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THE LILIES OF IVYBROOK.

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THE LILIES OF IVYBROOK. [A Tale written for the Pembrokeshire Herald.] [CONTINUED PROM JULY 10.] Seeming somewhat proud of his neautiful wife, Lord Everforei led her into the vestry, where she was overwhelmed with congratulations from all the wedding guests. Ladv Courtenay was particularly affectionate to her-paid her new nephew a great many elegant compliments, and showed, in fact, that she was radiant with happiness, now that the knot was rea'.lv tied, which made tier the aunt of Lady Eve'ford. Madeline exerted herself to appear happy, and the coldness of her munner during the ceremony vatn'shed entirely. Already she began to show the effects of her new honours. she patronised the bridesmaids, treated Agnes like a child, and replied carelessly to the pretty speeches of her aunt. In her whole manner towards Lady Courtenay, there was something which said tint she was no longer un- der her authority, a protegee or favourite young relative. All her looks and words showed teat she had for ever throwu otf her aunt's chaperonage, and would henceforth be her equal if not her superior. As leaning on her aristocratic husbmd's arm. she passed down the church, her eye fell upon a dark figure leaning against a pillar. Something in his look and attitude caused her to regard him with attention, and al- though in deep shade, she knew that it was Cecil Moreland, who had thus come to see her the bride of another. He looked haggard, and thete was in his eye such a hopeless imploring expression as he gazed on the beautiful figure, that she could not forbear turning again to look upon him. Their eyes met then—the smile fled instantly trom Made- line's lips-and she lonked just as he had seen her once or twice before. Until that moment Cecil had never believed it possible that she could return his affection, but there was too much of earnest sorrow and regret in her eyes as she glanced upon bim, for him to doubt it. That mute demon- stration told him all for the first time he knew how she had sacrificed herself to ambition, and that she neither loved nor esteemed the wealthy peer. It was with a sort of arirn satisfaction tnat he learnt Lord Kverlord was no rival of his in Madeline's affection, although her renewed smile, as she again averted her head, and replied to some remarks of her husbllnd's, made Cecil mutter with bitter emphasis some invectives against him. Early, before anyone entered the church, the young man had secured for himself a situation trom whence he could see and hear all that took place, and when the gay party from Eastcourt Hall arrived, and the service commenced, every word sent a dagger to his heart. He had schooled himself for this ordeal weeks before, and with folded arms and stoical calmness he saw the ring placed upon Madeline's finger, and knew it would encircle it until death. As Lady Courtenay followed her niece to thechurchdoor, her quick eve saw the interchange of II/oks. Shewasgiad to perceive that Lord Everford had neither observed it, nor Cecil Moreland, and with a bow to the yountr man, she passed on. Cecil glided round to another door, just in time to see the bride pass down the church-yard, seeming II per- fect blaze of light as the sun shone upon the jewels in her dress. Then the church bells rang out a merry peal, as if there were no such things as sorrow or dis ippoiutment in thewortd; Lord Everford handed the new-made countess into his carriage, with the coronet emblazoned on its panels, the horses dashed away at full speed, and in a few moments more Cecil was alone in the church-yard. He had the pre- ceding day left Avnndale to make a foreign tour, and though kind old Mr Moreland more than half suspected his son's first destination, he said nothing, and Cecil, believing no one knew his secret who would tell his father, set out from Eastcourt on his travels. Meanwhile the wedding-party had reached the Hall, and sat down to a sumptuous breakfast. Many speeehes wish- ing the new-married pair such inconceivable happiness a" could never bless the lot of any inhHbitant of earrh, were showered upon them. Lady Everford's beauty, gave those who aspired to the poetical, a theme on whtch to enlarge, and others of a more mercenary character, found Lord Everford's wealth a fertile subject. Some of the speakers were rather stupid, and some, rather too high flown to be generally understood; but however dull and unproductive their brains might be, most of the gentlemen inflicted their lrieas upon the company, and found Lady Courtenay's com- plements ample payment for their exertions. Then Loid Everford rose, and with great dignity returned thanks in the elaborately polished speech which he had framed for the occasion, and which, with a very little alteration, he adapted so as to notice different hopes for his future well-being in the speeches of his noble friends, which struck him as being particularly fine, in proportion as they were impossible. After this Madeline went to prepare tor her tour, and when nearly ready. Lady Courtenay entered, followed by a ser- vant, bearing a magnificent silvpr epergne with Lotd Ever- ford's coat of arms upon it, and Madeline's initials. My love,' she said, advancing to her niece, this is my wedding gilt to you, and I hope you may find it a useful one.' Uh, aunt,' said the young bride,' how kind and generous you are You could not have given me aj more acceptable present.' I hope it may prove sn, my love,' returned her aunt; 'at Mervsle Court you will doubtless entertain largely.' Certainly,' answered the new-made countess, as though she were already absolute mistress of Lord Everford's man- sion. Yoif must come alld pIty me a visit, dear aunt, alter we return trom our tour. I shall so like to have you as my guest.' 'It will be a noveltv, will it not, my love?'said Lady Courtenay, sweetly, quite turning the mbies well, I shall see whether I can manage i r, some time this year. I must send this epergne straight to Mervale she added, 'you would tind it much too cumbersome to take with you.' I can never thank you enough for it,' replied her niece, examining the richly chased flowers clustering around the stem of the epergne. Lady Courtenay turned to embrace her, and then led her down stairs, addrp.sing a tew comtorting words to Agnes on the way. The adieux were rendered as short as possible by Lord Everford, who hated scenes, and always imagined that one was forthcoming whenever one of the opposite sex shewed any emotion. He would never have chosen a sen- sitive wife, and it was Madeline's coldness which made him think she would be a suitable companion for him. Agnes he disliked, and on the present occasion her tears annoyed him. He was afraid of hysterics, fainting fits, or some horri- ble thing of the sott was approaching,and when once Agnes released her sister, she led her down the hall, and placed her in the carriage, with a decision which caused the brides- maids to titter and observe that it was evident poor Ladv Everford could no longer have a will of her own. Immediately after the departure of the Earl and Coun- tess, Mr Ellington and Agnes prepared to leave Eastcourt. There was to be a grand hall in the evening, and as neither of them liked or enjojed the amusement, they settled to go. Agnes hid alrpady been snfficiently tortured —TT"HJC. her aunt's lashionaole visitors. They had talked to her 011 a- hundred subjects of which she knew 1I,¡thing, not useful or intellectuallhings with which she ought to have been fami- liJr, but such as were never bronght to hpr notiee at Ivy- hrook. Lady Adelaide de Courcy treated her with a sort of contemptuous pity, sometimes good naturedly came to her help in the midst of a ilemma, and patronised her in the most high and mighty way. Agnes was only too glad to escape from all this. and Lady Courtenay was far from sorry to get rid of her serious guest before the ball. To do her justice, she was not aware ot (he manner in which her elder niece had been treated she was too well bred to counte- nance anything ot the sort, and although she never liked Agnes, she would, if she had known it, have put an end at once 10 her annoyances. She 8miled most sweetly upon Mr Ellington and his daughter when she bid them good bye, and it was quite genuine, tor she felt infinitely obliged (0 them tor going just then. The evening entertainment was a very gay one. The guests Haying in the house made up a large party, but besides thein all the neighbouring gentry were invited, and 8S usual wi'h anything in which Lady Courrenay had any part, the affair passed off very well, people really enjoying themselves. She banished that lifeless formality from her parties which often makes so called amusement nothing but insufferable stiffness and stupidity. She seemed so completely at her ease herself, walking about and talking as thougn only surrounded by her own family, that even at first there was no awkwardness or constraint at the house. She felt rather strange during the evening, without anyone who required her care and attention, it seemed to her as though her daughter and niece were again ill the schoolroom, and she heartily wished it were so. She was sorry that her duties of chaperonage were at an end, and she thought one season of it was not sufficient reward for ears ot solitary gaiety. She really missed her niece's beautiful face, and though of late there had been a slight coolness between them, now that fht-y were separated she thought of her almost with affection. The dancing was kept up till a late hour, and Lady Courtenay was not sorry when she had seen the last ..r her guests depart. She went up to her own roi.m thoroughly tired, and dismissing Meredith out of pity for her sleepy looks, proceeded slowly to divest herseifofhernch dress. As she stood before a cheval glass, contemplating her tut) length figure, the door, which was reflected in the mirror, gently opened and with feelings almost of terror she saw her daughter enter. She could not move or speak, she had heard of spectral illusions, and imagined she was en- during one now for the tirst tnne in her life — for how could Etfie. whom she believed to be at the other end of Europe, have come there. Her terror was increased when she ad- vancpd to her side, and looking over her shoulder their eyes met in the glass. Then she found strength to turn, and lor a moment the mother and daughter stood gazing upon each other. Mama Etfie Lady Courtenay pronounced her daughter's name me- chanically She was fatigued and rather depressed at the t"n. alter all her excitement, and a rapid thought passed through her brain that this was the cause of the strange fancy under which she believed herself to be labouring. She Mt i- cfined to summon Meredith, and stretched out her lund to ring the bell, but her unwelcome visitor prevented the action by resolutely placing herself in the way. I alii no ghost, mama,' were the woids with which this move- ment was accompanied. Have you lof'totten your own daughter, or has my marriajlP-my unfo, t Inate marriage— made me so hatelul to you, that the SllIohl. of me Irightens VOl) almost to By what possibility can Mrs De Lisle he at Eastcourt Hall, then? asked Lady Courtenay, recovering herself ^s she perceived it was indeed her only child who stood before I¡..r.. She must surely be aware that no welcome can await her here.' ( want no welcome to my own estate-tor "o it will be in a short ti.ne,' replied Em", indig' antly. Bm I d > not came to give or receive reproaches,' she added, s iridjnly changing her tone, while tears started to hereyes. Mama, forgive me, for my disobedience I was very wrong, but 1 have been bitterly punished.' Indeed,' answered her mother, coldly, well I hope you have learnt wisdom, but If course I have no tongerany interest in you or your affairs.* Oh, maina exclaimed Euphemia.' can yon be so bard- heartfiand relentless ? If I did disobey you and disappoint your ho '1' surely it is not a crime of such a heinous cha- racter that it can nevet be forgiven ?' If you mu-t inflict a \isit upon me. Mrs De Lisle, vou have really cho-en a most extraordinary and unseasonable hour f"r doing so,' said Lady Courtenay, perfectly unmovi d« My reception hours do not extend until four hours alter midnight, and you will greatly oblige me by leaving the room.' I sholl 1o n t have coml" lo yon at all at such a rime under anv other circumst• nc■»■«. answeied her ('"lighter. I ar- rived here al>t eiyht in the evening, but I h..d too much r-gsrd tor your to <PI" ar hefore von until yuu wen- alone for tht nigh;, tint preletrcti lo remain in the house- keeper s room until now,' Regard for my feel'ngs,' repeated Lady Courtenay, r' t- terly. 'Yes, you have always shown much ot (hat. H, why should you come hither at all ?' she added, there can he no further intercourse between us, Mrs De Lisle.' I see, from the way in which you address me that you know I am n«t t countess, as I thought,' said Euphemia, Why did nOL rd/me so, mama ?' 'You understand yourown affairs best,' replied hermother 'it 's not likely that I shoutdintertcre with them or trouhle myself about you in any wav.' 'You surelv cannot intend to disown me!' exclaimed Etfie, who in spite of all her waywardness, really loved her mother. You cannot be so cruel. Is it not enlluio{h to find that the man for whom I sacrificed everything —even a mother's love — was base and treacherous, sought me only for my wealth? Oh, mama, think of it! Must I b- wretched for ever; I, only just entering into womanhood because in « moment of thoughtless infatuation I consented to bestow my hand upon one whom I deemed unworthy of it ?' } Oh, that is the light in which you view the affair, is it returned her mother. My sufferings do not seem to enter into your calcuhtions Rt all.' Have yoti suffered ?' exclaimed Euphernia. I did not know that-indeed, mi ma, I am verv sorry.' For the first time Lady Courtenay seemed slightly touched. She glanced at her child s imploring face, as she stood befort her, and then impulsively pushed a lounge towards her, sinking into a chair herself at the same n,ome"t. Effie s hopes began to rise, at this silent demonstration, that her mother intended to prolong theconterfnce. 'Listen, mama, she continued, in her peculiarly sweet voice when 1 found out De Lisle's treachery, hro'ugh my good guardian, I openly accused him of it, and then left him at one. I shall never see him again. If you forsake me I shall be entirely friendless. Must I endure all this for one net of folly? Already I have suffered much during the long jou'ney home; and the weary hours I have spent alone wait- 109 tor you to-night, instead of seeking rest after so much latigue, have quite exhausted me. I am faint now, oh, for- give me, mama!' 'And so. after all yourungratefu) conduct, not to use a stronger word—' you think you have only to come and ask my pardon" questioned Lady Courtenay. Have I only isked it. mama? I have implored it,' an- swered her daughter,—' I have done everything but go on my knees,—and after all, consider which is most the victim you or I? Have I t ot been deceived from the beginning —'hade the dupe of Mdlle Valmont and her cousin V They have both acted disgracefully, but you are scarcely better,' returned Lady Courtenay. '"indeed this is treating me rather too carelessly having your own wav so long as il pleased you, and then returning to me in the first moment of chagrin, expecting me to receive you with open arms. No. you have voluntarily cast off my authority, and I do not see why you should not continue to manage tor yourself, nor can I perceive any reason for my receiving you again as my daughter.' 'No reason!' repeated Effie.' Is not the love between a mother and her only child sufficient? Mama, can you refuse me still ? and even after the connexion for which you cast me off was ended. I came after all my grief and dis- appointment, hoping to find some compensation in jour affection and sympathy,—longing for rest, and that I was loved, but I meet only with coldness alld reproach.' It is entirely your own duing: answered her mother, still preserving her cold dignity of deportment. Oh, your heart most be harder than granite, colder than marble f' exclaimed Effie. 'You can see all my sorrow unmoved, and repel my entreaties for forgiveness with bitter harshness—not even one kind word or look can I obtain. I can do no more,' sheadoed. rising, —' farewell, mama; go on in your vhiri of gaiety, and try to smother the voice of conscience. Be happy if you can,—I shall trouble you no more.' She turned away, but before she reached the door a deadly faintness came over her. her head swam, and she sank down upon the carpet. Lady Courtenay, who had remained proudly er"ct, without endeavouring to detain her daughter, rose as Eftie fell, and was greatly alarmed at perceiving the pallor which had overspread her fe-tures. All her maternal sentiments rose powerfully within her breast, as she saw her only child stretched befure her anparently lifeless. She rang the bell violently. and then bathed Euphemia's temples, loosened her dre.ss, and every feeling of resentment having settled away in her alarm, she thought only of restoring consciousness Meredith soon appeared in a state of great agitation, which was not lessened by seeing her lady on the floor beside what seemed to he Mr> De Lisle's lifeless body None ot the servants, excepting the housekeeper, knew of their young mistress return, and Meredith scarcely repressed a shriek of mingled astonishment and terror, at seeing her thus for the first time. She was a quick witted woman, however, and soon guessed the Irnlh. Without requiring any directions from Lady Courtenay, she dismissed one or two persons who had risen terrified hy the violent ringing ot the bell at such an hour, by telling them that her lady was not very well; and then raising Eftie in her arms, she placed her on the bed, and proceeded to apply restoratm s. It was some time btfore she shewed signs of returning life. She was in fact completely worn out with excitement and the fatigue of a hurried journey, with roo one on whom to rely, from Venice to the South ot England, during the hot- test season of the year. Lady Courtenay found it difficult to conceal her anxiety, sufficiently to be calm and collected, until a faint tinge of colour appeared in her daughter's cheeks, and then the reaction was so great that her eyes filled witli tears. Meredith had rarely seen her haughty mistress so moved, but her own joy at Eftie's returning ani- mation was scarcely less. They moved her to the sola, and raised the window, so that the sweet, cool breath of al. August morning, might waft over her. And when Effie opened her eyes, it was upon the beautiful grounds of her own fair inheritance, stretching far away in the distance, upon wooded undulations, flowers, and loliage heavy with dew. She jrazed a moment with a dreamy sensation of pleasure upon everything looking so lovely in the grey light of morning, and then turned to behold her mother bending tenderly over her, to receive an earnest kiss, and feel that she was forgiven. Cntil now Lady Courtenay had not thought of changing her ball dress, and the jewels looked richly in the morning light, but with the aid of Meredith she soon divested herself of it. Then the mother and daughter lay down side by side to sleep, in the happy consciousness that there was no longer anger between them, and drawing the blinds, for a few rosy clouds in the East heralded the rising of the sun, Meredith left the room. All Lady Courtenay's best feelings had been excited dur- ing the last hour, and as she rested beside her weary daugh- ter, with her hand clasped in her own, she felt such deep, true love as only a mother can feel, for a child from whom she has been estranged.

FOREIGN INTELLIGENCE.

FRANCE.—THE FRENCH ELECTIONS.

IMPERIAL VfSIT TO OSBORNE.

CONSPIRACY IN PARIS.

--------.----IMPERIAL PARLIAMENT.

ELECTION PETITIONS AND A BALLOT'MAN'S…

THE LONDON MARKETS.

BRITISH.

POTATO MARKETS.

IBRITISH WOOL MARKET.

LITERARY EXTRACTS.

THE PBESS AND THE ELECTIONS.

THE INDIAN MUTINIES.

REGIMENTS FOR INDIA.

METROPOLITAN CATTLE MARKET,

BUTTER AND BACON MARKEI.

HEALTH AND R R A U T Y."

MISCELLANEOUS.

SOUTH WALES RAILWAY TIME TABLE,…

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