled principally near the St. John river and its numerous tributaries, with their lakes; therefore farmers generally used small boats for means of conveyance, waggons being looked upon as an extravagant luxury. Another public house, kept by Mr. Robert Welch, and known as the Albion Hotel, also occupied a prominent position, being well furnished and affording comfort and good accommodation to the travelling public. On Waterloo Row was situated the time-honored Royal Oak, kept by Miss Polly Van Horn, a name well known to those residing in the lower country districts.

Of other public institutions less may be said. On the square now adorned by the imposing City Hall, with its memorable clock, formerly stood or rather squatted the old Tank House, serving rather in the capacity of use than ornament. An old marketplace occupied the ground on which is now erected the County Court House.

It would be impossible to enter into details regarding every building; we merely cite a few facts to give a general idea of the situation of Fredericton at that time.

Before leaving these matters we must not omit mention of a quiet social organization then known as the Philharmonic Society. It was composed of a number of young gentlemen, members of the most influential families of the city. Wallace, band-master of H. M. 52nd regiment, took an active part in instructing these youths, who, within a short period, had acquired such proficiency as to enable them to give a series of entertainments in Hooper's Hotel. These consisted of selections displaying musical skill, ability and taste.

Conspicuous among the members of the Philharmonic Society was a young student named Vivian Yorke, afterwards a member of the legal profession; in later years, his burning eloquence had power to thrill the eager audience attendant upon his appearance. As a lover of music, the young scholar had from his childhood won a reputation beyond his years, while his association with the organization had given it a stimulus worthy such encouragement. Vivian Yorke had won high position within the social circle as well. His genial disposition, frank, manly bearing, dignified form and handsome face were sufficient passports irrespective of his other claims to distinction. It is almost needless to add, that Mr. Yorke stood high in the estimation of the band-master, who arranged several airs especially adapted to a number of patriotic songs composed by his talented pupil. In succeeding chapters we will allude to the rising career of Mr. Yorke as the occasion demands.

In this year the House of Assembly was opened by a warm debate upon the College Bill, which received stout resistance from all dissenting bodies. The episcopalians sought aid from the Archbishop of Canterbury and the Bishop of Nova Scotia. But the judgment of Sir Howard was equal to the occasion. His measures were such as must ultimately accomplish the desired end.

The 52nd Regiment, as yet stationed in Fredericton, still maintained their unbounded popularity, entertained their many friends at princely dinners, gave an unlimited number of balls, parties and festive gatherings. The race course still continued to be the daily resort for the distinguished horsemen. Races were a favorite pastime. Cricket and foot-ball had now become quite common. On the old square situated between York street and Wilmot's alley the youths of the city daily assembled to practise these sports, while the military occupied a space within their own ground. The inhabitants also enjoyed the music furnished by the 52nd band, which almost daily performed in the officers' square.

A large and imposing structure was now being erected upon the exact site where the former Government House stood. The present building, owing to its greater proportions, consequently covered more ground. The model was a handsome residence in the island of Jamaica; the plans were drawn up by a celebrated architect, who had formerly been acquainted with Sir Howard Douglas, under whose direct supervision the entire building was constructed.

As, for some time, New Brunswick was ruled by a military governor, Government House was so arranged that a military and civil staff could each occupy a separate wing of the building, while the main body was allotted to the family. It was well for the Province that Sir Howard Douglas was then at hand. The handsome and substantial edifice remains a lasting monument of grateful remembrance.

While public affairs are thus engrossing the attention of the country at large, the family of Sir Howard are now quietly enjoying their temporary home in the lower part of the town. Lady Douglas, beloved by all, is assisting and cheering His Excellency with all the energy of her nature. The young ladies are happy in their varied labors of love.

Lady Rosamond has not yet turned her thoughts homeward, save to quiet the rebellious thoughts that rise with occasional and twofold bitterness; she has the heavy trial before her; she drives away the mocking realities of the future. Vain are the hours wasted in useless repining. When Lady Rosamond made the disclosure to her companion, Mary Douglas, receiving the full and deep sympathy of true friendship, had she fully relieved her mind of its entire burden—its crushing weight? Ah, no! there was hidden deep in the most remote corner of Lady Rosamond's heart a secret which she would never reveal. Time would bring its changes. Her ladyship would return to her native home, and, amidst its gay scenes, pass a lifetime of seeming happiness; and the secret will burn its impress in characters of flame.

One evening Lady Douglas remained in her own apartments somewhat longer than her custom. Had prying eyes been active the cause might be assigned to the entrance of Lady Rosamond, who had joined her ladyship nearly an hour previous. On seeing the agitated face of the pale but beautiful girl her ladyship experienced a pang of deep remorse. She felt her strength deserting her, yet the task was to be accomplished.

"Rosamond, my darling," said the gentle lady, "I have received a letter from Lady Bereford, who, judging from the tone of the writing, seems to have some anxiety on your behalf."

This revelation afforded momentary relief to the high-born girl, who was, indeed, a lovely picture, reclining on a cushion at the feet of Lady Douglas. A shade of sadness rested upon her face, giving her the expression of a Madonna—a study for Raphael.

"Lady Bereford intimates, in touching terms, that I am to exercise a careful surveillance upon your girlish fancies," continued her ladyship, with slight sarcasm in her tone.

"Rosamond, my darling," cried she, by way of apostrophe, "I have every reason to place in you full confidence. I cannot see any ground for such intimation."

"Your ladyship is right," returned Lady Rosamond, throwing her arms around the neck of Lady Douglas, giving full vent to the feelings which almost overwhelmed her, adding, between tears and sobs: "I have always obeyed my father's wishes and will not shrink from my duty now. Gerald Bereford is worthy of a nobler wife than I dare ever hope to be. He has indeed conferred on me a distinguished honor, and I must try to make amends with all the gratitude of which I am capable."

Saying this the brave girl tried to force a smile, which, from its superficial nature, cost a great effort, adding:

"Your ladyship will have nothing to fear; my father's wishes are mine."

From the spirit of determination, which left an impress on the beautiful features of Lady Rosamond, Lady Douglas apprehended no need of interference. She knew that Lady Rosamond would fulfil her father's wishes. She was aware that the affectionate daughter would return his confidence, even at the greatest sacrifice a woman can make. The noble nature of Lady Douglas felt deep sympathy for her gentle relative—a vague uneasiness filled her mind. Some moments later when Lady Rosamond appeared in a rich and elegant dinner costume not a trace of emotion was visible. Its recent effects had entirely disappeared. Lady Douglas had found an opportunity to form an estimate of the strength of character which sustained the apparently gentle and passive maiden.

At the dinner table of Government House everyone seemed to vie in good humored gaiety and flow of spirited, animating conversation. Each tried to please. All clouds of despondency vanished upon this occasion. Sir Howard always set the example. Pressing cares of state, perplexing questions, and endless grievances, took speedy and ignominous flight when he entered the family circle. All was unrestrained pleasure and genial delight on this evening. Lady Rosamond was seated beside the gay and attractive secretary, who was endeavoring to engage his companion as an ally against the more formidable onset of Captain Douglas. She did fairly surprise the latter by the earnestness of her replies, her forcible expressions, and the weighty arguments upheld by superior judgment. Lieutenant Trevelyan, as he converses with Lady Douglas, betrays no outward feeling. He shows no preference for Lady Rosamond, being more frequently the companion and attendant of Mary Douglas, who, in trusting friendship, reposes in her young friend a happy confidence. Despite this assumed ease on the part of Guy Trevelyan, the keen interest hitherto exhibited by Mr. Howe has lost none of its freshness. The charm still lingers. All hope has not fled, though the light is in the uncertain future. In Lady Rosamond the well concerted plans of the secretary find no compromise. Dreading an exposure of her weakness she has thrown around her a formidable barrier which the most deadly shafts cannot penetrate. In the possession of this defence she can withstand the united efforts of a lengthy siege. Upon all those operations she can look grimly on and bid defiance. Mr. Howe felt this as he tried to force an entrance to the heart of this lovely maiden to wrest from her, if possible, a secret that would give a hopeful assurance to his projects. An incident shortly afterwards occurred which forever banished those thoughts from his mind, leaving no further room for doubt; still the fact cannot be overlooked, that the spirit which pervaded the private secretary of Sir Howard Douglas, was fraught with generosity and true manliness.