MARCH B 
CORE’S RURAL 
R XER, 
to nr- 
THE COMPLIMENTS OF THE SEASON, 
[Concluded from page 146, last number,J 
Then they emerged from this darkened en¬ 
trance into a room glowing with old glided arm¬ 
chairs with ruby-velvet cushions—a dancing, 
crackling, joy-making wood Are-and lights in 
candlesticks ot Ilattersea enamel, 
Bui had stranger eyes seen that brightness for 
the first lime, and felt for the first time the rich 
warmth of both atmosphere and surroundings, 
they would yet have rested on one tiling—ohe 
thing only; one placidly-seated girl in the mid¬ 
dle of the room, with the firelight In a glow all 
over her face, and with largo, violet eves fixed 
on them as those two women walked in. 
Lady Clavering gave a lillle scream, and fell 
upon her knees, hiding her face (n her hands. 
“Oil mother, mother," she cried, “you have 
done It—done it ! O mother, mother!" and she 
stretched forth her hands towards the beautiful 
apparition, who sitt still on a velvet ottoman, 
and who \va» looking at her intently. 
•' Is it Lady Havering, b it V" said the appari¬ 
tion, calmly, addressing Mrs. Beaumont: “,\o 
one else, .1 suppose,.would call you mother." 
Then, she got up, and, taking Lady Havering in 
her arms, helped Iter to a chair; and stooping 
over hot, kb-ed her twice, and said, “Is Lord 
('layering so very cruel and wicked and wlllu) 
and unforgiving? ft ought to he very easy to 
forgive, when the injury if a mere fanciful vex¬ 
ation, a bit of bruised pride, or an obstinate 
adherence to his own view of a t hing in- knew 
nothing about. Oil, please don't look so scared ! 
I have known him for a dozen years insult a 
relation as a Christina* gift In t ho most, virtuous 
manner, quite like a good Christian. Last year 
he was too ill to read the yearly offering of Lord 
Clavering's continued evil judgment! and ftome 
one told a fib, and said my Lord had written 
kindly; and he was very glad, and hoped that 
all belonging to him would do their best to 
make peace; and so I have. II is the best I 
could do; and I have done it, thanks to Mrs. 
Beaumont. 1 believe the children think I am a 
newly import ed sort of a maid ; and I have un¬ 
locked all the boxes, and pulled out gowns and 
caps, and been asked to the housekeeper's room 
to tea, and said- ‘Good graciou , hot’ fn a w.-tv 
that I am afraid sen! your maid Into hysterics." 
And then the loveliest woman in the world, as 
many might have called her. burst out laughing; 
and it seemed as if silver bells and musical 
glasses were having a duet together of the 
nature of A happy Christmas to you , and three 
times three (hear, ami one chef) more. 
“Is the door locked?" said Lady Clavering. 
And then she w iped her eyes, and taking the 
stranger’s hand, she kissed a certain linger, 
which wore a certain ring. 
“Oh, you remember! I take that as very kind 
of you; but I should like to hear you say a word 
of praise or encouragement, if you can't say a 
word of love. I have twenty thousand pounds, 
and many people think me pretty, ” -this was 
said with such ridiculous business-like gravity, 
that Lady Clavering In spite of feaiqmd nervous¬ 
ness, laughed so heartily os to alarm herself; 
on which the wonderful stranger, imviug walk¬ 
ed to the toilette .mil back, presented to Iter a 
(lose of »al-vol itlle, which her ladyship drank 
ring to the beautiful lips the 
evasion required to finish ilte SPjibmoo demurfi- 
r with the words,-having a uetIdSd gift for 
“ I shall not dine with you,” said the stranger, 
“And then," went on Lady Clavering, with a 
smile and a sigh, “ to-morrow is the Usual great 
hunting meet at Claydown Cross, and at twelve 
o’clock the poorer tenantry come for their gifts, 
money and meat as usual. You, mother, were 
to help me in the entertainment of them. The 
women come into the great hall; the men, if 
any are here and not S»t the meet, have a glass 
of beer outside t ho door. There is ;• great see¬ 
ing of the gardens and a three o'clock tea for 
the women In the long conservatory which joins 
on to the orchard house. By the time every¬ 
body is n im home and none home the decora¬ 
tions of the great rooms will be finished and 
dinner will be ready. The day after to-morrow 
beliig Chiis'1 mas. day. we have, our homo ball. 
This afternoon is gcnl-raily taken up with the 
children’s entertainment in the village school¬ 
rooms. The teachers come to our ball. Every¬ 
body dan com. It ts necessarily late, because the 
duties and work of the day make it so. But. 
somehow everybody Is ready and the eatables 
laid out, ami the dear old rrspcctables from t he 
\Hinge get In as supernumeraries to help the 
servants and look <m at the fun by nine o'clock ; 
..ml then dancing, slnginv, a cllldren's play- 
'The Babes In the Wood ’ It la to be this year— 
actually last till, at the earliest, two o’clock in 
the morning." 
“I shall appear at that," said the stranger 
decidedly. 
“ And then,” continued Lady Clavering, “the 
next day we rest; and the day after, the twenty- 
seventh, all our neighbors, having kept Christ¬ 
mas day and hud t heir rest at home, come to 
our great ball. We fill the house with distant 
friends. Jt is the business of the day to receive 
thorn. We dine ut eight—as many as we can 
collect. The dancers come about half-past 
nine; and we have generally Had ,i f • tableaux 
first of all; but I don't l. no., how wcshnllman¬ 
age that this year. 1 am provided with two. 
The Shorts and the Grayson* gave me a re¬ 
hearsal of thorn, and they are very good ' Lucy 
Ashton,' and a scene with ‘ Mary Quoon of Scots' 
In it, where Mary Greyson looks splendid. But 
two arc not enough, I am afraid.” And Lady 
Clavering stopped with a helpless look on her 
race. 
But her mother was all attention. “Throe 
would be enough," she said, looking at the 
lovely stranger with a glance of Inquiry. 
“ Yes," murmured a sweet voice, which told 
of a considering mind, “yes; Maclise’s picture, 
nc 
ly 
the useful In necessitous circumstances, you 
see." 
But here Mrs. Beaumont Interfered. “ I think 
we must not waste time. Melanie, my maid, 
will he hero directly, Julia. She and the man 
were left with thd luggage Everybody could 
not come in that carriage, and Melanie knows 
everything. 1 )o order a chair-bed t o be pn t into 
this dressing-room; I suppose I am to have it 
as usual. She"- pointing to the stranger—“can 
sleep there, »lid now what is the programme ? 
How aird when and where are we to tell Lord 
Clavcring J What will he think of her? SVhat.ls 
she to say 
“He can only think one thing,” said the 
stranger; " and as to what ! am to say, I shall 
say that 1 have done it for his good j add it is 
all for his good that 1 have done it. But we had 
better know what is going forward. Is there 
anything to happen to-night ?" 
Tliis beautiful girl while saying this was look¬ 
ing at L;td> ('layering with eyes full of interest, 
and her pretty mout h had such a clear, coura¬ 
geous way of uttering her business-like asser¬ 
tions ami inquiries that even that surprised 
lady found it difficult, to refuse belief in the 
young beauty’s power. But before site could 
answer. Mrs Beaumont’s maid Melanie walked 
in. 
“ Oh, you are come I" was exclaimed generally. 
Then from Mrs. Beaumont came a rush of words 
to her daughter. 
“Julia toll us quickly what has been settled 
as to those Christmas festivities. As you said 
just now, I have done it; and now it must be 
carried through- Lord Havering must see her 
soon. When? How? Where? Wo have not long 
to decide in." 
" Let chance decide,” said the stranger. 
“ No, no, madume.” whispered Melanie. 
“Well " said Lady Clavering, “ to day we have 
the west wing, where the bachelors’ rooms are, 
almost filled. A dinner party of about twenty, 
and more than a dozen sleep in the house.” 
itic MabHago of Strbngbow- we did It once- 
and then—'* 
“ A master-stroke, if you can do it," said Mrs. 
Beaumont, eagerly. 
“When does the post go out?" asked the 
stranger. “ Lady Clavering, wo must have Lord 
Havering's son here." 
y Wliiit'i" ->— 
“ We must have—I must have—Lord Dayuhani 
here. I can write. Melanin can go to the post. 
Of course you know the way?" 
"Oh yes, madam© 1” 
“ It will reach him In time?" 
“ If you telegraph to him in incso words from 
me -the compliment 6 of the season—he will 
come," said Lady Havering. “ But—” 
She ceased speaking. It was quite evident 
that the beautiful lady was to have her own 
way. She was already giving Melanie the 
money, and sayingshe was glad the night looked 
so bright, and “What a blessing a full moon is 
sometimes. 
"I could not; it would not be right note tor 
me to interfere,” began Lady Clavcring again; 
“ my mother has brought you " 
“Yes, 1 am here, and facts are stubborn 
things. Kiss me oiite fiiorc. dc-ar Lady Haver¬ 
ing. AJi will go well: You have been—you ate 
so good; but I must rule now. Sometimes it is 
safer to be o\ er-ruled. I assure you." 
" It is t errifying, though." 
“ Perhaps ; but I w ish vou would not be ner¬ 
vous. 1 hFaf hammering in the hall. Is that 
Lord Clavering’s voice 7 Me is instructing the 
workmen, and I thought Just now th.'it the 
wreath wanted while; white will brighten up 
the holly : green and red arc dingy out of the 
sunshine, in spite of associations. J am going 
to help. 1 always talk German to l he children, 
so Lord Havering can think I’m a new govern¬ 
ess." 
She walked out of the room, gathering up 
black silk dress, and holding close the 
“ Is It Madame who is advising papa to have 
the white chrysanthemums?” 
“Yes, and the lamps are not to be colored, 
but white, all alike." 
“Do you like it?" called out Lord Clavering. 
“Our new friend has a fine taste in these mat¬ 
ters." 
“ Madame is sure to be right." 
" We are going to rehearse our play with Mad¬ 
ame to-night, and the end of the gallery is to be 
lighted on purpose ; but ohly grandmama is to 
see us,' cticii Anna 
It was q die evident already that the beauti¬ 
ful stranger bad begun to rule the house. 
The next day came. Every old pensioner, 
every pour woman, every curious child, had 
seen, and admired, and wondered over that 
miracle of beauty and grace, that marvel of 
kindness and cleverness, the sweet-voiced, for- 
eign-tongmid Madame. And then toward eve¬ 
ning she disappeared; ami being away and out 
of sight. Lord Havering, after the great nxer- 
11 ons of the day, including a matchles- run with 
his beloved foxhounds, never spoke to her till 
quite lap'at night. Then. 
“ My dear Julia. X never saw anything so ex¬ 
quisitely lovely in all my life;" 
“ Nor did I," said her ladyship quietly.- 
Receiving no answer, she looked up in some 
surprise; his lordship was sound asleep. 
CHAPTER III. 
The festivit ies went on just as Lady Clavcring 
had described. Everywhere, somehow, was felt 
the spirit and the presence of I hrt beautiful lady. 
The weather w as bright, cold, crisp and frosty; 
the laurels making diamonds everyw here. Out 
tn the bright , cold, clear silence stood the beau¬ 
tiful lady. Fhe had alwaj'9 seemed to know her 
way everywhere, both In the house and out of 
it. The people also had felt that she knew 
them ; and she bad called the servants at once 
by their proper names. 
There she stood, nearly a mile from the house, 
In the shadow of the spreading limbs of a huge 
oak-tree; and there she listened—listened as If 
life or death depended on what, she might hear. 
It came at last—the carriage that bad been sent 
to the Havering station for Lord Daynham; 
and there, sending forth the fragrance of some 
vary tine tobacco on the air. by the side of the 
groom he sat. 
Five minutes afterwards the beautiful lady 
was In the great hail, ami shading her eyes with 
her hand, as it were to avoid the streams of 
brilliant ligh* that made the interior of the 
house the greatest imaginable contrast to the 
pure, pale, clear brilliance of the solemn waiting 
world outnide. she said to a servant who hap¬ 
pened to be passing." Where ts Lord Havering 7" 
"lie Is In the library, madume. 1 have just 
left him t here." 
Then the lady went to the door of that room 
where the reader first saw the master and the 
mistress of the house, and knocked. On being 
told to com«- in, she entered and walked quietly 
up to Lord Clavering, who was at his table writ¬ 
ing. lie rose to meet her with an air of admir¬ 
ing respect. , _ 
She said, "Lord Daynham is arrived. He is 
with Lady Havering in her sitting room. Direc¬ 
tions were sent to him by the groom who met 
him at the station this! be was to go there first. 
Lord Havering. I am his wife!" 
He started, and almost jumped away from 
“ Wo were married two month* ago at Flor¬ 
ence. I was there with m v aunt, Lady Mary. I 
aui thedaugbter of your cousin. My lather was 
the husband of a lady you once wished to marry, 
ami you have never forgotten the way in which 
he succeeded with her. ’ 
“Mary Huntly, 1 ought to have been asked. 
You have robbed me of my son s duty. What 
not to<> cold, for there was peace in the air. it, -- . .. .. , ,. 
«• «> 'f whole ««*"». win. retail.,*. foMTSS 
hearts and boisterous winds, had become a,,»Hlv. 
bet' 
folds of a scarlet cash mere round her shoulders. 
The t wo ladies gazed Into each others* faces 
and then Mrs. Beaumont laughed aloud. 
“My dear Julia,” slic said, as soon as her voice 
was steady, “she will succeed. No man on 
earth has any choice against her. For my part 
j will stay here till you come out from dinner- 
say 1 am exhausted ; il is quite true, for I can't 
imagine what is to happen next, and Lord 
Clavering might quest ion me. Now go out ou 
l landing and see how Madame is conducting 
herself.'* 
Speechlessly did Lady Havering rise and go 
forth ; and as she looked down on the scene in 
the hall she could not do other than wonder 
and admire. Madame was there, her Imauty 
making the place radiant, and Lord Havering 
talking to her with an air of undisguised admir¬ 
ation. 
“ Mamma.” said Muriel, running up stairs and 
seizing hold of Lady Havering's hand. " Anna 
and I did not exactly know what to say when 
papa asked who madarne was; we did not know 
quite. We said she was granny's friend; that 
she had done our German exercises with us for 
a week. Was that right ?" 
“ Quite right, darling; she is your friend, too.” 
hushed *>''* Christr’" - ■ “■ •dlo In Havering Gas- 
tie little suspected, a story was working Itself 
out to the end. The beaut if u I et ranger was the 
center of everything. How it had so suddenly 
grown to be so, no one knew. She never sat at. 
their tables; she had never been seen to eat or 
drink; she always wore.! he flowing black dress; 
and she was always wrapped In the cashmere 
shawl. Everything that had been done had ' 
owed a something to her doing: everything 
that she said was felt instant ly to be right; ev- 
erythtng she touched appeared immediately to 
put on a new beauty. It. was a power so hint ant tv 
felt ami so unhesitatingly recognized, that the 
inmates of t he house sought after her for help, 
for advice, for linn! approval, for courage and 
strength- Even the very enjoyment seem to 
grow greater from her presence. In the adven¬ 
tures of the great ball her words worked magic¬ 
ally. She stood at the top of the great room, 
and led off the dance with Lord Havering; 
but when the end came, everybody ffcH that 
. adi hud had ;i full f hare «>f personal grot Men¬ 
tion; everybody's ambition seemed to have 
been fulfilled, everybody’s hope* gratified. 
After the first few mito/fts (he beautiful lady 
had not been seen t o dam e any longer, and had 
only aguin been visible when the help of some 
wiser head or more cunning hand was wanted. 
Everything was successful. Everything was 
so absorbing that t here was no time to stand 
still and wonder over the new inmate who had 
come so strangely to the castle; but everybody 
felt the bright, influence, and some found time 
to whisper that, anyhow, she had come for 
good. 
But « slight vet distinct change had eomc on 
Lady Havering. She whose rule had been 
perfect and indisputable, because gentle and 
good, ruled no more. It Was felt In some way 
quite Impossible to describe, that she waited 
and obeyed. 
Thu* the day runic for the great county ball, 
w hlob n time-honored custom had caused to be 
held at the castle. The !?horts and the Grey- 
sons were ready with their tableaux; and per¬ 
fect in their parts. All the necessary machin¬ 
ery was fixed, and there was to be a final re¬ 
hearsal of the new one suggested by Madame, 
and eagerly indorsed ou all sides.— The Mar- 
riavc of Strotmhmr. The genius displayed in 
the arrangement of scenery was a match for all 
the rest. No one felt any doubt : everyone 
admired and applauded and longed for the final 
show, t he prostrate warriors, the gravely-clad 
monks, the exulting bystanders, the troop of 
beaut iful maidens. It was a must popular idea, 
this Moirfoi/e of Stnniylnni'. It took all the 
pretty girls In the house, who had nothing to do 
but stand still ami look beautiful, which every¬ 
one of them in their soever hearts felt them¬ 
selves unquestionably capable of doing. But 
the bride was to be Madame; crowned and Clad 
in pure white she was to be ; and whet her any¬ 
one there could look lovely by her side was a 
very doubtful mutter in Lady Havering's mind- 
And then came the question, who was to be 
Strougbow ? Lord Havering? Madame would 
have no one else. Her lips had spoken it; and 
though Lord Clavcring trembled he obeyed. 
Never was there such a rehearsal oa the List and 
the full-dressed one, in the room darkened tor 
the purpose. How Madame fixed her Strong- 
bow with her half-fearful, asking, modest glit¬ 
tering eve ! It was not the mere nervousness of 
acting that made the strong man quiver in 
every nerve. 
Then it was over, and people said that It 
would dn perfectly!—that it. was the grandest 
idea and the finest tableau that had ever been 
seen. 
Some of them wished to discuss the matter 
with Madame, but she was gone, not to be 
found, at least for the present—lost. 
It was a night full of stars, with the moon on 
angrily. 
“I name to ask you to give me cack my moth¬ 
er," she said, making with emotion and with 
tier wonderfully beautiful face agonized sud¬ 
denly with teani. “Lord Daynham, my hus¬ 
band, before our marriage, wrote to Lady C'l&v- 
erlng, and ahe promised to try to chunge your 
state of feeling; towards us, but assured him to 
got anything but a refusal from you at that mo¬ 
ment would be quite Impossible. Lord Dayn- 
ham would uot have married me tn the face of 
your refusal, lie would not, therefore, run the 
risk of asking you. We asked no one—not even 
my mother. \Vc loved; wo were both of us good 
and true. I was his equal, and there was no 
reasonable objection to our marriage; therefore 
we married. And now, now—turn us out if 
you please. I care for nothing, dread nothing; 
and 1 only want one thing; that tiling I am here 
to get, (the me InJch my moth or !" 
She uttered the words with a cry, a wail so 
subduing that it seemed to pierce Lord Haver¬ 
ing’s soul. She trembled Lorn head to foot, 
the tears courted down her Hushed cheeks in 
stream*. “I can't live without, my mother. 
Give me back my mother!" and the moisture 
rose to Lord Havering’s eyes as he saw and 
heard h-i 
“ You must explain yourself," lie said, making 
her fit down by him. " What have 1 to do with 
yottr mother?’’ 
“ She refuses to sec me,” sobbed Lady Dnyn- 
ham. “My dear mother, the great blessing of 
my life. mV darling, mv darling «h© won't see 
me because l have married your son. she says 
you embittered her husband'd life; that you 
can’t think anything but evil of t he dead: that 
you have allowed a ridiculous idea of having 
suffered injustice to disgrace your life; uudthat 
my marrving the son ol rueti a man separates me 
from her forever, <». ut least , till you conic to 
your senses, and her to forgive you, and re¬ 
ceive me back. 0 Lord Havering! a small tiling, 
us vou thougut it -only a resolution never to 
sen or to think well of one fellow-creature—ha* 
been persevered tn till it has lost you a son’s 
obedience, and broken my heart almost, i can¬ 
not live with an angry mother; I cannot endure 
life apart from her. i love her—I cling to her— 
i long for her! she ha,-; always been the t-ender- 
est mother alive, and now—now! GItp her back 
to me. ii all depends on you.’ 
“Then iell me what I shall do," be said with 
cast-down eyes, and speaking gently. “I did 
not know—I did not think. But to have my 
8iin married -without my knowledge—ia there 
no mortification to ms, do you suppose, in hav¬ 
ing the world made acquainted with so degrad¬ 
ing a fact t" 
“It was ail your own fault. How could we 
help it? I am In every way fit tn lie his wife. 
Ho bad a rigid *»> choose me. I have come here 
to make things right. Chance ha* favored me. 
The btrougbov. ol to night must be Lord Dayn¬ 
ham. You must immediately tell all the world 
assembled here the tact of our marriage, and 
you must tell the truth—say who I am, and why 
wc married without your knowledge. All the 
people in the county who have readied middle 
age remember my father, and know of your 
quarrel with him. Nothing but truth can help 
us. And go t<“morrow to Huntly, and get me 
; back m> mother,” 
Once more the violence of her emotion 
seemed to overcome her, and she sank on her 
knees at Lord < jav.-ring's feet. 
That night, when Lord Daynham appeared as 
Strongbow, there was a sound like the hushed 
bream of h multit ude surprised, wonder-struck. 
Tin, bride (Ire.-.-ted with a most wonderful beau¬ 
ty, a real bride, with the young slaters of her 
husband close to her silvery ' ~ 
_ --. train. One more 
figure—Lord Havering by tils son's side—ami 
theii the curtain dropped, and people breathed 
again, and were oidy (stopped in their applause 
bv Lord Havering appearing In ill* mock armor, 
and saying. "11 i* nil hi v How i hoy all talk¬ 
ed ! how t hey cried out, “ Once more The pre¬ 
ceding tableaux had all bad their appearance*. 
But no! Lady Daynham wasombracing her hus¬ 
band in a safe place, behind the scenes, ami 
they only appeared hi lime to open the ball. 
The good old county gossips remembered all 
about the quarrel, and those angry,dIsappointed 
years which had followed On Mr. Huntly mar¬ 
rying Ivate Latimer. They talked of nothing 
else; and everybody rejoiced over tlie ending 
of so loim-ehcrished a grief. 
But when ut last, people began to go away, 
and others to get to bed, Lord Clavcring and 
Lord Duyuham were found to be going too¬ 
th rough the night to Mr.;. Huntly I iirough Hm 
night to sav. "1 repent; lam glad to get your 
daughter fov my child—to ask forgiveness ami 
peace. 
“Oh, take all you want, uud welcomesaid 
Mrs. Huntly; “onlyyou will please to remem¬ 
ber that 1 never loved any man but my husband, 
and that you never bad a chance with me—no, 
never!" 
