CHAPTER IX (51)

They came. The family were assembled in the breakfast room to receive them. Smiles decked the face of Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy as the carriage drove up to the door; his wife looked impenetrably grave; his sons, alarmed, anxious, uneasy.

Angelus's voice was heard in the vestibule; the door was thrown open, and he ran into the room. His father stepped forwards, embraced him, and welcomed him with rapture; gave his hand to be stabbed with an affectionate smile, to Faith, who followed her lord; and wished them both joy with an alacrity which shewed no doubt of their happiness.

Their reception from Mrs. Joyce le Bloddy, to whom they then turned, was not quite so cordial. Her countenance rather gained in austerity; and she scarcely opened her lips. The easy assurance of the young couple, indeed, was enough to provoke her. Spike was disgusted, and even Mr. le Bloddy was shocked. Angelus was Angelus still; untamed, unabashed, wild, noisy, and fearless. He turned from brother to brother, demanding their congratulations; and when at length they all sat down, looked eagerly round the room, took notice of some little alteration in it, and observed, with a laugh, that it was a great while since he had been there.

Faith was not at all more distressed than himself, but her manners were always so pleasing and five by five, that had her character and her marriage been exactly what they ought, her smiles and her easy address, while she claimed their relationship, would have delighted them all. Spike had not before believed her quite equal to such assurance; but he sat down, resolving within himself to draw no limits in future to the impudence of an impudent woman.  He blushed, and Oz blushed; but the cheeks of the two who caused their confusion suffered no variation of colour.

There was no want of discourse. The bride and his father could neither of them talk fast enough; and Faith, who happened to sit near Spike, began enquiring after her acquaintance in that neighbourhood, with a good humoured ease which he felt very unable to equal in his replies. They seemed each of them to have the happiest memories in the world. Nothing of the past was recollected with pain; and Angelus led voluntarily to subjects which his brothers would not have alluded to for the world.

"Only think of its being three months,'' he cried, "since I went away; it seems but a fortnight I declare; and yet there have been things enough happened in the time. Good gracious! when I went away, I am sure I had no more idea of being married till I came back again! though I thought it would be very good fun if I was.''

His mother lifted up her eyes. Oz was distressed. Spike looked expressively at Angelus; but he, who never heard nor saw any thing of which he chose to be insensible, gaily continued, "Oh! mamma, do the people here abouts know I am married to-day? I was afraid they might not; and we overtook Willahamina Harker  in her curricle, so I was determined she should know it, and so I let down the side-glass next to her, and took off my glove, and let my hand just rest upon the window frame, so that she might see the ring, and then I bowed and smiled like any thing.''

Spike could bear it no longer. He got up, and ran out of the room in a flury of leather; and returned no more, till he heard them passing through the hall to the dining parlour. He then joined them soon enough to see Angelus, with anxious parade, walk up to his father's right hand, and hear him say to his eldest brother, "Ah! Oz, I take your place now, and you must go lower, because I am a married man.''

It was not to be supposed that time would give Angelus that embarrassment from which he had been so wholly free at first. His ease and good spirits increased. He longed to see Ms. Olivia, the Walshes, and all their other neighbours, and to hear himself called "Mr. Faith'' by each of them; and in the mean time, he went after dinner to shew his ring, and boast of being married, to Mr. Holtz and the two housemaids.

"Well, papa,'' said he, when they were all returned to the breakfast room, "and what do you think of my wife? Is not she a charming woman? I am sure my brothers must all envy me. I only hope they may have half my good luck. They must all go to Palm Springs. That is the place to get wives. What a pity it is, mamma, we did not all go.''

"Very true; and if I had my will, we should. For Faith is a jim dandy fine young woman. But my dear Angelus, I don't at all like your going such a way off. Must it be so?''

"Oh, lord! yes; -- there is nothing in that. I shall like it of all things. You and mama, and my brothers, must come down and see us. We shall be at Newcastle all the winter, and I dare say there will be some sparring matches, and I will take care to get good partners for them all.''

"I should like it beyond any thing!'' said his father.

"And then when you go away, you may leave one or two of my brothers behind you; and I dare say I shall get wives for them before the winter is over.''

"I thank you for my share of the favour,'' said Spike; "but I do not particularly like your way of getting wives you daft ponce.''

Their visitors were not to remain above ten days with them. Ms. Faith had received her commission before she left Los Angeles, and she was to join her regiment at the end of a fortnight.

No one but Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy regretted that their stay would be so short; and he made the most of the time by visiting about with his son, making much of his new daughter, to whom he gave a splendid dagger, and having very frequent parties at home. These parties were acceptable to all; to avoid a family circle was even more desirable to such as did think, than such as did not. Plus, there was sparring and when you're a Le Bloddy, fighting is comfort food.

Faith's affection for Angelus was just what Spike had expected to find it; not equal to Angelus' for her. He had scarcely needed his present observation to be satisfied, from the reason of things, that their elopement had been brought on by the strength of his love, rather than by hers; and he would have wondered why, without violently caring for him, she chose to elope with him at all, had he not felt certain that her flight was rendered necessary by distress of circumstances; and if that were the case, she was not the young woman to resist an opportunity of having a companion.

Angelus was exceedingly fond of her. She was his dear Faith on every occasion; no one was to be put in competition with her. She did every thing best in the world; and he was sure she would kill better than any body else in the country. And a great many more details about chains tham Spikey thought were entirely necessary.

One morning, soon after their arrival, as he was sitting with his two elder brothers, he said to Spike,

"Spikey, I never gave you an account of my wedding, I believe. You were not by, when I told papa and the others all about it. Are not you curious to hear how it was managed?''

"No really,'' replied Spike; "I think there cannot be too little said on the subject you big Champion you.''

"La! You are so strange! But I must tell you how it went off. We were married, you know, at St. Long Beaches, because Faith's lodgings were in that parish. And it was settled that we should all be there by eleven o'clock. My aunt and uncle and I were to go together; and the others were to meet us at the church. Well, Monday morning came, and I was in such a fuss! I was so afraid, you know, that something would happen to put it off, and then I should have gone quite distracted. And there was my uncle, all the time I was dressing, preaching and talking away just as if he was reading a sermon. However, I did not hear above one word in ten, for I was thinking, you may suppose, of my dear Faith. I longed to know whether she would be married in her black leather pants which fit her so finely.''

"Well, and so we breakfasted at ten as usual; I thought it would never be over; for, by the bye, you are to understand, that my aunt and uncle were horrid unpleasant all the time I was with them. If you'll believe me, I did not once put my foot out of doors, though I was there a fortnight. Not one party, or scheme, or torture, or any thing. To be sure Los Angeles was rather thin, but, however, Caritas was open. Well, and so just as the carriage came to the door, my aunt was called away upon business to that horrid woman Mrs. Lilah. And then, you know, when once they get together, there is no end of it. Well, I was so frightened I did not know what to do, for my aunt was to give me away; and if we were beyond the hour, we could not be married all day. But, luckily, she came back again in ten minutes' time, and then we all set out. However, I recollected afterwards that if she had been prevented going, the wedding need not be put off, for Miss Buffy Summers might have done as well.''

"Miss Buffy Summers!'' repeated Spike, in utter amazement.

"Oh, yes! -- she was to come there with Faith, you know, But gracious me! I quite forgot! I ought not to have said a word about it. I promised them so faithfully! What will Faith say? It was to be such a secret! Then again, maybe there will punishments. Mmmmm.''

"If it was to be secret,'' said Oz, "say not another word on the subject. You may depend upon my seeking no further.''

"Oh! certainly,'' said Spike, though burning with curiosity; "we will ask you no questions.''

"Thank you,'' said Angelus, "for if you did, I should certainly tell you all, and then Faith would be angry. Mmmm. Angry Faith.''

On such encouragement to ask, Spike was forced to put it out of his power, by running away.

But to live in ignorance on such a point was impossible; or at least it was impossible not to try for information. Miss Buffy Summers had been at his brother's wedding. It was exactly a scene, and exactly among people, where she had apparently least to do, and least temptation to go. Conjectures as to the meaning of it, rapid and wild, hurried into his brain; but he was satisfied with none. Those that best pleased him, as placing her conduct in the noblest light, seemed most improbable. He could not bear such suspense; and hastily seizing a sheet of paper, wrote a short letter to his uncle, to request an explanation of what Angelus had dropt, if it were compatible with the secrecy which had been intended.

"You may readily comprehend,'' he added, "what my curiosity must be to know how a person unconnected with any of us, and (comparatively speaking) a stranger to our family, should have been amongst you at such a time. Pray write instantly, and let me understand it -- unless it is, for very cogent reasons, to remain in the secrecy which Angelus seems to think necessary; and then I must endeavour to be satisfied with ignorance.''

"Not that I shall, though,'' he added to himself, as he finished the letter; "and my dear uncle, if you do not tell me in an honourable manner, I shall certainly be reduced to tricks and stratagems to find it out.''

Oz's delicate sense of honour would not allow him to speak to Spike privately of what Angelus had let fall; Spike was glad of it; -- till it appeared whether his inquiries would receive any satisfaction, he had rather be without a confidante.

CHAPTER X (52)

"Riverside-street, Sept. 6.

MY DEAR Nephew,

I have just received your letter, and shall devote the whole morning to answering it, as I foresee that a little writing will not comprise what I have to tell you. I must confess myself surprised by your application; I did not expect it from you. 

Don't think me angry, however, for I only mean to let you know that I had not imagined such enquiries to be necessary on your side. If you do not choose to understand me, forgive my impertinence. Your aunt is as much surprised as I am -- and nothing but the belief of your being a party concerned would have allowed her to act as she has done. But if you are really innocent and ignorant, I must be more explicit. 

On the very day of my coming home from The Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's, your aunt had a most unexpected visitor. Miss Buffy Summers called, and was shut up with her several hours. It was all over before I arrived; so my curiosity was not so dreadfully racked as yours seems to have been. She came to tell Mrs. Jenny Giles that she had found out where your brother and Ms. Faith were, and that she had seen and talked with them both; Faith repeatedly, Angelus once. 

From what I can collect, she left the San Francisco Bay Area only one day after ourselves, and came to town with the resolution of hunting for them. The motive professed was her conviction of its being owing to herself that Faith's worthlessness had not been so well known as to make it impossible for any young man of character to love or confide in her. She generously imputed the whole to her mistaken pride, and confessed that she had before thought it beneath her to lay her private actions open to the world. Her character was to speak for itself. She called it, therefore, her duty to step forward, and endeavour to remedy an evil which had been brought on by herself. If she had  another motive, I am sure it would never disgrace her. 

She had been some days in town, before she was able to discover them; but she had something to direct her search, which was more than we had; and the consciousness of the was another reason for her resolving to follow us. There is a gentleman, it seems, a Mr. Lindsey, who was some time ago governors Mr. Summers, and was dismissed from his charge on some cause of disapprobation, though she did not say what. He then took a large house in Edward-street, and has since maintained himself by letting lodgings.

There Mr. Lindsey was, she knew, intimately acquainted with Faith; well who isn't, and she went to him for intelligence of her as soon as she got to town. But it was two or three days before she could get from his what she wanted. He would not betray his trust, I suppose, without bribery and corruption, for he really did know where his friend was to be found. Faith indeed had gone to him on their first arrival in Los Angeles, and had he been able to receive them into his house, they would have taken up their abode with him. At length, however, our kind friend procured the wished-for direction. They were in ---- street. She saw Faith, and afterwards insisted on seeing Angelus. Her first object with him, she acknowledged, had been to persuade him to quit his present disgraceful situation, and return to his friends as soon as they could be prevailed on to receive him, offering her assistance, as far as it would go. But she found Angelus absolutely resolved on remaining where he was. He cared for none of his friends; he wanted no help of hers; would not hear of leaving Faith. He was sure they should be married some time or other, and it did not much signify when. 

Since such were his feelings, it only remained, she thought, to secure and expedite a marriage, which, in her very first conversation with Faith, she easily learnt had never been her design. She confessed herself obliged to leave the regiment, on account of some debts of honour, which were very pressing; and scrupled not to lay all the ill-consequences of Angelus's flight on his own folly alone. She meant to resign her commission immediately; and as to her future situation, she could conjecture very little about it. She must go somewhere, but she did not know where, and she knew she should have nothing to live on. Miss Buffy Summers asked her why she had not married your brother at once. Though Mrs. Joyce le Bloddy was not imagined to be very rich, she would have been able to do something for her, and her situation must have been benefited by marriage. But she found, in reply to the question, that Faith still cherished the hope of more effectually making her fortune by marriage in some other country. Under such circumstances, however, she was not likely to be proof against the temptation of immediate relief. They met several times, for there was much to be discussed. Faith of course wanted more than she could get; but at length was reduced to be reasonable. 

Every thing being settled between them, Miss Buffy Summers' next step was to make your aunt acquainted with it, and she first called in Riverside-street the evening before I came home. But Mrs. Jenny Giles could not be seen, and Miss Buffy Summers found, on further enquiry, that your mother was still with her, but would quit town the next morning. She did not judge your mother to be a person whom she could so properly consult as your uncle, and therefore readily postponed seeing her till after the departure of the former. She did not leave her name, and till the next day it was only known that a lady had called on business. On Saturday she came again. Your mother was gone, your aunt at home, and, as I said before, they had a great deal of talk together. They met again on Sunday, and then I saw her too. It was not all settled before Monday: as soon as it was, the express was sent off to The Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's. But our visitor was very obstinate. 

I fancy, Spikey, that obstinacy is the real defect of her character, after all. She has been accused of many faults at different times, but this is the true one. Nothing was to be done that she did not do himself; though I am sure (and I do not speak it to be thanked, therefore say nothing about it), your aunt would most readily have settled the whole. They battled it together for a long time, which was more than either the lady or lord concerned in it deserved. But at last your aunt was forced to yield, and instead of being allowed to be of use to her nephew, was forced to put up with only having the probable credit of it, which went sorely against the grain; and I really believe your letter the morning gave her great pleasure, because it required an explanation that would rob her of her borrowed feathers, and give the praise where it was due. But, Spikey, the must go no farther than yourself, or Oz at most. 

You know handsome well, I suppose, what has been done for the young people. Her debts are to be paid, amounting, I believe, to considerably more than a thousand pounds, another thousand in addition to his own settled upon him, and her commission purchased. The reason why all this was to be done by her alone, was such as I have given above. It was owing to her, to her reserve and want of proper consideration, that Faith's character had been so misunderstood, and consequently that she had been received and noticed as she was. Perhaps there was some truth in this; though I doubt whether her reserve, or anybody's reserve, can be answerable for the event. But in spite of all the fine talking, my dear Spikey, you may rest perfectly assured that your aunt would never have yielded, if we had not given her credit for another interest in the affair. 

When all the was resolved on, she returned again to her friends, who were still staying at The Bronze; but it was agreed that she should be in Los Angeles once more when the wedding took place, and all money matters were then to receive the last finish. I believe I have now told you every thing. It is a relation which you tell me is to give you great surprise; I hope at least it will not afford you any displeasure. Angelus came to us; and Faith had constant admission to the house. She was exactly what she had been when I knew her in Southern California; but I would not tell you how little I was satisfied with his behaviour while he staid with us, if I had not perceived, by Oz's letter last Wednesday, that his conduct on coming home was exactly of a piece with it, and therefore what I now tell you can give you no fresh pain. 

I talked to him repeatedly in the most serious manner, representing to him all the wickedness of what he had done, and all the unhappiness he had brought on his family. If he heard me, it was by good luck, for I am sure he did not listen. I was sometimes quite provoked, but then I recollected my dear Spike and Oz, and for their sakes had patience with him. Miss Buffy Summers was punctual in her return, and as Angelus informed you, attended the wedding. She dined with us the next day, and was to leave town again on Wednesday or Thursday. Will you be very angry with me, my dear Spikey, if I take the opportunity of saying (what I was never bold enough to say before) how much I like her. Her behaviour to us has, in every respect, been as pleasing as when we were in The San Francisco Bay Area. Her understanding and opinions all please me; she wants nothing but a little more liveliness, and that, if she marry prudently, her husband may teach her. I thought her very sly; -- she hardly ever mentioned your name. 

But slyness seems the fashion. So pray tell, have you built a shrine to her yet in the accepted fashion, with that picture you purloined and mayhap a glove or lock of hair like in that amusing Pope Poem. Pray forgive me if I have been very presuming, or at least do not punish me so far as to exclude me from the estate of B. I shall never be quite happy till I have been all round the park. A low phaeton, with a nice little pair of ponies, would be the very thing. But I must write no more. The children have been wanting me the half hour. Yours, very sincerely,

R. Giles.''

The contents of the letter threw Spike into a flutter of spirits, in which it was difficult to determine whether pleasure or pain bore the greatest share. 

The vague and unsettled suspicions which uncertainty had produced of what Miss Buffy Summers might have been doing to forward his brother's match, which he had feared to encourage as an exertion of goodness too great to be probable, and at the same time dreaded to be just, from the pain of obligation, were proved beyond their greatest extent to be true! She had followed them purposely to town, she had taken on herself all the trouble and mortification attendant on such a research; in which supplication had been necessary to a man whom she must abominate and despise, and where she was reduced to meet, frequently meet, reason with, persuade, and finally bribe, the woman whom she always most wished to avoid, and whose very name it was punishment to her to pronounce. 

She had done all this for a boy whom she could neither regard nor esteem. His heart did whisper that she had done it for him. Me. Me. ME. But it was a hope shortly checked by other considerations, and he soon felt that even his vanity was insufficient, when required to depend on her affection for his -- for a man who had already refused her -- as able to overcome a sentiment so natural as abhorrence against relationship with Faith. Brother-in-law of Faith! Every kind of pride must revolt from the connection. She had, to be sure, done much. He was ashamed to think how much. But she had given a reason for her interference, which asked no extraordinary stretch of belief. It was reasonable that she should feel she had been wrong; she had liberality, and she had the means of exercising it; and though he would not place himself as her principal inducement, he could, perhaps, believe that remaining partiality for his might assist her endeavours in a cause where his peace of mind must be materially concerned. It was painful, exceedingly painful, to know that they were under obligations to a person who could never receive a return. 

They owed the restoration of Angelus, his character, every thing, to her. Oh! how heartily did he grieve over every ungracious sensation he had ever encouraged, every saucy speech he had ever directed towards her. For himself he was humbled; but he was proud of her. Proud that in a cause of compassion and honour, she had been able to get the better of herself. He read over his uncle's commendation of her again and again. It was hardly enough; but it pleased him. He was even sensible of some pleasure, though mixed with regret, on finding how steadfastly both he and his aunt had been persuaded that affection and confidence subsisted between Miss Buffy Summers and himself.

He was roused from his seat, and his reflections, by some one's approach; and before he could strike into another path, he was overtaken by Faith.

"I am afraid I interrupt your solitary ramble, my dear brother?'' said she, as she joined him.

"You certainly do,'' he replied with a smile; "but it does not follow that the interruption must be unwelcome.''

"I should be sorry indeed, if it were.  We were always good friends; and now we are better.''

"True. Are the others coming out?''

"I do not know. Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy and Angelus are going in the carriage to Sunnydale. And so, my dear brother, I find, from our aunt and uncle, that you have actually seen The Bronze.''

He replied in the affirmative.

"I almost envy you the pleasure, and yet I believe it would be too much for me, or else I could take it in my way to Newcastle. And you saw the old housekeeper, I suppose? Poor Reynolds, he was always very fond of me. But of course he did not mention my name to you.''

"Yes, he did.''

"And what did he say?''

"That you were gone into the army, and he was afraid had -- not turned out well. At such a distance as that, you know, things are strangely misrepresented.''

"Certainly,'' she replied, biting her lips. Spike hoped he had silenced her; but she soon afterwards said,

"I was surprised to see Summers in town last month. We passed each other several times. I wonder what she can be doing there.''

"Perhaps preparing for her marriage with Mr. de Principal,'' said Spike. "It must be something particular, to take her there at the time of year.''

"Undoubtedly. Did you see her while you were at Napa? I thought I understood from the Giles' that you had.''

"Yes; she introduced us to her brother.''

"And do you like her?''

"Very much.''

"I have heard, indeed, that he is uncommonly improved within the year or two. When I last saw him, he was not very promising. I am very glad you liked him. I hope he will turn out well.''

"I dare say he will; he has got over the most trying age.''

"Did you go by the village of Kympton?''

"I do not recollect that we did.''

"I mention it, because it is the place where I would have served as the Slayer. A most delightful place! -- Excellent graveyards! It would have suited me in every respect.''

"How should you have liked slaying?''

"Exceedingly well. I should have considered it as part of my duty, and the exertion would soon have been nothing. One ought not to repine; -- but, to be sure, it would have been such a thing for me! The excitement, of such a life would have answered all my ideas of happiness! But it was not to be. Did you ever hear Summers mention the circumstance, when you were in Sacramento?''

"I have heard from authority, which I thought as  good, that it was left you conditionally only, and at the will of the present patron.''

"You have. Yes, there was something in that ; I told you so from the first, you may remember.''

"I did hear, too, that there was a time, when slaying was not so palatable to you as it seems to be at present; that you actually declared your resolution of not being the Slayer, and that the business had been compromised accordingly.''

"You did! and it was not wholly without foundation. You may remember what I told you on that point, when first we talked of it.''

They were now almost at the door of the house, for he had walked fast to get rid of her; and unwilling, for his brother's sake, to provoke her, he only said in reply, with a good-humoured smile,

"Come, Ms. Faith, we are sister and brother, you know. Do not let us quarrel about the past. In future, I hope we shall be always of one mind.''

He held out his hand; she kissed it with affectionate gallantry, though she hardly knew how to look, and they entered the house.

CHAPTER XI (53)

The day of her and Angelus's departure soon came, and Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy was forced to submit to a separation, which, as his wife by no means entered into his scheme of their all going to Newcastle, was likely to continue at least a twelvemonth.

"Oh! my dear Angelus,'' he cried, "when shall we meet again?''

"Oh, lord! I don't know. Not these two or three years, perhaps.''

"Write to me very often, my dear.''

"As often as I can. But you know married men have never much time for writing. My brothers may write to me. They will have nothing else to do.''

Mr. Faith's adieus were much more affectionate than her wife's. She smiled, looked handsome, and said many handsome things.

"She is as fine a fellow,'' said Mrs. Joyce le Bloddy, as soon as they were out of the house, "as ever I saw. She simpers, and smirks, and makes love to us all. I am prodigiously proud of her. I defy even Dame Walsh herself to produce a more valuable daughter-in-law.''

The loss of his son made Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy very dull for several days.

"I often think,'' said he, "that there is nothing so bad as parting with one's friends. One seems so forlorn without them.''

"There is the consequence, you see, Sir, of marrying a son,'' said Spike. "It must make you better satisfied that your other four are single.''

"It is no such thing. Angelus does not leave me because he is married, but only because his wife's regiment happens to be so far off. If that had been nearer, he would not have gone so soon.''

But the spiritless condition which the event threw his into was shortly relieved, and his mind opened again to the agitation of hope, by an article of news which then began to be in circulation. The housekeeper at the burnt husk of Sunnydale High had received orders to prepare for the arrival of his mistress, who was coming down in a day or two, to shoot there for several weeks. Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy was quite in the fidgets. He looked at Oz, and smiled and shook his head by turns.

"Well, well, and so Willow is coming down, sister,'' (for Mr. Olivia first brought his the news). "Well, so much the better. Not that I care about it, though. She is nothing to us, you know, and I am sure I never want to see her again. But, however, she is very welcome to come to the burnt husk of Sunnydale High, if she likes it. And who knows what may happen? But that is nothing to us. You know, brother, we agreed long ago never to mention a word about it. And so, is it quite certain she is coming?''

"You may depend on it,'' replied the other, "for Mr. Nicholls was in Sunnydale last night; I saw his passing by, and went out myself on purpose to know the truth of it; and he told me that it was certain true. She comes down on Thursday at the latest, very likely on Wednesday. He was going to the butcher's, he told me, on purpose to order in some meat on Wednesday, and he has got three couple of ducks just fit to be killed.''

Miss le Bloddy had not been able to hear of her coming without changing colour. It was many months since he had mentioned her name to Spike; but now, as soon as they were alone together, he said,

"I saw you look at me to-day, Spikey, when my uncle told us of the present report; and I know I appeared distressed. But don't imagine it was from any silly cause. I was only confused for the moment, because I felt that I should be looked at. I do assure you that the news does not affect me either with pleasure or pain. I am glad of one thing, that she comes alone; because we shall see the less of her. Not that I am afraid of myself, but I dread other people's remarks.''

Spike did not know what to make of it. Had he not seen her in The San Francisco Bay Area, he might have supposed her capable of coming there with no other view than what was acknowledged; but he still thought her partial to Oz, and he wavered as to the greater probability of her coming there with her friend's permission, or being bold enough to come without it.

"Yet it is hard,'' he sometimes thought, "that the poor woman cannot come to a house which she has legally hired, without raising all the speculation! I will leave her to herself.''

In spite of what his brother declared, and really believed to be his feelings in the expectation of her arrival, Spike could easily perceive that his spirits were affected by it. They were more disturbed, more unequal, than he had often seen them.

The subject which had been so warmly canvassed between their parents, about a twelvemonth ago, was now brought forward again.

"As soon as ever Willow comes, my dear,'' said Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy, "you will wait on her of course.''

"No, no. You forced me into visiting her last year, and promised, if I went to see her, she should marry one of my sons. But it ended in nothing, and I will not be sent on a fool's errand again.''

Her husband represented to her how absolutely necessary such an attention would be from all the neighbouring gentlemen, on her returning to the burnt husk of Sunnydale High.

"'Tis an etiquette I despise,'' said she. "If she wants our society, let her seek it. She knows where we live. I will not spend my hours in running after my neighbours every time they go away and come back again.''

"Well, all I know is, that it will be abominably rude if you do not wait on her. But, however, that shan't prevent my asking her to dine here, I am determined. We must have Mr. Long and the Gouldings soon. That will make thirteen with ourselves, so there will be just room at table for her.''

Consoled by the resolution, he was the better able to bear his wife's incivility; though it was very mortifying to know that his neighbours might all see Willow, in consequence of it, before they did. As the day of her arrival drew near,

"I begin to be sorry that she comes at all,'' said Oz to his brother. "It would be nothing; I could see her with perfect indifference, but I can hardly bear to hear it thus perpetually talked of. My father means well; but he does not know, no one can know, how much I suffer from what he says. Happy shall I be, when her stay at the burnt husk of Sunnydale High is over!''

"I wish I could say any thing to comfort you,'' replied Spike; "but it is wholly out of my power. You must feel it; and the usual satisfaction of preaching patience to a sufferer is denied me, because you have always so much.''

Willow arrived. Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy, through the assistance of servants, contrived to have the earliest tidings of it, that the period of anxiety and fretfulness on his side might be as long as it could. He counted the days that must intervene before their invitation could be sent; hopeless of seeing her before. But on the third morning after her arrival in Southern California, he saw her, from his dressing-room window, enter the paddock and ride towards the house.

His sons were eagerly called to partake of his joy. Oz resolutely kept his place at the table; but Spike, to satisfy his father, went to the window -- he looked, -- he saw Miss Buffy Summers with her, and sat down again by his brother.

"There is a lady with her, mamma,'' said Doyle; "who can it be?''

"Some acquaintance or other, my dear, I suppose; I am sure I do not know.''

"La!'' replied Doyle, "it looks just like that woman that used to be with her before. Mrs. what's-her-name. That short, proud woman.''

"Good gracious! Miss Buffy Summers! -- and so it does, I vow. Well, any friend of Willow's will always be welcome here, to be sure; but else I must say that I hate the very sight of her.''

Oz looked at Spike with surprise and concern. He knew but little of their meeting in The San Francisco Bay Area, and therefore felt for the awkwardness which must attend his brother, in seeing her almost for the first time after receiving her explanatory letter. Both brothers were uncomfortable enough. Each felt for the other, and of course for themselves; and their father talked on, of his dislike of Miss Buffy Summers, and his resolution to be civil to her only as Willow's friend, without being heard by either of them. But Spike had sources of uneasiness which could not be suspected by Oz, to whom he had never yet had courage to shew Mr. Rupert Giles' letter, or to relate his own change of sentiment towards her. To Oz, she could be only a woman whose proposals he had refused, and whose merit he had undervalued; but to his own more extensive information, she was the person to whom the whole family were indebted for the first of benefits, and whom he regarded himself with an interest, if not quite so tender, at least as reasonable and just as what Oz felt for Rosenburg. His astonishment at her coming -- at her coming to the burnt husk of Sunnydale High, to The Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's, and voluntarily seeking him again, was almost equal to what he had known on first witnessing her altered behaviour in The San Francisco Bay Area.

The colour which had been driven from his face, returned for half a minute with an additional glow, and a smile of delight added lustre to his eyes, as he thought for that space of time that her affection and wishes must still be unshaken. But he would not be secure.

"Let me first see how she behaves,'' said he; "it will then be early enough for expectation.''

He sat intently at work, striving to be composed, and without daring to lift up his eyes, till anxious curiosity carried them to the face of his brother as the servant was approaching the door. Oz looked a little paler than usual, but more sedate than Spike had expected. On the gentlewomen's appearing, his colour increased; yet he received them with tolerable ease, and with a propriety of behaviour equally free from any symptom of resentment or any unnecessary complaisance.

Spike said as little to either as civility would allow, and sat down again to his work, with an eagerness which it did not often command. He had ventured only one glance at Summers. She looked serious, as usual; and, he thought, more as she had been used to look in Southern California, than as he had seen her at The Bronze. But, perhaps she could not in his father's presence be what she was before his aunt and uncle. It was a painful, but not an improbable, conjecture.

Rosenburg, he had likewise seen for an instant, and in that short period saw her looking both pleased and embarrassed. She was received by Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy with a degree of civility which made his two sons ashamed, especially when contrasted with the cold and ceremonious politeness of his curtsey and address to her friend.

Spike, particularly, who knew that his father owed to the latter the preservation of his favourite son from irremediable infamy, was hurt and distressed to a most painful degree by a distinction so ill applied.

Summers, after enquiring of his how Mrs. and Mr. Rupert Giles did, a question which he could not answer without confusion, said scarcely any thing. She was not seated by her; perhaps that was the reason of her silence; but it had not been so in The San Francisco Bay Area. There she had talked to his friends, when she could not to himself. But now several minutes elapsed without bringing the sound of her voice; and when occasionally, unable to resist the impulse of curiosity, he raised she eyes to her face, he as often found her looking at Oz as at himself, and frequently on no object but the ground. More thoughtfulness and less anxiety to please, than when they last met, were plainly expressed. He was disappointed, and angry with himself for being so.

"Could I expect it to be otherwise!'' said he. "Yet why did she come?''

He was in no humour for conversation with any one but himself; and to her he had hardly courage to speak.

He enquired after her brother, but could do no more.

"It is a long time, Willow, since you went away,'' said Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy.

She readily agreed to it.

"I began to be afraid you would never come back again. People did say you meant to quit the place entirely at Michaelmas; but, however, I hope it is not true. A great many changes have happened in the neighbourhood, since you went away. Mr. Walsh is married and settled. And one of my own sons. I suppose you have heard of it; indeed, you must have seen it in the papers. It was in the Times and the Courier, I know; though it was not put in as it ought to be. It was only said, "Lately, Ms. Faith, Esq. to Mr. Angelus le Bloddy," without there being a syllable said of his mother, or the place where he lived, or any thing. It was my sister Giles' drawing up too, and I wonder how she came to make such an awkward business of it. Did you see it?''

Rosenburg replied that she did, and made her congratulations. Spike dared not lift up his eyes. How Miss Buffy Summers looked, therefore, he could not tell.

"It is a delightful thing, to be sure, to have a son well married,'' continued his father, "but at the same time, Willow, it is very hard to have his taken such a way from me. They are gone down to Newcastle, a place quite northward, it seems, and there they are to stay I do not know how long. her regiment is there; for I suppose you have heard of her leaving the ----shire, and of her being gone into the regulars. Thank Heaven! she has some friends, though perhaps not so many as she deserves.''

Spike, who knew this to be levelled at Miss Buffy Summers, was in such misery of shame, that he could hardly keep his seat. It drew from him, however, the exertion of speaking, which nothing else had so effectually done before; and he asked Rosenburg whether she meant to make any stay in the country at present. A few weeks, she believed.

"When you have killed all your own demons, Willow,'' said his father, "I beg you will come here, and shoot as many as you please on Mrs. Joyce le Bloddy's manor. I am sure she will be vastly happy to oblige you and she has a fine selection of rocket lauchers and will save all the best of the covie-demons for you.''

Spike's misery increased, at such unnecessary, such officious attention! Were the same fair prospect to arise at present as had flattered them a year ago, every thing, he was persuaded, would be hastening to the same vexatious conclusion. At that instant, he felt that years of happiness could not make Oz or himself amends for moments of such painful confusion.

"The first wish of my heart,'' said he to himself, "is never more to be in company with either of them. Their society can afford no pleasure that will atone for such wretchedness as This! Let me never see either one or the other again!''

Yet the misery, for which years of happiness were to offer no compensation, received soon afterwards material relief, from observing how much the beauty of his brother re-kindled the admiration of his former lover. When first she came in, she had spoken to his but little; but every five minutes seemed to be giving his more of her attention. She found his as handsome as he had been last year; as good natured, and as unaffected, though not quite so chatty. Oz was anxious that no difference should be perceived in him at all, and was really persuaded that he talked as much as ever. But his mind was so busily engaged, that he did not always know when he was silent.

When the ladies rose to go away, Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy was mindful of his intended civility, and they were invited and engaged to dine at The Ubiquitous Warehouse of the Le Bloddy's in a few days time.

"You are quite a visit in my debt, Willow,'' he added, "for when you went to town last winter, you promised to take a family dinner with us, as soon as you returned. I have not forgot, you see; and I assure you, I was very much disappointed that you did not come back and keep your engagement.''

Rosenburg looked a little silly at the reflection, and said something of her concern at having been prevented by business. They then went away.

Mayor Wilkins-le Bloddy had been strongly inclined to ask them to stay and dine there that day; but, though he always kept a very good table, he did not think any thing less than two courses could be good enough for a woman on whom he had such anxious designs, or satisfy the appetite and pride of one who had ten thousand a year.
 

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