marriages for her; nor was her father much
behind his wife in his ambition. They took
her up to London, when they went to buy
new carriages, and dresses, and furniture.
And it was then and there she made my
lady's acquaintance. How it was that they
came to take a fancy to each other, I cannot
say. My lady was of the old nobility,—
grand, composed, gentle, and stately in her
ways. Miss Galindo must always have been
hurried in her manner, and her energy must
have shown itself in inquisitiveness and
oddness even in her youth. But I don't
pretend to account for things: I only narrate
them. And the fact was this:—that the
elegant, fastidious Countess was attracted to
the country girl, who on her part almost
worshipped my lady. My lady's notice of
their daughter made her parents think, I
suppose, that there was no match that she
might not command; she, the heiress of
eight thousand a-year, and visiting about
among earls and dukes. So, when they
came back to their old Westmoreland
Hall, and Mark Gibson rode over to offer
his hand and heart, and prospective estate
of nine hundred a-year to his old
companion and playfellow, Laurentia, Sir Hubert
and Lady Galindo made very short work of
it. They refused him plumply themselves,
and when he begged to be allowed to speak to
Laurentia, they found some excuse for refusing
him the opportunity of so doing, until they
had talked to her themselves, and brought
up every argument and fact in their power
to convince her—a plain girl, and conscious
of her own plainness—that Mr. Mark Gibson
had never thought of her in the way of
marriage till after her father's accession to his
fortune; and that it was the estate—not the
young lady—that he was in love with. I
suppose it will never be known in this world
how far this supposition of theirs was true.
My Lady Ludlow had always spoken as if it
was; but perhaps events, which came to her
knowledge about this time, altered her
opinion. At any rate, the end of it was,
Laureutia refused Mark, and almost broke
her heart in doing so. He discovered the
suspicions of Sir Hubert and Lady Galindo,
and that they had persuaded their daughter
to share in them. So he flung off with high
words, saying that they did not know a true
heart when they met with one; and that,
although he had never offered till after Sir
Lawrence's death, yet that his father knew
all along that he had been attached to
Laurentia, only that he, being the eldest of
five children, and having as yet no profession,
had had to conceal, rather than to express, an
attachment, which, in those days, he had
believed was reciprocated. He had always
meant to study for the bar, and the end of
all he had hoped for had been to earn a
moderate income, which he might ask
Laurentia to share. This, or something like it,
was what he said. But his reference to his
father cut two ways. Old Mr. Gibson was
known to be very keen about money. It was
just as likely that he would urge Mark to
make love to the heiress, now she was an
heiress, as that he would have restrained him
previously, as Mark said he had done. When
this was repeated to Mark, he became proudly
reserved, or sullen, and said that Laurentia,
at any rate might have known him better.
He left the country, and went up to London
to study law soon afterwards; and Sir
Hubert and Lady Galindo thought they
were well-rid of him. But Laureutia never
ceased reproaching herself, and never did to
her dying day, as I believe. The words,
"she might have known me better," told to
her by some kind friend or other, rankled in
her mind, and were never forgotten. Her
father and mother took her up to London the
next year; but she did not care to visit,
dreaded going out even for a drive, lest she
should see Mark Gibson's reproachful eyes,
pined and lost her health. Lady Ludlow
saw this change with regret, and was told the
cause by Lady Galindo, who, of course, gave
her own version of Mark's conduct and
motives. My lady never spoke to Miss
Galindo about it, but tried constantly to
interest and please her. It was at this time
that my lady told Miss Galindo so much
about her own early life, and about Hanbury,
that Miss Galindo resolved, if ever she could,
she would go and see the old place which
her friend loved so well. The end of it all
was, that she came to live there, as we
know.

But a great change was to come first.
Before Sir Hubert and Lady Galindo had
left London on this, their second visit, they
had a letter from the lawyer, whom they
employed, saying that Sir Lawrence had left
an heir, his legitimate child by an Italian
woman of low rank; at least legal claims to
the title and property had been sent in to
him on the boy's behalf. Sir Lawrence had
always been a man of adventurous and
artistic, rather than of luxurious tastes; and
it was supposed, when all came to be proved
at the trial, that he was captivated by the
free, beautiful life they lead in Italy, and had
married this Neapolitan fisherman's daughter,
who had people about her shrewd enough to
see that the ceremony was legally performed.
She and her husband had wandered about
the shores of the Mediterranean for years,
leading a happy, careless, irresponsible life,
unencumbered by any duties except those
connected with a rather numerous family. It
was enough for her that they never wanted
money, and that her husband's love was
always continued to her. She hated the
name of England—wicked, cold, heretic
England—and avoided the mention of any
subjects connected with her husband's early
life. So that, when he died at Albano, she
was almost roused out of her vehement grief
to anger with the Italian doctor, who declared