A TALE. BY MRS. GORDON, AUTHOR OF "THE FORTUNES OF THE FALCONARS." "The solemn curse of a widow sad, Of the fairest lands, and the proudest name : REV. J. C. EARLE. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. II. LONDON: THOMAS CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE. 1850. "WHERE are you, Beatrice?" called out Helen, as she entered the garden in search of her sister, one morning about a week after the departure of her father. "Come into the house. Grandmamma has sent for you." "What is it, Helen ?" answered Beatrice, advancing up the espalier walk with a book in her hand. "Did you call me." "Yes, they want us both to come into the parlour. Lady Bertram has called." "Lady Bertram? What, and been shown into the parlour, just as I left it when I went out, with all those stockings that want mending spread out upon the table ?" "Yes, Beatrice. And worse than that, VOL. II. B Viz Aunt Grace's old white petticoat, which she has been patching, hanging over the back of a chair; and not a book to be seen but the "Ready Reckoner," and that shockingly dirty novel from St. Michael's, that Aunt Grace left on the table. I wouldn't touch it with the tongs." "And-" faltered Beatrice, "and is Aunt Grace there herself, in that-oh, Helen! that dreadful old wrapper." "No, thank goodness! She heard the carriage, and ran off just in time, leaving her petticoat, as I told you, but the hall-door was open, and the footman must have seen her when he knocked, whether Lady Bertram did or not. Only Aunt Willie is there; and she is bad enough, in her old black cotton gown, and her worst cap. It is early, you see." "But, oh dear! what harm could it do, if people would but dress in the morning as they mean to be all day?" exclaimed Beatrice. “Grandmamma is there, I suppose?" "Yes," said Helen, "it was she who sent me to call you." "I declare I don't think I can go in, and see all those stockings and the petticoat, and feel what Lady Bertram must be thinking!" exclaimed Beatrice, stopping short as they approached the garden-gate, to which they had all this time been advancing. 66 "Oh! but you must, Beatrice dear," said Helen. "It is dreadful to be sure! I felt as if I should have died. But for all that, you must go in, for I was positively told to fetch you." "I don't know what I would not rather do," sighed Beatrice, as they entered the house, and approached the parlour-door. The scene within verified her worst anticipations. Never had the parlour looked so odiously untidy, or felt so oppressively close. The day was warm for the season, and sunny; and the sun looked in at one of the windowsthat to the side of the house; yet both were closed, and the blinds of both drawn up to the very top, as if for the purpose of displaying all the dust and ashes on the hearth, and leaving no part of the room in obscurity, much though it stood in need of a Rembrandt-like depth of shadow in some places. All was unveiled, all open in the pitiless light; stockings, petticoat, dirty novel, and "Ready Reckoner," the green table-cover pulled awry, and with threads of darning cotton adhering to its surface; the |