To merry England our story now takes us, that we may trace a brief
sketch of those scenes wherein the days of Mildred had glided so
happily away.
Norcross Hall, the ancestral domain of the late Mrs. Dundass was
situated in one of England's most charming nooks, about forty miles
from the great metropolis. It was an ancient building, the main part
of which was said to have been erected in the time of Elizabeth--but
of this little of the original structure remained. Its present
occupant, Sir Hugh Norcross, was the son of Mrs. Dundass's eldest
brother, and to his guardianship the little Mildred had been
consigned. In this charming family she was treated with the utmost
tenderness, receiving the same education and sharing the same pursuits
as her little cousins, between whom and herself a lively affection
sprung up. Lady Norcross was a superior woman, both of mind and heart;
and under her guidance and gentle teachings, which her every-day life
so beautifully exemplified, what wonder that the little family growing
up around her should prove all that was good and lovely. Helen
Norcross was near the same age as Mildred, Rupert three years her
senior. It was not until the latter had reached his fourteenth year
that the three cousins were ever separated, even for a single day; but
now, Rupert was sent to Eton, and the two girls were left to weep and
mourn his absence, or to study a thousand delightful projects to
welcome his return at the holydays.
What happy seasons those were when, released for a time from the
thraldom of college pursuits, Rupert once more sprung in freedom
through the haunts of his childhood; the old walls rung with cheerful
voices, and every dell and dingle echoed to the merry music of their
happy hearts. And then, as each holyday came round, what changes
marked their progress. The two little girls had become graceful,
lovely women, while Rupert from a school-boy had as suddenly shot up
into a tall, elegant young man.
Sir Hugh and his lady saw with pleasure the attachment of the cousins;
they already loved Mildred as their daughter, and it was the nearest
wish of their hearts that in time the affection which now united them
might assume a more enduring form. As the education of Mildred might
now be considered completed, and the object for which she had been
sent to them attained, they grew every day more and more fearful that
Mrs. Donaldson would claim her long absent child. Mildred was too
young when she left Jamaica to have other than a faint recollection of
her mother; she could only remember the beautiful blue eyes which used
to meet hers so fondly, and the long golden ringlets through which, as
she nestled in mamma's lap, she had played bo-peep with an old
gentleman in a high-backed elbow-chair. Then she was so happy at
Norcross Hall that when her heart whispered to her, as it often did,
of her other dear mother in a far-off land, she could not but reproach
herself for not being more impatient for the moment to arrive when she
might again embrace her. But now the time drew near when she must bid
farewell to this cherished spot.
April had smiled farewell in tears, and May with her beauteous buds
and blossoms danced over the green earth. The streams welcomed her
presence with songs of glee, and the forests dressed in fresh beauty
opened their arms to greet her presence. It was yet early morning, and
to the uplifting of the rosy curtain draping the couch of the day-god
the birds were singing a merry prelude, as two young men stole softly
around an angle of the old building, and crept silently under the
shadow of the wall, until they stood beneath the windows of an
apartment whose inmates were probably buried in sleep, as through the
half-closed shutter the curtains appeared still closely drawn.
"You see I have proved a true prophet, for the girls still sleep,"
cried the taller of the two, laughing. "Now fie upon their laziness
this bright May morning--why we should have been off to the dell an
hour since, to gather the flowers ere the sun kissed away their
freshness."
"Now I will warrant you, Rupert," replied the other, "that while we
stand here with 'dewy feet,' maybe catching our deaths from this early
exposure of our delicate frames, the little jades are quietly dreaming
over the last new romance, or their first ball--come, let us arouse
them with a song!" and dropping on one knee, the young man placed his
hand upon his heart, and lifting his eyes to the window in the most
languishing manner began:
"Come, come to me, love,
Come, love, arise--
And shame the bright stars
With the light of thine eyes,
Look out from thy lattice,
O lady--"
"Very well sung, most tender swain--what a pity Mildred and myself by
our too early rising lost the melting expression of those upturned
orbs!" cried Helen, issuing with her cousin from a thicket of
rose-bushes. "So you thought us still sleeping, slanderers, when we
have already brushed the dew from the lawn, and look here," (showering
down a quantity of early violets,) "see what we stole from Flora while
you two were sleeping."
A few moments were spent in playful badinage, and then the happy party
strolled off in the direction of the dell. But, alas! like many of our
brightest hopes this morn which dawned so blissfully was destined to
end in sorrow! Upon the return of the party to the Hall, Sir Hugh with
a sorrowful countenance placed in the hands of Mildred a package of
letters. She grew pale as she read, and ere she had finished burst
into tears, and handing the package to Sir Hugh fled to her chamber.
Those letters contained the mandate for her return to Jamaica. That
very week she must leave Norcross Hall, its beloved inmates, and all
the delightful scenes of her childhood, and hasten to London, to join
a family who were about returning to the island, and to whose charge
her grandfather had consigned her.
The grief which filled all hearts at this dreaded separation may
easily be imagined. Rupert was nearly crazy at the thought. He now
felt how dear Mildred was to him, and that to part with her was like
rending soul and body. But certain that his love would meet the
sanction of his parents, knowing how tenderly they regarded her, he
hastened to make known his feelings to them, and to entreat that he
might accompany Mildred to Jamaica, and demand the consent of her
friends to their union.
"No, my dear son," said Sir Hugh, "Mildred is yet very young--of the
world she knows little, and it would be cruel to shackle her with ties
which she may in time be brought to abhor, nor would it be doing
justice to her friends to bind down her affections to us alone. Leave
her free, Rupert; if she loves you, that love will not diminish by
absence, and I promise you that in due time you shall be allowed to
prosecute your suit in the presence of her mother, and should you be
so fortunate as to win a bride so lovely, your parents' hearts will
welcome her with joy."
How coldly his father reasoned thought the ardent young lover, but
accustomed to yield all deference to his wishes, he consented that
Mildred should depart without knowing how necessary her love was to
his happiness.
Both Sir Hugh and Rupert accompanied her to London, and saw her safely
on board her majesty's ship the Essex, bound for Jamaica.