Ernest Maltravers, Book 1

fear thy blo

art is

/Fiesco/, Ac

her quickness in music to attempt such instruction in other studies as conversation could afford. It is a better school than parents and masters think for: there was a time when all information was given orally; and probably the Athenians learned more from hearing Aristotle than we do from reading him. It was a delicious revival of Academe-in the walks, or beneath the rustic porticoes

humour the novitiate of the victims it must speedily take into its joyless priesthood. And Alice had now quietly and insensibly carved out her own avocations-the tenor of her service. The plants in the conservatory had passed under her care, and no one else was privileged to touch Maltravers's books, or arrange the sacred litter of a student's apartment. When he came down in the morning, or returned from his walks, everything was in order, yet, by a kind of magic, just as

ought to be otherwise; she had not the conventional and sensitive delicacy of girls who, whatever their rank of life, have been taught that there is a mystery and a peril in love; she had a vague idea about girls going wrong, but she did not know that love had anything to do with it; on the contrary, according to her father, it had connection with money, not love; all th

oiced to think so," sai

re would be

e himself?-The re

is side, while she was unconsciously practising her last lesson on the piano-"Alice,-no,

im, while he was yet hunting, amidst the further corners of the room, in places where it was certain not to be. There it was, already filled with the fragrant Salonica glittering with the gilt pastile, which, not too healthfully, adulterates the seductive weed with odours t

sit down there-out of the draught. I am goin

n the smooth lawn. The calm and holiness of the night soothed and elevated his thoughts; he h

ou a service, I should have done you a deadly injury, which I could not atone for: besides, Heaven knows what may happen worse than imprudence; for, I am very sorry to say," added Maltravers, with great gravity, "that you are much too pretty and engaging to-to-in short, it won't do. I must go home; my friends will have a right to complain of me if I remain thus lost to them many weeks longer. And you, my dear Alice, are now sufficiently advanced to receive better instruction than I or Mr. Simcox can give

vers, if he had an impassioned, had not a selfish heart; and he felt, to use his own expression, more emphatic than eloquent, that "it would not do" t

that Maltravers, if he could not resist, desired to shun. She rose, pal

silly in me to be so happy." (She struggled with her emotion for a moment, and went on.) "You know Heaven can hear me, even when I am away

old, she stopped and looked round, as if to take a last farewell. All the associations and memories of

beloved Alice-forgive me; we will never part!" He chafed her hands in his own, while her head lay on his bosom, and he kissed a

love thee." Alas, it was true: he loved-an