MABEL.

A Novel,

BY EMMA WARBURTON.

IN THREE VOLUMES.

VOL. III.

LONDON:

THOMAS CAUTLEY NEWBY, PUBLISHER,

30, WELBECK STREET, CAVENDISH SQUARE.

1854.

CONTENTS.

MABEL

CHAPTER I.

There was something so pleasant in the feeling of the cheerful fire, that Mabel, who, for many days, had been up early and late, could not resist its influence; her thoughts began to wander from the book which she had again taken up; her heavy eyelids closed, and she fell asleep.

Again she was, where memory often carried her, in their happy cottage at Aston; she was again kneeling by her sister's side, holding her little hand in hers, and watching her tranquil sleep. Again the rumbling sound of many feet, and many voices, stole upon her ear, the air was thick with smoke—a smell of burning, and then, again, that fearful, hoarse, deafening cry of "fire."

She again awoke, startled at the sound, and, before she could analyse her remembrance, or distinguish the past from the present, she perceived that she was in flames. Her dress had fallen too near the fire, and had become ignited. Lucy was at the door, screaming fire, and calling wildly on the names of all in the house, for assistance. Caroline rushed to her, but retreated with a scream, just as Hargrave, who had been attracted by the sound of his name, came towards them. Quickly passing her, as she remained screaming with terror, he was by Mabel's side in an instant, and wrapping his powerful arms around her, he laid her on the floor as if she had been a child; then, folding the rug over her, he very soon succeeded in extinguishing the flames.

Caroline, reassured, now entered the room, and Lucy pattered back again, with her naked feet, into bed, and drew the curtains closely round her.

"Why, she has fainted!" cried Caroline; "and see how her chest is burnt," she added, tremblingly pulling aside the dress, which gave way to her touch, and displayed a scar upon her fair bosom. Hargrave turned aside his head, but she saw that he was pale, and that his hand trembled as he supported the senseless form of the beautiful girl. "Look," added Caroline, directing his attention again to her, "I shall remove this chain, for I am sure it will hurt her."

It was a small linked, gold chain, of African workmanship; and when Caroline drew it from her neck, she perceived that it was attached to a simple gold locket, large enough to contain a portrait. Holding it up, she said, laughingly:—

"Here is a secret; I must have just one little peep."

As she said this, she applied her finger to the spring, and was about to unclasp it, when Hargrave, suffering Mabel's head to rest upon the floor, started forward, and putting his arms round her, not only arrested her purpose, but took the locket from her hand, thrusting it, as he did so, into his bosom.

"It is sacred," he said, trying nervously to smile away Caroline's rising anger; and anxious to avoid a retort, he took Mabel in his arms, and carried her to the next room, where, laying her upon the sofa, he begged Caroline to watch her till he should return with a medical man.

The poor girl was not long left to the care of so angry a nurse, for the good-natured cook, upon whom she had made a very favourable impression, hurried up-stairs, and busily tried her numerous list of restoratives from fainting. She brought with her, too, a plate of raw potatoes, and a knife.

"And if," she said, "Miss Villars would but scrape a little of them, there was no knowing how it would cure the pain."

Caroline forced herself to comply, but knowing the stain which her fair fingers might sustain from such an employment, she drew on a pair of white gloves to protect them.

"Only look at her pretty neck now," lamented the cook, in tones at once of admiration and pity, which sounded ill in her young mistress's ears—rather as if she intended to detract in some way from her own acknowledged beauty—and she contemplated, with some uneasiness, the fair white bosom, and the beautifully rounded arm, which the cook was regarding with so much complacency.

Mabel soon, however, opened her eyes again, and looked wonderingly about her; when she saw how Caroline was employed, she smiled, almost with a look of gladness, as she eagerly thanked her for the trouble she was taking for her.

Mr. Mildman, the medical attendant of the family, soon made his appearance, and, after a slight examination, dispelled every fear of any serious consequences, commended the skill of the cook, and said he should not interfere with her remedy, except, indeed, by a little soothing medicine, or, perhaps, a little ointment to allay the irritation of the burn, gently commiserated with Mabel on the terror she had suffered,