CHAPTER XIX. ANOTHER INTRODUCTION. “Oue fatal remembrance, one sorrow that throws MOORE. The same afternoon our heroine might be seen entering the post-office at Twickenham. On showing the advertisement and explaining her errand, the post-master, eyeing her sharply, presented to her in an envelope a card on which was written: "MRS. ALEXANDER CLYDE, Acacia Grove, Twickenham." The man pointed out the direction of the house, which was at no great distance. It was not a very large one, but was built in the Italian style, and beautifully decorated. The gardens, which were extensive, were laid out with great taste. Agnes' eyes wandered in admiration from one lovely object to another; everything that could delight the eye or please the fancy was there in its greatest perfection. Fountains playing in the golden sunlight, and scattering their glistening diamonds upon the rich dark-green moss that surrounded their marble basins; terraces adorned with statuary, and vases filled with flowers of the most brilliant hues; velvet lawns, sunny bowers, and shady alcoves, were all to be found there in charming variety. On one of the lawns Agnes observed a tame gazelle, tethered near a mimic waterfall at which to slake its thirst. "Who are you?" Agnes was asked in a shrill, harsh voice, as she stood in the flowery porch. Much surprised, she looked round, and was again saluted: "Walk in; Clyde's at home." The voice came from above, and on looking up, Agnes beheld a very handsome green parrot, eyeing her with curiosity from its gilded cage. On observing that it was discovered, it indulged in a loud and disagreeable scream of laughter, which was answered by the well-known screech of a peacock, which strutted proudly on a balustrade. Agnes was beginning to think that the lady of the house must have a great predilection for animals. At this moment the door was thrown open, and the parrot again warmly pressed her to "walk in." Agnes, not thinking it necessary to give her name, handed the card to the footman, considering that that was sufficient introduction. She saw in the drawing-room the same taste displayed that had struck her in the grounds. It was adorned with a profusion of the choicest hothouse flowers. The most refined judgment had presided over all the arrangements, even in the smallest details. And when Agnes recollected for the first time that she was offering herself no to take the place of a governess, but to be the companion of a lady who evidently moved in high society, a feeling of diffidence stole over her, and she feared that her application would be in vain. As these thoughts crossed her mind, she heard a light step outside the door, and in another instant Mrs. Clyde entered the room. She was young, had dark eyes, and scarcely a tinge of color in her face. Her movements were easy and graceful, and Agnes thought how handsome she would have been had she not looked so ill. As she approached Agnes, she raised her eyes to speak to her; and fixing them for an instant on her face, she became deadly pale, and sank into a chair. "You are ill," said Agnes, much frightened. "Shall I ring for assistance?" "Thank you, no. asked your name." But pardon me, I have not "Miss Falkland," said Agnes. Mrs. Clyde rose, saying, "Will you excuse me, and wait for a few minutes? I am not strong, and often feel faint." She bowed graciously, and with a smile retired. The voice, the smile, the manner were all peculiar, and Agnes felt that they were not strange to her. "Those eyes, I am sure I have seen them before!" She started. Could it be possible? Yes, surely it was Frances Macdonald ! But how changed! how different from the bright creature that Edith had introduced to her one frosty morning in her happy home at Ferncliffe! She stood transfixed, but was aroused by the entrance of Mr. Clyde, who, coming forward, addressed her in the following terms: "Mrs. Clyde tells me, Miss Falkland, that she was acquainted with you some years ago. This unlooked-for meeting has taken her by surprise, and it will be impossible for her to see you again to-day. No doubt you were astonished at her sudden illness; but she is in a very delicate state of health, and sometimes the most trifling occurrences bring on these fainting-fits. If you will kindly leave your address, you shall hear from her in the course of a day or two." As Agnes retraced her steps, how strange to her appeared the scene which had just taken place! What could have caused so great a change in one so young, so bright as Frances Macdonald? She wondered whether Mr. Clyde had ever heard her own history, and if not, whether he would hear it now. "He said," continued Agnes, "that she would write in a few days. Yes, she will write to say that she can have nothing to do with one who has played a part so false, so despicable. Yes, this is but another disappointment, another humiliation, another disgrace. Why should a Catholic be preferred? Has Edith's prayer been granted? Can Miss Macdonald have become a Catholic? But these things I shall never know. No sooner am I recognised than I am shunned, dismissed. Is it to be always thus? Is this false, this unjust charge ever to follow me? When I look only for a peaceful home, this phantom awaits me to forbid my entrance. O father, mother, Walter! if you but knew that it is sufficient for Agnes to be known to be despised! But this you have been spared, thanks to an all-merciful God." A new idea struck her. "Some one surely must know that I am thus falsely accused; some one must be guilty of great injustice in concealing the truth; the person, whoever it is, that destroyed that unfortunate document. And if endowed with a spark of feeling, what must not that person suffer! I, at any rate, can rejoice in having done nothing to be ashamed of. My conscience acquits me of having committed any dishonorable act. But such thoughts as these are dangerous and futile." So saying, she dismissed them as temptations. Agnes, could you have glanced at that moment into one of the apartments at Acacia Grove, you would have seen how truly you had conjectured; you would have seen how remorse, never entirely stifled, had sprung forth into new life, as a smouldering fire bursts into flames when fanned by a sudden breeze. As Frances, with faltering steps, sought her private apartment, she encountered her husband; and having given him the message which we have seen him deliver to Agnes, she hastened on. She had only time to reach a couch, when she fell upon it in a dead faint. The excitement had been too much for her delicate frame. Mr. Clyde returned to her, and was not surprised at finding her thus prostrated, such fainting |