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It will be evident that our little heroine, for some time at least, would exchange one set of flatterers for another, and would move the queen of a new empire, perhaps more seductive than the last, since she was frequently made the medium of paying court to her mother by those ladies of B——, who were desirous of classing themselves in the highest circle of society their country boasted. Mothers wished to see their daughters possess the same graceful agility, the same unaffected dignity, and artless witchery, which made her beauty but a second charm in Maria, and which even a London education at a great expense did not impart to their darlings, but these advances rarely led to any thing that could be termed intimacy with mother or daughter. Mrs. Falconer really loved Mrs. Ingalton, and she was amused by the society of Lady Trevannion, and with them and the busy, lively companions who were always with her, she was content. The circumstances of her married life, added to her early loss of friends, had impressed a pensive character, a meek, but constant solicitude on her spirits, which made the glare and bustle of life rather painful than pleasurable to her, she loved society, but she disliked parade, and the beauty and elegance which rendered her an object of unbounded admiration, never affected her in any way incompatible with this love of retirement; and her continued devotion to a husband whose fine person, and frank and graceful manners, she now saw to more advantage than ever, in a circle where they were unrivalled.

From the period in which we introduced Maria, until she completed her fifteenth year, nothing occurred worthy of notice, except the fact that she really claimed the promise of Elderton, and notwithstanding a decided predilection for music and a passion for reading, which often encroached upon the hours devoted to rest, she yet engaged in learning the German language with such avidity and perseverance as to render her a delightful pupil—at a time when her mind was fully occupied with this pursuit, and she was enabled to enter with a high relish into the beauties of the German Poets, Mrs. Falconer mentioned an intention of sending Ellen Powis for a couple of years to a superior school:

"School! dear mother—you forget that she is older than me, because she happens to be less."

"No my love I do not, she is precisely at the age when a sensible, reflecting girl, will really derive benefit from the lessons she will receive. Ellen has a very small fortune, and it is desirable that she should improve it, which she might do in the most respectable manner if her education were more complete."

"She will want no fortune, she will live with us, you know—I always thought she came here to be my friend and sister as long as we lived."

"But when your mother assures you, Maria, that it will be better, and happier for Ellen to render herself independent, and adds the information, that Lady Trevannion will take her as governess to her little girls, and treat her (you are certain) most kindly, you will see Maria, that——

"I see only that——that you wish it mamma," said Maria, rushing out of the room to hide her tears, every trace of which were however banished when she next saw Ellen lest that which she considered bad news should add to her affliction. For this, however, Ellen had been prepared, for whispers had met her ear, never offered to that of the daughter, and she was aware that the plan was every way eligible, and embraced it as a part of those unbounded kindnesses which had been showered upon her ever since she entered the family. She departed, and Maria felt as if half her world was taken from her.

It will be evident, that Ellen had in a great measure supplied to Maria that portion of her mother's society, which was now necessarily given to her father, and on her absence, the mother and daughter insensibly resumed their former situation with each other. Mr. Falconer was much engaged, for Mr. Mayton now resided wholly abroad, and his management there had been of late extremely unproductive. Mr. Ingalton's health had become so bad as to render him unequal to all exertion, and as his eldest son was gone to the East Indies, he had to the great grief of his wife recalled Frank (his second son, who had been intended for the church) from the university, to assist him in the counting house.

Mr. Falconer was really sorry for this youth, and opposed the change in his destination as long as he was able; he was just nineteen, and devoted to literary pursuit with all the ardour generally experienced at that period of life, combined with high intellect, fine imagination, a soul attuned by piety to every pure and lofty association, and that happy mixture of playful fancy and pensive reflection, which rendered him well calculated for giving charms to a gay hour, and interest to a sad one.

To a young man with such habits and desires, as Frank had been permitted from his cradle to indulge, this unexpected mandate appeared a sentence cruel as death, and so much was he overwhelmed by it, that the weak constitution and parental affection of his father, rendered him incapable of insisting on the sacrifice, and Frank would have carried his point but for the irresistible pleadings of his mother. "Your brother," said she, "has left his country, probably for life, your father may linger long, but he will never be restored, and what will become of your mother and three sisters, if you persist in pursuing a profession, where, even if you are successful, it is utterly unlikely that you can assist us."

When Mr. Falconer retailed this conversation at home, and added that poor Frank had yielded to his mother's intreaties, Mrs. Falconer praised him highly, and said, "she was impatient to know him," Maria observed only "he had done his duty," but she soon afterwards said, "yet surely there can be no occasion to distress him thus? for when his father dies he must be rich enough to provide for his widow and daughters."

No answer was returned, but her mother sighed deeply, and her father appeared restless and alarmed; she recollected lately seeing the former in tears one morning on entering her dressing room, and that in reply to her enquiries, she had uttered some very extraordinary words, indicating a sense of unworthy conduct on her own mind. Maria thought something must be wrong, but hoped she should soon see it relieved, she was at least certain that "weak nerves," a disorder then as much in every one's mouth as "bilious complaints" are now, must be the sole cause of her mother's self accusation.

From this time, however, Mrs. Falconer's spirits and health were much affected, and were so much worse apparently when Maria more particularly attended to her, that she was earnestly requested to forbear every mark of peculiar tenderness, and endeavour by every possible means to divert her from all subjects of thought. As however nothing could induce the patient either to seek the common relief offered by a watering place, or to plunge into promiscuous society, Mr. Falconer invited young Ingalton to spend every moment he could spare from his new, and to him, disgusting duties, with them; as he found that quiet society afforded more regular relief to his wife's spirits, than any more violent stimulus, and next to Mrs. Ingalton she prized the society of her son Francis.

In fact, the very dejection of this young man was beneficial to those who conversed with him, since it induced them to soothe and enliven a mind which well merited their kindness, and would richly repay their endeavours to unfold its stores. In a short time Maria forgot her loss in Ellen's society, saw with gratitude the relief her mother experienced, and that the more deep though less constant oppression which had of late been visible in her father's manners, again gave way to that sanguine temperament which was natural to him. It was difficult to say whether this disposition in Mr. Falconer was more to be lamented, or rejoiced over, unquestionably it had induced him to engage in perilous enterprizes, and pursue unwise objects, but it also preserved him, generally speaking, in such a flow of spirits, that his exertions continued unparalysed amidst losses and vexations of the most enervating nature, and his temper remained pleasant and cheerful to his own household. Unlike many domestic despots who embitter the prosperity they bestow by the tyranny of their tempers, poor Falconer went step by step to ruin with the bustling gaiety of one who was accumulating possessions, and the affectionate indulgence of a heart that thought it could never bestow too much on the objects of its affection.

Consistent with this disposition, he was in the habit of concealing all painful circumstances as much as possible from his wife, and when from time to time she discovered them, he still insisted that she would keep them from her daughter, but as all parties were by nature little calculated for disguise, many things inevitably crept out which, without exciting any great alarm, yet drew the mind of Maria from subjects of elegant occupation to reflection of a painful nature, but which tended greatly to strengthen her mind, expand her views of existence, and above all, to lead her to religious exercise of thought and that faith which is the only certain support of the soul. Endued with acute feeling, a vivid imagination, ardent affections, a fine taste for all that is beautiful in nature and excellent in art, a contempt for all meanness, an utter abhorrence of vice, and freed by the peculiar circumstances in which her life had been spent, alike from the vulgar pride of wealth, and the less repulsive but equally strong prejudices which she imbibed from her birth, as the sole representative of two ancient families. There was in her character something romantic, independent, and almost eccentric so far as it was developed in conversation; but in her complete devotedness to her mother, her more than sisterly attachment to Ellen, her enthusiastic love of music, which amounted perhaps to a passion, those who associated with her saw only a most amiable and accomplished, as well as beautiful girl.

Mr. Elderton had been a long time abroad in consequence of having much extended his business on the continent, about the period of which we speak. On his return, finding that poor Ingalton was on the point of death, and that many unpleasant reports were stirring respecting the house, which his own knowledge of Mayton's conduct were calculated to confirm, he bent his steps towards Mr. Falconer's house the first evening he could spare. On his way he was overtaken by Maria, on horseback, who greeted him with all the joyful warmth so prominent in her character. On looking up, he saw with surprise, how much time had improved her during his absence, for she had grown considerably, and her slight but graceful and finished form was seen to advantage in her close habit, nor did her plumed hat less become her animated and beautiful face. Mr. Elderton's gaze brought blushes into her cheeks—or was it not the enquiry as to who was the young gentleman her companion?

"It is Frank Ingalton," said Maria, in a low voice—"poor fellow, he was obliged much against his inclination to leave Oxford, and take his father's place in the counting house—it was very hard upon him, but he is really good, and has consented to give himself up to trade."

"Which he pursues by riding about with you," said the old gentleman, in his usual dry, satirical vein.

"He pursues it," returned Maria, haughtily, "as every man ought to do. I was taking my usual airing, met him, and induced him to take my groom's horse."

The account would have been perfectly satisfactory to her old friend, but for the torrent of blushes, and the angry, yet somewhat timid tone, in which it was uttered. Mr. Elderton pursued his way, spent the evening with the family, and walked home with the young man, who, he confessed to himself, was indeed (for that neighbourhood) quite a paragon, but he yet internally maintained "ought never to think of Maria."

Again, and again, he met them, and closely observed the conduct of Frank, whose evenings were usually enlivened by running over, if but for a single hour, to Mr. Falconer's—when by chance he did not come, it was evident that Maria's mind was estranged, her instrument was out of tune, her voice affected by the air—the books she had lately read were all of his recommending, the letter she had been writing to Ellen was filled with anecdotes which he had related, or traits of virtue and sensibility, which he had exhibited. It appeared evident to the awakened mind of her old friend, that Maria had decidedly imbibed that passion which would give colour to her future existence, but he knew not whether the total indifference evinced on the subject by her parents, arose from a concurrence with the wishes of the young people, caused by their evidently deep regard for young Ingalton, or from the pressure of more affecting, though suppressed objects of anxiety, acting upon their spirits and preventing due attention to one of so much moment.

The pale, interesting countenance of Frank, and his pensive modesty of manners still continuing, were an assurance at length to Mr. Elderton "that he had never told his love," for there would have been moments when even the most anxious son, the most prudent tradesman must have betrayed that triumphant sense of happiness, the possession of such a heart as Maria's would inevitably bestow, especially on one whose sensibility was evidently acute,—"perhaps," he would say, "after all, there is nothing in this intercourse beyond that of an attached sisterly regard on Maria's part, felt for one who acts as a brother to her, and a son to her parents; and the young man's mind may have been so wedded to his books, that even the charms and accomplishments of Maria failed to affect him when he was a stranger, and she is now become familiar to him as a friend, if so, they will be saved from a foolish match, and I have nothing to tremble for in the future fate of my pretty favourite."

Yet he soon did tremble; for Ellen returned, and she too was improved in person and manners, though in his eyes every way inferior to Maria, who hailed her appearance with all the fondness of infancy, and that soft, languid tenderness of joy, which was indicative of a heart oppressed by the fulness of its own unanalyzed feelings, and which gave to friendship which it was proud to express, the character of that passion it was as yet unauthorised to reveal,—this was followed by evident anxiety, by coldness, and alternate kindness, towards him who caused the struggle, and occasionally by a kind of stern self command, which triumphed over all inquietude, and suggested to her observing friend, the hope that she had discovered the state of her own heart, and would conquer a passion felt for one who did not return it without suffering its effects to appear—without gaining from pity that which love had not accorded—a state which he well knew the pride and delicacy of her nature would render insupportable.

In all this, Frank's conduct was not only blameless but entitled to the highest praise; his constant attention to business, his affectionate attentions to his slowly declining parent, the variety of his knowledge, and his unassuming display of those talents which render domestic society captivating as well as endearing, were such as to quicken the benevolent attentions of Mr. Elderton to his feelings and manners, from a sincere desire to add to the future happiness of Maria. He was so situated in life, that he could without injury to others have offered in a share of his own extensive business the means of competence, whenever the final downfall of the house (in which the fortunes of the young people were alike centered) should render his friendship necessary to that end. But if Frank did not love Maria as she merited to be loved, it was by no means his wish to tempt him to marry her by the offer of fortune. He believed that there existed not a man on earth who deserved her, and least of all was he inclined to accord that praise to one who, however meritorious in other respects, could daily witness the graceful energy, the glowing affection, the varied talent she displayed, within the narrow circle which circumstances now seldom extended beyond her own family, without according her equal love and admiration.

Such were the thoughts passing in Mr. Elderton's mind, when Ellen, evidently with great pain, obeyed the summons of Lady Trevannion, who had with extraordinary kindness waited for her so long, that to have trespassed farther on her forbearance, would have caused a breach of friendship between the families. As her present home was at the distance of four or five miles, though Maria had it in her power to ride over every day, yet it was evidently Ellen's duty to remain much at home, and Mr. Elderton rejoiced for her own sake in the circumstance. His eye was upon all the circle, and his heart ached for all, under the impression that evil was impending upon them, both from threatened misfortunes without, and unsuspected enemies within.