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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/18375-8.txt b/18375-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..35056b7 --- /dev/null +++ b/18375-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4927 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argosy, by Various + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Argosy + Vol. 51, No. 5, May, 1891 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Charles W. Woods + +Release Date: May 11, 2006 [EBook #18375] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGOSY *** + + + + +Produced by Paul Murray, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + _"Laden with Golden Grain"_ + + * * * * * + + THE + ARGOSY. + + + EDITED BY + CHARLES W. WOOD. + + * * * * * + + + VOLUME LI. + + _January to June, 1891._ + + * * * * * + + + RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, + 8, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, LONDON, W. + + Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty. + + _All rights reserved._ + + + LONDON: + PRINTED BY OGDEN, SMALE AND CO. LIMITED, + GREAT SAFFRON HILL, E.C. + + + + + +_CONTENTS._ + + +THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND. Illustrated by M.L. GOW. + + Chap. I. My Arrival at Deepley Walls Jan + II. The Mistress of Deepley Walls Jan + III. A Voyage of Discovery Jan + IV. Scarsdale Weir Jan + V. At Rose Cottage Feb + VI. The Growth of a Mystery Feb + VII. Exit Janet Hope Feb + VIII. By the Scotch Express Feb + IX. At "The Golden Griffin" Mar + X. The Stolen Manuscript Mar + XI. Bon Repos Mar + XII. The Amsterdam Edition of 1698 Mar + XIII. M. Platzoff's Secret--Captain Ducie's Translation of + M. Paul Platzoff's MS Mar + XIV. Drashkil-Smoking Apr + XV. The Diamond Apr + XVI. Janet's Return Apr + XVII. Deepley Walls after Seven Years Apr + XVIII. Janet in a New Character May + XIX. The Dawn of Love May + XX. The Narrative of Sergeant Nicholas May + XXI. Counsel taken with Mr. Madgin May + XXII. Mr. Madgin at the Helm Jun + XXIII. Mr. Madgin's Secret Journey Jun + XXIV. Enter Madgin Junior Jun + XXV. Madgin Junior's First Report Jun + + * * * * * + +THE SILENT CHIMES. By JOHNNY LUDLOW (Mrs. HENRY WOOD). + + Putting Them Up Jan + Playing Again Feb + Ringing at Midday Mar + Not Heard Apr + Silent for Ever May + + * * * * * + +THE BRETONS AT HOME. By CHARLES W. WOOD, F.R.G.S. With + 35 Illustrations Jan, Feb, Mar, Apr, May, Jun + + * * * * * + +About the Weather Jun +Across the River. By HELEN M. BURNSIDE Apr +After Twenty Years. By ADA M. TROTTER Feb +A Memory. By GEORGE COTTERELL Feb +A Modern Witch Jan +An April Folly. By GILBERT H. PAGE Apr +A Philanthropist. By ANGUS GREY Jun +Aunt Phoebe's Heirlooms: An Experience in Hypnotism Feb +A Social Debut Mar +A Song. By G.B. STUART Jan +Enlightenment. By E. NESBIT Feb +In a Bernese Valley. By ALEXANDER LAMONT Feb +Legend of an Ancient Minster. By JOHN GRÆME Mar +Longevity. By W.F. AINSWORTH, F.S.A. Apr +Mademoiselle Elise. By EDWARD FRANCIS Jun +Mediums and Mysteries. By NARISSA ROSAVO Feb +Miss Kate Marsden Jan +My May Queen. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. May +Old China Jun +On Letter-Writing. By A.H. JAPP, LL.D. May +Paul. By the Author of "Adonais, Q.C." May +"Proctorised" Apr +Rondeau. By E. NESBIT Mar +Saint or Satan? By A. BERESFORD Feb +Sappho. By MARY GREY Mar +Serenade. By E. NESBIT Jun +Sonnets. By JULIA KAVANAGH Jan, Feb, Apr, Jun +So Very Unattractive! Jun +Spes. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. Apr +Sweet Nancy. By JEANIE GWYNNE BETTANY May +The Church Garden. By CHRISTIAN BURKE May +The Only Son of his Mother. By LETITIA MCCLINTOCK Mar +To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo Jun +Unexplained. By LETITIA MCCLINTOCK Apr +Who Was the Third Maid? Jan +Winter in Absence Feb + + * * * * * + +_POETRY._ + +Sonnets. By JULIA KAVANAGH Jan, Feb, Apr, Jun +A Song. By G.B. STUART Jan +Enlightenment. By E. NESBIT Feb +Winter in Absence Feb +A Memory. By GEORGE COTTERELL Feb +In a Bernese Valley. By ALEXANDER LAMONT Feb +Rondeau. By E. NESBIT Mar +Spes. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. Apr +Across the River. By HELEN M. BURNSIDE Apr +My May Queen. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. May +The Church Garden. By CHRISTIAN BURKE May +Serenade. By E. NESBIT Jun +To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo Jun +Old China Jun + + * * * * * + +_ILLUSTRATIONS._ + +By M.L. Gow. + + "I advanced slowly up the room, stopped, and curtsied." + + "I saw and recognised the mysterious midnight visitor." + + "He came back in a few minutes, but so transformed in outward + appearance that Ducie scarcely knew him." + + "Behold!" + + "Sister Agnes knelt for a few moments and bent her head in silent + prayer." + + "He put his hand to his side, and motioned Mirpah to open the letter." + + * * * * * + +Illustrations to "The Bretons at Home." + + + + +[Illustration: SISTER AGNES KNELT FOR A FEW MOMENTS, AND BENT HER HEAD +IN SILENT PRAYER.] + + + + +THE ARGOSY. + +_MAY, 1891._ + + + + +THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +JANET IN A NEW CHARACTER. + + +On entering Lady Chillington's room for the second time, Janet found +that the mistress of Deepley Walls had completed her toilette in the +interim, and was now sitting robed in stiff rustling silk, with an +Indian fan in one hand and a curiously-chased vinaigrette in the other. +She motioned with her fan to Janet. "Be seated," she said, in the iciest +of tones; and Janet sat down on a chair a yard or two removed from her +ladyship. + +"Since you were here last, Miss Hope," she began, "I have seen Sister +Agnes, who informs me that she has already given you an outline of the +duties I shall require you to perform should you agree to accept the +situation which ill-health obliges her to vacate. At the same time, I +wish you clearly to understand that I do not consider you in any way +bound by what I have done for you in the time gone by, neither would I +have you in this matter run counter to your inclinations in the +slightest degree. If you would prefer that a situation as governess +should be obtained for you, say so without hesitation; and any small +influence I may have shall be used ungrudgingly in your behalf. Should +you agree to remain at Deepley Walls, your salary will be thirty guineas +a-year. If you wish it, you can take a day for consideration, and let me +have your decision in the morning." + +Lady Chillington's mention of a fixed salary stung Janet to the quick: +it was so entirely unexpected. It stung her, but only for a moment; the +next she saw and gratefully recognised the fact that she should no +longer be a pensioner on the bounty of Lady Chillington. A dependent she +might be--a servant even, if you like; but at least she would be earning +her living by the labour of her own hands; and even about the very +thought of such a thing there was a sweet sense of independence that +flushed her warmly through and through. + +Her hesitation lasted but a moment, then she spoke. "Your ladyship is +very kind, but I require no time for consideration," she said. "I have +already made up my mind to take the position which you have so +generously offered me; and if my ability to please you only prove equal +to my inclination, you will not have much cause to complain." + +A faint smile of something like satisfaction flitted across Lady +Chillington's face. "Very good, Miss Hope," she said, in a more gracious +tone than she had yet used. "I am pleased to find that you have taken so +sensible a view of the matter, and that you understand so thoroughly +your position under my roof. How soon shall you be prepared to begin +your new duties?" + +"I am ready at this moment." + +"Come to me an hour hence, and I will then instruct you." + +In this second interview, brief though it was, Janet could not avoid +being struck by Lady Chillington's stately dignity of manner. Her tone +and style were those of a high-bred gentlewoman. It seemed scarcely +possible that she and the querulous, shrivelled-up old woman in the +cashmere dressing-robe could be one and the same individual. + +Unhappily, as Janet to her cost was not long in finding out, her +ladyship's querulous moods were much more frequent than her moods of +quiet dignity. At such times she was very difficult to please; +sometimes, indeed, it was utterly impossible to please her: not even an +angel could have done it. Then, indeed, Janet felt her duty weigh very +hardly upon her. By nature her temper was quick and passionate--her +impulses high and generous; but when Lady Chillington was in her worse +moods, she had to curb the former as with an iron chain; while the +latter were outraged continually by Lady Chillington's mean and miserly +mode of life, and by a certain low and sordid tone of thought which at +such times pervaded all she said and did. And yet, strange to say, she +had rare fits of generosity and goodwill--times when her soul seemed to +sit in sackcloth and ashes, as if in repentance for those other +occasions when the "dark fit" was on her, and the things of this world +claimed her too entirely as their own. + +After her second interview with Lady Chillington, Janet at once hurried +off to Sister Agnes to tell her the news. "On one point only, so far as +I see at present, shall I require any special information," she said. "I +shall need to know exactly the mode of procedure necessary to be +observed when I pay my midnight visits to Sir John Chillington." + +"It is not my intention that you should visit Sir John," said Sister +Agnes. "That portion of my old duties will continue to be performed by +me." + +"Not until you are stronger--not until your health is better than it is +now," said Janet earnestly. "I am young and strong; it is merely a part +of what I have undertaken to do, and you must please let me do it. I +have outgrown my childish fears, and could visit the Black Room now +without the quiver of a nerve." + +"You think so by daylight, but wait until the house is dark and silent, +and then say the same conscientiously, if you can do so." + +But Janet was determined not to yield the point, nor could Sister Agnes +move her from her decision. Ultimately a compromise was entered into by +which it was agreed that for one evening at least they should visit the +Black Room together, and that the settlement of the question should be +left until the following day. + +Precisely as midnight struck they set out together up the wide, +old-fashioned staircase, past the door of Janet's old room, up the +narrower staircase beyond, until the streak of light came into view and +the grim, nail-studded door itself was reached. Janet was secretly glad +that she was not there alone; so much she acknowledged to herself as +they halted for a moment while Sister Agnes unlocked the door. But when +the latter asked her if she were not afraid, if she would not much +rather be snug in bed, Janet only said: "Give me the key; tell me what I +have to do inside the room, and then leave me." + +But Sister Agnes would not consent to that, and they entered the room +together. Instead of seven years, it seemed to Janet only seven hours +since she had been there last, so vividly was the recollection of her +first visit still impressed upon her mind. Everything was unchanged in +that chamber of the dead, except, perhaps, the sprawling cupids on the +ceiling, which looked a shade dingier than of old, and more in need of +soap and water than ever. But the black draperies on the walls, the huge +candles in the silver tripods, the pall-covered coffin in the middle of +the room, were all as Janet had seen them last. There, too, was the +oaken _prie-dieu_ a yard or two away from the head of the coffin. Sister +Agnes knelt on it for a few moments, and bent her head in silent prayer. + +"My visit to this room every midnight," said Sister Agnes, "is made for +the simple purpose of renewing the candles, and of seeing that +everything is as it should be. That the visit should be made at +midnight, and at no other time, is one of Lady Chillington's whims--a +whim that by process of time has crystallised into a law. The room is +never entered by day." + +"Was it whim or madness that caused Sir John Chillington to leave orders +that his body should be kept above ground for twenty years?" + +"Who shall tell by what motive he was influenced when he had that +particular clause inserted in his will? Deepley Walls itself hangs on +the proper fulfilment of the clause. If Lady Chillington were to cause +her husband's remains to be interred in the family vault before the +expiry of the twenty years, the very day she did so the estate would +pass from her to the present baronet, a distant cousin, between whom and +her ladyship there has been a bitter feud of many years' standing. +Although Deepley Walls has been in the family for a hundred and fifty +years, it has never been entailed. The entailed estate is in Yorkshire, +and there Sir Mark, the present baronet, resides. Lady Chillington has +the power of bequeathing Deepley Walls to whomsoever she may please, +providing she carry out strictly the instructions contained in her +husband's will. It is possible that in a court of law the will might +have been set aside on the ground of insanity, or the whole matter might +have been thrown into Chancery. But Lady Chillington did not choose to +submit to such an ordeal. All the courts of law in the kingdom could +have given her no more than she possessed already--they could merely +have given her permission to bury her husband's body, and it did not +seem to her that such a permission could compensate for turning into +public gossip a private chapter of family history. So here Sir John +Chillington has remained since his death, and here he will stay till the +last of the twenty years has become a thing of the past. Two or three +times every year Mr. Winter, Sir Mark's lawyer, comes over to Deepley +Walls to satisfy himself by ocular proof that Sir John's instructions +are being duly carried out. This he has a legal right to do in the +interests of his client. Sometimes he is conducted to this room by Lady +Chillington, sometimes by me; but even in his case her ladyship will not +relax her rule of not having the room visited by day." + +Sister Agnes then showed Janet that behind the black draperies there was +a cupboard in the wall, which on being opened proved to contain a +quantity of large candles. One by one Sister Agnes took out of the +silver tripods what remained of the candles of the previous day, and +filled up their places with fresh ones. Janet looked on attentively. +Then, for the second time, Sister Agnes knelt on the _prie-dieu_ for a +few moments, and then she and Janet left the room. + +Next day Sister Agnes was so ill, and Janet pressed so earnestly to be +allowed to attend to the Black Room in place of her, and alone, that she +was obliged to give a reluctant consent. + +It was not without an inward tremor that Janet heard the clock strike +twelve. Sister Agnes had insisted on accompanying her part of the way +upstairs, and would, in fact, have gone the whole distance with her, had +not Janet insisted on going forward alone. In a single breath, as it +seemed to her, she ran up the remaining stairs, unlocked the door, and +entered the room. Her nerves were not sufficiently composed to allow of +her making use of the _prie-dieu_. All she cared for just then was to +get through her duty as quickly as possible, and return in safety to the +world of living beings downstairs. She set her teeth, and by a supreme +effort of will went through the small duty that was required of her +steadily but swiftly. Her face was never turned away from the coffin the +whole time; and when she had finished her task she walked backwards to +the door, opened it, walked backwards out, and in another breath was +downstairs, and safe in the protecting arms of Sister Agnes. + +Next night she insisted upon going entirely alone, and made so light of +the matter that Sister Agnes no longer opposed her wish to make the +midnight visit to the Black Room a part of her ordinary duty. But +inwardly Janet could never quite overcome her secret awe of the room and +its silent occupant. She always dreaded the coming of the hour that took +her there, and when her task was over, she never closed the door without +a feeling of relief. In this case, custom with her never bred +familiarity. To the last occasion of her going there she went the prey +of hidden fears--fears of she knew not what, which she derided to +herself even while they made her their victim. There was a morbid thread +running through the tissue of her nerves, which by intense force of will +might be kept from growing and spreading, but which no effort of hers +could quite pluck out or eradicate. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +THE DAWN OF LOVE. + + +Major Strickland did not forget his promise to Janet. On the eighth +morning after his return from London he walked over from Eastbury to +Deepley Walls, saw Lady Chillington, and obtained leave of absence for +Miss Hope for the day. Then he paid a flying visit to Sister Agnes, for +whom he had a great reverence and admiration, and ended by carrying off +Janet in triumph. + +The park of Deepley Walls extends almost to the suburbs of Eastbury, a +town of eight thousand inhabitants, but of such small commercial +importance that the nearest railway station is three miles away across +country and nearly five miles from Deepley Walls. + +Major Strickland no longer resided at Rose Cottage, but at a pretty +little villa just outside Eastbury. Some small accession of fortune had +come to him by the death of a relative; and an addition to his family in +the person of Aunt Félicité, a lady old and nearly blind, the widow of a +kinsman of the Major. Besides its tiny lawn and flower-beds in front, +the Lindens had a long stretch of garden ground behind, otherwise the +Major would scarcely have been happy in his new home. He was secretary +to the Eastbury Horticultural Society, and his fame as a grower of prize +roses and geraniums was in these latter days far sweeter to him than any +fame that had ever accrued to him as a soldier. + +Janet found Aunt Félicité a most quaint and charming old lady, as +cheerful and full of vivacity as many a girl of seventeen. She kissed +Janet on both cheeks when the Major introduced her; asked whether she +was fiancée; complimented her on her French; declaimed a passage from +Racine; put her poodle through a variety of amusing tricks; and pressed +Janet to assist at her luncheon of cream cheese, French roll, +strawberries and white wine. + +A slight sense of disappointment swept across Janet's mind, like the +shadow of a cloud across a sunny field. She had been two hours at the +Lindens without having seen Captain George. In vain she told herself +that she had come to spend the day with Major Strickland, and to be +introduced to Aunt Félicité, and that nothing more was wanting to her +complete contentment. That something more was needed she knew quite +well, but she would not acknowledge it even to herself. HE knew of her +coming; he had been with Aunt Félicité only half an hour before--so much +she learned within five minutes of her arrival; yet now, at the end of +two hours, he had not condescended even to come and speak to her. She +roused herself from the sense of despondency that was creeping over her +and put on a gaiety that she was far from feeling. A very bitter sense +of self-contempt was just then at work in her heart; she felt that never +before had she despised herself so utterly. She took her hat in her +hand, and put her arm within the Major's and walked with him round his +little demesne. It was a walk that took up an hour or more, for there +was much to see and learn, and Janet was bent this morning on having a +long lesson in botany; and the old soldier was only too happy in having +secured a listener so enthusiastic and appreciative to whom he could +dilate on his favourite hobby. + +But all this time Janet's eyes and ears were on the alert in a double +sense of which the Major knew nothing. He was busy with a description of +the last spring flower show, and how the Duke of Cheltenham's auriculas +were by no means equal to those of Major Strickland, when Janet gave a +little start as though a gnat had stung her, and bent to smell a sweet +blush-rose, whose tints were rivalled by the sudden delicate glow that +flushed her cheek. + +"Yes, yes!" she said, hurriedly, as the Major paused for a moment; "and +so the Duke's gardener was jealous because you carried away the prize?" + +"I never saw a man more put out in my life," said the Major. "He shook +his fist at my flowers and said before everybody, 'Let the old Major +only wait till autumn and then see if my dahlias don't--' But yonder +comes Geordie. Bless my heart! what has he been doing at Eastbury all +this time?" + +Janet's instinct had not deceived her; she had heard and recognised his +footstep a full minute before the Major knew that he was near. She gave +one quick, shy glance round as he opened the gate, and then she wandered +a yard or two further down the path. + +"Good-morning, uncle," said Captain George, as he came up. "You set out +for Deepley Walls so early this morning that I did not see you before +you started. I am glad to find that you did not come back alone." + +Janet had turned as he began to speak, but did not come back to the +Major's side. Captain George advanced a few steps and lifted his hat. + +"Good-morning, Miss Hope," he said, with outstretched hand. "I need +hardly say how pleased I am to see you at the Lindens. My uncle has +succeeded so well on his first embassy that we must send him again, and +often, on the same errand." + +Janet murmured a few words in reply--what, she could not afterwards have +told; but as her eyes met his for a moment, she read in them something +that made her forgive him on the spot, even while she declared to +herself that she had nothing to forgive, and that brought to her cheek a +second blush more vivid than the first. + +"All very well, young gentleman," said the Major; "but you have not yet +explained your four hours' absence. We shall order you under arrest +unless you have some reasonable excuse to submit." + +"The best of all excuses--that of urgent business," said the Captain. + +"You! business!" said the laughing Major. "Why, it was only last night +that you were bewailing your lot as being one of those unhappy mortals +who have no work to do." + +"To those they love, the gods lend patient hearing. I forget the Latin, +but that does not matter just now. What I wish to convey is this--that I +need no longer be idle unless I choose. I have found some work to do. +Lend me your ears, both of you. About an hour after you, sir, had +started for Deepley Walls, I received a note from the editor of the +_Eastbury Courier_, in which he requested me to give him an early call. +My curiosity prompted me to look in upon him as soon as breakfast was +over. I found that he was brother to the editor of one of the London +magazines--a gentleman whom I met one evening at a party in town. The +London editor remembered me, and had written to the Eastbury editor to +make arrangements with me for writing a series of magazine articles on +India and my experiences there during the late mutiny. I need not bore +you with details; it is sufficient to say that my objections were talked +down one by one; and I left the office committed to a sixteen-page +article by the sixth of next month." + +"You an author!" exclaimed the Major. "I should as soon have thought of +your enlisting in the Marines." + +"It will only be for a few months, uncle--only till my limited stock of +experiences shall be exhausted. After that I shall be relegated to my +natural obscurity, doubtless never to emerge again." + +"Hem," said the Major, nervously. "Geordie, my boy, I have by me one or +two little poems which I wrote when I was about nineteen--trifles flung +off on the inspiration of the moment. Perhaps, when you come to know +your friend the editor better than you do now, you might induce him to +bring them out--to find an odd corner for them in his magazine. I +shouldn't want payment for them, you know. You might just mention that +fact; and I assure you that I have seen many worse things than they are +in print." + +"What, uncle, you an author! Oh, fie! I should as soon have thought of +your wishing to dance on the tight-rope as to appear in print. But we +must look over these little effusions--eh, Miss Hope. We must unearth +this genius, and be the first to give his lucubrations to the world." + +"If you were younger, sir, or I not quite so old, I would box your +ears," said the Major, who seemed hardly to know whether to laugh or be +angry. Finally he laughed, George and Janet chimed in, and all three +went back indoors. + +After an early dinner the Major took rod and line and set off to capture +a few trout for supper. Aunt Félicité took her post-prandial nap +discreetly, in an easy-chair, and Captain George and Miss Hope were left +to their own devices. In Love's sweet Castle of Indolence the hours that +make up a summer afternoon pass like so many minutes. These two had +blown the magic horn and had gone in. The gates of brass had closed +behind them, shutting them up from the common outer world. Over all +things was a glamour as of witchcraft. Soft music filled the air; soft +breezes came to them as from fields of amaranth and asphodel. They +walked ever in a magic circle, that widened before them as they went. +Eros in passing had touched them with his golden dart. Each of them hid +the sweet sting from the other, yet neither of them would have been +whole again for anything the world could have offered. What need to tell +the old story over again--the story of the dawn of love in two young +hearts that had never loved before? + +Janet went home that night in a flutter of happiness--a happiness so +sweet and strange and yet so vague that she could not have analysed it +even had she been casuist enough to try to do so. But she was content to +accept the fact as a fact; beyond that she cared nothing. No syllable of +love had been spoken between her and George: they had passed what to an +outsider would have seemed a very common-place afternoon. They had +talked together--not sentiment, but every-day topics of the world around +them; they had read together--poetry, but nothing more passionate than +"Aurora Leigh;" they had walked together--rather a silent and stupid +walk, our friendly outsider would have urged; but if they were content, +no one else had any right to complain. And so the day had worn itself +away--a red-letter day for ever in the calendar of their young lives. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE NARRATIVE OF SERGEANT NICHOLAS. + + +One morning when Janet had been about three weeks at Deepley Walls, she +was summoned to the door by one of the servants, and found there a tall, +thin, middle-aged man, dressed in plain clothes, and having all the +appearance of a discharged soldier. + +"I have come a long way, miss," he said to Janet, carrying a finger to +his forehead, "in order to see Lady Chillington and have a little +private talk with her." + +"I am afraid that her ladyship will scarcely see you, unless you can +give her some idea of the business that you have called upon." + +"My name, miss, is Sergeant John Nicholas. I served formerly in India, +where I was body-servant to her ladyship's son, Captain Charles +Chillington, who died there of cholera nearly twenty years ago, and I +have something of importance to communicate." + +Janet made the old soldier come in and sit down in the hall while she +took his message to Lady Chillington. Her ladyship was not yet up, but +was taking her chocolate in bed, with a faded Indian shawl thrown round +her shoulders. She began to tremble violently the moment Janet delivered +the old soldier's message, and could scarcely set down her cup and +saucer. Then she began to cry, and to kiss the hem of the Indian shawl. +Janet went softly out of the room and waited. She had never even heard +of this Captain Charles Chillington, and yet no mere empty name could +have thus affected the stern mistress of Deepley Walls. Those few tears +opened up quite a new view of Lady Chillington's character. Janet began +to see that there might be elements of tragedy in the old woman's life +of which she knew nothing: that many of the moods which seemed to her so +strange and inexplicable might be so merely for want of the key by which +alone they could be rightly read. + +Presently her ladyship's gong sounded. Janet went back into the room, +and found her still sitting up in bed, sipping her chocolate with a +steady hand. All traces of tears had vanished: she looked even more +stern and repressed than usual. + +"Request the person of whom you spoke to me a while ago to wait," she +said. "I will see him at eleven in my private sitting-room." + +So Sergeant Nicholas was sent to get his breakfast in the servants' +room, and wait till Lady Chillington was ready to receive him. + +At eleven precisely he was summoned to her ladyship's presence. She +received him with stately graciousness, and waved him to a chair a yard +or two away. She was dressed for the day in one of her stiff brocaded +silks, and sat as upright as a dart, manipulating a small fan. Miss Hope +stood close at the back of her chair. + +"So, my good man, I understand that you were acquainted with my son, the +late Captain Chillington, who died in India twenty years ago?" + +"I was his body-servant for two years previous to his death." + +"Were you with him when he died?" + +"I was, your ladyship. These fingers closed his eyes." + +The hand that held the fan began to tremble again. She remained silent +for a few moments, and by a strong effort overmastered her agitation. + +"You have some communication which you wish to make to me respecting my +dead son?" + +"I have, your ladyship. A communication of a very singular kind." + +"Why has it not been made before now?" + +"That your ladyship will learn in the course of what I have to say. But +perhaps you will kindly allow me to tell my story my own way." + +"By all means. Pray begin: I am all attention." + +The Sergeant touched his forelock, gave a preliminary cough, fixed his +clear grey eye on Lady Chillington, and began his narrative as under:-- + +"Your ladyship and miss: I, John Nicholas, a Staffordshire man born and +bred, went out to India twenty-three years ago as lance corporal in the +hundred-and-first regiment of foot. After I had been in India a few +months, I got drunk and misbehaved myself, and was reduced to the ranks. +Well, ma'am, Captain Chillington took a fancy to me, thought I was not +such a bad dog after all, and got me appointed as his servant. And a +better master no man need ever wish to have--kind, generous, and a +perfect gentleman from top to toe. I loved him, and would have gone +through fire and water to serve him." + +Her ladyship's fan was trembling again. "Oblige me with my salts, Miss +Hope," she said. She pressed them to her nose, and motioned to the +Sergeant to proceed. + +"When I had been with the Captain a few months," resumed the old +soldier, "he got leave of absence for several weeks, and everybody knew +that it was his intention to spend his holiday in a shooting excursion +among the hills. I was to go with him, of course, and the usual troop of +native servants; but besides himself there was only one European +gentleman in the party, and he was not an Englishman. He was a Russian, +and his name was Platzoff. He was a gentleman of fortune, and was +travelling in India at the time, and had come to my master with letters +of introduction. Well, Captain Chillington just took wonderfully to him, +and the two were almost inseparable. Perhaps it hardly becomes one like +me to offer an opinion on such a point; but, knowing what afterwards +happened, I must say that I never either liked or trusted that Russian +from the day I first set eyes on him. He seemed to me too double-faced +and cunning for an honest English gentleman to have much to do with. But +he had travelled a great deal, and was very good company, which was +perhaps the reason why Captain Chillington took so kindly to him. Be +that as it may, however, it was decided that they should go on the +hunting excursion together--not that the Russian was much of a shot, or +cared a great deal about hunting, but because, as I heard him say, he +liked to see all kinds of life, and tiger-stalking was something quite +fresh to him. + +"He was a curious-looking gentleman, too, that Russian--just the sort of +face that you would never forget after once seeing it, with skin that +was dried and yellow like parchment; black hair that was trained into a +heavy curl on the top of his forehead, and a big hooked nose. + +"Well, your ladyship and miss, away we went with our elephants and train +of servants, and very pleasantly we spent our two months' leave of +absence. The Captain he shot tigers, and the Russian he did his best at +pig-sticking. Our last week had come, and in three more days we were to +set off on our return, when that terrible misfortune happened which +deprived me of the best of masters, and your ladyship of the best of +sons. + +"Early one morning I was roused by Rung Budruck, the Captain's favourite +sycee or groom. 'Get up at once,' he said, shaking me by the shoulder. +'The sahib Captain is very ill. The black devil has seized him. He must +have opium or he will die.' I ran at once to the Captain's tent, and as +soon as I set eyes on him I saw that he had been seized with cholera. I +went off at once and fetched M. Platzoff. We had nothing in the way of +medicine with us except brandy and opium. Under the Russian's directions +these were given to my poor master in large quantities, but he grew +gradually worse. Rung and I in everything obeyed M. Platzoff, who seemed +to know quite well what ought to be done in such cases; and to tell the +truth, your ladyship, he seemed as much put about as if the Captain had +been his own brother. Well, the Captain grew weaker as the day went on, +and towards evening it grew quite clear that he could not last much +longer. The pain had left him by this time, but he was so frightfully +reduced that we could not bring him round. He was lying in every respect +like one already dead, except for his faint breathing, when the Russian +left the tent for a moment, and I took his place at the head of the bed. +Rung was standing with folded arms a yard or two away. None of the other +native servants could be persuaded to enter the tent, so frightened were +they of catching the complaint. Suddenly my poor master opened his eyes, +and his lips moved. I put my ear to his mouth. 'The diamond,' he +whispered. 'Take it--mother--give my love.' Not a word more on earth, +your ladyship. His limbs stiffened; his head fell back; he gave a great +sigh and died. I gently closed the eyes that could see no more, and left +the tent crying. + +"Your ladyship, we buried Captain Chillington by torchlight four hours +later. We dug his grave deep in a corner of the jungle, and there we +left him to his last sleep. Over his grave we piled a heap of stones, as +I have read that they used to do in the old times over the grave of a +chief. It was all we could do. + +"About an hour later M. Platzoff came to me. 'I shall start before +daybreak for Chinapore,' he said, 'with one elephant and a couple of +men. I will take with me the news of my poor friend's untimely fate, +and you can come on with the luggage and other effects in the ordinary +way. You will find me at Chinapore when you reach there.' Next morning I +found that he was gone. + +"What my dear master had said with his last breath about a diamond +puzzled me. I could only conclude that amongst his effects there must be +some valuable stone of which he wished special care to be taken, and +which he desired to be sent home to you, madam, in England. I knew +nothing of any such stone, and I considered it beyond my position to +search for it among his luggage. I decided that when I got to Chinapore +I would give his message to the Colonel, and leave that gentleman to +take such steps in the matter as he might think best. + +"I had hardly settled all this in my mind when Rung Budruck came to me. +'The Russian sahib has gone: I have something to tell you,' he said, +only he spoke in broken English. 'Yesterday, just after the sahib +Captain was dead, the Russian came back. You had left the tent, and I +was sitting on the ground behind the Captain's big trunk, the lid of +which was open. I was sitting with my chin in my hand, very sad at +heart, when the Russian came in. He looked carefully round the tent. Me +he could not see, but I could see him through the opening between the +hinges of the box. What did he do? He unfastened the bosom of the sahib +Captain's shirt, and then he drew over the Captain's head the steel +chain with the little gold box hanging to it that he always wore. He +opened the box, and saw there was that in it which he expected to find +there. Then he hid away both chain and box in one of his pockets, +rebuttoned the dead man's shirt, and left the tent.' 'But you have not +told me what there was in the box,' I said. He put the tips of his +fingers together and smiled: 'In that box was the Great Hara Diamond!' + +"Your ladyship, I was so startled when Rung said this that the wind of a +bullet would have knocked me down. A new light was all at once thrown on +the Captain's dying words. 'But how do you know, Rung, that the box +contained a diamond?' I asked when I had partly got over my surprise. He +smiled again, with that strange slow smile which those fellows have. 'It +matters not how, but Rung knew that the diamond was there. He had seen +the Captain open the box, and take it out and look at it many a time +when the Captain thought no one could see him. He could have stolen it +from him almost any night when he was asleep, but that was left for his +friend to do.' 'Was the diamond you speak of a very valuable one?' I +asked. 'It was a green diamond of immense value,' answered Rung; 'it was +called _The Great Hara_ because of its colour, and it was first worn by +the terrible Aureng-Zebe himself, who had it set in the haft of his +scimitar.' 'But by what means did Captain Chillington become possessed +of so valuable a stone?' Said he, 'Two years ago, at the risk of his own +life, he rescued the eldest son of the Rajah of Gondulpootra from a +tiger who had carried away the child into the jungle. The Rajah is one +of the richest men in India, and he showed his gratitude by secretly +presenting the Great Hara Diamond to the man who had saved the life of +his child.' 'But why should Captain Chillington carry so valuable a +stone about his person?' I asked. 'Would it not have been wiser to +deposit it in the bank at Bombay till such time as the Captain could +take it with him to England?' 'The stone is a charmed stone,' said Rung, +'and it was the Rajah's particular wish that the sahib Chillington +should always wear it about his person. So long as he did so he could +not come to his death by fire by water, or by sword thrust.' Said I, +'But how did the Russian know that Captain Chillington carried the +diamond about his person?' 'One night when the Captain had had too much +wine he showed the diamond to his friend,' answered Rung. Said I, 'But +how does it happen, Rung, that you know this?' Rung, smiling and putting +his finger tips together, replied, 'How does it happen that I know so +much about you?' And then he told me a lot of things about myself that I +thought no soul in India knew. It was just wonderful how he did it. 'So +it is: let that be sufficient,' he finished by saying. 'Why did you not +tell me till after the Russian had gone away that you saw him steal the +diamond?' said I. 'If you had told me at the time I could have charged +him with it.' 'You are ignorant,' said Rung; 'you are little more than a +child. The Russian sahib had the evil eye. Had I crossed his purpose +before his face he would have cursed me while he looked at me, and I +should have withered away and died. He has got the diamond, and only by +magic can it ever be recovered from him.' + +"Your ladyship and miss, I hope I am not tedious nor wandering from the +point. It will be sufficient to say that when I got down to Chinapore I +found that M. Platzoff had indeed been there, but only just long enough +to see the Colonel and give him an account of Captain Chillington's +death, after which he had at once engaged a palanquin and bearers and +set out with all speed for Bombay. It was now my turn to see the +Colonel, and after I had given over into his hands all my dead master's +property that I had brought with me from the Hills, I told him the story +of the diamond as Rung had told it to me. He was much struck by it, and +ordered me to take Rung to him the next morning. But that very night +Rung disappeared, and was never seen in the camp again. Whether he was +frightened at what he called the Russian's evil eye--frightened that +Platzoff could blight him even from a distance, I have no means of +knowing. In any case, gone he was; and from that day to this I have +never set eyes on him. Well, the Colonel said he would take a note of +what I had told him about the diamond, and that I must leave the matter +entirely in his hands. + +"Your ladyship, a fortnight after that the Colonel shot himself. + +"To make short a long story--we got a fresh Colonel, and were removed to +another part of the country; and there, a few weeks later, I was +knocked down by fever, and was a long time before I thoroughly recovered +my strength. A year or two later our regiment was ordered back to +England, but a day or two before we should have sailed I had a letter +telling me that my old sweetheart was dead. This news seemed to take all +care for life out of me, and on the spur of the moment I volunteered +into a regiment bound for China, in which country war was just breaking +out. There, and at other places abroad, I stopped till just four months +ago, when I was finally discharged, with my pension, and a bullet in my +pocket that had been taken out of my skull. I only landed in England +nine days ago, and as soon as it was possible for me to do so, I came to +see your ladyship. And I think that is all." The Sergeant's forefinger +went to his forehead again as he brought his narrative to an end. + +Lady Chillington kept on fanning herself in silence for a little while +after the old soldier had done speaking. Her features wore the proud, +impassive look that they generally put on when before strangers: in the +present case they were no index to the feelings at work underneath. At +length she spoke. + +"After the suicide of your Colonel did you mention the supposed robbery +of the diamond to anyone else?" + +"To no one else, your ladyship. For several reasons. I was unaware what +steps he might have taken between the time of my telling him and the +time of his death to prove or disprove the truth of the story. In the +second place, Rung had disappeared. I could only tell the story at +secondhand. It had been told me by an eye-witness, but that witness was +a native, and the word of a native does not go for much in those parts. +In the third place, the Russian had also disappeared, and had left no +trace behind. What could I do? Had I told the story to my new Colonel, I +should mayhap only have been scouted as a liar or a madman. Besides, we +were every day expecting to be ordered home, and I had made up my mind +that I would at once come and see your ladyship. At that time I had no +intention of going to China, and when once I got there it was too late +to speak out. But through all the years I have been away my poor dear +master's last words have lived in my memory. Many a thousand times have +I thought of them both day and night, and prayed that I might live to +get back to Old England, if it was only to give your ladyship the +message with which I had been charged." + +"But why could you not write to me?" asked Lady Chillington. + +"Your ladyship, I am no scholar," answered the old soldier, with a vivid +blush. "What I have told you to-day in half-an-hour would have taken me +years to set down--in fact, I could never have done it." + +"So be it," said Lady Chillington. "My obligation to you is all the +greater for bearing in mind for so many years my poor boy's last +message, and for being at so much trouble to deliver it." She sighed +deeply and rose from her chair. The Sergeant rose too, thinking that +his interview was at an end, but at her ladyship's request he reseated +himself. + +Rejecting Janet's proffered arm, which she was in the habit of leaning +on in her perambulations about the house and grounds, Lady Chillington +walked slowly and painfully out of the room. Presently she returned, +carrying an open letter in her hand. Both the ink and the paper on which +it was written were faded and yellow with age. + +"This is the last letter I ever received from my son," said her +ladyship. "I have preserved it religiously, and it bears out very +singularly what you, Sergeant, have just told me respecting the message +which my darling sent me with his dying breath. In a few lines at the +end he makes mention of a something of great value which he is going to +bring home with him; but he writes about it in such guarded terms that I +never could satisfy myself as to the precise meaning of what he intended +to convey. You, Miss Hope, will perhaps be good enough to read the lines +in question aloud. They are contained in a postscript." + +Janet took the letter with reverent tenderness. Lady Chillington's +trembling fingers pointed out the lines she was to read. Janet read as +under:-- + + "P.S.--I have reserved my most important bit of news till the last, + as lady correspondents are said to do. Observe, I write 'are said + to do,' because in this matter I have very little personal + experience of my own to go upon. You, dear mum, are my solitary + lady correspondent, and postscripts are a luxury in which you + rarely indulge. But to proceed, as the novelists say. Some two + years ago it was my good fortune to rescue a little yellow-skinned + princekin from the clutches of a very fine young tiger (my feet are + on his hide at this present writing), who was carrying him off as a + tit-bit for his supper. He was terribly mauled, you may be sure, + but his people followed my advice in their mode of doctoring him, + and he gradually got round again. The lad's father is a Rajah, + immensely rich, and a direct descendant of that ancient Mogul + dynasty which once ruled this country with a rod of iron. The Rajah + has daughters innumerable, but only this one son. His gratitude for + what I had done was unbounded. A few weeks ago he gave me a most + astounding proof of it. By a secret and trusty messenger he sent + me--But no, dear mum, I will not tell you what the Rajah sent me. + This letter might chance to fall into other hands than yours + (Indian letters do _sometimes_ miscarry), and the secret is one + which had better be kept in the family--at least for the present. + So, mother mine, your curiosity must rest unsatisfied for a little + while to come. I hope to be with you before many months are over, + and then you shall know everything. + + "The value of the Rajah's present is something immense. I shall + sell it when I get to England, and out of the proceeds I + shall--well, I don't exactly know what I shall do. Purchase my + next step for one thing, but that will cost a mere trifle. Then, + perhaps, buy a comfortable estate in the country, or a house in + Park Lane. Your six weeks every season in London lodgings was + always inexplicable to me. + + "Or shall I not sell the Rajah's present, but offer myself in + marriage to some fair princess, with my heart in one hand and the + G.H.D. in the other? Madder things than that are recorded in + history. In any case, don't forget to pray for the safe arrival of + your son, and (if such a petition is allowable) that he may not + fail to bring with him the G.H.D. + + "C.C." + +"I never could understand before to-day what the letters G.H.D. were +meant for," said Lady Chillington, as Janet gave her back the letter. +"It is now quite evident that they were intended for _Great Hara +Diamond_; all of which, as I said before, is confirmatory of the story +you have just told me. Of course, after the lapse of so many years, +there is not the remotest possibility of recovering the diamond; but my +obligation to you, Sergeant Nicholas, is in no wise lessened by that +fact. What are your engagements? Are you obliged to leave here +immediately, or can you remain a short time in the neighbourhood?" + +"I can give your ladyship a week, or even a fortnight, if you wish it." + +"I am greatly obliged to you. I do wish it--I wish to talk to you +respecting my son, and you are the only one now living who can tell me +about him. You shall find that I am not ungrateful for what you have +done for me. In the meantime, you will stop at the King's Arms, in +Eastbury. Miss Hope will give you a note to the landlord. Come up here +to-morrow at eleven. And now I must say good-morning. I am not very +strong, and your news has shaken me a little. Will you do me the honour +of shaking hands with me? It was your hands that closed my poor boy's +eyes--that touched him last on earth; let those hands now be touched by +his mother." + +Lady Chillington stood up and extended both her withered hands. The old +soldier came forward with a blush and took them respectfully, tenderly. +He bent his head and touched each of them in turn with his lips. Tears +stood in his eyes. + +"God bless you, Sergeant Nicholas! You are a good man and a true +gentleman," said Lady Chillington. Then she turned and slowly left the +room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +COUNSEL TAKEN WITH MR. MADGIN. + + +After her interview with Sergeant Nicholas, Lady Chillington dismissed +Janet for the day, and retired to her own rooms, nor was she seen out of +them till the following morning. No one was admitted to see her save +Dance. Janet, after sitting with Sister Agnes all the afternoon, went +down at dusk to the housekeeper's room. + +"Whatever did you do to her ladyship this morning?" asked Dance as soon +as she entered. "She has tasted neither bit nor sup since breakfast, but +ever since that old shabby-looking fellow went away she has lain on the +sofa, staring at the wall as if there was some writing on it she was +trying to read but didn't know how. I thought she was ill, and asked her +if I should send for the doctor. She laughed at me without taking her +eyes off the wall, and bade me begone for an old fool. If there's not a +change by morning, I shall just send for the doctor without asking her +leave. Surely you and that old fellow have bewitched her ladyship +between you." + +Janet in reply told Dance all that had passed at the morning's +interview, feeling quite sure that in doing so she was violating no +confidence, and that Lady Chillington herself would be the first to tell +everything to her faithful old servant as soon as she should be +sufficiently composed to do so. As a matter of course Dance was full of +wonder. + +"Did you know Captain Chillington?" asked Janet, as soon as the old +dame's surprise had in some measure toned itself down. + +"Did I know curly-pated, black-eyed Master Charley?" asked the old +woman. "Ay--who better? These arms, withered and yellow now, then plump +and strong, held him before he had been an hour in the world. The day he +left England I went with her ladyship to see him aboard ship. As he +shook me by the hand for the last time he said, 'You will never leave my +mother, will you, Dance?' And I said, 'Never, while I live, dear Master +Charles,' and I've kept my word." + +"Her ladyship has never been like the same woman since she heard the +news of his death," resumed Dance after a pause. "It seemed to sour her +and harden her, and make her altogether different. There had been a +great deal of unhappiness at home for some years before he went away. He +and his father, Sir John--he that now lies so quiet upstairs--had a +terrible quarrel just after Master Charles went into the army, and it +was a quarrel that was never made up in this world. He was an awful +man--Sir John--a wicked man: pray that such a one may never cross your +path. The only happiness he seemed to have on earth was in making those +over whom he had any power miserable. It was impossible for my lady to +love him, but she tried to do her duty by him till he and Master Charles +fell out. What the quarrel was about I never rightly understood, but my +lady would have it that Master Charles was in the right and her husband +in the wrong. One result was that Sir John stopped the income that he +had always allowed his son, and took a frightful oath that if Master +Charles were dying of starvation before his eyes he would not give him +as much as a penny to buy bread with. But her ladyship, who had money in +her own right, said that Master Charles's income should go on as usual. +Then she and Sir John quarrelled; and she left him and came to live at +Deepley Walls, leaving him at Dene Folly; and here she stayed till Sir +John was taken with his last illness and sent for her. He sent for her, +not to make up the quarrel, but to jibe and sneer at her, and to make +her wait on him day and night, as if she were a paid nurse from a +hospital. While this was going on, and after Sir John had been quite +given up by the doctors, news came from India of Master Charles's death. +Well, her ladyship went nigh distracted; but as for the baronet, it was +said, though I won't vouch for the truth of it, that he only laughed +when the news was told him, and said that if he was plagued as much with +corns in the next world as he had been in this, he should find Master +Charles's arm very useful to lean upon. Two days later he died, and the +title, and Dene Folly with it, went to a far-away cousin, whom neither +Sir John nor his wife had ever seen. Then it was found how the baronet +had contrived that his spite should outlive him--for only out of spite +and mean cruelty could he have made such a will as he did make: that +Deepley Walls should not become her ladyship's absolute property till +the end of twenty years, during the whole of which time his body was to +remain unburied, and to be kept under the same roof with his widow, +wherever she might live. The mean, paltry scoundrel! Perhaps her +ladyship might have had the will set aside, but she would not go to law +about it. Thank Heaven! the twenty years are nearly at an end. Deepley +Walls has been a haunted house ever since that midnight when Sir John +was borne in on the shoulders of six strong men. And now tell me whether +her ladyship is not a woman to be pitied." + + * * * * * + +At a quarter before eleven next morning, Mr. Solomon Madgin, Lady +Chillington's agent and general man-of-business, arrived by appointment +at Deepley Walls. Mr. Madgin was indispensable to her ladyship, who had +a considerable quantity of house property in and around Eastbury, +consisting chiefly of small tenements, the rents of which had to be +collected weekly. Then Mr. Madgin was bailiff for the Deepley Walls +estate, in connection with which were several small farms or "holdings" +which required to be well looked after in many ways. Besides all this, +her ladyship, having a few spare thousands, had taken of late years to +dabbling in scrip and shares in a small way, and under the skilful +pilotage of Mr. Madgin had hitherto contrived to steer clear of those +rocks and shoals of speculation on which so many gallant argosies are +wrecked. In short, everything except the law-business of the estate +filtered through Mr. Madgin's hands, and as he did his work cheaply and +well, and put up with her ladyship's ill-temper without a murmur, the +mistress of Deepley Walls could hardly have found anyone who would have +suited her better. + +Mr. Solomon Madgin was a little dried-up man, about sixty years old. His +tail-coat and vest of rusty black were of the fashion of twenty years +ago. He wore drab trousers, and shoes tied with bows of black ribbon. +His head, bald on the crown, had an ample fringe of white hair at the +back and sides, and was covered, when he went abroad, with a beaver hat, +very fluffy and much too tall for him, and which, once upon a time, had +probably been nearly as white as his hair, but was now time-worn and +weather-stained to one uniform and consistent drab. Round his neck he +always wore a voluminous cravat of unstarched muslin fastened in front +with an old-fashioned pearl brooch, above which protruded the two spiked +points of a very stiff and pugnacious-looking collar. A strong alpaca +umbrella, unfashionably corpulent, was his constant companion. Mr. +Madgin's whiskers were shaved off in an exact line with the end of his +nose. His eyebrows were very white and bushy, and could serve on +occasion as a screen to the greenish, crafty-looking eyes below them, +which never liked to be peered into too closely. The ordinary expression +of his thin, dried-up face was one of hard, worldly shrewdness; but +there was a lurking bonhommie in his smile which seemed to imply that, +away from business, he might possibly mellow into a boon companion. + +Mr. Madgin had to wait a few minutes this morning before Lady +Chillington could receive him. When he was ushered into her sitting-room +he was surprised to find that she and Miss Hope were not alone; that a +plainly-dressed man, who looked almost as old as Mr. Madgin himself, was +seated at the table. After one suspicious glance at the stranger, Mr. +Madgin made his bow to the ladies and walked up to the table with his +bag of papers. + +"You can put all those things away for the day, Mr. Madgin," said her +ladyship. "A far more important matter claims our attention just now. In +the first place I must introduce to you Sergeant Nicholas, many years +ago servant to my son, Captain Chillington, who died in India. +(Sergeant, this is Mr. Madgin, my man of business.) The Sergeant, who +has only just returned to England, told me yesterday a very curious +story which I am desirous that he should repeat in your presence to-day. +The story relates to a diamond of great value, said to have been stolen +from the body of my son immediately after death, and I shall require you +to give me your opinion as to the feasibility of its recovery. You will +take such notes of the narrative as you may think necessary, and the +Sergeant will afterwards answer, to the best of his ability, any +questions you may choose to put to him." Then turning to the old +soldier, she added: "You will be good enough, Sergeant, to repeat to Mr. +Madgin such parts of your narrative of yesterday as have any reference +to the diamond. Begin with my son's dying message. Repeat, word for +word, as closely as you can remember, all that was told you by the sycee +Rung. Describe as minutely as possible the personal appearance of M. +Platzoff; and detail any other points that bear on the loss of the +diamond." + +So the Sergeant began, but the repetition of a long narrative not learnt +by heart is by no means an easy matter, especially when they to whom it +was first told hear it for the second time, but rather as critics than +as ordinary listeners. Besides, the taking of notes was a process that +smacked of a court-martial and tended to flurry the narrator, making him +feel as if he were upon his oath and liable to be browbeat by the +counsel for the other side. He was heartily glad when he got to the end +of what he had to tell. The postscript to Captain Chillington's letter +was then read by Miss Hope. + +Mr. Madgin took copious notes as the Sergeant went on, and afterwards +put a few questions to him on different points which he thought not +sufficiently clear. Then he laid down his pen, rubbed his hands, and ran +his fingers through his scanty hair. Lady Chillington rang for her +butler, and gave the Sergeant into his keeping, knowing that he could +not be in better hands. Then she said: "I will leave you, Mr. Madgin, +for half-an-hour. Go carefully through your notes, and let me have your +opinion when I come back as to whether, after so long a time, you think +it worth while to institute any proceedings for the recovery of the +diamond." + +So Mr. Madgin was left alone with what he called his "considering cap." +As soon as the door was closed behind her ladyship, he tilted back his +chair, stuck his feet on the table, buried his hands deep in his pockets +and shut his eyes, and so remained for full five-and-twenty minutes. He +was busy consulting his notes when Lady Chillington re-entered the room. +Mr. Madgin began at once. + +"I must confess," he said, "that the case which your ladyship has +submitted to me seems, from what I can see of it at present, to be +surrounded with difficulties. Still, I am far from counselling your +ladyship to despair entirely. The few points which, at the first glance, +present themselves as requiring solution are these:--Who was the M. +Platzoff who is said to have stolen the diamond? and what position in +life did he really occupy? Is he alive or dead? If alive, where is he +now living? If he did really steal the diamond, are not the chances as a +hundred to one that he disposed of it long ago? But even granting that +we were in a position to answer all these questions; suppose, even, that +this M. Platzoff were living in Eastbury at the present moment, and that +fact were known to us, how much nearer should we be to the recovery of +the diamond than we are now? Your ladyship must please to bear in mind +that as the case is now we have not an inch of legal ground to stand +upon. We have no evidence that would be worth a rush in a court of law +that M. Platzoff really purloined the diamond. We have no trustworthy +evidence that the diamond itself ever had an existence." + +"Surely, Mr. Madgin, my son's letter is sufficient to prove that fact." + +"Sufficient, perhaps, in conjunction with the other evidence, to prove +it in a moral sense, but certainly not in a legal one," said Mr. Madgin, +quietly but decisively. "Your ladyship must please to bear in mind that +Captain Chillington in his letter makes no absolute mention of the +diamond by name; he merely writes of it vaguely under certain initials, +and, if called upon, how could you prove that he intended those initials +to stand for the words _Great Hara Diamond_, and not for something +altogether different? If M. Platzoff were your ladyship's next-door +neighbour, and you knew for certain that he had the diamond still in his +possession, you could only get it from him as he himself got it from +your son--by subterfuge and artifice. Your ladyship will please to +observe that I have put forward no opinion on the case. I have merely +offered a statement of plain facts as they show themselves on the +surface. With those facts before you it rests with your ladyship to +decide what further steps you wish taken in the matter." + +"My good Madgin, do you know what it is to hate?" demanded Lady +Chillington. "To hate with a hatred that dwarfs all other passions of +the soul, and makes them pigmies by comparison? If you know this, you +know the feeling with which I regard M. Platzoff. If you want the key to +the feeling, you have it in the fact that his accursed hands robbed my +dead son: even then you must have a mother's heart to feel all that I +feel." She paused for a moment as if to recover breath; then she +resumed. "See you, Mr. Solomon Madgin; I have a conviction, an +intuition, call it what you will, that this Russian scoundrel is still +alive. That is the first fact you have to find out. The next is, where +he is now residing. Then you will have to ascertain whether he has the +diamond still in his possession, and if so, by what means it can be +recovered. Only recover it for me--I ask not how or by what means--only +put into my hands the diamond that was stolen off my son's breast as he +lay dead; and the day you do that, my good Madgin, I will present you +with a cheque for five thousand pounds!" + +Mr. Madgin sat as one astounded; the power of reply seemed taken from +him. + +"Go, now," said Lady Chillington, after a few moments. "Ordinary +business is out of the question to-day. Go home and carefully digest +what I have just said to you. That you are a man of resources, I know +well; had you not been so, I would not have employed you in this +matter. Come to me to-morrow, next day, next week--when you like; only +don't come barren of ideas; don't come without a plan, likely or +unlikely, of some sort of a campaign." + +Mr. Madgin rose and swept his papers mechanically into his bag. "Your +ladyship said five thousand pounds, if I mistake not?" he stammered out. + +"A cheque for five thousand pounds shall be yours on the day you bring +me the diamond. Is not my word sufficient, or do you wish to have it +under bond and seal?" she asked with some hauteur. + +"Your ladyship's word is an all-sufficient bond," answered Mr. Madgin, +with sweet humility. He paused, with the handle of the door in his hand. +"Supposing I were to see my way to carrying out your ladyship's wishes +in this respect," he said deferentially, "or even to carrying out a +portion of them only, still it could not be done without expense--not +without considerable expense, maybe." + +"I give you carte-blanche as regards expenses," said her ladyship with +decision. + +Then Mr. Madgin gave a farewell duck of the head and went. He took his +way homeward through the park like a man walking in his sleep. With +wide-open eyes and hat well set on the back of his head, with his blue +bag in one hand and his umbrella under his arm, he trudged onward, even +after he had reached the busy streets of the little town, without seeing +anything or anyone. What he saw, he saw introspectively. On the one hand +glittered the tempting bait held out by Lady Chillington; on the other +loomed the dark problem that had to be solved before he could call the +golden apple his. + +"The most arrant wild-goose chase that ever I heard of in all my life," +he muttered to himself, as he halted at his own door. "Not a single ray +of light anywhere--not one." + +"Popsey," he called out to his daughter, when he was inside, "bring me +the decanter of whisky, some cold water, my tobacco-jar and a new +churchwarden into the office; and don't let me be disturbed by anyone +for four hours." + +(_To be continued._) + + + + +ON LETTER-WRITING. + + +It is a matter of common remark that the epistolary art has been killed +by the penny post, not to speak of post-cards. + +This is a result which was hardly anticipated by Sir Rowland Hill, when, +in the face of many obstacles, he carried his great scheme; and +certainly it did not dwell very vividly before the mind of Mr. Elihu +Burritt, the learned blacksmith, when he travelled over England, +speaking there, as he had already done in America, in favour of an ocean +penny postage. + +It is urged that in the old days when postage was dear, and "franks" +were difficult to procure, and when the poor did not correspond at all, +writers were very careful to write well and to say the very best they +could in the best possible way--to make their letters, in a word, worthy +of the expense incurred. But those who argue on this ground leave out of +consideration one little fact. + +The classes to whom English literature is indebted for the epistolary +samples on which reliance is placed for proof of this proposition, very +seldom indeed paid for the conveyance of the letters in question. The +system of "franking"--by which the privileged classes got not only their +letters carried, but a great deal too often their dressing-cases and +bandboxes as well--grew into a most serious grievance; so serious indeed +that the opposition for a long period carried on against cheap postage +arose solely from over nice regard to the vested interests of those who +could command a little favour from a Peer, a Member of Parliament, or an +official of high rank, not to speak of those patriotic worthies +themselves. + +The fact may thus be made to cut two ways. + +From our point of view, it may be cited in direct denial of the +conclusion that people wrote well in past days simply because the +conveyance of their letters was costly. We believe that the mass wrote +just as badly and loosely then as the mass do now, in fact that they +were rather loose on rules of spelling; and that the specimens preserved +and presented to us in type are exceptional, and escaped destruction +with the mass precisely because they were exceptional. + +Other circumstances may be taken to account for the loose epistolary +style or rather no-style now so common; and this refers us to the +general question of education--more especially the education of women. +In those days the few were educated; and to be educated was regarded as +the distinctive mark of a leisured and cultivated class: now, education +is general, but, like many other things, it has suffered in the process +of diffusion, whether or not it may in the long run suffer by the +diffusion itself. + +The truth is, time alone can tell whether among the select nowadays the +epistolary art is not simply as perfect as it was in days past; at all +events we believe so, and proceed to set down a few reflections on +letter-writing. + +To write a really good letter, two things in especial are demanded. The +first is, that you write only of that which is either familiar to you or +in which you have some interest; and in the next, that you can write +with ease, and on a footing of freedom as regards your correspondent. +"The pen," says Cervantes, "is the tongue of the mind," and in no form +of composition is this more strictly true than of letters. In a certain +degree a letter should share the characteristics of good conversation: +the writer must realise the presence and the mood of the person for whom +the letter is destined. Just as good-breeding suggests that you must +have the tastes and sentiments of your interlocutor before you for ends +of enjoyable conversation, and that, within the limits of propriety and +self-respect, you should at once humour them and use them; so in good +letter-writing you must write for your correspondent's pleasure as well +as please, by merely communicating, yourself. + +Here comes in the delightful element of vicarious sympathy, or dramatic +transference, which, brought into play successfully, with some degree of +wit and sprightliness of expression, may raise letter-writing to the +level of a fine art. + +And this allowed, it is clear that letters may just be as good now as at +any former period, and accidental circumstances have really little to do +with it. Humboldt has well said that "A letter is a conversation between +the present and the absent. Its fate is that it cannot last, but must +pass away like the sound of the voice." + +And just as in conversation all attempt at eloquence and personal +celebration in this kind is rigidly proscribed, so in letter-writing are +all kinds of fine-writing and rhetoric. "Brilliant speakers and +writers," it has been well said, "should remember that coach wheels are +better than Catherine wheels to travel on." One's first business, in +letter-writing is to say what one has to say, and the second to say it +well and with taste and ease. + +A.H. JAPP, LL.D. + + + + +THE SILENT CHIMES. + +SILENT FOR EVER. + + +Breakfast was on the table in Mr. Hamlyn's house in Bryanstone Square, +and Mrs. Hamlyn waited, all impatience, for her lord and master. Not in +any particular impatience for the meal itself, but that she might "have +it out with him"--the phrase was hers, not mine, as you will see +presently--in regard to the perplexity existing in her mind connected +with the strange appearance of the damsel watching the house, in her +beauty and her pale golden hair. + +Why had Philip Hamlyn turned sick and faint--to judge by his changing +countenance--when she had charged him at dinner, the previous evening, +with knowing something of this mysterious woman? Mysterious in her +actions, at all events; probably in herself. Mrs. Hamlyn wanted to know +that. No further opportunity had then been given for pursuing the +subject. Japhet had returned to the room, and before the dinner was at +an end, some acquaintance of Mr. Hamlyn had fetched him out for the +evening. And he came home with so fearful a headache that he had lain +groaning and turning all through the night. Mrs. Hamlyn was not a model +of patience, but in all her life she had never felt so impatient as now. + +He came into the room looking pale and shivery; a sure sign that he was +suffering; that it was not an invented excuse. Yes, the pain was better, +he said, in answer to his wife's question; and might be much better +after a strong cup of tea; he could not imagine what had brought it on. +_She_ could have told him though, had she been gifted with the magical +power of reading minds, and have seen the nervous apprehension that was +making havoc with his. + +Mrs. Hamlyn gave him his tea in silence, and buttered a dainty bit of +toast to tempt him to eat. But he shook his head. + +"I cannot, Eliza. Nothing but tea this morning." + +"I am sorry you are ill," she said, by-and-by. "I fear it hurts you to +talk; but I want to have it out with you." + +"Have it out with me!" cried he, in real or feigned surprise. "Have what +out with me?" + +"Oh, you know, Philip. About that woman who has been watching the house +these two days; evidently watching for you." + +"But I told you I knew nothing about her: who she is, or what she is, or +what she wants. I really do not know." + +Well, so far that was true. But all the while a sick fear lay on his +heart that he did know; or, rather, that he was destined to know very +shortly. + +"When I told you her hair was like threads of fine, pale gold, you +seemed to start, Philip, as if you knew some girl or woman with such +hair, or had known her." + +"I daresay I have known a score of women with such hair. My dear little +sister who died, for instance." + +"Do not attempt to evade the subject," was the haughty reprimand. "If--" + +Mrs. Hamlyn's sharp speech was interrupted by the entrance of Japhet, +bringing in the morning letters. Only one letter, however, for they were +not as numerous in those days as they are in these. + +"It seems to be important, ma'am," Japhet remarked, with the privilege +of an old servant, as he handed it to his mistress. She saw it was from +Leet Hall, in Mrs. Carradyne's handwriting, and bore the words: "In +haste," above the address. + +Tearing it open, Eliza Hamlyn read the short, sad news it contained. +Captain Monk had been taken suddenly ill with inward inflammation. Mr. +Speck feared the worst, and the Captain had asked for Eliza. Would she +come down at once? + +"Oh, Philip, I must not lose a minute," she exclaimed, passing the +letter to him, and forgetting the pale gold hair and its owner. "Do you +know anything about the Worcestershire trains?" + +"No," he answered. "The better plan will be to get to the station as +soon as possible, and then you will be ready for the first train that +starts." + +"Will you go down with me, Philip?" + +"I cannot. I will take you to the station." + +"Why can't you?" + +"Because I cannot just now leave London. My dear, you may believe me, +for it is the truth. I _cannot do so_. I wish I could." + +And she saw it was true: for his tone was so earnest as to tell of pain. + +Making what haste she could, kissing her boy a hundred times, and +recommending him to the special care of his nurse and of his father +during her absence, she drove with her husband to the station, and was +just in time for a train. Mr. Hamlyn watched it steam out of the +station, and then looked up at the clock. + +"I suppose it's not too early to see him," he muttered. "I'll chance it, +at any rate. Hope he will be less suffering than he was yesterday, and +less crusty, too." + +Dismissing his carriage, for he felt more inclined to walk than to +drive, he went through the park to Pimlico, and gained the house of +Major Pratt. + +This was Friday. On the previous Wednesday evening a note had been +brought to Mr. Hamlyn by Major Pratt's servant, a sentence in which, as +the reader may remember, ran as follows: + + "_I suppose there was no mistake in the report that that ship did + go down--and that none of the passengers were saved from it?_" + +This puzzled Philip Hamlyn: perhaps somewhat troubled him in a hazy kind +of way. For he could only suppose that the ship alluded to must be the +sailing vessel in which his first wife, false and faithless, and his +little son of a twelvemonth old had been lost some five or six years +ago--the _Clipper of the Seas_. And the next day, (Thursday) he had gone +to Major Pratt's, as requested, to carry the prescription for gout he +had asked for, and also to inquire of the Major what he meant. + +But the visit was a fruitless one. Major Pratt was in bed with an attack +of gout, so ill and so "crusty" that nothing could be got out of him +excepting a few bad words and as many groans. Mr. Hamlyn then questioned +Saul--of whom he used to see a good deal in India, for he had been the +Major's servant for years and years. + +"Do you happen to know, Saul, whether the Major wanted me for anything +in particular? He asked me to call here this morning." + +Saul began to consider. He was a tall, thin, cautious, slow-speaking +man, honest as the day, and very much attached to his master. + +"Well, sir, he got a letter yesterday morning that seemed to put him +out, for I found him swearing over it. And he said he'd like you to see +it." + +"Who was the letter from? What was it about?" + +"It looked like Miss Caroline's writing, sir, and the postmark was +Essex. As to what it was about--well, the Major didn't directly tell me, +but I gathered that it might be about--" + +"About what?" questioned Mr Hamlyn, for the man had come to a dead +standstill. "Speak out, Saul." + +"Then, sir," said Saul, slowly rubbing the top of his head, and the few +grey hairs left on it, "I thought--as you tell me to speak--it must be +something concerning that ship you know of; she that went down on her +voyage home, Mr. Philip." + +"The _Clipper of the Seas_?" + +"Just so, sir; the _Clipper of the Seas_. I thought it by this," added +Saul: "that pretty nigh all day afterwards he talked of nothing but that +ship, asking me if I should suppose it possible that the ship had not +gone down and every soul on board, leastways of her passengers, with +her. 'Master,' said I, in answer, 'had that ship not gone down and all +her passengers with her, rely upon it, they'd have turned up long before +this.' 'Ay, ay,' stormed he, 'and Caroline's a fool'--Which of course +meant his sister, you know, sir." + +Philip Hamlyn could not make much of this. So many years had elapsed now +since news came out to the world that the unfortunate ship, _Clipper of +the Seas_, went down off the coast of Spain on her homeward voyage, and +all her passengers with her, as to be a fact of the past. Never a doubt +had been cast upon any part of the tidings, so far as he knew. + +With an uneasy feeling at his heart, he went off to the city, to call +upon the brokers, or agents, of the ship: remembering quite well who +they were, and that they lived in Fenchurch Street. An elderly man, +clerk in the house for many years, and now a partner, received him. + +"The _Clipper of the Seas_?" repeated the old gentleman, after listening +to what Mr. Hamlyn had to say. "No, sir, we don't know that any of her +passengers were saved; always supposed they were not. But lately we have +had some little cause to doubt whether one or two might not have been." + +Philip Hamlyn's heart beat faster. + +"Will you tell me why you think this?" + +"It isn't that we think it; at best 'tis but a doubt," was the reply. +"One of our own ships, getting in last month from Madras, had a sailor +on board who chanced to remark to me, when he was up here getting his +pay, that it was not the first time he had served in our employ: he had +been in that ship that was lost, the _Clipper of the Seas_. And he went +on to say, in answer to a remark of mine about all the passengers having +been lost, that that was not quite correct, for that one of them had +certainly been saved--a lady or a nurse, he didn't know which, and also +a little child that she was in charge of. He was positive about it, he +added, upon my expressing my doubts, for they got to shore in the same +small boat that he did." + +"Is it true, think you?" gasped Mr. Hamlyn. + +"Sir, we are inclined to think it is not true," emphatically spoke the +old gentleman. "Upon inquiring about this man's character, we found that +he is given to drinking, so that what he says cannot always be relied +upon. Again, it seems next to an impossibility that if any passenger +were saved we should not have heard of it. Altogether we feel inclined +to judge that the man, though evidently believing he spoke truth, was +but labouring under an hallucination." + +"Can you tell me where I can find the man?" asked Mr. Hamlyn, after a +pause. + +"Not anywhere at present, sir. He has sailed again." + +So that ended it for the day. Philip Hamlyn went home and sat down to +dinner with his wife, as already spoken of. And when she told him that +the mysterious lady waiting outside must be waiting for him--probably +some acquaintance of his of the years gone by--it set his brain working +and his pulses throbbing, for he suddenly connected her with what he had +that day heard. No wonder his head ached! + +To-day, after seeing his wife off by train, he went to find Major Pratt. +The Major was better, and could talk, swearing a great deal over the +gout, and the letter. + +"It was from Caroline," he said, alluding to his sister, Miss Pratt, who +had been with him in India. "She lives in Essex, you know, Philip." + +"Oh, yes, I know," answered Philip Hamlyn. "But what is it that Caroline +says in her letter?" + +"You shall hear," said the Major, producing his sister's letter and +opening it. "Listen. Here it is. 'The strangest thing has happened, +brother! Susan went to London yesterday to get my fronts recurled at the +hairdresser's, and she was waiting in the shop, when a lady came out of +the back room, having been in there to get a little boy's hair cut. +Susan was quite struck dumb when she saw her: _She thinks it was poor +erring Dolly_; never saw such a likeness before, she says; could almost +swear to her by the lovely pale gold hair. The lady pulled her veil over +her face when she saw Susan staring at her, and went away with great +speed. Susan asked the hairdresser's people if they knew the lady's +name, or who she was, but they told her she was a stranger to them; had +never been in the shop before. Dear Richard, this is troubling me; I +could not sleep all last night for thinking of it. Do you suppose it is +possible that Dolly and the boy were not drowned? Your affectionate +sister, Caroline.' Now, did you ever read such a letter?" stormed the +Major. "If that Susan went home and said she'd seen St. Paul's blown up, +Caroline would believe it. Who's Susan, d'ye say? Why, you've lost your +memory, Philip. Susan was the English maid we had with us in Calcutta." + +"It cannot possibly be true," cried Mr. Hamlyn with quivering lips. + +"True, no! of course it can't be, hang it! Or else what would you do?" + +That might be logical though not satisfactory reasoning. And Mr. Hamlyn +thought of the woman said to be watching for him, and her pale gold +hair. + +"She was a cunning jade, if ever there was one, mark you, Philip Hamlyn; +that false wife of yours and kin of mine; came of a cunning family on +the mother's side. Put it that she _was_ saved: if it suited her to let +us suppose she was drowned, why, she'd do it. _I_ know Dolly." + +And poor Philip Hamlyn, assenting to the truth of this with all his +heart, went out to face the battle that might be coming upon him, +lacking the courage for it. + + +II. + +The cold, clear afternoon air touching their healthy faces, and Jack +Frost nipping their noses, raced Miss West and Kate Dancox up and down +the hawthorn walk. It had pleased that arbitrary young damsel, who was +still very childish, to enter a protest against going beyond the grounds +that fine winter's day; she would be in the hawthorn walk, or nowhere; +and she would run races there. As Miss West gave in to her whims for +peace' sake in things not important, and as she was young enough herself +not to dislike running, to the hawthorn walk they went. + +Captain Monk was recovering rapidly. His sudden illness had been caused +by drinking some cold cider when some out-door exercise had made him +dangerously hot. The alarm and apprehension had now subsided; and Mrs. +Hamlyn, arriving three days ago in answer to the hasty summons, was +thinking of returning to London. + +"You are cheating!" called out Kate, flying off at a tangent to cross +her governess's path. "You've no right to get before me!" + +"Gently," corrected Miss West. "My dear, we have run enough for to-day." + +"We haven't, you ugly, cross old thing! Aunt Eliza says you _are_ ugly. +And--" + +The young lady's amenities were cut short by finding herself suddenly +lifted off her feet by Mr. Harry Carradyne, who had come behind them. + +"Let me alone, Harry! You are always coming where you are not wanted. +Aunt Eliza says so." + +A sudden light, as of mirth, illumined Harry Carradyne's fresh, frank +countenance. "Aunt Eliza says all those things, does she? Well, Miss +Kate, she also says something else--that you are now to go indoors." + +"What for? I shan't go in." + +"Oh, very well. Then that dandified silk frock for the new year that the +dressmaker is waiting to try on can be put aside until midsummer." + +Kate dearly loved new silk frocks, and she raced away. The governess +followed more slowly, Mr. Carradyne talking by her side. + +For some months now their love dream had been going on; aye, and the +love-making too. Not altogether surreptitiously; neither of them would +have liked that. Though not expedient to proclaim it yet to Captain Monk +and the world, Mrs. Carradyne knew of it and tacitly sanctioned it. + +Alice West turned her face, blushing uncomfortably, to him as they +walked. "I am glad to have this opportunity of saying something to you," +she spoke with hesitation. "Are you not upon rather bad terms with Mrs. +Hamlyn?" + +"She is with me," replied Harry. + +"And--am _I_ the cause?" continued Alice, feeling as if her fears were +confirmed. + +"Not at all. She has not fathomed the truth yet, with all her +penetration, though she may have some suspicion of it. Eliza wants to +bend me to her will in the matter of the house, and I won't be bent. Old +Peveril wishes to resign the lease of Peacock Range to me; I wish to +take it from him, and Eliza objects. She says Peveril promised her the +house until the seven years' lease was out, and that she means to keep +him to his bargain." + +"Do you quarrel?" + +"Quarrel! no," laughed Harry Carradyne. "I joke with her, rather than +quarrel. But I don't give in. She pays me some left-handed compliments, +telling me that I am no gentleman, that I'm a bear, and so on; to which +I make my bow." + +Alice West was gazing straight before her, a troubled look in her eyes. +"Then you see that I _am_ the remote cause of the quarrel, Harry. But +for thinking of me, you would not care to take the house on your own +hands." + +"I don't know that. Be very sure of one thing, Alice: that I shall not +stay an hour longer under the roof here if my uncle disinherits me. That +he, a man of indomitable will, should be so long making up his mind is a +proof that he shrinks from committing the injustice. The suspense it +keeps me in is the worst of all. I told him so the other evening when we +were sitting together and he was in an amiable mood. I said that any +decision he might come to would be more tolerable than this prolonged +suspense." + +Alice drew a long breath at his temerity. + +Harry laughed. "Indeed, I quite expected to be ordered out of the room +in a storm. Instead of that, he took it quietly, civilly telling me to +have a little more patience; and then began to speak of the annual new +year's dinner, which is not far off now." + +"Mrs. Carradyne is thinking that he may not hold the dinner this year, +as he has been so ill," remarked the young lady. + +"He will never give that up, Alice, as long as he can hold anything; and +he is almost well again, you know. Oh, yes; we shall have the dinner and +the chimes also." + +"I have never heard the chimes," she said. "They have not played since I +came to Church Leet." + +"They are to play this year," said Harry Carradyne. "But I don't think +my mother knows it." + +"Is it true that Mrs. Carradyne does not like to hear the chimes? I seem +to have gathered the idea, somehow," added Alice. But she received no +answer. + +Kate Dancox was changeable as the ever-shifting sea. Delighted with the +frock that was in process, she extended her approbation to its maker; +and when Mrs. Ram, a homely workwoman, departed with her small bundle in +her arms, it pleased the young lady to say she would attend her to her +home. This involved the attendance of Miss West, who now found herself +summoned to the charge. + +Having escorted Mrs. Ram to her lowly door, and had innumerable +intricate questions answered touching trimmings and fringes, Miss Kate +Dancox, disregarding her governess altogether, flew back along the road +with all the speed of her active limbs, and disappeared within the +churchyard. At first Alice, who was growing tired and followed slowly, +could not see her; presently, a desperate shriek guided her to an +unfrequented corner where the graves were crowded. Miss Kate had come to +grief in jumping over a tombstone, and bruised both her knees. + +"There!" exclaimed Alice, sitting down on the stump of an old tree, +close to the low wall. "You've hurt yourself now." + +"Oh, it's nothing," returned Kate, who did not make much of smarts. And +she went limping away to Mr. Grame, then doing some light work in his +garden. + +Alice sat on where she was, reading the inscription on the tombstones; +some of them so faint with time as to be hardly discernible. While +standing up to make out one that seemed of a rather better class than +the rest, she observed Nancy Cale, the clerk's wife, sitting in the +church-porch and watching her attentively. The poor old woman had been +ill for a long time, and Alice was surprised to see her out. Leaving the +inscriptions, she went across the churchyard. + +"Ay, my dear young lady, I be up again, and thankful enough to say it; +and I thought as the day's so fine, I'd step out a bit," she said, in +answer to the salutation. An intelligent woman, and quite sufficiently +cultivated for her work--cleaning the church and washing the parson's +surplices. "I thought John was in the church here, and came to speak to +him; but he's not, I find; the door's locked." + +"I saw John down by Mrs. Ram's just now; he was talking to Nott, the +carpenter," observed Alice. "Nancy, I was trying to make out some of +those old names; but it is difficult to do so," she added, pointing to +the crowded corner. + +"Ay, I see, my dear," nodded Nancy. "_His_ be worn a'most right off. I +think I'd have it done again, an' I was you." + +"Have what done again?" + +"The name upon your poor papa's gravestone." + +"The _what_?" exclaimed Alice. And Nancy repeated her words. + +Alice stared at her. Had Mrs. Cale's wits vanished in her illness? "Do +you know what you are saying, Nancy?" she cried; "I don't. What had papa +to do with this place? I think you must be wandering." + +Nancy stared in her turn. "Sure, it's not possible," she said slowly, +beginning to put two and two together, "that you don't know who you are, +Miss West? That your papa died here? and lies buried here?" + +Alice West turned white, and sat down on the opposite bench to Nancy. +She did know that her father had died at some small country living he +held; but she never suspected that it was at Church Leet. Her mother had +gone to London after his death, and set up a school--which succeeded +well. But soon she died, and the ladies who took to the school before +her death took to Alice with it. The child was still too young to be +told by her mother of the serious past--or Mrs. West deemed her to be +so. And she had grown up in ignorance of her father's fate and of where +he died. + +"When we heard, me and John, that it was a Miss West who had come to the +Hall to be governess to Parson Dancox's child, the name struck us both," +went on Nancy. "Next we looked at your face, my dear, to trace any +likeness there might be, and we thought we saw it--for you've got your +papa's eyes for certain. Then, one day when I was dusting in here, I let +fall a hymn-book from the Hall pew; in picking it up it came open, and +the name writ in it stared me in the face, '_Alice_ West.' After that, +we had no manner of doubt, him and me, and I've often wished to talk +with you and tell you so. My dear, I've had you on my knee many a time +when you were a little one." + +Alice burst into tears of agitation. "I never knew it! I never knew it. +Dear Nancy, what did papa die of?" + +"Ah, that was a sad piece of business--he was killed," said Nancy. And +forthwith, rightly or wrongly, she, garrulous with old age, told all the +history. + +It was an exciting interview, lasting until the shades of evening +surprised them. Miss Kate Dancox might have gone roving to the other end +of the globe, for all the attention given her just then. Poor Alice +cried and sighed, and trembled inwardly and outwardly. "To think that it +should just be to this place that I should come as governess, and to the +house of Captain Monk!" she wailed. "Surely he did not _kill_ +papa!--intentionally!" + +"No, no; nobody has ever thought that," disclaimed Nancy. "The Captain +is a passionate man, as is well known, and they quarrelled, and a hot +blow, not intentional, must have been struck between 'em. And all +through them blessed chimes, Miss Alice! Not but that they be sweet to +listen to--and they be going to ring again this New Year's Eve." + +Drawing her warm cloak about her, Nancy Cale set off towards her +cottage. Alice West sat on in the sheltered porch, utterly bewildered. +Never in her life had she felt so agitated, so incapable of sound and +sober thought. _Now_ it was explained why the bow-windowed sitting-room +at the Vicarage would always strike her as being familiar to her memory; +as though she had at some time known one that resembled it, or perhaps +seen one like it in a dream. + +"Well, I'm sure!" + +The jesting salutation came from Harry Carradyne. Despatched in search +of the truants, he had found Kate at the Vicarage, making much of the +last new baby there, and devouring a sumptuous tea of cakes and jam. +Miss West? Oh, Miss West was sitting in the church porch, talking to old +Nancy Cale, she said to Harry. + +"Why! What is it?" he exclaimed in dismay, finding that the burst of +emotion which he had taken to be laughter, meant tears. "What has +happened, Alice?" + +She could no more have kept the tears in than she could +help--presently--telling him the news. He sat down by her and held her +close to him, and pressed for it. She was the daughter of George West, +who had died in the dispute with Captain Monk in the dining-room at the +Hall so many years before, and who was lying here in the corner of the +churchyard; and she had never, never known it! + +Mr. Carradyne was somewhat taken to; there was no denying it; chiefly by +surprise. + +"I thought your father was a soldier, Alice--Colonel West; and died when +serving in India. I'm sure it was said so when you came." + +"Oh, no, that could not have been said," she cried; "unless Mrs. Moffit, +the agent, made the mistake. It was my uncle who died in India. No one +here ever questioned me about my parents, knowing they were dead. Oh, +dear," she went on in agitation, after a silent pause, "what am I to do +now? I cannot stay at the Hall. Captain Monk would not allow it either." + +"No need to tell him," quoth Mr. Harry. + +"And--of course--we must part. You and I." + +"Indeed! Who says so?" + +"I am not sure that it would be right to--to--you know." + +"To what? Go on, my dear." + +Alice sighed; her eyes were fixed thoughtfully on the fast falling +twilight. "Mrs. Carradyne will not care for me when she knows who I am," +she said in low tones. + +"My dear, shall I tell you how it strikes me?" returned Harry: "that my +mother will be only the more anxious to have you connected with us by +closer and dearer ties, so as to atone to you, in even a small degree, +for the cruel wrong which fell upon your father. As to me--it shall be +made my life's best and dearest privilege." + +But when a climax such as this takes place, the right or the wrong thing +to be done cannot be settled in a moment. Alice West did not see her way +quite clearly, and for the present she neither said nor did anything. + +This little matter occurred on the Friday in Christmas week; on the +following day, Saturday, Mrs. Hamlyn was returning to London. Christmas +Day this year had fallen on a Monday. Some old wives hold a superstition +that when that happens, it inaugurates but small luck for the following +year, either for communities or for individuals. Not that that fancy has +anything to do with the present history. Captain Monk's banquet would +not be held until the Monday night: as was customary when New Year's Eve +fell on a Sunday. He had urged his daughter to remain over New Year's +Day; but she declined, on the plea that as she had been away from her +husband on Christmas Day, she would like to pass New Year's Day with +him. The truth being that she wanted to get to London to see after that +yellow-haired lady who was supposed to be peeping after Philip Hamlyn. + +On the Saturday morning, Mrs. Hamlyn was driven to Evesham in the close +carriage, and took the train to London. Her husband, ever kind and +attentive, met her at the Paddington terminus. He was looking haggard, +and seemed to be thinner than when she left him nine days ago. + +"Are you well, Philip?" she asked anxiously. + +"Oh, quite well," quickly answered poor Philip Hamlyn, smiling a warm +smile, that he meant to look like a gay one. "Nothing ever ails me." + +No, nothing might ail him bodily; but mentally--ah, how much! That awful +terror lay upon him thick and threefold; it had not yet come to any +solution, one way or the other. Major Pratt had taken up the very worst +view of it; and spent his days pitching hard names at misbehaving +syrens, gifted with "the deuce's own cunning" and with mermaids' shining +hair. + +"And how have things been going, Penelope?" asked Mrs. Hamlyn of the +nurse, as she sat in the nursery with her boy upon her knee. "All +right?" + +"Quite so, ma'am. Master Walter has been just as good as gold." + +"Mamma's darling!" murmured the doting mother, burying her face in his. +"I have been thinking, Penelope, that your master does not look well," +she added after a minute. + +"No, ma'am? I've not noticed it. We have not seen much of him up here; +he has been at his club a good deal--and dined three or four times with +old Major Pratt." + +"As if she would notice it!--servants never notice anything!" thought +Eliza Hamlyn in her imperious way of judging the world. "By the way, +Penelope," she said aloud in light and careless tones, "has that woman +with the yellow hair been seen about much?--has she presumed again to +accost my little son?" + +"The woman with the yellow hair?" repeated Penelope, looking at her +mistress, for the girl had quite forgotten the episode. "Oh, I +remember--she that stood outside there and came to us in the +square-garden. No, ma'am, I've seen nothing at all of her since that +day." + +"For there are wicked people who prowl about to kidnap children," +continued Mrs. Hamlyn, as if she would condescend to explain her +inquiry, "and that woman looked like one. Never suffer her to approach +my darling again. Mind that, Penelope." + +The jealous heart is not easily reassured. And Mrs. Hamlyn, restless and +suspicious, put the same question to her husband. It was whilst they +were waiting in the drawing-room for dinner to be announced, and she had +come down from changing her apparel after her journey. How handsome she +looked! a right regal woman! as she stood there arrayed in dark blue +velvet, the fire-light playing upon her proud face, and upon the diamond +earrings and brooch she wore. + +"Philip, has that woman been prowling about here again?" + +Just for an imperceptible second, for thought is quick, it occurred to +Philip Hamlyn to temporise, to affect ignorance, and say, What woman? +just as if his mind were not full of the woman, and of nothing else. But +he abandoned it as useless. + +"I have not seen her since; not at all," he answered: and though his +words were purposely indifferent, his wife, knowing all his tones and +ways by heart, was not deceived. "He is afraid of that woman," she +whispered to herself; "or else afraid of _me_." But she said no more. + +"Have you come to any definite understanding with Mr. Carradyne in +regard to Peacock's Range, Eliza?" + +"He will not come to any; he is civilly obstinate over it. Laughs in my +face with the most perfect impudence, and tells me: 'A man must be +allowed to put in his own claim to his own house, when he wants to do +so.'" + +"Well, Eliza, that seems to be only right and fair. Percival made no +positive agreement with us, remember." + +"_Is_ it right and fair! That may be your opinion, Philip, but it is not +mine. We shall see, Mr. Harry Carradyne!" + +"Dinner is served, ma'am," announced the old butler. + +That evening passed. Sunday passed, the last day of the dying year; and +Monday morning, New Year's day, dawned. + + * * * * * + +New Year's Day. Mr. and Mrs. Hamlyn were seated at the breakfast-table. +It was a bright, cold, sunny morning, showing plenty of blue sky. Young +Master Walter, in consideration of the day, was breakfasting at their +table, seated in his high chair. + +"Me to have dinner wid mamma to-day! Me have pudding!" + +"That you shall, my sweetest; and everything that's good," assented his +mother. + +In came Japhet at this juncture. "There's a little boy in the hall, sir, +asking to see you," said he to his master. "He--" + +"Oh, we shall have plenty of boys here to-day, asking for a new year's +gift," interposed Mrs. Hamlyn, rather impatiently. "Send him a shilling, +Philip." + +"It's not a poor boy, ma'am," answered Japhet, "but a little gentleman: +six or seven years old, he looks. He says he particularly wants to see +master." + +Philip Hamlyn smiled. "Particularly wants a shilling, I expect. Send him +in, Japhet." + +The lad came in. A well-dressed beautiful boy, refined in looks and +demeanour, bearing in his face a strange likeness to Mr. Hamlyn. He +looked about timidly. + +Eliza, struck with the resemblance, gazed at him. Her husband spoke. +"What do you want with me, my lad?" + +"If you please, sir, are you Mr. Hamlyn?" asked the child, going forward +with hesitating steps. "Are you my papa?" + +Every drop of blood seemed to leave Philip Hamlyn's face and fly to his +heart. He could not speak, and looked white as a ghost. + +"Who are you? What is your name?" imperiously demanded Philip's wife. + +"It is Walter Hamlyn," replied the lad, in clear, pretty tones. + +And now it was Mrs. Hamlyn's turn to look white. Walter Hamlyn?--the +name of her own dear son! when she had expected him to say Sam Smith, or +John Jones! What insolence some people had! + +"Where do you come from, boy? Who sent you here?" she reiterated. + +"I come from mamma. She would have sent me before, but I caught cold, +and was in bed all last week." + +Mr. Hamlyn rose. It was a momentous predicament, but he must do the best +he could in it. He was a man of nice honour, and he wished with all his +heart that the earth would open and engulf him. "Eliza, my love, allow +me to deal with this matter," he said, his voice taking a low, tender, +considerate tone. "I will question the boy in another room. Some +mistake, I reckon." + +"No, Philip, you must put your questions before me," she said, resolute +in her anger. "What is it you are fearing? Better tell me all, however +disreputable it may be." + +"I dare not tell you," he gasped; "it is not--I fear--the disreputable +thing you may be fancying." + +"Not dare! By what right do you call this gentleman 'papa'?" she +passionately demanded of the child. + +"Mamma told me to. She would never let me come home to him before +because of not wishing to part from me." + +Mrs. Hamlyn gazed at him. "Where were you born?" + +"At Calcutta; that's in India. Mamma brought me home in the _Clipper of +the Seas_, and the ship went down, but quite everybody was not lost in +it, though papa thought so." + +The boy had evidently been well instructed. Eliza Hamlyn, grasping the +whole truth now, staggered back in terror. + +"Philip! Philip! is it true? Was it _this_ you feared?" + +He made a motion of assent and covered his face. "Heaven knows I would +rather have died." + +He stood back against the window-curtains, that they might shade his +pain. She fell into a chair and wished he _had_ died, years before. + +But what was to be the end of it all? Though Eliza Hamlyn went straight +out and despatched that syren of the golden hair with a poison-tipped +bodkin (and possibly her will might be good to do it), it could not make +things any the better for herself. + + +III. + +New Year's Night at Leet Hall, and the banquet in full swing--but not, +as usual, New Year's Eve. + +Captain Monk headed his table, the parson, Robert Grame, at his right +hand, Harry Carradyne on his left. Whether it might be that the world, +even that out-of-the-way part of it, Church Leet, was improving in +manners and morals; or whether the Captain himself was changing: certain +it was that the board was not the free board it used to be. Mrs. +Carradyne herself might have sat at it now, and never once blushed by as +much as the pink of a sea-shell. + +It was known that the chimes were to play this year; and, when midnight +was close at hand, Captain Monk volunteered a statement which astonished +his hearers. Rimmer, the butler, had come into the room to open the +windows. + +"I am getting tired of the chimes, and all people have not liked them," +spoke the Captain in slow, distinct tones. "I have made up my mind to do +away with them, and you will hear them to-night, gentlemen, for the last +time." + +"_Really_, Uncle Godfrey!" cried Harry Carradyne, in most intense +surprise. + +"I hope they'll bring us no ill-luck to-night!" continued Captain Monk +as a grim joke, disregarding Harry's remark. "Perhaps they will, though, +out of sheer spite, knowing they'll never have another chance of it. +Well, well, they're welcome. Fill your glasses, gentlemen." + +Rimmer was throwing up the windows. In another minute the church clock +boomed out the first stroke of twelve, and the room fell into a dead +silence. With the last stroke the Captain rose, glass in hand. + +"A happy New Year to you, gentlemen! A happy New Year to us all. May it +bring to us health and prosperity!" + +"And God's blessing," reverently added Robert Grame aloud, as if to +remedy an omission. + +Ring, ring, ring! Ah, there it came, the soft harmony of the chimes, +stealing up through the midnight air. Not quite as loudly heard, +perhaps, as usual, for there was no wind to waft it, but in tones +wondrously clear and sweet. Never had the strains of the "Bay of Biscay" +brought to the ear more charming melody. How soothing it was to those +enrapt listeners; seeming to tell of peace. + +But soon another sound arose to mingle with it. A harsh, grating sound, +like the noise of wheels passing over gravel. Heads were lifted; glances +expressed surprise. With the last strains of the chimes dying away in +the distance, a carriage of some kind galloped up to the hall door. + +Eliza Hamlyn alighted from it--with her child and its nurse. As quickly +as she could make opportunity after that scene enacted in her +breakfast-room in London in the morning, that is, as soon as her +husband's back was turned, she had quitted the house with the maid and +child, to take the train for home, bringing with her--it was what she +phrased it--her shameful tale. + +A tale that distressed Mrs. Carradyne to sickness. A tale that so +abjectly terrified Captain Monk, when it was imparted to him on Tuesday +morning, as to take every atom of fierceness out of his composition. + +"Not Hamlyn's wife!" he gasped. "Eliza!" + +"No, not his wife," she retorted, a great deal too angry herself to be +anything but fierce and fiery. "That other woman, that false first wife +of his, was not drowned, as was set forth, and she has come to claim +him, with their son." + +"His wife; their son," muttered the Captain as if he were bewildered. +"Then what are you?--what is your son? Oh, my poor Eliza." + +"Yes, what are we? Papa, I will bring him to answer for it before his +country's tribunal--if there be law in the land." + +No one spoke to this. It may have occurred to them to remember that Mr. +Hamlyn could not legally be punished for what he did in innocence. +Captain Monk opened the glass doors and walked on to the terrace, as if +the air of the room were oppressive. Eliza went out after him. + +"Papa," she said, "there now exists all the more reason for your making +my darling _your_ heir. Let it be settled without delay. He must succeed +to Leet Hall." + +Captain Monk looked at his daughter as if not understanding her. "No, +no, no," he said. "My child, you forget; trouble must be obscuring your +faculties. None but a _legal_ descendant of the Monks could be allowed +to have Leet Hall. Besides, apart from this, it is already settled. I +have seen for some little time now how unjust it would be to supplant +Henry Carradyne." + +"Is _he_ to be your heir? Is it so ordered?" + +"Irrevocably. I have told him so this morning." + +"What am I to do?" she wailed in bitter despair. "Papa, what is to +become of me--and of my unoffending child?" + +"I don't know: I wish I did know. It will be a cruel blight upon us all. +You will have to live it down, Eliza. Ah, child, if you and Katherine +had only listened to me, and not made those rebellious marriages!" + +He turned away as he spoke in the direction of the church, to see that +his orders were being executed there. Harry Carradyne ran after him. The +clock was striking midday as they entered the churchyard. + +Yes, the workmen were at their work--taking down the bells. + +"If the time were to come over again, Harry," began Captain Monk as they +were walking homeward, he leaning upon his nephew's arm, "I wouldn't +have them put up. They don't seem to have brought luck somehow, as the +parish has been free to say. Not but that must be utter nonsense." + +"Well, no they don't, uncle," assented Harry. + +"As one grows in years, one gets to look at things differently, lad. +Actions that seemed laudable enough when one's blood was young and hot, +crop up again then, wearing another aspect. But for those chimes, poor +West would not have have died as he did. I have had him upon my mind a +good bit lately." + +Surely Captain Monk was wonderfully changing! And he was leaning heavily +upon Harry's arm. + +"Are you tired, uncle? Would you like to sit down on this bench and +rest?" + +"No, I'm not tired. It's West I'm thinking about. He lies on my mind +sadly. And I never did anything for the wife or child to atone to them! +It's too late now--and has been this many a year." + +Harry Carradyne's heart began to beat a little. Should he say what he +had been hoping to say sometime? He might never have a better +opportunity than this. + +"Uncle Godfrey," he spoke in low tones, "would you--would you like to +see Mr. West's daughter? His wife has been dead a long while; but--would +you like to see her--Alice?" + +"Ay," fervently spoke the old man. "If she be in the land of the living, +bring her to me. I'll tell her how sorry I am, and how I would undo the +past if I could. And I'll ask her if she'll be to me as a daughter." + +So then Harry Carradyne told him all. It was Alice West who was already +under his roof, and who, fate and fortune permitting, _Heaven_ +permitting, would sometime be Alice Carradyne. + +Down sat Captain Monk on a bench of his own accord. Tears rose to his +eyes. The sudden revulsion of feeling was great: and truly he was a +changed man. + +"You spoke of Heaven, Harry. I shall begin to think it has forgiven me. +Let us be thankful." + +But Captain Monk found he had more to thank Heaven for ere many minutes +had elapsed. As Harry Carradyne sat by him in silence, marvelling at the +change, yet knowing that the grievous blow which was making havoc of +Eliza had effected the completeness of the subduing, he caught sight of +an approaching fly. Another fly from the railway station at Evesham. + +"How dare you come here, you villain!" shouted Captain Monk, rising in +threatening anger, as the fly's inmate called to the driver to stop and +began to get out of it. "Are you not ashamed to show your face to me, +after the evil you have inflicted upon my daughter?" + +Philip Hamlyn, smiling kindly and calmly, caught Captain Monk's lifted +hands. "No evil, sir," he said, soothingly. "It was all a mistake. Eliza +is my true and lawful wife." + +"Eh? What's that?" said the Captain quite in a whisper, his lips +trembling. + +Quietly Philip Hamlyn explained. He had taken the previous day to +investigate the matter, and had followed his wife down by a night train. +His first wife _was_ dead. She had been drowned in the _Clipper of the +Seas_, as was supposed. The child was saved, with his nurse: the only +two passengers who were saved. The nurse made her way to a place in the +south of France, where, as she knew, her late mistress's sister lived, +Mrs. O'Connett, formerly Miss Sophia Pratt. Mrs. O'Connett, a young +widow, had just lost her only child, a boy about the age of the little +one rescued from the cruel seas. She seized on him with feverish +avidity, adopted him as her own, quitted the place for another +Anglo-French town where she was not previously known, taught the child +to call her "Mamma," and had never let it transpire that the boy was not +hers. But now, after the lapse of a few years, Mrs. O'Connett was on the +eve of marriage with an Irish Major. To him she told the truth; and, as +he did not want to marry the child as well as herself, he persuaded her +to return him to his father. Mrs. O'Connett brought the child to London, +ascertained Mr. Hamlyn's address, and all about him, and watched about +to speak to him, alone if possible, unknown to his wife. Remembering +what had been the behaviour of the child's mother, she was by no means +sure of a good reception from Philip himself, or what adverse influence +might be brought to bear by the new ties he had formed. Mrs. O'Connett +had the same remarkable and lovely hair that her sister had had, whom +she very much resembled; she had also a talent for underhand ways. + +That was the truth--and I have had to tell it in a nutshell, space +growing limited. Philip Hamlyn had ascertained it all beyond possibility +of dispute, had seen Mrs. O'Connett, and had brought down the good +tidings. + +Of all the curious sights this record has afforded, perhaps the most +surprising was to see Captain Monk pass his arm lovingly within that of +Philip Hamlyn and march off with him to Leet Hall as if he were a prize +to be coveted. "Here he is, Eliza," said he; "he has come to cheer both +you and me." + +For once in her life Eliza Hamlyn was subdued to meekness. She kissed +her husband and shed happy tears. She was his lawful wife, and the +little one was his lawful child. True, there was an elder son; but, +compared with what had been feared, that was a slight evil. + +"We must make them true brothers, Eliza," whispered Philip Hamlyn. "They +shall share alike all I have and all I leave behind me. And our own +little one must be called James in future." + +"And you and I will be good friends from henceforth," cried Captain Monk +warmly, clasping Philip Hamlyn's ready hand. "I have been to blame in +more ways than one, giving the reins unduly to my arbitrary temper. It +seems to me, however, that life holds enough of real angles for us +without creating any for ourselves." + +And surely it did seem, as Mrs. Carradyne would have liked to point out +aloud, that those chimes had been fraught with messages of evil. For had +not all these blessings set in with their removal?--even in the very +hour that saw the bells taken down! + +Harry Carradyne had drawn his uncle from the room; he now came in again, +bringing Alice West. Her face was a picture of agitation, for she had +been made known to Captain Monk. Harry led her up to Mrs. Hamlyn, with a +beaming smile and a whisper. + +"Eliza, as we seem to be going in generally for amenities, won't you +give just a little corner of your heart to _her_? We owe her some +reparation for the past. It is her father who lies in that grave at the +north end of the churchyard." + +Eliza started. "Her father! Poor George West her father?" + +"Even so." + +Just a moment's struggle with her rebellious spirit and Mrs. Hamlyn +stooped to kiss the trembling girl. "Yes, Alice, we do owe you +reparation amongst us, and we must try to make it," she said heartily. +"I see how it is: you will reign here with Harry; and I think he will be +able, after all, to let us keep Peacock's Range." + +There came a grand wedding, Captain Monk himself giving Alice away. But +Mr. and Mrs. Hamlyn did not retain Peacock's Range; they and their boys, +the two Walters, had to look out for another local residence; for Mrs. +Carradyne retired to Peacock's Range herself. Now that Leet Hall had a +young mistress, she deemed it policy to quit it; though it should have +as much of her as it pleased as a visitor. And Captain Godfrey Monk made +himself happier in these peaceful days than he had ever been in his +stormy ones. + +And that's the history. If I had to begin it again, I don't think I +should write it; for I have had to take its details from other +people--chiefly from the Squire and old Mr. Sterling, of the Court. +There's nothing of mine in it, so to say, and it has been only a bother. + +And those unfortunate chimes have nearly passed out of memory with the +lapse of years. The "Silent Chimes" they are always called when, by +chance, allusion is made to them, and will be so called for ever. + +JOHNNY LUDLOW. + + + + +THE BRETONS AT HOME. + +BY CHARLES W. WOOS, F.R.G.S., AUTHOR OF "THROUGH HOLLAND," "LETTERS FROM +MAJORCA," ETC. ETC. + + +Still we had not visited le Folgoët, and it had to be done. + +"No one ever leaves our neighbourhood without having seen le Folgoët," +said M. Hellard. "Or if he does so he loses the best thing we can offer +him in the way of excursions. Also, he must expect no luck in his future +travels through Brittany." + +[Illustration: MORLAIX.] + +"And he must be looked upon in the light of a _barbare_," chimed in +Madame. "Not to do le Folgoët would be almost as bad as not going to +confession in Lent." + +"My dear, did _you_ go to confession in Lent?" asked Monsieur, slily. + +"Monsieur Hellard," laughed Madame, blushing furiously, "I am a good +Catholic. Ask no questions. We were speaking of Folgoët. Everyone should +go there." + +"Is the excursion, then, to be looked upon as a pilgrimage, or a +penance?" we asked. "Will it absolve us from our sins, or grant us +indulgences? Is there some charm in its stones, or can we drink of its +waters and return to our first youth?" + +"The magic spring!" laughed Mme. Hellard. "You will find it at the back +of the church. I have drunk of its waters, certainly; on a very hot day +last summer. They refreshed me, but I still feel myself mortal." + +"Ah, yes," cried Monsieur, "the waters of Lethe and the elixir vitæ have +equally to be discovered. I imagine that they belong to Paradise--and we +have lost Paradise, you know: though I have found my Eve," added +Monsieur, with a gallant bow to his cara sposa; "and have been in +Paradise ever since." + +"_You_, apparently, have found and drunk of the waters of Lethe," +laughed Madame. "You forget all our numerous quarrels and +disagreements." + +"Thunderstorms are said to clear the air," returned Monsieur; "but ours +have been mere summer lightning. That, you know, is not dangerous, and +beautifies the horizon." + +It was the day of our visit to St. Jean du Doigt, and we had seriously +fallen out with our coachman by the way. St. Jean had so charmed us that +we felt reluctant to leave it. The little inn, quiet and solitary, with +its windows open to the sunshine, its snow-white cloth, its wealth of +creeper and blossom trailing up the walls and sunning over the roof, +invited us to enter and be happy; to revel in the outer scene, sylvan, +rustic, ecclesiastical, an overflow of the beauties of earth, sky, +sunshine and ancient architecture. Here was an earthly paradise; it +might still be ours for some golden moments. Yet we threw away our +opportunity; as we so often do in life in far weightier matters than +taking luncheon at a village inn. + +We hesitated very much, but we had to see Plougasnou, and our driver, +for reasons of his own, declared that Plougasnou was far more beautiful +than St. Jean du Doigt, whilst its inn was renowned in Brittany. So, +having watched the funeral wind picturesquely down the hill-side, pause +at the beautiful gateway, and disappear into the church, we departed. + +It was very charming to drive about the hills and valleys, the narrow +country lanes that were full of the beauty of summer. Finally, a steep +ascent brought us to our destination with a rude awakening. We had left +Paradise for very earthly quarters. There was no beauty about the spot, +which, placed on a hill, was bleak, bare, and exposed. The inn was the +incarnation of ugliness, and everything about it was rough and rude. In +the kitchen two women were at work. The one was brewing coffee, which +sent forth a delicious aroma, the other, with weeping eyes, was peeling +onions for the pot-au-feu. + +We were served with a modest luncheon in a room behind the kitchen. +Madame prepared our food, and we had the privilege of assisting at the +ceremony. We were initiated into the mystery of frying an +omelette-au-naturel, the safest thing to order, no matter where you may +be in France, for the humblest cottage knows how to send up its omelette +to perfection. The handmaiden waited upon us, but she was heavy and not +intelligent, and she walked about in wooden shoes that clattered and +echoed and shocked one's nerves. But this did not affect the omelette, +or the modest ragout that concluded the banquet. + +We lunched almost al fresco. The window was wide open and looked on to a +large yard, surrounded by outbuildings. Hens raced about, and without +ceremony flew up to the window and demanded their share of the feast. +Several cats came in; so that, as far as animals were concerned, we +might still consider ourselves in Paradise. + +Then we passed out by way of the window, and immense dogs bade us +defiance and woke the echoes of the neighbourhood. Luckily they were +chained, and H.C.'s "Cave canem!" was superfluous. The church struck out +the hour. Placed in a sort of three-cornered square above the inn, the +tower stood out boldly against the background of sky, but it possessed +no beauty or merit. Away out of sight and hearing, we imagined the +glorious sea breaking and frothing over the rocks, and the points of +land that stretched out ruggedly towards the horizon; but we did not go +down to it. We felt out of tune with our surroundings, and only cared +for the moment when we should commence the long drive homeward. Had we +possessed some special anathema, some charm that would have placed our +driver under a mild punishment for twenty-four hours, I believe that we +should not have spared him. + +So, on the whole, we were glad that our excursion to le Folgoët would +have to be done in part by train. We arranged it for the morrow, making +the most of our blue skies. + +"You will have a charming day," said Madame Hellard, as we prepared to +set out the next morning. "I do not even recommend umbrellas. It is the +sort of wind that in Brittany never brings rain." + +Our only objection was that there was rather too much of it. + +Declining the omnibus, which rattled over the stones and was more or +less of a sarcophagus, without its repose, we mounted the interminable +Jacob's Ladder, and glanced in at our Antiquarian's. He was absent this +morning; had gone a little way into the country, where he had heard of +some Louis XIV. furniture that was to be sold by the Prior of an old +Abbey: though how so much that was luxurious and worldly had ever +entered an abbey seemed a mystery. + +We were soon en route for Landerneau, our destination as far as the +train was concerned. The line, picturesque and diversified, passed +through a narrow wooded valley where ran the river Elorn. On the left +was the extensive forest of Brézal; and in the small wood of +_Pont-Christ_, an interesting sixteenth century chapel faced an ancient +and romantic windmill. Close to this was a large pond, surrounded by +rugged rocks and firs; altogether a wild and beautiful scene. Soon +after, through the trees, we discerned the graceful open spire of the +Church of La Roche, and then, upon rugged height above the railway, the +ruins of the ancient Castle of la Roche-Maurice, called by the Breton +peasants round about, in their broad dialect, "la Ro'ch Morvan." It was +founded by Maurice, King of the Bretons, about the year 800, and was +demolished about 1490, during the war Charles VIII. waged against Anne +of Brittany. Very little of the ruin remains, excepting a square donjon +and a portion of the exterior walls and the four towers. + +Finally came Landerneau, and the train continued its way towards Brest +without us. + +We found the old town well worth exploring. It is situated on the Elorn, +or the river of Landerneau, as it is more often called. The stream is +fairly broad here, and divides the town into two parts. It is spanned by +an old bridge, bordered by a double row of ancient and gabled houses; +and rising out of the stream, like a small island or a moated grange, is +an old Gothic water mill, remarkably beautiful and picturesque. This +little scene alone is worth a journey to Landerneau. A Gothic +inscription, which has been placed in a house not far off, declares that +the old mill was built by the Rohans in 1510; and was no doubt devoted +to higher uses than the grinding of corn. + +There are many old houses, many quaint and curious bits of architecture +in Landerneau. On one of these, bearing the date of 1694, we found two +curious sculptures: a lion rampant and a man armed with a drawn sword; +and, between them, the inscription: TIRE, TVE. We might, indeed, have +gone up and down the street armed with sword, gun, or any other +murderous weapon, with impunity--there was nothing to fight but the air. +We had it all to ourselves, on this side the river. Yet Landerneau is a +flourishing place of some ten thousand inhabitants, with extensive +manufactories, saw mills, and large timber yards. Vessels come up the +river and load and unload; and, on bright days when the sunshine pours +upon the flashing water, and warms the wood lying about in huge stacks, +and a delicious pine-scent goes forth upon the air, it is a very +pleasant scene, and a very fitting spot for a short sojourn. + +It also deals extensively in strawberries, exporting to England many +thousand boxes of the delicious fruit that grows so largely in the +neighbourhood. The hotel this morning seemed full of them, and we had +but to ask, and to receive in abundance. The place was full of their +fragrance: a fragrance that seemed so allied to the smell of the pine +wood in the timber yards. + +The town is of great antiquity, and appears to have succeeded a Roman +Settlement. It is said to owe its name to St. Ernec, a Breton prince, +the son, says tradition, of Judicaël, King of the Domnomée. This prince, +about the year 669, turned monk, and built himself a cell on the banks +of the Elorn, a river which divided in those days the sees of Léon and +Cornouaille. Where the cell was is now the village of St. Ernec, and a +chapel which preceded the church of the Récollets. + +In time Landerneau became the chief town of the Vicomté of Léon; and was +raised to a Principality in 1572 in favour of Henri, Vicomte de Rohan +and his brother Réné, Lord of Soubise, who founded the dukedom of +Rohan-Chabot. It remained in possession of Lords of Landerneau until +the Revolution. Fontenelle pillaged the town in 1592, and in the +seventeenth century its famous castle was destroyed. + +[Illustration: CALVARY, GUIMILIAU.] + +"There will be noise in Landerneau," has become a Breton proverb, +employed whenever any social event is stirring up the populace. It owes +its origin to a bygone custom of the town, of serenading widows on the +evening of their second marriage, with drums, trumpets, kettles, and +every kind of unmusical instrument that could be pressed into the +service of the uproarious ceremony. + +Of this we had no evidence. The town was quiet to the verge of deadly +dulness; if there were widows rash enough to contemplate a second +marriage, we knew nothing about it; they were discreet, and kept their +secret to themselves. + +There are many monasteries and nunneries in the neighbourhood. Some are +in ruins; some have become destined to other purposes; and if their +walls could speak, probably would cry aloud: "To such base uses do we +come!" Sitting on the banks of the river, you watch its calm flowing +waters, and a vessel moored to the side, where a Breton woman is hanging +out clothes to dry, and a man on deck is lazily smoking his pipe. Behind +you is a timber yard, sending forth its strawberry-pine perfume. There +is always some attractions in a timber yard. Whether you will or not it +fascinates you; you enter for a moment, and stroll about through the +little alleys between the stacks, as numerous and complicated as the +twistings and turnings of a maze. You imagine yourself once more a boy +playing at hide-and-seek, and revel in the hot sunshine that is pouring +down upon you and bringing out the perfume of the wood. + +Returning to the river, your eye wanders far down the stream, until a +large building upon its banks arrests your attention. It looks the +emblem and abode of peace; perhaps is so. It is the ancient Couvent des +Cordeliers, founded by Jean de Rohan, in 1488. But monks no longer tread +its corridors and offer up the midnight mass in its small chapel. It is +now occupied by ladies--les Dames du Calvaire, as they are called. If +the monks were to arise from their little graveyard, would they rush +back horrified and affrighted at such desecration? and if the walls had +voices, would _they_, too, be ungallant enough to cry "To such base uses +do we come?" The ancient convent of the Ursulines has been turned into a +Penitentiary, thus in a measure fulfilling its original destiny. + +Not far from Landerneau, also, on the banks of the Elorn, is the Avenue +of the Château de la Joyeuse Garde, celebrated as being the rendezvous +of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Nothing now remains +but the ruins of a subterranean vault and a romantic Gothic Gateway of +the twelfth century, covered with ivy and creeping shrubs. The whole +surroundings are beautiful and romantic; undulations, here wooded and +rocky, there richly cultivated; laughing and fertile slopes running down +into warm and sheltered valleys, through which the river winds its +graceful course. + +Having made a slight acquaintance with the old streets and ancient +houses, we went back to the inn, where we found the carriage ready to +take us to le Folgoët. + +A strong wind had suddenly arisen and clouds of dust accompanied us. +Under ordinary circumstances the drive would have been pleasant, though +uneventful. The road is somewhat monotonous, and very little attracts +the attention beyond small, well-wooded estates, breaking in upon the +long stretches of richly cultivated country, where life ought to run in +a very even tenor. + +After awhile we turned into a by-road, and presently descending between +high hedges, the object of our excursion suddenly and unexpectedly +opened up before our astonished vision. + +It would be difficult to forget the effect of that first view of le +Folgoët. The high hedges on either side had concealed everything. These +fell away, and within a few yards of us, in a barren and dreary plain +uprose the wonderful church. + +A few poor houses and cottages comprise the village, and here nearly a +thousand inhabitants manage to stow themselves away. But nothing strikes +you more in these Breton villages than their silent and apparently +deserted condition, even at midday. Nine times out of ten, there is +scarcely a creature to be seen in the streets, the house doors are for +the most part closed, no face peers curiously from the windows, and no +sound breaks upon the stillness of the air. + +So was it to-day. The tramp of our horses, the rumbling of wheels alone +startled the silence as we approached the church. The small houses +forming the village in no way took from its grandeur or interfered with +its solitude and solemnity. + +There in the desolate plain it rose, "a thing of beauty and a joy for +ever." Its charm fell upon us in the first moment, its wonderful tone +and colouring held us spellbound. Our first wonder was to find a +building so perfect in the midst of this desolate plain, so far away +from the world and civilization. It was our first wonder; and when +presently we turned away from it I think it was our last. But this +solitude and desolation add infinitely to its charm; just as the mystery +and romance that enshroud the far-off monasteries in their desolate +mountain retreats would fall away as "the baseless fabric of a vision" +if they were brought into the crowded and commonplace atmosphere of town +life. + +The legend of le Folgoët is a curious one: + +Towards the middle of the fourteenth century, there lived in a +neighbouring forest a poor idiot named Soloman, or Salaun, as it is +written in the Breton tongue. This idiot was known as the Fool of the +wood--le Folgoët. + +There, in the quiet solitude, his voice might constantly be heard +singing, in his own strange way, hymns to the Virgin; and often during +the night, chanting an Ave Maria. Daily he begged his bread in the +neighbouring town of Lesneven, always using the same form of words: Ave +Maria: adding in Breton, "Salaun a zébré bara." "Soloman would eat some +bread." + +Thus for forty years he lived, never having injured anyone, or made an +enemy. Then he fell ill, and one morning was found dead in the wood, +near the little spring from which he had drunk daily and the hollow tree +that had been his nightly shelter. + +Soloman the fool was already fading from men's minds, when a miracle +happened. Above the little grave in the wood where he had been buried +there suddenly sprang a white lily, remarkable for its beauty and the +exquisite perfume it shed abroad. But what made it more wonderful was +that upon every leaf, in gold letters, appeared the words "Ave Maria!" + +This apparent miracle was soon noised abroad, and people flocked from +far and near to see the flower, which remained perfect for six weeks and +then began to fade. All the priests and ecclesiastics of the +neighbourhood, the nobles and the officers of the Duc de Rohan, decided +that they should dig about the root of the lily and discover its source. +This was done, and it was found to spring from the mouth of Salaun the +idiot. + +Of course such a miracle could not remain uncommemorated. Jean de +Langouëznon, Abbot of Landévennec, one of the witnesses of the miracle, +wrote an elaborate account of it in Latin. Pilgrimages were constantly +made to the grave, and at last a church was built over the spring of the +poor idiot, whose faith and blameless life had been so strangely +rewarded. Such is the origin of one of Brittany's finest and most +remarkable churches. + +It is in the second Pointed Gothic style, and is built of a mixture of +granite and dark Kersanton stone. The tone is singularly beautiful, and +harmonises well with the dreary plain. It is at once sombre, dignified +and impressive, relieved by great richness of sculpture. Kersanton stone +lends itself to carving, as we have seen, and here many parts will be +found in perfect preservation. Some of the rich mouldings in the +doorways have worn away, and some of the small statues have been +mutilated by time or have altogether disappeared, but the tone chiefly +marks the age of the church. This is not always the case, and even not +generally, with the buildings for which Kersanton stone has been used; +but le Folgoët is exposed to the elements which sweep across the dreary +plain without resistance; these have done their kindly work, and given +to the old walls a beauty that no mortal hand could fashion. + +We stood before it in mute admiration, having expected much, but finding +far more. The tall trees near it bent and murmured to the fierce blast +that blew, as if they, too, would add their homage to the charm of the +sacred edifice. + +Its solitary spire rose to a height of one hundred and sixty feet, full +of grace and elegance. Every portion of the exterior bore minute +inspection, it was so elaborately sculptured, so well preserved. Time +has spared it more than the hand of man. + +The towers are unequal. The higher possesses the exquisite open spire, a +landmark for all the country round. The other is crowned by a small +Renaissance lantern and roof, the work of the Duchess Anne. The +beautiful west portal is no longer perfect. Its porch or canopy fell in +1824, and has never been replaced; and better so. The porch of the south +doorway is large, and so magnificent that it alone would be worth a +pilgrimage. It is called the Apostles' porch, and is also supposed to +have been the work of the good Duchess. Not far from it are the remains +of what must have been a very lovely cross. The carving of the porch is +of great delicacy and refinement; and, less exposed to the elements than +the west doorway, is in far better preservation. Here are graceful +scrolls and mouldings of vine leaves and other devices curiously +interwoven; the leaves so minutely carved that you may trace their veins +and fringes. The arms of Brittany and France are also cunningly +intertwined. Round the west doorway are wreaths of vines and thistles, +with birds and serpents introduced amongst fruit and flowers. Above the +doorway is an elaborate sculpture of the Nativity and the Adoration of +the Magi. Joseph is represented--it is often the case in Breton +carvings--as a Breton peasant, wearing the clumsy wooden shoes of the +country. He would have found himself somewhat embarrassed in them when +crossing the desert. But the Bretons, behind the rest of the world, had +no ideas beyond those that came to them from practical experience, and +the picturesque dignity of an Eastern dress was far beyond their +imagination. The centre pier of the doorway is formed into a niche +enclosing the basin for holy water, protected by a carved canopy of +great beauty; but time and exposure have worn away much of the sharpness +of the work. + +[Illustration: LANDERNEAU.] + +The gables of the transept are decorated with open parapets; and at the +east end, below a rose window remarkable for its tracery, an arched +niche protects the water of the fountain of Soloman the idiot: the +actual spring itself being beneath the high altar. + +These waters, like those of the lovely fountain of St. Jean du Doigt, +are supposed to be miraculous, and are the object of many a pilgrimage, +though fortunately for the village, the day of its _Pardon_ is not the +chief occasion for the assembling together of the blind, halt, maimed +and withered folk of Brittany. But the pilgrims bathe in the waters, +which are said to possess the gift of healing, and we know that faith +alone will often perform miracles. As we looked upon the clear, +transparent water, we felt at least the innocence of the charm, and +therein a great virtue. + +The interior of the church has been much praised by competent judges, +and very justly so, for in its way it is very perfect. Yet, to us, its +beauty was marked by a certain heaviness; and the "dim religious light" +that adds so much to the effect of many an interior, here brought with +it no sense of mystery. Perhaps it was not sufficiently subdued; or the +heaviness of the stone may have had something to do with it. Also, it +looked singularly small, in comparison with the exterior. It has been +much altered since it was first built, and has lost nearly all its +arches, which have been replaced by Gothic canopies in the form of +ornamental projections. + +Much of the interior is beautifully and elaborately sculptured, and will +bear long and close inspection. The nave and aisles are under one roof, +like the church of St. Jean du Doigt: an arrangement not always +effective. The choir is short, as also are the aisles, the south +transept being the longest of all. A very effective rood screen +separates the choir from the nave. It is constructed of Kersanton stone, +and consists of three round arches, above which are canopies supporting +a gallery of open work decorated with quatrefoils. The effect is +extremely rich and imposing; and the foliage of the screen is a perfect +study of complications. + +At the end of the south transept is the Fool's Chapel. The frescoes are +a history of his life, which is yet further carried out in the windows +and on the bas reliefs of the pulpit. The high altar under the rose +window is very finely moulded, with its canopied niches and beautiful +tracery. There are many statues of saints in the church, dressed in +Breton costumes, that would no doubt astonish them if they came back to +life and saw themselves in effigy. Many parts of the church are +decorated with wonderful carvings of vegetables, fruit and flowers. + +But the general impression is heavy and sombre, the true Kersanton +effect and colour. Time and the elements have softened, subdued and +beautified the exterior; but the tone of the interior, unexposed to the +elements, remains what it originally was: wanting in refinement and +romance; it is the beauty of elaborate execution that imposes upon one. +All the windows are remarkable for their lovely Flamboyant tracery, that +of the rose window being especially fine and delicate. + +The exterior is far finer, far more wonderful. One never grew tired of +gazing; of examining it from every point of view. It was a dream picture +and a marvel. Nothing we saw in Brittany compared with it, excepting the +Cathedral of Quimper. Before it stretched the dreary plain; behind it +were the humble houses composing the village, very much out of sight and +not at all aggressive. + +On the south side was the Gothic college built by Anne of Brittany; and +here she and Francis the First lodged, when they came on a pilgrimage to +le Folgoët. It is a Gothic building of the fifteenth century, with an +octagonal turret of rare design; but its beauty is of the past. We found +it in the hands of the restorers, who were doing their best to ruin it. +Originally it harmonised wonderfully with the church, but soon the +harmony will have disappeared for ever. + +Our carriage had gone on to the neighbouring town of Lesneven, to rest +the horses and await our arrival, leaving us free to examine and loiter +as we pleased. No one troubled us. The inhabitants were all away; or +sleeping; or eating and drinking; the scene was as quiet and desolate as +if the church had been in the midst of a desert. + +But the time came when we must leave it to its solitude and go back into +the world--the small but interesting world of Brittany; the world of +slow-moving people and sleepy ways, and ancient towns full of wonderful +outlines and mediæval reminiscences. + +We took a last look round. We seemed alone in the world, no sight or +sound of humanity anywhere; the very workmen despoiling the Gothic +college had disappeared, leaving the mute witnesses of their vandalism +in the form of scaffolding and very modern bricks and mortar. Beyond was +a village street and small houses well closed and apparently deserted. +Nearer to us rose the magnificent church, with its towers and spire, all +its rich carving fringed against the background of the sky. The longer +we looked, the more wonderful seemed its solemn and exquisite tone. The +trees beneath which we stood waved and bent and rustled in the strong +wind that blew; and beyond all stretched the dreary plain; dreary and +desolate, but adding much to the charm of the picture. It was a scene +never to be forgotten; but it was, after all, a scene appealing only to +certain temperaments: to those who delight in the highest forms of +architecture; in walls time-honoured and lichen-stained; who find beauty +and charm ever in the blue sky and the waving trees; a charm that is +chiefly spiritual. + +Leaving the church behind us, and the dreary plain to our left, we +passed into a country road with high hedges. This soon led us to a +pathway across the fields. About a mile in the distance the steeples of +Lesneven rose up and served us as beacons. The day was still young and +the sun was high in the heavens. Small white clouds chased each other +rapidly, driven by the strong wind that blew. We soon reached the quiet +town and found it quiet with a vengeance. Not knowing the way to the +inn where our coachman had put up, it was some time before we could +discover an inhabitant to direct us. At length we found a human being +who had evidently come abroad under some mistaken impression, or in a +fit of absence of mind. At the same time a child issued from a doorway. +We felt quite in a small crowd. It was a humble child, but with a very +charming and innocent expression; one of those faces that take +possession of you at once and for ever. For it does not require days or +weeks or months to know some people; moments will place you in intimate +communion with them. You meet and suddenly feel that you must have known +each other in some previous existence, so mutual is the recognition. But +it is not so, for we have had no previous existence. It is nothing but +the freemasonry of the spirit; soul going out to soul. For this reason +the "love at first sight" that the poets have raved about in all the +ages, and in all the ages mankind has laughed at, is probably as real as +anything we know of; as real as our existence, the air we breathe, the +heaven above us. + +But we were at Lesneven, in the midst of the little crowd of two--we +must not keep it waiting. And although the day is still young, yet the +golden moments will fly, and the sun sinks rapidly westward. + +So we inquired our way and were politely directed, and the little child +declared it would be her pleasure to accompany us: "_il étoit si facile +de s'égarer_," she declared, in very grown-up tones, and in her peculiar +patois. _Il étoit_. We had not heard the old-fashioned expression since +our childhood, in the villages of our native land. + +We accepted the escort, and the little maiden chatted as freely as if we +had been very old acquaintances. "She supposed that, like all strangers, +we had been to see le Folgoët? It was a fine church, but its miraculous +fountain was the best of all. Once, when she hurt her foot, grandpère +carried her across the fields to the fountain. She bathed her foot in +the water and said a prayer and offered a candle, and--vite, vite!--the +foot was well. In three days she could run about. But that was two years +ago, when she was a very little girl; now she was quite big." + +"How old was she now?" + +"She was twelve, and very soon would do her first communion, dressed all +in white, with a beautiful veil over her head. Should we not like to see +her?" + +"We should, very much." + +"Could we not come again next year, when it would take place? She should +so much like us to see her. Là! voilà l'hôtel!" she cried, passing +rapidly from one subject to another, after the manner of childhood. "Now +she must run back home. And we were to be sure and come again next +year." + +And before we could turn, the child had darted away, evidently to +prevent the possibility of reward: a refined instinct for which we +should scarcely have given her credit. She may have been a Bretonne, but +not a true Bretonne; her gracefulness and intelligence almost forbade +it. Yet there are exceptions to every rule, and Nature herself delights +in occasional surprises. + +[Illustration: LE FOLGOËT.] + +We found Lesneven very dull and sleepy, but picturesque. There was a +singular old market-house of timber work, the quaintest we had ever +seen; and some of the houses formed ancient and interesting groups. Our +coachman had made an excellent déjeuner, if we were to judge by the +self-satisfied expression of his face, which resembled the sun at +mid-day seen through a red fog. He was now sitting in the courtyard +under a very lovely creeper, drinking his coffee out of a tall glass, +and of course smoking the pipe of peace. The creeper distinctly lent +enchantment to the view: the coachman did not. + +We wandered about whilst he made his preparations for starting. The +market-place was broken and diversified in its outlines; one or two of +the streets turning out of it looked quite gabled and mediæval. The +covered market-house, with its curious roof and ancient timbers, gave it +a very distinctive and very individual appearance; so that it now rises +up in the memory as one of the many Breton pictures which make one's +experience of the little country a very exceptional pleasure. + +Out of the Collège poured a small stream of boys, startling the silence +of the sleepy little town. We were mutually surprised at seeing each +other. They looked and gazed, and walked around and about us--at a +certain distance--and seemed as interested and perplexed as if we had +been visitants from other regions clothed in unknown forms. But they +manifested none of the delicacy of our little guide, and were not half +so interesting. Yet probably the roughest and rudest boy amongst them +might be the maiden's brother; for we have just said that Nature +delights in surprises, and not infrequently in contradictions. The +building they poured out of, now the Collège, was an ancient convent of +the Récollets, dating from 1645. + +A commotion in the courtyard of the "Grande Maison," which was just +opposite the timber market-house, and the appearance of the driver on +his box, in all the dignity of office, was our signal for departure. We +looked back after leaving the town, and there in the distance, uprising +towards the sky, was the lovely spire of le Folgoët, a monument to +departed greatness, superstition, and religious fervour; a dream of +beauty which will last, we may hope, for many ages to come. + +We soon re-entered the road we had travelled earlier in the day; and in +due time, after one or two narrow escapes of being overturned, so high +was the wind, so blinding the dust, we re-entered Landerneau, a haven of +refuge from the boisterous gale. + +Our host had prepared us a sumptuous repast, of which the crowning glory +was a pyramid of strawberries flanked on one side by a ewer of the +freshest cream, and on the other by a quaint old sugar basin of chased +silver, of the First Empire period. Could mortals have desired more, +even on Olympus--even in the Amaranthine fields of Elysium? + +It was not yet the dinner-hour and we had it all to ourselves, with the +waiter's undivided attention, who hoped we had not been disappointed in +our little excursion. "He had been five years in Landerneau, but had +never yet seen le Folgoët. Dame! he had no time for pilgrimages, and +doubted whether, after all, they did much good. For his part, he didn't +believe in miracles. Du reste, he had nothing the matter with him; was +neither blind, lame, nor stupid--grâce au ciel, for he had his living to +get. As for the church, to him one church was very much like another: +and he would rather arrange a pyramid of strawberries than contemplate +the spires of his native Quimper." + +So true is it that water will not rise above its own level--and perhaps +so merciful. + +In due course we returned once more to our now old and familiar haunt, +Morlaix. We came back to it each time with our affection and admiration +heightened. Its old streets seem to grow more and more picturesque; and +more and more we appeared to absorb into our "inner consciousness" this +mediæval atmosphere. We seemed to be living in a perpetual romance of +the past; and the men and women who surrounded us were so many puppets +animated by invisible threads. It was the perfection of existence, in +its particular way and for a short time. + +The shades of evening had fallen when we once more found ourselves +descending Jacob's Ladder. The Antiquarian's door was closed, but a +light gleamed through the crevices of the shutters, as antiquated as +some of his cherished possessions. We would not disturb him, though we +felt sorely inclined to lift the latch and look in upon the picturesque +interior. We imagined him perhaps telling his beads, his grey head bowed +before the crucifix which, artistically and religiously, was the object +of his veneration; mentally we saw the son bending over a plain piece of +wood, which gradually assumed a form and design that would make it a +thing of beauty for ever. By lifting the latch, all this would be +revealed, delight our eyes and refresh our spirit. But what more might +we see? The cherub probably was in bed, but the rift within the lute? +Ah, that was uncertain; we could not tell. So we thought we would leave +the picture to our imagination, where at least it was perfect. + +So we went on without lifting the latch; and H.C. fell into raptures +over the rising moon and the quaint gables that stood out so gloriously +and mysteriously in the pale light. A warmer glow illumined many a +lattice. We were surrounded by deep lights and shadows, and felt +ourselves steeped in a world of the past, holding familiar intercourse +with ghosts that haunted every nook and crevice, every doorway, every +niche and archway of this old-world town. + +At the hotel, we found Madame Hellard taking the air at her doorway, her +hands calmly folded in her favourite attitude of rest and +contentment--or was it expectation? + +"Was I not a prophet?" was her first greeting. "Did I not say this +morning 'No umbrellas?' Have we not had a glorious day!" + +"But the dust?" we objected. + +"Ah!" cried Madame, "on oublie toujours le chat dans le coin, as they +say in the Morbihan. Yet there must always be a drawback; you cannot +have perfection; and I maintain that dust is better than rain. But what +did you think of le Folgoët, messieurs?" + +We declared that we could not give expression to our thoughts and +emotions. + +"A la bonne heure! Did I not tell you that we had nothing like it in our +neighbourhood--or in any other, for all I know? Did I in the least +exaggerate?" + +We assured Madame that she had undercoloured her picture. The reality +surpassed her ideal description. + +"Ah!" cried Madame sentimentally, "our beau-idéals--when do we ever see +them? But personally I cannot complain. I have a husband in ten +thousand, and that, after all, should be a woman's beau-idéal, for it is +her vocation. Oh!" with a little scream, pretending not to have heard +her husband come up quietly behind her; "you did not hear me paying you +compliments behind your back, Eugène? I assure you I meant the very +opposite of what I said." + +"If you are perverse, I shall not take you to the Regatta next Sunday," +threatened Monsieur, in deep tones that very thinly veiled the affection +lurking behind them. + +"The Regatta!" cried Madame. "Where should I find the time to go +jaunting off to the Regatta? We have a wedding order to execute for that +morning--my hands will be more than full. Figurez vous," turning to us, +"a silly old widow is marrying quite a young man. She is rich, of +course; and he has nothing, equally of course. And what does she expect +will be the end of it? I cannot imagine what these people do with their +common sense and their experience of life. But I always say we gain +experience for the benefit of our friends: it enables us to give +excellent advice to others, but we never think of applying it to +ourselves." + +"But the Regatta," we interrupted, more interested in that than in the +indiscretions of the widow. "We knew nothing about it, and thought of +leaving you on Saturday. Is it worth staying for?" + +"Distinctly," replied Madame Hellard. "All Morlaix turns out for the +occasion: all the world and his wife will be there. It is quite a +pretty scene, and the boats with their white sails look charming. You +must drive down by the river side to the coast, and if the afternoon is +sunny and warm, I promise you that you will not regret prolonging your +stay with us." + +[Illustration: INTERIOR OF LE FOLGOËT, SHOWING SCREEN.] + +This presented a favourable opportunity for a compliment, but at that +moment Catherine's voice was heard in the ascendant; a passage-at-arms +seemed to be in full play above; commotion was the order of the moment; +and Madame rapidly disappeared to the rescue. The compliment was lost +for ever, but a dead calm was the immediate consequence of her presence. +Catherine's authority had been defied, and the daring damsel had to be +threatened with dismissal if it occurred again. + +"Ma foi!" cried Catherine, as we met her on the staircase, "a pretty +state of things we should have with two mistresses in the +salle-à-manger! I should feel as much out of my element as a hen that +has hatched duck's eggs, and sees her brood taking to the water." + +"And apparently there would be as much clucking and commotion," we slily +observed. + +Catherine laughed. "Quite as much. I always say, whatever you have to +do, do it thoroughly; and if you have to put people down, let there be +no mistake about it. By that means it won't occur again." + +And Catherine went off with a very determined step and expression, her +cap streamers flying on the breeze, to order us a light repast suited to +the lateness of the hour. She was certainly Madame's right hand, and she +ministered to our entertainment no less than to our necessities. + +Sunday rose fair and promising; a whole week of sunshine and fine +weather was a phenomenon in Brittany. Quite early in the morning the +town was awake and astir, and it was evident that the good people of +Morlaix were going in for the dissipation of a fête day. + +The morning drew on, and everyone seemed to have turned out in their +best apparel, though, to our sorrow, very few costumes made their +appearance. The streets were crowded with sober Bretons, somewhat less +sober than usual. Every vehicle in the town had been pressed into the +service. Every omnibus was loaded inside and out; carts became objects +of envy, and carriages were luxuries for which the drivers exacted their +own terms. The river-side, to right and left, was lined with people, all +hurrying towards the distant shore; for though many had secured seats in +one or other of the delectable vehicles, they were few in comparison +with the numbers that, from motives of economy or exercise, preferred to +walk. It was a gay and lively scene, and, sober Bretons though they +were, the air echoed with song and laughter. Rioting there was none. + +The distance was about five miles; but something more than the last mile +had to be taken on foot by everyone. We had secured a victoria which was +not much larger than a bath chair, but in a crowd this had its +advantage. True, we felt every moment as if the whole thing would fall +to pieces, but in case of shipwreck there were plenty to come to the +rescue. + +Nothing happened, and we walked our last mile with sound wind and limbs. +Much of the way lay on a hill-side. Cottages were built on the slopes, +and we walked upon zigzag paths, through front gardens and back gardens, +now level with the ground floor window, now looking into an attic; and +now--if we wished--able to peer down the chimney or join the cats oh the +roof. + +At last we came to the sea, which stretched away in all its beauty, +shining and shimmering in the sunshine. In the bay formed by this and +the opposite coast, the boats taking part in the races were flitting +about like white-winged messengers, full of life and grace and buoyancy. +Some of the races were over, some were in progress. + +Our side of the shore was beautifully backed by green slopes rising to +wooded heights. In the select inclosure, for the privilege of entering +which a franc was charged, the élite of Morlaix walked to and fro, or +sat upon long rows of chairs placed just above the beach. We did not +think very much of them and were disappointed. All round and about us, +rich and poor alike were clothed in modern-day costumes, as ugly and +ungainly and ill-worn as any that we see around us in our own fair, +but--in this respect--by no means faultless isle. + +The few costumes that formed the exception were not graceful; those at +least worn by the men. Umbrellas were in full array, and as there was no +rain they put them up for the sunshine. A large proportion of the crowd +took no interest whatever in the races, which attracted attention and +applause only from those either sitting or standing on the beach. The +crowded green behind gave its attention to anything rather than the sea +and the boats. More general interest was manifested in the sculling +matches; especially in the race of the fish-women--tall, strong females, +the very picture of health and vigour, becomingly dressed in caps and +short blue petticoats, who started in a pair of eight-oared boats, and +rowed valiantly in a very well-matched contest until it was lost and +won. As the sixteen women, victors and vanquished, stepped ashore, the +phlegmatic crowd was stirred in its emotions, and loud applause greeted +them. They filed away, laughing and shaking their heads, or looking down +modestly and smoothing their aprons, each according to her temperament, +and were soon lost in the crowd. + +On the slopes in sheltered spots, vendors of different wares, chiefly of +a refreshing description, had installed themselves. The most popular and +the most picturesque were the pancake women, who, on their knees, beat +up the batter, held the frying pans over a charcoal fire, and tossed the +pancakes with a skill worthy of Madame Hellard's chef. Their services +were in full force, and it was certainly not a graceful exhibition to +see the Breton boys and girls, of any age from ten to twenty, devouring +these no doubt delicious delicacies with no other assistance than their +own fairy fingers. After all, they were enjoying themselves in their own +fashion and looked as if they could imagine no greater happiness in +life. + +We wandered away from the scene, round the point, where stretched +another portion of the coast of Finistère. It was a lovely vision. The +steep cliffs fell away at our feet to the beach, here quite deserted and +out of sight of the crowd not very far off. Over the white sand rolled +and swished the pale green water with most soothing sound. The sun shone +and sparkled upon the surface. The bay was wide, and on the opposite +coast rose the cliffs crowned by the little town of Roscoff, its grey +towers sharply outlined against the sky. Our thoughts immediately went +back to the day we had spent there; to the quiet streets of St. Pol de +Léon, and its beautiful church, and the charming Countess who had +exercised such rare hospitality and taken us to fairy-land. + +The vision faded as we turned our backs upon the sea and the crowd and +entered upon our return journey. The zigzag was passed and the houses, +where now we looked down the chimneys and now into the cellars. In due +time we came to the high road. It was crowded with vehicles all waiting +the end of the races and the return of the multitude. Apparently it was +"first come, first served," for we had our choice of all--a veritable +embarras de choix. It was made and we started. Very soon, on the other +side the river, we came in sight of our little auberge, _A la halte des +Pêcheurs_, where on a memorable occasion we had taken refuge from a +second deluge. And there, at its door, stood Madame Mirmiton, anxiously +looking down the road for the return of her husband from the Regatta. +Whether he had recovered from his sprain, or had found a friendly +conveyance to give him a seat, did not appear. + +We went our way; the river separated us from the inn and there was no +ferry at hand. Many like ourselves were returning; there was no want of +movement and animation. It was not a picturesque crowd, for there were +no costumes, and the _bourgeoisie_ of Morlaix are not more interesting +than others of their class. + +At last loomed upon us the great viaduct, and a train rolled over as we +rolled under it. The vessels in the little port had mounted their flags +and looked gay, in honour of the occasion. We entered Morlaix for the +last time, for we were to leave on the morrow. Madame Hellard was not +taking the air; she and Monsieur were enjoying a moment's repose in the +bureau. They now invariably greeted us as _habitués_ of the house. + +"But you have neither of you been to the Regatta," we observed. + +"I go nowhere without my wife," gallantly responded our host. + +"And I was too busy with our wedding breakfast to think of anything +else," said Madame. "And, to tell you the truth, I don't care for +regattas. I can see no pleasure in watching which of two or which of +half-a-dozen boats comes in first. The people interest me; but it is +really almost as amusing to see them passing one's own door, and not +half so tiring. I hope, messieurs, you have returned with good +appetites: I have ordered you some _crêpes_. Was it not funny to see the +old women tossing them on the slopes?" + +"Al fresco fêtes," chimed in Monsieur. "Ah, la jeunesse! la jeunesse! +Youth is the time for enjoyment. _Donnez-moi vos vingt ans si vous n'en +faites rien!_ So says the old song--so say I. And now you are going to +leave us, and to-morrow we shall be in total eclipse," he added, +determined not to leave us out in his compliments. "But you are +right--you cannot stay here for ever. You have seen all that is of note +in Morlaix and the neighbourhood, and you will be charmed with Quimper." + +"Quimper? I would rather live fifty years in Morlaix than a hundred in +Quimper," cried Catherine, who came in at that moment for the menus. +"The river smells horribly, the town is dirty and stuffy, and it always +rains there. And as for the hotels--enfin, _you will see_!" + +[Illustration: MORLAIX.] + +It was very certain that we should not alight upon another Catherine. + +For the last time we wandered out that night when the moon had risen, to +take our farewell of the old streets that had given us so much pleasure. +We knew them well, and felt that we were communing with old friends. +Their outlines, their gabled roofs, the deep shadows cast by the pale +moonlight, the warmer reflections from the beautiful latticed +windows--all charmed us. We moved in an ancient world, conversed with +ghosts of a long-past age; the shades of those who had left behind them +so much of the artistic and the excellent; who had, in their day and +hour, lived and breathed and moved even as the world of to-day--had been +animated with the same thoughts and emotions; in a word, had fulfilled +their lot and passed through their birthright of sorrow and suffering. + +It was late before we could turn away from the fascination. After the +crowded scenes of the day, we seemed surrounded by the very silence and +repose, the majesty of Death. Everyone had retired to rest; the curfew +had long tolled, and the fires were nearly all out. Only here and there +a lighted lattice spoke of a late watcher, who perhaps was searching for +the philosopher's stone or the elixir of life, wherewith to turn the +grey hairs of age to the flowing locks of youth--the feeble gait of one +stricken in years to the vigour and comeliness of manhood. Vain wish! +and needless; for why will they not look at life in its truer aspect, +and feel that the nearer they approach to death the younger they are +growing? + + + + +MY MAY-QUEEN + +(_Ætat_ 4). + + + Come, child, that I may make + A primrose wreath to crown thee Queen of Spring! + Of thee the glad birds sing; + For thee small flowers fling + Their lives abroad; for thee--for Dorothea's sake! + + Hasten! For I must pay + Due homage to thee, have thy Royal kiss, + Our thrush shall sing of this; + --In many a bout of bliss + Tell how I crown'd thee Queen, Spring's Queen, this glad May-day. + +JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. + + + + +SWEET NANCY. + + +Shenton was a dull and sleepy village at the best of times; but then it +was situated so far from any town. Exboro' was the nearest, and that was +ten miles away. To reach it you must traverse a range of pine-clad +hills, descending now and again into cool valleys, full of sweet scents +and sounds in summer, but dreary enough in winter, when the snow lay +thick and the wind whistled through the leafless branches. + +Shenton consisted of one long street, terminating in a green on which +the church and school-house stood. After that there were no more houses +till you reached Exboro', excepting a few scattered farms a mile or two +away at Braley Brook. There was also a large farm, known as the Manor, +half-a-mile in the opposite direction, occupied by one Jacob Hurst, who +was the owner of the farms at Braley Brook. + +The last house in the long street, at the Green end of it, was occupied +by Miss Michin, a milliner and dressmaker, as a card in the window +informed the passer-by. Not that the card was necessary, as of course in +so small a place everybody knew everybody else; but it was a sort of +sign of office, and was always most carefully replaced when Sarah Ann, +Miss Michin's Lilliputian maid, cleaned the window, which she did much +oftener than was necessary--at least, Mrs. Dodd, the post-mistress, who +lived opposite, said so. But then Mrs. Dodd had the shop and a young +family to attend to, and did not find it possible to keep her own +windows equally bright; so it was perhaps natural that she should find a +comfort in remarking on her opposite neighbour in the manner we have +described. + +Miss Michin's front parlour window was draped with white muslin +curtains, which covered it entirely, preventing the eyes of the curious +from taking surreptitious glances at the finery therein displayed, and +destined to be seen for the first time at church on the persons of the +fortunate owners. Just now, a fortnight before Christmas, the array of +gay dress material which lay about on tables and chairs was more than +usual; and Miss Michin and Nancy Forest--her decidedly pretty +apprentice--were working as if their lives depended upon it. Nancy was +the only apprentice Miss Michin had, and she had taken her when she was +fourteen without a premium, on condition that when she should be "out of +her time" (that would be in three years) she should give six months' +work in payment for the instruction she had received. + +Nancy was now working out the six months, which fact shows her age to be +between seventeen and eighteen. At that age a girl--above all, a pretty +girl--likes to wear pretty things; and Nancy had many little refined +tastes which other girls in her class of life have not--due, perhaps, to +the fact that while a child she had been a sort of protégée of Miss +Sabina Hurst's up at the Manor Farm. Miss Sabina, who was herself not +quite a lady, was nevertheless far above the Forests, who were in their +employ, and had charge of an old farmhouse at Braley Brook. She was Mr. +Hurst's sister, and had been mistress at the Manor since Mrs. Hurst had +died in giving birth to her little son Fred. + +Mr. Hurst--a hard and relentless man in most things--was almost weak in +his indulgence of his son. All his fancies must be gratified, and in +this Miss Sabina concurred. One of Fred's fancies had been to make a +playmate of little Nancy Forest. It followed, then, that she had been a +great deal at the Manor; but when the children grew older, and Fred took +what his aunt and father termed "an absurd fancy" to be a musician, as +his mother had been, it occurred to them that possibly later on he might +take a yet more absurd idea, and want to marry his old playmate. Nancy +was therefore banished from the Manor Farm. + +But Fred, who was not accustomed to be crossed, often met his old friend +on the hills and in the valleys; and after she had become apprenticed, +he would often walk home with her part way--not as a lover, however. For +the last two months he had broken this habit, and Nancy had not seen +him. + +But we were saying that girls of Nancy's age liked pretty things to +wear. Nancy was no exception, but she had no pretty things; her clothes +had, in fact, become deplorably shabby, though by dexterous "undoing" +and "doing-up" she did manage to make the very most of her dark blue +serge costume. The dress and rather coquettish little jacket were of the +same material; and she had a felt hat of the same colour, which in some +mysterious way altered its shape to suit the varying fashions. Last +winter the wide brim was straight; this winter it was turned up at the +back, with a bunch of dark blue ribbons on the crown. Altogether her +appearance was picturesque, though the odd mingling of the rustic with +the latest Paris fashion-plate might call up a smile to your lips. The +smile which the costume provoked was sure to die, however, when you +looked at the girl's face. You wondered at once why the lovely brown +eyes looked so sad and appealing, and why the little mouth was so +tremulous, and why the colour came and went so frequently on the +finely-moulded cheeks, which were just a little thin for perfect beauty. +And if you happened to be a student of human nature, you would read in +one of Nancy's glances a story of conflicting emotions--disappointment, +timid expectancy, hope, and a dawning despair: at least, this is what I +read there when I looked at Nancy from the Vicar's pew one Sunday +morning at Shenton church. I was on a visit at the Vicarage then. + +Of course, it must not be supposed that Miss Michin read Nancy Forest's +face in this way; but the little dressmaker had a warm heart, though +worried by the making of garments, and more by making two ends meet +which nature had apparently not intended for such close proximity; but +she had certainly noticed that for the last few weeks Nancy had not +looked well. + +It was growing dark one Thursday evening, and Sarah Ann had just brought +the lamp into her mistress's parlour. Miss Michin turned up the light +slowly, remarking, as she did so, "I don't want this glass to crack. I +might do nothing else but buy lamp-glasses if I left the turning-up of +them to Sarah Ann. This one has been boiled, which, Mrs. Dodd says, is a +good thing to make them stand heat." Then she broke off suddenly, and +stared at her apprentice, exclaiming, "Nancy, child, how pale you look! +You must leave off and go home. You shall have a nice cup of tea first. +Where do you feel bad?" + +The sympathetic tone brought the tears to Nancy's eyes, perhaps more +than the words, but she answered hastily: "Oh, indeed, dear Miss Michin, +I need not go home. I have a headache, that is all, and I must not leave +off before my time. I ought to stop later, and you so busy." + +"That frock of Emma Dodd's is just on finished, isn't it?" said Miss +Michin, in answer. + +"All but the hooks," replied Nancy. + +"Then sew them on while I make some tea, and you can leave it at the +post-office as you go." + +Nancy protested, but Miss Michin insisted, and in a short time the dress +was pinned up in a dark cloth, and Nancy having drunk the tea, more to +please her kind friend than because she thought it would cure her +headache, donned the little jacket and fantastic hat, and went across to +the post-office, which was also a shop of a general description. + +Mrs. Dodd was engaged in lighting her shop-window when Nancy entered. + +"I have brought Emma's dress, Mrs. Dodd," she began, when that lady had +descended from the high stool on which she had mounted to place the +lamps in the window. "Miss Michin told me to tell you there wasn't +enough of the plush to finish off the lappets to match the collar and +cuffs, but she thinks you'll like it just as well as it is." + +Mrs. Dodd examined the little dress, and, having approved of it, asked +in a friendly way what Nancy herself was going to have new this +Christmas. + +"Oh, I don't know yet," answered Nancy, colouring deeply. "You see, I'm +not earning yet, and father's wages are small, you know." + +"Mr. Hurst is real mean, I know that," exclaimed the post-mistress, +decidedly. "None but a very mean man would have cut your poor father's +wages down after he was laid up with a bad leg so long." + +"But father says himself that he can't do as much since his accident, +and he doesn't want to be paid beyond what he earns," Nancy explained, +hastily. + +Mrs. Dodd began to fold up Emma's dress, remarking, as she did so, "It's +a queer go as Mr. Hurst should have let young Mr. Fred do nothink but +music; but, to be sure, he do play beautiful. My Benny, as blows the +organ for him, says it's 'eavenly what he makes up himself. He's +uncommon handsome, too; much like his mother, who was, poor young lady, +a heap too good for the likes of Jacob Hurst. She used to play the +church organ like the angel Gabriel." + +Mrs. Dodd glanced at Nancy to see the effect of this simile, which was +quite an inspiration, but the girl was intent on smoothing the creases +out of her very old and much-mended kid gloves. + +"Folks do say, Miss Nancy," went on Mrs. Dodd, "as young Mr. Fred had a +fancy for you at one time, and as you sent him to the rightabouts. Now, +I say as--" + +"Oh, please don't say anything about it, Mrs. Dodd," broke out Nancy, +excitedly. "It's all a mistake--I am not his equal in any way--he never +thought of anything like that." She would have added, "Nor I;" but she +was too truthful. An overwhelming sense of shame came over her. How +could she have given her heart away unsought! + +With a hasty good-night she left the shop, closing the door so sharply +in her self-condemnation as to set the little bell upon it ringing as if +it had gone mad. She could hear its metallic tinkle till she was close +upon the church. Here other sounds filled her ears. There was a light in +the church, and Fred Hurst was there playing one of Bach's Fugues. + +Nancy's heart fluttered like a captive bird. For a brief space she +leaned against the cold railings, looking intently at a branch of ivy +which the north wind was tossing against the diamond-shaped panes of the +window--then she drew herself up hastily and proudly, and walked on +rapidly towards the bleak hills which she must cross to reach her +father's farm at Braley Brook. + +"How I wish I was out of my time," she said to herself, as the crisp +snow crackled beneath her small feet. "I could go away then and earn my +living, where I could never see him--or hear him--. Oh, Fred!" she broke +out in what was almost a cry, "_why_ have you met me and walked with me +so often, if you meant to leave off and say no more? It must be because +my dress has grown so shabby--I don't look so--so nice as I did--yet if +his father were not hard I might have more." And poor Nancy being now +far from any habitation gave herself the relief of a good cry, knowing +she could not be observed. + +In the meantime the organ at the church had ceased playing, and the +young man who was seated at it began turning over a pile of music which +lay beside him. But this he did mechanically--he was not going to play +again that evening, he did it as an accompaniment to perplexed thought. +He remained so long silent that Benny Dodd, who had been "blowing" for +him, ventured out from among the shadows cast by the organ pipes and +asked, "Please, Mr. Fred, are you going to play any more?" + +Fred Hurst looked up smiling, and feeling in his waistcoat pocket for +the customary coin, said cheerfully, "I had quite forgotten you, Benny! +No, I shall not play any more to-night." + +The small boy clattered down the stone aisle noisily, and Fred Hurst +began to push in the stops preparatory to closing the organ. In doing so +he caught a glimpse of his face in the small mirror which hung at one +side, and he burst out laughing. + +"What a tragic look I have managed to put on," he thought. Then he +locked the organ, and was about to blow out the candles, when he changed +his mind and took out a scrap of printed paper from his pocket and read +it by their light. It was a favourable review of a song he had composed, +and which had just been published. "Though there is no genius displayed +in this little composition, it is extremely pleasing; the air is +catching, and the accompaniment is tuneful without ostentation. 'Winged +Love' should become a popular favourite." This is what he read; and +having read it (of course not for the first time), he seemed to form a +sudden resolution on the strength of it. He looked at his watch; it +marked a few minutes past six; he blew out the lights and left the +church, hesitating a moment by the railings on which Nancy had leaned an +hour before. "I think this justifies me," he meditated. "If 'Winged +Love' is so well spoken of I am sure to get on, and in time make an +income sufficient for us two: poor child, she hasn't been used to +luxuries, and a simple home would content her. She must be part way home +by now. Yes, I will follow Nancy, and explain why I have not met her for +so long, and ask her to love me and wait till I can ask her to be my +wife." + +But Nancy Forest had left Shenton early, as we have seen, so Fred Hurst +did not overtake her. He went all the way to Braley Brook, however, and +right up to the ruinous old farmhouse where the Forests lived, and +waited in the orchard some time, hoping that Nancy would come out to +bring in some linen which hung to bleach among the bare apple trees. He +knew that Nancy always helped her mother in the evenings. But on this +evening no errand seemed to bring her out of doors, and Fred Hurst went +away without seeing her, meaning to meet her next day. + +It would have been wiser if Fred had gone boldly to the farmhouse and +asked to see Nancy; but we are none of us wise at all times, and we have +generally to pay in pain for our lack of wisdom as well as for our +actual faults, though perhaps not in the same degree. + + +II. + +Fred Hurst's father was Nancy's father's master, as we have seen; and a +hard enough master, as Mrs. Dodd had said. John Forest and his +family--that is, his wife and Nancy--lived in the only habitable part of +what had once been a considerable farmhouse. John worked on the "land," +took care of the horses and other live stock--there were not many--and +his wife attended to the poultry, which were numerous enough. She also +earned a little by mending the holes which the rats bit in the +corn-sacks. In harvest-time she made gentian beer for the men, and a +kind of harvest cake, originally made for a four o'clock meal, which +explains the word known as "fourses." But with all these little extras +the Forests found it sufficiently hard to live, and of course Nancy was +not yet earning. + +"You ought to have sent that girl of yours to service," Mr. Hurst would +not infrequently say to Nancy's mother. He, moreover, said the same +thing to his maiden sister Sabina, when Fred was present. + +It was then that Fred's eyes opened to the fact that Nancy Forest was +more to him than anything else in the world--far, far more than the old +playmate he had thought her. Send Nancy to service! sweet, delicate, +lady-like little Nancy, with her dimpled white hands. Perhaps Nancy had +no business to have white hands, and dainty, refined ways; but she had, +and that was Aunt Sabina's fault for having her so much at the Manor. It +was partly nature's fault, too, certainly, for Nancy had always seemed +like a changeling, she was so above her surroundings. + +Fred Hurst having thus discovered his own love, proceeded to discover +Nancy's. It was all clear to him now, he was sure she had given her pure +childlike heart to him, perhaps unwittingly, as he had done. How blind +he had been! With knowledge, caution came. Fred made up his mind that he +must no more walk with Nancy till he was prepared to do so in his true +character--that of a lover. This would be impossible till he could offer +a home to Nancy. It might be that his father would even turn the Forests +away, if he suspected his son's affection for their only child. He could +not risk that. So two months passed. + +Fred was organist at the parish church and had been composing songs, as +we have seen. Most of them had come back to him accompanied by polite +notes of refusal; one or two had come out and failed to attract any +notice. Now, "Winged Love" was proving a success--so he had resolved to +speak to Nancy herself, though not yet to the parents on either side. + +It was a pity he didn't take the straightforward course--it pays best, +did people but know it. Had Fred Hurst gone to the house boldly that +night, it might, as I have said, have saved much misery. Had he glanced +through the uncurtained window of the "house-place," I think he would +certainly have gone in, for he would have seen Nancy in tears. + +Mrs. Forest was a woman whose temper could not have been sweet under the +best of conditions. It will be understood, then, that it developed into +something very bad indeed under the worrying influence of a master like +Mr. Hurst, who was never satisfied, and whose method of dealing with +those he employed was one of incessant bullying. He was, moreover, +subject to delusions about being cheated, and his suspiciousness was +always in evidence. + +This last fault was also one of Mrs. Forest's own, and if anything a +worse one than her bad temper, and was not infrequently the occasion of +an exhibition of the latter. When Nancy got home from Miss Michin's on +the night when Fred Hurst tried to meet her, she found her mother in one +of her worst moods. Mr. Hurst had been there all the morning, +superintending the killing and packing of the turkeys for the London +market. Nancy had made up her mind on her way home to ask her mother for +a little money to buy herself some new gloves. She resolved to make her +request at once on entering the house-place, where her mother +was--partly from a desire to get what generally proved a disagreeable +business over as soon as possible, and more, perhaps, because she saw +her father sitting smoking his pipe in the chimney-corner. John Forest +usually supported his daughter, who was a great favourite of his. He +generally called her "Sweet Nancy," because she was so pretty and +dainty, and, above all, so good-tempered--a quality he knew how to +appreciate. + +"I was wondering, mother," Nancy began hesitatingly, as she removed her +hat and advanced towards the wood fire, above which Mrs. Forest was +hooking-on a huge kettle of fowls' food--"I was wondering if I might +have some new gloves for Christmas." + +"And where, I should like to know, is the money for them to come from?" +demanded the mother sharply. "I want lots of things I go without. It +takes all I can scrape and spare to buy saucers for them chickens to +break. It's a shame of the master not to buy proper drinking dishes for +them; and when I asked him for some, he said your father could dig a +hole and sink the old copper-boiler in it, and fill that with water for +them, just as if he hadn't the sense to see as how every blessed chicken +'ud get drowned, and me be blamed for it, as usual." + +"Here is half-a-sovereign as the master gave me for you to pay for the +sacks. Couldn't Nancy have some of that?" inquired John, fumbling in his +pocket for the coin. + +Mrs. Forest took the money from his hand and placed it upon the +chimney-piece, intending to put it away presently in the tea-pot in the +corner cupboard, which, however, she forgot to do, otherwise this story +would never have been written. + +"I want all that ten shillings to get a new cocoa-matting for the front +room floor," she said, decidedly. "The bricks strike as cold as a grave +since the old matting was took up." + +"I must go and grind the turmits for the sheep, and move 'em into the +other fold for the night," said John, knocking out the ashes from his +pipe and rising to go. As he was closing the door behind him he called +to his wife, "You let the cocoa-matting bide, and give Nan a shilling or +two for her gloves." + +"That I shall do nothing of the sort, then," shouted Mrs. Forest after +her husband; then, turning on her daughter angrily, she asked: "What do +you want gloves at all for, I should like to know? I don't wear gloves; +and why should you, who do nothing to earn them?" + +"I shall be out of my time soon," Nancy answered, beginning to cry; "and +I will pay you back then all I have cost." + +"I daresay," sneered her mother; "it'll take all you can earn to deck +yourself out to catch young Mr. Fred's eyes. Don't you think as I'm not +sharp enough to see which way the wind blows." + +"Mother!" cried Nancy, rising indignantly to her feet, her eyes +flashing, her cheeks burning with shame and anger. "How dare you talk to +me so? You have no right!" + +"Haven't I no right?" almost shrieked Mrs. Forest. "I stand none of your +impudence!" And with these words her passion so took possession of her +that she leaned forward and with her open hand struck her daughter a +stinging blow on one of her cheeks. "You are fond of crying," she said, +"so take something to cry for--for once." + +But Nancy did not cry: she stood still, staring in a bewildered way at +the burning log upon the hearth, the flame from which danced upon her +reddened cheek. + +Had Fred remained a little longer in the orchard, trouble might have +been prevented; for he would have seen Nancy, whom Mrs. Forest sent to +bring in the new linen which was bleaching. Mrs. Forest gave her this to +do, because she could not bear to see her stand so silent and dazed. She +was, indeed, heartily ashamed of the act she had committed the moment it +was over, but knew what was done couldn't be undone. She had never +struck her daughter before, and resolved never to do so again; but it +did not occur to her to tell Nancy so. Had she done so, the warm-hearted +child would have responded at once to such an advance; but she only +said: "Well, well; have done staring in the fire, Nan; and run and fetch +the linen from the orchard." + +Nancy obeyed mechanically, little knowing who had just left the spot, +and feeling in her young heart all the bitterness of utter desolation. + + +III. + +A night of sorrow is said to give place to a morning of joy. This would +be a comforting thought were it not that the morning must likewise give +place in its turn to another night. + +The morning which followed the night of Nancy Forest's bitter +humiliation was certainly a bright one--at least, by contrast; and, +unfortunately, much so-called happiness is only such. Were the world not +a dark and naughty one, a good deed might not shine so brightly. In the +first place, Nancy was young and healthy; so the wintry sun, though it +shone on a frozen ground, cheered her. Then Mrs. Forest was unusually +amiable at breakfast, and paid some attention to her daughter, which she +generally found herself too busy to do. Her father made much of her, as +was his habit. He had apparently heard nothing of last night's episode. + +The walk across the hills to Shenton was exhilarating, and at the end of +it a pleasant surprise awaited Nancy. She found Miss Michin already at +work on a dress for Miss Sabina Hurst when she arrived. The good-natured +little woman greeted her apprentice brightly. "You are looking better, +Nancy; the walk has given you a colour." Then she reached out her hand +to a table near her, and took a little parcel from it and gave it to +Nancy. + +"It is nothing," she explained, as the girl looked at it curiously. +"Open it, dear; it is a trifle for a Christmas gift. I wish it was +more." + +Nancy could only say "Oh, Miss Michin--how kind!" to begin with. Then +she unwrapped the paper and saw a dainty pair of brown kid gloves with +ever so many buttons. This matter of the buttons was not unimportant in +Nancy's eyes. Had her mother given her the money, she thought, she could +never have bought gloves with more than _two_ buttons. + +"This is just what I needed--oh, thank you so much," she exclaimed, when +she had looked at them. + +"That was what I thought," said the dressmaker; "so now we must set to +work and get a good day." + +And Nancy did work well that day, never looking up from her work, except +once to glance across to the Post-office at the time she knew Benny Dodd +usually came out to go to the church. She could not see Fred, so it was +some pleasure to her to look at the small boy who blew the organ for +him. + +But Benny did not perform that office for the young musician on this +day, for Fred Hurst had gone to London that morning, summoned thither by +a letter from Messrs. Hermann and Scheiner, music publishers. The marked +success of "Winged Love" had disposed these gentlemen to make the young +composer a good offer for his next song. The more immediate cause of +their determination was the fact that Señor Florès had chosen to sing +"Winged Love" at the last Saturday afternoon concert at St. James' +Hall, and its reception had been such as to establish a certain sale for +songs from the same hand. "Who is this Fred Hurst?" people in London +were asking. + +Miss Sabina, in her showy drawing-room up at the Manor Farm, thought +over the event all day in her own critical way, and predicted evil as +the result. There was an old Broadwood grand piano in the room where she +sat, covered with a pile of old music--Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Haydn, +and all the composers whose music Miss Sabina disliked. This music had +belonged to Fred's mother, a fair and unfortunate creature, whose own +story I shall some day write. Miss Sabina's performances upon the +pianoforte were limited to such compositions as the "Canary Birds' +Quadrilles," "My Heart is Over the Sea," etc., which she never played at +all now. But she looked at the old piano, and recalled her +sister-in-law's pretty baby looks and tragic end, and prophesied evil +for Fred. Jacob Hurst laughed the whole business to scorn. The one being +in Shenton who could have genuinely rejoiced at Fred's success knew +nothing about it. + +Nancy's thoughts were constantly with him, however, and when her work +ended for the day, and she walked homeward across the hills to Braley +Brook, she connected many an inanimate object she passed with some look +or word of his. These looks and words had always been so kind, so +gentle, that as the brook, where the forget-me-nots grew in summer, or +the bank in the hollow where the primroses grew thickest in spring, or +the fallen tree, which, as the weeks passed, would become golden with +moss and lichen again--as all these would awaken to summer sunshine and +gladness;--so would her heart. Fred's love for her--she felt sure he had +loved her--was only hidden away like the flowers under the snow, to +bloom forth again in spring. It was her winter, that was all, she told +herself. She must wait as the flowers did. + +When she reached home, her mind was filled with hope--hope which but too +soon was to give place to despair. Last night Mrs. Forest had struck +her--but then she had not looked nearly so angry as she did now when her +daughter appeared before her. + +"Where is my ten shillings?" she cried menacingly, as Nancy closed the +kitchen-door behind her. "What have you done with it, you ungrateful, +unnatural girl?" she repeated loudly. + +"Indeed, mother, I know nothing of it," poor Nancy answered, trembling +violently. + +"Is it in that there teapot?" inquired the enraged mother, thrusting the +article in question close to the frightened girl's face. Nancy glanced +rapidly from the empty teapot to the chimney-piece. + +"You needn't look there, you hussy," Mrs. Forest continued, seeing the +direction Nancy's eyes were taking. "There's _nothing_ on the +chimney-piece--the money's gone, and you've took it, because your father +said you were to--it wasn't his to give--did he mend the sacks? tell me +that! I'll have my money back--every halfpenny, so you'd better give it +me before I make you." + +"Mother, I have not touched it; I know nothing about it, really I +don't," said Nancy desperately. + +"What's that you've got in your hand?" demanded Mrs. Forest, catching +sight of the parcel containing the gloves. + +Nancy did not answer; she was looking at the round table, which was +covered with the shining brass ornaments which had been removed from the +chimney-piece in the search for the missing coin. There they +were--candlesticks, pans, snuffer-tray, and beer-warmer, articles she +remembered from earliest childhood as never in use, and always highly +polished. Now as the firelight flickered upon them they seemed to be +looking at the distracted girl with countless fiery eyes which twinkled +in malice. Nancy could not take her eyes from these other eyes, she +could not think for the moment. She vaguely knew that her mother took +away her parcel, and presently Mrs. Forest's rasping voice recalled her +from her stupefied reverie. + +"So you spent it in gloves, did you? Six-buttoned ones, too--! Oh, you +ungrateful, selfish, wasteful girl." + +"Mother, mother," wailed Nancy, taking hold of Mrs. Forest's gown with +one hand convulsively, while she pressed the other to her brow, where +her wavy locks of hair lay all damp and ruffled. "You _should_ +believe--you _must_ believe me--Miss Michin gave me the gloves--I have +never seen your money--oh, mother, I couldn't have touched it--I +_couldn't_." + +"Don't add lies to it," broke out Mrs. Forest in a greater passion than +ever. + +Than this last remark, nothing could have easily been more unjust. Nancy +had always been a very truthful child. + +"If you can no longer trust me, it is perhaps better for me--to--to go +away," said Nancy, softly. + +"Yes--go--go now," replied her mother, who had arrived at that stage of +rage when people use words little heeding their meaning. + +Nancy buttoned her little jacket once more, and tied a silk handkerchief +round her neck, and passed out at the door in a wild, hurried fashion. + +Mrs. Forest looked at the door and smiled. "She'll none go," she said to +herself; "where could she go _to_?" + +But Nancy did not resemble her mother in hasty moods, she was rather the +subject of permanent impressions. Her mother's conduct had wounded her +to the quick. She could no longer endure it, she thought. Hitherto, her +father's love had rendered it bearable--but now, even that seemed +powerless to keep her under the same roof as her mother. Where could she +go? She would walk on, no matter in what direction; then, when she could +walk no more, she might perhaps be calm enough to think. + + +IV. + +"Where is Nan?" asked John Forest, when he entered the house, an hour +after Nancy had left it. + +"Oh, she'll be here presently," replied the mother evasively. Of course +Nancy would come soon, she thought to herself, and what was the use of +rousing John? + +Another hour passed. "Nan's very late to-night," said her father. "I've +a mind to go and meet her." + +"You bide by the fire, John," responded his wife. "Nancy's in a tantrum +because I found out as she'd took that bag-money--she'll come in when +she's a mind." + +"The _bag-money_!" repeated John in a puzzled way. "Nan take it!--she +never did, barring you give it her." + +"She did then, and bought gloves with it, to do up with six buttons, and +there they be now beside you on the settle," retorted Mrs. Forest. John +looked in the place his wife had indicated, and there, sure enough, lay +the brown kid gloves. This evidence did seem conclusive. John shook his +grey head as he held the dainty gloves across his rough palm, and +presently said, "You have kept her too short, wife--girls wants their +bits of things." He paused and sighed heavily, and then added, "I'll go +and look for her." + +"It's all your fault, John," broke out his wife as he rose to go. "You +as good as told her to do it." + +"You ought to have given her some money, Eliza, and you've been nagging +at her and driven her out this cold night; if harm comes of it--" said +John as he went out. + +"Fiddlesticks about harm; what harm can come to her, I should like to +know?" retorted his wife, without allowing him to complete his sentence. +Then the door closed and Eliza Forest was alone, with the ticking of the +eight-day clock to bear her company. + +Slowly the hand of the clock travelled on. A clock is a weird +companion--above all, one that strikes the hour after a preliminary +groaning sound as this clock did. Mrs. Forest tried to occupy herself +with the stocking she was knitting, but she was uneasy and let her work +fall in her lap while she reflected to the accompaniment of that +metallic "Tick-tick" of the clock. "My mother always said that my temper +would get me down and worry me," she meditated; "and I believe it _will_ +before it's done." + +Ten o'clock struck--eleven o'clock, and Mrs. Forest grew really alarmed. +She rose and placed her knitting on the high chimney-piece--she +generally put it there out of the way of the cat, who played with the +ball--and opened the door and peered out into the darkness. There was a +sound of footsteps along the frozen high road. She listened intently, +but the horses began to move about in the stable close by and she could +no longer hear the footsteps. + +The cold wind blew right against her, chilling her through and through. +But she still stood there in the doorway. By-and-by there were +unmistakable footsteps near at hand. A moment more and John was beside +her. He was alone. "Wife," he began in a hollow voice, "Nan left Miss +Michin as usual; has she been home?" + +"I told you she had," gasped the mother. "I told you she and me had had +a tiff about the money." + +John Forest made no comment, he was too desperate for that. He knew well +enough that if his quiet, patient little Nan had gone away, she must be +in a state of mind out of which tragedies come. He would go and rouse +Jim Lincoln, who slept in the stable loft, and they would search for +her. Mrs. Forest watched her husband disappear in the dim starlight, and +then went back to the kitchen. Vague fears took possession of her. She +dreaded she knew not what. All her unkindness to Nancy, culminating in +last night's blow, seemed to rise up against her. Even as to the taking +of the money, Nancy had had her father's sanction and might have thought +that enough. But Nancy denied having touched the money; _what if, after +all, she had spoken the truth!_ She had always been particularly +truthful in even the smallest matters. Mrs. Forest would try not to +think any more; it was too painful. She would reach down her knitting +and try to "do" a bit. + +She rose and took down the half-knit stocking, but the spare needle was +missing. She felt with her hand upon the chimney-piece, but could not +find it. Then she mounted a chair and searched. It was nowhere to be +seen. "It may have slipped into the nick at the back," she thought, and +she got a skewer and poked it into the narrow groove. Out fell the +needle--and something else which made a clinking sound as it fell upon +the brick floor. She stooped to see what it was, _and there glittering +in the firelight lay the missing half-sovereign_. + + * * * * * + +When Fred Hurst had seen Messrs. Hermann and Scheiner, he was in the +highest possible spirits: a whole future seemed to open out before him. + +It may appear that Fred was conceited, and "too sure;" but we must +record that he went to a jeweller's and bought a little pearl ring for +Nancy, meaning to place it on her third finger next day when her lips +should have given him the promise he knew her heart had long since +given. Having made his purchase he took train from Liverpool Street to +Exboro', from which place he would have to walk to Shenton, where he +could not arrive until one o'clock in the morning. He had performed some +miles of his walk across the hills, and was within an appreciable +distance of Braley Brook, when he observed a dark figure crouching on a +fallen tree. He was at first a little startled, for it was most unusual +to meet anyone in this place, above all at such an hour: it was after +midnight. On coming nearer he saw that the figure was that of a woman. +It might be one of the cottagers from Shenton--who had been to Exboro' +and been taken ill on the way home--he would see. + +He came close and touched the crouching figure, and asked gently, "Are +you ill? Can I do anything for you?" + +The figure started violently and looked up at him, and in the starlight +he recognised the face of Nancy Forest. + +In a moment he was seated on the fallen tree beside her, and had placed +his arm about her. "Nancy, dearest Nancy," he cried, pressing burning +kisses on her cold cheek--the first he had ever given her. "Nancy, speak +to me; tell me what is the meaning of your being here." + +But she could not answer him then; she simply laid her cheek against his +shoulder and wept bitterly. But she did tell him all presently; and he +told her what he had long since wished to tell, and they walked together +to the old farm, for, of course, Nancy must return to her parents for a +little time--only a very little time, they decided. When they reached +the farm, John Forest and his wife were standing by the round table in +the house-place, where the half-sovereign lay. John was hard and +relentless; his wife was sobbing aloud. And then the door opened, and +Nancy and Fred stood before them. + +With a wild cry, Eliza Forest clasped her daughter to her heart, +imploring her forgiveness. "My temper 'welly' worried me this time, +Nancy," she said; "but after this I will worry _it_." + +So here the story properly ends, for Mr. Hurst, to the surprise of +everyone, yielded a ready consent to the marriage, and even offered an +allowance to the young couple and one of his small farms to live in. +Miss Sabina allowed her old interest in Nancy to revive, and sent her +the material for her wedding dress, which Miss Michin announced her +intention of making up herself--every stitch. Nor was this all. Mrs. +Dodd, the worthy post-mistress, with whom Nancy had always been a +favourite, begged her acceptance of a prettily-furnished work-basket +which she had made a journey to Exboro' to buy. + +And the half-sovereign? + +It was never spent, but was always in sight under a wine-glass, to +remind the owner--so she said--"of how her temper nearly worried her." + +JEANIE GWYNNE BETTANY. + + + + +PAUL. + +BY THE AUTHOR OF "ADONAIS, Q.C." + + +It was a great surprise and disappointment to me when Janet, the only +child of my brother, Duncan Wright, wrote announcing her engagement to +the Honourable Stephen Vandeleur. + +I had always thought she would marry Paul. Paul was the only surviving +son--four others had died--of my dead brother Alexander, and had made +one of Duncan's household from his boyhood. I had always loved +Janet--and Paul was as the apple of my eye. When the two were mere +children, and Duncan was still in comparatively humble circumstances, +living in a semi-detached villa in the suburbs of Glasgow, I kept my +brother's house for some years, he being then a widower. + +I cannot say I altogether liked doing so. Having independent means of my +own, I did not require to fill such a position, and I had never got on +very well with Duncan. However, I dearly loved the children, although I +had enough to do with them, too. Janet was one of the prettiest, +merriest, laughing little creatures--with eyes the colour of the sea in +summer-time, and a complexion like a wild-rose--the sun ever shed its +light upon; but she had a most distressing way of tearing her frocks and +of never looking tidy, which Duncan seemed to think entirely my fault; +and as for Paul, he certainly was a most awful boy. + +He was fair as Janet, though with a differently-shaped face; rather a +long face, with a square, determined-looking chin; and, besides being +one of the handsomest, was assuredly one of the cleverest boys I ever +knew. He had a good, sound, strong Scotch intellect, and was as sharp as +a needle, or any Yankee, into the bargain. + +But he _would_ have his own way, whatever it was, and was often +mischievous as a fiend incarnate; and in his contradictory moods, would +have gone on saying black was white all day on the chance of getting +somebody to argue with him. Duncan paid no attention whatever to the +lad, except, from time to time, to speculate what particular bad end he +would come to. + +But I loved Paul, and Paul loved me--and adored Janet. + +The boy had one exceedingly beautiful feature in his face: sometimes I +could not take my eyes from it; I used to wonder if it could be that +which made me love him so much--his mouth. I have never seen another +anything like it. The steady, strong, and yet delicate lips--so calm and +serious when still, as to make one feel at rest merely to look at them; +but when in motion extraordinarily sensitive, quivering, curving, and +curling in sympathy with every thought. + +I loved both children; but perhaps the reason that made me love Paul +most was--that whilst I knew Janet's nature, out and in, to the core of +her very loving little heart, Paul's often puzzled me. + +There was not much in the way of landscape to be seen from that villa in +the suburbs of Glasgow; but we did catch just one glimpse of sky which +was not always obscured by smoke, and I have seen Paul, lost in thought, +looking up at this patch of blue, with an expression on his face--at +once sweet and sorrowful--so strange in one so young, that it made me +instinctively move more quietly, not to disturb him, and set me +wondering. + +However, what with one thing and another, I was not by any means +heart-broken when Duncan married again--one of the kindest women in the +world; I can't think what she saw in him--and thus released me. + +So the years flew on--and the wheel of fortune gave some strange turns +for Duncan. By a series of wonderfully successful speculations he +rapidly amassed a huge fortune. + +They left Glasgow then, and built a colossal white brick mansion not far +from London. + +When Janet was eighteen and Paul twenty-one, I paid them a visit there. +Except that Janet was now grown up, she was just the same--with her +thriftless, thoughtless ways, and her laughing baby face, and her yellow +head--a silly little head enough, perhaps, but a dear, dear little head +to me. + +She had the same admiration, almost awe, of the splendours of this world +in any form; the same love of fine clothes--with the same carelessness +as to how she used them. It gave me a good laugh, the first afternoon I +was there, to see her come in with a new dress all soiled and torn by a +holly-bush she had pushed her way through on the lawn. It made me think +of the time when she had gone popping in and out to the little back +garden at Glasgow, and singing and swinging about the stairs--a bonnie +wee lassie with a dirty pink cotton gown, and, as often as not, dirtier +face. + +Paul seemed to me, in looks at least, to have more than fulfilled the +promise of his boyhood. A handsomer, more self-reliant-looking young +fellow I had never seen; and I was not long in the house before I +observed--with secret tears of amusement--that it was not only in looks +he remained unchanged. The same dictatorialness and sharp tongue; the +same thinly-veiled insolence to Duncan; the same swift smiles from his +entrancing lips--thank Heaven undisfigured by any moustache--to myself; +the same unalterable gentleness to Janet. His invariable courtesy to +Duncan's wife made me very happy. It was as I said: there was much good +in the boy. + +Paul had a little money of his own to begin with, and I did think +Duncan, with his fortune, might have sent an exceptionally clever lad +like that to one of the Universities, and made something of him +afterwards--a lawyer, say; but instead of that, Paul was put into +business in London, and, I was glad to hear, was doing very well. + +As for Duncan's hideous white brick castle, with its paltry half-dozen +acres, entered by lodges of the utmost pretension, and his coach-houses +full of flashy carriages, with the family coat-of-arms(!) upon each, I +thought the whole place one of the most contemptible patches of snobbery +on this fair earth; and I was glad my father's toil-bleared eyes were +hid in the grave, so that they should not have the shame of resting upon +it. + +In spite of what I thought, however, I did my best to keep a solemn face +at Paul's smart speeches, which were often amusing, and often simply +impudence. + +Duncan, as of yore, went as though he saw him not. + +I had not been at Duncan's palace long before I came to the conclusion +that there was some private understanding betwixt the two young people; +and, at last, just before I left, my suspicions were confirmed. + +Hastily pushing open the library door, which stood ajar, I saw Paul with +his back to me, at the end of the room, looking into the conservatory. +He had evidently just entered from the garden. "Janet," he called, in a +voice the import of which there could be no mistaking; and with a rush, +I heard several pots crash; Janet, who had no doubt happened to have her +head turned the other way, sprang into view, and threw herself into his +arms. + +I quietly withdrew, and went away very, very happy. I knew Paul had a +promise of a first-rate appointment abroad, by-and-by; and supposing I +should hear more of this before long, I went placidly away home to the +far north. Instead of that, in six months or so, Janet wrote announcing +her engagement to the Honourable Stephen Vandeleur. + +Of course I went south for Janet's wedding. + +If I had thought she was being forced into this marriage (Duncan was +snob enough) I should not have gone a step, but should have done my best +to prevent it; but I could not think that from the tone of the letter; +and Paul wrote as well all about it. I could but think I had been +mistaken; that there had been no serious engagement between them, but +only a flirtation, as they might call it, or something of that sort: a +very reprehensible flirtation, with my Puritanical notions, it seemed to +me. I need not say I was greatly disappointed. + +So in due course south I went. + +Paul met me--handsomer and more dictatorial than ever; his blue eyes +clear and piercing as before. He seemed quite pleased; said Stephen +Vandeleur was a good fellow; was most impertinently sarcastic about +Duncan's aristocratic guests; and altogether appeared in good spirits. +Janet I did not think looking well. She seemed very nervous, and made +the remark that she wished it were six months ago; but of course it was +natural a girl should be a little hysterical on the eve of her +wedding-day. + +The morrow came, and the wedding with it. I thought it a very +unpleasant one. Whatever might be Stephen Vandeleur's own feelings, he +seemed, as Paul said, a very good fellow. It was evident his friends +only countenanced it on consideration of the huge dowry Janet brought +with her. Some of them were gentlepeople, as I understand the word, and +some were not; but Duncan, who appeared really to think the mere +accident of superior birth in itself a guarantee of personal merit, as +Paul very truly put it, grovelled all round, until I was sick with +shame. Paul, however, was at his best and wittiest and brightest, and +kept everybody in tolerably good humour. + +When the carriage came to take the bride and bridegroom away, I +remembered some trifle of Janet's that had been left in the +conservatory; and, as I was in the hall at the time, ran hastily outside +and round by the gravel to the door opening from the lawn, which was my +shortest way to the conservatory from there. + +Suddenly I stood quite still. Paul was looking out of the library +window, and Janet, ready for departure, came falteringly in and stood +behind him. He did not look towards her. "Paul!" she whispered +entreatingly; and although so low there was the utmost anguish in the +tone: "Paul." As though not knowing what she did, she raised her arm, +standing behind him there, as if to shake hands. Abruptly he wheeled +round, with a face down which the great tears coursed, but awful in its +pallor and sternness; and, taking no notice of her outstretched hand, +pointed to the door. Weeping bitterly, she swiftly turned and went. + +I cannot describe the shock this terrible scene gave me. It did not take +half-a-dozen short moments to enact, but it represented, unmistakably, +the blasting of two lives--the lives of those dearest in all the world +to me. + +I do not know, I never knew, whether Paul saw me. I think I must have +become momentarily unconscious, and when I came to myself he was gone. + +I sat where I was, weeping bitter tears--bitter as Janet's--and thought +of the little lassie in the dirty pink frock that had sung and swung +about the stairs, and of the boy who had stood day-dreaming, looking up +into the blue sky. Sometimes I was wildly angry. Whose fault was it? Who +was answerable for this? If it was the young people's own fault, someone +ought to have looked after them better, ought to have prevented it. No +one, not even I, could help them now, that was the bitterest, bitterest +part of it; no one and nothing--save time, or death. + +I wished that day I had never left my children. + + +II. + +I must pass over a long period now--I suppose I should have said I was +writing of a great many years ago, and come to the time, twenty years +later, when Paul came home from abroad. He had not been home all these +years, and neither had I been once in the south. + +Janet, my poor Janet, was long since dead. She had died before she was +quite two years married. It was an additional pang to my grief that I +had never said good-bye to her at all; but no good-bye was better than +that awful one I had witnessed of Paul. + +What was the precise explanation of it I never knew. It was easy to +divine that Janet had indeed been engaged to marry Paul, and had given +him up; but whether this was the result of some quarrel, or whether she +had deliberately done it, dazzled by the prospect of a union with an +earl's son, I cannot say. Anyhow, I am sure she quickly regretted her +determination. I am certain she loved only Paul. But the word had been +spoken, and whatever Vandeleur may have been, Paul was not a man to give +any woman a chance of trifling with him twice. So my poor Janet had to +reap what her folly had sown, as best she might. + +Janet left one little child, a daughter, called Janet, after her; and +this child, becoming an orphan at an early age by the death, next, of +Stephen Vandeleur, was brought up with his family in Ireland. + +She was in Scotland once when she was about fourteen, and I saw her, and +was not favourably impressed. She was quiet and prim and proper, as cold +as an icicle: a very pretty little girl, I owned that; but then I had +thought to find something of _my_ Janet, and was disappointed. Her eyes +were indeed blue, but looked one in the face calmly as though they had +belonged to a woman of forty; and her hair and long eye-lashes were as +dark as night. She had just this of my Janet, her pink and snow +wild-rose complexion. She seemed to me, in all else, a Vandeleur to her +finger-tips. + +She occasionally paid Duncan long visits; and as she grew up, I heard +that Duncan tried to make these visits as frequent and as lengthy as +possible. She was immensely admired, it seemed, and Duncan liked her to +stay with him because of the people she attracted to his house. I was +sure this was true. It was so like one of Duncan's horrid ways. He still +lived in that white brick edifice, and was richer then ever. A good deal +of gossip drifted to me, in the far north as I was. I was told that +Janet had a Manchester millionaire, an American railway king, and a real +live lord, all madly in love with her--and she not yet quite nineteen! + +Just then Paul returned home, and Duncan wrote inviting me to come down +and see them. Paul was to stay with them--and Duncan was quite proud +about it. His predictions had turned out all wrong; for Paul had come +home a personage of importance, and a very rich man indeed. I was almost +sorry that Janet's child happened to be at Duncan's just then, thinking +her presence would revive old memories better forgotten. And then, if +Paul were at all like what he used to be, I was sure her calmly +superior, supercilious little ways would irritate him intensely. I had +never seen her at Duncan's, but I could fancy how she would look there. + +When I saw Paul, just for the first minute or so I felt quite startled. +He seemed so marvellously little changed. He was forty-one, and would +have looked young for thirty. Of course by-and-by I saw there were lines +in his face which had not before been there. I could not say, not +talking of appearance but of character, that I thought him improved. He +no longer spoke scornfully to or of Duncan, but was always coldly +courteous; yet often I would see a sneer on his curving lips that was +more biting and bitter than any words, and made them look evil. He was +not dictatorial all round to everybody as he used to be, but I thought +him harsh in particular instances. His smiles to myself were more rare; +his eyes colder: he seemed to me cynical of all on earth; I feared, too, +with keen sorrow, of all in Heaven. + +Others spoke of the changes the wear and tear of life abroad had made on +Paul, but I had seen his face as it looked--for the last time on +earth--upon Janet that day, and had my own sad thoughts. + +But although I speak of these changes, I do not mean to say that Paul +was not as gentle and loving to me as he had ever been, and that I was +not exquisitely happy to be with him again. Many a pleasant walk had we +about Duncan's garden, I leaning on Paul's strong arm, a support which I +felt the need of now. Twenty years had not come and gone without leaving +plenty of traces on me. We neither of us ever mentioned Janet, _my_ +Janet, that is to say. Janet's daughter (Janet II., as I used to +mentally designate her for convenience' sake) was here as I expected, +and for a while, just as before, I did not take to her. I left her alone +and she left me alone; that was her way. + +She was lovely, certainly; ethereally lovely; almost too lovely for +one's senses to grasp the fact that she was but common flesh and blood +like all the rest of the world: a poem in human form if there ever was +one. Gossip had spoken truly for once; there were the three +distinguished lovers, and goodness knows how many more besides. + +Paul and I never spoke of this girl, any more than we did of my Janet; +but, at first, I often fancied I saw his gaze fastened on her; the same +unpleasant sneer on his lips which disfigured them when he looked at +Duncan. By and by I grew rather to like her. I believe I, at heart, +resented Paul looking like that at my Janet's bairn. I began to fancy +that, for all her apparent calmness, she was shy. If we met in the +garden she would give me a swift glance to see if I were going to stop +and speak to her, and, I thought, seemed pleased when I did. At last +there came an odd little episode. + +Paul was very fond of animals--that was always one of his good +traits--and he one day found a little stray white kitten somewhere about +the place, and brought it into the room where I sat alone at work. He +began grimly to play with it. Just then Janet opened the door. She gave +a delighted exclamation, and, coming eagerly forward, smilingly held out +her arms for the kitten. She was dressed for the evening, and the +little thing began clawing about her lovely gown, and in one instant had +pulled to shreds a very expensive bit of trimming. + +I started up in distress; but Janet, putting the kitten gently back on +the table, burst into laughter. I am very sure I had never heard Janet +laugh before, and I don't think Paul ever had. A prettier, happier, more +silvery little peal could not be imagined; but it was not so much that +which struck home to my heart as the fact that if I had shut my eyes I +could have thought _my_ Janet stood in the room. The girl had her +mother's laugh. + +I returned hastily to my work, and did not dare to lift my head until +Janet was gone--then I looked stealthily at Paul. + +The sun was just setting--the sky a rolling roseate glory from end to +end. Paul--my Paul--my Paul, with the old beautiful light in his face, +stood, with arms crossed, looking up into it. All at once something came +into my throat which almost stifled me, so that I could not have sat +where I was for any consideration whatever. I slipped quietly away and +left him. + +From this day I loved the girl. Whether it was her carelessness about +the dress--so like her mother--or the laugh--or what--I loved her now +almost as much as I had loved her mother. + +It seemed to me that from this day, too, Paul became more like his old +self: a very much toned-down and softened old self; no longer so much +the hard, cynical Paul of later years as the boyish Paul of old. Of +course, no sooner had my feelings changed in this way than I became +greatly interested in Janet's lovers. I thought the cotton millionaire +vulgar; and the American railway king I could not make this or that of; +but the lord seemed a very nice, simple-mannered young man; so that I +hoped--for although I am a bit of a Radical, I lay claim to having some +common-sense too--if it were to be one of these three, it would be he. + +But the calm indifference with which this slip of a girl treated three +such lovers was truly appalling. I can't think how they stood it: I +shouldn't. + +I cannot remember exactly when it was that I made a discovery. Opposite +to the library, of which I have already spoken, now a venerable old +room, was my bed-room; and there was no other room until you had gone +along a passage and crossed a hall. It was my custom to go to bed very +early, and I did so here at Duncan's, long before the rest of the +household. I suppose they thought I went fair off to sleep, too; for +this part of the house was always deserted after I had gone into my +room. + +It was thus I made the discovery that every night, before retiring +herself, Janet came to the library and stayed a few minutes; and I could +hear her sometimes moving about books on the table. + +For a considerable time I felt hopelessly puzzled. All at once it struck +me--girls are the same all over the world and in all ages--that she +must come there to look at the photograph of someone she cared for; to +say good-night to it; perhaps to murmur a prayer over it. Girls are made +so. Doubtless she would take it away with her altogether to some place +more convenient for such oblations but that Duncan was much in the +library, and had lynx-eyes. + +I grew troubled, these nocturnal visits continuing, and wished that I +could help her. I thought if I could only find out whose the photograph +was, perhaps I might. + +One night I could bear it no longer. I am aware that I must seem a most +prying old woman; but somehow or other this library was fated to be +mixed up with my life. I rose and just peeped round the library door to +see what she was doing. She was standing in the clear moonlight--not, as +I had expected, with an open photograph album, but holding a little +miniature, taken from its place on the table. I went back to bed, my +heart bounding. I knew now! I did not sleep much that night. + +Perhaps I acted rashly--but I thought I should apply to Paul for help. I +was sure, from various signs, that he did not hate my Janet's bairn now. +I told him of these stolen visits to the library, and tried to persuade +him to conceal himself and watch there--for the purpose of finding out +whose the portrait was. I did not tell him, deceitful woman that I was, +that I myself already knew. Old people like him and me, I said, should +help the child out of her trouble. I must have startled him terribly: he +grew, at first, so white. Then he looked at me long and intently; and +by-and-by began to cross-examine me. We were canny Scots, both of us, +and fenced. + +"You say it was a photograph you saw her with?" + +"I did not say I saw her." + +"You have heard her open an album?" + +"I have heard her move books." + +I have seen the time when I could have broken a lance with the best; but +I was growing old, and he finished by getting me into rather a +hobble--when he abruptly left me, a great flush sweeping over his face. +He came back by-and-by, and took me out into the garden. If he never had +been the real old Paul before--he was so now. He cut the pansies from my +best cap, and decorated Duncan's coat-of-arms--which had broken out +about the walls now-a-days--with them. But he might have cut the cap in +two for all I cared just then. + +That night--I hoped he had not forgotten--I hoped he would come. +Presently I heard a quiet step which I knew to be his. Then I sat down +and listened again. Swish, swish--here she was at last. I had listened +too often to the soft rustle of her trailing gown to make any mistake +now. In my excitement--you see I was an old habitué at prying and +peering about the library by this time--I put one eye round the door, at +her very back. She had gone a few steps into the room--and now stood, +rooted to the spot, startled. There, with his face--and all that he +would have it say--fair and bright in the moonlight, stood Paul. He +opened his arms. + +"Janet," he said. + +With a little cry, and a sob, the girl rushed into them. + +I went away back to my own room. I am sure it is superfluous to explain +my little plot: that it was not a photograph, but an old miniature of +Paul I had seen Janet with--an old miniature which I had painted on +ivory myself in the far-distant days. I am sure Paul never had a +photograph taken. Of course it was because I had recognised this that I +wanted Paul to wait in the library; but he was a better fencer than I, +and made me admit more than I intended. I sat down now, a world of old +memories whirling through my brain. I mixed this that I had just +seen--with something very like it in the long, long past--with the crash +of pots, and another figure that had thrown itself into Paul's arms. +There was the old room: _Janet_ had been said there, too; and the lips +through which the word had trembled were the same: and the voice was the +same also. Only the figure that had darted forward--was different. + +I did not go to bed at all that night; but sat looking out over the +quiet, moon-lit garden and over the fields beyond, where the corn-crake +was calling, calling; the river slipping like a silver thread at the +far-away end of them; and patter, patter out and into the back-garden at +Glasgow went the little feet again; and to and fro ran the fair-haired +little lassie in the dirty pink cotton, tugging me this way and that by +the hand; and such a singing and swinging went on about the stairs. Oh, +how I wondered whether Paul would ever tell Janet her mother's story. + +I was not going placidly away north _this_ time, to wait to hear more +about anything by-and-by. I did not leave that factory-like erection of +Duncan's until I had seen them married. + + + + +THE CHURCH GARDEN. + + + "We cannot," said the people, "stand these children, + Always round us with their racketing and play; + Yon Church-garden set right down among our houses + Is really quite a nuisance in its way! + + "True, their homes are very dull, and bare, and dismal, + And the narrow courts they live in dark and small, + And we think they love that sparsely-planted acre-- + But we do not want to think of them at all! + + "There are surely parks enough to make a play-ground, + And we might be spared these noisy little feet; + But the parks, the Clergy say, are all too distant, + And so they planned this garden in the street! + + "No doubt the seats are pleasanter than curb-stones, + While the trees make quite a shelter from the sun, + And the grass does nicely for the crawling babies-- + But somebody must think of Number One! + + "And the air the children get of course is purer; + But then the noise they make is very great, + With their laughter and their shouting to each other, + And the everlasting banging of the gate! + + "And the wailing of the sickly, puny babies + Is enough to fret one's spirit through and through-- + No doubt they cry as much in those dark alleys-- + But then we never hear them if they do! + + "Half the Parish talks to us of self-denial, + Of kindly duties lying at the door, + And of One who says the Poor are always with us; + But we can't be always thinking of the Poor! + + "We are older, we are richer, we are wiser; + Why should we be vexed and troubled in our ease? + Just because the children like the Vicar's garden, + With its faded grass and smoky London trees! + + "Still we feel sometimes a little self-convicted, + When we hear the hard-worked kindly Clergy say + That it helps them often in their weary labours, + Just to see the children happy at their play! + + "Yet we think they try to make the thing too solemn, + When they put aside our protests with the plea: + 'Whatsoe'er ye did to such as these, my brethren, + To the least--ye did it even unto Me.'" + + Thus the people murmured, but the children's Angels + Smiled rejoicing, and a richer blessing falls + On the Church that made a shelter for the children + Underneath the holy shadow of her walls. + +CHRISTIAN BURKE. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argosy, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGOSY *** + +***** This file should be named 18375-8.txt or 18375-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/3/7/18375/ + +Produced by Paul Murray, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Argosy + Vol. 51, No. 5, May, 1891 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Charles W. Woods + +Release Date: May 11, 2006 [EBook #18375] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGOSY *** + + + + +Produced by Paul Murray, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + + + + + +<h3><i>"Laden with Golden Grain"</i></h3> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<h3>THE</h3> +<h1>ARGOSY.</h1> + +<p> </p> + +<h4>EDITED BY</h4> +<h2>CHARLES W. WOOD.</h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + +<h3>VOLUME LI.</h3> + +<h2><i>January to June, 1891.</i></h2> + +<hr style="width: 25%;" /> + + +<h4>RICHARD BENTLEY & SON,</h4> +<h4>8, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, LONDON, W.</h4> + +<p class="center">Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty.</p> + +<h5><i>All rights reserved.</i></h5> + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p class="center"> +LONDON:<br /> +PRINTED BY OGDEN, SMALE AND CO. LIMITED,<br /> +GREAT SAFFRON HILL, E.C.<br /> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><i>CONTENTS.</i></h2> + + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="4" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='right'>PAGE</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'><b><span class="smcap">The Fate of the Hara Diamond</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">M.L. Gow</span>.</b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>Chap. I. </td> + <td align='left'>My Arrival at Deepley Walls</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>II. </td> + <td align='left'>The Mistress of Deepley Walls</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>III. </td> + <td align='left'>A Voyage of Discovery</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>IV. </td> + <td align='left'>Scarsdale Weir</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>V. </td> + <td align='left'>At Rose Cottage</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>VI. </td> + <td align='left'>The Growth of a Mystery</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>VII. </td> + <td align='left'>Exit Janet Hope</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>VIII. </td> + <td align='left'>By the Scotch Express</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>IX. </td> + <td align='left'>At "The Golden Griffin"</td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>X. </td> + <td align='left'>The Stolen Manuscript</td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XI. </td> + <td align='left'>Bon Repos</td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XII. </td> + <td align='left'>The Amsterdam Edition of 1698</td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XIII. </td> + <td align='left'>M. Platzoff's Secret—Captain Ducie's Translation of M. Paul Platzoff's MS</td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XIV. </td> + <td align='left'>Drashkil-Smoking</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XV. </td> + <td align='left'>The Diamond</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XVI. </td> + <td align='left'>Janet's Return</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XVII. </td> + <td align='left'>Deepley Walls after Seven Years</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XVIII. </td> + <td align='left'>Janet in a New Character</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_353">353</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XIX. </td> + <td align='left'>The Dawn of Love</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_357">357</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XX. </td> + <td align='left'>The Narrative of Sergeant Nicholas</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_360">360</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXI. </td> + <td align='left'>Counsel taken with Mr. Madgin</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_369">369</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXII. </td> + <td align='left'>Mr. Madgin at the Helm</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXIII. </td> + <td align='left'>Mr. Madgin's Secret Journey</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXIV. </td> + <td align='left'>Enter Madgin Junior</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='right'>XXV. </td> + <td align='left'>Madgin Junior's First Report</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'><b><span class="smcap">The Silent Chimes</span>. By <span class="smcap">Johnny Ludlow</span> (Mrs. <span class="smcap">Henry Wood</span>).</b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Putting Them Up</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Playing Again</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Ringing at Midday</td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Not Heard</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Silent for Ever</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_377">377</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'><b><span class="smcap">The Bretons at Home</span>. By <span class="smcap">Charles W. Wood</span>, F.R.G.S. With 35 Illustrations</b></td> + <td align='right'>Jan, Feb, Mar, Apr, <a href="#Page_395">395</a>, Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>About the Weather</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Across the River. By <span class="smcap">Helen M. Burnside</span></td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>After Twenty Years. By <span class="smcap">Ada M. Trotter</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Memory. By <span class="smcap">George Cotterell</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Modern Witch</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>An April Folly. By <span class="smcap">Gilbert H. Page</span></td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Philanthropist. By <span class="smcap">Angus Grey</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Aunt Phœbe's Heirlooms: An Experience in Hypnotism</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Social Debut</td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Song. By <span class="smcap">G.B. Stuart</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Enlightenment. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>In a Bernese Valley. By <span class="smcap">Alexander Lamont</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Legend of an Ancient Minster. By <span class="smcap">John Græme</span></td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Longevity. By <span class="smcap">W.F. Ainsworth</span>, F.S.A.</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Mademoiselle Elise. By <span class="smcap">Edward Francis</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Mediums and Mysteries. By <span class="smcap">Narissa Rosavo</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Miss Kate Marsden</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>My May Queen. By <span class="smcap">John Jervis Beresford</span>, M.A.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_416">416</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Old China</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>On Letter-Writing. By <span class="smcap">A.H. Japp</span>, LL.D.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_375">375</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Paul. By the Author of "Adonais, Q.C."</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_431">431</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"Proctorised"</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Rondeau. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Saint or Satan? By <span class="smcap">A. Beresford</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Sappho. By <span class="smcap">Mary Grey</span></td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Serenade. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Sonnets. By <span class="smcap">Julia Kavanagh</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jan, Feb, Apr, Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>So Very Unattractive!</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Spes. By <span class="smcap">John Jervis Beresford</span>, M.A.</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Sweet Nancy. By <span class="smcap">Jeanie Gwynne Bettany</span></td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_417">417</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>The Church Garden. By <span class="smcap">Christian Burke</span></td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_440">440</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>The Only Son of his Mother. By <span class="smcap">Letitia McClintock</span></td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Unexplained. By <span class="smcap">Letitia McClintock</span></td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Who Was the Third Maid?</td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Winter in Absence</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'><b><i>POETRY.</i></b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Sonnets. By <span class="smcap">Julia Kavanagh</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jan, Feb, Apr, Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Song. By <span class="smcap">G.B. Stuart</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jan</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Enlightenment. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Winter in Absence</td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>A Memory. By <span class="smcap">George Cotterell</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>In a Bernese Valley. By <span class="smcap">Alexander Lamont</span></td> + <td align='right'>Feb</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Rondeau. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'>Mar</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Spes. By <span class="smcap">John Jervis Beresford</span>, M.A.</td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Across the River. By <span class="smcap">Helen M. Burnside</span></td> + <td align='right'>Apr</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>My May Queen. By <span class="smcap">John Jervis Beresford</span>, M.A.</td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_416">416</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>The Church Garden. By <span class="smcap">Christian Burke</span></td> + <td align='right'><a href="#Page_440">440</a></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Serenade. By <span class="smcap">E. Nesbit</span></td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Old China</td> + <td align='right'>Jun</td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'><b><i>ILLUSTRATIONS.</i></b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'><b>By M.L. Gow.</b></td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"I advanced slowly up the room, stopped, and curtsied."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"I saw and recognised the mysterious midnight visitor."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"He came back in a few minutes, but so transformed in outward appearance that Ducie scarcely knew him."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"Behold!"</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"Sister Agnes knelt for a few moments and bent her head in silent prayer."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>"He put his hand to his side, and motioned Mirpah to open the letter."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='center'>* * * * *</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +<tr> + <td align='left'></td> + <td align='left'>Illustrations to "The Bretons at Home."</td> + <td align='left'></td> +</tr> +</table></div> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/01large.jpg"> + <img src="images/01.jpg" + alt="Sister Agnes knelt for a few moments, and bent her head in silent prayer." + title="Sister Agnes knelt for a few moments, and bent her head in silent prayer." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">Sister Agnes knelt for a few moments, and bent her head in silent prayer.</span> +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE ARGOSY.</h2> + +<h3><i>MAY, 1891.</i></h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND.</h2> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>JANET IN A NEW CHARACTER.</h3> + + +<p>On entering Lady Chillington's room for the second time, Janet found +that the mistress of Deepley Walls had completed her toilette in the +interim, and was now sitting robed in stiff rustling silk, with an +Indian fan in one hand and a curiously-chased vinaigrette in the other. +She motioned with her fan to Janet. "Be seated," she said, in the iciest +of tones; and Janet sat down on a chair a yard or two removed from her +ladyship.</p> + +<p>"Since you were here last, Miss Hope," she began, "I have seen Sister +Agnes, who informs me that she has already given you an outline of the +duties I shall require you to perform should you agree to accept the +situation which ill-health obliges her to vacate. At the same time, I +wish you clearly to understand that I do not consider you in any way +bound by what I have done for you in the time gone by, neither would I +have you in this matter run counter to your inclinations in the +slightest degree. If you would prefer that a situation as governess +should be obtained for you, say so without hesitation; and any small +influence I may have shall be used ungrudgingly in your behalf. Should +you agree to remain at Deepley Walls, your salary will be thirty guineas +a-year. If you wish it, you can take a day for consideration, and let me +have your decision in the morning."</p> + +<p>Lady Chillington's mention of a fixed salary stung Janet to the quick: +it was so entirely unexpected. It stung her, but only for a moment; the +next she saw and gratefully recognised the fact that she should no +longer be a pensioner on the bounty of Lady Chillington. A dependent she +might be—a servant even, if you like; but at least she would be earning +her living by the labour of her own hands; and even about the very +thought of such a thing there was a sweet sense of independence that +flushed her warmly through and through.</p> + +<p>Her hesitation lasted but a moment, then she spoke. "Your<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span> ladyship is +very kind, but I require no time for consideration," she said. "I have +already made up my mind to take the position which you have so +generously offered me; and if my ability to please you only prove equal +to my inclination, you will not have much cause to complain."</p> + +<p>A faint smile of something like satisfaction flitted across Lady +Chillington's face. "Very good, Miss Hope," she said, in a more gracious +tone than she had yet used. "I am pleased to find that you have taken so +sensible a view of the matter, and that you understand so thoroughly +your position under my roof. How soon shall you be prepared to begin +your new duties?"</p> + +<p>"I am ready at this moment."</p> + +<p>"Come to me an hour hence, and I will then instruct you."</p> + +<p>In this second interview, brief though it was, Janet could not avoid +being struck by Lady Chillington's stately dignity of manner. Her tone +and style were those of a high-bred gentlewoman. It seemed scarcely +possible that she and the querulous, shrivelled-up old woman in the +cashmere dressing-robe could be one and the same individual.</p> + +<p>Unhappily, as Janet to her cost was not long in finding out, her +ladyship's querulous moods were much more frequent than her moods of +quiet dignity. At such times she was very difficult to please; +sometimes, indeed, it was utterly impossible to please her: not even an +angel could have done it. Then, indeed, Janet felt her duty weigh very +hardly upon her. By nature her temper was quick and passionate—her +impulses high and generous; but when Lady Chillington was in her worse +moods, she had to curb the former as with an iron chain; while the +latter were outraged continually by Lady Chillington's mean and miserly +mode of life, and by a certain low and sordid tone of thought which at +such times pervaded all she said and did. And yet, strange to say, she +had rare fits of generosity and goodwill—times when her soul seemed to +sit in sackcloth and ashes, as if in repentance for those other +occasions when the "dark fit" was on her, and the things of this world +claimed her too entirely as their own.</p> + +<p>After her second interview with Lady Chillington, Janet at once hurried +off to Sister Agnes to tell her the news. "On one point only, so far as +I see at present, shall I require any special information," she said. "I +shall need to know exactly the mode of procedure necessary to be +observed when I pay my midnight visits to Sir John Chillington."</p> + +<p>"It is not my intention that you should visit Sir John," said Sister +Agnes. "That portion of my old duties will continue to be performed by +me."</p> + +<p>"Not until you are stronger—not until your health is better than it is +now," said Janet earnestly. "I am young and strong; it is merely a part +of what I have undertaken to do, and you must please<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_355" id="Page_355">[Pg 355]</a></span> let me do it. I +have outgrown my childish fears, and could visit the Black Room now +without the quiver of a nerve."</p> + +<p>"You think so by daylight, but wait until the house is dark and silent, +and then say the same conscientiously, if you can do so."</p> + +<p>But Janet was determined not to yield the point, nor could Sister Agnes +move her from her decision. Ultimately a compromise was entered into by +which it was agreed that for one evening at least they should visit the +Black Room together, and that the settlement of the question should be +left until the following day.</p> + +<p>Precisely as midnight struck they set out together up the wide, +old-fashioned staircase, past the door of Janet's old room, up the +narrower staircase beyond, until the streak of light came into view and +the grim, nail-studded door itself was reached. Janet was secretly glad +that she was not there alone; so much she acknowledged to herself as +they halted for a moment while Sister Agnes unlocked the door. But when +the latter asked her if she were not afraid, if she would not much +rather be snug in bed, Janet only said: "Give me the key; tell me what I +have to do inside the room, and then leave me."</p> + +<p>But Sister Agnes would not consent to that, and they entered the room +together. Instead of seven years, it seemed to Janet only seven hours +since she had been there last, so vividly was the recollection of her +first visit still impressed upon her mind. Everything was unchanged in +that chamber of the dead, except, perhaps, the sprawling cupids on the +ceiling, which looked a shade dingier than of old, and more in need of +soap and water than ever. But the black draperies on the walls, the huge +candles in the silver tripods, the pall-covered coffin in the middle of +the room, were all as Janet had seen them last. There, too, was the +oaken <i>prie-dieu</i> a yard or two away from the head of the coffin. Sister +Agnes knelt on it for a few moments, and bent her head in silent prayer.</p> + +<p>"My visit to this room every midnight," said Sister Agnes, "is made for +the simple purpose of renewing the candles, and of seeing that +everything is as it should be. That the visit should be made at +midnight, and at no other time, is one of Lady Chillington's whims—a +whim that by process of time has crystallised into a law. The room is +never entered by day."</p> + +<p>"Was it whim or madness that caused Sir John Chillington to leave orders +that his body should be kept above ground for twenty years?"</p> + +<p>"Who shall tell by what motive he was influenced when he had that +particular clause inserted in his will? Deepley Walls itself hangs on +the proper fulfilment of the clause. If Lady Chillington were to cause +her husband's remains to be interred in the family vault before the +expiry of the twenty years, the very day she did so the estate would +pass from her to the present baronet, a distant cousin, between whom and +her ladyship there has been a bitter feud of many years' standing. +Although Deepley Walls has been in the family for a<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_356" id="Page_356">[Pg 356]</a></span> hundred and fifty +years, it has never been entailed. The entailed estate is in Yorkshire, +and there Sir Mark, the present baronet, resides. Lady Chillington has +the power of bequeathing Deepley Walls to whomsoever she may please, +providing she carry out strictly the instructions contained in her +husband's will. It is possible that in a court of law the will might +have been set aside on the ground of insanity, or the whole matter might +have been thrown into Chancery. But Lady Chillington did not choose to +submit to such an ordeal. All the courts of law in the kingdom could +have given her no more than she possessed already—they could merely +have given her permission to bury her husband's body, and it did not +seem to her that such a permission could compensate for turning into +public gossip a private chapter of family history. So here Sir John +Chillington has remained since his death, and here he will stay till the +last of the twenty years has become a thing of the past. Two or three +times every year Mr. Winter, Sir Mark's lawyer, comes over to Deepley +Walls to satisfy himself by ocular proof that Sir John's instructions +are being duly carried out. This he has a legal right to do in the +interests of his client. Sometimes he is conducted to this room by Lady +Chillington, sometimes by me; but even in his case her ladyship will not +relax her rule of not having the room visited by day."</p> + +<p>Sister Agnes then showed Janet that behind the black draperies there was +a cupboard in the wall, which on being opened proved to contain a +quantity of large candles. One by one Sister Agnes took out of the +silver tripods what remained of the candles of the previous day, and +filled up their places with fresh ones. Janet looked on attentively. +Then, for the second time, Sister Agnes knelt on the <i>prie-dieu</i> for a +few moments, and then she and Janet left the room.</p> + +<p>Next day Sister Agnes was so ill, and Janet pressed so earnestly to be +allowed to attend to the Black Room in place of her, and alone, that she +was obliged to give a reluctant consent.</p> + +<p>It was not without an inward tremor that Janet heard the clock strike +twelve. Sister Agnes had insisted on accompanying her part of the way +upstairs, and would, in fact, have gone the whole distance with her, had +not Janet insisted on going forward alone. In a single breath, as it +seemed to her, she ran up the remaining stairs, unlocked the door, and +entered the room. Her nerves were not sufficiently composed to allow of +her making use of the <i>prie-dieu</i>. All she cared for just then was to +get through her duty as quickly as possible, and return in safety to the +world of living beings downstairs. She set her teeth, and by a supreme +effort of will went through the small duty that was required of her +steadily but swiftly. Her face was never turned away from the coffin the +whole time; and when she had finished her task she walked backwards to +the door, opened it, walked backwards out, and in another breath was +downstairs, and safe in the protecting arms of Sister Agnes.</p> + +<p>Next night she insisted upon going entirely alone, and made so<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_357" id="Page_357">[Pg 357]</a></span> light of +the matter that Sister Agnes no longer opposed her wish to make the +midnight visit to the Black Room a part of her ordinary duty. But +inwardly Janet could never quite overcome her secret awe of the room and +its silent occupant. She always dreaded the coming of the hour that took +her there, and when her task was over, she never closed the door without +a feeling of relief. In this case, custom with her never bred +familiarity. To the last occasion of her going there she went the prey +of hidden fears—fears of she knew not what, which she derided to +herself even while they made her their victim. There was a morbid thread +running through the tissue of her nerves, which by intense force of will +might be kept from growing and spreading, but which no effort of hers +could quite pluck out or eradicate.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XIX.</h2> + +<h3>THE DAWN OF LOVE.</h3> + + +<p>Major Strickland did not forget his promise to Janet. On the eighth +morning after his return from London he walked over from Eastbury to +Deepley Walls, saw Lady Chillington, and obtained leave of absence for +Miss Hope for the day. Then he paid a flying visit to Sister Agnes, for +whom he had a great reverence and admiration, and ended by carrying off +Janet in triumph.</p> + +<p>The park of Deepley Walls extends almost to the suburbs of Eastbury, a +town of eight thousand inhabitants, but of such small commercial +importance that the nearest railway station is three miles away across +country and nearly five miles from Deepley Walls.</p> + +<p>Major Strickland no longer resided at Rose Cottage, but at a pretty +little villa just outside Eastbury. Some small accession of fortune had +come to him by the death of a relative; and an addition to his family in +the person of Aunt Félicité, a lady old and nearly blind, the widow of a +kinsman of the Major. Besides its tiny lawn and flower-beds in front, +the Lindens had a long stretch of garden ground behind, otherwise the +Major would scarcely have been happy in his new home. He was secretary +to the Eastbury Horticultural Society, and his fame as a grower of prize +roses and geraniums was in these latter days far sweeter to him than any +fame that had ever accrued to him as a soldier.</p> + +<p>Janet found Aunt Félicité a most quaint and charming old lady, as +cheerful and full of vivacity as many a girl of seventeen. She kissed +Janet on both cheeks when the Major introduced her; asked whether she +was fiancée; complimented her on her French; declaimed a passage from +Racine; put her poodle through a variety of amusing tricks; and pressed +Janet to assist at her luncheon of cream cheese, French roll, +strawberries and white wine.</p> + +<p>A slight sense of disappointment swept across Janet's mind, like the +shadow of a cloud across a sunny field. She had been two hours<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_358" id="Page_358">[Pg 358]</a></span> at the +Lindens without having seen Captain George. In vain she told herself +that she had come to spend the day with Major Strickland, and to be +introduced to Aunt Félicité, and that nothing more was wanting to her +complete contentment. That something more was needed she knew quite +well, but she would not acknowledge it even to herself. <span class="smcap">He</span> knew of her +coming; he had been with Aunt Félicité only half an hour before—so much +she learned within five minutes of her arrival; yet now, at the end of +two hours, he had not condescended even to come and speak to her. She +roused herself from the sense of despondency that was creeping over her +and put on a gaiety that she was far from feeling. A very bitter sense +of self-contempt was just then at work in her heart; she felt that never +before had she despised herself so utterly. She took her hat in her +hand, and put her arm within the Major's and walked with him round his +little demesne. It was a walk that took up an hour or more, for there +was much to see and learn, and Janet was bent this morning on having a +long lesson in botany; and the old soldier was only too happy in having +secured a listener so enthusiastic and appreciative to whom he could +dilate on his favourite hobby.</p> + +<p>But all this time Janet's eyes and ears were on the alert in a double +sense of which the Major knew nothing. He was busy with a description of +the last spring flower show, and how the Duke of Cheltenham's auriculas +were by no means equal to those of Major Strickland, when Janet gave a +little start as though a gnat had stung her, and bent to smell a sweet +blush-rose, whose tints were rivalled by the sudden delicate glow that +flushed her cheek.</p> + +<p>"Yes, yes!" she said, hurriedly, as the Major paused for a moment; "and +so the Duke's gardener was jealous because you carried away the prize?"</p> + +<p>"I never saw a man more put out in my life," said the Major. "He shook +his fist at my flowers and said before everybody, 'Let the old Major +only wait till autumn and then see if my dahlias don't—' But yonder +comes Geordie. Bless my heart! what has he been doing at Eastbury all +this time?"</p> + +<p>Janet's instinct had not deceived her; she had heard and recognised his +footstep a full minute before the Major knew that he was near. She gave +one quick, shy glance round as he opened the gate, and then she wandered +a yard or two further down the path.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, uncle," said Captain George, as he came up. "You set out +for Deepley Walls so early this morning that I did not see you before +you started. I am glad to find that you did not come back alone."</p> + +<p>Janet had turned as he began to speak, but did not come back to the +Major's side. Captain George advanced a few steps and lifted his hat.</p> + +<p>"Good-morning, Miss Hope," he said, with outstretched hand.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_359" id="Page_359">[Pg 359]</a></span> "I need +hardly say how pleased I am to see you at the Lindens. My uncle has +succeeded so well on his first embassy that we must send him again, and +often, on the same errand."</p> + +<p>Janet murmured a few words in reply—what, she could not afterwards have +told; but as her eyes met his for a moment, she read in them something +that made her forgive him on the spot, even while she declared to +herself that she had nothing to forgive, and that brought to her cheek a +second blush more vivid than the first.</p> + +<p>"All very well, young gentleman," said the Major; "but you have not yet +explained your four hours' absence. We shall order you under arrest +unless you have some reasonable excuse to submit."</p> + +<p>"The best of all excuses—that of urgent business," said the Captain.</p> + +<p>"You! business!" said the laughing Major. "Why, it was only last night +that you were bewailing your lot as being one of those unhappy mortals +who have no work to do."</p> + +<p>"To those they love, the gods lend patient hearing. I forget the Latin, +but that does not matter just now. What I wish to convey is this—that I +need no longer be idle unless I choose. I have found some work to do. +Lend me your ears, both of you. About an hour after you, sir, had +started for Deepley Walls, I received a note from the editor of the +<i>Eastbury Courier</i>, in which he requested me to give him an early call. +My curiosity prompted me to look in upon him as soon as breakfast was +over. I found that he was brother to the editor of one of the London +magazines—a gentleman whom I met one evening at a party in town. The +London editor remembered me, and had written to the Eastbury editor to +make arrangements with me for writing a series of magazine articles on +India and my experiences there during the late mutiny. I need not bore +you with details; it is sufficient to say that my objections were talked +down one by one; and I left the office committed to a sixteen-page +article by the sixth of next month."</p> + +<p>"You an author!" exclaimed the Major. "I should as soon have thought of +your enlisting in the Marines."</p> + +<p>"It will only be for a few months, uncle—only till my limited stock of +experiences shall be exhausted. After that I shall be relegated to my +natural obscurity, doubtless never to emerge again."</p> + +<p>"Hem," said the Major, nervously. "Geordie, my boy, I have by me one or +two little poems which I wrote when I was about nineteen—trifles flung +off on the inspiration of the moment. Perhaps, when you come to know +your friend the editor better than you do now, you might induce him to +bring them out—to find an odd corner for them in his magazine. I +shouldn't want payment for them, you know. You might just mention that +fact; and I assure you that I have seen many worse things than they are +in print."</p> + +<p>"What, uncle, you an author! Oh, fie! I should as soon have thought of +your wishing to dance on the tight-rope as to appear in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_360" id="Page_360">[Pg 360]</a></span> print. But we +must look over these little effusions—eh, Miss Hope. We must unearth +this genius, and be the first to give his lucubrations to the world."</p> + +<p>"If you were younger, sir, or I not quite so old, I would box your +ears," said the Major, who seemed hardly to know whether to laugh or be +angry. Finally he laughed, George and Janet chimed in, and all three +went back indoors.</p> + +<p>After an early dinner the Major took rod and line and set off to capture +a few trout for supper. Aunt Félicité took her post-prandial nap +discreetly, in an easy-chair, and Captain George and Miss Hope were left +to their own devices. In Love's sweet Castle of Indolence the hours that +make up a summer afternoon pass like so many minutes. These two had +blown the magic horn and had gone in. The gates of brass had closed +behind them, shutting them up from the common outer world. Over all +things was a glamour as of witchcraft. Soft music filled the air; soft +breezes came to them as from fields of amaranth and asphodel. They +walked ever in a magic circle, that widened before them as they went. +Eros in passing had touched them with his golden dart. Each of them hid +the sweet sting from the other, yet neither of them would have been +whole again for anything the world could have offered. What need to tell +the old story over again—the story of the dawn of love in two young +hearts that had never loved before?</p> + +<p>Janet went home that night in a flutter of happiness—a happiness so +sweet and strange and yet so vague that she could not have analysed it +even had she been casuist enough to try to do so. But she was content to +accept the fact as a fact; beyond that she cared nothing. No syllable of +love had been spoken between her and George: they had passed what to an +outsider would have seemed a very common-place afternoon. They had +talked together—not sentiment, but every-day topics of the world around +them; they had read together—poetry, but nothing more passionate than +"Aurora Leigh;" they had walked together—rather a silent and stupid +walk, our friendly outsider would have urged; but if they were content, +no one else had any right to complain. And so the day had worn itself +away—a red-letter day for ever in the calendar of their young lives.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2>CHAPTER XX.</h2> + +<h3>THE NARRATIVE OF SERGEANT NICHOLAS.</h3> + + +<p>One morning when Janet had been about three weeks at Deepley Walls, she +was summoned to the door by one of the servants, and found there a tall, +thin, middle-aged man, dressed in plain clothes, and having all the +appearance of a discharged soldier.</p> + +<p>"I have come a long way, miss," he said to Janet, carrying a finger<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_361" id="Page_361">[Pg 361]</a></span> to +his forehead, "in order to see Lady Chillington and have a little +private talk with her."</p> + +<p>"I am afraid that her ladyship will scarcely see you, unless you can +give her some idea of the business that you have called upon."</p> + +<p>"My name, miss, is Sergeant John Nicholas. I served formerly in India, +where I was body-servant to her ladyship's son, Captain Charles +Chillington, who died there of cholera nearly twenty years ago, and I +have something of importance to communicate."</p> + +<p>Janet made the old soldier come in and sit down in the hall while she +took his message to Lady Chillington. Her ladyship was not yet up, but +was taking her chocolate in bed, with a faded Indian shawl thrown round +her shoulders. She began to tremble violently the moment Janet delivered +the old soldier's message, and could scarcely set down her cup and +saucer. Then she began to cry, and to kiss the hem of the Indian shawl. +Janet went softly out of the room and waited. She had never even heard +of this Captain Charles Chillington, and yet no mere empty name could +have thus affected the stern mistress of Deepley Walls. Those few tears +opened up quite a new view of Lady Chillington's character. Janet began +to see that there might be elements of tragedy in the old woman's life +of which she knew nothing: that many of the moods which seemed to her so +strange and inexplicable might be so merely for want of the key by which +alone they could be rightly read.</p> + +<p>Presently her ladyship's gong sounded. Janet went back into the room, +and found her still sitting up in bed, sipping her chocolate with a +steady hand. All traces of tears had vanished: she looked even more +stern and repressed than usual.</p> + +<p>"Request the person of whom you spoke to me a while ago to wait," she +said. "I will see him at eleven in my private sitting-room."</p> + +<p>So Sergeant Nicholas was sent to get his breakfast in the servants' +room, and wait till Lady Chillington was ready to receive him.</p> + +<p>At eleven precisely he was summoned to her ladyship's presence. She +received him with stately graciousness, and waved him to a chair a yard +or two away. She was dressed for the day in one of her stiff brocaded +silks, and sat as upright as a dart, manipulating a small fan. Miss Hope +stood close at the back of her chair.</p> + +<p>"So, my good man, I understand that you were acquainted with my son, the +late Captain Chillington, who died in India twenty years ago?"</p> + +<p>"I was his body-servant for two years previous to his death."</p> + +<p>"Were you with him when he died?"</p> + +<p>"I was, your ladyship. These fingers closed his eyes."</p> + +<p>The hand that held the fan began to tremble again. She remained silent +for a few moments, and by a strong effort overmastered her agitation.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_362" id="Page_362">[Pg 362]</a></span></p> + +<p>"You have some communication which you wish to make to me respecting my +dead son?"</p> + +<p>"I have, your ladyship. A communication of a very singular kind."</p> + +<p>"Why has it not been made before now?"</p> + +<p>"That your ladyship will learn in the course of what I have to say. But +perhaps you will kindly allow me to tell my story my own way."</p> + +<p>"By all means. Pray begin: I am all attention."</p> + +<p>The Sergeant touched his forelock, gave a preliminary cough, fixed his +clear grey eye on Lady Chillington, and began his narrative as under:—</p> + +<p>"Your ladyship and miss: I, John Nicholas, a Staffordshire man born and +bred, went out to India twenty-three years ago as lance corporal in the +hundred-and-first regiment of foot. After I had been in India a few +months, I got drunk and misbehaved myself, and was reduced to the ranks. +Well, ma'am, Captain Chillington took a fancy to me, thought I was not +such a bad dog after all, and got me appointed as his servant. And a +better master no man need ever wish to have—kind, generous, and a +perfect gentleman from top to toe. I loved him, and would have gone +through fire and water to serve him."</p> + +<p>Her ladyship's fan was trembling again. "Oblige me with my salts, Miss +Hope," she said. She pressed them to her nose, and motioned to the +Sergeant to proceed.</p> + +<p>"When I had been with the Captain a few months," resumed the old +soldier, "he got leave of absence for several weeks, and everybody knew +that it was his intention to spend his holiday in a shooting excursion +among the hills. I was to go with him, of course, and the usual troop of +native servants; but besides himself there was only one European +gentleman in the party, and he was not an Englishman. He was a Russian, +and his name was Platzoff. He was a gentleman of fortune, and was +travelling in India at the time, and had come to my master with letters +of introduction. Well, Captain Chillington just took wonderfully to him, +and the two were almost inseparable. Perhaps it hardly becomes one like +me to offer an opinion on such a point; but, knowing what afterwards +happened, I must say that I never either liked or trusted that Russian +from the day I first set eyes on him. He seemed to me too double-faced +and cunning for an honest English gentleman to have much to do with. But +he had travelled a great deal, and was very good company, which was +perhaps the reason why Captain Chillington took so kindly to him. Be +that as it may, however, it was decided that they should go on the +hunting excursion together—not that the Russian was much of a shot, or +cared a great deal about hunting, but because, as I heard him say, he +liked to see all kinds of life, and tiger-stalking was something quite +fresh to him.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_363" id="Page_363">[Pg 363]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He was a curious-looking gentleman, too, that Russian—just the sort of +face that you would never forget after once seeing it, with skin that +was dried and yellow like parchment; black hair that was trained into a +heavy curl on the top of his forehead, and a big hooked nose.</p> + +<p>"Well, your ladyship and miss, away we went with our elephants and train +of servants, and very pleasantly we spent our two months' leave of +absence. The Captain he shot tigers, and the Russian he did his best at +pig-sticking. Our last week had come, and in three more days we were to +set off on our return, when that terrible misfortune happened which +deprived me of the best of masters, and your ladyship of the best of +sons.</p> + +<p>"Early one morning I was roused by Rung Budruck, the Captain's favourite +sycee or groom. 'Get up at once,' he said, shaking me by the shoulder. +'The sahib Captain is very ill. The black devil has seized him. He must +have opium or he will die.' I ran at once to the Captain's tent, and as +soon as I set eyes on him I saw that he had been seized with cholera. I +went off at once and fetched M. Platzoff. We had nothing in the way of +medicine with us except brandy and opium. Under the Russian's directions +these were given to my poor master in large quantities, but he grew +gradually worse. Rung and I in everything obeyed M. Platzoff, who seemed +to know quite well what ought to be done in such cases; and to tell the +truth, your ladyship, he seemed as much put about as if the Captain had +been his own brother. Well, the Captain grew weaker as the day went on, +and towards evening it grew quite clear that he could not last much +longer. The pain had left him by this time, but he was so frightfully +reduced that we could not bring him round. He was lying in every respect +like one already dead, except for his faint breathing, when the Russian +left the tent for a moment, and I took his place at the head of the bed. +Rung was standing with folded arms a yard or two away. None of the other +native servants could be persuaded to enter the tent, so frightened were +they of catching the complaint. Suddenly my poor master opened his eyes, +and his lips moved. I put my ear to his mouth. 'The diamond,' he +whispered. 'Take it—mother—give my love.' Not a word more on earth, +your ladyship. His limbs stiffened; his head fell back; he gave a great +sigh and died. I gently closed the eyes that could see no more, and left +the tent crying.</p> + +<p>"Your ladyship, we buried Captain Chillington by torchlight four hours +later. We dug his grave deep in a corner of the jungle, and there we +left him to his last sleep. Over his grave we piled a heap of stones, as +I have read that they used to do in the old times over the grave of a +chief. It was all we could do.</p> + +<p>"About an hour later M. Platzoff came to me. 'I shall start before +daybreak for Chinapore,' he said, 'with one elephant and a couple of +men. I will take with me the news of my poor friend's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_364" id="Page_364">[Pg 364]</a></span> untimely fate, +and you can come on with the luggage and other effects in the ordinary +way. You will find me at Chinapore when you reach there.' Next morning I +found that he was gone.</p> + +<p>"What my dear master had said with his last breath about a diamond +puzzled me. I could only conclude that amongst his effects there must be +some valuable stone of which he wished special care to be taken, and +which he desired to be sent home to you, madam, in England. I knew +nothing of any such stone, and I considered it beyond my position to +search for it among his luggage. I decided that when I got to Chinapore +I would give his message to the Colonel, and leave that gentleman to +take such steps in the matter as he might think best.</p> + +<p>"I had hardly settled all this in my mind when Rung Budruck came to me. +'The Russian sahib has gone: I have something to tell you,' he said, +only he spoke in broken English. 'Yesterday, just after the sahib +Captain was dead, the Russian came back. You had left the tent, and I +was sitting on the ground behind the Captain's big trunk, the lid of +which was open. I was sitting with my chin in my hand, very sad at +heart, when the Russian came in. He looked carefully round the tent. Me +he could not see, but I could see him through the opening between the +hinges of the box. What did he do? He unfastened the bosom of the sahib +Captain's shirt, and then he drew over the Captain's head the steel +chain with the little gold box hanging to it that he always wore. He +opened the box, and saw there was that in it which he expected to find +there. Then he hid away both chain and box in one of his pockets, +rebuttoned the dead man's shirt, and left the tent.' 'But you have not +told me what there was in the box,' I said. He put the tips of his +fingers together and smiled: 'In that box was the Great Hara Diamond!'</p> + +<p>"Your ladyship, I was so startled when Rung said this that the wind of a +bullet would have knocked me down. A new light was all at once thrown on +the Captain's dying words. 'But how do you know, Rung, that the box +contained a diamond?' I asked when I had partly got over my surprise. He +smiled again, with that strange slow smile which those fellows have. 'It +matters not how, but Rung knew that the diamond was there. He had seen +the Captain open the box, and take it out and look at it many a time +when the Captain thought no one could see him. He could have stolen it +from him almost any night when he was asleep, but that was left for his +friend to do.' 'Was the diamond you speak of a very valuable one?' I +asked. 'It was a green diamond of immense value,' answered Rung; 'it was +called <i>The Great Hara</i> because of its colour, and it was first worn by +the terrible Aureng-Zebe himself, who had it set in the haft of his +scimitar.' 'But by what means did Captain Chillington become possessed +of so valuable a stone?' Said he, 'Two years ago, at the risk of his own +life, he rescued the eldest son of the Rajah of Gondulpootra from a +tiger who had carried away the child into the jungle. The<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_365" id="Page_365">[Pg 365]</a></span> Rajah is one +of the richest men in India, and he showed his gratitude by secretly +presenting the Great Hara Diamond to the man who had saved the life of +his child.' 'But why should Captain Chillington carry so valuable a +stone about his person?' I asked. 'Would it not have been wiser to +deposit it in the bank at Bombay till such time as the Captain could +take it with him to England?' 'The stone is a charmed stone,' said Rung, +'and it was the Rajah's particular wish that the sahib Chillington +should always wear it about his person. So long as he did so he could +not come to his death by fire by water, or by sword thrust.' Said I, +'But how did the Russian know that Captain Chillington carried the +diamond about his person?' 'One night when the Captain had had too much +wine he showed the diamond to his friend,' answered Rung. Said I, 'But +how does it happen, Rung, that you know this?' Rung, smiling and putting +his finger tips together, replied, 'How does it happen that I know so +much about you?' And then he told me a lot of things about myself that I +thought no soul in India knew. It was just wonderful how he did it. 'So +it is: let that be sufficient,' he finished by saying. 'Why did you not +tell me till after the Russian had gone away that you saw him steal the +diamond?' said I. 'If you had told me at the time I could have charged +him with it.' 'You are ignorant,' said Rung; 'you are little more than a +child. The Russian sahib had the evil eye. Had I crossed his purpose +before his face he would have cursed me while he looked at me, and I +should have withered away and died. He has got the diamond, and only by +magic can it ever be recovered from him.'</p> + +<p>"Your ladyship and miss, I hope I am not tedious nor wandering from the +point. It will be sufficient to say that when I got down to Chinapore I +found that M. Platzoff had indeed been there, but only just long enough +to see the Colonel and give him an account of Captain Chillington's +death, after which he had at once engaged a palanquin and bearers and +set out with all speed for Bombay. It was now my turn to see the +Colonel, and after I had given over into his hands all my dead master's +property that I had brought with me from the Hills, I told him the story +of the diamond as Rung had told it to me. He was much struck by it, and +ordered me to take Rung to him the next morning. But that very night +Rung disappeared, and was never seen in the camp again. Whether he was +frightened at what he called the Russian's evil eye—frightened that +Platzoff could blight him even from a distance, I have no means of +knowing. In any case, gone he was; and from that day to this I have +never set eyes on him. Well, the Colonel said he would take a note of +what I had told him about the diamond, and that I must leave the matter +entirely in his hands.</p> + +<p>"Your ladyship, a fortnight after that the Colonel shot himself.</p> + +<p>"To make short a long story—we got a fresh Colonel, and were removed to +another part of the country; and there, a few weeks<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_366" id="Page_366">[Pg 366]</a></span> later, I was +knocked down by fever, and was a long time before I thoroughly recovered +my strength. A year or two later our regiment was ordered back to +England, but a day or two before we should have sailed I had a letter +telling me that my old sweetheart was dead. This news seemed to take all +care for life out of me, and on the spur of the moment I volunteered +into a regiment bound for China, in which country war was just breaking +out. There, and at other places abroad, I stopped till just four months +ago, when I was finally discharged, with my pension, and a bullet in my +pocket that had been taken out of my skull. I only landed in England +nine days ago, and as soon as it was possible for me to do so, I came to +see your ladyship. And I think that is all." The Sergeant's forefinger +went to his forehead again as he brought his narrative to an end.</p> + +<p>Lady Chillington kept on fanning herself in silence for a little while +after the old soldier had done speaking. Her features wore the proud, +impassive look that they generally put on when before strangers: in the +present case they were no index to the feelings at work underneath. At +length she spoke.</p> + +<p>"After the suicide of your Colonel did you mention the supposed robbery +of the diamond to anyone else?"</p> + +<p>"To no one else, your ladyship. For several reasons. I was unaware what +steps he might have taken between the time of my telling him and the +time of his death to prove or disprove the truth of the story. In the +second place, Rung had disappeared. I could only tell the story at +secondhand. It had been told me by an eye-witness, but that witness was +a native, and the word of a native does not go for much in those parts. +In the third place, the Russian had also disappeared, and had left no +trace behind. What could I do? Had I told the story to my new Colonel, I +should mayhap only have been scouted as a liar or a madman. Besides, we +were every day expecting to be ordered home, and I had made up my mind +that I would at once come and see your ladyship. At that time I had no +intention of going to China, and when once I got there it was too late +to speak out. But through all the years I have been away my poor dear +master's last words have lived in my memory. Many a thousand times have +I thought of them both day and night, and prayed that I might live to +get back to Old England, if it was only to give your ladyship the +message with which I had been charged."</p> + +<p>"But why could you not write to me?" asked Lady Chillington.</p> + +<p>"Your ladyship, I am no scholar," answered the old soldier, with a vivid +blush. "What I have told you to-day in half-an-hour would have taken me +years to set down—in fact, I could never have done it."</p> + +<p>"So be it," said Lady Chillington. "My obligation to you is all the +greater for bearing in mind for so many years my poor boy's last +message, and for being at so much trouble to deliver it." She sighed +deeply and rose from her chair. The Sergeant rose too, thinking that<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_367" id="Page_367">[Pg 367]</a></span> +his interview was at an end, but at her ladyship's request he reseated +himself.</p> + +<p>Rejecting Janet's proffered arm, which she was in the habit of leaning +on in her perambulations about the house and grounds, Lady Chillington +walked slowly and painfully out of the room. Presently she returned, +carrying an open letter in her hand. Both the ink and the paper on which +it was written were faded and yellow with age.</p> + +<p>"This is the last letter I ever received from my son," said her +ladyship. "I have preserved it religiously, and it bears out very +singularly what you, Sergeant, have just told me respecting the message +which my darling sent me with his dying breath. In a few lines at the +end he makes mention of a something of great value which he is going to +bring home with him; but he writes about it in such guarded terms that I +never could satisfy myself as to the precise meaning of what he intended +to convey. You, Miss Hope, will perhaps be good enough to read the lines +in question aloud. They are contained in a postscript."</p> + +<p>Janet took the letter with reverent tenderness. Lady Chillington's +trembling fingers pointed out the lines she was to read. Janet read as +under:—</p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"P.S.—I have reserved my most important bit of news till the last, +as lady correspondents are said to do. Observe, I write 'are said +to do,' because in this matter I have very little personal +experience of my own to go upon. You, dear mum, are my solitary +lady correspondent, and postscripts are a luxury in which you +rarely indulge. But to proceed, as the novelists say. Some two +years ago it was my good fortune to rescue a little yellow-skinned +princekin from the clutches of a very fine young tiger (my feet are +on his hide at this present writing), who was carrying him off as a +tit-bit for his supper. He was terribly mauled, you may be sure, +but his people followed my advice in their mode of doctoring him, +and he gradually got round again. The lad's father is a Rajah, +immensely rich, and a direct descendant of that ancient Mogul +dynasty which once ruled this country with a rod of iron. The Rajah +has daughters innumerable, but only this one son. His gratitude for +what I had done was unbounded. A few weeks ago he gave me a most +astounding proof of it. By a secret and trusty messenger he sent +me—But no, dear mum, I will not tell you what the Rajah sent me. +This letter might chance to fall into other hands than yours +(Indian letters do <i>sometimes</i> miscarry), and the secret is one +which had better be kept in the family—at least for the present. +So, mother mine, your curiosity must rest unsatisfied for a little +while to come. I hope to be with you before many months are over, +and then you shall know everything.</p> + +<p>"The value of the Rajah's present is something immense. I shall +sell it when I get to England, and out of the proceeds I +shall<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_368" id="Page_368">[Pg 368]</a></span>—well, I don't exactly know what I shall do. Purchase my +next step for one thing, but that will cost a mere trifle. Then, +perhaps, buy a comfortable estate in the country, or a house in +Park Lane. Your six weeks every season in London lodgings was +always inexplicable to me.</p> + +<p>"Or shall I not sell the Rajah's present, but offer myself in +marriage to some fair princess, with my heart in one hand and the +G.H.D. in the other? Madder things than that are recorded in +history. In any case, don't forget to pray for the safe arrival of +your son, and (if such a petition is allowable) that he may not +fail to bring with him the G.H.D.</p> + +<p class="right">"C.C."</p></div> + +<p>"I never could understand before to-day what the letters G.H.D. were +meant for," said Lady Chillington, as Janet gave her back the letter. +"It is now quite evident that they were intended for <i>Great Hara +Diamond</i>; all of which, as I said before, is confirmatory of the story +you have just told me. Of course, after the lapse of so many years, +there is not the remotest possibility of recovering the diamond; but my +obligation to you, Sergeant Nicholas, is in no wise lessened by that +fact. What are your engagements? Are you obliged to leave here +immediately, or can you remain a short time in the neighbourhood?"</p> + +<p>"I can give your ladyship a week, or even a fortnight, if you wish it."</p> + +<p>"I am greatly obliged to you. I do wish it—I wish to talk to you +respecting my son, and you are the only one now living who can tell me +about him. You shall find that I am not ungrateful for what you have +done for me. In the meantime, you will stop at the King's Arms, in +Eastbury. Miss Hope will give you a note to the landlord. Come up here +to-morrow at eleven. And now I must say good-morning. I am not very +strong, and your news has shaken me a little. Will you do me the honour +of shaking hands with me? It was your hands that closed my poor boy's +eyes—that touched him last on earth; let those hands now be touched by +his mother."</p> + +<p>Lady Chillington stood up and extended both her withered hands. The old +soldier came forward with a blush and took them respectfully, tenderly. +He bent his head and touched each of them in turn with his lips. Tears +stood in his eyes.</p> + +<p>"God bless you, Sergeant Nicholas! You are a good man and a true +gentleman," said Lady Chillington. Then she turned and slowly left the +room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_369" id="Page_369">[Pg 369]</a></span></p> +<h2>CHAPTER XXI.</h2> + +<h3>COUNSEL TAKEN WITH MR. MADGIN.</h3> + + +<p>After her interview with Sergeant Nicholas, Lady Chillington dismissed +Janet for the day, and retired to her own rooms, nor was she seen out of +them till the following morning. No one was admitted to see her save +Dance. Janet, after sitting with Sister Agnes all the afternoon, went +down at dusk to the housekeeper's room.</p> + +<p>"Whatever did you do to her ladyship this morning?" asked Dance as soon +as she entered. "She has tasted neither bit nor sup since breakfast, but +ever since that old shabby-looking fellow went away she has lain on the +sofa, staring at the wall as if there was some writing on it she was +trying to read but didn't know how. I thought she was ill, and asked her +if I should send for the doctor. She laughed at me without taking her +eyes off the wall, and bade me begone for an old fool. If there's not a +change by morning, I shall just send for the doctor without asking her +leave. Surely you and that old fellow have bewitched her ladyship +between you."</p> + +<p>Janet in reply told Dance all that had passed at the morning's +interview, feeling quite sure that in doing so she was violating no +confidence, and that Lady Chillington herself would be the first to tell +everything to her faithful old servant as soon as she should be +sufficiently composed to do so. As a matter of course Dance was full of +wonder.</p> + +<p>"Did you know Captain Chillington?" asked Janet, as soon as the old +dame's surprise had in some measure toned itself down.</p> + +<p>"Did I know curly-pated, black-eyed Master Charley?" asked the old +woman. "Ay—who better? These arms, withered and yellow now, then plump +and strong, held him before he had been an hour in the world. The day he +left England I went with her ladyship to see him aboard ship. As he +shook me by the hand for the last time he said, 'You will never leave my +mother, will you, Dance?' And I said, 'Never, while I live, dear Master +Charles,' and I've kept my word."</p> + +<p>"Her ladyship has never been like the same woman since she heard the +news of his death," resumed Dance after a pause. "It seemed to sour her +and harden her, and make her altogether different. There had been a +great deal of unhappiness at home for some years before he went away. He +and his father, Sir John—he that now lies so quiet upstairs—had a +terrible quarrel just after Master Charles went into the army, and it +was a quarrel that was never made up in this world. He was an awful +man—Sir John—a wicked man: pray that such a one may never cross your +path. The only happiness he seemed to have on earth was in making those +over whom he had any<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_370" id="Page_370">[Pg 370]</a></span> power miserable. It was impossible for my lady to +love him, but she tried to do her duty by him till he and Master Charles +fell out. What the quarrel was about I never rightly understood, but my +lady would have it that Master Charles was in the right and her husband +in the wrong. One result was that Sir John stopped the income that he +had always allowed his son, and took a frightful oath that if Master +Charles were dying of starvation before his eyes he would not give him +as much as a penny to buy bread with. But her ladyship, who had money in +her own right, said that Master Charles's income should go on as usual. +Then she and Sir John quarrelled; and she left him and came to live at +Deepley Walls, leaving him at Dene Folly; and here she stayed till Sir +John was taken with his last illness and sent for her. He sent for her, +not to make up the quarrel, but to jibe and sneer at her, and to make +her wait on him day and night, as if she were a paid nurse from a +hospital. While this was going on, and after Sir John had been quite +given up by the doctors, news came from India of Master Charles's death. +Well, her ladyship went nigh distracted; but as for the baronet, it was +said, though I won't vouch for the truth of it, that he only laughed +when the news was told him, and said that if he was plagued as much with +corns in the next world as he had been in this, he should find Master +Charles's arm very useful to lean upon. Two days later he died, and the +title, and Dene Folly with it, went to a far-away cousin, whom neither +Sir John nor his wife had ever seen. Then it was found how the baronet +had contrived that his spite should outlive him—for only out of spite +and mean cruelty could he have made such a will as he did make: that +Deepley Walls should not become her ladyship's absolute property till +the end of twenty years, during the whole of which time his body was to +remain unburied, and to be kept under the same roof with his widow, +wherever she might live. The mean, paltry scoundrel! Perhaps her +ladyship might have had the will set aside, but she would not go to law +about it. Thank Heaven! the twenty years are nearly at an end. Deepley +Walls has been a haunted house ever since that midnight when Sir John +was borne in on the shoulders of six strong men. And now tell me whether +her ladyship is not a woman to be pitied."</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>At a quarter before eleven next morning, Mr. Solomon Madgin, Lady +Chillington's agent and general man-of-business, arrived by appointment +at Deepley Walls. Mr. Madgin was indispensable to her ladyship, who had +a considerable quantity of house property in and around Eastbury, +consisting chiefly of small tenements, the rents of which had to be +collected weekly. Then Mr. Madgin was bailiff for the Deepley Walls +estate, in connection with which were several small farms or "holdings" +which required to be well looked after in many ways. Besides all this, +her ladyship, having a few spare thousands, had taken of late years to +dabbling in scrip and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_371" id="Page_371">[Pg 371]</a></span> shares in a small way, and under the skilful +pilotage of Mr. Madgin had hitherto contrived to steer clear of those +rocks and shoals of speculation on which so many gallant argosies are +wrecked. In short, everything except the law-business of the estate +filtered through Mr. Madgin's hands, and as he did his work cheaply and +well, and put up with her ladyship's ill-temper without a murmur, the +mistress of Deepley Walls could hardly have found anyone who would have +suited her better.</p> + +<p>Mr. Solomon Madgin was a little dried-up man, about sixty years old. His +tail-coat and vest of rusty black were of the fashion of twenty years +ago. He wore drab trousers, and shoes tied with bows of black ribbon. +His head, bald on the crown, had an ample fringe of white hair at the +back and sides, and was covered, when he went abroad, with a beaver hat, +very fluffy and much too tall for him, and which, once upon a time, had +probably been nearly as white as his hair, but was now time-worn and +weather-stained to one uniform and consistent drab. Round his neck he +always wore a voluminous cravat of unstarched muslin fastened in front +with an old-fashioned pearl brooch, above which protruded the two spiked +points of a very stiff and pugnacious-looking collar. A strong alpaca +umbrella, unfashionably corpulent, was his constant companion. Mr. +Madgin's whiskers were shaved off in an exact line with the end of his +nose. His eyebrows were very white and bushy, and could serve on +occasion as a screen to the greenish, crafty-looking eyes below them, +which never liked to be peered into too closely. The ordinary expression +of his thin, dried-up face was one of hard, worldly shrewdness; but +there was a lurking bonhommie in his smile which seemed to imply that, +away from business, he might possibly mellow into a boon companion.</p> + +<p>Mr. Madgin had to wait a few minutes this morning before Lady +Chillington could receive him. When he was ushered into her sitting-room +he was surprised to find that she and Miss Hope were not alone; that a +plainly-dressed man, who looked almost as old as Mr. Madgin himself, was +seated at the table. After one suspicious glance at the stranger, Mr. +Madgin made his bow to the ladies and walked up to the table with his +bag of papers.</p> + +<p>"You can put all those things away for the day, Mr. Madgin," said her +ladyship. "A far more important matter claims our attention just now. In +the first place I must introduce to you Sergeant Nicholas, many years +ago servant to my son, Captain Chillington, who died in India. +(Sergeant, this is Mr. Madgin, my man of business.) The Sergeant, who +has only just returned to England, told me yesterday a very curious +story which I am desirous that he should repeat in your presence to-day. +The story relates to a diamond of great value, said to have been stolen +from the body of my son immediately after death, and I shall require you +to give me your opinion as to the feasibility of its recovery. You will +take such notes<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_372" id="Page_372">[Pg 372]</a></span> of the narrative as you may think necessary, and the +Sergeant will afterwards answer, to the best of his ability, any +questions you may choose to put to him." Then turning to the old +soldier, she added: "You will be good enough, Sergeant, to repeat to Mr. +Madgin such parts of your narrative of yesterday as have any reference +to the diamond. Begin with my son's dying message. Repeat, word for +word, as closely as you can remember, all that was told you by the sycee +Rung. Describe as minutely as possible the personal appearance of M. +Platzoff; and detail any other points that bear on the loss of the +diamond."</p> + +<p>So the Sergeant began, but the repetition of a long narrative not learnt +by heart is by no means an easy matter, especially when they to whom it +was first told hear it for the second time, but rather as critics than +as ordinary listeners. Besides, the taking of notes was a process that +smacked of a court-martial and tended to flurry the narrator, making him +feel as if he were upon his oath and liable to be browbeat by the +counsel for the other side. He was heartily glad when he got to the end +of what he had to tell. The postscript to Captain Chillington's letter +was then read by Miss Hope.</p> + +<p>Mr. Madgin took copious notes as the Sergeant went on, and afterwards +put a few questions to him on different points which he thought not +sufficiently clear. Then he laid down his pen, rubbed his hands, and ran +his fingers through his scanty hair. Lady Chillington rang for her +butler, and gave the Sergeant into his keeping, knowing that he could +not be in better hands. Then she said: "I will leave you, Mr. Madgin, +for half-an-hour. Go carefully through your notes, and let me have your +opinion when I come back as to whether, after so long a time, you think +it worth while to institute any proceedings for the recovery of the +diamond."</p> + +<p>So Mr. Madgin was left alone with what he called his "considering cap." +As soon as the door was closed behind her ladyship, he tilted back his +chair, stuck his feet on the table, buried his hands deep in his pockets +and shut his eyes, and so remained for full five-and-twenty minutes. He +was busy consulting his notes when Lady Chillington re-entered the room. +Mr. Madgin began at once.</p> + +<p>"I must confess," he said, "that the case which your ladyship has +submitted to me seems, from what I can see of it at present, to be +surrounded with difficulties. Still, I am far from counselling your +ladyship to despair entirely. The few points which, at the first glance, +present themselves as requiring solution are these:—Who was the M. +Platzoff who is said to have stolen the diamond? and what position in +life did he really occupy? Is he alive or dead? If alive, where is he +now living? If he did really steal the diamond, are not the chances as a +hundred to one that he disposed of it long ago? But even granting that +we were in a position to answer all these questions; suppose, even, that +this M. Platzoff were living in Eastbury at the present moment, and that +fact were known to us,<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_373" id="Page_373">[Pg 373]</a></span> how much nearer should we be to the recovery of +the diamond than we are now? Your ladyship must please to bear in mind +that as the case is now we have not an inch of legal ground to stand +upon. We have no evidence that would be worth a rush in a court of law +that M. Platzoff really purloined the diamond. We have no trustworthy +evidence that the diamond itself ever had an existence."</p> + +<p>"Surely, Mr. Madgin, my son's letter is sufficient to prove that fact."</p> + +<p>"Sufficient, perhaps, in conjunction with the other evidence, to prove +it in a moral sense, but certainly not in a legal one," said Mr. Madgin, +quietly but decisively. "Your ladyship must please to bear in mind that +Captain Chillington in his letter makes no absolute mention of the +diamond by name; he merely writes of it vaguely under certain initials, +and, if called upon, how could you prove that he intended those initials +to stand for the words <i>Great Hara Diamond</i>, and not for something +altogether different? If M. Platzoff were your ladyship's next-door +neighbour, and you knew for certain that he had the diamond still in his +possession, you could only get it from him as he himself got it from +your son—by subterfuge and artifice. Your ladyship will please to +observe that I have put forward no opinion on the case. I have merely +offered a statement of plain facts as they show themselves on the +surface. With those facts before you it rests with your ladyship to +decide what further steps you wish taken in the matter."</p> + +<p>"My good Madgin, do you know what it is to hate?" demanded Lady +Chillington. "To hate with a hatred that dwarfs all other passions of +the soul, and makes them pigmies by comparison? If you know this, you +know the feeling with which I regard M. Platzoff. If you want the key to +the feeling, you have it in the fact that his accursed hands robbed my +dead son: even then you must have a mother's heart to feel all that I +feel." She paused for a moment as if to recover breath; then she +resumed. "See you, Mr. Solomon Madgin; I have a conviction, an +intuition, call it what you will, that this Russian scoundrel is still +alive. That is the first fact you have to find out. The next is, where +he is now residing. Then you will have to ascertain whether he has the +diamond still in his possession, and if so, by what means it can be +recovered. Only recover it for me—I ask not how or by what means—only +put into my hands the diamond that was stolen off my son's breast as he +lay dead; and the day you do that, my good Madgin, I will present you +with a cheque for five thousand pounds!"</p> + +<p>Mr. Madgin sat as one astounded; the power of reply seemed taken from +him.</p> + +<p>"Go, now," said Lady Chillington, after a few moments. "Ordinary +business is out of the question to-day. Go home and carefully digest +what I have just said to you. That you are a man of resources, I know +well; had you not been so, I would not have employed you<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_374" id="Page_374">[Pg 374]</a></span> in this +matter. Come to me to-morrow, next day, next week—when you like; only +don't come barren of ideas; don't come without a plan, likely or +unlikely, of some sort of a campaign."</p> + +<p>Mr. Madgin rose and swept his papers mechanically into his bag. "Your +ladyship said five thousand pounds, if I mistake not?" he stammered out.</p> + +<p>"A cheque for five thousand pounds shall be yours on the day you bring +me the diamond. Is not my word sufficient, or do you wish to have it +under bond and seal?" she asked with some hauteur.</p> + +<p>"Your ladyship's word is an all-sufficient bond," answered Mr. Madgin, +with sweet humility. He paused, with the handle of the door in his hand. +"Supposing I were to see my way to carrying out your ladyship's wishes +in this respect," he said deferentially, "or even to carrying out a +portion of them only, still it could not be done without expense—not +without considerable expense, maybe."</p> + +<p>"I give you carte-blanche as regards expenses," said her ladyship with +decision.</p> + +<p>Then Mr. Madgin gave a farewell duck of the head and went. He took his +way homeward through the park like a man walking in his sleep. With +wide-open eyes and hat well set on the back of his head, with his blue +bag in one hand and his umbrella under his arm, he trudged onward, even +after he had reached the busy streets of the little town, without seeing +anything or anyone. What he saw, he saw introspectively. On the one hand +glittered the tempting bait held out by Lady Chillington; on the other +loomed the dark problem that had to be solved before he could call the +golden apple his.</p> + +<p>"The most arrant wild-goose chase that ever I heard of in all my life," +he muttered to himself, as he halted at his own door. "Not a single ray +of light anywhere—not one."</p> + +<p>"Popsey," he called out to his daughter, when he was inside, "bring me +the decanter of whisky, some cold water, my tobacco-jar and a new +churchwarden into the office; and don't let me be disturbed by anyone +for four hours."</p> + +<p>(<i>To be continued.</i>)</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/01de.jpg" + alt="Decorative" + title="Decorative" /> +</div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_375" id="Page_375">[Pg 375]</a></span></p> +<h2>ON LETTER-WRITING.</h2> + + +<p>It is a matter of common remark that the epistolary art has been killed +by the penny post, not to speak of post-cards.</p> + +<p>This is a result which was hardly anticipated by Sir Rowland Hill, when, +in the face of many obstacles, he carried his great scheme; and +certainly it did not dwell very vividly before the mind of Mr. Elihu +Burritt, the learned blacksmith, when he travelled over England, +speaking there, as he had already done in America, in favour of an ocean +penny postage.</p> + +<p>It is urged that in the old days when postage was dear, and "franks" +were difficult to procure, and when the poor did not correspond at all, +writers were very careful to write well and to say the very best they +could in the best possible way—to make their letters, in a word, worthy +of the expense incurred. But those who argue on this ground leave out of +consideration one little fact.</p> + +<p>The classes to whom English literature is indebted for the epistolary +samples on which reliance is placed for proof of this proposition, very +seldom indeed paid for the conveyance of the letters in question. The +system of "franking"—by which the privileged classes got not only their +letters carried, but a great deal too often their dressing-cases and +bandboxes as well—grew into a most serious grievance; so serious indeed +that the opposition for a long period carried on against cheap postage +arose solely from over nice regard to the vested interests of those who +could command a little favour from a Peer, a Member of Parliament, or an +official of high rank, not to speak of those patriotic worthies +themselves.</p> + +<p>The fact may thus be made to cut two ways.</p> + +<p>From our point of view, it may be cited in direct denial of the +conclusion that people wrote well in past days simply because the +conveyance of their letters was costly. We believe that the mass wrote +just as badly and loosely then as the mass do now, in fact that they +were rather loose on rules of spelling; and that the specimens preserved +and presented to us in type are exceptional, and escaped destruction +with the mass precisely because they were exceptional.</p> + +<p>Other circumstances may be taken to account for the loose epistolary +style or rather no-style now so common; and this refers us to the +general question of education—more especially the education of women. +In those days the few were educated; and to be educated was regarded as +the distinctive mark of a leisured and cultivated class: now, education +is general, but, like many other things, it has suffered in the process +of diffusion, whether or not it may in the long run suffer by the +diffusion itself.</p> + +<p>The truth is, time alone can tell whether among the select<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_376" id="Page_376">[Pg 376]</a></span> nowadays the +epistolary art is not simply as perfect as it was in days past; at all +events we believe so, and proceed to set down a few reflections on +letter-writing.</p> + +<p>To write a really good letter, two things in especial are demanded. The +first is, that you write only of that which is either familiar to you or +in which you have some interest; and in the next, that you can write +with ease, and on a footing of freedom as regards your correspondent. +"The pen," says Cervantes, "is the tongue of the mind," and in no form +of composition is this more strictly true than of letters. In a certain +degree a letter should share the characteristics of good conversation: +the writer must realise the presence and the mood of the person for whom +the letter is destined. Just as good-breeding suggests that you must +have the tastes and sentiments of your interlocutor before you for ends +of enjoyable conversation, and that, within the limits of propriety and +self-respect, you should at once humour them and use them; so in good +letter-writing you must write for your correspondent's pleasure as well +as please, by merely communicating, yourself.</p> + +<p>Here comes in the delightful element of vicarious sympathy, or dramatic +transference, which, brought into play successfully, with some degree of +wit and sprightliness of expression, may raise letter-writing to the +level of a fine art.</p> + +<p>And this allowed, it is clear that letters may just be as good now as at +any former period, and accidental circumstances have really little to do +with it. Humboldt has well said that "A letter is a conversation between +the present and the absent. Its fate is that it cannot last, but must +pass away like the sound of the voice."</p> + +<p>And just as in conversation all attempt at eloquence and personal +celebration in this kind is rigidly proscribed, so in letter-writing are +all kinds of fine-writing and rhetoric. "Brilliant speakers and +writers," it has been well said, "should remember that coach wheels are +better than Catherine wheels to travel on." One's first business, in +letter-writing is to say what one has to say, and the second to say it +well and with taste and ease.</p> + +<p class="name"><span class="smcap">A.H. Japp, LL.D</span>.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/01de.jpg" + alt="Decorative" + title="Decorative" /> +</div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_377" id="Page_377">[Pg 377]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE SILENT CHIMES.</h2> + +<h3>SILENT FOR EVER.</h3> + + +<p>Breakfast was on the table in Mr. Hamlyn's house in Bryanstone Square, +and Mrs. Hamlyn waited, all impatience, for her lord and master. Not in +any particular impatience for the meal itself, but that she might "have +it out with him"—the phrase was hers, not mine, as you will see +presently—in regard to the perplexity existing in her mind connected +with the strange appearance of the damsel watching the house, in her +beauty and her pale golden hair.</p> + +<p>Why had Philip Hamlyn turned sick and faint—to judge by his changing +countenance—when she had charged him at dinner, the previous evening, +with knowing something of this mysterious woman? Mysterious in her +actions, at all events; probably in herself. Mrs. Hamlyn wanted to know +that. No further opportunity had then been given for pursuing the +subject. Japhet had returned to the room, and before the dinner was at +an end, some acquaintance of Mr. Hamlyn had fetched him out for the +evening. And he came home with so fearful a headache that he had lain +groaning and turning all through the night. Mrs. Hamlyn was not a model +of patience, but in all her life she had never felt so impatient as now.</p> + +<p>He came into the room looking pale and shivery; a sure sign that he was +suffering; that it was not an invented excuse. Yes, the pain was better, +he said, in answer to his wife's question; and might be much better +after a strong cup of tea; he could not imagine what had brought it on. +<i>She</i> could have told him though, had she been gifted with the magical +power of reading minds, and have seen the nervous apprehension that was +making havoc with his.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hamlyn gave him his tea in silence, and buttered a dainty bit of +toast to tempt him to eat. But he shook his head.</p> + +<p>"I cannot, Eliza. Nothing but tea this morning."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry you are ill," she said, by-and-by. "I fear it hurts you to +talk; but I want to have it out with you."</p> + +<p>"Have it out with me!" cried he, in real or feigned surprise. "Have what +out with me?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, you know, Philip. About that woman who has been watching the house +these two days; evidently watching for you."</p> + +<p>"But I told you I knew nothing about her: who she is, or what she is, or +what she wants. I really do not know."</p> + +<p>Well, so far that was true. But all the while a sick fear lay on<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_378" id="Page_378">[Pg 378]</a></span> his +heart that he did know; or, rather, that he was destined to know very +shortly.</p> + +<p>"When I told you her hair was like threads of fine, pale gold, you +seemed to start, Philip, as if you knew some girl or woman with such +hair, or had known her."</p> + +<p>"I daresay I have known a score of women with such hair. My dear little +sister who died, for instance."</p> + +<p>"Do not attempt to evade the subject," was the haughty reprimand. "If—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hamlyn's sharp speech was interrupted by the entrance of Japhet, +bringing in the morning letters. Only one letter, however, for they were +not as numerous in those days as they are in these.</p> + +<p>"It seems to be important, ma'am," Japhet remarked, with the privilege +of an old servant, as he handed it to his mistress. She saw it was from +Leet Hall, in Mrs. Carradyne's handwriting, and bore the words: "In +haste," above the address.</p> + +<p>Tearing it open, Eliza Hamlyn read the short, sad news it contained. +Captain Monk had been taken suddenly ill with inward inflammation. Mr. +Speck feared the worst, and the Captain had asked for Eliza. Would she +come down at once?</p> + +<p>"Oh, Philip, I must not lose a minute," she exclaimed, passing the +letter to him, and forgetting the pale gold hair and its owner. "Do you +know anything about the Worcestershire trains?"</p> + +<p>"No," he answered. "The better plan will be to get to the station as +soon as possible, and then you will be ready for the first train that +starts."</p> + +<p>"Will you go down with me, Philip?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot. I will take you to the station."</p> + +<p>"Why can't you?"</p> + +<p>"Because I cannot just now leave London. My dear, you may believe me, +for it is the truth. I <i>cannot do so</i>. I wish I could."</p> + +<p>And she saw it was true: for his tone was so earnest as to tell of pain.</p> + +<p>Making what haste she could, kissing her boy a hundred times, and +recommending him to the special care of his nurse and of his father +during her absence, she drove with her husband to the station, and was +just in time for a train. Mr. Hamlyn watched it steam out of the +station, and then looked up at the clock.</p> + +<p>"I suppose it's not too early to see him," he muttered. "I'll chance it, +at any rate. Hope he will be less suffering than he was yesterday, and +less crusty, too."</p> + +<p>Dismissing his carriage, for he felt more inclined to walk than to +drive, he went through the park to Pimlico, and gained the house of +Major Pratt.</p> + +<p>This was Friday. On the previous Wednesday evening a note had been +brought to Mr. Hamlyn by Major Pratt's servant, a sentence in which, as +the reader may remember, ran as follows:<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_379" id="Page_379">[Pg 379]</a></span></p> + +<div class="blockquot"><p>"<i>I suppose there was no mistake in the report that that ship did +go down—and that none of the passengers were saved from it?</i>"</p></div> + +<p>This puzzled Philip Hamlyn: perhaps somewhat troubled him in a hazy kind +of way. For he could only suppose that the ship alluded to must be the +sailing vessel in which his first wife, false and faithless, and his +little son of a twelvemonth old had been lost some five or six years +ago—the <i>Clipper of the Seas</i>. And the next day, (Thursday) he had gone +to Major Pratt's, as requested, to carry the prescription for gout he +had asked for, and also to inquire of the Major what he meant.</p> + +<p>But the visit was a fruitless one. Major Pratt was in bed with an attack +of gout, so ill and so "crusty" that nothing could be got out of him +excepting a few bad words and as many groans. Mr. Hamlyn then questioned +Saul—of whom he used to see a good deal in India, for he had been the +Major's servant for years and years.</p> + +<p>"Do you happen to know, Saul, whether the Major wanted me for anything +in particular? He asked me to call here this morning."</p> + +<p>Saul began to consider. He was a tall, thin, cautious, slow-speaking +man, honest as the day, and very much attached to his master.</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, he got a letter yesterday morning that seemed to put him +out, for I found him swearing over it. And he said he'd like you to see +it."</p> + +<p>"Who was the letter from? What was it about?"</p> + +<p>"It looked like Miss Caroline's writing, sir, and the postmark was +Essex. As to what it was about—well, the Major didn't directly tell me, +but I gathered that it might be about—"</p> + +<p>"About what?" questioned Mr Hamlyn, for the man had come to a dead +standstill. "Speak out, Saul."</p> + +<p>"Then, sir," said Saul, slowly rubbing the top of his head, and the few +grey hairs left on it, "I thought—as you tell me to speak—it must be +something concerning that ship you know of; she that went down on her +voyage home, Mr. Philip."</p> + +<p>"The <i>Clipper of the Seas</i>?"</p> + +<p>"Just so, sir; the <i>Clipper of the Seas</i>. I thought it by this," added +Saul: "that pretty nigh all day afterwards he talked of nothing but that +ship, asking me if I should suppose it possible that the ship had not +gone down and every soul on board, leastways of her passengers, with +her. 'Master,' said I, in answer, 'had that ship not gone down and all +her passengers with her, rely upon it, they'd have turned up long before +this.' 'Ay, ay,' stormed he, 'and Caroline's a fool'—Which of course +meant his sister, you know, sir."</p> + +<p>Philip Hamlyn could not make much of this. So many years had elapsed now +since news came out to the world that the unfortunate ship, <i>Clipper of +the Seas</i>, went down off the coast of Spain<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_380" id="Page_380">[Pg 380]</a></span> on her homeward voyage, and +all her passengers with her, as to be a fact of the past. Never a doubt +had been cast upon any part of the tidings, so far as he knew.</p> + +<p>With an uneasy feeling at his heart, he went off to the city, to call +upon the brokers, or agents, of the ship: remembering quite well who +they were, and that they lived in Fenchurch Street. An elderly man, +clerk in the house for many years, and now a partner, received him.</p> + +<p>"The <i>Clipper of the Seas</i>?" repeated the old gentleman, after listening +to what Mr. Hamlyn had to say. "No, sir, we don't know that any of her +passengers were saved; always supposed they were not. But lately we have +had some little cause to doubt whether one or two might not have been."</p> + +<p>Philip Hamlyn's heart beat faster.</p> + +<p>"Will you tell me why you think this?"</p> + +<p>"It isn't that we think it; at best 'tis but a doubt," was the reply. +"One of our own ships, getting in last month from Madras, had a sailor +on board who chanced to remark to me, when he was up here getting his +pay, that it was not the first time he had served in our employ: he had +been in that ship that was lost, the <i>Clipper of the Seas</i>. And he went +on to say, in answer to a remark of mine about all the passengers having +been lost, that that was not quite correct, for that one of them had +certainly been saved—a lady or a nurse, he didn't know which, and also +a little child that she was in charge of. He was positive about it, he +added, upon my expressing my doubts, for they got to shore in the same +small boat that he did."</p> + +<p>"Is it true, think you?" gasped Mr. Hamlyn.</p> + +<p>"Sir, we are inclined to think it is not true," emphatically spoke the +old gentleman. "Upon inquiring about this man's character, we found that +he is given to drinking, so that what he says cannot always be relied +upon. Again, it seems next to an impossibility that if any passenger +were saved we should not have heard of it. Altogether we feel inclined +to judge that the man, though evidently believing he spoke truth, was +but labouring under an hallucination."</p> + +<p>"Can you tell me where I can find the man?" asked Mr. Hamlyn, after a +pause.</p> + +<p>"Not anywhere at present, sir. He has sailed again."</p> + +<p>So that ended it for the day. Philip Hamlyn went home and sat down to +dinner with his wife, as already spoken of. And when she told him that +the mysterious lady waiting outside must be waiting for him—probably +some acquaintance of his of the years gone by—it set his brain working +and his pulses throbbing, for he suddenly connected her with what he had +that day heard. No wonder his head ached!</p> + +<p>To-day, after seeing his wife off by train, he went to find Major Pratt. +The Major was better, and could talk, swearing a great deal over the +gout, and the letter.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_381" id="Page_381">[Pg 381]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It was from Caroline," he said, alluding to his sister, Miss Pratt, who +had been with him in India. "She lives in Essex, you know, Philip."</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, I know," answered Philip Hamlyn. "But what is it that Caroline +says in her letter?"</p> + +<p>"You shall hear," said the Major, producing his sister's letter and +opening it. "Listen. Here it is. 'The strangest thing has happened, +brother! Susan went to London yesterday to get my fronts recurled at the +hairdresser's, and she was waiting in the shop, when a lady came out of +the back room, having been in there to get a little boy's hair cut. +Susan was quite struck dumb when she saw her: <i>She thinks it was poor +erring Dolly</i>; never saw such a likeness before, she says; could almost +swear to her by the lovely pale gold hair. The lady pulled her veil over +her face when she saw Susan staring at her, and went away with great +speed. Susan asked the hairdresser's people if they knew the lady's +name, or who she was, but they told her she was a stranger to them; had +never been in the shop before. Dear Richard, this is troubling me; I +could not sleep all last night for thinking of it. Do you suppose it is +possible that Dolly and the boy were not drowned? Your affectionate +sister, Caroline.' Now, did you ever read such a letter?" stormed the +Major. "If that Susan went home and said she'd seen St. Paul's blown up, +Caroline would believe it. Who's Susan, d'ye say? Why, you've lost your +memory, Philip. Susan was the English maid we had with us in Calcutta."</p> + +<p>"It cannot possibly be true," cried Mr. Hamlyn with quivering lips.</p> + +<p>"True, no! of course it can't be, hang it! Or else what would you do?"</p> + +<p>That might be logical though not satisfactory reasoning. And Mr. Hamlyn +thought of the woman said to be watching for him, and her pale gold +hair.</p> + +<p>"She was a cunning jade, if ever there was one, mark you, Philip Hamlyn; +that false wife of yours and kin of mine; came of a cunning family on +the mother's side. Put it that she <i>was</i> saved: if it suited her to let +us suppose she was drowned, why, she'd do it. <i>I</i> know Dolly."</p> + +<p>And poor Philip Hamlyn, assenting to the truth of this with all his +heart, went out to face the battle that might be coming upon him, +lacking the courage for it.</p> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<p>The cold, clear afternoon air touching their healthy faces, and Jack +Frost nipping their noses, raced Miss West and Kate Dancox up and down +the hawthorn walk. It had pleased that arbitrary young damsel, who was +still very childish, to enter a protest against going beyond the grounds +that fine winter's day; she would be in the hawthorn<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_382" id="Page_382">[Pg 382]</a></span> walk, or nowhere; +and she would run races there. As Miss West gave in to her whims for +peace' sake in things not important, and as she was young enough herself +not to dislike running, to the hawthorn walk they went.</p> + +<p>Captain Monk was recovering rapidly. His sudden illness had been caused +by drinking some cold cider when some out-door exercise had made him +dangerously hot. The alarm and apprehension had now subsided; and Mrs. +Hamlyn, arriving three days ago in answer to the hasty summons, was +thinking of returning to London.</p> + +<p>"You are cheating!" called out Kate, flying off at a tangent to cross +her governess's path. "You've no right to get before me!"</p> + +<p>"Gently," corrected Miss West. "My dear, we have run enough for to-day."</p> + +<p>"We haven't, you ugly, cross old thing! Aunt Eliza says you <i>are</i> ugly. +And—"</p> + +<p>The young lady's amenities were cut short by finding herself suddenly +lifted off her feet by Mr. Harry Carradyne, who had come behind them.</p> + +<p>"Let me alone, Harry! You are always coming where you are not wanted. +Aunt Eliza says so."</p> + +<p>A sudden light, as of mirth, illumined Harry Carradyne's fresh, frank +countenance. "Aunt Eliza says all those things, does she? Well, Miss +Kate, she also says something else—that you are now to go indoors."</p> + +<p>"What for? I shan't go in."</p> + +<p>"Oh, very well. Then that dandified silk frock for the new year that the +dressmaker is waiting to try on can be put aside until midsummer."</p> + +<p>Kate dearly loved new silk frocks, and she raced away. The governess +followed more slowly, Mr. Carradyne talking by her side.</p> + +<p>For some months now their love dream had been going on; aye, and the +love-making too. Not altogether surreptitiously; neither of them would +have liked that. Though not expedient to proclaim it yet to Captain Monk +and the world, Mrs. Carradyne knew of it and tacitly sanctioned it.</p> + +<p>Alice West turned her face, blushing uncomfortably, to him as they +walked. "I am glad to have this opportunity of saying something to you," +she spoke with hesitation. "Are you not upon rather bad terms with Mrs. +Hamlyn?"</p> + +<p>"She is with me," replied Harry.</p> + +<p>"And—am <i>I</i> the cause?" continued Alice, feeling as if her fears were +confirmed.</p> + +<p>"Not at all. She has not fathomed the truth yet, with all her +penetration, though she may have some suspicion of it. Eliza wants to +bend me to her will in the matter of the house, and I won't be bent. Old +Peveril wishes to resign the lease of Peacock Range to me; I wish to +take it from him, and Eliza objects. She says Peveril<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_383" id="Page_383">[Pg 383]</a></span> promised her the +house until the seven years' lease was out, and that she means to keep +him to his bargain."</p> + +<p>"Do you quarrel?"</p> + +<p>"Quarrel! no," laughed Harry Carradyne. "I joke with her, rather than +quarrel. But I don't give in. She pays me some left-handed compliments, +telling me that I am no gentleman, that I'm a bear, and so on; to which +I make my bow."</p> + +<p>Alice West was gazing straight before her, a troubled look in her eyes. +"Then you see that I <i>am</i> the remote cause of the quarrel, Harry. But +for thinking of me, you would not care to take the house on your own +hands."</p> + +<p>"I don't know that. Be very sure of one thing, Alice: that I shall not +stay an hour longer under the roof here if my uncle disinherits me. That +he, a man of indomitable will, should be so long making up his mind is a +proof that he shrinks from committing the injustice. The suspense it +keeps me in is the worst of all. I told him so the other evening when we +were sitting together and he was in an amiable mood. I said that any +decision he might come to would be more tolerable than this prolonged +suspense."</p> + +<p>Alice drew a long breath at his temerity.</p> + +<p>Harry laughed. "Indeed, I quite expected to be ordered out of the room +in a storm. Instead of that, he took it quietly, civilly telling me to +have a little more patience; and then began to speak of the annual new +year's dinner, which is not far off now."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Carradyne is thinking that he may not hold the dinner this year, +as he has been so ill," remarked the young lady.</p> + +<p>"He will never give that up, Alice, as long as he can hold anything; and +he is almost well again, you know. Oh, yes; we shall have the dinner and +the chimes also."</p> + +<p>"I have never heard the chimes," she said. "They have not played since I +came to Church Leet."</p> + +<p>"They are to play this year," said Harry Carradyne. "But I don't think +my mother knows it."</p> + +<p>"Is it true that Mrs. Carradyne does not like to hear the chimes? I seem +to have gathered the idea, somehow," added Alice. But she received no +answer.</p> + +<p>Kate Dancox was changeable as the ever-shifting sea. Delighted with the +frock that was in process, she extended her approbation to its maker; +and when Mrs. Ram, a homely workwoman, departed with her small bundle in +her arms, it pleased the young lady to say she would attend her to her +home. This involved the attendance of Miss West, who now found herself +summoned to the charge.</p> + +<p>Having escorted Mrs. Ram to her lowly door, and had innumerable +intricate questions answered touching trimmings and fringes, Miss Kate +Dancox, disregarding her governess altogether, flew back along the road +with all the speed of her active limbs, and disappeared within the +churchyard. At first Alice, who was growing tired and followed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_384" id="Page_384">[Pg 384]</a></span> slowly, +could not see her; presently, a desperate shriek guided her to an +unfrequented corner where the graves were crowded. Miss Kate had come to +grief in jumping over a tombstone, and bruised both her knees.</p> + +<p>"There!" exclaimed Alice, sitting down on the stump of an old tree, +close to the low wall. "You've hurt yourself now."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's nothing," returned Kate, who did not make much of smarts. And +she went limping away to Mr. Grame, then doing some light work in his +garden.</p> + +<p>Alice sat on where she was, reading the inscription on the tombstones; +some of them so faint with time as to be hardly discernible. While +standing up to make out one that seemed of a rather better class than +the rest, she observed Nancy Cale, the clerk's wife, sitting in the +church-porch and watching her attentively. The poor old woman had been +ill for a long time, and Alice was surprised to see her out. Leaving the +inscriptions, she went across the churchyard.</p> + +<p>"Ay, my dear young lady, I be up again, and thankful enough to say it; +and I thought as the day's so fine, I'd step out a bit," she said, in +answer to the salutation. An intelligent woman, and quite sufficiently +cultivated for her work—cleaning the church and washing the parson's +surplices. "I thought John was in the church here, and came to speak to +him; but he's not, I find; the door's locked."</p> + +<p>"I saw John down by Mrs. Ram's just now; he was talking to Nott, the +carpenter," observed Alice. "Nancy, I was trying to make out some of +those old names; but it is difficult to do so," she added, pointing to +the crowded corner.</p> + +<p>"Ay, I see, my dear," nodded Nancy. "<i>His</i> be worn a'most right off. I +think I'd have it done again, an' I was you."</p> + +<p>"Have what done again?"</p> + +<p>"The name upon your poor papa's gravestone."</p> + +<p>"The <i>what</i>?" exclaimed Alice. And Nancy repeated her words.</p> + +<p>Alice stared at her. Had Mrs. Cale's wits vanished in her illness? "Do +you know what you are saying, Nancy?" she cried; "I don't. What had papa +to do with this place? I think you must be wandering."</p> + +<p>Nancy stared in her turn. "Sure, it's not possible," she said slowly, +beginning to put two and two together, "that you don't know who you are, +Miss West? That your papa died here? and lies buried here?"</p> + +<p>Alice West turned white, and sat down on the opposite bench to Nancy. +She did know that her father had died at some small country living he +held; but she never suspected that it was at Church Leet. Her mother had +gone to London after his death, and set up a school—which succeeded +well. But soon she died, and the ladies who took to the school before +her death took to Alice with it. The child was still too young to be +told by her mother of the serious past—or Mrs.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_385" id="Page_385">[Pg 385]</a></span> West deemed her to be +so. And she had grown up in ignorance of her father's fate and of where +he died.</p> + +<p>"When we heard, me and John, that it was a Miss West who had come to the +Hall to be governess to Parson Dancox's child, the name struck us both," +went on Nancy. "Next we looked at your face, my dear, to trace any +likeness there might be, and we thought we saw it—for you've got your +papa's eyes for certain. Then, one day when I was dusting in here, I let +fall a hymn-book from the Hall pew; in picking it up it came open, and +the name writ in it stared me in the face, '<i>Alice</i> West.' After that, +we had no manner of doubt, him and me, and I've often wished to talk +with you and tell you so. My dear, I've had you on my knee many a time +when you were a little one."</p> + +<p>Alice burst into tears of agitation. "I never knew it! I never knew it. +Dear Nancy, what did papa die of?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, that was a sad piece of business—he was killed," said Nancy. And +forthwith, rightly or wrongly, she, garrulous with old age, told all the +history.</p> + +<p>It was an exciting interview, lasting until the shades of evening +surprised them. Miss Kate Dancox might have gone roving to the other end +of the globe, for all the attention given her just then. Poor Alice +cried and sighed, and trembled inwardly and outwardly. "To think that it +should just be to this place that I should come as governess, and to the +house of Captain Monk!" she wailed. "Surely he did not <i>kill</i> +papa!—intentionally!"</p> + +<p>"No, no; nobody has ever thought that," disclaimed Nancy. "The Captain +is a passionate man, as is well known, and they quarrelled, and a hot +blow, not intentional, must have been struck between 'em. And all +through them blessed chimes, Miss Alice! Not but that they be sweet to +listen to—and they be going to ring again this New Year's Eve."</p> + +<p>Drawing her warm cloak about her, Nancy Cale set off towards her +cottage. Alice West sat on in the sheltered porch, utterly bewildered. +Never in her life had she felt so agitated, so incapable of sound and +sober thought. <i>Now</i> it was explained why the bow-windowed sitting-room +at the Vicarage would always strike her as being familiar to her memory; +as though she had at some time known one that resembled it, or perhaps +seen one like it in a dream.</p> + +<p>"Well, I'm sure!"</p> + +<p>The jesting salutation came from Harry Carradyne. Despatched in search +of the truants, he had found Kate at the Vicarage, making much of the +last new baby there, and devouring a sumptuous tea of cakes and jam. +Miss West? Oh, Miss West was sitting in the church porch, talking to old +Nancy Cale, she said to Harry.</p> + +<p>"Why! What is it?" he exclaimed in dismay, finding that the burst of +emotion which he had taken to be laughter, meant tears. "What has +happened, Alice?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_386" id="Page_386">[Pg 386]</a></span></p> + +<p>She could no more have kept the tears in than she could +help—presently—telling him the news. He sat down by her and held her +close to him, and pressed for it. She was the daughter of George West, +who had died in the dispute with Captain Monk in the dining-room at the +Hall so many years before, and who was lying here in the corner of the +churchyard; and she had never, never known it!</p> + +<p>Mr. Carradyne was somewhat taken to; there was no denying it; chiefly by +surprise.</p> + +<p>"I thought your father was a soldier, Alice—Colonel West; and died when +serving in India. I'm sure it was said so when you came."</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, that could not have been said," she cried; "unless Mrs. Moffit, +the agent, made the mistake. It was my uncle who died in India. No one +here ever questioned me about my parents, knowing they were dead. Oh, +dear," she went on in agitation, after a silent pause, "what am I to do +now? I cannot stay at the Hall. Captain Monk would not allow it either."</p> + +<p>"No need to tell him," quoth Mr. Harry.</p> + +<p>"And—of course—we must part. You and I."</p> + +<p>"Indeed! Who says so?"</p> + +<p>"I am not sure that it would be right to—to—you know."</p> + +<p>"To what? Go on, my dear."</p> + +<p>Alice sighed; her eyes were fixed thoughtfully on the fast falling +twilight. "Mrs. Carradyne will not care for me when she knows who I am," +she said in low tones.</p> + +<p>"My dear, shall I tell you how it strikes me?" returned Harry: "that my +mother will be only the more anxious to have you connected with us by +closer and dearer ties, so as to atone to you, in even a small degree, +for the cruel wrong which fell upon your father. As to me—it shall be +made my life's best and dearest privilege."</p> + +<p>But when a climax such as this takes place, the right or the wrong thing +to be done cannot be settled in a moment. Alice West did not see her way +quite clearly, and for the present she neither said nor did anything.</p> + +<p>This little matter occurred on the Friday in Christmas week; on the +following day, Saturday, Mrs. Hamlyn was returning to London. Christmas +Day this year had fallen on a Monday. Some old wives hold a superstition +that when that happens, it inaugurates but small luck for the following +year, either for communities or for individuals. Not that that fancy has +anything to do with the present history. Captain Monk's banquet would +not be held until the Monday night: as was customary when New Year's Eve +fell on a Sunday. He had urged his daughter to remain over New Year's +Day; but she declined, on the plea that as she had been away from her +husband on Christmas Day, she would like to pass New Year's Day with +him. The truth being that she wanted to get to London to see after that +yellow-haired lady who was supposed to be peeping after Philip Hamlyn.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_387" id="Page_387">[Pg 387]</a></span></p> + +<p>On the Saturday morning, Mrs. Hamlyn was driven to Evesham in the close +carriage, and took the train to London. Her husband, ever kind and +attentive, met her at the Paddington terminus. He was looking haggard, +and seemed to be thinner than when she left him nine days ago.</p> + +<p>"Are you well, Philip?" she asked anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Oh, quite well," quickly answered poor Philip Hamlyn, smiling a warm +smile, that he meant to look like a gay one. "Nothing ever ails me."</p> + +<p>No, nothing might ail him bodily; but mentally—ah, how much! That awful +terror lay upon him thick and threefold; it had not yet come to any +solution, one way or the other. Major Pratt had taken up the very worst +view of it; and spent his days pitching hard names at misbehaving +syrens, gifted with "the deuce's own cunning" and with mermaids' shining +hair.</p> + +<p>"And how have things been going, Penelope?" asked Mrs. Hamlyn of the +nurse, as she sat in the nursery with her boy upon her knee. "All +right?"</p> + +<p>"Quite so, ma'am. Master Walter has been just as good as gold."</p> + +<p>"Mamma's darling!" murmured the doting mother, burying her face in his. +"I have been thinking, Penelope, that your master does not look well," +she added after a minute.</p> + +<p>"No, ma'am? I've not noticed it. We have not seen much of him up here; +he has been at his club a good deal—and dined three or four times with +old Major Pratt."</p> + +<p>"As if she would notice it!—servants never notice anything!" thought +Eliza Hamlyn in her imperious way of judging the world. "By the way, +Penelope," she said aloud in light and careless tones, "has that woman +with the yellow hair been seen about much?—has she presumed again to +accost my little son?"</p> + +<p>"The woman with the yellow hair?" repeated Penelope, looking at her +mistress, for the girl had quite forgotten the episode. "Oh, I +remember—she that stood outside there and came to us in the +square-garden. No, ma'am, I've seen nothing at all of her since that +day."</p> + +<p>"For there are wicked people who prowl about to kidnap children," +continued Mrs. Hamlyn, as if she would condescend to explain her +inquiry, "and that woman looked like one. Never suffer her to approach +my darling again. Mind that, Penelope."</p> + +<p>The jealous heart is not easily reassured. And Mrs. Hamlyn, restless and +suspicious, put the same question to her husband. It was whilst they +were waiting in the drawing-room for dinner to be announced, and she had +come down from changing her apparel after her journey. How handsome she +looked! a right regal woman! as she stood there arrayed in dark blue +velvet, the fire-light playing upon her proud face, and upon the diamond +earrings and brooch she wore.</p> + +<p>"Philip, has that woman been prowling about here again?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_388" id="Page_388">[Pg 388]</a></span></p> + +<p>Just for an imperceptible second, for thought is quick, it occurred to +Philip Hamlyn to temporise, to affect ignorance, and say, What woman? +just as if his mind were not full of the woman, and of nothing else. But +he abandoned it as useless.</p> + +<p>"I have not seen her since; not at all," he answered: and though his +words were purposely indifferent, his wife, knowing all his tones and +ways by heart, was not deceived. "He is afraid of that woman," she +whispered to herself; "or else afraid of <i>me</i>." But she said no more.</p> + +<p>"Have you come to any definite understanding with Mr. Carradyne in +regard to Peacock's Range, Eliza?"</p> + +<p>"He will not come to any; he is civilly obstinate over it. Laughs in my +face with the most perfect impudence, and tells me: 'A man must be +allowed to put in his own claim to his own house, when he wants to do +so.'"</p> + +<p>"Well, Eliza, that seems to be only right and fair. Percival made no +positive agreement with us, remember."</p> + +<p>"<i>Is</i> it right and fair! That may be your opinion, Philip, but it is not +mine. We shall see, Mr. Harry Carradyne!"</p> + +<p>"Dinner is served, ma'am," announced the old butler.</p> + +<p>That evening passed. Sunday passed, the last day of the dying year; and +Monday morning, New Year's day, dawned.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>New Year's Day. Mr. and Mrs. Hamlyn were seated at the breakfast-table. +It was a bright, cold, sunny morning, showing plenty of blue sky. Young +Master Walter, in consideration of the day, was breakfasting at their +table, seated in his high chair.</p> + +<p>"Me to have dinner wid mamma to-day! Me have pudding!"</p> + +<p>"That you shall, my sweetest; and everything that's good," assented his +mother.</p> + +<p>In came Japhet at this juncture. "There's a little boy in the hall, sir, +asking to see you," said he to his master. "He—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, we shall have plenty of boys here to-day, asking for a new year's +gift," interposed Mrs. Hamlyn, rather impatiently. "Send him a shilling, +Philip."</p> + +<p>"It's not a poor boy, ma'am," answered Japhet, "but a little gentleman: +six or seven years old, he looks. He says he particularly wants to see +master."</p> + +<p>Philip Hamlyn smiled. "Particularly wants a shilling, I expect. Send him +in, Japhet."</p> + +<p>The lad came in. A well-dressed beautiful boy, refined in looks and +demeanour, bearing in his face a strange likeness to Mr. Hamlyn. He +looked about timidly.</p> + +<p>Eliza, struck with the resemblance, gazed at him. Her husband spoke. +"What do you want with me, my lad?"</p> + +<p>"If you please, sir, are you Mr. Hamlyn?" asked the child, going forward +with hesitating steps. "Are you my papa?"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_389" id="Page_389">[Pg 389]</a></span></p> + +<p>Every drop of blood seemed to leave Philip Hamlyn's face and fly to his +heart. He could not speak, and looked white as a ghost.</p> + +<p>"Who are you? What is your name?" imperiously demanded Philip's wife.</p> + +<p>"It is Walter Hamlyn," replied the lad, in clear, pretty tones.</p> + +<p>And now it was Mrs. Hamlyn's turn to look white. Walter Hamlyn?—the +name of her own dear son! when she had expected him to say Sam Smith, or +John Jones! What insolence some people had!</p> + +<p>"Where do you come from, boy? Who sent you here?" she reiterated.</p> + +<p>"I come from mamma. She would have sent me before, but I caught cold, +and was in bed all last week."</p> + +<p>Mr. Hamlyn rose. It was a momentous predicament, but he must do the best +he could in it. He was a man of nice honour, and he wished with all his +heart that the earth would open and engulf him. "Eliza, my love, allow +me to deal with this matter," he said, his voice taking a low, tender, +considerate tone. "I will question the boy in another room. Some +mistake, I reckon."</p> + +<p>"No, Philip, you must put your questions before me," she said, resolute +in her anger. "What is it you are fearing? Better tell me all, however +disreputable it may be."</p> + +<p>"I dare not tell you," he gasped; "it is not—I fear—the disreputable +thing you may be fancying."</p> + +<p>"Not dare! By what right do you call this gentleman 'papa'?" she +passionately demanded of the child.</p> + +<p>"Mamma told me to. She would never let me come home to him before +because of not wishing to part from me."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Hamlyn gazed at him. "Where were you born?"</p> + +<p>"At Calcutta; that's in India. Mamma brought me home in the <i>Clipper of +the Seas</i>, and the ship went down, but quite everybody was not lost in +it, though papa thought so."</p> + +<p>The boy had evidently been well instructed. Eliza Hamlyn, grasping the +whole truth now, staggered back in terror.</p> + +<p>"Philip! Philip! is it true? Was it <i>this</i> you feared?"</p> + +<p>He made a motion of assent and covered his face. "Heaven knows I would +rather have died."</p> + +<p>He stood back against the window-curtains, that they might shade his +pain. She fell into a chair and wished he <i>had</i> died, years before.</p> + +<p>But what was to be the end of it all? Though Eliza Hamlyn went straight +out and despatched that syren of the golden hair with a poison-tipped +bodkin (and possibly her will might be good to do it), it could not make +things any the better for herself.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_390" id="Page_390">[Pg 390]</a></span></p> + + +<h4>III.</h4> + +<p>New Year's Night at Leet Hall, and the banquet in full swing—but not, +as usual, New Year's Eve.</p> + +<p>Captain Monk headed his table, the parson, Robert Grame, at his right +hand, Harry Carradyne on his left. Whether it might be that the world, +even that out-of-the-way part of it, Church Leet, was improving in +manners and morals; or whether the Captain himself was changing: certain +it was that the board was not the free board it used to be. Mrs. +Carradyne herself might have sat at it now, and never once blushed by as +much as the pink of a sea-shell.</p> + +<p>It was known that the chimes were to play this year; and, when midnight +was close at hand, Captain Monk volunteered a statement which astonished +his hearers. Rimmer, the butler, had come into the room to open the +windows.</p> + +<p>"I am getting tired of the chimes, and all people have not liked them," +spoke the Captain in slow, distinct tones. "I have made up my mind to do +away with them, and you will hear them to-night, gentlemen, for the last +time."</p> + +<p>"<i>Really</i>, Uncle Godfrey!" cried Harry Carradyne, in most intense +surprise.</p> + +<p>"I hope they'll bring us no ill-luck to-night!" continued Captain Monk +as a grim joke, disregarding Harry's remark. "Perhaps they will, though, +out of sheer spite, knowing they'll never have another chance of it. +Well, well, they're welcome. Fill your glasses, gentlemen."</p> + +<p>Rimmer was throwing up the windows. In another minute the church clock +boomed out the first stroke of twelve, and the room fell into a dead +silence. With the last stroke the Captain rose, glass in hand.</p> + +<p>"A happy New Year to you, gentlemen! A happy New Year to us all. May it +bring to us health and prosperity!"</p> + +<p>"And God's blessing," reverently added Robert Grame aloud, as if to +remedy an omission.</p> + +<p>Ring, ring, ring! Ah, there it came, the soft harmony of the chimes, +stealing up through the midnight air. Not quite as loudly heard, +perhaps, as usual, for there was no wind to waft it, but in tones +wondrously clear and sweet. Never had the strains of the "Bay of Biscay" +brought to the ear more charming melody. How soothing it was to those +enrapt listeners; seeming to tell of peace.</p> + +<p>But soon another sound arose to mingle with it. A harsh, grating sound, +like the noise of wheels passing over gravel. Heads were lifted; glances +expressed surprise. With the last strains of the chimes dying away in +the distance, a carriage of some kind galloped up to the hall door.</p> + +<p>Eliza Hamlyn alighted from it—with her child and its nurse. As quickly +as she could make opportunity after that scene enacted in<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_391" id="Page_391">[Pg 391]</a></span> her +breakfast-room in London in the morning, that is, as soon as her +husband's back was turned, she had quitted the house with the maid and +child, to take the train for home, bringing with her—it was what she +phrased it—her shameful tale.</p> + +<p>A tale that distressed Mrs. Carradyne to sickness. A tale that so +abjectly terrified Captain Monk, when it was imparted to him on Tuesday +morning, as to take every atom of fierceness out of his composition.</p> + +<p>"Not Hamlyn's wife!" he gasped. "Eliza!"</p> + +<p>"No, not his wife," she retorted, a great deal too angry herself to be +anything but fierce and fiery. "That other woman, that false first wife +of his, was not drowned, as was set forth, and she has come to claim +him, with their son."</p> + +<p>"His wife; their son," muttered the Captain as if he were bewildered. +"Then what are you?—what is your son? Oh, my poor Eliza."</p> + +<p>"Yes, what are we? Papa, I will bring him to answer for it before his +country's tribunal—if there be law in the land."</p> + +<p>No one spoke to this. It may have occurred to them to remember that Mr. +Hamlyn could not legally be punished for what he did in innocence. +Captain Monk opened the glass doors and walked on to the terrace, as if +the air of the room were oppressive. Eliza went out after him.</p> + +<p>"Papa," she said, "there now exists all the more reason for your making +my darling <i>your</i> heir. Let it be settled without delay. He must succeed +to Leet Hall."</p> + +<p>Captain Monk looked at his daughter as if not understanding her. "No, +no, no," he said. "My child, you forget; trouble must be obscuring your +faculties. None but a <i>legal</i> descendant of the Monks could be allowed +to have Leet Hall. Besides, apart from this, it is already settled. I +have seen for some little time now how unjust it would be to supplant +Henry Carradyne."</p> + +<p>"Is <i>he</i> to be your heir? Is it so ordered?"</p> + +<p>"Irrevocably. I have told him so this morning."</p> + +<p>"What am I to do?" she wailed in bitter despair. "Papa, what is to +become of me—and of my unoffending child?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know: I wish I did know. It will be a cruel blight upon us all. +You will have to live it down, Eliza. Ah, child, if you and Katherine +had only listened to me, and not made those rebellious marriages!"</p> + +<p>He turned away as he spoke in the direction of the church, to see that +his orders were being executed there. Harry Carradyne ran after him. The +clock was striking midday as they entered the churchyard.</p> + +<p>Yes, the workmen were at their work—taking down the bells.</p> + +<p>"If the time were to come over again, Harry," began Captain Monk as they +were walking homeward, he leaning upon his nephew's<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_392" id="Page_392">[Pg 392]</a></span> arm, "I wouldn't +have them put up. They don't seem to have brought luck somehow, as the +parish has been free to say. Not but that must be utter nonsense."</p> + +<p>"Well, no they don't, uncle," assented Harry.</p> + +<p>"As one grows in years, one gets to look at things differently, lad. +Actions that seemed laudable enough when one's blood was young and hot, +crop up again then, wearing another aspect. But for those chimes, poor +West would not have have died as he did. I have had him upon my mind a +good bit lately."</p> + +<p>Surely Captain Monk was wonderfully changing! And he was leaning heavily +upon Harry's arm.</p> + +<p>"Are you tired, uncle? Would you like to sit down on this bench and +rest?"</p> + +<p>"No, I'm not tired. It's West I'm thinking about. He lies on my mind +sadly. And I never did anything for the wife or child to atone to them! +It's too late now—and has been this many a year."</p> + +<p>Harry Carradyne's heart began to beat a little. Should he say what he +had been hoping to say sometime? He might never have a better +opportunity than this.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Godfrey," he spoke in low tones, "would you—would you like to +see Mr. West's daughter? His wife has been dead a long while; but—would +you like to see her—Alice?"</p> + +<p>"Ay," fervently spoke the old man. "If she be in the land of the living, +bring her to me. I'll tell her how sorry I am, and how I would undo the +past if I could. And I'll ask her if she'll be to me as a daughter."</p> + +<p>So then Harry Carradyne told him all. It was Alice West who was already +under his roof, and who, fate and fortune permitting, <i>Heaven</i> +permitting, would sometime be Alice Carradyne.</p> + +<p>Down sat Captain Monk on a bench of his own accord. Tears rose to his +eyes. The sudden revulsion of feeling was great: and truly he was a +changed man.</p> + +<p>"You spoke of Heaven, Harry. I shall begin to think it has forgiven me. +Let us be thankful."</p> + +<p>But Captain Monk found he had more to thank Heaven for ere many minutes +had elapsed. As Harry Carradyne sat by him in silence, marvelling at the +change, yet knowing that the grievous blow which was making havoc of +Eliza had effected the completeness of the subduing, he caught sight of +an approaching fly. Another fly from the railway station at Evesham.</p> + +<p>"How dare you come here, you villain!" shouted Captain Monk, rising in +threatening anger, as the fly's inmate called to the driver to stop and +began to get out of it. "Are you not ashamed to show your face to me, +after the evil you have inflicted upon my daughter?"</p> + +<p>Philip Hamlyn, smiling kindly and calmly, caught Captain Monk's lifted +hands. "No evil, sir," he said, soothingly. "It was all a mistake. Eliza +is my true and lawful wife."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_393" id="Page_393">[Pg 393]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Eh? What's that?" said the Captain quite in a whisper, his lips +trembling.</p> + +<p>Quietly Philip Hamlyn explained. He had taken the previous day to +investigate the matter, and had followed his wife down by a night train. +His first wife <i>was</i> dead. She had been drowned in the <i>Clipper of the +Seas</i>, as was supposed. The child was saved, with his nurse: the only +two passengers who were saved. The nurse made her way to a place in the +south of France, where, as she knew, her late mistress's sister lived, +Mrs. O'Connett, formerly Miss Sophia Pratt. Mrs. O'Connett, a young +widow, had just lost her only child, a boy about the age of the little +one rescued from the cruel seas. She seized on him with feverish +avidity, adopted him as her own, quitted the place for another +Anglo-French town where she was not previously known, taught the child +to call her "Mamma," and had never let it transpire that the boy was not +hers. But now, after the lapse of a few years, Mrs. O'Connett was on the +eve of marriage with an Irish Major. To him she told the truth; and, as +he did not want to marry the child as well as herself, he persuaded her +to return him to his father. Mrs. O'Connett brought the child to London, +ascertained Mr. Hamlyn's address, and all about him, and watched about +to speak to him, alone if possible, unknown to his wife. Remembering +what had been the behaviour of the child's mother, she was by no means +sure of a good reception from Philip himself, or what adverse influence +might be brought to bear by the new ties he had formed. Mrs. O'Connett +had the same remarkable and lovely hair that her sister had had, whom +she very much resembled; she had also a talent for underhand ways.</p> + +<p>That was the truth—and I have had to tell it in a nutshell, space +growing limited. Philip Hamlyn had ascertained it all beyond possibility +of dispute, had seen Mrs. O'Connett, and had brought down the good +tidings.</p> + +<p>Of all the curious sights this record has afforded, perhaps the most +surprising was to see Captain Monk pass his arm lovingly within that of +Philip Hamlyn and march off with him to Leet Hall as if he were a prize +to be coveted. "Here he is, Eliza," said he; "he has come to cheer both +you and me."</p> + +<p>For once in her life Eliza Hamlyn was subdued to meekness. She kissed +her husband and shed happy tears. She was his lawful wife, and the +little one was his lawful child. True, there was an elder son; but, +compared with what had been feared, that was a slight evil.</p> + +<p>"We must make them true brothers, Eliza," whispered Philip Hamlyn. "They +shall share alike all I have and all I leave behind me. And our own +little one must be called James in future."</p> + +<p>"And you and I will be good friends from henceforth," cried Captain Monk +warmly, clasping Philip Hamlyn's ready hand. "I have been to blame in +more ways than one, giving the reins unduly<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_394" id="Page_394">[Pg 394]</a></span> to my arbitrary temper. It +seems to me, however, that life holds enough of real angles for us +without creating any for ourselves."</p> + +<p>And surely it did seem, as Mrs. Carradyne would have liked to point out +aloud, that those chimes had been fraught with messages of evil. For had +not all these blessings set in with their removal?—even in the very +hour that saw the bells taken down!</p> + +<p>Harry Carradyne had drawn his uncle from the room; he now came in again, +bringing Alice West. Her face was a picture of agitation, for she had +been made known to Captain Monk. Harry led her up to Mrs. Hamlyn, with a +beaming smile and a whisper.</p> + +<p>"Eliza, as we seem to be going in generally for amenities, won't you +give just a little corner of your heart to <i>her</i>? We owe her some +reparation for the past. It is her father who lies in that grave at the +north end of the churchyard."</p> + +<p>Eliza started. "Her father! Poor George West her father?"</p> + +<p>"Even so."</p> + +<p>Just a moment's struggle with her rebellious spirit and Mrs. Hamlyn +stooped to kiss the trembling girl. "Yes, Alice, we do owe you +reparation amongst us, and we must try to make it," she said heartily. +"I see how it is: you will reign here with Harry; and I think he will be +able, after all, to let us keep Peacock's Range."</p> + +<p>There came a grand wedding, Captain Monk himself giving Alice away. But +Mr. and Mrs. Hamlyn did not retain Peacock's Range; they and their boys, +the two Walters, had to look out for another local residence; for Mrs. +Carradyne retired to Peacock's Range herself. Now that Leet Hall had a +young mistress, she deemed it policy to quit it; though it should have +as much of her as it pleased as a visitor. And Captain Godfrey Monk made +himself happier in these peaceful days than he had ever been in his +stormy ones.</p> + +<p>And that's the history. If I had to begin it again, I don't think I +should write it; for I have had to take its details from other +people—chiefly from the Squire and old Mr. Sterling, of the Court. +There's nothing of mine in it, so to say, and it has been only a bother.</p> + +<p>And those unfortunate chimes have nearly passed out of memory with the +lapse of years. The "Silent Chimes" they are always called when, by +chance, allusion is made to them, and will be so called for ever.</p> + +<p class="name"><span class="smcap">Johnny Ludlow</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_395" id="Page_395">[Pg 395]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE BRETONS AT HOME.</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By Charles W. Woos, F.R.G.S., Author of "Through Holland," "Letters from +Majorca," etc. etc.</span></h3> + + +<div class="figright"> + <img src="images/02.jpg" + alt="Morlaix." + title="Morlaix." /><br /> + <span class="caption">Morlaix.</span> +</div> + +<p>Still we had not visited le Folgoët, and it had to be done.</p> + +<p>"No one ever leaves our neighbourhood without having seen le Folgoët," +said M. Hellard. "Or if he does so he loses the best thing we can offer +him in the way of excursions. Also, he must expect no luck in his future +travels through Brittany."</p> + +<p>"And he must be looked upon in the light of a <i>barbare</i>," chimed in +Madame. "Not to do le Folgoët would be almost as bad as not going to +confession in Lent."</p> + +<p>"My dear, did <i>you</i> go to confession in Lent?" asked Monsieur, slily.</p> + +<p>"Monsieur Hellard," laughed Madame, blushing furiously, "I am a good +Catholic. Ask no questions. We were speaking of Folgoët. Everyone should +go there."</p> + +<p>"Is the excursion, then, to be looked upon as a pilgrimage, or a +penance?" we asked. "Will it absolve us from our sins, or grant us +indulgences? Is there some charm in its stones, or can we drink of its +waters and return to our first youth?"</p> + +<p>"The magic spring!" laughed Mme. Hellard. "You will find it at the back +of the church. I have drunk of its waters, certainly; on a very hot day +last summer. They refreshed me, but I still feel myself mortal."<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_396" id="Page_396">[Pg 396]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah, yes," cried Monsieur, "the waters of Lethe and the elixir vitæ have +equally to be discovered. I imagine that they belong to Paradise—and we +have lost Paradise, you know: though I have found my Eve," added +Monsieur, with a gallant bow to his cara sposa; "and have been in +Paradise ever since."</p> + +<p>"<i>You</i>, apparently, have found and drunk of the waters of Lethe," +laughed Madame. "You forget all our numerous quarrels and +disagreements."</p> + +<p>"Thunderstorms are said to clear the air," returned Monsieur; "but ours +have been mere summer lightning. That, you know, is not dangerous, and +beautifies the horizon."</p> + +<p>It was the day of our visit to St. Jean du Doigt, and we had seriously +fallen out with our coachman by the way. St. Jean had so charmed us that +we felt reluctant to leave it. The little inn, quiet and solitary, with +its windows open to the sunshine, its snow-white cloth, its wealth of +creeper and blossom trailing up the walls and sunning over the roof, +invited us to enter and be happy; to revel in the outer scene, sylvan, +rustic, ecclesiastical, an overflow of the beauties of earth, sky, +sunshine and ancient architecture. Here was an earthly paradise; it +might still be ours for some golden moments. Yet we threw away our +opportunity; as we so often do in life in far weightier matters than +taking luncheon at a village inn.</p> + +<p>We hesitated very much, but we had to see Plougasnou, and our driver, +for reasons of his own, declared that Plougasnou was far more beautiful +than St. Jean du Doigt, whilst its inn was renowned in Brittany. So, +having watched the funeral wind picturesquely down the hill-side, pause +at the beautiful gateway, and disappear into the church, we departed.</p> + +<p>It was very charming to drive about the hills and valleys, the narrow +country lanes that were full of the beauty of summer. Finally, a steep +ascent brought us to our destination with a rude awakening. We had left +Paradise for very earthly quarters. There was no beauty about the spot, +which, placed on a hill, was bleak, bare, and exposed. The inn was the +incarnation of ugliness, and everything about it was rough and rude. In +the kitchen two women were at work. The one was brewing coffee, which +sent forth a delicious aroma, the other, with weeping eyes, was peeling +onions for the pot-au-feu.</p> + +<p>We were served with a modest luncheon in a room behind the kitchen. +Madame prepared our food, and we had the privilege of assisting at the +ceremony. We were initiated into the mystery of frying an +omelette-au-naturel, the safest thing to order, no matter where you may +be in France, for the humblest cottage knows how to send up its omelette +to perfection. The handmaiden waited upon us, but she was heavy and not +intelligent, and she walked about in wooden shoes that clattered and +echoed and shocked one's nerves. But this did not affect the omelette, +or the modest ragout that concluded the banquet.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_397" id="Page_397">[Pg 397]</a></span></p> + +<p>We lunched almost al fresco. The window was wide open and looked on to a +large yard, surrounded by outbuildings. Hens raced about, and without +ceremony flew up to the window and demanded their share of the feast. +Several cats came in; so that, as far as animals were concerned, we +might still consider ourselves in Paradise.</p> + +<p>Then we passed out by way of the window, and immense dogs bade us +defiance and woke the echoes of the neighbourhood. Luckily they were +chained, and H.C.'s "Cave canem!" was superfluous. The church struck out +the hour. Placed in a sort of three-cornered square above the inn, the +tower stood out boldly against the background of sky, but it possessed +no beauty or merit. Away out of sight and hearing, we imagined the +glorious sea breaking and frothing over the rocks, and the points of +land that stretched out ruggedly towards the horizon; but we did not go +down to it. We felt out of tune with our surroundings, and only cared +for the moment when we should commence the long drive homeward. Had we +possessed some special anathema, some charm that would have placed our +driver under a mild punishment for twenty-four hours, I believe that we +should not have spared him.</p> + +<p>So, on the whole, we were glad that our excursion to le Folgoët would +have to be done in part by train. We arranged it for the morrow, making +the most of our blue skies.</p> + +<p>"You will have a charming day," said Madame Hellard, as we prepared to +set out the next morning. "I do not even recommend umbrellas. It is the +sort of wind that in Brittany never brings rain."</p> + +<p>Our only objection was that there was rather too much of it.</p> + +<p>Declining the omnibus, which rattled over the stones and was more or +less of a sarcophagus, without its repose, we mounted the interminable +Jacob's Ladder, and glanced in at our Antiquarian's. He was absent this +morning; had gone a little way into the country, where he had heard of +some Louis XIV. furniture that was to be sold by the Prior of an old +Abbey: though how so much that was luxurious and worldly had ever +entered an abbey seemed a mystery.</p> + +<p>We were soon en route for Landerneau, our destination as far as the +train was concerned. The line, picturesque and diversified, passed +through a narrow wooded valley where ran the river Elorn. On the left +was the extensive forest of Brézal; and in the small wood of +<i>Pont-Christ</i>, an interesting sixteenth century chapel faced an ancient +and romantic windmill. Close to this was a large pond, surrounded by +rugged rocks and firs; altogether a wild and beautiful scene. Soon +after, through the trees, we discerned the graceful open spire of the +Church of La Roche, and then, upon rugged height above the railway, the +ruins of the ancient Castle of la Roche-Maurice, called by the Breton +peasants round about, in their broad dialect, "la Ro'ch Morvan." It was +founded by Maurice, King of the Bretons, about the year 800, and was +demolished about 1490, during the war Charles VIII. waged against Anne +of Brittany. Very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_398" id="Page_398">[Pg 398]</a></span> little of the ruin remains, excepting a square donjon +and a portion of the exterior walls and the four towers.</p> + +<p>Finally came Landerneau, and the train continued its way towards Brest +without us.</p> + +<p>We found the old town well worth exploring. It is situated on the Elorn, +or the river of Landerneau, as it is more often called. The stream is +fairly broad here, and divides the town into two parts. It is spanned by +an old bridge, bordered by a double row of ancient and gabled houses; +and rising out of the stream, like a small island or a moated grange, is +an old Gothic water mill, remarkably beautiful and picturesque. This +little scene alone is worth a journey to Landerneau. A Gothic +inscription, which has been placed in a house not far off, declares that +the old mill was built by the Rohans in 1510; and was no doubt devoted +to higher uses than the grinding of corn.</p> + +<p>There are many old houses, many quaint and curious bits of architecture +in Landerneau. On one of these, bearing the date of 1694, we found two +curious sculptures: a lion rampant and a man armed with a drawn sword; +and, between them, the inscription: <span class="smcap">Tire, Tve</span>. We might, indeed, have +gone up and down the street armed with sword, gun, or any other +murderous weapon, with impunity—there was nothing to fight but the air. +We had it all to ourselves, on this side the river. Yet Landerneau is a +flourishing place of some ten thousand inhabitants, with extensive +manufactories, saw mills, and large timber yards. Vessels come up the +river and load and unload; and, on bright days when the sunshine pours +upon the flashing water, and warms the wood lying about in huge stacks, +and a delicious pine-scent goes forth upon the air, it is a very +pleasant scene, and a very fitting spot for a short sojourn.</p> + +<p>It also deals extensively in strawberries, exporting to England many +thousand boxes of the delicious fruit that grows so largely in the +neighbourhood. The hotel this morning seemed full of them, and we had +but to ask, and to receive in abundance. The place was full of their +fragrance: a fragrance that seemed so allied to the smell of the pine +wood in the timber yards.</p> + +<p>The town is of great antiquity, and appears to have succeeded a Roman +Settlement. It is said to owe its name to St. Ernec, a Breton prince, +the son, says tradition, of Judicaël, King of the Domnomée. This prince, +about the year 669, turned monk, and built himself a cell on the banks +of the Elorn, a river which divided in those days the sees of Léon and +Cornouaille. Where the cell was is now the village of St. Ernec, and a +chapel which preceded the church of the Récollets.</p> + +<p>In time Landerneau became the chief town of the Vicomté of Léon; and was +raised to a Principality in 1572 in favour of Henri, Vicomte de Rohan +and his brother Réné, Lord of Soubise, who founded the dukedom of +Rohan-Chabot. It remained in possession<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_399" id="Page_399">[Pg 399]</a></span> of Lords of Landerneau until +the Revolution. Fontenelle pillaged the town in 1592, and in the +seventeenth century its famous castle was destroyed.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/03large.jpg"> + <img src="images/03.jpg" + alt="Calvary, Guimiliau." + title="Calvary, Guimiliau." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">Calvary, Guimiliau.</span> +</div> + +<p>"There will be noise in Landerneau," has become a Breton proverb, +employed whenever any social event is stirring up the populace. It owes +its origin to a bygone custom of the town, of serenading widows on the +evening of their second marriage, with drums, trumpets, kettles, and +every kind of unmusical instrument that could be pressed into the +service of the uproarious ceremony.</p> + +<p>Of this we had no evidence. The town was quiet to the verge of deadly +dulness; if there were widows rash enough to contemplate a second +marriage, we knew nothing about it; they were discreet, and kept their +secret to themselves.</p> + +<p>There are many monasteries and nunneries in the neighbourhood. Some are +in ruins; some have become destined to other purposes;<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_400" id="Page_400">[Pg 400]</a></span> and if their +walls could speak, probably would cry aloud: "To such base uses do we +come!" Sitting on the banks of the river, you watch its calm flowing +waters, and a vessel moored to the side, where a Breton woman is hanging +out clothes to dry, and a man on deck is lazily smoking his pipe. Behind +you is a timber yard, sending forth its strawberry-pine perfume. There +is always some attractions in a timber yard. Whether you will or not it +fascinates you; you enter for a moment, and stroll about through the +little alleys between the stacks, as numerous and complicated as the +twistings and turnings of a maze. You imagine yourself once more a boy +playing at hide-and-seek, and revel in the hot sunshine that is pouring +down upon you and bringing out the perfume of the wood.</p> + +<p>Returning to the river, your eye wanders far down the stream, until a +large building upon its banks arrests your attention. It looks the +emblem and abode of peace; perhaps is so. It is the ancient Couvent des +Cordeliers, founded by Jean de Rohan, in 1488. But monks no longer tread +its corridors and offer up the midnight mass in its small chapel. It is +now occupied by ladies—les Dames du Calvaire, as they are called. If +the monks were to arise from their little graveyard, would they rush +back horrified and affrighted at such desecration? and if the walls had +voices, would <i>they</i>, too, be ungallant enough to cry "To such base uses +do we come?" The ancient convent of the Ursulines has been turned into a +Penitentiary, thus in a measure fulfilling its original destiny.</p> + +<p>Not far from Landerneau, also, on the banks of the Elorn, is the Avenue +of the Château de la Joyeuse Garde, celebrated as being the rendezvous +of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Nothing now remains +but the ruins of a subterranean vault and a romantic Gothic Gateway of +the twelfth century, covered with ivy and creeping shrubs. The whole +surroundings are beautiful and romantic; undulations, here wooded and +rocky, there richly cultivated; laughing and fertile slopes running down +into warm and sheltered valleys, through which the river winds its +graceful course.</p> + +<p>Having made a slight acquaintance with the old streets and ancient +houses, we went back to the inn, where we found the carriage ready to +take us to le Folgoët.</p> + +<p>A strong wind had suddenly arisen and clouds of dust accompanied us. +Under ordinary circumstances the drive would have been pleasant, though +uneventful. The road is somewhat monotonous, and very little attracts +the attention beyond small, well-wooded estates, breaking in upon the +long stretches of richly cultivated country, where life ought to run in +a very even tenor.</p> + +<p>After awhile we turned into a by-road, and presently descending between +high hedges, the object of our excursion suddenly and unexpectedly +opened up before our astonished vision.</p> + +<p>It would be difficult to forget the effect of that first view of le<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_401" id="Page_401">[Pg 401]</a></span> +Folgoët. The high hedges on either side had concealed everything. These +fell away, and within a few yards of us, in a barren and dreary plain +uprose the wonderful church.</p> + +<p>A few poor houses and cottages comprise the village, and here nearly a +thousand inhabitants manage to stow themselves away. But nothing strikes +you more in these Breton villages than their silent and apparently +deserted condition, even at midday. Nine times out of ten, there is +scarcely a creature to be seen in the streets, the house doors are for +the most part closed, no face peers curiously from the windows, and no +sound breaks upon the stillness of the air.</p> + +<p>So was it to-day. The tramp of our horses, the rumbling of wheels alone +startled the silence as we approached the church. The small houses +forming the village in no way took from its grandeur or interfered with +its solitude and solemnity.</p> + +<p>There in the desolate plain it rose, "a thing of beauty and a joy for +ever." Its charm fell upon us in the first moment, its wonderful tone +and colouring held us spellbound. Our first wonder was to find a +building so perfect in the midst of this desolate plain, so far away +from the world and civilization. It was our first wonder; and when +presently we turned away from it I think it was our last. But this +solitude and desolation add infinitely to its charm; just as the mystery +and romance that enshroud the far-off monasteries in their desolate +mountain retreats would fall away as "the baseless fabric of a vision" +if they were brought into the crowded and commonplace atmosphere of town +life.</p> + +<p>The legend of le Folgoët is a curious one:</p> + +<p>Towards the middle of the fourteenth century, there lived in a +neighbouring forest a poor idiot named Soloman, or Salaun, as it is +written in the Breton tongue. This idiot was known as the Fool of the +wood—le Folgoët.</p> + +<p>There, in the quiet solitude, his voice might constantly be heard +singing, in his own strange way, hymns to the Virgin; and often during +the night, chanting an Ave Maria. Daily he begged his bread in the +neighbouring town of Lesneven, always using the same form of words: Ave +Maria: adding in Breton, "Salaun a zébré bara." "Soloman would eat some +bread."</p> + +<p>Thus for forty years he lived, never having injured anyone, or made an +enemy. Then he fell ill, and one morning was found dead in the wood, +near the little spring from which he had drunk daily and the hollow tree +that had been his nightly shelter.</p> + +<p>Soloman the fool was already fading from men's minds, when a miracle +happened. Above the little grave in the wood where he had been buried +there suddenly sprang a white lily, remarkable for its beauty and the +exquisite perfume it shed abroad. But what made it more wonderful was +that upon every leaf, in gold letters, appeared the words "Ave Maria!"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_402" id="Page_402">[Pg 402]</a></span></p> + +<p>This apparent miracle was soon noised abroad, and people flocked from +far and near to see the flower, which remained perfect for six weeks and +then began to fade. All the priests and ecclesiastics of the +neighbourhood, the nobles and the officers of the Duc de Rohan, decided +that they should dig about the root of the lily and discover its source. +This was done, and it was found to spring from the mouth of Salaun the +idiot.</p> + +<p>Of course such a miracle could not remain uncommemorated. Jean de +Langouëznon, Abbot of Landévennec, one of the witnesses of the miracle, +wrote an elaborate account of it in Latin. Pilgrimages were constantly +made to the grave, and at last a church was built over the spring of the +poor idiot, whose faith and blameless life had been so strangely +rewarded. Such is the origin of one of Brittany's finest and most +remarkable churches.</p> + +<p>It is in the second Pointed Gothic style, and is built of a mixture of +granite and dark Kersanton stone. The tone is singularly beautiful, and +harmonises well with the dreary plain. It is at once sombre, dignified +and impressive, relieved by great richness of sculpture. Kersanton stone +lends itself to carving, as we have seen, and here many parts will be +found in perfect preservation. Some of the rich mouldings in the +doorways have worn away, and some of the small statues have been +mutilated by time or have altogether disappeared, but the tone chiefly +marks the age of the church. This is not always the case, and even not +generally, with the buildings for which Kersanton stone has been used; +but le Folgoët is exposed to the elements which sweep across the dreary +plain without resistance; these have done their kindly work, and given +to the old walls a beauty that no mortal hand could fashion.</p> + +<p>We stood before it in mute admiration, having expected much, but finding +far more. The tall trees near it bent and murmured to the fierce blast +that blew, as if they, too, would add their homage to the charm of the +sacred edifice.</p> + +<p>Its solitary spire rose to a height of one hundred and sixty feet, full +of grace and elegance. Every portion of the exterior bore minute +inspection, it was so elaborately sculptured, so well preserved. Time +has spared it more than the hand of man.</p> + +<p>The towers are unequal. The higher possesses the exquisite open spire, a +landmark for all the country round. The other is crowned by a small +Renaissance lantern and roof, the work of the Duchess Anne. The +beautiful west portal is no longer perfect. Its porch or canopy fell in +1824, and has never been replaced; and better so. The porch of the south +doorway is large, and so magnificent that it alone would be worth a +pilgrimage. It is called the Apostles' porch, and is also supposed to +have been the work of the good Duchess. Not far from it are the remains +of what must have been a very lovely cross. The carving of the porch is +of great delicacy and refinement; and, less exposed to the elements than +the west doorway, is in far better pre<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_403" id="Page_403">[Pg 403]</a></span>servation. Here are graceful +scrolls and mouldings of vine leaves and other devices curiously +interwoven; the leaves so minutely carved that you may trace their veins +and fringes. The arms of Brittany and France are also cunningly +intertwined. Round the west doorway are wreaths of vines and thistles, +with birds and serpents introduced amongst fruit and flowers. Above the +doorway is an elaborate sculpture of the Nativity and the Adoration of +the Magi. Joseph is represented—it is often the case in Breton +carvings—as a Breton peasant, wearing the clumsy wooden shoes of the +country. He would have found himself somewhat embarrassed in them when +crossing the desert. But the Bretons, behind the rest of the world, had +no ideas beyond those that came to them from practical experience, and +the picturesque dignity of an Eastern dress was far beyond their +imagination. The centre pier of the doorway is formed into a niche +enclosing the basin for holy water, protected by a carved canopy of +great beauty; but time and exposure have worn away much of the sharpness +of the work.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/04large.jpg"> + <img src="images/04.jpg" + alt="Landerneau." + title="Landerneau." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">Landerneau.</span> +</div> + +<p>The gables of the transept are decorated with open parapets; and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_404" id="Page_404">[Pg 404]</a></span> at the +east end, below a rose window remarkable for its tracery, an arched +niche protects the water of the fountain of Soloman the idiot: the +actual spring itself being beneath the high altar.</p> + +<p>These waters, like those of the lovely fountain of St. Jean du Doigt, +are supposed to be miraculous, and are the object of many a pilgrimage, +though fortunately for the village, the day of its <i>Pardon</i> is not the +chief occasion for the assembling together of the blind, halt, maimed +and withered folk of Brittany. But the pilgrims bathe in the waters, +which are said to possess the gift of healing, and we know that faith +alone will often perform miracles. As we looked upon the clear, +transparent water, we felt at least the innocence of the charm, and +therein a great virtue.</p> + +<p>The interior of the church has been much praised by competent judges, +and very justly so, for in its way it is very perfect. Yet, to us, its +beauty was marked by a certain heaviness; and the "dim religious light" +that adds so much to the effect of many an interior, here brought with +it no sense of mystery. Perhaps it was not sufficiently subdued; or the +heaviness of the stone may have had something to do with it. Also, it +looked singularly small, in comparison with the exterior. It has been +much altered since it was first built, and has lost nearly all its +arches, which have been replaced by Gothic canopies in the form of +ornamental projections.</p> + +<p>Much of the interior is beautifully and elaborately sculptured, and will +bear long and close inspection. The nave and aisles are under one roof, +like the church of St. Jean du Doigt: an arrangement not always +effective. The choir is short, as also are the aisles, the south +transept being the longest of all. A very effective rood screen +separates the choir from the nave. It is constructed of Kersanton stone, +and consists of three round arches, above which are canopies supporting +a gallery of open work decorated with quatrefoils. The effect is +extremely rich and imposing; and the foliage of the screen is a perfect +study of complications.</p> + +<p>At the end of the south transept is the Fool's Chapel. The frescoes are +a history of his life, which is yet further carried out in the windows +and on the bas reliefs of the pulpit. The high altar under the rose +window is very finely moulded, with its canopied niches and beautiful +tracery. There are many statues of saints in the church, dressed in +Breton costumes, that would no doubt astonish them if they came back to +life and saw themselves in effigy. Many parts of the church are +decorated with wonderful carvings of vegetables, fruit and flowers.</p> + +<p>But the general impression is heavy and sombre, the true Kersanton +effect and colour. Time and the elements have softened, subdued and +beautified the exterior; but the tone of the interior, unexposed to the +elements, remains what it originally was: wanting in refinement and +romance; it is the beauty of elaborate execution that imposes upon one. +All the windows are remarkable for their lovely Flamboyant tracery, that +of the rose window being especially fine and delicate.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_405" id="Page_405">[Pg 405]</a></span></p> + +<p>The exterior is far finer, far more wonderful. One never grew tired of +gazing; of examining it from every point of view. It was a dream picture +and a marvel. Nothing we saw in Brittany compared with it, excepting the +Cathedral of Quimper. Before it stretched the dreary plain; behind it +were the humble houses composing the village, very much out of sight and +not at all aggressive.</p> + +<p>On the south side was the Gothic college built by Anne of Brittany; and +here she and Francis the First lodged, when they came on a pilgrimage to +le Folgoët. It is a Gothic building of the fifteenth century, with an +octagonal turret of rare design; but its beauty is of the past. We found +it in the hands of the restorers, who were doing their best to ruin it. +Originally it harmonised wonderfully with the church, but soon the +harmony will have disappeared for ever.</p> + +<p>Our carriage had gone on to the neighbouring town of Lesneven, to rest +the horses and await our arrival, leaving us free to examine and loiter +as we pleased. No one troubled us. The inhabitants were all away; or +sleeping; or eating and drinking; the scene was as quiet and desolate as +if the church had been in the midst of a desert.</p> + +<p>But the time came when we must leave it to its solitude and go back into +the world—the small but interesting world of Brittany; the world of +slow-moving people and sleepy ways, and ancient towns full of wonderful +outlines and mediæval reminiscences.</p> + +<p>We took a last look round. We seemed alone in the world, no sight or +sound of humanity anywhere; the very workmen despoiling the Gothic +college had disappeared, leaving the mute witnesses of their vandalism +in the form of scaffolding and very modern bricks and mortar. Beyond was +a village street and small houses well closed and apparently deserted. +Nearer to us rose the magnificent church, with its towers and spire, all +its rich carving fringed against the background of the sky. The longer +we looked, the more wonderful seemed its solemn and exquisite tone. The +trees beneath which we stood waved and bent and rustled in the strong +wind that blew; and beyond all stretched the dreary plain; dreary and +desolate, but adding much to the charm of the picture. It was a scene +never to be forgotten; but it was, after all, a scene appealing only to +certain temperaments: to those who delight in the highest forms of +architecture; in walls time-honoured and lichen-stained; who find beauty +and charm ever in the blue sky and the waving trees; a charm that is +chiefly spiritual.</p> + +<p>Leaving the church behind us, and the dreary plain to our left, we +passed into a country road with high hedges. This soon led us to a +pathway across the fields. About a mile in the distance the steeples of +Lesneven rose up and served us as beacons. The day was still young and +the sun was high in the heavens. Small white clouds chased each other +rapidly, driven by the strong wind that blew. We soon reached the quiet +town and found it quiet with<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_406" id="Page_406">[Pg 406]</a></span> a vengeance. Not knowing the way to the +inn where our coachman had put up, it was some time before we could +discover an inhabitant to direct us. At length we found a human being +who had evidently come abroad under some mistaken impression, or in a +fit of absence of mind. At the same time a child issued from a doorway. +We felt quite in a small crowd. It was a humble child, but with a very +charming and innocent expression; one of those faces that take +possession of you at once and for ever. For it does not require days or +weeks or months to know some people; moments will place you in intimate +communion with them. You meet and suddenly feel that you must have known +each other in some previous existence, so mutual is the recognition. But +it is not so, for we have had no previous existence. It is nothing but +the freemasonry of the spirit; soul going out to soul. For this reason +the "love at first sight" that the poets have raved about in all the +ages, and in all the ages mankind has laughed at, is probably as real as +anything we know of; as real as our existence, the air we breathe, the +heaven above us.</p> + +<p>But we were at Lesneven, in the midst of the little crowd of two—we +must not keep it waiting. And although the day is still young, yet the +golden moments will fly, and the sun sinks rapidly westward.</p> + +<p>So we inquired our way and were politely directed, and the little child +declared it would be her pleasure to accompany us: "<i>il étoit si facile +de s'égarer</i>," she declared, in very grown-up tones, and in her peculiar +patois. <i>Il étoit</i>. We had not heard the old-fashioned expression since +our childhood, in the villages of our native land.</p> + +<p>We accepted the escort, and the little maiden chatted as freely as if we +had been very old acquaintances. "She supposed that, like all strangers, +we had been to see le Folgoët? It was a fine church, but its miraculous +fountain was the best of all. Once, when she hurt her foot, grandpère +carried her across the fields to the fountain. She bathed her foot in +the water and said a prayer and offered a candle, and—vite, vite!—the +foot was well. In three days she could run about. But that was two years +ago, when she was a very little girl; now she was quite big."</p> + +<p>"How old was she now?"</p> + +<p>"She was twelve, and very soon would do her first communion, dressed all +in white, with a beautiful veil over her head. Should we not like to see +her?"</p> + +<p>"We should, very much."</p> + +<p>"Could we not come again next year, when it would take place? She should +so much like us to see her. Là! voilà l'hôtel!" she cried, passing +rapidly from one subject to another, after the manner of childhood. "Now +she must run back home. And we were to be sure and come again next +year."</p> + +<p>And before we could turn, the child had darted away, evidently to +prevent the possibility of reward: a refined instinct for which we<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_408" id="Page_408">[Pg 408]</a></span> +should scarcely have given her credit. She may have been a Bretonne, but +not a true Bretonne; her gracefulness and intelligence almost forbade +it. Yet there are exceptions to every rule, and Nature herself delights +in occasional surprises.</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/05large.jpg"> + <img src="images/05.jpg" + alt="Le Folgoet." + title="Le Folgoet." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">Le Folgoët.</span> +</div> + +<p>We found Lesneven very dull and sleepy, but picturesque. There was a +singular old market-house of timber work, the quaintest we had ever +seen; and some of the houses formed ancient and interesting groups. Our +coachman had made an excellent déjeuner, if we were to judge by the +self-satisfied expression of his face, which resembled the sun at +mid-day seen through a red fog. He was now sitting in the courtyard +under a very lovely creeper, drinking his coffee out of a tall glass, +and of course smoking the pipe of peace. The creeper distinctly lent +enchantment to the view: the coachman did not.</p> + +<p>We wandered about whilst he made his preparations for starting. The +market-place was broken and diversified in its outlines; one or two of +the streets turning out of it looked quite gabled and mediæval. The +covered market-house, with its curious roof and ancient timbers, gave it +a very distinctive and very individual appearance; so that it now rises +up in the memory as one of the many Breton pictures which make one's +experience of the little country a very exceptional pleasure.</p> + +<p>Out of the Collège poured a small stream of boys, startling the silence +of the sleepy little town. We were mutually surprised at seeing each +other. They looked and gazed, and walked around and about us—at a +certain distance—and seemed as interested and perplexed as if we had +been visitants from other regions clothed in unknown forms. But they +manifested none of the delicacy of our little guide, and were not half +so interesting. Yet probably the roughest and rudest boy amongst them +might be the maiden's brother; for we have just said that Nature +delights in surprises, and not infrequently in contradictions. The +building they poured out of, now the Collège, was an ancient convent of +the Récollets, dating from 1645.</p> + +<p>A commotion in the courtyard of the "Grande Maison," which was just +opposite the timber market-house, and the appearance of the driver on +his box, in all the dignity of office, was our signal for departure. We +looked back after leaving the town, and there in the distance, uprising +towards the sky, was the lovely spire of le Folgoët, a monument to +departed greatness, superstition, and religious fervour; a dream of +beauty which will last, we may hope, for many ages to come.</p> + +<p>We soon re-entered the road we had travelled earlier in the day; and in +due time, after one or two narrow escapes of being overturned, so high +was the wind, so blinding the dust, we re-entered Landerneau, a haven of +refuge from the boisterous gale.</p> + +<p>Our host had prepared us a sumptuous repast, of which the crowning glory +was a pyramid of strawberries flanked on one side by<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_409" id="Page_409">[Pg 409]</a></span> a ewer of the +freshest cream, and on the other by a quaint old sugar basin of chased +silver, of the First Empire period. Could mortals have desired more, +even on Olympus—even in the Amaranthine fields of Elysium?</p> + +<p>It was not yet the dinner-hour and we had it all to ourselves, with the +waiter's undivided attention, who hoped we had not been disappointed in +our little excursion. "He had been five years in Landerneau, but had +never yet seen le Folgoët. Dame! he had no time for pilgrimages, and +doubted whether, after all, they did much good. For his part, he didn't +believe in miracles. Du reste, he had nothing the matter with him; was +neither blind, lame, nor stupid—grâce au ciel, for he had his living to +get. As for the church, to him one church was very much like another: +and he would rather arrange a pyramid of strawberries than contemplate +the spires of his native Quimper."</p> + +<p>So true is it that water will not rise above its own level—and perhaps +so merciful.</p> + +<p>In due course we returned once more to our now old and familiar haunt, +Morlaix. We came back to it each time with our affection and admiration +heightened. Its old streets seem to grow more and more picturesque; and +more and more we appeared to absorb into our "inner consciousness" this +mediæval atmosphere. We seemed to be living in a perpetual romance of +the past; and the men and women who surrounded us were so many puppets +animated by invisible threads. It was the perfection of existence, in +its particular way and for a short time.</p> + +<p>The shades of evening had fallen when we once more found ourselves +descending Jacob's Ladder. The Antiquarian's door was closed, but a +light gleamed through the crevices of the shutters, as antiquated as +some of his cherished possessions. We would not disturb him, though we +felt sorely inclined to lift the latch and look in upon the picturesque +interior. We imagined him perhaps telling his beads, his grey head bowed +before the crucifix which, artistically and religiously, was the object +of his veneration; mentally we saw the son bending over a plain piece of +wood, which gradually assumed a form and design that would make it a +thing of beauty for ever. By lifting the latch, all this would be +revealed, delight our eyes and refresh our spirit. But what more might +we see? The cherub probably was in bed, but the rift within the lute? +Ah, that was uncertain; we could not tell. So we thought we would leave +the picture to our imagination, where at least it was perfect.</p> + +<p>So we went on without lifting the latch; and H.C. fell into raptures +over the rising moon and the quaint gables that stood out so gloriously +and mysteriously in the pale light. A warmer glow illumined many a +lattice. We were surrounded by deep lights and shadows, and felt +ourselves steeped in a world of the past, holding familiar intercourse +with ghosts that haunted every nook and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_410" id="Page_410">[Pg 410]</a></span> crevice, every doorway, every +niche and archway of this old-world town.</p> + +<p>At the hotel, we found Madame Hellard taking the air at her doorway, her +hands calmly folded in her favourite attitude of rest and +contentment—or was it expectation?</p> + +<p>"Was I not a prophet?" was her first greeting. "Did I not say this +morning 'No umbrellas?' Have we not had a glorious day!"</p> + +<p>"But the dust?" we objected.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" cried Madame, "on oublie toujours le chat dans le coin, as they +say in the Morbihan. Yet there must always be a drawback; you cannot +have perfection; and I maintain that dust is better than rain. But what +did you think of le Folgoët, messieurs?"</p> + +<p>We declared that we could not give expression to our thoughts and +emotions.</p> + +<p>"A la bonne heure! Did I not tell you that we had nothing like it in our +neighbourhood—or in any other, for all I know? Did I in the least +exaggerate?"</p> + +<p>We assured Madame that she had undercoloured her picture. The reality +surpassed her ideal description.</p> + +<p>"Ah!" cried Madame sentimentally, "our beau-idéals—when do we ever see +them? But personally I cannot complain. I have a husband in ten +thousand, and that, after all, should be a woman's beau-idéal, for it is +her vocation. Oh!" with a little scream, pretending not to have heard +her husband come up quietly behind her; "you did not hear me paying you +compliments behind your back, Eugène? I assure you I meant the very +opposite of what I said."</p> + +<p>"If you are perverse, I shall not take you to the Regatta next Sunday," +threatened Monsieur, in deep tones that very thinly veiled the affection +lurking behind them.</p> + +<p>"The Regatta!" cried Madame. "Where should I find the time to go +jaunting off to the Regatta? We have a wedding order to execute for that +morning—my hands will be more than full. Figurez vous," turning to us, +"a silly old widow is marrying quite a young man. She is rich, of +course; and he has nothing, equally of course. And what does she expect +will be the end of it? I cannot imagine what these people do with their +common sense and their experience of life. But I always say we gain +experience for the benefit of our friends: it enables us to give +excellent advice to others, but we never think of applying it to +ourselves."</p> + +<p>"But the Regatta," we interrupted, more interested in that than in the +indiscretions of the widow. "We knew nothing about it, and thought of +leaving you on Saturday. Is it worth staying for?"</p> + +<p>"Distinctly," replied Madame Hellard. "All Morlaix turns out for the +occasion: all the world and his wife will be there. It is<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_411" id="Page_411">[Pg 411]</a></span> quite a +pretty scene, and the boats with their white sails look charming. You +must drive down by the river side to the coast, and if the afternoon is +sunny and warm, I promise you that you will not regret prolonging your +stay with us."</p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/06large.jpg"> + <img src="images/06.jpg" + alt="Interior of Le Folgoet, showing Screen." + title="Interior of Le Folgoet, showing Screen." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">Interior of Le Folgoët, showing Screen.</span> +</div> + +<p>This presented a favourable opportunity for a compliment, but at that +moment Catherine's voice was heard in the ascendant; a passage-at-arms +seemed to be in full play above; commotion was the order of the moment; +and Madame rapidly disappeared to the rescue. The compliment was lost +for ever, but a dead calm was the immediate consequence of her presence. +Catherine's authority had been defied, and the daring damsel had to be +threatened with dismissal if it occurred again.</p> + +<p>"Ma foi!" cried Catherine, as we met her on the staircase, "a pretty +state of things we should have with two mistresses in the +salle-à-manger! I should feel as much out of my element as a hen that +has hatched duck's eggs, and sees her brood taking to the water."</p> + +<p>"And apparently there would be as much clucking and commotion," we slily +observed.</p> + +<p>Catherine laughed. "Quite as much. I always say, whatever<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_412" id="Page_412">[Pg 412]</a></span> you have to +do, do it thoroughly; and if you have to put people down, let there be +no mistake about it. By that means it won't occur again."</p> + +<p>And Catherine went off with a very determined step and expression, her +cap streamers flying on the breeze, to order us a light repast suited to +the lateness of the hour. She was certainly Madame's right hand, and she +ministered to our entertainment no less than to our necessities.</p> + +<p>Sunday rose fair and promising; a whole week of sunshine and fine +weather was a phenomenon in Brittany. Quite early in the morning the +town was awake and astir, and it was evident that the good people of +Morlaix were going in for the dissipation of a fête day.</p> + +<p>The morning drew on, and everyone seemed to have turned out in their +best apparel, though, to our sorrow, very few costumes made their +appearance. The streets were crowded with sober Bretons, somewhat less +sober than usual. Every vehicle in the town had been pressed into the +service. Every omnibus was loaded inside and out; carts became objects +of envy, and carriages were luxuries for which the drivers exacted their +own terms. The river-side, to right and left, was lined with people, all +hurrying towards the distant shore; for though many had secured seats in +one or other of the delectable vehicles, they were few in comparison +with the numbers that, from motives of economy or exercise, preferred to +walk. It was a gay and lively scene, and, sober Bretons though they +were, the air echoed with song and laughter. Rioting there was none.</p> + +<p>The distance was about five miles; but something more than the last mile +had to be taken on foot by everyone. We had secured a victoria which was +not much larger than a bath chair, but in a crowd this had its +advantage. True, we felt every moment as if the whole thing would fall +to pieces, but in case of shipwreck there were plenty to come to the +rescue.</p> + +<p>Nothing happened, and we walked our last mile with sound wind and limbs. +Much of the way lay on a hill-side. Cottages were built on the slopes, +and we walked upon zigzag paths, through front gardens and back gardens, +now level with the ground floor window, now looking into an attic; and +now—if we wished—able to peer down the chimney or join the cats oh the +roof.</p> + +<p>At last we came to the sea, which stretched away in all its beauty, +shining and shimmering in the sunshine. In the bay formed by this and +the opposite coast, the boats taking part in the races were flitting +about like white-winged messengers, full of life and grace and buoyancy. +Some of the races were over, some were in progress.</p> + +<p>Our side of the shore was beautifully backed by green slopes rising to +wooded heights. In the select inclosure, for the privilege of entering +which a franc was charged, the élite of Morlaix walked to and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_413" id="Page_413">[Pg 413]</a></span> fro, or +sat upon long rows of chairs placed just above the beach. We did not +think very much of them and were disappointed. All round and about us, +rich and poor alike were clothed in modern-day costumes, as ugly and +ungainly and ill-worn as any that we see around us in our own fair, +but—in this respect—by no means faultless isle.</p> + +<p>The few costumes that formed the exception were not graceful; those at +least worn by the men. Umbrellas were in full array, and as there was no +rain they put them up for the sunshine. A large proportion of the crowd +took no interest whatever in the races, which attracted attention and +applause only from those either sitting or standing on the beach. The +crowded green behind gave its attention to anything rather than the sea +and the boats. More general interest was manifested in the sculling +matches; especially in the race of the fish-women—tall, strong females, +the very picture of health and vigour, becomingly dressed in caps and +short blue petticoats, who started in a pair of eight-oared boats, and +rowed valiantly in a very well-matched contest until it was lost and +won. As the sixteen women, victors and vanquished, stepped ashore, the +phlegmatic crowd was stirred in its emotions, and loud applause greeted +them. They filed away, laughing and shaking their heads, or looking down +modestly and smoothing their aprons, each according to her temperament, +and were soon lost in the crowd.</p> + +<p>On the slopes in sheltered spots, vendors of different wares, chiefly of +a refreshing description, had installed themselves. The most popular and +the most picturesque were the pancake women, who, on their knees, beat +up the batter, held the frying pans over a charcoal fire, and tossed the +pancakes with a skill worthy of Madame Hellard's chef. Their services +were in full force, and it was certainly not a graceful exhibition to +see the Breton boys and girls, of any age from ten to twenty, devouring +these no doubt delicious delicacies with no other assistance than their +own fairy fingers. After all, they were enjoying themselves in their own +fashion and looked as if they could imagine no greater happiness in +life.</p> + +<p>We wandered away from the scene, round the point, where stretched +another portion of the coast of Finistère. It was a lovely vision. The +steep cliffs fell away at our feet to the beach, here quite deserted and +out of sight of the crowd not very far off. Over the white sand rolled +and swished the pale green water with most soothing sound. The sun shone +and sparkled upon the surface. The bay was wide, and on the opposite +coast rose the cliffs crowned by the little town of Roscoff, its grey +towers sharply outlined against the sky. Our thoughts immediately went +back to the day we had spent there; to the quiet streets of St. Pol de +Léon, and its beautiful church, and the charming Countess who had +exercised such rare hospitality and taken us to fairy-land.</p> + +<p>The vision faded as we turned our backs upon the sea and the crowd and +entered upon our return journey. The zigzag was passed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_414" id="Page_414">[Pg 414]</a></span> and the houses, +where now we looked down the chimneys and now into the cellars. In due +time we came to the high road. It was crowded with vehicles all waiting +the end of the races and the return of the multitude. Apparently it was +"first come, first served," for we had our choice of all—a veritable +embarras de choix. It was made and we started. Very soon, on the other +side the river, we came in sight of our little auberge, <i>A la halte des +Pêcheurs</i>, where on a memorable occasion we had taken refuge from a +second deluge. And there, at its door, stood Madame Mirmiton, anxiously +looking down the road for the return of her husband from the Regatta. +Whether he had recovered from his sprain, or had found a friendly +conveyance to give him a seat, did not appear.</p> + +<p>We went our way; the river separated us from the inn and there was no +ferry at hand. Many like ourselves were returning; there was no want of +movement and animation. It was not a picturesque crowd, for there were +no costumes, and the <i>bourgeoisie</i> of Morlaix are not more interesting +than others of their class.</p> + +<p>At last loomed upon us the great viaduct, and a train rolled over as we +rolled under it. The vessels in the little port had mounted their flags +and looked gay, in honour of the occasion. We entered Morlaix for the +last time, for we were to leave on the morrow. Madame Hellard was not +taking the air; she and Monsieur were enjoying a moment's repose in the +bureau. They now invariably greeted us as <i>habitués</i> of the house.</p> + +<p>"But you have neither of you been to the Regatta," we observed.</p> + +<p>"I go nowhere without my wife," gallantly responded our host.</p> + +<p>"And I was too busy with our wedding breakfast to think of anything +else," said Madame. "And, to tell you the truth, I don't care for +regattas. I can see no pleasure in watching which of two or which of +half-a-dozen boats comes in first. The people interest me; but it is +really almost as amusing to see them passing one's own door, and not +half so tiring. I hope, messieurs, you have returned with good +appetites: I have ordered you some <i>crêpes</i>. Was it not funny to see the +old women tossing them on the slopes?"</p> + +<p>"Al fresco fêtes," chimed in Monsieur. "Ah, la jeunesse! la jeunesse! +Youth is the time for enjoyment. <i>Donnez-moi vos vingt ans si vous n'en +faites rien!</i> So says the old song—so say I. And now you are going to +leave us, and to-morrow we shall be in total eclipse," he added, +determined not to leave us out in his compliments. "But you are +right—you cannot stay here for ever. You have seen all that is of note +in Morlaix and the neighbourhood, and you will be charmed with Quimper."</p> + +<p>"Quimper? I would rather live fifty years in Morlaix than a hundred in +Quimper," cried Catherine, who came in at that moment for the menus. +"The river smells horribly, the town is dirty and stuffy, and it always +rains there. And as for the hotels—enfin, <i>you will see</i>!"</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_415" id="Page_415">[Pg 415]</a></span></p> + +<div class="figcenter"> + <a href="images/07large.jpg"> + <img src="images/07.jpg" + alt="Morlaix." + title="Morlaix." /></a><br /> + <span class="caption">Morlaix.</span> +</div> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_416" id="Page_416">[Pg 416]</a></span>It was very certain that we should not alight upon another Catherine.</p> + +<p>For the last time we wandered out that night when the moon had risen, to +take our farewell of the old streets that had given us so much pleasure. +We knew them well, and felt that we were communing with old friends. +Their outlines, their gabled roofs, the deep shadows cast by the pale +moonlight, the warmer reflections from the beautiful latticed +windows—all charmed us. We moved in an ancient world, conversed with +ghosts of a long-past age; the shades of those who had left behind them +so much of the artistic and the excellent; who had, in their day and +hour, lived and breathed and moved even as the world of to-day—had been +animated with the same thoughts and emotions; in a word, had fulfilled +their lot and passed through their birthright of sorrow and suffering.</p> + +<p>It was late before we could turn away from the fascination. After the +crowded scenes of the day, we seemed surrounded by the very silence and +repose, the majesty of Death. Everyone had retired to rest; the curfew +had long tolled, and the fires were nearly all out. Only here and there +a lighted lattice spoke of a late watcher, who perhaps was searching for +the philosopher's stone or the elixir of life, wherewith to turn the +grey hairs of age to the flowing locks of youth—the feeble gait of one +stricken in years to the vigour and comeliness of manhood. Vain wish! +and needless; for why will they not look at life in its truer aspect, +and feel that the nearer they approach to death the younger they are +growing?</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/02de.jpg" + alt="Decorative" + title="Decorative" /> +</div> + + +<h2>MY MAY-QUEEN</h2> + +<p class="center">(<i>Ætat</i> 4).</p> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Come, child, that I may make<br /></span> +<span class="i2">A primrose wreath to crown thee Queen of Spring!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of thee the glad birds sing;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">For thee small flowers fling<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Their lives abroad; for thee—for Dorothea's sake!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Hasten! For I must pay<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Due homage to thee, have thy Royal kiss,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Our thrush shall sing of this;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">—In many a bout of bliss<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Tell how I crown'd thee Queen, Spring's Queen, this glad May-day.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="name"><span class="smcap">John Jervis Beresford, M.A.</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_417" id="Page_417">[Pg 417]</a></span></p> +<h2>SWEET NANCY.</h2> + + +<p>Shenton was a dull and sleepy village at the best of times; but then it +was situated so far from any town. Exboro' was the nearest, and that was +ten miles away. To reach it you must traverse a range of pine-clad +hills, descending now and again into cool valleys, full of sweet scents +and sounds in summer, but dreary enough in winter, when the snow lay +thick and the wind whistled through the leafless branches.</p> + +<p>Shenton consisted of one long street, terminating in a green on which +the church and school-house stood. After that there were no more houses +till you reached Exboro', excepting a few scattered farms a mile or two +away at Braley Brook. There was also a large farm, known as the Manor, +half-a-mile in the opposite direction, occupied by one Jacob Hurst, who +was the owner of the farms at Braley Brook.</p> + +<p>The last house in the long street, at the Green end of it, was occupied +by Miss Michin, a milliner and dressmaker, as a card in the window +informed the passer-by. Not that the card was necessary, as of course in +so small a place everybody knew everybody else; but it was a sort of +sign of office, and was always most carefully replaced when Sarah Ann, +Miss Michin's Lilliputian maid, cleaned the window, which she did much +oftener than was necessary—at least, Mrs. Dodd, the post-mistress, who +lived opposite, said so. But then Mrs. Dodd had the shop and a young +family to attend to, and did not find it possible to keep her own +windows equally bright; so it was perhaps natural that she should find a +comfort in remarking on her opposite neighbour in the manner we have +described.</p> + +<p>Miss Michin's front parlour window was draped with white muslin +curtains, which covered it entirely, preventing the eyes of the curious +from taking surreptitious glances at the finery therein displayed, and +destined to be seen for the first time at church on the persons of the +fortunate owners. Just now, a fortnight before Christmas, the array of +gay dress material which lay about on tables and chairs was more than +usual; and Miss Michin and Nancy Forest—her decidedly pretty +apprentice—were working as if their lives depended upon it. Nancy was +the only apprentice Miss Michin had, and she had taken her when she was +fourteen without a premium, on condition that when she should be "out of +her time" (that would be in three years) she should give six months' +work in payment for the instruction she had received.</p> + +<p>Nancy was now working out the six months, which fact shows her age to be +between seventeen and eighteen. At that age a girl—above all, a pretty +girl—likes to wear pretty things; and Nancy had<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_418" id="Page_418">[Pg 418]</a></span> many little refined +tastes which other girls in her class of life have not—due, perhaps, to +the fact that while a child she had been a sort of protégée of Miss +Sabina Hurst's up at the Manor Farm. Miss Sabina, who was herself not +quite a lady, was nevertheless far above the Forests, who were in their +employ, and had charge of an old farmhouse at Braley Brook. She was Mr. +Hurst's sister, and had been mistress at the Manor since Mrs. Hurst had +died in giving birth to her little son Fred.</p> + +<p>Mr. Hurst—a hard and relentless man in most things—was almost weak in +his indulgence of his son. All his fancies must be gratified, and in +this Miss Sabina concurred. One of Fred's fancies had been to make a +playmate of little Nancy Forest. It followed, then, that she had been a +great deal at the Manor; but when the children grew older, and Fred took +what his aunt and father termed "an absurd fancy" to be a musician, as +his mother had been, it occurred to them that possibly later on he might +take a yet more absurd idea, and want to marry his old playmate. Nancy +was therefore banished from the Manor Farm.</p> + +<p>But Fred, who was not accustomed to be crossed, often met his old friend +on the hills and in the valleys; and after she had become apprenticed, +he would often walk home with her part way—not as a lover, however. For +the last two months he had broken this habit, and Nancy had not seen +him.</p> + +<p>But we were saying that girls of Nancy's age liked pretty things to +wear. Nancy was no exception, but she had no pretty things; her clothes +had, in fact, become deplorably shabby, though by dexterous "undoing" +and "doing-up" she did manage to make the very most of her dark blue +serge costume. The dress and rather coquettish little jacket were of the +same material; and she had a felt hat of the same colour, which in some +mysterious way altered its shape to suit the varying fashions. Last +winter the wide brim was straight; this winter it was turned up at the +back, with a bunch of dark blue ribbons on the crown. Altogether her +appearance was picturesque, though the odd mingling of the rustic with +the latest Paris fashion-plate might call up a smile to your lips. The +smile which the costume provoked was sure to die, however, when you +looked at the girl's face. You wondered at once why the lovely brown +eyes looked so sad and appealing, and why the little mouth was so +tremulous, and why the colour came and went so frequently on the +finely-moulded cheeks, which were just a little thin for perfect beauty. +And if you happened to be a student of human nature, you would read in +one of Nancy's glances a story of conflicting emotions—disappointment, +timid expectancy, hope, and a dawning despair: at least, this is what I +read there when I looked at Nancy from the Vicar's pew one Sunday +morning at Shenton church. I was on a visit at the Vicarage then.</p> + +<p>Of course, it must not be supposed that Miss Michin read Nancy<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_419" id="Page_419">[Pg 419]</a></span> Forest's +face in this way; but the little dressmaker had a warm heart, though +worried by the making of garments, and more by making two ends meet +which nature had apparently not intended for such close proximity; but +she had certainly noticed that for the last few weeks Nancy had not +looked well.</p> + +<p>It was growing dark one Thursday evening, and Sarah Ann had just brought +the lamp into her mistress's parlour. Miss Michin turned up the light +slowly, remarking, as she did so, "I don't want this glass to crack. I +might do nothing else but buy lamp-glasses if I left the turning-up of +them to Sarah Ann. This one has been boiled, which, Mrs. Dodd says, is a +good thing to make them stand heat." Then she broke off suddenly, and +stared at her apprentice, exclaiming, "Nancy, child, how pale you look! +You must leave off and go home. You shall have a nice cup of tea first. +Where do you feel bad?"</p> + +<p>The sympathetic tone brought the tears to Nancy's eyes, perhaps more +than the words, but she answered hastily: "Oh, indeed, dear Miss Michin, +I need not go home. I have a headache, that is all, and I must not leave +off before my time. I ought to stop later, and you so busy."</p> + +<p>"That frock of Emma Dodd's is just on finished, isn't it?" said Miss +Michin, in answer.</p> + +<p>"All but the hooks," replied Nancy.</p> + +<p>"Then sew them on while I make some tea, and you can leave it at the +post-office as you go."</p> + +<p>Nancy protested, but Miss Michin insisted, and in a short time the dress +was pinned up in a dark cloth, and Nancy having drunk the tea, more to +please her kind friend than because she thought it would cure her +headache, donned the little jacket and fantastic hat, and went across to +the post-office, which was also a shop of a general description.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dodd was engaged in lighting her shop-window when Nancy entered.</p> + +<p>"I have brought Emma's dress, Mrs. Dodd," she began, when that lady had +descended from the high stool on which she had mounted to place the +lamps in the window. "Miss Michin told me to tell you there wasn't +enough of the plush to finish off the lappets to match the collar and +cuffs, but she thinks you'll like it just as well as it is."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dodd examined the little dress, and, having approved of it, asked +in a friendly way what Nancy herself was going to have new this +Christmas.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know yet," answered Nancy, colouring deeply. "You see, I'm +not earning yet, and father's wages are small, you know."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Hurst is real mean, I know that," exclaimed the post-mistress, +decidedly. "None but a very mean man would have cut<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_420" id="Page_420">[Pg 420]</a></span> your poor father's +wages down after he was laid up with a bad leg so long."</p> + +<p>"But father says himself that he can't do as much since his accident, +and he doesn't want to be paid beyond what he earns," Nancy explained, +hastily.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dodd began to fold up Emma's dress, remarking, as she did so, "It's +a queer go as Mr. Hurst should have let young Mr. Fred do nothink but +music; but, to be sure, he do play beautiful. My Benny, as blows the +organ for him, says it's 'eavenly what he makes up himself. He's +uncommon handsome, too; much like his mother, who was, poor young lady, +a heap too good for the likes of Jacob Hurst. She used to play the +church organ like the angel Gabriel."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Dodd glanced at Nancy to see the effect of this simile, which was +quite an inspiration, but the girl was intent on smoothing the creases +out of her very old and much-mended kid gloves.</p> + +<p>"Folks do say, Miss Nancy," went on Mrs. Dodd, "as young Mr. Fred had a +fancy for you at one time, and as you sent him to the rightabouts. Now, +I say as—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, please don't say anything about it, Mrs. Dodd," broke out Nancy, +excitedly. "It's all a mistake—I am not his equal in any way—he never +thought of anything like that." She would have added, "Nor I;" but she +was too truthful. An overwhelming sense of shame came over her. How +could she have given her heart away unsought!</p> + +<p>With a hasty good-night she left the shop, closing the door so sharply +in her self-condemnation as to set the little bell upon it ringing as if +it had gone mad. She could hear its metallic tinkle till she was close +upon the church. Here other sounds filled her ears. There was a light in +the church, and Fred Hurst was there playing one of Bach's Fugues.</p> + +<p>Nancy's heart fluttered like a captive bird. For a brief space she +leaned against the cold railings, looking intently at a branch of ivy +which the north wind was tossing against the diamond-shaped panes of the +window—then she drew herself up hastily and proudly, and walked on +rapidly towards the bleak hills which she must cross to reach her +father's farm at Braley Brook.</p> + +<p>"How I wish I was out of my time," she said to herself, as the crisp +snow crackled beneath her small feet. "I could go away then and earn my +living, where I could never see him—or hear him—. Oh, Fred!" she broke +out in what was almost a cry, "<i>why</i> have you met me and walked with me +so often, if you meant to leave off and say no more? It must be because +my dress has grown so shabby—I don't look so—so nice as I did—yet if +his father were not hard I might have more." And poor Nancy being now +far from any habitation gave herself the relief of a good cry, knowing +she could not be observed.</p> + +<p>In the meantime the organ at the church had ceased playing, and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_421" id="Page_421">[Pg 421]</a></span> the +young man who was seated at it began turning over a pile of music which +lay beside him. But this he did mechanically—he was not going to play +again that evening, he did it as an accompaniment to perplexed thought. +He remained so long silent that Benny Dodd, who had been "blowing" for +him, ventured out from among the shadows cast by the organ pipes and +asked, "Please, Mr. Fred, are you going to play any more?"</p> + +<p>Fred Hurst looked up smiling, and feeling in his waistcoat pocket for +the customary coin, said cheerfully, "I had quite forgotten you, Benny! +No, I shall not play any more to-night."</p> + +<p>The small boy clattered down the stone aisle noisily, and Fred Hurst +began to push in the stops preparatory to closing the organ. In doing so +he caught a glimpse of his face in the small mirror which hung at one +side, and he burst out laughing.</p> + +<p>"What a tragic look I have managed to put on," he thought. Then he +locked the organ, and was about to blow out the candles, when he changed +his mind and took out a scrap of printed paper from his pocket and read +it by their light. It was a favourable review of a song he had composed, +and which had just been published. "Though there is no genius displayed +in this little composition, it is extremely pleasing; the air is +catching, and the accompaniment is tuneful without ostentation. 'Winged +Love' should become a popular favourite." This is what he read; and +having read it (of course not for the first time), he seemed to form a +sudden resolution on the strength of it. He looked at his watch; it +marked a few minutes past six; he blew out the lights and left the +church, hesitating a moment by the railings on which Nancy had leaned an +hour before. "I think this justifies me," he meditated. "If 'Winged +Love' is so well spoken of I am sure to get on, and in time make an +income sufficient for us two: poor child, she hasn't been used to +luxuries, and a simple home would content her. She must be part way home +by now. Yes, I will follow Nancy, and explain why I have not met her for +so long, and ask her to love me and wait till I can ask her to be my +wife."</p> + +<p>But Nancy Forest had left Shenton early, as we have seen, so Fred Hurst +did not overtake her. He went all the way to Braley Brook, however, and +right up to the ruinous old farmhouse where the Forests lived, and +waited in the orchard some time, hoping that Nancy would come out to +bring in some linen which hung to bleach among the bare apple trees. He +knew that Nancy always helped her mother in the evenings. But on this +evening no errand seemed to bring her out of doors, and Fred Hurst went +away without seeing her, meaning to meet her next day.</p> + +<p>It would have been wiser if Fred had gone boldly to the farmhouse and +asked to see Nancy; but we are none of us wise at all times, and we have +generally to pay in pain for our lack of wisdom as well as for our +actual faults, though perhaps not in the same degree.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_422" id="Page_422">[Pg 422]</a></span></p> +<h4>II.</h4> + +<p>Fred Hurst's father was Nancy's father's master, as we have seen; and a +hard enough master, as Mrs. Dodd had said. John Forest and his +family—that is, his wife and Nancy—lived in the only habitable part of +what had once been a considerable farmhouse. John worked on the "land," +took care of the horses and other live stock—there were not many—and +his wife attended to the poultry, which were numerous enough. She also +earned a little by mending the holes which the rats bit in the +corn-sacks. In harvest-time she made gentian beer for the men, and a +kind of harvest cake, originally made for a four o'clock meal, which +explains the word known as "fourses." But with all these little extras +the Forests found it sufficiently hard to live, and of course Nancy was +not yet earning.</p> + +<p>"You ought to have sent that girl of yours to service," Mr. Hurst would +not infrequently say to Nancy's mother. He, moreover, said the same +thing to his maiden sister Sabina, when Fred was present.</p> + +<p>It was then that Fred's eyes opened to the fact that Nancy Forest was +more to him than anything else in the world—far, far more than the old +playmate he had thought her. Send Nancy to service! sweet, delicate, +lady-like little Nancy, with her dimpled white hands. Perhaps Nancy had +no business to have white hands, and dainty, refined ways; but she had, +and that was Aunt Sabina's fault for having her so much at the Manor. It +was partly nature's fault, too, certainly, for Nancy had always seemed +like a changeling, she was so above her surroundings.</p> + +<p>Fred Hurst having thus discovered his own love, proceeded to discover +Nancy's. It was all clear to him now, he was sure she had given her pure +childlike heart to him, perhaps unwittingly, as he had done. How blind +he had been! With knowledge, caution came. Fred made up his mind that he +must no more walk with Nancy till he was prepared to do so in his true +character—that of a lover. This would be impossible till he could offer +a home to Nancy. It might be that his father would even turn the Forests +away, if he suspected his son's affection for their only child. He could +not risk that. So two months passed.</p> + +<p>Fred was organist at the parish church and had been composing songs, as +we have seen. Most of them had come back to him accompanied by polite +notes of refusal; one or two had come out and failed to attract any +notice. Now, "Winged Love" was proving a success—so he had resolved to +speak to Nancy herself, though not yet to the parents on either side.</p> + +<p>It was a pity he didn't take the straightforward course—it pays best, +did people but know it. Had Fred Hurst gone to the house boldly that +night, it might, as I have said, have saved much misery. Had he glanced +through the uncurtained window of the "house-<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_423" id="Page_423">[Pg 423]</a></span>place," I think he would +certainly have gone in, for he would have seen Nancy in tears.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Forest was a woman whose temper could not have been sweet under the +best of conditions. It will be understood, then, that it developed into +something very bad indeed under the worrying influence of a master like +Mr. Hurst, who was never satisfied, and whose method of dealing with +those he employed was one of incessant bullying. He was, moreover, +subject to delusions about being cheated, and his suspiciousness was +always in evidence.</p> + +<p>This last fault was also one of Mrs. Forest's own, and if anything a +worse one than her bad temper, and was not infrequently the occasion of +an exhibition of the latter. When Nancy got home from Miss Michin's on +the night when Fred Hurst tried to meet her, she found her mother in one +of her worst moods. Mr. Hurst had been there all the morning, +superintending the killing and packing of the turkeys for the London +market. Nancy had made up her mind on her way home to ask her mother for +a little money to buy herself some new gloves. She resolved to make her +request at once on entering the house-place, where her mother +was—partly from a desire to get what generally proved a disagreeable +business over as soon as possible, and more, perhaps, because she saw +her father sitting smoking his pipe in the chimney-corner. John Forest +usually supported his daughter, who was a great favourite of his. He +generally called her "Sweet Nancy," because she was so pretty and +dainty, and, above all, so good-tempered—a quality he knew how to +appreciate.</p> + +<p>"I was wondering, mother," Nancy began hesitatingly, as she removed her +hat and advanced towards the wood fire, above which Mrs. Forest was +hooking-on a huge kettle of fowls' food—"I was wondering if I might +have some new gloves for Christmas."</p> + +<p>"And where, I should like to know, is the money for them to come from?" +demanded the mother sharply. "I want lots of things I go without. It +takes all I can scrape and spare to buy saucers for them chickens to +break. It's a shame of the master not to buy proper drinking dishes for +them; and when I asked him for some, he said your father could dig a +hole and sink the old copper-boiler in it, and fill that with water for +them, just as if he hadn't the sense to see as how every blessed chicken +'ud get drowned, and me be blamed for it, as usual."</p> + +<p>"Here is half-a-sovereign as the master gave me for you to pay for the +sacks. Couldn't Nancy have some of that?" inquired John, fumbling in his +pocket for the coin.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Forest took the money from his hand and placed it upon the +chimney-piece, intending to put it away presently in the tea-pot in the +corner cupboard, which, however, she forgot to do, otherwise this story +would never have been written.</p> + +<p>"I want all that ten shillings to get a new cocoa-matting for the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_424" id="Page_424">[Pg 424]</a></span> front +room floor," she said, decidedly. "The bricks strike as cold as a grave +since the old matting was took up."</p> + +<p>"I must go and grind the turmits for the sheep, and move 'em into the +other fold for the night," said John, knocking out the ashes from his +pipe and rising to go. As he was closing the door behind him he called +to his wife, "You let the cocoa-matting bide, and give Nan a shilling or +two for her gloves."</p> + +<p>"That I shall do nothing of the sort, then," shouted Mrs. Forest after +her husband; then, turning on her daughter angrily, she asked: "What do +you want gloves at all for, I should like to know? I don't wear gloves; +and why should you, who do nothing to earn them?"</p> + +<p>"I shall be out of my time soon," Nancy answered, beginning to cry; "and +I will pay you back then all I have cost."</p> + +<p>"I daresay," sneered her mother; "it'll take all you can earn to deck +yourself out to catch young Mr. Fred's eyes. Don't you think as I'm not +sharp enough to see which way the wind blows."</p> + +<p>"Mother!" cried Nancy, rising indignantly to her feet, her eyes +flashing, her cheeks burning with shame and anger. "How dare you talk to +me so? You have no right!"</p> + +<p>"Haven't I no right?" almost shrieked Mrs. Forest. "I stand none of your +impudence!" And with these words her passion so took possession of her +that she leaned forward and with her open hand struck her daughter a +stinging blow on one of her cheeks. "You are fond of crying," she said, +"so take something to cry for—for once."</p> + +<p>But Nancy did not cry: she stood still, staring in a bewildered way at +the burning log upon the hearth, the flame from which danced upon her +reddened cheek.</p> + +<p>Had Fred remained a little longer in the orchard, trouble might have +been prevented; for he would have seen Nancy, whom Mrs. Forest sent to +bring in the new linen which was bleaching. Mrs. Forest gave her this to +do, because she could not bear to see her stand so silent and dazed. She +was, indeed, heartily ashamed of the act she had committed the moment it +was over, but knew what was done couldn't be undone. She had never +struck her daughter before, and resolved never to do so again; but it +did not occur to her to tell Nancy so. Had she done so, the warm-hearted +child would have responded at once to such an advance; but she only +said: "Well, well; have done staring in the fire, Nan; and run and fetch +the linen from the orchard."</p> + +<p>Nancy obeyed mechanically, little knowing who had just left the spot, +and feeling in her young heart all the bitterness of utter desolation.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_425" id="Page_425">[Pg 425]</a></span></p> +<h4>III.</h4> + +<p>A night of sorrow is said to give place to a morning of joy. This would +be a comforting thought were it not that the morning must likewise give +place in its turn to another night.</p> + +<p>The morning which followed the night of Nancy Forest's bitter +humiliation was certainly a bright one—at least, by contrast; and, +unfortunately, much so-called happiness is only such. Were the world not +a dark and naughty one, a good deed might not shine so brightly. In the +first place, Nancy was young and healthy; so the wintry sun, though it +shone on a frozen ground, cheered her. Then Mrs. Forest was unusually +amiable at breakfast, and paid some attention to her daughter, which she +generally found herself too busy to do. Her father made much of her, as +was his habit. He had apparently heard nothing of last night's episode.</p> + +<p>The walk across the hills to Shenton was exhilarating, and at the end of +it a pleasant surprise awaited Nancy. She found Miss Michin already at +work on a dress for Miss Sabina Hurst when she arrived. The good-natured +little woman greeted her apprentice brightly. "You are looking better, +Nancy; the walk has given you a colour." Then she reached out her hand +to a table near her, and took a little parcel from it and gave it to +Nancy.</p> + +<p>"It is nothing," she explained, as the girl looked at it curiously. +"Open it, dear; it is a trifle for a Christmas gift. I wish it was +more."</p> + +<p>Nancy could only say "Oh, Miss Michin—how kind!" to begin with. Then +she unwrapped the paper and saw a dainty pair of brown kid gloves with +ever so many buttons. This matter of the buttons was not unimportant in +Nancy's eyes. Had her mother given her the money, she thought, she could +never have bought gloves with more than <i>two</i> buttons.</p> + +<p>"This is just what I needed—oh, thank you so much," she exclaimed, when +she had looked at them.</p> + +<p>"That was what I thought," said the dressmaker; "so now we must set to +work and get a good day."</p> + +<p>And Nancy did work well that day, never looking up from her work, except +once to glance across to the Post-office at the time she knew Benny Dodd +usually came out to go to the church. She could not see Fred, so it was +some pleasure to her to look at the small boy who blew the organ for +him.</p> + +<p>But Benny did not perform that office for the young musician on this +day, for Fred Hurst had gone to London that morning, summoned thither by +a letter from Messrs. Hermann and Scheiner, music publishers. The marked +success of "Winged Love" had disposed these gentlemen to make the young +composer a good offer for his next song. The more immediate cause of +their determination was the fact that Señor Florès had chosen to sing +"Winged Love"<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_426" id="Page_426">[Pg 426]</a></span> at the last Saturday afternoon concert at St. James' +Hall, and its reception had been such as to establish a certain sale for +songs from the same hand. "Who is this Fred Hurst?" people in London +were asking.</p> + +<p>Miss Sabina, in her showy drawing-room up at the Manor Farm, thought +over the event all day in her own critical way, and predicted evil as +the result. There was an old Broadwood grand piano in the room where she +sat, covered with a pile of old music—Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Haydn, +and all the composers whose music Miss Sabina disliked. This music had +belonged to Fred's mother, a fair and unfortunate creature, whose own +story I shall some day write. Miss Sabina's performances upon the +pianoforte were limited to such compositions as the "Canary Birds' +Quadrilles," "My Heart is Over the Sea," etc., which she never played at +all now. But she looked at the old piano, and recalled her +sister-in-law's pretty baby looks and tragic end, and prophesied evil +for Fred. Jacob Hurst laughed the whole business to scorn. The one being +in Shenton who could have genuinely rejoiced at Fred's success knew +nothing about it.</p> + +<p>Nancy's thoughts were constantly with him, however, and when her work +ended for the day, and she walked homeward across the hills to Braley +Brook, she connected many an inanimate object she passed with some look +or word of his. These looks and words had always been so kind, so +gentle, that as the brook, where the forget-me-nots grew in summer, or +the bank in the hollow where the primroses grew thickest in spring, or +the fallen tree, which, as the weeks passed, would become golden with +moss and lichen again—as all these would awaken to summer sunshine and +gladness;—so would her heart. Fred's love for her—she felt sure he had +loved her—was only hidden away like the flowers under the snow, to +bloom forth again in spring. It was her winter, that was all, she told +herself. She must wait as the flowers did.</p> + +<p>When she reached home, her mind was filled with hope—hope which but too +soon was to give place to despair. Last night Mrs. Forest had struck +her—but then she had not looked nearly so angry as she did now when her +daughter appeared before her.</p> + +<p>"Where is my ten shillings?" she cried menacingly, as Nancy closed the +kitchen-door behind her. "What have you done with it, you ungrateful, +unnatural girl?" she repeated loudly.</p> + +<p>"Indeed, mother, I know nothing of it," poor Nancy answered, trembling +violently.</p> + +<p>"Is it in that there teapot?" inquired the enraged mother, thrusting the +article in question close to the frightened girl's face. Nancy glanced +rapidly from the empty teapot to the chimney-piece.</p> + +<p>"You needn't look there, you hussy," Mrs. Forest continued, seeing the +direction Nancy's eyes were taking. "There's <i>nothing</i> on the +chimney-piece—the money's gone, and you've took it, because your father +said you were to—it wasn't his to give—did he mend the<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_427" id="Page_427">[Pg 427]</a></span> sacks? tell me +that! I'll have my money back—every halfpenny, so you'd better give it +me before I make you."</p> + +<p>"Mother, I have not touched it; I know nothing about it, really I +don't," said Nancy desperately.</p> + +<p>"What's that you've got in your hand?" demanded Mrs. Forest, catching +sight of the parcel containing the gloves.</p> + +<p>Nancy did not answer; she was looking at the round table, which was +covered with the shining brass ornaments which had been removed from the +chimney-piece in the search for the missing coin. There they +were—candlesticks, pans, snuffer-tray, and beer-warmer, articles she +remembered from earliest childhood as never in use, and always highly +polished. Now as the firelight flickered upon them they seemed to be +looking at the distracted girl with countless fiery eyes which twinkled +in malice. Nancy could not take her eyes from these other eyes, she +could not think for the moment. She vaguely knew that her mother took +away her parcel, and presently Mrs. Forest's rasping voice recalled her +from her stupefied reverie.</p> + +<p>"So you spent it in gloves, did you? Six-buttoned ones, too—! Oh, you +ungrateful, selfish, wasteful girl."</p> + +<p>"Mother, mother," wailed Nancy, taking hold of Mrs. Forest's gown with +one hand convulsively, while she pressed the other to her brow, where +her wavy locks of hair lay all damp and ruffled. "You <i>should</i> +believe—you <i>must</i> believe me—Miss Michin gave me the gloves—I have +never seen your money—oh, mother, I couldn't have touched it—I +<i>couldn't</i>."</p> + +<p>"Don't add lies to it," broke out Mrs. Forest in a greater passion than +ever.</p> + +<p>Than this last remark, nothing could have easily been more unjust. Nancy +had always been a very truthful child.</p> + +<p>"If you can no longer trust me, it is perhaps better for me—to—to go +away," said Nancy, softly.</p> + +<p>"Yes—go—go now," replied her mother, who had arrived at that stage of +rage when people use words little heeding their meaning.</p> + +<p>Nancy buttoned her little jacket once more, and tied a silk handkerchief +round her neck, and passed out at the door in a wild, hurried fashion.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Forest looked at the door and smiled. "She'll none go," she said to +herself; "where could she go <i>to</i>?"</p> + +<p>But Nancy did not resemble her mother in hasty moods, she was rather the +subject of permanent impressions. Her mother's conduct had wounded her +to the quick. She could no longer endure it, she thought. Hitherto, her +father's love had rendered it bearable—but now, even that seemed +powerless to keep her under the same roof as her mother. Where could she +go? She would walk on, no matter in what direction; then, when she could +walk no more, she might perhaps be calm enough to think.</p> + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_428" id="Page_428">[Pg 428]</a></span></p> +<h4>IV.</h4> + +<p>"Where is Nan?" asked John Forest, when he entered the house, an hour +after Nancy had left it.</p> + +<p>"Oh, she'll be here presently," replied the mother evasively. Of course +Nancy would come soon, she thought to herself, and what was the use of +rousing John?</p> + +<p>Another hour passed. "Nan's very late to-night," said her father. "I've +a mind to go and meet her."</p> + +<p>"You bide by the fire, John," responded his wife. "Nancy's in a tantrum +because I found out as she'd took that bag-money—she'll come in when +she's a mind."</p> + +<p>"The <i>bag-money</i>!" repeated John in a puzzled way. "Nan take it!—she +never did, barring you give it her."</p> + +<p>"She did then, and bought gloves with it, to do up with six buttons, and +there they be now beside you on the settle," retorted Mrs. Forest. John +looked in the place his wife had indicated, and there, sure enough, lay +the brown kid gloves. This evidence did seem conclusive. John shook his +grey head as he held the dainty gloves across his rough palm, and +presently said, "You have kept her too short, wife—girls wants their +bits of things." He paused and sighed heavily, and then added, "I'll go +and look for her."</p> + +<p>"It's all your fault, John," broke out his wife as he rose to go. "You +as good as told her to do it."</p> + +<p>"You ought to have given her some money, Eliza, and you've been nagging +at her and driven her out this cold night; if harm comes of it—" said +John as he went out.</p> + +<p>"Fiddlesticks about harm; what harm can come to her, I should like to +know?" retorted his wife, without allowing him to complete his sentence. +Then the door closed and Eliza Forest was alone, with the ticking of the +eight-day clock to bear her company.</p> + +<p>Slowly the hand of the clock travelled on. A clock is a weird +companion—above all, one that strikes the hour after a preliminary +groaning sound as this clock did. Mrs. Forest tried to occupy herself +with the stocking she was knitting, but she was uneasy and let her work +fall in her lap while she reflected to the accompaniment of that +metallic "Tick-tick" of the clock. "My mother always said that my temper +would get me down and worry me," she meditated; "and I believe it <i>will</i> +before it's done."</p> + +<p>Ten o'clock struck—eleven o'clock, and Mrs. Forest grew really alarmed. +She rose and placed her knitting on the high chimney-piece—she +generally put it there out of the way of the cat, who played with the +ball—and opened the door and peered out into the darkness. There was a +sound of footsteps along the frozen high road. She listened intently, +but the horses began to move about in the stable close by and she could +no longer hear the footsteps.</p> + +<p>The cold wind blew right against her, chilling her through and<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_429" id="Page_429">[Pg 429]</a></span> through. +But she still stood there in the doorway. By-and-by there were +unmistakable footsteps near at hand. A moment more and John was beside +her. He was alone. "Wife," he began in a hollow voice, "Nan left Miss +Michin as usual; has she been home?"</p> + +<p>"I told you she had," gasped the mother. "I told you she and me had had +a tiff about the money."</p> + +<p>John Forest made no comment, he was too desperate for that. He knew well +enough that if his quiet, patient little Nan had gone away, she must be +in a state of mind out of which tragedies come. He would go and rouse +Jim Lincoln, who slept in the stable loft, and they would search for +her. Mrs. Forest watched her husband disappear in the dim starlight, and +then went back to the kitchen. Vague fears took possession of her. She +dreaded she knew not what. All her unkindness to Nancy, culminating in +last night's blow, seemed to rise up against her. Even as to the taking +of the money, Nancy had had her father's sanction and might have thought +that enough. But Nancy denied having touched the money; <i>what if, after +all, she had spoken the truth!</i> She had always been particularly +truthful in even the smallest matters. Mrs. Forest would try not to +think any more; it was too painful. She would reach down her knitting +and try to "do" a bit.</p> + +<p>She rose and took down the half-knit stocking, but the spare needle was +missing. She felt with her hand upon the chimney-piece, but could not +find it. Then she mounted a chair and searched. It was nowhere to be +seen. "It may have slipped into the nick at the back," she thought, and +she got a skewer and poked it into the narrow groove. Out fell the +needle—and something else which made a clinking sound as it fell upon +the brick floor. She stooped to see what it was, <i>and there glittering +in the firelight lay the missing half-sovereign</i>.</p> + +<hr style='width: 45%;' /> + +<p>When Fred Hurst had seen Messrs. Hermann and Scheiner, he was in the +highest possible spirits: a whole future seemed to open out before him.</p> + +<p>It may appear that Fred was conceited, and "too sure;" but we must +record that he went to a jeweller's and bought a little pearl ring for +Nancy, meaning to place it on her third finger next day when her lips +should have given him the promise he knew her heart had long since +given. Having made his purchase he took train from Liverpool Street to +Exboro', from which place he would have to walk to Shenton, where he +could not arrive until one o'clock in the morning. He had performed some +miles of his walk across the hills, and was within an appreciable +distance of Braley Brook, when he observed a dark figure crouching on a +fallen tree. He was at first a little startled, for it was most unusual +to meet anyone in this place, above all at such an hour: it was after +midnight. On coming nearer he saw that the figure was that of a woman. +It might be one<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_430" id="Page_430">[Pg 430]</a></span> of the cottagers from Shenton—who had been to Exboro' +and been taken ill on the way home—he would see.</p> + +<p>He came close and touched the crouching figure, and asked gently, "Are +you ill? Can I do anything for you?"</p> + +<p>The figure started violently and looked up at him, and in the starlight +he recognised the face of Nancy Forest.</p> + +<p>In a moment he was seated on the fallen tree beside her, and had placed +his arm about her. "Nancy, dearest Nancy," he cried, pressing burning +kisses on her cold cheek—the first he had ever given her. "Nancy, speak +to me; tell me what is the meaning of your being here."</p> + +<p>But she could not answer him then; she simply laid her cheek against his +shoulder and wept bitterly. But she did tell him all presently; and he +told her what he had long since wished to tell, and they walked together +to the old farm, for, of course, Nancy must return to her parents for a +little time—only a very little time, they decided. When they reached +the farm, John Forest and his wife were standing by the round table in +the house-place, where the half-sovereign lay. John was hard and +relentless; his wife was sobbing aloud. And then the door opened, and +Nancy and Fred stood before them.</p> + +<p>With a wild cry, Eliza Forest clasped her daughter to her heart, +imploring her forgiveness. "My temper 'welly' worried me this time, +Nancy," she said; "but after this I will worry <i>it</i>."</p> + +<p>So here the story properly ends, for Mr. Hurst, to the surprise of +everyone, yielded a ready consent to the marriage, and even offered an +allowance to the young couple and one of his small farms to live in. +Miss Sabina allowed her old interest in Nancy to revive, and sent her +the material for her wedding dress, which Miss Michin announced her +intention of making up herself—every stitch. Nor was this all. Mrs. +Dodd, the worthy post-mistress, with whom Nancy had always been a +favourite, begged her acceptance of a prettily-furnished work-basket +which she had made a journey to Exboro' to buy.</p> + +<p>And the half-sovereign?</p> + +<p>It was never spent, but was always in sight under a wine-glass, to +remind the owner—so she said—"of how her temper nearly worried her."</p> + +<p class="name"><span class="smcap">Jeanie Gwynne Bettany.</span></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /><p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_431" id="Page_431">[Pg 431]</a></span></p> +<h2>PAUL.</h2> + +<h3><span class="smcap">By the Author of "Adonais, Q.C."</span></h3> + + +<p>It was a great surprise and disappointment to me when Janet, the only +child of my brother, Duncan Wright, wrote announcing her engagement to +the Honourable Stephen Vandeleur.</p> + +<p>I had always thought she would marry Paul. Paul was the only surviving +son—four others had died—of my dead brother Alexander, and had made +one of Duncan's household from his boyhood. I had always loved +Janet—and Paul was as the apple of my eye. When the two were mere +children, and Duncan was still in comparatively humble circumstances, +living in a semi-detached villa in the suburbs of Glasgow, I kept my +brother's house for some years, he being then a widower.</p> + +<p>I cannot say I altogether liked doing so. Having independent means of my +own, I did not require to fill such a position, and I had never got on +very well with Duncan. However, I dearly loved the children, although I +had enough to do with them, too. Janet was one of the prettiest, +merriest, laughing little creatures—with eyes the colour of the sea in +summer-time, and a complexion like a wild-rose—the sun ever shed its +light upon; but she had a most distressing way of tearing her frocks and +of never looking tidy, which Duncan seemed to think entirely my fault; +and as for Paul, he certainly was a most awful boy.</p> + +<p>He was fair as Janet, though with a differently-shaped face; rather a +long face, with a square, determined-looking chin; and, besides being +one of the handsomest, was assuredly one of the cleverest boys I ever +knew. He had a good, sound, strong Scotch intellect, and was as sharp as +a needle, or any Yankee, into the bargain.</p> + +<p>But he <i>would</i> have his own way, whatever it was, and was often +mischievous as a fiend incarnate; and in his contradictory moods, would +have gone on saying black was white all day on the chance of getting +somebody to argue with him. Duncan paid no attention whatever to the +lad, except, from time to time, to speculate what particular bad end he +would come to.</p> + +<p>But I loved Paul, and Paul loved me—and adored Janet.</p> + +<p>The boy had one exceedingly beautiful feature in his face: sometimes I +could not take my eyes from it; I used to wonder if it could be that +which made me love him so much—his mouth. I have never seen another +anything like it. The steady, strong, and yet delicate lips—so calm and +serious when still, as to make one feel at rest merely to look at them; +but when in motion extraordinarily sensitive, quivering, curving, and +curling in sympathy with every thought.</p> + +<p>I loved both children; but perhaps the reason that made me love<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_432" id="Page_432">[Pg 432]</a></span> Paul +most was—that whilst I knew Janet's nature, out and in, to the core of +her very loving little heart, Paul's often puzzled me.</p> + +<p>There was not much in the way of landscape to be seen from that villa in +the suburbs of Glasgow; but we did catch just one glimpse of sky which +was not always obscured by smoke, and I have seen Paul, lost in thought, +looking up at this patch of blue, with an expression on his face—at +once sweet and sorrowful—so strange in one so young, that it made me +instinctively move more quietly, not to disturb him, and set me +wondering.</p> + +<p>However, what with one thing and another, I was not by any means +heart-broken when Duncan married again—one of the kindest women in the +world; I can't think what she saw in him—and thus released me.</p> + +<p>So the years flew on—and the wheel of fortune gave some strange turns +for Duncan. By a series of wonderfully successful speculations he +rapidly amassed a huge fortune.</p> + +<p>They left Glasgow then, and built a colossal white brick mansion not far +from London.</p> + +<p>When Janet was eighteen and Paul twenty-one, I paid them a visit there. +Except that Janet was now grown up, she was just the same—with her +thriftless, thoughtless ways, and her laughing baby face, and her yellow +head—a silly little head enough, perhaps, but a dear, dear little head +to me.</p> + +<p>She had the same admiration, almost awe, of the splendours of this world +in any form; the same love of fine clothes—with the same carelessness +as to how she used them. It gave me a good laugh, the first afternoon I +was there, to see her come in with a new dress all soiled and torn by a +holly-bush she had pushed her way through on the lawn. It made me think +of the time when she had gone popping in and out to the little back +garden at Glasgow, and singing and swinging about the stairs—a bonnie +wee lassie with a dirty pink cotton gown, and, as often as not, dirtier +face.</p> + +<p>Paul seemed to me, in looks at least, to have more than fulfilled the +promise of his boyhood. A handsomer, more self-reliant-looking young +fellow I had never seen; and I was not long in the house before I +observed—with secret tears of amusement—that it was not only in looks +he remained unchanged. The same dictatorialness and sharp tongue; the +same thinly-veiled insolence to Duncan; the same swift smiles from his +entrancing lips—thank Heaven undisfigured by any moustache—to myself; +the same unalterable gentleness to Janet. His invariable courtesy to +Duncan's wife made me very happy. It was as I said: there was much good +in the boy.</p> + +<p>Paul had a little money of his own to begin with, and I did think +Duncan, with his fortune, might have sent an exceptionally clever lad +like that to one of the Universities, and made something of him +afterwards—a lawyer, say; but instead of that, Paul was put into +business in London, and, I was glad to hear, was doing very well.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_433" id="Page_433">[Pg 433]</a></span></p> + +<p>As for Duncan's hideous white brick castle, with its paltry half-dozen +acres, entered by lodges of the utmost pretension, and his coach-houses +full of flashy carriages, with the family coat-of-arms(!) upon each, I +thought the whole place one of the most contemptible patches of snobbery +on this fair earth; and I was glad my father's toil-bleared eyes were +hid in the grave, so that they should not have the shame of resting upon +it.</p> + +<p>In spite of what I thought, however, I did my best to keep a solemn face +at Paul's smart speeches, which were often amusing, and often simply +impudence.</p> + +<p>Duncan, as of yore, went as though he saw him not.</p> + +<p>I had not been at Duncan's palace long before I came to the conclusion +that there was some private understanding betwixt the two young people; +and, at last, just before I left, my suspicions were confirmed.</p> + +<p>Hastily pushing open the library door, which stood ajar, I saw Paul with +his back to me, at the end of the room, looking into the conservatory. +He had evidently just entered from the garden. "Janet," he called, in a +voice the import of which there could be no mistaking; and with a rush, +I heard several pots crash; Janet, who had no doubt happened to have her +head turned the other way, sprang into view, and threw herself into his +arms.</p> + +<p>I quietly withdrew, and went away very, very happy. I knew Paul had a +promise of a first-rate appointment abroad, by-and-by; and supposing I +should hear more of this before long, I went placidly away home to the +far north. Instead of that, in six months or so, Janet wrote announcing +her engagement to the Honourable Stephen Vandeleur.</p> + +<p>Of course I went south for Janet's wedding.</p> + +<p>If I had thought she was being forced into this marriage (Duncan was +snob enough) I should not have gone a step, but should have done my best +to prevent it; but I could not think that from the tone of the letter; +and Paul wrote as well all about it. I could but think I had been +mistaken; that there had been no serious engagement between them, but +only a flirtation, as they might call it, or something of that sort: a +very reprehensible flirtation, with my Puritanical notions, it seemed to +me. I need not say I was greatly disappointed.</p> + +<p>So in due course south I went.</p> + +<p>Paul met me—handsomer and more dictatorial than ever; his blue eyes +clear and piercing as before. He seemed quite pleased; said Stephen +Vandeleur was a good fellow; was most impertinently sarcastic about +Duncan's aristocratic guests; and altogether appeared in good spirits. +Janet I did not think looking well. She seemed very nervous, and made +the remark that she wished it were six months ago; but of course it was +natural a girl should be a little hysterical on the eve of her +wedding-day.</p> + +<p>The morrow came, and the wedding with it. I thought it a very<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_434" id="Page_434">[Pg 434]</a></span> +unpleasant one. Whatever might be Stephen Vandeleur's own feelings, he +seemed, as Paul said, a very good fellow. It was evident his friends +only countenanced it on consideration of the huge dowry Janet brought +with her. Some of them were gentlepeople, as I understand the word, and +some were not; but Duncan, who appeared really to think the mere +accident of superior birth in itself a guarantee of personal merit, as +Paul very truly put it, grovelled all round, until I was sick with +shame. Paul, however, was at his best and wittiest and brightest, and +kept everybody in tolerably good humour.</p> + +<p>When the carriage came to take the bride and bridegroom away, I +remembered some trifle of Janet's that had been left in the +conservatory; and, as I was in the hall at the time, ran hastily outside +and round by the gravel to the door opening from the lawn, which was my +shortest way to the conservatory from there.</p> + +<p>Suddenly I stood quite still. Paul was looking out of the library +window, and Janet, ready for departure, came falteringly in and stood +behind him. He did not look towards her. "Paul!" she whispered +entreatingly; and although so low there was the utmost anguish in the +tone: "Paul." As though not knowing what she did, she raised her arm, +standing behind him there, as if to shake hands. Abruptly he wheeled +round, with a face down which the great tears coursed, but awful in its +pallor and sternness; and, taking no notice of her outstretched hand, +pointed to the door. Weeping bitterly, she swiftly turned and went.</p> + +<p>I cannot describe the shock this terrible scene gave me. It did not take +half-a-dozen short moments to enact, but it represented, unmistakably, +the blasting of two lives—the lives of those dearest in all the world +to me.</p> + +<p>I do not know, I never knew, whether Paul saw me. I think I must have +become momentarily unconscious, and when I came to myself he was gone.</p> + +<p>I sat where I was, weeping bitter tears—bitter as Janet's—and thought +of the little lassie in the dirty pink frock that had sung and swung +about the stairs, and of the boy who had stood day-dreaming, looking up +into the blue sky. Sometimes I was wildly angry. Whose fault was it? Who +was answerable for this? If it was the young people's own fault, someone +ought to have looked after them better, ought to have prevented it. No +one, not even I, could help them now, that was the bitterest, bitterest +part of it; no one and nothing—save time, or death.</p> + +<p>I wished that day I had never left my children.</p> + + +<h4>II.</h4> + +<p>I must pass over a long period now—I suppose I should have said I was +writing of a great many years ago, and come to the time, twenty years +later, when Paul came home from abroad. He had not been home all these +years, and neither had I been once in the south.<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_435" id="Page_435">[Pg 435]</a></span></p> + +<p>Janet, my poor Janet, was long since dead. She had died before she was +quite two years married. It was an additional pang to my grief that I +had never said good-bye to her at all; but no good-bye was better than +that awful one I had witnessed of Paul.</p> + +<p>What was the precise explanation of it I never knew. It was easy to +divine that Janet had indeed been engaged to marry Paul, and had given +him up; but whether this was the result of some quarrel, or whether she +had deliberately done it, dazzled by the prospect of a union with an +earl's son, I cannot say. Anyhow, I am sure she quickly regretted her +determination. I am certain she loved only Paul. But the word had been +spoken, and whatever Vandeleur may have been, Paul was not a man to give +any woman a chance of trifling with him twice. So my poor Janet had to +reap what her folly had sown, as best she might.</p> + +<p>Janet left one little child, a daughter, called Janet, after her; and +this child, becoming an orphan at an early age by the death, next, of +Stephen Vandeleur, was brought up with his family in Ireland.</p> + +<p>She was in Scotland once when she was about fourteen, and I saw her, and +was not favourably impressed. She was quiet and prim and proper, as cold +as an icicle: a very pretty little girl, I owned that; but then I had +thought to find something of <i>my</i> Janet, and was disappointed. Her eyes +were indeed blue, but looked one in the face calmly as though they had +belonged to a woman of forty; and her hair and long eye-lashes were as +dark as night. She had just this of my Janet, her pink and snow +wild-rose complexion. She seemed to me, in all else, a Vandeleur to her +finger-tips.</p> + +<p>She occasionally paid Duncan long visits; and as she grew up, I heard +that Duncan tried to make these visits as frequent and as lengthy as +possible. She was immensely admired, it seemed, and Duncan liked her to +stay with him because of the people she attracted to his house. I was +sure this was true. It was so like one of Duncan's horrid ways. He still +lived in that white brick edifice, and was richer then ever. A good deal +of gossip drifted to me, in the far north as I was. I was told that +Janet had a Manchester millionaire, an American railway king, and a real +live lord, all madly in love with her—and she not yet quite nineteen!</p> + +<p>Just then Paul returned home, and Duncan wrote inviting me to come down +and see them. Paul was to stay with them—and Duncan was quite proud +about it. His predictions had turned out all wrong; for Paul had come +home a personage of importance, and a very rich man indeed. I was almost +sorry that Janet's child happened to be at Duncan's just then, thinking +her presence would revive old memories better forgotten. And then, if +Paul were at all like what he used to be, I was sure her calmly +superior, supercilious little ways would irritate him intensely. I had +never seen her at Duncan's, but I could fancy how she would look there.</p> + +<p>When I saw Paul, just for the first minute or so I felt quite<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_436" id="Page_436">[Pg 436]</a></span> startled. +He seemed so marvellously little changed. He was forty-one, and would +have looked young for thirty. Of course by-and-by I saw there were lines +in his face which had not before been there. I could not say, not +talking of appearance but of character, that I thought him improved. He +no longer spoke scornfully to or of Duncan, but was always coldly +courteous; yet often I would see a sneer on his curving lips that was +more biting and bitter than any words, and made them look evil. He was +not dictatorial all round to everybody as he used to be, but I thought +him harsh in particular instances. His smiles to myself were more rare; +his eyes colder: he seemed to me cynical of all on earth; I feared, too, +with keen sorrow, of all in Heaven.</p> + +<p>Others spoke of the changes the wear and tear of life abroad had made on +Paul, but I had seen his face as it looked—for the last time on +earth—upon Janet that day, and had my own sad thoughts.</p> + +<p>But although I speak of these changes, I do not mean to say that Paul +was not as gentle and loving to me as he had ever been, and that I was +not exquisitely happy to be with him again. Many a pleasant walk had we +about Duncan's garden, I leaning on Paul's strong arm, a support which I +felt the need of now. Twenty years had not come and gone without leaving +plenty of traces on me. We neither of us ever mentioned Janet, <i>my</i> +Janet, that is to say. Janet's daughter (Janet II., as I used to +mentally designate her for convenience' sake) was here as I expected, +and for a while, just as before, I did not take to her. I left her alone +and she left me alone; that was her way.</p> + +<p>She was lovely, certainly; ethereally lovely; almost too lovely for +one's senses to grasp the fact that she was but common flesh and blood +like all the rest of the world: a poem in human form if there ever was +one. Gossip had spoken truly for once; there were the three +distinguished lovers, and goodness knows how many more besides.</p> + +<p>Paul and I never spoke of this girl, any more than we did of my Janet; +but, at first, I often fancied I saw his gaze fastened on her; the same +unpleasant sneer on his lips which disfigured them when he looked at +Duncan. By and by I grew rather to like her. I believe I, at heart, +resented Paul looking like that at my Janet's bairn. I began to fancy +that, for all her apparent calmness, she was shy. If we met in the +garden she would give me a swift glance to see if I were going to stop +and speak to her, and, I thought, seemed pleased when I did. At last +there came an odd little episode.</p> + +<p>Paul was very fond of animals—that was always one of his good +traits—and he one day found a little stray white kitten somewhere about +the place, and brought it into the room where I sat alone at work. He +began grimly to play with it. Just then Janet opened the door. She gave +a delighted exclamation, and, coming eagerly forward, smilingly held out +her arms for the kitten. She was dressed<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_437" id="Page_437">[Pg 437]</a></span> for the evening, and the +little thing began clawing about her lovely gown, and in one instant had +pulled to shreds a very expensive bit of trimming.</p> + +<p>I started up in distress; but Janet, putting the kitten gently back on +the table, burst into laughter. I am very sure I had never heard Janet +laugh before, and I don't think Paul ever had. A prettier, happier, more +silvery little peal could not be imagined; but it was not so much that +which struck home to my heart as the fact that if I had shut my eyes I +could have thought <i>my</i> Janet stood in the room. The girl had her +mother's laugh.</p> + +<p>I returned hastily to my work, and did not dare to lift my head until +Janet was gone—then I looked stealthily at Paul.</p> + +<p>The sun was just setting—the sky a rolling roseate glory from end to +end. Paul—my Paul—my Paul, with the old beautiful light in his face, +stood, with arms crossed, looking up into it. All at once something came +into my throat which almost stifled me, so that I could not have sat +where I was for any consideration whatever. I slipped quietly away and +left him.</p> + +<p>From this day I loved the girl. Whether it was her carelessness about +the dress—so like her mother—or the laugh—or what—I loved her now +almost as much as I had loved her mother.</p> + +<p>It seemed to me that from this day, too, Paul became more like his old +self: a very much toned-down and softened old self; no longer so much +the hard, cynical Paul of later years as the boyish Paul of old. Of +course, no sooner had my feelings changed in this way than I became +greatly interested in Janet's lovers. I thought the cotton millionaire +vulgar; and the American railway king I could not make this or that of; +but the lord seemed a very nice, simple-mannered young man; so that I +hoped—for although I am a bit of a Radical, I lay claim to having some +common-sense too—if it were to be one of these three, it would be he.</p> + +<p>But the calm indifference with which this slip of a girl treated three +such lovers was truly appalling. I can't think how they stood it: I +shouldn't.</p> + +<p>I cannot remember exactly when it was that I made a discovery. Opposite +to the library, of which I have already spoken, now a venerable old +room, was my bed-room; and there was no other room until you had gone +along a passage and crossed a hall. It was my custom to go to bed very +early, and I did so here at Duncan's, long before the rest of the +household. I suppose they thought I went fair off to sleep, too; for +this part of the house was always deserted after I had gone into my +room.</p> + +<p>It was thus I made the discovery that every night, before retiring +herself, Janet came to the library and stayed a few minutes; and I could +hear her sometimes moving about books on the table.</p> + +<p>For a considerable time I felt hopelessly puzzled. All at once it struck +me—girls are the same all over the world and in all ages<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_438" id="Page_438">[Pg 438]</a></span>—that she +must come there to look at the photograph of someone she cared for; to +say good-night to it; perhaps to murmur a prayer over it. Girls are made +so. Doubtless she would take it away with her altogether to some place +more convenient for such oblations but that Duncan was much in the +library, and had lynx-eyes.</p> + +<p>I grew troubled, these nocturnal visits continuing, and wished that I +could help her. I thought if I could only find out whose the photograph +was, perhaps I might.</p> + +<p>One night I could bear it no longer. I am aware that I must seem a most +prying old woman; but somehow or other this library was fated to be +mixed up with my life. I rose and just peeped round the library door to +see what she was doing. She was standing in the clear moonlight—not, as +I had expected, with an open photograph album, but holding a little +miniature, taken from its place on the table. I went back to bed, my +heart bounding. I knew now! I did not sleep much that night.</p> + +<p>Perhaps I acted rashly—but I thought I should apply to Paul for help. I +was sure, from various signs, that he did not hate my Janet's bairn now. +I told him of these stolen visits to the library, and tried to persuade +him to conceal himself and watch there—for the purpose of finding out +whose the portrait was. I did not tell him, deceitful woman that I was, +that I myself already knew. Old people like him and me, I said, should +help the child out of her trouble. I must have startled him terribly: he +grew, at first, so white. Then he looked at me long and intently; and +by-and-by began to cross-examine me. We were canny Scots, both of us, +and fenced.</p> + +<p>"You say it was a photograph you saw her with?"</p> + +<p>"I did not say I saw her."</p> + +<p>"You have heard her open an album?"</p> + +<p>"I have heard her move books."</p> + +<p>I have seen the time when I could have broken a lance with the best; but +I was growing old, and he finished by getting me into rather a +hobble—when he abruptly left me, a great flush sweeping over his face. +He came back by-and-by, and took me out into the garden. If he never had +been the real old Paul before—he was so now. He cut the pansies from my +best cap, and decorated Duncan's coat-of-arms—which had broken out +about the walls now-a-days—with them. But he might have cut the cap in +two for all I cared just then.</p> + +<p>That night—I hoped he had not forgotten—I hoped he would come. +Presently I heard a quiet step which I knew to be his. Then I sat down +and listened again. Swish, swish—here she was at last. I had listened +too often to the soft rustle of her trailing gown to make any mistake +now. In my excitement—you see I was an old habitué at prying and +peering about the library by this time—I put one eye round the door, at +her very back. She had gone a few steps<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_439" id="Page_439">[Pg 439]</a></span> into the room—and now stood, +rooted to the spot, startled. There, with his face—and all that he +would have it say—fair and bright in the moonlight, stood Paul. He +opened his arms.</p> + +<p>"Janet," he said.</p> + +<p>With a little cry, and a sob, the girl rushed into them.</p> + +<p>I went away back to my own room. I am sure it is superfluous to explain +my little plot: that it was not a photograph, but an old miniature of +Paul I had seen Janet with—an old miniature which I had painted on +ivory myself in the far-distant days. I am sure Paul never had a +photograph taken. Of course it was because I had recognised this that I +wanted Paul to wait in the library; but he was a better fencer than I, +and made me admit more than I intended. I sat down now, a world of old +memories whirling through my brain. I mixed this that I had just +seen—with something very like it in the long, long past—with the crash +of pots, and another figure that had thrown itself into Paul's arms. +There was the old room: <i>Janet</i> had been said there, too; and the lips +through which the word had trembled were the same: and the voice was the +same also. Only the figure that had darted forward—was different.</p> + +<p>I did not go to bed at all that night; but sat looking out over the +quiet, moon-lit garden and over the fields beyond, where the corn-crake +was calling, calling; the river slipping like a silver thread at the +far-away end of them; and patter, patter out and into the back-garden at +Glasgow went the little feet again; and to and fro ran the fair-haired +little lassie in the dirty pink cotton, tugging me this way and that by +the hand; and such a singing and swinging went on about the stairs. Oh, +how I wondered whether Paul would ever tell Janet her mother's story.</p> + +<p>I was not going placidly away north <i>this</i> time, to wait to hear more +about anything by-and-by. I did not leave that factory-like erection of +Duncan's until I had seen them married.</p> + + +<div class="figcenter"> + <img src="images/03de.jpg" + alt="Decorative" + title="Decorative" /> +</div> + + +<p><span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_440" id="Page_440">[Pg 440]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE CHURCH GARDEN.</h2> + + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"We cannot," said the people, "stand these children,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Always round us with their racketing and play;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Yon Church-garden set right down among our houses<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is really quite a nuisance in its way!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"True, their homes are very dull, and bare, and dismal,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the narrow courts they live in dark and small,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And we think they love that sparsely-planted acre—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But we do not want to think of them at all!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"There are surely parks enough to make a play-ground,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And we might be spared these noisy little feet;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But the parks, the Clergy say, are all too distant,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And so they planned this garden in the street!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"No doubt the seats are pleasanter than curb-stones,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">While the trees make quite a shelter from the sun,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And the grass does nicely for the crawling babies—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But somebody must think of Number One!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And the air the children get of course is purer;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But then the noise they make is very great,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">With their laughter and their shouting to each other,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And the everlasting banging of the gate!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"And the wailing of the sickly, puny babies<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Is enough to fret one's spirit through and through—<br /></span> +<span class="i0">No doubt they cry as much in those dark alleys—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But then we never hear them if they do!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Half the Parish talks to us of self-denial,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Of kindly duties lying at the door,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And of One who says the Poor are always with us;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But we can't be always thinking of the Poor!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"We are older, we are richer, we are wiser;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Why should we be vexed and troubled in our ease?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Just because the children like the Vicar's garden,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">With its faded grass and smoky London trees!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Still we feel sometimes a little self-convicted,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When we hear the hard-worked kindly Clergy say<br /></span> +<span class="i0">That it helps them often in their weary labours,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Just to see the children happy at their play!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Yet we think they try to make the thing too solemn,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">When they put aside our protests with the plea:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">'Whatsoe'er ye did to such as these, my brethren,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">To the least—ye did it even unto Me.'"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Thus the people murmured, but the children's Angels<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Smiled rejoicing, and a richer blessing falls<br /></span> +<span class="i0">On the Church that made a shelter for the children<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Underneath the holy shadow of her walls.<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p class="name"><span class="smcap">Christian Burke.</span></p> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argosy, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGOSY *** + +***** This file should be named 18375-h.htm or 18375-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/3/7/18375/ + +Produced by Paul Murray, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: The Argosy + Vol. 51, No. 5, May, 1891 + +Author: Various + +Editor: Charles W. Woods + +Release Date: May 11, 2006 [EBook #18375] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGOSY *** + + + + +Produced by Paul Murray, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + _"Laden with Golden Grain"_ + + * * * * * + + THE + ARGOSY. + + + EDITED BY + CHARLES W. WOOD. + + * * * * * + + + VOLUME LI. + + _January to June, 1891._ + + * * * * * + + + RICHARD BENTLEY & SON, + 8, NEW BURLINGTON STREET, LONDON, W. + + Publishers in Ordinary to Her Majesty. + + _All rights reserved._ + + + LONDON: + PRINTED BY OGDEN, SMALE AND CO. LIMITED, + GREAT SAFFRON HILL, E.C. + + + + + +_CONTENTS._ + + +THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND. Illustrated by M.L. GOW. + + Chap. I. My Arrival at Deepley Walls Jan + II. The Mistress of Deepley Walls Jan + III. A Voyage of Discovery Jan + IV. Scarsdale Weir Jan + V. At Rose Cottage Feb + VI. The Growth of a Mystery Feb + VII. Exit Janet Hope Feb + VIII. By the Scotch Express Feb + IX. At "The Golden Griffin" Mar + X. The Stolen Manuscript Mar + XI. Bon Repos Mar + XII. The Amsterdam Edition of 1698 Mar + XIII. M. Platzoff's Secret--Captain Ducie's Translation of + M. Paul Platzoff's MS Mar + XIV. Drashkil-Smoking Apr + XV. The Diamond Apr + XVI. Janet's Return Apr + XVII. Deepley Walls after Seven Years Apr + XVIII. Janet in a New Character May + XIX. The Dawn of Love May + XX. The Narrative of Sergeant Nicholas May + XXI. Counsel taken with Mr. Madgin May + XXII. Mr. Madgin at the Helm Jun + XXIII. Mr. Madgin's Secret Journey Jun + XXIV. Enter Madgin Junior Jun + XXV. Madgin Junior's First Report Jun + + * * * * * + +THE SILENT CHIMES. By JOHNNY LUDLOW (Mrs. HENRY WOOD). + + Putting Them Up Jan + Playing Again Feb + Ringing at Midday Mar + Not Heard Apr + Silent for Ever May + + * * * * * + +THE BRETONS AT HOME. By CHARLES W. WOOD, F.R.G.S. With + 35 Illustrations Jan, Feb, Mar, Apr, May, Jun + + * * * * * + +About the Weather Jun +Across the River. By HELEN M. BURNSIDE Apr +After Twenty Years. By ADA M. TROTTER Feb +A Memory. By GEORGE COTTERELL Feb +A Modern Witch Jan +An April Folly. By GILBERT H. PAGE Apr +A Philanthropist. By ANGUS GREY Jun +Aunt Phoebe's Heirlooms: An Experience in Hypnotism Feb +A Social Debut Mar +A Song. By G.B. STUART Jan +Enlightenment. By E. NESBIT Feb +In a Bernese Valley. By ALEXANDER LAMONT Feb +Legend of an Ancient Minster. By JOHN GRAEME Mar +Longevity. By W.F. AINSWORTH, F.S.A. Apr +Mademoiselle Elise. By EDWARD FRANCIS Jun +Mediums and Mysteries. By NARISSA ROSAVO Feb +Miss Kate Marsden Jan +My May Queen. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. May +Old China Jun +On Letter-Writing. By A.H. JAPP, LL.D. May +Paul. By the Author of "Adonais, Q.C." May +"Proctorised" Apr +Rondeau. By E. NESBIT Mar +Saint or Satan? By A. BERESFORD Feb +Sappho. By MARY GREY Mar +Serenade. By E. NESBIT Jun +Sonnets. By JULIA KAVANAGH Jan, Feb, Apr, Jun +So Very Unattractive! Jun +Spes. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. Apr +Sweet Nancy. By JEANIE GWYNNE BETTANY May +The Church Garden. By CHRISTIAN BURKE May +The Only Son of his Mother. By LETITIA MCCLINTOCK Mar +To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo Jun +Unexplained. By LETITIA MCCLINTOCK Apr +Who Was the Third Maid? Jan +Winter in Absence Feb + + * * * * * + +_POETRY._ + +Sonnets. By JULIA KAVANAGH Jan, Feb, Apr, Jun +A Song. By G.B. STUART Jan +Enlightenment. By E. NESBIT Feb +Winter in Absence Feb +A Memory. By GEORGE COTTERELL Feb +In a Bernese Valley. By ALEXANDER LAMONT Feb +Rondeau. By E. NESBIT Mar +Spes. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. Apr +Across the River. By HELEN M. BURNSIDE Apr +My May Queen. By JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. May +The Church Garden. By CHRISTIAN BURKE May +Serenade. By E. NESBIT Jun +To my Soul. From the French of Victor Hugo Jun +Old China Jun + + * * * * * + +_ILLUSTRATIONS._ + +By M.L. Gow. + + "I advanced slowly up the room, stopped, and curtsied." + + "I saw and recognised the mysterious midnight visitor." + + "He came back in a few minutes, but so transformed in outward + appearance that Ducie scarcely knew him." + + "Behold!" + + "Sister Agnes knelt for a few moments and bent her head in silent + prayer." + + "He put his hand to his side, and motioned Mirpah to open the letter." + + * * * * * + +Illustrations to "The Bretons at Home." + + + + +[Illustration: SISTER AGNES KNELT FOR A FEW MOMENTS, AND BENT HER HEAD +IN SILENT PRAYER.] + + + + +THE ARGOSY. + +_MAY, 1891._ + + + + +THE FATE OF THE HARA DIAMOND. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +JANET IN A NEW CHARACTER. + + +On entering Lady Chillington's room for the second time, Janet found +that the mistress of Deepley Walls had completed her toilette in the +interim, and was now sitting robed in stiff rustling silk, with an +Indian fan in one hand and a curiously-chased vinaigrette in the other. +She motioned with her fan to Janet. "Be seated," she said, in the iciest +of tones; and Janet sat down on a chair a yard or two removed from her +ladyship. + +"Since you were here last, Miss Hope," she began, "I have seen Sister +Agnes, who informs me that she has already given you an outline of the +duties I shall require you to perform should you agree to accept the +situation which ill-health obliges her to vacate. At the same time, I +wish you clearly to understand that I do not consider you in any way +bound by what I have done for you in the time gone by, neither would I +have you in this matter run counter to your inclinations in the +slightest degree. If you would prefer that a situation as governess +should be obtained for you, say so without hesitation; and any small +influence I may have shall be used ungrudgingly in your behalf. Should +you agree to remain at Deepley Walls, your salary will be thirty guineas +a-year. If you wish it, you can take a day for consideration, and let me +have your decision in the morning." + +Lady Chillington's mention of a fixed salary stung Janet to the quick: +it was so entirely unexpected. It stung her, but only for a moment; the +next she saw and gratefully recognised the fact that she should no +longer be a pensioner on the bounty of Lady Chillington. A dependent she +might be--a servant even, if you like; but at least she would be earning +her living by the labour of her own hands; and even about the very +thought of such a thing there was a sweet sense of independence that +flushed her warmly through and through. + +Her hesitation lasted but a moment, then she spoke. "Your ladyship is +very kind, but I require no time for consideration," she said. "I have +already made up my mind to take the position which you have so +generously offered me; and if my ability to please you only prove equal +to my inclination, you will not have much cause to complain." + +A faint smile of something like satisfaction flitted across Lady +Chillington's face. "Very good, Miss Hope," she said, in a more gracious +tone than she had yet used. "I am pleased to find that you have taken so +sensible a view of the matter, and that you understand so thoroughly +your position under my roof. How soon shall you be prepared to begin +your new duties?" + +"I am ready at this moment." + +"Come to me an hour hence, and I will then instruct you." + +In this second interview, brief though it was, Janet could not avoid +being struck by Lady Chillington's stately dignity of manner. Her tone +and style were those of a high-bred gentlewoman. It seemed scarcely +possible that she and the querulous, shrivelled-up old woman in the +cashmere dressing-robe could be one and the same individual. + +Unhappily, as Janet to her cost was not long in finding out, her +ladyship's querulous moods were much more frequent than her moods of +quiet dignity. At such times she was very difficult to please; +sometimes, indeed, it was utterly impossible to please her: not even an +angel could have done it. Then, indeed, Janet felt her duty weigh very +hardly upon her. By nature her temper was quick and passionate--her +impulses high and generous; but when Lady Chillington was in her worse +moods, she had to curb the former as with an iron chain; while the +latter were outraged continually by Lady Chillington's mean and miserly +mode of life, and by a certain low and sordid tone of thought which at +such times pervaded all she said and did. And yet, strange to say, she +had rare fits of generosity and goodwill--times when her soul seemed to +sit in sackcloth and ashes, as if in repentance for those other +occasions when the "dark fit" was on her, and the things of this world +claimed her too entirely as their own. + +After her second interview with Lady Chillington, Janet at once hurried +off to Sister Agnes to tell her the news. "On one point only, so far as +I see at present, shall I require any special information," she said. "I +shall need to know exactly the mode of procedure necessary to be +observed when I pay my midnight visits to Sir John Chillington." + +"It is not my intention that you should visit Sir John," said Sister +Agnes. "That portion of my old duties will continue to be performed by +me." + +"Not until you are stronger--not until your health is better than it is +now," said Janet earnestly. "I am young and strong; it is merely a part +of what I have undertaken to do, and you must please let me do it. I +have outgrown my childish fears, and could visit the Black Room now +without the quiver of a nerve." + +"You think so by daylight, but wait until the house is dark and silent, +and then say the same conscientiously, if you can do so." + +But Janet was determined not to yield the point, nor could Sister Agnes +move her from her decision. Ultimately a compromise was entered into by +which it was agreed that for one evening at least they should visit the +Black Room together, and that the settlement of the question should be +left until the following day. + +Precisely as midnight struck they set out together up the wide, +old-fashioned staircase, past the door of Janet's old room, up the +narrower staircase beyond, until the streak of light came into view and +the grim, nail-studded door itself was reached. Janet was secretly glad +that she was not there alone; so much she acknowledged to herself as +they halted for a moment while Sister Agnes unlocked the door. But when +the latter asked her if she were not afraid, if she would not much +rather be snug in bed, Janet only said: "Give me the key; tell me what I +have to do inside the room, and then leave me." + +But Sister Agnes would not consent to that, and they entered the room +together. Instead of seven years, it seemed to Janet only seven hours +since she had been there last, so vividly was the recollection of her +first visit still impressed upon her mind. Everything was unchanged in +that chamber of the dead, except, perhaps, the sprawling cupids on the +ceiling, which looked a shade dingier than of old, and more in need of +soap and water than ever. But the black draperies on the walls, the huge +candles in the silver tripods, the pall-covered coffin in the middle of +the room, were all as Janet had seen them last. There, too, was the +oaken _prie-dieu_ a yard or two away from the head of the coffin. Sister +Agnes knelt on it for a few moments, and bent her head in silent prayer. + +"My visit to this room every midnight," said Sister Agnes, "is made for +the simple purpose of renewing the candles, and of seeing that +everything is as it should be. That the visit should be made at +midnight, and at no other time, is one of Lady Chillington's whims--a +whim that by process of time has crystallised into a law. The room is +never entered by day." + +"Was it whim or madness that caused Sir John Chillington to leave orders +that his body should be kept above ground for twenty years?" + +"Who shall tell by what motive he was influenced when he had that +particular clause inserted in his will? Deepley Walls itself hangs on +the proper fulfilment of the clause. If Lady Chillington were to cause +her husband's remains to be interred in the family vault before the +expiry of the twenty years, the very day she did so the estate would +pass from her to the present baronet, a distant cousin, between whom and +her ladyship there has been a bitter feud of many years' standing. +Although Deepley Walls has been in the family for a hundred and fifty +years, it has never been entailed. The entailed estate is in Yorkshire, +and there Sir Mark, the present baronet, resides. Lady Chillington has +the power of bequeathing Deepley Walls to whomsoever she may please, +providing she carry out strictly the instructions contained in her +husband's will. It is possible that in a court of law the will might +have been set aside on the ground of insanity, or the whole matter might +have been thrown into Chancery. But Lady Chillington did not choose to +submit to such an ordeal. All the courts of law in the kingdom could +have given her no more than she possessed already--they could merely +have given her permission to bury her husband's body, and it did not +seem to her that such a permission could compensate for turning into +public gossip a private chapter of family history. So here Sir John +Chillington has remained since his death, and here he will stay till the +last of the twenty years has become a thing of the past. Two or three +times every year Mr. Winter, Sir Mark's lawyer, comes over to Deepley +Walls to satisfy himself by ocular proof that Sir John's instructions +are being duly carried out. This he has a legal right to do in the +interests of his client. Sometimes he is conducted to this room by Lady +Chillington, sometimes by me; but even in his case her ladyship will not +relax her rule of not having the room visited by day." + +Sister Agnes then showed Janet that behind the black draperies there was +a cupboard in the wall, which on being opened proved to contain a +quantity of large candles. One by one Sister Agnes took out of the +silver tripods what remained of the candles of the previous day, and +filled up their places with fresh ones. Janet looked on attentively. +Then, for the second time, Sister Agnes knelt on the _prie-dieu_ for a +few moments, and then she and Janet left the room. + +Next day Sister Agnes was so ill, and Janet pressed so earnestly to be +allowed to attend to the Black Room in place of her, and alone, that she +was obliged to give a reluctant consent. + +It was not without an inward tremor that Janet heard the clock strike +twelve. Sister Agnes had insisted on accompanying her part of the way +upstairs, and would, in fact, have gone the whole distance with her, had +not Janet insisted on going forward alone. In a single breath, as it +seemed to her, she ran up the remaining stairs, unlocked the door, and +entered the room. Her nerves were not sufficiently composed to allow of +her making use of the _prie-dieu_. All she cared for just then was to +get through her duty as quickly as possible, and return in safety to the +world of living beings downstairs. She set her teeth, and by a supreme +effort of will went through the small duty that was required of her +steadily but swiftly. Her face was never turned away from the coffin the +whole time; and when she had finished her task she walked backwards to +the door, opened it, walked backwards out, and in another breath was +downstairs, and safe in the protecting arms of Sister Agnes. + +Next night she insisted upon going entirely alone, and made so light of +the matter that Sister Agnes no longer opposed her wish to make the +midnight visit to the Black Room a part of her ordinary duty. But +inwardly Janet could never quite overcome her secret awe of the room and +its silent occupant. She always dreaded the coming of the hour that took +her there, and when her task was over, she never closed the door without +a feeling of relief. In this case, custom with her never bred +familiarity. To the last occasion of her going there she went the prey +of hidden fears--fears of she knew not what, which she derided to +herself even while they made her their victim. There was a morbid thread +running through the tissue of her nerves, which by intense force of will +might be kept from growing and spreading, but which no effort of hers +could quite pluck out or eradicate. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX. + +THE DAWN OF LOVE. + + +Major Strickland did not forget his promise to Janet. On the eighth +morning after his return from London he walked over from Eastbury to +Deepley Walls, saw Lady Chillington, and obtained leave of absence for +Miss Hope for the day. Then he paid a flying visit to Sister Agnes, for +whom he had a great reverence and admiration, and ended by carrying off +Janet in triumph. + +The park of Deepley Walls extends almost to the suburbs of Eastbury, a +town of eight thousand inhabitants, but of such small commercial +importance that the nearest railway station is three miles away across +country and nearly five miles from Deepley Walls. + +Major Strickland no longer resided at Rose Cottage, but at a pretty +little villa just outside Eastbury. Some small accession of fortune had +come to him by the death of a relative; and an addition to his family in +the person of Aunt Felicite, a lady old and nearly blind, the widow of a +kinsman of the Major. Besides its tiny lawn and flower-beds in front, +the Lindens had a long stretch of garden ground behind, otherwise the +Major would scarcely have been happy in his new home. He was secretary +to the Eastbury Horticultural Society, and his fame as a grower of prize +roses and geraniums was in these latter days far sweeter to him than any +fame that had ever accrued to him as a soldier. + +Janet found Aunt Felicite a most quaint and charming old lady, as +cheerful and full of vivacity as many a girl of seventeen. She kissed +Janet on both cheeks when the Major introduced her; asked whether she +was fiancee; complimented her on her French; declaimed a passage from +Racine; put her poodle through a variety of amusing tricks; and pressed +Janet to assist at her luncheon of cream cheese, French roll, +strawberries and white wine. + +A slight sense of disappointment swept across Janet's mind, like the +shadow of a cloud across a sunny field. She had been two hours at the +Lindens without having seen Captain George. In vain she told herself +that she had come to spend the day with Major Strickland, and to be +introduced to Aunt Felicite, and that nothing more was wanting to her +complete contentment. That something more was needed she knew quite +well, but she would not acknowledge it even to herself. HE knew of her +coming; he had been with Aunt Felicite only half an hour before--so much +she learned within five minutes of her arrival; yet now, at the end of +two hours, he had not condescended even to come and speak to her. She +roused herself from the sense of despondency that was creeping over her +and put on a gaiety that she was far from feeling. A very bitter sense +of self-contempt was just then at work in her heart; she felt that never +before had she despised herself so utterly. She took her hat in her +hand, and put her arm within the Major's and walked with him round his +little demesne. It was a walk that took up an hour or more, for there +was much to see and learn, and Janet was bent this morning on having a +long lesson in botany; and the old soldier was only too happy in having +secured a listener so enthusiastic and appreciative to whom he could +dilate on his favourite hobby. + +But all this time Janet's eyes and ears were on the alert in a double +sense of which the Major knew nothing. He was busy with a description of +the last spring flower show, and how the Duke of Cheltenham's auriculas +were by no means equal to those of Major Strickland, when Janet gave a +little start as though a gnat had stung her, and bent to smell a sweet +blush-rose, whose tints were rivalled by the sudden delicate glow that +flushed her cheek. + +"Yes, yes!" she said, hurriedly, as the Major paused for a moment; "and +so the Duke's gardener was jealous because you carried away the prize?" + +"I never saw a man more put out in my life," said the Major. "He shook +his fist at my flowers and said before everybody, 'Let the old Major +only wait till autumn and then see if my dahlias don't--' But yonder +comes Geordie. Bless my heart! what has he been doing at Eastbury all +this time?" + +Janet's instinct had not deceived her; she had heard and recognised his +footstep a full minute before the Major knew that he was near. She gave +one quick, shy glance round as he opened the gate, and then she wandered +a yard or two further down the path. + +"Good-morning, uncle," said Captain George, as he came up. "You set out +for Deepley Walls so early this morning that I did not see you before +you started. I am glad to find that you did not come back alone." + +Janet had turned as he began to speak, but did not come back to the +Major's side. Captain George advanced a few steps and lifted his hat. + +"Good-morning, Miss Hope," he said, with outstretched hand. "I need +hardly say how pleased I am to see you at the Lindens. My uncle has +succeeded so well on his first embassy that we must send him again, and +often, on the same errand." + +Janet murmured a few words in reply--what, she could not afterwards have +told; but as her eyes met his for a moment, she read in them something +that made her forgive him on the spot, even while she declared to +herself that she had nothing to forgive, and that brought to her cheek a +second blush more vivid than the first. + +"All very well, young gentleman," said the Major; "but you have not yet +explained your four hours' absence. We shall order you under arrest +unless you have some reasonable excuse to submit." + +"The best of all excuses--that of urgent business," said the Captain. + +"You! business!" said the laughing Major. "Why, it was only last night +that you were bewailing your lot as being one of those unhappy mortals +who have no work to do." + +"To those they love, the gods lend patient hearing. I forget the Latin, +but that does not matter just now. What I wish to convey is this--that I +need no longer be idle unless I choose. I have found some work to do. +Lend me your ears, both of you. About an hour after you, sir, had +started for Deepley Walls, I received a note from the editor of the +_Eastbury Courier_, in which he requested me to give him an early call. +My curiosity prompted me to look in upon him as soon as breakfast was +over. I found that he was brother to the editor of one of the London +magazines--a gentleman whom I met one evening at a party in town. The +London editor remembered me, and had written to the Eastbury editor to +make arrangements with me for writing a series of magazine articles on +India and my experiences there during the late mutiny. I need not bore +you with details; it is sufficient to say that my objections were talked +down one by one; and I left the office committed to a sixteen-page +article by the sixth of next month." + +"You an author!" exclaimed the Major. "I should as soon have thought of +your enlisting in the Marines." + +"It will only be for a few months, uncle--only till my limited stock of +experiences shall be exhausted. After that I shall be relegated to my +natural obscurity, doubtless never to emerge again." + +"Hem," said the Major, nervously. "Geordie, my boy, I have by me one or +two little poems which I wrote when I was about nineteen--trifles flung +off on the inspiration of the moment. Perhaps, when you come to know +your friend the editor better than you do now, you might induce him to +bring them out--to find an odd corner for them in his magazine. I +shouldn't want payment for them, you know. You might just mention that +fact; and I assure you that I have seen many worse things than they are +in print." + +"What, uncle, you an author! Oh, fie! I should as soon have thought of +your wishing to dance on the tight-rope as to appear in print. But we +must look over these little effusions--eh, Miss Hope. We must unearth +this genius, and be the first to give his lucubrations to the world." + +"If you were younger, sir, or I not quite so old, I would box your +ears," said the Major, who seemed hardly to know whether to laugh or be +angry. Finally he laughed, George and Janet chimed in, and all three +went back indoors. + +After an early dinner the Major took rod and line and set off to capture +a few trout for supper. Aunt Felicite took her post-prandial nap +discreetly, in an easy-chair, and Captain George and Miss Hope were left +to their own devices. In Love's sweet Castle of Indolence the hours that +make up a summer afternoon pass like so many minutes. These two had +blown the magic horn and had gone in. The gates of brass had closed +behind them, shutting them up from the common outer world. Over all +things was a glamour as of witchcraft. Soft music filled the air; soft +breezes came to them as from fields of amaranth and asphodel. They +walked ever in a magic circle, that widened before them as they went. +Eros in passing had touched them with his golden dart. Each of them hid +the sweet sting from the other, yet neither of them would have been +whole again for anything the world could have offered. What need to tell +the old story over again--the story of the dawn of love in two young +hearts that had never loved before? + +Janet went home that night in a flutter of happiness--a happiness so +sweet and strange and yet so vague that she could not have analysed it +even had she been casuist enough to try to do so. But she was content to +accept the fact as a fact; beyond that she cared nothing. No syllable of +love had been spoken between her and George: they had passed what to an +outsider would have seemed a very common-place afternoon. They had +talked together--not sentiment, but every-day topics of the world around +them; they had read together--poetry, but nothing more passionate than +"Aurora Leigh;" they had walked together--rather a silent and stupid +walk, our friendly outsider would have urged; but if they were content, +no one else had any right to complain. And so the day had worn itself +away--a red-letter day for ever in the calendar of their young lives. + + + + +CHAPTER XX. + +THE NARRATIVE OF SERGEANT NICHOLAS. + + +One morning when Janet had been about three weeks at Deepley Walls, she +was summoned to the door by one of the servants, and found there a tall, +thin, middle-aged man, dressed in plain clothes, and having all the +appearance of a discharged soldier. + +"I have come a long way, miss," he said to Janet, carrying a finger to +his forehead, "in order to see Lady Chillington and have a little +private talk with her." + +"I am afraid that her ladyship will scarcely see you, unless you can +give her some idea of the business that you have called upon." + +"My name, miss, is Sergeant John Nicholas. I served formerly in India, +where I was body-servant to her ladyship's son, Captain Charles +Chillington, who died there of cholera nearly twenty years ago, and I +have something of importance to communicate." + +Janet made the old soldier come in and sit down in the hall while she +took his message to Lady Chillington. Her ladyship was not yet up, but +was taking her chocolate in bed, with a faded Indian shawl thrown round +her shoulders. She began to tremble violently the moment Janet delivered +the old soldier's message, and could scarcely set down her cup and +saucer. Then she began to cry, and to kiss the hem of the Indian shawl. +Janet went softly out of the room and waited. She had never even heard +of this Captain Charles Chillington, and yet no mere empty name could +have thus affected the stern mistress of Deepley Walls. Those few tears +opened up quite a new view of Lady Chillington's character. Janet began +to see that there might be elements of tragedy in the old woman's life +of which she knew nothing: that many of the moods which seemed to her so +strange and inexplicable might be so merely for want of the key by which +alone they could be rightly read. + +Presently her ladyship's gong sounded. Janet went back into the room, +and found her still sitting up in bed, sipping her chocolate with a +steady hand. All traces of tears had vanished: she looked even more +stern and repressed than usual. + +"Request the person of whom you spoke to me a while ago to wait," she +said. "I will see him at eleven in my private sitting-room." + +So Sergeant Nicholas was sent to get his breakfast in the servants' +room, and wait till Lady Chillington was ready to receive him. + +At eleven precisely he was summoned to her ladyship's presence. She +received him with stately graciousness, and waved him to a chair a yard +or two away. She was dressed for the day in one of her stiff brocaded +silks, and sat as upright as a dart, manipulating a small fan. Miss Hope +stood close at the back of her chair. + +"So, my good man, I understand that you were acquainted with my son, the +late Captain Chillington, who died in India twenty years ago?" + +"I was his body-servant for two years previous to his death." + +"Were you with him when he died?" + +"I was, your ladyship. These fingers closed his eyes." + +The hand that held the fan began to tremble again. She remained silent +for a few moments, and by a strong effort overmastered her agitation. + +"You have some communication which you wish to make to me respecting my +dead son?" + +"I have, your ladyship. A communication of a very singular kind." + +"Why has it not been made before now?" + +"That your ladyship will learn in the course of what I have to say. But +perhaps you will kindly allow me to tell my story my own way." + +"By all means. Pray begin: I am all attention." + +The Sergeant touched his forelock, gave a preliminary cough, fixed his +clear grey eye on Lady Chillington, and began his narrative as under:-- + +"Your ladyship and miss: I, John Nicholas, a Staffordshire man born and +bred, went out to India twenty-three years ago as lance corporal in the +hundred-and-first regiment of foot. After I had been in India a few +months, I got drunk and misbehaved myself, and was reduced to the ranks. +Well, ma'am, Captain Chillington took a fancy to me, thought I was not +such a bad dog after all, and got me appointed as his servant. And a +better master no man need ever wish to have--kind, generous, and a +perfect gentleman from top to toe. I loved him, and would have gone +through fire and water to serve him." + +Her ladyship's fan was trembling again. "Oblige me with my salts, Miss +Hope," she said. She pressed them to her nose, and motioned to the +Sergeant to proceed. + +"When I had been with the Captain a few months," resumed the old +soldier, "he got leave of absence for several weeks, and everybody knew +that it was his intention to spend his holiday in a shooting excursion +among the hills. I was to go with him, of course, and the usual troop of +native servants; but besides himself there was only one European +gentleman in the party, and he was not an Englishman. He was a Russian, +and his name was Platzoff. He was a gentleman of fortune, and was +travelling in India at the time, and had come to my master with letters +of introduction. Well, Captain Chillington just took wonderfully to him, +and the two were almost inseparable. Perhaps it hardly becomes one like +me to offer an opinion on such a point; but, knowing what afterwards +happened, I must say that I never either liked or trusted that Russian +from the day I first set eyes on him. He seemed to me too double-faced +and cunning for an honest English gentleman to have much to do with. But +he had travelled a great deal, and was very good company, which was +perhaps the reason why Captain Chillington took so kindly to him. Be +that as it may, however, it was decided that they should go on the +hunting excursion together--not that the Russian was much of a shot, or +cared a great deal about hunting, but because, as I heard him say, he +liked to see all kinds of life, and tiger-stalking was something quite +fresh to him. + +"He was a curious-looking gentleman, too, that Russian--just the sort of +face that you would never forget after once seeing it, with skin that +was dried and yellow like parchment; black hair that was trained into a +heavy curl on the top of his forehead, and a big hooked nose. + +"Well, your ladyship and miss, away we went with our elephants and train +of servants, and very pleasantly we spent our two months' leave of +absence. The Captain he shot tigers, and the Russian he did his best at +pig-sticking. Our last week had come, and in three more days we were to +set off on our return, when that terrible misfortune happened which +deprived me of the best of masters, and your ladyship of the best of +sons. + +"Early one morning I was roused by Rung Budruck, the Captain's favourite +sycee or groom. 'Get up at once,' he said, shaking me by the shoulder. +'The sahib Captain is very ill. The black devil has seized him. He must +have opium or he will die.' I ran at once to the Captain's tent, and as +soon as I set eyes on him I saw that he had been seized with cholera. I +went off at once and fetched M. Platzoff. We had nothing in the way of +medicine with us except brandy and opium. Under the Russian's directions +these were given to my poor master in large quantities, but he grew +gradually worse. Rung and I in everything obeyed M. Platzoff, who seemed +to know quite well what ought to be done in such cases; and to tell the +truth, your ladyship, he seemed as much put about as if the Captain had +been his own brother. Well, the Captain grew weaker as the day went on, +and towards evening it grew quite clear that he could not last much +longer. The pain had left him by this time, but he was so frightfully +reduced that we could not bring him round. He was lying in every respect +like one already dead, except for his faint breathing, when the Russian +left the tent for a moment, and I took his place at the head of the bed. +Rung was standing with folded arms a yard or two away. None of the other +native servants could be persuaded to enter the tent, so frightened were +they of catching the complaint. Suddenly my poor master opened his eyes, +and his lips moved. I put my ear to his mouth. 'The diamond,' he +whispered. 'Take it--mother--give my love.' Not a word more on earth, +your ladyship. His limbs stiffened; his head fell back; he gave a great +sigh and died. I gently closed the eyes that could see no more, and left +the tent crying. + +"Your ladyship, we buried Captain Chillington by torchlight four hours +later. We dug his grave deep in a corner of the jungle, and there we +left him to his last sleep. Over his grave we piled a heap of stones, as +I have read that they used to do in the old times over the grave of a +chief. It was all we could do. + +"About an hour later M. Platzoff came to me. 'I shall start before +daybreak for Chinapore,' he said, 'with one elephant and a couple of +men. I will take with me the news of my poor friend's untimely fate, +and you can come on with the luggage and other effects in the ordinary +way. You will find me at Chinapore when you reach there.' Next morning I +found that he was gone. + +"What my dear master had said with his last breath about a diamond +puzzled me. I could only conclude that amongst his effects there must be +some valuable stone of which he wished special care to be taken, and +which he desired to be sent home to you, madam, in England. I knew +nothing of any such stone, and I considered it beyond my position to +search for it among his luggage. I decided that when I got to Chinapore +I would give his message to the Colonel, and leave that gentleman to +take such steps in the matter as he might think best. + +"I had hardly settled all this in my mind when Rung Budruck came to me. +'The Russian sahib has gone: I have something to tell you,' he said, +only he spoke in broken English. 'Yesterday, just after the sahib +Captain was dead, the Russian came back. You had left the tent, and I +was sitting on the ground behind the Captain's big trunk, the lid of +which was open. I was sitting with my chin in my hand, very sad at +heart, when the Russian came in. He looked carefully round the tent. Me +he could not see, but I could see him through the opening between the +hinges of the box. What did he do? He unfastened the bosom of the sahib +Captain's shirt, and then he drew over the Captain's head the steel +chain with the little gold box hanging to it that he always wore. He +opened the box, and saw there was that in it which he expected to find +there. Then he hid away both chain and box in one of his pockets, +rebuttoned the dead man's shirt, and left the tent.' 'But you have not +told me what there was in the box,' I said. He put the tips of his +fingers together and smiled: 'In that box was the Great Hara Diamond!' + +"Your ladyship, I was so startled when Rung said this that the wind of a +bullet would have knocked me down. A new light was all at once thrown on +the Captain's dying words. 'But how do you know, Rung, that the box +contained a diamond?' I asked when I had partly got over my surprise. He +smiled again, with that strange slow smile which those fellows have. 'It +matters not how, but Rung knew that the diamond was there. He had seen +the Captain open the box, and take it out and look at it many a time +when the Captain thought no one could see him. He could have stolen it +from him almost any night when he was asleep, but that was left for his +friend to do.' 'Was the diamond you speak of a very valuable one?' I +asked. 'It was a green diamond of immense value,' answered Rung; 'it was +called _The Great Hara_ because of its colour, and it was first worn by +the terrible Aureng-Zebe himself, who had it set in the haft of his +scimitar.' 'But by what means did Captain Chillington become possessed +of so valuable a stone?' Said he, 'Two years ago, at the risk of his own +life, he rescued the eldest son of the Rajah of Gondulpootra from a +tiger who had carried away the child into the jungle. The Rajah is one +of the richest men in India, and he showed his gratitude by secretly +presenting the Great Hara Diamond to the man who had saved the life of +his child.' 'But why should Captain Chillington carry so valuable a +stone about his person?' I asked. 'Would it not have been wiser to +deposit it in the bank at Bombay till such time as the Captain could +take it with him to England?' 'The stone is a charmed stone,' said Rung, +'and it was the Rajah's particular wish that the sahib Chillington +should always wear it about his person. So long as he did so he could +not come to his death by fire by water, or by sword thrust.' Said I, +'But how did the Russian know that Captain Chillington carried the +diamond about his person?' 'One night when the Captain had had too much +wine he showed the diamond to his friend,' answered Rung. Said I, 'But +how does it happen, Rung, that you know this?' Rung, smiling and putting +his finger tips together, replied, 'How does it happen that I know so +much about you?' And then he told me a lot of things about myself that I +thought no soul in India knew. It was just wonderful how he did it. 'So +it is: let that be sufficient,' he finished by saying. 'Why did you not +tell me till after the Russian had gone away that you saw him steal the +diamond?' said I. 'If you had told me at the time I could have charged +him with it.' 'You are ignorant,' said Rung; 'you are little more than a +child. The Russian sahib had the evil eye. Had I crossed his purpose +before his face he would have cursed me while he looked at me, and I +should have withered away and died. He has got the diamond, and only by +magic can it ever be recovered from him.' + +"Your ladyship and miss, I hope I am not tedious nor wandering from the +point. It will be sufficient to say that when I got down to Chinapore I +found that M. Platzoff had indeed been there, but only just long enough +to see the Colonel and give him an account of Captain Chillington's +death, after which he had at once engaged a palanquin and bearers and +set out with all speed for Bombay. It was now my turn to see the +Colonel, and after I had given over into his hands all my dead master's +property that I had brought with me from the Hills, I told him the story +of the diamond as Rung had told it to me. He was much struck by it, and +ordered me to take Rung to him the next morning. But that very night +Rung disappeared, and was never seen in the camp again. Whether he was +frightened at what he called the Russian's evil eye--frightened that +Platzoff could blight him even from a distance, I have no means of +knowing. In any case, gone he was; and from that day to this I have +never set eyes on him. Well, the Colonel said he would take a note of +what I had told him about the diamond, and that I must leave the matter +entirely in his hands. + +"Your ladyship, a fortnight after that the Colonel shot himself. + +"To make short a long story--we got a fresh Colonel, and were removed to +another part of the country; and there, a few weeks later, I was +knocked down by fever, and was a long time before I thoroughly recovered +my strength. A year or two later our regiment was ordered back to +England, but a day or two before we should have sailed I had a letter +telling me that my old sweetheart was dead. This news seemed to take all +care for life out of me, and on the spur of the moment I volunteered +into a regiment bound for China, in which country war was just breaking +out. There, and at other places abroad, I stopped till just four months +ago, when I was finally discharged, with my pension, and a bullet in my +pocket that had been taken out of my skull. I only landed in England +nine days ago, and as soon as it was possible for me to do so, I came to +see your ladyship. And I think that is all." The Sergeant's forefinger +went to his forehead again as he brought his narrative to an end. + +Lady Chillington kept on fanning herself in silence for a little while +after the old soldier had done speaking. Her features wore the proud, +impassive look that they generally put on when before strangers: in the +present case they were no index to the feelings at work underneath. At +length she spoke. + +"After the suicide of your Colonel did you mention the supposed robbery +of the diamond to anyone else?" + +"To no one else, your ladyship. For several reasons. I was unaware what +steps he might have taken between the time of my telling him and the +time of his death to prove or disprove the truth of the story. In the +second place, Rung had disappeared. I could only tell the story at +secondhand. It had been told me by an eye-witness, but that witness was +a native, and the word of a native does not go for much in those parts. +In the third place, the Russian had also disappeared, and had left no +trace behind. What could I do? Had I told the story to my new Colonel, I +should mayhap only have been scouted as a liar or a madman. Besides, we +were every day expecting to be ordered home, and I had made up my mind +that I would at once come and see your ladyship. At that time I had no +intention of going to China, and when once I got there it was too late +to speak out. But through all the years I have been away my poor dear +master's last words have lived in my memory. Many a thousand times have +I thought of them both day and night, and prayed that I might live to +get back to Old England, if it was only to give your ladyship the +message with which I had been charged." + +"But why could you not write to me?" asked Lady Chillington. + +"Your ladyship, I am no scholar," answered the old soldier, with a vivid +blush. "What I have told you to-day in half-an-hour would have taken me +years to set down--in fact, I could never have done it." + +"So be it," said Lady Chillington. "My obligation to you is all the +greater for bearing in mind for so many years my poor boy's last +message, and for being at so much trouble to deliver it." She sighed +deeply and rose from her chair. The Sergeant rose too, thinking that +his interview was at an end, but at her ladyship's request he reseated +himself. + +Rejecting Janet's proffered arm, which she was in the habit of leaning +on in her perambulations about the house and grounds, Lady Chillington +walked slowly and painfully out of the room. Presently she returned, +carrying an open letter in her hand. Both the ink and the paper on which +it was written were faded and yellow with age. + +"This is the last letter I ever received from my son," said her +ladyship. "I have preserved it religiously, and it bears out very +singularly what you, Sergeant, have just told me respecting the message +which my darling sent me with his dying breath. In a few lines at the +end he makes mention of a something of great value which he is going to +bring home with him; but he writes about it in such guarded terms that I +never could satisfy myself as to the precise meaning of what he intended +to convey. You, Miss Hope, will perhaps be good enough to read the lines +in question aloud. They are contained in a postscript." + +Janet took the letter with reverent tenderness. Lady Chillington's +trembling fingers pointed out the lines she was to read. Janet read as +under:-- + + "P.S.--I have reserved my most important bit of news till the last, + as lady correspondents are said to do. Observe, I write 'are said + to do,' because in this matter I have very little personal + experience of my own to go upon. You, dear mum, are my solitary + lady correspondent, and postscripts are a luxury in which you + rarely indulge. But to proceed, as the novelists say. Some two + years ago it was my good fortune to rescue a little yellow-skinned + princekin from the clutches of a very fine young tiger (my feet are + on his hide at this present writing), who was carrying him off as a + tit-bit for his supper. He was terribly mauled, you may be sure, + but his people followed my advice in their mode of doctoring him, + and he gradually got round again. The lad's father is a Rajah, + immensely rich, and a direct descendant of that ancient Mogul + dynasty which once ruled this country with a rod of iron. The Rajah + has daughters innumerable, but only this one son. His gratitude for + what I had done was unbounded. A few weeks ago he gave me a most + astounding proof of it. By a secret and trusty messenger he sent + me--But no, dear mum, I will not tell you what the Rajah sent me. + This letter might chance to fall into other hands than yours + (Indian letters do _sometimes_ miscarry), and the secret is one + which had better be kept in the family--at least for the present. + So, mother mine, your curiosity must rest unsatisfied for a little + while to come. I hope to be with you before many months are over, + and then you shall know everything. + + "The value of the Rajah's present is something immense. I shall + sell it when I get to England, and out of the proceeds I + shall--well, I don't exactly know what I shall do. Purchase my + next step for one thing, but that will cost a mere trifle. Then, + perhaps, buy a comfortable estate in the country, or a house in + Park Lane. Your six weeks every season in London lodgings was + always inexplicable to me. + + "Or shall I not sell the Rajah's present, but offer myself in + marriage to some fair princess, with my heart in one hand and the + G.H.D. in the other? Madder things than that are recorded in + history. In any case, don't forget to pray for the safe arrival of + your son, and (if such a petition is allowable) that he may not + fail to bring with him the G.H.D. + + "C.C." + +"I never could understand before to-day what the letters G.H.D. were +meant for," said Lady Chillington, as Janet gave her back the letter. +"It is now quite evident that they were intended for _Great Hara +Diamond_; all of which, as I said before, is confirmatory of the story +you have just told me. Of course, after the lapse of so many years, +there is not the remotest possibility of recovering the diamond; but my +obligation to you, Sergeant Nicholas, is in no wise lessened by that +fact. What are your engagements? Are you obliged to leave here +immediately, or can you remain a short time in the neighbourhood?" + +"I can give your ladyship a week, or even a fortnight, if you wish it." + +"I am greatly obliged to you. I do wish it--I wish to talk to you +respecting my son, and you are the only one now living who can tell me +about him. You shall find that I am not ungrateful for what you have +done for me. In the meantime, you will stop at the King's Arms, in +Eastbury. Miss Hope will give you a note to the landlord. Come up here +to-morrow at eleven. And now I must say good-morning. I am not very +strong, and your news has shaken me a little. Will you do me the honour +of shaking hands with me? It was your hands that closed my poor boy's +eyes--that touched him last on earth; let those hands now be touched by +his mother." + +Lady Chillington stood up and extended both her withered hands. The old +soldier came forward with a blush and took them respectfully, tenderly. +He bent his head and touched each of them in turn with his lips. Tears +stood in his eyes. + +"God bless you, Sergeant Nicholas! You are a good man and a true +gentleman," said Lady Chillington. Then she turned and slowly left the +room. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI. + +COUNSEL TAKEN WITH MR. MADGIN. + + +After her interview with Sergeant Nicholas, Lady Chillington dismissed +Janet for the day, and retired to her own rooms, nor was she seen out of +them till the following morning. No one was admitted to see her save +Dance. Janet, after sitting with Sister Agnes all the afternoon, went +down at dusk to the housekeeper's room. + +"Whatever did you do to her ladyship this morning?" asked Dance as soon +as she entered. "She has tasted neither bit nor sup since breakfast, but +ever since that old shabby-looking fellow went away she has lain on the +sofa, staring at the wall as if there was some writing on it she was +trying to read but didn't know how. I thought she was ill, and asked her +if I should send for the doctor. She laughed at me without taking her +eyes off the wall, and bade me begone for an old fool. If there's not a +change by morning, I shall just send for the doctor without asking her +leave. Surely you and that old fellow have bewitched her ladyship +between you." + +Janet in reply told Dance all that had passed at the morning's +interview, feeling quite sure that in doing so she was violating no +confidence, and that Lady Chillington herself would be the first to tell +everything to her faithful old servant as soon as she should be +sufficiently composed to do so. As a matter of course Dance was full of +wonder. + +"Did you know Captain Chillington?" asked Janet, as soon as the old +dame's surprise had in some measure toned itself down. + +"Did I know curly-pated, black-eyed Master Charley?" asked the old +woman. "Ay--who better? These arms, withered and yellow now, then plump +and strong, held him before he had been an hour in the world. The day he +left England I went with her ladyship to see him aboard ship. As he +shook me by the hand for the last time he said, 'You will never leave my +mother, will you, Dance?' And I said, 'Never, while I live, dear Master +Charles,' and I've kept my word." + +"Her ladyship has never been like the same woman since she heard the +news of his death," resumed Dance after a pause. "It seemed to sour her +and harden her, and make her altogether different. There had been a +great deal of unhappiness at home for some years before he went away. He +and his father, Sir John--he that now lies so quiet upstairs--had a +terrible quarrel just after Master Charles went into the army, and it +was a quarrel that was never made up in this world. He was an awful +man--Sir John--a wicked man: pray that such a one may never cross your +path. The only happiness he seemed to have on earth was in making those +over whom he had any power miserable. It was impossible for my lady to +love him, but she tried to do her duty by him till he and Master Charles +fell out. What the quarrel was about I never rightly understood, but my +lady would have it that Master Charles was in the right and her husband +in the wrong. One result was that Sir John stopped the income that he +had always allowed his son, and took a frightful oath that if Master +Charles were dying of starvation before his eyes he would not give him +as much as a penny to buy bread with. But her ladyship, who had money in +her own right, said that Master Charles's income should go on as usual. +Then she and Sir John quarrelled; and she left him and came to live at +Deepley Walls, leaving him at Dene Folly; and here she stayed till Sir +John was taken with his last illness and sent for her. He sent for her, +not to make up the quarrel, but to jibe and sneer at her, and to make +her wait on him day and night, as if she were a paid nurse from a +hospital. While this was going on, and after Sir John had been quite +given up by the doctors, news came from India of Master Charles's death. +Well, her ladyship went nigh distracted; but as for the baronet, it was +said, though I won't vouch for the truth of it, that he only laughed +when the news was told him, and said that if he was plagued as much with +corns in the next world as he had been in this, he should find Master +Charles's arm very useful to lean upon. Two days later he died, and the +title, and Dene Folly with it, went to a far-away cousin, whom neither +Sir John nor his wife had ever seen. Then it was found how the baronet +had contrived that his spite should outlive him--for only out of spite +and mean cruelty could he have made such a will as he did make: that +Deepley Walls should not become her ladyship's absolute property till +the end of twenty years, during the whole of which time his body was to +remain unburied, and to be kept under the same roof with his widow, +wherever she might live. The mean, paltry scoundrel! Perhaps her +ladyship might have had the will set aside, but she would not go to law +about it. Thank Heaven! the twenty years are nearly at an end. Deepley +Walls has been a haunted house ever since that midnight when Sir John +was borne in on the shoulders of six strong men. And now tell me whether +her ladyship is not a woman to be pitied." + + * * * * * + +At a quarter before eleven next morning, Mr. Solomon Madgin, Lady +Chillington's agent and general man-of-business, arrived by appointment +at Deepley Walls. Mr. Madgin was indispensable to her ladyship, who had +a considerable quantity of house property in and around Eastbury, +consisting chiefly of small tenements, the rents of which had to be +collected weekly. Then Mr. Madgin was bailiff for the Deepley Walls +estate, in connection with which were several small farms or "holdings" +which required to be well looked after in many ways. Besides all this, +her ladyship, having a few spare thousands, had taken of late years to +dabbling in scrip and shares in a small way, and under the skilful +pilotage of Mr. Madgin had hitherto contrived to steer clear of those +rocks and shoals of speculation on which so many gallant argosies are +wrecked. In short, everything except the law-business of the estate +filtered through Mr. Madgin's hands, and as he did his work cheaply and +well, and put up with her ladyship's ill-temper without a murmur, the +mistress of Deepley Walls could hardly have found anyone who would have +suited her better. + +Mr. Solomon Madgin was a little dried-up man, about sixty years old. His +tail-coat and vest of rusty black were of the fashion of twenty years +ago. He wore drab trousers, and shoes tied with bows of black ribbon. +His head, bald on the crown, had an ample fringe of white hair at the +back and sides, and was covered, when he went abroad, with a beaver hat, +very fluffy and much too tall for him, and which, once upon a time, had +probably been nearly as white as his hair, but was now time-worn and +weather-stained to one uniform and consistent drab. Round his neck he +always wore a voluminous cravat of unstarched muslin fastened in front +with an old-fashioned pearl brooch, above which protruded the two spiked +points of a very stiff and pugnacious-looking collar. A strong alpaca +umbrella, unfashionably corpulent, was his constant companion. Mr. +Madgin's whiskers were shaved off in an exact line with the end of his +nose. His eyebrows were very white and bushy, and could serve on +occasion as a screen to the greenish, crafty-looking eyes below them, +which never liked to be peered into too closely. The ordinary expression +of his thin, dried-up face was one of hard, worldly shrewdness; but +there was a lurking bonhommie in his smile which seemed to imply that, +away from business, he might possibly mellow into a boon companion. + +Mr. Madgin had to wait a few minutes this morning before Lady +Chillington could receive him. When he was ushered into her sitting-room +he was surprised to find that she and Miss Hope were not alone; that a +plainly-dressed man, who looked almost as old as Mr. Madgin himself, was +seated at the table. After one suspicious glance at the stranger, Mr. +Madgin made his bow to the ladies and walked up to the table with his +bag of papers. + +"You can put all those things away for the day, Mr. Madgin," said her +ladyship. "A far more important matter claims our attention just now. In +the first place I must introduce to you Sergeant Nicholas, many years +ago servant to my son, Captain Chillington, who died in India. +(Sergeant, this is Mr. Madgin, my man of business.) The Sergeant, who +has only just returned to England, told me yesterday a very curious +story which I am desirous that he should repeat in your presence to-day. +The story relates to a diamond of great value, said to have been stolen +from the body of my son immediately after death, and I shall require you +to give me your opinion as to the feasibility of its recovery. You will +take such notes of the narrative as you may think necessary, and the +Sergeant will afterwards answer, to the best of his ability, any +questions you may choose to put to him." Then turning to the old +soldier, she added: "You will be good enough, Sergeant, to repeat to Mr. +Madgin such parts of your narrative of yesterday as have any reference +to the diamond. Begin with my son's dying message. Repeat, word for +word, as closely as you can remember, all that was told you by the sycee +Rung. Describe as minutely as possible the personal appearance of M. +Platzoff; and detail any other points that bear on the loss of the +diamond." + +So the Sergeant began, but the repetition of a long narrative not learnt +by heart is by no means an easy matter, especially when they to whom it +was first told hear it for the second time, but rather as critics than +as ordinary listeners. Besides, the taking of notes was a process that +smacked of a court-martial and tended to flurry the narrator, making him +feel as if he were upon his oath and liable to be browbeat by the +counsel for the other side. He was heartily glad when he got to the end +of what he had to tell. The postscript to Captain Chillington's letter +was then read by Miss Hope. + +Mr. Madgin took copious notes as the Sergeant went on, and afterwards +put a few questions to him on different points which he thought not +sufficiently clear. Then he laid down his pen, rubbed his hands, and ran +his fingers through his scanty hair. Lady Chillington rang for her +butler, and gave the Sergeant into his keeping, knowing that he could +not be in better hands. Then she said: "I will leave you, Mr. Madgin, +for half-an-hour. Go carefully through your notes, and let me have your +opinion when I come back as to whether, after so long a time, you think +it worth while to institute any proceedings for the recovery of the +diamond." + +So Mr. Madgin was left alone with what he called his "considering cap." +As soon as the door was closed behind her ladyship, he tilted back his +chair, stuck his feet on the table, buried his hands deep in his pockets +and shut his eyes, and so remained for full five-and-twenty minutes. He +was busy consulting his notes when Lady Chillington re-entered the room. +Mr. Madgin began at once. + +"I must confess," he said, "that the case which your ladyship has +submitted to me seems, from what I can see of it at present, to be +surrounded with difficulties. Still, I am far from counselling your +ladyship to despair entirely. The few points which, at the first glance, +present themselves as requiring solution are these:--Who was the M. +Platzoff who is said to have stolen the diamond? and what position in +life did he really occupy? Is he alive or dead? If alive, where is he +now living? If he did really steal the diamond, are not the chances as a +hundred to one that he disposed of it long ago? But even granting that +we were in a position to answer all these questions; suppose, even, that +this M. Platzoff were living in Eastbury at the present moment, and that +fact were known to us, how much nearer should we be to the recovery of +the diamond than we are now? Your ladyship must please to bear in mind +that as the case is now we have not an inch of legal ground to stand +upon. We have no evidence that would be worth a rush in a court of law +that M. Platzoff really purloined the diamond. We have no trustworthy +evidence that the diamond itself ever had an existence." + +"Surely, Mr. Madgin, my son's letter is sufficient to prove that fact." + +"Sufficient, perhaps, in conjunction with the other evidence, to prove +it in a moral sense, but certainly not in a legal one," said Mr. Madgin, +quietly but decisively. "Your ladyship must please to bear in mind that +Captain Chillington in his letter makes no absolute mention of the +diamond by name; he merely writes of it vaguely under certain initials, +and, if called upon, how could you prove that he intended those initials +to stand for the words _Great Hara Diamond_, and not for something +altogether different? If M. Platzoff were your ladyship's next-door +neighbour, and you knew for certain that he had the diamond still in his +possession, you could only get it from him as he himself got it from +your son--by subterfuge and artifice. Your ladyship will please to +observe that I have put forward no opinion on the case. I have merely +offered a statement of plain facts as they show themselves on the +surface. With those facts before you it rests with your ladyship to +decide what further steps you wish taken in the matter." + +"My good Madgin, do you know what it is to hate?" demanded Lady +Chillington. "To hate with a hatred that dwarfs all other passions of +the soul, and makes them pigmies by comparison? If you know this, you +know the feeling with which I regard M. Platzoff. If you want the key to +the feeling, you have it in the fact that his accursed hands robbed my +dead son: even then you must have a mother's heart to feel all that I +feel." She paused for a moment as if to recover breath; then she +resumed. "See you, Mr. Solomon Madgin; I have a conviction, an +intuition, call it what you will, that this Russian scoundrel is still +alive. That is the first fact you have to find out. The next is, where +he is now residing. Then you will have to ascertain whether he has the +diamond still in his possession, and if so, by what means it can be +recovered. Only recover it for me--I ask not how or by what means--only +put into my hands the diamond that was stolen off my son's breast as he +lay dead; and the day you do that, my good Madgin, I will present you +with a cheque for five thousand pounds!" + +Mr. Madgin sat as one astounded; the power of reply seemed taken from +him. + +"Go, now," said Lady Chillington, after a few moments. "Ordinary +business is out of the question to-day. Go home and carefully digest +what I have just said to you. That you are a man of resources, I know +well; had you not been so, I would not have employed you in this +matter. Come to me to-morrow, next day, next week--when you like; only +don't come barren of ideas; don't come without a plan, likely or +unlikely, of some sort of a campaign." + +Mr. Madgin rose and swept his papers mechanically into his bag. "Your +ladyship said five thousand pounds, if I mistake not?" he stammered out. + +"A cheque for five thousand pounds shall be yours on the day you bring +me the diamond. Is not my word sufficient, or do you wish to have it +under bond and seal?" she asked with some hauteur. + +"Your ladyship's word is an all-sufficient bond," answered Mr. Madgin, +with sweet humility. He paused, with the handle of the door in his hand. +"Supposing I were to see my way to carrying out your ladyship's wishes +in this respect," he said deferentially, "or even to carrying out a +portion of them only, still it could not be done without expense--not +without considerable expense, maybe." + +"I give you carte-blanche as regards expenses," said her ladyship with +decision. + +Then Mr. Madgin gave a farewell duck of the head and went. He took his +way homeward through the park like a man walking in his sleep. With +wide-open eyes and hat well set on the back of his head, with his blue +bag in one hand and his umbrella under his arm, he trudged onward, even +after he had reached the busy streets of the little town, without seeing +anything or anyone. What he saw, he saw introspectively. On the one hand +glittered the tempting bait held out by Lady Chillington; on the other +loomed the dark problem that had to be solved before he could call the +golden apple his. + +"The most arrant wild-goose chase that ever I heard of in all my life," +he muttered to himself, as he halted at his own door. "Not a single ray +of light anywhere--not one." + +"Popsey," he called out to his daughter, when he was inside, "bring me +the decanter of whisky, some cold water, my tobacco-jar and a new +churchwarden into the office; and don't let me be disturbed by anyone +for four hours." + +(_To be continued._) + + + + +ON LETTER-WRITING. + + +It is a matter of common remark that the epistolary art has been killed +by the penny post, not to speak of post-cards. + +This is a result which was hardly anticipated by Sir Rowland Hill, when, +in the face of many obstacles, he carried his great scheme; and +certainly it did not dwell very vividly before the mind of Mr. Elihu +Burritt, the learned blacksmith, when he travelled over England, +speaking there, as he had already done in America, in favour of an ocean +penny postage. + +It is urged that in the old days when postage was dear, and "franks" +were difficult to procure, and when the poor did not correspond at all, +writers were very careful to write well and to say the very best they +could in the best possible way--to make their letters, in a word, worthy +of the expense incurred. But those who argue on this ground leave out of +consideration one little fact. + +The classes to whom English literature is indebted for the epistolary +samples on which reliance is placed for proof of this proposition, very +seldom indeed paid for the conveyance of the letters in question. The +system of "franking"--by which the privileged classes got not only their +letters carried, but a great deal too often their dressing-cases and +bandboxes as well--grew into a most serious grievance; so serious indeed +that the opposition for a long period carried on against cheap postage +arose solely from over nice regard to the vested interests of those who +could command a little favour from a Peer, a Member of Parliament, or an +official of high rank, not to speak of those patriotic worthies +themselves. + +The fact may thus be made to cut two ways. + +From our point of view, it may be cited in direct denial of the +conclusion that people wrote well in past days simply because the +conveyance of their letters was costly. We believe that the mass wrote +just as badly and loosely then as the mass do now, in fact that they +were rather loose on rules of spelling; and that the specimens preserved +and presented to us in type are exceptional, and escaped destruction +with the mass precisely because they were exceptional. + +Other circumstances may be taken to account for the loose epistolary +style or rather no-style now so common; and this refers us to the +general question of education--more especially the education of women. +In those days the few were educated; and to be educated was regarded as +the distinctive mark of a leisured and cultivated class: now, education +is general, but, like many other things, it has suffered in the process +of diffusion, whether or not it may in the long run suffer by the +diffusion itself. + +The truth is, time alone can tell whether among the select nowadays the +epistolary art is not simply as perfect as it was in days past; at all +events we believe so, and proceed to set down a few reflections on +letter-writing. + +To write a really good letter, two things in especial are demanded. The +first is, that you write only of that which is either familiar to you or +in which you have some interest; and in the next, that you can write +with ease, and on a footing of freedom as regards your correspondent. +"The pen," says Cervantes, "is the tongue of the mind," and in no form +of composition is this more strictly true than of letters. In a certain +degree a letter should share the characteristics of good conversation: +the writer must realise the presence and the mood of the person for whom +the letter is destined. Just as good-breeding suggests that you must +have the tastes and sentiments of your interlocutor before you for ends +of enjoyable conversation, and that, within the limits of propriety and +self-respect, you should at once humour them and use them; so in good +letter-writing you must write for your correspondent's pleasure as well +as please, by merely communicating, yourself. + +Here comes in the delightful element of vicarious sympathy, or dramatic +transference, which, brought into play successfully, with some degree of +wit and sprightliness of expression, may raise letter-writing to the +level of a fine art. + +And this allowed, it is clear that letters may just be as good now as at +any former period, and accidental circumstances have really little to do +with it. Humboldt has well said that "A letter is a conversation between +the present and the absent. Its fate is that it cannot last, but must +pass away like the sound of the voice." + +And just as in conversation all attempt at eloquence and personal +celebration in this kind is rigidly proscribed, so in letter-writing are +all kinds of fine-writing and rhetoric. "Brilliant speakers and +writers," it has been well said, "should remember that coach wheels are +better than Catherine wheels to travel on." One's first business, in +letter-writing is to say what one has to say, and the second to say it +well and with taste and ease. + +A.H. JAPP, LL.D. + + + + +THE SILENT CHIMES. + +SILENT FOR EVER. + + +Breakfast was on the table in Mr. Hamlyn's house in Bryanstone Square, +and Mrs. Hamlyn waited, all impatience, for her lord and master. Not in +any particular impatience for the meal itself, but that she might "have +it out with him"--the phrase was hers, not mine, as you will see +presently--in regard to the perplexity existing in her mind connected +with the strange appearance of the damsel watching the house, in her +beauty and her pale golden hair. + +Why had Philip Hamlyn turned sick and faint--to judge by his changing +countenance--when she had charged him at dinner, the previous evening, +with knowing something of this mysterious woman? Mysterious in her +actions, at all events; probably in herself. Mrs. Hamlyn wanted to know +that. No further opportunity had then been given for pursuing the +subject. Japhet had returned to the room, and before the dinner was at +an end, some acquaintance of Mr. Hamlyn had fetched him out for the +evening. And he came home with so fearful a headache that he had lain +groaning and turning all through the night. Mrs. Hamlyn was not a model +of patience, but in all her life she had never felt so impatient as now. + +He came into the room looking pale and shivery; a sure sign that he was +suffering; that it was not an invented excuse. Yes, the pain was better, +he said, in answer to his wife's question; and might be much better +after a strong cup of tea; he could not imagine what had brought it on. +_She_ could have told him though, had she been gifted with the magical +power of reading minds, and have seen the nervous apprehension that was +making havoc with his. + +Mrs. Hamlyn gave him his tea in silence, and buttered a dainty bit of +toast to tempt him to eat. But he shook his head. + +"I cannot, Eliza. Nothing but tea this morning." + +"I am sorry you are ill," she said, by-and-by. "I fear it hurts you to +talk; but I want to have it out with you." + +"Have it out with me!" cried he, in real or feigned surprise. "Have what +out with me?" + +"Oh, you know, Philip. About that woman who has been watching the house +these two days; evidently watching for you." + +"But I told you I knew nothing about her: who she is, or what she is, or +what she wants. I really do not know." + +Well, so far that was true. But all the while a sick fear lay on his +heart that he did know; or, rather, that he was destined to know very +shortly. + +"When I told you her hair was like threads of fine, pale gold, you +seemed to start, Philip, as if you knew some girl or woman with such +hair, or had known her." + +"I daresay I have known a score of women with such hair. My dear little +sister who died, for instance." + +"Do not attempt to evade the subject," was the haughty reprimand. "If--" + +Mrs. Hamlyn's sharp speech was interrupted by the entrance of Japhet, +bringing in the morning letters. Only one letter, however, for they were +not as numerous in those days as they are in these. + +"It seems to be important, ma'am," Japhet remarked, with the privilege +of an old servant, as he handed it to his mistress. She saw it was from +Leet Hall, in Mrs. Carradyne's handwriting, and bore the words: "In +haste," above the address. + +Tearing it open, Eliza Hamlyn read the short, sad news it contained. +Captain Monk had been taken suddenly ill with inward inflammation. Mr. +Speck feared the worst, and the Captain had asked for Eliza. Would she +come down at once? + +"Oh, Philip, I must not lose a minute," she exclaimed, passing the +letter to him, and forgetting the pale gold hair and its owner. "Do you +know anything about the Worcestershire trains?" + +"No," he answered. "The better plan will be to get to the station as +soon as possible, and then you will be ready for the first train that +starts." + +"Will you go down with me, Philip?" + +"I cannot. I will take you to the station." + +"Why can't you?" + +"Because I cannot just now leave London. My dear, you may believe me, +for it is the truth. I _cannot do so_. I wish I could." + +And she saw it was true: for his tone was so earnest as to tell of pain. + +Making what haste she could, kissing her boy a hundred times, and +recommending him to the special care of his nurse and of his father +during her absence, she drove with her husband to the station, and was +just in time for a train. Mr. Hamlyn watched it steam out of the +station, and then looked up at the clock. + +"I suppose it's not too early to see him," he muttered. "I'll chance it, +at any rate. Hope he will be less suffering than he was yesterday, and +less crusty, too." + +Dismissing his carriage, for he felt more inclined to walk than to +drive, he went through the park to Pimlico, and gained the house of +Major Pratt. + +This was Friday. On the previous Wednesday evening a note had been +brought to Mr. Hamlyn by Major Pratt's servant, a sentence in which, as +the reader may remember, ran as follows: + + "_I suppose there was no mistake in the report that that ship did + go down--and that none of the passengers were saved from it?_" + +This puzzled Philip Hamlyn: perhaps somewhat troubled him in a hazy kind +of way. For he could only suppose that the ship alluded to must be the +sailing vessel in which his first wife, false and faithless, and his +little son of a twelvemonth old had been lost some five or six years +ago--the _Clipper of the Seas_. And the next day, (Thursday) he had gone +to Major Pratt's, as requested, to carry the prescription for gout he +had asked for, and also to inquire of the Major what he meant. + +But the visit was a fruitless one. Major Pratt was in bed with an attack +of gout, so ill and so "crusty" that nothing could be got out of him +excepting a few bad words and as many groans. Mr. Hamlyn then questioned +Saul--of whom he used to see a good deal in India, for he had been the +Major's servant for years and years. + +"Do you happen to know, Saul, whether the Major wanted me for anything +in particular? He asked me to call here this morning." + +Saul began to consider. He was a tall, thin, cautious, slow-speaking +man, honest as the day, and very much attached to his master. + +"Well, sir, he got a letter yesterday morning that seemed to put him +out, for I found him swearing over it. And he said he'd like you to see +it." + +"Who was the letter from? What was it about?" + +"It looked like Miss Caroline's writing, sir, and the postmark was +Essex. As to what it was about--well, the Major didn't directly tell me, +but I gathered that it might be about--" + +"About what?" questioned Mr Hamlyn, for the man had come to a dead +standstill. "Speak out, Saul." + +"Then, sir," said Saul, slowly rubbing the top of his head, and the few +grey hairs left on it, "I thought--as you tell me to speak--it must be +something concerning that ship you know of; she that went down on her +voyage home, Mr. Philip." + +"The _Clipper of the Seas_?" + +"Just so, sir; the _Clipper of the Seas_. I thought it by this," added +Saul: "that pretty nigh all day afterwards he talked of nothing but that +ship, asking me if I should suppose it possible that the ship had not +gone down and every soul on board, leastways of her passengers, with +her. 'Master,' said I, in answer, 'had that ship not gone down and all +her passengers with her, rely upon it, they'd have turned up long before +this.' 'Ay, ay,' stormed he, 'and Caroline's a fool'--Which of course +meant his sister, you know, sir." + +Philip Hamlyn could not make much of this. So many years had elapsed now +since news came out to the world that the unfortunate ship, _Clipper of +the Seas_, went down off the coast of Spain on her homeward voyage, and +all her passengers with her, as to be a fact of the past. Never a doubt +had been cast upon any part of the tidings, so far as he knew. + +With an uneasy feeling at his heart, he went off to the city, to call +upon the brokers, or agents, of the ship: remembering quite well who +they were, and that they lived in Fenchurch Street. An elderly man, +clerk in the house for many years, and now a partner, received him. + +"The _Clipper of the Seas_?" repeated the old gentleman, after listening +to what Mr. Hamlyn had to say. "No, sir, we don't know that any of her +passengers were saved; always supposed they were not. But lately we have +had some little cause to doubt whether one or two might not have been." + +Philip Hamlyn's heart beat faster. + +"Will you tell me why you think this?" + +"It isn't that we think it; at best 'tis but a doubt," was the reply. +"One of our own ships, getting in last month from Madras, had a sailor +on board who chanced to remark to me, when he was up here getting his +pay, that it was not the first time he had served in our employ: he had +been in that ship that was lost, the _Clipper of the Seas_. And he went +on to say, in answer to a remark of mine about all the passengers having +been lost, that that was not quite correct, for that one of them had +certainly been saved--a lady or a nurse, he didn't know which, and also +a little child that she was in charge of. He was positive about it, he +added, upon my expressing my doubts, for they got to shore in the same +small boat that he did." + +"Is it true, think you?" gasped Mr. Hamlyn. + +"Sir, we are inclined to think it is not true," emphatically spoke the +old gentleman. "Upon inquiring about this man's character, we found that +he is given to drinking, so that what he says cannot always be relied +upon. Again, it seems next to an impossibility that if any passenger +were saved we should not have heard of it. Altogether we feel inclined +to judge that the man, though evidently believing he spoke truth, was +but labouring under an hallucination." + +"Can you tell me where I can find the man?" asked Mr. Hamlyn, after a +pause. + +"Not anywhere at present, sir. He has sailed again." + +So that ended it for the day. Philip Hamlyn went home and sat down to +dinner with his wife, as already spoken of. And when she told him that +the mysterious lady waiting outside must be waiting for him--probably +some acquaintance of his of the years gone by--it set his brain working +and his pulses throbbing, for he suddenly connected her with what he had +that day heard. No wonder his head ached! + +To-day, after seeing his wife off by train, he went to find Major Pratt. +The Major was better, and could talk, swearing a great deal over the +gout, and the letter. + +"It was from Caroline," he said, alluding to his sister, Miss Pratt, who +had been with him in India. "She lives in Essex, you know, Philip." + +"Oh, yes, I know," answered Philip Hamlyn. "But what is it that Caroline +says in her letter?" + +"You shall hear," said the Major, producing his sister's letter and +opening it. "Listen. Here it is. 'The strangest thing has happened, +brother! Susan went to London yesterday to get my fronts recurled at the +hairdresser's, and she was waiting in the shop, when a lady came out of +the back room, having been in there to get a little boy's hair cut. +Susan was quite struck dumb when she saw her: _She thinks it was poor +erring Dolly_; never saw such a likeness before, she says; could almost +swear to her by the lovely pale gold hair. The lady pulled her veil over +her face when she saw Susan staring at her, and went away with great +speed. Susan asked the hairdresser's people if they knew the lady's +name, or who she was, but they told her she was a stranger to them; had +never been in the shop before. Dear Richard, this is troubling me; I +could not sleep all last night for thinking of it. Do you suppose it is +possible that Dolly and the boy were not drowned? Your affectionate +sister, Caroline.' Now, did you ever read such a letter?" stormed the +Major. "If that Susan went home and said she'd seen St. Paul's blown up, +Caroline would believe it. Who's Susan, d'ye say? Why, you've lost your +memory, Philip. Susan was the English maid we had with us in Calcutta." + +"It cannot possibly be true," cried Mr. Hamlyn with quivering lips. + +"True, no! of course it can't be, hang it! Or else what would you do?" + +That might be logical though not satisfactory reasoning. And Mr. Hamlyn +thought of the woman said to be watching for him, and her pale gold +hair. + +"She was a cunning jade, if ever there was one, mark you, Philip Hamlyn; +that false wife of yours and kin of mine; came of a cunning family on +the mother's side. Put it that she _was_ saved: if it suited her to let +us suppose she was drowned, why, she'd do it. _I_ know Dolly." + +And poor Philip Hamlyn, assenting to the truth of this with all his +heart, went out to face the battle that might be coming upon him, +lacking the courage for it. + + +II. + +The cold, clear afternoon air touching their healthy faces, and Jack +Frost nipping their noses, raced Miss West and Kate Dancox up and down +the hawthorn walk. It had pleased that arbitrary young damsel, who was +still very childish, to enter a protest against going beyond the grounds +that fine winter's day; she would be in the hawthorn walk, or nowhere; +and she would run races there. As Miss West gave in to her whims for +peace' sake in things not important, and as she was young enough herself +not to dislike running, to the hawthorn walk they went. + +Captain Monk was recovering rapidly. His sudden illness had been caused +by drinking some cold cider when some out-door exercise had made him +dangerously hot. The alarm and apprehension had now subsided; and Mrs. +Hamlyn, arriving three days ago in answer to the hasty summons, was +thinking of returning to London. + +"You are cheating!" called out Kate, flying off at a tangent to cross +her governess's path. "You've no right to get before me!" + +"Gently," corrected Miss West. "My dear, we have run enough for to-day." + +"We haven't, you ugly, cross old thing! Aunt Eliza says you _are_ ugly. +And--" + +The young lady's amenities were cut short by finding herself suddenly +lifted off her feet by Mr. Harry Carradyne, who had come behind them. + +"Let me alone, Harry! You are always coming where you are not wanted. +Aunt Eliza says so." + +A sudden light, as of mirth, illumined Harry Carradyne's fresh, frank +countenance. "Aunt Eliza says all those things, does she? Well, Miss +Kate, she also says something else--that you are now to go indoors." + +"What for? I shan't go in." + +"Oh, very well. Then that dandified silk frock for the new year that the +dressmaker is waiting to try on can be put aside until midsummer." + +Kate dearly loved new silk frocks, and she raced away. The governess +followed more slowly, Mr. Carradyne talking by her side. + +For some months now their love dream had been going on; aye, and the +love-making too. Not altogether surreptitiously; neither of them would +have liked that. Though not expedient to proclaim it yet to Captain Monk +and the world, Mrs. Carradyne knew of it and tacitly sanctioned it. + +Alice West turned her face, blushing uncomfortably, to him as they +walked. "I am glad to have this opportunity of saying something to you," +she spoke with hesitation. "Are you not upon rather bad terms with Mrs. +Hamlyn?" + +"She is with me," replied Harry. + +"And--am _I_ the cause?" continued Alice, feeling as if her fears were +confirmed. + +"Not at all. She has not fathomed the truth yet, with all her +penetration, though she may have some suspicion of it. Eliza wants to +bend me to her will in the matter of the house, and I won't be bent. Old +Peveril wishes to resign the lease of Peacock Range to me; I wish to +take it from him, and Eliza objects. She says Peveril promised her the +house until the seven years' lease was out, and that she means to keep +him to his bargain." + +"Do you quarrel?" + +"Quarrel! no," laughed Harry Carradyne. "I joke with her, rather than +quarrel. But I don't give in. She pays me some left-handed compliments, +telling me that I am no gentleman, that I'm a bear, and so on; to which +I make my bow." + +Alice West was gazing straight before her, a troubled look in her eyes. +"Then you see that I _am_ the remote cause of the quarrel, Harry. But +for thinking of me, you would not care to take the house on your own +hands." + +"I don't know that. Be very sure of one thing, Alice: that I shall not +stay an hour longer under the roof here if my uncle disinherits me. That +he, a man of indomitable will, should be so long making up his mind is a +proof that he shrinks from committing the injustice. The suspense it +keeps me in is the worst of all. I told him so the other evening when we +were sitting together and he was in an amiable mood. I said that any +decision he might come to would be more tolerable than this prolonged +suspense." + +Alice drew a long breath at his temerity. + +Harry laughed. "Indeed, I quite expected to be ordered out of the room +in a storm. Instead of that, he took it quietly, civilly telling me to +have a little more patience; and then began to speak of the annual new +year's dinner, which is not far off now." + +"Mrs. Carradyne is thinking that he may not hold the dinner this year, +as he has been so ill," remarked the young lady. + +"He will never give that up, Alice, as long as he can hold anything; and +he is almost well again, you know. Oh, yes; we shall have the dinner and +the chimes also." + +"I have never heard the chimes," she said. "They have not played since I +came to Church Leet." + +"They are to play this year," said Harry Carradyne. "But I don't think +my mother knows it." + +"Is it true that Mrs. Carradyne does not like to hear the chimes? I seem +to have gathered the idea, somehow," added Alice. But she received no +answer. + +Kate Dancox was changeable as the ever-shifting sea. Delighted with the +frock that was in process, she extended her approbation to its maker; +and when Mrs. Ram, a homely workwoman, departed with her small bundle in +her arms, it pleased the young lady to say she would attend her to her +home. This involved the attendance of Miss West, who now found herself +summoned to the charge. + +Having escorted Mrs. Ram to her lowly door, and had innumerable +intricate questions answered touching trimmings and fringes, Miss Kate +Dancox, disregarding her governess altogether, flew back along the road +with all the speed of her active limbs, and disappeared within the +churchyard. At first Alice, who was growing tired and followed slowly, +could not see her; presently, a desperate shriek guided her to an +unfrequented corner where the graves were crowded. Miss Kate had come to +grief in jumping over a tombstone, and bruised both her knees. + +"There!" exclaimed Alice, sitting down on the stump of an old tree, +close to the low wall. "You've hurt yourself now." + +"Oh, it's nothing," returned Kate, who did not make much of smarts. And +she went limping away to Mr. Grame, then doing some light work in his +garden. + +Alice sat on where she was, reading the inscription on the tombstones; +some of them so faint with time as to be hardly discernible. While +standing up to make out one that seemed of a rather better class than +the rest, she observed Nancy Cale, the clerk's wife, sitting in the +church-porch and watching her attentively. The poor old woman had been +ill for a long time, and Alice was surprised to see her out. Leaving the +inscriptions, she went across the churchyard. + +"Ay, my dear young lady, I be up again, and thankful enough to say it; +and I thought as the day's so fine, I'd step out a bit," she said, in +answer to the salutation. An intelligent woman, and quite sufficiently +cultivated for her work--cleaning the church and washing the parson's +surplices. "I thought John was in the church here, and came to speak to +him; but he's not, I find; the door's locked." + +"I saw John down by Mrs. Ram's just now; he was talking to Nott, the +carpenter," observed Alice. "Nancy, I was trying to make out some of +those old names; but it is difficult to do so," she added, pointing to +the crowded corner. + +"Ay, I see, my dear," nodded Nancy. "_His_ be worn a'most right off. I +think I'd have it done again, an' I was you." + +"Have what done again?" + +"The name upon your poor papa's gravestone." + +"The _what_?" exclaimed Alice. And Nancy repeated her words. + +Alice stared at her. Had Mrs. Cale's wits vanished in her illness? "Do +you know what you are saying, Nancy?" she cried; "I don't. What had papa +to do with this place? I think you must be wandering." + +Nancy stared in her turn. "Sure, it's not possible," she said slowly, +beginning to put two and two together, "that you don't know who you are, +Miss West? That your papa died here? and lies buried here?" + +Alice West turned white, and sat down on the opposite bench to Nancy. +She did know that her father had died at some small country living he +held; but she never suspected that it was at Church Leet. Her mother had +gone to London after his death, and set up a school--which succeeded +well. But soon she died, and the ladies who took to the school before +her death took to Alice with it. The child was still too young to be +told by her mother of the serious past--or Mrs. West deemed her to be +so. And she had grown up in ignorance of her father's fate and of where +he died. + +"When we heard, me and John, that it was a Miss West who had come to the +Hall to be governess to Parson Dancox's child, the name struck us both," +went on Nancy. "Next we looked at your face, my dear, to trace any +likeness there might be, and we thought we saw it--for you've got your +papa's eyes for certain. Then, one day when I was dusting in here, I let +fall a hymn-book from the Hall pew; in picking it up it came open, and +the name writ in it stared me in the face, '_Alice_ West.' After that, +we had no manner of doubt, him and me, and I've often wished to talk +with you and tell you so. My dear, I've had you on my knee many a time +when you were a little one." + +Alice burst into tears of agitation. "I never knew it! I never knew it. +Dear Nancy, what did papa die of?" + +"Ah, that was a sad piece of business--he was killed," said Nancy. And +forthwith, rightly or wrongly, she, garrulous with old age, told all the +history. + +It was an exciting interview, lasting until the shades of evening +surprised them. Miss Kate Dancox might have gone roving to the other end +of the globe, for all the attention given her just then. Poor Alice +cried and sighed, and trembled inwardly and outwardly. "To think that it +should just be to this place that I should come as governess, and to the +house of Captain Monk!" she wailed. "Surely he did not _kill_ +papa!--intentionally!" + +"No, no; nobody has ever thought that," disclaimed Nancy. "The Captain +is a passionate man, as is well known, and they quarrelled, and a hot +blow, not intentional, must have been struck between 'em. And all +through them blessed chimes, Miss Alice! Not but that they be sweet to +listen to--and they be going to ring again this New Year's Eve." + +Drawing her warm cloak about her, Nancy Cale set off towards her +cottage. Alice West sat on in the sheltered porch, utterly bewildered. +Never in her life had she felt so agitated, so incapable of sound and +sober thought. _Now_ it was explained why the bow-windowed sitting-room +at the Vicarage would always strike her as being familiar to her memory; +as though she had at some time known one that resembled it, or perhaps +seen one like it in a dream. + +"Well, I'm sure!" + +The jesting salutation came from Harry Carradyne. Despatched in search +of the truants, he had found Kate at the Vicarage, making much of the +last new baby there, and devouring a sumptuous tea of cakes and jam. +Miss West? Oh, Miss West was sitting in the church porch, talking to old +Nancy Cale, she said to Harry. + +"Why! What is it?" he exclaimed in dismay, finding that the burst of +emotion which he had taken to be laughter, meant tears. "What has +happened, Alice?" + +She could no more have kept the tears in than she could +help--presently--telling him the news. He sat down by her and held her +close to him, and pressed for it. She was the daughter of George West, +who had died in the dispute with Captain Monk in the dining-room at the +Hall so many years before, and who was lying here in the corner of the +churchyard; and she had never, never known it! + +Mr. Carradyne was somewhat taken to; there was no denying it; chiefly by +surprise. + +"I thought your father was a soldier, Alice--Colonel West; and died when +serving in India. I'm sure it was said so when you came." + +"Oh, no, that could not have been said," she cried; "unless Mrs. Moffit, +the agent, made the mistake. It was my uncle who died in India. No one +here ever questioned me about my parents, knowing they were dead. Oh, +dear," she went on in agitation, after a silent pause, "what am I to do +now? I cannot stay at the Hall. Captain Monk would not allow it either." + +"No need to tell him," quoth Mr. Harry. + +"And--of course--we must part. You and I." + +"Indeed! Who says so?" + +"I am not sure that it would be right to--to--you know." + +"To what? Go on, my dear." + +Alice sighed; her eyes were fixed thoughtfully on the fast falling +twilight. "Mrs. Carradyne will not care for me when she knows who I am," +she said in low tones. + +"My dear, shall I tell you how it strikes me?" returned Harry: "that my +mother will be only the more anxious to have you connected with us by +closer and dearer ties, so as to atone to you, in even a small degree, +for the cruel wrong which fell upon your father. As to me--it shall be +made my life's best and dearest privilege." + +But when a climax such as this takes place, the right or the wrong thing +to be done cannot be settled in a moment. Alice West did not see her way +quite clearly, and for the present she neither said nor did anything. + +This little matter occurred on the Friday in Christmas week; on the +following day, Saturday, Mrs. Hamlyn was returning to London. Christmas +Day this year had fallen on a Monday. Some old wives hold a superstition +that when that happens, it inaugurates but small luck for the following +year, either for communities or for individuals. Not that that fancy has +anything to do with the present history. Captain Monk's banquet would +not be held until the Monday night: as was customary when New Year's Eve +fell on a Sunday. He had urged his daughter to remain over New Year's +Day; but she declined, on the plea that as she had been away from her +husband on Christmas Day, she would like to pass New Year's Day with +him. The truth being that she wanted to get to London to see after that +yellow-haired lady who was supposed to be peeping after Philip Hamlyn. + +On the Saturday morning, Mrs. Hamlyn was driven to Evesham in the close +carriage, and took the train to London. Her husband, ever kind and +attentive, met her at the Paddington terminus. He was looking haggard, +and seemed to be thinner than when she left him nine days ago. + +"Are you well, Philip?" she asked anxiously. + +"Oh, quite well," quickly answered poor Philip Hamlyn, smiling a warm +smile, that he meant to look like a gay one. "Nothing ever ails me." + +No, nothing might ail him bodily; but mentally--ah, how much! That awful +terror lay upon him thick and threefold; it had not yet come to any +solution, one way or the other. Major Pratt had taken up the very worst +view of it; and spent his days pitching hard names at misbehaving +syrens, gifted with "the deuce's own cunning" and with mermaids' shining +hair. + +"And how have things been going, Penelope?" asked Mrs. Hamlyn of the +nurse, as she sat in the nursery with her boy upon her knee. "All +right?" + +"Quite so, ma'am. Master Walter has been just as good as gold." + +"Mamma's darling!" murmured the doting mother, burying her face in his. +"I have been thinking, Penelope, that your master does not look well," +she added after a minute. + +"No, ma'am? I've not noticed it. We have not seen much of him up here; +he has been at his club a good deal--and dined three or four times with +old Major Pratt." + +"As if she would notice it!--servants never notice anything!" thought +Eliza Hamlyn in her imperious way of judging the world. "By the way, +Penelope," she said aloud in light and careless tones, "has that woman +with the yellow hair been seen about much?--has she presumed again to +accost my little son?" + +"The woman with the yellow hair?" repeated Penelope, looking at her +mistress, for the girl had quite forgotten the episode. "Oh, I +remember--she that stood outside there and came to us in the +square-garden. No, ma'am, I've seen nothing at all of her since that +day." + +"For there are wicked people who prowl about to kidnap children," +continued Mrs. Hamlyn, as if she would condescend to explain her +inquiry, "and that woman looked like one. Never suffer her to approach +my darling again. Mind that, Penelope." + +The jealous heart is not easily reassured. And Mrs. Hamlyn, restless and +suspicious, put the same question to her husband. It was whilst they +were waiting in the drawing-room for dinner to be announced, and she had +come down from changing her apparel after her journey. How handsome she +looked! a right regal woman! as she stood there arrayed in dark blue +velvet, the fire-light playing upon her proud face, and upon the diamond +earrings and brooch she wore. + +"Philip, has that woman been prowling about here again?" + +Just for an imperceptible second, for thought is quick, it occurred to +Philip Hamlyn to temporise, to affect ignorance, and say, What woman? +just as if his mind were not full of the woman, and of nothing else. But +he abandoned it as useless. + +"I have not seen her since; not at all," he answered: and though his +words were purposely indifferent, his wife, knowing all his tones and +ways by heart, was not deceived. "He is afraid of that woman," she +whispered to herself; "or else afraid of _me_." But she said no more. + +"Have you come to any definite understanding with Mr. Carradyne in +regard to Peacock's Range, Eliza?" + +"He will not come to any; he is civilly obstinate over it. Laughs in my +face with the most perfect impudence, and tells me: 'A man must be +allowed to put in his own claim to his own house, when he wants to do +so.'" + +"Well, Eliza, that seems to be only right and fair. Percival made no +positive agreement with us, remember." + +"_Is_ it right and fair! That may be your opinion, Philip, but it is not +mine. We shall see, Mr. Harry Carradyne!" + +"Dinner is served, ma'am," announced the old butler. + +That evening passed. Sunday passed, the last day of the dying year; and +Monday morning, New Year's day, dawned. + + * * * * * + +New Year's Day. Mr. and Mrs. Hamlyn were seated at the breakfast-table. +It was a bright, cold, sunny morning, showing plenty of blue sky. Young +Master Walter, in consideration of the day, was breakfasting at their +table, seated in his high chair. + +"Me to have dinner wid mamma to-day! Me have pudding!" + +"That you shall, my sweetest; and everything that's good," assented his +mother. + +In came Japhet at this juncture. "There's a little boy in the hall, sir, +asking to see you," said he to his master. "He--" + +"Oh, we shall have plenty of boys here to-day, asking for a new year's +gift," interposed Mrs. Hamlyn, rather impatiently. "Send him a shilling, +Philip." + +"It's not a poor boy, ma'am," answered Japhet, "but a little gentleman: +six or seven years old, he looks. He says he particularly wants to see +master." + +Philip Hamlyn smiled. "Particularly wants a shilling, I expect. Send him +in, Japhet." + +The lad came in. A well-dressed beautiful boy, refined in looks and +demeanour, bearing in his face a strange likeness to Mr. Hamlyn. He +looked about timidly. + +Eliza, struck with the resemblance, gazed at him. Her husband spoke. +"What do you want with me, my lad?" + +"If you please, sir, are you Mr. Hamlyn?" asked the child, going forward +with hesitating steps. "Are you my papa?" + +Every drop of blood seemed to leave Philip Hamlyn's face and fly to his +heart. He could not speak, and looked white as a ghost. + +"Who are you? What is your name?" imperiously demanded Philip's wife. + +"It is Walter Hamlyn," replied the lad, in clear, pretty tones. + +And now it was Mrs. Hamlyn's turn to look white. Walter Hamlyn?--the +name of her own dear son! when she had expected him to say Sam Smith, or +John Jones! What insolence some people had! + +"Where do you come from, boy? Who sent you here?" she reiterated. + +"I come from mamma. She would have sent me before, but I caught cold, +and was in bed all last week." + +Mr. Hamlyn rose. It was a momentous predicament, but he must do the best +he could in it. He was a man of nice honour, and he wished with all his +heart that the earth would open and engulf him. "Eliza, my love, allow +me to deal with this matter," he said, his voice taking a low, tender, +considerate tone. "I will question the boy in another room. Some +mistake, I reckon." + +"No, Philip, you must put your questions before me," she said, resolute +in her anger. "What is it you are fearing? Better tell me all, however +disreputable it may be." + +"I dare not tell you," he gasped; "it is not--I fear--the disreputable +thing you may be fancying." + +"Not dare! By what right do you call this gentleman 'papa'?" she +passionately demanded of the child. + +"Mamma told me to. She would never let me come home to him before +because of not wishing to part from me." + +Mrs. Hamlyn gazed at him. "Where were you born?" + +"At Calcutta; that's in India. Mamma brought me home in the _Clipper of +the Seas_, and the ship went down, but quite everybody was not lost in +it, though papa thought so." + +The boy had evidently been well instructed. Eliza Hamlyn, grasping the +whole truth now, staggered back in terror. + +"Philip! Philip! is it true? Was it _this_ you feared?" + +He made a motion of assent and covered his face. "Heaven knows I would +rather have died." + +He stood back against the window-curtains, that they might shade his +pain. She fell into a chair and wished he _had_ died, years before. + +But what was to be the end of it all? Though Eliza Hamlyn went straight +out and despatched that syren of the golden hair with a poison-tipped +bodkin (and possibly her will might be good to do it), it could not make +things any the better for herself. + + +III. + +New Year's Night at Leet Hall, and the banquet in full swing--but not, +as usual, New Year's Eve. + +Captain Monk headed his table, the parson, Robert Grame, at his right +hand, Harry Carradyne on his left. Whether it might be that the world, +even that out-of-the-way part of it, Church Leet, was improving in +manners and morals; or whether the Captain himself was changing: certain +it was that the board was not the free board it used to be. Mrs. +Carradyne herself might have sat at it now, and never once blushed by as +much as the pink of a sea-shell. + +It was known that the chimes were to play this year; and, when midnight +was close at hand, Captain Monk volunteered a statement which astonished +his hearers. Rimmer, the butler, had come into the room to open the +windows. + +"I am getting tired of the chimes, and all people have not liked them," +spoke the Captain in slow, distinct tones. "I have made up my mind to do +away with them, and you will hear them to-night, gentlemen, for the last +time." + +"_Really_, Uncle Godfrey!" cried Harry Carradyne, in most intense +surprise. + +"I hope they'll bring us no ill-luck to-night!" continued Captain Monk +as a grim joke, disregarding Harry's remark. "Perhaps they will, though, +out of sheer spite, knowing they'll never have another chance of it. +Well, well, they're welcome. Fill your glasses, gentlemen." + +Rimmer was throwing up the windows. In another minute the church clock +boomed out the first stroke of twelve, and the room fell into a dead +silence. With the last stroke the Captain rose, glass in hand. + +"A happy New Year to you, gentlemen! A happy New Year to us all. May it +bring to us health and prosperity!" + +"And God's blessing," reverently added Robert Grame aloud, as if to +remedy an omission. + +Ring, ring, ring! Ah, there it came, the soft harmony of the chimes, +stealing up through the midnight air. Not quite as loudly heard, +perhaps, as usual, for there was no wind to waft it, but in tones +wondrously clear and sweet. Never had the strains of the "Bay of Biscay" +brought to the ear more charming melody. How soothing it was to those +enrapt listeners; seeming to tell of peace. + +But soon another sound arose to mingle with it. A harsh, grating sound, +like the noise of wheels passing over gravel. Heads were lifted; glances +expressed surprise. With the last strains of the chimes dying away in +the distance, a carriage of some kind galloped up to the hall door. + +Eliza Hamlyn alighted from it--with her child and its nurse. As quickly +as she could make opportunity after that scene enacted in her +breakfast-room in London in the morning, that is, as soon as her +husband's back was turned, she had quitted the house with the maid and +child, to take the train for home, bringing with her--it was what she +phrased it--her shameful tale. + +A tale that distressed Mrs. Carradyne to sickness. A tale that so +abjectly terrified Captain Monk, when it was imparted to him on Tuesday +morning, as to take every atom of fierceness out of his composition. + +"Not Hamlyn's wife!" he gasped. "Eliza!" + +"No, not his wife," she retorted, a great deal too angry herself to be +anything but fierce and fiery. "That other woman, that false first wife +of his, was not drowned, as was set forth, and she has come to claim +him, with their son." + +"His wife; their son," muttered the Captain as if he were bewildered. +"Then what are you?--what is your son? Oh, my poor Eliza." + +"Yes, what are we? Papa, I will bring him to answer for it before his +country's tribunal--if there be law in the land." + +No one spoke to this. It may have occurred to them to remember that Mr. +Hamlyn could not legally be punished for what he did in innocence. +Captain Monk opened the glass doors and walked on to the terrace, as if +the air of the room were oppressive. Eliza went out after him. + +"Papa," she said, "there now exists all the more reason for your making +my darling _your_ heir. Let it be settled without delay. He must succeed +to Leet Hall." + +Captain Monk looked at his daughter as if not understanding her. "No, +no, no," he said. "My child, you forget; trouble must be obscuring your +faculties. None but a _legal_ descendant of the Monks could be allowed +to have Leet Hall. Besides, apart from this, it is already settled. I +have seen for some little time now how unjust it would be to supplant +Henry Carradyne." + +"Is _he_ to be your heir? Is it so ordered?" + +"Irrevocably. I have told him so this morning." + +"What am I to do?" she wailed in bitter despair. "Papa, what is to +become of me--and of my unoffending child?" + +"I don't know: I wish I did know. It will be a cruel blight upon us all. +You will have to live it down, Eliza. Ah, child, if you and Katherine +had only listened to me, and not made those rebellious marriages!" + +He turned away as he spoke in the direction of the church, to see that +his orders were being executed there. Harry Carradyne ran after him. The +clock was striking midday as they entered the churchyard. + +Yes, the workmen were at their work--taking down the bells. + +"If the time were to come over again, Harry," began Captain Monk as they +were walking homeward, he leaning upon his nephew's arm, "I wouldn't +have them put up. They don't seem to have brought luck somehow, as the +parish has been free to say. Not but that must be utter nonsense." + +"Well, no they don't, uncle," assented Harry. + +"As one grows in years, one gets to look at things differently, lad. +Actions that seemed laudable enough when one's blood was young and hot, +crop up again then, wearing another aspect. But for those chimes, poor +West would not have have died as he did. I have had him upon my mind a +good bit lately." + +Surely Captain Monk was wonderfully changing! And he was leaning heavily +upon Harry's arm. + +"Are you tired, uncle? Would you like to sit down on this bench and +rest?" + +"No, I'm not tired. It's West I'm thinking about. He lies on my mind +sadly. And I never did anything for the wife or child to atone to them! +It's too late now--and has been this many a year." + +Harry Carradyne's heart began to beat a little. Should he say what he +had been hoping to say sometime? He might never have a better +opportunity than this. + +"Uncle Godfrey," he spoke in low tones, "would you--would you like to +see Mr. West's daughter? His wife has been dead a long while; but--would +you like to see her--Alice?" + +"Ay," fervently spoke the old man. "If she be in the land of the living, +bring her to me. I'll tell her how sorry I am, and how I would undo the +past if I could. And I'll ask her if she'll be to me as a daughter." + +So then Harry Carradyne told him all. It was Alice West who was already +under his roof, and who, fate and fortune permitting, _Heaven_ +permitting, would sometime be Alice Carradyne. + +Down sat Captain Monk on a bench of his own accord. Tears rose to his +eyes. The sudden revulsion of feeling was great: and truly he was a +changed man. + +"You spoke of Heaven, Harry. I shall begin to think it has forgiven me. +Let us be thankful." + +But Captain Monk found he had more to thank Heaven for ere many minutes +had elapsed. As Harry Carradyne sat by him in silence, marvelling at the +change, yet knowing that the grievous blow which was making havoc of +Eliza had effected the completeness of the subduing, he caught sight of +an approaching fly. Another fly from the railway station at Evesham. + +"How dare you come here, you villain!" shouted Captain Monk, rising in +threatening anger, as the fly's inmate called to the driver to stop and +began to get out of it. "Are you not ashamed to show your face to me, +after the evil you have inflicted upon my daughter?" + +Philip Hamlyn, smiling kindly and calmly, caught Captain Monk's lifted +hands. "No evil, sir," he said, soothingly. "It was all a mistake. Eliza +is my true and lawful wife." + +"Eh? What's that?" said the Captain quite in a whisper, his lips +trembling. + +Quietly Philip Hamlyn explained. He had taken the previous day to +investigate the matter, and had followed his wife down by a night train. +His first wife _was_ dead. She had been drowned in the _Clipper of the +Seas_, as was supposed. The child was saved, with his nurse: the only +two passengers who were saved. The nurse made her way to a place in the +south of France, where, as she knew, her late mistress's sister lived, +Mrs. O'Connett, formerly Miss Sophia Pratt. Mrs. O'Connett, a young +widow, had just lost her only child, a boy about the age of the little +one rescued from the cruel seas. She seized on him with feverish +avidity, adopted him as her own, quitted the place for another +Anglo-French town where she was not previously known, taught the child +to call her "Mamma," and had never let it transpire that the boy was not +hers. But now, after the lapse of a few years, Mrs. O'Connett was on the +eve of marriage with an Irish Major. To him she told the truth; and, as +he did not want to marry the child as well as herself, he persuaded her +to return him to his father. Mrs. O'Connett brought the child to London, +ascertained Mr. Hamlyn's address, and all about him, and watched about +to speak to him, alone if possible, unknown to his wife. Remembering +what had been the behaviour of the child's mother, she was by no means +sure of a good reception from Philip himself, or what adverse influence +might be brought to bear by the new ties he had formed. Mrs. O'Connett +had the same remarkable and lovely hair that her sister had had, whom +she very much resembled; she had also a talent for underhand ways. + +That was the truth--and I have had to tell it in a nutshell, space +growing limited. Philip Hamlyn had ascertained it all beyond possibility +of dispute, had seen Mrs. O'Connett, and had brought down the good +tidings. + +Of all the curious sights this record has afforded, perhaps the most +surprising was to see Captain Monk pass his arm lovingly within that of +Philip Hamlyn and march off with him to Leet Hall as if he were a prize +to be coveted. "Here he is, Eliza," said he; "he has come to cheer both +you and me." + +For once in her life Eliza Hamlyn was subdued to meekness. She kissed +her husband and shed happy tears. She was his lawful wife, and the +little one was his lawful child. True, there was an elder son; but, +compared with what had been feared, that was a slight evil. + +"We must make them true brothers, Eliza," whispered Philip Hamlyn. "They +shall share alike all I have and all I leave behind me. And our own +little one must be called James in future." + +"And you and I will be good friends from henceforth," cried Captain Monk +warmly, clasping Philip Hamlyn's ready hand. "I have been to blame in +more ways than one, giving the reins unduly to my arbitrary temper. It +seems to me, however, that life holds enough of real angles for us +without creating any for ourselves." + +And surely it did seem, as Mrs. Carradyne would have liked to point out +aloud, that those chimes had been fraught with messages of evil. For had +not all these blessings set in with their removal?--even in the very +hour that saw the bells taken down! + +Harry Carradyne had drawn his uncle from the room; he now came in again, +bringing Alice West. Her face was a picture of agitation, for she had +been made known to Captain Monk. Harry led her up to Mrs. Hamlyn, with a +beaming smile and a whisper. + +"Eliza, as we seem to be going in generally for amenities, won't you +give just a little corner of your heart to _her_? We owe her some +reparation for the past. It is her father who lies in that grave at the +north end of the churchyard." + +Eliza started. "Her father! Poor George West her father?" + +"Even so." + +Just a moment's struggle with her rebellious spirit and Mrs. Hamlyn +stooped to kiss the trembling girl. "Yes, Alice, we do owe you +reparation amongst us, and we must try to make it," she said heartily. +"I see how it is: you will reign here with Harry; and I think he will be +able, after all, to let us keep Peacock's Range." + +There came a grand wedding, Captain Monk himself giving Alice away. But +Mr. and Mrs. Hamlyn did not retain Peacock's Range; they and their boys, +the two Walters, had to look out for another local residence; for Mrs. +Carradyne retired to Peacock's Range herself. Now that Leet Hall had a +young mistress, she deemed it policy to quit it; though it should have +as much of her as it pleased as a visitor. And Captain Godfrey Monk made +himself happier in these peaceful days than he had ever been in his +stormy ones. + +And that's the history. If I had to begin it again, I don't think I +should write it; for I have had to take its details from other +people--chiefly from the Squire and old Mr. Sterling, of the Court. +There's nothing of mine in it, so to say, and it has been only a bother. + +And those unfortunate chimes have nearly passed out of memory with the +lapse of years. The "Silent Chimes" they are always called when, by +chance, allusion is made to them, and will be so called for ever. + +JOHNNY LUDLOW. + + + + +THE BRETONS AT HOME. + +BY CHARLES W. WOOS, F.R.G.S., AUTHOR OF "THROUGH HOLLAND," "LETTERS FROM +MAJORCA," ETC. ETC. + + +Still we had not visited le Folgoet, and it had to be done. + +"No one ever leaves our neighbourhood without having seen le Folgoet," +said M. Hellard. "Or if he does so he loses the best thing we can offer +him in the way of excursions. Also, he must expect no luck in his future +travels through Brittany." + +[Illustration: MORLAIX.] + +"And he must be looked upon in the light of a _barbare_," chimed in +Madame. "Not to do le Folgoet would be almost as bad as not going to +confession in Lent." + +"My dear, did _you_ go to confession in Lent?" asked Monsieur, slily. + +"Monsieur Hellard," laughed Madame, blushing furiously, "I am a good +Catholic. Ask no questions. We were speaking of Folgoet. Everyone should +go there." + +"Is the excursion, then, to be looked upon as a pilgrimage, or a +penance?" we asked. "Will it absolve us from our sins, or grant us +indulgences? Is there some charm in its stones, or can we drink of its +waters and return to our first youth?" + +"The magic spring!" laughed Mme. Hellard. "You will find it at the back +of the church. I have drunk of its waters, certainly; on a very hot day +last summer. They refreshed me, but I still feel myself mortal." + +"Ah, yes," cried Monsieur, "the waters of Lethe and the elixir vitae have +equally to be discovered. I imagine that they belong to Paradise--and we +have lost Paradise, you know: though I have found my Eve," added +Monsieur, with a gallant bow to his cara sposa; "and have been in +Paradise ever since." + +"_You_, apparently, have found and drunk of the waters of Lethe," +laughed Madame. "You forget all our numerous quarrels and +disagreements." + +"Thunderstorms are said to clear the air," returned Monsieur; "but ours +have been mere summer lightning. That, you know, is not dangerous, and +beautifies the horizon." + +It was the day of our visit to St. Jean du Doigt, and we had seriously +fallen out with our coachman by the way. St. Jean had so charmed us that +we felt reluctant to leave it. The little inn, quiet and solitary, with +its windows open to the sunshine, its snow-white cloth, its wealth of +creeper and blossom trailing up the walls and sunning over the roof, +invited us to enter and be happy; to revel in the outer scene, sylvan, +rustic, ecclesiastical, an overflow of the beauties of earth, sky, +sunshine and ancient architecture. Here was an earthly paradise; it +might still be ours for some golden moments. Yet we threw away our +opportunity; as we so often do in life in far weightier matters than +taking luncheon at a village inn. + +We hesitated very much, but we had to see Plougasnou, and our driver, +for reasons of his own, declared that Plougasnou was far more beautiful +than St. Jean du Doigt, whilst its inn was renowned in Brittany. So, +having watched the funeral wind picturesquely down the hill-side, pause +at the beautiful gateway, and disappear into the church, we departed. + +It was very charming to drive about the hills and valleys, the narrow +country lanes that were full of the beauty of summer. Finally, a steep +ascent brought us to our destination with a rude awakening. We had left +Paradise for very earthly quarters. There was no beauty about the spot, +which, placed on a hill, was bleak, bare, and exposed. The inn was the +incarnation of ugliness, and everything about it was rough and rude. In +the kitchen two women were at work. The one was brewing coffee, which +sent forth a delicious aroma, the other, with weeping eyes, was peeling +onions for the pot-au-feu. + +We were served with a modest luncheon in a room behind the kitchen. +Madame prepared our food, and we had the privilege of assisting at the +ceremony. We were initiated into the mystery of frying an +omelette-au-naturel, the safest thing to order, no matter where you may +be in France, for the humblest cottage knows how to send up its omelette +to perfection. The handmaiden waited upon us, but she was heavy and not +intelligent, and she walked about in wooden shoes that clattered and +echoed and shocked one's nerves. But this did not affect the omelette, +or the modest ragout that concluded the banquet. + +We lunched almost al fresco. The window was wide open and looked on to a +large yard, surrounded by outbuildings. Hens raced about, and without +ceremony flew up to the window and demanded their share of the feast. +Several cats came in; so that, as far as animals were concerned, we +might still consider ourselves in Paradise. + +Then we passed out by way of the window, and immense dogs bade us +defiance and woke the echoes of the neighbourhood. Luckily they were +chained, and H.C.'s "Cave canem!" was superfluous. The church struck out +the hour. Placed in a sort of three-cornered square above the inn, the +tower stood out boldly against the background of sky, but it possessed +no beauty or merit. Away out of sight and hearing, we imagined the +glorious sea breaking and frothing over the rocks, and the points of +land that stretched out ruggedly towards the horizon; but we did not go +down to it. We felt out of tune with our surroundings, and only cared +for the moment when we should commence the long drive homeward. Had we +possessed some special anathema, some charm that would have placed our +driver under a mild punishment for twenty-four hours, I believe that we +should not have spared him. + +So, on the whole, we were glad that our excursion to le Folgoet would +have to be done in part by train. We arranged it for the morrow, making +the most of our blue skies. + +"You will have a charming day," said Madame Hellard, as we prepared to +set out the next morning. "I do not even recommend umbrellas. It is the +sort of wind that in Brittany never brings rain." + +Our only objection was that there was rather too much of it. + +Declining the omnibus, which rattled over the stones and was more or +less of a sarcophagus, without its repose, we mounted the interminable +Jacob's Ladder, and glanced in at our Antiquarian's. He was absent this +morning; had gone a little way into the country, where he had heard of +some Louis XIV. furniture that was to be sold by the Prior of an old +Abbey: though how so much that was luxurious and worldly had ever +entered an abbey seemed a mystery. + +We were soon en route for Landerneau, our destination as far as the +train was concerned. The line, picturesque and diversified, passed +through a narrow wooded valley where ran the river Elorn. On the left +was the extensive forest of Brezal; and in the small wood of +_Pont-Christ_, an interesting sixteenth century chapel faced an ancient +and romantic windmill. Close to this was a large pond, surrounded by +rugged rocks and firs; altogether a wild and beautiful scene. Soon +after, through the trees, we discerned the graceful open spire of the +Church of La Roche, and then, upon rugged height above the railway, the +ruins of the ancient Castle of la Roche-Maurice, called by the Breton +peasants round about, in their broad dialect, "la Ro'ch Morvan." It was +founded by Maurice, King of the Bretons, about the year 800, and was +demolished about 1490, during the war Charles VIII. waged against Anne +of Brittany. Very little of the ruin remains, excepting a square donjon +and a portion of the exterior walls and the four towers. + +Finally came Landerneau, and the train continued its way towards Brest +without us. + +We found the old town well worth exploring. It is situated on the Elorn, +or the river of Landerneau, as it is more often called. The stream is +fairly broad here, and divides the town into two parts. It is spanned by +an old bridge, bordered by a double row of ancient and gabled houses; +and rising out of the stream, like a small island or a moated grange, is +an old Gothic water mill, remarkably beautiful and picturesque. This +little scene alone is worth a journey to Landerneau. A Gothic +inscription, which has been placed in a house not far off, declares that +the old mill was built by the Rohans in 1510; and was no doubt devoted +to higher uses than the grinding of corn. + +There are many old houses, many quaint and curious bits of architecture +in Landerneau. On one of these, bearing the date of 1694, we found two +curious sculptures: a lion rampant and a man armed with a drawn sword; +and, between them, the inscription: TIRE, TVE. We might, indeed, have +gone up and down the street armed with sword, gun, or any other +murderous weapon, with impunity--there was nothing to fight but the air. +We had it all to ourselves, on this side the river. Yet Landerneau is a +flourishing place of some ten thousand inhabitants, with extensive +manufactories, saw mills, and large timber yards. Vessels come up the +river and load and unload; and, on bright days when the sunshine pours +upon the flashing water, and warms the wood lying about in huge stacks, +and a delicious pine-scent goes forth upon the air, it is a very +pleasant scene, and a very fitting spot for a short sojourn. + +It also deals extensively in strawberries, exporting to England many +thousand boxes of the delicious fruit that grows so largely in the +neighbourhood. The hotel this morning seemed full of them, and we had +but to ask, and to receive in abundance. The place was full of their +fragrance: a fragrance that seemed so allied to the smell of the pine +wood in the timber yards. + +The town is of great antiquity, and appears to have succeeded a Roman +Settlement. It is said to owe its name to St. Ernec, a Breton prince, +the son, says tradition, of Judicael, King of the Domnomee. This prince, +about the year 669, turned monk, and built himself a cell on the banks +of the Elorn, a river which divided in those days the sees of Leon and +Cornouaille. Where the cell was is now the village of St. Ernec, and a +chapel which preceded the church of the Recollets. + +In time Landerneau became the chief town of the Vicomte of Leon; and was +raised to a Principality in 1572 in favour of Henri, Vicomte de Rohan +and his brother Rene, Lord of Soubise, who founded the dukedom of +Rohan-Chabot. It remained in possession of Lords of Landerneau until +the Revolution. Fontenelle pillaged the town in 1592, and in the +seventeenth century its famous castle was destroyed. + +[Illustration: CALVARY, GUIMILIAU.] + +"There will be noise in Landerneau," has become a Breton proverb, +employed whenever any social event is stirring up the populace. It owes +its origin to a bygone custom of the town, of serenading widows on the +evening of their second marriage, with drums, trumpets, kettles, and +every kind of unmusical instrument that could be pressed into the +service of the uproarious ceremony. + +Of this we had no evidence. The town was quiet to the verge of deadly +dulness; if there were widows rash enough to contemplate a second +marriage, we knew nothing about it; they were discreet, and kept their +secret to themselves. + +There are many monasteries and nunneries in the neighbourhood. Some are +in ruins; some have become destined to other purposes; and if their +walls could speak, probably would cry aloud: "To such base uses do we +come!" Sitting on the banks of the river, you watch its calm flowing +waters, and a vessel moored to the side, where a Breton woman is hanging +out clothes to dry, and a man on deck is lazily smoking his pipe. Behind +you is a timber yard, sending forth its strawberry-pine perfume. There +is always some attractions in a timber yard. Whether you will or not it +fascinates you; you enter for a moment, and stroll about through the +little alleys between the stacks, as numerous and complicated as the +twistings and turnings of a maze. You imagine yourself once more a boy +playing at hide-and-seek, and revel in the hot sunshine that is pouring +down upon you and bringing out the perfume of the wood. + +Returning to the river, your eye wanders far down the stream, until a +large building upon its banks arrests your attention. It looks the +emblem and abode of peace; perhaps is so. It is the ancient Couvent des +Cordeliers, founded by Jean de Rohan, in 1488. But monks no longer tread +its corridors and offer up the midnight mass in its small chapel. It is +now occupied by ladies--les Dames du Calvaire, as they are called. If +the monks were to arise from their little graveyard, would they rush +back horrified and affrighted at such desecration? and if the walls had +voices, would _they_, too, be ungallant enough to cry "To such base uses +do we come?" The ancient convent of the Ursulines has been turned into a +Penitentiary, thus in a measure fulfilling its original destiny. + +Not far from Landerneau, also, on the banks of the Elorn, is the Avenue +of the Chateau de la Joyeuse Garde, celebrated as being the rendezvous +of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Nothing now remains +but the ruins of a subterranean vault and a romantic Gothic Gateway of +the twelfth century, covered with ivy and creeping shrubs. The whole +surroundings are beautiful and romantic; undulations, here wooded and +rocky, there richly cultivated; laughing and fertile slopes running down +into warm and sheltered valleys, through which the river winds its +graceful course. + +Having made a slight acquaintance with the old streets and ancient +houses, we went back to the inn, where we found the carriage ready to +take us to le Folgoet. + +A strong wind had suddenly arisen and clouds of dust accompanied us. +Under ordinary circumstances the drive would have been pleasant, though +uneventful. The road is somewhat monotonous, and very little attracts +the attention beyond small, well-wooded estates, breaking in upon the +long stretches of richly cultivated country, where life ought to run in +a very even tenor. + +After awhile we turned into a by-road, and presently descending between +high hedges, the object of our excursion suddenly and unexpectedly +opened up before our astonished vision. + +It would be difficult to forget the effect of that first view of le +Folgoet. The high hedges on either side had concealed everything. These +fell away, and within a few yards of us, in a barren and dreary plain +uprose the wonderful church. + +A few poor houses and cottages comprise the village, and here nearly a +thousand inhabitants manage to stow themselves away. But nothing strikes +you more in these Breton villages than their silent and apparently +deserted condition, even at midday. Nine times out of ten, there is +scarcely a creature to be seen in the streets, the house doors are for +the most part closed, no face peers curiously from the windows, and no +sound breaks upon the stillness of the air. + +So was it to-day. The tramp of our horses, the rumbling of wheels alone +startled the silence as we approached the church. The small houses +forming the village in no way took from its grandeur or interfered with +its solitude and solemnity. + +There in the desolate plain it rose, "a thing of beauty and a joy for +ever." Its charm fell upon us in the first moment, its wonderful tone +and colouring held us spellbound. Our first wonder was to find a +building so perfect in the midst of this desolate plain, so far away +from the world and civilization. It was our first wonder; and when +presently we turned away from it I think it was our last. But this +solitude and desolation add infinitely to its charm; just as the mystery +and romance that enshroud the far-off monasteries in their desolate +mountain retreats would fall away as "the baseless fabric of a vision" +if they were brought into the crowded and commonplace atmosphere of town +life. + +The legend of le Folgoet is a curious one: + +Towards the middle of the fourteenth century, there lived in a +neighbouring forest a poor idiot named Soloman, or Salaun, as it is +written in the Breton tongue. This idiot was known as the Fool of the +wood--le Folgoet. + +There, in the quiet solitude, his voice might constantly be heard +singing, in his own strange way, hymns to the Virgin; and often during +the night, chanting an Ave Maria. Daily he begged his bread in the +neighbouring town of Lesneven, always using the same form of words: Ave +Maria: adding in Breton, "Salaun a zebre bara." "Soloman would eat some +bread." + +Thus for forty years he lived, never having injured anyone, or made an +enemy. Then he fell ill, and one morning was found dead in the wood, +near the little spring from which he had drunk daily and the hollow tree +that had been his nightly shelter. + +Soloman the fool was already fading from men's minds, when a miracle +happened. Above the little grave in the wood where he had been buried +there suddenly sprang a white lily, remarkable for its beauty and the +exquisite perfume it shed abroad. But what made it more wonderful was +that upon every leaf, in gold letters, appeared the words "Ave Maria!" + +This apparent miracle was soon noised abroad, and people flocked from +far and near to see the flower, which remained perfect for six weeks and +then began to fade. All the priests and ecclesiastics of the +neighbourhood, the nobles and the officers of the Duc de Rohan, decided +that they should dig about the root of the lily and discover its source. +This was done, and it was found to spring from the mouth of Salaun the +idiot. + +Of course such a miracle could not remain uncommemorated. Jean de +Langoueznon, Abbot of Landevennec, one of the witnesses of the miracle, +wrote an elaborate account of it in Latin. Pilgrimages were constantly +made to the grave, and at last a church was built over the spring of the +poor idiot, whose faith and blameless life had been so strangely +rewarded. Such is the origin of one of Brittany's finest and most +remarkable churches. + +It is in the second Pointed Gothic style, and is built of a mixture of +granite and dark Kersanton stone. The tone is singularly beautiful, and +harmonises well with the dreary plain. It is at once sombre, dignified +and impressive, relieved by great richness of sculpture. Kersanton stone +lends itself to carving, as we have seen, and here many parts will be +found in perfect preservation. Some of the rich mouldings in the +doorways have worn away, and some of the small statues have been +mutilated by time or have altogether disappeared, but the tone chiefly +marks the age of the church. This is not always the case, and even not +generally, with the buildings for which Kersanton stone has been used; +but le Folgoet is exposed to the elements which sweep across the dreary +plain without resistance; these have done their kindly work, and given +to the old walls a beauty that no mortal hand could fashion. + +We stood before it in mute admiration, having expected much, but finding +far more. The tall trees near it bent and murmured to the fierce blast +that blew, as if they, too, would add their homage to the charm of the +sacred edifice. + +Its solitary spire rose to a height of one hundred and sixty feet, full +of grace and elegance. Every portion of the exterior bore minute +inspection, it was so elaborately sculptured, so well preserved. Time +has spared it more than the hand of man. + +The towers are unequal. The higher possesses the exquisite open spire, a +landmark for all the country round. The other is crowned by a small +Renaissance lantern and roof, the work of the Duchess Anne. The +beautiful west portal is no longer perfect. Its porch or canopy fell in +1824, and has never been replaced; and better so. The porch of the south +doorway is large, and so magnificent that it alone would be worth a +pilgrimage. It is called the Apostles' porch, and is also supposed to +have been the work of the good Duchess. Not far from it are the remains +of what must have been a very lovely cross. The carving of the porch is +of great delicacy and refinement; and, less exposed to the elements than +the west doorway, is in far better preservation. Here are graceful +scrolls and mouldings of vine leaves and other devices curiously +interwoven; the leaves so minutely carved that you may trace their veins +and fringes. The arms of Brittany and France are also cunningly +intertwined. Round the west doorway are wreaths of vines and thistles, +with birds and serpents introduced amongst fruit and flowers. Above the +doorway is an elaborate sculpture of the Nativity and the Adoration of +the Magi. Joseph is represented--it is often the case in Breton +carvings--as a Breton peasant, wearing the clumsy wooden shoes of the +country. He would have found himself somewhat embarrassed in them when +crossing the desert. But the Bretons, behind the rest of the world, had +no ideas beyond those that came to them from practical experience, and +the picturesque dignity of an Eastern dress was far beyond their +imagination. The centre pier of the doorway is formed into a niche +enclosing the basin for holy water, protected by a carved canopy of +great beauty; but time and exposure have worn away much of the sharpness +of the work. + +[Illustration: LANDERNEAU.] + +The gables of the transept are decorated with open parapets; and at the +east end, below a rose window remarkable for its tracery, an arched +niche protects the water of the fountain of Soloman the idiot: the +actual spring itself being beneath the high altar. + +These waters, like those of the lovely fountain of St. Jean du Doigt, +are supposed to be miraculous, and are the object of many a pilgrimage, +though fortunately for the village, the day of its _Pardon_ is not the +chief occasion for the assembling together of the blind, halt, maimed +and withered folk of Brittany. But the pilgrims bathe in the waters, +which are said to possess the gift of healing, and we know that faith +alone will often perform miracles. As we looked upon the clear, +transparent water, we felt at least the innocence of the charm, and +therein a great virtue. + +The interior of the church has been much praised by competent judges, +and very justly so, for in its way it is very perfect. Yet, to us, its +beauty was marked by a certain heaviness; and the "dim religious light" +that adds so much to the effect of many an interior, here brought with +it no sense of mystery. Perhaps it was not sufficiently subdued; or the +heaviness of the stone may have had something to do with it. Also, it +looked singularly small, in comparison with the exterior. It has been +much altered since it was first built, and has lost nearly all its +arches, which have been replaced by Gothic canopies in the form of +ornamental projections. + +Much of the interior is beautifully and elaborately sculptured, and will +bear long and close inspection. The nave and aisles are under one roof, +like the church of St. Jean du Doigt: an arrangement not always +effective. The choir is short, as also are the aisles, the south +transept being the longest of all. A very effective rood screen +separates the choir from the nave. It is constructed of Kersanton stone, +and consists of three round arches, above which are canopies supporting +a gallery of open work decorated with quatrefoils. The effect is +extremely rich and imposing; and the foliage of the screen is a perfect +study of complications. + +At the end of the south transept is the Fool's Chapel. The frescoes are +a history of his life, which is yet further carried out in the windows +and on the bas reliefs of the pulpit. The high altar under the rose +window is very finely moulded, with its canopied niches and beautiful +tracery. There are many statues of saints in the church, dressed in +Breton costumes, that would no doubt astonish them if they came back to +life and saw themselves in effigy. Many parts of the church are +decorated with wonderful carvings of vegetables, fruit and flowers. + +But the general impression is heavy and sombre, the true Kersanton +effect and colour. Time and the elements have softened, subdued and +beautified the exterior; but the tone of the interior, unexposed to the +elements, remains what it originally was: wanting in refinement and +romance; it is the beauty of elaborate execution that imposes upon one. +All the windows are remarkable for their lovely Flamboyant tracery, that +of the rose window being especially fine and delicate. + +The exterior is far finer, far more wonderful. One never grew tired of +gazing; of examining it from every point of view. It was a dream picture +and a marvel. Nothing we saw in Brittany compared with it, excepting the +Cathedral of Quimper. Before it stretched the dreary plain; behind it +were the humble houses composing the village, very much out of sight and +not at all aggressive. + +On the south side was the Gothic college built by Anne of Brittany; and +here she and Francis the First lodged, when they came on a pilgrimage to +le Folgoet. It is a Gothic building of the fifteenth century, with an +octagonal turret of rare design; but its beauty is of the past. We found +it in the hands of the restorers, who were doing their best to ruin it. +Originally it harmonised wonderfully with the church, but soon the +harmony will have disappeared for ever. + +Our carriage had gone on to the neighbouring town of Lesneven, to rest +the horses and await our arrival, leaving us free to examine and loiter +as we pleased. No one troubled us. The inhabitants were all away; or +sleeping; or eating and drinking; the scene was as quiet and desolate as +if the church had been in the midst of a desert. + +But the time came when we must leave it to its solitude and go back into +the world--the small but interesting world of Brittany; the world of +slow-moving people and sleepy ways, and ancient towns full of wonderful +outlines and mediaeval reminiscences. + +We took a last look round. We seemed alone in the world, no sight or +sound of humanity anywhere; the very workmen despoiling the Gothic +college had disappeared, leaving the mute witnesses of their vandalism +in the form of scaffolding and very modern bricks and mortar. Beyond was +a village street and small houses well closed and apparently deserted. +Nearer to us rose the magnificent church, with its towers and spire, all +its rich carving fringed against the background of the sky. The longer +we looked, the more wonderful seemed its solemn and exquisite tone. The +trees beneath which we stood waved and bent and rustled in the strong +wind that blew; and beyond all stretched the dreary plain; dreary and +desolate, but adding much to the charm of the picture. It was a scene +never to be forgotten; but it was, after all, a scene appealing only to +certain temperaments: to those who delight in the highest forms of +architecture; in walls time-honoured and lichen-stained; who find beauty +and charm ever in the blue sky and the waving trees; a charm that is +chiefly spiritual. + +Leaving the church behind us, and the dreary plain to our left, we +passed into a country road with high hedges. This soon led us to a +pathway across the fields. About a mile in the distance the steeples of +Lesneven rose up and served us as beacons. The day was still young and +the sun was high in the heavens. Small white clouds chased each other +rapidly, driven by the strong wind that blew. We soon reached the quiet +town and found it quiet with a vengeance. Not knowing the way to the +inn where our coachman had put up, it was some time before we could +discover an inhabitant to direct us. At length we found a human being +who had evidently come abroad under some mistaken impression, or in a +fit of absence of mind. At the same time a child issued from a doorway. +We felt quite in a small crowd. It was a humble child, but with a very +charming and innocent expression; one of those faces that take +possession of you at once and for ever. For it does not require days or +weeks or months to know some people; moments will place you in intimate +communion with them. You meet and suddenly feel that you must have known +each other in some previous existence, so mutual is the recognition. But +it is not so, for we have had no previous existence. It is nothing but +the freemasonry of the spirit; soul going out to soul. For this reason +the "love at first sight" that the poets have raved about in all the +ages, and in all the ages mankind has laughed at, is probably as real as +anything we know of; as real as our existence, the air we breathe, the +heaven above us. + +But we were at Lesneven, in the midst of the little crowd of two--we +must not keep it waiting. And although the day is still young, yet the +golden moments will fly, and the sun sinks rapidly westward. + +So we inquired our way and were politely directed, and the little child +declared it would be her pleasure to accompany us: "_il etoit si facile +de s'egarer_," she declared, in very grown-up tones, and in her peculiar +patois. _Il etoit_. We had not heard the old-fashioned expression since +our childhood, in the villages of our native land. + +We accepted the escort, and the little maiden chatted as freely as if we +had been very old acquaintances. "She supposed that, like all strangers, +we had been to see le Folgoet? It was a fine church, but its miraculous +fountain was the best of all. Once, when she hurt her foot, grandpere +carried her across the fields to the fountain. She bathed her foot in +the water and said a prayer and offered a candle, and--vite, vite!--the +foot was well. In three days she could run about. But that was two years +ago, when she was a very little girl; now she was quite big." + +"How old was she now?" + +"She was twelve, and very soon would do her first communion, dressed all +in white, with a beautiful veil over her head. Should we not like to see +her?" + +"We should, very much." + +"Could we not come again next year, when it would take place? She should +so much like us to see her. La! voila l'hotel!" she cried, passing +rapidly from one subject to another, after the manner of childhood. "Now +she must run back home. And we were to be sure and come again next +year." + +And before we could turn, the child had darted away, evidently to +prevent the possibility of reward: a refined instinct for which we +should scarcely have given her credit. She may have been a Bretonne, but +not a true Bretonne; her gracefulness and intelligence almost forbade +it. Yet there are exceptions to every rule, and Nature herself delights +in occasional surprises. + +[Illustration: LE FOLGOET.] + +We found Lesneven very dull and sleepy, but picturesque. There was a +singular old market-house of timber work, the quaintest we had ever +seen; and some of the houses formed ancient and interesting groups. Our +coachman had made an excellent dejeuner, if we were to judge by the +self-satisfied expression of his face, which resembled the sun at +mid-day seen through a red fog. He was now sitting in the courtyard +under a very lovely creeper, drinking his coffee out of a tall glass, +and of course smoking the pipe of peace. The creeper distinctly lent +enchantment to the view: the coachman did not. + +We wandered about whilst he made his preparations for starting. The +market-place was broken and diversified in its outlines; one or two of +the streets turning out of it looked quite gabled and mediaeval. The +covered market-house, with its curious roof and ancient timbers, gave it +a very distinctive and very individual appearance; so that it now rises +up in the memory as one of the many Breton pictures which make one's +experience of the little country a very exceptional pleasure. + +Out of the College poured a small stream of boys, startling the silence +of the sleepy little town. We were mutually surprised at seeing each +other. They looked and gazed, and walked around and about us--at a +certain distance--and seemed as interested and perplexed as if we had +been visitants from other regions clothed in unknown forms. But they +manifested none of the delicacy of our little guide, and were not half +so interesting. Yet probably the roughest and rudest boy amongst them +might be the maiden's brother; for we have just said that Nature +delights in surprises, and not infrequently in contradictions. The +building they poured out of, now the College, was an ancient convent of +the Recollets, dating from 1645. + +A commotion in the courtyard of the "Grande Maison," which was just +opposite the timber market-house, and the appearance of the driver on +his box, in all the dignity of office, was our signal for departure. We +looked back after leaving the town, and there in the distance, uprising +towards the sky, was the lovely spire of le Folgoet, a monument to +departed greatness, superstition, and religious fervour; a dream of +beauty which will last, we may hope, for many ages to come. + +We soon re-entered the road we had travelled earlier in the day; and in +due time, after one or two narrow escapes of being overturned, so high +was the wind, so blinding the dust, we re-entered Landerneau, a haven of +refuge from the boisterous gale. + +Our host had prepared us a sumptuous repast, of which the crowning glory +was a pyramid of strawberries flanked on one side by a ewer of the +freshest cream, and on the other by a quaint old sugar basin of chased +silver, of the First Empire period. Could mortals have desired more, +even on Olympus--even in the Amaranthine fields of Elysium? + +It was not yet the dinner-hour and we had it all to ourselves, with the +waiter's undivided attention, who hoped we had not been disappointed in +our little excursion. "He had been five years in Landerneau, but had +never yet seen le Folgoet. Dame! he had no time for pilgrimages, and +doubted whether, after all, they did much good. For his part, he didn't +believe in miracles. Du reste, he had nothing the matter with him; was +neither blind, lame, nor stupid--grace au ciel, for he had his living to +get. As for the church, to him one church was very much like another: +and he would rather arrange a pyramid of strawberries than contemplate +the spires of his native Quimper." + +So true is it that water will not rise above its own level--and perhaps +so merciful. + +In due course we returned once more to our now old and familiar haunt, +Morlaix. We came back to it each time with our affection and admiration +heightened. Its old streets seem to grow more and more picturesque; and +more and more we appeared to absorb into our "inner consciousness" this +mediaeval atmosphere. We seemed to be living in a perpetual romance of +the past; and the men and women who surrounded us were so many puppets +animated by invisible threads. It was the perfection of existence, in +its particular way and for a short time. + +The shades of evening had fallen when we once more found ourselves +descending Jacob's Ladder. The Antiquarian's door was closed, but a +light gleamed through the crevices of the shutters, as antiquated as +some of his cherished possessions. We would not disturb him, though we +felt sorely inclined to lift the latch and look in upon the picturesque +interior. We imagined him perhaps telling his beads, his grey head bowed +before the crucifix which, artistically and religiously, was the object +of his veneration; mentally we saw the son bending over a plain piece of +wood, which gradually assumed a form and design that would make it a +thing of beauty for ever. By lifting the latch, all this would be +revealed, delight our eyes and refresh our spirit. But what more might +we see? The cherub probably was in bed, but the rift within the lute? +Ah, that was uncertain; we could not tell. So we thought we would leave +the picture to our imagination, where at least it was perfect. + +So we went on without lifting the latch; and H.C. fell into raptures +over the rising moon and the quaint gables that stood out so gloriously +and mysteriously in the pale light. A warmer glow illumined many a +lattice. We were surrounded by deep lights and shadows, and felt +ourselves steeped in a world of the past, holding familiar intercourse +with ghosts that haunted every nook and crevice, every doorway, every +niche and archway of this old-world town. + +At the hotel, we found Madame Hellard taking the air at her doorway, her +hands calmly folded in her favourite attitude of rest and +contentment--or was it expectation? + +"Was I not a prophet?" was her first greeting. "Did I not say this +morning 'No umbrellas?' Have we not had a glorious day!" + +"But the dust?" we objected. + +"Ah!" cried Madame, "on oublie toujours le chat dans le coin, as they +say in the Morbihan. Yet there must always be a drawback; you cannot +have perfection; and I maintain that dust is better than rain. But what +did you think of le Folgoet, messieurs?" + +We declared that we could not give expression to our thoughts and +emotions. + +"A la bonne heure! Did I not tell you that we had nothing like it in our +neighbourhood--or in any other, for all I know? Did I in the least +exaggerate?" + +We assured Madame that she had undercoloured her picture. The reality +surpassed her ideal description. + +"Ah!" cried Madame sentimentally, "our beau-ideals--when do we ever see +them? But personally I cannot complain. I have a husband in ten +thousand, and that, after all, should be a woman's beau-ideal, for it is +her vocation. Oh!" with a little scream, pretending not to have heard +her husband come up quietly behind her; "you did not hear me paying you +compliments behind your back, Eugene? I assure you I meant the very +opposite of what I said." + +"If you are perverse, I shall not take you to the Regatta next Sunday," +threatened Monsieur, in deep tones that very thinly veiled the affection +lurking behind them. + +"The Regatta!" cried Madame. "Where should I find the time to go +jaunting off to the Regatta? We have a wedding order to execute for that +morning--my hands will be more than full. Figurez vous," turning to us, +"a silly old widow is marrying quite a young man. She is rich, of +course; and he has nothing, equally of course. And what does she expect +will be the end of it? I cannot imagine what these people do with their +common sense and their experience of life. But I always say we gain +experience for the benefit of our friends: it enables us to give +excellent advice to others, but we never think of applying it to +ourselves." + +"But the Regatta," we interrupted, more interested in that than in the +indiscretions of the widow. "We knew nothing about it, and thought of +leaving you on Saturday. Is it worth staying for?" + +"Distinctly," replied Madame Hellard. "All Morlaix turns out for the +occasion: all the world and his wife will be there. It is quite a +pretty scene, and the boats with their white sails look charming. You +must drive down by the river side to the coast, and if the afternoon is +sunny and warm, I promise you that you will not regret prolonging your +stay with us." + +[Illustration: INTERIOR OF LE FOLGOET, SHOWING SCREEN.] + +This presented a favourable opportunity for a compliment, but at that +moment Catherine's voice was heard in the ascendant; a passage-at-arms +seemed to be in full play above; commotion was the order of the moment; +and Madame rapidly disappeared to the rescue. The compliment was lost +for ever, but a dead calm was the immediate consequence of her presence. +Catherine's authority had been defied, and the daring damsel had to be +threatened with dismissal if it occurred again. + +"Ma foi!" cried Catherine, as we met her on the staircase, "a pretty +state of things we should have with two mistresses in the +salle-a-manger! I should feel as much out of my element as a hen that +has hatched duck's eggs, and sees her brood taking to the water." + +"And apparently there would be as much clucking and commotion," we slily +observed. + +Catherine laughed. "Quite as much. I always say, whatever you have to +do, do it thoroughly; and if you have to put people down, let there be +no mistake about it. By that means it won't occur again." + +And Catherine went off with a very determined step and expression, her +cap streamers flying on the breeze, to order us a light repast suited to +the lateness of the hour. She was certainly Madame's right hand, and she +ministered to our entertainment no less than to our necessities. + +Sunday rose fair and promising; a whole week of sunshine and fine +weather was a phenomenon in Brittany. Quite early in the morning the +town was awake and astir, and it was evident that the good people of +Morlaix were going in for the dissipation of a fete day. + +The morning drew on, and everyone seemed to have turned out in their +best apparel, though, to our sorrow, very few costumes made their +appearance. The streets were crowded with sober Bretons, somewhat less +sober than usual. Every vehicle in the town had been pressed into the +service. Every omnibus was loaded inside and out; carts became objects +of envy, and carriages were luxuries for which the drivers exacted their +own terms. The river-side, to right and left, was lined with people, all +hurrying towards the distant shore; for though many had secured seats in +one or other of the delectable vehicles, they were few in comparison +with the numbers that, from motives of economy or exercise, preferred to +walk. It was a gay and lively scene, and, sober Bretons though they +were, the air echoed with song and laughter. Rioting there was none. + +The distance was about five miles; but something more than the last mile +had to be taken on foot by everyone. We had secured a victoria which was +not much larger than a bath chair, but in a crowd this had its +advantage. True, we felt every moment as if the whole thing would fall +to pieces, but in case of shipwreck there were plenty to come to the +rescue. + +Nothing happened, and we walked our last mile with sound wind and limbs. +Much of the way lay on a hill-side. Cottages were built on the slopes, +and we walked upon zigzag paths, through front gardens and back gardens, +now level with the ground floor window, now looking into an attic; and +now--if we wished--able to peer down the chimney or join the cats oh the +roof. + +At last we came to the sea, which stretched away in all its beauty, +shining and shimmering in the sunshine. In the bay formed by this and +the opposite coast, the boats taking part in the races were flitting +about like white-winged messengers, full of life and grace and buoyancy. +Some of the races were over, some were in progress. + +Our side of the shore was beautifully backed by green slopes rising to +wooded heights. In the select inclosure, for the privilege of entering +which a franc was charged, the elite of Morlaix walked to and fro, or +sat upon long rows of chairs placed just above the beach. We did not +think very much of them and were disappointed. All round and about us, +rich and poor alike were clothed in modern-day costumes, as ugly and +ungainly and ill-worn as any that we see around us in our own fair, +but--in this respect--by no means faultless isle. + +The few costumes that formed the exception were not graceful; those at +least worn by the men. Umbrellas were in full array, and as there was no +rain they put them up for the sunshine. A large proportion of the crowd +took no interest whatever in the races, which attracted attention and +applause only from those either sitting or standing on the beach. The +crowded green behind gave its attention to anything rather than the sea +and the boats. More general interest was manifested in the sculling +matches; especially in the race of the fish-women--tall, strong females, +the very picture of health and vigour, becomingly dressed in caps and +short blue petticoats, who started in a pair of eight-oared boats, and +rowed valiantly in a very well-matched contest until it was lost and +won. As the sixteen women, victors and vanquished, stepped ashore, the +phlegmatic crowd was stirred in its emotions, and loud applause greeted +them. They filed away, laughing and shaking their heads, or looking down +modestly and smoothing their aprons, each according to her temperament, +and were soon lost in the crowd. + +On the slopes in sheltered spots, vendors of different wares, chiefly of +a refreshing description, had installed themselves. The most popular and +the most picturesque were the pancake women, who, on their knees, beat +up the batter, held the frying pans over a charcoal fire, and tossed the +pancakes with a skill worthy of Madame Hellard's chef. Their services +were in full force, and it was certainly not a graceful exhibition to +see the Breton boys and girls, of any age from ten to twenty, devouring +these no doubt delicious delicacies with no other assistance than their +own fairy fingers. After all, they were enjoying themselves in their own +fashion and looked as if they could imagine no greater happiness in +life. + +We wandered away from the scene, round the point, where stretched +another portion of the coast of Finistere. It was a lovely vision. The +steep cliffs fell away at our feet to the beach, here quite deserted and +out of sight of the crowd not very far off. Over the white sand rolled +and swished the pale green water with most soothing sound. The sun shone +and sparkled upon the surface. The bay was wide, and on the opposite +coast rose the cliffs crowned by the little town of Roscoff, its grey +towers sharply outlined against the sky. Our thoughts immediately went +back to the day we had spent there; to the quiet streets of St. Pol de +Leon, and its beautiful church, and the charming Countess who had +exercised such rare hospitality and taken us to fairy-land. + +The vision faded as we turned our backs upon the sea and the crowd and +entered upon our return journey. The zigzag was passed and the houses, +where now we looked down the chimneys and now into the cellars. In due +time we came to the high road. It was crowded with vehicles all waiting +the end of the races and the return of the multitude. Apparently it was +"first come, first served," for we had our choice of all--a veritable +embarras de choix. It was made and we started. Very soon, on the other +side the river, we came in sight of our little auberge, _A la halte des +Pecheurs_, where on a memorable occasion we had taken refuge from a +second deluge. And there, at its door, stood Madame Mirmiton, anxiously +looking down the road for the return of her husband from the Regatta. +Whether he had recovered from his sprain, or had found a friendly +conveyance to give him a seat, did not appear. + +We went our way; the river separated us from the inn and there was no +ferry at hand. Many like ourselves were returning; there was no want of +movement and animation. It was not a picturesque crowd, for there were +no costumes, and the _bourgeoisie_ of Morlaix are not more interesting +than others of their class. + +At last loomed upon us the great viaduct, and a train rolled over as we +rolled under it. The vessels in the little port had mounted their flags +and looked gay, in honour of the occasion. We entered Morlaix for the +last time, for we were to leave on the morrow. Madame Hellard was not +taking the air; she and Monsieur were enjoying a moment's repose in the +bureau. They now invariably greeted us as _habitues_ of the house. + +"But you have neither of you been to the Regatta," we observed. + +"I go nowhere without my wife," gallantly responded our host. + +"And I was too busy with our wedding breakfast to think of anything +else," said Madame. "And, to tell you the truth, I don't care for +regattas. I can see no pleasure in watching which of two or which of +half-a-dozen boats comes in first. The people interest me; but it is +really almost as amusing to see them passing one's own door, and not +half so tiring. I hope, messieurs, you have returned with good +appetites: I have ordered you some _crepes_. Was it not funny to see the +old women tossing them on the slopes?" + +"Al fresco fetes," chimed in Monsieur. "Ah, la jeunesse! la jeunesse! +Youth is the time for enjoyment. _Donnez-moi vos vingt ans si vous n'en +faites rien!_ So says the old song--so say I. And now you are going to +leave us, and to-morrow we shall be in total eclipse," he added, +determined not to leave us out in his compliments. "But you are +right--you cannot stay here for ever. You have seen all that is of note +in Morlaix and the neighbourhood, and you will be charmed with Quimper." + +"Quimper? I would rather live fifty years in Morlaix than a hundred in +Quimper," cried Catherine, who came in at that moment for the menus. +"The river smells horribly, the town is dirty and stuffy, and it always +rains there. And as for the hotels--enfin, _you will see_!" + +[Illustration: MORLAIX.] + +It was very certain that we should not alight upon another Catherine. + +For the last time we wandered out that night when the moon had risen, to +take our farewell of the old streets that had given us so much pleasure. +We knew them well, and felt that we were communing with old friends. +Their outlines, their gabled roofs, the deep shadows cast by the pale +moonlight, the warmer reflections from the beautiful latticed +windows--all charmed us. We moved in an ancient world, conversed with +ghosts of a long-past age; the shades of those who had left behind them +so much of the artistic and the excellent; who had, in their day and +hour, lived and breathed and moved even as the world of to-day--had been +animated with the same thoughts and emotions; in a word, had fulfilled +their lot and passed through their birthright of sorrow and suffering. + +It was late before we could turn away from the fascination. After the +crowded scenes of the day, we seemed surrounded by the very silence and +repose, the majesty of Death. Everyone had retired to rest; the curfew +had long tolled, and the fires were nearly all out. Only here and there +a lighted lattice spoke of a late watcher, who perhaps was searching for +the philosopher's stone or the elixir of life, wherewith to turn the +grey hairs of age to the flowing locks of youth--the feeble gait of one +stricken in years to the vigour and comeliness of manhood. Vain wish! +and needless; for why will they not look at life in its truer aspect, +and feel that the nearer they approach to death the younger they are +growing? + + + + +MY MAY-QUEEN + +(_AEtat_ 4). + + + Come, child, that I may make + A primrose wreath to crown thee Queen of Spring! + Of thee the glad birds sing; + For thee small flowers fling + Their lives abroad; for thee--for Dorothea's sake! + + Hasten! For I must pay + Due homage to thee, have thy Royal kiss, + Our thrush shall sing of this; + --In many a bout of bliss + Tell how I crown'd thee Queen, Spring's Queen, this glad May-day. + +JOHN JERVIS BERESFORD, M.A. + + + + +SWEET NANCY. + + +Shenton was a dull and sleepy village at the best of times; but then it +was situated so far from any town. Exboro' was the nearest, and that was +ten miles away. To reach it you must traverse a range of pine-clad +hills, descending now and again into cool valleys, full of sweet scents +and sounds in summer, but dreary enough in winter, when the snow lay +thick and the wind whistled through the leafless branches. + +Shenton consisted of one long street, terminating in a green on which +the church and school-house stood. After that there were no more houses +till you reached Exboro', excepting a few scattered farms a mile or two +away at Braley Brook. There was also a large farm, known as the Manor, +half-a-mile in the opposite direction, occupied by one Jacob Hurst, who +was the owner of the farms at Braley Brook. + +The last house in the long street, at the Green end of it, was occupied +by Miss Michin, a milliner and dressmaker, as a card in the window +informed the passer-by. Not that the card was necessary, as of course in +so small a place everybody knew everybody else; but it was a sort of +sign of office, and was always most carefully replaced when Sarah Ann, +Miss Michin's Lilliputian maid, cleaned the window, which she did much +oftener than was necessary--at least, Mrs. Dodd, the post-mistress, who +lived opposite, said so. But then Mrs. Dodd had the shop and a young +family to attend to, and did not find it possible to keep her own +windows equally bright; so it was perhaps natural that she should find a +comfort in remarking on her opposite neighbour in the manner we have +described. + +Miss Michin's front parlour window was draped with white muslin +curtains, which covered it entirely, preventing the eyes of the curious +from taking surreptitious glances at the finery therein displayed, and +destined to be seen for the first time at church on the persons of the +fortunate owners. Just now, a fortnight before Christmas, the array of +gay dress material which lay about on tables and chairs was more than +usual; and Miss Michin and Nancy Forest--her decidedly pretty +apprentice--were working as if their lives depended upon it. Nancy was +the only apprentice Miss Michin had, and she had taken her when she was +fourteen without a premium, on condition that when she should be "out of +her time" (that would be in three years) she should give six months' +work in payment for the instruction she had received. + +Nancy was now working out the six months, which fact shows her age to be +between seventeen and eighteen. At that age a girl--above all, a pretty +girl--likes to wear pretty things; and Nancy had many little refined +tastes which other girls in her class of life have not--due, perhaps, to +the fact that while a child she had been a sort of protegee of Miss +Sabina Hurst's up at the Manor Farm. Miss Sabina, who was herself not +quite a lady, was nevertheless far above the Forests, who were in their +employ, and had charge of an old farmhouse at Braley Brook. She was Mr. +Hurst's sister, and had been mistress at the Manor since Mrs. Hurst had +died in giving birth to her little son Fred. + +Mr. Hurst--a hard and relentless man in most things--was almost weak in +his indulgence of his son. All his fancies must be gratified, and in +this Miss Sabina concurred. One of Fred's fancies had been to make a +playmate of little Nancy Forest. It followed, then, that she had been a +great deal at the Manor; but when the children grew older, and Fred took +what his aunt and father termed "an absurd fancy" to be a musician, as +his mother had been, it occurred to them that possibly later on he might +take a yet more absurd idea, and want to marry his old playmate. Nancy +was therefore banished from the Manor Farm. + +But Fred, who was not accustomed to be crossed, often met his old friend +on the hills and in the valleys; and after she had become apprenticed, +he would often walk home with her part way--not as a lover, however. For +the last two months he had broken this habit, and Nancy had not seen +him. + +But we were saying that girls of Nancy's age liked pretty things to +wear. Nancy was no exception, but she had no pretty things; her clothes +had, in fact, become deplorably shabby, though by dexterous "undoing" +and "doing-up" she did manage to make the very most of her dark blue +serge costume. The dress and rather coquettish little jacket were of the +same material; and she had a felt hat of the same colour, which in some +mysterious way altered its shape to suit the varying fashions. Last +winter the wide brim was straight; this winter it was turned up at the +back, with a bunch of dark blue ribbons on the crown. Altogether her +appearance was picturesque, though the odd mingling of the rustic with +the latest Paris fashion-plate might call up a smile to your lips. The +smile which the costume provoked was sure to die, however, when you +looked at the girl's face. You wondered at once why the lovely brown +eyes looked so sad and appealing, and why the little mouth was so +tremulous, and why the colour came and went so frequently on the +finely-moulded cheeks, which were just a little thin for perfect beauty. +And if you happened to be a student of human nature, you would read in +one of Nancy's glances a story of conflicting emotions--disappointment, +timid expectancy, hope, and a dawning despair: at least, this is what I +read there when I looked at Nancy from the Vicar's pew one Sunday +morning at Shenton church. I was on a visit at the Vicarage then. + +Of course, it must not be supposed that Miss Michin read Nancy Forest's +face in this way; but the little dressmaker had a warm heart, though +worried by the making of garments, and more by making two ends meet +which nature had apparently not intended for such close proximity; but +she had certainly noticed that for the last few weeks Nancy had not +looked well. + +It was growing dark one Thursday evening, and Sarah Ann had just brought +the lamp into her mistress's parlour. Miss Michin turned up the light +slowly, remarking, as she did so, "I don't want this glass to crack. I +might do nothing else but buy lamp-glasses if I left the turning-up of +them to Sarah Ann. This one has been boiled, which, Mrs. Dodd says, is a +good thing to make them stand heat." Then she broke off suddenly, and +stared at her apprentice, exclaiming, "Nancy, child, how pale you look! +You must leave off and go home. You shall have a nice cup of tea first. +Where do you feel bad?" + +The sympathetic tone brought the tears to Nancy's eyes, perhaps more +than the words, but she answered hastily: "Oh, indeed, dear Miss Michin, +I need not go home. I have a headache, that is all, and I must not leave +off before my time. I ought to stop later, and you so busy." + +"That frock of Emma Dodd's is just on finished, isn't it?" said Miss +Michin, in answer. + +"All but the hooks," replied Nancy. + +"Then sew them on while I make some tea, and you can leave it at the +post-office as you go." + +Nancy protested, but Miss Michin insisted, and in a short time the dress +was pinned up in a dark cloth, and Nancy having drunk the tea, more to +please her kind friend than because she thought it would cure her +headache, donned the little jacket and fantastic hat, and went across to +the post-office, which was also a shop of a general description. + +Mrs. Dodd was engaged in lighting her shop-window when Nancy entered. + +"I have brought Emma's dress, Mrs. Dodd," she began, when that lady had +descended from the high stool on which she had mounted to place the +lamps in the window. "Miss Michin told me to tell you there wasn't +enough of the plush to finish off the lappets to match the collar and +cuffs, but she thinks you'll like it just as well as it is." + +Mrs. Dodd examined the little dress, and, having approved of it, asked +in a friendly way what Nancy herself was going to have new this +Christmas. + +"Oh, I don't know yet," answered Nancy, colouring deeply. "You see, I'm +not earning yet, and father's wages are small, you know." + +"Mr. Hurst is real mean, I know that," exclaimed the post-mistress, +decidedly. "None but a very mean man would have cut your poor father's +wages down after he was laid up with a bad leg so long." + +"But father says himself that he can't do as much since his accident, +and he doesn't want to be paid beyond what he earns," Nancy explained, +hastily. + +Mrs. Dodd began to fold up Emma's dress, remarking, as she did so, "It's +a queer go as Mr. Hurst should have let young Mr. Fred do nothink but +music; but, to be sure, he do play beautiful. My Benny, as blows the +organ for him, says it's 'eavenly what he makes up himself. He's +uncommon handsome, too; much like his mother, who was, poor young lady, +a heap too good for the likes of Jacob Hurst. She used to play the +church organ like the angel Gabriel." + +Mrs. Dodd glanced at Nancy to see the effect of this simile, which was +quite an inspiration, but the girl was intent on smoothing the creases +out of her very old and much-mended kid gloves. + +"Folks do say, Miss Nancy," went on Mrs. Dodd, "as young Mr. Fred had a +fancy for you at one time, and as you sent him to the rightabouts. Now, +I say as--" + +"Oh, please don't say anything about it, Mrs. Dodd," broke out Nancy, +excitedly. "It's all a mistake--I am not his equal in any way--he never +thought of anything like that." She would have added, "Nor I;" but she +was too truthful. An overwhelming sense of shame came over her. How +could she have given her heart away unsought! + +With a hasty good-night she left the shop, closing the door so sharply +in her self-condemnation as to set the little bell upon it ringing as if +it had gone mad. She could hear its metallic tinkle till she was close +upon the church. Here other sounds filled her ears. There was a light in +the church, and Fred Hurst was there playing one of Bach's Fugues. + +Nancy's heart fluttered like a captive bird. For a brief space she +leaned against the cold railings, looking intently at a branch of ivy +which the north wind was tossing against the diamond-shaped panes of the +window--then she drew herself up hastily and proudly, and walked on +rapidly towards the bleak hills which she must cross to reach her +father's farm at Braley Brook. + +"How I wish I was out of my time," she said to herself, as the crisp +snow crackled beneath her small feet. "I could go away then and earn my +living, where I could never see him--or hear him--. Oh, Fred!" she broke +out in what was almost a cry, "_why_ have you met me and walked with me +so often, if you meant to leave off and say no more? It must be because +my dress has grown so shabby--I don't look so--so nice as I did--yet if +his father were not hard I might have more." And poor Nancy being now +far from any habitation gave herself the relief of a good cry, knowing +she could not be observed. + +In the meantime the organ at the church had ceased playing, and the +young man who was seated at it began turning over a pile of music which +lay beside him. But this he did mechanically--he was not going to play +again that evening, he did it as an accompaniment to perplexed thought. +He remained so long silent that Benny Dodd, who had been "blowing" for +him, ventured out from among the shadows cast by the organ pipes and +asked, "Please, Mr. Fred, are you going to play any more?" + +Fred Hurst looked up smiling, and feeling in his waistcoat pocket for +the customary coin, said cheerfully, "I had quite forgotten you, Benny! +No, I shall not play any more to-night." + +The small boy clattered down the stone aisle noisily, and Fred Hurst +began to push in the stops preparatory to closing the organ. In doing so +he caught a glimpse of his face in the small mirror which hung at one +side, and he burst out laughing. + +"What a tragic look I have managed to put on," he thought. Then he +locked the organ, and was about to blow out the candles, when he changed +his mind and took out a scrap of printed paper from his pocket and read +it by their light. It was a favourable review of a song he had composed, +and which had just been published. "Though there is no genius displayed +in this little composition, it is extremely pleasing; the air is +catching, and the accompaniment is tuneful without ostentation. 'Winged +Love' should become a popular favourite." This is what he read; and +having read it (of course not for the first time), he seemed to form a +sudden resolution on the strength of it. He looked at his watch; it +marked a few minutes past six; he blew out the lights and left the +church, hesitating a moment by the railings on which Nancy had leaned an +hour before. "I think this justifies me," he meditated. "If 'Winged +Love' is so well spoken of I am sure to get on, and in time make an +income sufficient for us two: poor child, she hasn't been used to +luxuries, and a simple home would content her. She must be part way home +by now. Yes, I will follow Nancy, and explain why I have not met her for +so long, and ask her to love me and wait till I can ask her to be my +wife." + +But Nancy Forest had left Shenton early, as we have seen, so Fred Hurst +did not overtake her. He went all the way to Braley Brook, however, and +right up to the ruinous old farmhouse where the Forests lived, and +waited in the orchard some time, hoping that Nancy would come out to +bring in some linen which hung to bleach among the bare apple trees. He +knew that Nancy always helped her mother in the evenings. But on this +evening no errand seemed to bring her out of doors, and Fred Hurst went +away without seeing her, meaning to meet her next day. + +It would have been wiser if Fred had gone boldly to the farmhouse and +asked to see Nancy; but we are none of us wise at all times, and we have +generally to pay in pain for our lack of wisdom as well as for our +actual faults, though perhaps not in the same degree. + + +II. + +Fred Hurst's father was Nancy's father's master, as we have seen; and a +hard enough master, as Mrs. Dodd had said. John Forest and his +family--that is, his wife and Nancy--lived in the only habitable part of +what had once been a considerable farmhouse. John worked on the "land," +took care of the horses and other live stock--there were not many--and +his wife attended to the poultry, which were numerous enough. She also +earned a little by mending the holes which the rats bit in the +corn-sacks. In harvest-time she made gentian beer for the men, and a +kind of harvest cake, originally made for a four o'clock meal, which +explains the word known as "fourses." But with all these little extras +the Forests found it sufficiently hard to live, and of course Nancy was +not yet earning. + +"You ought to have sent that girl of yours to service," Mr. Hurst would +not infrequently say to Nancy's mother. He, moreover, said the same +thing to his maiden sister Sabina, when Fred was present. + +It was then that Fred's eyes opened to the fact that Nancy Forest was +more to him than anything else in the world--far, far more than the old +playmate he had thought her. Send Nancy to service! sweet, delicate, +lady-like little Nancy, with her dimpled white hands. Perhaps Nancy had +no business to have white hands, and dainty, refined ways; but she had, +and that was Aunt Sabina's fault for having her so much at the Manor. It +was partly nature's fault, too, certainly, for Nancy had always seemed +like a changeling, she was so above her surroundings. + +Fred Hurst having thus discovered his own love, proceeded to discover +Nancy's. It was all clear to him now, he was sure she had given her pure +childlike heart to him, perhaps unwittingly, as he had done. How blind +he had been! With knowledge, caution came. Fred made up his mind that he +must no more walk with Nancy till he was prepared to do so in his true +character--that of a lover. This would be impossible till he could offer +a home to Nancy. It might be that his father would even turn the Forests +away, if he suspected his son's affection for their only child. He could +not risk that. So two months passed. + +Fred was organist at the parish church and had been composing songs, as +we have seen. Most of them had come back to him accompanied by polite +notes of refusal; one or two had come out and failed to attract any +notice. Now, "Winged Love" was proving a success--so he had resolved to +speak to Nancy herself, though not yet to the parents on either side. + +It was a pity he didn't take the straightforward course--it pays best, +did people but know it. Had Fred Hurst gone to the house boldly that +night, it might, as I have said, have saved much misery. Had he glanced +through the uncurtained window of the "house-place," I think he would +certainly have gone in, for he would have seen Nancy in tears. + +Mrs. Forest was a woman whose temper could not have been sweet under the +best of conditions. It will be understood, then, that it developed into +something very bad indeed under the worrying influence of a master like +Mr. Hurst, who was never satisfied, and whose method of dealing with +those he employed was one of incessant bullying. He was, moreover, +subject to delusions about being cheated, and his suspiciousness was +always in evidence. + +This last fault was also one of Mrs. Forest's own, and if anything a +worse one than her bad temper, and was not infrequently the occasion of +an exhibition of the latter. When Nancy got home from Miss Michin's on +the night when Fred Hurst tried to meet her, she found her mother in one +of her worst moods. Mr. Hurst had been there all the morning, +superintending the killing and packing of the turkeys for the London +market. Nancy had made up her mind on her way home to ask her mother for +a little money to buy herself some new gloves. She resolved to make her +request at once on entering the house-place, where her mother +was--partly from a desire to get what generally proved a disagreeable +business over as soon as possible, and more, perhaps, because she saw +her father sitting smoking his pipe in the chimney-corner. John Forest +usually supported his daughter, who was a great favourite of his. He +generally called her "Sweet Nancy," because she was so pretty and +dainty, and, above all, so good-tempered--a quality he knew how to +appreciate. + +"I was wondering, mother," Nancy began hesitatingly, as she removed her +hat and advanced towards the wood fire, above which Mrs. Forest was +hooking-on a huge kettle of fowls' food--"I was wondering if I might +have some new gloves for Christmas." + +"And where, I should like to know, is the money for them to come from?" +demanded the mother sharply. "I want lots of things I go without. It +takes all I can scrape and spare to buy saucers for them chickens to +break. It's a shame of the master not to buy proper drinking dishes for +them; and when I asked him for some, he said your father could dig a +hole and sink the old copper-boiler in it, and fill that with water for +them, just as if he hadn't the sense to see as how every blessed chicken +'ud get drowned, and me be blamed for it, as usual." + +"Here is half-a-sovereign as the master gave me for you to pay for the +sacks. Couldn't Nancy have some of that?" inquired John, fumbling in his +pocket for the coin. + +Mrs. Forest took the money from his hand and placed it upon the +chimney-piece, intending to put it away presently in the tea-pot in the +corner cupboard, which, however, she forgot to do, otherwise this story +would never have been written. + +"I want all that ten shillings to get a new cocoa-matting for the front +room floor," she said, decidedly. "The bricks strike as cold as a grave +since the old matting was took up." + +"I must go and grind the turmits for the sheep, and move 'em into the +other fold for the night," said John, knocking out the ashes from his +pipe and rising to go. As he was closing the door behind him he called +to his wife, "You let the cocoa-matting bide, and give Nan a shilling or +two for her gloves." + +"That I shall do nothing of the sort, then," shouted Mrs. Forest after +her husband; then, turning on her daughter angrily, she asked: "What do +you want gloves at all for, I should like to know? I don't wear gloves; +and why should you, who do nothing to earn them?" + +"I shall be out of my time soon," Nancy answered, beginning to cry; "and +I will pay you back then all I have cost." + +"I daresay," sneered her mother; "it'll take all you can earn to deck +yourself out to catch young Mr. Fred's eyes. Don't you think as I'm not +sharp enough to see which way the wind blows." + +"Mother!" cried Nancy, rising indignantly to her feet, her eyes +flashing, her cheeks burning with shame and anger. "How dare you talk to +me so? You have no right!" + +"Haven't I no right?" almost shrieked Mrs. Forest. "I stand none of your +impudence!" And with these words her passion so took possession of her +that she leaned forward and with her open hand struck her daughter a +stinging blow on one of her cheeks. "You are fond of crying," she said, +"so take something to cry for--for once." + +But Nancy did not cry: she stood still, staring in a bewildered way at +the burning log upon the hearth, the flame from which danced upon her +reddened cheek. + +Had Fred remained a little longer in the orchard, trouble might have +been prevented; for he would have seen Nancy, whom Mrs. Forest sent to +bring in the new linen which was bleaching. Mrs. Forest gave her this to +do, because she could not bear to see her stand so silent and dazed. She +was, indeed, heartily ashamed of the act she had committed the moment it +was over, but knew what was done couldn't be undone. She had never +struck her daughter before, and resolved never to do so again; but it +did not occur to her to tell Nancy so. Had she done so, the warm-hearted +child would have responded at once to such an advance; but she only +said: "Well, well; have done staring in the fire, Nan; and run and fetch +the linen from the orchard." + +Nancy obeyed mechanically, little knowing who had just left the spot, +and feeling in her young heart all the bitterness of utter desolation. + + +III. + +A night of sorrow is said to give place to a morning of joy. This would +be a comforting thought were it not that the morning must likewise give +place in its turn to another night. + +The morning which followed the night of Nancy Forest's bitter +humiliation was certainly a bright one--at least, by contrast; and, +unfortunately, much so-called happiness is only such. Were the world not +a dark and naughty one, a good deed might not shine so brightly. In the +first place, Nancy was young and healthy; so the wintry sun, though it +shone on a frozen ground, cheered her. Then Mrs. Forest was unusually +amiable at breakfast, and paid some attention to her daughter, which she +generally found herself too busy to do. Her father made much of her, as +was his habit. He had apparently heard nothing of last night's episode. + +The walk across the hills to Shenton was exhilarating, and at the end of +it a pleasant surprise awaited Nancy. She found Miss Michin already at +work on a dress for Miss Sabina Hurst when she arrived. The good-natured +little woman greeted her apprentice brightly. "You are looking better, +Nancy; the walk has given you a colour." Then she reached out her hand +to a table near her, and took a little parcel from it and gave it to +Nancy. + +"It is nothing," she explained, as the girl looked at it curiously. +"Open it, dear; it is a trifle for a Christmas gift. I wish it was +more." + +Nancy could only say "Oh, Miss Michin--how kind!" to begin with. Then +she unwrapped the paper and saw a dainty pair of brown kid gloves with +ever so many buttons. This matter of the buttons was not unimportant in +Nancy's eyes. Had her mother given her the money, she thought, she could +never have bought gloves with more than _two_ buttons. + +"This is just what I needed--oh, thank you so much," she exclaimed, when +she had looked at them. + +"That was what I thought," said the dressmaker; "so now we must set to +work and get a good day." + +And Nancy did work well that day, never looking up from her work, except +once to glance across to the Post-office at the time she knew Benny Dodd +usually came out to go to the church. She could not see Fred, so it was +some pleasure to her to look at the small boy who blew the organ for +him. + +But Benny did not perform that office for the young musician on this +day, for Fred Hurst had gone to London that morning, summoned thither by +a letter from Messrs. Hermann and Scheiner, music publishers. The marked +success of "Winged Love" had disposed these gentlemen to make the young +composer a good offer for his next song. The more immediate cause of +their determination was the fact that Senor Flores had chosen to sing +"Winged Love" at the last Saturday afternoon concert at St. James' +Hall, and its reception had been such as to establish a certain sale for +songs from the same hand. "Who is this Fred Hurst?" people in London +were asking. + +Miss Sabina, in her showy drawing-room up at the Manor Farm, thought +over the event all day in her own critical way, and predicted evil as +the result. There was an old Broadwood grand piano in the room where she +sat, covered with a pile of old music--Beethoven, Mendelssohn, Haydn, +and all the composers whose music Miss Sabina disliked. This music had +belonged to Fred's mother, a fair and unfortunate creature, whose own +story I shall some day write. Miss Sabina's performances upon the +pianoforte were limited to such compositions as the "Canary Birds' +Quadrilles," "My Heart is Over the Sea," etc., which she never played at +all now. But she looked at the old piano, and recalled her +sister-in-law's pretty baby looks and tragic end, and prophesied evil +for Fred. Jacob Hurst laughed the whole business to scorn. The one being +in Shenton who could have genuinely rejoiced at Fred's success knew +nothing about it. + +Nancy's thoughts were constantly with him, however, and when her work +ended for the day, and she walked homeward across the hills to Braley +Brook, she connected many an inanimate object she passed with some look +or word of his. These looks and words had always been so kind, so +gentle, that as the brook, where the forget-me-nots grew in summer, or +the bank in the hollow where the primroses grew thickest in spring, or +the fallen tree, which, as the weeks passed, would become golden with +moss and lichen again--as all these would awaken to summer sunshine and +gladness;--so would her heart. Fred's love for her--she felt sure he had +loved her--was only hidden away like the flowers under the snow, to +bloom forth again in spring. It was her winter, that was all, she told +herself. She must wait as the flowers did. + +When she reached home, her mind was filled with hope--hope which but too +soon was to give place to despair. Last night Mrs. Forest had struck +her--but then she had not looked nearly so angry as she did now when her +daughter appeared before her. + +"Where is my ten shillings?" she cried menacingly, as Nancy closed the +kitchen-door behind her. "What have you done with it, you ungrateful, +unnatural girl?" she repeated loudly. + +"Indeed, mother, I know nothing of it," poor Nancy answered, trembling +violently. + +"Is it in that there teapot?" inquired the enraged mother, thrusting the +article in question close to the frightened girl's face. Nancy glanced +rapidly from the empty teapot to the chimney-piece. + +"You needn't look there, you hussy," Mrs. Forest continued, seeing the +direction Nancy's eyes were taking. "There's _nothing_ on the +chimney-piece--the money's gone, and you've took it, because your father +said you were to--it wasn't his to give--did he mend the sacks? tell me +that! I'll have my money back--every halfpenny, so you'd better give it +me before I make you." + +"Mother, I have not touched it; I know nothing about it, really I +don't," said Nancy desperately. + +"What's that you've got in your hand?" demanded Mrs. Forest, catching +sight of the parcel containing the gloves. + +Nancy did not answer; she was looking at the round table, which was +covered with the shining brass ornaments which had been removed from the +chimney-piece in the search for the missing coin. There they +were--candlesticks, pans, snuffer-tray, and beer-warmer, articles she +remembered from earliest childhood as never in use, and always highly +polished. Now as the firelight flickered upon them they seemed to be +looking at the distracted girl with countless fiery eyes which twinkled +in malice. Nancy could not take her eyes from these other eyes, she +could not think for the moment. She vaguely knew that her mother took +away her parcel, and presently Mrs. Forest's rasping voice recalled her +from her stupefied reverie. + +"So you spent it in gloves, did you? Six-buttoned ones, too--! Oh, you +ungrateful, selfish, wasteful girl." + +"Mother, mother," wailed Nancy, taking hold of Mrs. Forest's gown with +one hand convulsively, while she pressed the other to her brow, where +her wavy locks of hair lay all damp and ruffled. "You _should_ +believe--you _must_ believe me--Miss Michin gave me the gloves--I have +never seen your money--oh, mother, I couldn't have touched it--I +_couldn't_." + +"Don't add lies to it," broke out Mrs. Forest in a greater passion than +ever. + +Than this last remark, nothing could have easily been more unjust. Nancy +had always been a very truthful child. + +"If you can no longer trust me, it is perhaps better for me--to--to go +away," said Nancy, softly. + +"Yes--go--go now," replied her mother, who had arrived at that stage of +rage when people use words little heeding their meaning. + +Nancy buttoned her little jacket once more, and tied a silk handkerchief +round her neck, and passed out at the door in a wild, hurried fashion. + +Mrs. Forest looked at the door and smiled. "She'll none go," she said to +herself; "where could she go _to_?" + +But Nancy did not resemble her mother in hasty moods, she was rather the +subject of permanent impressions. Her mother's conduct had wounded her +to the quick. She could no longer endure it, she thought. Hitherto, her +father's love had rendered it bearable--but now, even that seemed +powerless to keep her under the same roof as her mother. Where could she +go? She would walk on, no matter in what direction; then, when she could +walk no more, she might perhaps be calm enough to think. + + +IV. + +"Where is Nan?" asked John Forest, when he entered the house, an hour +after Nancy had left it. + +"Oh, she'll be here presently," replied the mother evasively. Of course +Nancy would come soon, she thought to herself, and what was the use of +rousing John? + +Another hour passed. "Nan's very late to-night," said her father. "I've +a mind to go and meet her." + +"You bide by the fire, John," responded his wife. "Nancy's in a tantrum +because I found out as she'd took that bag-money--she'll come in when +she's a mind." + +"The _bag-money_!" repeated John in a puzzled way. "Nan take it!--she +never did, barring you give it her." + +"She did then, and bought gloves with it, to do up with six buttons, and +there they be now beside you on the settle," retorted Mrs. Forest. John +looked in the place his wife had indicated, and there, sure enough, lay +the brown kid gloves. This evidence did seem conclusive. John shook his +grey head as he held the dainty gloves across his rough palm, and +presently said, "You have kept her too short, wife--girls wants their +bits of things." He paused and sighed heavily, and then added, "I'll go +and look for her." + +"It's all your fault, John," broke out his wife as he rose to go. "You +as good as told her to do it." + +"You ought to have given her some money, Eliza, and you've been nagging +at her and driven her out this cold night; if harm comes of it--" said +John as he went out. + +"Fiddlesticks about harm; what harm can come to her, I should like to +know?" retorted his wife, without allowing him to complete his sentence. +Then the door closed and Eliza Forest was alone, with the ticking of the +eight-day clock to bear her company. + +Slowly the hand of the clock travelled on. A clock is a weird +companion--above all, one that strikes the hour after a preliminary +groaning sound as this clock did. Mrs. Forest tried to occupy herself +with the stocking she was knitting, but she was uneasy and let her work +fall in her lap while she reflected to the accompaniment of that +metallic "Tick-tick" of the clock. "My mother always said that my temper +would get me down and worry me," she meditated; "and I believe it _will_ +before it's done." + +Ten o'clock struck--eleven o'clock, and Mrs. Forest grew really alarmed. +She rose and placed her knitting on the high chimney-piece--she +generally put it there out of the way of the cat, who played with the +ball--and opened the door and peered out into the darkness. There was a +sound of footsteps along the frozen high road. She listened intently, +but the horses began to move about in the stable close by and she could +no longer hear the footsteps. + +The cold wind blew right against her, chilling her through and through. +But she still stood there in the doorway. By-and-by there were +unmistakable footsteps near at hand. A moment more and John was beside +her. He was alone. "Wife," he began in a hollow voice, "Nan left Miss +Michin as usual; has she been home?" + +"I told you she had," gasped the mother. "I told you she and me had had +a tiff about the money." + +John Forest made no comment, he was too desperate for that. He knew well +enough that if his quiet, patient little Nan had gone away, she must be +in a state of mind out of which tragedies come. He would go and rouse +Jim Lincoln, who slept in the stable loft, and they would search for +her. Mrs. Forest watched her husband disappear in the dim starlight, and +then went back to the kitchen. Vague fears took possession of her. She +dreaded she knew not what. All her unkindness to Nancy, culminating in +last night's blow, seemed to rise up against her. Even as to the taking +of the money, Nancy had had her father's sanction and might have thought +that enough. But Nancy denied having touched the money; _what if, after +all, she had spoken the truth!_ She had always been particularly +truthful in even the smallest matters. Mrs. Forest would try not to +think any more; it was too painful. She would reach down her knitting +and try to "do" a bit. + +She rose and took down the half-knit stocking, but the spare needle was +missing. She felt with her hand upon the chimney-piece, but could not +find it. Then she mounted a chair and searched. It was nowhere to be +seen. "It may have slipped into the nick at the back," she thought, and +she got a skewer and poked it into the narrow groove. Out fell the +needle--and something else which made a clinking sound as it fell upon +the brick floor. She stooped to see what it was, _and there glittering +in the firelight lay the missing half-sovereign_. + + * * * * * + +When Fred Hurst had seen Messrs. Hermann and Scheiner, he was in the +highest possible spirits: a whole future seemed to open out before him. + +It may appear that Fred was conceited, and "too sure;" but we must +record that he went to a jeweller's and bought a little pearl ring for +Nancy, meaning to place it on her third finger next day when her lips +should have given him the promise he knew her heart had long since +given. Having made his purchase he took train from Liverpool Street to +Exboro', from which place he would have to walk to Shenton, where he +could not arrive until one o'clock in the morning. He had performed some +miles of his walk across the hills, and was within an appreciable +distance of Braley Brook, when he observed a dark figure crouching on a +fallen tree. He was at first a little startled, for it was most unusual +to meet anyone in this place, above all at such an hour: it was after +midnight. On coming nearer he saw that the figure was that of a woman. +It might be one of the cottagers from Shenton--who had been to Exboro' +and been taken ill on the way home--he would see. + +He came close and touched the crouching figure, and asked gently, "Are +you ill? Can I do anything for you?" + +The figure started violently and looked up at him, and in the starlight +he recognised the face of Nancy Forest. + +In a moment he was seated on the fallen tree beside her, and had placed +his arm about her. "Nancy, dearest Nancy," he cried, pressing burning +kisses on her cold cheek--the first he had ever given her. "Nancy, speak +to me; tell me what is the meaning of your being here." + +But she could not answer him then; she simply laid her cheek against his +shoulder and wept bitterly. But she did tell him all presently; and he +told her what he had long since wished to tell, and they walked together +to the old farm, for, of course, Nancy must return to her parents for a +little time--only a very little time, they decided. When they reached +the farm, John Forest and his wife were standing by the round table in +the house-place, where the half-sovereign lay. John was hard and +relentless; his wife was sobbing aloud. And then the door opened, and +Nancy and Fred stood before them. + +With a wild cry, Eliza Forest clasped her daughter to her heart, +imploring her forgiveness. "My temper 'welly' worried me this time, +Nancy," she said; "but after this I will worry _it_." + +So here the story properly ends, for Mr. Hurst, to the surprise of +everyone, yielded a ready consent to the marriage, and even offered an +allowance to the young couple and one of his small farms to live in. +Miss Sabina allowed her old interest in Nancy to revive, and sent her +the material for her wedding dress, which Miss Michin announced her +intention of making up herself--every stitch. Nor was this all. Mrs. +Dodd, the worthy post-mistress, with whom Nancy had always been a +favourite, begged her acceptance of a prettily-furnished work-basket +which she had made a journey to Exboro' to buy. + +And the half-sovereign? + +It was never spent, but was always in sight under a wine-glass, to +remind the owner--so she said--"of how her temper nearly worried her." + +JEANIE GWYNNE BETTANY. + + + + +PAUL. + +BY THE AUTHOR OF "ADONAIS, Q.C." + + +It was a great surprise and disappointment to me when Janet, the only +child of my brother, Duncan Wright, wrote announcing her engagement to +the Honourable Stephen Vandeleur. + +I had always thought she would marry Paul. Paul was the only surviving +son--four others had died--of my dead brother Alexander, and had made +one of Duncan's household from his boyhood. I had always loved +Janet--and Paul was as the apple of my eye. When the two were mere +children, and Duncan was still in comparatively humble circumstances, +living in a semi-detached villa in the suburbs of Glasgow, I kept my +brother's house for some years, he being then a widower. + +I cannot say I altogether liked doing so. Having independent means of my +own, I did not require to fill such a position, and I had never got on +very well with Duncan. However, I dearly loved the children, although I +had enough to do with them, too. Janet was one of the prettiest, +merriest, laughing little creatures--with eyes the colour of the sea in +summer-time, and a complexion like a wild-rose--the sun ever shed its +light upon; but she had a most distressing way of tearing her frocks and +of never looking tidy, which Duncan seemed to think entirely my fault; +and as for Paul, he certainly was a most awful boy. + +He was fair as Janet, though with a differently-shaped face; rather a +long face, with a square, determined-looking chin; and, besides being +one of the handsomest, was assuredly one of the cleverest boys I ever +knew. He had a good, sound, strong Scotch intellect, and was as sharp as +a needle, or any Yankee, into the bargain. + +But he _would_ have his own way, whatever it was, and was often +mischievous as a fiend incarnate; and in his contradictory moods, would +have gone on saying black was white all day on the chance of getting +somebody to argue with him. Duncan paid no attention whatever to the +lad, except, from time to time, to speculate what particular bad end he +would come to. + +But I loved Paul, and Paul loved me--and adored Janet. + +The boy had one exceedingly beautiful feature in his face: sometimes I +could not take my eyes from it; I used to wonder if it could be that +which made me love him so much--his mouth. I have never seen another +anything like it. The steady, strong, and yet delicate lips--so calm and +serious when still, as to make one feel at rest merely to look at them; +but when in motion extraordinarily sensitive, quivering, curving, and +curling in sympathy with every thought. + +I loved both children; but perhaps the reason that made me love Paul +most was--that whilst I knew Janet's nature, out and in, to the core of +her very loving little heart, Paul's often puzzled me. + +There was not much in the way of landscape to be seen from that villa in +the suburbs of Glasgow; but we did catch just one glimpse of sky which +was not always obscured by smoke, and I have seen Paul, lost in thought, +looking up at this patch of blue, with an expression on his face--at +once sweet and sorrowful--so strange in one so young, that it made me +instinctively move more quietly, not to disturb him, and set me +wondering. + +However, what with one thing and another, I was not by any means +heart-broken when Duncan married again--one of the kindest women in the +world; I can't think what she saw in him--and thus released me. + +So the years flew on--and the wheel of fortune gave some strange turns +for Duncan. By a series of wonderfully successful speculations he +rapidly amassed a huge fortune. + +They left Glasgow then, and built a colossal white brick mansion not far +from London. + +When Janet was eighteen and Paul twenty-one, I paid them a visit there. +Except that Janet was now grown up, she was just the same--with her +thriftless, thoughtless ways, and her laughing baby face, and her yellow +head--a silly little head enough, perhaps, but a dear, dear little head +to me. + +She had the same admiration, almost awe, of the splendours of this world +in any form; the same love of fine clothes--with the same carelessness +as to how she used them. It gave me a good laugh, the first afternoon I +was there, to see her come in with a new dress all soiled and torn by a +holly-bush she had pushed her way through on the lawn. It made me think +of the time when she had gone popping in and out to the little back +garden at Glasgow, and singing and swinging about the stairs--a bonnie +wee lassie with a dirty pink cotton gown, and, as often as not, dirtier +face. + +Paul seemed to me, in looks at least, to have more than fulfilled the +promise of his boyhood. A handsomer, more self-reliant-looking young +fellow I had never seen; and I was not long in the house before I +observed--with secret tears of amusement--that it was not only in looks +he remained unchanged. The same dictatorialness and sharp tongue; the +same thinly-veiled insolence to Duncan; the same swift smiles from his +entrancing lips--thank Heaven undisfigured by any moustache--to myself; +the same unalterable gentleness to Janet. His invariable courtesy to +Duncan's wife made me very happy. It was as I said: there was much good +in the boy. + +Paul had a little money of his own to begin with, and I did think +Duncan, with his fortune, might have sent an exceptionally clever lad +like that to one of the Universities, and made something of him +afterwards--a lawyer, say; but instead of that, Paul was put into +business in London, and, I was glad to hear, was doing very well. + +As for Duncan's hideous white brick castle, with its paltry half-dozen +acres, entered by lodges of the utmost pretension, and his coach-houses +full of flashy carriages, with the family coat-of-arms(!) upon each, I +thought the whole place one of the most contemptible patches of snobbery +on this fair earth; and I was glad my father's toil-bleared eyes were +hid in the grave, so that they should not have the shame of resting upon +it. + +In spite of what I thought, however, I did my best to keep a solemn face +at Paul's smart speeches, which were often amusing, and often simply +impudence. + +Duncan, as of yore, went as though he saw him not. + +I had not been at Duncan's palace long before I came to the conclusion +that there was some private understanding betwixt the two young people; +and, at last, just before I left, my suspicions were confirmed. + +Hastily pushing open the library door, which stood ajar, I saw Paul with +his back to me, at the end of the room, looking into the conservatory. +He had evidently just entered from the garden. "Janet," he called, in a +voice the import of which there could be no mistaking; and with a rush, +I heard several pots crash; Janet, who had no doubt happened to have her +head turned the other way, sprang into view, and threw herself into his +arms. + +I quietly withdrew, and went away very, very happy. I knew Paul had a +promise of a first-rate appointment abroad, by-and-by; and supposing I +should hear more of this before long, I went placidly away home to the +far north. Instead of that, in six months or so, Janet wrote announcing +her engagement to the Honourable Stephen Vandeleur. + +Of course I went south for Janet's wedding. + +If I had thought she was being forced into this marriage (Duncan was +snob enough) I should not have gone a step, but should have done my best +to prevent it; but I could not think that from the tone of the letter; +and Paul wrote as well all about it. I could but think I had been +mistaken; that there had been no serious engagement between them, but +only a flirtation, as they might call it, or something of that sort: a +very reprehensible flirtation, with my Puritanical notions, it seemed to +me. I need not say I was greatly disappointed. + +So in due course south I went. + +Paul met me--handsomer and more dictatorial than ever; his blue eyes +clear and piercing as before. He seemed quite pleased; said Stephen +Vandeleur was a good fellow; was most impertinently sarcastic about +Duncan's aristocratic guests; and altogether appeared in good spirits. +Janet I did not think looking well. She seemed very nervous, and made +the remark that she wished it were six months ago; but of course it was +natural a girl should be a little hysterical on the eve of her +wedding-day. + +The morrow came, and the wedding with it. I thought it a very +unpleasant one. Whatever might be Stephen Vandeleur's own feelings, he +seemed, as Paul said, a very good fellow. It was evident his friends +only countenanced it on consideration of the huge dowry Janet brought +with her. Some of them were gentlepeople, as I understand the word, and +some were not; but Duncan, who appeared really to think the mere +accident of superior birth in itself a guarantee of personal merit, as +Paul very truly put it, grovelled all round, until I was sick with +shame. Paul, however, was at his best and wittiest and brightest, and +kept everybody in tolerably good humour. + +When the carriage came to take the bride and bridegroom away, I +remembered some trifle of Janet's that had been left in the +conservatory; and, as I was in the hall at the time, ran hastily outside +and round by the gravel to the door opening from the lawn, which was my +shortest way to the conservatory from there. + +Suddenly I stood quite still. Paul was looking out of the library +window, and Janet, ready for departure, came falteringly in and stood +behind him. He did not look towards her. "Paul!" she whispered +entreatingly; and although so low there was the utmost anguish in the +tone: "Paul." As though not knowing what she did, she raised her arm, +standing behind him there, as if to shake hands. Abruptly he wheeled +round, with a face down which the great tears coursed, but awful in its +pallor and sternness; and, taking no notice of her outstretched hand, +pointed to the door. Weeping bitterly, she swiftly turned and went. + +I cannot describe the shock this terrible scene gave me. It did not take +half-a-dozen short moments to enact, but it represented, unmistakably, +the blasting of two lives--the lives of those dearest in all the world +to me. + +I do not know, I never knew, whether Paul saw me. I think I must have +become momentarily unconscious, and when I came to myself he was gone. + +I sat where I was, weeping bitter tears--bitter as Janet's--and thought +of the little lassie in the dirty pink frock that had sung and swung +about the stairs, and of the boy who had stood day-dreaming, looking up +into the blue sky. Sometimes I was wildly angry. Whose fault was it? Who +was answerable for this? If it was the young people's own fault, someone +ought to have looked after them better, ought to have prevented it. No +one, not even I, could help them now, that was the bitterest, bitterest +part of it; no one and nothing--save time, or death. + +I wished that day I had never left my children. + + +II. + +I must pass over a long period now--I suppose I should have said I was +writing of a great many years ago, and come to the time, twenty years +later, when Paul came home from abroad. He had not been home all these +years, and neither had I been once in the south. + +Janet, my poor Janet, was long since dead. She had died before she was +quite two years married. It was an additional pang to my grief that I +had never said good-bye to her at all; but no good-bye was better than +that awful one I had witnessed of Paul. + +What was the precise explanation of it I never knew. It was easy to +divine that Janet had indeed been engaged to marry Paul, and had given +him up; but whether this was the result of some quarrel, or whether she +had deliberately done it, dazzled by the prospect of a union with an +earl's son, I cannot say. Anyhow, I am sure she quickly regretted her +determination. I am certain she loved only Paul. But the word had been +spoken, and whatever Vandeleur may have been, Paul was not a man to give +any woman a chance of trifling with him twice. So my poor Janet had to +reap what her folly had sown, as best she might. + +Janet left one little child, a daughter, called Janet, after her; and +this child, becoming an orphan at an early age by the death, next, of +Stephen Vandeleur, was brought up with his family in Ireland. + +She was in Scotland once when she was about fourteen, and I saw her, and +was not favourably impressed. She was quiet and prim and proper, as cold +as an icicle: a very pretty little girl, I owned that; but then I had +thought to find something of _my_ Janet, and was disappointed. Her eyes +were indeed blue, but looked one in the face calmly as though they had +belonged to a woman of forty; and her hair and long eye-lashes were as +dark as night. She had just this of my Janet, her pink and snow +wild-rose complexion. She seemed to me, in all else, a Vandeleur to her +finger-tips. + +She occasionally paid Duncan long visits; and as she grew up, I heard +that Duncan tried to make these visits as frequent and as lengthy as +possible. She was immensely admired, it seemed, and Duncan liked her to +stay with him because of the people she attracted to his house. I was +sure this was true. It was so like one of Duncan's horrid ways. He still +lived in that white brick edifice, and was richer then ever. A good deal +of gossip drifted to me, in the far north as I was. I was told that +Janet had a Manchester millionaire, an American railway king, and a real +live lord, all madly in love with her--and she not yet quite nineteen! + +Just then Paul returned home, and Duncan wrote inviting me to come down +and see them. Paul was to stay with them--and Duncan was quite proud +about it. His predictions had turned out all wrong; for Paul had come +home a personage of importance, and a very rich man indeed. I was almost +sorry that Janet's child happened to be at Duncan's just then, thinking +her presence would revive old memories better forgotten. And then, if +Paul were at all like what he used to be, I was sure her calmly +superior, supercilious little ways would irritate him intensely. I had +never seen her at Duncan's, but I could fancy how she would look there. + +When I saw Paul, just for the first minute or so I felt quite startled. +He seemed so marvellously little changed. He was forty-one, and would +have looked young for thirty. Of course by-and-by I saw there were lines +in his face which had not before been there. I could not say, not +talking of appearance but of character, that I thought him improved. He +no longer spoke scornfully to or of Duncan, but was always coldly +courteous; yet often I would see a sneer on his curving lips that was +more biting and bitter than any words, and made them look evil. He was +not dictatorial all round to everybody as he used to be, but I thought +him harsh in particular instances. His smiles to myself were more rare; +his eyes colder: he seemed to me cynical of all on earth; I feared, too, +with keen sorrow, of all in Heaven. + +Others spoke of the changes the wear and tear of life abroad had made on +Paul, but I had seen his face as it looked--for the last time on +earth--upon Janet that day, and had my own sad thoughts. + +But although I speak of these changes, I do not mean to say that Paul +was not as gentle and loving to me as he had ever been, and that I was +not exquisitely happy to be with him again. Many a pleasant walk had we +about Duncan's garden, I leaning on Paul's strong arm, a support which I +felt the need of now. Twenty years had not come and gone without leaving +plenty of traces on me. We neither of us ever mentioned Janet, _my_ +Janet, that is to say. Janet's daughter (Janet II., as I used to +mentally designate her for convenience' sake) was here as I expected, +and for a while, just as before, I did not take to her. I left her alone +and she left me alone; that was her way. + +She was lovely, certainly; ethereally lovely; almost too lovely for +one's senses to grasp the fact that she was but common flesh and blood +like all the rest of the world: a poem in human form if there ever was +one. Gossip had spoken truly for once; there were the three +distinguished lovers, and goodness knows how many more besides. + +Paul and I never spoke of this girl, any more than we did of my Janet; +but, at first, I often fancied I saw his gaze fastened on her; the same +unpleasant sneer on his lips which disfigured them when he looked at +Duncan. By and by I grew rather to like her. I believe I, at heart, +resented Paul looking like that at my Janet's bairn. I began to fancy +that, for all her apparent calmness, she was shy. If we met in the +garden she would give me a swift glance to see if I were going to stop +and speak to her, and, I thought, seemed pleased when I did. At last +there came an odd little episode. + +Paul was very fond of animals--that was always one of his good +traits--and he one day found a little stray white kitten somewhere about +the place, and brought it into the room where I sat alone at work. He +began grimly to play with it. Just then Janet opened the door. She gave +a delighted exclamation, and, coming eagerly forward, smilingly held out +her arms for the kitten. She was dressed for the evening, and the +little thing began clawing about her lovely gown, and in one instant had +pulled to shreds a very expensive bit of trimming. + +I started up in distress; but Janet, putting the kitten gently back on +the table, burst into laughter. I am very sure I had never heard Janet +laugh before, and I don't think Paul ever had. A prettier, happier, more +silvery little peal could not be imagined; but it was not so much that +which struck home to my heart as the fact that if I had shut my eyes I +could have thought _my_ Janet stood in the room. The girl had her +mother's laugh. + +I returned hastily to my work, and did not dare to lift my head until +Janet was gone--then I looked stealthily at Paul. + +The sun was just setting--the sky a rolling roseate glory from end to +end. Paul--my Paul--my Paul, with the old beautiful light in his face, +stood, with arms crossed, looking up into it. All at once something came +into my throat which almost stifled me, so that I could not have sat +where I was for any consideration whatever. I slipped quietly away and +left him. + +From this day I loved the girl. Whether it was her carelessness about +the dress--so like her mother--or the laugh--or what--I loved her now +almost as much as I had loved her mother. + +It seemed to me that from this day, too, Paul became more like his old +self: a very much toned-down and softened old self; no longer so much +the hard, cynical Paul of later years as the boyish Paul of old. Of +course, no sooner had my feelings changed in this way than I became +greatly interested in Janet's lovers. I thought the cotton millionaire +vulgar; and the American railway king I could not make this or that of; +but the lord seemed a very nice, simple-mannered young man; so that I +hoped--for although I am a bit of a Radical, I lay claim to having some +common-sense too--if it were to be one of these three, it would be he. + +But the calm indifference with which this slip of a girl treated three +such lovers was truly appalling. I can't think how they stood it: I +shouldn't. + +I cannot remember exactly when it was that I made a discovery. Opposite +to the library, of which I have already spoken, now a venerable old +room, was my bed-room; and there was no other room until you had gone +along a passage and crossed a hall. It was my custom to go to bed very +early, and I did so here at Duncan's, long before the rest of the +household. I suppose they thought I went fair off to sleep, too; for +this part of the house was always deserted after I had gone into my +room. + +It was thus I made the discovery that every night, before retiring +herself, Janet came to the library and stayed a few minutes; and I could +hear her sometimes moving about books on the table. + +For a considerable time I felt hopelessly puzzled. All at once it struck +me--girls are the same all over the world and in all ages--that she +must come there to look at the photograph of someone she cared for; to +say good-night to it; perhaps to murmur a prayer over it. Girls are made +so. Doubtless she would take it away with her altogether to some place +more convenient for such oblations but that Duncan was much in the +library, and had lynx-eyes. + +I grew troubled, these nocturnal visits continuing, and wished that I +could help her. I thought if I could only find out whose the photograph +was, perhaps I might. + +One night I could bear it no longer. I am aware that I must seem a most +prying old woman; but somehow or other this library was fated to be +mixed up with my life. I rose and just peeped round the library door to +see what she was doing. She was standing in the clear moonlight--not, as +I had expected, with an open photograph album, but holding a little +miniature, taken from its place on the table. I went back to bed, my +heart bounding. I knew now! I did not sleep much that night. + +Perhaps I acted rashly--but I thought I should apply to Paul for help. I +was sure, from various signs, that he did not hate my Janet's bairn now. +I told him of these stolen visits to the library, and tried to persuade +him to conceal himself and watch there--for the purpose of finding out +whose the portrait was. I did not tell him, deceitful woman that I was, +that I myself already knew. Old people like him and me, I said, should +help the child out of her trouble. I must have startled him terribly: he +grew, at first, so white. Then he looked at me long and intently; and +by-and-by began to cross-examine me. We were canny Scots, both of us, +and fenced. + +"You say it was a photograph you saw her with?" + +"I did not say I saw her." + +"You have heard her open an album?" + +"I have heard her move books." + +I have seen the time when I could have broken a lance with the best; but +I was growing old, and he finished by getting me into rather a +hobble--when he abruptly left me, a great flush sweeping over his face. +He came back by-and-by, and took me out into the garden. If he never had +been the real old Paul before--he was so now. He cut the pansies from my +best cap, and decorated Duncan's coat-of-arms--which had broken out +about the walls now-a-days--with them. But he might have cut the cap in +two for all I cared just then. + +That night--I hoped he had not forgotten--I hoped he would come. +Presently I heard a quiet step which I knew to be his. Then I sat down +and listened again. Swish, swish--here she was at last. I had listened +too often to the soft rustle of her trailing gown to make any mistake +now. In my excitement--you see I was an old habitue at prying and +peering about the library by this time--I put one eye round the door, at +her very back. She had gone a few steps into the room--and now stood, +rooted to the spot, startled. There, with his face--and all that he +would have it say--fair and bright in the moonlight, stood Paul. He +opened his arms. + +"Janet," he said. + +With a little cry, and a sob, the girl rushed into them. + +I went away back to my own room. I am sure it is superfluous to explain +my little plot: that it was not a photograph, but an old miniature of +Paul I had seen Janet with--an old miniature which I had painted on +ivory myself in the far-distant days. I am sure Paul never had a +photograph taken. Of course it was because I had recognised this that I +wanted Paul to wait in the library; but he was a better fencer than I, +and made me admit more than I intended. I sat down now, a world of old +memories whirling through my brain. I mixed this that I had just +seen--with something very like it in the long, long past--with the crash +of pots, and another figure that had thrown itself into Paul's arms. +There was the old room: _Janet_ had been said there, too; and the lips +through which the word had trembled were the same: and the voice was the +same also. Only the figure that had darted forward--was different. + +I did not go to bed at all that night; but sat looking out over the +quiet, moon-lit garden and over the fields beyond, where the corn-crake +was calling, calling; the river slipping like a silver thread at the +far-away end of them; and patter, patter out and into the back-garden at +Glasgow went the little feet again; and to and fro ran the fair-haired +little lassie in the dirty pink cotton, tugging me this way and that by +the hand; and such a singing and swinging went on about the stairs. Oh, +how I wondered whether Paul would ever tell Janet her mother's story. + +I was not going placidly away north _this_ time, to wait to hear more +about anything by-and-by. I did not leave that factory-like erection of +Duncan's until I had seen them married. + + + + +THE CHURCH GARDEN. + + + "We cannot," said the people, "stand these children, + Always round us with their racketing and play; + Yon Church-garden set right down among our houses + Is really quite a nuisance in its way! + + "True, their homes are very dull, and bare, and dismal, + And the narrow courts they live in dark and small, + And we think they love that sparsely-planted acre-- + But we do not want to think of them at all! + + "There are surely parks enough to make a play-ground, + And we might be spared these noisy little feet; + But the parks, the Clergy say, are all too distant, + And so they planned this garden in the street! + + "No doubt the seats are pleasanter than curb-stones, + While the trees make quite a shelter from the sun, + And the grass does nicely for the crawling babies-- + But somebody must think of Number One! + + "And the air the children get of course is purer; + But then the noise they make is very great, + With their laughter and their shouting to each other, + And the everlasting banging of the gate! + + "And the wailing of the sickly, puny babies + Is enough to fret one's spirit through and through-- + No doubt they cry as much in those dark alleys-- + But then we never hear them if they do! + + "Half the Parish talks to us of self-denial, + Of kindly duties lying at the door, + And of One who says the Poor are always with us; + But we can't be always thinking of the Poor! + + "We are older, we are richer, we are wiser; + Why should we be vexed and troubled in our ease? + Just because the children like the Vicar's garden, + With its faded grass and smoky London trees! + + "Still we feel sometimes a little self-convicted, + When we hear the hard-worked kindly Clergy say + That it helps them often in their weary labours, + Just to see the children happy at their play! + + "Yet we think they try to make the thing too solemn, + When they put aside our protests with the plea: + 'Whatsoe'er ye did to such as these, my brethren, + To the least--ye did it even unto Me.'" + + Thus the people murmured, but the children's Angels + Smiled rejoicing, and a richer blessing falls + On the Church that made a shelter for the children + Underneath the holy shadow of her walls. + +CHRISTIAN BURKE. + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of The Argosy, by Various + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE ARGOSY *** + +***** This file should be named 18375.txt or 18375.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/1/8/3/7/18375/ + +Produced by Paul Murray, Taavi Kalju and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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