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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/20323-h.zip b/20323-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..0290cb6 --- /dev/null +++ b/20323-h.zip diff --git a/20323-h/20323-h.htm b/20323-h/20323-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..83f4b4b --- /dev/null +++ b/20323-h/20323-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,8326 @@ +<!DOCTYPE html + PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD XHTML 1.0 Strict//EN" + "http://www.w3.org/TR/xhtml1/DTD/xhtml1-strict.dtd"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html; charset=US-ASCII" /> +<title>That Stick</title> + <style type="text/css"> +/*<![CDATA[ XML blockout */ +<!-- + P { margin-top: .75em; + margin-bottom: .75em; + } + H1, H2 { + text-align: center; + margin-top: 2em; + margin-bottom: 2em; + } + H3, H4 { + text-align: left; + margin-top: 1em; + margin-bottom: 1em; + } + BODY{margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + } + TD { vertical-align: top; } + .blkquot {margin-left: 4em; margin-right: 4em;} /* block indent */ + + .smcap {font-variant: small-caps;} + + .pagenum {position: absolute; + left: 92%; + font-size: smaller; + text-align: right; + color: gray;} + + .citation {vertical-align: super; + font-size: .8em; + text-decoration: none;} + + td p {margin-top: 0; margin-bottom:0; margin-right: 10px;} + + // --> + /* XML end ]]>*/ + </style> +</head> +<h2> +<a href="#startoftext">That Stick, by Charlotte M. Yonge</a> +</h2> +<pre> +The Project Gutenberg eBook, That Stick, by Charlotte M. Yonge + + +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: That Stick + + +Author: Charlotte M. Yonge + + + +Release Date: January 9, 2007 [eBook #20323] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THAT STICK*** +</pre> +<p><a name="startoftext"></a></p> +<body> +<p>This eBook was prepared by Les Bowler.</p> +<h1>THAT STICK</h1> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">by</span><br /> +CHARLOTTE M. YONGE<br /> +<span class="smcap">author of</span> ‘<span class="smcap">the heir of +redclyffe’</span>, ‘<span class="smcap">unknown to +history’</span>, <span class="smcap">etc</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p5.jpg"> +<img alt="She was a little brown mouse of a woman, with soft dark eyes, +smooth hair, and a clear olive complexion" src="images/p5.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center">London<br /> +MACMILLAN AND CO.<br /> +<span class="smcap">and new york</span></p> +<p style="text-align: center">1892</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><i>All rights reserved</i></p> +<p><!-- page v--><a name="pagev"></a><span class="pagenum">p. v</span></p> +<table> +<tr> +<td> +<p>Chap.</p> +</td> +<td> +<p></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>Page</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p></p> +</td> +<td> +<p></p> +</td> +<td> +<p></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>1</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Honours</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>1</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>2</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Honours Reflected</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>9</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>3</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">What is Honour</span>?</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>20</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>4</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Honours Waning</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>25</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>5</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Peer</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>29</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>6</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Weight of Honours</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>36</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>7</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Mortons and Manners</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>41</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>8</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Second Thoughts</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>49</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>9</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Heir-Presumptuous</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>53</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>10</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Coming Honours</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>64</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>11</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Possession</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>70</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>12</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Burthen of Honours</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>77</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>13</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Dower House</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>81</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>14</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Westhaven Versions of Honours</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>88</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>15</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Pied Rook</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>99</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>16</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">What is Rest</span>?</p> +</td> +<td> +<p>107</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>17</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">On The Surface</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>114</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>18</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Desdichado</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>120</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>19</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Dolomites</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>129</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p><!-- page vi--><a name="pagevi"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +vi</span>20</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Ratzes</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>137</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>21</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Heir-Apparent</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>143</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>22</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Out of Joint</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>147</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>23</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Velvet</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>155</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>24</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Revenge of Sordid Spirits</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>163</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>25</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Love</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>169</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>26</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Ida’s Warning</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>175</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>27</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Young Pretender</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>180</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>28</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Two Bundles of Hay</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>187</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>29</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Jones or Rattler</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>193</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>30</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">SCARLET FEVER</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>202</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>31</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Mite</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>208</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>32</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">A Shock</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>216</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>33</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Darkness</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>223</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>34</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Phantom of the Station</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>230</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>35</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Quest</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>239</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>36</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Ida’s Confession</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>247</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>37</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Hope</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>252</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>38</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Clue</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>262</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>39</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Honourable Pauper</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>270</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>40</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Joy Well-nigh Incredible</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>277</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>41</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Canadian Northmoor</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>284</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>42</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">Humble Pie</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>290</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p>43</p> +</td> +<td> +<p><span class="smcap">The Staff</span></p> +</td> +<td> +<p>295</p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p></p> +</td> +<td> +<p></p> +</td> +<td> +<p></p> +</td> +</tr> +<tr> +<td> +<p></p> +</td> +<td> +<p></p> +</td> +<td> +<p></p> +</td> +</tr> +</table> +<h2><!-- page 1--><a name="page1"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +1</span>CHAPTER I<br /> +HONOURS</h2> +<p>‘Oh, there’s that stick. What can he want?’ +sighed one of a pair of dignified elderly ladies, in black silk, to the +other, as in a quiet country-town street they saw themselves about to be +accosted by a man of about forty, with the air of a managing clerk, who +came up breathlessly, with a flush on his usually pale cheeks.</p> +<p>‘Miss Lang; I beg pardon! May I be allowed a few words with +Miss Marshall? I know it is unusual, but I have something unusual to +tell her.’</p> +<p>‘Nothing distressing, I hope, Mr. Morton,’ said one of the +ladies, startled.</p> +<p>‘Oh no, quite the reverse,’ he said, with a nervous laugh; +‘in fact, I have unexpectedly come into a property!’</p> +<p>‘Indeed!’ with great astonishment, ‘I congratulate +you,’ as the colour mounted in his face, pleasant, honest, but with +the subdued expression left by long years of patience in a subordinate +position.</p> +<p><!-- page 2--><a name="page2"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +2</span>‘May I ask—’ began the other sister.</p> +<p>‘I hardly understand it yet,’ was the answer; ‘but I +must go to town by the 5.10 train, and I should like her to hear it from +myself.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, certainly; it does you honour, Mr. Morton.’</p> +<p>They were entering the sweep of one of those large substantial houses on +the outskirts of country towns that have a tendency to become +boarding-schools, and such had that of the Misses Lang been long before the +days of the High School.</p> +<p>‘Fortunately it is recreation-time,’ said Miss Lang, as she +conducted Mr. Morton to the drawing-room, hung round with coloured +drawings, in good taste, if stiff, and chiefly devoted to interviews with +parents.</p> +<p>‘Poor little Miss Marshall!’ murmured one sister, when they +had shut him in.</p> +<p>‘What a loss she will be!’</p> +<p>‘She deserves any good fortune.’</p> +<p>‘She does. Is it not twenty years?’</p> +<p>‘Twenty-two next August, sister.’</p> +<p>Yes, it was twenty-two years since Mary Marshall had been passed from +the Clergy Orphan Asylum to be English governess at Miss Lang’s +excellent school at Hurminster. In that town resided, with her two +sons, Mrs. Morton, the widow of a horse-dealing farmer in the late Mr. +Marshall’s parish. On discovering the identity of the English +governess with the little girl who had admired the foals, lambs, and +chickens in past times, Mrs. Morton gave invitations to tea. She was +ladylike, the sons unexceptionable, and no objection could reasonably be +made by the Misses Lang, though the acquaintance was regretted by them.</p> +<p><!-- page 3--><a name="page3"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 3</span>Mr. +Morton, the father, had died in debt and distress, and the eldest son had +been thankful for a clerkship in the office of Mr. Burford, a solicitor in +considerable practice, and man of business to several of the county +magnates. Frank Morton was not remarkable for talent or enterprise, +but he was plodding and trustworthy, methodical and accurate, and he had +continued in the same position, except that time had made him senior +instead of junior clerk. Partly from natural disposition, partly from +weight of responsibility, he had always been a grave, steady youth, one of +those whom their contemporaries rank as sticks and muffs, because not +exalted by youthful spirits or love of daring. His mother and brother +had always been his primary thought; and his recreations were of the +sober-sided sort—the chess club, the institute, the choral +society. He was a useful, though not a distinguished, member of the +choir of St. Basil’s Church, and a punctual and diligent +Sunday-school teacher of the least interesting boys. To most of the +world of Hurminster he was almost invisible, to the rest utterly +insignificant. Even his mother was far less occupied with him than +with his brother Charles, who was much handsomer, more amusing and +spirited, as well as far less contented or easy to be reckoned upon. +But there was one person to whom he was everything, namely, little +brown-eyed, soft-voiced Mary Marshall.</p> +<p>She felt herself the happiest of creatures when, after two years of +occasional evening teas and walks to Evensong at St. Basil’s, it was +settled that she should become his wife as soon as his salary should <!-- +page 4--><a name="page4"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 4</span>be increased, +and Charlie be in condition to assist in supporting his mother. Ever +since, Mary had rested on that hope, and the privileges it gave. She +had loyally informed the Misses Lang, who were scarcely propitious, but +could not interfere, as long as their pupils (or they believed so) surmised +nothing. So the Sunday evening intercourse became more frequent, and +in the holidays, when the homeless governess had always remained to +superintend cleaning and repairs, there were many pleasant hours spent with +kind old Mrs. Morton, who, if she had ever wished that Frank had waited +longer and chosen some one with means, never betrayed it to the girl whom +she soon loved as a daughter.</p> +<p>Two years had at first been thought of as the period of patience. +Charles had a situation as clerk in a shipping office at Westhaven, a small +seaport about twenty miles off, and his mother was designing to go to keep +house for him, when he announced that his banns had been asked with the +daughter of the captain and part-owner of a small trading vessel of the +port.</p> +<p>The Hurminster couple must defer their plans till further promotion; and +so far from helping his mother, Charles ere long was applying to her, when +in need, for family expenses.</p> +<p>Then came a terrible catastrophe. Charlie had been ill, and in his +convalescence was taken on a voyage by his father-in-law. There was a +collision in the Channel, and the <i>Emma Jane</i> and all on board were +lost. The insurance did not cover the pecuniary loss; debts came to +light, and nothing was left for the widow and her three children <!-- page +5--><a name="page5"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 5</span>except a seaside +lodging-house in which her father had invested his savings.</p> +<p>The children’s education and great part of their maintenance must +fall on their uncle; and again his marriage must wait till this burthen was +lessened. Old Mrs. Morton died; and meetings thus became more +difficult and infrequent. Frank had hoped to retain the little house +where he had lived so long; but his sister-in-law’s demands were +heavy, and he found himself obliged to sell his superfluous furniture, and +commit himself to the rough attendance of the housekeeper at the office, +where two rooms were granted to him.</p> +<p>Thus had year after year gone by, unmarked except by the growth of the +young people at Westhaven and the demand of their mother on the savings +that were to have been a nest-egg, while gray threads began to appear in +Mary’s hair, and Frank’s lighter locks to leave his temples +bare.</p> +<p>So things stood when, on this strange afternoon, Miss Marshall was +summoned mysteriously from watching the due performance of an imposition, +and was told, outside the door, that Mr. Morton wanted to speak to her.</p> +<p>It was startling news, for though the Misses Lang were kindly women, and +had never thrown obstacles in the way of her engagement, they had merely +permitted it, and almost ignored it, except when old Mrs. Morton was dying, +and they had freely facilitated her attendance. ‘Surely +something as dreadful as the running down of the <i>Emma Jane</i> must have +happened!’ thought Mary as she sped to the drawing-room. She +was a little brown mouse <!-- page 6--><a name="page6"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 6</span>of a woman, with soft dark eyes, smooth hair, +and a clear olive complexion, on which thirty-eight years of life and +eighteen of waiting had not left much outward trace; for the mistresses +were good women, who had never oppressed their underling, and though she +had not met with much outward sympathy or companionship, the one well of +hope and joy might at times suffer drought, but had never run dry, any more +than the better fountain within and beyond.</p> +<p>In she came, with eyes alarmed but ready to console. ‘Oh, +Frank, what is it? What can I do for you?’</p> +<p>‘It is no bad news,’ was his greeting, as he put his arm +round her trembling little figure and kissed her brow. ‘Only +too good.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, is Mrs. Charles going to be married?’ the only hopeful +contingency she could think of.</p> +<p>‘No,’ he said; ‘but, Mary, an extraordinary incident +has taken place. I have inherited a property.’</p> +<p>‘A property? You are well off! Oh, thank God!’ +and she clasped her hands, then held his. ‘At last! But +what? How? Did you know?’</p> +<p>‘I knew of the connection, but that the family had never taken +notice of my father. As to the rest I was entirely unprepared. +My great-grandfather was a younger son of the first Lord Northmoor, but for +some misconduct was cast off and proscribed. As you know, my +grandfather and father devoted themselves to horses on the old farm, and +made no pretensions to gentility. The elder branch of the family was +once numerous, but it must have since <!-- page 7--><a +name="page7"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 7</span>dwindled till the old +lord was left with only a little grandson, who died of diphtheria a short +time before his grandfather.’</p> +<p>‘Poor old man!’ began Mary. ‘Then—oh! do +you mean that he died too?’</p> +<p>‘Yes; he was ill before, and this was a fatal blow. It +appears that he was aware that I was next in the succession, and after the +boy’s death had desired the solicitor to write to me as +heir-at-law.’</p> +<p>‘Heir-at-law! Frank, do you mean that you are—’ +she said, turning pale.</p> +<p>‘Baron Northmoor,’ he answered, ‘and you, my patient +Mary, will be the baroness as soon as may be.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Frank!’—and there was a rush of +tears—‘dear Frank, your hard work and cares are all +over!’</p> +<p>‘I am not sure of that,’ he said gravely; ‘but, at +least, this long waiting is over, and I can give you everything.’</p> +<p>‘But, oh!’ she cried, sobbing uncontrollably, with her face +hidden in her handkerchief.</p> +<p>‘Mary, Mary! what does this mean? Don’t you +understand? There’s nothing to hinder it now.’</p> +<p>She made a gesture as if to put him back from her, and struggled for +utterance.</p> +<p>‘It is very dear, very good; but—but it can’t be +now. You must not drag yourself down with me.’</p> +<p>‘That is just nonsense, Mary. You are far fitter for this +than I am. You are the one joy in it to me.’</p> +<p>‘You think so now,’ she said, striving to hold herself back; +‘but you won’t by and by.’</p> +<p>‘Do you think me a mere boy to change so <!-- page 8--><a +name="page8"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 8</span>easily?’ said the +new lord earnestly. ‘I look on this as a heavy burthen and very +serious responsibility: but it is to you whom I look to sweeten it, help me +through with it, and guard me from its temptations.’</p> +<p>‘If I could.’</p> +<p>‘Come, Mary, I am forced to go to London immediately, and then on +to the funeral. I shall miss the train if I remain another +minute. Don’t send me away with a sore heart. Tell me +that your affection has not been worn out by these weary years.’</p> +<p>‘You cannot think so, Frank,’ she sobbed. ‘You +know it has only grown. I only want to do what is best for +you.’</p> +<p>‘Not another word,’ he said, with a fresh kiss. +‘That is all I want for the present.’</p> +<p>He was gone, while Mary crept up to her little attic, there to weep out +her agitated, uncertain feelings.</p> +<p>‘Oh, he is so good! He deserves to be great. That I +should be his first thought! Dear dear fellow! But I ought to +give him up. I ought not to be a drag on him. It would not be +fair on him. I can love him and watch him all the same; but oh, how +dreary it will be to have no Sunday afternoons! Is this +selfish? Is this worldly? Oh, help me to do right, and hold to +what is best for him!’</p> +<p>And whenever poor Mary had any time to herself out of sight of curious +eyes, she spent it in concocting a letter that went near to the breaking of +her constant heart.</p> +<h2><!-- page 9--><a name="page9"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +9</span>CHAPTER II<br /> +HONOURS REFLECTED</h2> +<p>On the beach at Westhaven, beyond the town and harbour, stood a row of +houses, each with a garden of tamarisk, thrift, and salt-loving flowers, +frequented by lodgers in search of cheap sea breezes, and sometimes by +families of yachting personages who liked to have their headquarters on +shore.</p> +<p>Two girls were making their way to one of these. One was so tall +though very slight, that in spite of the dark hair streaming in the wind, +she looked more than her fifteen years, and her brilliant pink-and-white +complexioned face confirmed the impression. Her sister, keeping as +much as she could under her lee, was about twelve years old, much more +childish as well as softer, smaller, with lighter colouring and blue +eyes. Going round the end of the house, they entered by the back +door, and turning into a little parlour, they threw off their hats and +gloves. The younger one began to lay the table for dinner, while the +elder, throwing herself down panting, called out—</p> +<p>‘Ma, here’s a letter from uncle. I’ll open +it. <!-- page 10--><a name="page10"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +10</span>I hope he’s not crusty about that horrid low millinery +business.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, do,’ called back a voice across the tiled +passage. ‘I’ve had no time. This girl has put me +about so with Mrs. Leeson’s luncheon that I’ve not had a +moment. Of all the sluts I’ve ever been plagued with, +she’s the very worst, and so I tell her till I’m ready to +drop. What is it then, Ida?’ as an inarticulate noise was +heard.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/fp.jpg"> +<img alt="Frontispiece—Ma! ma!" src="images/fp.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>‘Ma! ma! uncle is a lord!’ came back in a gasp.</p> +<p>‘What?’</p> +<p>‘Uncle’s a lord! Oh!’</p> +<p>‘Your uncle! That stick of a man! Don’t be +putting your jokes on me, when I’m worrited to death!’ +exclaimed Mrs. Morton, in fretful tones.</p> +<p>‘No joke. It’s true—Lord Northmoor.’ +And this brought Mrs. Morton out of the kitchen in her apron and bib, with +a knife in one hand and a bunch of parsley in the other. She was a +handsome woman, in the same style as Ida, but her complexion had grown +harder than accorded with the slightly sentimental air she assumed when she +had time to pity herself.</p> +<p>‘It is! it is!’ persisted Ida, reading scraps from the +letter; ‘“Title and estates devolve on me—family +bereavements—elder line extinct.”‘</p> +<p>‘Give me the letter. Oh, you gave me such a turn!’ +said Mrs. Morton, sinking into a chair.</p> +<p>‘What’s the row?’ said another voice, as a sturdy +bright-eyed boy, between the ages of his sisters, came bouncing in. +‘I say, I want my grub—and be quick!’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Herbert, my dear boy,’ and his mother <!-- page 11--><a +name="page11"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 11</span>hugged him, ‘your +uncle is a lord, and you’ll be one one of these days.’</p> +<p>‘I say, don’t lug a man’s head off. Who has been +making a fool of you?’</p> +<p>‘Uncle Frank is Lord Northmoor,’ said Ida impressively.</p> +<p>‘I say, that’s a good one!’ and Herbert threw himself +into a chair in fits of laughter.</p> +<p>‘It is quite true, Herbert,’ said his mother. +‘Here is the letter.’</p> +<p>A bell rang sharply.</p> +<p>‘Bless me! I shall not hear much more of that bell, I hope. +Run up, Conny, and say Mrs. Leeson’s lunch will be up in a moment, +but we were hindered by unexpected news,’ said Mrs. Morton, bustling +into the kitchen. ‘Oh dear! one doesn’t know where one +is.’</p> +<p>‘Let her ring,’ said Ida. ‘Send her off, bag and +baggage! We’ve done with lodgings and milliners and telegraphs, +and all that’s low. We shall all be lords and ladies, and ever +so rich.’</p> +<p>‘Hold hard!’ said Herbert, who had got possession of the +letter. ‘He doesn’t say so.’</p> +<p>‘He’ll be nasty and mean, I daresay,’ said Ida. +‘What does he say? I hadn’t time to see.’</p> +<p>Herbert read from the neat, formal, distinct writing: “I do not +yet know what is in my power, nor what means I may be able to command; but +I hope to make your position more comfortable and to give my nephew and +nieces a really superior education. You had better, however, not take +any steps till you hear from me again.” There, Ida, lots of +schooling, that’s all.’</p> +<p><!-- page 12--><a name="page12"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +12</span>‘Nonsense, Bertie; he must—if he is a lord, what are +we?’</p> +<p>Hunger postponed this great question for a little while; but dinner had +been delayed till the afternoon school hour had passed, and indeed the +young people agreed that they were far above going to their present +teachers any more.</p> +<p>‘We must acquire a few accomplishments,’ said Ida. +‘Uncle never would afford me lessons on the piano—such a shame; +but he can’t refuse me now. Dancing lessons, too, we will have; +and then, oh, Conny! we will go to Court, and how they will admire +us!’</p> +<p>At which Herbert burst out laughing loudly, and his mother rebuked +him. ‘You will be a nobleman, Herbert, and your sisters a +nobleman’s sisters. Why should they not go to Court like the +best of them?’</p> +<p>‘That’s all my eye!’ said Herbert. ‘The +governor has got a young woman of his own, hasn’t he?’</p> +<p>‘That dowdy old teacher!’ said Ida. ‘Of course +he won’t marry her now.’</p> +<p>‘She will be artful enough to try to hold him to it, you may +depend on it,’ said Mrs. Morton; ‘but I shall take care he +knows what a shame and disgrace it would be. Oh no; he will not +dare.’</p> +<p>‘She is awfully old,’ said Ida.</p> +<p>‘Not near so old as Miss Pottle, who was married yesterday,’ +said Constance, who, at the time of her father’s death, and at other +times when the presence of a young child was felt to be inconvenient at +home, had stayed with her grandmother at Hurminster, and had grown fond of +Miss Marshall.</p> +<p><!-- page 13--><a name="page13"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +13</span>‘Don’t talk about what you know nothing about, +Constance,’ broke in her mother. ‘Your uncle, Lord +Northmoor, ain’t going to lower and demean himself by dragging a mere +school teacher up into the peerage, to cut out poor Herbert and all his +family. There’s that bell again! I shall go and let Mrs. +Leeson know how we are situated, and that I shall give her notice one of +these days. Clear the table, girls; we don’t know who may be +dropping in.’</p> +<p>This done, chiefly by Constance, the sisters put on their hats, and +sallied forth with their astounding news to such of their friends as were +within reach, and by the time they had finished their expedition they were +convinced of their own nobility, and prepared to be called Lady Ida and +Lady Constance Northmoor on the spot.</p> +<p>When they came in they found the parlour being prepared for company, and +were sent to procure sausages and muffins for tea. Mrs. Morton had, +on reflection, decided that it was inexpedient to answer her brother-in-law +till she had ascertained, as she said, her just rights, and she had invited +to tea Mr. and Mrs. Rollstone and, to Constance’s delight, his little +daughter Rose, their neighbours a few doors off; but as Rose was attending +classes, it had been useless to go to her before.</p> +<p>Mr. Rollstone was a great authority, for he had spent the best part of +his life in what he termed the first families of the highest circles. +He had been hall boy to a duke, footman to a viscountess, valet to an earl, +butler to a right honourable baronet, M.P., and when he had retired on the +death of the baronet and marriage with the housekeeper he had <!-- page +14--><a name="page14"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 14</span>brought away a +red volume, by name <i>Burke’s Peerage</i>, by which, as well as by +his previous knowledge, he was enabled to serve as an oracle respecting all +owners of yachts worthy of consideration. If their names were not +recorded in that book, he scorned them as ‘<i>parvenoos</i>,’ +however perfect their vessels might be in the eyes of mariners. The +edition was indeed a quarter of a century old, but he had kept it up to +date, by marking in neatly all the births, deaths, and marriages from the +<i>Gazette</i>—his daily study. His daughter, a nice, +modest-looking girl of fourteen, Constance’s chief friend, came +too.</p> +<p>His wife was detained by her lodgers, but when he rolled in, with the +book under his arm, there was a certain resemblance between himself and it, +for both were broad and slightly dilapidated—the one from gout, the +other from wear, and the red cover had faded into a nondescript +whity-brown, or browny-white, not unlike the complexion of a close-shaven +face. He was carefully arrayed in evening costume, and was very +choice in his language, being, in fact, much grander than all his +aristocratic masters rolled into one; so that though Mrs. Morton tried to +recollect that she was a great lady and he had been a servant, force of +habit made her feel his condescension when he held out his puffy white +hand; and, with a gracious bend of his yellow-gray head, said, ‘Allow +me to offer my congratulations, Mrs. Morton. I little suspected my +proximity to a lady so nearly allied to the aristocracy.’</p> +<p>‘I am sure you are very kind, Mr. Rollstone. <!-- page +15--><a name="page15"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 15</span>I had no +notion—Ida can tell you I was quite overcome—though when I came +to think of it, my poor, dear Morton always did say he had high +connections, but I always thought it was one of his jokes.’</p> +<p>‘Then as I understand, Mrs. Morton, the lamented deceased was +junior to the present Lord Northmoor?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, poor dear! Oh, if he had but lived and been eldest, he +would have become his honours ever so much better!’</p> +<p>‘And oh, Mr. Rollstone, what are we?’ put in Ida +breathlessly, while Rose squeezed Constance’s hand in schoolgirl +fashion.</p> +<p>‘Indeed, Miss Ida, I fear I cannot flatter you with any change in +your designation. If your respected parent had survived he might have +become the Honourable Charles, but only by special grant from Her +Majesty. It was so in the case of the Honourable Frances Fordingham, +when her brother inherited the title.’</p> +<p>‘Then at least I am an Honourable!’ exclaimed Mrs. +Morton.</p> +<p>‘I am afraid not, Mrs. Morton. I know of no precedent for +such honours being bestowed on a relict; but as I understand that Lord +Northmoor is no longer in his first youth, your son might succeed to the +title, and, in that case, his sisters might be’—he paused for a +word—‘ennobled.’</p> +<p>‘Then does not it really make any difference to us?’ +exclaimed Mrs. Morton.</p> +<p>‘That would rest in the bosom of his lordship,’ said Mr. +Rollstone solemnly.</p> +<p>‘I declare it is an awful shame,’ burst out Ida, while +Constance cooed ‘Dear uncle!’</p> +<p><!-- page 16--><a name="page16"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +16</span>‘Hush, hush, Ida!’ said her mother. ‘Your +uncle has always treated us handsomely, and we have every reason to expect +that he will continue to do so.’</p> +<p>‘He ought to have us to live with him in his house in London, and +take us to Court,’ said Ida. ‘Oh, Mr. Rollstone, is he +not bound to do that?’</p> +<p>And Constance breathed, ‘How delicious!’</p> +<p>Mr. Rollstone perhaps had his doubts of the figures Mrs. and Miss Morton +would cut in society, but he contented himself with saying, ‘It may +be well to moderate your expectations, Miss Ida, and to remember that Lord +Northmoor is not compulsorily bound to consult any interests but his +own.’</p> +<p>‘If he does not, it is perfectly abominable,’ cried Mrs. +Morton, ‘towards his poor, only brother’s children, with +Herbert his next heir-apparent.’</p> +<p>‘Heir-presumptuous,’ solemnly corrected Mr. Rollstone, at +which Ida looked at Constance, but Constance respected Rosie’s +feelings, and would not return her sister’s glance, only blushed, and +sniggered.</p> +<p>‘Heir-apparent is only the eldest son, who cannot be displaced by +any contingency.’</p> +<p>‘And there’s a horrid, little, artful school teacher, who +drew him in years ago—before I was married even,’ said Mrs. +Morton. ‘No doubt she will try to keep him now. Most +likely she always knew what was going to happen. Cannot he be set +free from the entanglement?’</p> +<p>‘Oh!’ gasped Constance.</p> +<p>‘That is serious,’ observed Mr. Rollstone gravely. +<!-- page 17--><a name="page17"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +17</span>‘It would be an unfortunate commencement to have an action +for breach of promise of marriage.’</p> +<p>‘She would never dare,’ said Mrs. Morton. ‘She +is as poor as a rat, and could not do it!’</p> +<p>‘Well, Mrs. Morton,’ said Mr. Rollstone, ‘if I may be +allowed to tender my poor advice, it would be that you should be very +cautious and careful not to give any offence to his lordship, or to utter +what might be reported to him in a sinister manner.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, I know every one has enemies!’ said Mrs. Morton, +tossing her head.</p> +<p>After this disappointment there was rather less interest displayed when +Mr. Rollstone proceeded to track out and explain the whole Northmoor +pedigree, from the great lawyer, Sir Michael Morton, who had gained the +peerage, down to the failure of the direct line, tracing the son from whom +Francis and Charles Morton were descended. Certainly Miss Marshall +must have been wonderfully foresighted if she had engaged herself with a +view to the succession, for at the time it began, the last Lord Northmoor +had two sons and a brother living! There was also a daughter, the +Honourable Bertha Augusta.</p> +<p>‘Is she married?’ demanded Mrs. Morton.</p> +<p>‘It is not marked here, and if it had been mentioned in the +papers, I should not have failed to record it.’</p> +<p>‘And how old is she?’</p> +<p>‘The author of this peerage would never be guilty of the solecism +of recording a lady’s age,’ said Mr. Rollstone gravely; +‘but as the Honourable Arthur was born in 1848, and the Honourable +<!-- page 18--><a name="page18"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +18</span>Michael in 1850, we may infer that the young lady is no longer in +her first youth.’</p> +<p>‘And not married? Nearly Fr—Lord Northmoor’s +age. She must be an old cat who will set her mind on marrying +him,’ sighed Mrs. Morton, ‘and will make him cut all his own +relations.’</p> +<p>‘Then Mary Marshall might be the better lookout,’ said +Ida.</p> +<p>‘She could never be unkind,’ breathed little Constance.</p> +<p>‘There is no knowing,’ said Mr. Rollstone oracularly; +‘but the result of my observations has been that the true high-bred +aristocracy are usually far more affable and condescending than those +elevated from a lower rank.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, I do hope for Miss Marshall,’ said Constance in a +whisper to Rose.</p> +<p>‘Nasty old thing—a horrid old governess,’ returned +Ida; and they tittered, scarcely pausing to hear Mr. Rollstone’s +announcement of the discovery that he had entered the marriage in 1879 of +the Honourable Arthur Michael to Lady Adela Emily, only daughter of the +Earl of Arlington, and the death of the said Honourable Arthur by a +carriage accident four years later.</p> +<p>Then Herbert tumbled in, bringing a scent of tea and tar, and was +greeted with an imploring injunction to brush his hair and wash his +hands—both which operations he declared that he had performed, +spreading out his brown hands, which might be called clean, except for +ingrained streaks of tar. Mr. Rollstone tried to console his mother +by declaring that it was aristocratic to know how to handle <!-- page +19--><a name="page19"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 19</span>the ropes; and +Herbert, sitting among the girls, began, while devouring sausages, to +express his intention of having a yacht, in which Rose should be taken on a +voyage. No, not Ida; she would only make a fool of herself on board; +and besides, she had such horrid sticking-out ears, with a pull at them, +which made her scream, and her mother rebuke him; while Mr. Rollstone +observed that the young gentleman had much to learn if he was to conform to +aristocratic manners, and Herbert under his breath hung aristocratic +manners, and added that he was not to be bored, at any rate, till he was a +lord; and then to salve any shock to his visitor, proceeded to say that his +yacht should be the <i>Rose</i>, and invite her to a voyage.</p> +<p>‘Certainly not till you can behave yourself,’ replied Rose; +and there was a general titter among the young people.</p> +<h2><!-- page 20--><a name="page20"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +20</span>CHAPTER III<br /> +WHAT IS HONOUR?</h2> +<p>‘Here is a bit of news for you,’ said Sir Edward Kenton, as, +after a morning of work with his agent, both came in to the family +luncheon. ‘Mr. Burford tells me that the Northmoor title has +descended on his agent, Morton.’</p> +<p>‘That stick!’ exclaimed George, the son and heir.</p> +<p>‘Not altogether a stick, Mr. Kenton,’ said the bald-headed +gentlemanly agent. ‘He is very worthy and +industrious!’</p> +<p>Frederica Kenton and her brother looked at each other as if this +character were not inconsistent with that of a stick.</p> +<p>‘Poor man!’ said their mother. ‘Is it not a +great misfortune to him?’</p> +<p>‘I should think him sensible and methodical,’ said Sir +Edward. ‘By the way, did you not tell me that it was his +diligence that discovered the clause to which our success was owing in the +Stockpen suit?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, Sir Edward, through his indefatigable diligence in reading +over every document connected <!-- page 21--><a name="page21"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 21</span>with the matter. I take shame to +myself,’ he added, smiling, ‘for it was in a letter that I had +read and put aside, missing that passage.’</p> +<p>‘Then I am under great obligations to him?’ said Sir +Edward.</p> +<p>‘I could also tell of what only came to my knowledge many years +later, and not through himself, of attempts made to tamper with his +integrity, and gain private information from him which he had steadily +baffled.’</p> +<p>‘There must be much in him,’ said Lady Kenton, ‘if +only he is not spoilt!’</p> +<p>‘I am afraid he is heavily weighted,’ said Mr. +Burford. ‘His brother’s widow and children are almost +entirely dependent on him, more so, in my opinion, than he should have +allowed.’</p> +<p>‘Exactly what I should expect from such a sheep,’ said +George Kenton.</p> +<p>‘There is this advantage,’ said the lawyer, ‘it has +prevented his marrying.’</p> +<p>‘At least that fatal step has been averted,’ said the lady, +smiling.</p> +<p>‘But unluckily there is an entanglement, an endless engagement to +a governess at Miss Lang’s.’</p> +<p>‘Oh,’ cried Freda, who once, during a long absence of the +family abroad, had been disposed of at Miss Lang’s, ‘there was +always a kind of whisper among us that Miss Marshall was engaged, though it +was high treason to be supposed to know.’</p> +<p>‘Was that the one you called Creepmouse?’ asked her +brother.</p> +<p>‘George, you should not bring up old misdeeds! She was a +harmless old thing. I believe the tinies <!-- page 22--><a +name="page22"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 22</span>were very fond of her, +but we elders had not much to do with her, only we used to think her +horridly particular.’</p> +<p>‘Does that mean conscientious?’ asked her father.</p> +<p>‘Perhaps it does; and though I was rather a goose then, I really +believe she was very kind, and did not want to be tiresome.’</p> +<p>‘A lady?’ asked her mother.</p> +<p>‘I suppose so, but she was so awfully quiet there was no +knowing.’</p> +<p>‘Poor thing!’ observed Lady Kenton, in a tone of +commiseration.</p> +<p>‘I think Morton told me that she was a clergy-orphan,’ said +Mr. Burford, ‘and considered her as rather above him, for his father +was a ruined farmer and horse-breeder, and I only took him into my office +out of respect for his mother, though I never had a better bargain in my +life. Of course, however, this unlucky engagement cannot +stand.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed!’ said the Baronet drily. ‘Would you +have him begin his career with an act of baseness?’</p> +<p>‘No—no, Sir Edward, I did not mean—’ said Mr. +Burford, rather abashed; ‘but the lady might be worked on to resign +her pretensions, since persistence might not be for the happiness of either +party; and he really ought to marry a lady of fortune, say his cousin, Miss +Morton, for I understand that the Northmoor property was never +considerable. The late Mr. Morton was very extravagant, and there are +heavy burthens on the estate, by the settlement on his widow, Lady Adela, +and on the late Lord’s daughter. Miss Lang tells me likewise +<!-- page 23--><a name="page23"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 23</span>that +Miss Marshall is full of doubts and scruples, and is almost persuaded that +it is incumbent on her to drop the engagement at any cost to herself. +She is very conscientious!’</p> +<p>‘Poor thing!’ sighed more than one voice.</p> +<p>‘It is a serious question,’ continued the solicitor, +‘and I own that I think it would be better for both if she were +induced to release him.’</p> +<p>‘Has she no relations of her own?’</p> +<p>‘None that I ever heard of. She has always spent her +holidays at Miss Lang’s.’</p> +<p>‘Well, Mr. Burford,’ exclaimed Freda, ‘I think you are +frightfully cruel to my poor little Creep-mouse.’</p> +<p>‘Nay, Freda,’ said her mother; ‘all that Mr. Burford +is considering is whether it would be for the happiness or welfare of +either to be raised to a position for which she is not prepared.’</p> +<p>‘I thought you were on her side, mother.’</p> +<p>‘There are no sides, Freda,’ said her father +reprovingly. ‘The whole must rest with the persons chiefly +concerned, and no one ought to interfere or influence them in either +direction.’ Having thus rebuked Mr. Burford quite as much as +his daughter, he added, ‘Where is Lord Northmoor now?’</p> +<p>‘He wrote to me from Northmoor after the funeral, Sir Edward, +saying that he would return on Saturday. Of course, though three +months’ notice would be due, I should not expect it, as I told him at +first; but he assures me that he will not leave me till my arrangements for +supplying his place are complete, and he will assist me as +usual.’</p> +<p><!-- page 24--><a name="page24"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +24</span>‘It is very proper of him,’ said Sir Edward.</p> +<p>‘It will be awkward in some ways,’ said Mr. Burford. +‘Yet I do not know what I could otherwise have done, he had become so +necessary to me.’</p> +<p>‘Stick or no stick,’ was the family comment of the Kentons, +‘there must be something in the man, if only his head is not +turned.’</p> +<p>‘Which,’ observed Sir Edward, ‘is not possible to a +stick with a real head, but only too easy to a sham one.’</p> +<h2><!-- page 25--><a name="page25"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +25</span>CHAPTER IV<br /> +HONOURS WANING</h2> +<p>‘And who is the man?’ So asked a lady in deep mourning +of another still more becraped, as they sat together in the darkened room +of a Northmoor house on the day before the funeral.</p> +<p>The speaker had her bonnet by her side, and showed a kindly, clever, +middle-aged face. She was Mrs. Bury, a widow, niece of the late Lord; +the other was his daughter, Bertha Morton, a few years younger. She +was not tearful, but had dark rings round her eyes, and looked haggard and +worn.</p> +<p>‘The man? I never heard of him till this terrible loss of +poor little Mikey.’</p> +<p>‘Then did he put in a claim?’</p> +<p>‘Oh no, but Hailes knew about him, and so, indeed, did my +father. It seems that three generations ago there was a son who +followed the instincts of our race further than usual, and married a +jockey’s daughter, or something of that sort. He was set up in +a horse-breeding farm and cut the connection; but it seems that there was +always a sort of <!-- page 26--><a name="page26"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 26</span>communication of family events, so that Hailes +knew exactly where to look for an heir.’</p> +<p>‘Not a jockey!’</p> +<p>‘Oh no, nothing so diverting. That would be fun!’ +Bertha said, with a laugh that had no merriment in it. ‘He is a +clerk—an attorney’s clerk! What do you think of that, +Lettice?’</p> +<p>‘Better than the jockey.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, very respectable, they say’—with a sound of +disgust.</p> +<p>‘Is he young?’</p> +<p>‘No; caught early, something might be done with him, but +there’s not that hope. He is not much less than forty. +Fancy a creature that has pettifogged, as an underling too, all his +life.’</p> +<p>‘Married?’</p> +<p>‘Thank goodness, no, and all the mammas in London and in the +country will be running after him. Not that he will be any great +catch, for of course he has nothing—and the poor place will be +brought to a low ebb.’</p> +<p>‘And what do you mean to do, Birdie?’</p> +<p>‘Get out of sight of it all as fast as possible! Forget that +horses ever existed except as means of locomotion,’ and Bertha got up +and walked towards the window as if restless with pain, then came back.</p> +<p>‘I shall get rid of all I can—and come to live as near as I +can to Whitechapel, and slum! I’m free now.’ Then +looking at her cousin’s sorrowful, wistful face, ‘Work, work, +work, that’s all that’s good for me. Soberly, Lettice, +this is my plan,’ she added, sitting down again. ‘I know +how it all is left. This new man is to have enough to go on <!-- page +27--><a name="page27"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 27</span>upon, so as not +to be too beggarly and bring the title into contempt. He is only +coming for to-morrow, having to wind up his business; but I shall stay on +till he comes back, and settle what to do with the things here. Adela +and I have our choice of them, and don’t want to leave the place too +bare. Then I shall sell the London house, and all the rest of the +encumbrances, and set up for myself.’</p> +<p>‘Not with Adela?’</p> +<p>‘Oh no; Adela means to stick by the old place, and I +couldn’t do that for a constancy—oh no,’ with a +shudder.</p> +<p>‘Does she?’ in some wonder.</p> +<p>‘Her own people don’t want her. The Arlingtons are +with her now, but I fancy she would rather be sitting with us—or +alone best of all, poor dear. You see, she is a mixture of the angel +that is too much for some people. How she got it I don’t know, +not among us, I should think, though she came to us straight out of the +schoolroom, or I fancy she would never have come at all. But oh, +Lettice, if you could have seen her how patient she has been throughout +with my father, reading him all about every race, just because she thought +it was less gall and wormwood to her than to me, and going out to the +stables to satisfy him about his dear Night Hawk, and all the rest of +it. When she was away for that fortnight over poor little Michael, I +found to the full what she had been, and then after that, back she comes +again, as white as a sheet, but all she ever was to my father, and more +wonderful than all, setting herself to reconcile him to the notion of this +new heir of his—and I do believe, if my father <!-- page 28--><a +name="page28"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 28</span>had not so suddenly +grown worse, she would have made us have him up to be introduced—all +out of rectitude and duty, you know, for Adela is the shyest of mortals, +and recoils by nature from the underbred far more than we do. In +fact, I rather like it. It gives me a sensation. I had ten +times rather this man were a common sailor, or a tinker, than just a stupid +stick of a clerk!’</p> +<p>‘Then Adela means to stay at the Dower House?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, she has rooted herself there by all her love to her poor +people, and I fancy, too, that she does not want to bring Amice up among +all the Arlington children, who are not after her pattern, so she intends +to bear the brunt of it, and not leave Northmoor, unless the new-comers +turn out unbearable.’</p> +<p>‘She goes away with her brother now.’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes, she must, and Lord Arlington is fond of her in a +way! Can’t you stay on with me, Lettice?’</p> +<p>‘I wish I could, my dear Birdie, but I am anxious about Mary; I +don’t think I must stay later than Sunday.’</p> +<p>‘Yes; you are too devoted a mother for me to absorb. Never +mind, you will be in London, and I shall soon be within reach of you. +You are a comfortable person, Lettice.’</p> +<h2><!-- page 29--><a name="page29"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +29</span>CHAPTER V<br /> +THE PEER</h2> +<p>Poor Miss Lang! After all her care that her young pupils’ +heads should not be turned by folly about marriage and noblemen, the very +event she had always viewed as most absurdly improbable had really +occurred, and it was impossible to keep it a secret; though Miss Marshall +did her very best to appear as usual, heard lessons with her accustomed +diligence, conducted the daily exercises, watched over the instructions by +masters, and presided over the needlework. But she grew whiter, more +pinched, and her little face more mouse-like every day, and the elder girls +whispered fancies about her. ‘She had no doubt heard that Lord +Northmoor had broken it off!’—‘A little poky +attorney’s clerk, of course he would.’—‘Poor dear +thing, she will go into a consumption! Didn’t you hear her +cough last night?’—‘And then we’ll all throw +wreaths into her grave!’—‘Oh, that was only Elsie +Harris!’—‘Nonsense, Mabel, I’m sure it was her, +poor thing. Prenez garde, la vieille Dragonne vient.’</p> +<p>That Lord Northmoor was to come back by the <!-- page 30--><a +name="page30"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 30</span>mail train was known, +and Miss Lang had sent a polite note to invite him to afternoon tea on the +Sunday. The church to which he had been for many years devoted was a +district one, and Miss Lang’s establishment had their places in the +old parish church, so there was not much chance of meeting in the morning, +though one pupil observed to another that ‘she should think him a +beast if they did not meet him on the way to church.’</p> +<p>It is to be feared that she had to form this opinion, but on the other +hand, by the early dinner-time, tidings pervaded the school that Lord +Northmoor had been at St. Basil’s, and sung in his surplice just as +if nothing had happened! The more sensational party of girls further +averred that he had been base enough to walk thither with Miss Burford, and +that Miss Marshall had been crying all church time. Whether this was +true or not, it was certain that she ate scarcely any dinner, and that Miss +Lang insisted on administering a glass of wine.</p> +<p>Moreover, when dinner was finally over, she quietly crept up to her own +room, and resumed her church-going bonnet—a little black net, with a +long-enduring bunch of violets. Then she knelt down and entreated, +‘Oh, show me Thy will, and give me strength and judgment to do that +which may be best for him, and may neither of us be beguiled by the world +or by ambition.’</p> +<p>Then she peeped out to make sure that the coast was clear—not that +she was not quite free to go where she pleased, but she dreaded eyes and +titters—out at the door, to the corner of the lane where for many a +Sunday afternoon there had been a quiet <!-- page 31--><a +name="page31"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 31</span>tryste and walk. +Her heart beat so as almost to choke her, and she hardly durst raise her +eyes to see if the accustomed figure awaited her. Was it the +accustomed figure? Her eyes dazzled so under her little holland +parasol that she could hardly see, and though there was a movement towards +her, she felt unable to look up till she heard the words, ‘Mary, at +last!’ and felt the clasp of the hand.</p> +<p>‘Oh, Frank—I mean—’</p> +<p>‘You mean Frank, your own Frank; nothing else to you.’</p> +<p>‘Ought you?’ And as she murmured she looked up. +It was the same, but still a certain change was there, almost +indescribable, but still to be felt, as if a line of toil and weariness had +passed from the cheek. The quiet gray eyes were brighter and more +eager, the bearing as if ten years had been taken from the forty, and +though Mary did not perceive the details, the dress showing that his +mourning had not come from the country town tailor and outfitter, even the +soft hat a very different article from that which was wont to replace the +well-cherished tall one of Sunday mornings.</p> +<p>‘I had not much time,’ he said, ‘but I thought this +would be of the most use,’ and he began clasping on her arm a gold +bracelet with a tiny watch on it. ‘I thought you would like +best to keep our old ring.’</p> +<p>‘If—if I ought to keep it at all,’ she faltered.</p> +<p>‘Now, Mary, I will not have an afternoon spoilt by any folly of +that sort,’ he said.</p> +<p>‘Is it folly? Nay, listen. Should you not get <!-- +page 32--><a name="page32"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 32</span>on far far +better without such a poor little stupid thing as I am?’</p> +<p>‘I always thought I was the stupid one.’</p> +<p>‘You—but you are a man.’</p> +<p>‘So much the worse!’</p> +<p>‘Yes; but, Frank, don’t you see what I mean? This +thing has come to you, and you can’t help it, and you are descended +from these people really; but it would be choice for me, and I could not +bear to feel that you were ashamed of me.’</p> +<p>‘Never!’ he exclaimed. ‘Look here, Mary. +What should I do without you to come back to and be at rest with? All +the time I was talking to those ladies and going through those fine rooms, +I was thinking of the one comfort I should have when I have you all to +myself. See,’ he added, going over the arguments that he had no +doubt prepared, ‘it is not as if you were like poor Emma. You +are a lady all over, and have always lived with ladies; and yet you are not +too grand for me. Think what you would leave me to—to be +wretched by myself, or else— I could never be at home with +those high-bred folk. I felt it every moment, though Miss Morton was +very kind, and even wanted me to call her Birdie. I <i>did</i> feel +thankful I could tell her I was engaged.’</p> +<p>‘You did!’</p> +<p>‘Yes; and she was very kind, and said she was glad of it, and +hoped soon to know you.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Frank dear, I am sure no one ever was more really +noble-hearted than you,’ she almost sobbed; ‘you know how I +shall always feel it; but yet, but yet I can’t help thinking you +ought to leave <!-- page 33--><a name="page33"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +33</span>it a little more unsettled till you have looked about a little and +seen whether I should be a very great disadvantage to you.’</p> +<p>‘Seen whether I could find such a dear, unselfish little woman, +eh? No, no, Mary, put all that out of your head. We have not +loved one another for twenty years for a trumpery title to come between us +now! And you need not fear being too well off for the position. +The agent, Hailes, has been continually apologising to me for the smallness +of the means. He says either we must have no house in London, or else +let Northmoor. He cannot tell me yet exactly what income we shall +have, but the farms don’t let well, and there is not much ready +money.’</p> +<p>‘Every one says you ought to marry a lady of fortune.’</p> +<p>‘My dear Mary, to what would you condemn me? What sort of +lady of fortune do you think would take an old stick like me for the sake +of being my Lady? I really shall begin to believe you are tired of +it.’</p> +<p>‘Stick! oh no, no. Staff, if’—and the manner in +which she began to cling was answer full and complete; indeed, as she saw +that her resistance had begun to hurt him as much as herself, she felt +herself free to throw herself into the interests, and ask, ‘Is +Northmoor a very nice place?’</p> +<p>‘Not so pretty as Cotes Kenton outside. A great white house, +with a portico for carriages to drive under, and not kept up very well, +patches of plaster coming off; but there is a beautiful view over the +woods, with a purple moor beyond.’</p> +<p><!-- page 34--><a name="page34"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +34</span>‘And inside?’</p> +<p>‘Well, rather dreary, waiting for you to make it homelike. +They have not lived there much for some time past. Lady Adela has +lived in the Dower House, and will continue there.’</p> +<p>‘Did you see much of them?’</p> +<p>‘Not Lady Adela. Poor lady, she had her own relations with +her. She had not by any means recovered the loss of her little boy, +and I can quite understand that it must have been too trying for her to see +me in his place. I understand from Hailes—’</p> +<p>‘Your Mr. Burford,’ said Mary, smiling.</p> +<p>‘That she is a very refined, rather exclusive and domestic lady, +devoted to her little girl, and extremely kind to the poor. Indeed, +so is Miss Morton, but she prefers the London poor, and is altogether +rather flighty, and what Hailes calls an unconventional young lady. +There was a very nice lady with her, Mrs. Bury, the daughter of a brother +of the late Lord, a widow, and very kind and friendly. Both were very +good-natured, Miss Morton always acted hostess, and talked +continually.’</p> +<p>‘About her father?’</p> +<p>‘Oh no, I do not think he had been a very affectionate father, and +their habits and tastes had been very different. Lady Adela seems to +have latterly been more to him. Miss Morton was chiefly concerned to +advise me about politics and social questions, and how to deal with the +estate and the tenants.’</p> +<p>He seemed somewhat to shudder at the recollection, and Mary certainly +conceived a dread of the <!-- page 35--><a name="page35"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 35</span>ladies of Northmoor. It was further +elicited that he meant to help Mr. Burford through all the work and +arrangements consequent on his own succession, indeed, to remain at his +post either till a successor was found, or the junior sufficiently +indoctrinated to take the place. Of course, as he said, six +months’ notice was due, but Mr. Burford has waived this. During +this time he meant to go to see ‘poor Emma’ at Westhaven, but +it was not an expedition he seemed much to relish, and he wished to defer +it till he could definitely tell what it would be in his power to do for +her and her children, for whose education he was really anxious, rejoicing +that they were still young enough to be moulded.</p> +<p>Then came the tea at Miss Lang’s—a stately meal, when the +two ladies were grand; Lord Northmoor became shy and frozen, monosyllabic, +and only spasmodically able to utter; and Mary felt it in all her nerves +and subsided into her smallest self, under the sense that nobody ever would +do him justice.</p> +<h2><!-- page 36--><a name="page36"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +36</span>CHAPTER VI<br /> +THE WEIGHT OF HONOURS</h2> +<p>The next was a fortnight of strange and new experiences. Lord +Northmoor spent most of his days over the papers in the office, so much his +usual self, that Mr. Burford generally forgot, and called to him as +‘Morton’ so naturally that after the first the other clerks +left off sniggering.</p> +<p>There Sir Edward called on him, and in an interview in his sitting-room +at the office asked him to a quiet dinner, together with the solicitor; but +this was hardly a success, for Mr. Burford, being at home with the family, +did all the talking, and Frank could not but feel in the presence of his +master, and had not a word to say for himself, especially as George and +Freda looked critical, and as if ‘That stick’ was in their +minds, if not on their lips. The only time when he approached a thaw +was when in the hot summer evening Lady Kenton made him her companion in a +twilight stroll on the terraces, when he looked at the roses with delight, +and volunteered a question about the best sorts, saying that the garden at +Northmoor had been much <!-- page 37--><a name="page37"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 37</span>neglected, and he wanted to have it in good +order, ‘that is’—blushing and correcting +himself—‘if we can live there.’</p> +<p>Lady Kenton noted the ‘we’ and was sorry to be here +interrupted. ‘We shall do nothing with him till we get him +alone,’ she said. ‘We must have him apart from Mr. +Burford.’</p> +<p>Before this, however, they had to meet him at a very splendid party, +given with all the resources of the Burford family at their villa, when the +county folks, who had no small curiosity to see the new peer, were invited +in full force, and the poor peer felt capable of fewer words than ever to +throw at them.</p> +<p>Lady Kenton ventured on asking Mrs. Burford to introduce her to Miss +Marshall, taking such presence for granted.</p> +<p>‘Oh, Lady Kenton, really now I did not think that foolish affair +should be encouraged. It is such an unfortunate thing for him; and as +Miss Lang and I agreed, it would be so much better for both of them if it +were given up.’</p> +<p>‘Is there anything against her?’</p> +<p>‘Oh no, not at all; only that, poor thing, she is quite unfitted +for the position, and between ourselves, in the condition of the property, +it is really incumbent on his Lordship to marry a lady of fortune. At +his age he cannot afford romance,’ she added with a laugh, being in +fact rather inferior to her husband in tone, or perhaps in manners. +Indeed, she was of all others the person who most shrivelled up the man +whom she had always treated like a poor dependent, till her politeness +became still more <!-- page 38--><a name="page38"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 38</span>embarrassing. Among all the party, Sir +Edward and Lady Kenton were those with whom he was most nearly at ease, for +they had nothing to revoke in their manners towards him, and could, without +any change, treat him as an equal whom they respected; nor did they try to +force him forward into general conversation—as did his +host—with the best intentions.</p> +<p>Lady Kenton, under cover of Miss Burford’s piano, asked him +whether she might call on Miss Marshall, and saw him flush with gratitude +and pleasure, as he answered, ‘It will be very kind in +you.’</p> +<p>Lady Kenton knew enough of the ways of the school to understand when to +make her visit, so as to have a previous conversation with Miss Lang, whom +of course she already knew. That lady received her in one of the +drawing-rooms, the folding doors into the other were shut.</p> +<p>‘I have told Miss Marshall,’ said Miss Lang, ‘that the +room is always at her service to receive Lord Northmoor, though, in fact, +he never comes till after business hours.’</p> +<p>‘He is behaving very well.’</p> +<p>‘Very honourably indeed; but poor Miss Marshall is in a very +distressing position.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed! Is she not very happy in his constancy?’</p> +<p>‘She is in great doubt and difficulty,’ said Miss Lang, +‘and we really hardly know how to advise her. She seems sure of +his affection, but she shrinks from entering on a position for which she is +so unfit.’</p> +<p><!-- page 39--><a name="page39"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +39</span>‘Is she really unfit?’</p> +<p>Miss Lang hesitated. ‘She is a complete lady, and as good +and conscientious a creature as ever existed; but you see, Lady Kenton, her +whole life has been spent here, ever since she was sixteen, she has known +nothing beyond the schoolroom, and how she is ever to fulfil the duties of +a peeress, and the head of a large establishment, I really cannot +see. It might be just misery to her, and to him, too.’</p> +<p>‘Has she good sense?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, very fair sense. We can trust to her judgment +implicitly in dealing with the girls, and she teaches well, but she is not +at all clever, and could never shine.’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps a person who wanted to shine might be +embarrassing,’ said Lady Kenton, rather amused.</p> +<p>‘Well, it might be so. The poor man is certainly no star +himself, but surely he needs some one who would draw him out, and push him +forward, make a way in society, in fact.’</p> +<p>‘That might not be for his domestic happiness.’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps not, but your Ladyship has not seen what a poor little +insignificant creature she is—though, indeed, we are both very fond +of her, and should be very much relieved not to think we ought to +strengthen her scruples. For, indeed,’ and tears actually came +into the good lady’s eyes, ‘I am sure that though she would +release him for his good, that it would break her heart. Shall I call +her? Ah!’ as a voice began to become very audible on the other +side of the doors, ‘she has a visitor.’</p> +<p>‘Not Lord Northmoor. It is a woman’s voice, and a loud +one.’</p> +<p><!-- page 40--><a name="page40"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +40</span>Presently, indeed, there was a tone that made Lady Kenton say, +‘People do scent things very fast. It must be some one wanting +to apply for patronage.’</p> +<p>‘I am a little afraid it is that sister-in-law of his,’ said +Miss Lang, lowering her voice. ‘I saw her once at the choral +festival—and—and I wasn’t delighted.’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps I had better come another day,’ said Lady +Kenton. ‘We seem to be almost listening.’</p> +<p>Even as the lady was taking her leave, the words were plainly +heard—</p> +<p>‘Artful, mean-spirited, time-serving viper as you are, bent on +dragging him down to destruction!’</p> +<h2><!-- page 41--><a name="page41"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +41</span>CHAPTER VII<br /> +MORTONS AND MANNERS</h2> +<p>‘Shillyshally,’ quoth Mrs. Charles Morton over her +brother-in-law’s letter. ‘Does he think a mother is to be +put off like that?’</p> +<p>So she arrayed herself in panoply of glittering jet and nodding plumes, +and set forth by train to Hurminster to assert her rights, and those of her +children, armed with a black sunshade, and three +pocket-handkerchiefs. She did not usually wear mourning, but this was +an assertion of her nobility.</p> +<p>In his sitting-room, wearing his old office coat, pale, wearied, and +worried, the Frank Morton, ‘who could be turned round the finger of +any one who knew how,’ appeared at her summons.</p> +<p>She met him with an effusive kiss of congratulation. +‘Dearest Frank! No, I must not say Frank! I could hardly +believe my eyes when I read the news.’</p> +<p>‘Nor I,’ said he.</p> +<p>‘Nor the dear children. Oh, if your dear brother were only +here! We are longing to hear all about it,’ she said, as she +settled herself in the arm-chair, a relic of his mother.</p> +<p><!-- page 42--><a name="page42"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 42</span>He +repeated what he had told Mary about the family, the Park, and the London +house.</p> +<p>‘I suppose there is a fine establishment of servants and +carriages?’</p> +<p>‘The servants are to be paid off. As to the carriages and +the rest of the personal property, they go to Miss Morton; but the +executors are arranging about my paying for such furniture as I shall +want.’</p> +<p>‘And jewels?’</p> +<p>‘There are some heirlooms, but I have not seen them. How are +the children?’</p> +<p>‘Very well; very much delighted. Dear Herbert is the noblest +boy. He was ready to begin on his navigation studies this next term, +but of course there is no occasion for that now.’</p> +<p>‘It is a pity, with his taste for the sea, that he is too old to +be a naval cadet.’</p> +<p>‘The army is a gentleman’s profession, if he must have +one.’</p> +<p>‘I must consider what is best for him.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, my Lord,’ impressively. ‘I am hoping to +know what you mean to do for your dear brother’s dear orphans,’ +and her handkerchief went up to her eyes.</p> +<p>‘I hope at any rate to give Herbert the education of a gentleman, +and to send his sisters to good schools. How are they getting +on?’</p> +<p>‘Dear Ida, she is that clever and superior that a master in music +and French is all she would want. Besides, you know, she is that +delicate. Connie is the bookish one; she is so eager about the +examination that she will go on at her school; though I <!-- page 43--><a +name="page43"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 43</span>would have taken her +away from such a low place at once.’</p> +<p>‘It is a good school, and will have given her a good +foundation. I must see what may be best for them.’</p> +<p>‘And, of course, you will put us in a situation becoming the +family of your dear brother,’ she added, with another application of +the handkerchief.</p> +<p>‘I mean to do what I can, you may be sure, but at present it is +impossible to name any amount. I neither know what income is coming +to me, nor what will be my expenses. I meant to come and see you as +soon as there was anything explicit to tell you; but of course this first +year there will be much less in hand than later.’</p> +<p>‘Well,’ she said, pouting, ‘I can put up with +something less in the meantime, for of course your poor dear +brother’s widow and children are your first consideration, and even a +nobleman as a bachelor cannot have so many expenses.’</p> +<p>‘I shall not long continue a bachelor,’ was the answer, +given with a sort of shy resolution.</p> +<p>‘Now, Lord Northmoor! You don’t mean to say that you +intend to go on with that ridiculous affair; when, if you marry at all, it +ought to be one who will bring something handsome into the +family.’</p> +<p>‘Once for all, Emma, I will hear no more on that subject. A +twenty years’ engagement is not lightly to be broken.’</p> +<p>‘A wretched little teacher,’ she began, but she was cut +short.</p> +<p>‘Remember, I will hear no more of this, and’ (nothing but +despair of other means could have <!-- page 44--><a name="page44"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 44</span>inspired him) ‘it is for your own +interest to abstain from insulting my future wife and myself by such +remonstrances.’</p> +<p>Even then she muttered, ‘Very hard! Not even +good-looking.’</p> +<p>‘That is as one may think,’ said he, mentally contrasting +the flaunting, hardened complexion before him with the sweet countenance he +had never perceived to be pinched or faded; and as he heard something +between a scornful sniff and a sob, he added, ‘I am wanted in the +office, so, if you have no more to say of any consequence, I must leave +you, and Hannah shall give you some tea.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, oh, that you should leave your poor brother’s widow in +this way!’ and she melted into tears and sobs.</p> +<p>‘I can’t help it, Emma,’ he said, distressed and +perplexed. ‘They want me about some business of Mr. +Claughton’s, and I can’t keep them waiting. These are +office hours, you know. Have some tea, and I will come to you +again.’</p> +<p>But Mrs. Emma swallowed her sobs as soon as he was gone, and instead of +waiting for the tea, set forth for Miss Lang’s. On asking for +Miss Marshall she was shown into the drawing-room, where, after she had +waited a few minutes, nursing her wrath to keep it warm, the small figure +appeared, whom she had no hesitation in accosting thus—</p> +<p>‘Now, Miss Marshall, do I understand that you are resolved to +attempt thrusting yourself on his Lordship, Lord Northmoor’s +family?’</p> +<p>Mary, entirely taken by surprise, could only falter, ‘I can only +do whatever he wishes.’</p> +<p><!-- page 45--><a name="page45"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +45</span>‘That is just a mere pretence. I wonder you are not +ashamed to play on his honourable feelings, when you know everything is +changed, and that it is absolutely ridiculous and derogatory for a peer of +the realm to stoop to a mere drudge of a teacher.’</p> +<p>‘It is,’ owned Mary; but she went back to her formulary, +‘it must be as he wishes.’</p> +<p>‘If he is infatuated enough to pretend to wish it, I tell you it +is your simple duty to refuse him.’</p> +<p>Whatever might be Mary’s own views of her duty, to have it +inculcated in such a manner stirred her whole soul into opposition, which +was shown, not in words, but in a tiny curve of the lips, such as +infuriated her visitor, so that vulgarity and violence were under no +restraint, and whether all self-command was lost in passion, or whether +there was an idea that bullying might gain the day, Mrs. Morton’s +voice rose into a shrill scream as she denounced the nasty, mean-spirited +viper, worming herself—</p> +<p>The folding doors suddenly opened and in a dignified tone Miss Lang +announced, ‘Lady Kenton wishes to be introduced to you, Miss +Marshall.’</p> +<p>Mary made her little formal bend as well as her trembling limbs would +allow her. Her cheeks were hot, her eyes swam, her hand shook as Lady +Kenton took it kindly, while Mrs. Morton, too strong in her own convictions +to perceive how the land lay, exclaimed, ‘Your Ladyship is come for +the same purpose as me, to let Miss Marshall know how detrimental and +improper it is in her to persist in holding my brother, Lord Northmoor, to +the unfortunate engagement she inveigled him into.’</p> +<p><!-- page 46--><a name="page46"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 46</span>To +utter this with moderate coolness cost such an effort that she thought Mr. +Rollstone could not have done it better, and was astonished when Lady +Kenton replied, ‘Indeed, I came to have the pleasure of +congratulating Miss Marshall on, if it be not impertinent to say so, a +beautiful and rare perseverance and constancy being rewarded.’</p> +<p>‘As if she had not known what she was about,’ muttered Mrs. +Morton, not even yet quite confounded, but as she saw the lady lay another +hand over that of still trembling Mary, she added, ‘Well, if that is +the case, my lady, and she is to be encouraged in her obstinacy, I have no +more to say, except that it is a cruel shame on his poor dear +brother’s children, that—that he has made so much of, and have +the best right—’ and she began to sob again.</p> +<p>‘Come,’ said Miss Lang, as if talking to a naughty girl, +‘if you are overcome like that, you had better come away.’</p> +<p>Wherewith authoritative habits made it possible to her to get Mrs. +Morton out of the room; while Mary, well used to self-restraint, was +struggling with choking tears, but when warm-hearted Lady Kenton drew her +close and kissed her, they began to flow uncontrollably, so that she could +only gasp, ‘Oh, I beg your pardon, my lady!’</p> +<p>‘Never mind,’ was the answer; ‘I don’t +wonder! There’s no word for that language but +brutal.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, don’t,’ was Mary’s cry. ‘She is +<i>his</i>, Lord Northmoor’s sister-in-law, and he has done +everything for her ever since his brother’s death.’</p> +<p>‘That is no reason she should speak to you in <!-- page 47--><a +name="page47"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 47</span>that way. I must +ask you to excuse me, but we could not help hearing, she was so loud, and +then I felt impelled to break in.’</p> +<p>‘It was very very kind! But oh, I wish I knew whether she is +not in the right after all!’</p> +<p>‘I am sure Lord Northmoor is deeply attached—quite in +earnest,’ said Lady Kenton, feeling rather as if she was taking a +liberty.</p> +<p>‘Yes, I know it would grieve him most dreadfully, if it came to an +end now, dear fellow. I know it would break my heart, too, but never +mind that, I would go away, out of his reach, and he might get over +it. Would it not be better than his being always ashamed of an +inferior, incompetent creature, always dragging after him?’</p> +<p>‘I do not think you can be either, after what my daughter and Miss +Lang have told me.’</p> +<p>‘You see, it is not even as if I had been a governess in a private +family, I have always been here. I know nothing about servants, or +great houses, or society, not so much as our least little girl, who has a +home.’</p> +<p>‘May I tell you what I think, my dear,’ said Lady Kenton, +greatly touched. ‘You have nothing to unlearn, and there is +nothing needful to the position but what any person of moderate ability and +good sense can acquire, and I am quite sure that Lord Northmoor would be +far less happy without you, even in the long-run, besides the distress you +would cause him now. It is not a brilliant, showy person that he +needs, but one to understand and make him a real home.’</p> +<p>‘That is what he is always telling me,’ said Mary, somewhat +cheered.</p> +<p><!-- page 48--><a name="page48"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +48</span>‘Yes, and he could not help showing where his heart +is,’ said the lady. ‘Now the holidays are near, are they +not?’</p> +<p>‘The 11th of July.’</p> +<p>‘Then, if you have no other plans, will you come and stay with +me? We are very quiet people, but you would have an opportunity of +understanding something of the kind of life.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, how very kind of you! Nobody has been so good to +me.’</p> +<p>‘I think I can help you in some of the difficulties if you will +let me,’ said Lady Kenton, quite convinced herself, and leaving a +much happier woman than she had found.</p> +<h2><!-- page 49--><a name="page49"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +49</span>CHAPTER VIII<br /> +SECOND THOUGHTS</h2> +<p>Though Miss Lang was shocked and indignant at Mrs. Morton’s +violence, she was a wise woman, and felt that it would be better tact not +to let such a person depart without an attempt at pacification; so she did +her best at dignified soothing, and listened to a good deal of grumbling +and lamentation.</p> +<p>She contrived, however, to give the impression that as things stood, +Mrs. Morton would be far wiser to make no more resistance, but to consult +family peace by accepting Miss Marshall, who, she assured the visitor, was +a very kind and excellent person, not likely to influence Lord Northmoor +against his own family, except on great provocation.</p> +<p>Mrs. Morton actually yielded so far as to declare she had only spoken +for her dear brother-in-law’s own good, and that since he was so +infatuated, she supposed, for her dear children’s sake, she must +endure it. Having no desire to encounter him again, she went off by +the next train, leaving a message that she had had tea at Miss +Lang’s. She <!-- page 50--><a name="page50"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 50</span>related at home to her expectant daughter that +Lord Northmoor had grown ‘that high and stuck-up, there was no +speaking to him, and that there Miss Marshall was an artful puss, as knew +how to play her cards and get <i>in</i> with the quality.’</p> +<p>‘I wish you had taken me, ma,’ said Ida, ‘I should +have known what to say to them.’</p> +<p>‘I can’t tell, child, you might only have made it +worse. I see how it is now, and we must be mum, or it may be the +worse for us. He says he will do what he can for us, but I know what +that means. She will hold the purse-strings, and make him meaner than +he is already. He will never know how to spend his fortune now he has +got it! If your poor, dear pa had only been alive now, he would never +have let you be wronged.’</p> +<p>‘But you gave it to them?’ cried Ida.</p> +<p>‘That I did! Only that lady, Lady Kenton, came in all +stuck-up and haughty, and cut me short, interfering as she had no business +to, or I would have brought Miss Mary to her marrow-bones. She +hadn’t a word to say for herself, but now she has got those fine +folks on her side, the thing will go on as sure as fate. However, +I’ve done my dooty, that’s one comfort; and now, I suppose I +shall have to patch it up as best I can.’</p> +<p>‘I wouldn’t!’ said Ida hotly.</p> +<p>‘Ah, Ida, my dear, you don’t know what a mother won’t +do for her children.’</p> +<p>A sigh that was often reiterated as Mrs. Morton composed a letter to her +brother-in-law, with some hints from Ida on the spelling, and some from Mr. +Rollstone on the address. The upshot was that her <!-- page 51--><a +name="page51"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 51</span>dear brother and his +<i>fiancée</i> were to believe her actuated by the purest sense of +the duty and anxiety she owed to them and her dear children, the orphans of +his dear deceased brother. Now that she had once expressed herself, +she trusted to her dear Frank’s affectionate nature to bury all in +oblivion, and to believe that she should be ready to welcome her new +sister-in-law with the warmest affection. Therewith followed a +request for five pounds, to pay for her mourning and darling Ida’s, +which they had felt due to him!</p> +<p>Lord Northmoor did not quite see how it was due to him, nor did he +intend to give whatever his dear sister-in-law might demand, but she had +made him so angry that he felt that he must prove his forgiveness to +himself. Mary had not thought it needful to describe the force of the +attack upon herself, or perhaps his pardon might not have gone so +far. He sent the note, and added that as he was wanted at Northmoor +for a day or two, he would take his nephew Herbert with him.</p> +<p>This was something like, as Mrs. Morton said, a kind of tangible +acknowledgment of their relationship and of Herbert as his heir, and it was +a magnificent thing to tell all her acquaintances that her son was gone to +the family seat with his uncle, Lord Northmoor. She would fain have +obtained for him some instructions in the manners of the upper ten thousand +from Mr. Rollstone, but Herbert entirely repudiated listening to that old +fogey, observing that after all it was only old Frank, and he wasn’t +going to bother himself for the like of him.</p> +<p><!-- page 52--><a name="page52"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +52</span>The uncle was fond of his brother’s boy, and had devised +this plan partly for the sake of the pleasure it would give, and partly +because it was impossible to form any judgment of his character while with +the mother. He was a fine, well-grown, manly boy, and when seen among +his companions, had an indefinable air of good blood about him. He +had hitherto been at a good day-school which prepared boys for the merchant +service, and his tastes were so much in the direction of the sea, that it +was much to be regretted that at fourteen and a half it was useless to +think of preparation for a naval cadetship. He was sent up by train +to join his uncle at Hurminster, and the first question after the greeting +was, ‘I say, uncle, shan’t you have a yacht?’</p> +<p>‘I could not afford it, if I wished it,’ was the answer, +while <i>Punch</i> was handed over to him, and Lord Northmoor applied +himself to a long blue letter.</p> +<p>‘Landlubber!’ sighed Herbert to himself, with true marine +contempt for a man who had sat on an office-stool all his life. +‘He doesn’t look a bit more of a swell than he used to. +It is well there’s some one with some pluck in the family.’</p> +<h2><!-- page 53--><a name="page53"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +53</span>CHAPTER IX<br /> +THE HEIR-PRESUMPTUOUS</h2> +<p>Herbert began to be impressed when, on the train arriving at a little +country station, a servant in mourning, with finger to his hat, inquired +after his Lordship’s luggage, and another was seen presiding over a +coroneted brougham.</p> +<p>‘I say,’ he breathed forth, when they were shut in, +‘is this yours?’</p> +<p>‘It is Miss Morton’s, I believe, at present. I am to +arrange whether to keep it or not.’</p> +<p>They were driving over an open heath in its summer carpet-like state of +purple heather, dwarf gorse, and bracken. Lord Northmoor looked out, +with thoughtfulness in his face. By and by there was a gate, a lodge, +a curtseying woman, and as they passed it, he said, ‘Now, this is +Northmoor.’</p> +<p>‘Yours, uncle?’</p> +<p>‘Yes.’</p> +<p>‘My—!’ was all Herbert could utter. It semed to +his town-bred eyes a huge space before they reached, through some rather +scanty plantations, another lodge, and a park, not very extensive, but <!-- +page 54--><a name="page54"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 54</span>with a few +fine trees, and they thundered up beneath the pillars to what was, to his +idea, a palace—with servants standing about in a great hall.</p> +<p>His uncle would have turned one way, but a servant said, ‘Miss +Morton is in the morning-room, my Lord,’ and ushered them into a room +where a lady in black came forward.</p> +<p>‘You did not expect to find me here still,’ she said +cordially; ‘but Adela is gone to her brother’s, and I thought I +had better stay for the division of—of the things.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, certainly—I am—glad,’ he stammered, with a +blush as one not quite sure of the correctness of the proceeding. +‘I wouldn’t have intruded—’</p> +<p>‘Bosh! I’m the intruder. Letitia Bury is +gone—alas—but,’ said she, laughing, ‘Hailes is +here—staying,’ she added to relieve him and to lessen the +confusion that amused her, ‘and I see you have a companion. +Your nephew—?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, Herbert, my late brother’s son. I would not have +brought him if I had known.’</p> +<p>‘A cousin,’ she said, smiling, and shaking hands with +him. ‘Boys are my delight. This is quite a new +experience.’</p> +<p>Herbert looked up surprised, not much liking to become an +experience. He had had less intercourse with ladies than many boys of +humbler pretensions, for his mother had always scouted the idea of sending +her children to a Sunday-school, and she was neither like his +mother’s friends nor his preconceived notions. ‘There! +for want of an introduction, I must introduce myself. Your cousin +Bertha, or Birdie, whichever you like best.’</p> +<p><!-- page 55--><a name="page55"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +55</span>Frank was by no means prepared to say even Bertha, and was in +agonies lest Herbert should presume on the liberty given him; but if the +boy had been in the palace of Truth, he would have said, ‘You old +girl, you are awfully old to call yourself Birdie!’ For Birdie +had been a pet name of Rose Rollstone; and Bertha Morton, though slim and +curly-headed, had a worn look about her eyes, and a countenance such as to +show her five-and-thirty years, and to the eyes of fourteen was almost +antediluvian; indeed, older observers might detect a worn, haggard, +strained look. He was somewhat disgusted, too, at the thin rolls of +bread-and-butter on the low table, whence she proceeded to hand teacups, as +he thought of the substantial meals at home. When they had been +conducted to their rooms, and his uncle followed to his, he broke out with +his perpetual, ‘I say, uncle, is this all the grub great swells +have? I’m awfully peckish!’</p> +<p>‘That’s early tea, my boy,’ was the answer, with a +smile. ‘There’s dinner to come, and I hope you will +behave yourself well, and not use such expressions.’</p> +<p>‘Dinner! that’s not such a bad hearing, but I suppose one +must eat it like a judge?’</p> +<p>‘Certainly; I am afraid I am not a very good model, but +don’t you do anything you don’t see me do. And, Herbert, +don’t take wine every time the servants offer it.’</p> +<p>At which Herbert made a face.</p> +<p>‘Have you got any evening shoes? No! If I had only +known that the lady was here! It can’t be helped to-day, only +wash your face and hands well; there’s some hot water.’</p> +<p><!-- page 56--><a name="page56"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +56</span>‘Why, they ain’t dirty,’ said the boy, surveying +them as one to whom the remains of a journey were mere trifles, then, with +a sigh, ‘It’s no end of a place, but you swells have a lot of +bores, and no mistake!’</p> +<p>Upstairs Herbert roamed about studying with great curiosity the +appliances of the first bedchamber he had ever beheld beyond the degree of +his mother’s ‘first floor,’ but downstairs, he was in the +mood of the savage, too proud to show wonder or admiration or the sense of +awe with which he was inspired by being waited on by the very marrow of Mr. +Rollstone, always such grand company at home. This daunted him far +more than the presence of the lady, and though his was a spirit not easily +daunted, he almost blushed when that personage peremptorily resisted his +endeavour to present the wrong glass for champagne, which fortunately he +disliked too much at the first taste to make another attempt. Lord +Northmoor, for the first time at the foot of his own table, was on thorns +all the time, lest he should see his nephew commit some indiscretion, and +left most of the conversation to Miss Morton and Mr. Hailes, the solicitor, +a fine-looking old gentleman, who was almost fatherly to her, very civil to +him, but who cast somewhat critical eyes on the cub who might have to be +licked into a shape befitting the heir.</p> +<p>They tried to keep their host in the conversation, but without much +success, though he listened as it drifted into immediate interests and +affairs of the neighbourhood, and made response, as best he could, to the +explanations which, like well-bred people, <!-- page 57--><a +name="page57"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 57</span>they from time to time +directed to him. He thus learnt that Lady Adela with her little Amice +had been carried off ‘by main force,’ Bertha said, ‘by +her brother. But she will come back again,’ she added. +‘She is devoted to the place and her graves—and the poor +people.’</p> +<p>‘I do not know what they would do without her,’ said Mr. +Hailes.</p> +<p>‘No. She is lady-of-all-work and Pro-parsoness—with +all her might’; then seeing, or thinking she saw, a puzzled look, she +added, ‘I don’t know if you discovered, Northmoor, that our +Vicar, Mr. Woodman, has no wife, and Adela has supplied the lack to the +parish, having a soul for country poor, whereas they are too tame for +me. I care about my neighbours, of course, after a sort, but the +jolly city sparrows of the slums for me! I long to be +away.’</p> +<p>What to say to this Lord Northmoor knew as little as did his nephew, and +with some difficulty he managed to utter, ‘Are not they very +uncivilised?’</p> +<p>‘That’s the beauty of it,’ said Bertha; +‘I’ve spotted my own special preserve of match-girls, newsboys, +etc., and Mr. Hailes is going to help me to get a scrumptious little house, +whence I can get to it by underground rail. Oh, you may shake your +head, Mr. Hailes, but if you will not help me, I shall set my unassisted +genius to work, and you’ll only suffer agonies in thinking of the +muddle I may be making.’</p> +<p>‘What does Lady Adela say?’ asked Mr. Hailes.</p> +<p>‘She thinks me old enough to take care of myself, <!-- page +58--><a name="page58"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 58</span>whatever you +do, Mr. Hailes; besides, she knows I can come up to breathe! I long +for it!’</p> +<p>The dinner ended by Bertha rising, and proposing to Herbert to come with +her. It was not too dark, she said, to look out into the Park and see +the rabbits scudding about.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Mr. Hailes, shaking his head as they went, +‘the rabbits ought not to be so near, but there has been sad neglect +since poor Mr. Morton’s death.’</p> +<p>It was much easier to get on in a <i>tête-à-tête</i>, +and before long Mr. Hailes had heard some of the perplexities about +Herbert, the foremost of which was how to make him presentable for +ladies’ society in the evening. If Miss Morton’s presence +had been anticipated, either his uncle would not have brought him, or would +have fitted him out beforehand, for though he looked fit for the fields and +woods in male company, evening costume had not yet dawned on his +imagination. Mr. Hailes recommended sending him in the morning to the +town at Colbeam, under charge of the butler, Prowse—who would rather +enjoy the commission, and was quite capable of keeping up any needed +authority. For the future training, the more important matter on +which he was next consulted, Mr. Hailes mentioned the name of a private +tutor, who was likely to be able to deal with the boy better under present +circumstances than a public school could do—since at Herbert’s +age, his ignorance of the classics on the one hand, and of gentlemanly +habits on the other, would tell too much against him.</p> +<p>‘But,’ said Mr. Hailes, ‘Miss Morton will be a very +good adviser to you on that head.’</p> +<p><!-- page 59--><a name="page59"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +59</span>‘She is very good-natured to him,’ said Frank.</p> +<p>‘No one living has a better heart than Miss Morton,’ said +Mr. Hailes heartily; ‘a little eccentric, owing to—to +circumstances. She has had her troubles, poor dear; but she has as +good a heart as ever was, as you will find, my Lord, in all arrangements +with her.’</p> +<p>Nevertheless, Lord Northmoor’s feelings towards her might be +startled the next morning, when he descended to the dining-room. A +screen cut off the door, and as he was coming round it, followed by his +nephew, Bertha’s clear voice was heard saying, ‘Yes, he is +inoffensive, but he is a stick. There’s no denying it, Mr. +Hailes, he is a dreadful stick.’</p> +<p>Frank was too far advanced to retire, before the meaning dawned on him, +partly through a little explosion of Herbert behind him, and partly from +the guilty consternation and colour with which the other two turned round +from the erection of plants among which they were standing.</p> +<p>Yet it was the shy man who spoke first in the predicament, like a timid +creature driven to bay.</p> +<p>‘Yes, Miss Morton, I know it is too true; no one is more sensible +of it than myself. I can only hope to do my best, such as it +is.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Northmoor, it was very horrid and unguarded in me, and I can +only be sorry and beg your pardon,’ and while she laughed and held +out her hand, there was a dew in her eyes.</p> +<p>‘Truths do not need pardon,’ he said, as he gave a cousinly +grasp, ‘and I think you will try kindly to excuse my deficiencies and +disadvantages.’</p> +<p><!-- page 60--><a name="page60"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +60</span>There was a certain dignity in his tone, and Bertha said +heartily—</p> +<p>‘Thank you. It is all right in essentials, and chatter is of +very little consequence. Now come and have some breakfast.’</p> +<p>They got on together far better after that, and began to feel like +relations, before Herbert was sent off with Mr. Prowse to Colbeam. +Indeed, throughout the transactions that followed, Bertha showed herself +far less devoted to her own interests than to what might be called the +honour of the family. Her father’s will had been made in haste, +after the death of his little grandson, and was as concise as possible, her +influence having told upon it. Knowing that the new heir would have +nothing to begin with, and aware that if he inherited merely the title, +house, and land, he would be in great straits, the old Lord had bequeathed +to him nearly what would have been left to the grandson, a fair proportion +of the money in the funds and bank, and all the furniture and appurtenances +of Northmoor House, excepting such articles as Bertha and Lady Adela might +select, each up to a certain value.</p> +<p>Lady Adela’s had been few, and already chosen, and Bertha’s +were manifestly only matters of personal belonging, and not up altogether +to the amount named; so as to avoid stripping the place, which, at the +best, was only splendid in utterly unaccustomed eyes. Horses and +carriages had to be bought of her, and it was she who told him what was +absolutely necessary, and fixed the price as low as she could, so as not to +make them a gift. And he was not so ignorant in this matter as she +had <!-- page 61--><a name="page61"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +61</span>expected—for the old habits of his boyhood served him, he +could ride well, and his scruples at Miss Morton’s estimate proved +that he knew a horse when he saw it—as she said. She would, +perhaps, have liked him better if he had been a dissipated horsey man like +his father. He would have given her sensations—and on his side, +considering the reputation of the family, he was surprised at her eager, +almost passionate desire to be rid of the valuable horses and equipages as +soon as possible.</p> +<p>When, in the afternoon, she went out of doors to refresh herself with a +solitary ramble in the Park after her morning of business, she heard an +altercation, and presently encountered a keeper, dragging after him a +trespasser, in whom, to her amazement, she recognised Herbert Morton, at +the same moment as he exclaimed: ‘Cousin Bertha! +Miss— Look at this impudent fellow, though I told him I was +Lord Northmoor’s own nephew.’</p> +<p>‘And I told him, ma’am,’ said the keeper, touching his +hat, ‘that if he was ten nephews I wouldn’t have him throwing +stones at my pheasants, nor his Lordship wouldn’t neither, and then +he sauced me, and I said I would see what his Lordship said to +that.’</p> +<p>‘You must excuse him this time, Best,’ said Miss Morton; +‘he is a town-bred boy, and knows no better, and you had better not +worry his Lordship about it.’</p> +<p>‘Very well, Miss Morton, if it is your pleasure, but them +pheasants are my province, and I must do my dooty.’</p> +<p>‘Of course, quite right, Best,’ she answered; ‘but +<!-- page 62--><a name="page62"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 62</span>my +cousin here did not understand, and you must make allowance for +him.’</p> +<p>Best touched his hat again, and went off with an undercurrent of +growl.</p> +<p>‘Oh, Herbert, this is a pity!’ Miss Morton exclaimed.</p> +<p>‘Cheeky chap!’ said Herbert sulkily. ‘What +business had he to meddle with me? A great big wild bird gets up with +no end of a row, and I did nothing but shy a stone, and out comes this +fellow at me in a regular wax, and didn’t care half a farthing when I +told him who I was. I fancy he did not believe me.’</p> +<p>‘I don’t wonder,’ said Bertha; ‘you have yet to +learn that in the eyes of any gentleman, nothing is much more sacred than a +pheasant.’</p> +<p>‘I never meant to hurt the thing, only one just chucks a +stone,’ muttered Herbert, abashed, but still defensive and +offended. ‘I thought my uncle would teach the rascal how to +speak to me.’</p> +<p>‘I’ll tell you what, Herbert, if you take that line with +good old servants, who are only doing their duty, you won’t have a +happy time of it here. I suppose you wish to take your place as a +gentleman. Well, the greatest sign of a gentleman is to be courteous +and well-behaved to all about him.’</p> +<p>‘He wasn’t courteous or well-behaved to me.’</p> +<p>‘No, because you did not show yourself such a gentleman as he has +been used to. If you acted like a tramp or a poacher, no wonder he +thought you one’; then, after a pause, ‘You will find that much +of your pleasure in sport depends on the keepers, and that it would be a +great disadvantage <!-- page 63--><a name="page63"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 63</span>to be on bad terms with them, so I strongly +advise you, on every account, to treat them with civility, and put out of +your head that there is any dignity in being rude.’</p> +<p>Herbert liked Miss Morton, and had been impressed as well as kindly +treated by her, and though he sulked now, there was an after-effect.</p> +<h2><!-- page 64--><a name="page64"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +64</span>CHAPTER X<br /> +COMING HONOURS</h2> +<p>With great trepidation did Mary Marshall set forth on her visit to Coles +Kenton. She had made up her mind—and a determined mind it could +be on occasion—that on it should turn her final acceptance of her +twenty years’ lover.</p> +<p>Utterly inexperienced as she was, even in domestic, not to say high +life, she had perhaps an exaggerated idea, alike of its requirements and of +her own deficiencies; and she was resolved to use her own judgment, +according to her personal experience, whether she should be hindrance or +help to him whom she loved too truly and unselfishly to allow herself to be +made the former.</p> +<p>She was glad that for the first few days she should not see him, and +should thus be less distracted and biased, but it was with a sinking heart +that she heard that Lady Kenton had called to take her up in the +carriage. Grateful as she was for the kindness, which saved her the +dreariness of a solitary arrival, she was a strange mixture of resolution +and self-distrust, of moral courage and timidity, as had <!-- page 65--><a +name="page65"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 65</span>been shown by her +withstanding all Miss Lang’s endeavours to make her improve her dress +beyond what was absolutely necessary for the visit, lest it should be +presuming on the future.</p> +<p>Lady Kenton had a manner such as to smooth away shyness, and, with tact +that perceived with what kind of nature she had to deal, managed to make +the tea-table serve only as a renewal of acquaintance with Frederica, and +an introduction to Sir Edward, after which Mary was taken to the schoolroom +and made known to the governess, a kindly, sensible woman, who, according +to previous arrangement, made the visitor free of her domains as a +refuge.</p> +<p>The prettiness and luxury of the guest-chamber was quite a shock, and +Mary would rather have faced a dozen naughty girls than have taken Sir +Edward’s arm to go in to dinner. However, her hostess had +decided on a quiet course of treatment such as not to frighten this pupil, +and it had been agreed only to take enough notice of her to prevent her +from feeling herself neglected, until she should begin to be more at +ease. Nor was it long before a certain sparkle in the brown eyes +showed that she was amused by, and appreciative of, the family talk.</p> +<p>It was true, as Lady Kenton had told her, that she had nothing to +unlearn, all she wanted was confidence, experience, and ease, and in so +humble, gentle, and refined a nature as hers, the acquisition of these +could not lead to the disclosure of anything undesirable. So, after +the first day of novelty, when she had learnt the hours, could distinguish +between the young people, knew her way about the house so <!-- page 66--><a +name="page66"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 66</span>as to be secure of not +opening the wrong doors, and when she had learnt where and when she would +be welcome and even helpful, she began to enjoy herself and the life, the +beauty, and the leisure.</p> +<p>She made friends heartily with the governess, fraternised with Freda, +taught the younger girls new games, could hold a sort of conversation with +Sir Edward, became less afraid of George, and daily had more of filial +devotion to Lady Kenton. The books on the tables were a real delight +and pleasure to her, when she found that it was not ill-mannered to sit +down and read in the forenoon, and the discussion of them was a great help +in what Freda called teaching her to talk. Visitors were very +gradually brought upon her, a gentleman or two at first, who knew nothing +about her, perhaps thought her the governess and merely bowed to her. +There was only one real <i>contretemps</i>, when some guests, who lived +rather beyond the neighbourhood, arrived for afternoon tea, and, moreover, +full of curiosity about Lord Northmoor. Was it true that he was an +attorney’s clerk, and was not he going to marry a very inferior +person?</p> +<p>‘Certainly not,’ said Lady Kenton. ‘He is +engaged to my friend, Miss Marshall.’</p> +<p>The said Miss Marshall was handing the sugar, while Freda was pouring +out the tea. She had been named on the ladies’ entrance, and +the colour rose to her eyes but she said nothing, while there was a +confusion of, ‘I beg pardon. I understand.’</p> +<p>‘Report makes a good many mistakes,’ said Lady Kenton +coolly. ‘Mary, my dear, you have given me no sugar.’</p> +<p>It was the first time of calling her by her <!-- page 67--><a +name="page67"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 67</span>Christian name, and +done for the sake of making the equal intimacy apparent. In fact, +Mary was behaving herself better than the visitors, as Lady Kenton +absolutely told her when a sort of titter was heard in the hall, where they +were expressing to Freda their horror at the scrape, and extorting that +Miss Marshall was really a governess.</p> +<p>‘But quite a lady,’ said Freda stoutly, ‘and we are +all as fond of her as possible.’</p> +<p>It showed how much progress she had made that even this shock did not +set her to express any more faint-hearted doubts, and, when Lord Northmoor +arrived the next day, the involuntary radiance on both their faces was +token enough that they were all the world to each other. Mary allowed +herself to venture on getting Lady Kenton’s counsel on the duties of +household headship that would fall on her; and instead of being terrified +at the great garden-party and dinner-party to be held at Coles Kenton, +eagerly availed herself of instruction in the details of their +management. She had accepted her fate, and when the two were seen +moving about among the people of the party they neither of them looked +incongruous with the county aristocracy. Quiet, retiring, and +insignificant they might be, but there was nothing to remark by the most +curious eyes of those who knew they were to see the new peer and his +destined bride; in fact, as George and Freda privately remarked, they were +just the people that nobody ever would see at all, unless they were set up +upon a pedestal.</p> +<p>Mary still feebly suggested, when the marriage was spoken of, that it +might be wiser for Frank to <!-- page 68--><a name="page68"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 68</span>wait a year, get over his first expenses and +feel his way; but he would not hear of her going back to her work, and +pleaded his solitude so piteously that she could not but consent to let it +take place as soon as possible. They would fain have kept it as +private as possible, but their good friends were of opinion that it was +necessary to give them a start with some <i>éclat</i>, and insisted +that it should take place with all due honours at Coles Kenton, where Mary +was treated like a favoured niece, and assisted with counsel on her +<i>trousseau</i>. The savings she had made during the long years of +her engagement were enough to fit her out sufficiently to feel that she was +bringing her own wardrobe, and Lady Kenton actually went to London with her +to superintend the outlay.</p> +<p>‘Whom would they like to have asked to the wedding?’ the +lady inquired, herself naming the Langs and Burfords. ‘Of +course,’ she added, smiling, ‘Freda and Alice will be only too +happy to be bridesmaids. Have you any one whom you would wish to +ask? Your old scholars perhaps.’</p> +<p>‘I think,’ said Mary, hesitating, ‘that one reason why +we think we ought to decline your kindness was—about <i>his</i> +relations.’</p> +<p>Lady Kenton had given full license to the propriety of calling +<i>him</i> Frank with intimate friends, but Mary always had a shyness about +it.</p> +<p>‘Indeed, I should make no question about asking them, if I had not +doubted whether, after what passed—’</p> +<p>‘That is all forgotten,’ said Mary gently. ‘I +have had quite a nice letter since, and—’</p> +<p><!-- page 69--><a name="page69"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +69</span>‘Of course they must be asked,’ said Lady Kenton; +‘I should have proposed it before, but for that scene.’</p> +<p>‘That is nothing,’ said Mary; ‘the doubt is whether, +considering the style of people, it would not be better for us to manage it +otherwise, and not let you be troubled.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, that’s nothing! On such an occasion there’s +no fear of their not behaving like the rest of the world. There are +girls, I think; they should be bridesmaids.’</p> +<p>This very real kindness overcame all scruples, and indeed a great deal +might be forgiven to Miss Marshall in consideration of the glory of telling +all Westhaven of the invitation to be present ‘at my brother Lord +Northmoor’s wedding, at Sir Edward Kenton’s, +Baronet.’ He gave the dresses, not only the bridesmaids’ +white and cerise (Freda’s choice), but the chocolate moiré +which for a minute Mrs. Morton fancied ‘the little spiteful +cat’ had chosen on purpose to suppress her, till assured by all +qualified beholders, especially Mrs. Rollstone and a dressmaker friend, +that in nothing else would she have looked so entirely quite the lady.</p> +<p>And Lady Kenton’s augury was fulfilled. The whole family +were subdued enough by their surroundings to comport themselves quite well +enough to pass muster.</p> +<h2><!-- page 70--><a name="page70"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +70</span>CHAPTER XI<br /> +POSSESSION</h2> +<p>So Francis Morton, Baron Northmoor of Northmoor, and Mary Marshall, +daughter of the late Reverend John Marshall, were man and wife at +last. Their honeymoon was ideally happy. It fulfilled a dream +of their life, when Frank used, in the holidays spent by Mary with his +mother, to read aloud the Waverley novels, and they had calculated, almost +as an impossible castle in the air, the possibility of visiting the +localities. And now they went, as assuredly they had never thought of +going, and not much impeded by the greatness that had been thrust on +them. The good-natured Kentons had dispensed his Lordship from the +encumbrance of a valet, and though my Lady could not well be allowed to go +maidless, Lady Kenton had found a sensible, friendly person for her, of +whom she soon ceased to be afraid, and thus felt the advantage of being +able to attend to her husband instead of her luggage.</p> +<p>Tourists might look and laugh at their simple delight as at that of a +pair of unsophisticated cockneys. This did not trouble them, as they +trod <!-- page 71--><a name="page71"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +71</span>what was to them classic ground, tried in vain the impossible feat +of ‘seeing Melrose aright,’ but revelled in what they did see, +stood with bated breath at Dryburgh by the Minstrel’s tomb, and +tracked his magic spells from the Tweed even to Staffa, feeling the full +delight for the first time of mountain, sea, and loch. Their +enjoyment was perhaps even greater than that of boy and girl, for it was +the reaction of chastened lives and hearts ‘at leisure from +themselves,’ nor were spirit and vigour too much spent for +enterprise.</p> +<p>They tasted to the full every innocent charm that came in their way, +and, above all, the bliss of being together in the perfect sympathy that +had been the growth of so many years. Their maid, Harte, might well +confide to her congeners that though my lord and my lady were the oldest +couple she had known, they were the most attached, in a quiet way.</p> +<p>They were loth to end this state of felicity before taking their new +cares upon them, and were glad that the arrangements of the executors made +it desirable that they should not take possession till October, when they +left behind them the gorgeous autumn beauty of the western coast and +journeyed southwards.</p> +<p>The bells were rung, the gates thrown wide open, and lights flashed in +the windows as Lord and Lady Northmoor drove up to their home, but it was +in the dark, and there was no demonstrative welcome, the indoor servants +were all new, the cook-housekeeper hired by Lady Kenton’s assistance, +and the rest of the maids chosen by her, the butler and his subordinate +acquired in like manner.</p> +<p><!-- page 72--><a name="page72"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 72</span>It +was a little dreary. The rooms looked large and empty. Miss +Morton’s belongings had been just what gave a homelike air to the +place, and when these were gone, even the big fires could not greatly cheer +the huge spaces. However, these two months had accustomed the new +arrivals to their titles, and likewise to being waited upon, and they were +less at a loss than they would have been previously, though to Mary +especially it was hard to realise that it was her own house, and that she +need ask no one’s leave. Also that it was not a duty to sit +with a fire. She could not well have done so, considering how many +were doing their best to enliven the house, and finally she spent the +evening in the library, not a very inviting room in itself, but which the +late lord had inhabited, and where the present one had already held +business interviews. It was, of course, lined with the standard books +of the last generation, and Mary, who had heard of many, but never had +access to them, flitted over them while her husband opened the letters he +had found awaiting him. To her, what some one has called the +‘tea, tobacco, and snuff’ of an old library where the books are +chiefly viewed as appropriate furniture, were all delightful +discoveries. Even to ‘Hume’s <i>History of +England</i>—nine volumes! I did not know it was so long! +Our first class had the Student’s <i>Hume</i>. Is there much +difference?’</p> +<p>‘Rather to the Student’s advantage, I believe. Half +these letters, at least, are mere solicitations for custom! And +advertisements!’</p> +<p>‘How the books stick together! I wonder when they were +opened last!’</p> +<p><!-- page 73--><a name="page73"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +73</span>‘Never, I suspect,’ said he. ‘I do not +imagine the Mortons were much disposed to read.’</p> +<p>‘Well, they have left us a delightful store! What’s +this? Smollett’s <i>Don Quixote</i>. I always wanted to +know about that. Is it not something about giants and +windmills? Have you read it?’</p> +<p>‘I once read an odd volume. He was half mad, and too good +for this world, and thought he was living in a romance. I will read +you some bits. You would not like it all.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, I do hope you will have time to read to me! +Gibbon’s <i>Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire</i>. All these +volumes! They are quite damp. You have read it?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, and I wish I could remember all those Emperors. I must +put aside this letter for Hailes—it is a man applying for a +house.’</p> +<p>‘How strange it sounds! Look, here is such an immense +<i>Shakespeare</i>! Oh! full of engravings,’ as she fell upon +Boydell’s <i>Shakespeare</i>—another name reverenced, though +she only knew a few selected plays, prepared for elocution exercises.</p> +<p>Her husband, having had access to the Institute Library, and spent many +evenings over books, was better read than she, whose knowledge went no +farther than that of the highest class, but who knew all very accurately +that she did know, and was intelligent enough to find in those shelves a +delightful promise of pasture. He was by this time sighing over +requests for subscriptions.</p> +<p>‘Such numbers! Such good purposes! But how can I +give?’</p> +<p><!-- page 74--><a name="page74"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +74</span>‘Cannot you give at least a guinea?’ asked Mary, after +hearing some.</p> +<p>‘I do not know whether in this position a small sum in the list is +not more disadvantageous than nothing at all. Besides, I know nothing +of the real merits. I must ask Hailes. Ah! and here is Emma, I +thought that she would be a little impatient. She says she shall let +her house for the winter, and thinks of going to London or to Brighton, +where she may have masters for the girls.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, I thought you meant them to go to a good school?’</p> +<p>‘So I do, if I can get Emma’s consent; but I doubt her +choosing to part with Ida. She wants to come here.’</p> +<p>‘I suppose we ought to have her?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, but not immediately. I do not mean to neglect +her—at least, I do hope to do all that is right; but I think you +ought to have a fair start here before she comes, so that we will invite +her for Christmas, and then we can arrange about Ida and +Constance.’</p> +<p>‘Dear little Connie, I hope she is as nice a little girl as she +used to be!’</p> +<p>‘With good training, I think, she will be; and the tutor gives me +good accounts of Herbert in this letter.’</p> +<p>‘Shall we have him here on Sunday week?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, I am very anxious to see him. I hope his master gives +him more religious instruction than he has ever had, poor boy!’</p> +<p>Though not brilliant or playful, Lord and Lady Northmoor had, it may be +perceived, no lack of good <!-- page 75--><a name="page75"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 75</span>sense in their strange new surroundings. +It was hard not to feel like guests on sufferance, and next morning, a +Sunday, was wet. However, under their waterproofs and umbrellas +trudging along, they felt once more, as Mary said, like themselves, as if +they had escaped from their keepers. Nobody on the way had the least +idea who the two cloaked figures were, and when they crept into the seat +nearest the door they were summarily ejected by a fat, red-faced man, who +growled audibly, ‘You’ve no business in my pew!’</p> +<p>However, with the words, ‘Beg your pardon,’ they stepped out +with a little amusement in their eyes, when a spruce young woman sprang up +from the opposite pew, with a scandalised whisper—</p> +<p>‘Mr. Ruddiman, it’s his Lordship! Allow me, my +Lord—your own seat—’</p> +<p>And she marshalled them up to the choir followed closely by Mr. +Ruddiman, ruddier than ever, and butcher all over, in a perfect agony of +apology, which Lord Northmoor in vain endeavoured to suppress or silence, +till, when the guide had pointed to a handsome heavy carved seat with +elaborate cushions, he gave a final gasp of, ‘You’ll not +remember it in the custom, my Lord,’ and departed, leaving his +Lordship almost equally scarlet with annoyance at the place and time of the +demonstration, though, happily, the clergyman had not yet appeared, in his +long and much-tumbled surplice.</p> +<p>It was a case of a partial restoration of a church in the dawn of such +doings, when the horsebox was removed, but the great family could not be +routed out of the chancel, so there were the seats, where <!-- page 76--><a +name="page76"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 76</span>the choir ought to have +sat, beneath a very ugly east window, bedecked with the Morton arms. +In the other division of the seat was a pale lady in black, with a little +girl, Lady Adela Morton, no doubt, and opposite were the servants, and the +school children sat crowded on the steps. It was not such a service +as had been the custom of the Hurminster churches; and the singing, such as +it was, depended on the thin shrill voices of the children, assisted by +Lady Adela and the mistress; the sermon was dull and long, and altogether +there was something disheartening about the whole.</p> +<p>Lady Adela had a gentle, sweet countenance and a simple devout manner; +but it was disappointing that she did not attempt to address the newcomers, +though they passed her just outside the churchyard, talking to an old +man. Lady Kenton would surely have welcomed them.</p> +<h2><!-- page 77--><a name="page77"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +77</span>CHAPTER XII<br /> +THE BURTHEN OF HONOURS</h2> +<p>A fearful affair to the new possessors of Northmoor was the matter of +morning calls. The first that befell them, as in duty bound, was that +from the Vicar. They were peaceably writing their letters in the +library, and hoping soon to go out to explore the Park, when Mr. Woodman +was announced, and was found a lonely black speck in the big dreary +drawing-room, a very state room, indeed, which nobody had ever willingly +inhabited. The Vicar was accustomed to be overridden; he was an +elderly widower, left solitary in his old age, and of depressed spirits and +manner. However, Frank had been used to intercourse with clergy, +though his relations with them seemed reversed, and instead of being +patronised, he had to take the initiative; or rather, they touched each +other’s cold, shy, limp hands, and sat upright in their chairs, and +observed upon the appropriate topic of early frosts, which really seemed to +be affecting themselves.</p> +<p>There was a little thaw when Lord Northmoor asked about the population, +larger, alas, than the <!-- page 78--><a name="page78"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 78</span>congregation might have seemed to show, and +Mary asked if there were much poverty, and was answered that there was much +suffering in the winter, there was not much done for the poor except by +Lady Adela.</p> +<p>‘You must tell us how we can assist in any way.’</p> +<p>The poor man began to brighten. ‘It will be a great comfort +to have some interest in the welfare of the parish taken here, my +Lord. The influence hitherto has not been fortunate. Miss +Morton, indeed—latterly—but, poor thing, if I may be allowed to +say so, she is flighty—and uncertain—no +wonder—’</p> +<p>At that moment Lady Adela was ushered in, and the Vicar looked as if +caught in talking treason, while a fresh nip of frost descended on the +party.</p> +<p>Not that the lady was by any means on stiff terms with the Vicar, whom, +indeed, she daily consulted on parochial subjects, and she had the +gracious, hereditary courtesy of high breeding; but she always averred that +this same drawing-room chilled her, and she was fully persuaded that any +advance towards familiarity would lead to something obnoxious on the part +of the newcomers, so that the proper relations between herself and them +could only be preserved by a judicious entrenchment of courtesy. +Still, it was more the manner of the Vicar than of herself that gave the +impression of her being a formidable autocrat. After the frost had +been again languidly discussed, Mr. Woodman faltered out, ‘His +Lordship was asking—was so good as to ask—how to assist in the +parish.’</p> +<p>Lady Adela knew how scarce money must be, <!-- page 79--><a +name="page79"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 79</span>so she hesitated to +mention subscriptions, and only said, ‘Thank you—very +kind.’</p> +<p>‘Is there any one I could read to?’ ventured Mary.</p> +<p>‘Have you been used to the kind of thing?’ asked Lady Adela, +not unkindly, but in a doubting tone.</p> +<p>‘No, I never could before; but I do wish to try to do +something.’</p> +<p>The earnest humility of the tone was touching, the Vicar and the +autocrat looked at one another, and the former suggested, ‘Old +Swan!’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Lady Adela, ‘old Swan lives out at +Linghill, which is not above half a mile from this house, but too far off +for me to visit constantly. I shall be very much obliged if you can +undertake the cottages there.’</p> +<p>‘Thank you,’ said Mary, as heartily as if she were receiving +a commission from the Bishop of the diocese.</p> +<p>‘Did not Miss Morton mention something about a boys’ +class?’ said Frank. ‘I have been accustomed to a Sunday +school.’</p> +<p>Mr. Woodman betrayed as much surprise as if he had said he was +accustomed to a coal mine; and Lady Adela observed graciously, ‘Most +of them have gone into service this Michaelmas; but no doubt it will be a +relief to Mr. Woodman if you find time to undertake them.’</p> +<p>This was the gist of the first two morning calls, and there were many +more such periods of penance, for the bride and bridegroom were not modern +enough in their notions to sit up to await their <!-- page 80--><a +name="page80"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 80</span>visitors, and thankful +they were to those who would be at the expense of finding conversation, +though this was not always the case; for much of the neighbourhood was of a +description to be awed by the mere fact of a great house, and to take the +shyness of titled people for pride. Those with whom they prospered +best were a good-natured, merry old dowager duchess, with whom they felt +themselves in the altitude to which they were accustomed at Hurminster; a +loud-voiced, eager old squire, who was bent on being Lord Northmoor’s +guide and prompter in county business; also an eager, gushing lady, the +echoes of whose communications made Frank remark, after her departure, +‘We must beware of encouraging gossip about the former +family.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, I wish I had the power of setting people down when they say +what is undesirable, like Miss Lang, or Lady Adela!’ sighed Mary.</p> +<p>‘Try to think of them like your school girls,’ he said.</p> +<p>The returning of the calls was like continually pulling the string of a +shower-bath, and glad were the sighs when people proved to be not at home; +but on the whole, being entertained was not half so formidable as +entertaining, and a bride was not expected to do more than sit in her white +silk, beside the host.</p> +<p>But the return parties were an incubus on their minds. Only they +were not to be till after Christmas.</p> +<h2><!-- page 81--><a name="page81"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +81</span>CHAPTER XIII<br /> +THE DOWER HOUSE</h2> +<p>Over the hearth of the drawing-room of the Dower House, in the sociable +twilight that had descended on the afternoon tea-table, sat three +ladies—for Lady Adela and Miss Morton had just welcomed Mrs. Bury, +who, though she had her headquarters in London, generally spent her time in +visits to her married daughters or expeditions abroad.</p> +<p>Amice had just exhibited her doll, Elmira’s last acquisition, a +little chest of drawers, made of matchboxes and buttons, that Constance +Morton had taught her to make, and then she had gone off to put the said +Elmira and her companions to bed, after giving it as her grave opinion that +Lady Northmoor was a great acquisition.</p> +<p>‘Do you think so?’ said Mrs. Bury, after the laugh at the +sedate expression.</p> +<p>‘She is very kind to Amice, and I do not think she will do her any +harm,’ said Lady Adela.</p> +<p>‘Governessing was her <i>métier</i>,’ added Bertha, +‘so it is not likely.’</p> +<p>‘And how does it turn out?’</p> +<p><!-- page 82--><a name="page82"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +82</span>‘Oh, it might be a good deal worse. I see no reason +for not living on here.’</p> +<p>‘And you, Birdie?’</p> +<p>‘No, I <i>couldn’t</i>! I’ve been burning to get +away these seven years, and as Northmoor actually seems capable of taking +my boys, my last tie is gone. I’m only afraid he’ll bore +them with too much Sabbatarianism and temperance. He is just the cut +of the model Sabbath-school teacher, only he vexes Addie’s soul by +dashes of the Ritualist.’</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said Mrs. Bury, ‘the excellent Mr. Woodman is +capable of improvement.’</p> +<p>‘But how?’ said Lady Adela. ‘Narrow ritualism +without knowledge or principle is a thing to be deprecated.’</p> +<p>‘Is it without knowledge or principle?’</p> +<p>‘How should an attorney’s clerk get either?’</p> +<p>‘But I understand you that they are worthy people, and not +obnoxious.’</p> +<p>‘Worthy!’ exclaimed Bertha. ‘Yes, worthy to +their stiff backbones, worthy to the point of utter dulness; they +haven’t got enough vulgarity even to drop their h’s or be any +way entertaining. I should like them ever so much better if they ate +with their knives and drank out of their saucers, but she can’t even +mispronounce a French word worse than most English people.’</p> +<p>‘No pretension even?’</p> +<p>‘Oh no; if there were, one could get some fun out of it. I +have heard of bearing honours meekly, but they don’t even do that, +they just let them hang on them, like the stick and stock they are. +If I <!-- page 83--><a name="page83"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +83</span>were Addie, it would be the deadly liveliness that would drive me +away.’</p> +<p>‘Nay,’ said Adela; ‘one grows to be content with mere +negations, if they are nothing worse. I <i>could</i> be driven away, +or at least find it an effort to remain, if Lady Northmoor were like her +sister-in-law.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, now, that’s just what would make it tolerable to +me. I could get a rise or two out of that Mrs. Morton. I did +get her to be confidential and to tell me how much better the honours would +have sat upon her dear husband. I believe she thinks that if he were +alive he would have shared them like the Spartan kings. She wishes +that “her brother, Lord Northmoor” (you should hear the tone), +“were more worldly, and she begs me to impress on him the duty of +doing everything for her dear Herbert, who, in the nature of things, must +be the heir to the peerage.”‘</p> +<p>‘I am sure I hope not,’ said Lady Adela. ‘He is +an insufferable boy. The people about the place can’t endure +him. He is quite insolent.’</p> +<p>‘The animal, man, when in certain stages of development, has a +peculiar tendency to be unpleasant,’ observed Bertha +philosophically. ‘To my mind, Master Herbert is the most +promising of the specimens.’</p> +<p>‘Birdie! He is much worse than his uncle.’</p> +<p>‘Promising, I said, not performing. Whatever promise there +may have been in Northmoor must have been nipped upon the top of a high +stool, but if he has sense enough to put that boy into good hands he may +come to something. I like him <!-- page 84--><a +name="page84"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 84</span>enough myself to feel +half inclined to do what I can towards licking him into shape, for the +honour of the family! It is that girl Ida that riles me +most.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Lady Adela, ‘she behaved fairly well in +company, but I saw her tittering and whispering with Emily Trotman in a +tone that I thought very bad for Emily.’</p> +<p>‘She’s spoilt; her mother worships her,’ said +Bertha. ‘I had a pleasing confidence or two about how she is +already admired, or, as Mrs. Morton calls it, how the gentlemen are after +her; but now she shall not put up with anything but a <i>real</i> +gentleman, and of course her uncle will do something handsome for +her.’</p> +<p>‘Poor man! I wish him joy. Has he more +belongings?’</p> +<p>‘Providentially, no. We have the honour of standing nearest +to him, and she seems to have none at all, unless they should be attracted +by the scent.’</p> +<p>‘That is not likely,’ said Lady Adela; ‘she was a +clergy orphan, and never heard of any relations.’</p> +<p>‘Then you really know no harm of them, in these four or five +months?’ said Mrs. Bury.</p> +<p>‘No; except having these relations,’ said Adela.</p> +<p>‘Except being just sensible enough not to afford even the pleasure +of laughing at them,’ said Bertha. ‘Nay, just worthy +enough’—she said it spitefully—‘not even to give +the relief of a good grumble.’</p> +<p>‘Well, I think you may be thankful!’</p> +<p>‘Exactly what one doesn’t want to be!’ said +Bertha. ‘I like sensations. Now Letitia is going <!-- +page 85--><a name="page85"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 85</span>to come +down with a prediction that they are to become the blessings of our lives, +so I am off!’</p> +<p>And as the door closed on her, Lady Adela sighed, and Mrs. Bury +said—</p> +<p>‘Poor Birdie; is she always in that tone?’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Lady Adela; ‘there seems to be always a +bitter spot in her heart. I am glad she should try to work it +out.’</p> +<p>‘I suppose living here with her father tended to brooding. +Yet she has always done a good deal.’</p> +<p>‘Not up to her powers. Lord Northmoor never ceased to think +her a mere girl, and obstructed her a good deal; besides, all his interest +being in horses, she never could get rid of the subject, and wounds were +continually coming back on us—on her.’</p> +<p>‘On you as well, poor Addie.’</p> +<p>‘He did not understand. Besides, to me these things were not +the raw scene they were to her. It has been a very sad time for +her. You see, there is not much natural softness in her, and she was +driven into roughness and impatience when he worried her over racing +details and other things. And then she was hurt at his preferring to +have me with him. It has been very good and generous in her not to +have been jealous of me.’</p> +<p>‘I think she was glad he could find comfort in you. And you +have never heard of Captain Alder?’</p> +<p>‘Never! In justice, and for the sake of dear Arthur’s +wishes, I should be glad to explain; but I wonder whether, as she is now, +it would be well that they should meet.’</p> +<p>‘If it is so ordained, I suppose they will. What’s +that?’</p> +<p><!-- page 86--><a name="page86"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 86</span>It +was Lord and Lady Northmoor, formally announced, and as formally +introduced, to Mrs. Bury.</p> +<p>They had come, the lady said, when they were seated, with a message from +‘Old Swan,’ to ask for a bit of my lady’s plaster for his +back to ease his rheumatism at night. His daughter was only just come +in from work, so they had ventured to bring the message.</p> +<p>‘Is any one coming for it?’</p> +<p>‘I said we would bring it back,’ replied Mary, ‘if you +would kindly let us have it.’</p> +<p>‘Why, it is a mile out of your way!’</p> +<p>‘It is moonlight, and we do so enjoy a walk together,’ she +answered.</p> +<p>‘Well, Adela,’ said Mrs. Bury, when they were gone with the +roll of plaster, ‘I agree that they might be worse—and by a +great deal!’</p> +<p>‘Did he speak all the time?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, once. But there are worse faults than silence; and she +seems a bonny little woman. Honeymooning still—that moonlight +walk too.’</p> +<p>‘I can fancy that it is a treat to escape from Mrs. Morton. +She is depths below them in refinement!’</p> +<p>‘On the whole, I think you may be thankful, Adela.’</p> +<p>‘I hope I am. I believe you would soon be intimate with +them; but then you always could get on with all sorts of people, and I have +a shrinking from getting under the surface—if I +<i>could</i>.’</p> +<p>And indeed, further intercourse, though not without shocks and +casualties, made Mary <!-- page 87--><a name="page87"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 87</span>Northmoor wish that Letitia Bury had been the +permanent inhabitant; above all, when she undertook to come and give her +counsel and support for that first tremendous undertaking—the +dinner-party. Lady Kenton was equally helpful at their next; and Sir +Edward gave much good advice to his lordship as to not letting himself be +made the tool of the loud-voiced squire, who was anxious to be his guide, +philosopher, and friend in county business—advice that made +Frank’s heart sink, for thus far he felt only capable of sitting +still and listening.</p> +<h2><!-- page 88--><a name="page88"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +88</span>CHAPTER XIV<br /> +WESTHAVEN VERSIONS OF HONOURS</h2> +<p>‘Thank you, a bit of partridge, Mr. Rollstone, if you +please.’</p> +<p>‘Excuse me, Mrs. Grover. This is a grouse from Lord +Northmoor’s own moors, I presume,’ replied Mr. Rollstone, to +the tune of a peal of laughter from Herbert and +exclamation—‘Not know a grouse!’—for which Ida +frowned at him.</p> +<p>‘Yes, indeed,’ said his mother; ‘we had so much game +up at my brother’s, Lord Northmoor’s, that I shall quite miss +it now I am come away.’</p> +<p>‘Flimsy sort of grub!’ growled an old skipper. +‘Only fit for this sort of a tea—not to make a real meal on, +fit for “a man”!’</p> +<p>The young folk laughed. Captain Purdy was only invited as a +messmate of Mrs. Morton’s father.</p> +<p>‘You’ll excuse this being only a tea,’ went on Mrs. +Morton. ‘I hope to have a dinner in something more of style if +ever I return here, but I could not attempt it with my present +establishment after what we have got accustomed to. Why, <!-- page +89--><a name="page89"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 89</span>we never sat +down to dinner without two menservants!’</p> +<p>‘Only two?’ said Mr. Rollstone. ‘I have never +been without three men under me; and I always had two to wait, even when +the lady dined alone.’</p> +<p>Mrs. Grover, who had been impressed for a moment, took courage to +say—</p> +<p>‘I don’t think so much of your grouse, Mrs. Morton. +It’s tasty and ’igh.’</p> +<p>‘High game goes with high families,’ wickedly murmured +Herbert, causing much tittering at his corner of the table; and this grew +almost convulsive, while another matron of the party observed—</p> +<p>‘Mrs. Macdonald, Mr. Holt’s sister in Scotland, once sent us +some, and really, Mrs. Morton, if you boil them down, they are almost as +good as a pat-ridge!’</p> +<p>‘Oh, really now, Mrs. Holt! I hope you didn’t tell +Mrs. Macdonald so!’ said Mrs. Morton. ‘It is a real +valuable article, such as my brother, Lord Northmoor, would only send to +us, and one or two old friends that he wishes to compliment at +Hurminster. But one must be used to high society to know how such +things should be relished!’</p> +<p>‘Are Lord Northmoor’s moors extensive?’ asked Mr. +Rollstone.</p> +<p>‘There’s about four or five miles of them,’ responded +Herbert; ‘and these grouse are awfully shy.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, the Earl of Blackwing owns full twenty miles of +heather,’ said the ex-butler.</p> +<p>‘Barren stuff!’ growled the skipper; ‘breeding nothing +worth setting one’s teeth into!’</p> +<p><!-- page 90--><a name="page90"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +90</span>‘There are seven farms besides,’ put in Mrs. +Morton. ‘My brother is going to have an audit-day next +week.’</p> +<p>‘You should have seen the Earl’s audits,’ said Mr. +Rollstone. ‘Five-and-twenty substantial tenant-farmers, besides +artisans, and all the family plate on the sideboard!’</p> +<p>‘Ah, you should see the Northmoor plate!’ said Mrs. +Morton. ‘There are racing cups, four of them—not that any +one could drink out of them, for they are just centre-pieces for the +table. There’s a man in armour galloping off headlong with a +girl behind him— Who did your uncle say it was, +Conny?’</p> +<p>‘The Templar and Rowena, mamma,’ said Constance.</p> +<p>‘Yes, that was the best—all frosted. I liked that +better than the one where the girl with no clothes to speak of was running +like mad after a golden ball. They said that was an heirloom, worth +five hundred—’</p> +<p>‘Lord Burnside’s yachting cups are valued at five +thousand,’ said Mr. Rollstone. ‘I should know, for I had +the care of them, and it was a responsibility as weighed on my +mind.’</p> +<p>So whatever Mrs. Morton described as to the dignities and splendours of +Northmoor, Mr. Rollstone continued to cap with more magnificent +experiences, so that, though he never pretended to view himself in the +light of a participator in the grandeur he described, he continued, quite +unintentionally, so to depreciate the glories of Northmoor, that Mrs. +Morton began to recollect how far above him her <!-- page 91--><a +name="page91"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 91</span>sphere had become, and +to decide against his future admission to her parties.</p> +<p>The young ladies, as soon as tea was over, retired into corners in +pairs, having on their side much to communicate. Rose Rollstone was +at home for a holiday, after having begun to work at an establishment for +art and ecclesiastical needlework, and it was no small treat to her and +Constance to meet and compare their new experiences. Rose, always +well brought up by her father, was in a situation carefully trained by a +lady head, and watched over by those who deepened and cultivated her +religious feeling; and Constance had to tell of the new facilities of +education offered to them. Ida was too delicate for school, their +mother said, and was only to have music lessons at Brighton, or in London +whenever the present house could be parted with; but Herbert had already +begun to work with a tutor for the army, and Constance was to go to the +High School at Colbeam and spend her Sundays at Northmoor, where a +prettily-furnished room was set apart for her. She described it with +so much zest that Rose was seized with a sort of alarm. ‘You +will live there like all the lords and ladies that papa talks of, and grow +worldly and fashionable.’</p> +<p>‘Oh no, no,’ cried Constance, and there was a girlish +kissing match, but Rose seemed to think worldliness inevitable.</p> +<p>‘The Earl my papa lived with used to bet and gamble, and come home +dreadfully late at night, and so did my lady and her daughters, and their +poor maid had to sit up for them till four o’clock in the +morning. Then their bills! They never told <!-- page 92--><a +name="page92"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 92</span>his lordship, but they +sold their diamonds and wore paste. His lordship did not know, but +their maid did, and told papa.’</p> +<p>Constance opened her eyes and declared that Uncle Frank and Aunt Mary +never could do such things. Moreover, she averred that Lady Adela was +always going about among the cottages, and that Miss Morton had not a bit +of pride, and was going to live in London to teach the dust-pickers and +match-box makers. ‘Indeed, I don’t think they are half as +worldly in themselves,’ she said, ‘as Ida is growing with +thinking about them.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, don’t you remember the sermon that said worldliness +didn’t depend on what one has, but what one is?’</p> +<p>‘Talking of nothing better than sermons!’ said Herbert, +coming on them. ‘Have you caught it of the governor, Con? +I believe he thinks of nothing but sermons.’</p> +<p>And Constance exclaimed, ‘I am sure he doesn’t +preach!’</p> +<p>‘Oh no, nothing comes out of his mouth that he can help; trust him +for that.’</p> +<p>‘Then how do you know?’</p> +<p>‘By the stodgy look of him. He would be the awfullest of +prosers if he had the gift of the gab.’</p> +<p>‘You are an ungrateful boy,’ said Rose. ‘I am +sure he must be very kind to you.’</p> +<p>‘Can’t help it,’ said Herbert. ‘The old +fellow would be well enough if he had any go in him.’</p> +<p>‘I am sure he took you out hunting,’ exclaimed Constance +indignantly, ‘the day they took us to the meet. And he leapt +all the ditches when you—’</p> +<p><!-- page 93--><a name="page93"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 93</span>He +broke in, ‘Well, what was I to do when I’ve never had the +chance to learn to sit a horse? You’ll see next +winter.’</p> +<p>‘Did you hurt yourself?’ asked Rose, rather +mischievously.</p> +<p>To which Herbert turned a deaf ear and began to expatiate upon the game +of Northmoor, till other sounds led him away to fall upon the other +<i>tête-à-tête</i> between Ida and Sibyl Grover. +In Ida’s mind the honours of Northmoor were dearly purchased by the +dulness and strictness of the life there.</p> +<p>‘My uncle was as cross as two sticks if ever Herbert or I were too +late for prayers, and he said it was nonsense of Herbert to say that +kneeling at church spoilt his trousers—kneeling just like a school +child! It made me so faint!’</p> +<p>‘And it looks so!’</p> +<p>‘I tried, because Lady Adela and Miss Bertha and all do,’ +said Ida, ‘and they looked at me! But it made me faint, as I +knew it would,’ and she put her head on one side.</p> +<p>‘Poor dear! So they were so very religious! Did that +spoil it all?’</p> +<p>‘Well, we had pretty things off the Christmas-tree, and we lived +quite as ladies, and drove out in the carriage.’</p> +<p>‘No parties nor dances? Or were they too +religious?’</p> +<p>‘Ma says it is their meanness; but my aunt, Lady Northmoor, did +say perhaps it would be livelier another year, and then we should have had +some dancing and deportment lessons. I up and told her I could dance +fast enough now, but she said it <!-- page 94--><a name="page94"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 94</span>would not be becoming or right to Lady +Adela’s and Miss Morton’s feelings.’</p> +<p>‘Do they live there?’</p> +<p>‘Not in the house. Lady Adela has a cottage of her own, and +Miss Morton stops with her. Lady Adela is as high and standoffish as +the monument,’ said Ida, pausing for a comparison.</p> +<p>‘High and haughty,’ said Sibyl, impressed. ‘And +the other lady?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, she is much more good-natured. We call her Bertha; at +least, she told us that we might call her anything but that horrid Cousin +Bertha, as she said. But she’s old, thirty-six years old, and +not a bit pretty, and she says such odd things, one doesn’t know what +to do. She thought I made myself useful and could wash and +iron,’ said Ida, as if this were the greatest possible insult, in +which Sibyl acquiesced.</p> +<p>‘And she thought I should know the factory girls, just the +hands,’ added Ida, greatly disgusted. ‘As if I +should! But ma says low tastes are in the family, for she is going to +live in London, and go and sit with the shop-girls in the evening. +Still I like her better than Lady Adela, who keeps herself to +herself. Mamma says it is pride and spite that her plain little +sickly girl hasn’t come to be my Lady.’</p> +<p>‘What, doesn’t she speak to them?’ said Sibyl, quite +excited.</p> +<p>‘Oh yes, she calls, and shakes hands, and all that, but one never +seems to get on with her. And Emily Trotman, she’s the +doctor’s daughter, such a darling, told me <i>such</i> a +history—so interesting!’</p> +<p><!-- page 95--><a name="page95"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +95</span>‘Tell me, Ida, there’s a dear.’</p> +<p>‘She says they were all frightfully dissipated’ (Ida said it +quite with a relish)—‘the old Lord and Mr. Morton, Lady +Adela’s husband, you know, and Miss Bertha—always racing and +hunting and gambling and in debt. Then there came a Captain Alder, +who was ever so much in love with Miss Bertha, but most awfully in debt to +her brother, and very passionate besides. So he took him out in his +dog-cart with a fiery horse that was sure to run away.’</p> +<p>‘Who did?’</p> +<p>‘Captain Alder took Mr. Morton, though they begged and prayed him +not, and the horse ran away and Mr. Morton was thrown out and +killed.’</p> +<p>‘Oh!’ with extreme zest. ‘On purpose?’</p> +<p>‘Miss Bertha was sure it was, so that she might have all the +fortune, and so she told him, and flung the betrothal ring in his face, and +he went right off, and never has been heard of since.’</p> +<p>‘Well, that <i>is</i> interesting. Do you think he shot +himself?’</p> +<p>‘No, he was too mean. Most likely he married a hideous +millionaire: but the Mortons were always dreadful, and did all sorts of +wicked things.’</p> +<p>‘I declare it’s as good as any tale—like the sweet one +in the <i>Young Ladies’ Friend</i> now—“The Pride of +Pedro.” Have you seen it?’</p> +<p>‘No, indeed, uncle and aunt only have great old stupid +books! They wanted me to read those horrid tiresome things of +Scott’s, and Dickens’s too, who is as old as the hills! +Why, they could not think of anything better to do on their wedding tour +but to go to all the places in the Waverley novels.’</p> +<p><!-- page 96--><a name="page96"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +96</span>‘Why, they are as bad as history! Jim brought one home +once, and pa wanted me to read it, but I could not get on with it—all +about a stupid king of France. I’m sure if I married a lord +I’d make him do something nicer.’</p> +<p>‘I mean ma to do something more jolly,’ said Ida, +‘when we get more money, and I am come out. I mean to go to +balls and tennis parties, and I shall be sure to marry a lord at some of +them.’</p> +<p>‘And you will take me,’ cried Sibyl.</p> +<p>‘Only you must be very genteel,’ said Ida. ‘Try +to learn style, <i>do</i>, dear. It must be learnt young, you +know! Why, there’s Aunt Mary, when she has got ever so +beautiful a satin dress on, she does not look half so stylish as Lady Adela +walking up the road in an old felt hat and a shepherd’s-plaid +waterproof! But they all do dress so as I should be ashamed. +Only think what a scrape that got Herbert into. He was coming back +one Saturday from his tutor’s, and he saw walking up to the house an +awfully seedy figure of fun, in an old old ulster, and such a hat as you +never saw, with a knapsack on her back, and a portfolio under her +arm. So of course he thought it was a tramp with something to sell, +and he holloaed out, “You’d better come out of this! We +want none of your sort.” She just turned round and laughed, +which put him in such a rage, that though she began to speak he +didn’t wait, but told her to have done with her sauce, or he would +call the keepers. He thinks she said, “You’d +better,” and I believe he did move his stick a little.’</p> +<p>‘Ida, have done with that!’ cried Herbert’s voice <!-- +page 97--><a name="page97"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 97</span>close to +her. ‘Hold your tongue, or I’ll—’ and his +hand was near her hair.</p> +<p>‘Oh, don’t, don’t, Herbert. Let me hear,’ +cried Sibyl.</p> +<p>‘That’s the way girls go on,’ said Herbert fiercely, +‘with their nonsense and stuff.’</p> +<p>‘But who—?’</p> +<p>‘If you go on, Ida—’ he was clutching her braid.</p> +<p>Sibyl sprang to the defence, and there was a general struggle and romp +interspersed with screams, which was summarily stopped by Mr. Rollstone +explaining severely, ‘If you think that is the deportment of the +aristocracy, Miss Ida, you are much mistaken.’</p> +<p>‘Bother the aristocracy!’ broke out Herbert.</p> +<p>Calm was restored by a summons to a round game, but Sibyl’s +curiosity was of course insatiable, and as she sat next to Herbert, she +employed various blandishments and sympathetic whispers, and after a great +deal of fuss, and ‘What will you give me if I tell?’ to extract +the end of the story, ‘Did he call the keeper?’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes, the old beast! His name’s Best, but it ought +to be Beast! He guffawed ever so much worse than she did!’</p> +<p>‘Well, but who was it?’</p> +<p>And after he had tried to make her guess, and teased his fill, he owned, +‘Mrs. Bury—a sort of cousin, staying with Lady Adela. She +isn’t half a bad old party, but she makes a guy of herself, and goes +about sketching and painting like a blessed old drawing-master.’</p> +<p><!-- page 98--><a name="page98"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +98</span>‘A lady? and not a young lady.’</p> +<p>‘Not as old as—as Methuselah, or old Rolypoly there, but I +believe she’s a grandmother. If she’d been a boy, we +should have been cut out of it. Oh yes, she’s a lady—a +born Morton; and when it was over she was very jolly about it—no harm +done—bears no malice, only Ida makes such an absurd work about every +little trifle.’</p> +<h2><!-- page 99--><a name="page99"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +99</span>CHAPTER XV<br /> +THE PIED ROOK</h2> +<p>Constance Morton was leaning on the rail that divided the gardens at +Northmoor from the park, which was still rough and heathery. Of all +the Morton family, perhaps she was the one who had the most profited by the +three years that had passed since her uncle’s accession to the +title. She had been at a good boarding-house, attending the High +School in Colbeam, and spending Saturday and Sunday at Northmoor. It +had been a happy life, she liked her studies, made friends with her +companions, and enjoyed to the very utmost all that Northmoor gave her, in +country beauty and liberty, in the kindness of her uncle and aunt, and in +the religious training that they were able to give her, satisfying longings +of her soul, so that she loved them with all her heart, and felt Northmoor +her true home. The holiday time at Westhaven was always a +trial. Mrs. Morton had tried Brighton and London, but neither place +agreed with Ida: and she found herself a much greater personage in her own +world than elsewhere, and besides could not <!-- page 100--><a +name="page100"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 100</span>always find tenants +for her house. So there she lived at her ease, called by many of her +neighbours the Honourable Mrs. Morton, and finding listeners to her +alternate accounts of the grandeur of Northmoor, and murmurs at the +meanness of its master in only allowing her £300 a year, besides +educating her children, and clothing two of them.</p> +<p>Ida considered herself to be quite sufficiently educated, and so she was +for the society in which she was, or thought herself, a star, chiefly +consisting of the families of the shipowners, coalowners, and the +like. She was pretty, with a hectic prettiness of bright eyes and +cheeks, and had a following of the young men of the place; and though she +always tried to enforce that to receive attentions from a smart young mate, +a clerk in an office, a doctor’s assistant, or the like, was a great +condescension on her part, she enjoyed them all the more. Learning +new songs for their benefit, together with extensive novel reading, were +her chief employments, and it was the greater pity because her health was +not strong. She dreamt much in a languid way, and had imagination +enough to work these tales into her visions of life. Her temper +suffered, and Constance found the atmosphere less and less congenial as she +grew older and more accustomed to a different life.</p> +<p>She was a gentle, ladylike girl, with her brown hair still on her +shoulders, as on that summer Saturday she stood looking along the path, but +with her ears listening for sounds from the house, and an anxious +expression on her young face. Presently she started at the sound of a +gun, which <!-- page 101--><a name="page101"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +101</span>caused a mighty cawing among the rooks in the trees on the +slopes, and a circling of the black creatures in the sky. A whistling +then was heard, and her brother Herbert came in sight in a few minutes +more, a fine tall youth of sixteen, with quite the air and carriage of a +gentleman. He had a gun on his shoulder, and carried by the claws the +body of a rook with white wings.</p> +<p>‘Oh, Herbert,’ cried Constance in dismay, ‘did you +shoot that by mistake?’</p> +<p>‘No; Stanhope would not believe there was such a crittur, and +betted half a sov that it was a cram.’</p> +<p>‘But how could you? Our uncle and aunt thought so much of +that poor dear Whitewing, and Best was told to take care of it. They +will be so vexed.’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense! He’ll come to more honour stuffed than ever +he would flying and howling up there. When I’ve shown him to +Stanhope, I shall make that old fellow at Colbeam come down handsomely for +him. What a row those birds kick up! I’ll send my other +barrel among them.’</p> +<p>‘Oh no, don’t, Bertie. Uncle Frank has one of his +dreadful headaches to-day.’</p> +<p>‘Seems to me he is made of headaches.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, Aunt Mary is very anxious. Oh, I would have done +anything that you had not vexed them now and killed this poor dear pretty +thing!’ said Constance, stroking down the glossy feathers of the +still warm victim, and laying them against her cheek, almost tearfully.</p> +<p>‘Well, you are not going to tell them. Perhaps <!-- page +102--><a name="page102"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 102</span>they +won’t miss it. I would not have done it if Stanhope had not +been such a beast,’ said Herbert.</p> +<p>‘I shall not tell them, of course,’ said Constance; +‘but, if I were you, I should not be happy till they knew.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, that’s only girl’s way! I can’t have +the old Stick upset now, for I’m in horrid want of tin.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Bertie, was it true then?’</p> +<p>‘What, you don’t mean that they have heard?’</p> +<p>‘That you were out at those Colbeam races!’</p> +<p>‘To be sure I was, with Stanhope and Hailes and a lot more. +We all went except the little kids and Sisson, who is in regular training +for as great a muff as the governor there. Who told him?’</p> +<p>‘Mr. Hailes, who is very much concerned about his +grandson.’</p> +<p>‘Old sneak; I wonder how he ferreted it out. Is there no end +of a jaw coming, Con?’</p> +<p>‘I don’t know. Uncle Frank seemed quite knocked down +and wretched over it. He said something about feeling hopeless, and +the old blood coming out to be your ruin.’</p> +<p>‘Of course it’s the old blood! How did he miss it, and +turn into the intolerable old dry fogey that he is, without a notion of +anything fit for a gentleman?’</p> +<p>‘Now, Herbert—’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes. You should just hear what the other fellows say +about him. Their mothers and their sisters say there is not so stupid +a place in the county, he hasn’t a word to say for himself, and they +would just as soon go to Portland at once as to a party here.’</p> +<p><!-- page 103--><a name="page103"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +103</span>‘Then it is a great shame! I am sure Aunt Mary works +hard to make it pleasant for them!’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes, good soul, she does, she can’t help it; but when +people have stuck in the mud all their lives, they can’t know any +better, and it is abominably hard on a fellow who does, to be under a man +who has been an office cad all his life, and doesn’t know what is +expected of a gentleman! Screwing us all up like +beggars—’</p> +<p>‘Herbert, for shame! for shame! As if he was obliged to do +anything at all for us!’</p> +<p>‘Oh, isn’t he? A pretty row my mother would kick up +about his ears if he did not, when I must come after him at this place, +too!’</p> +<p>‘I think you are very ungrateful,’ said Constance, with +tears, ‘when they are so good to us.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, they are as kind as they know how, but they don’t +know. That’s the thing, or old Frank would be ashamed to give +me such a dirty little allowance. He has only himself to thank if I +have to come upon him for more. Found out about the Blackbird colt, +has he? What a bore! And tin I must have out of him by hook or +by crook if he cuts up ever so rough. I must send off this bird first +by the post to confute Stanhope and make him eat dirt, and then see +what’s to be done.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed, Bertie, I don’t think you will see him +to-night. His head is dreadful, and Aunt Mary has sent for Mr. +Trotman.’</p> +<p>‘Whew! You have not got anything worth having, I suppose, +Conny?’</p> +<p>‘Only fifteen shillings. I meant it for— <!-- +page 104--><a name="page104"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 104</span>But you +shall have it, dear Bertie, if it will only save worrying them.’</p> +<p>‘Fifteen bob! Fifteen farthings you might as well +offer. No, no, you soft little monkey, I must see what is to be made +of him or her ladyship, one or the other, to-day or to-morrow. If +they know I have been at the place it is half the battle. Consequence +was! Provided they don’t smell out this unlucky piebald! +I wish Stanhope hadn’t been such a beast!’</p> +<p>At that moment, too late to avoid her, Lady Northmoor, pale and anxious, +came up the path and was upon them. ‘Your uncle is +asleep,’ she began, but then, starting, ‘Oh, Conny. Poor +Whitewing. Did you find him?’</p> +<p>Constance hung her head and did not speak. Then her aunt saw how +it was.</p> +<p>‘Herbert! you must have shot him by mistake; your uncle will be so +grieved.’</p> +<p>Herbert was not base enough to let this pass. He muttered, +‘A fellow would not take my word for it, so I had to show +him.’</p> +<p>She looked at him very sadly. ‘Oh, Herbert, I did not think +you would have made that a reason for vexing your uncle!’</p> +<p>The boy was more than half sorry under those gentle eyes. He +muttered something about ‘didn’t think he would +care.’</p> +<p>She shook her head, instead of saying that she knew this was not the +truth; and unable to bear the sting, he flung away from her, carrying the +rook with him, and kicking the pebbles, trying to be angry instead of +sorry. And just then came a summons to Lady Northmoor to see the +doctor.</p> +<p><!-- page 105--><a name="page105"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +105</span>Yet Herbert Morton was a better boy than he seemed at that +moment; his errors were chiefly caused by understanding <i>noblesse +oblige</i> in a different way from his uncle. Moreover, it would have +been better for him if his tutor had lived beyond the neighbourhood of +Northmoor, where he heard, losing nothing in the telling, the remarks of +the other pupils’ mothers upon his uncle and aunt; more especially as +it was not generally the highest order of boy that was to be found +there. If he had heard what the fathers said, he would have learnt +that, though shy and devoid of small talk, and of the art of putting guests +together, Lord Northmoor was trusted and esteemed. He might perhaps +be too easily talked down; he could not argue, and often gave way to the +noisy Squire; but he was certain in due time to see the rights of a +question, and he attended thoroughly to the numerous tasks of an active and +useful county man, taking all the drudgery that others shirked. +While, if by severe stress he were driven to public speaking, he could +acquit himself far better than any one had expected. The Bishop and +the Chairman of the Quarter Sessions alike set him down on their +committees, not only for his rank, but for his industry and steadiness of +work. Nor had any one breathed any imputation upon the possession of +what used to be known as gentility, before that good word was degraded, to +mean something more like what Mrs. Morton aspired to. Lord and Lady +Northmoor might not be lively, nor a great accession to society, but the +anticipations of either amusement or annoyance from vulgarity or arrogance +were entirely <!-- page 106--><a name="page106"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 106</span>disappointed. No one could call them +underbred, or anything but an ingrain gentleman and lady, while there were +a few who could uphold Lady Northmoor as thoroughly kind, sweet, sensible, +and helpful to her utmost in all that was good.</p> +<p>All this, however, was achieved not only unconsciously but with severe +labour by a man whose powers could only act slowly, and who was not to the +manner born. Conscientiousness is a costly thing, and +Strafford’s watchword is not to be adopted for nothing. The +balance of duties, the perplexities of managing an impoverished and +involved estate, the disappointment of being unable to carry out the +responsibilities of a landlord towards neglected cottagers, the incapacity +of doing what would have been desirable for the Church, and the worry and +harass that his sister-in-law did not spare, all told as his office work +had never done, and in spite of quiet, happy hours with his Mary, and her +devoted and efficient aid whenever it was possible, a course of disabling +neuralgic headaches had set in, and a general derangement of health, which +had become alarming, and called for immediate remedy.</p> +<h2><!-- page 107--><a name="page107"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +107</span>CHAPTER XVI<br /> +WHAT IS REST?</h2> +<p>‘Rest, there is nothing for it but immediate rest and warm +baths,’ said Lady Northmoor to Constance, who was waiting anxiously +for the doctor’s verdict some hours later. ‘It is only +being overdone—no, my dear, there is nothing really to fear, if we +can only keep business and letters out of his way for a few weeks, my dear +child.’</p> +<p>For Constance, who had been dreadfully frightened by the sight of the +physician’s carriage, which seemed to her inexperienced eyes the omen +of something terrible, fairly burst into tears of relief.</p> +<p>‘Oh, I am so glad!’ she said, as caresses passed—which +might have been those of mother and daughter for heartfelt sympathy and +affection.</p> +<p>‘You will miss your Saturdays and Sundays, my dear,’ +continued the aunt, ‘for we shall have to go abroad, so as to be +quite out of the way of everything.’</p> +<p>‘Never mind that, dear aunt, if only Uncle Frank is better. +Will it be long?’</p> +<p>‘I cannot tell. He says six weeks, Dr. Smith <!-- page +108--><a name="page108"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 108</span>says three +months. It is to be bracing air—Switzerland, most +likely.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, how delightful! How you will enjoy it!’</p> +<p>‘It has always been a dream, and it is strange now to feel so +downhearted about it,’ said her aunt, smiling.</p> +<p>‘Uncle Frank is sure to be better there,’ said +Constance. ‘Only think of the snowy mountains—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains;<br /> + They crown’d him long ago<br /> +On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds,<br /> + With a diadem of snow.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>And the girl’s eyes brightened with an enthusiasm that the elder +woman felt for a moment, nor did either of them feel the verse +hackneyed.</p> +<p>‘Ah, I wish we could take you, my dear,’ said Lady +Northmoor; then, ‘Do you know where Herbert is?’</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Constance. ‘Oh, aunt, I am so +sorry! I don’t think he would have done it if the other boys +had not teased him.’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps not; but, indeed, I am grieved, not only on the poor +rook’s account, but that he should have the heart to vex your uncle +just now. However, perhaps he did not understand how ill he has been +all this week. And I am afraid that young Stanhope is not a good +companion for him.’</p> +<p>‘I do not think he is,’ said Constance; ‘it seems to +me that Stanhope leads him into that betting, and makes him think it does +not signify whether he passes or not, and so he does not take +pains.’</p> +<p>Herbert was not to be found either then or at <!-- page 109--><a +name="page109"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 109</span>dinner-time. It +turned out that he had taken from the stables the horse he was allowed to +ride, and had gone over to display his victim to Stanhope, and then on to +the bird-stuffer; had got a meal, no one wished to know how, only returning +in time to stump upstairs to bed.</p> +<p>He thus avoided an interview with his uncle over the rook, unaware that +his aunt had left him the grace of confession, being in hopes that, unless +he did speak of his own accord, the vexatious knowledge might be spared to +one who did not need an additional annoyance just then.</p> +<p>Lord Northmoor was not, however, to be spared. He was much better +the next day, Sunday, a good deal exhilarated by the doctor’s +opinion; and, though concerned at having to break off his work, ready to +enjoy what he was told was absolutely essential.</p> +<p>The head-keeper had no notion of sparing him. Mr. Best regarded +him with a kind of patronising toleration as an unfortunate gentleman who +had the ill-hap never to have acquired a taste for sport, and was unable to +do justice to his preserves; but towards ‘Mr. Morton’ there was +a very active dislike. The awkward introduction might have rankled +even had Herbert been wise enough to follow Miss Morton’s advice; but +his nature was overbearing, and his self-opinion was fostered by his mother +and Ida, while he was edged on by his fellow-pupils to consider Best a mere +old woman, who could only be tolerated by the ignorance of ‘a regular +Stick.’</p> +<p>With the under-keeper Herbert fraternised enough to make him +insubordinate; and the days when Lord Northmoor gave permission for +shooting <!-- page 110--><a name="page110"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +110</span>or for inviting his companions for a share in the sport, were +days of mutual offence, when the balance of provoking sneer and angry +insult would be difficult to cast, though the keeper was the most +forbearing, since he never complained of personal ill-behaviour to himself, +whereas Herbert’s demonstrations to his uncle of ‘that old +fool’ were the louder and more numerous because they never produced +the slightest effect.</p> +<p>However, Best felt aggrieved in the matter of the rook, which had been +put under his special protection, and being, moreover, something of a +naturalist, he had cherished the hope of a special Northmoor breed of pied +rooks.</p> +<p>So while, on the way from church, Lady Adela was detaining Lady +Northmoor with inquiries as to Dr. Smith, Best waylaid his master with, +‘Your lordship gave me orders about that there rook with white wings, +as was not to be mislested.’</p> +<p>‘Has anything happened to it?’ said Frank wearily.</p> +<p>‘Well, my lord, I sees Mr. Morton going up to the rookery with his +gun, and I says to him that it weren’t time for shooting of the +branchers, and the white rook weren’t to be touched by nobody, and he +swears at me for a meddling old leggings, and uses other language as +I’ll not repeat to your lordship, and by and by I hears his gun, and +I sees him a-picking up of the rook that her ladyship set such store by, so +it is due to myself, my lord, to let you know as I were not to +blame.’</p> +<p>‘Certainly not, Best,’ was the reply. ‘I am +exceedingly displeased that my nephew has behaved so ill to you, and I +shall let him know it.’</p> +<p><!-- page 111--><a name="page111"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +111</span>‘His lordship will give it to him hot and strong, the young +upstart,’ muttered Best to himself with great satisfaction, as he +watched the languid pace quicken to overtake the boy, who had gone on with +his sister.</p> +<p>Perhaps the irritability of illness had some effect upon the ordinary +gentleness of Lord Northmoor’s temper, and besides, he was +exceedingly annoyed at such ungrateful slaughter of what was known to be a +favourite of his wife; so when he came upon Herbert, sauntering down to the +stables, he accosted him sharply with, ‘What is this I hear, +Herbert? I could not have believed that you would have deliberately +killed the creature that you knew to be a special delight to your +aunt.’</p> +<p>Herbert had reached the state of mind when a third, if not a fourth, +reproach on the same subject on which his conscience was already uneasy, +was simply exasperating, and without the poor excuse he had offered his +aunt and sister, he burst out that it was very hard that such a beastly row +should be made about a fellow knocking down mere trumpery vermin.</p> +<p>‘Speak properly, Herbert, or hold your tongue,’ said his +uncle. ‘I am extremely displeased at finding that you do not +know how to conduct yourself to my servants, and have presumed to act in +this lawless, heartless manner, in defiance of what you knew to be your +aunt’s wishes and my orders, and that you replied to Best’s +remonstrance with insolence.’</p> +<p>‘That’s a good one! Insolent to an old fool of a +keeper,’ muttered Herbert sullenly.</p> +<p><!-- page 112--><a name="page112"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +112</span>‘Insolence is shameful towards any man,’ returned his +uncle. ‘And from a foolish headstrong boy to a faithful old +servant it is particularly unbecoming. However, bad as this is, it is +not all that I have to speak of.’</p> +<p>Then Herbert recollected with dismay how much his misdemeanour would +tell against his pardon for the more important act of disobedience, and he +took refuge in a sullen endeavour at indifference, while his uncle, +thoroughly roused, spoke of the sins of disobedience and the dangers of +betting. Perhaps the only part of the lecture that he really heard +was, ‘Remember, it was these habits in those who came before us that +have been so great a hindrance in life to both you and me, and made you, my +poor boy, so utterly mistaken as to what becomes your position. How +much have you thrown away?’</p> +<p>Herbert looked up and muttered the amount—twelve pounds and some +shillings.</p> +<p>‘Very well, I will not have it owed. I shall pay it, +deducting two pounds from your allowance each term till it is made +up. Give me the address or addresses.’</p> +<p>At this Herbert writhed and remonstrated, but his uncle was +inexorable.</p> +<p>‘The fellows will be at me,’ he said, as he gave +Stanhope’s name.</p> +<p>‘You will see no more of Stanhope after this week. I have +arranged to send you to a tutor in Hertfordshire, who I hope will make you +work, and where, I trust, you will find companions who will give you a +better idea of what becomes a gentleman.’</p> +<p>In point of fact, this had been arranged for <!-- page 113--><a +name="page113"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 113</span>some time past, +though by the desire of Herbert’s present tutor it had not been made +known to the young people, so that, coming thus, there was a sound of +punishment in it to Herbert.</p> +<p>The interview ended there. The annoyance, enhanced in his mind by +having come on a Sunday, brought on another attack of headache; but late in +the evening he sent for Herbert, who always had to go very early on the +Monday. It was to ask him whether he would not prefer the payment +being made to Stanhope and the other pupil after he had left them. +Herbert’s scowl passed off. It was a great relief. He +said they were prepared to wait till he had his allowance, and the act of +consideration softened him, as did also the manifest look of suffering and +illness, as his uncle lay on the couch, hardly able to speak, and yet +exerting himself thus to spare the lad.</p> +<p>‘Thank you, sir,’ actually Herbert said, and then, with a +gulp, ‘I am sorry about that bird—I wish I’d never told +them, but it was Stanhope who drove me to it, not believing.’</p> +<p>‘I thought it was not your better mind,’ said his uncle, +holding out his hand. ‘I should like you to make me a promise, +Herbert, not to make a bet while I am away. I should go with an +easier mind.’</p> +<p>‘I will, uncle,’ said Herbert, heartily reflecting, perhaps, +it must be owned, on the fewer opportunities in that line at Westhaven, +except at the regatta, but really resolving, as the only salve to his +conscience. And there was that in his face and the clasp of his hand +that gave his uncle a sense of comfort and hope.</p> +<h2><!-- page 114--><a name="page114"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +114</span>CHAPTER XVII<br /> +ON THE SURFACE</h2> +<p>Lady Adela, though small and pale, was one of the healthy women who seem +unable to believe in any ailments short of a raging fever; and when she +heard of neuralgia, decided that it was all a matter of imagination, and a +sort of excuse for breaking off the numerous occupations in which she felt +his value, but only as she would have acknowledged that of a good +schoolmaster. Their friendly intercourse had never ripened into +intimacy, and was still punctiliously courteous; each tacitly dreaded the +influence of the other on the Vicar-in-Church matters, and every visit of +the Westhaven family confirmed Lady Adela’s belief that it was +undesirable to go below the surface.</p> +<p>Bertha, who came down for a day or two to assist at the breaking-up +demonstration of the High School at Colbeam, was as ever much more +cordial. The chief drawbacks with her were that cynical tone, which +made it always doubtful whether she were making game of her hearers, and +the philanthropy, not greatly tinged with religion, so as to <!-- page +115--><a name="page115"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 115</span>confuse +old-fashioned minds. She used to bring down strange accounts of her +startling adventures in the slums, and relate them in a rattling style, +interluded with slang, being evidently delighted to shock and puzzle her +hearers; but still she was always good-natured in deed if not in word, and +Lord Northmoor was very grateful for her offer of hospitality to Herbert, +who was coming to London for his preliminary examination.</p> +<p>She had come up to call, determined to be of use to them, and she had +experience enough of travelling to be very helpful. Finding that they +shuddered at the notion of fashionable German ‘<i>baden</i>,’ +she exclaimed—</p> +<p>‘I’ll hit you off! There’s that place in the +Austrian Tyrol that Lettice Bury frequents—a regular primitive place +with a name—Oh, what is it, Addie, like rats and mice?’</p> +<p>‘Ratzes,’ said Adela.</p> +<p>‘Yes. The tourists have not molested it yet, and only +natives bathe there, so she goes every year to renovate herself and sketch, +and comes back furbished up like an old snake, with lots of drawings of +impossible peaks, like Titian’s backgrounds. We’ll write +and tell her to make ready for the head of her house!’</p> +<p>‘Oh, but—’ began Frank, looking to his wife.</p> +<p>‘Would it not be intruding?’ said Mary.</p> +<p>‘She will be enchanted! She always likes to have anything to +do for anybody, and she says the scenery is just a marvel. You care +for that! You are so deliciously fresh, beauties aren’t a bore +to you.’</p> +<p><!-- page 116--><a name="page116"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +116</span>‘We are glad of the excuse,’ said Frank gravely.</p> +<p>‘You look ill enough to be an excuse for anything, and Mary +too! How about a maid? Is Harte going?’</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Mary; ‘she says that foreign food made her +so ill once before that she cannot attempt going again. I meant to do +without.’</p> +<p>‘That would never do!’ cried Bertha. ‘You have +quite enough on your hands with Northmoor, and the luggage and the +languages.’</p> +<p>‘Is not an English maid apt to be another trouble?’ said +Mary. ‘I do not suppose my French is good, but I have had to +talk it constantly; and I know some German, if that will serve in the +Tyrol.’</p> +<p>‘I’ll reconcile it to your consciences,’ said Bertha +triumphantly. ‘It will be a real charity. There’s a +bonny little Swiss girl whom some reckless people brought home and then +turned adrift. It will be a real kindness to help her home, and you +shall pick her up when you come up to me on your way, and see my +child! Oh, didn’t I tell you? We had a housemaid once who +was demented enough to marry a scamp of a stoker on one of the Thames +steamers. He deserted her, and I found her living, or rather dying, +in an awful place at Rotherhithe, surrounded by tipsy women, raging in +opposite corners. I got her into a decent room, but too late to save +her life—and a good thing too; so I solaced her last moments with a +promise to look after her child, such a jolly little mortal, in spite of +her name—Boadicea Ethelind Davidina Jones. She is two years +old, and quite delicious—the darling of all the house!’</p> +<p><!-- page 117--><a name="page117"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +117</span>‘I hope you will have no trouble with the father,’ +said Frank.</p> +<p>‘I trust he has gone to his own locker, or, if not, he is only too +glad to be rid of her. I can tackle him,’ said Bertha +confidently. ‘The child is really a little duck!’</p> +<p>She spoke as if the little one filled an empty space in her heart; and, +even though there might be trouble in store, it was impossible not to be +glad of her present gladness, and her invitation was willingly +accepted. Moreover, her recommendations were generally trustworthy, +and Mary only hesitated because, she said—</p> +<p>‘I thought, if I could do without a maid, we might take +Constance. She is doing so very well, and likely to pass so well in +her examinations, that it would be very nice to give her this +pleasure.’</p> +<p>‘Good little girl! So it would. I should like nothing +better; but I am afraid that if you took her without a maid, Emma would +misunderstand it, and say you wanted to save the expense.’</p> +<p>‘Would it make much difference?’</p> +<p>‘Not more than we could bear now that we are in for it, but I fear +it would excite jealousies.’</p> +<p>‘Is that worse than leaving the poor child to Westhaven society +all the holidays?’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps not; and Conny is old enough now to be more injured by it +than when she was younger.’</p> +<p>‘You know I have always hoped to make her like a child of our own +when her school education is finished.’</p> +<p>Frank smiled, for he was likewise very fond of little Constance.</p> +<p><!-- page 118--><a name="page118"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +118</span>There was a public distribution of prizes, at which all the +grandees of the neighbourhood were expected to assist, and it was some +consolation to the Northmoors, for the dowager duchess being absent, that +the pleasure of taking the prize from her uncle would be all the +greater—if—</p> +<p>The whole party went—Lady Adela, Miss Morton, and all—and +were installed in chairs of state on the platform, with the bright array of +books before them—the head-mistress telling Lady Northmoor beforehand +that her niece would have her full share of honours. No one could be +a better or more diligent girl.</p> +<p>It quite nerved Lord Northmoor when he looked forth upon the sea of +waving tresses of all shades of brown, while his wife watched in +nervousness, both as to how he would acquit himself and how the exertion +would affect him; and Bertha, as usual, was anxious for the credit of the +name.</p> +<p>He did what was needed. Nobody wanted anything but the sensible +commonplace, kindly spoken, about the advantages of good opportunities, the +conscientiousness of doing one’s best. And after all, the +inferiority of mere attainments in themselves to the discipline and +dutifulness of responding to training,—it was slowly but not +stammeringly spoken, and Bertha did not feel critical or ashamed, but +squeezed Mary’s hand, and said, ‘Just the right +thing.’</p> +<p>One by one the girls were summoned for their prizes, the little ones +first. Lord Northmoor had not the gift of inventing a pretty speech +for each, he could do no more than smile as he presented the <!-- page +119--><a name="page119"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 119</span>book, and +read its name; but the smile was a very decided one when, in the class next +to the highest, three out of the seven prizes were awarded to Constance +Elizabeth Morton, and it might be a question which had the redder cheeks, +the uncle or the niece, as he handed them to her. It was one of the +few happinesses that he had derived from his brother’s family!</p> +<p>After such achievements on Constance’s part, it was impossible to +withhold—as they drove back to Northmoor—the proposal to take +her with them, and the effect was magical. Constance opened her eyes, +bounded up, as if she were going to fly out of the carriage, and then +launched herself, first on her uncle, then on her aunt, for an ecstatic +kiss.</p> +<p>‘Take care, take care, we shall have the servants thinking you a +little lunatic!’</p> +<p>‘I am almost! Oh, I am so glad! To be with you and +Aunt Mary all the holidays! That would be enough! But to go and +see all the places,’ she added, somehow perceiving that the desire to +escape from home was, at least ought not to be approved of, and yet there +was some exultation, when she hazarded a supposition that there was no time +to go home.</p> +<h2><!-- page 120--><a name="page120"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +120</span>CHAPTER XVIII<br /> +DESDICHADO</h2> +<p>Home—that is to say, Westhaven—was in some commotion when +Herbert came back and grimly growled out his intelligence as to his own +personal affairs. Mrs. Morton had been already apprized, in one of +Lord Northmoor’s well-considered letters, of his intentions of +removing his nephew to a tutor more calculated to prepare for the army, and +she had accepted this as promotion such as was his due. However, when +the pride of her heart, the tall gentlemanly son, made his appearance in a +savage mood, her feelings were all on the other side, and those of Ida +exaggerated hers.</p> +<p>‘So I’m to go to some disgusting hole where they grind the +fellows no end,’ was Herbert’s account of the matter.</p> +<p>‘But surely with your connection there’s no need for +grinding?’ said his mother.</p> +<p>Herbert laughed, ‘Much you know about it! Nobody cares a rap +for connections nowadays, even if old Frank were a connection to do a man +any good.’</p> +<p>‘But you’ll not go and study hard and hurt <!-- page +121--><a name="page121"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 121</span>yourself, my +dear,’ said his mother, though Herbert’s looks by no means +suggested any such danger, while Ida added, ‘It is not as if he had +nothing else to look to, you know. He can’t keep you out of the +peerage.’</p> +<p>‘Can’t he then? Why, he can and will too, for thirty +or forty years more at least.’</p> +<p>‘I thought his health was failing,’ said Ida, putting into +words a hope her mother had a little too much sense of propriety to +utter.</p> +<p>‘Bosh, it’s only neuralgia, just because he is such a stick +he can’t take things easy, and lark about and do every one’s +work—he hasn’t the least notion what a gentleman ought to +do.’</p> +<p>‘It is bred in the bone,’ said his mother; ‘he always +was a shabby poor creature! I always said he would not know how to +spend his money.’</p> +<p>‘He is a regular screw!’ responded Herbert. +‘What do you think now! He was in no end of a rage with me just +because I went with some of the other fellows to the Colbeam races; and one +can’t help a bet or two, you know. So I lost twelve pound or +so, and what must he do but stop it out of my allowance two pound at a +time!’</p> +<p>There was a regular outcry at this, and Mrs. Morton declared her poor +dear boy should not suffer, but she would make it up to him, and Herbert +added that ‘it had been unlucky, half of it was that they were riled +with him, first because he had shot a ridiculous rook with white wings that +my lady made no end of a fuss about.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, then it is her spite,’ said Ida. +‘She’s a sly cat, with all her meek ways.’</p> +<p><!-- page 122--><a name="page122"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +122</span>Herbert was not displeased with this evening’s sympathy, as +he lay outspread on the sofa, with the admiring and pitying eyes of his +mother and sister upon him; but he soon began to feel—when he had had +his grumble out, and could take his swing at home—that there could be +too much of it.</p> +<p>It was all very well to ease his own mind by complaining, but when he +heard of Ida announcing that he had been shamefully treated, all out of +spite for killing a white rook, his sense of justice made him declare that +the notion was nothing but girl’s folly, such as no person with a +grain of sense could believe.</p> +<p>The more his mother and her friends persisted in treating him as an +ill-used individual, the victim of his uncle’s avarice and his +aunt’s spite, the more his better nature revolted and acknowledged +inwardly and sometimes outwardly the kindness and justice he had met +with. It was really provoking that any attempt to defend them, or +explain the facts, were only treated as proofs of his own generous +feeling. Ida’s partisanship really did him more good than half +a dozen lectures would have done, and he steadily adhered to his promise +not to bet, though on the regatta day Ida and her friend Sibyl derided him +for not choosing to risk even a pair of gloves; and while one pitied him, +the other declared that he was growing a skinflint like his uncle.</p> +<p>He talked and laughed noisily enough to Ida’s friends, but he had +seen enough at Northmoor to feel the difference, and he told his sister +that there was not a lady amongst the whole kit of them, except Rose +Rollstone, who was coming down for her holiday.</p> +<p><!-- page 123--><a name="page123"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +123</span>‘Rose!’ cried Ida, tossing her head. ‘A +servant’s daughter and a hand at a shop! What will you say +next, I wonder?’</p> +<p>‘Lady is as lady acts,’ said Herbert, making a new proverb, +whereat his mother and sister in chorus rebuked him, and demanded to know +whether Ida were not a perfect lady.</p> +<p>At which he laughed with a sound of scoffing, and being tired of the +discussion sauntered out of the house to that inexhaustible occupation of +watching the boats come in, and smoking with old acquaintances, who were +still congenial to him, and declared that he had not become stuck-up, +though he was turned into an awful swell! Perhaps they were less bad +for him than Stanhope, for they inspired no spirit of imitation.</p> +<p>When he came back a later post had arrived, bringing the news of +Constance’s successes and of the invitation to her to share the +expedition of her uncle and aunt. There was no question about letting +her go, but the feeling was scarcely of congratulation.</p> +<p>‘Well, little Conny knows how to play her cards!’</p> +<p>‘Stuff—child wouldn’t know what it meant,’ said +Herbert glumly.</p> +<p>‘Well,’ said his sister, ‘she always was the +favourite, and I call it a shame.’</p> +<p>‘What, because you’ve been such a good girl, and got such +honours and prizes?’ demanded Herbert.</p> +<p>‘Nonsense, Herbert,’ said his mother. +‘Ida’s education was finished, you know.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, she wasn’t a bit older than Conny is now.’</p> +<p><!-- page 124--><a name="page124"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +124</span>‘And I don’t hold with all that study, science and +logic, and what d’ye call it; that’s no use to any one,’ +continued his mother. ‘It’s not as if your sisters had to +be governesses. Give me a girl who can play a tune on the piano and +make herself agreeable. Your uncle may do as he pleases, but +he’ll have Constance on his hands. The men don’t fancy a +girl that is always after books and lectures.’</p> +<p>‘Not of your sort, perhaps,’ said Herbert, ‘but I +don’t care what I bet that Conny gets a better husband than +Ida.’</p> +<p>‘It stands to reason,’ Ida said, almost crying, ‘when +uncle takes her about to all these fine places and sets her up to be the +favourite—just the youngest. It’s not fair.’</p> +<p>‘As if she wasn’t by a long chalk the better of the +two,’ said Herbert.</p> +<p>‘Now, Bertie,’ interposed his mother, ‘I’ll not +have you teasing and running down your sister, though I do say it is a +shame and a slight to pick out the youngest, when poor Ida is so delicate, +and both of you two have ever so much better a right to favours.’</p> +<p>‘That’s a good one!’ muttered Herbert, while Ida +exclaimed—</p> +<p>‘Of course, you know, aunt has always been nasty to me, ever since +I said ma said I was not strong enough to be bothered with that horrid +school; and as to poor Herbert, they have spited him because he shot +that—’</p> +<p>‘Shut up, Ida,’ shouted Herbert. ‘I +wouldn’t go with them if they went down on their knees to me! +What should I do, loafing about among a <!-- page 125--><a +name="page125"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 125</span>lot of disputing +frog-eaters, without a word of a Christian language, and old Frank with his +nose in a guide-book wanting me to look at beastly pictures and rum old +cathedrals. You would be a fish out of water, too, Ida. Now +Conny will take to it like a house afire, and what’s more, she +deserves it!’</p> +<p>‘Well, ma,’ put in the provoked Ida, ‘I wonder you let +Conny go, when it would do me so much good, and it is so unfair.’</p> +<p>‘My dear, you don’t understand a mother’s +feelings. I feel the slight for you, but your uncle must be allowed +to have his way. He is at all the expense, and to refuse for Conny +would do you no good.’</p> +<p>‘Except that she will be more set up than ever,’ murmured +Ida.</p> +<p>‘Oh, come now! I wonder which looks more like the set-up +one,’ said Herbert, whose wider range had resulted in making him much +alive to Ida’s shortcomings, and who looked on at her noisy style of +flirtation with the eye of a grave censor. Whatever he might be +himself, he knew what a young lady ought to be.</p> +<p>He triumphed a little when, during the few days spent in London, +Constance wrote of a delightful evening when, while her uncle and aunt and +Miss Morton had gone to an entertainment for Bertha’s match-box +makers, she had been permitted to have Rose Rollstone to spend the time +with her, the carriage, by their kind contrivance, fetching the girl both +in going and coming.</p> +<p>The two young things had been thoroughly happy together. Rose had +gone on improving <!-- page 126--><a name="page126"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 126</span>herself; her companions in the art embroidery +line were girls of a good class, with a few ladies among them, and their +tone was good and refined. It was the fashion among them to attend +the classes, Bible and secular, put in their way, and their employers +conscientiously attended to their welfare, so that Rose was by no means an +unfitting companion for the High School maiden, and they most happily +compared notes over their very different lives, when they were not engaged +in playing with little Cea, as the unwieldy name of Miss Morton’s +<i>protégée</i> had been softened. She was a very +pretty little creature, with big blue eyes and hair that could be called +golden, and very full of life and drollery, so that she was a treat to +both; and when the housemaid, whose charge she was, insisted on her coming +to bed, they begged to superintend her evening toilet, and would have +played antics with her in her crib half the night if they had not been +inexorably chased away.</p> +<p>Then they sat down on low stools in the balcony, among the flowers, in +convenient proximity for the caresses they had not yet outgrown, and had +what they called ‘a sweet talk.’</p> +<p>Constance had been much impressed with the beauty of the embroidery, and +thought it must be delightful to do such things.</p> +<p>‘Yes, for the forewoman,’ said Rose, ‘but +there’s plenty of dull work; the same over and over again, and one +little stitch ever so small gone amiss throws all wrong. Miss Grey +told us to recollect it was just like our lives!’</p> +<p>‘That’s nice!’ said Constance. ‘And it is +for the Church and Almighty God’s service?’</p> +<p><!-- page 127--><a name="page127"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +127</span>‘Some of it,’ said Rose, ‘but there’s a +good deal only for dresses, and furniture, and screens.’</p> +<p>‘Don’t you feel like Sunday when you are doing altar-cloths +and stools?’ asked Constance reverently.</p> +<p>‘I wish I did,’ said Rose; ‘but I don’t do much +of that kind yet, and one can’t keep up the being serious over it +always, you know. Indeed, Miss Grey does not wish us to be dull; she +reads to us when there is time, and explains the symbols that have to be +done; but part of the time it is an amusing book, and she says she does not +mind cheerful talk, only she trusts us not to have gossip she would not +like to hear.’</p> +<p>‘I wonder,’ said Constance, ‘whether I should have +come with you if all this had not happened? It must be very +nice.’</p> +<p>‘But your school is nice?’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes. I do love study, and those Saturdays and Sundays at +Northmoor, they are delicious! Uncle Frank reads with me about +religion, you know.’</p> +<p>‘Like our dear Bible class?’</p> +<p>‘Yes; I never understood or felt anything before; he puts it so as +it comes home,’ said Constance, striving to express herself. +‘Then I have a dear little class at the Sunday school.’</p> +<p>‘I am to have one, by and by.’</p> +<p>‘Mine are sweet little things, and I work for them on Saturdays, +while Aunt Mary reads to me. I do like teaching—and, do you +know, Rose, I think I shall be a High School teacher!’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Conny, I thought you were all so rich and grand!’</p> +<p><!-- page 128--><a name="page128"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +128</span>‘No, we are not,’ said Constance lazily; ‘we +have nothing but what Uncle Frank gives us, and I can’t bear the way +mamma and Ida are always trying to get more out of him, when I know he +can’t always do what he likes, and nasty people think him +shabby. I am sure I ought to work for myself.’</p> +<p>‘But if Herbert is a lord?’</p> +<p>‘I hope he won’t be for a long long time,’ cried +Constance. ‘Besides, I am sure he would want all his money for +himself! And as to being a teacher, Aunt Mary was, and Miss Arden, +who is so wise and good, is one. If I was like them I think it would +be doing real work for God and good—wouldn’t it, Rose? Oh +dear, oh dear, there’s the carriage stopping for you!’</p> +<h2><!-- page 129--><a name="page129"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +129</span>CHAPTER XIX<br /> +THE DOLOMITES</h2> +<p>The summer was a very hot one, and the travellers, in spite of the charm +of new scenes, and the wonders of everything to their unsophisticated eyes, +found it trying. Constance indeed was in a state of constant felicity +and admiration, undimmed except by the flagging of her two +fellow-travellers in the heated and close German railway cars. Her +uncle’s head suffered much, and Lady Northmoor secretly thought her +maid’s refusal to accompany them showed her to be a prudent +woman. However, the first breath of mountain air was a grand revival +to Lord Northmoor, and at Innsbruck he was quite alive, and walked about in +fervent delight, not desisting till he and Constance had made out every +statue on Maximilian’s monument. His wife was so much tired and +worn-out, that she heartily rejoiced in having provided him with such a +good little companion, though she was disappointed at being obliged to fail +him, and get what rest she could at the hotel. But then, as she told +him, if he learnt his way about it now, he would be able <!-- page 130--><a +name="page130"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 130</span>to show it all to her +when they had both gained strength at Ratzes.</p> +<p>Bertha had obtained full instructions and a welcome for them from Mrs. +Bury, a kindly person, who, having married off her children while still in +full health and vigour, remained at the service of any relation who needed +her, and in the meantime resorted to out-of-the-way places abroad.</p> +<p>The railway took them to Botzen, which was hotter still, and thence on +to Castelruth, whence there was no means of reaching Ratzes but by mule or +<i>chaise à porteux</i>. Both alike were terrible to poor +Mary; however, she made up her mind to the latter, and all the long way was +to her a dream of terror and discomfort, and of trying to admire—what +she knew she ought to admire—the wonderful pinnacle-like aiguilles of +the Schern cleaving the air. For some time the way lay over the great +plateau of the Scisser Alp—a sea of rich grass, full of cattle, where +her husband and niece kept on trying to bring their mules alongside of her +to make her participate in their ecstasy, and partake of their +spoils—mountain pink, celestially blue gentian, brilliant poppy, or +the like. Here the principal annoyance was that their mules were so +obstinately bent on not approaching her that she was in constant alarm for +them, while Constance was absolutely wild with delight, and even grave +Frank was exhilarated by the mountain air into boyish spirits, such as +impressed her, though she resolutely prevented herself from lowering them +by manifesting want of sympathy, though the aiguilles that they <!-- page +131--><a name="page131"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 131</span>admired +seemed to her savage, and the descent, along a perilous winding road, cut +out among precipices, horrified her—on, on, through endless pine +forests, where the mules insisted on keeping her in solitude, and where +nothing could be seen beyond the rough jolting path. At last, when a +whole day had gone by, and even Constance sat her mule in silence and +looked very tired, the fir trees grew more scanty. The aiguilles +seemed in all their wildness to be nodding overhead; there was a small +bowling-green, a sort of châlet in two divisions, united by a +gallery: but Mary saw no more, for at that moment a loose slippery stone +gave way, and the bearers stumbled and fell, dragging the chair so that it +tipped over.</p> +<p>Constance, who had ridden on in front with her uncle, first heard a cry +of dismay, and as both leaped off and rushed back, they saw her aunt had +fallen, and partly entangled in the chair.</p> +<p>‘Do not touch her!’ cried Frank, forgetting that he could +not be understood, and raising her in his arms, as the chair was withdrawn; +but she did not speak or move, and there was a distressing throng and +confusion of strange voices, seeming to hem them in as Constance looked +round, unable to call up a single word of German, or to understand the +exclamations. Then, as she always said, it was like an angel’s +voice that said, ‘What is it?’ as through the crowd came a tall +lady in a white hat and black gown, and knelt down by the prostrate figure, +saying, ‘I hope she is only stunned; let us carry her in. It +will be better to let her come round there.’</p> +<p><!-- page 132--><a name="page132"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +132</span>The lady gave vigorous aid, and, giving a few orders in German, +helped Lord Northmoor to carry the inanimate form into the hotel, a low +building of stone, with a high-pitched shingle roof. Constance +followed in a bewilderment of fright, together with Lenchen, the Swiss +maid, who, as well as could be made out, was declaring that a Swiss bearer +never made a false step.</p> +<p>Lady Northmoor was carried into a bedroom, and Constance was shut out +into a room that photographed itself on her memory, even in that +moment—a room like a box, with a rough table, a few folding-chairs, +an easel, water-coloured drawings hung about in all directions, a big +travelling-case, a few books, a writing-case, Mrs. Bury’s +sitting-room in fact, which, as a regular sojourner, she had been able to +secure and furnish after her need. From the window, tall, narrow, +latticed, with a heavy outside shutter, she saw a village green, a little +church with a sharp steeple, and pointed-roof houses covered with shingle, +groups of people, a few in picturesque Tyrolese costume, but others in the +ordinary badly cut edition of cosmopolitan human nature. There was a +priest in a big hat and white bordered bands discussing a newspaper with a +man with a big red umbrella; a party drinking coffee under a pine tree, and +beyond, those strange wild pointed aiguilles pointing up purple and red +against the sky.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p132.jpg"> +<img alt="There was a priest in a big hat . . ." src="images/p132.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>How delightful it would all have been if this quarter of an hour could +be annihilated! She could find out nothing. Lenchen and the +good-natured-looking landlady came in and out and fetched <!-- page +133--><a name="page133"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 133</span>things, but +they never stayed long enough to give her any real information, the +landlady shouting for ‘Hemzel,’ etc., and Lenchen calling +loudly in German for the boxes, which had been slung on mules. She +heard nothing definite till her uncle came out, looking pale and +anxious.</p> +<p>‘She is better now,’ he said, with a gasp of relief, +throwing himself into a chair, and holding out his hand to Constance, who +could hardly frame her question. ‘Yes, quite +sensible—came round quickly. The blow on the head seems to be +of no consequence; but there may be a strain, or it may be only the being +worn out and overdone. They are going to undress her and put her to +bed now. Mrs. Bury is kindness itself. I did not look after her +enough on that dreadful road.’</p> +<p>‘Isn’t there a doctor?’ Constance ventured to ask.</p> +<p>‘No such thing within I know not how many miles of these +paths! But Mrs. Bury seems to think it not likely to be needed. +Over-fatigue and the shake! What was I about? This air and all +the rest were like an intoxication, making me forget my poor +Mary!’</p> +<p>He passed his hand over his face with a gesture as if he were very much +shocked and grieved at himself, and Constance suggested that it was all the +mule’s fault, and Aunt Mary never complained.</p> +<p>‘The more reason she should not have been neglected,’ he +said; and it was well for the excluded pair that just then the boxes were +reported as arrived, and he was called on for the keys, so <!-- page +134--><a name="page134"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 134</span>that wild +searching for things demanded occupied them.</p> +<p>After a considerable time, Mrs. Bury came and told Lord Northmoor that +he might go and look at his wife for a few moments, but that she must be +kept perfectly quiet and not talked to or agitated. Constance was not +to go in at all, but was conducted off by the good lady to her own tiny +room, to get herself ready for the much-needed meal that was imminent.</p> +<p>They met again in the outer room. There was a great Speise saal, a +separate building, where the bathers dived <i>en masse</i>; but since Mrs. +Bury had made the place her haunt, she had led to the erection of an +additional building where there was a little accommodation for the +travellers of the better class who had of late discovered the glories of +the Dolomites, though the baths were scarcely ever used except by artizans +and farmers. She had this sitting-room chiefly made at her own +expense with these few comforts, in the way of easy folding-chairs, a vase +of exquisite flowers on the table, a few delicate carvings, an easel, and +drawings of the mountain peaks and ravines suspended everywhere.</p> +<p>Besides this there were only the bedrooms, as small as they well could +be.</p> +<p>They were summoned down to the evening meal, and the maid Lenchen was +left with Lady Northmoor. There was only one other guest, a +spectacled and rather silent German, and Constance presently gathered that +Mrs. Bury was trying to encourage and inspirit Lord Northmoor, but seemed +to think <!-- page 135--><a name="page135"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +135</span>there might be some delay before a move would be possible.</p> +<p>They sent her to bed, for she was really very tired after the long walk +and ride, and she could not help sleeping soundly; but the first thing she +heard in the morning was that the guide had been desired to send a doctor +from Botzen, and the poor child spent a dreary morning of anxiety with +nothing to do but to watch the odd figures disporting themselves or resting +in the shade after their baths, to try a little sketching and a little +letter-writing, but she was too restless and anxious to get on with +either.</p> +<p>All the comfort she got was now and then Mrs. Bury telling her that she +need not be frightened, and giving her a book to read; and after the midday +meal her uncle was desired by Mrs. Bury, who had evidently assumed the +management of him, to take the child out walking, for the doctor could not +come for hours, and Lady Northmoor had better be left to sleep.</p> +<p>So they wandered out into the pinewoods, preoccupied and silent, gazing +along the path, as if that would hasten the doctor. Constance had +perceived that questions were discouraged, and did her best to keep from +being troublesome by trying to busy herself with a bouquet of mountain +flowers.</p> +<p>The little German doctor came so late that he had to remain all night, +but his coming, as well as that of a brisk American brother and sister, +seemed to have cheered things up a good deal. Mrs. Bury talked to the +German, and the <!-- page 136--><a name="page136"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 136</span>Americans asked so many questions that +answering them made things quite lively. Indeed, Constance was +allowed to wish her aunt good-night, and seeing her look just like herself +on her pillows, much relieved her mind.</p> +<h2><!-- page 137--><a name="page137"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +137</span>CHAPTER XX<br /> +RATZES</h2> +<p>Things began to fall into their regular course at Ratzes, Lady Northmoor +was in a day or two able to come into Mrs. Bury’s sitting-room for a +few hours every day; but there she lay on a folding chaise-longue that had +been arranged for her, languid but bright, reading, working, looking at +Mrs. Bury’s drawings, and keeping the diary of the adventures of the +others.</p> +<p>Her husband would fain never have left her, but he had to take his +baths. These were in the lower story of the larger +châlet. They were taken in rows of pinewood boxes in the +vault. He muttered that it felt very like going alive into his +coffin, when, like others, he laid himself down in the rust-coloured +liquid, ‘each in his narrow cell’ in iron ‘laid,’ +with his head on a shelf, and a lid closing up to his chin, and he was +uncheered by conversation, as all the other patients were Austrians of the +lower middle class, and their Tyrolean dialect would have been hard to +understand even by German scholars. However, the treatment <!-- page +138--><a name="page138"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 138</span>certainly +did him good, and entirely drove away his neuralgia, he walked, rode, and +climbed a good deal with Constance and a lad attached to the establishment, +whose German Constance could just understand. And while he stayed +with his wife, Mrs. Bury took Constance out, showed her many delights, +helped her crude notions of drawing, and being a good botanist herself, +taught the whole party fresh pleasures in the wonderful flora of the +Dolomites.</p> +<p>Now and then an English traveller appeared, and Lord Northmoor was +persuaded to join in expeditions for his niece’s sake, that took them +away for a night or two. Thus they saw Caprile Cadore, St. Ulrich, +that town of toys, full of dolls of every tone, spotted wooden horses, +carts, and the like. They beheld the tall points of Monte Serrata, +and the wonderful ‘Horse Teeth,’ with many more such marvels; +and many were the curiosities they brought back, and the stories they had +to tell, with regrets that Aunt Mary had not been there to enjoy and add to +their enjoyment.</p> +<p>So the days went on, and the end of Constance’s holidays was in +view, the limit that had been intended for the Kur at Ratzes; but Aunt Mary +had not been out of doors since their arrival, and seemed fit for nothing +save lying by the window.</p> +<p>Constance had begun to wonder what would be done, when she was told that +a good-natured pair of English travellers, like herself bound to school +terms, would escort her safely to London and see her into the train for +Colbeam, just in time for the High School term.</p> +<p>‘This will be the best way,’ said her aunt, kissing <!-- +page 139--><a name="page139"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +139</span>her. ‘You have been a dear good girl, Conny, and a +great pleasure and comfort to us both.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, auntie, I have not done anything, Mrs. Bury has done it +all.’</p> +<p>‘Mrs. Bury is most kind, unspeakably kind, but, my dear dear girl, +your companionship has been so much to your dear uncle that I have been +most thankful to you. Always recollect, dearest Conny, you can be +more comfort to your uncle than anybody else, whatever may come. You +<i>will</i> always be a good girl and keep up your tone, and make him your +great consideration—after higher things; promise me.’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes, indeed, auntie dear,’ said the girl, somewhat +frightened and bewildered as the last kisses and good-byes were +exchanged. Since the travellers were to start very early the next +morning on their mules for Botzen, whither Mrs. Bury meant to accompany +them in order to make some purchases, Lord Northmoor went with the party to +the limits of his walking powers, and on the slope of the Alp, amid the +fir-woods, took his leave, Mrs. Bury telling him cheerfully that she should +return the next day, while he said that he could not thank her +enough. He bade farewell to his niece, telling her that he hoped she +would by and by be spending her holidays at Northmoor if all went well.</p> +<p>Constance had begun to grow alarmed, and watched for an opportunity of +imploring Mrs. Bury to tell her whether Aunt Mary were really very ill.</p> +<p>Mrs. Bury laughed, and confided to her a secret, which made her at once +glad, alarmed, and important.</p> +<p><!-- page 140--><a name="page140"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +140</span>‘Oh, and is no one to know?’ said little Constance, +with rosy cheeks.</p> +<p>‘Not till leave is given,’ said Mrs. Bury. ‘You +see there is still so much risk of things going wrong, that they both wish +nothing to be said at present. I thought they had spoken to +you.’</p> +<p>‘Oh no. But—but—’ and Constance could not +go on, as her eyes filled with tears.</p> +<p>‘Is there special cause for anxiety, you mean, my dear? +Hardly for <i>her</i>, though it was unlucky that she was as unknowing as +you, and I don’t see how she is to be taken over these roads into a +more civilised place. But I shall stay on and see them through with +it, and I daresay we shall do very well. I am used enough to looking +after my own daughters, and nobody particularly wants me at +home.’</p> +<p>‘That’s what Aunt Mary meant by saying you were <i>so</i> +very good!’</p> +<p>‘Well, it would be sheer inhumanity to leave them to themselves, +and the mercies of Ratzes, and there seems to be no one else that could +come.’</p> +<p>‘I’m glad I know!’ said Constance, with a long +breath. ‘Only what shall I do if any one asks me about +her?’</p> +<p>‘Say she had a nasty fall, which makes it undesirable to move her +just yet. It is the simple truth, and what you would have naturally +said but for this little communication of mine.’</p> +<p>‘I suppose,’ said Constance, in a tone Mrs. Bury did not +understand, ‘it will be all known before my Christmas +holidays?’</p> +<p>‘Oh yes, my dear, long before that. I’ll write to you +when I have anything to tell.’</p> +<p><!-- page 141--><a name="page141"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +141</span>For which Constance thanked her heartily, and thenceforth felt a +great deal older for the confidence, which delighted as well as made her +anxious, for she was too fond of her uncle and aunt, as well as too young +and simple, for it to have occurred to her how the matter might affect her +brother.</p> +<p>After seeing much more on her road than she had done before, and won +golden opinions from her escort for intelligence and obligingness, she was +safely deposited in the train for Colbeam, without having gone home.</p> +<p>She had made up her mind to pass Sunday at her boarding-house, and was +greatly surprised when Lady Adela called on Saturday to take her to +Northmoor for the Sunday.</p> +<p>‘Now tell me about your uncle and aunt,’ the good lady +began, when Constance was seated beside her. ‘Yes, I have heard +from Mrs. Bury, but I want to know whether the place is tolerably +comfortable.’</p> +<p>‘Mrs. Bury has made it much better,’ said Constance. +‘And it is so beautiful, no one would care for comfort who was quite +well.’</p> +<p>‘And is your uncle well? Has he got over his +headaches?’ she asked solicitously.</p> +<p>In fact, the absence of Lord and Lady Northmoor had done more than their +presence to make Lady Adela feel their value. She was astonished to +find how much she missed the power of referring to him and leaning on his +support in all questions, small or great, that cropped up; and she had +begun to feel that the stick might be a staff; besides which, having +imbibed more than an inkling of the cause <!-- page 142--><a +name="page142"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 142</span>of detention, she was +anxious to gather what she could of the circumstances.</p> +<p>She was agreeably surprised in Constance, to whom the journey had been a +time of development from the mere school girl, and who could talk +pleasantly, showing plenty of intelligence and observation in a modest +ladylike way. Moreover, she had a game in the garden which little +Amice enjoyed extremely, and she and her little Sunday class were delighted +to see one another again. It resulted in her Sundays being spent at +Northmoor as regularly as before, and in Amice, a companionless child, +thinking Saturday brought the white afternoon of the week.</p> +<h2><!-- page 143--><a name="page143"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +143</span>CHAPTER XXI<br /> +THE HEIR-APPARENT</h2> +<blockquote> +<p>‘<span class="smcap">My Dear Addie</span>,</p> +<p>‘You have no doubt ceased from your exertions in the way of +finding nurses, since the telegram has told you that the son and heir has +considerately saved trouble and expense by making his appearance on +Michaelmas morning. It was before there was time to fetch anybody but +the ancient village Bettina. Everything is most prosperous, and I am +almost as proud as the parents—and to see them gloat over the morsel +is a caution. They look at him as if such a being had never been +known on the earth before; and he really is a very fine healthy creature, +most ridiculously like the portrait of the original old Michael Morton +Northmoor in the full-bottomed wig. He seems to be almost equally +marvellous to the Ratzes population, being the first infant seen there +unswaddled—or washed. Bettina’s horror at the idea of +washing him is worth seeing. Her brown old face was almost convulsed, +and she and our Frau-wirthin concurred in assuring me that it would be <!-- +page 144--><a name="page144"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 144</span>fatal +to <i>der kleine baron</i> if he were washed, except with white wine and +milk at a fortnight old; nor would they accept my assurance that my three +daughters and seven grandchildren had survived the process. I have to +do it myself, and dress him as I can, for his wardrobe as made here is not +complete, and whatever you can send us will be highly acceptable. It +is lucky that Northmoor is a born nurse, for the women’s fear of +breaking the child is really justifiable, as they never handled anything +not made up into a mummy; moreover, they wish to let all the world up into +Mary’s room to behold the curiosity, I met the priest upon his way +and turned him back! So we have pretty well all the nursing on our +hands, and happily it is of the most satisfactory kind, with the one +drawback that we have to call in the services of a ‘valia’; but +on the other hand we have all been so much interested in a poor little +widow, Hedwig Grantzen, whose husband was lost last spring in a snow-storm, +that it is pleasant to have some employment for her. Such a creature +as came over on chance and speculation—a great coarse handsome girl, +in exaggerated costume, all new, with lacy ribbons down her back; but I +rode over to Botzen, and interviewed her parish priest about her, and that +was enough to settle her. Every one is asleep except myself, and +Mary’s face is one smile as she sleeps.</p> +<p>‘This is going to be posted by the last of the tourists, luckily a +clergyman, whom we begged to baptize the boy, as there is a possibility +that snows may close us in before we can get away.</p> +<p>‘So he is named Michael Kenton, partly after <!-- page 145--><a +name="page145"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 145</span>my own dear brother +as well as the old founder, partly in honour of the day and of Sir Edward +Kenton, who, they say, has been their very kind friend. It really is +a feast to see people so wonderingly happy and thankful. The little +creature has all the zest of novelty to them, and they coo and marvel over +it in perfect felicity. When you will be introduced to the hero, I +cannot guess, for though he has been an earlier arrival than his +mother’s inexperience expected, I much doubt her being able to get +out of this place while the way to Botzen is passable according to the +prognostics of the sages. What splendid studies of ice peaks I shall +have! Your affectionate cousin,</p> +</blockquote> +<p style="text-align: right">‘<span class="smcap">L. +Bury</span>.’</p> +<p>A telegram had preceded the letter. One soon followed by Mrs. +Bury’s promised note had filled Constance’s honest little heart +with rapture, another had set all the bells in Northmoor Church ringing and +Best rejoicing that ‘that there Harbut’s nose was put out of +joint,’ a feeling wherein Lady Adela could not but participate, +though, of course, she showed no sign of it to Constance. A +sharply-worded letter to the girl soon came from her mother, demanding what +she had known beforehand. Mrs. Morton had plainly been quite +unprepared for what was a severe blow to her, and it was quite possible to +understand how, in his shyness, Lord Northmoor had put off writing of the +hope and expectation from day to day till all had been fulfilled sooner +than had been expected.</p> +<p>It was the first thing that brought home to <!-- page 146--><a +name="page146"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 146</span>Constance that the +event was scarcely as delightful to her family as to herself. She +wrote what she knew and heard no more, for none of her home family were apt +to favour her with much correspondence. Miss Morton, however, had +written to her sister-in-law.</p> +<p>‘Poor Herbert! I am sorry for him, though you won’t +be. He takes it very well, he really is a very good sort at bottom, +and it really is the very best thing for him, as I have been trying to +persuade him.’</p> +<p>Bulletins came with tolerable frequency from Ratzes, with all good +accounts of mother and child, and a particular description of little +Michael’s beauties; but it was only too soon announced that snow was +falling, and this was soon followed by another letter saying that +consultation with the best authorities within reach had decided that unless +the weather were extraordinarily mild, the journey, after November set in, +was not to be ventured by Lady Northmoor or so young a child. There +would be perils for any one, even the postmen and the guides, and if it +were mild in one valley it might only render it more dangerous over the +next Alp. Still Mrs. Bury, a practised and enterprising mountaineer, +might have attempted it; but though Mary was rapidly recovering and the +language was no longer utterly impracticable, the good lady could not bear +to desert her charges, or to think what might happen to them, if left +alone, in case of illness or accident, so she devoted herself to them and +to her studies of ice and snow, and wrote word to her family that they were +to think of her as hibernating till Easter, if not Whitsuntide.</p> +<h2><!-- page 147--><a name="page147"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +147</span>CHAPTER XXII<br /> +OUT OF JOINT</h2> +<p>Constance had, of course, to spend her Christmas holidays at home, where +she had not been for nine months.</p> +<p>Her brother met her at the London terminus to go down with her, and +there, to her great joy, she also saw Rose Rollstone on the platform. +Herbert, whose dignity had first prompted him to seek a smoking carriage +apart from his sister, thereupon decided to lay it aside and enter with +them, looking rather scornful at the girls’ mutual endearments.</p> +<p>‘Come, Conny, Miss Rollstone has had enough of that,’ he +said, ‘and here are a lot going to get in. Oh my, the +cads! I shall have to get into the smoking carriage after +all.’</p> +<p>‘No, don’t. Sit opposite and we shall do very +well.’</p> +<p>Then came the exchange of news, and—‘You’ve heard, of +course, Rosie?’</p> +<p>‘I should think I had,’ then an anxious glance at Herbert, +who answered—</p> +<p><!-- page 148--><a name="page148"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +148</span>‘Oh yes, mother and Ida have been tearing their hair ever +since, but it is all rot! The governor’s very welcome to the +poor little beggar!’</p> +<p>‘Oh, that’s right! That’s very noble of you, +Herbert,’ said both the girls in a breath.</p> +<p>‘Well, you see, old Frank is good to live these thirty or forty +years yet, and what was the good of having to wait? Better have done +with it at once, I say, and he has written me a stunning jolly +letter.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, I was sure he would!’ cried Constance.</p> +<p>‘I’m to go on just the same, and he won’t cut off my +allowance,’ pursued Herbert.</p> +<p>‘It is just as my papa says,’ put in Rose, ‘he is +always the gentleman. And you’ll be in the army +still?’</p> +<p>‘When I’ve got through my exams; but they are no joke, Miss +Rose, I can tell you. It is Conny there that likes to sap. What +have you been doing this time, little one?’</p> +<p>‘I don’t know yet, but Miss Astley thinks I have done well +and shall get into the upper form,’ said Constance shyly. +‘I got on with my German while I was abroad, trying to teach Uncle +Frank.’</p> +<p>At which Herbert laughed heartily, and demanded what sort of scholar he +made.</p> +<p>‘Not very good,’ owned Constance; ‘he did forget so +from day to day, and he asked so many questions, and was always wanting to +have things explained. But it made me know them better, and Mrs. Bury +had such nice books, and she helped me. If you want to take up French +and German, Bertie—</p> +<p><!-- page 149--><a name="page149"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +149</span>He shrugged his shoulders.</p> +<p>‘Don’t spoil the passing hour, child. I should think +you would be glad enough to get away from it all.’</p> +<p>‘I do want to get on,’ said Constance. ‘I must, +you know, more than ever now.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, you mean that mad fancy of going and being a +teacher?’</p> +<p>‘It is not a bit mad, Herbert. Rose does not think it is, +and I want you to stand by me if mamma and Ida make objections.’</p> +<p>‘Girls are always in such a hurry,’ grumbled Herbert. +‘You need not make a stir about it yet. You won’t be able +to begin for ever so long.’</p> +<p>Rose agreed with him that it would be much wiser not to broach the +subject till Constance was old enough to begin the preparation, though, +with the impatience of youth to express its designs and give them form, she +did not like the delay.</p> +<p>‘I tell you what, Con,’ finally said Herbert, ‘if you +set mother and Ida worrying before their time, I shall vote it all rot, and +not say a word to help you.’</p> +<p>Which disposed of the subject for the time, and left them to discuss +happily Constance’s travels and Herbert’s new tutor and +companions till their arrival at Westhaven, where Constance’s welcome +was quite a secondary thing to Herbert’s, as she well knew it would +be, nor felt it as a grievance, though she was somewhat amazed at seeing +him fervently embraced, and absolutely cried over, with ‘Oh, my poor +injured boy!’</p> +<p>Herbert did not like it at all, and disengaging <!-- page 150--><a +name="page150"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 150</span>himself rapidly, +growled out his favourite expletive of ‘Rot! Have done with +that!’</p> +<p>He was greatly admired for his utter impatience of commiseration, but +there was no doubt that the disappointment was far greater to his mother +and Ida than to himself. He cared little for what did not make any +actual difference to his present life, whereas to them the glory and honour +of his heirship and the future hopes were everything—and +Constance’s manifest delight in the joy of her uncle and aunt, and +her girlish interest in the baby, were to their eyes unfeeling folly, if +not absolute unkindness to her brother.</p> +<p>‘Dear little baby, indeed!’ said Ida scornfully. +‘Nasty little wretch, I say. One good thing is, up in that cold +place all this time he’s sure not to live.’</p> +<p>Herbert whistled. ‘That’s coming it rather +strong.’ And Constance, with tears starting to her eyes, said, +‘For shame, Ida, how can you be so wicked! Think of Uncle Frank +and Aunt Mary!’</p> +<p>‘I believe you care for them more than for your own flesh and +blood!’ exclaimed her mother.</p> +<p>‘Well, and haven’t they done a sight deal more for +her?’ said Herbert.</p> +<p>‘You turning on me too, you ungrateful boy!’ cried Mrs. +Morton.</p> +<p>Herbert laughed.</p> +<p>‘If it comes to gratitude,’ he said, and looked +significantly at the decorations.</p> +<p>‘And what is it but the due to his brother’s widow?’ +said Mrs. Morton. ‘Just a pittance, and you may depend that +will be cut down on some pretext now!’</p> +<p><!-- page 151--><a name="page151"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +151</span>‘I should think so, if they heard Ida’s +tongue!’ said Herbert.</p> +<p>‘And Constance there is spitefulness enough to go and tell +them—favourite as she is!’ said Ida.</p> +<p>‘I should think not!’ said Constance indignantly. +‘As if I would do such a mean thing!’</p> +<p>‘Come, come, Ida,’ said her mother, ‘your sister knows +better than that. It’s not the way when she is only just come +home, so grown too and improved, “quite the lady.”‘</p> +<p>Mrs. Morton had a mother’s heart for Constance, though only in the +third degree, and was really gratified to see her progress. She had +turned up her pretty brown hair, and the last year had made her much less +of a child in appearance; her features were of delicate mould, she had dark +eyes, and a sweet mouth, with a rose-blush complexion, and was pleasing to +look on, though, in her mother’s eyes, no rival to the thin, rather +sharply-defined features, bright eyes, and pink-and-white complexion that +made Ida the belle of a certain set at Westhaven. The party were more +amicable over the dinner-table—for dinner it was called, as an +assertion of gentility.</p> +<p>‘Are you allowed to dine late,’ asked Ida patronisingly of +her sister, ‘when you are not at school?</p> +<p>‘Lady Adela dines early,’ said Constance.</p> +<p>‘Oh, for your sake, I suppose?’</p> +<p>‘Always, I believe,’ said Constance.</p> +<p>‘Yes, always,’ said Herbert. ‘Fine people +needn’t ask what’s genteel, you see, Ida.’</p> +<p>That was almost the only breeze, and after dinner Herbert rushed out for +a smell of sea, <!-- page 152--><a name="page152"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 152</span>interspersed with pipe, and to ‘look up +the inevitable old Jack.’</p> +<p>Constance was then subjected to a cross-examination on all the +circumstances of the detention at Ratzes, and all she had heard or ought to +have heard about the arrival of the unwelcome little Michael, while her +mother and sister drew their own inferences.</p> +<p>‘Really,’ said Ida at last, ‘it is just like a thing +in a book.’</p> +<p>Constance was surprised.</p> +<p>‘Because it was such a happy surprise for them,’ she added +hastily.</p> +<p>‘No, nonsense, child, but it is just what they always do when they +want a supposititious heir.’</p> +<p>‘Ida, how can you say such things?’</p> +<p>‘But it is, Conny! There was the wicked Sir Ronald +Macronald. He took his wife away to Belgrade, right in the Ukraine +mountains, and it—’</p> +<p>‘Belgrade is in Hungary, and the Cossacks live in the Ukraine in +Russia,’ suggested Constance.</p> +<p>‘Oh, never mind your school-girl geography, it was Bel something, +an out-of-the-way place in the mountains anyway, and there he pretended she +had a child, just out of malice to the right heiress, that lovely Lilian, +and he got killed by a stag, and then she confessed on her death-bed. +I declare it is just like—’</p> +<p>‘My dear, don’t talk in that way, your sister is quite +shocked. Your uncle never would—’</p> +<p>‘Bless me, ma, I was only in fun. I could tell you ever so +many stories like that. There’s Broughton’s, on the table +there. I knew from the <!-- page 153--><a name="page153"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 153</span>first it was an impostor, and the old nurse +dressed like a nun was his mother.’</p> +<p>‘I believe you always know the end before you are half through the +first volume,’ said her mother admiringly; ‘but of course it is +all right, only it is a terrible disappointment and misfortune for us, and +not to be looked for after all these years.’</p> +<p>The last three Christmastides had been spent at Northmoor, where it had +been needful to conform to the habits of the household, which impressed Ida +and her mother as grand and conferring distinction, but decidedly dull and +religious.</p> +<p>So as they were at Westhaven, perforce, they would make up for it, +Christmas Eve was spent in a tumult of preparation for the diversions of +the next day. Mrs. Morton had two maids now, but to her they were +still ‘gals,’ not to be trusted with the more delicate +cookeries, and Ida was fully engaged in the adornment of the room and +herself, while Constance ran about and helped both, and got more thanks +from her mother than her sister.</p> +<p>Ida was to end the day with a dance at a friend’s house, but she +was not desirous of taking Constance with her, having been accustomed to +treat her as a mere child, and Constance, though not devoid of a wish for +amusement, knew that her uncle and aunt would have taken her to church, +where she would have enjoyed the festal service.</p> +<p>Her mother would not let her go out in the dark alone, and was too tired +to go with her, so she had to stay at home, while Herbert disported himself +elsewhere, and Constance underwent another cross-examination over the +photographs she had brought <!-- page 154--><a name="page154"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 154</span>home, but Mrs. Morton was never unkind when +alone with her, and she had all the natural delight of youth in relating +her adventures. Mrs. Morton, however, showed offence at not having +been sent for instead of Mrs. Bury.—‘So much less of a +relation,’ and Constance found herself dwelling on the ruggedness of +the pass, and the difficulties of making oneself understood, but Mrs. +Morton still persisted that she ‘could not understand why they should +have got into such a place at all, when there were plenty of fashionable +places in the newspaper where they could have had society and attendance +and everything.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, but that was just what Uncle Frank didn’t +want.’</p> +<p>‘Well, if they choose to be so eccentric, and close and shy, they +can’t wonder that people talk.’</p> +<p>‘Mamma, you can’t mean that horrid nonsense that Ida talked +about! It was only a joke!’</p> +<p>‘Oh, my dear, I don’t say that I suspect anything—oh +no,—only, if they had not been so close and queer, one would have +been able to contradict it. I like people to be straightforward, +that’s all I have to say. And it is terribly hard on your poor +brother to be so disappointed, after having his expectations so +raised!’ and Mrs. Morton melted into tears, leaving Constance with +nothing to say, for in the first place, she did not think Herbert, as yet +at least, was very sensible of his loss, and in the next, she did not quite +venture to ask her mother whether she thought little Michael should have +been sacrificed to Herbert’s expectations. So she took the +wiser course of producing a photograph of Vienna.</p> +<h2><!-- page 155--><a name="page155"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +155</span>CHAPTER XXIII<br /> +VELVET</h2> +<p>Constance created quite a sensation when she came down dressed for +church on Christmas Day in a dark blue velvet jacket, deeply trimmed with +silver fox, and a hat and muff <i>en suite</i>, matching with her serge +dress, and though unpretending, yet very handsome.</p> +<p>Up jumped Ida, from lacing her boots by the fire. ‘Well, I +never! They are spoiling you! Real velvet, I declare, and real +silk-wadded lining. Look, ma. What made them dress you like +that?’</p> +<p>‘It wasn’t them,’ said Constance, ‘it was Lady +Adela. One Sunday in October it turned suddenly cold, and I had only +my cloth jacket, and she sent up for something warm for me. This was +just new before she went into black, when husband died, and she had put it +away for Amice, but it fitted me so well, and looked so nice, that she was +so kind as to wish me to keep it always.’</p> +<p>‘Cast-off clothes! That’s the insolence of these +swells,’ said Ida. ‘I wonder you had not the spirit to +refuse.’</p> +<p><!-- page 156--><a name="page156"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +156</span>‘Sour grapes,’ muttered Herbert; while her mother +sighed—‘Ah, that’s what we come to!’</p> +<p>‘Must not I wear it, mamma?’ said Constance, who had a +certain attachment to the beautiful and comfortable garment. +‘She told me she had only worn it once in London, and she was so very +kind.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, if you call it kindness,’ said Ida, ‘I call it +impertinence.’</p> +<p>‘If you had only heard—’ faltered Constance.</p> +<p>‘No, no,’ said their mother, ‘you could not refuse, of +course, my dear, and no one here will know. It becomes her very well +too. Doesn’t it, Ida?’</p> +<p>Ida made a snort. ‘If people choose to make a little chit of +a schoolgirl ridiculous by dressing her out like that!’ she said.</p> +<p>‘There isn’t time now before church,’ said Constance +almost tearfully, ‘or I would take it off.’</p> +<p>‘No such thing,’ said Herbert. ‘Come on, +Conny. You shall walk with me. You look stunning, and I want +Westhaven folk to see for once what a lady is like.’</p> +<p>Constance was very glad to be led away from Ida’s comments, and +resolved that her blue velvet should not see the light again at Westhaven; +but she did not find this easy to carry out; for, perhaps for the sake of +teasing Ida, Herbert used to inquire after it, and insist on her wearing +it, and her mother liked to see her, and to show her, in it. It was +only Ida who seemed unable to help saying something disagreeable, till, +almost in despair, Constance offered to lend the bone of contention; but +Lady Adela was a small woman, and Constance would never be on so large a +scale as her sister, so that <!-- page 157--><a name="page157"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 157</span>the jacket refused to be transferred except at +the risk of being spoilt by alteration; and here Mrs. Morton interfered, +‘It would never do to have them say at Northmoor that “Lady +Morton’s” gift had been spoilt by their meddling with +it.’ Constance was glad, though she suspected that Lady Adela +would never have found it out.</p> +<p>Then Ida consulted Sibyl Grover, who was working with a dressmaker, and +with whom she kept up a sort of patronisingly familiar acquaintance, as to +making something to rival it, and Sibyl was fertile in devices as to doing +so cheaply, but when she consulted her superior, she was told that without +the same expensive materials it would evidently be only an imitation, and +moreover, that the fashion was long gone out of date. Which enabled +Ida to bear the infliction with some degree of philosophy.</p> +<p>This jacket was not, however, Constance’s only trouble. Her +conscience was already uneasy at the impossibility of getting to evensong +on Christmas Day. She had been to an early Celebration without asking +any questions, and had got back before Herbert had come down to breakfast, +and very glad she was that she had done so, for she found that her mother +regarded it as profane ‘to take the Sacrament’ when she was +going to have a party in the evening, and when Constance was in the midst +of the party she felt that—if it were to be—her mother might be +right.</p> +<p>It was a dinner first—at which Constance did not +appear—chiefly of older people, who talked of shipping and of +coals. Afterwards, if they noticed the young people, joked them about +their imaginary <!-- page 158--><a name="page158"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 158</span>lovers—beaux, as the older ladies called +them; young men, as the younger ones said. One, the most plain spoken +of all, asked Herbert how he felt, at which the boy wriggled and laughed +sheepishly, and his mother had a great confabulation with various of the +ladies, who were probably condoling with her.</p> +<p>Later, there were cards for the elders, and sundry more young people +came in for a dance. The Rollstones were considered as beneath the +dignity of the Mortons, but Herbert had loudly insisted on inviting Rose +for the evening and had had his way, but after all she would not +come. Herbert felt himself aggrieved, and said she was as horrid a +little prig as Constance, who on her side felt a pang of envy as she +thought of Rose going to church and singing hymns and carols to her father +and mother, while she, after a struggle under the mistletoe, which made her +hot and miserable, had to sit playing waltzes. One good-natured lady +offered to relieve her, but she was too much afraid of the hero of the +mistletoe to stir from her post, and the daughter of her kindly friend had +no scruple in exclaiming—</p> +<p>‘Oh no, ma, don’t! You always put us out, you know, +and Constance Morton is as true as old Time.’</p> +<p>‘I am sure Constance is only too happy to oblige her +friends,’ said Mrs. Morton. ‘And she is not out +yet,’ she added, as a tribute to high life.</p> +<p>If Constance at times felt unkindly neglected, at others she heard +surges of giggling, and suppressed shrieking and protests that made her +feel the piano an ark of refuge.</p> +<p><!-- page 159--><a name="page159"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +159</span>The parting speech from a good-natured old merchant captain was, +‘Why, you demure little pussy cat, you are the prettiest of them +all! What have yon lads been thinking about to let those little +fingers be going instead of her feet? Or is it all Miss Ida’s +jealousy, eh?’</p> +<p>All this, in a speaking-trumpet voice, put the poor child into an agony +of blushes, which only incited him to pat her on the cheek, and the rest to +laugh hilariously, under the influence of negus and cheap champagne.</p> +<p>Constance could have cried for very shame, but when she was waiting on +her mother, who, tired as she was, would not go to bed without locking up +the spoons and the remains of the wine, Mrs. Morton said kindly, ‘You +are tired, my dear, and no wonder. They were a little noisy +to-night. Those are not goings-on that I always approve, you know, +but young folk always like a little pleasure extra at Christmas. +Don’t you go and get too genteel for us, Conny. Come, come, +don’t cry. Drink this, my love, you’re tired.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, mamma, it is not the being genteel—oh no, but Christmas +Day and all!’</p> +<p>‘Come, come, my dear, I can’t have you get mopy and dull; +religion is a very good thing, but it isn’t meant to hinder all +one’s pleasure, and when you’ve been to church on a Christmas +Day, what more can be expected of young people but to enjoy +themselves? Come, go to bed and think no more about it.’</p> +<p>To express or even to understand what she felt would have been +impossible to Constance, so she <!-- page 160--><a name="page160"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 160</span>had to content herself with feeling warm at +her heart, at her mother’s kind kiss.</p> +<p>All the other parties she saw were much more decorous, even to +affectation, except that at the old skipper’s, and he was viewed by +the family as a subject for toleration, because he had been a friend and +messmate of Mrs. Morton’s father. All the good side of that +lady and Ida came out towards him and his belongings. He had an +invalid granddaughter, with a spine complaint and feeble eyesight, and Ida +spent much time in amusing her, teaching her fancy works and reading to +her. Unluckily it was only trashy novels from the circulating library +that they read; Ida had no taste for anything else, and protested that +Louie would be bored to death if she tried to read her the African +adventures which were just then the subject of enthusiasm even with +Herbert! Ida was not a dull girl. Unlike some who do not seem +to connect their books with life, she made them her realities and lived in +them, and as she hardly ever read anything more substantial her ideas of +life and society were founded on them, though in her own house she was +shrewd in practical matters, and though not strong was a useful active +assistant to her mother whenever there was no danger of her being detected +in doing anything derogatory to one so nearly connected with the +peerage.</p> +<p>Indeed, she seemed to regard her sister’s dutiful studies as +proofs of dulness and want of spirit. She was quite angry when +Constance objected to <i>The Unconscious Impostor</i>,—very yellow, +with a truculent flaming design outside—that ‘she did not think +she <!-- page 161--><a name="page161"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +161</span>ought to read that kind of book—Aunt Mary would not like +it.’</p> +<p>‘Well, if I would be in bondage to an old governess! You are +not such a child now.’</p> +<p>‘Don’t, Ida. Uncle Frank would not like it +either.’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps not,’ said Ida, with an ugly, meaning laugh as she +glanced again at the title.</p> +<p>Constance might really have liked to read more tales than she allowed +herself. <i>The House on the Marsh</i> tempted her, but she was true +to the advice she had received, and Rose Rollstone upheld her in her +resolution.</p> +<p>Ida thought it rather ‘low’ in Herbert and Constance to care +for the old butler’s daughter, but their mother had a warm spot in +the bottom of her heart, and liked a gossip with Mrs. Rollstone too much to +forbid the house to her daughter, besides that she shrank from inflicting +on her so much distress.</p> +<p>So during the fortnight that Rose spent at home the girls were together +most of the morning. After Constance, well wrapped up, had practised +in the cold drawing-room, where economy forbade fires till the afternoon, +she sped across to Rose in the little stuffy parlour where Mr. Rollstone +liked to doze over his newspaper to the lullaby of their low-voiced +chatter. Often they walked together, and were sometimes joined by +Herbert, who on these occasions always showed that he knew how to behave +like a gentleman.</p> +<p>Herbert was faithfully keeping his promise not to bet, though, as he +observed, he had not expected <!-- page 162--><a name="page162"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 162</span>to be in for it so long. But it was +satisfactory to hear that his present fellow-pupils did not go in for that +sort of thing, and Constance felt sure that her uncle and aunt would be +pleased with him and think him much improved.</p> +<h2><!-- page 163--><a name="page163"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +163</span>CHAPTER XXIV<br /> +THE REVENGE OF SORDID SPIRITS</h2> +<p>‘I am quite convinced,’ said Ida Morton, ‘it is quite +plain why we are not invited.’</p> +<p>‘My dear, you see what your aunt says; that Mrs. Bury’s +daughter’s husband is ordered to India, and that having the whole +family to stay at Northmoor gives them the only chance of being all +together for a little while, and after their obligations to Mrs. +Bury—’</p> +<p>‘Ma, how can you be so green? Obligations, indeed! It +is all a mere excuse to say there is not room for us in that great +house. I see through it all. It is just to prevent us from +being able to ask inconvenient questions of the German nurse and Mrs. Bury +and all!’</p> +<p>‘Now, Ida, I wish you would put away that fancy. Your uncle +and aunt were always such good people! And there was Mrs. +Bury—’</p> +<p>‘Mother, you will never understand the revenge of sordid +souls,’ said Ida tragically, quoting from <i>The Unconscious +Impostor</i>.</p> +<p>‘Revenge! What can you mean?’</p> +<p><!-- page 164--><a name="page164"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +164</span>‘Of course, you know, Mrs. Bury never forgave +Herbert’s taking her for a tramp, and you know how nasty uncle was +about that white rook and the bets. Oh, it is quite plain. He +was to be deprived of his rights, and so this journey was contrived, and +they got into this out-of-the-way, inaccessible place, and sent poor Conny +away, and then had no doctor or nurse—exactly as people always +do.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Ida, only in stories! Your novels are turning your +head.’</p> +<p>‘Novels are transcripts of life,’ again said Ida, solemnly +quoting.</p> +<p>‘I don’t believe it if they put such things into your +head,’ said her mother. ‘Asking Herbert to be godfather +too! Such a compliment!’</p> +<p>‘An empty compliment, to hoodwink us and the poor boy,’ said +Ida. ‘No, no, ma, the keeping you away settles it in my mind, +and it shall be the business of my life to unmask that!’</p> +<p>So spoke Ida, conscious of being a future heroine.</p> +<p>It was quite true that Herbert had been asked to stand godfather to his +little cousin’s admission into the Church, after, of course, a very +good report had been received from his tutor. ‘You are the +little fellow’s nearest kinsman,’ wrote Lord Northmoor, +‘and I trust to you to influence him for good.’ Herbert +wriggled, blushed, thought he hated it, was glad it had been written +instead of spoken, but was really touched.</p> +<p>His uncle had justly thought responsibility would be wholesome, and +besides, Herbert represented to him his brother, for whom he had a very +tender feeling.</p> +<p>It was quite true that Northmoor was as full as <!-- page 165--><a +name="page165"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 165</span>it would hold. +Mrs. Bury’s eldest daughter was going out to India, and another had a +husband in the Civil Service; the third lived in Ireland, and the only way +of having the whole family together for their last fortnight was to gather +them at Northmoor, as soon as its lord and lady returned, nor had they been +able to escape from their Dolomite ravine till the beginning of May, for +the roads were always dangerous, often impassable, so that there had been +weeks when they were secluded from even the post, and had had difficulties +as to food and fire.</p> +<p>However, it had done them no harm, and was often looked back upon as, +metaphorically as well as literally, the brightest and whitest time in +their lives. Frank had walked and climbed both with Mrs. Bury and on +his own account, and had drunk in the wild glories of the mountain winter, +and the fantastic splendours of snow and ice on those wondrous peaks. +And, with that new joy and delight to be found in the queer wooden cradle, +his heart was free to bound as perhaps it had never done before, in +exulting thankfulness, as he looked up to those foretastes of the Great +White Throne.</p> +<p>Never had he had such a rest before from toil, care, and anxiety as in +those months in the dry, bracing air, and it was the universal remark that +Lord Northmoor came back years younger and twice the man he had been +before, with a spirit of cheerfulness and enterprise such as had always +been wanting; while as to his wife, she was less strong than before, but +there was a certain peaceful, yet exulting happiness about her, and her +face had gained wonderfully in sweetness and expression.</p> +<p><!-- page 166--><a name="page166"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +166</span>The child was a fine plump little fellow, old enough to laugh and +respond to loving faces and gestures. Mary had feared the sight might +be painful to Lady Adela, and was gratified to find her too true a +baby-lover and too generous a spirit not to worship him almost as devotedly +as did Constance.</p> +<p>Perhaps the heads of the family had never seen or participated in +anything like the domestic mirth and enjoyment of that fortnight’s +visit; Bertha was with Lady Adela, and the intimacy and confidence in which +Frank and Mary had lived with Mrs. Bury had demolished many barriers of +shyness, and made them hosts who could be as one with their +guests—guests with whom the shadow of parting made the last sunshine +seem the more bright.</p> +<p>‘I did not know what I was letting you in for,’ said Bertha, +in apology to Mrs. Bury.</p> +<p>‘My dear, I would not have been without the experience on any +account. I never saw such a refreshing pair of people.’</p> +<p>‘Surely it must have been awfully slow—regular penal +servitude!’</p> +<p>‘You confuse absence of small talk with absence of soul, +Birdie. When we had once grown intimate enough to hold our tongues if +we had nothing to say, we got on perfectly.’</p> +<p>‘And what you had to say was about Master Michael?’</p> +<p>‘Not entirely; though I must say the mingled reverence and +curiosity with which they regard the little monster, and their own fear of +not bringing up their treasure properly, were a very interesting +study.’</p> +<p><!-- page 167--><a name="page167"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +167</span>‘More so than your snowy peaks! Ah, if the proper +study of mankind is man, the proper study of womankind is babe.’</p> +<p>‘Well, it was not at all an unsatisfactory study, in this +case. And let me tell you, Miss Birdie, it is no bad thing to be shut +in for a few months with a few good books and a couple of thoroughly +simple-hearted people, who have thought a good deal in their quiet humdrum +way.’</p> +<p>‘Why, Lettice, you must have been quite an education to +them!’</p> +<p>‘I hope they were an education to me.’</p> +<p>‘I hope your conscience is not going to be such a rampant and +obstructive thing as that which they possess in common,’ said +Bertha.</p> +<p>‘I wish it had been,’ said Mrs. Bury gravely.</p> +<p>‘At any rate, the deadly lively time has brisked you all +up,’ said Bertha, laughing.</p> +<p>Constance, on her Saturdays and Sundays, looked on with a kind of +wonder. She was not exactly of either set. The children were +all so young as to look on her as a grown-up person, though willing to let +her play with them; and she was outside the group of young married people, +and could not enter into their family fun; but this kind of playfulness and +merriment was quite a revelation to her. She had never before seen +mirth, except, of course, childish and schoolgirl play, that had not in it +something that hurt her taste and jarred on her feeling as much as did +Ida’s screeching laughter in comparison with the soft ripplings of +these young matrons.</p> +<p>Still, little Michael was her chief delight, and <!-- page 168--><a +name="page168"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 168</span>she could hardly be +detached from him. She refreshed her colloquial German (or rather +Austrian) with his nurse, who had much to say of the goodness of <i>die +Gnadigen Frauen</i>. Poor thing, she was the youthful widow of a +guide, and the efforts of the two Frauen had been in vain to keep alive her +only child, after whose death she had found some consolation in taking +charge of Lady Northmoor’s baby on the way home. Constance +hoped Ida might never hear this fact.</p> +<p>Some degree of prosperity was greeting the little heir. A bit of +moorland, hitherto regarded as worthless, had first been crossed by a +branch line, and the primary growth of a station had been followed by the +discovery of good building stone, and the erection of a crop of houses of +all degrees, which promised to set the Northmoor finances on a better +footing than had been theirs for years, and set their conscientious +landlord to work at once on providing church room and schools.</p> +<p>All this, and that most precious possession at home, combined to give +Lord Northmoor an amount of spirit and life that enabled him to take his +place in the county, emancipate himself from the squire, show an opinion of +his own, and open his mouth occasionally. As Bertha observed, no one +would ever have called him a stick if he had begun like this. To +people like these, humbled and depressed in early life, a little happiness +was a great stimulus.</p> +<h2><!-- page 169--><a name="page169"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +169</span>CHAPTER XXV<br /> +THE LOVE</h2> +<p>It was not till Christmas that Ida had the opportunity of making her +observations. By that time ‘Mite,’ as he was supposed to +have named himself, had found the use of his feet, and was acquiring that +of his tongue. In fact, he was a very fine forward child, who might +easily have been supposed to be eighteen months old instead of fifteen, as +Ida did not fail to remark.</p> +<p>He was a handsome little creature, round and fair, with splendid sturdy +legs and mottled arms, hair that stood up in a pale golden crest, round +blue eyes and a bright colour, without much likeness as yet to either +parent, though Lord Northmoor declared that there was an exact resemblance +to his own brother, Charles, Herbert’s father, as he first remembered +him. Ida longed to purse up her lips but did not dare, and was +provoked to see her mother taken completely captive by his charms, and +petting him to the utmost extent.</p> +<p>Indeed, Lady Northmoor, who was very much afraid of spoiling him, was +often distressed when <!-- page 170--><a name="page170"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 170</span>such scenes as this took place. +‘Mite! Mite, dear, no!’ when his fat little hands had grasped +an ivory paper-cutter, and its blade was on the way to the button +mouth. ‘No!’ as he paused and looked at her. +‘Here’s Mite’s ball! poor little dear, do let him have +it’—and Mite, reading sympathy in his aunt’s face, +laughed in a fascinating triumphant manner, and took a bite with his small +teeth.</p> +<p>‘Mite! mother said no!’ and it was gently taken from his +hand, but before the fingers had embraced the substituted ball, a +depreciating look and word of remonstrance gave a sense of ill-usage and +there was a roar.</p> +<p>‘Oh, poor little dear! Here—auntie’s goody +goody—’</p> +<p>‘No, no, please, Emma, he has had quite as many as he ought! +No, no, Mite—’ and he was borne off sobbing in her arms, while +Ida observed, ‘There! is that the way people treat their own +children?’</p> +<p>‘Some people never get rid of the governess,’ observed Mrs. +Morton, quite unconscious that but for her interference there would have +been no contest and no tears.</p> +<p>But she herself had no doubts, and was mollified by Mary’s plea on +her return. ‘He is quite good now, but you see, there is so +much danger of our spoiling him, we feel that we cannot begin too soon to +make him obedient.’</p> +<p>‘I could not bear to keep a poor child under in that +way.’</p> +<p>‘I believe it saves them a great deal if obedience is an +instinct,’ said Mary.</p> +<p>It had not been Mrs. Morton’s method, and she <!-- page 171--><a +name="page171"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 171</span>was perfectly +satisfied with the result, so she only made some inarticulate sound; but +she thought Frank quite as unnatural, when he kept Michael on his knee at +breakfast, but with only an empty spoon to play with! All the tossing +and playing, the radiant smiles between the two did not in her eyes atone +for these small beginnings of discipline, even though her +brother-in-law’s first proceeding, whenever he came home, was to look +for his son, and if the child were not in the drawing-room, to hurry up to +the nursery and bring him down, laughing and shouting.</p> +<p>The Tyrolean nurse had been sacrificed to those notions of training +which the Westhaven party regarded as so harsh. Her home sickness and +pining for her mountains had indeed fully justified the ‘rampant +consciences,’ as to the humanity as well as the expedience of sending +her home before her indulgence of the Kleiner Freiherr had had time to +counteract his parents’ ideas, and her place had been supplied by the +nurse whom Amice was outgrowing, so that Ida was disappointed of her +intentions of examining her, and laid up the circumstances as suspicious, +though, on the other hand, her mother was gratified at exercising a bit of +patronage by recommending a nursery girl from Westhaven. The next +winter, however, was not marked by a visit to Northmoor. Ida had been +having her full share of the summer and early autumnal gaieties of +Westhaven, and among the yachts who were given to putting in there was a +certain <i>Morna</i>, belonging to Sir Thomas Brady, who had become a +baronet by force of success in speculation. His son, who chiefly <!-- +page 172--><a name="page172"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 172</span>used +it, showed evident admiration of Miss Morton’s bright cheeks and +eyes, and so often resorted to Westhaven, and dropped in at what she had +named Northmoor cottage, that there was fair reason for supposing that this +might result in more than an ordinary flirtation.</p> +<p>However, at the regatta, when she had looked for distinguished attention +on his part, she felt herself absolutely neglected, and the very next day +the <i>Morna</i> sailed away, without a farewell.</p> +<p>Ida at first could hardly believe it. When she did, the conviction +came upon her that his son’s attachment had been reported to Sir +Thomas, and that the young man had been summoned away against his +will. It would have been different, no doubt, had Herbert still been +heir-presumptive.</p> +<p>‘That horrid little Mite!’ said she.</p> +<p>Whether her heart or her ambition had been most affected might be +doubtful. At any rate, the disappointment added to the oppression of +a heavy cold on the chest, which she had caught at the regatta, and which +became severe enough to call for the doctor.</p> +<p>Thus the mother and daughter did not go to Northmoor. At a ball +given on board a steam yacht just before Christmas Ida caught a violent +cold on the chest, the word congestion was uttered, and an opinion was +pronounced that as she had always weak lungs, a spring abroad would be +advisable.</p> +<p>Mrs. Morton wrote a letter with traces of tears upon it, appealing to +her brother-in-law to assist her as the only hope of saving her dearest +child, and the quarries had done so well during the last year <!-- page +173--><a name="page173"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 173</span>that he was +able to respond with a largesse sufficient for her needs, though not for +her expectations.</p> +<p>Mrs. Morton would have liked to have taken Constance as interpreter, and +general aid and assistant; but Constance was hard at work, aspiring to a +scholarship, at a ladies’ college, and it was plain that her sister +was not so desirous of her company as to make her mother overrule her +wishes as a duty.</p> +<p>In fact, Ida had found a fellow-traveller who would suit her much better +than Constance. Living for the last year in lodgings near at hand was +a Miss Gattoni, daughter of an Italian courier and French lady’s +maid. As half boarder at a third-rate English school, she had +acquired education enough to be first a nursery-governess, and later a +companion; and in her last situation, when she had gone abroad several +times with a rheumatic old lady, she had recommended herself enough to +receive a legacy which rendered her tolerably independent. She was +very good-natured, and had graduated in the art of making herself +acceptable, and, as she really wished to go abroad again, she easily +induced Mrs. Morton and Ida to think it a great boon that she should join +forces with them, and as she was an experienced traveller with a convenient +smattering of various tongues, she really smoothed their way considerably +and lived much more at her ease than she could have done upon her own +resources, always frequenting English hotels and boarding-houses.</p> +<p>Mrs. Morton and Ida were of that order of tourists who do not so much +care for sights as for being on a level with those who have seen them; and +besides, Ida was scarcely well or in spirits <!-- page 174--><a +name="page174"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 174</span>enough for much +exertion till after her first month at Nice, which restored her altogether +to her usual self, and made her impatient of staying in one place.</p> +<p>It is not, however, worth while to record the wanderings of the trio, +until in the next summer they reached Venice, where Ida declared her +intention of penetrating into the Dolomites. There was an +outcry. What could she wish for in that wild and savage country, +where there was no comfortable hotel, no society, no roads—nothing in +short to make life tolerable, whereas an hotel full of Americans of extreme +politeness to ladies, and expeditions in gondolas, when one could talk and +have plenty of attention, were only too delightful?</p> +<p>That peaks should be more attractive than flirtations was inexplicable, +but at last in secret confabulation Ida disclosed her motive, and in +another private consultation Mrs. Morton begged Miss Gattoni to agree to +it, as the only means of satisfying the young lady, or putting her mind at +rest about a fancy her mother could not believe in; though even as she +said, ‘it would be so very shocking, it is perfectly ridiculous to +think my brother Lord Northmoor would be capable,’ the shrewd +confidante detected a lingering wish that it might be so!</p> +<p>Maps and routes were consulted, and it was decided that whereas to go +from Venice through Cadore would involve much mule-riding and rough roads, +the best way would be to resort to the railway to Verona, and thence to +Botzen as the nearest point whence Ratzes could be reached.</p> +<h2><!-- page 175--><a name="page175"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +175</span>CHAPTER XXVI<br /> +IDA’S WARNING</h2> +<p>Botzen proved to be very hot and full of smells, nor did Mrs. Morton +care for its quaint old medieval houses, but Ida’s heart had begun to +fail her when she came so near the crisis, and on looking over the +visitors’ book she gave a cry. ‘Ah, if we had only +known! It is all of no use.’</p> +<p>‘How?’ she was asked.</p> +<p>‘That horrid Mrs. Bury!’</p> +<p>‘There?’</p> +<p>‘Of course she is. Only a week ago she was here. If +she is at Ratzes, of course we can do nothing.’</p> +<p>‘And the road is <i>affreux</i>, perfectly frightful,’ said +Mademoiselle. ‘I have been inquiring about it. No access +except upon mules. A whole day’s journey—and the +hotel! Bah, it is <i>vilain</i>!’</p> +<p>‘If Ida is bent on going she must go without me,’ said Mrs. +Morton. ‘I—I have had enough of those horrid +beasts. Ida’s nonsense will be the death of me.’</p> +<p>‘I don’t see much good in going on with that <!-- page +176--><a name="page176"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 176</span>woman +there,’ said Ida gloomily. ‘She would be sure to stifle +all inquiry.’</p> +<p>‘A good thing too,’ muttered poor, weary Mrs. Morton.</p> +<p>Ida turned the leaves of the visitors’ book till she found the +names of Lord and Lady Northmoor, and then, growing more eager as +obstructions came in her way, and not liking to turn back as if on a +fool’s errand, she suggested to Miss Gattoni that questions might be +asked about their visit. The Tyrolean patois was far beyond her, and +not too comprehensible to her friend, but there was a waiter who could +speak French, and the landlady’s German was tolerable.</p> +<p>The milord and miladi were perfectly remembered, as well as their long +detention, but the return had been by way of Italy, so they had not +revisited Botzen with their child the next spring.</p> +<p>‘But,’ said the hostess, ‘there is a young woman in +the next street who can tell you more than I. She offered herself as +a nurse.’</p> +<p>This person was at once sent for. She was the same who had been +mentioned by Mrs. Bury, but she had exchanged the peasant costume, which +had, perhaps, only been assumed to please the English ladies, for the +townswoman’s universal endeavour at French fashion, which by no means +enhanced her rather coarse beauty, which was more Italian than +Austrian.</p> +<p>Italian was the tongue which chiefly served as a medium between her and +Miss Gattoni, though hers was not pure enough to be easily +understood. Mrs. Morton and Ida put questions which Miss Gattoni <!-- +page 177--><a name="page177"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +177</span>translated as best she could, and made out as much as possible of +the answers. It was elicited that she had not been allowed to see the +English miladi. All had been settled by the signora who came yearly, +and they had rejected her after all her trouble; the doctor had recommended +her, and though her <i>creatura</i> would have been just the right age, and +that little <i>ipocrila’s</i> child was older, ever so much +older—she spread out her hands to indicate infinity.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said Ida, ‘I always thought so.’</p> +<p>‘Ask her how much older,’ demanded Mrs. Morton.</p> +<p>The replies varied from nearly <i>un sanestre</i> to <i>tre +settimane</i>—and no more could be made of that question.</p> +<p>‘Where was the foster-child?’</p> +<p>Again the woman threw up her hands to indicate that she had no +notion—what was it to her? She could not tell if it were alive +or dead; but (upon a leading question) it had not been seen since +Hedwige’s departure nor after return. Was it boy or girl? and, +after some hesitation, it was declared to have been <i>un maschio</i>.</p> +<p>There was more, which nobody quite understood, but which sounded +abusive, and they were glad to get rid of her with a couple of +<i>thalers</i>.</p> +<p>‘Well?’ said Ida triumphantly.</p> +<p>‘Well?’ echoed her mother in a different tone. +‘I don’t know what you were all saying, but I’m sure of +this, that that woman was only looking to see what you wanted her to +say. I watched the cunning look of her eyes, and I would not give +that for her word,’ with a gesture of her fingers.</p> +<p><!-- page 178--><a name="page178"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +178</span>‘But, ma, you didn’t understand! Nothing could +be plainer. The doctor recommended her, and sent her over in proper +time, but she never saw any one but Mrs. Bury, who, no doubt, had made her +arrangements. Then this other woman’s child was +older—nobody knows how much—but we always agreed that nobody +could believe Mite, as they call him, was as young as they said. And +then that other child was a boy, and it has vanished.’</p> +<p>‘I don’t believe she knew.’</p> +<p>‘No, I do not think she did,’ chimed in Miss Gattoni. +‘This <i>canaille</i> will say anything!’</p> +<p>‘I believe the woman,’ said Ida obstinately. +‘Her evidence chimes in with all my former conclusions.’</p> +<p>The older ladies both had a strong misgiving that the conclusions had +formed the evidence, and Mrs. Morton, though she had listened all along to +Ida’s grumbling, was perfectly appalled at the notion of bringing +such a ridiculous accusation against the brother-in-law, against whom she +might indeed murmur, but whom she knew to be truthful and +self-denying. She ventured to represent that it was impossible to go +upon this statement without ascertaining whether the Grantzen child was +alive, or really dead and buried at Ratzes, and that the hostess of the inn +would have been better evidence, but—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>He that of purpose looks beside the mark,<br /> +Might as well hoodwinked shoot as in the dark,</p> +</blockquote> +<p>and Ida was certain that all the people at Ratzes had been bribed, and +that no one would dare to speak out while Mrs. Bury kept guard there. +<!-- page 179--><a name="page179"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +179</span>Indeed, for that lady to guess at such suspicions and inquiries +would have been so dreadful that Ratzes was out of the question, much to +the relief of the elders, dragged along by the masterful maiden against +their better judgment, though indeed Miss Gattoni gave as much sympathy in +her <i>tête-à-têtes</i> with Ida as she did to her +mother in their consultations.</p> +<p>They were made to interview the doctor, but he knew as little about the +matter as the disappointed <i>balia</i>, and professed to know much +less. In point of fact, though he had been called in after the +accident, Mrs. Bury had not thought much of his skill, and had not promoted +after-visits. There had not been time to summon him when the birth +took place, and Mrs. Bury thought her experience more useful afterwards +than his treatment was likely to be. So he was a slighted and +offended man, whose testimony, given in good German, only declared the +secretiveness, self-sufficiency, and hard-neckedness of Englander!</p> +<p>And Ida’s state of mind much resembled that of the public when +resolved to believe in the warming-pan.</p> +<h2><!-- page 180--><a name="page180"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +180</span>CHAPTER XXVII<br /> +THE YOUNG PRETENDER</h2> +<p>The denunciation of the Young Pretender was not an easy matter even in +Ida’s eyes. It was one thing to have a pet grievance and see +herself as a heroine, righting her dear injured brother’s wrongs, and +another to reproach two of the quietest most matter-of-fact people in the +world with the atrocious frauds of which only a wicked baronet was +capable.</p> +<p>She was not sorry that the return to England was deferred by the tenants +of the house at Westhaven wanting to stay on; and when at length a +Christmas visit was paid at Northmoor, Mite was an animated little +personage of three and a quarter, and, except that he could not accomplish +a <i>k</i>, perfect in speaking plainly and indeed with that pretty +precision of utterance that children sometimes acquire when baby language +has not been foolishly fastened. Indeed, his pet name of Mite was +only for strictly private use. Except to his nearest relatives, he +was always Michael.</p> +<p>Mrs. Morton was delighted with him, and would have liked to make up for +her knowledge of Ida’s <!-- page 181--><a name="page181"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 181</span>suspicions by extra petting, and by +discovering resemblances to all the family portraits as well as to his +parents, none of which any one else could see. She lived upon thorns +lest Ida should burst out with some accusation, but Ida had not the +requisite impudence, and indeed, in sight of the boy with his parents, her +‘evidence’ faded into such stuff as dreams are made of.</p> +<p>There was some vexation, indeed, that Louisa the nursery-maid, whom Mrs. +Morton had recommended, had had to be dismissed.</p> +<p>‘I am sorry,’ said Mrs. Morton, ‘for, as I told you, +her father was the mate aboard the <i>Emma Jane</i>, my poor father’s +ship, you know, and went down with poor pa and my poor dear Charlie. +And her mother used to char for us, which was but her due.’</p> +<p>‘Yes, I know,’ said Mary; ‘Frank and I were both very +sorry, and we would have found her another place, but she would go +home. You see, we could not keep her in the nursery, for we must have +a thoroughly trustworthy person to go out with Michael.’</p> +<p>‘What! Can’t your fine nurse?’</p> +<p>‘Eden? It is her one imperfection. It is some weakness +of the spine, and neither she nor I can be about with Michael as long as it +is good for him. I thought he must be safe in the garden, but it +turned out that Louisa had been taking him down to the village, and there +meeting a sailor, who I believe came up in a collier to Colbeam.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, an old friend from Westhaven?’</p> +<p>‘Sam Rattler,’ suggested Ida. ‘Don’t you +<!-- page 182--><a name="page182"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +182</span>remember, mamma, Mrs. Hall said they were sweethearting, and she +wanted to get her out of the way of him.’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps,’ said Lady Northmoor, ‘but I should have +forgiven it if she had told me the truth and not tempted Mite. She +used to make excuses to Eden for going down to the village, and at last she +took Mite there, and they gave him sweets at the shop not to +tell!’</p> +<p>‘Did he?’ said Ida, rather hoping the model boy would have +failed.</p> +<p>‘Oh yes. The dear little fellow did not understand keeping +things back, and when his papa was giving him his nightly sugar-plum, he +said, “Blue man gave me a great striped sweet, and it stuck in my +little teeth”; and then, when we asked when and where, he said, +“Down by Betty’s, when I was out with Cea and Louie”; and +so it came out that she had taken him into the village, met this man, +brought him into the grounds by the little gate, and tried to bribe Mite to +say nothing about it. Cea told us all about it,—the little girl +who lives with Miss Morton. Of course we could never let him go out +with her again, and you would hardly believe what an amount of falsehoods +she managed to tell Eden and me about it.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, if you had lived at Westhaven you would have found out that +to be so particular is the way to make those girls fib,’ said Mrs. +Morton.</p> +<p>‘I hope not. I think we have a very good girl now, trained +up in an orphanage.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, those orphanage girls are the worst of all. I’ve +had enough of them. They break everything <!-- page 183--><a +name="page183"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 183</span>to pieces, and they +run after the lads worst of all, because they have never seen one +before!’</p> +<p>To which Mary answered by a quiet ‘I hope it may not turn out +so.’</p> +<p>There were more agitating questions to be brought forward. Herbert +had behaved very fairly well ever since the escapade of the pied rook; the +lad kept his promise as to betting faithfully in his uncle’s absence, +and though it had not been renewed, he had learnt enough good sense to keep +out of mischief.</p> +<p>Unfortunately, however, he had not the faculty of passing +examinations. He was not exactly stupid or idle, but any kind of +study was a bore to him, and the knowledge he was forced to ‘get +up’ was not an acquisition that gave him the slightest satisfaction +for its own sake, or that he desired to increase beyond what would carry +him through. Naturally, he had more cleverness than his uncle, and +learning was less difficult to him, but he only used his ability to be +sooner done with a distasteful task, which never occupied his mind for a +moment after it was thrown aside. Thus time after time he had failed +in passing for the army, and now only one chance remained before being +reduced to attempting to enter the militia. And suppose that there he +failed?</p> +<p>He remained in an amiable, passive, good-humoured state, rather amused +than otherwise at his mother’s impression that it was somehow all his +uncle’s fault, and ready to be disposed of exactly as they pleased +provided that he had not the trouble of thinking about it or of working +extra hard.</p> +<p><!-- page 184--><a name="page184"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +184</span>Mrs. Morton was sure that something could be done. Could +not his uncle send him to Oxford? Then he could be a clergyman, or a +lawyer or anything. Oh dear, were there those horrid examinations +there too? And then those gentlemen that belonged to the ambassadors +and envoys—she was sure Mr. Rollstone had told her any one who had +connection could get that sort of appointment to what they called the Civil +Service. What, examinations again? connection no good? Well, it +was shame! What would things come to? As Mr Rollstone said, it +was mere ruin!</p> +<p>Merchant’s office? Bah! such a gentleman as her Herbert was, +so connected! What was his uncle thinking of, taking him up to put +him down in that way? It was hard.</p> +<p>And Lord Northmoor was thankful to the tears that as usual choked her, +while he begged her at present to trust to that last chance. It would +be time to think what was to come next if that failed.</p> +<p>Wherewith the victim passed the window whistling merrily, apparently +perfectly regardless of his doom, be it what it might, and with Mite +clinging to his hand in ecstatic admiration.</p> +<p>Constance too was in question. Here she was at eighteen, a +ladylike, pleasant, good girl, very nice-looking, sweet-faced, and +thoughtful, having finished her course at the High School with great +credit, but alas! it was not in the family to win scholarships. She +did things well, but not so brilliantly as cleverer girls, having something +of her uncle’s tardiness of power.</p> +<p>Her determination to be a governess was as <!-- page 185--><a +name="page185"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 185</span>decided as ever, and +it was first brought before her mother by an offer on Lady Adela’s +part to begin with her at once for Amice, who was now eleven years old.</p> +<p>‘Really, now!’ said Mrs. Morton, stopping short to express +her offence.</p> +<p>‘That is—’ added Ida, equally at a loss.</p> +<p>‘But what do you mean, mamma?’ said Constance. +‘I always intended to be a teacher; I think it noble, useful +work.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, my poor child! what have they brought you to? +Pretending such affection, too!’</p> +<p>‘Indeed, mamma, I have meant this always. I could not be +dependent all my life, you know. Do listen, mamma; don’t +Ida—’</p> +<p>‘That my Lady Adela should insult us that way, when you are as +good as she!’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense, Ida! That has nothing to do with it. It is +the greatest possible compliment, and I am very much pleased.’</p> +<p>‘Just to live there, at her beck and call, drudging at that +child’s lessons!’ sneered Ida.</p> +<p>‘Yes, and when I made sure, at least after all the fuss they have +made with you, that your aunt would present you at Court, and make you the +young lady of the house, and marry you well, but there’s no trust to +be placed in them—none!’</p> +<p>‘Oh, mamma, don’t cry. I should not feel it right, +unless Aunt Mary really needed me, and, though she is so kind and dear, she +does not really. My only doubt is—’</p> +<p>‘You have a doubt, then?’</p> +<p>‘Yes. I should be so much fitter if I could go <!-- page +186--><a name="page186"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 186</span>to one of +the ladies’ colleges, and then come back to dear little Amice, but +now I have failed, I don’t like to let Uncle Frank spend all that +money on me, when I might be earning eighty pounds for myself.’</p> +<p>‘Well, you are a strange girl, with no proper pride for your +family,’ said her mother.</p> +<p>And Ida chimed in: ‘Yes. Do you think any one will be likely +to marry you? or if you don’t care about yourself, you might at least +think of me!’</p> +<p>Mrs. Morton shed her ready tears when talking it over with Lady +Northmoor.</p> +<p>‘You see,’ said Mary gently, ‘I should like nothing +better than to have dear little Conny to live with me like a daughter, but, +for one thing, it would not be fair towards Ida, and besides, it would not +be good for her in case she did not marry to have wasted these +years.’</p> +<p>Mrs. Morton by no means appreciated the argument. However, Lord +Northmoor put off the matter by deciding to send Constance to St. +Hugh’s Hall, thinking she really deserved such a reward to her +diligence.</p> +<h2><!-- page 187--><a name="page187"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +187</span>CHAPTER XXVIII<br /> +TWO BUNDLES OF HAY</h2> +<p>Ida was, as all agreed, much improved in looks, style, and manners by +her travels. Her illness had begun the work of fining her down from +the bouncing heartiness of her girlhood, and she really was a handsome +creature, with dark glowing colouring; her figure had improved, whether +because or in spite of her efforts in that way might be doubtful; and she +had learnt how to dress herself in fairly good taste.</p> +<p>Though neither Mademoiselle Gattoni nor the boarding-house society she +had frequented was even second-rate in style, still there was an advance +over her former Westhaven circle, with a good deal more restraint, so that +she had almost insensibly acquired a much more ladylike air and +deportment.</p> +<p>Moreover, the two years’ absence had made some changes. The +young men who had been in the habit of exchanging noisy jests with Ida had +mostly drifted away in different directions or sobered down; girl +companions had married off; and a new terrace had been completed with <!-- +page 188--><a name="page188"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +188</span>inhabitants and sojourners of a somewhat higher grade, who +accepted Mrs. and Miss Morton as well connected.</p> +<p>Mr. Rollstone’s lodgings were let to Mr. Deyncourt, a young +clergyman who had come full of zeal to work up the growing district. +He had been for a short time in the Northmoor neighbourhood, and had taken +the duty there for a few weeks, so that he heard the name of Morton as +prominent in good works, and had often seen Lady Adela and Constance with +the Sunday-school. As Mr. Rollstone was not slow to mention the +connection, he was not slow to call on Mrs. Morton and Miss Morton, in +hopes of their co-operation, and as Mr. Rollstone had informed them that he +was of ‘high family’ and of good private means, Mrs. Morton had +a much better welcome for him than for his poor little predecessor, who +lived over a shoemaker’s shop, and, as she averred, never came except +to ask subscriptions for some nonsense or other.</p> +<p>Mr. Deyncourt was a tall fine-looking man, and did not begin by asking +subscriptions, but talked about Northmoor, Constance, and Lady Adela, so +that Ida found herself affecting much closer knowledge of both than she +really had.</p> +<p>‘I found,’ he said, ‘that your sister is most valuable +in the Sunday-school. I wonder if you would kindly assist +us.’</p> +<p>Mrs. Morton began, ‘My daughter is not strong, Mr. +Deyncourt.’</p> +<p>And Ida simpered and said, hesitating, ‘I—I don’t +know.’</p> +<p>If poor Mr. Brown had ever been demented <!-- page 189--><a +name="page189"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 189</span>enough even to make +the same request, he would have met with a very different answer.</p> +<p>‘I do not think it will be very fatiguing,’ said Mr. +Deyncourt. ‘Do you know Mrs. Brandon? No! I will +ask her to call and explain our plans. She is kind enough to let me +meet the other teachers in her dining-room once a week to arrange the +lessons for the Sunday. There are Miss Selwood and Mrs. and Miss +Hume.’</p> +<p>These were all in the social position in which Ida was trying to +establish her footing, and though she only agreed to ‘think about +it,’ her mind was pretty well made up that it would be a very +different thing from the old parish school where Rose Rollstone used to +work among a set of small tradesmen’s daughters.</p> +<p>When she found herself quite the youngest and best-looking of the party, +she was entirely won over. There was no necessity for speaking so as +to betray one’s ignorance during Mr. Deyncourt’s instructions, +and she was a person of sufficient force and spirit to impose good order on +her class; and thus she actually obtained the gratitude of the young +clergyman as an efficient assistant.</p> +<p>Their domiciles being so near together, there were many encounters in +going in and out, nor were these avoided on either side. Ida had a +wonderful amount of questions to ask, and used to lie in wait to get them +solved. It was very interesting to lay them before a handsome young +clergyman with a gentle voice, sweet smile, and ready attention, and +religion seemed to have laid aside that element of dulness and moping which +had previously repelled her.</p> +<p><!-- page 190--><a name="page190"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +190</span>She was embroidering a stole for Easter, and wanted a great deal +of counsel for it; and she undertook to get a basket of flowers for Easter +decorations from Northmoor, where her request caused some surprise and much +satisfaction in the simple pair, who never thought of connecting the +handsome young mission priest with this sudden interest in the Church.</p> +<p>And Mr. Deyncourt had no objection to drop in for afternoon tea when he +was met on the sands and had to be consulted about the stole, or to be +asked who was worthy of broth, or as time went on to choose soup and +practise a duet for the mission concert that was to keep people out of +mischief on the Bank-holiday.</p> +<p>Ida had a voice, and music was the one talent she had cared to +cultivate; she had had good lessons during her second winter abroad, and +was an acquisition to the amateur company. Besides, what she cared +for more, it was a real pleasure and rest to the curate to come in and +listen to her or sing with her. She had learnt what kind of things +offended good taste, and she set herself to avoid them and to school her +mother into doing the same.</p> +<p>What Mr. Deyncourt thought or felt was not known, though thus much was +certain, that he showed himself attentive enough to this promising young +convert, and made Mrs. Brandon and other prudent, high-bred matrons +somewhat uneasy.</p> +<p>And in the midst the <i>Morna</i> put in at Westhaven, and while Ida was +walking home from Mrs. Brandon’s, she encountered Mr. Brady, looking +extremely well turned-out in yachting costume and smoking a short pipe.</p> +<p><!-- page 191--><a name="page191"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +191</span>There was something very flattering in the sound of the +exclamation with which he greeted her; and then, as they shook hands, +‘I should not have known you, Miss Morton; you are—’ and +he hesitated for a compliment—‘such a stunner! What have +you been doing to yourself?’</p> +<p>At the gate of the narrow garden, Mr. Deyncourt overtook them, carrying +Ida’s bag of books for her. She introduced them, and was +convinced that they glared at each other.</p> +<p>And there ensued a time of some perplexity, but much enjoyment, on +Ida’s part. Mr. Brady reviled the parson and all connected +therewith in not very choice language, and the parson, on his side, though +saying nothing, seemed to her to be on the watch, and gratified, if not +relieved, when she remained steady to her parochial work.</p> +<p>And what was her mind? Personally, she had come to like and +approve Mr. Deyncourt the most, and to have a sense that there was +satisfaction in that to which he could lead her, while the better taste +that had grown in her was sometimes offended, almost insulted, by Tom +Brady’s tendency to coarseness, and to treating her not as a lady, +but as the Westhaven belle he had honoured with his attentions two years +before. Yet she had an old kindness for him as her first love. +And, moreover, he could give her eventually a title and very considerable +wealth, a house in London, and all imaginable gaiety. While, as to +Mr. Deyncourt, he was not poor and had expectations, but the utmost she +could look to for him with confidence was Northmoor Vicarage after Mr. +Woodman’s time, and anywhere <!-- page 192--><a +name="page192"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 192</span>the dull, sober, +hard-working life of a clergyman’s wife!</p> +<p>Which should she choose—that is, if she had her choice, or if +either were in earnest? She was not sure of the curate, and therefore +perhaps longed most that he should come to the point, feeling that this +would anyway increase her self-esteem, and if she hesitated to bind herself +to a life too high, and perhaps too dull, there was the dread, on the other +hand, that his family, who, she understood, were very grand people, would +object to a girl with nothing of her own and a governess sister.</p> +<p>On the other hand, the Bradys were so rich that they had little need to +care for fortune—only, the richer people were, the greater their +expectations—and she was more at ease with Tom than with Mr. +Deyncourt. They would probably condone the want of fortune if she +could write ‘Honourable’ before her name, or had any prospect +of so doing, and the governess-ship might be a far greater drawback in +their eyes than in those of the Deyncourts. ‘However, thank +goodness,’ said she to herself, ‘that won’t begin for two +or three years, and one or other will be hailed long before +that—if— Oh, it is very hard to be kept out of everything +by an old stick like Uncle Frank and a little wretch like Mite, who, after +all, is a miserable Tyrolese, and not a Morton at all! It really is +too bad!’</p> +<h2><!-- page 193--><a name="page193"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +193</span>CHAPTER XXIX<br /> +JONES OR RATTLER</h2> +<p>When Lord Northmoor had occasion to be in London he usually went alone, +for to take the whole party was too expensive, and not good for little +Michael. Besides, Bertha Morton had so urgently begged him to regard +her house as always ready for him, that the habit had been established of +taking up his quarters there.</p> +<p>Some important measures were coming on after Easter, and he had some +other business, so that, in the form of words of which she longed to cure +him, he told her that he was about to trespass on her hospitality for a +week or fortnight.</p> +<p>‘As long as ever you please,’ she said. ‘I am +glad to have some one to sit opposite to me and tell me home news,’ +and they met at the station, she having been on an expedition on her own +account, so that they drove home together.</p> +<p>No sooner were they within the house door than the parlour-maid began, +‘That man has been here again, ma’am.’</p> +<p>‘What, Jones?’ said Bertha, in evident annoyance.</p> +<p><!-- page 194--><a name="page194"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +194</span>‘Yes, ma’am, and I am sorry to say he saw little +Cea. The child had run down after me when I answered the door, and he +asked her if she did not know her own father, and if she would come with +him. “No,” she says, “I’m Miss +Morton’s,” and he broke out with his ugly laugh, and says he, +“You be, be you, you unnatural little vagabond?”—those +were his very words, ma’am—“but a father is a father, and +if he gives up his rights he must know the reason why.” He +wanted me, the good-for-nothing, to give him half a sovereign at once, or +he would take off the child on the spot, but, by good luck, she had been +frightened and run away, the dear, and I had got the door between me and +him, so I told him to be off till you came home, or I would call for the +police. So he was off for that time.’</p> +<p>‘Quite right, Alice,’ said Miss Morton, and then, leading +the way upstairs and throwing herself down on a chair, she exclaimed, +‘There, it ought to be a triumph to you, Northmoor! You told me +that I should have trouble about poor little Cea’s father, the +brute!’</p> +<p>‘Is he levying blackmail on you?’</p> +<p>‘Yes. It is horribly weak of me, I know, and I can scarcely +believe it of myself, but one can’t abandon a child to a wretch like +that, and he has the law on his side.’</p> +<p>‘Are you quite sure of that? He deserted her, I think you +said. If you could establish that, or prove a conviction against +him—’</p> +<p>‘Oh, I know she might be sent to an industrial school if I took it +before a magistrate, but if the <!-- page 195--><a name="page195"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 195</span>other alternative would be destruction, that +would be misery to her. See—’ and there was a little tap +at the door. ‘Come in, Cea. There, make your curtsey to +his lordship.’</p> +<p>A pretty little fair-haired pale-cheeked girl, daintily but simply +dressed, came in and made her curtsey very prettily, and replied nicely to +Lord Northmoor’s good-natured greeting and information that Michael +had sent her a basket of primroses and a cowslip ball, which she would find +in the hall.</p> +<p>‘What do you say, Cea?’ said Bertha, anxious to demonstrate +her manners.</p> +<p>‘Thank you, my lord, and Master Michael,’ she uttered, but +she was evidently preoccupied with what she had to tell Miss Morton. +‘Oh’m, there was such a nasty man here! And he wanted me, +and said he was my father, but he wasn’t. He was the same man +that gave Master Mite and me the bull’s-eyes when we were naughty and +Louisa went away.’</p> +<p>‘Are you sure, Cea?’ both exclaimed, but to the child of six +the very eagerness of the question brought a certain confusion, and though +more gently Lord Northmoor asked her to describe him, she could not do it, +and indeed she had been only five when the encounter had taken place. +The urgency of the inquiry somehow seemed to dispose her to cry, as if she +thought she had been naughty, and she had to be dismissed to the cowslip +ball.</p> +<p>‘If the child is right, that man cannot be her father at +all,’ said Lord Northmoor. ‘That man’s name is +Rattler, and he is well known at Westhaven.’</p> +<p>‘Should you know him?’</p> +<p><!-- page 196--><a name="page196"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +196</span>‘I never saw him, but I could soon find those who have done +so.’</p> +<p>‘If we could only prove it! Oh, what a relief it would +be! I dare not even send the child to school—as I meant to do, +Northmoor, for indeed we don’t spoil her—for fear she should be +kidnapped; and I don’t know if the school-board officer won’t +be after her, and I can’t give as a reason “for fear she should +be stolen by her father.”‘</p> +<p>‘Not exactly. It ought to be settled once for all. +Perhaps the child will tell more when you have her alone.’</p> +<p>‘Is not Rattler only too like a nickname, or is he a native of +Westhaven?’</p> +<p>This Lord Northmoor thought he could find out, but the dinner was hardly +over before a message came that the man Jones had called again.</p> +<p>‘Perhaps I had better see him alone,’ said the guest, and +Bertha was only too glad to accept the offer, so he proceeded to the little +room opening into the hall, where interviews with tradesfolk or petitioners +were held.</p> +<p>The man had a blue jersey, a cap, and an evidently sailor air, or rather +that of the coasting, lower stamp of seaman; but he was tall, rather +handsome, and younger-looking than would have been expected of Cea’s +father. He looked somewhat taken aback by the appearance of a +gentleman, but he stood his ground.</p> +<p>‘So I understand that you have been making demands upon Miss +Morton,’ Lord Northmoor began.</p> +<p>‘Well, sir, my lord, a father has his feelings. <!-- page +197--><a name="page197"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 197</span>There is a +situation offered me in Canada, and I intend to take the little girl with +me.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, indeed!’ And there was a pause.</p> +<p>‘Or if the lady has taken a fancy to her, I’d not baulk her +for a sum down of twenty or five-and-twenty, once for all.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, indeed!’ again; then ‘What do you say is the +child’s name?’</p> +<p>‘Jones, my lord.’</p> +<p>‘Her Christian name, I mean?’</p> +<p>He scratched his head. ‘Cissy, my +lord—Celia—Cecilia. Blest if I’m sure!’ as he +watched the expression of the questioner. ‘You see, the women +has such fine names, and she was always called Baby when her poor mother +was alive.’</p> +<p>‘Where was she baptized?’</p> +<p>‘Well, you see, my lord, the women-folk does all that, and I was +at sea; and by and by I comes home to find my poor wife dead, and the +little one gone.’</p> +<p>‘I suppose you are aware that you can have no legal claim to the +child without full proof of her belonging to you—the certificate of +your marriage and a copy of the register of her birth?’</p> +<p>The man was scarcely withheld from imprecations upon the work that was +made about it, when Miss Morton had been quite satisfied on a poor +fellow’s word.</p> +<p>‘Yes, ladies may be satisfied for a time, but legally more than +your word is required, and you will remember that unless you can bring full +proof that this is your child, there is such a thing as prosecution for +obtaining money on false pretences.’</p> +<p><!-- page 198--><a name="page198"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +198</span>‘And how is a poor fellow to get the fees for them register +clerks and that?’ said the man, in a tone waxing insolent.</p> +<p>‘I will be answerable for the fees, if you will tell me where the +certificates are to be applied for.’</p> +<p>‘Well, how is a cove to know what the women did when he was at +sea? She died at Rotherhithe, anyway, so the child will be registered +there.’</p> +<p>‘And the marriage? You were not at sea then, I +suppose?’</p> +<p>But the man averred that there were so many churches that there was no +telling one from another, and with a knowing look declared that the gals +were so keen after a man that they put up the banns and hauled him where +they would.</p> +<p>He was at last got rid of, undertaking to bring the proofs of his +paternity, without which Lord Northmoor made it clear to him that he was to +expect neither child nor money.</p> +<p>‘I greatly doubt whether you will see any more of him,’ said +Lord Northmoor when describing the interview.</p> +<p>‘Oh, Frank,’ cried Bertha, calling him thus for the first +time, ‘I do not know how to thank you enough. You have done me +an infinite kindness.’</p> +<p>‘Do not thank me yet,’ he answered, ‘for though I do +not in the least believe that this fellow is the child’s father, he +may find his way to the certificates or get them forged; and it would be +well to trace what has become of the real Jones, as well as to make out +about this Rattler. Is it true that the wife died at +Rotherhithe?’</p> +<p><!-- page 199--><a name="page199"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +199</span>‘Quite true, poor thing. I believe they had lived +there since the marriage.’</p> +<p>‘I will run down there if you can give me the address, and see if +I can make out anything about her husband, and see whether any one can +speak to his identity with this man.’</p> +<p>‘You are a man of gold! To think of your taking all this +trouble!’</p> +<p>‘I only hope I may succeed. It is a return to old habits of +hunting up evidence.’</p> +<p>Bertha was able to give the address of the lodging-house where poor Mrs. +Jones had died, and the next morning produced another document, which had +been shut up in the Bible that had been rescued for the child, namely the +marriage lines of David Jones and Lucy Smith at the parish church of the +last Lord Northmoor’s residence in town.</p> +<p>To expect a clergyman or clerk to remember the appearance of a +bridegroom eight years ago was too much, even if they were the same who had +officiated; but Bertha undertook to try, and likewise to consult a former +fellow-servant of poor Lucy, who was supposed to have abetted her +unfortunate courtship. Frank, after despatching a letter of inquiry +to his sister-in-law about ‘Sam Rattler,’ set forth by train +and river steamer for Rotherhithe.</p> +<p>When they met again in the evening, Bertha had only made out from the +fellow-servant that the stoker was rather small, and had a reddish beard +and hair, wherewith Cea’s complexion corresponded.</p> +<p>The Rotherhithe discoveries had gone farther. Lord Northmoor had +penetrated to the doleful den where the poor woman had died, and no wonder! +<!-- page 200--><a name="page200"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +200</span>for it seemed, as Bertha had warned him, a nest of fever and +horrible smells. The landlady remembered her death, which had been +made memorable by Miss Morton’s visits; but knew not whence she had +come, though, stimulated by half-a-crown, she mentioned a small grocery +shop where more might be learnt. There the woman did recollect Mrs. +Jones as a very decent lady, and likewise her being in better lodgings +until deserted by her husband, the scamp, who had gone off in an Australian +steamer.</p> +<p>At these lodgings the inquiry resulted in the discovery of the name of +the steamer; and there was still time to look up the agent and the date +approximately enough to obtain the list of the crew, with David Jones among +them. It further appeared that this same David Jones had fallen +overboard and been drowned, but as he had not entered himself as a married +man, his wife had remained in ignorance of his fate. It was, however, +perfectly clear that the little girl was an orphan, and that Bertha might +be quite undisturbed in the possession of her.</p> +<p>And thus Lord Northmoor came home a good deal fagged, and shocked by the +interior he had seen at Rotherhithe, but quite triumphant.</p> +<p>Bertha was delighted, and declared herself eternally grateful to him; +and she could not but entertain the hope that the <i>soi-disant</i> parent +would make another application, in which case she was quite prepared to +give him into custody; and she proceeded to reckon up the number of times +that he had applied to her, and the amount that he had extracted, wondering +at herself for not having asked <!-- page 201--><a name="page201"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 201</span>for proofs, but owning that she had been +afraid of being thus compelled to give up the child to perdition.</p> +<p>The applications had all been within the last year, so that the man had +probably learnt from Louisa Hall, the nursery-maid, that Cea was the child +of a deserted wife.</p> +<p>A letter from Mrs. Morton gave some of the antecedents of Sam Rattler, +as learnt from Mrs. Hall, the charwoman, whose great dread he was. +His real surname was Jones, and he was probably a Samuel Jones whose name +Lord Northmoor had noted as a boy on board David’s ship. He +belonged to a decent family in a country village, but had run away to sea, +and was known at Westhaven by this nickname. He had a brother settled +in Canada, who had lately written to propose to him a berth on one of the +Ontario steamers, and it was poor Mrs. Hall’s dread that her daughter +should accompany him, though happily want of money prevented it. As +to his appearance, as to which there had been special inquiries, he was a +tall fine-looking man, with a black beard, and half the girls at Westhaven +were fools enough to be after him.</p> +<p>All this tallied with what had been gathered from the child, and this +last had probably been a bold attempt to procure the passage-money for his +sweetheart.</p> +<p>He never did call again, having probably been convinced of the failure +of his scheme, and scenting danger, so that every day for a fortnight +Bertha met her cousin with a disappointed ‘No Rattler!’</p> +<h2><!-- page 202--><a name="page202"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +202</span>CHAPTER XXX<br /> +SCARLET FEVER</h2> +<p>There was a meeting of one of the many charitable societies to which +Bertha had made Lord Northmoor give his name, and she persuaded him to stay +on another day for it, though he came down in the morning with a sore +throat and heavy eyes, and, contrary to his usual habits, lay about in an +easy-chair, and dozed over the newspaper all the morning.</p> +<p>When he found himself unable to eat at luncheon, she allowed that he was +not fit for the meeting, but demurred when he declared that he should go +home at once that afternoon to let Mary nurse his cold. The instinct +of getting back to wife and home were too strong for Bertha to contend +with, and he started, telegraphing to Northmoor to be met at the +station.</p> +<p>Perhaps there were delays, as in his oppressed and dazed state he had +mistaken the trains, for he did not arrive at home till nine o’clock +instead of seven, and then he looked so ill as he stumbled into the hall, +dazzled by the lights, that Mary looked at him in much alarm.</p> +<p><!-- page 203--><a name="page203"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +203</span>‘Yes,’ he said hoarsely, ‘I have a bad cold and +sore throat, and I thought I had better come home at once.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed you had! If only you have not made it worse by the +journey!’</p> +<p>Which apparently he had done, for he could scarcely swallow the warm +drinks brought to him, and had such a night, that when steps were heard in +the house, he said—</p> +<p>‘Mary, dear, don’t let Mite come in. I am afraid it is +too late to keep you away, but if I had felt like this yesterday, I would +have gone straight to the fever hospital.’</p> +<p>‘Oh no, no, what should you do but come home to me? Was it +that horrible place at Rotherhithe?’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps. It is just a fortnight since, and I felt a strange +shudder and chill as I was talking. But it may be nothing; only keep +Mite away till I have seen Trotman. My Mary, don’t look like +that! It may be nothing, and we have been very happy—thank +God.’</p> +<p>Poor Mary, in a choking state, hurried away to send for the doctor, and +to despatch orders to Nurse Eden to confine Master Michael to the nursery +and garden for the present, her sinking and foreboding heart forbidding her +to approach the child herself.</p> +<p>The verdict of the doctor confirmed these alarms, for all the symptoms +of scarlet fever had by that time manifested themselves. Mary had +gone through the disease long before, and had nursed through more than one +outbreak at Miss Lang’s, so her husband might take the comfort of +knowing that there was little anxiety on her account, though the <!-- page +204--><a name="page204"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 204</span>doctor, +evidently expecting a severe attack, insisted on sending in a trained nurse +to assist her.</p> +<p>As the little boy had fortunately been in bed and asleep long before his +father came home, there was as yet no danger of infection for him, though +he must be sent out of the house at once.</p> +<p>Lady Adela was not at home, and Mary would have doubted about sending +him to the Cottage, even if she had been there; so she quickly made up her +mind that Eden and the young nursery-maid should take him at once to +Westhaven, to be either in the hotel or at Northmoor Cottage, according as +his aunt should decide.</p> +<p>How little she had thought, when she heard him say his prayers, and +exchanged kisses with him at the side of his little bed, that it was the +last time for many a long day; and that her hungry spirit would have to +feed itself on that last smile and kiss of the fat hand, as she looked out +of her husband’s window as the carriage drove away.</p> +<p>Lady Adela knew too well what it was to be desolate not to come home so +as to be at hand, though she left her little daughter at her +uncle’s. Bertha came on the following day.</p> +<p>‘I feel as if it were all my doing,’ she said. +‘I could not bear it, if it does not go well with him, after being +the saving of poor little Cea.’</p> +<p>‘There is nothing to reproach yourself with,’ said +sober-minded Lady Adela. ‘Neither you nor he could guess that +he was running into infection.’</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Bertha; ‘of course, one never thinks of +such things with grown-up people, especially one whom one has always +thought of as a stick, and to <!-- page 205--><a name="page205"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 205</span>whom perhaps ascribed some of its +toughness,’ she added, smiling; ‘but he did come home looking +very white and worn-out, and complained of horrible smells. No, dear +man, he was far too punctilious to use the word, he only said that he +should like to send the Sanitary Commission down the alley. I ought +to have dosed him with brandy on the spot, for of course he was too polite +to ask for it, so I only gave him a cup of <i>tea</i>,’ said Bertha, +with an infinite tone of scorn in the name of the beverage.</p> +<p>‘Will it be any comfort to tell you that most likely it would have +been too late even if he would have accepted it? Come, Bertha, how +often are we told that we are not to think so much of consequences as of +actions, and there was nothing blameworthy in the whole +business.’</p> +<p>‘Except that I was such a donkey as not to have begun by asking +for the man’s proofs, but I was so much afraid that he would pounce +on the child that I only thought of buying him off from time to time. +I did not know I was so weak. Well, at any rate, with little Mite to +the fore, the place will be left in good hands. I like Herbert on the +whole, but to have that woman reigning as Madame Mère would be +awful.’</p> +<p>‘Nay, I trust we are not coming to that! Trotman says it is +a thoroughly severe attack, but not abnormally malignant, as he calls +it. It is a matter of nursing, he tells me, and that he has of the +best—a matter of nursing and of prayer, and that,’ added Adela, +her eyes filling with tears, ‘I am sure he has.’</p> +<p>‘And yet—and yet,’ Bertha broke off.</p> +<p>‘Ah, you are thinking how we prayed before! <!-- page +206--><a name="page206"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 206</span>And yet, +Birdie, after these six years of seeing his rule and recognising what mine +would have been, I see it was for the best that my own little Michael was +taken to his happy home.’</p> +<p>‘You’ll call it for the best now,’ said Bertha +grimly.</p> +<p>‘If it be so, it will prove itself; but I really do not see any +special cause for extra fear.’</p> +<p>Lady Adela and Bertha both thought themselves as far safe as any one can +be with scarlet fever, and would gladly have taken a share in the +nursing. Bertha, however, had far too much of the whirlwind in her to +be desirable in a sick house, and on the principle that needless risk was +wrong, was never admitted within the house doors, but Lady Adela insisted +on seeing Mary every day, and was assured that she should be a welcome +assistant in case of need; but at present there was no necessity of calling +in other help, the form of fever being lethargic with much torpidity, but +no violence of delirium, and requiring no more watching than the wife and +nurse could give.</p> +<p>Frank never failed to know his Mary, and to respond when she addressed +him; but she was told never to attempt more than rousing him when it was +needful to make him take food. He had long ago, with the precaution +of his legal training, made every needful arrangement for her and for his +son; and even on the first day, he had not seemed to trouble himself on +these points, being too heavy and oppressed for the power of looking +forward. So the days rolled on in one continual watch on Mary’s +part, during which she seemed only to live <!-- page 207--><a +name="page207"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 207</span>in the present, and, +secure that her boy was safe, would not risk direct communication with him +or with his nurse.</p> +<p>Lady Adela had undertaken to keep Constance, the person who really loved +her uncle best, daily informed, and she also wrote at intervals to Mrs. +Morton, by special desire of Lady Northmoor, and likewise to her own old +servant, Eden, the nurse. She wrote cheerfully, but Eden had other +correspondents in the servants’ hall, who dwelt sensationally on the +danger, as towards Whitsun week the fever began to run higher towards the +crisis, the strength was reduced, the torpor became heavier; and anxiety +increased as to whether there would be power of rally in a man who, though +healthy, had never been strong.</p> +<p>The anxiety manifested by the entire neighbourhood was a notable proof +of the estimation in which the patient was held, and was very far from +springing only from pity or humanity. Half the people who came to +Lady Adela for further information had some cause going on in which +‘That Stick’ was one of the most efficient of props.</p> +<h2><!-- page 208--><a name="page208"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +208</span>CHAPTER XXXI<br /> +MITE</h2> +<p>Little Michael Morton was in the meantime installed in his aunt’s +house. For him to be anywhere else was not to be thought of, and Mrs. +Morton was soft-hearted enough to be very fond of such a bright little boy, +so much in her own hands, and very amusing with the old-fashioned formal +ways derived from chiefly consorting with older people.</p> +<p>Besides, the pretty little fellow was an object of great interest to all +her acquaintances, especially as it was understood at Westhaven that it was +only too possible that he might any day become Lord Northmoor; and never +had Mrs. Morton’s drawing-room been so much resorted to by visitors +anxious for bulletins, or perhaps more truly for excitement. Mite was +a young gentleman of some dignity. He sat elevated on a hassock upon +a chair to dine at luncheon-time, comporting himself most correctly; but +his aunt was sorely chafed at Eden’s standing behind his chair, like +Sancho’s physician, to regulate his diet, and placing her veto upon +lobsters, cucumbers, pastry, and glasses of wine with lumps of sugar in +them.</p> +<p><!-- page 209--><a name="page209"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +209</span>It amounted to a trial of strength between aunt and nurse. +Michael submitted once or twice, when told that his mamma would not +approve, but the lobster struck him with extreme amazement and admiration, +and he could not believe but that the red, long-whiskered monster was not +as good as he was beautiful.</p> +<p>‘He has got a glove like what Peter wears to cut the holly +hedge,’ exclaimed the boy, to the general amusement. +‘Where’s his hand?’</p> +<p>‘My Mite shall have a bit of his funny hand,’ said Mrs. +Morton, and Ida was dealing with the claw, when Eden interposed and said +she did not think her ladyship would wish Master Michael to have any.</p> +<p>‘Just a taste, nurse, with some of the cream,’ said Mrs. +Morton. ‘Here, Mitey dear.’</p> +<p>‘No, Master Michael, mamma would say no,’ said Eden.</p> +<p>‘Really, Eden, you might let Mrs. Morton judge in her own +house,’ said Ida.</p> +<p>‘Master Morton is under my charge, ma’am, and I am +responsible for him,’ said Eden, respectfully but firmly. But +Ida held out the claw, and Michael made a dart at it.</p> +<p>Eden again said ‘No,’ but he looked up at her with an +exulting roguish grin, and clasped it, whereupon she laid hold of him by +the waist, and bore him off, kicking and roaring, amid the pitiful and +indignant exclamations of his aunt and cousin.</p> +<p>It may be that the faithful Eden was somewhat wanting in tact, by her +determined attention to the routine that chafed her hosts; but she had been +<!-- page 210--><a name="page210"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +210</span>forced to come away without directions, and could only hold fast +to the discipline of her well-ordered nursery under all obstacles.</p> +<p>Master Michael was to have his cup of milk and run on the beach with the +nursery-maid long before the usual awakening of the easy-going household, +which regarded late hours as belonging to gentility; then, after the +general breakfast, his small lessons, over which there often was a battle, +first, because he felt injured by not doing them with his mother, and next, +because his hostesses regarded them as a hardship, and taught him to cry +over ‘Reading without tears,’ besides detaining him as late as +they could over the breakfast, or proposing to take him out at once, +without waiting for that quarter of an hour’s work. Or when +out-of-doors, they would not bring him home for the siesta, on which his +nurse insisted, though it was often only lying down in the dark; nor had +Mrs. Morton any scruple in breaking it, if she wanted to exhibit him to her +friends, though if it were interrupted or omitted, the child’s temper +was the worse all the afternoon.</p> +<p>‘That nurse is a thorough tyrant over the poor little darling, and +a very impertinent woman besides,’ said Mrs. Morton.</p> +<p>‘A regular little spoiled brat,’ Ida declared him.</p> +<p>While certainly the worse his father was said to be, the more his aunt +tried to spoil and indulge him, as a relief to her pity and grief.</p> +<p>He had missed his home and parents a good deal at first, had cried at +his lessons, and cried more at not having father to carry him to the +nursery, nor mother to hear him say his prayers and kiss him at <!-- page +211--><a name="page211"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 211</span>night; but +time wore off the association, and he was full of delight at the sea, the +ships, the little crabs, and all the other charms of the shore.</p> +<p>Above all, he was excited about the little boys. His own kind had +never come in his way before, his chief playfellow being Amice, who was so +much older as to play with him condescendingly and always give way to +him. There was a large family in a neighbouring lodging containing +what he respectfully called ‘big knicker-bocker boys,’ who +excited his intense admiration, and drew him like a magnet.</p> +<p>For once Mrs. Morton and Eden were agreed as to the propriety of the +companionship, since Rollstone had pronounced them of ‘high +family,’ and the governess who was in charge of them was quite ready +to be interested in the solitary little stranger, even if he had not been +the Honourable Michael. So was the elder girl of the party, but, +unluckily, Michael was just of the age to be a great nuisance to children +who played combined and imaginative games which he could not yet +understand.</p> +<p>When they were making elaborate approaches to a sand fortification, +erected with great care and pains, he would dash on it with a <i>coup de +main</i>, break it down at once with his spade, and stand proudly laughing +and mixing up the ruins together, heedless of the howls of anger of the +besiegers, and believing that he had done the right thing.</p> +<p>And once, when a wrathful boy of eight had shaken the troublesome urchin +as he would have done his own junior, had this last presumed to stir up his +clear pool of curiosities, most of the female portion of the family had +taken the part of the <!-- page 212--><a name="page212"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 212</span>intruder, and cried shame on any one who could +hurt or molest a poor dear little boy away from a father who was so +ill!</p> +<p>Thus the Lincoln family, for the sake of peace and self-defence, used +sedulously to flee at the approach of Mite, and seek for secluded coves to +which he was not likely to penetrate.</p> +<p>Mr. Rollstone was Eden’s great solace. They discovered that +they had once been staying in the same country-house, and had a great +number of common acquaintances in the upper-servant world, and they +entirely agreed in their estimate of Mrs. Morton and Ida, whom Mr. +Rollstone pronounced to be neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, though as for +Miss Constance, she was a lady all over, and always had been, and there +might have been hopes for Mr. Herbert, if only he could have got into the +army.</p> +<p>To sit with Mr. Rollstone, whom the last winter’s rheumatics had +left very infirm, was Eden’s chief afternoon employment, as she could +not follow her charge’s wanderings on the beach, but had to leave him +to the nursery-maid, Ellen. The old butler wanted much to show +‘Miss Eden’ his daughter, who took advantage of Whit-Sunday and +the Bank-holiday to run down and see her parents, though at the next +quarter she was coming home for good, extremely sorry to leave her +advantages in London, and the friends she had made there, but feeling that +her parents needed her so much that she must pursue her employment at +home.</p> +<p>They were all very anxious on that Whit-Sunday, and Rose carried with +her something of Constance’s feeling, as with tears in her eyes she +looked at the <!-- page 213--><a name="page213"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 213</span>little fellow at the children’s service, +standing by his nurse, with wide open, inquiring eyes, chiefly fixed upon +Willie Lincoln in satisfaction whenever an answer proceeded from that +object of his unrequited attachment. With the young maiden’s +love of revelling in supposed grief, Rose already pitied the fair-faced, +unconscious child as fatherless, and weighted with heavy +responsibilities.</p> +<p>Another pair of eyes looked at the boy, not with pity, but indignant +impatience.</p> +<p>Perhaps even already that little pretender was the only obstacle between +Herbert and the coronet that was his by right, between Ida herself +and—</p> +<p>Ida had walked from the school to the church with Mr. Deyncourt, and he +had talked so gently and pitifully of the family distress, and assumed so +much grief on her part, that his sympathy made her heart throb; above all, +when he told her that his two sisters were coming to stay with him, Mrs. +Rollstone had contrived to make room for them, and they would show her, +better than he could, some of the plans he wished to have carried out with +the little children.</p> +<p>So he wished to introduce her to his sisters! What did that +mean? If the Deyncourts were ever so high they could not sneer at +Lord Northmoor’s sisters.</p> +<p>Then she thought of many a novel, and in real life, of what she believed +respecting that lost lover of Miss Morton’s. And later in the +day Tom Brady lounged up to Northmoor Cottage, and leaning with one elbow +on the window-sill, while the other arm held away the pipe he had just +taken from his lips, <!-- page 214--><a name="page214"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 214</span>he asked if they would give him a cup of tea, +the whole harbour was so full of such beastly, staring cads that there was +no peace there. One ought to give such places a wide berth at +Whitsuntide.</p> +<p>‘I wonder you did not,’ said Ida, as she hastened to +compound the tea.</p> +<p>‘Forgot it,’ he lazily droned, ‘forgot it. +Attractions, you know,’ and, as she brought the cup to the window, +with a lump of sugar in the tongs, ‘when sugar fingers +are—’ and the speech ended in a demonstration at the fingers +that made Ida laugh, blush, and say, ‘Oh, for shame, Mr. +Brady!’</p> +<p>‘You had better come in, Mr. Brady,’ called Mrs. +Morton. ‘You can’t drink it comfortably there, and +you’ll be upsetting it. We are down in the dining-room to-day, +because—’</p> +<p>The cause, necessary to her gentility, was lost, as Ida proceeded to let +him in at the front door, and he presently deposited himself on the sofa, +grumbling complacently at the bore of holidays, especially bank +holidays. His crew would have been ready to strike, he declared, if +he had taken them out of harbour, or he would have asked the ladies to come +on a cruise out of the way of it all.</p> +<p>‘Why, thank you very much, Mr. Brady, but, really in my poor +brother, Lord Northmoor’s state, I don’t know that it would be +etiquette.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, yes. By the bye, how’s the governor?’</p> +<p>‘Very sad, strength failing. I hardly expect to hear he is +alive to-morrow,’ and Mrs. Morton’s handkerchief was +raised.</p> +<p>‘Oh ay, sad enough, you know! I say, will it make any +difference to you?’</p> +<p><!-- page 215--><a name="page215"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +215</span>‘My poor, dear brother! Well, it ought, you +know. Indeed it would if it had not been for that dear little +boy. My poor Herbert!’</p> +<p>‘It must have been an awful sell for him.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Ida, ‘and some people think there was +something very odd about it all—the child being born out in the +Dolomites, with nobody there!’</p> +<p>‘Don’t, Ida, I can’t have you talk so,’ +protested her mother.</p> +<p>‘Supposititious, by all that’s lucky! I should +strangle him!’ and Mr. Brady put back his head and laughed a loud and +hearty laugh, by no means elegant, but without much sound of truculent +intentions.</p> +<h2><!-- page 216--><a name="page216"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +216</span>CHAPTER XXXII<br /> +A SHOCK</h2> +<p>It was on the Thursday of Whitsun-week when Lady Adela and Bertha came +down from their visit of inquiry, a little more hopeful than on the +previous day, though they could not yet say that recovery was setting +in.</p> +<p>But a great shock awaited them. The parlour-maid met them at the +door, pale and tearful. ‘Oh, my lady, Mrs. Eden’s come, +and—’</p> +<p>Poor Eden herself was in the hall, and nothing was to be heard but +‘Oh, my lady!’ and another tempest of sobs.</p> +<p>‘Come in, Eden,’ scolded Bertha, in her impatience. +‘Don’t keep us in this way. What has happened to the +child? Let us have it at once! The worst, or you wouldn’t +be here.’</p> +<p>For all answer, Eden held up a little wooden spade, a sailor hat, and a +shoe showing traces of sand and sea-water.</p> +<p>‘It is so then,’ said Lady Adela. ‘Oh, his +mother! But,’ after that one wail, she thought of the poor +woman before her, ‘I am sure you are not to blame, Eden.’</p> +<p><!-- page 217--><a name="page217"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +217</span>‘Oh, my lady, if I could but feel that! But that I +should have trusted the darling out of my sight for a moment!’</p> +<p>Presently they brought her to a state in which she could tell her +lamentable history.</p> +<p>She had been spending the afternoon at Mr. Rollstone’s, leaving +Master Michael as usual in the care of the underling, Ellen, and after that +she knew no more till neither child nor maid came home at his supper-time, +and Mrs. Morton was slowly roused to take alarm, while Eden, half +distracted, wandered about, seeking her charge, and found Ellen, calling +and shouting in vain for him. Ellen confessed that she had seen him +running after the Lincoln children, and supposing him with them, had given +herself up to the study of a penny dreadful in company with another young +nursemaid. When they had awakened to real life, the first idea had +been that he must be with these children; but they were gone, and Ellen, +fancying that he might have gone home with them, asked at their lodging, +but no, he was not there.</p> +<p>The tide was by this time covering the beach, and driving away the +miserable maids, with the aunt, cousin and others who had been on the +fruitless quest. No more could be done then, and they went home with +desolation in their hearts. Miss Ida, as Eden declared, stayed out +long after everybody else when it was clearly of no use, and came back so +tired and upset that she went up straight to bed. There was still a +hope that some one might have met the little boy and taken him home, unable +clearly to make out to whom he <!-- page 218--><a name="page218"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 218</span>belonged, more especially as the Lincolns in +terror and compunction had confessed that they had seen him and his nurse +from a distance, and had rushed headlong round a projecting rock into a +cove, hoping that he had not seen them, because he was so tiresome and +spoilt all their games. And when that morning the spade, hat, and +shoe were discovered upon the shore, not far from the very rock, the poor +children had to draw plenty of morals on the consequences of +selfishness. No doubt that poor little Michael had pursued them +barefooted and gone too near the waves!</p> +<p>There was nothing more but the forlorn hope that the waves would restore +the little body they had carried off, and Mrs. Morton was watching for that +last sad satisfaction. In case of that contingency, Ellen, as the +last person known to have seen the boy, had been left at Westhaven, in +agonies of despair, vowing that she would never speak to any one, nor look +at a story-book again in her life. She had attempted the excuse that +she thought she saw Miss Ida going in that direction, but the young lady +had declared that she had never been on the beach at all that afternoon +till after the alarm had been given; and had been extremely angry with +Ellen for making false excuses and trying to shift off the blame, and the +girl had been much terrified, and owned that she was not at all sure.</p> +<p>‘And oh, my lady,’ entreated Eden, ‘don’t send +me up to the House! Don’t make me face her ladyship! I +should die of it!’</p> +<p>‘We must think what is to be done about that,’ <!-- page +219--><a name="page219"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 219</span>said Lady +Adela. ‘Can you tell whether any one from the House has seen +you?’</p> +<p>Eden thought not, and after she had been consigned to her friend, Lady +Adela’s maid, to be rested, fed, and comforted as far as might be +possible, the sisters-in-law held sad counsel, and agreed that it was not +safe to keep back the terrible news from the poor mother who expected daily +tidings of her child, and might hear some report, in spite of her shut-up +state.</p> +<p>‘Poor Adela, I pity you almost as much as her,’ said +Bertha.</p> +<p>‘Oh, I know now how much I have to be thankful for! No +uncertainty—and my little one’s grave.’</p> +<p>‘Besides Amice. Let me drive you up, Addie. Your heart +is beating enough to knock you down.’</p> +<p>‘Well, I believe it is. But not up to the front door. +I will go in by the garden. Oh, may he be spared to her at +least!’</p> +<p>Very pale then Lady Adela crept in, meeting a weeping maid who was much +relieved to see her, but was hardly restrained from noisy sobs. Mr. +Trotman, she said, had come just before the garden boy had inevitably +dashed up with the tidings, and the household had been waiting till he came +out, to secure that he should be near when Lady Northmoor was told.</p> +<p>Adela felt that this might be the safest opportunity, and sent a message +to the door to beg that her ladyship would come and speak to her for a few +minutes in the study.</p> +<p>Mary’s soft step was soon there, and her lips <!-- page 220--><a +name="page220"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 220</span>were framing the +words, ‘No ground lost,’ when at sight of Adela’s face +the light went out of her eyes, and setting herself firmly on her feet, she +said, ‘You have bad news. My boy!’</p> +<p>Adela came near and would have taken her hand, saying—‘My +poor Mary’—but she clasped them both as if to hold herself +together, and said, ‘The fever!’</p> +<p>‘No, no—sadder still! Drowned!’</p> +<p>‘Ah, then there was not all that suffering, and without me! +Thankworthy— Oh no, no, please’—as Lady Adela, with +eyes brimming over, would have pressed her to her +bosom—‘don’t—don’t upset me, or I could not +attend to Frank. It all turns on this one day, they say, and I +must—I must be as usual. There will be time enough to know all +about it—if’—with a long oppressed gasp—‘he +is saved from the hearing it.’</p> +<p>‘I think you are right, dear,’ said Adela, ‘if you +keep him—’ but she could not go on.</p> +<p>‘Well, any way,’ said Mary, ‘either he will be given +back, or he will be saved this. Let me go back to him, +please.’ Then at the door, putting her hand to her +head—‘Who is here?’</p> +<p>‘Poor Eden.’</p> +<p>‘Ah, let her and Emma know that I am sure it is not their +fault. Come again to-morrow, please; I think he will be +better.’</p> +<p>She went away in that same gliding manner, perfectly tearless. +Adela waited to see the doctor, who assured her that the patient had rather +gained than lost during the last twenty-four hours, and that if he could be +spared from any shock or <!-- page 221--><a name="page221"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 221</span>agitation he would probably recover. +Lady Northmoor seemed so entirely absorbed by his critical state, that she +was not likely to betray the sad knowledge she had put aside in the secret +chamber of her heart, more especially as her husband was still too much +weighed down, and too slumberous to be observant, or to speak much, and +knowing the child to be out of the house, he did not inquire for him.</p> +<p>Nevertheless, Mr. Trotman gladly approved of Lady Adela’s +intention of sleeping in the house in case of any sudden collapse; and the +servants, who were not to let Lady Northmoor know, evidently felt this a +great relief.</p> +<p>‘Yes, it is a comfort to think some one will be within that poor +thing’s reach,’ said Bertha, as they went back together, +‘and, if you can bear it, you are the right person.’</p> +<p>‘She will not let herself dwell on it. She never even looked +at Mrs. Morton’s letter.’</p> +<p>‘And I really hope they won’t find the poor little dear, to +have all the fuss and heart-rending.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Birdie!’</p> +<p>‘There’s only one thing that would make me wish it. +I’m quite sure that that Miss Ida knows more about it than she +owns. No, you need not say, “Oh, Birdie” again; I +don’t suspect her of the deed, but I do believe she saw the boy and +kept out of his way, and now wants that poor Ellen to have all the +blame!’</p> +<p>‘You will believe nothing against a girl out of an +orphanage!’</p> +<p>‘I had rather any day believe Ellen Mole than <!-- page 222--><a +name="page222"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 222</span>Ida Morton. +There’s something about that girl which has always revolted me. +I would never trust her farther than I could see her!’</p> +<p>‘Prejudice, Birdie; because she is in bad style.’</p> +<p>‘You to talk of prejudice, Addie, who hardly knew how to go on +living here under the poor stick!’</p> +<p>‘Don’t, Birdie. He has earned esteem by sheer +goodness. Poor man, I don’t know what to wish for him when I +think of the pang that awaits him.’</p> +<p>‘You know what to wish for yourself and Northmoor! Not but +that Herbert may come to good if he doesn’t come into possession for +many a long year.’</p> +<p>‘And now I must write to that poor child, Constance. But oh, +Bertha, don’t condemn hastily! Haven’t I had enough of +that?’</p> +<h2><!-- page 223--><a name="page223"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +223</span>CHAPTER XXXIII<br /> +DARKNESS</h2> +<p>Full a week later, Frank looked up from his pillow, and said, ‘I +wonder when it will be safe to have Mite back. Mary, sweet, what is +it? I have been sure something was burthening you. Come and +tell me. If he has the fever, you must go to him. No!’ as +she clasped his hand and laid her face down on the pillow.</p> +<p>‘Ah, Frank, he does not want us any more!’</p> +<p>‘My Mary, my poor Mary, have you been bearing such knowledge about +with you? For how long?’</p> +<p>‘Since that worst day, yesterday week. Oh, but to see you +getting better was the help!’</p> +<p>‘Can you tell me?’</p> +<p>She told him, in that low, steady voice, all she knew. It was very +little, for she had avoided whatever might break the composure that seemed +so needful to his recovery; and he could listen quietly, partly from the +lulling effect of weakness, partly from his anxiety for her, and the habit +of self-restraint, in which all the earlier part of their <!-- page +224--><a name="page224"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 224</span>lives had +been passed, made utterance come slowly to them.</p> +<p>‘Life will be different to us henceforth,’ he once +said. ‘We have had three years of the most perfect +happiness. He gave and He hath taken away. +Blessed—’</p> +<p>And there he stopped, for he saw the working of her face. +Otherwise they hardly spoke of their loss even to one another. It +went down deeper than they could bear to utter, and their hearts and eyes +met if their lips did not. Only Lord Northmoor lay too dejected to +make the steps expected in the recovery of strength for a few days after +the grievous revelation, and on the day when at last he was placed on a +couch by the window, his wife collapsed, and, almost unconscious, was +carried to her bed.</p> +<p>It was not a severe or alarming attack, and all she wanted was to be let +alone; but there was enough of sore throat and other symptoms to prolong +the quarantine, and Lady Adela could no longer be excluded from giving her +aid. She went to and fro between the patients, and comforted each +with regard to the other, telling the one how her husband’s strength +was returning, and keeping the other tranquil by the assurance that what +his wife most needed was perfect rest, especially from the necessity of +restraining herself. Those eyes showed how many tears were poured +forth when they could have their free course. Lady Adela had gone +through enough to feel with ready tact what would be least jarring to +each. She had persuaded Bertha to go back to London, both to her many +avocations and to receive <!-- page 225--><a name="page225"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 225</span>Amice, who must still be kept at a distance +for some time.</p> +<p>Lord Northmoor, as soon as he had strength and self-command for it, read +poor Mrs. Morton’s letters, and also saw Eden, for whom there was +little fear of infection. She managed to tell her history and answer +all his questions in detail, but she quite broke down under his kind tone +of forgiveness and assurance that no blame attached to her, and that he was +only grateful to her for her tender care of his child, and she went away +sobbing pitifully.</p> +<p>Adela came back, after taking her from the room, where Frank was sitting +in an easy-chair by the window, and looking out on the summer garden, which +seemed to be stripped of all its charm and value for him.</p> +<p>‘Poor thing,’ she said, ‘she is quite overcome by your +kindness.’</p> +<p>‘I do not think any one is more to be pitied,’ said he.</p> +<p>‘No, indeed, but she wishes you would have heard what she had to +say about the supposing Ida to have gone in that direction.’</p> +<p>‘I thought it better not. It would not have exonerated the +poor little maid from carelessness, and there is no use in fostering a +sense of injury or suspicion, when what is done cannot be undone,’ he +said wearily.</p> +<p>‘Indeed you are quite right,’ said Adela earnestly. +‘You know how to be in charity with all men. Oh, the needless +misery of hasty unjust suspicions!’ Then as he looked up at +her—‘Do you know our own story?’</p> +<p><!-- page 226--><a name="page226"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +226</span>‘Only the main facts.’</p> +<p>‘I think you ought to know it. It accounts for so +much!’ said she, moved partly by the need of utterance, and partly by +the sense that the turn of his thoughts might be good for him. +‘You know what a passion for horses there has always been in this +family.’</p> +<p>‘I know—I could have had it if my life had begun more +prosperously.’</p> +<p>‘And you have done your best to save Herbert from it. Well, +my Arthur had it to a great degree; and so indeed had Bertha. They +were brought up to nothing else; Bertha was, I really think, a better judge +than her brother, she was not so reckless. They became intimate with +a Captain Alder, who was in the barracks at Copington—much the +nicest, as I used to think, of the set, though I was not very glad to see +an attachment growing up between him and Bertha. There was always +such a capacity of goodness in her that I longed to see her in the way of +being raised altogether.’</p> +<p>‘She has always been most kind to us. There is much to +admire in her.’</p> +<p>‘Her present life has developed all that is best; +but—’ She hesitated, wondering whether the good simple +man were sensible of that warp in the nature that she had felt. She +went on, ‘Then she was a masterful, high-spirited girl, to whom it +seemed inevitable to come to high words with any one about whom she +cared. And I must say—she and my husband, while they were +passionately fond of one another, seemed to have a sort of fascination in +provoking one another, not only in words but in deeds. <!-- page +227--><a name="page227"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 227</span>Ah, you can +hardly believe it of her! How people get tamed! Well, Arthur +bought a horse, a beautiful creature, but desperately vicious. +Captain Alder had been with him when he first saw it, and admired it; but I +do not think gave an opinion against it. Bertha, however, from the +moment she saw its eyes and ears, protested against it in her vehement +way. I remember imploring her not to make Arthur defy her; but really +when they got into those moods, I don’t think they could stop +themselves, and she thought Captain Alder encouraged him. So Arthur +went out on that fatal drive in the dog-cart, and no sooner were they out +on the Colbeam road than the horse bolted, they came into collision with a +hay waggon. And—’</p> +<p>‘I know!’</p> +<p>‘Captain Alder was thrown on the top of the hay and not +hurt. He came to prepare me to receive Arthur, and then went up to +the house. Bertha, poor girl, in her wild grief almost flew at +him. It was all his doing, she said; he had egged Arthur on; she +supposed Arthur had bets. In short, she knew not what she said; but +he left the house, and never has been near her again.’</p> +<p>‘Were they engaged?’</p> +<p>‘Not quite formally, but they understood one another, and were +waiting for a favourable moment with old Lord Northmoor, who was not easy +to deal with, and it was far from being a good match anyway. We all +thought, I believe, that the drive was the fault or rather the folly of +Captain Alder, and Arthur was too ill to explain—unconscious at +first—then not rousing himself. At last he asked <!-- page +228--><a name="page228"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 228</span>for his +friend, and then he told me that Captain Alder had done all in his power to +prevent his taking the creature out—had told him he had no right to +endanger his life; and when only laughed at, had insisted on going with +him, in hopes, I suppose, of averting mischief. I wrote—Lord +Northmoor wrote to him at his quarters; but our letters came back to +us. We had kept no watch on the gazette, and he had retired and left +no address with his brother-officers. Bertha knew that his parents +were dead, and that he had a sister at school at Clifton. I wrote to +her, but the mistress sent back my letter; and we found that he had fetched +away his sister and gone. Even his money was taken from +Coutts’s, as if to cut off any clue.’</p> +<p>‘He should not have so attended to a girl in her angry +grief.’</p> +<p>‘No, but I think there was some self-blame in him, though not +about that horse. I believe he thought he might have checked Arthur +more. And he had debts which he seems to have paid on selling out his +capital. So, as I have told poor Bertha whenever she would let me, +there may have been other reasons besides her stinging words.’</p> +<p>‘And it has preyed on her?’</p> +<p>‘More than any one would guess who had not known her in old +times. I was glad that you secured that child, Cea, to her. She +seems to have fastened her affections on her.’</p> +<p>‘Alder,’ presently repeated Frank. +‘Alder—I was thinking how the name had come before me. +There were some clients of ours—of Mr. Burford’s, I +mean—of that name; I think they sold an estate. <!-- page +229--><a name="page229"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 229</span>Some day I +will find out whether he knows anything about them, and I shall remember +more by and by.’</p> +<p>‘It would be an immense relief if you could find out anything good +about the poor fellow,’ said Adela, very glad to have found any topic +of interest, and pleased to find that it occupied his thoughts afterwards, +when he asked whether she knew the Christian name of <i>this</i> young man, +without mentioning any antecedent, as if he had been going on with the +subject all the time.</p> +<p>In a few days the pair were able to meet, and to take up again the life +over which a dark veil had suddenly descended, contrasting with the +sunshine of those last few years. To hold up one another, and do +their duty on their way to the better world, was evidently the one thought, +though they said little.</p> +<p>Still neither was yet in a condition to return to ordinary life, and it +was determined that as soon as they were disinfected, they should leave the +house to undergo the same process, and spend a few weeks at some health +resort. Only Mary shuddered at the notion of hearing the sound of the +sea, and Malvern was finally fixed upon. Lady Adela would go with +them, and she wrote to beg that Constance, so soon as her term was over, +might bring Amice thither, to be in a separate lodging at first, till there +had been time to see whether the little girl’s company would be a +solace or a trial to the bereaved parents.</p> +<p>Bertha, as soon as the chief anxiety was over, joined Mrs. Bury in a +mountaineering expedition. She declared that she had never dared to +leave Cea before, lest the wretched father, now proved to be a myth, should +come and abstract the child.</p> +<h2><!-- page 230--><a name="page230"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +230</span>CHAPTER XXXIV<br /> +THE PHANTOM OF THE STATION</h2> +<p>There was a crash in Mrs. Morton’s kitchen, where an elegant five +o’clock tea was preparing, not only to greet Herbert, who had just +come home to await the news of his fate after the last military examination +open to him, but also for a friend or two of his mother’s, who, to +his great annoyance, might be expected to drop in on any Wednesday +afternoon.</p> +<p>Every one ran out to see what was the matter, and the maid was found +picking up Mrs. Morton’s silver teapot, the basket-work handle of +which had suddenly collapsed under the weight of tea and tea-leaves. +The mistress’s exclamations and objurgation of the maid for not +having discovered its frail condition need not be repeated. It had +been a wedding-present, and was her great pride. After due +examination to see whether there were any bruises or dents, she +said—</p> +<p>‘Well, Ida, we must have yours; run and fetch it out of the +box. You have the key of it.’ And she held out the key of +the cupboard where the spoons were daily taken out by herself or Ida.</p> +<p><!-- page 231--><a name="page231"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +231</span>The teapot had been left to Ida by a godmother, who had been a +farmer’s wife, with a small legacy, but was of an unfashionable make +and seldom saw the light.</p> +<p>‘That horrid, great clumsy thing!’ said Ida. +‘You had much better use the blue china one.’</p> +<p>‘I’ll never use that crockery for company when there’s +silver in the house! What would Mrs. Denham say if she dropped +in?’</p> +<p>‘I won’t pour out tea in that ugly, heavy brute of a +thing.’</p> +<p>‘Then if you won’t, I will. Give me the key this +instant!’</p> +<p>‘It is mine, and I am not going to give it up!’</p> +<p>‘Come, Ida,’ said Herbert, weary of the altercation; +‘any one would think you had made away with it! Let us have it +for peace’s sake.’</p> +<p>‘It’s no business of yours.’</p> +<p>He whistled. However, at that moment the door-bell rang.</p> +<p>It was to admit a couple of old ladies, whom both the young people +viewed as very dull company; and the story of the illness of ‘my +brother, Lord Northmoor,’ as related by their mother, had become very +tedious, so that as soon as possible they both sauntered out on the +beach.</p> +<p>‘I wonder when uncle will send for you!’ Ida said. +‘He must give you a good allowance now.’</p> +<p>‘Don’t talk of it, Ida; it makes me sick to think of +it. I say—is that the old red rock where they saw the last of +the poor little kid?’</p> +<p>‘Yes; that was where his hat was.’</p> +<p>‘Did you find it? Was it washed up?’</p> +<p><!-- page 232--><a name="page232"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +232</span>‘Don’t talk of such dreadful things, Bertie; I +can’t bear it! And there’s Rose Rollstone!’</p> +<p>Ida would have done her utmost to keep her brother and Rose Rollstone +apart at any other time, but she was at the moment only too glad to divert +his attention, and allowed him, without protest, to walk up to Rose, shake +hands with her, and rejoice in her coming home for good; but, do what Ida +would, she could not keep him from recurring to the thought of the little +cousin of whom he had been very fond.</p> +<p>‘Such a jolly little kid!’ he said; ‘and full of +spirit! You should have seen him when I picked him up before me on +the cob. How he laughed!’</p> +<p>‘So good, too,’ said Rose. ‘He looked so sweet +with those pretty brown eyes and fair curls at church that last +Sunday.’</p> +<p>‘I can’t make out how it was. The tide could not have +been high enough to wash him off going round that rock, or the other +children would not have gone round it.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, I suppose he ran after a wave,’ said Ida hastily.</p> +<p>‘Do you know,’ said Rose mysteriously, ‘I could have +declared I saw him that very evening, and with his nursery-maid, +too!’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense, Rose! We don’t believe in ghosts!’ +said Ida.</p> +<p>‘It was not like a ghost,’ said Rose. ‘You know +I had come down for the bank-holiday, and went back to finish my quarter at +the art embroidery. Well, when we stopped at the North Westhaven +station, I saw a man, woman, and child get <!-- page 233--><a +name="page233"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 233</span>in, and it struck me +that the boy was Master Michael and the woman Louisa Hall. I think +she looked into the carriage where I was, and I was going to ask her where +she was taking him.’</p> +<p>‘Nonsense, Rose! How can you listen to such folly, +Herbert?’</p> +<p>‘But that’s not all! I saw them again under the gas +when I got out. I was very near trying to speak to her, but I lost +sight of her in the throng; but I saw that face so like Master Michael, +only scared and just ready to cry.’</p> +<p>‘You’ll run about telling that fine ghost-story,’ said +Ida roughly.</p> +<p>‘But Louisa could not have been a ghost,’ said Rose, +bewildered. ‘I thought she was his nursery-maid taking him +somewhere! Didn’t she—’ then with a sudden +flash—‘Oh!’</p> +<p>‘Turned off long ago for flirting with that scamp Rattler,’ +said Herbert. ‘Now she has run off with him.’</p> +<p>‘There was a sailor-looking man with her,’ said Rose.</p> +<p>‘I never heard such intolerable nonsense!’ burst out +Ida. ‘Mere absurdity!’</p> +<p>Herbert looked at her with surprise at the strange passion she +exhibited. He asked—</p> +<p>‘Did you say the Hall girl had run away?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, never mind, Herbert!’ cried Ida, as if unable to +command herself. ‘What is it to you what a nasty, horrid girl +like that does?’</p> +<p>‘Hold your tongue, Ida!’ he said resolutely. ‘If +you won’t speak, let Rose.’</p> +<p>‘She did,’ said Rose, in a low, anxious, terrified <!-- page +234--><a name="page234"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 234</span>voice. +‘I only heard it since I came home. She was married at the +registrar’s office to that man Jones, whom they call the Rattler, and +went off with him. It must have been her whom I saw, really and +truly; and, oh, Herbert, could she have been so wicked as to steal Master +Michael!’</p> +<p>‘Somebody else has been wicked then,’ said Herbert, laying +hold of his sister’s arm.</p> +<p>‘I don’t know what all this means,’ exclaimed Ida, in +great agitation; ‘nor what you and Rose are at! Making up such +horrible, abominable insinuations against me, your poor sister! But +Rose Rollstone always hated me!’</p> +<p>‘She does not know what she is saying,’ sighed Rose; and, +with much delicacy, she moved away.</p> +<p>‘Let me go, Herbert!’ cried Ida, as she felt his grip on her +hand.</p> +<p>‘Not I, Ida—till you have answered me! Is this +so—that Michael is not drowned, but carried off by that woman?’ +demanded Herbert, holding her fast and looking at her with manly gravity, +not devoid of horror.</p> +<p>‘He is a horrid little impostor, palmed off to keep you out of the +title and everything! That’s why I did it!’ sobbed Ida, +trying to wrench herself away.</p> +<p>‘Oh, you did it, did you? You confess that! And what +have you done with him?’</p> +<p>‘I tell you he is no Morton at all—just the +nurse-woman’s child, taken to spite you. I found it all out +at—what’s its name?—Botzen; only ma would not be +convinced.’</p> +<p>‘I should suppose not! To think that my <!-- page 235--><a +name="page235"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 235</span>uncle and aunt would +do such a thing—why, I don’t know whether it is not worse than +stealing the child!’</p> +<p>‘Herbert! Herbert! do you want to bring your sister to jail, +talking in that way?’</p> +<p>‘It is no more than you deserve. I <i>would</i> bring you +there if it is the only way to get back the child! I do not know what +is bad enough for you. My poor uncle and aunt! To have brought +such misery on them!’ He clenched his hands as he spoke.</p> +<p>‘Everybody said she didn’t mind—didn’t ask +questions, didn’t cry, didn’t go on a bit like his real +mother.’</p> +<p>‘She could not, or it might have been the death of my uncle. +Bertha wrote it all to me; but you—you would never understand. +Ida, I can’t believe that you, my sister, could have done such an +awfully wicked thing!’</p> +<p>‘I wouldn’t, only I was sure he was not—’</p> +<p>‘No more of that stuff!’ said Herbert. ‘You +don’t know what they are.’</p> +<p>‘I do. So strict—not a bit like a mother.’</p> +<p>‘If our mother had been like them, you might not have been such a +senseless monster,’ said Herbert, pausing for a word. +‘Come, now; tell me what you have done with him, or I shall have to +set on the police.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Herbert, how can you be so cruel?’</p> +<p>‘It is not I that am cruel! Come, speak out! Did you +bribe her with your teapot? Ah! I see: what has she done with +him?’</p> +<p>He gripped her arm almost as he used to torture <!-- page 236--><a +name="page236"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 236</span>her when they were +children, and insisted again that either she must tell him the whole truth +or he should set the police on the track.</p> +<p>‘You wouldn’t,’ she said, awed. ‘Think of +the exposure and of mother!’</p> +<p>‘I can think of nothing but saving Mite! I say—my +mother knows nothing of this?’</p> +<p>‘Oh no, no!’</p> +<p>Herbert breathed more freely, but he was firm, and seemed suddenly to +have grown out of boyishness into manly determination, and gradually he +extracted the whole story from her. He would not listen to the +delusion in which she had worked herself into believing, founded upon the +negations for which she had sedulously avoided seeking positive refutation, +and which had been bolstered up by her imagination and wishes, working on +the unsubstantial precedents of novels. She had brought herself +absolutely to believe in the imposture, and at a moment when her +uncle’s condition seemed absolutely to place within her grasp the +coronet for Herbert, with all possibilities for herself.</p> +<p>Then came the idea of Louisa Hall, inspired by seeing her speak to +little Michael on the beach, and obtain his pretty smiles and exclamation +of ‘Lou, Lou! mine Lou!’ for he had certainly liked this girl +better than Ellen, who was wanting in life and animation. Ida knew +that Sam Jones, alias Rattler, was going out to join his brother in Canada, +and that Louisa was vehemently desirous to accompany him, but had failed to +satisfy the requirements of Government as to character, so as to obtain a +free passage, and was therefore about to be left behind <!-- page 237--><a +name="page237"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 237</span>in desertion and +distress. She might beguile Michael away quietly and carry him to +Canada, where, as it seemed, there were any amount of farmers ready to +adopt English children—a much better lot, in Ida’s eyes, than +the little Tyrolese impostor deserved. She even persuaded herself +that she was doing an act of great goodness, when, at the price of her +teapot, she obtained that Louisa should be married by the registrar to Sam +Jones, and their passage paid, on condition of their carrying away Michael +with them. The man was nothing loth, having really a certain +preference for Louisa, and likewise a grudge against Lord Northmoor for +having spoilt that game with Miss Morton, which might have brought the +means for the voyage.</p> +<p>They were married on Whit Monday, and Ida was warned that if she and +Louisa could not get possession of the child by Wednesday, he would be left +behind. Louisa was accordingly on the watch, and Ida hovered about, +just enough completely to put the nurses off their guard. They heard +Michael’s imploring call of ‘Willie! Willie!’ and +then Louisa descended on him with coaxings and promises, and Ida knew no +more, except that, as she had desired, a parcel had been sent her +containing the hat and shoes. The spade she had herself picked +up.</p> +<p>When Rose had seen them, they had no doubt been on their way to +Liverpool.</p> +<p>It seemed to be Herbert’s horror-stricken look that first showed +his sister the enormity of what she had done, and when she pleaded +‘for your sake,’ he made such a fierce sound of disgust, that +she only durst add further, ‘Oh, Herbert, you will not +tell?’</p> +<p><!-- page 238--><a name="page238"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +238</span>‘Not find him?’ he thundered.</p> +<p>‘No, no; I didn’t mean that! But don’t let them +know about me! Just think—’</p> +<p>‘I must think! Get away now; I can’t bear you +near!’</p> +<p>And just then a voice was heard, ‘Miss Hider, Miss Hider, your ma +wants you!’</p> +<h2><!-- page 239--><a name="page239"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +239</span>CHAPTER XXXV<br /> +THE QUEST</h2> +<p>Herbert had made no promises, but as he paced up and down the shingle +after his sister had gone in, he had time to feel that, though he was +determined to act at once, the scandal of her deed must be as much as +possible avoided. Indeed, he believed that she might have rendered +herself amenable to prosecution for kidnapping the child, and he felt on +reflection that his mother must be spared the terror and disgrace. +His difficulties were much increased by the state of quarantine at +Northmoor, for though the journey to Malvern had been decided upon, neither +patient was yet in a state to attempt it, and as one of the servants had +unexpectedly sickened with the disease, all approach to the place was +forbidden; nor did he know with any certainty how far his uncle’s +recovery had advanced, since Bertha, his chief informant, had gone abroad +with Mrs. Bury, and Constance was still at Oxford.</p> +<p>He went home, and straight up to his room, feeling it intolerable to +meet his sister; and there, the first sleepless night he had ever known, +convinced <!-- page 240--><a name="page240"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +240</span>him that to the convalescents it would be cruelty to send his +intelligence, when it amounted to no more than that their poor little boy +had been made over to an unscrupulous woman and a violent, good-for-nothing +man.</p> +<p>‘No,’ said Herbert, as he tossed over; ‘it would be +worse than believing him quietly dead, now they have settled down to +that. I must get him back before they know anything about it. +But how? I must hunt up those wretches’ people here, and find +where they are gone; if they know—as like as not they +won’t. But I’ll throw everything up till I find the +boy!’ He knelt up in his bed, laid his hand on his +Bible—his uncle’s gift—and solemnly swore it.</p> +<p>And Herbert was another youth from that hour.</p> +<p>When he had brought his ideas into some little order, the foremost was +that he must see Rose Rollstone, discover how much she knew or guessed, and +bind her to silence. ‘No fear of her, jolly little +thing!’ said he to himself; but, playfellows as they had been, +private interviews were not easy to secure under present circumstances.</p> +<p>However, the tinkling of the bell of the iron church suggested an +idea. ‘She is just the little saint of a thing to be always off +to church at unearthly hours. I’ll catch her there—if +only that black coat isn’t always after her!’</p> +<p>So Herbert hurried off to the iron building, satisfied himself with a +peep that Rose’s sailor hat was there, and then—to make sure of +her—crept into a seat by the door, and found his plans none the worse +for praying for all needing help in mind, body, or estate. Rose came +out alone, and he was <!-- page 241--><a name="page241"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 241</span>by her side at once. ‘I say, Rose, +you did not speak about <i>that</i> last night?’</p> +<p>‘Oh no, indeed!’</p> +<p>‘You’re a brick! I got it all out of that sister of +mine. I’m only ashamed that she is my sister!’</p> +<p>‘And where is the dear little boy?’</p> +<p>‘That’s the point,’ and Herbert briefly explained his +difficulties, and Rose agreed that he must try to learn where the emigrants +had gone, from their relations. And when he expressed his full +intention of following them, even if he had to work his passage, before +telling the parents, she applauded the nobleness of the resolution, and all +the romance in her awoke at the notion of his bringing home the boy and +setting him before his parents. She was ready to promise secrecy for +the sake of preventing the prosecution that might, as Herbert saw, be a +terrible thing for the whole family; and besides, it must be confessed, the +two young things did rather enjoy the sharing of a secret. Herbert +promised to meet her the next morning, and report his discoveries and +plans, as in fact she was the only person with whom he could take +counsel.</p> +<p>He did meet her accordingly, going first to the church. He had to +tell her that he had been able to make nothing of Mrs. Hall. He was +not sure whether she knew where her daughter had gone; at any rate, she +would not own to any knowledge, being probably afraid. Besides, when +acting as charwoman, Master Herbert had been such a torment to her that she +was not likely to oblige him.</p> +<p>He had succeeded better with the Jones family, and perhaps had learnt +prudence, for he had not <!-- page 242--><a name="page242"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 242</span>begun by asking for the Rattler, but for the +respectable brother who had invited him out, and had thus learnt that the +destination of the emigrant was Toronto, where the elder brother was +employed on the <i>British Empress</i>, Ontario steamer. Mrs. Jones, +the mother, and her eldest son were decent people, and there was no reason +to think they were aware of the encumbrances that their scapegrace had +taken with him.</p> +<p>So Herbert had resolved, without delay, to make his way to Toronto; +where he hoped to find the child, and maybe, bring him back in a +month’s time.</p> +<p>‘Only,’ said Rose timidly, ‘did you really mean what +you said about working your way out?’</p> +<p>‘Well, Rose, that’s the hitch. I had to pay up some +bills after I got my allowance, and unluckily I changed my bicycle, and the +rascals put a lot more on the new one, and I haven’t got above seven +pounds left, and I must keep some for the rail from New York and for +getting home, for I can’t take the kid home in the steerage. +The bicycle’s worth something, and so is my watch, if I put them in +pawn; so I think I can do it that way, and I’m quite seaman enough to +get employment, only I don’t want to lose time about it.’</p> +<p>‘I was thinking,’ said Rose shyly; ‘they made me put +into the Post Office Savings Bank after I began to get a salary. I +have five-and-twenty pounds there that I could get out in a couple of days, +and I should be so glad to help to bring that dear little boy +home.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Rose, you <i>are</i> a girl! You see, you are <!-- page +243--><a name="page243"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 243</span>quite safe +not to lose it, for my uncle would be only too glad to pay it back, even if +I came to grief any way, and it would make it all slick smooth. I +would go to Liverpool straight off, and cross in the first steamer, and the +thing’s done. And can you get at it at once with nobody +knowing?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, I think so,’ said Rose. ‘My father asked +to see my book when first I came home, and he is not likely to do so again, +till I can explain all about it, and I am sure it cannot be +wrong.’</p> +<p>‘Wrong—no! Right as a trivet! Rose, Rose, if +ever that poor child sees his father and mother again, it is every bit your +doing! No one can tell what I think of it, or what my uncle and aunt +will say to you! You’ve been the angel in this, if Ida has been +the other thing!’</p> +<p>But Rose found difficulties in the way of her angelic part, for her +father addressed her in his most solemn and sententious manner: +‘Rose, I have always looked on you as sensible and discreet, but I +have to say that I disapprove of your late promenades with a young man +connected with the aristocracy.’</p> +<p>Rose coloured up a good deal, but cried out, ‘It’s not that, +papa, not that!’</p> +<p>‘I do not suppose either you or he is capable at present of +forming any definite purpose,’ said Mr. Rollstone, not to be baulked +of his discourse; ‘but you must bear in mind that any appearance of +encouragement to a young man in his position can only have a most damaging +effect on your prospects, and even reputation, however flattering he may +appear.’</p> +<p><!-- page 244--><a name="page244"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +244</span>‘I know it, papa, I know it! There has been nothing +of the kind, I assure you,’ said Rose, who during the last discourse +had had time to reflect; ‘and he is going away to-morrow or next day, +so you need not be afraid, though I must see him or send to him once more +before he goes.’</p> +<p>‘Well, if you are helping him to get some present for his sisters, +I do not see so much objection for this once; only it must not occur +again.’</p> +<p>Rose was much tempted to let this suggestion stand, but truth forbade +her, and she said, ‘No, papa, I cannot say it is that; but you will +know all about it before long, and you will not disapprove, if you will +only trust your little Rose,’ and she looked up for a kiss.</p> +<p>‘Well, I never found you not to be trusted, though you are a +coaxing puss,’ said her father, and so the matter ended with him, but +she had another encounter with her mother.</p> +<p>‘Mind, Rose, if that churching—which Sunday was enough for +any good girl in my time—is only to lead to walking with young gents +which has no call to you, I won’t have it done.’</p> +<p>Mrs. Rollstone was not cultivated up to her husband’s mark, +neither had she ever inspired so much confidence, and Rose made simple +answer, ‘It is all right, mamma; I have spoken to papa about +it.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, if your pa knows, I suppose he is satisfied; but men +aren’t the same as a mother, and if that there young Mr. Morton comes +dangling and gallanting after you, he is after no good.’</p> +<p>‘He is doing no such thing,’ said Rose in a <!-- page +245--><a name="page245"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 245</span>resolutely +calm voice that might have shown that she was with difficulty controlling +her temper; ‘and, besides, he is going away.’</p> +<p>Wherewith Mrs. Rollstone had to be satisfied.</p> +<p>Rose took a bold measure when she had taken her five five-pound notes +from the savings bank. She saw her father preparing to waddle out for +his daily turn on the beach, and she put the envelope containing them, +addressed to H. Morton, Esq., into his hand, begging him to give it to Mr. +Morton himself.</p> +<p>Which he did, when he met Herbert trying to soothe his impatience with a +cigar.</p> +<p>‘Here, sir,’ he said, ‘my daughter wishes me to give +you this. I don’t ask what it is, mind; but I tell you plainly, +I don’t like secrets between young people.’</p> +<p>Herbert tried to laugh naturally, then said, ‘Your daughter is no +end of a trump, Mr. Rollstone.’</p> +<p>‘Only recollect this, sir—I know my station and I know +yours, and I will have no nonsense with her.’</p> +<p>‘All right!’ said Herbert shortly, with a laugh, his head +too full of other matters to think what all this implied.</p> +<p>He wished to avoid exciting any disturbance, so he told his mother that +he should be off again the next day.</p> +<p>‘It is very hard,’ grumbled Mrs. Morton, ‘that you can +never be contented to stay with your poor mother! I did hope that +with the regatta, and the yachts, and Mr. Brady, you would find amusement +enough to give us a little of your company; <!-- page 246--><a +name="page246"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 246</span>but nothing is good +enough for you now. Which of your fine friends are you going +to?’</p> +<p>Herbert was not superior to an evasion, and said, ‘I’m going +up to town first, and shall see Dacre, and I’ll write by and +by.’</p> +<p>She resigned herself to the erratic movements of the son, who, being +again, in her eyes, heir to the peerage, was to her like a comet in a +higher sphere.</p> +<h2><!-- page 247--><a name="page247"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +247</span>CHAPTER XXXVI<br /> +IDA’S CONFESSION</h2> +<p>The move to Malvern was at last made, and the air seemed at once to +invigorate Lord Northmoor, though the journey tried his wife more than she +had expected, and she remained in a very drooping state, in spite of her +best efforts not to depress him. Nothing seemed to suit her so well +as to lie on a couch in the garden of their lodging, with Constance beside +her, talking, and sometimes smiling over all her little Mite’s pretty +ways; though at other times she did her best to seem to take interest in +other matters, and to persuade her husband that his endeavours to give her +pleasure or interest were successful, because the exertions he made for her +sake were good for him.</p> +<p>He was by this time anxious—since he was by the end of three weeks +quite well, and fairly strong—to go down to Westhaven, and learn all +he could about the circumstances of the fate of his poor little son; and +only delayed till he thought his wife could spare him. Lady Adela +urged him at last to go. She thought that Mary lived in a state of +<!-- page 248--><a name="page248"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +248</span>effort for his sake, and that there was a certain yearning and +yet dread in the minds of both for these further details, so that the visit +had better be over.</p> +<p>Thus it was about six weeks after Herbert’s departure that Mrs. +Morton received a note to tell her that her brother-in-law would arrive the +next evening. It was terrible news to Ida, and if there had been time +she would have arranged to be absent elsewhere; but as it was she had no +power to escape, and had to spend her time in assisting in all the +elaborate preparations which her mother thought due to the Baron—a +very different personage in her eyes from the actual Frank.</p> +<p>He did not come till late in the day, and then Mrs. Morton received him +with a very genuine gush of tears, and anxious inquiries. He was +thin, and looked much older; his hair was grayer, and had retreated from +his brow, and there was a bent, worn, dejected air about the whole man, +which, as Mrs. Morton said, made her ready to cry whenever she looked at +him; but he was quite composed in manner and tone, so as to repress her +agitation, and confirm Ida’s inexperienced judgment in the idea that +Michael was none of his. He was surprised and concerned at +Herbert’s absence, which was beginning to make his mother uneasy, and +he promised to write to some of the boy’s friends to inquire about +him. To put off the evil day, Ida had suggested asking Mr. Deyncourt +to meet him, but that gentleman could not come, and dinner went off in +stiff efforts at conversation, for just now all the power thereof, that +Lord Northmoor had ever acquired, seemed to have forsaken him.</p> +<p><!-- page 249--><a name="page249"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +249</span>Afterwards, in the August twilight, he begged to hear all. +Ida withdrew, glad not to submit to the ordeal, while her mother observed, +‘Poor, dear Ida! She was so fond of her dear little cousin, she +cannot bear to hear him mentioned! She has never been well +since!’</p> +<p>Then, with copious floods of tears, and all in perfect good faith, she +related the history of the loss, as she knew it, with—on his leading +questions—a full account of all the child’s pretty ways during +his stay, and how he had never failed to say his prayer about making papa +better, and how he had made friends with Mr. Deyncourt, in spite of having +pronounced his church like a big tin box all up in frills; and how he had +admired the crabs, and run after the waves, and had been devoted to the +Willie, who had thought him troublesome—giving all the anecdotes, to +which Frank listened with set face and dry eyes, storing them for his +wife. He thanked Mrs. Morton for all her care and tenderness, and +expended assurances that no one thought her to blame.</p> +<p>‘It is one of those dispensations,’ he said, ‘that no +one can guard against. We can only be thankful for the years of joy +that no one can take from us, and try to be worthy to meet him +hereafter.’</p> +<p>Mrs. Morton had wept so much that she was very glad to seize the first +excuse for wishing good-night. She said that she had put all +Michael’s little things in a box in his father’s room, for him +to take home to his mother, and bade Frank—as once more she called +him—good-night, kissing him as she had never done before. The +shock had brought out all that was best and most womanly in her.</p> +<p><!-- page 250--><a name="page250"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +250</span>That box had an irresistible attraction for Frank. He could +not but open it, and on the top lay the white woolly, headless dog that had +been Mite’s special darling, had been hugged by him in his slumbers +every night, and been the means of many a joyous game when father and +mother came up to wish the noisy creature good-night, and +‘Tarlo’ had been made to bark at them.</p> +<p>Somehow the ‘never more’ overcame him completely. He +had not before been beyond the restraint of guarding his feelings for +Mary’s sake; and, tired with the long day, and torn by the +evening’s narration, all his self-command gave way, and he fell into +a perfect anguish of deep-drawn, almost hysterical sobbing.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"> +<a href="images/p250.jpg"> +<img alt="‘What?’ and he threw the door wide open" +src="images/p250.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>Those sobs were heard through the thin partition in Ida’s +room. They were very terrible to her. They broke down the +remnant of her excuse that the child was an imposition. They woke all +her woman’s tenderness, and the impulse to console carried her in a +few moments to the door.</p> +<p>‘Uncle! Uncle Frank!’</p> +<p>‘I’m not ill,’ answered a broken, heaving, impatient +voice. ‘I want nothing.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, let me in, dear uncle—I’ve something to tell +you!’</p> +<p>‘Not now,’ came on the back of a sob. +‘Go!’</p> +<p>‘Oh, now, now!’ and she even opened the door a little. +‘He is not drowned! At least, Rose Rollstone +thinks—’</p> +<p>‘What?’ and he threw the door wide open.</p> +<p>‘Rose Rollstone is sure she saw him with Louisa Hall in London +that day,’ hurried out Ida, still bent <!-- page 251--><a +name="page251"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 251</span>on screening +herself. ‘She’s gone to Canada. It’s there +that Herbert is gone to find him and bring him home!’</p> +<p>‘And why—why were we never told?’</p> +<p>‘You were too ill, uncle, and Rose did not know about it till she +came home. Then she told Herbert, and he hoped to find him and +write.’</p> +<p>‘When was this?’</p> +<p>‘When Herbert came home—the 29th or 30th of June,’ +said Ida, trembling. ‘He <i>must</i> find him, uncle; +don’t fear!’</p> +<p>It was a strange groaning sigh that answered; then, with a great +effort—</p> +<p>‘Thank you, Ida; I can’t understand it yet—I +can’t talk! Good-night!’ Then, with an +afterthought, when he had almost shut his door, he turned the handle again +to say, ‘Who did you say saw—thought she saw—my +boy? Where?’</p> +<p>‘Rose Rollstone, uncle; first at the North Station—then at +Waterloo! And Louisa Hall too!’</p> +<p>‘I thank you; good-night!’</p> +<p>And for what a night of strange dreams, prayers, and uncertainties did +Frank shut himself in—only forcing himself by resolute will into +sleeping at last, because he knew that strength and coolness were needful +for to-morrow’s investigation.</p> +<h2><!-- page 252--><a name="page252"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +252</span>CHAPTER XXXVII<br /> +HOPE</h2> +<p>That last sleep lasted long, till the sound of the little tinkling bell +came through the open window, and then the first waking thought that Mite +was alive was at first taken for a mere blissful dream. It was only +the sight of the woolly dog that recalled with certainty the conversation +with Ida.</p> +<p>To pursue that strange hint was of course the one impulse. The +bell had ceased before Frank had been able to finish dressing, but the +house was so far from having wakened to full life, that remembering the +lateness of the breakfast hour, he decided on hastening out to lay his +anxious, throbbing feelings before his God, if only to join in the prayer +that our desires may be granted as may be most expedient for us.</p> +<p>Nor was he without a hope that the girl whom Constance described as so +devout and religious might be found there.</p> +<p>And she was; he knew her by sight well enough to accost her when she +came out with ‘Miss Rollstone, I believe?’</p> +<p><!-- page 253--><a name="page253"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +253</span>She bowed, her heart thumping almost as much as the +father’s, in the importance of what she had to tell, and the doubt +how much she had a right to speak without betrayal.</p> +<p>‘I am told,’ Lord Northmoor said, with a tremble in his +voice, ‘that you think you saw my poor little boy.’</p> +<p>‘I am almost sure I did,’ said Rose.</p> +<p>‘And when, may I ask?’</p> +<p>‘On the evening of the Wednesday in Whitsun week,’ said +Rose.</p> +<p>‘Just when he was lost—and where?’</p> +<p>‘At the North Station. I had got into the train at the main +station. I saw him put into the train at the North one, and taken out +at Waterloo.’</p> +<p>‘And why—why, may I ask, have we been left—have we +never heard this before?’</p> +<p>His voice shook, as he thought of all the misery to himself and his wife +that might have been spared, as well as the danger of the child. Rose +hesitated, doubting how much she ought to say, and Mr. Deyncourt came +out.</p> +<p>‘May I introduce myself?’ said Frank, hoping for an +auxiliary,—‘Lord Northmoor. I have just heard that Miss +Rollstone thinks she saw my little boy in the London train the day he +disappeared; and I am trying to understand whether there is really any hope +that she is right, and that we can recover him.’</p> +<p>Mr. Deyncourt was infinitely surprised, and spoke a few words of wonder +that this had not been made known. Rose found it easier to speak to +him.</p> +<p>‘I saw Louisa Hall with him; I did not know she was not still his +maid. I thought she had <!-- page 254--><a name="page254"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 254</span>been sent to take him somewhere. And +when I heard from home that he—he was—drowned, I only thought +the likeness had deceived me. It was not till Mr. Morton came home, +and we talked it over, that I understood that Louisa Hall was dismissed +long ago, and was eloping to Canada.</p> +<p>‘And then,’ for she had spoken falteringly, and with an +effort, as their sounds of inquiry elicited each sentence—‘and +then, Mr. Morton said he would follow her to Canada. He did not want +Lady Northmoor to be tortured with uncertainty.’</p> +<p>‘Very strange,’ said the gentlemen one to the other, Lord +Northmoor adding—</p> +<p>‘Thank you, Miss Rollstone; I will not detain you, unless you can +tell me more.’</p> +<p>Rose was glad to be released, though pained and vexed not to dare to +express her reasons for full certainty.</p> +<p>‘Is this only a girl’s fancy?’ sighed the father.</p> +<p>‘I think she is a sensible girl.’</p> +<p>‘And my nephew Herbert is a hard-headed fellow, not likely to fly +off on a vague notion. Is this Hall girl’s mother still living +here?’</p> +<p>‘Certainly. It has been a bad business, her going off with +that Jones; but I ascertained that she was married to him.’</p> +<p>‘Jones—Sam Jones, or Rattler?’</p> +<p>‘Even so.’</p> +<p>‘Ah! She was dismissed on his account. And I detected +him in imposing on Miss Morton. Yet—where does this Mrs. Hall +live?’</p> +<p>‘Along this alley. Shall I come with you?’</p> +<p><!-- page 255--><a name="page255"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +255</span>‘Thank you.’</p> +<p>‘It may induce her to speak out, if there is anything to +hear. I dare not hope! It is too incredible, and I don’t +understand those children’s silence.’</p> +<p>He spoke it almost to himself, and the clergyman thought it kinder not +to interrupt his thoughts during the few steps down the evil-smelling alley +that led to the house, where Mrs. Hall was washing up her cup after +breakfast. It was Mr. Deyncourt who spoke, seeing that the swelling +hope and doubt were almost too much for his companion.</p> +<p>‘Good morning, Mrs. Hall; we have come to you early, but Lord +Northmoor is very anxious to know whether you can throw any light on what +has become of his little boy.’</p> +<p>Mrs. Hall was in a very different state of mind from when she had denied +all knowledge to Herbert, a mere boy, whom she did not like, and when she +was anxious to shelter her daughter, whose silence had by this time begun +to offend her. The sight of the clergyman and the other gentleman +alarmed her, and she began by maundering out—</p> +<p>‘I am sure, sir, I don’t know nothing. My daughter +have never writ one line to me.’</p> +<p>‘He was with her!’ gasped out Lord Northmoor.</p> +<p>‘I am sure, sir, it was none of my doing, no, nor my daughter +wouldn’t neither, only the young lady over persuaded her. +’Tis she as was the guilty party, as I’ll always +say.’</p> +<p>‘She—who?’</p> +<p>‘Miss Morton—Miss Hida, sir; and my gal wouldn’t never +have done it, sir, but for the stories <!-- page 256--><a +name="page256"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 256</span>she told, fictious +stories they was, I’m sure, that the child wasn’t none of my +lady’s, only a brat picked up in foreign parts to put her brother out +of his chance.’</p> +<p>‘What are you saying?’ exclaimed Lord Northmoor. +‘My niece never could have said any such thing.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed, but she did, sir, my Lord, and that’s what worked +on my daughter, though I always told her not to believe any such nonsense; +but then you see, she couldn’t get her passage paid to go out with +Rattler, and Miss Hida give her the money if so be she would take off the +child to Canada with her.’</p> +<p>‘And where?’ hoarsely asked the father.</p> +<p>‘That I can’t tell, my Lord; Louey have never written, and I +knows no more than nothing at all. She’ve not been a dutiful +gal to me, as have done everything for her.’</p> +<p>There was no more to be made out of Mrs. Hall, and they went their +way.</p> +<p>‘There is no doubt that the little fellow is alive,’ said +Mr. Deyncourt.</p> +<p>‘Who can guess what those wretches have done to him?’ said +Lord Northmoor under his breath. ‘Not that I am unthankful for +the blessed hope,’ he added, uncovering his head, ‘but I am +astounded more than I can say, by <i>this</i>—’</p> +<p>‘It must be invention of the woman,’ said Mr. Deyncourt.</p> +<p>‘I hope so,’ was the answer.</p> +<p>‘Could Miss Rollstone have suspected it? She was very unlike +what I have seen of her before.’</p> +<p><!-- page 257--><a name="page257"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +257</span>They separated for breakfast, agreeing to meet afterwards to hunt +up the Jones family.</p> +<p>Ida had suffered a good deal all the night and morning as she wondered +what her confession might entail on her. Sometimes she told herself +that since it would come out in Herbert’s letters on the discovery of +the child, it was well to have the honour of the first disclosure, and her +brother was certain to keep her part in the matter a secret; but, on the +other hand, she did not know how much Louisa might have told her mother, +nor whether Mrs. Hall might persist in secrecy—nay, or even +Rose. Indeed, she was quite uncertain how much Rose had +understood. She could not have kept back guesses, and she did not +believe in honour on Rose’s part. So she was nervous on finding +that her uncle was gone out.</p> +<p>When he came in to breakfast, he merely made a morning greeting. +Afterwards he scarcely spoke, except to answer an occasional remark from +her mother. To herself, he neither looked nor spoke, but when Mrs. +Morton declared that he looked the better for his morning walk, there was a +half smile and light in his eye, and the weight seemed gone from his +brow. Mrs. Morton asked what he was going to do.</p> +<p>‘I am going out with Mr. Deyncourt,’ he answered.</p> +<p>And Ida breathed more freely when he was gone.</p> +<p>But she little knew that Mr. Deyncourt had gone to Rose Rollstone in her +father’s presence, and told her of Mrs. Hall’s revelations, +asking her if this <!-- page 258--><a name="page258"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 258</span>had been the cause of her silence. She +had to own how the truth had flashed at once on her and Mr. Morton.</p> +<p>‘It would be so very dreadful for them if it were known,’ +she said. ‘He thought if he brought back the boy, his +sister’s part need not be known.’</p> +<p>‘Then that was the secret!’ exclaimed Mrs. Rollstone. +‘Well, I’ll not blame you, child, but you might have told +us.’</p> +<p>Secrets were safe with the ex-butler, but not quite so much so with his +wife, though all three tried to impress on her the need of silence, before +Mr. Deyncourt hastened out to rejoin Lord Northmoor. The inquiry took +a much longer time than they had expected, for the family wanted did not +live in Mr. Deyncourt’s district, and they were misdirected more than +once to people who disdained the notion of being connected with the +Rattler, if they had ever heard of such a person. At last they did +find a sister-in-law, who pronounced George Jones to be a good fellow, so +far as she knew. He sent home to his mother regularly, and lately had +had out his brother Sam, and a good job too, to have him out of the way, +only what must he do but go and marry that there trollopy girl, as was no +good.</p> +<p>Yes, George had written to say they had come safe to Toronto, but she +did not hear as he said anything about a child. The letter was to his +mother, who had taken it into the country when she went to stay with her +daughter. This deponent didn’t know the address, and her +husband was out with a yacht.</p> +<p>Nothing could be done but to pursue the mother <!-- page 259--><a +name="page259"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 259</span>to a village about +five miles off, where she was traced out with some difficulty, and +persuaded to refer to her son George’s letter, where he mentioned the +safe arrival of Mr. and Mrs. Sam, but without a word about their bringing a +child with them. This omission seemed to dash all former hopes, so as +to show Frank how strong they had been, and besides, there had been more +than time for Herbert to have written after reaching Toronto.</p> +<p>However, the one step of knowing George Jones’s address had been +gained, and with no more than this, they had to return, intending to see +whether Ida had any notion as to what was to be done.</p> +<p>It was evening when Lord Northmoor came in. Mrs. Morton was alone, +and as she looked up, was answered by his air of disappointment as he shook +his head.</p> +<p>‘Oh, it is so dreadful,’ she exclaimed, ‘it is all +over the place! We met Mr. Brady and his sisters, and they cut Ida +dead. She is quite broken-hearted, indeed, she is.’</p> +<p>‘Then she has told you all?’</p> +<p>‘She could not help it. Mrs. Rollstone came to ask me if it +was true—as a friend, she said, I should say it was more like an +enemy, and Mrs. Hall came too, wanting to see Ida, but I saw her +instead. The wicked woman to have given in! And they have gone +and told every one, and the police will be after my poor child.’</p> +<p>‘No, they would not interfere unless I prosecuted, and that I +certainly should not do unless it proved the only means of tracing my +child. I came home intending to ask Ida if she gave any directions +<!-- page 260--><a name="page260"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +260</span>about him. It seems certain that he was not brought to +Toronto.’</p> +<p>‘Indeed! She made sure that he would be there!’ +exclaimed Mrs. Morton, much dismayed. ‘Let me go and see. +She is so much upset altogether that she declares that she cannot see you +this evening.’</p> +<p>Mrs. Morton went, and presently brought word that Ida was horrified at +hearing that little Michael was not with the Joneses. She had trusted +Louisa to treat him kindly, and only dispose of him to some of those +Canadian farmers, who seemed to have an unlimited appetite for adopted +children, and the last hope was that this might have been the case, though +opportunities could have been few on the way to Toronto.</p> +<p>Ida had cried over the tidings. It must have been worse than she +had ever intended that the child should be treated; and the shock was great +both to her and to her mother.</p> +<p>Mrs. Morton really seemed quite broken down, both by sorrow and fear for +the boy, and by the shame, the dread of the story getting into the papers, +and the sense that she could never go on living at Westhaven; and her +brother-in-law quite overwhelmed her by saying that he should do all in his +power to prevent publicity, and that he entirely exonerated her from all +blame in the matter.</p> +<p>‘Ah, Frank dear,’ she said, ‘you are so good, it makes +me feel what a sinful woman I am! I don’t mean that I ever gave +in for a moment to that nonsense of poor Ida’s which was her only bit +of excuse. No one that had ever been a mother could, <!-- page +261--><a name="page261"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 261</span>you know; +but I won’t say that I did not grumble at my boy losing his +chances.’</p> +<p>‘I don’t wonder!’</p> +<p>‘And—and I never would listen to you and Mary about poor +Ida. I let her idle and dress, and read all those novels, and it is +out of them she got that monstrous notion. You little know what I +have gone through with that girl, Frank, so different from the other +two. Oh! if I could only begin over again!’</p> +<p>‘Perhaps,’ said Frank, full of pity, ‘this terrible +shock may open her eyes, and by God’s blessing be the beginning of +better things.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Frank, you are a perfect angel ever to bear the sight of us +again!’ cried the poor woman, ever violent in her feelings and +demonstrations. ‘Hark! What’s that?—I +can’t see any one.’</p> +<p>‘Please, ma’am, it’s Miss Rollstone, with a letter for +his Lordship.’</p> +<h2><!-- page 262--><a name="page262"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +262</span>CHAPTER XXXVIII<br /> +THE CLUE</h2> +<blockquote> +<p>‘BEST OF ROSES,—</p> +<p>‘I don’t know where my uncle is, so please send him +this. I got to Toronto all right, and had not much trouble in finding +out the steady-going Jones, who is rather a swell, chief mate on board the +<i>British Empress</i>. He was a good deal taken aback by my story, +and said that his brother had come out with his wife, but no child. +It was quite plain that he was a good deal disappointed in the Rattler, and +not at all prepared for Mrs. Louisa, whom neither he nor his wife admired +at all, at all. He had got his brother a berth on a summer steamer +that had just been set up on Lake Winnipeg—being no doubt glad to get +rid of such an encumbrance as the wife, and he looked very blue when he +heard that I was quite certain that she had taken the kid away with her, +and been paid for it. There was nothing for it but to go after them, +and find out from them what they had done with poor little Mite. He +is a right good fellow, and would have gone with me, but that he is bound +to his boat, and <!-- page 263--><a name="page263"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 263</span>a stunner she is; but he gave me a letter to +Sam, so I had to get on the Canadian Pacific Railway, so that I should have +been nonplussed but for your loan. Splendid places it goes through, +you never saw such trees, nor such game.</p> +<p>‘As good luck would have it, I was in the same car with an +Englishman—a gentleman, one could see with half an eye, and we +fraternised, so that I told him what I was come about. He was awfully +good-natured, and told me he lived a mile or two out of Winnipeg, and had a +share in the steam company, and if I found any difficulty I was to come to +him, Mr. Forman, at Northmoor. I stared at the name, as you may +guess! There was a fine horse and buggy waiting for him at the +station, and off he went. I put up at the hotel—there’s +sure to be that whatever there is not—and went after the Joneses +next. I got at the woman first, she looked ill and fagged, as if she +didn’t find life with Rattler very jolly. She cried bucketsful, +and said she didn’t know anything, since she put the poor little Mite +to sleep after supper in a public-house at Liverpool. She was dead +tired, and when she woke he was gone, and her husband swore at her, and +never would tell her what he had done with the boy, except that he had not +hurt him. Then I interviewed Sam Rattler himself. He cut up +rough, as he said my Lord had done him an ill turn, and he had the game in +his hands now, and was not going to let him know what was become of his +child, without he came down handsome enough to make up for what he had done +him out of. So then I had to go off to Mr. Forman. He has such +a place, <!-- page 264--><a name="page264"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +264</span>a house such as any one might be delighted to have—pine +trees behind, a garden in front, no end of barns and stables, with houses +and cows, fine wheat fields spreading all round, such as would do your +heart good. That is what Mr. Forman and his brother-in-law, Captain +Alder, have made, and there’s a sweet little lady as ever you saw, +Alder’s sister. The Captain was greatly puzzled to hear it was +Lord Northmoor’s son I was looking for. He is not up in the +peerage like your father, you see, and I had to make him understand. +He thought Lord N. must be either the old man, or Lady Adela’s little +boy. He said some of his happiest days had been at Northmoor, and he +asked after Lady Adela, and if Miss Morton was married. He came with +me, and soon made Mr. Rattler change his note, by showing him that it would +be easy to give him the sack, even if he was not laid hold of by the law on +my information for stealing the child. They are both magistrates and +could do it. So at last the fellow growled out that he wasn’t +going to be troubled with another man’s brat, and just before +embarking, he had laid it down asleep at the door of Liverpool +Workhouse! So no doubt poor little Michael is there! I would +have telegraphed at once; but I don’t know where my uncle is, or +whether he knows about it, but you can find out and send him this letter at +once. I have asked him to pay your advance out of my quarter; and as +to the rest of it, it is all owing to you that the poor little kid is not +to grow up a pauper.</p> +<p>‘I am staying on at Northmoor—it sounds natural; they want +another hand for their harvesting, <!-- page 265--><a +name="page265"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 265</span>so I am working out +my board, as is the way here, at any rate till I hear from my uncle, and I +shall ask him to let me stay here for good as a farming-pupil. It +would suit me ever so much better than the militia, even if I could get +into it, which I suppose I haven’t done. It is a splendid +country, big enough to stretch oneself in, and I shall never stand being +cramped up in an island after it; besides that I don’t want to see +Ida again in a hurry, though there is some one I should like no end to see +again. There, I must not say any more, but send this on to my +uncle. I wish I could see his face. I did look to bring Mite +back to him, but that can’t be, as I have not tin enough to carry me +home. I hope your loan has not got you into a scrape.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">‘Yours ever (I mean it),<br /> +‘<span class="smcap">H. Morton</span>.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>The letter to Lord Northmoor, which the servant put into his hand, was +shorter, and began with the more important sentence—’The rascal +dropped Michael at Liverpool Workhouse.’</p> +<p>The father read it with an ejaculation of ‘Thank God,’ the +aunt answered with a cry of horror, so that he thought for a moment she had +supposed he said ‘dropped him into the sea,’ and repeated +‘Liverpool Workhouse.’</p> +<p>‘Oh, yes, yes; but that is so dreadful. The Honourable +Michael Morton in a workhouse!’</p> +<p>‘He is safe and well taken care of there, no doubt,’ said +Frank. ‘I have no fears now. There are much worse places +than the nurseries of those great unions.’ Then, as he read on, +‘There, Emma, <!-- page 266--><a name="page266"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 266</span>your boy has acted nobly. He has fully +retrieved what his sister has done. Be happy over that, dear sister, +and be thankful with me. My Mary, my Mary, will the joy be too +much? Oh, my boy! How soon can I reach Liverpool? There, +you will like to read it. I must go and thank that good girl who +found him the means.’</p> +<p>He was gone, and found Rose in the act of reading her letter aloud (all +but certain bits, that made her falter as if the writing was bad) to her +parents and Mr. Deyncourt. And there, in full assembly, he found +himself at a loss for words. No one was so much master of the +situation as Mr. Rollstone.</p> +<p>‘My Lord, I have the honour to congratulate your Lordship,’ +he said, with a magnificence only marred by his difficulty in rising.</p> +<p>‘I—I,’ stammered his Lordship, with an unexpected +choke in his throat, ‘have to congratulate you, Mr. Rollstone, on +having such a daughter.’ Then, grasping Rose’s hand as in +a vice, ‘Miss Rollstone, what we owe to you—is past +expression.’</p> +<p>‘I am sure she is very happy, my Lord, to have been of +service,’ said her mother, with a simper.</p> +<p>Mr. Deyncourt, to relieve the tension of feeling, said, ‘Miss +Rollstone was reading the letter about Mr. Morton’s adventures. +Would you not like her to begin again?’</p> +<p>And while Rose obeyed, Lord Northmoor was able to extract his +cheque-book from his pocket-book, and as Rose paused, to say—</p> +<p>‘I have a debt of which my nephew reminds me. Miss Rollstone +furnished the means for his <!-- page 267--><a name="page267"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 267</span>journey. Will you let me fill this +up? This can be repaid,’ he added, with a smile, ‘the +rest, never.’</p> +<p>Mr. Rollstone might have been distressed at the venture on which his +daughter’s savings had gone; but he was perfectly happy and +triumphant now, except that, even more than Mrs. Morton, he suffered from +the idea of the Honourable Michael being exposed to the contamination of a +workhouse, and was shocked at his Lordship’s thinking it would have +been worse for him to be with the Rattler. Then, hastily looking at +his watch, Lord Northmoor asked when the post went out, and hearing there +was but half an hour to spare, begged Mr. Deyncourt to let him lose no time +by giving him the wherewithal to write to his wife.</p> +<p>‘She would miss a note and be uneasy,’ he said. +‘Yet I hardly know what I dare tell her. Only not mourning +paper!’ he added, with an exultant smile.</p> +<p>In the curate’s room he wrote—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>‘<span class="smcap">Dearest Wife</span>,—</p> +<p>‘I have been out all day, and have only a moment to say that I am +quite well, and trust to have some most thankworthy news for you. +Don’t be uneasy if you do not hear to-morrow.—Your own</p> +<p style="text-align: right">‘<span +class="smcap">Frank</span>.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p>There was still time to scribble—</p> +<blockquote> +<p>‘<span class="smcap">Dear Lady Adela</span>,—</p> +<p>‘I trust to you to prepare Mary for well-nigh incredible joy, but +do not agitate her too soon. I cannot come till Friday afternoon.</p> +<p style="text-align: right">‘Yours gratefully,<br /> +‘<span class="smcap">Northmoor</span>.’</p> +</blockquote> +<p><!-- page 268--><a name="page268"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +268</span>Having sent this off, his next search was for a time-table. +He would fain have gone by the mail train that very night, but Mr. +Deyncourt and Mrs. Morton united in persuading him that his strength was +not yet equal to such a pull upon it, and he yielded. They hardly +knew the man, usually so equable and quiet as to be almost stolid.</p> +<p>He smiled, and declared he could neither eat nor sleep, but he actually +did both, sleeping, indeed, better and longer than he had done since his +illness, and coming down in the morning a new man, as he called himself, +but the old one still in his kindness to Mrs. Morton. He promised to +telegraph to her as soon as he knew all was well, assured her that he would +do his best to keep the scandal out of the papers, that he would never +forget his obligations to Herbert’s generosity, and that if she made +up her mind to leave Westhaven he would facilitate her so doing.</p> +<p>Ida was not up. She had had a very bad night, and indeed she had +confessed that she had been miserable under dreams worse than waking, ever +since the child was carried off. Her mother had observed her +restlessness and nervousness, but had set a good deal down to love, and +perhaps had not been entirely wrong. At any rate, she was now really +ill, and could not bear the thought of seeing her uncle, though he sent a +message to her that now he did not find it nearly so hard to forgive her, +and that he felt for her with all his heart.</p> +<p>It was this gentleness that touched Mrs. Morton <!-- page 269--><a +name="page269"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 269</span>above all. +Years had softened her; perhaps, too, his patience, and the higher tone of +Mr. Deyncourt’s ministry, and she was, in many respects, a different +woman from her who had so loudly protested against his marrying Mary +Marshall.</p> +<h2><!-- page 270--><a name="page270"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +270</span>CHAPTER XXXIX<br /> +THE HONOURABLE PAUPER</h2> +<p>Lord Northmoor’s card was given to the porter with an urgent +request for an interview with the Master of the workhouse.</p> +<p>He steadied his voice with difficulty when, on entering the office, he +said that he had come to make inquiry after his son, a child of three and a +half years old, who had been supposed to be drowned, but he had now +discovered had been stolen by a former nurse, and left at the gate of the +workhouse, and as the Master paused with an interrogative ‘Yes, my +Lord?’ he added—‘On the night between the Wednesday and +Thursday of Whitsun week, May the—’</p> +<p>‘Children are so often left,’ said the Master. +‘I will ascertain from the books as to the date.’</p> +<p>After an interval really of scarcely a minute, but which might have been +hours to the father’s feeling, he read—</p> +<p>‘May 18th.—Boy, of apparently four years old, left on the +steps, asleep, apparently drugged.’</p> +<p>‘Ah!’</p> +<p><!-- page 271--><a name="page271"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +271</span>‘Calls himself Mitel Tent—name probably Michael +Trenton.’</p> +<p>‘Michael Kenton Morton.’ Then he reflected, ‘No +doubt he thought he was to say his catechism.’</p> +<p>‘Does not seem to know parents’ name nor residence. +Dress—man’s old rough coat over a brown holland +pinafore—no mark—feet bare; talks as if carefully brought +up. May I ask you to describe him.’</p> +<p>‘Brown eyes, light hair, a good deal of colour, sturdy, large +child,’ said Lord Northmoor, much agitated. +‘There,’ holding out a photograph.</p> +<p>‘Ah!’ said the Master, in assent.</p> +<p>‘And where—is he here?’</p> +<p>‘He is at the Children’s Home at Fulwood Lodge. +Perhaps I had better ask one of the Guardians, who lives near at hand, to +accompany you.’</p> +<p>This was done, the Guardian came, much interested in the guest, and a +cab was called. Lord Northmoor learnt on the way that the routine in +such cases, which were only too common, was the child was taken by the +police to the bellman’s office till night and there taken care of, in +case he should be a little truant of the place, but being unclaimed, he +spent a few days at the Union, and then was taken to the Children’s +Home at Fulwood. Inquiries had been made, but the little fellow had +been still under the influence of the drug that had evidently been +administered to him at first, and then was too much bewildered to give a +clear account of himself. He was in confusion between his real home +and Westhaven, and the difference between his <!-- page 272--><a +name="page272"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 272</span>appellation and that +of his parents was likewise perplexing, nor could he make himself clear, +even as to what he knew perfectly well, when interrogated by official +strangers who alarmed him.</p> +<p>Lord Northmoor was himself a Poor Law Guardian, and had no vague +superstitions to alarm him as to the usage of children in workhouses; but +he was surprised at the pleasant aspect of the nursery of the Liverpool +Union, a former gentleman’s house and grounds, with free air and +beautiful views.</p> +<p>The Matron, on being summoned, said that she had from the first been +sure, in spite of his clothes, that little Mike was a well-born, +tenderly-nurtured child, with good manners and refined habits, and she had +tried in vain to understand what he said of himself, though night and +morning, he had said his prayers for papa and mamma, and at first added +that ‘papa might be well,’ and he might go home; but where home +was there was no discovering, except that there had been journeys by puff +puff; and Louey, and Aunt Emma, and Nurse, and sea, and North something, +and ‘nasty man,’ were in an inextricable confusion.</p> +<p>She took them therewith into a large airy room, where the elder +children, whole rows of little beings in red frocks, were busied under the +direction of a lively young nurse, in building up coloured cubes, +‘gifts’ in Kindergarten parlance.</p> +<p>There was a few moments of pause, as all the pairs of eyes were raised +to meet the new-comers. With a little sense of disappointment, but +more of anxiety, Frank glanced over them, and encountered <!-- page +273--><a name="page273"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 273</span>a rounded, +somewhat puzzled stare from two brown orbs in a rosy face. Then he +ventured to say ‘Mite,’ and there followed a kind of laughing +yell, a leap over the structure of cubes, and the warm, solid, rosy boy was +in his arms, on his breast, the head on his shoulder in indescribable +ecstasy of content on both sides, of thankfulness on that of the +father.</p> +<p>‘No doubt there!’ said the Guardian and the Matron to one +another, between smiles and tears.</p> +<p>Mite asked no questions. Fate had been far beyond his +comprehension for the last five months, and it was quite enough for him to +feel himself in the familiar arms, and hear the voice he loved.</p> +<p>‘Would he go to mamma?’</p> +<p>The boy raised his head, looked wonderingly over his father’s +face, and said in a puzzled voice—</p> +<p>‘Louey said she would take me home in the puff puff.’</p> +<p>‘Come now with father, my boy. Only kiss this good lady +first, who has been so kind to you.</p> +<p>‘Kiss Tommy too, and Fanny,’ said Michael, struggling down, +and beginning a round of embraces that sufficiently proved that his nursery +had been a happy one, while his father could see with joy that he was as +healthy and fresh-looking as ever, perhaps a little less plump, but with +the natural growth of the fourth year, and he was much the biggest of the +party, with the healthfulness of country air and wholesome tendance, while +most of the others were more or less stunted or undergrown.</p> +<p>Lord Northmoor’s longing was to take his recovered son at once to +gladden his mother’s eyes; <!-- page 274--><a +name="page274"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 274</span>but Michael’s +little red frock would not exactly suit with the manner of his travels.</p> +<p>So he accepted the Guardian’s invitation to come to his house and +let Michael be fitted out there, an invitation all the more warmly given +because it would have been a pity to let wife and daughters miss the +interest of the sight of the lost child and his father. So, all +formalities being complied with and in true official spirit, the account +for the boy’s maintenance having been asked for, a hearty and cordial +leave was taken of the Matron, and Michael Kenton Morton was discharged +from Liverpool Union.</p> +<p>The lady and her daughters were delighted to have him, and would have +made much of him, but the poor little fellow proved that his confidence in +womankind had been shaken, by clinging tight to his father, and showing his +first inclination to cry when it was proposed to take him into another room +to be dressed. Indeed, his father was as little willing to endure a +moment’s separation as he could be, and looked on and assisted to see +him made into a little gentleman again in outward costume.</p> +<p>After luncheon there was still time to reach Malvern by a reasonable +hour of the evening, and Frank felt as if every moment of sorrow were +almost a cruelty to his wife. The Guardian’s wife owned that +she ought not to press him to sleep at her house, and forwarded his +departure with strong fellow-feeling for the mother’s hungry +bosom.</p> +<p>From the station Frank sent telegrams to Herbert, to Mrs. Morton, and to +Rose Rollstone; <!-- page 275--><a name="page275"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 275</span>besides one to Lady Adela, containing only the +reference, Luke xv. 32.</p> +<p>People looked somewhat curiously at the thin, worn-looking, elderly man, +with the travelling bag in one hand, and the little boy holding tight by +the other, each with a countenance of radiant gladness; and again, to see +how, when seated, he allowed himself to be climbed over and clasped by the +sturdy being, who seemed almost overwhelming to one so slight.</p> +<p>When the September twilight darkened into night, Michael, who had been +asleep, awoke with a scream and flung both arms round his father’s +neck, exclaiming—</p> +<p>‘Oh, Louey, I’ll not cry! Don’t let him throw me +out! Oh, the nasty man!’</p> +<p>And even when convinced that no nasty man was present, and that it was +papa, not Louey, whom he was grappling, he still nestled as close as +possible, while he was only pacified in recurring frights by listening to a +story. Never good at story-telling, the only one that, for the nonce, +his father could put together was that of Joseph, and this elicited various +personal comparisons.</p> +<p>‘Mine wasn’t a coat of many colours, it was my blue +frock! Did they dip it in blood, papa?’</p> +<p>‘Not quite, my darling, but it was the same thing.’</p> +<p>Then presently, ‘It wasn’t a camel, but a puff puff, and +<i>he</i> was so cross!’</p> +<p>By and by, ‘I didn’t tell anybody’s dreams, +papa. They didn’t make me ride in a cha-rot, but nurse made me +monitor, ‘cause I knew all my letters. I <!-- page 276--><a +name="page276"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 276</span>should like to have a +brother Benjamin. Mayn’t Tommy be my brother? +Wasn’t Joseph’s mamma very glad?’</p> +<p>Michael’s Egypt had not been a very terrible house of bondage, and +the darker moments of his abduction did not dwell on his memory; but years +later, when first he tasted beer, he put down the glass with a shudder, as +the smell and taste brought back a sense of distress, confusion, and horror +in a gas-lit, crowded bar, full of loud-voiced, rough figures, and +resounding with strange language and fierce threats to make him swallow the +draught which, no doubt, had been drugged.</p> +<h2><!-- page 277--><a name="page277"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +277</span>CHAPTER XL<br /> +JOY WELL-NIGH INCREDIBLE</h2> +<p>The midday letters were a riddle to the ladies at Malvern.</p> +<p>‘Out all day,’ said Mary, ‘that is well. He will +get strong out boating.’</p> +<p>‘I hope Herbert has come home to take him out,’ said +Constance.</p> +<p>‘Or he may be yachting. I wonder he does not say who is +taking him out. I am glad that he can feel that sense of +enjoyment.’</p> +<p>Yet that rejoicing seemed to be almost an effort to the poor mother who +craved for a longer letter, and perhaps almost felt as if her Frank were +getting out of sympathy with her grief—and what could be the good +news?</p> +<p>‘Herbert must have passed!’ said Constance.</p> +<p>‘I hope he has, but the expression is rather strong for +that,’ said Lady Adela.</p> +<p>‘Perhaps Ida is engaged to that Mr. Deyncourt? Was that his +name?’ said Lady Northmoor languidly.</p> +<p>‘Oh! that would be delicious,’ cried Constance, <!-- page +278--><a name="page278"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 278</span>‘and +Ida has grown much more thoughtful lately, so perhaps she would do for a +clergyman’s wife.’</p> +<p>‘Is Ida better?’ asked her aunt, who had been much drawn +towards the girl by hearing that her health had suffered from grief for +Michael.</p> +<p>‘Mamma does not mention her in her last letter, but poor Ida is +really much more delicate than one would think, though she looks so +strong. This would be delightful!’</p> +<p>‘Yet, joy well-nigh incredible!’ said her aunt, +meditatively. ‘Were not those the words? It would not be +like your uncle to put them in that way unless it were something—even +more wonderful, and besides, why should he not write it to me?’</p> +<p>‘Oh—h!’ cried Constance, with a leap, rather than a +start. ‘It can be only one thing.’</p> +<p>‘Don’t, don’t, don’t!’ cried poor Mary; +‘you must not, Constance, it would kill me to have the thought put +into my head only to be lost.’</p> +<p>Constance looked wistfully at Lady Adela; but the idea she had suggested +had created a restlessness, and her aunt presently left the room. +Then Constance said—</p> +<p>‘Lady Adela, may I tell you something? You know that poor +dear little Mite was never found?’</p> +<p>‘Oh! a boat must have picked him up,’ cried Amice; +‘and he is coming back.’</p> +<p>‘Gently, Amy; hush,’ said the mother, ‘Constance has +more to tell.’</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Constance. ‘My friend, Rose +Rollstone, who lives just by our house at Westhaven, and was going back to +London the night that Mite was lost, wrote to me that she was sure she had +seen his <!-- page 279--><a name="page279"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +279</span>face just then. She thought, and I thought it was one of +those strange things one hears of sights at the moment of death. So I +never told of it, but now I cannot help fancying—’</p> +<p>‘Oh! I am sure,’ cried Amice.</p> +<p>Lady Adela thought the only safe way would be to turn the two young +creatures out to pour out their rapturous surmises to one another on the +winding paths of the Malvern hills, and very glad was she to have done so, +when by and by that other telegram was put into her hands.</p> +<p>Then, when Mary, unable to sit still, though with trembling limbs, came +back to the sitting-room, with a flush on her pale cheek, excited by the +sound at the door, Lady Adela pointed to the yellow paper, which she had +laid within the Gospel, open at the place.</p> +<p>Mary sank into a chair.</p> +<p>‘It can’t be a false hope,’ she gasped.</p> +<p>‘He would never have sent this, if it were not a certainty,’ +said Adela, kneeling down by her, and holding her hands, while repeating +what Constance had said.</p> +<p>A few words were spent on wonder and censure on the girl’s +silence, more unjust than they knew, but hardly wasted, since they relieved +the tension. Mary slid down on her knees beside her friend, and then +came a silence of intense heart-swelling, choking, and unformed, but none +the less true thanksgiving, and ending in a mutual embrace and an outcry of +Mary’s—</p> +<p>‘Oh, Adela! how good you are, you with no such +hope’—and that great blessed shower of tears that <!-- page +280--><a name="page280"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 280</span>relieved her +was ostensibly the burst of sympathy for the bereaved mother with no such +restoration in view. Then came soothing words, and then the endeavour +with dazed eyes and throbbing hearts to look out the trains from Liverpool, +whence, to their amazement, they saw the telegram had started, undoubtedly +from Lord Northmoor. There was not too large a choice, and finally +Lady Adela made the hope seem real by proposing preparations for the +child’s supper and bed—things of which Mary seemed no more to +have dared to think than if she had been expecting a little spirit; but +which gave her hope substance, and inspired her with fresh energy and a new +strength, as she ran up and downstairs, directing her maid, who cried for +joy at the news, and then going out to purchase those needments which had +become such tokens of exquisite hope and joy. After this had once +begun, she seemed really incapable of sitting still, for every moment she +thought of something her boy would want or would like, or hurried to see if +all was right.</p> +<p>Constance begged again and again to run on the messages, but she would +not allow it, and when the girl looked grieved, and said she was tiring +herself to death, Lady Adela said—</p> +<p>‘My dear, sitting still would be worse for her. However it +may turn out, fatigue will be best for her.’</p> +<p>‘Surely it can’t mean anything else!’ cried +Constance.</p> +<p>‘I don’t see how it can. Your uncle weighs his words +too much to raise false hopes.’</p> +<p>So, dark as it was by the time the train was <!-- page 281--><a +name="page281"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 281</span>expected, Adela +promoted the ordering a carriage, and went herself with the trembling Mary +to the station, not without restoratives in her bag, in case of, she knew +not what. Not a word was spoken, but hands were clasped and hearts +were uplifted in an agony of supplication, as the two sat in the dark on +the drive to the station. Of course they were too soon, but the +driver manœuvred so as to give them a full view of the exit—and +then came that minute of indescribable suspense when the sounds of arrival +were heard, and figures began to issue from the platform.</p> +<p>It was not long—thanks to freedom from luggage—before there +came into full light a well-known form, with a little half-awake boy +holding his hand.</p> +<p>Then Adela quietly let herself out of the brougham, and in another +moment her clasping hand and swimming eyes had marked her greeting. +She pointed to the open door and the white face in it, and in one moment +more a pair of arms had closed upon Michael, and with a dreamy murmur, +‘Mam-mam, mam-ma,’ the curly head was on her bosom, the +precious weight on her lap, her husband by her side, the door had closed on +them, they were driving away.</p> +<p>‘Oh! is it real? Is he well?’</p> +<p>‘Perfectly well! Only sleepy. Strong, grown, well +cared for.’</p> +<p>‘My boy, my boy,’ and she felt him all over, gazed at the +rosy face whenever a tantalising flash of lamplight permitted, then kissed +and kissed, till the boy awoke more fully, with another ‘Mamma! +Mamma,’ putting his hand to feel for her chain, as <!-- page 282--><a +name="page282"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 282</span>if to identify +her. Then with a coo of content, ‘Mite has papa and +mamma,’ and he seemed under the necessity of feeling them both.</p> +<p>Only at their own door did those happy people even recollect Lady Adela, +with shame and dismay, which did not last long, for she came on them, +laughing with pleasure, and saying it was just what she had intended, while +Mite was recognising his Amy and his Conny, and being nearly devoured by +them.</p> +<p>He still was rather confused by the strange house. +‘It’s not home,’ he said, staring round, and blinking at +the lights; ‘and where’s my big horse?’</p> +<p>‘You shall soon go home to the big horse—and Nurse Eden, +poor nurse shall come to you, my own.’</p> +<p>To which Michael responded, holding out a plump leg and foot for +admiration. ‘I can do mine own socks and bootses now, and wash +mine own hands and face.’</p> +<p>Nevertheless, he was quite sleepy enough to be very happy and content to +be carried off to his mother’s bedroom, where he sat enthroned on her +lap, Constance feeding him with bread and milk, while Amice held the bowl, +and the maid, almost equally blissful, hovered round, and there again he +sat with the two admiring girls one at each foot, disrobing him, as best +they might.</p> +<p>Nearly asleep at last, he knelt at his mother’s knee with the +murmured prayer, but woke just enough to say, ‘Mite needn’t say +“make papa better,” nor “bring Mite +home.”‘</p> +<p><!-- page 283--><a name="page283"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +283</span>‘No, indeed, my boy. Say Thank God for all His +mercy.’</p> +<p>He repeated it and added of himself, ‘Bless nursey, and let Tommy +and Fan have papas and mammas again. Amen.’</p> +<p>He was nodding again by that time, but he held his mother’s hand +fast with ‘Don’t go, Mam!’ Nor did she. She +had asked no questions. To be alone with her boy and Him, whom she +thanked with her whole soul, was enough for her at present.</p> +<h2><!-- page 284--><a name="page284"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +284</span>CHAPTER XLI<br /> +THE CANADIAN NORTHMOOR</h2> +<p>It was not till Lord Northmoor began to answer in detail the questions +that were showered on him as he ate his late dinner, that he fully realised +the history of his recovered son even to himself. ‘Liverpool +Workhouse,’ and ‘all owing to Herbert,’ were his first +replies, and he had eaten his soup before Adela and Constance had +discovered the connection between the two; nay, they were still more +bewildered when Constance asked, ‘Then Herbert found him +there?’</p> +<p>‘Herbert? Oh no, good fellow. He is in Canada, he went +after him there.’</p> +<p>‘To Canada?’</p> +<p>‘Yes; that woman, the nursery girl Hall, kidnapped the child, +Herbert followed her there, and found he had been dropped at +Liverpool.’</p> +<p>Then on further inquiries, Frank became sensible that he must guard the +secret of Ida’s part in the transaction. He hoped to conceal it +from all, except his wife, for it was hardly injustice to the Jones pair in +another hemisphere to let their <!-- page 285--><a name="page285"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 285</span>revenge bear the whole blame. Indeed, he +did not himself know that it was Ida’s passion or Rose’s +mention of having seen Michael’s face that had roused Herbert’s +suspicion.</p> +<p>He had heard Herbert’s account of his adventures in the letter to +Rose with mere impatience to come to what related to his son, and it had +made no impression on his mind; but when he took out his own much briefer +letter, the address at Northmoor, and the sentences that followed, the +brief explanation where to seek for Michael suggested much.</p> +<p>‘I doubt whether I could ever have got the rascal to speak out if +it had not been for Captain Alder, with whose brother-in-law, Mr. Forman, I +had the luck to meet on the way. They were some of the first settlers +here, and have a splendid farm, export no end of wheat and ice, and have a +share in the steam company. I am working out my board here for them +till you are good enough to send me my quarter’s allowance, deducting +the £25 that Miss Rollstone helped me to, as there was no one else to +whom I could apply. I should like to stay here for good and all, and +they would take me for a farming-pupil for less than you have been giving +to my crammers, all in vain, I am afraid. The life would suit me much +better; they let me live with the family, and they are thorough right sort +of people, religious, and all that—and Alder seemed to take an +interest in me from the time he made out who I was, and, indeed, the place +is named after our Northmoor, where he says he spent his happiest +days. If you can pacify my mother, and if you would consent, I am +sure I could do much better <!-- page 286--><a name="page286"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 286</span>here than at home, and soon be quite off your +hands.’</p> +<p>For the present, Lord Northmoor, who could only feel that he owed more +than he could express to his nephew, sent the youth a bill such as to cover +his expenses, with permission, so far as he himself was concerned, to +remain with these new friends, at least until there was another letter and +time to consider this proposal.</p> +<p>At the same time, he wrote to Rose Rollstone, not only the particulars +of Michael’s history, but a request for those details about +Herbert’s friends to which he had scarcely listened when she read +them. He sent likewise a paragraph to several newspapers, explaining +that the Honourable M. K. Morton, whose ‘watery grave’ had been +duly recorded, had in fact been only abducted by a former maid-servant, and +bestowed in Liverpool Workhouse, where he had been discovered by the +generous exertions of his cousin, Herbert Morton, Esquire. It was +hoped that this would obviate all suspicion of Ida, who was reported as +still so unwell that her mother was anxious to carry her abroad at once to +try the effect of change of scene. Upon which Frank consulted Mr. +Hailes, as to whether the prosperity that had begun to flow in upon +Northmoor would justify him in at once taking the house at Westhaven off +her hands, and making it a thank-offering as a parsonage for the district +of St. James. This break-up seemed considerably to lessen her +reluctance to the idea of Herbert’s remaining in Canada, as in +effect, neither she nor Ida felt inclined as yet to encounter his +indignation, or to let him hear what <!-- page 287--><a +name="page287"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 287</span>Westhaven said. +There would be no strong opposition on her part, except the tears which he +would not see; and she was too anxious to carry Ida away to think of much +besides.</p> +<p>Frank had, however, made up his mind that he could not let the son of +his only brother, the youth whom he had regarded almost as a son, and who +had lost so much by the discovery of the child, drift away into +expatriation, without being personally satisfied as to these new +companions. This was ostensible reason enough for a resolution to go +out himself to the transatlantic Northmoor to make arrangements for his +nephew. Moreover, he was bent on doing so before the return of Mrs. +Bury and Bertha, from whom the names of Alder and Northmoor were withheld +in the joyful letters.</p> +<p>From Mr. Hailes he obtained full confirmation of what he had heard from +Lady Adela—a story which the old gentleman’s loyalty had +withheld as mere gossip—about the young people who had been very dear +to him.</p> +<p>He confessed that poor Arthur Morton had a bad set about +him—indeed, his father’s tastes had involved him in the kind of +thing, and Lady Adela had been almost a child when married to him by +relations who were much to blame. Captain Alder had belonged to the +set, but had always seemed too good for them, and as if thrown among them +from association. There was no doubt that he and Bertha were much in +love, but there was sure to be strong opposition from her father, and even +her brother had shown symptoms of thinking his friend had no business to +aspire to his sister’s hand. Moreover, <!-- page 288--><a +name="page288"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 288</span>it appeared +afterwards that the Captain was heavily in debt to Arthur Morton. It +was under these circumstances that the accident occurred. Bertha had +mistrusted the horse’s eye and ear, and implored her brother not to +venture on driving it, and had been bantered good-humouredly on her unusual +fears. At the first shock, the untamed girl had spoken bitter words, +making Captain Alder accountable for the accident. What they were, +neither Mr. Hailes nor any one else exactly knew, but they had cut +deep.</p> +<p>When, on poor Arthur’s recovery of consciousness, there was an +endeavour to find Captain Alder, he had left the army; and though somewhat +later the full amount of the debt was paid, it was conveyed in a manner +that made the sender not easily traceable, and as it came just when Arthur +was again past communication, and sinking fast, no great effort was made to +seek one who was better forgotten.</p> +<p>It had not then been known how Bertha’s life would be wrecked by +that sense of injustice and cruelty—nor what a hold the love of that +man had taken on her; but like Lady Adela, Mr. Hailes averred that she had +never been the same since that minute of stormy grief and accusation; and +that he believed that, whatever might come of it, the being able to confess +her wrongs, and to know the fate of her lover, was the only thing that +could restore the balance of her spirits or heal the sore.</p> +<p>From his own former employer, Mr. Burford, Frank procured that other +link which floated in his memory when Lady Adela spoke. The name had +<!-- page 289--><a name="page289"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +289</span>come into Mr. Burford’s office because he had been engaged +on the part of one of his clients in purchasing an estate of the Alder +family, at a time which corresponded with Arthur Morton’s death, and +the payment of the debt. There was a second instalment of the price +which had to be paid to a Quebec bank.</p> +<p>This was all that could be learnt; but it confirmed Lord +Northmoor’s impression that it would be right to see him, and as far +as explanation could go, to repair the injustice which had stung him so +deeply. A letter could not do what an interview could, and +Herbert’s plans were quite sufficient cause for a journey to +Winnipeg.</p> +<p>Of course it was a wrench to leave his wife and newly-recovered son; but +he had made up his mind that it was right, both as an act of justice to an +injured man, incumbent upon him as head of the family, and likewise as +needful in his capacity of guardian to Herbert, while the possibility of +bringing healing to Bertha also urged him.</p> +<p>However, Frank said little of all this, only quite simply, as if he were +going to ride to the petty sessions at Colbeam, mentioned that he thought +it right to go out to Canada to see about his nephew.</p> +<p>And as soon as he had brought the party home, and seen his boy once more +in his own nursery, he set forth, leaving Mary to talk and wonder with Lady +Adela over the possible consequences.</p> +<h2><!-- page 290--><a name="page290"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +290</span>CHAPTER XLII<br /> +HUMBLE PIE</h2> +<p>Bertha had just arrived from her tour, having rushed home on the tidings +of a quarrel between the doctors and the lady nurses of her pet hospital; +and she had immediately dashed down to Northmoor to secure her cousin as +one of the supporters. She sat by Lady Adela’s fire, very much +disconcerted at hearing that he was not come home yet, though expected +every day.</p> +<p>‘What should he have gone off to Canada for? He might have +been contented to stay at home, after having lost all this time by his +illness. Oh, yes, I know that sounds ungrateful, when it was all in +the cause of my little Cea. I shall be thankful to him all my life, +but all the same, he ought to be at home when he is wanted, and I wonder he +liked to fly off just when he had got his dear little boy back +again.’</p> +<p>‘He did not like it, but thought it his duty.’</p> +<p>‘Duty—what, to Herbert? Certainly the boy has come out +very well in this matter, considering that the finding Mite was to his own +detriment; <!-- page 291--><a name="page291"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +291</span>but probably he has found his vocation as a colonist. Still +Northmoor might have let him find that for himself.’</p> +<p>‘Do you know where the home he found is, Bertha?’</p> +<p>‘Somewhere about Lake Winnipeg, isn’t it?’</p> +<p>‘Yes; and the name is Northmoor.’</p> +<p>‘Named by Herbert, eh? Or didn’t John Tulse go +out? Did he name the place in loyalty to us?’</p> +<p>‘Not John Tulse, but one who told Herbert that his happiest days +were spent here.’</p> +<p>‘Adela, you mean something. Don’t tantalise me. +Is it Fred Alder? And was he kind to the boy for old sake’s +sake, because he bore the old name? Did he think he was your +Mike?’</p> +<p>Bertha was leaning forward now, devouring Adela with her eyes.</p> +<p>‘He was much puzzled to understand who Herbert was, but he gave +him great help. The man could hardly have been made to speak if he +had not brought him to his bearings. Herbert has been living with him +and his brother-in-law ever since, and is going to remain as a +farming-pupil.’</p> +<p>‘Married of course to a nasal Yankee?’</p> +<p>‘No.’</p> +<p>There was a pause. Bertha drew herself back in her chair, Adela +busied herself with the tea-cups. Presently came the +question—</p> +<p>‘Did Northmoor know?’</p> +<p>‘Yes, he did.’</p> +<p>‘And was that the reason of his going out?’</p> +<p>‘Herbert was one motive, but I do not think he would have gone if +there had not been another reason.’</p> +<p><!-- page 292--><a name="page292"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +292</span>‘You did not ask him?’ she said hotly.</p> +<p>‘Certainly not.’</p> +<p>‘I don’t want any one to interfere,’ said Bertha, in a +suddenly changed mood, ‘especially not such a stick as that. He +might have let it alone.’</p> +<p>‘And if you heard that Captain Alder was—’</p> +<p>‘A repentant prodigal, eh? A sober-minded, sponsible, +easy-going, steady money-making Canadian,’ interrupted Bertha +vehemently, ‘such as approved himself to his Lordship’s +jog-trot mind. Well, what then?’</p> +<p>‘Oh, Birdie, perverse child as ever.’</p> +<p>‘And so you actually despatched my Lord to eat humble pie in my +name. You might have waited to see what I thought of the +process.’</p> +<p>Bertha jumped up, as if to go and take off her hat, but just at that +moment some figures crossed the twilight window, and in another second +Adela had sprung into the hall, meeting Mary and Frank, whom she beckoned +into the dining-room.</p> +<p>Bertha had followed as far as the room door, when, in the porch, she +beheld a tall large form, and bearded countenance. One moment more +and those two were shut into the drawing-room.</p> +<p>Mary, Frank, and Adela stood together over the dining-room fire, all +smiles and welcome.</p> +<p>‘Doesn’t he look well?’ was Mary’s cry, as she +displayed her husband.</p> +<p>‘Better than ever. Nothing like bracing air. Oh! I am +glad you brought <i>him</i>’ indicating the other room, ‘down +at once; she might have had a naughty fit, and tormented herself and +everybody.’</p> +<p>‘You think it will be all right?’ said Frank <!-- page +293--><a name="page293"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +293</span>anxiously. ‘It was a venture, but when he heard that +she was at the Dower House, there was no holding him. He thinks she +has as much to forgive as he has.’</p> +<p>‘You wrote something of that—though the actual misery and +accident were no fault of his, poor fellow, and yet—yet all that +self-acted and re-acted on one another, and did each other harm,’ +said Adela.</p> +<p>‘Yes,’ said Frank; ‘harm that he only fully understood +gradually, after he had burst away from it all in the shock, and was living +a very different life with his little sister, and afterwards with her +husband, a thoroughly good man.’</p> +<p>‘To whom you have trusted your nephew?’</p> +<p>‘Entirely. Herbert is very happy there, much more so than +ever before, useful and able to follow his natural bent.’</p> +<p>‘I am very glad he will do well there.’</p> +<p>A sudden interruption here came on them in the shape of Amice, who had +not been guarded against. She flew into the room in a fright, +exclaiming—</p> +<p>‘Mamma, mamma, there’s a strange man like a black bear in +the drawing-room, and he has got his arm round Aunt Bertha’s +waist.’</p> +<p>‘Oh!’ as she perceived Lord Northmoor.</p> +<p>‘A Canadian bear I have just brought home, eh, Amy?’ said +he, exhilarated into fun for once, while Lady Adela indulged in a quiet +smile at the manner of partaking of humble pie.</p> +<p>Amice had, however, broken up the <i>tête-à-tête</i>, +and all were soon together again, Lady Adela greeting Captain Alder as an +old friend, and he, in the restraint of good breeding, betraying none of +his <!-- page 294--><a name="page294"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +294</span>feeling at the contrast between the girlish wife and the faded +widow, although perhaps in very truth Adela Morton was a happier, certainly +a more peaceful woman now than in those days.</p> +<p>All must spend the evening together. Where? The Northmoors +carried the day, Adela and Bertha must come up to dinner, yes, and Amice +too. It was fine moonlight and the Captain would stay and escort +them.</p> +<p>Meantime Lord and Lady Northmoor revelled in a moonlight walk together +exactly as they had done seven years before as a bride and bridegroom, but +with that further ingredient in joy before them—that nightly romp +with their Mite, to which Frank had been looking forward all through his +voyage. Their Mite all the happier because his Tom and Fanny were at +the keeper’s lodge, and allowed to play with him in the garden, and +on the heath.</p> +<p>Six weeks later, Lord Northmoor acted as father at Bertha’s +wedding, a quiet one, with Constance and Amice as bridesmaids, with, as +supernumerary, little Boadicea, who was to share the new Canadian home.</p> +<p>Michael was there in the glory of his first knickerbockers, and Mrs. +Bury was there, and her last words ere the bride came down dressed for the +journey were, ‘How about “that stick,” my +dear?’</p> +<p>‘Ah! sticks are sometimes made of good material.’</p> +<p>‘There is a tree that groweth by the Water Side,’ said +Adela.</p> +<h2><!-- page 295--><a name="page295"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +295</span>CHAPTER XLIII<br /> +THE STAFF</h2> +<p>Five years later almost all the members of the Morton family were met +once more at Westhaven.</p> +<p>Ida was slowly dying. She had always been more or less delicate, +and she had never entirely recovered the effect of the distress she had +brought upon herself by that foolish crime towards her little cousin. +Her mother had joined Miss Gattoni, and they had roamed about the Continent +in the various resorts of seekers of health and of pleasure, hoping to +distract her mind and restore her strength and spirits. For a time +this sometimes seemed to succeed, and she certainly became prettier; but +disappointment always ensued; a little over-exertion or excitement was sure +to bring on illness, and there were even more painful causes for her +collapses. Her uncle’s care had not been entirely able to +prevent the publication of such a sensational story, known, as it was, to +most people at Westhaven; in fact, he was only able to reach the more +respectable papers; <!-- page 296--><a name="page296"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 296</span>and the society to which Miss Gattoni +introduced them was just that which revelled in the society papers. +So every now and then whispers would go about that Miss Morton was the +heroine—or rather the villain—of the piece, and these were sure +ultimately to reach Miss Gattoni. And at Genoa they had actually been +at the same <i>table-d’hôte</i> with Tom Brady’s +sister—nay, they had seen the <i>Morna</i> in the harbour.</p> +<p>Gradually each summer brought less renovation; each winter, wherever +spent, brought Ida lower, till at length she was ill enough for her mother +thankfully to reply to Constance’s entreaty to come out to them at +Biarritz.</p> +<p>Constance had grown to be in her vacation more and more the child of the +house at Northmoor, and since her college career had ended with credit +externally, and benefit inwardly, she had become her aunt’s right +hand, besides teaching Amice music and beginning Michael’s Latin; but +it was plain that her duty lay in helping to nurse her sister, and her +uncle escorted her. They were greatly shocked at the change in the +once brilliant girl, and her broken, dejected manner, apparently incapable +of taking interest in anything. She would scarcely admit her uncle at +first, but when she discovered that even Constance was in perfect ignorance +of her part in the loss of Michael, she was overcome with the humiliation +of intense gratitude, and the sense of a wonderful forgiveness and +forbearance.</p> +<p>He never exactly knew what he had said to her; but for the two days that +he was able to remain, she <!-- page 297--><a name="page297"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 297</span>wished for him to sit with her as much as +possible, though often in silence; and she let him bring her the English +chaplain.</p> +<p>No one expected her to live through the spring, but with it came another +partial revival, and therewith a vehement desire to see Westhaven +again. It was as if her uncle had extracted the venom of the sting of +remorse, and when that had become repentance, the old affection for the +home of her childhood was free to revive. Good Mr. Rollstone was +dead, but his wife and daughter kept on the lodging-house, and were +affectionately glad to welcome their old friends. Herbert, who had +been happily farming for two years on his own account, on an estate that +his uncle had purchased for him, came for the first time on a visit from +the Dominion—tall, broad, bearded, handsome, and manly, above all, in +his courtesy and gentleness to the sick sister who valued his strong and +tender help more than any other care. Mary came with her husband and +boy from Northmoor for the farewell. When Ida tearfully asked her +forgiveness, the injury was so entirely past that it was not hard to say, +in the spirit of Joseph—</p> +<p>‘Oh, my poor child, do not think of that! No one has +suffered from it so much as you have. It really did Michael no harm +at all, only making a little man of him; and as to Herbert, his going out +was the best thing in the world for him, dear, noble, generous +fellow. And after all, Ida,’ she added, presently, ‘I do +believe you had rather be as you are now than the girl you were +then?’</p> +<p><!-- page 298--><a name="page298"></a><span class="pagenum">p. +298</span>‘Oh, Aunt Mary, it is what Uncle Frank and you +are—that—makes one feel—’</p> +<p>Ida could say no more. She once saw Michael’s bright boyish +face awed into pity, and had the kiss that sealed her earthly pardon, +unconscious as he was of the evil she had attempted. There was the +pledge of higher pardon, before her uncle and aunt left her to those nearer +who could minister to her as she went down to the River ever flowing.</p> +<p>Before that time, however, Herbert had made known to Rose one of his +great reasons for settling in Canada, namely, that he meant to take her +back with him. He had told his uncle long ago, and Mrs. Alder was +quite ready and eager to welcome her as a cousin. Even Mr. Rollstone +could hardly have objected under these circumstances, and Rose only doubted +about leaving her mother. It presently appeared, however, that Mrs. +Morton wished to remain with Mrs. Rollstone. Westhaven was more to +her than any other place, and her vanity had so entirely departed that she +could best take comfort in her good old friend’s congenial +society. Constance offered to remain and obtain some daily governess +or high school employment there; but it was to her relief that she found +that the two old ladies did not wish it. There was a sense that her +tastes and habits were so unlike theirs that they would always feel her to +be like company and be on their best behaviour, and decidedly her mother +would not ‘stand in her light,’ and would be best contented +with visits from her and to Northmoor.</p> +<p>So, after the quietest of weddings in the beautiful <!-- page 299--><a +name="page299"></a><span class="pagenum">p. 299</span>St. James’s +Church, Herbert and Rose went out to be welcomed at Winnipeg, and Constance +returned with her uncle to be a daughter to Aunt Mary—till such time +as she was sought by the young Vicar of Northmoor.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><span class="smcap">the end</span>.</p> +<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page 300--><a name="page300"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 300</span> +<a href="images/p1ad.jpg"> +<img alt="Advert" src="images/p1ad.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page 301--><a name="page301"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 301</span> +<a href="images/p2ad.jpg"> +<img alt="Advert" src="images/p2ad.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page 302--><a name="page302"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 302</span> +<a href="images/p3ad.jpg"> +<img alt="Advert" src="images/p3ad.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p style="text-align: center"><!-- page 303--><a name="page303"></a><span +class="pagenum">p. 303</span> +<a href="images/p4ad.jpg"> +<img alt="Advert" src="images/p4ad.jpg" /> +</a></p> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THAT STICK***</p> +<pre> + + +***** This file should be named 20323-h.htm or 20323-h.zip****** + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/3/2/20323 + + + +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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Yonge + + +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: That Stick + + +Author: Charlotte M. Yonge + + + +Release Date: January 9, 2007 [eBook #20323] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THAT STICK*** + + +Credit + + + +This eBook was prepared by Les Bowler. + + + + + + THAT STICK + + + BY + CHARLOTTE M. YONGE + AUTHOR OF 'THE HEIR OF REDCLYFFE', 'UNKNOWN TO HISTORY', ETC. + + [Picture: She was a little brown mouse of a woman, with soft dark eyes, + smooth hair, and a clear olive complexion] + + London + MACMILLAN AND CO. + AND NEW YORK + + 1892 + + _All rights reserved_ + + +Chap. Page + +1 HONOURS 1 +2 HONOURS REFLECTED 9 +3 WHAT IS HONOUR? 20 +4 HONOURS WANING 25 +5 THE PEER 29 +6 THE WEIGHT OF HONOURS 36 +7 MORTONS AND MANNERS 41 +8 SECOND THOUGHTS 49 +9 THE HEIR-PRESUMPTUOUS 53 +10 COMING HONOURS 64 +11 POSSESSION 70 +12 THE BURTHEN OF HONOURS 77 +13 THE DOWER HOUSE 81 +14 WESTHAVEN VERSIONS OF 88 + HONOURS +15 THE PIED ROOK 99 +16 WHAT IS REST? 107 +17 ON THE SURFACE 114 +18 DESDICHADO 120 +19 THE DOLOMITES 129 +20 RATZES 137 +21 THE HEIR-APPARENT 143 +22 OUT OF JOINT 147 +23 VELVET 155 +24 THE REVENGE OF SORDID 163 + SPIRITS +25 THE LOVE 169 +26 IDA'S WARNING 175 +27 THE YOUNG PRETENDER 180 +28 TWO BUNDLES OF HAY 187 +29 JONES OR RATTLER 193 +30 SCARLET FEVER 202 +31 MITE 208 +32 A SHOCK 216 +33 DARKNESS 223 +34 THE PHANTOM OF THE 230 + STATION +35 THE QUEST 239 +36 IDA'S CONFESSION 247 +37 HOPE 252 +38 THE CLUE 262 +39 THE HONOURABLE PAUPER 270 +40 JOY WELL-NIGH 277 + INCREDIBLE +41 THE CANADIAN NORTHMOOR 284 +42 HUMBLE PIE 290 +43 THE STAFF 295 + + +CHAPTER I +HONOURS + + +'Oh, there's that stick. What can he want?' sighed one of a pair of +dignified elderly ladies, in black silk, to the other, as in a quiet +country-town street they saw themselves about to be accosted by a man of +about forty, with the air of a managing clerk, who came up breathlessly, +with a flush on his usually pale cheeks. + +'Miss Lang; I beg pardon! May I be allowed a few words with Miss +Marshall? I know it is unusual, but I have something unusual to tell +her.' + +'Nothing distressing, I hope, Mr. Morton,' said one of the ladies, +startled. + +'Oh no, quite the reverse,' he said, with a nervous laugh; 'in fact, I +have unexpectedly come into a property!' + +'Indeed!' with great astonishment, 'I congratulate you,' as the colour +mounted in his face, pleasant, honest, but with the subdued expression +left by long years of patience in a subordinate position. + +'May I ask--' began the other sister. + +'I hardly understand it yet,' was the answer; 'but I must go to town by +the 5.10 train, and I should like her to hear it from myself.' + +'Oh, certainly; it does you honour, Mr. Morton.' + +They were entering the sweep of one of those large substantial houses on +the outskirts of country towns that have a tendency to become +boarding-schools, and such had that of the Misses Lang been long before +the days of the High School. + +'Fortunately it is recreation-time,' said Miss Lang, as she conducted Mr. +Morton to the drawing-room, hung round with coloured drawings, in good +taste, if stiff, and chiefly devoted to interviews with parents. + +'Poor little Miss Marshall!' murmured one sister, when they had shut him +in. + +'What a loss she will be!' + +'She deserves any good fortune.' + +'She does. Is it not twenty years?' + +'Twenty-two next August, sister.' + +Yes, it was twenty-two years since Mary Marshall had been passed from the +Clergy Orphan Asylum to be English governess at Miss Lang's excellent +school at Hurminster. In that town resided, with her two sons, Mrs. +Morton, the widow of a horse-dealing farmer in the late Mr. Marshall's +parish. On discovering the identity of the English governess with the +little girl who had admired the foals, lambs, and chickens in past times, +Mrs. Morton gave invitations to tea. She was ladylike, the sons +unexceptionable, and no objection could reasonably be made by the Misses +Lang, though the acquaintance was regretted by them. + +Mr. Morton, the father, had died in debt and distress, and the eldest son +had been thankful for a clerkship in the office of Mr. Burford, a +solicitor in considerable practice, and man of business to several of the +county magnates. Frank Morton was not remarkable for talent or +enterprise, but he was plodding and trustworthy, methodical and accurate, +and he had continued in the same position, except that time had made him +senior instead of junior clerk. Partly from natural disposition, partly +from weight of responsibility, he had always been a grave, steady youth, +one of those whom their contemporaries rank as sticks and muffs, because +not exalted by youthful spirits or love of daring. His mother and +brother had always been his primary thought; and his recreations were of +the sober-sided sort--the chess club, the institute, the choral society. +He was a useful, though not a distinguished, member of the choir of St. +Basil's Church, and a punctual and diligent Sunday-school teacher of the +least interesting boys. To most of the world of Hurminster he was almost +invisible, to the rest utterly insignificant. Even his mother was far +less occupied with him than with his brother Charles, who was much +handsomer, more amusing and spirited, as well as far less contented or +easy to be reckoned upon. But there was one person to whom he was +everything, namely, little brown-eyed, soft-voiced Mary Marshall. + +She felt herself the happiest of creatures when, after two years of +occasional evening teas and walks to Evensong at St. Basil's, it was +settled that she should become his wife as soon as his salary should be +increased, and Charlie be in condition to assist in supporting his +mother. Ever since, Mary had rested on that hope, and the privileges it +gave. She had loyally informed the Misses Lang, who were scarcely +propitious, but could not interfere, as long as their pupils (or they +believed so) surmised nothing. So the Sunday evening intercourse became +more frequent, and in the holidays, when the homeless governess had +always remained to superintend cleaning and repairs, there were many +pleasant hours spent with kind old Mrs. Morton, who, if she had ever +wished that Frank had waited longer and chosen some one with means, never +betrayed it to the girl whom she soon loved as a daughter. + +Two years had at first been thought of as the period of patience. +Charles had a situation as clerk in a shipping office at Westhaven, a +small seaport about twenty miles off, and his mother was designing to go +to keep house for him, when he announced that his banns had been asked +with the daughter of the captain and part-owner of a small trading vessel +of the port. + +The Hurminster couple must defer their plans till further promotion; and +so far from helping his mother, Charles ere long was applying to her, +when in need, for family expenses. + +Then came a terrible catastrophe. Charlie had been ill, and in his +convalescence was taken on a voyage by his father-in-law. There was a +collision in the Channel, and the _Emma Jane_ and all on board were lost. +The insurance did not cover the pecuniary loss; debts came to light, and +nothing was left for the widow and her three children except a seaside +lodging-house in which her father had invested his savings. + +The children's education and great part of their maintenance must fall on +their uncle; and again his marriage must wait till this burthen was +lessened. Old Mrs. Morton died; and meetings thus became more difficult +and infrequent. Frank had hoped to retain the little house where he had +lived so long; but his sister-in-law's demands were heavy, and he found +himself obliged to sell his superfluous furniture, and commit himself to +the rough attendance of the housekeeper at the office, where two rooms +were granted to him. + +Thus had year after year gone by, unmarked except by the growth of the +young people at Westhaven and the demand of their mother on the savings +that were to have been a nest-egg, while gray threads began to appear in +Mary's hair, and Frank's lighter locks to leave his temples bare. + +So things stood when, on this strange afternoon, Miss Marshall was +summoned mysteriously from watching the due performance of an imposition, +and was told, outside the door, that Mr. Morton wanted to speak to her. + +It was startling news, for though the Misses Lang were kindly women, and +had never thrown obstacles in the way of her engagement, they had merely +permitted it, and almost ignored it, except when old Mrs. Morton was +dying, and they had freely facilitated her attendance. 'Surely something +as dreadful as the running down of the _Emma Jane_ must have happened!' +thought Mary as she sped to the drawing-room. She was a little brown +mouse of a woman, with soft dark eyes, smooth hair, and a clear olive +complexion, on which thirty-eight years of life and eighteen of waiting +had not left much outward trace; for the mistresses were good women, who +had never oppressed their underling, and though she had not met with much +outward sympathy or companionship, the one well of hope and joy might at +times suffer drought, but had never run dry, any more than the better +fountain within and beyond. + +In she came, with eyes alarmed but ready to console. 'Oh, Frank, what is +it? What can I do for you?' + +'It is no bad news,' was his greeting, as he put his arm round her +trembling little figure and kissed her brow. 'Only too good.' + +'Oh, is Mrs. Charles going to be married?' the only hopeful contingency +she could think of. + +'No,' he said; 'but, Mary, an extraordinary incident has taken place. I +have inherited a property.' + +'A property? You are well off! Oh, thank God!' and she clasped her +hands, then held his. 'At last! But what? How? Did you know?' + +'I knew of the connection, but that the family had never taken notice of +my father. As to the rest I was entirely unprepared. My +great-grandfather was a younger son of the first Lord Northmoor, but for +some misconduct was cast off and proscribed. As you know, my grandfather +and father devoted themselves to horses on the old farm, and made no +pretensions to gentility. The elder branch of the family was once +numerous, but it must have since dwindled till the old lord was left with +only a little grandson, who died of diphtheria a short time before his +grandfather.' + +'Poor old man!' began Mary. 'Then--oh! do you mean that he died too?' + +'Yes; he was ill before, and this was a fatal blow. It appears that he +was aware that I was next in the succession, and after the boy's death +had desired the solicitor to write to me as heir-at-law.' + +'Heir-at-law! Frank, do you mean that you are--' she said, turning pale. + +'Baron Northmoor,' he answered, 'and you, my patient Mary, will be the +baroness as soon as may be.' + +'Oh, Frank!'--and there was a rush of tears--'dear Frank, your hard work +and cares are all over!' + +'I am not sure of that,' he said gravely; 'but, at least, this long +waiting is over, and I can give you everything.' + +'But, oh!' she cried, sobbing uncontrollably, with her face hidden in her +handkerchief. + +'Mary, Mary! what does this mean? Don't you understand? There's nothing +to hinder it now.' + +She made a gesture as if to put him back from her, and struggled for +utterance. + +'It is very dear, very good; but--but it can't be now. You must not drag +yourself down with me.' + +'That is just nonsense, Mary. You are far fitter for this than I am. +You are the one joy in it to me.' + +'You think so now,' she said, striving to hold herself back; 'but you +won't by and by.' + +'Do you think me a mere boy to change so easily?' said the new lord +earnestly. 'I look on this as a heavy burthen and very serious +responsibility: but it is to you whom I look to sweeten it, help me +through with it, and guard me from its temptations.' + +'If I could.' + +'Come, Mary, I am forced to go to London immediately, and then on to the +funeral. I shall miss the train if I remain another minute. Don't send +me away with a sore heart. Tell me that your affection has not been worn +out by these weary years.' + +'You cannot think so, Frank,' she sobbed. 'You know it has only grown. +I only want to do what is best for you.' + +'Not another word,' he said, with a fresh kiss. 'That is all I want for +the present.' + +He was gone, while Mary crept up to her little attic, there to weep out +her agitated, uncertain feelings. + +'Oh, he is so good! He deserves to be great. That I should be his first +thought! Dear dear fellow! But I ought to give him up. I ought not to +be a drag on him. It would not be fair on him. I can love him and watch +him all the same; but oh, how dreary it will be to have no Sunday +afternoons! Is this selfish? Is this worldly? Oh, help me to do right, +and hold to what is best for him!' + +And whenever poor Mary had any time to herself out of sight of curious +eyes, she spent it in concocting a letter that went near to the breaking +of her constant heart. + + + + +CHAPTER II +HONOURS REFLECTED + + +On the beach at Westhaven, beyond the town and harbour, stood a row of +houses, each with a garden of tamarisk, thrift, and salt-loving flowers, +frequented by lodgers in search of cheap sea breezes, and sometimes by +families of yachting personages who liked to have their headquarters on +shore. + +Two girls were making their way to one of these. One was so tall though +very slight, that in spite of the dark hair streaming in the wind, she +looked more than her fifteen years, and her brilliant pink-and-white +complexioned face confirmed the impression. Her sister, keeping as much +as she could under her lee, was about twelve years old, much more +childish as well as softer, smaller, with lighter colouring and blue +eyes. Going round the end of the house, they entered by the back door, +and turning into a little parlour, they threw off their hats and gloves. +The younger one began to lay the table for dinner, while the elder, +throwing herself down panting, called out-- + +'Ma, here's a letter from uncle. I'll open it. I hope he's not crusty +about that horrid low millinery business.' + +'Yes, do,' called back a voice across the tiled passage. 'I've had no +time. This girl has put me about so with Mrs. Leeson's luncheon that +I've not had a moment. Of all the sluts I've ever been plagued with, +she's the very worst, and so I tell her till I'm ready to drop. What is +it then, Ida?' as an inarticulate noise was heard. + + [Picture: Frontispiece--Ma! ma!] + +'Ma! ma! uncle is a lord!' came back in a gasp. + +'What?' + +'Uncle's a lord! Oh!' + +'Your uncle! That stick of a man! Don't be putting your jokes on me, +when I'm worrited to death!' exclaimed Mrs. Morton, in fretful tones. + +'No joke. It's true--Lord Northmoor.' And this brought Mrs. Morton out +of the kitchen in her apron and bib, with a knife in one hand and a bunch +of parsley in the other. She was a handsome woman, in the same style as +Ida, but her complexion had grown harder than accorded with the slightly +sentimental air she assumed when she had time to pity herself. + +'It is! it is!' persisted Ida, reading scraps from the letter; '"Title +and estates devolve on me--family bereavements--elder line extinct."' + +'Give me the letter. Oh, you gave me such a turn!' said Mrs. Morton, +sinking into a chair. + +'What's the row?' said another voice, as a sturdy bright-eyed boy, +between the ages of his sisters, came bouncing in. 'I say, I want my +grub--and be quick!' + +'Oh, Herbert, my dear boy,' and his mother hugged him, 'your uncle is a +lord, and you'll be one one of these days.' + +'I say, don't lug a man's head off. Who has been making a fool of you?' + +'Uncle Frank is Lord Northmoor,' said Ida impressively. + +'I say, that's a good one!' and Herbert threw himself into a chair in +fits of laughter. + +'It is quite true, Herbert,' said his mother. 'Here is the letter.' + +A bell rang sharply. + +'Bless me! I shall not hear much more of that bell, I hope. Run up, +Conny, and say Mrs. Leeson's lunch will be up in a moment, but we were +hindered by unexpected news,' said Mrs. Morton, bustling into the +kitchen. 'Oh dear! one doesn't know where one is.' + +'Let her ring,' said Ida. 'Send her off, bag and baggage! We've done +with lodgings and milliners and telegraphs, and all that's low. We shall +all be lords and ladies, and ever so rich.' + +'Hold hard!' said Herbert, who had got possession of the letter. 'He +doesn't say so.' + +'He'll be nasty and mean, I daresay,' said Ida. 'What does he say? I +hadn't time to see.' + +Herbert read from the neat, formal, distinct writing: "I do not yet know +what is in my power, nor what means I may be able to command; but I hope +to make your position more comfortable and to give my nephew and nieces a +really superior education. You had better, however, not take any steps +till you hear from me again." There, Ida, lots of schooling, that's +all.' + +'Nonsense, Bertie; he must--if he is a lord, what are we?' + +Hunger postponed this great question for a little while; but dinner had +been delayed till the afternoon school hour had passed, and indeed the +young people agreed that they were far above going to their present +teachers any more. + +'We must acquire a few accomplishments,' said Ida. 'Uncle never would +afford me lessons on the piano--such a shame; but he can't refuse me now. +Dancing lessons, too, we will have; and then, oh, Conny! we will go to +Court, and how they will admire us!' + +At which Herbert burst out laughing loudly, and his mother rebuked him. +'You will be a nobleman, Herbert, and your sisters a nobleman's sisters. +Why should they not go to Court like the best of them?' + +'That's all my eye!' said Herbert. 'The governor has got a young woman +of his own, hasn't he?' + +'That dowdy old teacher!' said Ida. 'Of course he won't marry her now.' + +'She will be artful enough to try to hold him to it, you may depend on +it,' said Mrs. Morton; 'but I shall take care he knows what a shame and +disgrace it would be. Oh no; he will not dare.' + +'She is awfully old,' said Ida. + +'Not near so old as Miss Pottle, who was married yesterday,' said +Constance, who, at the time of her father's death, and at other times +when the presence of a young child was felt to be inconvenient at home, +had stayed with her grandmother at Hurminster, and had grown fond of Miss +Marshall. + +'Don't talk about what you know nothing about, Constance,' broke in her +mother. 'Your uncle, Lord Northmoor, ain't going to lower and demean +himself by dragging a mere school teacher up into the peerage, to cut out +poor Herbert and all his family. There's that bell again! I shall go +and let Mrs. Leeson know how we are situated, and that I shall give her +notice one of these days. Clear the table, girls; we don't know who may +be dropping in.' + +This done, chiefly by Constance, the sisters put on their hats, and +sallied forth with their astounding news to such of their friends as were +within reach, and by the time they had finished their expedition they +were convinced of their own nobility, and prepared to be called Lady Ida +and Lady Constance Northmoor on the spot. + +When they came in they found the parlour being prepared for company, and +were sent to procure sausages and muffins for tea. Mrs. Morton had, on +reflection, decided that it was inexpedient to answer her brother-in-law +till she had ascertained, as she said, her just rights, and she had +invited to tea Mr. and Mrs. Rollstone and, to Constance's delight, his +little daughter Rose, their neighbours a few doors off; but as Rose was +attending classes, it had been useless to go to her before. + +Mr. Rollstone was a great authority, for he had spent the best part of +his life in what he termed the first families of the highest circles. He +had been hall boy to a duke, footman to a viscountess, valet to an earl, +butler to a right honourable baronet, M.P., and when he had retired on +the death of the baronet and marriage with the housekeeper he had brought +away a red volume, by name _Burke's Peerage_, by which, as well as by his +previous knowledge, he was enabled to serve as an oracle respecting all +owners of yachts worthy of consideration. If their names were not +recorded in that book, he scorned them as '_parvenoos_,' however perfect +their vessels might be in the eyes of mariners. The edition was indeed a +quarter of a century old, but he had kept it up to date, by marking in +neatly all the births, deaths, and marriages from the _Gazette_--his +daily study. His daughter, a nice, modest-looking girl of fourteen, +Constance's chief friend, came too. + +His wife was detained by her lodgers, but when he rolled in, with the +book under his arm, there was a certain resemblance between himself and +it, for both were broad and slightly dilapidated--the one from gout, the +other from wear, and the red cover had faded into a nondescript +whity-brown, or browny-white, not unlike the complexion of a close-shaven +face. He was carefully arrayed in evening costume, and was very choice +in his language, being, in fact, much grander than all his aristocratic +masters rolled into one; so that though Mrs. Morton tried to recollect +that she was a great lady and he had been a servant, force of habit made +her feel his condescension when he held out his puffy white hand; and, +with a gracious bend of his yellow-gray head, said, 'Allow me to offer my +congratulations, Mrs. Morton. I little suspected my proximity to a lady +so nearly allied to the aristocracy.' + +'I am sure you are very kind, Mr. Rollstone. I had no notion--Ida can +tell you I was quite overcome--though when I came to think of it, my +poor, dear Morton always did say he had high connections, but I always +thought it was one of his jokes.' + +'Then as I understand, Mrs. Morton, the lamented deceased was junior to +the present Lord Northmoor?' + +'Yes, poor dear! Oh, if he had but lived and been eldest, he would have +become his honours ever so much better!' + +'And oh, Mr. Rollstone, what are we?' put in Ida breathlessly, while Rose +squeezed Constance's hand in schoolgirl fashion. + +'Indeed, Miss Ida, I fear I cannot flatter you with any change in your +designation. If your respected parent had survived he might have become +the Honourable Charles, but only by special grant from Her Majesty. It +was so in the case of the Honourable Frances Fordingham, when her brother +inherited the title.' + +'Then at least I am an Honourable!' exclaimed Mrs. Morton. + +'I am afraid not, Mrs. Morton. I know of no precedent for such honours +being bestowed on a relict; but as I understand that Lord Northmoor is no +longer in his first youth, your son might succeed to the title, and, in +that case, his sisters might be'--he paused for a word--'ennobled.' + +'Then does not it really make any difference to us?' exclaimed Mrs. +Morton. + +'That would rest in the bosom of his lordship,' said Mr. Rollstone +solemnly. + +'I declare it is an awful shame,' burst out Ida, while Constance cooed +'Dear uncle!' + +'Hush, hush, Ida!' said her mother. 'Your uncle has always treated us +handsomely, and we have every reason to expect that he will continue to +do so.' + +'He ought to have us to live with him in his house in London, and take us +to Court,' said Ida. 'Oh, Mr. Rollstone, is he not bound to do that?' + +And Constance breathed, 'How delicious!' + +Mr. Rollstone perhaps had his doubts of the figures Mrs. and Miss Morton +would cut in society, but he contented himself with saying, 'It may be +well to moderate your expectations, Miss Ida, and to remember that Lord +Northmoor is not compulsorily bound to consult any interests but his +own.' + +'If he does not, it is perfectly abominable,' cried Mrs. Morton, 'towards +his poor, only brother's children, with Herbert his next heir-apparent.' + +'Heir-presumptuous,' solemnly corrected Mr. Rollstone, at which Ida +looked at Constance, but Constance respected Rosie's feelings, and would +not return her sister's glance, only blushed, and sniggered. + +'Heir-apparent is only the eldest son, who cannot be displaced by any +contingency.' + +'And there's a horrid, little, artful school teacher, who drew him in +years ago--before I was married even,' said Mrs. Morton. 'No doubt she +will try to keep him now. Most likely she always knew what was going to +happen. Cannot he be set free from the entanglement?' + +'Oh!' gasped Constance. + +'That is serious,' observed Mr. Rollstone gravely. 'It would be an +unfortunate commencement to have an action for breach of promise of +marriage.' + +'She would never dare,' said Mrs. Morton. 'She is as poor as a rat, and +could not do it!' + +'Well, Mrs. Morton,' said Mr. Rollstone, 'if I may be allowed to tender +my poor advice, it would be that you should be very cautious and careful +not to give any offence to his lordship, or to utter what might be +reported to him in a sinister manner.' + +'Oh, I know every one has enemies!' said Mrs. Morton, tossing her head. + +After this disappointment there was rather less interest displayed when +Mr. Rollstone proceeded to track out and explain the whole Northmoor +pedigree, from the great lawyer, Sir Michael Morton, who had gained the +peerage, down to the failure of the direct line, tracing the son from +whom Francis and Charles Morton were descended. Certainly Miss Marshall +must have been wonderfully foresighted if she had engaged herself with a +view to the succession, for at the time it began, the last Lord Northmoor +had two sons and a brother living! There was also a daughter, the +Honourable Bertha Augusta. + +'Is she married?' demanded Mrs. Morton. + +'It is not marked here, and if it had been mentioned in the papers, I +should not have failed to record it.' + +'And how old is she?' + +'The author of this peerage would never be guilty of the solecism of +recording a lady's age,' said Mr. Rollstone gravely; 'but as the +Honourable Arthur was born in 1848, and the Honourable Michael in 1850, +we may infer that the young lady is no longer in her first youth.' + +'And not married? Nearly Fr--Lord Northmoor's age. She must be an old +cat who will set her mind on marrying him,' sighed Mrs. Morton, 'and will +make him cut all his own relations.' + +'Then Mary Marshall might be the better lookout,' said Ida. + +'She could never be unkind,' breathed little Constance. + +'There is no knowing,' said Mr. Rollstone oracularly; 'but the result of +my observations has been that the true high-bred aristocracy are usually +far more affable and condescending than those elevated from a lower +rank.' + +'Oh, I do hope for Miss Marshall,' said Constance in a whisper to Rose. + +'Nasty old thing--a horrid old governess,' returned Ida; and they +tittered, scarcely pausing to hear Mr. Rollstone's announcement of the +discovery that he had entered the marriage in 1879 of the Honourable +Arthur Michael to Lady Adela Emily, only daughter of the Earl of +Arlington, and the death of the said Honourable Arthur by a carriage +accident four years later. + +Then Herbert tumbled in, bringing a scent of tea and tar, and was greeted +with an imploring injunction to brush his hair and wash his hands--both +which operations he declared that he had performed, spreading out his +brown hands, which might be called clean, except for ingrained streaks of +tar. Mr. Rollstone tried to console his mother by declaring that it was +aristocratic to know how to handle the ropes; and Herbert, sitting among +the girls, began, while devouring sausages, to express his intention of +having a yacht, in which Rose should be taken on a voyage. No, not Ida; +she would only make a fool of herself on board; and besides, she had such +horrid sticking-out ears, with a pull at them, which made her scream, and +her mother rebuke him; while Mr. Rollstone observed that the young +gentleman had much to learn if he was to conform to aristocratic manners, +and Herbert under his breath hung aristocratic manners, and added that he +was not to be bored, at any rate, till he was a lord; and then to salve +any shock to his visitor, proceeded to say that his yacht should be the +_Rose_, and invite her to a voyage. + +'Certainly not till you can behave yourself,' replied Rose; and there was +a general titter among the young people. + + + + +CHAPTER III +WHAT IS HONOUR? + + +'Here is a bit of news for you,' said Sir Edward Kenton, as, after a +morning of work with his agent, both came in to the family luncheon. +'Mr. Burford tells me that the Northmoor title has descended on his +agent, Morton.' + +'That stick!' exclaimed George, the son and heir. + +'Not altogether a stick, Mr. Kenton,' said the bald-headed gentlemanly +agent. 'He is very worthy and industrious!' + +Frederica Kenton and her brother looked at each other as if this +character were not inconsistent with that of a stick. + +'Poor man!' said their mother. 'Is it not a great misfortune to him?' + +'I should think him sensible and methodical,' said Sir Edward. 'By the +way, did you not tell me that it was his diligence that discovered the +clause to which our success was owing in the Stockpen suit?' + +'Yes, Sir Edward, through his indefatigable diligence in reading over +every document connected with the matter. I take shame to myself,' he +added, smiling, 'for it was in a letter that I had read and put aside, +missing that passage.' + +'Then I am under great obligations to him?' said Sir Edward. + +'I could also tell of what only came to my knowledge many years later, +and not through himself, of attempts made to tamper with his integrity, +and gain private information from him which he had steadily baffled.' + +'There must be much in him,' said Lady Kenton, 'if only he is not +spoilt!' + +'I am afraid he is heavily weighted,' said Mr. Burford. 'His brother's +widow and children are almost entirely dependent on him, more so, in my +opinion, than he should have allowed.' + +'Exactly what I should expect from such a sheep,' said George Kenton. + +'There is this advantage,' said the lawyer, 'it has prevented his +marrying.' + +'At least that fatal step has been averted,' said the lady, smiling. + +'But unluckily there is an entanglement, an endless engagement to a +governess at Miss Lang's.' + +'Oh,' cried Freda, who once, during a long absence of the family abroad, +had been disposed of at Miss Lang's, 'there was always a kind of whisper +among us that Miss Marshall was engaged, though it was high treason to be +supposed to know.' + +'Was that the one you called Creepmouse?' asked her brother. + +'George, you should not bring up old misdeeds! She was a harmless old +thing. I believe the tinies were very fond of her, but we elders had not +much to do with her, only we used to think her horridly particular.' + +'Does that mean conscientious?' asked her father. + +'Perhaps it does; and though I was rather a goose then, I really believe +she was very kind, and did not want to be tiresome.' + +'A lady?' asked her mother. + +'I suppose so, but she was so awfully quiet there was no knowing.' + +'Poor thing!' observed Lady Kenton, in a tone of commiseration. + +'I think Morton told me that she was a clergy-orphan,' said Mr. Burford, +'and considered her as rather above him, for his father was a ruined +farmer and horse-breeder, and I only took him into my office out of +respect for his mother, though I never had a better bargain in my life. +Of course, however, this unlucky engagement cannot stand.' + +'Indeed!' said the Baronet drily. 'Would you have him begin his career +with an act of baseness?' + +'No--no, Sir Edward, I did not mean--' said Mr. Burford, rather abashed; +'but the lady might be worked on to resign her pretensions, since +persistence might not be for the happiness of either party; and he really +ought to marry a lady of fortune, say his cousin, Miss Morton, for I +understand that the Northmoor property was never considerable. The late +Mr. Morton was very extravagant, and there are heavy burthens on the +estate, by the settlement on his widow, Lady Adela, and on the late +Lord's daughter. Miss Lang tells me likewise that Miss Marshall is full +of doubts and scruples, and is almost persuaded that it is incumbent on +her to drop the engagement at any cost to herself. She is very +conscientious!' + +'Poor thing!' sighed more than one voice. + +'It is a serious question,' continued the solicitor, 'and I own that I +think it would be better for both if she were induced to release him.' + +'Has she no relations of her own?' + +'None that I ever heard of. She has always spent her holidays at Miss +Lang's.' + +'Well, Mr. Burford,' exclaimed Freda, 'I think you are frightfully cruel +to my poor little Creep-mouse.' + +'Nay, Freda,' said her mother; 'all that Mr. Burford is considering is +whether it would be for the happiness or welfare of either to be raised +to a position for which she is not prepared.' + +'I thought you were on her side, mother.' + +'There are no sides, Freda,' said her father reprovingly. 'The whole +must rest with the persons chiefly concerned, and no one ought to +interfere or influence them in either direction.' Having thus rebuked +Mr. Burford quite as much as his daughter, he added, 'Where is Lord +Northmoor now?' + +'He wrote to me from Northmoor after the funeral, Sir Edward, saying that +he would return on Saturday. Of course, though three months' notice +would be due, I should not expect it, as I told him at first; but he +assures me that he will not leave me till my arrangements for supplying +his place are complete, and he will assist me as usual.' + +'It is very proper of him,' said Sir Edward. + +'It will be awkward in some ways,' said Mr. Burford. 'Yet I do not know +what I could otherwise have done, he had become so necessary to me.' + +'Stick or no stick,' was the family comment of the Kentons, 'there must +be something in the man, if only his head is not turned.' + +'Which,' observed Sir Edward, 'is not possible to a stick with a real +head, but only too easy to a sham one.' + + + + +CHAPTER IV +HONOURS WANING + + +'And who is the man?' So asked a lady in deep mourning of another still +more becraped, as they sat together in the darkened room of a Northmoor +house on the day before the funeral. + +The speaker had her bonnet by her side, and showed a kindly, clever, +middle-aged face. She was Mrs. Bury, a widow, niece of the late Lord; +the other was his daughter, Bertha Morton, a few years younger. She was +not tearful, but had dark rings round her eyes, and looked haggard and +worn. + +'The man? I never heard of him till this terrible loss of poor little +Mikey.' + +'Then did he put in a claim?' + +'Oh no, but Hailes knew about him, and so, indeed, did my father. It +seems that three generations ago there was a son who followed the +instincts of our race further than usual, and married a jockey's +daughter, or something of that sort. He was set up in a horse-breeding +farm and cut the connection; but it seems that there was always a sort of +communication of family events, so that Hailes knew exactly where to look +for an heir.' + +'Not a jockey!' + +'Oh no, nothing so diverting. That would be fun!' Bertha said, with a +laugh that had no merriment in it. 'He is a clerk--an attorney's clerk! +What do you think of that, Lettice?' + +'Better than the jockey.' + +'Oh, very respectable, they say'--with a sound of disgust. + +'Is he young?' + +'No; caught early, something might be done with him, but there's not that +hope. He is not much less than forty. Fancy a creature that has +pettifogged, as an underling too, all his life.' + +'Married?' + +'Thank goodness, no, and all the mammas in London and in the country will +be running after him. Not that he will be any great catch, for of course +he has nothing--and the poor place will be brought to a low ebb.' + +'And what do you mean to do, Birdie?' + +'Get out of sight of it all as fast as possible! Forget that horses ever +existed except as means of locomotion,' and Bertha got up and walked +towards the window as if restless with pain, then came back. + +'I shall get rid of all I can--and come to live as near as I can to +Whitechapel, and slum! I'm free now.' Then looking at her cousin's +sorrowful, wistful face, 'Work, work, work, that's all that's good for +me. Soberly, Lettice, this is my plan,' she added, sitting down again. +'I know how it all is left. This new man is to have enough to go on +upon, so as not to be too beggarly and bring the title into contempt. He +is only coming for to-morrow, having to wind up his business; but I shall +stay on till he comes back, and settle what to do with the things here. +Adela and I have our choice of them, and don't want to leave the place +too bare. Then I shall sell the London house, and all the rest of the +encumbrances, and set up for myself.' + +'Not with Adela?' + +'Oh no; Adela means to stick by the old place, and I couldn't do that for +a constancy--oh no,' with a shudder. + +'Does she?' in some wonder. + +'Her own people don't want her. The Arlingtons are with her now, but I +fancy she would rather be sitting with us--or alone best of all, poor +dear. You see, she is a mixture of the angel that is too much for some +people. How she got it I don't know, not among us, I should think, +though she came to us straight out of the schoolroom, or I fancy she +would never have come at all. But oh, Lettice, if you could have seen +her how patient she has been throughout with my father, reading him all +about every race, just because she thought it was less gall and wormwood +to her than to me, and going out to the stables to satisfy him about his +dear Night Hawk, and all the rest of it. When she was away for that +fortnight over poor little Michael, I found to the full what she had +been, and then after that, back she comes again, as white as a sheet, but +all she ever was to my father, and more wonderful than all, setting +herself to reconcile him to the notion of this new heir of his--and I do +believe, if my father had not so suddenly grown worse, she would have +made us have him up to be introduced--all out of rectitude and duty, you +know, for Adela is the shyest of mortals, and recoils by nature from the +underbred far more than we do. In fact, I rather like it. It gives me a +sensation. I had ten times rather this man were a common sailor, or a +tinker, than just a stupid stick of a clerk!' + +'Then Adela means to stay at the Dower House?' + +'Yes, she has rooted herself there by all her love to her poor people, +and I fancy, too, that she does not want to bring Amice up among all the +Arlington children, who are not after her pattern, so she intends to bear +the brunt of it, and not leave Northmoor, unless the new-comers turn out +unbearable.' + +'She goes away with her brother now.' + +'Oh yes, she must, and Lord Arlington is fond of her in a way! Can't you +stay on with me, Lettice?' + +'I wish I could, my dear Birdie, but I am anxious about Mary; I don't +think I must stay later than Sunday.' + +'Yes; you are too devoted a mother for me to absorb. Never mind, you +will be in London, and I shall soon be within reach of you. You are a +comfortable person, Lettice.' + + + + +CHAPTER V +THE PEER + + +Poor Miss Lang! After all her care that her young pupils' heads should +not be turned by folly about marriage and noblemen, the very event she +had always viewed as most absurdly improbable had really occurred, and it +was impossible to keep it a secret; though Miss Marshall did her very +best to appear as usual, heard lessons with her accustomed diligence, +conducted the daily exercises, watched over the instructions by masters, +and presided over the needlework. But she grew whiter, more pinched, and +her little face more mouse-like every day, and the elder girls whispered +fancies about her. 'She had no doubt heard that Lord Northmoor had +broken it off!'--'A little poky attorney's clerk, of course he +would.'--'Poor dear thing, she will go into a consumption! Didn't you +hear her cough last night?'--'And then we'll all throw wreaths into her +grave!'--'Oh, that was only Elsie Harris!'--'Nonsense, Mabel, I'm sure it +was her, poor thing. Prenez garde, la vieille Dragonne vient.' + +That Lord Northmoor was to come back by the mail train was known, and +Miss Lang had sent a polite note to invite him to afternoon tea on the +Sunday. The church to which he had been for many years devoted was a +district one, and Miss Lang's establishment had their places in the old +parish church, so there was not much chance of meeting in the morning, +though one pupil observed to another that 'she should think him a beast +if they did not meet him on the way to church.' + +It is to be feared that she had to form this opinion, but on the other +hand, by the early dinner-time, tidings pervaded the school that Lord +Northmoor had been at St. Basil's, and sung in his surplice just as if +nothing had happened! The more sensational party of girls further +averred that he had been base enough to walk thither with Miss Burford, +and that Miss Marshall had been crying all church time. Whether this was +true or not, it was certain that she ate scarcely any dinner, and that +Miss Lang insisted on administering a glass of wine. + +Moreover, when dinner was finally over, she quietly crept up to her own +room, and resumed her church-going bonnet--a little black net, with a +long-enduring bunch of violets. Then she knelt down and entreated, 'Oh, +show me Thy will, and give me strength and judgment to do that which may +be best for him, and may neither of us be beguiled by the world or by +ambition.' + +Then she peeped out to make sure that the coast was clear--not that she +was not quite free to go where she pleased, but she dreaded eyes and +titters--out at the door, to the corner of the lane where for many a +Sunday afternoon there had been a quiet tryste and walk. Her heart beat +so as almost to choke her, and she hardly durst raise her eyes to see if +the accustomed figure awaited her. Was it the accustomed figure? Her +eyes dazzled so under her little holland parasol that she could hardly +see, and though there was a movement towards her, she felt unable to look +up till she heard the words, 'Mary, at last!' and felt the clasp of the +hand. + +'Oh, Frank--I mean--' + +'You mean Frank, your own Frank; nothing else to you.' + +'Ought you?' And as she murmured she looked up. It was the same, but +still a certain change was there, almost indescribable, but still to be +felt, as if a line of toil and weariness had passed from the cheek. The +quiet gray eyes were brighter and more eager, the bearing as if ten years +had been taken from the forty, and though Mary did not perceive the +details, the dress showing that his mourning had not come from the +country town tailor and outfitter, even the soft hat a very different +article from that which was wont to replace the well-cherished tall one +of Sunday mornings. + +'I had not much time,' he said, 'but I thought this would be of the most +use,' and he began clasping on her arm a gold bracelet with a tiny watch +on it. 'I thought you would like best to keep our old ring.' + +'If--if I ought to keep it at all,' she faltered. + +'Now, Mary, I will not have an afternoon spoilt by any folly of that +sort,' he said. + +'Is it folly? Nay, listen. Should you not get on far far better without +such a poor little stupid thing as I am?' + +'I always thought I was the stupid one.' + +'You--but you are a man.' + +'So much the worse!' + +'Yes; but, Frank, don't you see what I mean? This thing has come to you, +and you can't help it, and you are descended from these people really; +but it would be choice for me, and I could not bear to feel that you were +ashamed of me.' + +'Never!' he exclaimed. 'Look here, Mary. What should I do without you +to come back to and be at rest with? All the time I was talking to those +ladies and going through those fine rooms, I was thinking of the one +comfort I should have when I have you all to myself. See,' he added, +going over the arguments that he had no doubt prepared, 'it is not as if +you were like poor Emma. You are a lady all over, and have always lived +with ladies; and yet you are not too grand for me. Think what you would +leave me to--to be wretched by myself, or else-- I could never be at +home with those high-bred folk. I felt it every moment, though Miss +Morton was very kind, and even wanted me to call her Birdie. I _did_ +feel thankful I could tell her I was engaged.' + +'You did!' + +'Yes; and she was very kind, and said she was glad of it, and hoped soon +to know you.' + +'Oh, Frank dear, I am sure no one ever was more really noble-hearted than +you,' she almost sobbed; 'you know how I shall always feel it; but yet, +but yet I can't help thinking you ought to leave it a little more +unsettled till you have looked about a little and seen whether I should +be a very great disadvantage to you.' + +'Seen whether I could find such a dear, unselfish little woman, eh? No, +no, Mary, put all that out of your head. We have not loved one another +for twenty years for a trumpery title to come between us now! And you +need not fear being too well off for the position. The agent, Hailes, +has been continually apologising to me for the smallness of the means. +He says either we must have no house in London, or else let Northmoor. +He cannot tell me yet exactly what income we shall have, but the farms +don't let well, and there is not much ready money.' + +'Every one says you ought to marry a lady of fortune.' + +'My dear Mary, to what would you condemn me? What sort of lady of +fortune do you think would take an old stick like me for the sake of +being my Lady? I really shall begin to believe you are tired of it.' + +'Stick! oh no, no. Staff, if'--and the manner in which she began to +cling was answer full and complete; indeed, as she saw that her +resistance had begun to hurt him as much as herself, she felt herself +free to throw herself into the interests, and ask, 'Is Northmoor a very +nice place?' + +'Not so pretty as Cotes Kenton outside. A great white house, with a +portico for carriages to drive under, and not kept up very well, patches +of plaster coming off; but there is a beautiful view over the woods, with +a purple moor beyond.' + +'And inside?' + +'Well, rather dreary, waiting for you to make it homelike. They have not +lived there much for some time past. Lady Adela has lived in the Dower +House, and will continue there.' + +'Did you see much of them?' + +'Not Lady Adela. Poor lady, she had her own relations with her. She had +not by any means recovered the loss of her little boy, and I can quite +understand that it must have been too trying for her to see me in his +place. I understand from Hailes--' + +'Your Mr. Burford,' said Mary, smiling. + +'That she is a very refined, rather exclusive and domestic lady, devoted +to her little girl, and extremely kind to the poor. Indeed, so is Miss +Morton, but she prefers the London poor, and is altogether rather +flighty, and what Hailes calls an unconventional young lady. There was a +very nice lady with her, Mrs. Bury, the daughter of a brother of the late +Lord, a widow, and very kind and friendly. Both were very good-natured, +Miss Morton always acted hostess, and talked continually.' + +'About her father?' + +'Oh no, I do not think he had been a very affectionate father, and their +habits and tastes had been very different. Lady Adela seems to have +latterly been more to him. Miss Morton was chiefly concerned to advise +me about politics and social questions, and how to deal with the estate +and the tenants.' + +He seemed somewhat to shudder at the recollection, and Mary certainly +conceived a dread of the ladies of Northmoor. It was further elicited +that he meant to help Mr. Burford through all the work and arrangements +consequent on his own succession, indeed, to remain at his post either +till a successor was found, or the junior sufficiently indoctrinated to +take the place. Of course, as he said, six months' notice was due, but +Mr. Burford has waived this. During this time he meant to go to see +'poor Emma' at Westhaven, but it was not an expedition he seemed much to +relish, and he wished to defer it till he could definitely tell what it +would be in his power to do for her and her children, for whose education +he was really anxious, rejoicing that they were still young enough to be +moulded. + +Then came the tea at Miss Lang's--a stately meal, when the two ladies +were grand; Lord Northmoor became shy and frozen, monosyllabic, and only +spasmodically able to utter; and Mary felt it in all her nerves and +subsided into her smallest self, under the sense that nobody ever would +do him justice. + + + + +CHAPTER VI +THE WEIGHT OF HONOURS + + +The next was a fortnight of strange and new experiences. Lord Northmoor +spent most of his days over the papers in the office, so much his usual +self, that Mr. Burford generally forgot, and called to him as 'Morton' so +naturally that after the first the other clerks left off sniggering. + +There Sir Edward called on him, and in an interview in his sitting-room +at the office asked him to a quiet dinner, together with the solicitor; +but this was hardly a success, for Mr. Burford, being at home with the +family, did all the talking, and Frank could not but feel in the presence +of his master, and had not a word to say for himself, especially as +George and Freda looked critical, and as if 'That stick' was in their +minds, if not on their lips. The only time when he approached a thaw was +when in the hot summer evening Lady Kenton made him her companion in a +twilight stroll on the terraces, when he looked at the roses with +delight, and volunteered a question about the best sorts, saying that the +garden at Northmoor had been much neglected, and he wanted to have it in +good order, 'that is'--blushing and correcting himself--'if we can live +there.' + +Lady Kenton noted the 'we' and was sorry to be here interrupted. 'We +shall do nothing with him till we get him alone,' she said. 'We must +have him apart from Mr. Burford.' + +Before this, however, they had to meet him at a very splendid party, +given with all the resources of the Burford family at their villa, when +the county folks, who had no small curiosity to see the new peer, were +invited in full force, and the poor peer felt capable of fewer words than +ever to throw at them. + +Lady Kenton ventured on asking Mrs. Burford to introduce her to Miss +Marshall, taking such presence for granted. + +'Oh, Lady Kenton, really now I did not think that foolish affair should +be encouraged. It is such an unfortunate thing for him; and as Miss Lang +and I agreed, it would be so much better for both of them if it were +given up.' + +'Is there anything against her?' + +'Oh no, not at all; only that, poor thing, she is quite unfitted for the +position, and between ourselves, in the condition of the property, it is +really incumbent on his Lordship to marry a lady of fortune. At his age +he cannot afford romance,' she added with a laugh, being in fact rather +inferior to her husband in tone, or perhaps in manners. Indeed, she was +of all others the person who most shrivelled up the man whom she had +always treated like a poor dependent, till her politeness became still +more embarrassing. Among all the party, Sir Edward and Lady Kenton were +those with whom he was most nearly at ease, for they had nothing to +revoke in their manners towards him, and could, without any change, treat +him as an equal whom they respected; nor did they try to force him +forward into general conversation--as did his host--with the best +intentions. + +Lady Kenton, under cover of Miss Burford's piano, asked him whether she +might call on Miss Marshall, and saw him flush with gratitude and +pleasure, as he answered, 'It will be very kind in you.' + +Lady Kenton knew enough of the ways of the school to understand when to +make her visit, so as to have a previous conversation with Miss Lang, +whom of course she already knew. That lady received her in one of the +drawing-rooms, the folding doors into the other were shut. + +'I have told Miss Marshall,' said Miss Lang, 'that the room is always at +her service to receive Lord Northmoor, though, in fact, he never comes +till after business hours.' + +'He is behaving very well.' + +'Very honourably indeed; but poor Miss Marshall is in a very distressing +position.' + +'Indeed! Is she not very happy in his constancy?' + +'She is in great doubt and difficulty,' said Miss Lang, 'and we really +hardly know how to advise her. She seems sure of his affection, but she +shrinks from entering on a position for which she is so unfit.' + +'Is she really unfit?' + +Miss Lang hesitated. 'She is a complete lady, and as good and +conscientious a creature as ever existed; but you see, Lady Kenton, her +whole life has been spent here, ever since she was sixteen, she has known +nothing beyond the schoolroom, and how she is ever to fulfil the duties +of a peeress, and the head of a large establishment, I really cannot see. +It might be just misery to her, and to him, too.' + +'Has she good sense?' + +'Yes, very fair sense. We can trust to her judgment implicitly in +dealing with the girls, and she teaches well, but she is not at all +clever, and could never shine.' + +'Perhaps a person who wanted to shine might be embarrassing,' said Lady +Kenton, rather amused. + +'Well, it might be so. The poor man is certainly no star himself, but +surely he needs some one who would draw him out, and push him forward, +make a way in society, in fact.' + +'That might not be for his domestic happiness.' + +'Perhaps not, but your Ladyship has not seen what a poor little +insignificant creature she is--though, indeed, we are both very fond of +her, and should be very much relieved not to think we ought to strengthen +her scruples. For, indeed,' and tears actually came into the good lady's +eyes, 'I am sure that though she would release him for his good, that it +would break her heart. Shall I call her? Ah!' as a voice began to +become very audible on the other side of the doors, 'she has a visitor.' + +'Not Lord Northmoor. It is a woman's voice, and a loud one.' + +Presently, indeed, there was a tone that made Lady Kenton say, 'People do +scent things very fast. It must be some one wanting to apply for +patronage.' + +'I am a little afraid it is that sister-in-law of his,' said Miss Lang, +lowering her voice. 'I saw her once at the choral festival--and--and I +wasn't delighted.' + +'Perhaps I had better come another day,' said Lady Kenton. 'We seem to +be almost listening.' + +Even as the lady was taking her leave, the words were plainly heard-- + +'Artful, mean-spirited, time-serving viper as you are, bent on dragging +him down to destruction!' + + + + +CHAPTER VII +MORTONS AND MANNERS + + +'Shillyshally,' quoth Mrs. Charles Morton over her brother-in-law's +letter. 'Does he think a mother is to be put off like that?' + +So she arrayed herself in panoply of glittering jet and nodding plumes, +and set forth by train to Hurminster to assert her rights, and those of +her children, armed with a black sunshade, and three +pocket-handkerchiefs. She did not usually wear mourning, but this was an +assertion of her nobility. + +In his sitting-room, wearing his old office coat, pale, wearied, and +worried, the Frank Morton, 'who could be turned round the finger of any +one who knew how,' appeared at her summons. + +She met him with an effusive kiss of congratulation. 'Dearest Frank! +No, I must not say Frank! I could hardly believe my eyes when I read the +news.' + +'Nor I,' said he. + +'Nor the dear children. Oh, if your dear brother were only here! We are +longing to hear all about it,' she said, as she settled herself in the +arm-chair, a relic of his mother. + +He repeated what he had told Mary about the family, the Park, and the +London house. + +'I suppose there is a fine establishment of servants and carriages?' + +'The servants are to be paid off. As to the carriages and the rest of +the personal property, they go to Miss Morton; but the executors are +arranging about my paying for such furniture as I shall want.' + +'And jewels?' + +'There are some heirlooms, but I have not seen them. How are the +children?' + +'Very well; very much delighted. Dear Herbert is the noblest boy. He +was ready to begin on his navigation studies this next term, but of +course there is no occasion for that now.' + +'It is a pity, with his taste for the sea, that he is too old to be a +naval cadet.' + +'The army is a gentleman's profession, if he must have one.' + +'I must consider what is best for him.' + +'Yes, my Lord,' impressively. 'I am hoping to know what you mean to do +for your dear brother's dear orphans,' and her handkerchief went up to +her eyes. + +'I hope at any rate to give Herbert the education of a gentleman, and to +send his sisters to good schools. How are they getting on?' + +'Dear Ida, she is that clever and superior that a master in music and +French is all she would want. Besides, you know, she is that delicate. +Connie is the bookish one; she is so eager about the examination that she +will go on at her school; though I would have taken her away from such a +low place at once.' + +'It is a good school, and will have given her a good foundation. I must +see what may be best for them.' + +'And, of course, you will put us in a situation becoming the family of +your dear brother,' she added, with another application of the +handkerchief. + +'I mean to do what I can, you may be sure, but at present it is +impossible to name any amount. I neither know what income is coming to +me, nor what will be my expenses. I meant to come and see you as soon as +there was anything explicit to tell you; but of course this first year +there will be much less in hand than later.' + +'Well,' she said, pouting, 'I can put up with something less in the +meantime, for of course your poor dear brother's widow and children are +your first consideration, and even a nobleman as a bachelor cannot have +so many expenses.' + +'I shall not long continue a bachelor,' was the answer, given with a sort +of shy resolution. + +'Now, Lord Northmoor! You don't mean to say that you intend to go on +with that ridiculous affair; when, if you marry at all, it ought to be +one who will bring something handsome into the family.' + +'Once for all, Emma, I will hear no more on that subject. A twenty +years' engagement is not lightly to be broken.' + +'A wretched little teacher,' she began, but she was cut short. + +'Remember, I will hear no more of this, and' (nothing but despair of +other means could have inspired him) 'it is for your own interest to +abstain from insulting my future wife and myself by such remonstrances.' + +Even then she muttered, 'Very hard! Not even good-looking.' + +'That is as one may think,' said he, mentally contrasting the flaunting, +hardened complexion before him with the sweet countenance he had never +perceived to be pinched or faded; and as he heard something between a +scornful sniff and a sob, he added, 'I am wanted in the office, so, if +you have no more to say of any consequence, I must leave you, and Hannah +shall give you some tea.' + +'Oh, oh, that you should leave your poor brother's widow in this way!' +and she melted into tears and sobs. + +'I can't help it, Emma,' he said, distressed and perplexed. 'They want +me about some business of Mr. Claughton's, and I can't keep them waiting. +These are office hours, you know. Have some tea, and I will come to you +again.' + +But Mrs. Emma swallowed her sobs as soon as he was gone, and instead of +waiting for the tea, set forth for Miss Lang's. On asking for Miss +Marshall she was shown into the drawing-room, where, after she had waited +a few minutes, nursing her wrath to keep it warm, the small figure +appeared, whom she had no hesitation in accosting thus-- + +'Now, Miss Marshall, do I understand that you are resolved to attempt +thrusting yourself on his Lordship, Lord Northmoor's family?' + +Mary, entirely taken by surprise, could only falter, 'I can only do +whatever he wishes.' + +'That is just a mere pretence. I wonder you are not ashamed to play on +his honourable feelings, when you know everything is changed, and that it +is absolutely ridiculous and derogatory for a peer of the realm to stoop +to a mere drudge of a teacher.' + +'It is,' owned Mary; but she went back to her formulary, 'it must be as +he wishes.' + +'If he is infatuated enough to pretend to wish it, I tell you it is your +simple duty to refuse him.' + +Whatever might be Mary's own views of her duty, to have it inculcated in +such a manner stirred her whole soul into opposition, which was shown, +not in words, but in a tiny curve of the lips, such as infuriated her +visitor, so that vulgarity and violence were under no restraint, and +whether all self-command was lost in passion, or whether there was an +idea that bullying might gain the day, Mrs. Morton's voice rose into a +shrill scream as she denounced the nasty, mean-spirited viper, worming +herself-- + +The folding doors suddenly opened and in a dignified tone Miss Lang +announced, 'Lady Kenton wishes to be introduced to you, Miss Marshall.' + +Mary made her little formal bend as well as her trembling limbs would +allow her. Her cheeks were hot, her eyes swam, her hand shook as Lady +Kenton took it kindly, while Mrs. Morton, too strong in her own +convictions to perceive how the land lay, exclaimed, 'Your Ladyship is +come for the same purpose as me, to let Miss Marshall know how +detrimental and improper it is in her to persist in holding my brother, +Lord Northmoor, to the unfortunate engagement she inveigled him into.' + +To utter this with moderate coolness cost such an effort that she thought +Mr. Rollstone could not have done it better, and was astonished when Lady +Kenton replied, 'Indeed, I came to have the pleasure of congratulating +Miss Marshall on, if it be not impertinent to say so, a beautiful and +rare perseverance and constancy being rewarded.' + +'As if she had not known what she was about,' muttered Mrs. Morton, not +even yet quite confounded, but as she saw the lady lay another hand over +that of still trembling Mary, she added, 'Well, if that is the case, my +lady, and she is to be encouraged in her obstinacy, I have no more to +say, except that it is a cruel shame on his poor dear brother's children, +that--that he has made so much of, and have the best right--' and she +began to sob again. + +'Come,' said Miss Lang, as if talking to a naughty girl, 'if you are +overcome like that, you had better come away.' + +Wherewith authoritative habits made it possible to her to get Mrs. Morton +out of the room; while Mary, well used to self-restraint, was struggling +with choking tears, but when warm-hearted Lady Kenton drew her close and +kissed her, they began to flow uncontrollably, so that she could only +gasp, 'Oh, I beg your pardon, my lady!' + +'Never mind,' was the answer; 'I don't wonder! There's no word for that +language but brutal.' + +'Oh, don't,' was Mary's cry. 'She is _his_, Lord Northmoor's +sister-in-law, and he has done everything for her ever since his +brother's death.' + +'That is no reason she should speak to you in that way. I must ask you +to excuse me, but we could not help hearing, she was so loud, and then I +felt impelled to break in.' + +'It was very very kind! But oh, I wish I knew whether she is not in the +right after all!' + +'I am sure Lord Northmoor is deeply attached--quite in earnest,' said +Lady Kenton, feeling rather as if she was taking a liberty. + +'Yes, I know it would grieve him most dreadfully, if it came to an end +now, dear fellow. I know it would break my heart, too, but never mind +that, I would go away, out of his reach, and he might get over it. Would +it not be better than his being always ashamed of an inferior, +incompetent creature, always dragging after him?' + +'I do not think you can be either, after what my daughter and Miss Lang +have told me.' + +'You see, it is not even as if I had been a governess in a private +family, I have always been here. I know nothing about servants, or great +houses, or society, not so much as our least little girl, who has a +home.' + +'May I tell you what I think, my dear,' said Lady Kenton, greatly +touched. 'You have nothing to unlearn, and there is nothing needful to +the position but what any person of moderate ability and good sense can +acquire, and I am quite sure that Lord Northmoor would be far less happy +without you, even in the long-run, besides the distress you would cause +him now. It is not a brilliant, showy person that he needs, but one to +understand and make him a real home.' + +'That is what he is always telling me,' said Mary, somewhat cheered. + +'Yes, and he could not help showing where his heart is,' said the lady. +'Now the holidays are near, are they not?' + +'The 11th of July.' + +'Then, if you have no other plans, will you come and stay with me? We +are very quiet people, but you would have an opportunity of understanding +something of the kind of life.' + +'Oh, how very kind of you! Nobody has been so good to me.' + +'I think I can help you in some of the difficulties if you will let me,' +said Lady Kenton, quite convinced herself, and leaving a much happier +woman than she had found. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII +SECOND THOUGHTS + + +Though Miss Lang was shocked and indignant at Mrs. Morton's violence, she +was a wise woman, and felt that it would be better tact not to let such a +person depart without an attempt at pacification; so she did her best at +dignified soothing, and listened to a good deal of grumbling and +lamentation. + +She contrived, however, to give the impression that as things stood, Mrs. +Morton would be far wiser to make no more resistance, but to consult +family peace by accepting Miss Marshall, who, she assured the visitor, +was a very kind and excellent person, not likely to influence Lord +Northmoor against his own family, except on great provocation. + +Mrs. Morton actually yielded so far as to declare she had only spoken for +her dear brother-in-law's own good, and that since he was so infatuated, +she supposed, for her dear children's sake, she must endure it. Having +no desire to encounter him again, she went off by the next train, leaving +a message that she had had tea at Miss Lang's. She related at home to +her expectant daughter that Lord Northmoor had grown 'that high and +stuck-up, there was no speaking to him, and that there Miss Marshall was +an artful puss, as knew how to play her cards and get _in_ with the +quality.' + +'I wish you had taken me, ma,' said Ida, 'I should have known what to say +to them.' + +'I can't tell, child, you might only have made it worse. I see how it is +now, and we must be mum, or it may be the worse for us. He says he will +do what he can for us, but I know what that means. She will hold the +purse-strings, and make him meaner than he is already. He will never +know how to spend his fortune now he has got it! If your poor, dear pa +had only been alive now, he would never have let you be wronged.' + +'But you gave it to them?' cried Ida. + +'That I did! Only that lady, Lady Kenton, came in all stuck-up and +haughty, and cut me short, interfering as she had no business to, or I +would have brought Miss Mary to her marrow-bones. She hadn't a word to +say for herself, but now she has got those fine folks on her side, the +thing will go on as sure as fate. However, I've done my dooty, that's +one comfort; and now, I suppose I shall have to patch it up as best I +can.' + +'I wouldn't!' said Ida hotly. + +'Ah, Ida, my dear, you don't know what a mother won't do for her +children.' + +A sigh that was often reiterated as Mrs. Morton composed a letter to her +brother-in-law, with some hints from Ida on the spelling, and some from +Mr. Rollstone on the address. The upshot was that her dear brother and +his _fiancee_ were to believe her actuated by the purest sense of the +duty and anxiety she owed to them and her dear children, the orphans of +his dear deceased brother. Now that she had once expressed herself, she +trusted to her dear Frank's affectionate nature to bury all in oblivion, +and to believe that she should be ready to welcome her new sister-in-law +with the warmest affection. Therewith followed a request for five +pounds, to pay for her mourning and darling Ida's, which they had felt +due to him! + +Lord Northmoor did not quite see how it was due to him, nor did he intend +to give whatever his dear sister-in-law might demand, but she had made +him so angry that he felt that he must prove his forgiveness to himself. +Mary had not thought it needful to describe the force of the attack upon +herself, or perhaps his pardon might not have gone so far. He sent the +note, and added that as he was wanted at Northmoor for a day or two, he +would take his nephew Herbert with him. + +This was something like, as Mrs. Morton said, a kind of tangible +acknowledgment of their relationship and of Herbert as his heir, and it +was a magnificent thing to tell all her acquaintances that her son was +gone to the family seat with his uncle, Lord Northmoor. She would fain +have obtained for him some instructions in the manners of the upper ten +thousand from Mr. Rollstone, but Herbert entirely repudiated listening to +that old fogey, observing that after all it was only old Frank, and he +wasn't going to bother himself for the like of him. + +The uncle was fond of his brother's boy, and had devised this plan partly +for the sake of the pleasure it would give, and partly because it was +impossible to form any judgment of his character while with the mother. +He was a fine, well-grown, manly boy, and when seen among his companions, +had an indefinable air of good blood about him. He had hitherto been at +a good day-school which prepared boys for the merchant service, and his +tastes were so much in the direction of the sea, that it was much to be +regretted that at fourteen and a half it was useless to think of +preparation for a naval cadetship. He was sent up by train to join his +uncle at Hurminster, and the first question after the greeting was, 'I +say, uncle, shan't you have a yacht?' + +'I could not afford it, if I wished it,' was the answer, while _Punch_ +was handed over to him, and Lord Northmoor applied himself to a long blue +letter. + +'Landlubber!' sighed Herbert to himself, with true marine contempt for a +man who had sat on an office-stool all his life. 'He doesn't look a bit +more of a swell than he used to. It is well there's some one with some +pluck in the family.' + + + + +CHAPTER IX +THE HEIR-PRESUMPTUOUS + + +Herbert began to be impressed when, on the train arriving at a little +country station, a servant in mourning, with finger to his hat, inquired +after his Lordship's luggage, and another was seen presiding over a +coroneted brougham. + +'I say,' he breathed forth, when they were shut in, 'is this yours?' + +'It is Miss Morton's, I believe, at present. I am to arrange whether to +keep it or not.' + +They were driving over an open heath in its summer carpet-like state of +purple heather, dwarf gorse, and bracken. Lord Northmoor looked out, +with thoughtfulness in his face. By and by there was a gate, a lodge, a +curtseying woman, and as they passed it, he said, 'Now, this is +Northmoor.' + +'Yours, uncle?' + +'Yes.' + +'My--!' was all Herbert could utter. It semed to his town-bred eyes a +huge space before they reached, through some rather scanty plantations, +another lodge, and a park, not very extensive, but with a few fine trees, +and they thundered up beneath the pillars to what was, to his idea, a +palace--with servants standing about in a great hall. + +His uncle would have turned one way, but a servant said, 'Miss Morton is +in the morning-room, my Lord,' and ushered them into a room where a lady +in black came forward. + +'You did not expect to find me here still,' she said cordially; 'but +Adela is gone to her brother's, and I thought I had better stay for the +division of--of the things.' + +'Oh, certainly--I am--glad,' he stammered, with a blush as one not quite +sure of the correctness of the proceeding. 'I wouldn't have intruded--' + +'Bosh! I'm the intruder. Letitia Bury is gone--alas--but,' said she, +laughing, 'Hailes is here--staying,' she added to relieve him and to +lessen the confusion that amused her, 'and I see you have a companion. +Your nephew--?' + +'Yes, Herbert, my late brother's son. I would not have brought him if I +had known.' + +'A cousin,' she said, smiling, and shaking hands with him. 'Boys are my +delight. This is quite a new experience.' + +Herbert looked up surprised, not much liking to become an experience. He +had had less intercourse with ladies than many boys of humbler +pretensions, for his mother had always scouted the idea of sending her +children to a Sunday-school, and she was neither like his mother's +friends nor his preconceived notions. 'There! for want of an +introduction, I must introduce myself. Your cousin Bertha, or Birdie, +whichever you like best.' + +Frank was by no means prepared to say even Bertha, and was in agonies +lest Herbert should presume on the liberty given him; but if the boy had +been in the palace of Truth, he would have said, 'You old girl, you are +awfully old to call yourself Birdie!' For Birdie had been a pet name of +Rose Rollstone; and Bertha Morton, though slim and curly-headed, had a +worn look about her eyes, and a countenance such as to show her +five-and-thirty years, and to the eyes of fourteen was almost +antediluvian; indeed, older observers might detect a worn, haggard, +strained look. He was somewhat disgusted, too, at the thin rolls of +bread-and-butter on the low table, whence she proceeded to hand teacups, +as he thought of the substantial meals at home. When they had been +conducted to their rooms, and his uncle followed to his, he broke out +with his perpetual, 'I say, uncle, is this all the grub great swells +have? I'm awfully peckish!' + +'That's early tea, my boy,' was the answer, with a smile. 'There's +dinner to come, and I hope you will behave yourself well, and not use +such expressions.' + +'Dinner! that's not such a bad hearing, but I suppose one must eat it +like a judge?' + +'Certainly; I am afraid I am not a very good model, but don't you do +anything you don't see me do. And, Herbert, don't take wine every time +the servants offer it.' + +At which Herbert made a face. + +'Have you got any evening shoes? No! If I had only known that the lady +was here! It can't be helped to-day, only wash your face and hands well; +there's some hot water.' + +'Why, they ain't dirty,' said the boy, surveying them as one to whom the +remains of a journey were mere trifles, then, with a sigh, 'It's no end +of a place, but you swells have a lot of bores, and no mistake!' + +Upstairs Herbert roamed about studying with great curiosity the +appliances of the first bedchamber he had ever beheld beyond the degree +of his mother's 'first floor,' but downstairs, he was in the mood of the +savage, too proud to show wonder or admiration or the sense of awe with +which he was inspired by being waited on by the very marrow of Mr. +Rollstone, always such grand company at home. This daunted him far more +than the presence of the lady, and though his was a spirit not easily +daunted, he almost blushed when that personage peremptorily resisted his +endeavour to present the wrong glass for champagne, which fortunately he +disliked too much at the first taste to make another attempt. Lord +Northmoor, for the first time at the foot of his own table, was on thorns +all the time, lest he should see his nephew commit some indiscretion, and +left most of the conversation to Miss Morton and Mr. Hailes, the +solicitor, a fine-looking old gentleman, who was almost fatherly to her, +very civil to him, but who cast somewhat critical eyes on the cub who +might have to be licked into a shape befitting the heir. + +They tried to keep their host in the conversation, but without much +success, though he listened as it drifted into immediate interests and +affairs of the neighbourhood, and made response, as best he could, to the +explanations which, like well-bred people, they from time to time +directed to him. He thus learnt that Lady Adela with her little Amice +had been carried off 'by main force,' Bertha said, 'by her brother. But +she will come back again,' she added. 'She is devoted to the place and +her graves--and the poor people.' + +'I do not know what they would do without her,' said Mr. Hailes. + +'No. She is lady-of-all-work and Pro-parsoness--with all her might'; +then seeing, or thinking she saw, a puzzled look, she added, 'I don't +know if you discovered, Northmoor, that our Vicar, Mr. Woodman, has no +wife, and Adela has supplied the lack to the parish, having a soul for +country poor, whereas they are too tame for me. I care about my +neighbours, of course, after a sort, but the jolly city sparrows of the +slums for me! I long to be away.' + +What to say to this Lord Northmoor knew as little as did his nephew, and +with some difficulty he managed to utter, 'Are not they very +uncivilised?' + +'That's the beauty of it,' said Bertha; 'I've spotted my own special +preserve of match-girls, newsboys, etc., and Mr. Hailes is going to help +me to get a scrumptious little house, whence I can get to it by +underground rail. Oh, you may shake your head, Mr. Hailes, but if you +will not help me, I shall set my unassisted genius to work, and you'll +only suffer agonies in thinking of the muddle I may be making.' + +'What does Lady Adela say?' asked Mr. Hailes. + +'She thinks me old enough to take care of myself, whatever you do, Mr. +Hailes; besides, she knows I can come up to breathe! I long for it!' + +The dinner ended by Bertha rising, and proposing to Herbert to come with +her. It was not too dark, she said, to look out into the Park and see +the rabbits scudding about. + +'Ah!' said Mr. Hailes, shaking his head as they went, 'the rabbits ought +not to be so near, but there has been sad neglect since poor Mr. Morton's +death.' + +It was much easier to get on in a _tete-a-tete_, and before long Mr. +Hailes had heard some of the perplexities about Herbert, the foremost of +which was how to make him presentable for ladies' society in the evening. +If Miss Morton's presence had been anticipated, either his uncle would +not have brought him, or would have fitted him out beforehand, for though +he looked fit for the fields and woods in male company, evening costume +had not yet dawned on his imagination. Mr. Hailes recommended sending +him in the morning to the town at Colbeam, under charge of the butler, +Prowse--who would rather enjoy the commission, and was quite capable of +keeping up any needed authority. For the future training, the more +important matter on which he was next consulted, Mr. Hailes mentioned the +name of a private tutor, who was likely to be able to deal with the boy +better under present circumstances than a public school could do--since +at Herbert's age, his ignorance of the classics on the one hand, and of +gentlemanly habits on the other, would tell too much against him. + +'But,' said Mr. Hailes, 'Miss Morton will be a very good adviser to you +on that head.' + +'She is very good-natured to him,' said Frank. + +'No one living has a better heart than Miss Morton,' said Mr. Hailes +heartily; 'a little eccentric, owing to--to circumstances. She has had +her troubles, poor dear; but she has as good a heart as ever was, as you +will find, my Lord, in all arrangements with her.' + +Nevertheless, Lord Northmoor's feelings towards her might be startled the +next morning, when he descended to the dining-room. A screen cut off the +door, and as he was coming round it, followed by his nephew, Bertha's +clear voice was heard saying, 'Yes, he is inoffensive, but he is a stick. +There's no denying it, Mr. Hailes, he is a dreadful stick.' + +Frank was too far advanced to retire, before the meaning dawned on him, +partly through a little explosion of Herbert behind him, and partly from +the guilty consternation and colour with which the other two turned round +from the erection of plants among which they were standing. + +Yet it was the shy man who spoke first in the predicament, like a timid +creature driven to bay. + +'Yes, Miss Morton, I know it is too true; no one is more sensible of it +than myself. I can only hope to do my best, such as it is.' + +'Oh, Northmoor, it was very horrid and unguarded in me, and I can only be +sorry and beg your pardon,' and while she laughed and held out her hand, +there was a dew in her eyes. + +'Truths do not need pardon,' he said, as he gave a cousinly grasp, 'and I +think you will try kindly to excuse my deficiencies and disadvantages.' + +There was a certain dignity in his tone, and Bertha said heartily-- + +'Thank you. It is all right in essentials, and chatter is of very little +consequence. Now come and have some breakfast.' + +They got on together far better after that, and began to feel like +relations, before Herbert was sent off with Mr. Prowse to Colbeam. +Indeed, throughout the transactions that followed, Bertha showed herself +far less devoted to her own interests than to what might be called the +honour of the family. Her father's will had been made in haste, after +the death of his little grandson, and was as concise as possible, her +influence having told upon it. Knowing that the new heir would have +nothing to begin with, and aware that if he inherited merely the title, +house, and land, he would be in great straits, the old Lord had +bequeathed to him nearly what would have been left to the grandson, a +fair proportion of the money in the funds and bank, and all the furniture +and appurtenances of Northmoor House, excepting such articles as Bertha +and Lady Adela might select, each up to a certain value. + +Lady Adela's had been few, and already chosen, and Bertha's were +manifestly only matters of personal belonging, and not up altogether to +the amount named; so as to avoid stripping the place, which, at the best, +was only splendid in utterly unaccustomed eyes. Horses and carriages had +to be bought of her, and it was she who told him what was absolutely +necessary, and fixed the price as low as she could, so as not to make +them a gift. And he was not so ignorant in this matter as she had +expected--for the old habits of his boyhood served him, he could ride +well, and his scruples at Miss Morton's estimate proved that he knew a +horse when he saw it--as she said. She would, perhaps, have liked him +better if he had been a dissipated horsey man like his father. He would +have given her sensations--and on his side, considering the reputation of +the family, he was surprised at her eager, almost passionate desire to be +rid of the valuable horses and equipages as soon as possible. + +When, in the afternoon, she went out of doors to refresh herself with a +solitary ramble in the Park after her morning of business, she heard an +altercation, and presently encountered a keeper, dragging after him a +trespasser, in whom, to her amazement, she recognised Herbert Morton, at +the same moment as he exclaimed: 'Cousin Bertha! Miss-- Look at this +impudent fellow, though I told him I was Lord Northmoor's own nephew.' + +'And I told him, ma'am,' said the keeper, touching his hat, 'that if he +was ten nephews I wouldn't have him throwing stones at my pheasants, nor +his Lordship wouldn't neither, and then he sauced me, and I said I would +see what his Lordship said to that.' + +'You must excuse him this time, Best,' said Miss Morton; 'he is a +town-bred boy, and knows no better, and you had better not worry his +Lordship about it.' + +'Very well, Miss Morton, if it is your pleasure, but them pheasants are +my province, and I must do my dooty.' + +'Of course, quite right, Best,' she answered; 'but my cousin here did not +understand, and you must make allowance for him.' + +Best touched his hat again, and went off with an undercurrent of growl. + +'Oh, Herbert, this is a pity!' Miss Morton exclaimed. + +'Cheeky chap!' said Herbert sulkily. 'What business had he to meddle +with me? A great big wild bird gets up with no end of a row, and I did +nothing but shy a stone, and out comes this fellow at me in a regular +wax, and didn't care half a farthing when I told him who I was. I fancy +he did not believe me.' + +'I don't wonder,' said Bertha; 'you have yet to learn that in the eyes of +any gentleman, nothing is much more sacred than a pheasant.' + +'I never meant to hurt the thing, only one just chucks a stone,' muttered +Herbert, abashed, but still defensive and offended. 'I thought my uncle +would teach the rascal how to speak to me.' + +'I'll tell you what, Herbert, if you take that line with good old +servants, who are only doing their duty, you won't have a happy time of +it here. I suppose you wish to take your place as a gentleman. Well, +the greatest sign of a gentleman is to be courteous and well-behaved to +all about him.' + +'He wasn't courteous or well-behaved to me.' + +'No, because you did not show yourself such a gentleman as he has been +used to. If you acted like a tramp or a poacher, no wonder he thought +you one'; then, after a pause, 'You will find that much of your pleasure +in sport depends on the keepers, and that it would be a great +disadvantage to be on bad terms with them, so I strongly advise you, on +every account, to treat them with civility, and put out of your head that +there is any dignity in being rude.' + +Herbert liked Miss Morton, and had been impressed as well as kindly +treated by her, and though he sulked now, there was an after-effect. + + + + +CHAPTER X +COMING HONOURS + + +With great trepidation did Mary Marshall set forth on her visit to Coles +Kenton. She had made up her mind--and a determined mind it could be on +occasion--that on it should turn her final acceptance of her twenty +years' lover. + +Utterly inexperienced as she was, even in domestic, not to say high life, +she had perhaps an exaggerated idea, alike of its requirements and of her +own deficiencies; and she was resolved to use her own judgment, according +to her personal experience, whether she should be hindrance or help to +him whom she loved too truly and unselfishly to allow herself to be made +the former. + +She was glad that for the first few days she should not see him, and +should thus be less distracted and biased, but it was with a sinking +heart that she heard that Lady Kenton had called to take her up in the +carriage. Grateful as she was for the kindness, which saved her the +dreariness of a solitary arrival, she was a strange mixture of resolution +and self-distrust, of moral courage and timidity, as had been shown by +her withstanding all Miss Lang's endeavours to make her improve her dress +beyond what was absolutely necessary for the visit, lest it should be +presuming on the future. + +Lady Kenton had a manner such as to smooth away shyness, and, with tact +that perceived with what kind of nature she had to deal, managed to make +the tea-table serve only as a renewal of acquaintance with Frederica, and +an introduction to Sir Edward, after which Mary was taken to the +schoolroom and made known to the governess, a kindly, sensible woman, +who, according to previous arrangement, made the visitor free of her +domains as a refuge. + +The prettiness and luxury of the guest-chamber was quite a shock, and +Mary would rather have faced a dozen naughty girls than have taken Sir +Edward's arm to go in to dinner. However, her hostess had decided on a +quiet course of treatment such as not to frighten this pupil, and it had +been agreed only to take enough notice of her to prevent her from feeling +herself neglected, until she should begin to be more at ease. Nor was it +long before a certain sparkle in the brown eyes showed that she was +amused by, and appreciative of, the family talk. + +It was true, as Lady Kenton had told her, that she had nothing to +unlearn, all she wanted was confidence, experience, and ease, and in so +humble, gentle, and refined a nature as hers, the acquisition of these +could not lead to the disclosure of anything undesirable. So, after the +first day of novelty, when she had learnt the hours, could distinguish +between the young people, knew her way about the house so as to be secure +of not opening the wrong doors, and when she had learnt where and when +she would be welcome and even helpful, she began to enjoy herself and the +life, the beauty, and the leisure. + +She made friends heartily with the governess, fraternised with Freda, +taught the younger girls new games, could hold a sort of conversation +with Sir Edward, became less afraid of George, and daily had more of +filial devotion to Lady Kenton. The books on the tables were a real +delight and pleasure to her, when she found that it was not ill-mannered +to sit down and read in the forenoon, and the discussion of them was a +great help in what Freda called teaching her to talk. Visitors were very +gradually brought upon her, a gentleman or two at first, who knew nothing +about her, perhaps thought her the governess and merely bowed to her. +There was only one real _contretemps_, when some guests, who lived rather +beyond the neighbourhood, arrived for afternoon tea, and, moreover, full +of curiosity about Lord Northmoor. Was it true that he was an attorney's +clerk, and was not he going to marry a very inferior person? + +'Certainly not,' said Lady Kenton. 'He is engaged to my friend, Miss +Marshall.' + +The said Miss Marshall was handing the sugar, while Freda was pouring out +the tea. She had been named on the ladies' entrance, and the colour rose +to her eyes but she said nothing, while there was a confusion of, 'I beg +pardon. I understand.' + +'Report makes a good many mistakes,' said Lady Kenton coolly. 'Mary, my +dear, you have given me no sugar.' + +It was the first time of calling her by her Christian name, and done for +the sake of making the equal intimacy apparent. In fact, Mary was +behaving herself better than the visitors, as Lady Kenton absolutely told +her when a sort of titter was heard in the hall, where they were +expressing to Freda their horror at the scrape, and extorting that Miss +Marshall was really a governess. + +'But quite a lady,' said Freda stoutly, 'and we are all as fond of her as +possible.' + +It showed how much progress she had made that even this shock did not set +her to express any more faint-hearted doubts, and, when Lord Northmoor +arrived the next day, the involuntary radiance on both their faces was +token enough that they were all the world to each other. Mary allowed +herself to venture on getting Lady Kenton's counsel on the duties of +household headship that would fall on her; and instead of being terrified +at the great garden-party and dinner-party to be held at Coles Kenton, +eagerly availed herself of instruction in the details of their +management. She had accepted her fate, and when the two were seen moving +about among the people of the party they neither of them looked +incongruous with the county aristocracy. Quiet, retiring, and +insignificant they might be, but there was nothing to remark by the most +curious eyes of those who knew they were to see the new peer and his +destined bride; in fact, as George and Freda privately remarked, they +were just the people that nobody ever would see at all, unless they were +set up upon a pedestal. + +Mary still feebly suggested, when the marriage was spoken of, that it +might be wiser for Frank to wait a year, get over his first expenses and +feel his way; but he would not hear of her going back to her work, and +pleaded his solitude so piteously that she could not but consent to let +it take place as soon as possible. They would fain have kept it as +private as possible, but their good friends were of opinion that it was +necessary to give them a start with some _eclat_, and insisted that it +should take place with all due honours at Coles Kenton, where Mary was +treated like a favoured niece, and assisted with counsel on her +_trousseau_. The savings she had made during the long years of her +engagement were enough to fit her out sufficiently to feel that she was +bringing her own wardrobe, and Lady Kenton actually went to London with +her to superintend the outlay. + +'Whom would they like to have asked to the wedding?' the lady inquired, +herself naming the Langs and Burfords. 'Of course,' she added, smiling, +'Freda and Alice will be only too happy to be bridesmaids. Have you any +one whom you would wish to ask? Your old scholars perhaps.' + +'I think,' said Mary, hesitating, 'that one reason why we think we ought +to decline your kindness was--about _his_ relations.' + +Lady Kenton had given full license to the propriety of calling _him_ +Frank with intimate friends, but Mary always had a shyness about it. + +'Indeed, I should make no question about asking them, if I had not +doubted whether, after what passed--' + +'That is all forgotten,' said Mary gently. 'I have had quite a nice +letter since, and--' + +'Of course they must be asked,' said Lady Kenton; 'I should have proposed +it before, but for that scene.' + +'That is nothing,' said Mary; 'the doubt is whether, considering the +style of people, it would not be better for us to manage it otherwise, +and not let you be troubled.' + +'Oh, that's nothing! On such an occasion there's no fear of their not +behaving like the rest of the world. There are girls, I think; they +should be bridesmaids.' + +This very real kindness overcame all scruples, and indeed a great deal +might be forgiven to Miss Marshall in consideration of the glory of +telling all Westhaven of the invitation to be present 'at my brother Lord +Northmoor's wedding, at Sir Edward Kenton's, Baronet.' He gave the +dresses, not only the bridesmaids' white and cerise (Freda's choice), but +the chocolate moire which for a minute Mrs. Morton fancied 'the little +spiteful cat' had chosen on purpose to suppress her, till assured by all +qualified beholders, especially Mrs. Rollstone and a dressmaker friend, +that in nothing else would she have looked so entirely quite the lady. + +And Lady Kenton's augury was fulfilled. The whole family were subdued +enough by their surroundings to comport themselves quite well enough to +pass muster. + + + + +CHAPTER XI +POSSESSION + + +So Francis Morton, Baron Northmoor of Northmoor, and Mary Marshall, +daughter of the late Reverend John Marshall, were man and wife at last. +Their honeymoon was ideally happy. It fulfilled a dream of their life, +when Frank used, in the holidays spent by Mary with his mother, to read +aloud the Waverley novels, and they had calculated, almost as an +impossible castle in the air, the possibility of visiting the localities. +And now they went, as assuredly they had never thought of going, and not +much impeded by the greatness that had been thrust on them. The +good-natured Kentons had dispensed his Lordship from the encumbrance of a +valet, and though my Lady could not well be allowed to go maidless, Lady +Kenton had found a sensible, friendly person for her, of whom she soon +ceased to be afraid, and thus felt the advantage of being able to attend +to her husband instead of her luggage. + +Tourists might look and laugh at their simple delight as at that of a +pair of unsophisticated cockneys. This did not trouble them, as they +trod what was to them classic ground, tried in vain the impossible feat +of 'seeing Melrose aright,' but revelled in what they did see, stood with +bated breath at Dryburgh by the Minstrel's tomb, and tracked his magic +spells from the Tweed even to Staffa, feeling the full delight for the +first time of mountain, sea, and loch. Their enjoyment was perhaps even +greater than that of boy and girl, for it was the reaction of chastened +lives and hearts 'at leisure from themselves,' nor were spirit and vigour +too much spent for enterprise. + +They tasted to the full every innocent charm that came in their way, and, +above all, the bliss of being together in the perfect sympathy that had +been the growth of so many years. Their maid, Harte, might well confide +to her congeners that though my lord and my lady were the oldest couple +she had known, they were the most attached, in a quiet way. + +They were loth to end this state of felicity before taking their new +cares upon them, and were glad that the arrangements of the executors +made it desirable that they should not take possession till October, when +they left behind them the gorgeous autumn beauty of the western coast and +journeyed southwards. + +The bells were rung, the gates thrown wide open, and lights flashed in +the windows as Lord and Lady Northmoor drove up to their home, but it was +in the dark, and there was no demonstrative welcome, the indoor servants +were all new, the cook-housekeeper hired by Lady Kenton's assistance, and +the rest of the maids chosen by her, the butler and his subordinate +acquired in like manner. + +It was a little dreary. The rooms looked large and empty. Miss Morton's +belongings had been just what gave a homelike air to the place, and when +these were gone, even the big fires could not greatly cheer the huge +spaces. However, these two months had accustomed the new arrivals to +their titles, and likewise to being waited upon, and they were less at a +loss than they would have been previously, though to Mary especially it +was hard to realise that it was her own house, and that she need ask no +one's leave. Also that it was not a duty to sit with a fire. She could +not well have done so, considering how many were doing their best to +enliven the house, and finally she spent the evening in the library, not +a very inviting room in itself, but which the late lord had inhabited, +and where the present one had already held business interviews. It was, +of course, lined with the standard books of the last generation, and +Mary, who had heard of many, but never had access to them, flitted over +them while her husband opened the letters he had found awaiting him. To +her, what some one has called the 'tea, tobacco, and snuff' of an old +library where the books are chiefly viewed as appropriate furniture, were +all delightful discoveries. Even to 'Hume's _History of England_--nine +volumes! I did not know it was so long! Our first class had the +Student's _Hume_. Is there much difference?' + +'Rather to the Student's advantage, I believe. Half these letters, at +least, are mere solicitations for custom! And advertisements!' + +'How the books stick together! I wonder when they were opened last!' + +'Never, I suspect,' said he. 'I do not imagine the Mortons were much +disposed to read.' + +'Well, they have left us a delightful store! What's this? Smollett's +_Don Quixote_. I always wanted to know about that. Is it not something +about giants and windmills? Have you read it?' + +'I once read an odd volume. He was half mad, and too good for this +world, and thought he was living in a romance. I will read you some +bits. You would not like it all.' + +'Oh, I do hope you will have time to read to me! Gibbon's _Decline and +Fall of the Roman Empire_. All these volumes! They are quite damp. You +have read it?' + +'Yes, and I wish I could remember all those Emperors. I must put aside +this letter for Hailes--it is a man applying for a house.' + +'How strange it sounds! Look, here is such an immense _Shakespeare_! +Oh! full of engravings,' as she fell upon Boydell's +_Shakespeare_--another name reverenced, though she only knew a few +selected plays, prepared for elocution exercises. + +Her husband, having had access to the Institute Library, and spent many +evenings over books, was better read than she, whose knowledge went no +farther than that of the highest class, but who knew all very accurately +that she did know, and was intelligent enough to find in those shelves a +delightful promise of pasture. He was by this time sighing over requests +for subscriptions. + +'Such numbers! Such good purposes! But how can I give?' + +'Cannot you give at least a guinea?' asked Mary, after hearing some. + +'I do not know whether in this position a small sum in the list is not +more disadvantageous than nothing at all. Besides, I know nothing of the +real merits. I must ask Hailes. Ah! and here is Emma, I thought that +she would be a little impatient. She says she shall let her house for +the winter, and thinks of going to London or to Brighton, where she may +have masters for the girls.' + +'Oh, I thought you meant them to go to a good school?' + +'So I do, if I can get Emma's consent; but I doubt her choosing to part +with Ida. She wants to come here.' + +'I suppose we ought to have her?' + +'Yes, but not immediately. I do not mean to neglect her--at least, I do +hope to do all that is right; but I think you ought to have a fair start +here before she comes, so that we will invite her for Christmas, and then +we can arrange about Ida and Constance.' + +'Dear little Connie, I hope she is as nice a little girl as she used to +be!' + +'With good training, I think, she will be; and the tutor gives me good +accounts of Herbert in this letter.' + +'Shall we have him here on Sunday week?' + +'Yes, I am very anxious to see him. I hope his master gives him more +religious instruction than he has ever had, poor boy!' + +Though not brilliant or playful, Lord and Lady Northmoor had, it may be +perceived, no lack of good sense in their strange new surroundings. It +was hard not to feel like guests on sufferance, and next morning, a +Sunday, was wet. However, under their waterproofs and umbrellas trudging +along, they felt once more, as Mary said, like themselves, as if they had +escaped from their keepers. Nobody on the way had the least idea who the +two cloaked figures were, and when they crept into the seat nearest the +door they were summarily ejected by a fat, red-faced man, who growled +audibly, 'You've no business in my pew!' + +However, with the words, 'Beg your pardon,' they stepped out with a +little amusement in their eyes, when a spruce young woman sprang up from +the opposite pew, with a scandalised whisper-- + +'Mr. Ruddiman, it's his Lordship! Allow me, my Lord--your own seat--' + +And she marshalled them up to the choir followed closely by Mr. Ruddiman, +ruddier than ever, and butcher all over, in a perfect agony of apology, +which Lord Northmoor in vain endeavoured to suppress or silence, till, +when the guide had pointed to a handsome heavy carved seat with elaborate +cushions, he gave a final gasp of, 'You'll not remember it in the custom, +my Lord,' and departed, leaving his Lordship almost equally scarlet with +annoyance at the place and time of the demonstration, though, happily, +the clergyman had not yet appeared, in his long and much-tumbled +surplice. + +It was a case of a partial restoration of a church in the dawn of such +doings, when the horsebox was removed, but the great family could not be +routed out of the chancel, so there were the seats, where the choir ought +to have sat, beneath a very ugly east window, bedecked with the Morton +arms. In the other division of the seat was a pale lady in black, with a +little girl, Lady Adela Morton, no doubt, and opposite were the servants, +and the school children sat crowded on the steps. It was not such a +service as had been the custom of the Hurminster churches; and the +singing, such as it was, depended on the thin shrill voices of the +children, assisted by Lady Adela and the mistress; the sermon was dull +and long, and altogether there was something disheartening about the +whole. + +Lady Adela had a gentle, sweet countenance and a simple devout manner; +but it was disappointing that she did not attempt to address the +newcomers, though they passed her just outside the churchyard, talking to +an old man. Lady Kenton would surely have welcomed them. + + + + +CHAPTER XII +THE BURTHEN OF HONOURS + + +A fearful affair to the new possessors of Northmoor was the matter of +morning calls. The first that befell them, as in duty bound, was that +from the Vicar. They were peaceably writing their letters in the +library, and hoping soon to go out to explore the Park, when Mr. Woodman +was announced, and was found a lonely black speck in the big dreary +drawing-room, a very state room, indeed, which nobody had ever willingly +inhabited. The Vicar was accustomed to be overridden; he was an elderly +widower, left solitary in his old age, and of depressed spirits and +manner. However, Frank had been used to intercourse with clergy, though +his relations with them seemed reversed, and instead of being patronised, +he had to take the initiative; or rather, they touched each other's cold, +shy, limp hands, and sat upright in their chairs, and observed upon the +appropriate topic of early frosts, which really seemed to be affecting +themselves. + +There was a little thaw when Lord Northmoor asked about the population, +larger, alas, than the congregation might have seemed to show, and Mary +asked if there were much poverty, and was answered that there was much +suffering in the winter, there was not much done for the poor except by +Lady Adela. + +'You must tell us how we can assist in any way.' + +The poor man began to brighten. 'It will be a great comfort to have some +interest in the welfare of the parish taken here, my Lord. The influence +hitherto has not been fortunate. Miss Morton, indeed--latterly--but, +poor thing, if I may be allowed to say so, she is flighty--and +uncertain--no wonder--' + +At that moment Lady Adela was ushered in, and the Vicar looked as if +caught in talking treason, while a fresh nip of frost descended on the +party. + +Not that the lady was by any means on stiff terms with the Vicar, whom, +indeed, she daily consulted on parochial subjects, and she had the +gracious, hereditary courtesy of high breeding; but she always averred +that this same drawing-room chilled her, and she was fully persuaded that +any advance towards familiarity would lead to something obnoxious on the +part of the newcomers, so that the proper relations between herself and +them could only be preserved by a judicious entrenchment of courtesy. +Still, it was more the manner of the Vicar than of herself that gave the +impression of her being a formidable autocrat. After the frost had been +again languidly discussed, Mr. Woodman faltered out, 'His Lordship was +asking--was so good as to ask--how to assist in the parish.' + +Lady Adela knew how scarce money must be, so she hesitated to mention +subscriptions, and only said, 'Thank you--very kind.' + +'Is there any one I could read to?' ventured Mary. + +'Have you been used to the kind of thing?' asked Lady Adela, not +unkindly, but in a doubting tone. + +'No, I never could before; but I do wish to try to do something.' + +The earnest humility of the tone was touching, the Vicar and the autocrat +looked at one another, and the former suggested, 'Old Swan!' + +'Yes,' said Lady Adela, 'old Swan lives out at Linghill, which is not +above half a mile from this house, but too far off for me to visit +constantly. I shall be very much obliged if you can undertake the +cottages there.' + +'Thank you,' said Mary, as heartily as if she were receiving a commission +from the Bishop of the diocese. + +'Did not Miss Morton mention something about a boys' class?' said Frank. +'I have been accustomed to a Sunday school.' + +Mr. Woodman betrayed as much surprise as if he had said he was accustomed +to a coal mine; and Lady Adela observed graciously, 'Most of them have +gone into service this Michaelmas; but no doubt it will be a relief to +Mr. Woodman if you find time to undertake them.' + +This was the gist of the first two morning calls, and there were many +more such periods of penance, for the bride and bridegroom were not +modern enough in their notions to sit up to await their visitors, and +thankful they were to those who would be at the expense of finding +conversation, though this was not always the case; for much of the +neighbourhood was of a description to be awed by the mere fact of a great +house, and to take the shyness of titled people for pride. Those with +whom they prospered best were a good-natured, merry old dowager duchess, +with whom they felt themselves in the altitude to which they were +accustomed at Hurminster; a loud-voiced, eager old squire, who was bent +on being Lord Northmoor's guide and prompter in county business; also an +eager, gushing lady, the echoes of whose communications made Frank +remark, after her departure, 'We must beware of encouraging gossip about +the former family.' + +'Oh, I wish I had the power of setting people down when they say what is +undesirable, like Miss Lang, or Lady Adela!' sighed Mary. + +'Try to think of them like your school girls,' he said. + +The returning of the calls was like continually pulling the string of a +shower-bath, and glad were the sighs when people proved to be not at +home; but on the whole, being entertained was not half so formidable as +entertaining, and a bride was not expected to do more than sit in her +white silk, beside the host. + +But the return parties were an incubus on their minds. Only they were +not to be till after Christmas. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII +THE DOWER HOUSE + + +Over the hearth of the drawing-room of the Dower House, in the sociable +twilight that had descended on the afternoon tea-table, sat three +ladies--for Lady Adela and Miss Morton had just welcomed Mrs. Bury, who, +though she had her headquarters in London, generally spent her time in +visits to her married daughters or expeditions abroad. + +Amice had just exhibited her doll, Elmira's last acquisition, a little +chest of drawers, made of matchboxes and buttons, that Constance Morton +had taught her to make, and then she had gone off to put the said Elmira +and her companions to bed, after giving it as her grave opinion that Lady +Northmoor was a great acquisition. + +'Do you think so?' said Mrs. Bury, after the laugh at the sedate +expression. + +'She is very kind to Amice, and I do not think she will do her any harm,' +said Lady Adela. + +'Governessing was her _metier_,' added Bertha, 'so it is not likely.' + +'And how does it turn out?' + +'Oh, it might be a good deal worse. I see no reason for not living on +here.' + +'And you, Birdie?' + +'No, I _couldn't_! I've been burning to get away these seven years, and +as Northmoor actually seems capable of taking my boys, my last tie is +gone. I'm only afraid he'll bore them with too much Sabbatarianism and +temperance. He is just the cut of the model Sabbath-school teacher, only +he vexes Addie's soul by dashes of the Ritualist.' + +'Well,' said Mrs. Bury, 'the excellent Mr. Woodman is capable of +improvement.' + +'But how?' said Lady Adela. 'Narrow ritualism without knowledge or +principle is a thing to be deprecated.' + +'Is it without knowledge or principle?' + +'How should an attorney's clerk get either?' + +'But I understand you that they are worthy people, and not obnoxious.' + +'Worthy!' exclaimed Bertha. 'Yes, worthy to their stiff backbones, +worthy to the point of utter dulness; they haven't got enough vulgarity +even to drop their h's or be any way entertaining. I should like them +ever so much better if they ate with their knives and drank out of their +saucers, but she can't even mispronounce a French word worse than most +English people.' + +'No pretension even?' + +'Oh no; if there were, one could get some fun out of it. I have heard of +bearing honours meekly, but they don't even do that, they just let them +hang on them, like the stick and stock they are. If I were Addie, it +would be the deadly liveliness that would drive me away.' + +'Nay,' said Adela; 'one grows to be content with mere negations, if they +are nothing worse. I _could_ be driven away, or at least find it an +effort to remain, if Lady Northmoor were like her sister-in-law.' + +'Ah, now, that's just what would make it tolerable to me. I could get a +rise or two out of that Mrs. Morton. I did get her to be confidential +and to tell me how much better the honours would have sat upon her dear +husband. I believe she thinks that if he were alive he would have shared +them like the Spartan kings. She wishes that "her brother, Lord +Northmoor" (you should hear the tone), "were more worldly, and she begs +me to impress on him the duty of doing everything for her dear Herbert, +who, in the nature of things, must be the heir to the peerage."' + +'I am sure I hope not,' said Lady Adela. 'He is an insufferable boy. +The people about the place can't endure him. He is quite insolent.' + +'The animal, man, when in certain stages of development, has a peculiar +tendency to be unpleasant,' observed Bertha philosophically. 'To my +mind, Master Herbert is the most promising of the specimens.' + +'Birdie! He is much worse than his uncle.' + +'Promising, I said, not performing. Whatever promise there may have been +in Northmoor must have been nipped upon the top of a high stool, but if +he has sense enough to put that boy into good hands he may come to +something. I like him enough myself to feel half inclined to do what I +can towards licking him into shape, for the honour of the family! It is +that girl Ida that riles me most.' + +'Yes,' said Lady Adela, 'she behaved fairly well in company, but I saw +her tittering and whispering with Emily Trotman in a tone that I thought +very bad for Emily.' + +'She's spoilt; her mother worships her,' said Bertha. 'I had a pleasing +confidence or two about how she is already admired, or, as Mrs. Morton +calls it, how the gentlemen are after her; but now she shall not put up +with anything but a _real_ gentleman, and of course her uncle will do +something handsome for her.' + +'Poor man! I wish him joy. Has he more belongings?' + +'Providentially, no. We have the honour of standing nearest to him, and +she seems to have none at all, unless they should be attracted by the +scent.' + +'That is not likely,' said Lady Adela; 'she was a clergy orphan, and +never heard of any relations.' + +'Then you really know no harm of them, in these four or five months?' +said Mrs. Bury. + +'No; except having these relations,' said Adela. + +'Except being just sensible enough not to afford even the pleasure of +laughing at them,' said Bertha. 'Nay, just worthy enough'--she said it +spitefully--'not even to give the relief of a good grumble.' + +'Well, I think you may be thankful!' + +'Exactly what one doesn't want to be!' said Bertha. 'I like sensations. +Now Letitia is going to come down with a prediction that they are to +become the blessings of our lives, so I am off!' + +And as the door closed on her, Lady Adela sighed, and Mrs. Bury said-- + +'Poor Birdie; is she always in that tone?' + +'Yes,' said Lady Adela; 'there seems to be always a bitter spot in her +heart. I am glad she should try to work it out.' + +'I suppose living here with her father tended to brooding. Yet she has +always done a good deal.' + +'Not up to her powers. Lord Northmoor never ceased to think her a mere +girl, and obstructed her a good deal; besides, all his interest being in +horses, she never could get rid of the subject, and wounds were +continually coming back on us--on her.' + +'On you as well, poor Addie.' + +'He did not understand. Besides, to me these things were not the raw +scene they were to her. It has been a very sad time for her. You see, +there is not much natural softness in her, and she was driven into +roughness and impatience when he worried her over racing details and +other things. And then she was hurt at his preferring to have me with +him. It has been very good and generous in her not to have been jealous +of me.' + +'I think she was glad he could find comfort in you. And you have never +heard of Captain Alder?' + +'Never! In justice, and for the sake of dear Arthur's wishes, I should +be glad to explain; but I wonder whether, as she is now, it would be well +that they should meet.' + +'If it is so ordained, I suppose they will. What's that?' + +It was Lord and Lady Northmoor, formally announced, and as formally +introduced, to Mrs. Bury. + +They had come, the lady said, when they were seated, with a message from +'Old Swan,' to ask for a bit of my lady's plaster for his back to ease +his rheumatism at night. His daughter was only just come in from work, +so they had ventured to bring the message. + +'Is any one coming for it?' + +'I said we would bring it back,' replied Mary, 'if you would kindly let +us have it.' + +'Why, it is a mile out of your way!' + +'It is moonlight, and we do so enjoy a walk together,' she answered. + +'Well, Adela,' said Mrs. Bury, when they were gone with the roll of +plaster, 'I agree that they might be worse--and by a great deal!' + +'Did he speak all the time?' + +'Yes, once. But there are worse faults than silence; and she seems a +bonny little woman. Honeymooning still--that moonlight walk too.' + +'I can fancy that it is a treat to escape from Mrs. Morton. She is +depths below them in refinement!' + +'On the whole, I think you may be thankful, Adela.' + +'I hope I am. I believe you would soon be intimate with them; but then +you always could get on with all sorts of people, and I have a shrinking +from getting under the surface--if I _could_.' + +And indeed, further intercourse, though not without shocks and +casualties, made Mary Northmoor wish that Letitia Bury had been the +permanent inhabitant; above all, when she undertook to come and give her +counsel and support for that first tremendous undertaking--the +dinner-party. Lady Kenton was equally helpful at their next; and Sir +Edward gave much good advice to his lordship as to not letting himself be +made the tool of the loud-voiced squire, who was anxious to be his guide, +philosopher, and friend in county business--advice that made Frank's +heart sink, for thus far he felt only capable of sitting still and +listening. + + + + +CHAPTER XIV +WESTHAVEN VERSIONS OF HONOURS + + +'Thank you, a bit of partridge, Mr. Rollstone, if you please.' + +'Excuse me, Mrs. Grover. This is a grouse from Lord Northmoor's own +moors, I presume,' replied Mr. Rollstone, to the tune of a peal of +laughter from Herbert and exclamation--'Not know a grouse!'--for which +Ida frowned at him. + +'Yes, indeed,' said his mother; 'we had so much game up at my brother's, +Lord Northmoor's, that I shall quite miss it now I am come away.' + +'Flimsy sort of grub!' growled an old skipper. 'Only fit for this sort +of a tea--not to make a real meal on, fit for "a man"!' + +The young folk laughed. Captain Purdy was only invited as a messmate of +Mrs. Morton's father. + +'You'll excuse this being only a tea,' went on Mrs. Morton. 'I hope to +have a dinner in something more of style if ever I return here, but I +could not attempt it with my present establishment after what we have got +accustomed to. Why, we never sat down to dinner without two +menservants!' + +'Only two?' said Mr. Rollstone. 'I have never been without three men +under me; and I always had two to wait, even when the lady dined alone.' + +Mrs. Grover, who had been impressed for a moment, took courage to say-- + +'I don't think so much of your grouse, Mrs. Morton. It's tasty and +'igh.' + +'High game goes with high families,' wickedly murmured Herbert, causing +much tittering at his corner of the table; and this grew almost +convulsive, while another matron of the party observed-- + +'Mrs. Macdonald, Mr. Holt's sister in Scotland, once sent us some, and +really, Mrs. Morton, if you boil them down, they are almost as good as a +pat-ridge!' + +'Oh, really now, Mrs. Holt! I hope you didn't tell Mrs. Macdonald so!' +said Mrs. Morton. 'It is a real valuable article, such as my brother, +Lord Northmoor, would only send to us, and one or two old friends that he +wishes to compliment at Hurminster. But one must be used to high society +to know how such things should be relished!' + +'Are Lord Northmoor's moors extensive?' asked Mr. Rollstone. + +'There's about four or five miles of them,' responded Herbert; 'and these +grouse are awfully shy.' + +'Ah, the Earl of Blackwing owns full twenty miles of heather,' said the +ex-butler. + +'Barren stuff!' growled the skipper; 'breeding nothing worth setting +one's teeth into!' + +'There are seven farms besides,' put in Mrs. Morton. 'My brother is +going to have an audit-day next week.' + +'You should have seen the Earl's audits,' said Mr. Rollstone. +'Five-and-twenty substantial tenant-farmers, besides artisans, and all +the family plate on the sideboard!' + +'Ah, you should see the Northmoor plate!' said Mrs. Morton. 'There are +racing cups, four of them--not that any one could drink out of them, for +they are just centre-pieces for the table. There's a man in armour +galloping off headlong with a girl behind him-- Who did your uncle say +it was, Conny?' + +'The Templar and Rowena, mamma,' said Constance. + +'Yes, that was the best--all frosted. I liked that better than the one +where the girl with no clothes to speak of was running like mad after a +golden ball. They said that was an heirloom, worth five hundred--' + +'Lord Burnside's yachting cups are valued at five thousand,' said Mr. +Rollstone. 'I should know, for I had the care of them, and it was a +responsibility as weighed on my mind.' + +So whatever Mrs. Morton described as to the dignities and splendours of +Northmoor, Mr. Rollstone continued to cap with more magnificent +experiences, so that, though he never pretended to view himself in the +light of a participator in the grandeur he described, he continued, quite +unintentionally, so to depreciate the glories of Northmoor, that Mrs. +Morton began to recollect how far above him her sphere had become, and to +decide against his future admission to her parties. + +The young ladies, as soon as tea was over, retired into corners in pairs, +having on their side much to communicate. Rose Rollstone was at home for +a holiday, after having begun to work at an establishment for art and +ecclesiastical needlework, and it was no small treat to her and Constance +to meet and compare their new experiences. Rose, always well brought up +by her father, was in a situation carefully trained by a lady head, and +watched over by those who deepened and cultivated her religious feeling; +and Constance had to tell of the new facilities of education offered to +them. Ida was too delicate for school, their mother said, and was only +to have music lessons at Brighton, or in London whenever the present +house could be parted with; but Herbert had already begun to work with a +tutor for the army, and Constance was to go to the High School at Colbeam +and spend her Sundays at Northmoor, where a prettily-furnished room was +set apart for her. She described it with so much zest that Rose was +seized with a sort of alarm. 'You will live there like all the lords and +ladies that papa talks of, and grow worldly and fashionable.' + +'Oh no, no,' cried Constance, and there was a girlish kissing match, but +Rose seemed to think worldliness inevitable. + +'The Earl my papa lived with used to bet and gamble, and come home +dreadfully late at night, and so did my lady and her daughters, and their +poor maid had to sit up for them till four o'clock in the morning. Then +their bills! They never told his lordship, but they sold their diamonds +and wore paste. His lordship did not know, but their maid did, and told +papa.' + +Constance opened her eyes and declared that Uncle Frank and Aunt Mary +never could do such things. Moreover, she averred that Lady Adela was +always going about among the cottages, and that Miss Morton had not a bit +of pride, and was going to live in London to teach the dust-pickers and +match-box makers. 'Indeed, I don't think they are half as worldly in +themselves,' she said, 'as Ida is growing with thinking about them.' + +'Ah, don't you remember the sermon that said worldliness didn't depend on +what one has, but what one is?' + +'Talking of nothing better than sermons!' said Herbert, coming on them. +'Have you caught it of the governor, Con? I believe he thinks of nothing +but sermons.' + +And Constance exclaimed, 'I am sure he doesn't preach!' + +'Oh no, nothing comes out of his mouth that he can help; trust him for +that.' + +'Then how do you know?' + +'By the stodgy look of him. He would be the awfullest of prosers if he +had the gift of the gab.' + +'You are an ungrateful boy,' said Rose. 'I am sure he must be very kind +to you.' + +'Can't help it,' said Herbert. 'The old fellow would be well enough if +he had any go in him.' + +'I am sure he took you out hunting,' exclaimed Constance indignantly, +'the day they took us to the meet. And he leapt all the ditches when +you--' + +He broke in, 'Well, what was I to do when I've never had the chance to +learn to sit a horse? You'll see next winter.' + +'Did you hurt yourself?' asked Rose, rather mischievously. + +To which Herbert turned a deaf ear and began to expatiate upon the game +of Northmoor, till other sounds led him away to fall upon the other +_tete-a-tete_ between Ida and Sibyl Grover. In Ida's mind the honours of +Northmoor were dearly purchased by the dulness and strictness of the life +there. + +'My uncle was as cross as two sticks if ever Herbert or I were too late +for prayers, and he said it was nonsense of Herbert to say that kneeling +at church spoilt his trousers--kneeling just like a school child! It +made me so faint!' + +'And it looks so!' + +'I tried, because Lady Adela and Miss Bertha and all do,' said Ida, 'and +they looked at me! But it made me faint, as I knew it would,' and she +put her head on one side. + +'Poor dear! So they were so very religious! Did that spoil it all?' + +'Well, we had pretty things off the Christmas-tree, and we lived quite as +ladies, and drove out in the carriage.' + +'No parties nor dances? Or were they too religious?' + +'Ma says it is their meanness; but my aunt, Lady Northmoor, did say +perhaps it would be livelier another year, and then we should have had +some dancing and deportment lessons. I up and told her I could dance +fast enough now, but she said it would not be becoming or right to Lady +Adela's and Miss Morton's feelings.' + +'Do they live there?' + +'Not in the house. Lady Adela has a cottage of her own, and Miss Morton +stops with her. Lady Adela is as high and standoffish as the monument,' +said Ida, pausing for a comparison. + +'High and haughty,' said Sibyl, impressed. 'And the other lady?' + +'Oh, she is much more good-natured. We call her Bertha; at least, she +told us that we might call her anything but that horrid Cousin Bertha, as +she said. But she's old, thirty-six years old, and not a bit pretty, and +she says such odd things, one doesn't know what to do. She thought I +made myself useful and could wash and iron,' said Ida, as if this were +the greatest possible insult, in which Sibyl acquiesced. + +'And she thought I should know the factory girls, just the hands,' added +Ida, greatly disgusted. 'As if I should! But ma says low tastes are in +the family, for she is going to live in London, and go and sit with the +shop-girls in the evening. Still I like her better than Lady Adela, who +keeps herself to herself. Mamma says it is pride and spite that her +plain little sickly girl hasn't come to be my Lady.' + +'What, doesn't she speak to them?' said Sibyl, quite excited. + +'Oh yes, she calls, and shakes hands, and all that, but one never seems +to get on with her. And Emily Trotman, she's the doctor's daughter, such +a darling, told me _such_ a history--so interesting!' + +'Tell me, Ida, there's a dear.' + +'She says they were all frightfully dissipated' (Ida said it quite with a +relish)--'the old Lord and Mr. Morton, Lady Adela's husband, you know, +and Miss Bertha--always racing and hunting and gambling and in debt. +Then there came a Captain Alder, who was ever so much in love with Miss +Bertha, but most awfully in debt to her brother, and very passionate +besides. So he took him out in his dog-cart with a fiery horse that was +sure to run away.' + +'Who did?' + +'Captain Alder took Mr. Morton, though they begged and prayed him not, +and the horse ran away and Mr. Morton was thrown out and killed.' + +'Oh!' with extreme zest. 'On purpose?' + +'Miss Bertha was sure it was, so that she might have all the fortune, and +so she told him, and flung the betrothal ring in his face, and he went +right off, and never has been heard of since.' + +'Well, that _is_ interesting. Do you think he shot himself?' + +'No, he was too mean. Most likely he married a hideous millionaire: but +the Mortons were always dreadful, and did all sorts of wicked things.' + +'I declare it's as good as any tale--like the sweet one in the _Young +Ladies' Friend_ now--"The Pride of Pedro." Have you seen it?' + +'No, indeed, uncle and aunt only have great old stupid books! They +wanted me to read those horrid tiresome things of Scott's, and Dickens's +too, who is as old as the hills! Why, they could not think of anything +better to do on their wedding tour but to go to all the places in the +Waverley novels.' + +'Why, they are as bad as history! Jim brought one home once, and pa +wanted me to read it, but I could not get on with it--all about a stupid +king of France. I'm sure if I married a lord I'd make him do something +nicer.' + +'I mean ma to do something more jolly,' said Ida, 'when we get more +money, and I am come out. I mean to go to balls and tennis parties, and +I shall be sure to marry a lord at some of them.' + +'And you will take me,' cried Sibyl. + +'Only you must be very genteel,' said Ida. 'Try to learn style, _do_, +dear. It must be learnt young, you know! Why, there's Aunt Mary, when +she has got ever so beautiful a satin dress on, she does not look half so +stylish as Lady Adela walking up the road in an old felt hat and a +shepherd's-plaid waterproof! But they all do dress so as I should be +ashamed. Only think what a scrape that got Herbert into. He was coming +back one Saturday from his tutor's, and he saw walking up to the house an +awfully seedy figure of fun, in an old old ulster, and such a hat as you +never saw, with a knapsack on her back, and a portfolio under her arm. +So of course he thought it was a tramp with something to sell, and he +holloaed out, "You'd better come out of this! We want none of your +sort." She just turned round and laughed, which put him in such a rage, +that though she began to speak he didn't wait, but told her to have done +with her sauce, or he would call the keepers. He thinks she said, "You'd +better," and I believe he did move his stick a little.' + +'Ida, have done with that!' cried Herbert's voice close to her. 'Hold +your tongue, or I'll--' and his hand was near her hair. + +'Oh, don't, don't, Herbert. Let me hear,' cried Sibyl. + +'That's the way girls go on,' said Herbert fiercely, 'with their nonsense +and stuff.' + +'But who--?' + +'If you go on, Ida--' he was clutching her braid. + +Sibyl sprang to the defence, and there was a general struggle and romp +interspersed with screams, which was summarily stopped by Mr. Rollstone +explaining severely, 'If you think that is the deportment of the +aristocracy, Miss Ida, you are much mistaken.' + +'Bother the aristocracy!' broke out Herbert. + +Calm was restored by a summons to a round game, but Sibyl's curiosity was +of course insatiable, and as she sat next to Herbert, she employed +various blandishments and sympathetic whispers, and after a great deal of +fuss, and 'What will you give me if I tell?' to extract the end of the +story, 'Did he call the keeper?' + +'Oh yes, the old beast! His name's Best, but it ought to be Beast! He +guffawed ever so much worse than she did!' + +'Well, but who was it?' + +And after he had tried to make her guess, and teased his fill, he owned, +'Mrs. Bury--a sort of cousin, staying with Lady Adela. She isn't half a +bad old party, but she makes a guy of herself, and goes about sketching +and painting like a blessed old drawing-master.' + +'A lady? and not a young lady.' + +'Not as old as--as Methuselah, or old Rolypoly there, but I believe she's +a grandmother. If she'd been a boy, we should have been cut out of it. +Oh yes, she's a lady--a born Morton; and when it was over she was very +jolly about it--no harm done--bears no malice, only Ida makes such an +absurd work about every little trifle.' + + + + +CHAPTER XV +THE PIED ROOK + + +Constance Morton was leaning on the rail that divided the gardens at +Northmoor from the park, which was still rough and heathery. Of all the +Morton family, perhaps she was the one who had the most profited by the +three years that had passed since her uncle's accession to the title. +She had been at a good boarding-house, attending the High School in +Colbeam, and spending Saturday and Sunday at Northmoor. It had been a +happy life, she liked her studies, made friends with her companions, and +enjoyed to the very utmost all that Northmoor gave her, in country beauty +and liberty, in the kindness of her uncle and aunt, and in the religious +training that they were able to give her, satisfying longings of her +soul, so that she loved them with all her heart, and felt Northmoor her +true home. The holiday time at Westhaven was always a trial. Mrs. +Morton had tried Brighton and London, but neither place agreed with Ida: +and she found herself a much greater personage in her own world than +elsewhere, and besides could not always find tenants for her house. So +there she lived at her ease, called by many of her neighbours the +Honourable Mrs. Morton, and finding listeners to her alternate accounts +of the grandeur of Northmoor, and murmurs at the meanness of its master +in only allowing her 300 pounds a year, besides educating her children, +and clothing two of them. + +Ida considered herself to be quite sufficiently educated, and so she was +for the society in which she was, or thought herself, a star, chiefly +consisting of the families of the shipowners, coalowners, and the like. +She was pretty, with a hectic prettiness of bright eyes and cheeks, and +had a following of the young men of the place; and though she always +tried to enforce that to receive attentions from a smart young mate, a +clerk in an office, a doctor's assistant, or the like, was a great +condescension on her part, she enjoyed them all the more. Learning new +songs for their benefit, together with extensive novel reading, were her +chief employments, and it was the greater pity because her health was not +strong. She dreamt much in a languid way, and had imagination enough to +work these tales into her visions of life. Her temper suffered, and +Constance found the atmosphere less and less congenial as she grew older +and more accustomed to a different life. + +She was a gentle, ladylike girl, with her brown hair still on her +shoulders, as on that summer Saturday she stood looking along the path, +but with her ears listening for sounds from the house, and an anxious +expression on her young face. Presently she started at the sound of a +gun, which caused a mighty cawing among the rooks in the trees on the +slopes, and a circling of the black creatures in the sky. A whistling +then was heard, and her brother Herbert came in sight in a few minutes +more, a fine tall youth of sixteen, with quite the air and carriage of a +gentleman. He had a gun on his shoulder, and carried by the claws the +body of a rook with white wings. + +'Oh, Herbert,' cried Constance in dismay, 'did you shoot that by +mistake?' + +'No; Stanhope would not believe there was such a crittur, and betted half +a sov that it was a cram.' + +'But how could you? Our uncle and aunt thought so much of that poor dear +Whitewing, and Best was told to take care of it. They will be so vexed.' + +'Nonsense! He'll come to more honour stuffed than ever he would flying +and howling up there. When I've shown him to Stanhope, I shall make that +old fellow at Colbeam come down handsomely for him. What a row those +birds kick up! I'll send my other barrel among them.' + +'Oh no, don't, Bertie. Uncle Frank has one of his dreadful headaches +to-day.' + +'Seems to me he is made of headaches.' + +'Yes, Aunt Mary is very anxious. Oh, I would have done anything that you +had not vexed them now and killed this poor dear pretty thing!' said +Constance, stroking down the glossy feathers of the still warm victim, +and laying them against her cheek, almost tearfully. + +'Well, you are not going to tell them. Perhaps they won't miss it. I +would not have done it if Stanhope had not been such a beast,' said +Herbert. + +'I shall not tell them, of course,' said Constance; 'but, if I were you, +I should not be happy till they knew.' + +'Oh, that's only girl's way! I can't have the old Stick upset now, for +I'm in horrid want of tin.' + +'Oh, Bertie, was it true then?' + +'What, you don't mean that they have heard?' + +'That you were out at those Colbeam races!' + +'To be sure I was, with Stanhope and Hailes and a lot more. We all went +except the little kids and Sisson, who is in regular training for as +great a muff as the governor there. Who told him?' + +'Mr. Hailes, who is very much concerned about his grandson.' + +'Old sneak; I wonder how he ferreted it out. Is there no end of a jaw +coming, Con?' + +'I don't know. Uncle Frank seemed quite knocked down and wretched over +it. He said something about feeling hopeless, and the old blood coming +out to be your ruin.' + +'Of course it's the old blood! How did he miss it, and turn into the +intolerable old dry fogey that he is, without a notion of anything fit +for a gentleman?' + +'Now, Herbert--' + +'Oh yes. You should just hear what the other fellows say about him. +Their mothers and their sisters say there is not so stupid a place in the +county, he hasn't a word to say for himself, and they would just as soon +go to Portland at once as to a party here.' + +'Then it is a great shame! I am sure Aunt Mary works hard to make it +pleasant for them!' + +'Oh yes, good soul, she does, she can't help it; but when people have +stuck in the mud all their lives, they can't know any better, and it is +abominably hard on a fellow who does, to be under a man who has been an +office cad all his life, and doesn't know what is expected of a +gentleman! Screwing us all up like beggars--' + +'Herbert, for shame! for shame! As if he was obliged to do anything at +all for us!' + +'Oh, isn't he? A pretty row my mother would kick up about his ears if he +did not, when I must come after him at this place, too!' + +'I think you are very ungrateful,' said Constance, with tears, 'when they +are so good to us.' + +'Oh, they are as kind as they know how, but they don't know. That's the +thing, or old Frank would be ashamed to give me such a dirty little +allowance. He has only himself to thank if I have to come upon him for +more. Found out about the Blackbird colt, has he? What a bore! And tin +I must have out of him by hook or by crook if he cuts up ever so rough. +I must send off this bird first by the post to confute Stanhope and make +him eat dirt, and then see what's to be done.' + +'Indeed, Bertie, I don't think you will see him to-night. His head is +dreadful, and Aunt Mary has sent for Mr. Trotman.' + +'Whew! You have not got anything worth having, I suppose, Conny?' + +'Only fifteen shillings. I meant it for-- But you shall have it, dear +Bertie, if it will only save worrying them.' + +'Fifteen bob! Fifteen farthings you might as well offer. No, no, you +soft little monkey, I must see what is to be made of him or her ladyship, +one or the other, to-day or to-morrow. If they know I have been at the +place it is half the battle. Consequence was! Provided they don't smell +out this unlucky piebald! I wish Stanhope hadn't been such a beast!' + +At that moment, too late to avoid her, Lady Northmoor, pale and anxious, +came up the path and was upon them. 'Your uncle is asleep,' she began, +but then, starting, 'Oh, Conny. Poor Whitewing. Did you find him?' + +Constance hung her head and did not speak. Then her aunt saw how it was. + +'Herbert! you must have shot him by mistake; your uncle will be so +grieved.' + +Herbert was not base enough to let this pass. He muttered, 'A fellow +would not take my word for it, so I had to show him.' + +She looked at him very sadly. 'Oh, Herbert, I did not think you would +have made that a reason for vexing your uncle!' + +The boy was more than half sorry under those gentle eyes. He muttered +something about 'didn't think he would care.' + +She shook her head, instead of saying that she knew this was not the +truth; and unable to bear the sting, he flung away from her, carrying the +rook with him, and kicking the pebbles, trying to be angry instead of +sorry. And just then came a summons to Lady Northmoor to see the doctor. + +Yet Herbert Morton was a better boy than he seemed at that moment; his +errors were chiefly caused by understanding _noblesse oblige_ in a +different way from his uncle. Moreover, it would have been better for +him if his tutor had lived beyond the neighbourhood of Northmoor, where +he heard, losing nothing in the telling, the remarks of the other pupils' +mothers upon his uncle and aunt; more especially as it was not generally +the highest order of boy that was to be found there. If he had heard +what the fathers said, he would have learnt that, though shy and devoid +of small talk, and of the art of putting guests together, Lord Northmoor +was trusted and esteemed. He might perhaps be too easily talked down; he +could not argue, and often gave way to the noisy Squire; but he was +certain in due time to see the rights of a question, and he attended +thoroughly to the numerous tasks of an active and useful county man, +taking all the drudgery that others shirked. While, if by severe stress +he were driven to public speaking, he could acquit himself far better +than any one had expected. The Bishop and the Chairman of the Quarter +Sessions alike set him down on their committees, not only for his rank, +but for his industry and steadiness of work. Nor had any one breathed +any imputation upon the possession of what used to be known as gentility, +before that good word was degraded, to mean something more like what Mrs. +Morton aspired to. Lord and Lady Northmoor might not be lively, nor a +great accession to society, but the anticipations of either amusement or +annoyance from vulgarity or arrogance were entirely disappointed. No one +could call them underbred, or anything but an ingrain gentleman and lady, +while there were a few who could uphold Lady Northmoor as thoroughly +kind, sweet, sensible, and helpful to her utmost in all that was good. + +All this, however, was achieved not only unconsciously but with severe +labour by a man whose powers could only act slowly, and who was not to +the manner born. Conscientiousness is a costly thing, and Strafford's +watchword is not to be adopted for nothing. The balance of duties, the +perplexities of managing an impoverished and involved estate, the +disappointment of being unable to carry out the responsibilities of a +landlord towards neglected cottagers, the incapacity of doing what would +have been desirable for the Church, and the worry and harass that his +sister-in-law did not spare, all told as his office work had never done, +and in spite of quiet, happy hours with his Mary, and her devoted and +efficient aid whenever it was possible, a course of disabling neuralgic +headaches had set in, and a general derangement of health, which had +become alarming, and called for immediate remedy. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI +WHAT IS REST? + + +'Rest, there is nothing for it but immediate rest and warm baths,' said +Lady Northmoor to Constance, who was waiting anxiously for the doctor's +verdict some hours later. 'It is only being overdone--no, my dear, there +is nothing really to fear, if we can only keep business and letters out +of his way for a few weeks, my dear child.' + +For Constance, who had been dreadfully frightened by the sight of the +physician's carriage, which seemed to her inexperienced eyes the omen of +something terrible, fairly burst into tears of relief. + +'Oh, I am so glad!' she said, as caresses passed--which might have been +those of mother and daughter for heartfelt sympathy and affection. + +'You will miss your Saturdays and Sundays, my dear,' continued the aunt, +'for we shall have to go abroad, so as to be quite out of the way of +everything.' + +'Never mind that, dear aunt, if only Uncle Frank is better. Will it be +long?' + +'I cannot tell. He says six weeks, Dr. Smith says three months. It is +to be bracing air--Switzerland, most likely.' + +'Oh, how delightful! How you will enjoy it!' + +'It has always been a dream, and it is strange now to feel so downhearted +about it,' said her aunt, smiling. + +'Uncle Frank is sure to be better there,' said Constance. 'Only think of +the snowy mountains-- + + Mont Blanc is the monarch of mountains; + They crown'd him long ago + On a throne of rocks, in a robe of clouds, + With a diadem of snow.' + +And the girl's eyes brightened with an enthusiasm that the elder woman +felt for a moment, nor did either of them feel the verse hackneyed. + +'Ah, I wish we could take you, my dear,' said Lady Northmoor; then, 'Do +you know where Herbert is?' + +'No,' said Constance. 'Oh, aunt, I am so sorry! I don't think he would +have done it if the other boys had not teased him.' + +'Perhaps not; but, indeed, I am grieved, not only on the poor rook's +account, but that he should have the heart to vex your uncle just now. +However, perhaps he did not understand how ill he has been all this week. +And I am afraid that young Stanhope is not a good companion for him.' + +'I do not think he is,' said Constance; 'it seems to me that Stanhope +leads him into that betting, and makes him think it does not signify +whether he passes or not, and so he does not take pains.' + +Herbert was not to be found either then or at dinner-time. It turned out +that he had taken from the stables the horse he was allowed to ride, and +had gone over to display his victim to Stanhope, and then on to the +bird-stuffer; had got a meal, no one wished to know how, only returning +in time to stump upstairs to bed. + +He thus avoided an interview with his uncle over the rook, unaware that +his aunt had left him the grace of confession, being in hopes that, +unless he did speak of his own accord, the vexatious knowledge might be +spared to one who did not need an additional annoyance just then. + +Lord Northmoor was not, however, to be spared. He was much better the +next day, Sunday, a good deal exhilarated by the doctor's opinion; and, +though concerned at having to break off his work, ready to enjoy what he +was told was absolutely essential. + +The head-keeper had no notion of sparing him. Mr. Best regarded him with +a kind of patronising toleration as an unfortunate gentleman who had the +ill-hap never to have acquired a taste for sport, and was unable to do +justice to his preserves; but towards 'Mr. Morton' there was a very +active dislike. The awkward introduction might have rankled even had +Herbert been wise enough to follow Miss Morton's advice; but his nature +was overbearing, and his self-opinion was fostered by his mother and Ida, +while he was edged on by his fellow-pupils to consider Best a mere old +woman, who could only be tolerated by the ignorance of 'a regular Stick.' + +With the under-keeper Herbert fraternised enough to make him +insubordinate; and the days when Lord Northmoor gave permission for +shooting or for inviting his companions for a share in the sport, were +days of mutual offence, when the balance of provoking sneer and angry +insult would be difficult to cast, though the keeper was the most +forbearing, since he never complained of personal ill-behaviour to +himself, whereas Herbert's demonstrations to his uncle of 'that old fool' +were the louder and more numerous because they never produced the +slightest effect. + +However, Best felt aggrieved in the matter of the rook, which had been +put under his special protection, and being, moreover, something of a +naturalist, he had cherished the hope of a special Northmoor breed of +pied rooks. + +So while, on the way from church, Lady Adela was detaining Lady Northmoor +with inquiries as to Dr. Smith, Best waylaid his master with, 'Your +lordship gave me orders about that there rook with white wings, as was +not to be mislested.' + +'Has anything happened to it?' said Frank wearily. + +'Well, my lord, I sees Mr. Morton going up to the rookery with his gun, +and I says to him that it weren't time for shooting of the branchers, and +the white rook weren't to be touched by nobody, and he swears at me for a +meddling old leggings, and uses other language as I'll not repeat to your +lordship, and by and by I hears his gun, and I sees him a-picking up of +the rook that her ladyship set such store by, so it is due to myself, my +lord, to let you know as I were not to blame.' + +'Certainly not, Best,' was the reply. 'I am exceedingly displeased that +my nephew has behaved so ill to you, and I shall let him know it.' + +'His lordship will give it to him hot and strong, the young upstart,' +muttered Best to himself with great satisfaction, as he watched the +languid pace quicken to overtake the boy, who had gone on with his +sister. + +Perhaps the irritability of illness had some effect upon the ordinary +gentleness of Lord Northmoor's temper, and besides, he was exceedingly +annoyed at such ungrateful slaughter of what was known to be a favourite +of his wife; so when he came upon Herbert, sauntering down to the +stables, he accosted him sharply with, 'What is this I hear, Herbert? I +could not have believed that you would have deliberately killed the +creature that you knew to be a special delight to your aunt.' + +Herbert had reached the state of mind when a third, if not a fourth, +reproach on the same subject on which his conscience was already uneasy, +was simply exasperating, and without the poor excuse he had offered his +aunt and sister, he burst out that it was very hard that such a beastly +row should be made about a fellow knocking down mere trumpery vermin. + +'Speak properly, Herbert, or hold your tongue,' said his uncle. 'I am +extremely displeased at finding that you do not know how to conduct +yourself to my servants, and have presumed to act in this lawless, +heartless manner, in defiance of what you knew to be your aunt's wishes +and my orders, and that you replied to Best's remonstrance with +insolence.' + +'That's a good one! Insolent to an old fool of a keeper,' muttered +Herbert sullenly. + +'Insolence is shameful towards any man,' returned his uncle. 'And from a +foolish headstrong boy to a faithful old servant it is particularly +unbecoming. However, bad as this is, it is not all that I have to speak +of.' + +Then Herbert recollected with dismay how much his misdemeanour would tell +against his pardon for the more important act of disobedience, and he +took refuge in a sullen endeavour at indifference, while his uncle, +thoroughly roused, spoke of the sins of disobedience and the dangers of +betting. Perhaps the only part of the lecture that he really heard was, +'Remember, it was these habits in those who came before us that have been +so great a hindrance in life to both you and me, and made you, my poor +boy, so utterly mistaken as to what becomes your position. How much have +you thrown away?' + +Herbert looked up and muttered the amount--twelve pounds and some +shillings. + +'Very well, I will not have it owed. I shall pay it, deducting two +pounds from your allowance each term till it is made up. Give me the +address or addresses.' + +At this Herbert writhed and remonstrated, but his uncle was inexorable. + +'The fellows will be at me,' he said, as he gave Stanhope's name. + +'You will see no more of Stanhope after this week. I have arranged to +send you to a tutor in Hertfordshire, who I hope will make you work, and +where, I trust, you will find companions who will give you a better idea +of what becomes a gentleman.' + +In point of fact, this had been arranged for some time past, though by +the desire of Herbert's present tutor it had not been made known to the +young people, so that, coming thus, there was a sound of punishment in it +to Herbert. + +The interview ended there. The annoyance, enhanced in his mind by having +come on a Sunday, brought on another attack of headache; but late in the +evening he sent for Herbert, who always had to go very early on the +Monday. It was to ask him whether he would not prefer the payment being +made to Stanhope and the other pupil after he had left them. Herbert's +scowl passed off. It was a great relief. He said they were prepared to +wait till he had his allowance, and the act of consideration softened +him, as did also the manifest look of suffering and illness, as his uncle +lay on the couch, hardly able to speak, and yet exerting himself thus to +spare the lad. + +'Thank you, sir,' actually Herbert said, and then, with a gulp, 'I am +sorry about that bird--I wish I'd never told them, but it was Stanhope +who drove me to it, not believing.' + +'I thought it was not your better mind,' said his uncle, holding out his +hand. 'I should like you to make me a promise, Herbert, not to make a +bet while I am away. I should go with an easier mind.' + +'I will, uncle,' said Herbert, heartily reflecting, perhaps, it must be +owned, on the fewer opportunities in that line at Westhaven, except at +the regatta, but really resolving, as the only salve to his conscience. +And there was that in his face and the clasp of his hand that gave his +uncle a sense of comfort and hope. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII +ON THE SURFACE + + +Lady Adela, though small and pale, was one of the healthy women who seem +unable to believe in any ailments short of a raging fever; and when she +heard of neuralgia, decided that it was all a matter of imagination, and +a sort of excuse for breaking off the numerous occupations in which she +felt his value, but only as she would have acknowledged that of a good +schoolmaster. Their friendly intercourse had never ripened into +intimacy, and was still punctiliously courteous; each tacitly dreaded the +influence of the other on the Vicar-in-Church matters, and every visit of +the Westhaven family confirmed Lady Adela's belief that it was +undesirable to go below the surface. + +Bertha, who came down for a day or two to assist at the breaking-up +demonstration of the High School at Colbeam, was as ever much more +cordial. The chief drawbacks with her were that cynical tone, which made +it always doubtful whether she were making game of her hearers, and the +philanthropy, not greatly tinged with religion, so as to confuse +old-fashioned minds. She used to bring down strange accounts of her +startling adventures in the slums, and relate them in a rattling style, +interluded with slang, being evidently delighted to shock and puzzle her +hearers; but still she was always good-natured in deed if not in word, +and Lord Northmoor was very grateful for her offer of hospitality to +Herbert, who was coming to London for his preliminary examination. + +She had come up to call, determined to be of use to them, and she had +experience enough of travelling to be very helpful. Finding that they +shuddered at the notion of fashionable German '_baden_,' she exclaimed-- + +'I'll hit you off! There's that place in the Austrian Tyrol that Lettice +Bury frequents--a regular primitive place with a name--Oh, what is it, +Addie, like rats and mice?' + +'Ratzes,' said Adela. + +'Yes. The tourists have not molested it yet, and only natives bathe +there, so she goes every year to renovate herself and sketch, and comes +back furbished up like an old snake, with lots of drawings of impossible +peaks, like Titian's backgrounds. We'll write and tell her to make ready +for the head of her house!' + +'Oh, but--' began Frank, looking to his wife. + +'Would it not be intruding?' said Mary. + +'She will be enchanted! She always likes to have anything to do for +anybody, and she says the scenery is just a marvel. You care for that! +You are so deliciously fresh, beauties aren't a bore to you.' + +'We are glad of the excuse,' said Frank gravely. + +'You look ill enough to be an excuse for anything, and Mary too! How +about a maid? Is Harte going?' + +'No,' said Mary; 'she says that foreign food made her so ill once before +that she cannot attempt going again. I meant to do without.' + +'That would never do!' cried Bertha. 'You have quite enough on your +hands with Northmoor, and the luggage and the languages.' + +'Is not an English maid apt to be another trouble?' said Mary. 'I do not +suppose my French is good, but I have had to talk it constantly; and I +know some German, if that will serve in the Tyrol.' + +'I'll reconcile it to your consciences,' said Bertha triumphantly. 'It +will be a real charity. There's a bonny little Swiss girl whom some +reckless people brought home and then turned adrift. It will be a real +kindness to help her home, and you shall pick her up when you come up to +me on your way, and see my child! Oh, didn't I tell you? We had a +housemaid once who was demented enough to marry a scamp of a stoker on +one of the Thames steamers. He deserted her, and I found her living, or +rather dying, in an awful place at Rotherhithe, surrounded by tipsy +women, raging in opposite corners. I got her into a decent room, but too +late to save her life--and a good thing too; so I solaced her last +moments with a promise to look after her child, such a jolly little +mortal, in spite of her name--Boadicea Ethelind Davidina Jones. She is +two years old, and quite delicious--the darling of all the house!' + +'I hope you will have no trouble with the father,' said Frank. + +'I trust he has gone to his own locker, or, if not, he is only too glad +to be rid of her. I can tackle him,' said Bertha confidently. 'The +child is really a little duck!' + +She spoke as if the little one filled an empty space in her heart; and, +even though there might be trouble in store, it was impossible not to be +glad of her present gladness, and her invitation was willingly accepted. +Moreover, her recommendations were generally trustworthy, and Mary only +hesitated because, she said-- + +'I thought, if I could do without a maid, we might take Constance. She +is doing so very well, and likely to pass so well in her examinations, +that it would be very nice to give her this pleasure.' + +'Good little girl! So it would. I should like nothing better; but I am +afraid that if you took her without a maid, Emma would misunderstand it, +and say you wanted to save the expense.' + +'Would it make much difference?' + +'Not more than we could bear now that we are in for it, but I fear it +would excite jealousies.' + +'Is that worse than leaving the poor child to Westhaven society all the +holidays?' + +'Perhaps not; and Conny is old enough now to be more injured by it than +when she was younger.' + +'You know I have always hoped to make her like a child of our own when +her school education is finished.' + +Frank smiled, for he was likewise very fond of little Constance. + +There was a public distribution of prizes, at which all the grandees of +the neighbourhood were expected to assist, and it was some consolation to +the Northmoors, for the dowager duchess being absent, that the pleasure +of taking the prize from her uncle would be all the greater--if-- + +The whole party went--Lady Adela, Miss Morton, and all--and were +installed in chairs of state on the platform, with the bright array of +books before them--the head-mistress telling Lady Northmoor beforehand +that her niece would have her full share of honours. No one could be a +better or more diligent girl. + +It quite nerved Lord Northmoor when he looked forth upon the sea of +waving tresses of all shades of brown, while his wife watched in +nervousness, both as to how he would acquit himself and how the exertion +would affect him; and Bertha, as usual, was anxious for the credit of the +name. + +He did what was needed. Nobody wanted anything but the sensible +commonplace, kindly spoken, about the advantages of good opportunities, +the conscientiousness of doing one's best. And after all, the +inferiority of mere attainments in themselves to the discipline and +dutifulness of responding to training,--it was slowly but not +stammeringly spoken, and Bertha did not feel critical or ashamed, but +squeezed Mary's hand, and said, 'Just the right thing.' + +One by one the girls were summoned for their prizes, the little ones +first. Lord Northmoor had not the gift of inventing a pretty speech for +each, he could do no more than smile as he presented the book, and read +its name; but the smile was a very decided one when, in the class next to +the highest, three out of the seven prizes were awarded to Constance +Elizabeth Morton, and it might be a question which had the redder cheeks, +the uncle or the niece, as he handed them to her. It was one of the few +happinesses that he had derived from his brother's family! + +After such achievements on Constance's part, it was impossible to +withhold--as they drove back to Northmoor--the proposal to take her with +them, and the effect was magical. Constance opened her eyes, bounded up, +as if she were going to fly out of the carriage, and then launched +herself, first on her uncle, then on her aunt, for an ecstatic kiss. + +'Take care, take care, we shall have the servants thinking you a little +lunatic!' + +'I am almost! Oh, I am so glad! To be with you and Aunt Mary all the +holidays! That would be enough! But to go and see all the places,' she +added, somehow perceiving that the desire to escape from home was, at +least ought not to be approved of, and yet there was some exultation, +when she hazarded a supposition that there was no time to go home. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII +DESDICHADO + + +Home--that is to say, Westhaven--was in some commotion when Herbert came +back and grimly growled out his intelligence as to his own personal +affairs. Mrs. Morton had been already apprized, in one of Lord +Northmoor's well-considered letters, of his intentions of removing his +nephew to a tutor more calculated to prepare for the army, and she had +accepted this as promotion such as was his due. However, when the pride +of her heart, the tall gentlemanly son, made his appearance in a savage +mood, her feelings were all on the other side, and those of Ida +exaggerated hers. + +'So I'm to go to some disgusting hole where they grind the fellows no +end,' was Herbert's account of the matter. + +'But surely with your connection there's no need for grinding?' said his +mother. + +Herbert laughed, 'Much you know about it! Nobody cares a rap for +connections nowadays, even if old Frank were a connection to do a man any +good.' + +'But you'll not go and study hard and hurt yourself, my dear,' said his +mother, though Herbert's looks by no means suggested any such danger, +while Ida added, 'It is not as if he had nothing else to look to, you +know. He can't keep you out of the peerage.' + +'Can't he then? Why, he can and will too, for thirty or forty years more +at least.' + +'I thought his health was failing,' said Ida, putting into words a hope +her mother had a little too much sense of propriety to utter. + +'Bosh, it's only neuralgia, just because he is such a stick he can't take +things easy, and lark about and do every one's work--he hasn't the least +notion what a gentleman ought to do.' + +'It is bred in the bone,' said his mother; 'he always was a shabby poor +creature! I always said he would not know how to spend his money.' + +'He is a regular screw!' responded Herbert. 'What do you think now! He +was in no end of a rage with me just because I went with some of the +other fellows to the Colbeam races; and one can't help a bet or two, you +know. So I lost twelve pound or so, and what must he do but stop it out +of my allowance two pound at a time!' + +There was a regular outcry at this, and Mrs. Morton declared her poor +dear boy should not suffer, but she would make it up to him, and Herbert +added that 'it had been unlucky, half of it was that they were riled with +him, first because he had shot a ridiculous rook with white wings that my +lady made no end of a fuss about.' + +'Ah, then it is her spite,' said Ida. 'She's a sly cat, with all her +meek ways.' + +Herbert was not displeased with this evening's sympathy, as he lay +outspread on the sofa, with the admiring and pitying eyes of his mother +and sister upon him; but he soon began to feel--when he had had his +grumble out, and could take his swing at home--that there could be too +much of it. + +It was all very well to ease his own mind by complaining, but when he +heard of Ida announcing that he had been shamefully treated, all out of +spite for killing a white rook, his sense of justice made him declare +that the notion was nothing but girl's folly, such as no person with a +grain of sense could believe. + +The more his mother and her friends persisted in treating him as an +ill-used individual, the victim of his uncle's avarice and his aunt's +spite, the more his better nature revolted and acknowledged inwardly and +sometimes outwardly the kindness and justice he had met with. It was +really provoking that any attempt to defend them, or explain the facts, +were only treated as proofs of his own generous feeling. Ida's +partisanship really did him more good than half a dozen lectures would +have done, and he steadily adhered to his promise not to bet, though on +the regatta day Ida and her friend Sibyl derided him for not choosing to +risk even a pair of gloves; and while one pitied him, the other declared +that he was growing a skinflint like his uncle. + +He talked and laughed noisily enough to Ida's friends, but he had seen +enough at Northmoor to feel the difference, and he told his sister that +there was not a lady amongst the whole kit of them, except Rose +Rollstone, who was coming down for her holiday. + +'Rose!' cried Ida, tossing her head. 'A servant's daughter and a hand at +a shop! What will you say next, I wonder?' + +'Lady is as lady acts,' said Herbert, making a new proverb, whereat his +mother and sister in chorus rebuked him, and demanded to know whether Ida +were not a perfect lady. + +At which he laughed with a sound of scoffing, and being tired of the +discussion sauntered out of the house to that inexhaustible occupation of +watching the boats come in, and smoking with old acquaintances, who were +still congenial to him, and declared that he had not become stuck-up, +though he was turned into an awful swell! Perhaps they were less bad for +him than Stanhope, for they inspired no spirit of imitation. + +When he came back a later post had arrived, bringing the news of +Constance's successes and of the invitation to her to share the +expedition of her uncle and aunt. There was no question about letting +her go, but the feeling was scarcely of congratulation. + +'Well, little Conny knows how to play her cards!' + +'Stuff--child wouldn't know what it meant,' said Herbert glumly. + +'Well,' said his sister, 'she always was the favourite, and I call it a +shame.' + +'What, because you've been such a good girl, and got such honours and +prizes?' demanded Herbert. + +'Nonsense, Herbert,' said his mother. 'Ida's education was finished, you +know.' + +'Oh, she wasn't a bit older than Conny is now.' + +'And I don't hold with all that study, science and logic, and what d'ye +call it; that's no use to any one,' continued his mother. 'It's not as +if your sisters had to be governesses. Give me a girl who can play a +tune on the piano and make herself agreeable. Your uncle may do as he +pleases, but he'll have Constance on his hands. The men don't fancy a +girl that is always after books and lectures.' + +'Not of your sort, perhaps,' said Herbert, 'but I don't care what I bet +that Conny gets a better husband than Ida.' + +'It stands to reason,' Ida said, almost crying, 'when uncle takes her +about to all these fine places and sets her up to be the favourite--just +the youngest. It's not fair.' + +'As if she wasn't by a long chalk the better of the two,' said Herbert. + +'Now, Bertie,' interposed his mother, 'I'll not have you teasing and +running down your sister, though I do say it is a shame and a slight to +pick out the youngest, when poor Ida is so delicate, and both of you two +have ever so much better a right to favours.' + +'That's a good one!' muttered Herbert, while Ida exclaimed-- + +'Of course, you know, aunt has always been nasty to me, ever since I said +ma said I was not strong enough to be bothered with that horrid school; +and as to poor Herbert, they have spited him because he shot that--' + +'Shut up, Ida,' shouted Herbert. 'I wouldn't go with them if they went +down on their knees to me! What should I do, loafing about among a lot +of disputing frog-eaters, without a word of a Christian language, and old +Frank with his nose in a guide-book wanting me to look at beastly +pictures and rum old cathedrals. You would be a fish out of water, too, +Ida. Now Conny will take to it like a house afire, and what's more, she +deserves it!' + +'Well, ma,' put in the provoked Ida, 'I wonder you let Conny go, when it +would do me so much good, and it is so unfair.' + +'My dear, you don't understand a mother's feelings. I feel the slight +for you, but your uncle must be allowed to have his way. He is at all +the expense, and to refuse for Conny would do you no good.' + +'Except that she will be more set up than ever,' murmured Ida. + +'Oh, come now! I wonder which looks more like the set-up one,' said +Herbert, whose wider range had resulted in making him much alive to Ida's +shortcomings, and who looked on at her noisy style of flirtation with the +eye of a grave censor. Whatever he might be himself, he knew what a +young lady ought to be. + +He triumphed a little when, during the few days spent in London, +Constance wrote of a delightful evening when, while her uncle and aunt +and Miss Morton had gone to an entertainment for Bertha's match-box +makers, she had been permitted to have Rose Rollstone to spend the time +with her, the carriage, by their kind contrivance, fetching the girl both +in going and coming. + +The two young things had been thoroughly happy together. Rose had gone +on improving herself; her companions in the art embroidery line were +girls of a good class, with a few ladies among them, and their tone was +good and refined. It was the fashion among them to attend the classes, +Bible and secular, put in their way, and their employers conscientiously +attended to their welfare, so that Rose was by no means an unfitting +companion for the High School maiden, and they most happily compared +notes over their very different lives, when they were not engaged in +playing with little Cea, as the unwieldy name of Miss Morton's _protegee_ +had been softened. She was a very pretty little creature, with big blue +eyes and hair that could be called golden, and very full of life and +drollery, so that she was a treat to both; and when the housemaid, whose +charge she was, insisted on her coming to bed, they begged to superintend +her evening toilet, and would have played antics with her in her crib +half the night if they had not been inexorably chased away. + +Then they sat down on low stools in the balcony, among the flowers, in +convenient proximity for the caresses they had not yet outgrown, and had +what they called 'a sweet talk.' + +Constance had been much impressed with the beauty of the embroidery, and +thought it must be delightful to do such things. + +'Yes, for the forewoman,' said Rose, 'but there's plenty of dull work; +the same over and over again, and one little stitch ever so small gone +amiss throws all wrong. Miss Grey told us to recollect it was just like +our lives!' + +'That's nice!' said Constance. 'And it is for the Church and Almighty +God's service?' + +'Some of it,' said Rose, 'but there's a good deal only for dresses, and +furniture, and screens.' + +'Don't you feel like Sunday when you are doing altar-cloths and stools?' +asked Constance reverently. + +'I wish I did,' said Rose; 'but I don't do much of that kind yet, and one +can't keep up the being serious over it always, you know. Indeed, Miss +Grey does not wish us to be dull; she reads to us when there is time, and +explains the symbols that have to be done; but part of the time it is an +amusing book, and she says she does not mind cheerful talk, only she +trusts us not to have gossip she would not like to hear.' + +'I wonder,' said Constance, 'whether I should have come with you if all +this had not happened? It must be very nice.' + +'But your school is nice?' + +'Oh yes. I do love study, and those Saturdays and Sundays at Northmoor, +they are delicious! Uncle Frank reads with me about religion, you know.' + +'Like our dear Bible class?' + +'Yes; I never understood or felt anything before; he puts it so as it +comes home,' said Constance, striving to express herself. 'Then I have a +dear little class at the Sunday school.' + +'I am to have one, by and by.' + +'Mine are sweet little things, and I work for them on Saturdays, while +Aunt Mary reads to me. I do like teaching--and, do you know, Rose, I +think I shall be a High School teacher!' + +'Oh, Conny, I thought you were all so rich and grand!' + +'No, we are not,' said Constance lazily; 'we have nothing but what Uncle +Frank gives us, and I can't bear the way mamma and Ida are always trying +to get more out of him, when I know he can't always do what he likes, and +nasty people think him shabby. I am sure I ought to work for myself.' + +'But if Herbert is a lord?' + +'I hope he won't be for a long long time,' cried Constance. 'Besides, I +am sure he would want all his money for himself! And as to being a +teacher, Aunt Mary was, and Miss Arden, who is so wise and good, is one. +If I was like them I think it would be doing real work for God and +good--wouldn't it, Rose? Oh dear, oh dear, there's the carriage stopping +for you!' + + + + +CHAPTER XIX +THE DOLOMITES + + +The summer was a very hot one, and the travellers, in spite of the charm +of new scenes, and the wonders of everything to their unsophisticated +eyes, found it trying. Constance indeed was in a state of constant +felicity and admiration, undimmed except by the flagging of her two +fellow-travellers in the heated and close German railway cars. Her +uncle's head suffered much, and Lady Northmoor secretly thought her +maid's refusal to accompany them showed her to be a prudent woman. +However, the first breath of mountain air was a grand revival to Lord +Northmoor, and at Innsbruck he was quite alive, and walked about in +fervent delight, not desisting till he and Constance had made out every +statue on Maximilian's monument. His wife was so much tired and +worn-out, that she heartily rejoiced in having provided him with such a +good little companion, though she was disappointed at being obliged to +fail him, and get what rest she could at the hotel. But then, as she +told him, if he learnt his way about it now, he would be able to show it +all to her when they had both gained strength at Ratzes. + +Bertha had obtained full instructions and a welcome for them from Mrs. +Bury, a kindly person, who, having married off her children while still +in full health and vigour, remained at the service of any relation who +needed her, and in the meantime resorted to out-of-the-way places abroad. + +The railway took them to Botzen, which was hotter still, and thence on to +Castelruth, whence there was no means of reaching Ratzes but by mule or +_chaise a porteux_. Both alike were terrible to poor Mary; however, she +made up her mind to the latter, and all the long way was to her a dream +of terror and discomfort, and of trying to admire--what she knew she +ought to admire--the wonderful pinnacle-like aiguilles of the Schern +cleaving the air. For some time the way lay over the great plateau of +the Scisser Alp--a sea of rich grass, full of cattle, where her husband +and niece kept on trying to bring their mules alongside of her to make +her participate in their ecstasy, and partake of their spoils--mountain +pink, celestially blue gentian, brilliant poppy, or the like. Here the +principal annoyance was that their mules were so obstinately bent on not +approaching her that she was in constant alarm for them, while Constance +was absolutely wild with delight, and even grave Frank was exhilarated by +the mountain air into boyish spirits, such as impressed her, though she +resolutely prevented herself from lowering them by manifesting want of +sympathy, though the aiguilles that they admired seemed to her savage, +and the descent, along a perilous winding road, cut out among precipices, +horrified her--on, on, through endless pine forests, where the mules +insisted on keeping her in solitude, and where nothing could be seen +beyond the rough jolting path. At last, when a whole day had gone by, +and even Constance sat her mule in silence and looked very tired, the fir +trees grew more scanty. The aiguilles seemed in all their wildness to be +nodding overhead; there was a small bowling-green, a sort of chalet in +two divisions, united by a gallery: but Mary saw no more, for at that +moment a loose slippery stone gave way, and the bearers stumbled and +fell, dragging the chair so that it tipped over. + +Constance, who had ridden on in front with her uncle, first heard a cry +of dismay, and as both leaped off and rushed back, they saw her aunt had +fallen, and partly entangled in the chair. + +'Do not touch her!' cried Frank, forgetting that he could not be +understood, and raising her in his arms, as the chair was withdrawn; but +she did not speak or move, and there was a distressing throng and +confusion of strange voices, seeming to hem them in as Constance looked +round, unable to call up a single word of German, or to understand the +exclamations. Then, as she always said, it was like an angel's voice +that said, 'What is it?' as through the crowd came a tall lady in a white +hat and black gown, and knelt down by the prostrate figure, saying, 'I +hope she is only stunned; let us carry her in. It will be better to let +her come round there.' + +The lady gave vigorous aid, and, giving a few orders in German, helped +Lord Northmoor to carry the inanimate form into the hotel, a low building +of stone, with a high-pitched shingle roof. Constance followed in a +bewilderment of fright, together with Lenchen, the Swiss maid, who, as +well as could be made out, was declaring that a Swiss bearer never made a +false step. + +Lady Northmoor was carried into a bedroom, and Constance was shut out +into a room that photographed itself on her memory, even in that +moment--a room like a box, with a rough table, a few folding-chairs, an +easel, water-coloured drawings hung about in all directions, a big +travelling-case, a few books, a writing-case, Mrs. Bury's sitting-room in +fact, which, as a regular sojourner, she had been able to secure and +furnish after her need. From the window, tall, narrow, latticed, with a +heavy outside shutter, she saw a village green, a little church with a +sharp steeple, and pointed-roof houses covered with shingle, groups of +people, a few in picturesque Tyrolese costume, but others in the ordinary +badly cut edition of cosmopolitan human nature. There was a priest in a +big hat and white bordered bands discussing a newspaper with a man with a +big red umbrella; a party drinking coffee under a pine tree, and beyond, +those strange wild pointed aiguilles pointing up purple and red against +the sky. + + [Picture: There was a priest in a big hat . . .] + +How delightful it would all have been if this quarter of an hour could be +annihilated! She could find out nothing. Lenchen and the +good-natured-looking landlady came in and out and fetched things, but +they never stayed long enough to give her any real information, the +landlady shouting for 'Hemzel,' etc., and Lenchen calling loudly in +German for the boxes, which had been slung on mules. She heard nothing +definite till her uncle came out, looking pale and anxious. + +'She is better now,' he said, with a gasp of relief, throwing himself +into a chair, and holding out his hand to Constance, who could hardly +frame her question. 'Yes, quite sensible--came round quickly. The blow +on the head seems to be of no consequence; but there may be a strain, or +it may be only the being worn out and overdone. They are going to +undress her and put her to bed now. Mrs. Bury is kindness itself. I did +not look after her enough on that dreadful road.' + +'Isn't there a doctor?' Constance ventured to ask. + +'No such thing within I know not how many miles of these paths! But Mrs. +Bury seems to think it not likely to be needed. Over-fatigue and the +shake! What was I about? This air and all the rest were like an +intoxication, making me forget my poor Mary!' + +He passed his hand over his face with a gesture as if he were very much +shocked and grieved at himself, and Constance suggested that it was all +the mule's fault, and Aunt Mary never complained. + +'The more reason she should not have been neglected,' he said; and it was +well for the excluded pair that just then the boxes were reported as +arrived, and he was called on for the keys, so that wild searching for +things demanded occupied them. + +After a considerable time, Mrs. Bury came and told Lord Northmoor that he +might go and look at his wife for a few moments, but that she must be +kept perfectly quiet and not talked to or agitated. Constance was not to +go in at all, but was conducted off by the good lady to her own tiny +room, to get herself ready for the much-needed meal that was imminent. + +They met again in the outer room. There was a great Speise saal, a +separate building, where the bathers dived _en masse_; but since Mrs. +Bury had made the place her haunt, she had led to the erection of an +additional building where there was a little accommodation for the +travellers of the better class who had of late discovered the glories of +the Dolomites, though the baths were scarcely ever used except by +artizans and farmers. She had this sitting-room chiefly made at her own +expense with these few comforts, in the way of easy folding-chairs, a +vase of exquisite flowers on the table, a few delicate carvings, an +easel, and drawings of the mountain peaks and ravines suspended +everywhere. + +Besides this there were only the bedrooms, as small as they well could +be. + +They were summoned down to the evening meal, and the maid Lenchen was +left with Lady Northmoor. There was only one other guest, a spectacled +and rather silent German, and Constance presently gathered that Mrs. Bury +was trying to encourage and inspirit Lord Northmoor, but seemed to think +there might be some delay before a move would be possible. + +They sent her to bed, for she was really very tired after the long walk +and ride, and she could not help sleeping soundly; but the first thing +she heard in the morning was that the guide had been desired to send a +doctor from Botzen, and the poor child spent a dreary morning of anxiety +with nothing to do but to watch the odd figures disporting themselves or +resting in the shade after their baths, to try a little sketching and a +little letter-writing, but she was too restless and anxious to get on +with either. + +All the comfort she got was now and then Mrs. Bury telling her that she +need not be frightened, and giving her a book to read; and after the +midday meal her uncle was desired by Mrs. Bury, who had evidently assumed +the management of him, to take the child out walking, for the doctor +could not come for hours, and Lady Northmoor had better be left to sleep. + +So they wandered out into the pinewoods, preoccupied and silent, gazing +along the path, as if that would hasten the doctor. Constance had +perceived that questions were discouraged, and did her best to keep from +being troublesome by trying to busy herself with a bouquet of mountain +flowers. + +The little German doctor came so late that he had to remain all night, +but his coming, as well as that of a brisk American brother and sister, +seemed to have cheered things up a good deal. Mrs. Bury talked to the +German, and the Americans asked so many questions that answering them +made things quite lively. Indeed, Constance was allowed to wish her aunt +good-night, and seeing her look just like herself on her pillows, much +relieved her mind. + + + + +CHAPTER XX +RATZES + + +Things began to fall into their regular course at Ratzes, Lady Northmoor +was in a day or two able to come into Mrs. Bury's sitting-room for a few +hours every day; but there she lay on a folding chaise-longue that had +been arranged for her, languid but bright, reading, working, looking at +Mrs. Bury's drawings, and keeping the diary of the adventures of the +others. + +Her husband would fain never have left her, but he had to take his baths. +These were in the lower story of the larger chalet. They were taken in +rows of pinewood boxes in the vault. He muttered that it felt very like +going alive into his coffin, when, like others, he laid himself down in +the rust-coloured liquid, 'each in his narrow cell' in iron 'laid,' with +his head on a shelf, and a lid closing up to his chin, and he was +uncheered by conversation, as all the other patients were Austrians of +the lower middle class, and their Tyrolean dialect would have been hard +to understand even by German scholars. However, the treatment certainly +did him good, and entirely drove away his neuralgia, he walked, rode, and +climbed a good deal with Constance and a lad attached to the +establishment, whose German Constance could just understand. And while +he stayed with his wife, Mrs. Bury took Constance out, showed her many +delights, helped her crude notions of drawing, and being a good botanist +herself, taught the whole party fresh pleasures in the wonderful flora of +the Dolomites. + +Now and then an English traveller appeared, and Lord Northmoor was +persuaded to join in expeditions for his niece's sake, that took them +away for a night or two. Thus they saw Caprile Cadore, St. Ulrich, that +town of toys, full of dolls of every tone, spotted wooden horses, carts, +and the like. They beheld the tall points of Monte Serrata, and the +wonderful 'Horse Teeth,' with many more such marvels; and many were the +curiosities they brought back, and the stories they had to tell, with +regrets that Aunt Mary had not been there to enjoy and add to their +enjoyment. + +So the days went on, and the end of Constance's holidays was in view, the +limit that had been intended for the Kur at Ratzes; but Aunt Mary had not +been out of doors since their arrival, and seemed fit for nothing save +lying by the window. + +Constance had begun to wonder what would be done, when she was told that +a good-natured pair of English travellers, like herself bound to school +terms, would escort her safely to London and see her into the train for +Colbeam, just in time for the High School term. + +'This will be the best way,' said her aunt, kissing her. 'You have been +a dear good girl, Conny, and a great pleasure and comfort to us both.' + +'Oh, auntie, I have not done anything, Mrs. Bury has done it all.' + +'Mrs. Bury is most kind, unspeakably kind, but, my dear dear girl, your +companionship has been so much to your dear uncle that I have been most +thankful to you. Always recollect, dearest Conny, you can be more +comfort to your uncle than anybody else, whatever may come. You _will_ +always be a good girl and keep up your tone, and make him your great +consideration--after higher things; promise me.' + +'Oh yes, indeed, auntie dear,' said the girl, somewhat frightened and +bewildered as the last kisses and good-byes were exchanged. Since the +travellers were to start very early the next morning on their mules for +Botzen, whither Mrs. Bury meant to accompany them in order to make some +purchases, Lord Northmoor went with the party to the limits of his +walking powers, and on the slope of the Alp, amid the fir-woods, took his +leave, Mrs. Bury telling him cheerfully that she should return the next +day, while he said that he could not thank her enough. He bade farewell +to his niece, telling her that he hoped she would by and by be spending +her holidays at Northmoor if all went well. + +Constance had begun to grow alarmed, and watched for an opportunity of +imploring Mrs. Bury to tell her whether Aunt Mary were really very ill. + +Mrs. Bury laughed, and confided to her a secret, which made her at once +glad, alarmed, and important. + +'Oh, and is no one to know?' said little Constance, with rosy cheeks. + +'Not till leave is given,' said Mrs. Bury. 'You see there is still so +much risk of things going wrong, that they both wish nothing to be said +at present. I thought they had spoken to you.' + +'Oh no. But--but--' and Constance could not go on, as her eyes filled +with tears. + +'Is there special cause for anxiety, you mean, my dear? Hardly for +_her_, though it was unlucky that she was as unknowing as you, and I +don't see how she is to be taken over these roads into a more civilised +place. But I shall stay on and see them through with it, and I daresay +we shall do very well. I am used enough to looking after my own +daughters, and nobody particularly wants me at home.' + +'That's what Aunt Mary meant by saying you were _so_ very good!' + +'Well, it would be sheer inhumanity to leave them to themselves, and the +mercies of Ratzes, and there seems to be no one else that could come.' + +'I'm glad I know!' said Constance, with a long breath. 'Only what shall +I do if any one asks me about her?' + +'Say she had a nasty fall, which makes it undesirable to move her just +yet. It is the simple truth, and what you would have naturally said but +for this little communication of mine.' + +'I suppose,' said Constance, in a tone Mrs. Bury did not understand, 'it +will be all known before my Christmas holidays?' + +'Oh yes, my dear, long before that. I'll write to you when I have +anything to tell.' + +For which Constance thanked her heartily, and thenceforth felt a great +deal older for the confidence, which delighted as well as made her +anxious, for she was too fond of her uncle and aunt, as well as too young +and simple, for it to have occurred to her how the matter might affect +her brother. + +After seeing much more on her road than she had done before, and won +golden opinions from her escort for intelligence and obligingness, she +was safely deposited in the train for Colbeam, without having gone home. + +She had made up her mind to pass Sunday at her boarding-house, and was +greatly surprised when Lady Adela called on Saturday to take her to +Northmoor for the Sunday. + +'Now tell me about your uncle and aunt,' the good lady began, when +Constance was seated beside her. 'Yes, I have heard from Mrs. Bury, but +I want to know whether the place is tolerably comfortable.' + +'Mrs. Bury has made it much better,' said Constance. 'And it is so +beautiful, no one would care for comfort who was quite well.' + +'And is your uncle well? Has he got over his headaches?' she asked +solicitously. + +In fact, the absence of Lord and Lady Northmoor had done more than their +presence to make Lady Adela feel their value. She was astonished to find +how much she missed the power of referring to him and leaning on his +support in all questions, small or great, that cropped up; and she had +begun to feel that the stick might be a staff; besides which, having +imbibed more than an inkling of the cause of detention, she was anxious +to gather what she could of the circumstances. + +She was agreeably surprised in Constance, to whom the journey had been a +time of development from the mere school girl, and who could talk +pleasantly, showing plenty of intelligence and observation in a modest +ladylike way. Moreover, she had a game in the garden which little Amice +enjoyed extremely, and she and her little Sunday class were delighted to +see one another again. It resulted in her Sundays being spent at +Northmoor as regularly as before, and in Amice, a companionless child, +thinking Saturday brought the white afternoon of the week. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI +THE HEIR-APPARENT + + + 'MY DEAR ADDIE, + + 'You have no doubt ceased from your exertions in the way of finding + nurses, since the telegram has told you that the son and heir has + considerately saved trouble and expense by making his appearance on + Michaelmas morning. It was before there was time to fetch anybody + but the ancient village Bettina. Everything is most prosperous, and + I am almost as proud as the parents--and to see them gloat over the + morsel is a caution. They look at him as if such a being had never + been known on the earth before; and he really is a very fine healthy + creature, most ridiculously like the portrait of the original old + Michael Morton Northmoor in the full-bottomed wig. He seems to be + almost equally marvellous to the Ratzes population, being the first + infant seen there unswaddled--or washed. Bettina's horror at the + idea of washing him is worth seeing. Her brown old face was almost + convulsed, and she and our Frau-wirthin concurred in assuring me that + it would be fatal to _der kleine baron_ if he were washed, except + with white wine and milk at a fortnight old; nor would they accept my + assurance that my three daughters and seven grandchildren had + survived the process. I have to do it myself, and dress him as I + can, for his wardrobe as made here is not complete, and whatever you + can send us will be highly acceptable. It is lucky that Northmoor is + a born nurse, for the women's fear of breaking the child is really + justifiable, as they never handled anything not made up into a mummy; + moreover, they wish to let all the world up into Mary's room to + behold the curiosity, I met the priest upon his way and turned him + back! So we have pretty well all the nursing on our hands, and + happily it is of the most satisfactory kind, with the one drawback + that we have to call in the services of a 'valia'; but on the other + hand we have all been so much interested in a poor little widow, + Hedwig Grantzen, whose husband was lost last spring in a snow-storm, + that it is pleasant to have some employment for her. Such a creature + as came over on chance and speculation--a great coarse handsome girl, + in exaggerated costume, all new, with lacy ribbons down her back; but + I rode over to Botzen, and interviewed her parish priest about her, + and that was enough to settle her. Every one is asleep except + myself, and Mary's face is one smile as she sleeps. + + 'This is going to be posted by the last of the tourists, luckily a + clergyman, whom we begged to baptize the boy, as there is a + possibility that snows may close us in before we can get away. + + 'So he is named Michael Kenton, partly after my own dear brother as + well as the old founder, partly in honour of the day and of Sir + Edward Kenton, who, they say, has been their very kind friend. It + really is a feast to see people so wonderingly happy and thankful. + The little creature has all the zest of novelty to them, and they coo + and marvel over it in perfect felicity. When you will be introduced + to the hero, I cannot guess, for though he has been an earlier + arrival than his mother's inexperience expected, I much doubt her + being able to get out of this place while the way to Botzen is + passable according to the prognostics of the sages. What splendid + studies of ice peaks I shall have! Your affectionate cousin, + + 'L. BURY.' + +A telegram had preceded the letter. One soon followed by Mrs. Bury's +promised note had filled Constance's honest little heart with rapture, +another had set all the bells in Northmoor Church ringing and Best +rejoicing that 'that there Harbut's nose was put out of joint,' a feeling +wherein Lady Adela could not but participate, though, of course, she +showed no sign of it to Constance. A sharply-worded letter to the girl +soon came from her mother, demanding what she had known beforehand. Mrs. +Morton had plainly been quite unprepared for what was a severe blow to +her, and it was quite possible to understand how, in his shyness, Lord +Northmoor had put off writing of the hope and expectation from day to day +till all had been fulfilled sooner than had been expected. + +It was the first thing that brought home to Constance that the event was +scarcely as delightful to her family as to herself. She wrote what she +knew and heard no more, for none of her home family were apt to favour +her with much correspondence. Miss Morton, however, had written to her +sister-in-law. + +'Poor Herbert! I am sorry for him, though you won't be. He takes it +very well, he really is a very good sort at bottom, and it really is the +very best thing for him, as I have been trying to persuade him.' + +Bulletins came with tolerable frequency from Ratzes, with all good +accounts of mother and child, and a particular description of little +Michael's beauties; but it was only too soon announced that snow was +falling, and this was soon followed by another letter saying that +consultation with the best authorities within reach had decided that +unless the weather were extraordinarily mild, the journey, after November +set in, was not to be ventured by Lady Northmoor or so young a child. +There would be perils for any one, even the postmen and the guides, and +if it were mild in one valley it might only render it more dangerous over +the next Alp. Still Mrs. Bury, a practised and enterprising mountaineer, +might have attempted it; but though Mary was rapidly recovering and the +language was no longer utterly impracticable, the good lady could not +bear to desert her charges, or to think what might happen to them, if +left alone, in case of illness or accident, so she devoted herself to +them and to her studies of ice and snow, and wrote word to her family +that they were to think of her as hibernating till Easter, if not +Whitsuntide. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII +OUT OF JOINT + + +Constance had, of course, to spend her Christmas holidays at home, where +she had not been for nine months. + +Her brother met her at the London terminus to go down with her, and +there, to her great joy, she also saw Rose Rollstone on the platform. +Herbert, whose dignity had first prompted him to seek a smoking carriage +apart from his sister, thereupon decided to lay it aside and enter with +them, looking rather scornful at the girls' mutual endearments. + +'Come, Conny, Miss Rollstone has had enough of that,' he said, 'and here +are a lot going to get in. Oh my, the cads! I shall have to get into +the smoking carriage after all.' + +'No, don't. Sit opposite and we shall do very well.' + +Then came the exchange of news, and--'You've heard, of course, Rosie?' + +'I should think I had,' then an anxious glance at Herbert, who answered-- + +'Oh yes, mother and Ida have been tearing their hair ever since, but it +is all rot! The governor's very welcome to the poor little beggar!' + +'Oh, that's right! That's very noble of you, Herbert,' said both the +girls in a breath. + +'Well, you see, old Frank is good to live these thirty or forty years +yet, and what was the good of having to wait? Better have done with it +at once, I say, and he has written me a stunning jolly letter.' + +'Oh, I was sure he would!' cried Constance. + +'I'm to go on just the same, and he won't cut off my allowance,' pursued +Herbert. + +'It is just as my papa says,' put in Rose, 'he is always the gentleman. +And you'll be in the army still?' + +'When I've got through my exams; but they are no joke, Miss Rose, I can +tell you. It is Conny there that likes to sap. What have you been doing +this time, little one?' + +'I don't know yet, but Miss Astley thinks I have done well and shall get +into the upper form,' said Constance shyly. 'I got on with my German +while I was abroad, trying to teach Uncle Frank.' + +At which Herbert laughed heartily, and demanded what sort of scholar he +made. + +'Not very good,' owned Constance; 'he did forget so from day to day, and +he asked so many questions, and was always wanting to have things +explained. But it made me know them better, and Mrs. Bury had such nice +books, and she helped me. If you want to take up French and German, +Bertie-- + +He shrugged his shoulders. + +'Don't spoil the passing hour, child. I should think you would be glad +enough to get away from it all.' + +'I do want to get on,' said Constance. 'I must, you know, more than ever +now.' + +'Oh, you mean that mad fancy of going and being a teacher?' + +'It is not a bit mad, Herbert. Rose does not think it is, and I want you +to stand by me if mamma and Ida make objections.' + +'Girls are always in such a hurry,' grumbled Herbert. 'You need not make +a stir about it yet. You won't be able to begin for ever so long.' + +Rose agreed with him that it would be much wiser not to broach the +subject till Constance was old enough to begin the preparation, though, +with the impatience of youth to express its designs and give them form, +she did not like the delay. + +'I tell you what, Con,' finally said Herbert, 'if you set mother and Ida +worrying before their time, I shall vote it all rot, and not say a word +to help you.' + +Which disposed of the subject for the time, and left them to discuss +happily Constance's travels and Herbert's new tutor and companions till +their arrival at Westhaven, where Constance's welcome was quite a +secondary thing to Herbert's, as she well knew it would be, nor felt it +as a grievance, though she was somewhat amazed at seeing him fervently +embraced, and absolutely cried over, with 'Oh, my poor injured boy!' + +Herbert did not like it at all, and disengaging himself rapidly, growled +out his favourite expletive of 'Rot! Have done with that!' + +He was greatly admired for his utter impatience of commiseration, but +there was no doubt that the disappointment was far greater to his mother +and Ida than to himself. He cared little for what did not make any +actual difference to his present life, whereas to them the glory and +honour of his heirship and the future hopes were everything--and +Constance's manifest delight in the joy of her uncle and aunt, and her +girlish interest in the baby, were to their eyes unfeeling folly, if not +absolute unkindness to her brother. + +'Dear little baby, indeed!' said Ida scornfully. 'Nasty little wretch, I +say. One good thing is, up in that cold place all this time he's sure +not to live.' + +Herbert whistled. 'That's coming it rather strong.' And Constance, with +tears starting to her eyes, said, 'For shame, Ida, how can you be so +wicked! Think of Uncle Frank and Aunt Mary!' + +'I believe you care for them more than for your own flesh and blood!' +exclaimed her mother. + +'Well, and haven't they done a sight deal more for her?' said Herbert. + +'You turning on me too, you ungrateful boy!' cried Mrs. Morton. + +Herbert laughed. + +'If it comes to gratitude,' he said, and looked significantly at the +decorations. + +'And what is it but the due to his brother's widow?' said Mrs. Morton. +'Just a pittance, and you may depend that will be cut down on some +pretext now!' + +'I should think so, if they heard Ida's tongue!' said Herbert. + +'And Constance there is spitefulness enough to go and tell +them--favourite as she is!' said Ida. + +'I should think not!' said Constance indignantly. 'As if I would do such +a mean thing!' + +'Come, come, Ida,' said her mother, 'your sister knows better than that. +It's not the way when she is only just come home, so grown too and +improved, "quite the lady."' + +Mrs. Morton had a mother's heart for Constance, though only in the third +degree, and was really gratified to see her progress. She had turned up +her pretty brown hair, and the last year had made her much less of a +child in appearance; her features were of delicate mould, she had dark +eyes, and a sweet mouth, with a rose-blush complexion, and was pleasing +to look on, though, in her mother's eyes, no rival to the thin, rather +sharply-defined features, bright eyes, and pink-and-white complexion that +made Ida the belle of a certain set at Westhaven. The party were more +amicable over the dinner-table--for dinner it was called, as an assertion +of gentility. + +'Are you allowed to dine late,' asked Ida patronisingly of her sister, +'when you are not at school? + +'Lady Adela dines early,' said Constance. + +'Oh, for your sake, I suppose?' + +'Always, I believe,' said Constance. + +'Yes, always,' said Herbert. 'Fine people needn't ask what's genteel, +you see, Ida.' + +That was almost the only breeze, and after dinner Herbert rushed out for +a smell of sea, interspersed with pipe, and to 'look up the inevitable +old Jack.' + +Constance was then subjected to a cross-examination on all the +circumstances of the detention at Ratzes, and all she had heard or ought +to have heard about the arrival of the unwelcome little Michael, while +her mother and sister drew their own inferences. + +'Really,' said Ida at last, 'it is just like a thing in a book.' + +Constance was surprised. + +'Because it was such a happy surprise for them,' she added hastily. + +'No, nonsense, child, but it is just what they always do when they want a +supposititious heir.' + +'Ida, how can you say such things?' + +'But it is, Conny! There was the wicked Sir Ronald Macronald. He took +his wife away to Belgrade, right in the Ukraine mountains, and it--' + +'Belgrade is in Hungary, and the Cossacks live in the Ukraine in Russia,' +suggested Constance. + +'Oh, never mind your school-girl geography, it was Bel something, an +out-of-the-way place in the mountains anyway, and there he pretended she +had a child, just out of malice to the right heiress, that lovely Lilian, +and he got killed by a stag, and then she confessed on her death-bed. I +declare it is just like--' + +'My dear, don't talk in that way, your sister is quite shocked. Your +uncle never would--' + +'Bless me, ma, I was only in fun. I could tell you ever so many stories +like that. There's Broughton's, on the table there. I knew from the +first it was an impostor, and the old nurse dressed like a nun was his +mother.' + +'I believe you always know the end before you are half through the first +volume,' said her mother admiringly; 'but of course it is all right, only +it is a terrible disappointment and misfortune for us, and not to be +looked for after all these years.' + +The last three Christmastides had been spent at Northmoor, where it had +been needful to conform to the habits of the household, which impressed +Ida and her mother as grand and conferring distinction, but decidedly +dull and religious. + +So as they were at Westhaven, perforce, they would make up for it, +Christmas Eve was spent in a tumult of preparation for the diversions of +the next day. Mrs. Morton had two maids now, but to her they were still +'gals,' not to be trusted with the more delicate cookeries, and Ida was +fully engaged in the adornment of the room and herself, while Constance +ran about and helped both, and got more thanks from her mother than her +sister. + +Ida was to end the day with a dance at a friend's house, but she was not +desirous of taking Constance with her, having been accustomed to treat +her as a mere child, and Constance, though not devoid of a wish for +amusement, knew that her uncle and aunt would have taken her to church, +where she would have enjoyed the festal service. + +Her mother would not let her go out in the dark alone, and was too tired +to go with her, so she had to stay at home, while Herbert disported +himself elsewhere, and Constance underwent another cross-examination over +the photographs she had brought home, but Mrs. Morton was never unkind +when alone with her, and she had all the natural delight of youth in +relating her adventures. Mrs. Morton, however, showed offence at not +having been sent for instead of Mrs. Bury.--'So much less of a relation,' +and Constance found herself dwelling on the ruggedness of the pass, and +the difficulties of making oneself understood, but Mrs. Morton still +persisted that she 'could not understand why they should have got into +such a place at all, when there were plenty of fashionable places in the +newspaper where they could have had society and attendance and +everything.' + +'Ah, but that was just what Uncle Frank didn't want.' + +'Well, if they choose to be so eccentric, and close and shy, they can't +wonder that people talk.' + +'Mamma, you can't mean that horrid nonsense that Ida talked about! It +was only a joke!' + +'Oh, my dear, I don't say that I suspect anything--oh no,--only, if they +had not been so close and queer, one would have been able to contradict +it. I like people to be straightforward, that's all I have to say. And +it is terribly hard on your poor brother to be so disappointed, after +having his expectations so raised!' and Mrs. Morton melted into tears, +leaving Constance with nothing to say, for in the first place, she did +not think Herbert, as yet at least, was very sensible of his loss, and in +the next, she did not quite venture to ask her mother whether she thought +little Michael should have been sacrificed to Herbert's expectations. So +she took the wiser course of producing a photograph of Vienna. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII +VELVET + + +Constance created quite a sensation when she came down dressed for church +on Christmas Day in a dark blue velvet jacket, deeply trimmed with silver +fox, and a hat and muff _en suite_, matching with her serge dress, and +though unpretending, yet very handsome. + +Up jumped Ida, from lacing her boots by the fire. 'Well, I never! They +are spoiling you! Real velvet, I declare, and real silk-wadded lining. +Look, ma. What made them dress you like that?' + +'It wasn't them,' said Constance, 'it was Lady Adela. One Sunday in +October it turned suddenly cold, and I had only my cloth jacket, and she +sent up for something warm for me. This was just new before she went +into black, when husband died, and she had put it away for Amice, but it +fitted me so well, and looked so nice, that she was so kind as to wish me +to keep it always.' + +'Cast-off clothes! That's the insolence of these swells,' said Ida. 'I +wonder you had not the spirit to refuse.' + +'Sour grapes,' muttered Herbert; while her mother sighed--'Ah, that's +what we come to!' + +'Must not I wear it, mamma?' said Constance, who had a certain attachment +to the beautiful and comfortable garment. 'She told me she had only worn +it once in London, and she was so very kind.' + +'Oh, if you call it kindness,' said Ida, 'I call it impertinence.' + +'If you had only heard--' faltered Constance. + +'No, no,' said their mother, 'you could not refuse, of course, my dear, +and no one here will know. It becomes her very well too. Doesn't it, +Ida?' + +Ida made a snort. 'If people choose to make a little chit of a +schoolgirl ridiculous by dressing her out like that!' she said. + +'There isn't time now before church,' said Constance almost tearfully, +'or I would take it off.' + +'No such thing,' said Herbert. 'Come on, Conny. You shall walk with me. +You look stunning, and I want Westhaven folk to see for once what a lady +is like.' + +Constance was very glad to be led away from Ida's comments, and resolved +that her blue velvet should not see the light again at Westhaven; but she +did not find this easy to carry out; for, perhaps for the sake of teasing +Ida, Herbert used to inquire after it, and insist on her wearing it, and +her mother liked to see her, and to show her, in it. It was only Ida who +seemed unable to help saying something disagreeable, till, almost in +despair, Constance offered to lend the bone of contention; but Lady Adela +was a small woman, and Constance would never be on so large a scale as +her sister, so that the jacket refused to be transferred except at the +risk of being spoilt by alteration; and here Mrs. Morton interfered, 'It +would never do to have them say at Northmoor that "Lady Morton's" gift +had been spoilt by their meddling with it.' Constance was glad, though +she suspected that Lady Adela would never have found it out. + +Then Ida consulted Sibyl Grover, who was working with a dressmaker, and +with whom she kept up a sort of patronisingly familiar acquaintance, as +to making something to rival it, and Sibyl was fertile in devices as to +doing so cheaply, but when she consulted her superior, she was told that +without the same expensive materials it would evidently be only an +imitation, and moreover, that the fashion was long gone out of date. +Which enabled Ida to bear the infliction with some degree of philosophy. + +This jacket was not, however, Constance's only trouble. Her conscience +was already uneasy at the impossibility of getting to evensong on +Christmas Day. She had been to an early Celebration without asking any +questions, and had got back before Herbert had come down to breakfast, +and very glad she was that she had done so, for she found that her mother +regarded it as profane 'to take the Sacrament' when she was going to have +a party in the evening, and when Constance was in the midst of the party +she felt that--if it were to be--her mother might be right. + +It was a dinner first--at which Constance did not appear--chiefly of +older people, who talked of shipping and of coals. Afterwards, if they +noticed the young people, joked them about their imaginary lovers--beaux, +as the older ladies called them; young men, as the younger ones said. +One, the most plain spoken of all, asked Herbert how he felt, at which +the boy wriggled and laughed sheepishly, and his mother had a great +confabulation with various of the ladies, who were probably condoling +with her. + +Later, there were cards for the elders, and sundry more young people came +in for a dance. The Rollstones were considered as beneath the dignity of +the Mortons, but Herbert had loudly insisted on inviting Rose for the +evening and had had his way, but after all she would not come. Herbert +felt himself aggrieved, and said she was as horrid a little prig as +Constance, who on her side felt a pang of envy as she thought of Rose +going to church and singing hymns and carols to her father and mother, +while she, after a struggle under the mistletoe, which made her hot and +miserable, had to sit playing waltzes. One good-natured lady offered to +relieve her, but she was too much afraid of the hero of the mistletoe to +stir from her post, and the daughter of her kindly friend had no scruple +in exclaiming-- + +'Oh no, ma, don't! You always put us out, you know, and Constance Morton +is as true as old Time.' + +'I am sure Constance is only too happy to oblige her friends,' said Mrs. +Morton. 'And she is not out yet,' she added, as a tribute to high life. + +If Constance at times felt unkindly neglected, at others she heard surges +of giggling, and suppressed shrieking and protests that made her feel the +piano an ark of refuge. + +The parting speech from a good-natured old merchant captain was, 'Why, +you demure little pussy cat, you are the prettiest of them all! What +have yon lads been thinking about to let those little fingers be going +instead of her feet? Or is it all Miss Ida's jealousy, eh?' + +All this, in a speaking-trumpet voice, put the poor child into an agony +of blushes, which only incited him to pat her on the cheek, and the rest +to laugh hilariously, under the influence of negus and cheap champagne. + +Constance could have cried for very shame, but when she was waiting on +her mother, who, tired as she was, would not go to bed without locking up +the spoons and the remains of the wine, Mrs. Morton said kindly, 'You are +tired, my dear, and no wonder. They were a little noisy to-night. Those +are not goings-on that I always approve, you know, but young folk always +like a little pleasure extra at Christmas. Don't you go and get too +genteel for us, Conny. Come, come, don't cry. Drink this, my love, +you're tired.' + +'Oh, mamma, it is not the being genteel--oh no, but Christmas Day and +all!' + +'Come, come, my dear, I can't have you get mopy and dull; religion is a +very good thing, but it isn't meant to hinder all one's pleasure, and +when you've been to church on a Christmas Day, what more can be expected +of young people but to enjoy themselves? Come, go to bed and think no +more about it.' + +To express or even to understand what she felt would have been impossible +to Constance, so she had to content herself with feeling warm at her +heart, at her mother's kind kiss. + +All the other parties she saw were much more decorous, even to +affectation, except that at the old skipper's, and he was viewed by the +family as a subject for toleration, because he had been a friend and +messmate of Mrs. Morton's father. All the good side of that lady and Ida +came out towards him and his belongings. He had an invalid +granddaughter, with a spine complaint and feeble eyesight, and Ida spent +much time in amusing her, teaching her fancy works and reading to her. +Unluckily it was only trashy novels from the circulating library that +they read; Ida had no taste for anything else, and protested that Louie +would be bored to death if she tried to read her the African adventures +which were just then the subject of enthusiasm even with Herbert! Ida +was not a dull girl. Unlike some who do not seem to connect their books +with life, she made them her realities and lived in them, and as she +hardly ever read anything more substantial her ideas of life and society +were founded on them, though in her own house she was shrewd in practical +matters, and though not strong was a useful active assistant to her +mother whenever there was no danger of her being detected in doing +anything derogatory to one so nearly connected with the peerage. + +Indeed, she seemed to regard her sister's dutiful studies as proofs of +dulness and want of spirit. She was quite angry when Constance objected +to _The Unconscious Impostor_,--very yellow, with a truculent flaming +design outside--that 'she did not think she ought to read that kind of +book--Aunt Mary would not like it.' + +'Well, if I would be in bondage to an old governess! You are not such a +child now.' + +'Don't, Ida. Uncle Frank would not like it either.' + +'Perhaps not,' said Ida, with an ugly, meaning laugh as she glanced again +at the title. + +Constance might really have liked to read more tales than she allowed +herself. _The House on the Marsh_ tempted her, but she was true to the +advice she had received, and Rose Rollstone upheld her in her resolution. + +Ida thought it rather 'low' in Herbert and Constance to care for the old +butler's daughter, but their mother had a warm spot in the bottom of her +heart, and liked a gossip with Mrs. Rollstone too much to forbid the +house to her daughter, besides that she shrank from inflicting on her so +much distress. + +So during the fortnight that Rose spent at home the girls were together +most of the morning. After Constance, well wrapped up, had practised in +the cold drawing-room, where economy forbade fires till the afternoon, +she sped across to Rose in the little stuffy parlour where Mr. Rollstone +liked to doze over his newspaper to the lullaby of their low-voiced +chatter. Often they walked together, and were sometimes joined by +Herbert, who on these occasions always showed that he knew how to behave +like a gentleman. + +Herbert was faithfully keeping his promise not to bet, though, as he +observed, he had not expected to be in for it so long. But it was +satisfactory to hear that his present fellow-pupils did not go in for +that sort of thing, and Constance felt sure that her uncle and aunt would +be pleased with him and think him much improved. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV +THE REVENGE OF SORDID SPIRITS + + +'I am quite convinced,' said Ida Morton, 'it is quite plain why we are +not invited.' + +'My dear, you see what your aunt says; that Mrs. Bury's daughter's +husband is ordered to India, and that having the whole family to stay at +Northmoor gives them the only chance of being all together for a little +while, and after their obligations to Mrs. Bury--' + +'Ma, how can you be so green? Obligations, indeed! It is all a mere +excuse to say there is not room for us in that great house. I see +through it all. It is just to prevent us from being able to ask +inconvenient questions of the German nurse and Mrs. Bury and all!' + +'Now, Ida, I wish you would put away that fancy. Your uncle and aunt +were always such good people! And there was Mrs. Bury--' + +'Mother, you will never understand the revenge of sordid souls,' said Ida +tragically, quoting from _The Unconscious Impostor_. + +'Revenge! What can you mean?' + +'Of course, you know, Mrs. Bury never forgave Herbert's taking her for a +tramp, and you know how nasty uncle was about that white rook and the +bets. Oh, it is quite plain. He was to be deprived of his rights, and +so this journey was contrived, and they got into this out-of-the-way, +inaccessible place, and sent poor Conny away, and then had no doctor or +nurse--exactly as people always do.' + +'Oh, Ida, only in stories! Your novels are turning your head.' + +'Novels are transcripts of life,' again said Ida, solemnly quoting. + +'I don't believe it if they put such things into your head,' said her +mother. 'Asking Herbert to be godfather too! Such a compliment!' + +'An empty compliment, to hoodwink us and the poor boy,' said Ida. 'No, +no, ma, the keeping you away settles it in my mind, and it shall be the +business of my life to unmask that!' + +So spoke Ida, conscious of being a future heroine. + +It was quite true that Herbert had been asked to stand godfather to his +little cousin's admission into the Church, after, of course, a very good +report had been received from his tutor. 'You are the little fellow's +nearest kinsman,' wrote Lord Northmoor, 'and I trust to you to influence +him for good.' Herbert wriggled, blushed, thought he hated it, was glad +it had been written instead of spoken, but was really touched. + +His uncle had justly thought responsibility would be wholesome, and +besides, Herbert represented to him his brother, for whom he had a very +tender feeling. + +It was quite true that Northmoor was as full as it would hold. Mrs. +Bury's eldest daughter was going out to India, and another had a husband +in the Civil Service; the third lived in Ireland, and the only way of +having the whole family together for their last fortnight was to gather +them at Northmoor, as soon as its lord and lady returned, nor had they +been able to escape from their Dolomite ravine till the beginning of May, +for the roads were always dangerous, often impassable, so that there had +been weeks when they were secluded from even the post, and had had +difficulties as to food and fire. + +However, it had done them no harm, and was often looked back upon as, +metaphorically as well as literally, the brightest and whitest time in +their lives. Frank had walked and climbed both with Mrs. Bury and on his +own account, and had drunk in the wild glories of the mountain winter, +and the fantastic splendours of snow and ice on those wondrous peaks. +And, with that new joy and delight to be found in the queer wooden +cradle, his heart was free to bound as perhaps it had never done before, +in exulting thankfulness, as he looked up to those foretastes of the +Great White Throne. + +Never had he had such a rest before from toil, care, and anxiety as in +those months in the dry, bracing air, and it was the universal remark +that Lord Northmoor came back years younger and twice the man he had been +before, with a spirit of cheerfulness and enterprise such as had always +been wanting; while as to his wife, she was less strong than before, but +there was a certain peaceful, yet exulting happiness about her, and her +face had gained wonderfully in sweetness and expression. + +The child was a fine plump little fellow, old enough to laugh and respond +to loving faces and gestures. Mary had feared the sight might be painful +to Lady Adela, and was gratified to find her too true a baby-lover and +too generous a spirit not to worship him almost as devotedly as did +Constance. + +Perhaps the heads of the family had never seen or participated in +anything like the domestic mirth and enjoyment of that fortnight's visit; +Bertha was with Lady Adela, and the intimacy and confidence in which +Frank and Mary had lived with Mrs. Bury had demolished many barriers of +shyness, and made them hosts who could be as one with their +guests--guests with whom the shadow of parting made the last sunshine +seem the more bright. + +'I did not know what I was letting you in for,' said Bertha, in apology +to Mrs. Bury. + +'My dear, I would not have been without the experience on any account. I +never saw such a refreshing pair of people.' + +'Surely it must have been awfully slow--regular penal servitude!' + +'You confuse absence of small talk with absence of soul, Birdie. When we +had once grown intimate enough to hold our tongues if we had nothing to +say, we got on perfectly.' + +'And what you had to say was about Master Michael?' + +'Not entirely; though I must say the mingled reverence and curiosity with +which they regard the little monster, and their own fear of not bringing +up their treasure properly, were a very interesting study.' + +'More so than your snowy peaks! Ah, if the proper study of mankind is +man, the proper study of womankind is babe.' + +'Well, it was not at all an unsatisfactory study, in this case. And let +me tell you, Miss Birdie, it is no bad thing to be shut in for a few +months with a few good books and a couple of thoroughly simple-hearted +people, who have thought a good deal in their quiet humdrum way.' + +'Why, Lettice, you must have been quite an education to them!' + +'I hope they were an education to me.' + +'I hope your conscience is not going to be such a rampant and obstructive +thing as that which they possess in common,' said Bertha. + +'I wish it had been,' said Mrs. Bury gravely. + +'At any rate, the deadly lively time has brisked you all up,' said +Bertha, laughing. + +Constance, on her Saturdays and Sundays, looked on with a kind of wonder. +She was not exactly of either set. The children were all so young as to +look on her as a grown-up person, though willing to let her play with +them; and she was outside the group of young married people, and could +not enter into their family fun; but this kind of playfulness and +merriment was quite a revelation to her. She had never before seen +mirth, except, of course, childish and schoolgirl play, that had not in +it something that hurt her taste and jarred on her feeling as much as did +Ida's screeching laughter in comparison with the soft ripplings of these +young matrons. + +Still, little Michael was her chief delight, and she could hardly be +detached from him. She refreshed her colloquial German (or rather +Austrian) with his nurse, who had much to say of the goodness of _die +Gnadigen Frauen_. Poor thing, she was the youthful widow of a guide, and +the efforts of the two Frauen had been in vain to keep alive her only +child, after whose death she had found some consolation in taking charge +of Lady Northmoor's baby on the way home. Constance hoped Ida might +never hear this fact. + +Some degree of prosperity was greeting the little heir. A bit of +moorland, hitherto regarded as worthless, had first been crossed by a +branch line, and the primary growth of a station had been followed by the +discovery of good building stone, and the erection of a crop of houses of +all degrees, which promised to set the Northmoor finances on a better +footing than had been theirs for years, and set their conscientious +landlord to work at once on providing church room and schools. + +All this, and that most precious possession at home, combined to give +Lord Northmoor an amount of spirit and life that enabled him to take his +place in the county, emancipate himself from the squire, show an opinion +of his own, and open his mouth occasionally. As Bertha observed, no one +would ever have called him a stick if he had begun like this. To people +like these, humbled and depressed in early life, a little happiness was a +great stimulus. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV +THE LOVE + + +It was not till Christmas that Ida had the opportunity of making her +observations. By that time 'Mite,' as he was supposed to have named +himself, had found the use of his feet, and was acquiring that of his +tongue. In fact, he was a very fine forward child, who might easily have +been supposed to be eighteen months old instead of fifteen, as Ida did +not fail to remark. + +He was a handsome little creature, round and fair, with splendid sturdy +legs and mottled arms, hair that stood up in a pale golden crest, round +blue eyes and a bright colour, without much likeness as yet to either +parent, though Lord Northmoor declared that there was an exact +resemblance to his own brother, Charles, Herbert's father, as he first +remembered him. Ida longed to purse up her lips but did not dare, and +was provoked to see her mother taken completely captive by his charms, +and petting him to the utmost extent. + +Indeed, Lady Northmoor, who was very much afraid of spoiling him, was +often distressed when such scenes as this took place. 'Mite! Mite, dear, +no!' when his fat little hands had grasped an ivory paper-cutter, and its +blade was on the way to the button mouth. 'No!' as he paused and looked +at her. 'Here's Mite's ball! poor little dear, do let him have it'--and +Mite, reading sympathy in his aunt's face, laughed in a fascinating +triumphant manner, and took a bite with his small teeth. + +'Mite! mother said no!' and it was gently taken from his hand, but before +the fingers had embraced the substituted ball, a depreciating look and +word of remonstrance gave a sense of ill-usage and there was a roar. + +'Oh, poor little dear! Here--auntie's goody goody--' + +'No, no, please, Emma, he has had quite as many as he ought! No, no, +Mite--' and he was borne off sobbing in her arms, while Ida observed, +'There! is that the way people treat their own children?' + +'Some people never get rid of the governess,' observed Mrs. Morton, quite +unconscious that but for her interference there would have been no +contest and no tears. + +But she herself had no doubts, and was mollified by Mary's plea on her +return. 'He is quite good now, but you see, there is so much danger of +our spoiling him, we feel that we cannot begin too soon to make him +obedient.' + +'I could not bear to keep a poor child under in that way.' + +'I believe it saves them a great deal if obedience is an instinct,' said +Mary. + +It had not been Mrs. Morton's method, and she was perfectly satisfied +with the result, so she only made some inarticulate sound; but she +thought Frank quite as unnatural, when he kept Michael on his knee at +breakfast, but with only an empty spoon to play with! All the tossing +and playing, the radiant smiles between the two did not in her eyes atone +for these small beginnings of discipline, even though her +brother-in-law's first proceeding, whenever he came home, was to look for +his son, and if the child were not in the drawing-room, to hurry up to +the nursery and bring him down, laughing and shouting. + +The Tyrolean nurse had been sacrificed to those notions of training which +the Westhaven party regarded as so harsh. Her home sickness and pining +for her mountains had indeed fully justified the 'rampant consciences,' +as to the humanity as well as the expedience of sending her home before +her indulgence of the Kleiner Freiherr had had time to counteract his +parents' ideas, and her place had been supplied by the nurse whom Amice +was outgrowing, so that Ida was disappointed of her intentions of +examining her, and laid up the circumstances as suspicious, though, on +the other hand, her mother was gratified at exercising a bit of patronage +by recommending a nursery girl from Westhaven. The next winter, however, +was not marked by a visit to Northmoor. Ida had been having her full +share of the summer and early autumnal gaieties of Westhaven, and among +the yachts who were given to putting in there was a certain _Morna_, +belonging to Sir Thomas Brady, who had become a baronet by force of +success in speculation. His son, who chiefly used it, showed evident +admiration of Miss Morton's bright cheeks and eyes, and so often resorted +to Westhaven, and dropped in at what she had named Northmoor cottage, +that there was fair reason for supposing that this might result in more +than an ordinary flirtation. + +However, at the regatta, when she had looked for distinguished attention +on his part, she felt herself absolutely neglected, and the very next day +the _Morna_ sailed away, without a farewell. + +Ida at first could hardly believe it. When she did, the conviction came +upon her that his son's attachment had been reported to Sir Thomas, and +that the young man had been summoned away against his will. It would +have been different, no doubt, had Herbert still been heir-presumptive. + +'That horrid little Mite!' said she. + +Whether her heart or her ambition had been most affected might be +doubtful. At any rate, the disappointment added to the oppression of a +heavy cold on the chest, which she had caught at the regatta, and which +became severe enough to call for the doctor. + +Thus the mother and daughter did not go to Northmoor. At a ball given on +board a steam yacht just before Christmas Ida caught a violent cold on +the chest, the word congestion was uttered, and an opinion was pronounced +that as she had always weak lungs, a spring abroad would be advisable. + +Mrs. Morton wrote a letter with traces of tears upon it, appealing to her +brother-in-law to assist her as the only hope of saving her dearest +child, and the quarries had done so well during the last year that he was +able to respond with a largesse sufficient for her needs, though not for +her expectations. + +Mrs. Morton would have liked to have taken Constance as interpreter, and +general aid and assistant; but Constance was hard at work, aspiring to a +scholarship, at a ladies' college, and it was plain that her sister was +not so desirous of her company as to make her mother overrule her wishes +as a duty. + +In fact, Ida had found a fellow-traveller who would suit her much better +than Constance. Living for the last year in lodgings near at hand was a +Miss Gattoni, daughter of an Italian courier and French lady's maid. As +half boarder at a third-rate English school, she had acquired education +enough to be first a nursery-governess, and later a companion; and in her +last situation, when she had gone abroad several times with a rheumatic +old lady, she had recommended herself enough to receive a legacy which +rendered her tolerably independent. She was very good-natured, and had +graduated in the art of making herself acceptable, and, as she really +wished to go abroad again, she easily induced Mrs. Morton and Ida to +think it a great boon that she should join forces with them, and as she +was an experienced traveller with a convenient smattering of various +tongues, she really smoothed their way considerably and lived much more +at her ease than she could have done upon her own resources, always +frequenting English hotels and boarding-houses. + +Mrs. Morton and Ida were of that order of tourists who do not so much +care for sights as for being on a level with those who have seen them; +and besides, Ida was scarcely well or in spirits enough for much exertion +till after her first month at Nice, which restored her altogether to her +usual self, and made her impatient of staying in one place. + +It is not, however, worth while to record the wanderings of the trio, +until in the next summer they reached Venice, where Ida declared her +intention of penetrating into the Dolomites. There was an outcry. What +could she wish for in that wild and savage country, where there was no +comfortable hotel, no society, no roads--nothing in short to make life +tolerable, whereas an hotel full of Americans of extreme politeness to +ladies, and expeditions in gondolas, when one could talk and have plenty +of attention, were only too delightful? + +That peaks should be more attractive than flirtations was inexplicable, +but at last in secret confabulation Ida disclosed her motive, and in +another private consultation Mrs. Morton begged Miss Gattoni to agree to +it, as the only means of satisfying the young lady, or putting her mind +at rest about a fancy her mother could not believe in; though even as she +said, 'it would be so very shocking, it is perfectly ridiculous to think +my brother Lord Northmoor would be capable,' the shrewd confidante +detected a lingering wish that it might be so! + +Maps and routes were consulted, and it was decided that whereas to go +from Venice through Cadore would involve much mule-riding and rough +roads, the best way would be to resort to the railway to Verona, and +thence to Botzen as the nearest point whence Ratzes could be reached. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI +IDA'S WARNING + + +Botzen proved to be very hot and full of smells, nor did Mrs. Morton care +for its quaint old medieval houses, but Ida's heart had begun to fail her +when she came so near the crisis, and on looking over the visitors' book +she gave a cry. 'Ah, if we had only known! It is all of no use.' + +'How?' she was asked. + +'That horrid Mrs. Bury!' + +'There?' + +'Of course she is. Only a week ago she was here. If she is at Ratzes, +of course we can do nothing.' + +'And the road is _affreux_, perfectly frightful,' said Mademoiselle. 'I +have been inquiring about it. No access except upon mules. A whole +day's journey--and the hotel! Bah, it is _vilain_!' + +'If Ida is bent on going she must go without me,' said Mrs. Morton. +'I--I have had enough of those horrid beasts. Ida's nonsense will be the +death of me.' + +'I don't see much good in going on with that woman there,' said Ida +gloomily. 'She would be sure to stifle all inquiry.' + +'A good thing too,' muttered poor, weary Mrs. Morton. + +Ida turned the leaves of the visitors' book till she found the names of +Lord and Lady Northmoor, and then, growing more eager as obstructions +came in her way, and not liking to turn back as if on a fool's errand, +she suggested to Miss Gattoni that questions might be asked about their +visit. The Tyrolean patois was far beyond her, and not too +comprehensible to her friend, but there was a waiter who could speak +French, and the landlady's German was tolerable. + +The milord and miladi were perfectly remembered, as well as their long +detention, but the return had been by way of Italy, so they had not +revisited Botzen with their child the next spring. + +'But,' said the hostess, 'there is a young woman in the next street who +can tell you more than I. She offered herself as a nurse.' + +This person was at once sent for. She was the same who had been +mentioned by Mrs. Bury, but she had exchanged the peasant costume, which +had, perhaps, only been assumed to please the English ladies, for the +townswoman's universal endeavour at French fashion, which by no means +enhanced her rather coarse beauty, which was more Italian than Austrian. + +Italian was the tongue which chiefly served as a medium between her and +Miss Gattoni, though hers was not pure enough to be easily understood. +Mrs. Morton and Ida put questions which Miss Gattoni translated as best +she could, and made out as much as possible of the answers. It was +elicited that she had not been allowed to see the English miladi. All +had been settled by the signora who came yearly, and they had rejected +her after all her trouble; the doctor had recommended her, and though her +_creatura_ would have been just the right age, and that little +_ipocrila's_ child was older, ever so much older--she spread out her +hands to indicate infinity. + +'Ah!' said Ida, 'I always thought so.' + +'Ask her how much older,' demanded Mrs. Morton. + +The replies varied from nearly _un sanestre_ to _tre settimane_--and no +more could be made of that question. + +'Where was the foster-child?' + +Again the woman threw up her hands to indicate that she had no +notion--what was it to her? She could not tell if it were alive or dead; +but (upon a leading question) it had not been seen since Hedwige's +departure nor after return. Was it boy or girl? and, after some +hesitation, it was declared to have been _un maschio_. + +There was more, which nobody quite understood, but which sounded abusive, +and they were glad to get rid of her with a couple of _thalers_. + +'Well?' said Ida triumphantly. + +'Well?' echoed her mother in a different tone. 'I don't know what you +were all saying, but I'm sure of this, that that woman was only looking +to see what you wanted her to say. I watched the cunning look of her +eyes, and I would not give that for her word,' with a gesture of her +fingers. + +'But, ma, you didn't understand! Nothing could be plainer. The doctor +recommended her, and sent her over in proper time, but she never saw any +one but Mrs. Bury, who, no doubt, had made her arrangements. Then this +other woman's child was older--nobody knows how much--but we always +agreed that nobody could believe Mite, as they call him, was as young as +they said. And then that other child was a boy, and it has vanished.' + +'I don't believe she knew.' + +'No, I do not think she did,' chimed in Miss Gattoni. 'This _canaille_ +will say anything!' + +'I believe the woman,' said Ida obstinately. 'Her evidence chimes in +with all my former conclusions.' + +The older ladies both had a strong misgiving that the conclusions had +formed the evidence, and Mrs. Morton, though she had listened all along +to Ida's grumbling, was perfectly appalled at the notion of bringing such +a ridiculous accusation against the brother-in-law, against whom she +might indeed murmur, but whom she knew to be truthful and self-denying. +She ventured to represent that it was impossible to go upon this +statement without ascertaining whether the Grantzen child was alive, or +really dead and buried at Ratzes, and that the hostess of the inn would +have been better evidence, but-- + + He that of purpose looks beside the mark, + Might as well hoodwinked shoot as in the dark, + +and Ida was certain that all the people at Ratzes had been bribed, and +that no one would dare to speak out while Mrs. Bury kept guard there. +Indeed, for that lady to guess at such suspicions and inquiries would +have been so dreadful that Ratzes was out of the question, much to the +relief of the elders, dragged along by the masterful maiden against their +better judgment, though indeed Miss Gattoni gave as much sympathy in her +_tete-a-tetes_ with Ida as she did to her mother in their consultations. + +They were made to interview the doctor, but he knew as little about the +matter as the disappointed _balia_, and professed to know much less. In +point of fact, though he had been called in after the accident, Mrs. Bury +had not thought much of his skill, and had not promoted after-visits. +There had not been time to summon him when the birth took place, and Mrs. +Bury thought her experience more useful afterwards than his treatment was +likely to be. So he was a slighted and offended man, whose testimony, +given in good German, only declared the secretiveness, self-sufficiency, +and hard-neckedness of Englander! + +And Ida's state of mind much resembled that of the public when resolved +to believe in the warming-pan. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII +THE YOUNG PRETENDER + + +The denunciation of the Young Pretender was not an easy matter even in +Ida's eyes. It was one thing to have a pet grievance and see herself as +a heroine, righting her dear injured brother's wrongs, and another to +reproach two of the quietest most matter-of-fact people in the world with +the atrocious frauds of which only a wicked baronet was capable. + +She was not sorry that the return to England was deferred by the tenants +of the house at Westhaven wanting to stay on; and when at length a +Christmas visit was paid at Northmoor, Mite was an animated little +personage of three and a quarter, and, except that he could not +accomplish a _k_, perfect in speaking plainly and indeed with that pretty +precision of utterance that children sometimes acquire when baby language +has not been foolishly fastened. Indeed, his pet name of Mite was only +for strictly private use. Except to his nearest relatives, he was always +Michael. + +Mrs. Morton was delighted with him, and would have liked to make up for +her knowledge of Ida's suspicions by extra petting, and by discovering +resemblances to all the family portraits as well as to his parents, none +of which any one else could see. She lived upon thorns lest Ida should +burst out with some accusation, but Ida had not the requisite impudence, +and indeed, in sight of the boy with his parents, her 'evidence' faded +into such stuff as dreams are made of. + +There was some vexation, indeed, that Louisa the nursery-maid, whom Mrs. +Morton had recommended, had had to be dismissed. + +'I am sorry,' said Mrs. Morton, 'for, as I told you, her father was the +mate aboard the _Emma Jane_, my poor father's ship, you know, and went +down with poor pa and my poor dear Charlie. And her mother used to char +for us, which was but her due.' + +'Yes, I know,' said Mary; 'Frank and I were both very sorry, and we would +have found her another place, but she would go home. You see, we could +not keep her in the nursery, for we must have a thoroughly trustworthy +person to go out with Michael.' + +'What! Can't your fine nurse?' + +'Eden? It is her one imperfection. It is some weakness of the spine, +and neither she nor I can be about with Michael as long as it is good for +him. I thought he must be safe in the garden, but it turned out that +Louisa had been taking him down to the village, and there meeting a +sailor, who I believe came up in a collier to Colbeam.' + +'Oh, an old friend from Westhaven?' + +'Sam Rattler,' suggested Ida. 'Don't you remember, mamma, Mrs. Hall said +they were sweethearting, and she wanted to get her out of the way of +him.' + +'Perhaps,' said Lady Northmoor, 'but I should have forgiven it if she had +told me the truth and not tempted Mite. She used to make excuses to Eden +for going down to the village, and at last she took Mite there, and they +gave him sweets at the shop not to tell!' + +'Did he?' said Ida, rather hoping the model boy would have failed. + +'Oh yes. The dear little fellow did not understand keeping things back, +and when his papa was giving him his nightly sugar-plum, he said, "Blue +man gave me a great striped sweet, and it stuck in my little teeth"; and +then, when we asked when and where, he said, "Down by Betty's, when I was +out with Cea and Louie"; and so it came out that she had taken him into +the village, met this man, brought him into the grounds by the little +gate, and tried to bribe Mite to say nothing about it. Cea told us all +about it,--the little girl who lives with Miss Morton. Of course we +could never let him go out with her again, and you would hardly believe +what an amount of falsehoods she managed to tell Eden and me about it.' + +'Ah, if you had lived at Westhaven you would have found out that to be so +particular is the way to make those girls fib,' said Mrs. Morton. + +'I hope not. I think we have a very good girl now, trained up in an +orphanage.' + +'Oh, those orphanage girls are the worst of all. I've had enough of +them. They break everything to pieces, and they run after the lads worst +of all, because they have never seen one before!' + +To which Mary answered by a quiet 'I hope it may not turn out so.' + +There were more agitating questions to be brought forward. Herbert had +behaved very fairly well ever since the escapade of the pied rook; the +lad kept his promise as to betting faithfully in his uncle's absence, and +though it had not been renewed, he had learnt enough good sense to keep +out of mischief. + +Unfortunately, however, he had not the faculty of passing examinations. +He was not exactly stupid or idle, but any kind of study was a bore to +him, and the knowledge he was forced to 'get up' was not an acquisition +that gave him the slightest satisfaction for its own sake, or that he +desired to increase beyond what would carry him through. Naturally, he +had more cleverness than his uncle, and learning was less difficult to +him, but he only used his ability to be sooner done with a distasteful +task, which never occupied his mind for a moment after it was thrown +aside. Thus time after time he had failed in passing for the army, and +now only one chance remained before being reduced to attempting to enter +the militia. And suppose that there he failed? + +He remained in an amiable, passive, good-humoured state, rather amused +than otherwise at his mother's impression that it was somehow all his +uncle's fault, and ready to be disposed of exactly as they pleased +provided that he had not the trouble of thinking about it or of working +extra hard. + +Mrs. Morton was sure that something could be done. Could not his uncle +send him to Oxford? Then he could be a clergyman, or a lawyer or +anything. Oh dear, were there those horrid examinations there too? And +then those gentlemen that belonged to the ambassadors and envoys--she was +sure Mr. Rollstone had told her any one who had connection could get that +sort of appointment to what they called the Civil Service. What, +examinations again? connection no good? Well, it was shame! What would +things come to? As Mr Rollstone said, it was mere ruin! + +Merchant's office? Bah! such a gentleman as her Herbert was, so +connected! What was his uncle thinking of, taking him up to put him down +in that way? It was hard. + +And Lord Northmoor was thankful to the tears that as usual choked her, +while he begged her at present to trust to that last chance. It would be +time to think what was to come next if that failed. + +Wherewith the victim passed the window whistling merrily, apparently +perfectly regardless of his doom, be it what it might, and with Mite +clinging to his hand in ecstatic admiration. + +Constance too was in question. Here she was at eighteen, a ladylike, +pleasant, good girl, very nice-looking, sweet-faced, and thoughtful, +having finished her course at the High School with great credit, but +alas! it was not in the family to win scholarships. She did things well, +but not so brilliantly as cleverer girls, having something of her uncle's +tardiness of power. + +Her determination to be a governess was as decided as ever, and it was +first brought before her mother by an offer on Lady Adela's part to begin +with her at once for Amice, who was now eleven years old. + +'Really, now!' said Mrs. Morton, stopping short to express her offence. + +'That is--' added Ida, equally at a loss. + +'But what do you mean, mamma?' said Constance. 'I always intended to be +a teacher; I think it noble, useful work.' + +'Oh, my poor child! what have they brought you to? Pretending such +affection, too!' + +'Indeed, mamma, I have meant this always. I could not be dependent all +my life, you know. Do listen, mamma; don't Ida--' + +'That my Lady Adela should insult us that way, when you are as good as +she!' + +'Nonsense, Ida! That has nothing to do with it. It is the greatest +possible compliment, and I am very much pleased.' + +'Just to live there, at her beck and call, drudging at that child's +lessons!' sneered Ida. + +'Yes, and when I made sure, at least after all the fuss they have made +with you, that your aunt would present you at Court, and make you the +young lady of the house, and marry you well, but there's no trust to be +placed in them--none!' + +'Oh, mamma, don't cry. I should not feel it right, unless Aunt Mary +really needed me, and, though she is so kind and dear, she does not +really. My only doubt is--' + +'You have a doubt, then?' + +'Yes. I should be so much fitter if I could go to one of the ladies' +colleges, and then come back to dear little Amice, but now I have failed, +I don't like to let Uncle Frank spend all that money on me, when I might +be earning eighty pounds for myself.' + +'Well, you are a strange girl, with no proper pride for your family,' +said her mother. + +And Ida chimed in: 'Yes. Do you think any one will be likely to marry +you? or if you don't care about yourself, you might at least think of +me!' + +Mrs. Morton shed her ready tears when talking it over with Lady +Northmoor. + +'You see,' said Mary gently, 'I should like nothing better than to have +dear little Conny to live with me like a daughter, but, for one thing, it +would not be fair towards Ida, and besides, it would not be good for her +in case she did not marry to have wasted these years.' + +Mrs. Morton by no means appreciated the argument. However, Lord +Northmoor put off the matter by deciding to send Constance to St. Hugh's +Hall, thinking she really deserved such a reward to her diligence. + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII +TWO BUNDLES OF HAY + + +Ida was, as all agreed, much improved in looks, style, and manners by her +travels. Her illness had begun the work of fining her down from the +bouncing heartiness of her girlhood, and she really was a handsome +creature, with dark glowing colouring; her figure had improved, whether +because or in spite of her efforts in that way might be doubtful; and she +had learnt how to dress herself in fairly good taste. + +Though neither Mademoiselle Gattoni nor the boarding-house society she +had frequented was even second-rate in style, still there was an advance +over her former Westhaven circle, with a good deal more restraint, so +that she had almost insensibly acquired a much more ladylike air and +deportment. + +Moreover, the two years' absence had made some changes. The young men +who had been in the habit of exchanging noisy jests with Ida had mostly +drifted away in different directions or sobered down; girl companions had +married off; and a new terrace had been completed with inhabitants and +sojourners of a somewhat higher grade, who accepted Mrs. and Miss Morton +as well connected. + +Mr. Rollstone's lodgings were let to Mr. Deyncourt, a young clergyman who +had come full of zeal to work up the growing district. He had been for a +short time in the Northmoor neighbourhood, and had taken the duty there +for a few weeks, so that he heard the name of Morton as prominent in good +works, and had often seen Lady Adela and Constance with the +Sunday-school. As Mr. Rollstone was not slow to mention the connection, +he was not slow to call on Mrs. Morton and Miss Morton, in hopes of their +co-operation, and as Mr. Rollstone had informed them that he was of 'high +family' and of good private means, Mrs. Morton had a much better welcome +for him than for his poor little predecessor, who lived over a +shoemaker's shop, and, as she averred, never came except to ask +subscriptions for some nonsense or other. + +Mr. Deyncourt was a tall fine-looking man, and did not begin by asking +subscriptions, but talked about Northmoor, Constance, and Lady Adela, so +that Ida found herself affecting much closer knowledge of both than she +really had. + +'I found,' he said, 'that your sister is most valuable in the +Sunday-school. I wonder if you would kindly assist us.' + +Mrs. Morton began, 'My daughter is not strong, Mr. Deyncourt.' + +And Ida simpered and said, hesitating, 'I--I don't know.' + +If poor Mr. Brown had ever been demented enough even to make the same +request, he would have met with a very different answer. + +'I do not think it will be very fatiguing,' said Mr. Deyncourt. 'Do you +know Mrs. Brandon? No! I will ask her to call and explain our plans. +She is kind enough to let me meet the other teachers in her dining-room +once a week to arrange the lessons for the Sunday. There are Miss +Selwood and Mrs. and Miss Hume.' + +These were all in the social position in which Ida was trying to +establish her footing, and though she only agreed to 'think about it,' +her mind was pretty well made up that it would be a very different thing +from the old parish school where Rose Rollstone used to work among a set +of small tradesmen's daughters. + +When she found herself quite the youngest and best-looking of the party, +she was entirely won over. There was no necessity for speaking so as to +betray one's ignorance during Mr. Deyncourt's instructions, and she was a +person of sufficient force and spirit to impose good order on her class; +and thus she actually obtained the gratitude of the young clergyman as an +efficient assistant. + +Their domiciles being so near together, there were many encounters in +going in and out, nor were these avoided on either side. Ida had a +wonderful amount of questions to ask, and used to lie in wait to get them +solved. It was very interesting to lay them before a handsome young +clergyman with a gentle voice, sweet smile, and ready attention, and +religion seemed to have laid aside that element of dulness and moping +which had previously repelled her. + +She was embroidering a stole for Easter, and wanted a great deal of +counsel for it; and she undertook to get a basket of flowers for Easter +decorations from Northmoor, where her request caused some surprise and +much satisfaction in the simple pair, who never thought of connecting the +handsome young mission priest with this sudden interest in the Church. + +And Mr. Deyncourt had no objection to drop in for afternoon tea when he +was met on the sands and had to be consulted about the stole, or to be +asked who was worthy of broth, or as time went on to choose soup and +practise a duet for the mission concert that was to keep people out of +mischief on the Bank-holiday. + +Ida had a voice, and music was the one talent she had cared to cultivate; +she had had good lessons during her second winter abroad, and was an +acquisition to the amateur company. Besides, what she cared for more, it +was a real pleasure and rest to the curate to come in and listen to her +or sing with her. She had learnt what kind of things offended good +taste, and she set herself to avoid them and to school her mother into +doing the same. + +What Mr. Deyncourt thought or felt was not known, though thus much was +certain, that he showed himself attentive enough to this promising young +convert, and made Mrs. Brandon and other prudent, high-bred matrons +somewhat uneasy. + +And in the midst the _Morna_ put in at Westhaven, and while Ida was +walking home from Mrs. Brandon's, she encountered Mr. Brady, looking +extremely well turned-out in yachting costume and smoking a short pipe. + +There was something very flattering in the sound of the exclamation with +which he greeted her; and then, as they shook hands, 'I should not have +known you, Miss Morton; you are--' and he hesitated for a +compliment--'such a stunner! What have you been doing to yourself?' + +At the gate of the narrow garden, Mr. Deyncourt overtook them, carrying +Ida's bag of books for her. She introduced them, and was convinced that +they glared at each other. + +And there ensued a time of some perplexity, but much enjoyment, on Ida's +part. Mr. Brady reviled the parson and all connected therewith in not +very choice language, and the parson, on his side, though saying nothing, +seemed to her to be on the watch, and gratified, if not relieved, when +she remained steady to her parochial work. + +And what was her mind? Personally, she had come to like and approve Mr. +Deyncourt the most, and to have a sense that there was satisfaction in +that to which he could lead her, while the better taste that had grown in +her was sometimes offended, almost insulted, by Tom Brady's tendency to +coarseness, and to treating her not as a lady, but as the Westhaven belle +he had honoured with his attentions two years before. Yet she had an old +kindness for him as her first love. And, moreover, he could give her +eventually a title and very considerable wealth, a house in London, and +all imaginable gaiety. While, as to Mr. Deyncourt, he was not poor and +had expectations, but the utmost she could look to for him with +confidence was Northmoor Vicarage after Mr. Woodman's time, and anywhere +the dull, sober, hard-working life of a clergyman's wife! + +Which should she choose--that is, if she had her choice, or if either +were in earnest? She was not sure of the curate, and therefore perhaps +longed most that he should come to the point, feeling that this would +anyway increase her self-esteem, and if she hesitated to bind herself to +a life too high, and perhaps too dull, there was the dread, on the other +hand, that his family, who, she understood, were very grand people, would +object to a girl with nothing of her own and a governess sister. + +On the other hand, the Bradys were so rich that they had little need to +care for fortune--only, the richer people were, the greater their +expectations--and she was more at ease with Tom than with Mr. Deyncourt. +They would probably condone the want of fortune if she could write +'Honourable' before her name, or had any prospect of so doing, and the +governess-ship might be a far greater drawback in their eyes than in +those of the Deyncourts. 'However, thank goodness,' said she to herself, +'that won't begin for two or three years, and one or other will be hailed +long before that--if-- Oh, it is very hard to be kept out of everything +by an old stick like Uncle Frank and a little wretch like Mite, who, +after all, is a miserable Tyrolese, and not a Morton at all! It really +is too bad!' + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX +JONES OR RATTLER + + +When Lord Northmoor had occasion to be in London he usually went alone, +for to take the whole party was too expensive, and not good for little +Michael. Besides, Bertha Morton had so urgently begged him to regard her +house as always ready for him, that the habit had been established of +taking up his quarters there. + +Some important measures were coming on after Easter, and he had some +other business, so that, in the form of words of which she longed to cure +him, he told her that he was about to trespass on her hospitality for a +week or fortnight. + +'As long as ever you please,' she said. 'I am glad to have some one to +sit opposite to me and tell me home news,' and they met at the station, +she having been on an expedition on her own account, so that they drove +home together. + +No sooner were they within the house door than the parlour-maid began, +'That man has been here again, ma'am.' + +'What, Jones?' said Bertha, in evident annoyance. + +'Yes, ma'am, and I am sorry to say he saw little Cea. The child had run +down after me when I answered the door, and he asked her if she did not +know her own father, and if she would come with him. "No," she says, +"I'm Miss Morton's," and he broke out with his ugly laugh, and says he, +"You be, be you, you unnatural little vagabond?"--those were his very +words, ma'am--"but a father is a father, and if he gives up his rights he +must know the reason why." He wanted me, the good-for-nothing, to give +him half a sovereign at once, or he would take off the child on the spot, +but, by good luck, she had been frightened and run away, the dear, and I +had got the door between me and him, so I told him to be off till you +came home, or I would call for the police. So he was off for that time.' + +'Quite right, Alice,' said Miss Morton, and then, leading the way +upstairs and throwing herself down on a chair, she exclaimed, 'There, it +ought to be a triumph to you, Northmoor! You told me that I should have +trouble about poor little Cea's father, the brute!' + +'Is he levying blackmail on you?' + +'Yes. It is horribly weak of me, I know, and I can scarcely believe it +of myself, but one can't abandon a child to a wretch like that, and he +has the law on his side.' + +'Are you quite sure of that? He deserted her, I think you said. If you +could establish that, or prove a conviction against him--' + +'Oh, I know she might be sent to an industrial school if I took it before +a magistrate, but if the other alternative would be destruction, that +would be misery to her. See--' and there was a little tap at the door. +'Come in, Cea. There, make your curtsey to his lordship.' + +A pretty little fair-haired pale-cheeked girl, daintily but simply +dressed, came in and made her curtsey very prettily, and replied nicely +to Lord Northmoor's good-natured greeting and information that Michael +had sent her a basket of primroses and a cowslip ball, which she would +find in the hall. + +'What do you say, Cea?' said Bertha, anxious to demonstrate her manners. + +'Thank you, my lord, and Master Michael,' she uttered, but she was +evidently preoccupied with what she had to tell Miss Morton. 'Oh'm, +there was such a nasty man here! And he wanted me, and said he was my +father, but he wasn't. He was the same man that gave Master Mite and me +the bull's-eyes when we were naughty and Louisa went away.' + +'Are you sure, Cea?' both exclaimed, but to the child of six the very +eagerness of the question brought a certain confusion, and though more +gently Lord Northmoor asked her to describe him, she could not do it, and +indeed she had been only five when the encounter had taken place. The +urgency of the inquiry somehow seemed to dispose her to cry, as if she +thought she had been naughty, and she had to be dismissed to the cowslip +ball. + +'If the child is right, that man cannot be her father at all,' said Lord +Northmoor. 'That man's name is Rattler, and he is well known at +Westhaven.' + +'Should you know him?' + +'I never saw him, but I could soon find those who have done so.' + +'If we could only prove it! Oh, what a relief it would be! I dare not +even send the child to school--as I meant to do, Northmoor, for indeed we +don't spoil her--for fear she should be kidnapped; and I don't know if +the school-board officer won't be after her, and I can't give as a reason +"for fear she should be stolen by her father."' + +'Not exactly. It ought to be settled once for all. Perhaps the child +will tell more when you have her alone.' + +'Is not Rattler only too like a nickname, or is he a native of +Westhaven?' + +This Lord Northmoor thought he could find out, but the dinner was hardly +over before a message came that the man Jones had called again. + +'Perhaps I had better see him alone,' said the guest, and Bertha was only +too glad to accept the offer, so he proceeded to the little room opening +into the hall, where interviews with tradesfolk or petitioners were held. + +The man had a blue jersey, a cap, and an evidently sailor air, or rather +that of the coasting, lower stamp of seaman; but he was tall, rather +handsome, and younger-looking than would have been expected of Cea's +father. He looked somewhat taken aback by the appearance of a gentleman, +but he stood his ground. + +'So I understand that you have been making demands upon Miss Morton,' +Lord Northmoor began. + +'Well, sir, my lord, a father has his feelings. There is a situation +offered me in Canada, and I intend to take the little girl with me.' + +'Oh, indeed!' And there was a pause. + +'Or if the lady has taken a fancy to her, I'd not baulk her for a sum +down of twenty or five-and-twenty, once for all.' + +'Oh, indeed!' again; then 'What do you say is the child's name?' + +'Jones, my lord.' + +'Her Christian name, I mean?' + +He scratched his head. 'Cissy, my lord--Celia--Cecilia. Blest if I'm +sure!' as he watched the expression of the questioner. 'You see, the +women has such fine names, and she was always called Baby when her poor +mother was alive.' + +'Where was she baptized?' + +'Well, you see, my lord, the women-folk does all that, and I was at sea; +and by and by I comes home to find my poor wife dead, and the little one +gone.' + +'I suppose you are aware that you can have no legal claim to the child +without full proof of her belonging to you--the certificate of your +marriage and a copy of the register of her birth?' + +The man was scarcely withheld from imprecations upon the work that was +made about it, when Miss Morton had been quite satisfied on a poor +fellow's word. + +'Yes, ladies may be satisfied for a time, but legally more than your word +is required, and you will remember that unless you can bring full proof +that this is your child, there is such a thing as prosecution for +obtaining money on false pretences.' + +'And how is a poor fellow to get the fees for them register clerks and +that?' said the man, in a tone waxing insolent. + +'I will be answerable for the fees, if you will tell me where the +certificates are to be applied for.' + +'Well, how is a cove to know what the women did when he was at sea? She +died at Rotherhithe, anyway, so the child will be registered there.' + +'And the marriage? You were not at sea then, I suppose?' + +But the man averred that there were so many churches that there was no +telling one from another, and with a knowing look declared that the gals +were so keen after a man that they put up the banns and hauled him where +they would. + +He was at last got rid of, undertaking to bring the proofs of his +paternity, without which Lord Northmoor made it clear to him that he was +to expect neither child nor money. + +'I greatly doubt whether you will see any more of him,' said Lord +Northmoor when describing the interview. + +'Oh, Frank,' cried Bertha, calling him thus for the first time, 'I do not +know how to thank you enough. You have done me an infinite kindness.' + +'Do not thank me yet,' he answered, 'for though I do not in the least +believe that this fellow is the child's father, he may find his way to +the certificates or get them forged; and it would be well to trace what +has become of the real Jones, as well as to make out about this Rattler. +Is it true that the wife died at Rotherhithe?' + +'Quite true, poor thing. I believe they had lived there since the +marriage.' + +'I will run down there if you can give me the address, and see if I can +make out anything about her husband, and see whether any one can speak to +his identity with this man.' + +'You are a man of gold! To think of your taking all this trouble!' + +'I only hope I may succeed. It is a return to old habits of hunting up +evidence.' + +Bertha was able to give the address of the lodging-house where poor Mrs. +Jones had died, and the next morning produced another document, which had +been shut up in the Bible that had been rescued for the child, namely the +marriage lines of David Jones and Lucy Smith at the parish church of the +last Lord Northmoor's residence in town. + +To expect a clergyman or clerk to remember the appearance of a bridegroom +eight years ago was too much, even if they were the same who had +officiated; but Bertha undertook to try, and likewise to consult a former +fellow-servant of poor Lucy, who was supposed to have abetted her +unfortunate courtship. Frank, after despatching a letter of inquiry to +his sister-in-law about 'Sam Rattler,' set forth by train and river +steamer for Rotherhithe. + +When they met again in the evening, Bertha had only made out from the +fellow-servant that the stoker was rather small, and had a reddish beard +and hair, wherewith Cea's complexion corresponded. + +The Rotherhithe discoveries had gone farther. Lord Northmoor had +penetrated to the doleful den where the poor woman had died, and no +wonder! for it seemed, as Bertha had warned him, a nest of fever and +horrible smells. The landlady remembered her death, which had been made +memorable by Miss Morton's visits; but knew not whence she had come, +though, stimulated by half-a-crown, she mentioned a small grocery shop +where more might be learnt. There the woman did recollect Mrs. Jones as +a very decent lady, and likewise her being in better lodgings until +deserted by her husband, the scamp, who had gone off in an Australian +steamer. + +At these lodgings the inquiry resulted in the discovery of the name of +the steamer; and there was still time to look up the agent and the date +approximately enough to obtain the list of the crew, with David Jones +among them. It further appeared that this same David Jones had fallen +overboard and been drowned, but as he had not entered himself as a +married man, his wife had remained in ignorance of his fate. It was, +however, perfectly clear that the little girl was an orphan, and that +Bertha might be quite undisturbed in the possession of her. + +And thus Lord Northmoor came home a good deal fagged, and shocked by the +interior he had seen at Rotherhithe, but quite triumphant. + +Bertha was delighted, and declared herself eternally grateful to him; and +she could not but entertain the hope that the _soi-disant_ parent would +make another application, in which case she was quite prepared to give +him into custody; and she proceeded to reckon up the number of times that +he had applied to her, and the amount that he had extracted, wondering at +herself for not having asked for proofs, but owning that she had been +afraid of being thus compelled to give up the child to perdition. + +The applications had all been within the last year, so that the man had +probably learnt from Louisa Hall, the nursery-maid, that Cea was the +child of a deserted wife. + +A letter from Mrs. Morton gave some of the antecedents of Sam Rattler, as +learnt from Mrs. Hall, the charwoman, whose great dread he was. His real +surname was Jones, and he was probably a Samuel Jones whose name Lord +Northmoor had noted as a boy on board David's ship. He belonged to a +decent family in a country village, but had run away to sea, and was +known at Westhaven by this nickname. He had a brother settled in Canada, +who had lately written to propose to him a berth on one of the Ontario +steamers, and it was poor Mrs. Hall's dread that her daughter should +accompany him, though happily want of money prevented it. As to his +appearance, as to which there had been special inquiries, he was a tall +fine-looking man, with a black beard, and half the girls at Westhaven +were fools enough to be after him. + +All this tallied with what had been gathered from the child, and this +last had probably been a bold attempt to procure the passage-money for +his sweetheart. + +He never did call again, having probably been convinced of the failure of +his scheme, and scenting danger, so that every day for a fortnight Bertha +met her cousin with a disappointed 'No Rattler!' + + + + +CHAPTER XXX +SCARLET FEVER + + +There was a meeting of one of the many charitable societies to which +Bertha had made Lord Northmoor give his name, and she persuaded him to +stay on another day for it, though he came down in the morning with a +sore throat and heavy eyes, and, contrary to his usual habits, lay about +in an easy-chair, and dozed over the newspaper all the morning. + +When he found himself unable to eat at luncheon, she allowed that he was +not fit for the meeting, but demurred when he declared that he should go +home at once that afternoon to let Mary nurse his cold. The instinct of +getting back to wife and home were too strong for Bertha to contend with, +and he started, telegraphing to Northmoor to be met at the station. + +Perhaps there were delays, as in his oppressed and dazed state he had +mistaken the trains, for he did not arrive at home till nine o'clock +instead of seven, and then he looked so ill as he stumbled into the hall, +dazzled by the lights, that Mary looked at him in much alarm. + +'Yes,' he said hoarsely, 'I have a bad cold and sore throat, and I +thought I had better come home at once.' + +'Indeed you had! If only you have not made it worse by the journey!' + +Which apparently he had done, for he could scarcely swallow the warm +drinks brought to him, and had such a night, that when steps were heard +in the house, he said-- + +'Mary, dear, don't let Mite come in. I am afraid it is too late to keep +you away, but if I had felt like this yesterday, I would have gone +straight to the fever hospital.' + +'Oh no, no, what should you do but come home to me? Was it that horrible +place at Rotherhithe?' + +'Perhaps. It is just a fortnight since, and I felt a strange shudder and +chill as I was talking. But it may be nothing; only keep Mite away till +I have seen Trotman. My Mary, don't look like that! It may be nothing, +and we have been very happy--thank God.' + +Poor Mary, in a choking state, hurried away to send for the doctor, and +to despatch orders to Nurse Eden to confine Master Michael to the nursery +and garden for the present, her sinking and foreboding heart forbidding +her to approach the child herself. + +The verdict of the doctor confirmed these alarms, for all the symptoms of +scarlet fever had by that time manifested themselves. Mary had gone +through the disease long before, and had nursed through more than one +outbreak at Miss Lang's, so her husband might take the comfort of knowing +that there was little anxiety on her account, though the doctor, +evidently expecting a severe attack, insisted on sending in a trained +nurse to assist her. + +As the little boy had fortunately been in bed and asleep long before his +father came home, there was as yet no danger of infection for him, though +he must be sent out of the house at once. + +Lady Adela was not at home, and Mary would have doubted about sending him +to the Cottage, even if she had been there; so she quickly made up her +mind that Eden and the young nursery-maid should take him at once to +Westhaven, to be either in the hotel or at Northmoor Cottage, according +as his aunt should decide. + +How little she had thought, when she heard him say his prayers, and +exchanged kisses with him at the side of his little bed, that it was the +last time for many a long day; and that her hungry spirit would have to +feed itself on that last smile and kiss of the fat hand, as she looked +out of her husband's window as the carriage drove away. + +Lady Adela knew too well what it was to be desolate not to come home so +as to be at hand, though she left her little daughter at her uncle's. +Bertha came on the following day. + +'I feel as if it were all my doing,' she said. 'I could not bear it, if +it does not go well with him, after being the saving of poor little Cea.' + +'There is nothing to reproach yourself with,' said sober-minded Lady +Adela. 'Neither you nor he could guess that he was running into +infection.' + +'No,' said Bertha; 'of course, one never thinks of such things with +grown-up people, especially one whom one has always thought of as a +stick, and to whom perhaps ascribed some of its toughness,' she added, +smiling; 'but he did come home looking very white and worn-out, and +complained of horrible smells. No, dear man, he was far too punctilious +to use the word, he only said that he should like to send the Sanitary +Commission down the alley. I ought to have dosed him with brandy on the +spot, for of course he was too polite to ask for it, so I only gave him a +cup of _tea_,' said Bertha, with an infinite tone of scorn in the name of +the beverage. + +'Will it be any comfort to tell you that most likely it would have been +too late even if he would have accepted it? Come, Bertha, how often are +we told that we are not to think so much of consequences as of actions, +and there was nothing blameworthy in the whole business.' + +'Except that I was such a donkey as not to have begun by asking for the +man's proofs, but I was so much afraid that he would pounce on the child +that I only thought of buying him off from time to time. I did not know +I was so weak. Well, at any rate, with little Mite to the fore, the +place will be left in good hands. I like Herbert on the whole, but to +have that woman reigning as Madame Mere would be awful.' + +'Nay, I trust we are not coming to that! Trotman says it is a thoroughly +severe attack, but not abnormally malignant, as he calls it. It is a +matter of nursing, he tells me, and that he has of the best--a matter of +nursing and of prayer, and that,' added Adela, her eyes filling with +tears, 'I am sure he has.' + +'And yet--and yet,' Bertha broke off. + +'Ah, you are thinking how we prayed before! And yet, Birdie, after these +six years of seeing his rule and recognising what mine would have been, I +see it was for the best that my own little Michael was taken to his happy +home.' + +'You'll call it for the best now,' said Bertha grimly. + +'If it be so, it will prove itself; but I really do not see any special +cause for extra fear.' + +Lady Adela and Bertha both thought themselves as far safe as any one can +be with scarlet fever, and would gladly have taken a share in the +nursing. Bertha, however, had far too much of the whirlwind in her to be +desirable in a sick house, and on the principle that needless risk was +wrong, was never admitted within the house doors, but Lady Adela insisted +on seeing Mary every day, and was assured that she should be a welcome +assistant in case of need; but at present there was no necessity of +calling in other help, the form of fever being lethargic with much +torpidity, but no violence of delirium, and requiring no more watching +than the wife and nurse could give. + +Frank never failed to know his Mary, and to respond when she addressed +him; but she was told never to attempt more than rousing him when it was +needful to make him take food. He had long ago, with the precaution of +his legal training, made every needful arrangement for her and for his +son; and even on the first day, he had not seemed to trouble himself on +these points, being too heavy and oppressed for the power of looking +forward. So the days rolled on in one continual watch on Mary's part, +during which she seemed only to live in the present, and, secure that her +boy was safe, would not risk direct communication with him or with his +nurse. + +Lady Adela had undertaken to keep Constance, the person who really loved +her uncle best, daily informed, and she also wrote at intervals to Mrs. +Morton, by special desire of Lady Northmoor, and likewise to her own old +servant, Eden, the nurse. She wrote cheerfully, but Eden had other +correspondents in the servants' hall, who dwelt sensationally on the +danger, as towards Whitsun week the fever began to run higher towards the +crisis, the strength was reduced, the torpor became heavier; and anxiety +increased as to whether there would be power of rally in a man who, +though healthy, had never been strong. + +The anxiety manifested by the entire neighbourhood was a notable proof of +the estimation in which the patient was held, and was very far from +springing only from pity or humanity. Half the people who came to Lady +Adela for further information had some cause going on in which 'That +Stick' was one of the most efficient of props. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI +MITE + + +Little Michael Morton was in the meantime installed in his aunt's house. +For him to be anywhere else was not to be thought of, and Mrs. Morton was +soft-hearted enough to be very fond of such a bright little boy, so much +in her own hands, and very amusing with the old-fashioned formal ways +derived from chiefly consorting with older people. + +Besides, the pretty little fellow was an object of great interest to all +her acquaintances, especially as it was understood at Westhaven that it +was only too possible that he might any day become Lord Northmoor; and +never had Mrs. Morton's drawing-room been so much resorted to by visitors +anxious for bulletins, or perhaps more truly for excitement. Mite was a +young gentleman of some dignity. He sat elevated on a hassock upon a +chair to dine at luncheon-time, comporting himself most correctly; but +his aunt was sorely chafed at Eden's standing behind his chair, like +Sancho's physician, to regulate his diet, and placing her veto upon +lobsters, cucumbers, pastry, and glasses of wine with lumps of sugar in +them. + +It amounted to a trial of strength between aunt and nurse. Michael +submitted once or twice, when told that his mamma would not approve, but +the lobster struck him with extreme amazement and admiration, and he +could not believe but that the red, long-whiskered monster was not as +good as he was beautiful. + +'He has got a glove like what Peter wears to cut the holly hedge,' +exclaimed the boy, to the general amusement. 'Where's his hand?' + +'My Mite shall have a bit of his funny hand,' said Mrs. Morton, and Ida +was dealing with the claw, when Eden interposed and said she did not +think her ladyship would wish Master Michael to have any. + +'Just a taste, nurse, with some of the cream,' said Mrs. Morton. 'Here, +Mitey dear.' + +'No, Master Michael, mamma would say no,' said Eden. + +'Really, Eden, you might let Mrs. Morton judge in her own house,' said +Ida. + +'Master Morton is under my charge, ma'am, and I am responsible for him,' +said Eden, respectfully but firmly. But Ida held out the claw, and +Michael made a dart at it. + +Eden again said 'No,' but he looked up at her with an exulting roguish +grin, and clasped it, whereupon she laid hold of him by the waist, and +bore him off, kicking and roaring, amid the pitiful and indignant +exclamations of his aunt and cousin. + +It may be that the faithful Eden was somewhat wanting in tact, by her +determined attention to the routine that chafed her hosts; but she had +been forced to come away without directions, and could only hold fast to +the discipline of her well-ordered nursery under all obstacles. + +Master Michael was to have his cup of milk and run on the beach with the +nursery-maid long before the usual awakening of the easy-going household, +which regarded late hours as belonging to gentility; then, after the +general breakfast, his small lessons, over which there often was a +battle, first, because he felt injured by not doing them with his mother, +and next, because his hostesses regarded them as a hardship, and taught +him to cry over 'Reading without tears,' besides detaining him as late as +they could over the breakfast, or proposing to take him out at once, +without waiting for that quarter of an hour's work. Or when +out-of-doors, they would not bring him home for the siesta, on which his +nurse insisted, though it was often only lying down in the dark; nor had +Mrs. Morton any scruple in breaking it, if she wanted to exhibit him to +her friends, though if it were interrupted or omitted, the child's temper +was the worse all the afternoon. + +'That nurse is a thorough tyrant over the poor little darling, and a very +impertinent woman besides,' said Mrs. Morton. + +'A regular little spoiled brat,' Ida declared him. + +While certainly the worse his father was said to be, the more his aunt +tried to spoil and indulge him, as a relief to her pity and grief. + +He had missed his home and parents a good deal at first, had cried at his +lessons, and cried more at not having father to carry him to the nursery, +nor mother to hear him say his prayers and kiss him at night; but time +wore off the association, and he was full of delight at the sea, the +ships, the little crabs, and all the other charms of the shore. + +Above all, he was excited about the little boys. His own kind had never +come in his way before, his chief playfellow being Amice, who was so much +older as to play with him condescendingly and always give way to him. +There was a large family in a neighbouring lodging containing what he +respectfully called 'big knicker-bocker boys,' who excited his intense +admiration, and drew him like a magnet. + +For once Mrs. Morton and Eden were agreed as to the propriety of the +companionship, since Rollstone had pronounced them of 'high family,' and +the governess who was in charge of them was quite ready to be interested +in the solitary little stranger, even if he had not been the Honourable +Michael. So was the elder girl of the party, but, unluckily, Michael was +just of the age to be a great nuisance to children who played combined +and imaginative games which he could not yet understand. + +When they were making elaborate approaches to a sand fortification, +erected with great care and pains, he would dash on it with a _coup de +main_, break it down at once with his spade, and stand proudly laughing +and mixing up the ruins together, heedless of the howls of anger of the +besiegers, and believing that he had done the right thing. + +And once, when a wrathful boy of eight had shaken the troublesome urchin +as he would have done his own junior, had this last presumed to stir up +his clear pool of curiosities, most of the female portion of the family +had taken the part of the intruder, and cried shame on any one who could +hurt or molest a poor dear little boy away from a father who was so ill! + +Thus the Lincoln family, for the sake of peace and self-defence, used +sedulously to flee at the approach of Mite, and seek for secluded coves +to which he was not likely to penetrate. + +Mr. Rollstone was Eden's great solace. They discovered that they had +once been staying in the same country-house, and had a great number of +common acquaintances in the upper-servant world, and they entirely agreed +in their estimate of Mrs. Morton and Ida, whom Mr. Rollstone pronounced +to be neither fish, flesh, nor fowl, though as for Miss Constance, she +was a lady all over, and always had been, and there might have been hopes +for Mr. Herbert, if only he could have got into the army. + +To sit with Mr. Rollstone, whom the last winter's rheumatics had left +very infirm, was Eden's chief afternoon employment, as she could not +follow her charge's wanderings on the beach, but had to leave him to the +nursery-maid, Ellen. The old butler wanted much to show 'Miss Eden' his +daughter, who took advantage of Whit-Sunday and the Bank-holiday to run +down and see her parents, though at the next quarter she was coming home +for good, extremely sorry to leave her advantages in London, and the +friends she had made there, but feeling that her parents needed her so +much that she must pursue her employment at home. + +They were all very anxious on that Whit-Sunday, and Rose carried with her +something of Constance's feeling, as with tears in her eyes she looked at +the little fellow at the children's service, standing by his nurse, with +wide open, inquiring eyes, chiefly fixed upon Willie Lincoln in +satisfaction whenever an answer proceeded from that object of his +unrequited attachment. With the young maiden's love of revelling in +supposed grief, Rose already pitied the fair-faced, unconscious child as +fatherless, and weighted with heavy responsibilities. + +Another pair of eyes looked at the boy, not with pity, but indignant +impatience. + +Perhaps even already that little pretender was the only obstacle between +Herbert and the coronet that was his by right, between Ida herself and-- + +Ida had walked from the school to the church with Mr. Deyncourt, and he +had talked so gently and pitifully of the family distress, and assumed so +much grief on her part, that his sympathy made her heart throb; above +all, when he told her that his two sisters were coming to stay with him, +Mrs. Rollstone had contrived to make room for them, and they would show +her, better than he could, some of the plans he wished to have carried +out with the little children. + +So he wished to introduce her to his sisters! What did that mean? If +the Deyncourts were ever so high they could not sneer at Lord Northmoor's +sisters. + +Then she thought of many a novel, and in real life, of what she believed +respecting that lost lover of Miss Morton's. And later in the day Tom +Brady lounged up to Northmoor Cottage, and leaning with one elbow on the +window-sill, while the other arm held away the pipe he had just taken +from his lips, he asked if they would give him a cup of tea, the whole +harbour was so full of such beastly, staring cads that there was no peace +there. One ought to give such places a wide berth at Whitsuntide. + +'I wonder you did not,' said Ida, as she hastened to compound the tea. + +'Forgot it,' he lazily droned, 'forgot it. Attractions, you know,' and, +as she brought the cup to the window, with a lump of sugar in the tongs, +'when sugar fingers are--' and the speech ended in a demonstration at the +fingers that made Ida laugh, blush, and say, 'Oh, for shame, Mr. Brady!' + +'You had better come in, Mr. Brady,' called Mrs. Morton. 'You can't +drink it comfortably there, and you'll be upsetting it. We are down in +the dining-room to-day, because--' + +The cause, necessary to her gentility, was lost, as Ida proceeded to let +him in at the front door, and he presently deposited himself on the sofa, +grumbling complacently at the bore of holidays, especially bank holidays. +His crew would have been ready to strike, he declared, if he had taken +them out of harbour, or he would have asked the ladies to come on a +cruise out of the way of it all. + +'Why, thank you very much, Mr. Brady, but, really in my poor brother, +Lord Northmoor's state, I don't know that it would be etiquette.' + +'Ah, yes. By the bye, how's the governor?' + +'Very sad, strength failing. I hardly expect to hear he is alive +to-morrow,' and Mrs. Morton's handkerchief was raised. + +'Oh ay, sad enough, you know! I say, will it make any difference to +you?' + +'My poor, dear brother! Well, it ought, you know. Indeed it would if it +had not been for that dear little boy. My poor Herbert!' + +'It must have been an awful sell for him.' + +'Yes,' said Ida, 'and some people think there was something very odd +about it all--the child being born out in the Dolomites, with nobody +there!' + +'Don't, Ida, I can't have you talk so,' protested her mother. + +'Supposititious, by all that's lucky! I should strangle him!' and Mr. +Brady put back his head and laughed a loud and hearty laugh, by no means +elegant, but without much sound of truculent intentions. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII +A SHOCK + + +It was on the Thursday of Whitsun-week when Lady Adela and Bertha came +down from their visit of inquiry, a little more hopeful than on the +previous day, though they could not yet say that recovery was setting in. + +But a great shock awaited them. The parlour-maid met them at the door, +pale and tearful. 'Oh, my lady, Mrs. Eden's come, and--' + +Poor Eden herself was in the hall, and nothing was to be heard but 'Oh, +my lady!' and another tempest of sobs. + +'Come in, Eden,' scolded Bertha, in her impatience. 'Don't keep us in +this way. What has happened to the child? Let us have it at once! The +worst, or you wouldn't be here.' + +For all answer, Eden held up a little wooden spade, a sailor hat, and a +shoe showing traces of sand and sea-water. + +'It is so then,' said Lady Adela. 'Oh, his mother! But,' after that one +wail, she thought of the poor woman before her, 'I am sure you are not to +blame, Eden.' + +'Oh, my lady, if I could but feel that! But that I should have trusted +the darling out of my sight for a moment!' + +Presently they brought her to a state in which she could tell her +lamentable history. + +She had been spending the afternoon at Mr. Rollstone's, leaving Master +Michael as usual in the care of the underling, Ellen, and after that she +knew no more till neither child nor maid came home at his supper-time, +and Mrs. Morton was slowly roused to take alarm, while Eden, half +distracted, wandered about, seeking her charge, and found Ellen, calling +and shouting in vain for him. Ellen confessed that she had seen him +running after the Lincoln children, and supposing him with them, had +given herself up to the study of a penny dreadful in company with another +young nursemaid. When they had awakened to real life, the first idea had +been that he must be with these children; but they were gone, and Ellen, +fancying that he might have gone home with them, asked at their lodging, +but no, he was not there. + +The tide was by this time covering the beach, and driving away the +miserable maids, with the aunt, cousin and others who had been on the +fruitless quest. No more could be done then, and they went home with +desolation in their hearts. Miss Ida, as Eden declared, stayed out long +after everybody else when it was clearly of no use, and came back so +tired and upset that she went up straight to bed. There was still a hope +that some one might have met the little boy and taken him home, unable +clearly to make out to whom he belonged, more especially as the Lincolns +in terror and compunction had confessed that they had seen him and his +nurse from a distance, and had rushed headlong round a projecting rock +into a cove, hoping that he had not seen them, because he was so tiresome +and spoilt all their games. And when that morning the spade, hat, and +shoe were discovered upon the shore, not far from the very rock, the poor +children had to draw plenty of morals on the consequences of selfishness. +No doubt that poor little Michael had pursued them barefooted and gone +too near the waves! + +There was nothing more but the forlorn hope that the waves would restore +the little body they had carried off, and Mrs. Morton was watching for +that last sad satisfaction. In case of that contingency, Ellen, as the +last person known to have seen the boy, had been left at Westhaven, in +agonies of despair, vowing that she would never speak to any one, nor +look at a story-book again in her life. She had attempted the excuse +that she thought she saw Miss Ida going in that direction, but the young +lady had declared that she had never been on the beach at all that +afternoon till after the alarm had been given; and had been extremely +angry with Ellen for making false excuses and trying to shift off the +blame, and the girl had been much terrified, and owned that she was not +at all sure. + +'And oh, my lady,' entreated Eden, 'don't send me up to the House! Don't +make me face her ladyship! I should die of it!' + +'We must think what is to be done about that,' said Lady Adela. 'Can you +tell whether any one from the House has seen you?' + +Eden thought not, and after she had been consigned to her friend, Lady +Adela's maid, to be rested, fed, and comforted as far as might be +possible, the sisters-in-law held sad counsel, and agreed that it was not +safe to keep back the terrible news from the poor mother who expected +daily tidings of her child, and might hear some report, in spite of her +shut-up state. + +'Poor Adela, I pity you almost as much as her,' said Bertha. + +'Oh, I know now how much I have to be thankful for! No uncertainty--and +my little one's grave.' + +'Besides Amice. Let me drive you up, Addie. Your heart is beating +enough to knock you down.' + +'Well, I believe it is. But not up to the front door. I will go in by +the garden. Oh, may he be spared to her at least!' + +Very pale then Lady Adela crept in, meeting a weeping maid who was much +relieved to see her, but was hardly restrained from noisy sobs. Mr. +Trotman, she said, had come just before the garden boy had inevitably +dashed up with the tidings, and the household had been waiting till he +came out, to secure that he should be near when Lady Northmoor was told. + +Adela felt that this might be the safest opportunity, and sent a message +to the door to beg that her ladyship would come and speak to her for a +few minutes in the study. + +Mary's soft step was soon there, and her lips were framing the words, 'No +ground lost,' when at sight of Adela's face the light went out of her +eyes, and setting herself firmly on her feet, she said, 'You have bad +news. My boy!' + +Adela came near and would have taken her hand, saying--'My poor +Mary'--but she clasped them both as if to hold herself together, and +said, 'The fever!' + +'No, no--sadder still! Drowned!' + +'Ah, then there was not all that suffering, and without me! +Thankworthy-- Oh no, no, please'--as Lady Adela, with eyes brimming +over, would have pressed her to her bosom--'don't--don't upset me, or I +could not attend to Frank. It all turns on this one day, they say, and I +must--I must be as usual. There will be time enough to know all about +it--if'--with a long oppressed gasp--'he is saved from the hearing it.' + +'I think you are right, dear,' said Adela, 'if you keep him--' but she +could not go on. + +'Well, any way,' said Mary, 'either he will be given back, or he will be +saved this. Let me go back to him, please.' Then at the door, putting +her hand to her head--'Who is here?' + +'Poor Eden.' + +'Ah, let her and Emma know that I am sure it is not their fault. Come +again to-morrow, please; I think he will be better.' + +She went away in that same gliding manner, perfectly tearless. Adela +waited to see the doctor, who assured her that the patient had rather +gained than lost during the last twenty-four hours, and that if he could +be spared from any shock or agitation he would probably recover. Lady +Northmoor seemed so entirely absorbed by his critical state, that she was +not likely to betray the sad knowledge she had put aside in the secret +chamber of her heart, more especially as her husband was still too much +weighed down, and too slumberous to be observant, or to speak much, and +knowing the child to be out of the house, he did not inquire for him. + +Nevertheless, Mr. Trotman gladly approved of Lady Adela's intention of +sleeping in the house in case of any sudden collapse; and the servants, +who were not to let Lady Northmoor know, evidently felt this a great +relief. + +'Yes, it is a comfort to think some one will be within that poor thing's +reach,' said Bertha, as they went back together, 'and, if you can bear +it, you are the right person.' + +'She will not let herself dwell on it. She never even looked at Mrs. +Morton's letter.' + +'And I really hope they won't find the poor little dear, to have all the +fuss and heart-rending.' + +'Oh, Birdie!' + +'There's only one thing that would make me wish it. I'm quite sure that +that Miss Ida knows more about it than she owns. No, you need not say, +"Oh, Birdie" again; I don't suspect her of the deed, but I do believe she +saw the boy and kept out of his way, and now wants that poor Ellen to +have all the blame!' + +'You will believe nothing against a girl out of an orphanage!' + +'I had rather any day believe Ellen Mole than Ida Morton. There's +something about that girl which has always revolted me. I would never +trust her farther than I could see her!' + +'Prejudice, Birdie; because she is in bad style.' + +'You to talk of prejudice, Addie, who hardly knew how to go on living +here under the poor stick!' + +'Don't, Birdie. He has earned esteem by sheer goodness. Poor man, I +don't know what to wish for him when I think of the pang that awaits +him.' + +'You know what to wish for yourself and Northmoor! Not but that Herbert +may come to good if he doesn't come into possession for many a long +year.' + +'And now I must write to that poor child, Constance. But oh, Bertha, +don't condemn hastily! Haven't I had enough of that?' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII +DARKNESS + + +Full a week later, Frank looked up from his pillow, and said, 'I wonder +when it will be safe to have Mite back. Mary, sweet, what is it? I have +been sure something was burthening you. Come and tell me. If he has the +fever, you must go to him. No!' as she clasped his hand and laid her +face down on the pillow. + +'Ah, Frank, he does not want us any more!' + +'My Mary, my poor Mary, have you been bearing such knowledge about with +you? For how long?' + +'Since that worst day, yesterday week. Oh, but to see you getting better +was the help!' + +'Can you tell me?' + +She told him, in that low, steady voice, all she knew. It was very +little, for she had avoided whatever might break the composure that +seemed so needful to his recovery; and he could listen quietly, partly +from the lulling effect of weakness, partly from his anxiety for her, and +the habit of self-restraint, in which all the earlier part of their lives +had been passed, made utterance come slowly to them. + +'Life will be different to us henceforth,' he once said. 'We have had +three years of the most perfect happiness. He gave and He hath taken +away. Blessed--' + +And there he stopped, for he saw the working of her face. Otherwise they +hardly spoke of their loss even to one another. It went down deeper than +they could bear to utter, and their hearts and eyes met if their lips did +not. Only Lord Northmoor lay too dejected to make the steps expected in +the recovery of strength for a few days after the grievous revelation, +and on the day when at last he was placed on a couch by the window, his +wife collapsed, and, almost unconscious, was carried to her bed. + +It was not a severe or alarming attack, and all she wanted was to be let +alone; but there was enough of sore throat and other symptoms to prolong +the quarantine, and Lady Adela could no longer be excluded from giving +her aid. She went to and fro between the patients, and comforted each +with regard to the other, telling the one how her husband's strength was +returning, and keeping the other tranquil by the assurance that what his +wife most needed was perfect rest, especially from the necessity of +restraining herself. Those eyes showed how many tears were poured forth +when they could have their free course. Lady Adela had gone through +enough to feel with ready tact what would be least jarring to each. She +had persuaded Bertha to go back to London, both to her many avocations +and to receive Amice, who must still be kept at a distance for some time. + +Lord Northmoor, as soon as he had strength and self-command for it, read +poor Mrs. Morton's letters, and also saw Eden, for whom there was little +fear of infection. She managed to tell her history and answer all his +questions in detail, but she quite broke down under his kind tone of +forgiveness and assurance that no blame attached to her, and that he was +only grateful to her for her tender care of his child, and she went away +sobbing pitifully. + +Adela came back, after taking her from the room, where Frank was sitting +in an easy-chair by the window, and looking out on the summer garden, +which seemed to be stripped of all its charm and value for him. + +'Poor thing,' she said, 'she is quite overcome by your kindness.' + +'I do not think any one is more to be pitied,' said he. + +'No, indeed, but she wishes you would have heard what she had to say +about the supposing Ida to have gone in that direction.' + +'I thought it better not. It would not have exonerated the poor little +maid from carelessness, and there is no use in fostering a sense of +injury or suspicion, when what is done cannot be undone,' he said +wearily. + +'Indeed you are quite right,' said Adela earnestly. 'You know how to be +in charity with all men. Oh, the needless misery of hasty unjust +suspicions!' Then as he looked up at her--'Do you know our own story?' + +'Only the main facts.' + +'I think you ought to know it. It accounts for so much!' said she, moved +partly by the need of utterance, and partly by the sense that the turn of +his thoughts might be good for him. 'You know what a passion for horses +there has always been in this family.' + +'I know--I could have had it if my life had begun more prosperously.' + +'And you have done your best to save Herbert from it. Well, my Arthur +had it to a great degree; and so indeed had Bertha. They were brought up +to nothing else; Bertha was, I really think, a better judge than her +brother, she was not so reckless. They became intimate with a Captain +Alder, who was in the barracks at Copington--much the nicest, as I used +to think, of the set, though I was not very glad to see an attachment +growing up between him and Bertha. There was always such a capacity of +goodness in her that I longed to see her in the way of being raised +altogether.' + +'She has always been most kind to us. There is much to admire in her.' + +'Her present life has developed all that is best; but--' She hesitated, +wondering whether the good simple man were sensible of that warp in the +nature that she had felt. She went on, 'Then she was a masterful, +high-spirited girl, to whom it seemed inevitable to come to high words +with any one about whom she cared. And I must say--she and my husband, +while they were passionately fond of one another, seemed to have a sort +of fascination in provoking one another, not only in words but in deeds. +Ah, you can hardly believe it of her! How people get tamed! Well, +Arthur bought a horse, a beautiful creature, but desperately vicious. +Captain Alder had been with him when he first saw it, and admired it; but +I do not think gave an opinion against it. Bertha, however, from the +moment she saw its eyes and ears, protested against it in her vehement +way. I remember imploring her not to make Arthur defy her; but really +when they got into those moods, I don't think they could stop themselves, +and she thought Captain Alder encouraged him. So Arthur went out on that +fatal drive in the dog-cart, and no sooner were they out on the Colbeam +road than the horse bolted, they came into collision with a hay waggon. +And--' + +'I know!' + +'Captain Alder was thrown on the top of the hay and not hurt. He came to +prepare me to receive Arthur, and then went up to the house. Bertha, +poor girl, in her wild grief almost flew at him. It was all his doing, +she said; he had egged Arthur on; she supposed Arthur had bets. In +short, she knew not what she said; but he left the house, and never has +been near her again.' + +'Were they engaged?' + +'Not quite formally, but they understood one another, and were waiting +for a favourable moment with old Lord Northmoor, who was not easy to deal +with, and it was far from being a good match anyway. We all thought, I +believe, that the drive was the fault or rather the folly of Captain +Alder, and Arthur was too ill to explain--unconscious at first--then not +rousing himself. At last he asked for his friend, and then he told me +that Captain Alder had done all in his power to prevent his taking the +creature out--had told him he had no right to endanger his life; and when +only laughed at, had insisted on going with him, in hopes, I suppose, of +averting mischief. I wrote--Lord Northmoor wrote to him at his quarters; +but our letters came back to us. We had kept no watch on the gazette, +and he had retired and left no address with his brother-officers. Bertha +knew that his parents were dead, and that he had a sister at school at +Clifton. I wrote to her, but the mistress sent back my letter; and we +found that he had fetched away his sister and gone. Even his money was +taken from Coutts's, as if to cut off any clue.' + +'He should not have so attended to a girl in her angry grief.' + +'No, but I think there was some self-blame in him, though not about that +horse. I believe he thought he might have checked Arthur more. And he +had debts which he seems to have paid on selling out his capital. So, as +I have told poor Bertha whenever she would let me, there may have been +other reasons besides her stinging words.' + +'And it has preyed on her?' + +'More than any one would guess who had not known her in old times. I was +glad that you secured that child, Cea, to her. She seems to have +fastened her affections on her.' + +'Alder,' presently repeated Frank. 'Alder--I was thinking how the name +had come before me. There were some clients of ours--of Mr. Burford's, I +mean--of that name; I think they sold an estate. Some day I will find +out whether he knows anything about them, and I shall remember more by +and by.' + +'It would be an immense relief if you could find out anything good about +the poor fellow,' said Adela, very glad to have found any topic of +interest, and pleased to find that it occupied his thoughts afterwards, +when he asked whether she knew the Christian name of _this_ young man, +without mentioning any antecedent, as if he had been going on with the +subject all the time. + +In a few days the pair were able to meet, and to take up again the life +over which a dark veil had suddenly descended, contrasting with the +sunshine of those last few years. To hold up one another, and do their +duty on their way to the better world, was evidently the one thought, +though they said little. + +Still neither was yet in a condition to return to ordinary life, and it +was determined that as soon as they were disinfected, they should leave +the house to undergo the same process, and spend a few weeks at some +health resort. Only Mary shuddered at the notion of hearing the sound of +the sea, and Malvern was finally fixed upon. Lady Adela would go with +them, and she wrote to beg that Constance, so soon as her term was over, +might bring Amice thither, to be in a separate lodging at first, till +there had been time to see whether the little girl's company would be a +solace or a trial to the bereaved parents. + +Bertha, as soon as the chief anxiety was over, joined Mrs. Bury in a +mountaineering expedition. She declared that she had never dared to +leave Cea before, lest the wretched father, now proved to be a myth, +should come and abstract the child. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV +THE PHANTOM OF THE STATION + + +There was a crash in Mrs. Morton's kitchen, where an elegant five o'clock +tea was preparing, not only to greet Herbert, who had just come home to +await the news of his fate after the last military examination open to +him, but also for a friend or two of his mother's, who, to his great +annoyance, might be expected to drop in on any Wednesday afternoon. + +Every one ran out to see what was the matter, and the maid was found +picking up Mrs. Morton's silver teapot, the basket-work handle of which +had suddenly collapsed under the weight of tea and tea-leaves. The +mistress's exclamations and objurgation of the maid for not having +discovered its frail condition need not be repeated. It had been a +wedding-present, and was her great pride. After due examination to see +whether there were any bruises or dents, she said-- + +'Well, Ida, we must have yours; run and fetch it out of the box. You +have the key of it.' And she held out the key of the cupboard where the +spoons were daily taken out by herself or Ida. + +The teapot had been left to Ida by a godmother, who had been a farmer's +wife, with a small legacy, but was of an unfashionable make and seldom +saw the light. + +'That horrid, great clumsy thing!' said Ida. 'You had much better use +the blue china one.' + +'I'll never use that crockery for company when there's silver in the +house! What would Mrs. Denham say if she dropped in?' + +'I won't pour out tea in that ugly, heavy brute of a thing.' + +'Then if you won't, I will. Give me the key this instant!' + +'It is mine, and I am not going to give it up!' + +'Come, Ida,' said Herbert, weary of the altercation; 'any one would think +you had made away with it! Let us have it for peace's sake.' + +'It's no business of yours.' + +He whistled. However, at that moment the door-bell rang. + +It was to admit a couple of old ladies, whom both the young people viewed +as very dull company; and the story of the illness of 'my brother, Lord +Northmoor,' as related by their mother, had become very tedious, so that +as soon as possible they both sauntered out on the beach. + +'I wonder when uncle will send for you!' Ida said. 'He must give you a +good allowance now.' + +'Don't talk of it, Ida; it makes me sick to think of it. I say--is that +the old red rock where they saw the last of the poor little kid?' + +'Yes; that was where his hat was.' + +'Did you find it? Was it washed up?' + +'Don't talk of such dreadful things, Bertie; I can't bear it! And +there's Rose Rollstone!' + +Ida would have done her utmost to keep her brother and Rose Rollstone +apart at any other time, but she was at the moment only too glad to +divert his attention, and allowed him, without protest, to walk up to +Rose, shake hands with her, and rejoice in her coming home for good; but, +do what Ida would, she could not keep him from recurring to the thought +of the little cousin of whom he had been very fond. + +'Such a jolly little kid!' he said; 'and full of spirit! You should have +seen him when I picked him up before me on the cob. How he laughed!' + +'So good, too,' said Rose. 'He looked so sweet with those pretty brown +eyes and fair curls at church that last Sunday.' + +'I can't make out how it was. The tide could not have been high enough +to wash him off going round that rock, or the other children would not +have gone round it.' + +'Oh, I suppose he ran after a wave,' said Ida hastily. + +'Do you know,' said Rose mysteriously, 'I could have declared I saw him +that very evening, and with his nursery-maid, too!' + +'Nonsense, Rose! We don't believe in ghosts!' said Ida. + +'It was not like a ghost,' said Rose. 'You know I had come down for the +bank-holiday, and went back to finish my quarter at the art embroidery. +Well, when we stopped at the North Westhaven station, I saw a man, woman, +and child get in, and it struck me that the boy was Master Michael and +the woman Louisa Hall. I think she looked into the carriage where I was, +and I was going to ask her where she was taking him.' + +'Nonsense, Rose! How can you listen to such folly, Herbert?' + +'But that's not all! I saw them again under the gas when I got out. I +was very near trying to speak to her, but I lost sight of her in the +throng; but I saw that face so like Master Michael, only scared and just +ready to cry.' + +'You'll run about telling that fine ghost-story,' said Ida roughly. + +'But Louisa could not have been a ghost,' said Rose, bewildered. 'I +thought she was his nursery-maid taking him somewhere! Didn't she--' +then with a sudden flash--'Oh!' + +'Turned off long ago for flirting with that scamp Rattler,' said Herbert. +'Now she has run off with him.' + +'There was a sailor-looking man with her,' said Rose. + +'I never heard such intolerable nonsense!' burst out Ida. 'Mere +absurdity!' + +Herbert looked at her with surprise at the strange passion she exhibited. +He asked-- + +'Did you say the Hall girl had run away?' + +'Oh, never mind, Herbert!' cried Ida, as if unable to command herself. +'What is it to you what a nasty, horrid girl like that does?' + +'Hold your tongue, Ida!' he said resolutely. 'If you won't speak, let +Rose.' + +'She did,' said Rose, in a low, anxious, terrified voice. 'I only heard +it since I came home. She was married at the registrar's office to that +man Jones, whom they call the Rattler, and went off with him. It must +have been her whom I saw, really and truly; and, oh, Herbert, could she +have been so wicked as to steal Master Michael!' + +'Somebody else has been wicked then,' said Herbert, laying hold of his +sister's arm. + +'I don't know what all this means,' exclaimed Ida, in great agitation; +'nor what you and Rose are at! Making up such horrible, abominable +insinuations against me, your poor sister! But Rose Rollstone always +hated me!' + +'She does not know what she is saying,' sighed Rose; and, with much +delicacy, she moved away. + +'Let me go, Herbert!' cried Ida, as she felt his grip on her hand. + +'Not I, Ida--till you have answered me! Is this so--that Michael is not +drowned, but carried off by that woman?' demanded Herbert, holding her +fast and looking at her with manly gravity, not devoid of horror. + +'He is a horrid little impostor, palmed off to keep you out of the title +and everything! That's why I did it!' sobbed Ida, trying to wrench +herself away. + +'Oh, you did it, did you? You confess that! And what have you done with +him?' + +'I tell you he is no Morton at all--just the nurse-woman's child, taken +to spite you. I found it all out at--what's its name?--Botzen; only ma +would not be convinced.' + +'I should suppose not! To think that my uncle and aunt would do such a +thing--why, I don't know whether it is not worse than stealing the +child!' + +'Herbert! Herbert! do you want to bring your sister to jail, talking in +that way?' + +'It is no more than you deserve. I _would_ bring you there if it is the +only way to get back the child! I do not know what is bad enough for +you. My poor uncle and aunt! To have brought such misery on them!' He +clenched his hands as he spoke. + +'Everybody said she didn't mind--didn't ask questions, didn't cry, didn't +go on a bit like his real mother.' + +'She could not, or it might have been the death of my uncle. Bertha +wrote it all to me; but you--you would never understand. Ida, I can't +believe that you, my sister, could have done such an awfully wicked +thing!' + +'I wouldn't, only I was sure he was not--' + +'No more of that stuff!' said Herbert. 'You don't know what they are.' + +'I do. So strict--not a bit like a mother.' + +'If our mother had been like them, you might not have been such a +senseless monster,' said Herbert, pausing for a word. 'Come, now; tell +me what you have done with him, or I shall have to set on the police.' + +'Oh, Herbert, how can you be so cruel?' + +'It is not I that am cruel! Come, speak out! Did you bribe her with +your teapot? Ah! I see: what has she done with him?' + +He gripped her arm almost as he used to torture her when they were +children, and insisted again that either she must tell him the whole +truth or he should set the police on the track. + +'You wouldn't,' she said, awed. 'Think of the exposure and of mother!' + +'I can think of nothing but saving Mite! I say--my mother knows nothing +of this?' + +'Oh no, no!' + +Herbert breathed more freely, but he was firm, and seemed suddenly to +have grown out of boyishness into manly determination, and gradually he +extracted the whole story from her. He would not listen to the delusion +in which she had worked herself into believing, founded upon the +negations for which she had sedulously avoided seeking positive +refutation, and which had been bolstered up by her imagination and +wishes, working on the unsubstantial precedents of novels. She had +brought herself absolutely to believe in the imposture, and at a moment +when her uncle's condition seemed absolutely to place within her grasp +the coronet for Herbert, with all possibilities for herself. + +Then came the idea of Louisa Hall, inspired by seeing her speak to little +Michael on the beach, and obtain his pretty smiles and exclamation of +'Lou, Lou! mine Lou!' for he had certainly liked this girl better than +Ellen, who was wanting in life and animation. Ida knew that Sam Jones, +alias Rattler, was going out to join his brother in Canada, and that +Louisa was vehemently desirous to accompany him, but had failed to +satisfy the requirements of Government as to character, so as to obtain a +free passage, and was therefore about to be left behind in desertion and +distress. She might beguile Michael away quietly and carry him to +Canada, where, as it seemed, there were any amount of farmers ready to +adopt English children--a much better lot, in Ida's eyes, than the little +Tyrolese impostor deserved. She even persuaded herself that she was +doing an act of great goodness, when, at the price of her teapot, she +obtained that Louisa should be married by the registrar to Sam Jones, and +their passage paid, on condition of their carrying away Michael with +them. The man was nothing loth, having really a certain preference for +Louisa, and likewise a grudge against Lord Northmoor for having spoilt +that game with Miss Morton, which might have brought the means for the +voyage. + +They were married on Whit Monday, and Ida was warned that if she and +Louisa could not get possession of the child by Wednesday, he would be +left behind. Louisa was accordingly on the watch, and Ida hovered about, +just enough completely to put the nurses off their guard. They heard +Michael's imploring call of 'Willie! Willie!' and then Louisa descended +on him with coaxings and promises, and Ida knew no more, except that, as +she had desired, a parcel had been sent her containing the hat and shoes. +The spade she had herself picked up. + +When Rose had seen them, they had no doubt been on their way to +Liverpool. + +It seemed to be Herbert's horror-stricken look that first showed his +sister the enormity of what she had done, and when she pleaded 'for your +sake,' he made such a fierce sound of disgust, that she only durst add +further, 'Oh, Herbert, you will not tell?' + +'Not find him?' he thundered. + +'No, no; I didn't mean that! But don't let them know about me! Just +think--' + +'I must think! Get away now; I can't bear you near!' + +And just then a voice was heard, 'Miss Hider, Miss Hider, your ma wants +you!' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV +THE QUEST + + +Herbert had made no promises, but as he paced up and down the shingle +after his sister had gone in, he had time to feel that, though he was +determined to act at once, the scandal of her deed must be as much as +possible avoided. Indeed, he believed that she might have rendered +herself amenable to prosecution for kidnapping the child, and he felt on +reflection that his mother must be spared the terror and disgrace. His +difficulties were much increased by the state of quarantine at Northmoor, +for though the journey to Malvern had been decided upon, neither patient +was yet in a state to attempt it, and as one of the servants had +unexpectedly sickened with the disease, all approach to the place was +forbidden; nor did he know with any certainty how far his uncle's +recovery had advanced, since Bertha, his chief informant, had gone abroad +with Mrs. Bury, and Constance was still at Oxford. + +He went home, and straight up to his room, feeling it intolerable to meet +his sister; and there, the first sleepless night he had ever known, +convinced him that to the convalescents it would be cruelty to send his +intelligence, when it amounted to no more than that their poor little boy +had been made over to an unscrupulous woman and a violent, +good-for-nothing man. + +'No,' said Herbert, as he tossed over; 'it would be worse than believing +him quietly dead, now they have settled down to that. I must get him +back before they know anything about it. But how? I must hunt up those +wretches' people here, and find where they are gone; if they know--as +like as not they won't. But I'll throw everything up till I find the +boy!' He knelt up in his bed, laid his hand on his Bible--his uncle's +gift--and solemnly swore it. + +And Herbert was another youth from that hour. + +When he had brought his ideas into some little order, the foremost was +that he must see Rose Rollstone, discover how much she knew or guessed, +and bind her to silence. 'No fear of her, jolly little thing!' said he +to himself; but, playfellows as they had been, private interviews were +not easy to secure under present circumstances. + +However, the tinkling of the bell of the iron church suggested an idea. +'She is just the little saint of a thing to be always off to church at +unearthly hours. I'll catch her there--if only that black coat isn't +always after her!' + +So Herbert hurried off to the iron building, satisfied himself with a +peep that Rose's sailor hat was there, and then--to make sure of +her--crept into a seat by the door, and found his plans none the worse +for praying for all needing help in mind, body, or estate. Rose came out +alone, and he was by her side at once. 'I say, Rose, you did not speak +about _that_ last night?' + +'Oh no, indeed!' + +'You're a brick! I got it all out of that sister of mine. I'm only +ashamed that she is my sister!' + +'And where is the dear little boy?' + +'That's the point,' and Herbert briefly explained his difficulties, and +Rose agreed that he must try to learn where the emigrants had gone, from +their relations. And when he expressed his full intention of following +them, even if he had to work his passage, before telling the parents, she +applauded the nobleness of the resolution, and all the romance in her +awoke at the notion of his bringing home the boy and setting him before +his parents. She was ready to promise secrecy for the sake of preventing +the prosecution that might, as Herbert saw, be a terrible thing for the +whole family; and besides, it must be confessed, the two young things did +rather enjoy the sharing of a secret. Herbert promised to meet her the +next morning, and report his discoveries and plans, as in fact she was +the only person with whom he could take counsel. + +He did meet her accordingly, going first to the church. He had to tell +her that he had been able to make nothing of Mrs. Hall. He was not sure +whether she knew where her daughter had gone; at any rate, she would not +own to any knowledge, being probably afraid. Besides, when acting as +charwoman, Master Herbert had been such a torment to her that she was not +likely to oblige him. + +He had succeeded better with the Jones family, and perhaps had learnt +prudence, for he had not begun by asking for the Rattler, but for the +respectable brother who had invited him out, and had thus learnt that the +destination of the emigrant was Toronto, where the elder brother was +employed on the _British Empress_, Ontario steamer. Mrs. Jones, the +mother, and her eldest son were decent people, and there was no reason to +think they were aware of the encumbrances that their scapegrace had taken +with him. + +So Herbert had resolved, without delay, to make his way to Toronto; where +he hoped to find the child, and maybe, bring him back in a month's time. + +'Only,' said Rose timidly, 'did you really mean what you said about +working your way out?' + +'Well, Rose, that's the hitch. I had to pay up some bills after I got my +allowance, and unluckily I changed my bicycle, and the rascals put a lot +more on the new one, and I haven't got above seven pounds left, and I +must keep some for the rail from New York and for getting home, for I +can't take the kid home in the steerage. The bicycle's worth something, +and so is my watch, if I put them in pawn; so I think I can do it that +way, and I'm quite seaman enough to get employment, only I don't want to +lose time about it.' + +'I was thinking,' said Rose shyly; 'they made me put into the Post Office +Savings Bank after I began to get a salary. I have five-and-twenty +pounds there that I could get out in a couple of days, and I should be so +glad to help to bring that dear little boy home.' + +'Oh, Rose, you _are_ a girl! You see, you are quite safe not to lose it, +for my uncle would be only too glad to pay it back, even if I came to +grief any way, and it would make it all slick smooth. I would go to +Liverpool straight off, and cross in the first steamer, and the thing's +done. And can you get at it at once with nobody knowing?' + +'Yes, I think so,' said Rose. 'My father asked to see my book when first +I came home, and he is not likely to do so again, till I can explain all +about it, and I am sure it cannot be wrong.' + +'Wrong--no! Right as a trivet! Rose, Rose, if ever that poor child sees +his father and mother again, it is every bit your doing! No one can tell +what I think of it, or what my uncle and aunt will say to you! You've +been the angel in this, if Ida has been the other thing!' + +But Rose found difficulties in the way of her angelic part, for her +father addressed her in his most solemn and sententious manner: 'Rose, I +have always looked on you as sensible and discreet, but I have to say +that I disapprove of your late promenades with a young man connected with +the aristocracy.' + +Rose coloured up a good deal, but cried out, 'It's not that, papa, not +that!' + +'I do not suppose either you or he is capable at present of forming any +definite purpose,' said Mr. Rollstone, not to be baulked of his +discourse; 'but you must bear in mind that any appearance of +encouragement to a young man in his position can only have a most +damaging effect on your prospects, and even reputation, however +flattering he may appear.' + +'I know it, papa, I know it! There has been nothing of the kind, I +assure you,' said Rose, who during the last discourse had had time to +reflect; 'and he is going away to-morrow or next day, so you need not be +afraid, though I must see him or send to him once more before he goes.' + +'Well, if you are helping him to get some present for his sisters, I do +not see so much objection for this once; only it must not occur again.' + +Rose was much tempted to let this suggestion stand, but truth forbade +her, and she said, 'No, papa, I cannot say it is that; but you will know +all about it before long, and you will not disapprove, if you will only +trust your little Rose,' and she looked up for a kiss. + +'Well, I never found you not to be trusted, though you are a coaxing +puss,' said her father, and so the matter ended with him, but she had +another encounter with her mother. + +'Mind, Rose, if that churching--which Sunday was enough for any good girl +in my time--is only to lead to walking with young gents which has no call +to you, I won't have it done.' + +Mrs. Rollstone was not cultivated up to her husband's mark, neither had +she ever inspired so much confidence, and Rose made simple answer, 'It is +all right, mamma; I have spoken to papa about it.' + +'Oh, if your pa knows, I suppose he is satisfied; but men aren't the same +as a mother, and if that there young Mr. Morton comes dangling and +gallanting after you, he is after no good.' + +'He is doing no such thing,' said Rose in a resolutely calm voice that +might have shown that she was with difficulty controlling her temper; +'and, besides, he is going away.' + +Wherewith Mrs. Rollstone had to be satisfied. + +Rose took a bold measure when she had taken her five five-pound notes +from the savings bank. She saw her father preparing to waddle out for +his daily turn on the beach, and she put the envelope containing them, +addressed to H. Morton, Esq., into his hand, begging him to give it to +Mr. Morton himself. + +Which he did, when he met Herbert trying to soothe his impatience with a +cigar. + +'Here, sir,' he said, 'my daughter wishes me to give you this. I don't +ask what it is, mind; but I tell you plainly, I don't like secrets +between young people.' + +Herbert tried to laugh naturally, then said, 'Your daughter is no end of +a trump, Mr. Rollstone.' + +'Only recollect this, sir--I know my station and I know yours, and I will +have no nonsense with her.' + +'All right!' said Herbert shortly, with a laugh, his head too full of +other matters to think what all this implied. + +He wished to avoid exciting any disturbance, so he told his mother that +he should be off again the next day. + +'It is very hard,' grumbled Mrs. Morton, 'that you can never be contented +to stay with your poor mother! I did hope that with the regatta, and the +yachts, and Mr. Brady, you would find amusement enough to give us a +little of your company; but nothing is good enough for you now. Which of +your fine friends are you going to?' + +Herbert was not superior to an evasion, and said, 'I'm going up to town +first, and shall see Dacre, and I'll write by and by.' + +She resigned herself to the erratic movements of the son, who, being +again, in her eyes, heir to the peerage, was to her like a comet in a +higher sphere. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI +IDA'S CONFESSION + + +The move to Malvern was at last made, and the air seemed at once to +invigorate Lord Northmoor, though the journey tried his wife more than +she had expected, and she remained in a very drooping state, in spite of +her best efforts not to depress him. Nothing seemed to suit her so well +as to lie on a couch in the garden of their lodging, with Constance +beside her, talking, and sometimes smiling over all her little Mite's +pretty ways; though at other times she did her best to seem to take +interest in other matters, and to persuade her husband that his +endeavours to give her pleasure or interest were successful, because the +exertions he made for her sake were good for him. + +He was by this time anxious--since he was by the end of three weeks quite +well, and fairly strong--to go down to Westhaven, and learn all he could +about the circumstances of the fate of his poor little son; and only +delayed till he thought his wife could spare him. Lady Adela urged him +at last to go. She thought that Mary lived in a state of effort for his +sake, and that there was a certain yearning and yet dread in the minds of +both for these further details, so that the visit had better be over. + +Thus it was about six weeks after Herbert's departure that Mrs. Morton +received a note to tell her that her brother-in-law would arrive the next +evening. It was terrible news to Ida, and if there had been time she +would have arranged to be absent elsewhere; but as it was she had no +power to escape, and had to spend her time in assisting in all the +elaborate preparations which her mother thought due to the Baron--a very +different personage in her eyes from the actual Frank. + +He did not come till late in the day, and then Mrs. Morton received him +with a very genuine gush of tears, and anxious inquiries. He was thin, +and looked much older; his hair was grayer, and had retreated from his +brow, and there was a bent, worn, dejected air about the whole man, +which, as Mrs. Morton said, made her ready to cry whenever she looked at +him; but he was quite composed in manner and tone, so as to repress her +agitation, and confirm Ida's inexperienced judgment in the idea that +Michael was none of his. He was surprised and concerned at Herbert's +absence, which was beginning to make his mother uneasy, and he promised +to write to some of the boy's friends to inquire about him. To put off +the evil day, Ida had suggested asking Mr. Deyncourt to meet him, but +that gentleman could not come, and dinner went off in stiff efforts at +conversation, for just now all the power thereof, that Lord Northmoor had +ever acquired, seemed to have forsaken him. + +Afterwards, in the August twilight, he begged to hear all. Ida withdrew, +glad not to submit to the ordeal, while her mother observed, 'Poor, dear +Ida! She was so fond of her dear little cousin, she cannot bear to hear +him mentioned! She has never been well since!' + +Then, with copious floods of tears, and all in perfect good faith, she +related the history of the loss, as she knew it, with--on his leading +questions--a full account of all the child's pretty ways during his stay, +and how he had never failed to say his prayer about making papa better, +and how he had made friends with Mr. Deyncourt, in spite of having +pronounced his church like a big tin box all up in frills; and how he had +admired the crabs, and run after the waves, and had been devoted to the +Willie, who had thought him troublesome--giving all the anecdotes, to +which Frank listened with set face and dry eyes, storing them for his +wife. He thanked Mrs. Morton for all her care and tenderness, and +expended assurances that no one thought her to blame. + +'It is one of those dispensations,' he said, 'that no one can guard +against. We can only be thankful for the years of joy that no one can +take from us, and try to be worthy to meet him hereafter.' + +Mrs. Morton had wept so much that she was very glad to seize the first +excuse for wishing good-night. She said that she had put all Michael's +little things in a box in his father's room, for him to take home to his +mother, and bade Frank--as once more she called him--good-night, kissing +him as she had never done before. The shock had brought out all that was +best and most womanly in her. + +That box had an irresistible attraction for Frank. He could not but open +it, and on the top lay the white woolly, headless dog that had been +Mite's special darling, had been hugged by him in his slumbers every +night, and been the means of many a joyous game when father and mother +came up to wish the noisy creature good-night, and 'Tarlo' had been made +to bark at them. + +Somehow the 'never more' overcame him completely. He had not before been +beyond the restraint of guarding his feelings for Mary's sake; and, tired +with the long day, and torn by the evening's narration, all his +self-command gave way, and he fell into a perfect anguish of deep-drawn, +almost hysterical sobbing. + + [Picture: 'What?' and he threw the door wide open] + +Those sobs were heard through the thin partition in Ida's room. They +were very terrible to her. They broke down the remnant of her excuse +that the child was an imposition. They woke all her woman's tenderness, +and the impulse to console carried her in a few moments to the door. + +'Uncle! Uncle Frank!' + +'I'm not ill,' answered a broken, heaving, impatient voice. 'I want +nothing.' + +'Oh, let me in, dear uncle--I've something to tell you!' + +'Not now,' came on the back of a sob. 'Go!' + +'Oh, now, now!' and she even opened the door a little. 'He is not +drowned! At least, Rose Rollstone thinks--' + +'What?' and he threw the door wide open. + +'Rose Rollstone is sure she saw him with Louisa Hall in London that day,' +hurried out Ida, still bent on screening herself. 'She's gone to Canada. +It's there that Herbert is gone to find him and bring him home!' + +'And why--why were we never told?' + +'You were too ill, uncle, and Rose did not know about it till she came +home. Then she told Herbert, and he hoped to find him and write.' + +'When was this?' + +'When Herbert came home--the 29th or 30th of June,' said Ida, trembling. +'He _must_ find him, uncle; don't fear!' + +It was a strange groaning sigh that answered; then, with a great effort-- + +'Thank you, Ida; I can't understand it yet--I can't talk! Good-night!' +Then, with an afterthought, when he had almost shut his door, he turned +the handle again to say, 'Who did you say saw--thought she saw--my boy? +Where?' + +'Rose Rollstone, uncle; first at the North Station--then at Waterloo! +And Louisa Hall too!' + +'I thank you; good-night!' + +And for what a night of strange dreams, prayers, and uncertainties did +Frank shut himself in--only forcing himself by resolute will into +sleeping at last, because he knew that strength and coolness were needful +for to-morrow's investigation. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII +HOPE + + +That last sleep lasted long, till the sound of the little tinkling bell +came through the open window, and then the first waking thought that Mite +was alive was at first taken for a mere blissful dream. It was only the +sight of the woolly dog that recalled with certainty the conversation +with Ida. + +To pursue that strange hint was of course the one impulse. The bell had +ceased before Frank had been able to finish dressing, but the house was +so far from having wakened to full life, that remembering the lateness of +the breakfast hour, he decided on hastening out to lay his anxious, +throbbing feelings before his God, if only to join in the prayer that our +desires may be granted as may be most expedient for us. + +Nor was he without a hope that the girl whom Constance described as so +devout and religious might be found there. + +And she was; he knew her by sight well enough to accost her when she came +out with 'Miss Rollstone, I believe?' + +She bowed, her heart thumping almost as much as the father's, in the +importance of what she had to tell, and the doubt how much she had a +right to speak without betrayal. + +'I am told,' Lord Northmoor said, with a tremble in his voice, 'that you +think you saw my poor little boy.' + +'I am almost sure I did,' said Rose. + +'And when, may I ask?' + +'On the evening of the Wednesday in Whitsun week,' said Rose. + +'Just when he was lost--and where?' + +'At the North Station. I had got into the train at the main station. I +saw him put into the train at the North one, and taken out at Waterloo.' + +'And why--why, may I ask, have we been left--have we never heard this +before?' + +His voice shook, as he thought of all the misery to himself and his wife +that might have been spared, as well as the danger of the child. Rose +hesitated, doubting how much she ought to say, and Mr. Deyncourt came +out. + +'May I introduce myself?' said Frank, hoping for an auxiliary,--'Lord +Northmoor. I have just heard that Miss Rollstone thinks she saw my +little boy in the London train the day he disappeared; and I am trying to +understand whether there is really any hope that she is right, and that +we can recover him.' + +Mr. Deyncourt was infinitely surprised, and spoke a few words of wonder +that this had not been made known. Rose found it easier to speak to him. + +'I saw Louisa Hall with him; I did not know she was not still his maid. +I thought she had been sent to take him somewhere. And when I heard from +home that he--he was--drowned, I only thought the likeness had deceived +me. It was not till Mr. Morton came home, and we talked it over, that I +understood that Louisa Hall was dismissed long ago, and was eloping to +Canada. + +'And then,' for she had spoken falteringly, and with an effort, as their +sounds of inquiry elicited each sentence--'and then, Mr. Morton said he +would follow her to Canada. He did not want Lady Northmoor to be +tortured with uncertainty.' + +'Very strange,' said the gentlemen one to the other, Lord Northmoor +adding-- + +'Thank you, Miss Rollstone; I will not detain you, unless you can tell me +more.' + +Rose was glad to be released, though pained and vexed not to dare to +express her reasons for full certainty. + +'Is this only a girl's fancy?' sighed the father. + +'I think she is a sensible girl.' + +'And my nephew Herbert is a hard-headed fellow, not likely to fly off on +a vague notion. Is this Hall girl's mother still living here?' + +'Certainly. It has been a bad business, her going off with that Jones; +but I ascertained that she was married to him.' + +'Jones--Sam Jones, or Rattler?' + +'Even so.' + +'Ah! She was dismissed on his account. And I detected him in imposing +on Miss Morton. Yet--where does this Mrs. Hall live?' + +'Along this alley. Shall I come with you?' + +'Thank you.' + +'It may induce her to speak out, if there is anything to hear. I dare +not hope! It is too incredible, and I don't understand those children's +silence.' + +He spoke it almost to himself, and the clergyman thought it kinder not to +interrupt his thoughts during the few steps down the evil-smelling alley +that led to the house, where Mrs. Hall was washing up her cup after +breakfast. It was Mr. Deyncourt who spoke, seeing that the swelling hope +and doubt were almost too much for his companion. + +'Good morning, Mrs. Hall; we have come to you early, but Lord Northmoor +is very anxious to know whether you can throw any light on what has +become of his little boy.' + +Mrs. Hall was in a very different state of mind from when she had denied +all knowledge to Herbert, a mere boy, whom she did not like, and when she +was anxious to shelter her daughter, whose silence had by this time begun +to offend her. The sight of the clergyman and the other gentleman +alarmed her, and she began by maundering out-- + +'I am sure, sir, I don't know nothing. My daughter have never writ one +line to me.' + +'He was with her!' gasped out Lord Northmoor. + +'I am sure, sir, it was none of my doing, no, nor my daughter wouldn't +neither, only the young lady over persuaded her. 'Tis she as was the +guilty party, as I'll always say.' + +'She--who?' + +'Miss Morton--Miss Hida, sir; and my gal wouldn't never have done it, +sir, but for the stories she told, fictious stories they was, I'm sure, +that the child wasn't none of my lady's, only a brat picked up in foreign +parts to put her brother out of his chance.' + +'What are you saying?' exclaimed Lord Northmoor. 'My niece never could +have said any such thing.' + +'Indeed, but she did, sir, my Lord, and that's what worked on my +daughter, though I always told her not to believe any such nonsense; but +then you see, she couldn't get her passage paid to go out with Rattler, +and Miss Hida give her the money if so be she would take off the child to +Canada with her.' + +'And where?' hoarsely asked the father. + +'That I can't tell, my Lord; Louey have never written, and I knows no +more than nothing at all. She've not been a dutiful gal to me, as have +done everything for her.' + +There was no more to be made out of Mrs. Hall, and they went their way. + +'There is no doubt that the little fellow is alive,' said Mr. Deyncourt. + +'Who can guess what those wretches have done to him?' said Lord Northmoor +under his breath. 'Not that I am unthankful for the blessed hope,' he +added, uncovering his head, 'but I am astounded more than I can say, by +_this_--' + +'It must be invention of the woman,' said Mr. Deyncourt. + +'I hope so,' was the answer. + +'Could Miss Rollstone have suspected it? She was very unlike what I have +seen of her before.' + +They separated for breakfast, agreeing to meet afterwards to hunt up the +Jones family. + +Ida had suffered a good deal all the night and morning as she wondered +what her confession might entail on her. Sometimes she told herself that +since it would come out in Herbert's letters on the discovery of the +child, it was well to have the honour of the first disclosure, and her +brother was certain to keep her part in the matter a secret; but, on the +other hand, she did not know how much Louisa might have told her mother, +nor whether Mrs. Hall might persist in secrecy--nay, or even Rose. +Indeed, she was quite uncertain how much Rose had understood. She could +not have kept back guesses, and she did not believe in honour on Rose's +part. So she was nervous on finding that her uncle was gone out. + +When he came in to breakfast, he merely made a morning greeting. +Afterwards he scarcely spoke, except to answer an occasional remark from +her mother. To herself, he neither looked nor spoke, but when Mrs. +Morton declared that he looked the better for his morning walk, there was +a half smile and light in his eye, and the weight seemed gone from his +brow. Mrs. Morton asked what he was going to do. + +'I am going out with Mr. Deyncourt,' he answered. + +And Ida breathed more freely when he was gone. + +But she little knew that Mr. Deyncourt had gone to Rose Rollstone in her +father's presence, and told her of Mrs. Hall's revelations, asking her if +this had been the cause of her silence. She had to own how the truth had +flashed at once on her and Mr. Morton. + +'It would be so very dreadful for them if it were known,' she said. 'He +thought if he brought back the boy, his sister's part need not be known.' + +'Then that was the secret!' exclaimed Mrs. Rollstone. 'Well, I'll not +blame you, child, but you might have told us.' + +Secrets were safe with the ex-butler, but not quite so much so with his +wife, though all three tried to impress on her the need of silence, +before Mr. Deyncourt hastened out to rejoin Lord Northmoor. The inquiry +took a much longer time than they had expected, for the family wanted did +not live in Mr. Deyncourt's district, and they were misdirected more than +once to people who disdained the notion of being connected with the +Rattler, if they had ever heard of such a person. At last they did find +a sister-in-law, who pronounced George Jones to be a good fellow, so far +as she knew. He sent home to his mother regularly, and lately had had +out his brother Sam, and a good job too, to have him out of the way, only +what must he do but go and marry that there trollopy girl, as was no +good. + +Yes, George had written to say they had come safe to Toronto, but she did +not hear as he said anything about a child. The letter was to his +mother, who had taken it into the country when she went to stay with her +daughter. This deponent didn't know the address, and her husband was out +with a yacht. + +Nothing could be done but to pursue the mother to a village about five +miles off, where she was traced out with some difficulty, and persuaded +to refer to her son George's letter, where he mentioned the safe arrival +of Mr. and Mrs. Sam, but without a word about their bringing a child with +them. This omission seemed to dash all former hopes, so as to show Frank +how strong they had been, and besides, there had been more than time for +Herbert to have written after reaching Toronto. + +However, the one step of knowing George Jones's address had been gained, +and with no more than this, they had to return, intending to see whether +Ida had any notion as to what was to be done. + +It was evening when Lord Northmoor came in. Mrs. Morton was alone, and +as she looked up, was answered by his air of disappointment as he shook +his head. + +'Oh, it is so dreadful,' she exclaimed, 'it is all over the place! We +met Mr. Brady and his sisters, and they cut Ida dead. She is quite +broken-hearted, indeed, she is.' + +'Then she has told you all?' + +'She could not help it. Mrs. Rollstone came to ask me if it was true--as +a friend, she said, I should say it was more like an enemy, and Mrs. Hall +came too, wanting to see Ida, but I saw her instead. The wicked woman to +have given in! And they have gone and told every one, and the police +will be after my poor child.' + +'No, they would not interfere unless I prosecuted, and that I certainly +should not do unless it proved the only means of tracing my child. I +came home intending to ask Ida if she gave any directions about him. It +seems certain that he was not brought to Toronto.' + +'Indeed! She made sure that he would be there!' exclaimed Mrs. Morton, +much dismayed. 'Let me go and see. She is so much upset altogether that +she declares that she cannot see you this evening.' + +Mrs. Morton went, and presently brought word that Ida was horrified at +hearing that little Michael was not with the Joneses. She had trusted +Louisa to treat him kindly, and only dispose of him to some of those +Canadian farmers, who seemed to have an unlimited appetite for adopted +children, and the last hope was that this might have been the case, +though opportunities could have been few on the way to Toronto. + +Ida had cried over the tidings. It must have been worse than she had +ever intended that the child should be treated; and the shock was great +both to her and to her mother. + +Mrs. Morton really seemed quite broken down, both by sorrow and fear for +the boy, and by the shame, the dread of the story getting into the +papers, and the sense that she could never go on living at Westhaven; and +her brother-in-law quite overwhelmed her by saying that he should do all +in his power to prevent publicity, and that he entirely exonerated her +from all blame in the matter. + +'Ah, Frank dear,' she said, 'you are so good, it makes me feel what a +sinful woman I am! I don't mean that I ever gave in for a moment to that +nonsense of poor Ida's which was her only bit of excuse. No one that had +ever been a mother could, you know; but I won't say that I did not +grumble at my boy losing his chances.' + +'I don't wonder!' + +'And--and I never would listen to you and Mary about poor Ida. I let her +idle and dress, and read all those novels, and it is out of them she got +that monstrous notion. You little know what I have gone through with +that girl, Frank, so different from the other two. Oh! if I could only +begin over again!' + +'Perhaps,' said Frank, full of pity, 'this terrible shock may open her +eyes, and by God's blessing be the beginning of better things.' + +'Oh, Frank, you are a perfect angel ever to bear the sight of us again!' +cried the poor woman, ever violent in her feelings and demonstrations. +'Hark! What's that?--I can't see any one.' + +'Please, ma'am, it's Miss Rollstone, with a letter for his Lordship.' + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII +THE CLUE + + + 'BEST OF ROSES,-- + + 'I don't know where my uncle is, so please send him this. I got to + Toronto all right, and had not much trouble in finding out the + steady-going Jones, who is rather a swell, chief mate on board the + _British Empress_. He was a good deal taken aback by my story, and + said that his brother had come out with his wife, but no child. It + was quite plain that he was a good deal disappointed in the Rattler, + and not at all prepared for Mrs. Louisa, whom neither he nor his wife + admired at all, at all. He had got his brother a berth on a summer + steamer that had just been set up on Lake Winnipeg--being no doubt + glad to get rid of such an encumbrance as the wife, and he looked + very blue when he heard that I was quite certain that she had taken + the kid away with her, and been paid for it. There was nothing for + it but to go after them, and find out from them what they had done + with poor little Mite. He is a right good fellow, and would have + gone with me, but that he is bound to his boat, and a stunner she is; + but he gave me a letter to Sam, so I had to get on the Canadian + Pacific Railway, so that I should have been nonplussed but for your + loan. Splendid places it goes through, you never saw such trees, nor + such game. + + 'As good luck would have it, I was in the same car with an + Englishman--a gentleman, one could see with half an eye, and we + fraternised, so that I told him what I was come about. He was + awfully good-natured, and told me he lived a mile or two out of + Winnipeg, and had a share in the steam company, and if I found any + difficulty I was to come to him, Mr. Forman, at Northmoor. I stared + at the name, as you may guess! There was a fine horse and buggy + waiting for him at the station, and off he went. I put up at the + hotel--there's sure to be that whatever there is not--and went after + the Joneses next. I got at the woman first, she looked ill and + fagged, as if she didn't find life with Rattler very jolly. She + cried bucketsful, and said she didn't know anything, since she put + the poor little Mite to sleep after supper in a public-house at + Liverpool. She was dead tired, and when she woke he was gone, and + her husband swore at her, and never would tell her what he had done + with the boy, except that he had not hurt him. Then I interviewed + Sam Rattler himself. He cut up rough, as he said my Lord had done + him an ill turn, and he had the game in his hands now, and was not + going to let him know what was become of his child, without he came + down handsome enough to make up for what he had done him out of. So + then I had to go off to Mr. Forman. He has such a place, a house + such as any one might be delighted to have--pine trees behind, a + garden in front, no end of barns and stables, with houses and cows, + fine wheat fields spreading all round, such as would do your heart + good. That is what Mr. Forman and his brother-in-law, Captain Alder, + have made, and there's a sweet little lady as ever you saw, Alder's + sister. The Captain was greatly puzzled to hear it was Lord + Northmoor's son I was looking for. He is not up in the peerage like + your father, you see, and I had to make him understand. He thought + Lord N. must be either the old man, or Lady Adela's little boy. He + said some of his happiest days had been at Northmoor, and he asked + after Lady Adela, and if Miss Morton was married. He came with me, + and soon made Mr. Rattler change his note, by showing him that it + would be easy to give him the sack, even if he was not laid hold of + by the law on my information for stealing the child. They are both + magistrates and could do it. So at last the fellow growled out that + he wasn't going to be troubled with another man's brat, and just + before embarking, he had laid it down asleep at the door of Liverpool + Workhouse! So no doubt poor little Michael is there! I would have + telegraphed at once; but I don't know where my uncle is, or whether + he knows about it, but you can find out and send him this letter at + once. I have asked him to pay your advance out of my quarter; and as + to the rest of it, it is all owing to you that the poor little kid is + not to grow up a pauper. + + 'I am staying on at Northmoor--it sounds natural; they want another + hand for their harvesting, so I am working out my board, as is the + way here, at any rate till I hear from my uncle, and I shall ask him + to let me stay here for good as a farming-pupil. It would suit me + ever so much better than the militia, even if I could get into it, + which I suppose I haven't done. It is a splendid country, big enough + to stretch oneself in, and I shall never stand being cramped up in an + island after it; besides that I don't want to see Ida again in a + hurry, though there is some one I should like no end to see again. + There, I must not say any more, but send this on to my uncle. I wish + I could see his face. I did look to bring Mite back to him, but that + can't be, as I have not tin enough to carry me home. I hope your + loan has not got you into a scrape. + + 'Yours ever (I mean it), + 'H. MORTON.' + +The letter to Lord Northmoor, which the servant put into his hand, was +shorter, and began with the more important sentence--'The rascal dropped +Michael at Liverpool Workhouse.' + +The father read it with an ejaculation of 'Thank God,' the aunt answered +with a cry of horror, so that he thought for a moment she had supposed he +said 'dropped him into the sea,' and repeated 'Liverpool Workhouse.' + +'Oh, yes, yes; but that is so dreadful. The Honourable Michael Morton in +a workhouse!' + +'He is safe and well taken care of there, no doubt,' said Frank. 'I have +no fears now. There are much worse places than the nurseries of those +great unions.' Then, as he read on, 'There, Emma, your boy has acted +nobly. He has fully retrieved what his sister has done. Be happy over +that, dear sister, and be thankful with me. My Mary, my Mary, will the +joy be too much? Oh, my boy! How soon can I reach Liverpool? There, +you will like to read it. I must go and thank that good girl who found +him the means.' + +He was gone, and found Rose in the act of reading her letter aloud (all +but certain bits, that made her falter as if the writing was bad) to her +parents and Mr. Deyncourt. And there, in full assembly, he found himself +at a loss for words. No one was so much master of the situation as Mr. +Rollstone. + +'My Lord, I have the honour to congratulate your Lordship,' he said, with +a magnificence only marred by his difficulty in rising. + +'I--I,' stammered his Lordship, with an unexpected choke in his throat, +'have to congratulate you, Mr. Rollstone, on having such a daughter.' +Then, grasping Rose's hand as in a vice, 'Miss Rollstone, what we owe to +you--is past expression.' + +'I am sure she is very happy, my Lord, to have been of service,' said her +mother, with a simper. + +Mr. Deyncourt, to relieve the tension of feeling, said, 'Miss Rollstone +was reading the letter about Mr. Morton's adventures. Would you not like +her to begin again?' + +And while Rose obeyed, Lord Northmoor was able to extract his cheque-book +from his pocket-book, and as Rose paused, to say-- + +'I have a debt of which my nephew reminds me. Miss Rollstone furnished +the means for his journey. Will you let me fill this up? This can be +repaid,' he added, with a smile, 'the rest, never.' + +Mr. Rollstone might have been distressed at the venture on which his +daughter's savings had gone; but he was perfectly happy and triumphant +now, except that, even more than Mrs. Morton, he suffered from the idea +of the Honourable Michael being exposed to the contamination of a +workhouse, and was shocked at his Lordship's thinking it would have been +worse for him to be with the Rattler. Then, hastily looking at his +watch, Lord Northmoor asked when the post went out, and hearing there was +but half an hour to spare, begged Mr. Deyncourt to let him lose no time +by giving him the wherewithal to write to his wife. + +'She would miss a note and be uneasy,' he said. 'Yet I hardly know what +I dare tell her. Only not mourning paper!' he added, with an exultant +smile. + +In the curate's room he wrote-- + + 'DEAREST WIFE,-- + + 'I have been out all day, and have only a moment to say that I am + quite well, and trust to have some most thankworthy news for you. + Don't be uneasy if you do not hear to-morrow.--Your own + + 'FRANK.' + +There was still time to scribble-- + + 'DEAR LADY ADELA,-- + + 'I trust to you to prepare Mary for well-nigh incredible joy, but do + not agitate her too soon. I cannot come till Friday afternoon. + + 'Yours gratefully, + 'NORTHMOOR.' + +Having sent this off, his next search was for a time-table. He would +fain have gone by the mail train that very night, but Mr. Deyncourt and +Mrs. Morton united in persuading him that his strength was not yet equal +to such a pull upon it, and he yielded. They hardly knew the man, +usually so equable and quiet as to be almost stolid. + +He smiled, and declared he could neither eat nor sleep, but he actually +did both, sleeping, indeed, better and longer than he had done since his +illness, and coming down in the morning a new man, as he called himself, +but the old one still in his kindness to Mrs. Morton. He promised to +telegraph to her as soon as he knew all was well, assured her that he +would do his best to keep the scandal out of the papers, that he would +never forget his obligations to Herbert's generosity, and that if she +made up her mind to leave Westhaven he would facilitate her so doing. + +Ida was not up. She had had a very bad night, and indeed she had +confessed that she had been miserable under dreams worse than waking, +ever since the child was carried off. Her mother had observed her +restlessness and nervousness, but had set a good deal down to love, and +perhaps had not been entirely wrong. At any rate, she was now really +ill, and could not bear the thought of seeing her uncle, though he sent a +message to her that now he did not find it nearly so hard to forgive her, +and that he felt for her with all his heart. + +It was this gentleness that touched Mrs. Morton above all. Years had +softened her; perhaps, too, his patience, and the higher tone of Mr. +Deyncourt's ministry, and she was, in many respects, a different woman +from her who had so loudly protested against his marrying Mary Marshall. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX +THE HONOURABLE PAUPER + + +Lord Northmoor's card was given to the porter with an urgent request for +an interview with the Master of the workhouse. + +He steadied his voice with difficulty when, on entering the office, he +said that he had come to make inquiry after his son, a child of three and +a half years old, who had been supposed to be drowned, but he had now +discovered had been stolen by a former nurse, and left at the gate of the +workhouse, and as the Master paused with an interrogative 'Yes, my Lord?' +he added--'On the night between the Wednesday and Thursday of Whitsun +week, May the--' + +'Children are so often left,' said the Master. 'I will ascertain from +the books as to the date.' + +After an interval really of scarcely a minute, but which might have been +hours to the father's feeling, he read-- + +'May 18th.--Boy, of apparently four years old, left on the steps, asleep, +apparently drugged.' + +'Ah!' + +'Calls himself Mitel Tent--name probably Michael Trenton.' + +'Michael Kenton Morton.' Then he reflected, 'No doubt he thought he was +to say his catechism.' + +'Does not seem to know parents' name nor residence. Dress--man's old +rough coat over a brown holland pinafore--no mark--feet bare; talks as if +carefully brought up. May I ask you to describe him.' + +'Brown eyes, light hair, a good deal of colour, sturdy, large child,' +said Lord Northmoor, much agitated. 'There,' holding out a photograph. + +'Ah!' said the Master, in assent. + +'And where--is he here?' + +'He is at the Children's Home at Fulwood Lodge. Perhaps I had better ask +one of the Guardians, who lives near at hand, to accompany you.' + +This was done, the Guardian came, much interested in the guest, and a cab +was called. Lord Northmoor learnt on the way that the routine in such +cases, which were only too common, was the child was taken by the police +to the bellman's office till night and there taken care of, in case he +should be a little truant of the place, but being unclaimed, he spent a +few days at the Union, and then was taken to the Children's Home at +Fulwood. Inquiries had been made, but the little fellow had been still +under the influence of the drug that had evidently been administered to +him at first, and then was too much bewildered to give a clear account of +himself. He was in confusion between his real home and Westhaven, and +the difference between his appellation and that of his parents was +likewise perplexing, nor could he make himself clear, even as to what he +knew perfectly well, when interrogated by official strangers who alarmed +him. + +Lord Northmoor was himself a Poor Law Guardian, and had no vague +superstitions to alarm him as to the usage of children in workhouses; but +he was surprised at the pleasant aspect of the nursery of the Liverpool +Union, a former gentleman's house and grounds, with free air and +beautiful views. + +The Matron, on being summoned, said that she had from the first been +sure, in spite of his clothes, that little Mike was a well-born, +tenderly-nurtured child, with good manners and refined habits, and she +had tried in vain to understand what he said of himself, though night and +morning, he had said his prayers for papa and mamma, and at first added +that 'papa might be well,' and he might go home; but where home was there +was no discovering, except that there had been journeys by puff puff; and +Louey, and Aunt Emma, and Nurse, and sea, and North something, and 'nasty +man,' were in an inextricable confusion. + +She took them therewith into a large airy room, where the elder children, +whole rows of little beings in red frocks, were busied under the +direction of a lively young nurse, in building up coloured cubes, 'gifts' +in Kindergarten parlance. + +There was a few moments of pause, as all the pairs of eyes were raised to +meet the new-comers. With a little sense of disappointment, but more of +anxiety, Frank glanced over them, and encountered a rounded, somewhat +puzzled stare from two brown orbs in a rosy face. Then he ventured to +say 'Mite,' and there followed a kind of laughing yell, a leap over the +structure of cubes, and the warm, solid, rosy boy was in his arms, on his +breast, the head on his shoulder in indescribable ecstasy of content on +both sides, of thankfulness on that of the father. + +'No doubt there!' said the Guardian and the Matron to one another, +between smiles and tears. + +Mite asked no questions. Fate had been far beyond his comprehension for +the last five months, and it was quite enough for him to feel himself in +the familiar arms, and hear the voice he loved. + +'Would he go to mamma?' + +The boy raised his head, looked wonderingly over his father's face, and +said in a puzzled voice-- + +'Louey said she would take me home in the puff puff.' + +'Come now with father, my boy. Only kiss this good lady first, who has +been so kind to you. + +'Kiss Tommy too, and Fanny,' said Michael, struggling down, and beginning +a round of embraces that sufficiently proved that his nursery had been a +happy one, while his father could see with joy that he was as healthy and +fresh-looking as ever, perhaps a little less plump, but with the natural +growth of the fourth year, and he was much the biggest of the party, with +the healthfulness of country air and wholesome tendance, while most of +the others were more or less stunted or undergrown. + +Lord Northmoor's longing was to take his recovered son at once to gladden +his mother's eyes; but Michael's little red frock would not exactly suit +with the manner of his travels. + +So he accepted the Guardian's invitation to come to his house and let +Michael be fitted out there, an invitation all the more warmly given +because it would have been a pity to let wife and daughters miss the +interest of the sight of the lost child and his father. So, all +formalities being complied with and in true official spirit, the account +for the boy's maintenance having been asked for, a hearty and cordial +leave was taken of the Matron, and Michael Kenton Morton was discharged +from Liverpool Union. + +The lady and her daughters were delighted to have him, and would have +made much of him, but the poor little fellow proved that his confidence +in womankind had been shaken, by clinging tight to his father, and +showing his first inclination to cry when it was proposed to take him +into another room to be dressed. Indeed, his father was as little +willing to endure a moment's separation as he could be, and looked on and +assisted to see him made into a little gentleman again in outward +costume. + +After luncheon there was still time to reach Malvern by a reasonable hour +of the evening, and Frank felt as if every moment of sorrow were almost a +cruelty to his wife. The Guardian's wife owned that she ought not to +press him to sleep at her house, and forwarded his departure with strong +fellow-feeling for the mother's hungry bosom. + +From the station Frank sent telegrams to Herbert, to Mrs. Morton, and to +Rose Rollstone; besides one to Lady Adela, containing only the reference, +Luke xv. 32. + +People looked somewhat curiously at the thin, worn-looking, elderly man, +with the travelling bag in one hand, and the little boy holding tight by +the other, each with a countenance of radiant gladness; and again, to see +how, when seated, he allowed himself to be climbed over and clasped by +the sturdy being, who seemed almost overwhelming to one so slight. + +When the September twilight darkened into night, Michael, who had been +asleep, awoke with a scream and flung both arms round his father's neck, +exclaiming-- + +'Oh, Louey, I'll not cry! Don't let him throw me out! Oh, the nasty +man!' + +And even when convinced that no nasty man was present, and that it was +papa, not Louey, whom he was grappling, he still nestled as close as +possible, while he was only pacified in recurring frights by listening to +a story. Never good at story-telling, the only one that, for the nonce, +his father could put together was that of Joseph, and this elicited +various personal comparisons. + +'Mine wasn't a coat of many colours, it was my blue frock! Did they dip +it in blood, papa?' + +'Not quite, my darling, but it was the same thing.' + +Then presently, 'It wasn't a camel, but a puff puff, and _he_ was so +cross!' + +By and by, 'I didn't tell anybody's dreams, papa. They didn't make me +ride in a cha-rot, but nurse made me monitor, 'cause I knew all my +letters. I should like to have a brother Benjamin. Mayn't Tommy be my +brother? Wasn't Joseph's mamma very glad?' + +Michael's Egypt had not been a very terrible house of bondage, and the +darker moments of his abduction did not dwell on his memory; but years +later, when first he tasted beer, he put down the glass with a shudder, +as the smell and taste brought back a sense of distress, confusion, and +horror in a gas-lit, crowded bar, full of loud-voiced, rough figures, and +resounding with strange language and fierce threats to make him swallow +the draught which, no doubt, had been drugged. + + + + +CHAPTER XL +JOY WELL-NIGH INCREDIBLE + + +The midday letters were a riddle to the ladies at Malvern. + +'Out all day,' said Mary, 'that is well. He will get strong out +boating.' + +'I hope Herbert has come home to take him out,' said Constance. + +'Or he may be yachting. I wonder he does not say who is taking him out. +I am glad that he can feel that sense of enjoyment.' + +Yet that rejoicing seemed to be almost an effort to the poor mother who +craved for a longer letter, and perhaps almost felt as if her Frank were +getting out of sympathy with her grief--and what could be the good news? + +'Herbert must have passed!' said Constance. + +'I hope he has, but the expression is rather strong for that,' said Lady +Adela. + +'Perhaps Ida is engaged to that Mr. Deyncourt? Was that his name?' said +Lady Northmoor languidly. + +'Oh! that would be delicious,' cried Constance, 'and Ida has grown much +more thoughtful lately, so perhaps she would do for a clergyman's wife.' + +'Is Ida better?' asked her aunt, who had been much drawn towards the girl +by hearing that her health had suffered from grief for Michael. + +'Mamma does not mention her in her last letter, but poor Ida is really +much more delicate than one would think, though she looks so strong. +This would be delightful!' + +'Yet, joy well-nigh incredible!' said her aunt, meditatively. 'Were not +those the words? It would not be like your uncle to put them in that way +unless it were something--even more wonderful, and besides, why should he +not write it to me?' + +'Oh--h!' cried Constance, with a leap, rather than a start. 'It can be +only one thing.' + +'Don't, don't, don't!' cried poor Mary; 'you must not, Constance, it +would kill me to have the thought put into my head only to be lost.' + +Constance looked wistfully at Lady Adela; but the idea she had suggested +had created a restlessness, and her aunt presently left the room. Then +Constance said-- + +'Lady Adela, may I tell you something? You know that poor dear little +Mite was never found?' + +'Oh! a boat must have picked him up,' cried Amice; 'and he is coming +back.' + +'Gently, Amy; hush,' said the mother, 'Constance has more to tell.' + +'Yes,' said Constance. 'My friend, Rose Rollstone, who lives just by our +house at Westhaven, and was going back to London the night that Mite was +lost, wrote to me that she was sure she had seen his face just then. She +thought, and I thought it was one of those strange things one hears of +sights at the moment of death. So I never told of it, but now I cannot +help fancying--' + +'Oh! I am sure,' cried Amice. + +Lady Adela thought the only safe way would be to turn the two young +creatures out to pour out their rapturous surmises to one another on the +winding paths of the Malvern hills, and very glad was she to have done +so, when by and by that other telegram was put into her hands. + +Then, when Mary, unable to sit still, though with trembling limbs, came +back to the sitting-room, with a flush on her pale cheek, excited by the +sound at the door, Lady Adela pointed to the yellow paper, which she had +laid within the Gospel, open at the place. + +Mary sank into a chair. + +'It can't be a false hope,' she gasped. + +'He would never have sent this, if it were not a certainty,' said Adela, +kneeling down by her, and holding her hands, while repeating what +Constance had said. + +A few words were spent on wonder and censure on the girl's silence, more +unjust than they knew, but hardly wasted, since they relieved the +tension. Mary slid down on her knees beside her friend, and then came a +silence of intense heart-swelling, choking, and unformed, but none the +less true thanksgiving, and ending in a mutual embrace and an outcry of +Mary's-- + +'Oh, Adela! how good you are, you with no such hope'--and that great +blessed shower of tears that relieved her was ostensibly the burst of +sympathy for the bereaved mother with no such restoration in view. Then +came soothing words, and then the endeavour with dazed eyes and throbbing +hearts to look out the trains from Liverpool, whence, to their amazement, +they saw the telegram had started, undoubtedly from Lord Northmoor. +There was not too large a choice, and finally Lady Adela made the hope +seem real by proposing preparations for the child's supper and +bed--things of which Mary seemed no more to have dared to think than if +she had been expecting a little spirit; but which gave her hope +substance, and inspired her with fresh energy and a new strength, as she +ran up and downstairs, directing her maid, who cried for joy at the news, +and then going out to purchase those needments which had become such +tokens of exquisite hope and joy. After this had once begun, she seemed +really incapable of sitting still, for every moment she thought of +something her boy would want or would like, or hurried to see if all was +right. + +Constance begged again and again to run on the messages, but she would +not allow it, and when the girl looked grieved, and said she was tiring +herself to death, Lady Adela said-- + +'My dear, sitting still would be worse for her. However it may turn out, +fatigue will be best for her.' + +'Surely it can't mean anything else!' cried Constance. + +'I don't see how it can. Your uncle weighs his words too much to raise +false hopes.' + +So, dark as it was by the time the train was expected, Adela promoted the +ordering a carriage, and went herself with the trembling Mary to the +station, not without restoratives in her bag, in case of, she knew not +what. Not a word was spoken, but hands were clasped and hearts were +uplifted in an agony of supplication, as the two sat in the dark on the +drive to the station. Of course they were too soon, but the driver +manoeuvred so as to give them a full view of the exit--and then came that +minute of indescribable suspense when the sounds of arrival were heard, +and figures began to issue from the platform. + +It was not long--thanks to freedom from luggage--before there came into +full light a well-known form, with a little half-awake boy holding his +hand. + +Then Adela quietly let herself out of the brougham, and in another moment +her clasping hand and swimming eyes had marked her greeting. She pointed +to the open door and the white face in it, and in one moment more a pair +of arms had closed upon Michael, and with a dreamy murmur, 'Mam-mam, +mam-ma,' the curly head was on her bosom, the precious weight on her lap, +her husband by her side, the door had closed on them, they were driving +away. + +'Oh! is it real? Is he well?' + +'Perfectly well! Only sleepy. Strong, grown, well cared for.' + +'My boy, my boy,' and she felt him all over, gazed at the rosy face +whenever a tantalising flash of lamplight permitted, then kissed and +kissed, till the boy awoke more fully, with another 'Mamma! Mamma,' +putting his hand to feel for her chain, as if to identify her. Then with +a coo of content, 'Mite has papa and mamma,' and he seemed under the +necessity of feeling them both. + +Only at their own door did those happy people even recollect Lady Adela, +with shame and dismay, which did not last long, for she came on them, +laughing with pleasure, and saying it was just what she had intended, +while Mite was recognising his Amy and his Conny, and being nearly +devoured by them. + +He still was rather confused by the strange house. 'It's not home,' he +said, staring round, and blinking at the lights; 'and where's my big +horse?' + +'You shall soon go home to the big horse--and Nurse Eden, poor nurse +shall come to you, my own.' + +To which Michael responded, holding out a plump leg and foot for +admiration. 'I can do mine own socks and bootses now, and wash mine own +hands and face.' + +Nevertheless, he was quite sleepy enough to be very happy and content to +be carried off to his mother's bedroom, where he sat enthroned on her +lap, Constance feeding him with bread and milk, while Amice held the +bowl, and the maid, almost equally blissful, hovered round, and there +again he sat with the two admiring girls one at each foot, disrobing him, +as best they might. + +Nearly asleep at last, he knelt at his mother's knee with the murmured +prayer, but woke just enough to say, 'Mite needn't say "make papa +better," nor "bring Mite home."' + +'No, indeed, my boy. Say Thank God for all His mercy.' + +He repeated it and added of himself, 'Bless nursey, and let Tommy and Fan +have papas and mammas again. Amen.' + +He was nodding again by that time, but he held his mother's hand fast +with 'Don't go, Mam!' Nor did she. She had asked no questions. To be +alone with her boy and Him, whom she thanked with her whole soul, was +enough for her at present. + + + + +CHAPTER XLI +THE CANADIAN NORTHMOOR + + +It was not till Lord Northmoor began to answer in detail the questions +that were showered on him as he ate his late dinner, that he fully +realised the history of his recovered son even to himself. 'Liverpool +Workhouse,' and 'all owing to Herbert,' were his first replies, and he +had eaten his soup before Adela and Constance had discovered the +connection between the two; nay, they were still more bewildered when +Constance asked, 'Then Herbert found him there?' + +'Herbert? Oh no, good fellow. He is in Canada, he went after him +there.' + +'To Canada?' + +'Yes; that woman, the nursery girl Hall, kidnapped the child, Herbert +followed her there, and found he had been dropped at Liverpool.' + +Then on further inquiries, Frank became sensible that he must guard the +secret of Ida's part in the transaction. He hoped to conceal it from +all, except his wife, for it was hardly injustice to the Jones pair in +another hemisphere to let their revenge bear the whole blame. Indeed, he +did not himself know that it was Ida's passion or Rose's mention of +having seen Michael's face that had roused Herbert's suspicion. + +He had heard Herbert's account of his adventures in the letter to Rose +with mere impatience to come to what related to his son, and it had made +no impression on his mind; but when he took out his own much briefer +letter, the address at Northmoor, and the sentences that followed, the +brief explanation where to seek for Michael suggested much. + +'I doubt whether I could ever have got the rascal to speak out if it had +not been for Captain Alder, with whose brother-in-law, Mr. Forman, I had +the luck to meet on the way. They were some of the first settlers here, +and have a splendid farm, export no end of wheat and ice, and have a +share in the steam company. I am working out my board here for them till +you are good enough to send me my quarter's allowance, deducting the 25 +pounds that Miss Rollstone helped me to, as there was no one else to whom +I could apply. I should like to stay here for good and all, and they +would take me for a farming-pupil for less than you have been giving to +my crammers, all in vain, I am afraid. The life would suit me much +better; they let me live with the family, and they are thorough right +sort of people, religious, and all that--and Alder seemed to take an +interest in me from the time he made out who I was, and, indeed, the +place is named after our Northmoor, where he says he spent his happiest +days. If you can pacify my mother, and if you would consent, I am sure I +could do much better here than at home, and soon be quite off your +hands.' + +For the present, Lord Northmoor, who could only feel that he owed more +than he could express to his nephew, sent the youth a bill such as to +cover his expenses, with permission, so far as he himself was concerned, +to remain with these new friends, at least until there was another letter +and time to consider this proposal. + +At the same time, he wrote to Rose Rollstone, not only the particulars of +Michael's history, but a request for those details about Herbert's +friends to which he had scarcely listened when she read them. He sent +likewise a paragraph to several newspapers, explaining that the +Honourable M. K. Morton, whose 'watery grave' had been duly recorded, had +in fact been only abducted by a former maid-servant, and bestowed in +Liverpool Workhouse, where he had been discovered by the generous +exertions of his cousin, Herbert Morton, Esquire. It was hoped that this +would obviate all suspicion of Ida, who was reported as still so unwell +that her mother was anxious to carry her abroad at once to try the effect +of change of scene. Upon which Frank consulted Mr. Hailes, as to whether +the prosperity that had begun to flow in upon Northmoor would justify him +in at once taking the house at Westhaven off her hands, and making it a +thank-offering as a parsonage for the district of St. James. This +break-up seemed considerably to lessen her reluctance to the idea of +Herbert's remaining in Canada, as in effect, neither she nor Ida felt +inclined as yet to encounter his indignation, or to let him hear what +Westhaven said. There would be no strong opposition on her part, except +the tears which he would not see; and she was too anxious to carry Ida +away to think of much besides. + +Frank had, however, made up his mind that he could not let the son of his +only brother, the youth whom he had regarded almost as a son, and who had +lost so much by the discovery of the child, drift away into expatriation, +without being personally satisfied as to these new companions. This was +ostensible reason enough for a resolution to go out himself to the +transatlantic Northmoor to make arrangements for his nephew. Moreover, +he was bent on doing so before the return of Mrs. Bury and Bertha, from +whom the names of Alder and Northmoor were withheld in the joyful +letters. + +From Mr. Hailes he obtained full confirmation of what he had heard from +Lady Adela--a story which the old gentleman's loyalty had withheld as +mere gossip--about the young people who had been very dear to him. + +He confessed that poor Arthur Morton had a bad set about him--indeed, his +father's tastes had involved him in the kind of thing, and Lady Adela had +been almost a child when married to him by relations who were much to +blame. Captain Alder had belonged to the set, but had always seemed too +good for them, and as if thrown among them from association. There was +no doubt that he and Bertha were much in love, but there was sure to be +strong opposition from her father, and even her brother had shown +symptoms of thinking his friend had no business to aspire to his sister's +hand. Moreover, it appeared afterwards that the Captain was heavily in +debt to Arthur Morton. It was under these circumstances that the +accident occurred. Bertha had mistrusted the horse's eye and ear, and +implored her brother not to venture on driving it, and had been bantered +good-humouredly on her unusual fears. At the first shock, the untamed +girl had spoken bitter words, making Captain Alder accountable for the +accident. What they were, neither Mr. Hailes nor any one else exactly +knew, but they had cut deep. + +When, on poor Arthur's recovery of consciousness, there was an endeavour +to find Captain Alder, he had left the army; and though somewhat later +the full amount of the debt was paid, it was conveyed in a manner that +made the sender not easily traceable, and as it came just when Arthur was +again past communication, and sinking fast, no great effort was made to +seek one who was better forgotten. + +It had not then been known how Bertha's life would be wrecked by that +sense of injustice and cruelty--nor what a hold the love of that man had +taken on her; but like Lady Adela, Mr. Hailes averred that she had never +been the same since that minute of stormy grief and accusation; and that +he believed that, whatever might come of it, the being able to confess +her wrongs, and to know the fate of her lover, was the only thing that +could restore the balance of her spirits or heal the sore. + +From his own former employer, Mr. Burford, Frank procured that other link +which floated in his memory when Lady Adela spoke. The name had come +into Mr. Burford's office because he had been engaged on the part of one +of his clients in purchasing an estate of the Alder family, at a time +which corresponded with Arthur Morton's death, and the payment of the +debt. There was a second instalment of the price which had to be paid to +a Quebec bank. + +This was all that could be learnt; but it confirmed Lord Northmoor's +impression that it would be right to see him, and as far as explanation +could go, to repair the injustice which had stung him so deeply. A +letter could not do what an interview could, and Herbert's plans were +quite sufficient cause for a journey to Winnipeg. + +Of course it was a wrench to leave his wife and newly-recovered son; but +he had made up his mind that it was right, both as an act of justice to +an injured man, incumbent upon him as head of the family, and likewise as +needful in his capacity of guardian to Herbert, while the possibility of +bringing healing to Bertha also urged him. + +However, Frank said little of all this, only quite simply, as if he were +going to ride to the petty sessions at Colbeam, mentioned that he thought +it right to go out to Canada to see about his nephew. + +And as soon as he had brought the party home, and seen his boy once more +in his own nursery, he set forth, leaving Mary to talk and wonder with +Lady Adela over the possible consequences. + + + + +CHAPTER XLII +HUMBLE PIE + + +Bertha had just arrived from her tour, having rushed home on the tidings +of a quarrel between the doctors and the lady nurses of her pet hospital; +and she had immediately dashed down to Northmoor to secure her cousin as +one of the supporters. She sat by Lady Adela's fire, very much +disconcerted at hearing that he was not come home yet, though expected +every day. + +'What should he have gone off to Canada for? He might have been +contented to stay at home, after having lost all this time by his +illness. Oh, yes, I know that sounds ungrateful, when it was all in the +cause of my little Cea. I shall be thankful to him all my life, but all +the same, he ought to be at home when he is wanted, and I wonder he liked +to fly off just when he had got his dear little boy back again.' + +'He did not like it, but thought it his duty.' + +'Duty--what, to Herbert? Certainly the boy has come out very well in +this matter, considering that the finding Mite was to his own detriment; +but probably he has found his vocation as a colonist. Still Northmoor +might have let him find that for himself.' + +'Do you know where the home he found is, Bertha?' + +'Somewhere about Lake Winnipeg, isn't it?' + +'Yes; and the name is Northmoor.' + +'Named by Herbert, eh? Or didn't John Tulse go out? Did he name the +place in loyalty to us?' + +'Not John Tulse, but one who told Herbert that his happiest days were +spent here.' + +'Adela, you mean something. Don't tantalise me. Is it Fred Alder? And +was he kind to the boy for old sake's sake, because he bore the old name? +Did he think he was your Mike?' + +Bertha was leaning forward now, devouring Adela with her eyes. + +'He was much puzzled to understand who Herbert was, but he gave him great +help. The man could hardly have been made to speak if he had not brought +him to his bearings. Herbert has been living with him and his +brother-in-law ever since, and is going to remain as a farming-pupil.' + +'Married of course to a nasal Yankee?' + +'No.' + +There was a pause. Bertha drew herself back in her chair, Adela busied +herself with the tea-cups. Presently came the question-- + +'Did Northmoor know?' + +'Yes, he did.' + +'And was that the reason of his going out?' + +'Herbert was one motive, but I do not think he would have gone if there +had not been another reason.' + +'You did not ask him?' she said hotly. + +'Certainly not.' + +'I don't want any one to interfere,' said Bertha, in a suddenly changed +mood, 'especially not such a stick as that. He might have let it alone.' + +'And if you heard that Captain Alder was--' + +'A repentant prodigal, eh? A sober-minded, sponsible, easy-going, steady +money-making Canadian,' interrupted Bertha vehemently, 'such as approved +himself to his Lordship's jog-trot mind. Well, what then?' + +'Oh, Birdie, perverse child as ever.' + +'And so you actually despatched my Lord to eat humble pie in my name. +You might have waited to see what I thought of the process.' + +Bertha jumped up, as if to go and take off her hat, but just at that +moment some figures crossed the twilight window, and in another second +Adela had sprung into the hall, meeting Mary and Frank, whom she beckoned +into the dining-room. + +Bertha had followed as far as the room door, when, in the porch, she +beheld a tall large form, and bearded countenance. One moment more and +those two were shut into the drawing-room. + +Mary, Frank, and Adela stood together over the dining-room fire, all +smiles and welcome. + +'Doesn't he look well?' was Mary's cry, as she displayed her husband. + +'Better than ever. Nothing like bracing air. Oh! I am glad you brought +_him_' indicating the other room, 'down at once; she might have had a +naughty fit, and tormented herself and everybody.' + +'You think it will be all right?' said Frank anxiously. 'It was a +venture, but when he heard that she was at the Dower House, there was no +holding him. He thinks she has as much to forgive as he has.' + +'You wrote something of that--though the actual misery and accident were +no fault of his, poor fellow, and yet--yet all that self-acted and +re-acted on one another, and did each other harm,' said Adela. + +'Yes,' said Frank; 'harm that he only fully understood gradually, after +he had burst away from it all in the shock, and was living a very +different life with his little sister, and afterwards with her husband, a +thoroughly good man.' + +'To whom you have trusted your nephew?' + +'Entirely. Herbert is very happy there, much more so than ever before, +useful and able to follow his natural bent.' + +'I am very glad he will do well there.' + +A sudden interruption here came on them in the shape of Amice, who had +not been guarded against. She flew into the room in a fright, +exclaiming-- + +'Mamma, mamma, there's a strange man like a black bear in the +drawing-room, and he has got his arm round Aunt Bertha's waist.' + +'Oh!' as she perceived Lord Northmoor. + +'A Canadian bear I have just brought home, eh, Amy?' said he, exhilarated +into fun for once, while Lady Adela indulged in a quiet smile at the +manner of partaking of humble pie. + +Amice had, however, broken up the _tete-a-tete_, and all were soon +together again, Lady Adela greeting Captain Alder as an old friend, and +he, in the restraint of good breeding, betraying none of his feeling at +the contrast between the girlish wife and the faded widow, although +perhaps in very truth Adela Morton was a happier, certainly a more +peaceful woman now than in those days. + +All must spend the evening together. Where? The Northmoors carried the +day, Adela and Bertha must come up to dinner, yes, and Amice too. It was +fine moonlight and the Captain would stay and escort them. + +Meantime Lord and Lady Northmoor revelled in a moonlight walk together +exactly as they had done seven years before as a bride and bridegroom, +but with that further ingredient in joy before them--that nightly romp +with their Mite, to which Frank had been looking forward all through his +voyage. Their Mite all the happier because his Tom and Fanny were at the +keeper's lodge, and allowed to play with him in the garden, and on the +heath. + +Six weeks later, Lord Northmoor acted as father at Bertha's wedding, a +quiet one, with Constance and Amice as bridesmaids, with, as +supernumerary, little Boadicea, who was to share the new Canadian home. + +Michael was there in the glory of his first knickerbockers, and Mrs. Bury +was there, and her last words ere the bride came down dressed for the +journey were, 'How about "that stick," my dear?' + +'Ah! sticks are sometimes made of good material.' + +'There is a tree that groweth by the Water Side,' said Adela. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII +THE STAFF + + +Five years later almost all the members of the Morton family were met +once more at Westhaven. + +Ida was slowly dying. She had always been more or less delicate, and she +had never entirely recovered the effect of the distress she had brought +upon herself by that foolish crime towards her little cousin. Her mother +had joined Miss Gattoni, and they had roamed about the Continent in the +various resorts of seekers of health and of pleasure, hoping to distract +her mind and restore her strength and spirits. For a time this sometimes +seemed to succeed, and she certainly became prettier; but disappointment +always ensued; a little over-exertion or excitement was sure to bring on +illness, and there were even more painful causes for her collapses. Her +uncle's care had not been entirely able to prevent the publication of +such a sensational story, known, as it was, to most people at Westhaven; +in fact, he was only able to reach the more respectable papers; and the +society to which Miss Gattoni introduced them was just that which +revelled in the society papers. So every now and then whispers would go +about that Miss Morton was the heroine--or rather the villain--of the +piece, and these were sure ultimately to reach Miss Gattoni. And at +Genoa they had actually been at the same _table-d'hote_ with Tom Brady's +sister--nay, they had seen the _Morna_ in the harbour. + +Gradually each summer brought less renovation; each winter, wherever +spent, brought Ida lower, till at length she was ill enough for her +mother thankfully to reply to Constance's entreaty to come out to them at +Biarritz. + +Constance had grown to be in her vacation more and more the child of the +house at Northmoor, and since her college career had ended with credit +externally, and benefit inwardly, she had become her aunt's right hand, +besides teaching Amice music and beginning Michael's Latin; but it was +plain that her duty lay in helping to nurse her sister, and her uncle +escorted her. They were greatly shocked at the change in the once +brilliant girl, and her broken, dejected manner, apparently incapable of +taking interest in anything. She would scarcely admit her uncle at +first, but when she discovered that even Constance was in perfect +ignorance of her part in the loss of Michael, she was overcome with the +humiliation of intense gratitude, and the sense of a wonderful +forgiveness and forbearance. + +He never exactly knew what he had said to her; but for the two days that +he was able to remain, she wished for him to sit with her as much as +possible, though often in silence; and she let him bring her the English +chaplain. + +No one expected her to live through the spring, but with it came another +partial revival, and therewith a vehement desire to see Westhaven again. +It was as if her uncle had extracted the venom of the sting of remorse, +and when that had become repentance, the old affection for the home of +her childhood was free to revive. Good Mr. Rollstone was dead, but his +wife and daughter kept on the lodging-house, and were affectionately glad +to welcome their old friends. Herbert, who had been happily farming for +two years on his own account, on an estate that his uncle had purchased +for him, came for the first time on a visit from the Dominion--tall, +broad, bearded, handsome, and manly, above all, in his courtesy and +gentleness to the sick sister who valued his strong and tender help more +than any other care. Mary came with her husband and boy from Northmoor +for the farewell. When Ida tearfully asked her forgiveness, the injury +was so entirely past that it was not hard to say, in the spirit of +Joseph-- + +'Oh, my poor child, do not think of that! No one has suffered from it so +much as you have. It really did Michael no harm at all, only making a +little man of him; and as to Herbert, his going out was the best thing in +the world for him, dear, noble, generous fellow. And after all, Ida,' +she added, presently, 'I do believe you had rather be as you are now than +the girl you were then?' + +'Oh, Aunt Mary, it is what Uncle Frank and you are--that--makes one +feel--' + +Ida could say no more. She once saw Michael's bright boyish face awed +into pity, and had the kiss that sealed her earthly pardon, unconscious +as he was of the evil she had attempted. There was the pledge of higher +pardon, before her uncle and aunt left her to those nearer who could +minister to her as she went down to the River ever flowing. + +Before that time, however, Herbert had made known to Rose one of his +great reasons for settling in Canada, namely, that he meant to take her +back with him. He had told his uncle long ago, and Mrs. Alder was quite +ready and eager to welcome her as a cousin. Even Mr. Rollstone could +hardly have objected under these circumstances, and Rose only doubted +about leaving her mother. It presently appeared, however, that Mrs. +Morton wished to remain with Mrs. Rollstone. Westhaven was more to her +than any other place, and her vanity had so entirely departed that she +could best take comfort in her good old friend's congenial society. +Constance offered to remain and obtain some daily governess or high +school employment there; but it was to her relief that she found that the +two old ladies did not wish it. There was a sense that her tastes and +habits were so unlike theirs that they would always feel her to be like +company and be on their best behaviour, and decidedly her mother would +not 'stand in her light,' and would be best contented with visits from +her and to Northmoor. + +So, after the quietest of weddings in the beautiful St. James's Church, +Herbert and Rose went out to be welcomed at Winnipeg, and Constance +returned with her uncle to be a daughter to Aunt Mary--till such time as +she was sought by the young Vicar of Northmoor. + + THE END. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THAT STICK*** + + +******* This file should be named 20323.txt or 20323.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/0/3/2/20323 + + + +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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