CLARA VAUGHAN
A NOVEL
IN THREE VOLUMES
VOL I.
R. D. Blackmore
London and Cambridge:
MACMILLAN AND CO.
1864.
The Right of Translation and Reproduction is reserved.
LONDON:
R. CLAY, SON, AND TAYLOR, PRINTERS,
BREAD STREET HILL.
CLARA VAUGHAN
BOOK I.
CHAPTER I.
I do not mean to describe myself. Already I feelthat the personal pronoun will appear too often inthese pages. Knowing the faults of my characteralmost as well as my best friends know them, I shallattempt to hide them no more than would thosebeloved ones. Enough of this: the story I have to tellis strange, and short as my own its preamble.
The day when I was ten years old began my seriouslife. It was the 30th of December, 1842; and proudwas the kiss my loving father gave me for spelling,writing, and pronouncing the date in English, French,and Italian. No very wonderful feat, it is true, fora clever child well-taught; but I was by no means aclever child; and no one except my father could teachme a single letter. When, after several years ofwedlock, my parents found new joy in me, their bliss wassoon overhung with care. They feared, but durst notown the fear, lest the wilful, passionate, loving creature,on whom their hearts were wholly set, should be tornfrom their love to a distance greater than the void ofdeath; in a word, should prove insane. At length theycould no longer hide this terror from each other. Onelook told it all; and I vaguely remember my hazywonder at the scene that followed. Like a thief, Icame from the corner behind the curtain-loops, andtrembled at my father's knee, for him to say somethingto me. Then frightened at his silence--a thingunknown to me--I pulled his hands from before his eyes,and found hot tears upon them. I coaxed him then,and petted him, and felt his sorrows through me; thenmade believe to scold him for being so naughty as tocry. But I could not get his trouble from him, and heseemed to watch me through his kisses.
Before I had ceased to ponder dreamily over thisgreat wonder, a vast event (for a child of seven)diverted me. Father, mother, and Tooty--for so Ithen was called--were drawn a long way by horseswith yellow men upon them: from enlar