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| author | Roger Frank <rfrank@pglaf.org> | 2025-10-14 20:07:16 -0700 |
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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/37126-8.txt b/37126-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..5b4b0f9 --- /dev/null +++ b/37126-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7141 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Salome, by Emma Marshall + + +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: Salome + + +Author: Emma Marshall + + + +Release Date: August 19, 2011 [eBook #37126] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SALOME*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations in color. + See 37126-h.htm or 37126-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37126/37126-h/37126-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37126/37126-h.zip) + + +Transcriber's note: + + Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). + + + + + +SALOME + +by + +MRS. EMMA MARSHALL + + + + + + + +London, Edinburgh, and New York +Thomas Nelson and Sons + + + + +_CONTENTS_ + + + _I. The Home and the Children_ 9 + + _II. Sorrow and Sighing_ 23 + + _III. Edinburgh Crescent_ 40 + + _IV. Looking for Lodgings_ 51 + + _V. A Journey_ 65 + + _VI. Losses and Gains_ 77 + + _VII. Cousins_ 90 + + _VIII. Arrivals_ 106 + + _IX. "Settling Down"_ 121 + + _X. A Proposed Flight from the Nest_ 134 + + _XI. Ada's Departure_ 151 + + _XII. Confidences_ 165 + + _XIII. Hard Times_ 180 + + _XIV. Daffodils_ 195 + + _XV. Lost!_ 208 + + _XVI. The Consequence_ 221 + + _XVII. A Dream_ 232 + + _XVIII. The Last_ 239 + + + + +_LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS._ + + + "_The coachman's wife hid her face in her apron, and + cried bitterly_" _Frontispiece._ + + "'_Sit down, Salome,' and Dr. Wilton drew her + toward him on the bench_" 33 + + "'_I say, Salome, have you got any money?_'" 80 + + "'_It's a bird, I think.--Puck, put it down!_'" 113 + + "_A tall figure advanced towards her_" 176 + + "'_Salome, I have lost the necklet set with emeralds_'" 208 + + "'_Raymond,' whispered Salome, 'I wanted to tell + you how much I love you_'" 230 + + + + +SALOME. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE HOME AND THE CHILDREN. + + +Maplestone Court was a pretty, spacious, and comfortable English home. +The house was built of old red brick, which took a deep, rich colour in +the rays of the western sun as it shone upon the wide porch and the many +windows. Before the house there was a wide expanse of emerald turf, +skirted by stately trees; and this lawn was not cut up into flower-beds, +but rolled and shaven close, so that the dark shadows of the trees lay +upon it in unbroken masses morning and evening. + +To the right of the house the ground sloped gently down to what was +called by courtesy a river, though it was but a little rippling stream, +which had taken many curves and windings, and just below Maplestone had +made for itself a deep basin, called by the same courtesy a lake. + +Lake or pond, mere or tarn, this was a delightful refuge in sultry +noon-tide. Here the water-lilies rocked themselves to sleep; here the +plumy ferns hung over the crystal depths; and here the children of +Maplestone Court brought their small craft of every shape and size to +sail across from one side to the other of the lake, often to make +shipwreck amongst the reeds and lilies, sometimes to sink in the clear +water! + +A rude wooden bridge crossed the stream just above the lake; and several +seats, made of twisted boughs and ornamented with the large cones of the +firs which shut in Maplestone at the back, were to be found here and +there on the banks. + +On one of these seats, on a hot August day, Salome was half-sitting, +half-lying, looking dreamily down upon the water. Her wide straw hat was +lying at her feet, a book with the leaves much crumpled was in the +crown. One little foot hung down from the bench; the other was curled up +under her in a fashion known and abhorred by all governesses and those +who think the figure of a girl of fifteen is of greater importance than +careless ease of position like Salome's at this moment. + +The rounded cheek, which was pillowed by the little hand as Salome's +head rested against the rough arm of the seat, was not rosy. It was +pale, and all the colour about her was concentrated in the mass of tawny +hair which was hanging over her shoulders, and varied in its hue from +every shade of reddish brown to streaks of lighter gold colour. + +It was wonderful hair, people said; and that was, perhaps, all that any +one ever did see at all out of the common in Salome. + +Quiet and thoughtful, liking retirement better than society, she often +escaped out of the school-room to this favourite place, and dreamed her +day-dreams to her heart's content. + +Salome was the elder of two sisters, and she had one brother older than +herself and three younger. Sorrow or change had as yet never come near +Maplestone. The days went on in that serene happiness of which we are +none of us conscious till it is over. When we hear the rustle of the +angels' wings, then we know they are leaving us for ever, and when with +us we had not discerned their presence. + +Salome roused herself at last, picked up her hat and book, and uncurling +herself from her position, stood up and listened. "Carriage wheels in +the drive," she said to herself. "I suppose it is nearly luncheon time. +I hope no stupid people are coming; that's all. I hate--" + +Salome's meditations were broken off here; for a boy of thirteen or +fourteen came clattering over the wooden bridge and took a flying leap +down into the hollow, and exclaimed, "The bell will ring directly. Make +haste, Sal; you are all in a tangle as usual. And won't Miss Barnes be +angry? There is the book she has been hunting all over the place for; +and the cover is in rags and tatters, and no mistake!" + +Salome looked ruefully at the book, a French story by Madame Pressensé +which has delighted many children in its day and generation. + +"'L'Institutrice' does not belong to Miss Barnes," Salome said; "it is +Ada's. Why should she be in such a fuss? and Ada won't mind." + +"Well, come on," Reginald said; "and don't put out every one by being +late." + +"Who is come?" Salome asked, as the brother and sister walked towards +the house together. "Who came in the carriage just now?" + +"It was only father. Mr. Stone brought him back from Fairchester in his +brougham." + +"Father!" Salome exclaimed. "How very odd! And why did Mr. Stone drive +him home?" + +The sound of the bell stopped any reply from Reginald; and Salome, +being obliged to go up to her room to give her hair a superficial +combing, and her hands a hasty dip in water, entered the dining-room +just as the whole party were assembled. + +Mrs. Wilton always lunched with the children at one o'clock, but to-day +her place at the head of the table was taken by Miss Barnes. + +"Where is mother?" was Salome's instant inquiry. + +"You are very late, as usual, Salome," was Miss Barnes's rejoinder; it +could not be called a reply. + +"I asked where mother was. Do you know, Ada?" + +Ada, a pretty, fair girl of fifteen, fresh as a rose, trim as a daisy, +without an imperfection of any kind in her looks or in her dress, said, +"Father wanted her, I believe;" while Salome, half satisfied, turned to +her eldest brother Raymond. + +"Is anything the matter, Ray?" + +"I am sure I don't know," he answered carelessly. "There's something the +matter with this soup--it's beastly." + +"Raymond!" Ada exclaimed reprovingly, "pray, don't be so rude," as +Raymond pushed away his plate, and, pulling another towards him, +attacked some cutlets with tomatoes. + +"The cooking is fifty times better at old Birch's," the young Etonian +growled. "I can't think how mother can put up with that lazy Mrs. +Porson." + +"I say," said Reginald, "don't grumble at your bread and butter because +it is not just to your mind." + +"Shut up, will you," said Raymond, "and don't be cheeky." + +And now the two little boys of eight and nine began to chime in with +eager inquiries as to whether Raymond would help them with their +tableaux, which were to be got up for their double birthday on the 1st +of August. For Carl and Hans were both born on the same day of the +month, Hans always affirming that he came to keep Carl's first birthday. + +"Tableaux at this time of year; what folly! I shall be gone off in +Strangway's yacht by then, you little duffer." + +"I'll help you," Reginald said. "We'll have the tableaux Black Prince, +Joan of Arc, and Mother Hubbard, if mother will lend us the finery, and +Sal will advise us what to do." + +"Oh, mother says we may have the tableaux. She says Shakespeare acted +out of doors. We want to have them in the house by the lake, as a +surprise, and bring in the lake," exclaimed Carl. "If Thursday is a day +like to-day, it will be jolly. And, Ada, you said you'd write the +invitations, didn't you?--the Holmes, and the De Brettes, and the +Carruthers, Ada." + +Ada, thus appealed to, smiled, and said, "We'll see." + +"I have got some pink paper," Carl vociferated. "Nurse gave it to me. +She bought it at her nephew's shop in Fairchester. It is just fit for +invitations." + +"Oh no; that would be fearfully vulgar!" said Ada. "Pink paper!" + +Poor Carl was extinguished, and began to eat his rice-pudding in large +mouthfuls. + +All this time Miss Barnes had not spoken, and Salome watched her face +anxiously. Yet she dared not question her, though she felt convinced +Miss Barnes knew more than any of them about their mother's +non-appearance and their father's unusual return from Fairchester in Mr. +Stone's carriage. Mr. Stone was the doctor; and though Salome tried to +persuade herself Mr. Stone's carriage had probably been at her father's +office, and perhaps having a patient to see out in their direction, Mr. +Wilton had accepted the offer of a drive homewards, and that Mr. Stone +being a doctor had nothing to do with it, she was but half satisfied +with her own self-deception. + +The dining-room at Maplestone Court was like all the other rooms--a room +suggestive of _home_ and comfort. The three large windows, to-day +thrown wide open, looked out on the lawn, and beyond to quiet meadows +and copses skirted in the far distance by a range of hills, seen through +the haze of the summer day blue and indistinct. Within, there were some +fine pictures; and the wide dining-table was decorated with flowers--for +of flowers there were plenty at Maplestone. If banished from the front +of the house, they had their revenge in the dear old-fashioned +kitchen-garden--a garden where beds for cutting were filled with every +coloured geranium and verbena and calceolaria; a garden which seemed an +enclosure of sweets and perfumes, where the wall-fruit hung in peerless +beauty, and a large green-house, of the type of past days, was the +shelter of a vine so luxuriant in its growth and so marvellous in its +produce, that Maplestone grapes continually carried off the prize at the +flower and fruit shows of the neighbourhood. + +The children gathered round that pretty table--which, in spite of +Raymond's dissatisfaction, was always well supplied with all that could +please the taste--were singularly ignorant of whence all their good +things came. They had all been born at Maplestone. They took it and all +its comforts as a matter of course. Till Raymond went to Eton they had +none of them concerned themselves much about what others had or had +not. Raymond, the eldest son, had been the most indulged, the least +contradicted, and had an enormous idea of his own importance. + +He was very handsome, but by no means clever. He had no higher aim than +to lounge through life with as little trouble to himself as possible; +and now, at seventeen, when asked if he meant to turn his mind to any +profession, he would say, "Oh, I may scrape through the militia, and get +a commission; but I don't bother about it." + +A naturally selfish disposition, he was altogether unconscious of it. He +had spent a great deal of money at Eton; he had wasted a great deal of +time. He cared nothing about Latin and Greek, still less about Euclid. +If his clothes were well made, and he could get all Lord Clement Henshaw +got, and the Marquis of Stonyshire's nephew, he was content. But as to a +thought of his responsibility as his father's eldest son, or any idea +beyond the present moment, he had nothing of the kind. Of late he had +grown arrogant and self-asserting at home; and the holidays, when +Reginald came rushing in with joyous gladness from Rugby, were by no +means unmixed pleasures to the other children, by reason of Raymond's +return from Eton. Reginald was Salome's especial friend. Ada, in her +pretty completeness, stood somewhat alone. She was so "provokingly +perfect," Reginald said. No one ever caught Ada out; and it was so dull. + +The little boys were under Miss Barnes's care; but Carl was to go to a +preparatory school at Christmas. The very idea of such a separation set +"Hans's water-works flowing," Reginald said; so the great event was only +generally understood, and not talked about. + +Just as Miss Barnes had risen from the table, saying, "Your grace, +Hans," and just as little Hans had lifted his voice in childish treble, +with the accustomed form used by all his predecessors in the Wilton +family, the door opened, and Mrs. Wilton came in. + +Salome went to her impetuously. "Have you had no luncheon, mother? Let +me ring for some hot soup." + +Mrs. Wilton took the chair Miss Barnes vacated, and saying in a low +voice to her, "Take the children away," she declined anything but a +glass of wine and a biscuit, and scarcely seemed to notice the +children's eager-- + +"We may have the tableaux, mother, mayn't we? and Ada may write the +notes for our birthday party?" + +"Yes, darlings, yes. Run away now." + +The two little boys scampered off, and Ada, stooping over her mother, +kissed her, and said,-- + +"You look so tired, mother!" + +Raymond and Reginald were still lingering at the bottom of the table, +when Raymond said,-- + +"I suppose I can take out Captain this afternoon? I want to ride over to +St. John's." + +"Your father--" Mrs. Wilton got no further; and Salome said,-- + +"Father does not like Captain to be ridden carelessly, Raymond. You had +better take old Bess." + +"_Thank_ you!" was Raymond's retort; "I did not ask for your opinion, +Miss Sal." + +Then Raymond left the room, and Reginald, seeing his mother did not wish +to be troubled with questions, followed him. + +Ada with another kiss, as she leaned over the back of her mother's +chair, also went away, and Salome and her mother were left to +themselves. + +Salome knew something was wrong--very wrong, but her lips refused to +form the words she longed to utter. Mrs. Wilton, finding they were alone +together, covered her face with her hand, and then in a broken whisper +said,-- + +"Your father is in great trouble, Salome." + +"Is he ill?" the girl asked quietly. + +"Ill, and most miserable. He thinks he is ruined." + +"I don't understand, mother. How is he ruined?" + +"The great Norwegian firm with which he traded has failed; and as if +that were not enough, rumours are floating to-day that the Central Bank +is likely to stop payment to-morrow." + +Salome's bewildered expression struck her mother as pathetic. "She is +only a child," she was saying to herself; "she does not take it in." + +Presently Salome said with a deep-drawn breath, "Has father all his +money in the bank, then?" + +"All his private fortune; and then, if he has to stop trading as a +timber merchant, the loss will be--simply ruin, Salome." + +"This house is ours, isn't it?" the girl asked. + +"My dear child, ours no longer if it has to be sold to meet the +debts--the liabilities, as they are called. But do not say a word to any +one to-day. There is just this chance, the rumours about the Central +Bank may be false. Your father's partners incline to the hope that it +may prove so; but I have no hope, no hope. Oh, your father's face of +misery is more than I can bear! At his age, to have everything taken +from him!" + +"Not everything, mother; he has got _you_." + +"What am I? A poor weak woman, never strong, never fitted for much +exertion. What will become of the children?" + +"I will do my best, mother," Salome said. "I will do all I can." + +"_You_, Salome! My dear," said her mother sadly, "what could you do?" + +"Take care of the boys; teach the little ones; save the expense of a +governess; help you to do without so many servants," Salome said +promptly. + +"Ah, Salome, we shall want no servants, for we shall have no home. +Maplestone must be sold, and all the dear old pictures;--but I must not +go over this part of it. Mr. Stone happened to meet your father in +Fairchester, and thought him looking so ill that he brought him home. He +told me he was very anxious about him, and I was by no means to allow +him to go back to Fairchester to-day. I heard him order the dog-cart +round at three o'clock, and he ought not to go; yet how can I stop him?" + +"May I go and see father?" Salome asked. "I will be very quiet, and not +worry him." + +"I hardly know. He said none of the children were to be told +to-day--that I was to keep the trouble from you; that is why I dared not +come in to luncheon. And the De Brettes and Fergusons dine here +to-night. They ought to be put off; but he won't hear of it. Miss Barnes +saw Mr. Stone leading your father across the hall. I was obliged to tell +her about it; but she said she would keep it from the children." + +"I am not a child now, mother," Salome said; "I am nearly sixteen. +Somehow," and her voice faltered--"somehow I don't feel as if I should +ever be a child any more if--If you come upstairs and lie down in your +sitting-room, I will go and see father, and try to persuade him not to +go to Fairchester. Now, mother." + +For the first time in her life Salome felt that she must think for +others as well as for herself. It was a sudden awakening. Long years +after, she recalled that last dreamy noon-tide by the little lake, and +all her visions and illusions: the fairy web of youthful weaving, which +some of us remember, was so delicious and so sweet. Now, when she had +drawn down the venetian blinds and left her mother to rest, if rest were +possible, she paused before she could summon courage to turn to the +library and see the father she so dearly loved in his sore trouble. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +SORROW AND SIGHING. + + +To Salome's great relief, she remembered there were no school-room +lessons that afternoon. Miss Barnes had to take Ada into Fairchester in +the pony-carriage for a music lesson. Carl and Hans were full of their +birthday party, and had possessed themselves of a heap of decayed +finery, which they were sorting in their spacious old nursery. Raymond +had taken Captain, and Salome saw him trotting quickly down the drive, +from the staircase window when she passed on her way to the library. She +saw Reginald, too, lingering about on the lawn, and at last stretch +himself full length under a spreading cedar, with his cap tilted over +his eyes, and Puck, a little white dog, lying near him. She wished she +could only tell Reginald. It was better Ada should not know; but +Reginald was so different. Reginald lying there so unconscious of coming +trouble; Raymond riding off on the very horse which had been forbidden; +the little pony-carriage wheeling away to Fairchester, Ada whipping up +the fat gray pony, and turning out on the road with a grand flourish; +Carl and Hans singing over their wreaths of faded flowers, worn by their +mother in young, happy days; nurse's voice in occasional remonstrance; +and the loud singing of a canary,--all these sounds and sights told of +life at Maplestone going on as it had done for so long, and only +she--Salome--knew that all things were on the very brink of change. +There, as she stood thus thinking, some words came to her soul in that +strange, mysterious way which all of us, young and old, must have +recognized sometimes as coming from some One higher and holier than +ourselves--"With God is no variableness, neither shadow of turning;" and +then, as if in answer to all her day-dreams, there came the memory of +other words, left as a beacon pointing heavenward to all young hearts,-- + + "Be good, dear maid, and let who will be clever; + _Do_ noble deeds, nor dream them all day long; + And so make life, death, and that vast for ever + One grand sweet song." + +"I want to do what is right," she sighed. "I want to help them,--father, +and all of them,--but oh, I must pray God to help me and make me +patient!" Then, with a quiet, slow step she went to the library door and +tapped gently. There was no answer. Then Salome opened the door and +went in. + +Her father was sitting in his arm-chair, with his back turned towards +her. Salome went up to him and touched his arm. + +"Papa." + +Mr. Wilton turned his face towards her at last, and said, almost +roughly,-- + +"What do you want, Salome?" + +"Mother has told me all, and I am come to tell you how I love you, and I +will try to help you, if I can." + +"My dear--my dear child," Mr. Wilton said, "no one can help me now; I am +ruined! But your mother promised not to tell you. You might as well have +had another night of peace,--just as well. I told her to keep it from +the children." + +"But, dear father, I am not like a child now. I am the eldest girl, and +I ought to know what troubles you. Mother could not keep it from me; she +was obliged to tell some one. I want to ask you to be so very kind as +not to go into Fairchester again to-day, but stay quiet." + +"Nonsense," said Mr. Wilton impatiently; "I must go. Why should I leave +the sinking ship like this? I am very well. It is all Stone's humbug, +frightening your poor mother out of her wits. Here, give me another +glass of wine, and then ring for Curtis to come round with the +dog-cart." + +Mr. Wilton suddenly rose from his chair, and before Salome could prevent +it he had emptied the decanter into a tumbler, and was raising it to his +lips when he dropped it with a crash upon the ground, his hand fell +powerless at his side, and he sank back in the chair speechless and +unconscious of any outward thing. + +Instantly Salome's first thought was of her mother--to save her from the +sudden shock which had blanched her own lips with terror, and for a +moment left her as helpless as her poor father. + +Then, instead of ringing the bell frantically, or calling out aloud, as +so many girls would have done, she ran with the speed of lightning to +the nursery and called her faithful friend there. + +"Come to papa! quick, Stevens, quick!" Then as nurse threw down her work +and obeyed her she flew to the garden, where Reginald, all unconscious +of the impending sorrow, was lying under the cedar tree. + +"Reginald, Reginald, get up! father is much worse. Send to Fairchester +for Mr. Stone, or any doctor; _pray_ make haste." + +"Father! what is the matter with him?" + +"Oh, I don't know! His face is an awful gray colour, and his mouth--O +Reginald, don't ask me, only go and get some help; but don't let mother +be frightened." + +Reginald did as she told him without farther question; and Salome +returned to the library. + +The servants were gathered there now--the old butler, Greenwood; +Stevens, the nurse, who had seen Mr. Wilton bring home his bride; others +of the large household standing near in awe-struck silence. They made +way for the little figure that appeared at the door, and let Salome pass +to Stevens, who was supporting her master's head, while Greenwood was +loosing his collar. + +"You can do no good, my dear Miss Salome; no good." + +"What do you mean, Stevens? I have sent Reginald for Mr. Stone--" Here +she stopped, for Greenwood broke out into convulsive crying. + +"The dear master is struck for death, and no mortal power can help him +now!" + + * * * * * + +That evening about seven o'clock, Salome, sitting by her mother's side +in the hushed and darkened room where the master of Maplestone lay +breathing heavily, quite unconscious of any outward thing, heard the +sound of horses' feet. She rose quickly and went to the hall door. + +"It is Raymond. I had better tell him," she said. + +On her way she met Ada, her pretty face washed with tears, like a rose +in a heavy shower, who said,-- + +"Raymond has come back on one of Mr. St. John's horses, Salome. He has +broken Captain's knees; just think of that!" + +"Does he know?" Salome asked. + +"I daresay they have told him in the stables. Is there any change in +father?" + +Salome shook her head. "Will you go and sit with mother while I find +Raymond? Reginald is gone with the messages to the De Brettes and +Fergusons." + +"Oh, I am afraid to see father," Ada said, shuddering. "I dare not go. I +wonder if Uncle Loftus will come; Miss Barnes says he is sure to start +when he gets the telegram. Here comes Raymond." + +Raymond came in with a would-be careless air, trying to whistle. Salome +went up to him. + +"Raymond, do you know what has happened?" + +"My father is ill, you mean. What is the matter with him? I shall be +spared a row about Captain. I have been and done for Captain, and for +myself pretty nearly. What do you both look so scared for?" + +"Come into the drawing-room and I will tell you, Raymond. O Raymond!" +Salome said, "father is dying! Mr. Stone has telegraphed for Dr. Scott, +but he has no hope." + +Raymond's lip quivered, and the real boy-nature asserted itself. "I wish +I had not taken Captain," he said. "Where's mother?" + +"In the library. He was seized with this fit while I was with him there. +He could not bear the dreadful blow which has fallen on him." + +"Blow! What do you mean?" + +"I forgot," Salome said simply. "Father has lost all his money, and we +shall have nothing." + +"What nonsense! We shall have this house, and--" + +"Oh no, Raymond! The house and everything in it will have to be sold. +But oh! what is that--what is that to--losing father?" and Salome +covered her face with her hands and wept bitterly. + +"I say, Salome, don't take on like this," said Raymond in a strangely +husky and unnatural voice. "There is some mistake, depend upon it. +Things can't be as bad as that. Why, what am _I_ to do, if I can't go +back to Eton?" + +Ah, there was the sting to the undisciplined, selfish nature,--"What am +_I_ to do?" + +Salome turned away and went back to keep her sorrowful vigil by her +mother's side. + +The next week was like a terrible dream to Salome. The dreaded news of +the stoppage of the Central Bank came, as had been expected; but Mr. +Wilton died unknowing that his worst fears had been realized, and that +all was lost. He was laid to rest in the pretty churchyard of Maplestone +just one week after the blow had fallen, and his widow and children were +left desolate. + +Uncle Loftus had arrived, as Miss Barnes had expected. He had not +remained all through the sad week,--while the sunshine reigned without, +and darkness and dreariness within Maplestone Court,--but he returned +for the funeral; and the same evening he sat in consultation with Mr. +Calvert, the lawyer, and Mr. De Brette, with the partners of the great +timber concern which had collapsed in the general and widespread +pressure of the time. Mr. Wilton's case was rendered far worse by the +loss of a large private income derived from shares in the Central Bank. +There was literally nothing left to his children but his heavy +liabilities and his wife's small settlement. + +"Under three hundred a year," Dr. Loftus Wilton said; "and with all +their previous habits and way of life, this will be little enough. My +sister-in-law is not a strong woman, and has had her own way, poor +thing--I mean she has been blessed with a very indulgent husband." + +"I suppose the eldest boy can earn his living," Mr. De Brette said; "he +is over seventeen." + +"He ought to do so. We must get him into an office. Perhaps, when the +concern is wound up, Mr. Ferguson may find him a berth when a fresh +start is made." + +"A fresh start!" exclaimed Mr. Ferguson; "that will never be, as far as +I am concerned. I should think a clerkship in a bank would be better." + +"I think you ought to see Raymond," Dr. Loftus Wilton said; "he is his +father's representative, and everything should be laid before him. Then +there is the eldest girl, close on sixteen; a little creature, but full +of nerve and sense. Shall we call them?" + +The gentlemen seemed doubtful; and Mr. De Brette said,-- + +"Poor things! I think we had better leave it to you to tell them what +must happen. The house will realize a good deal," he added, looking +round; "fine pictures, and everything in good order. The cellar, too, +must be valuable--poor Wilton's wine was always of the choicest." + +"Yes, poor fellow. My brother lived up to the mark, perhaps a little too +much so; but who was to foresee such a calamity as this?" + +After a little more discussion the party broke up,--the lawyer gathering +together the papers and Mr. Wilton's will with a half sigh, as he +said,-- + +"This is so much waste paper now. It is a melancholy story, and there +are hundreds like it. Nothing but losses all round." + +Dr. Loftus Wilton strolled out into the grounds when he was left alone. +He would put off talking to the children till the next day, he thought, +and there was no immediate necessity to do so. He was sorry for them; +but he had a large family, and a hard fight to provide for them out of a +professional income as a doctor in a fashionable watering-place, where +much was required in the way of appearance, and people were valued very +much by what they wore, and very little by what they were. The summer +was always a flat time at Roxburgh, and hence Dr. Loftus Wilton could +better afford the time away from his practice. "There are good schools +at Roxburgh for the small boys, and the two girls could get advantages," +he thought; "but then Anna will not trouble herself about poor Arthur's +family. In fact, she would not care to have them there. Still, I must do +my duty. She and Emily never did hit it off. Anna thought she patronized +her; and now it would be the other way, poor things." And then Dr. +Wilton lighted another cigar and paced up and down the garden, till at +last he found himself on the wooden bridge, and in the stillness of the +summer evening heard voices. He went on, and came upon the lake, on the +bank of which three black figures were sitting--Salome and her two +elder brothers. The opportunity was too good to be lost, and knocking +the ashes off his cigar end, Dr. Wilton descended, saying,-- + +"The very people I wanted to see.--Here, Reginald, my boy, +stop--Raymond, I mean." + +But Raymond, at the sight of his uncle, had suddenly left his seat, and, +with his hands in his pockets, had disappeared in the tangled shrubbery +which led away from the lake on the other side. + +Reginald, however, stopped when his uncle called, and Salome, rising, +said,-- + +"Did you want us, Uncle Loftus?" The pale, tear-stained face and little +slight figure, in its black, sombre dress, touched Dr. Wilton. + +"Yes, my dear; I came to talk with you and your eldest brother, +as--well, as reasonable people. Sit down, Salome," and he drew her +towards him on the bench. + +[Illustration: "'Sit down, Salome', and Dr. Wilton drew her toward him +on the bench." _Page 33._] + +"You know, my dear," he began, "you know you will have to leave +Maplestone at once,--the sooner for all of you the better, I think,--for +the place is in the possession of your poor father's creditors. Now, my +dear, listen to me." + +"I am listening, Uncle Loftus," Salome said. + +"I cannot do much for you, for I have a large family and many expenses; +but I have been thinking Roxburgh would be a good place for you all to +live in. The small boys could go to school, and--" + +"I mean to teach Carl and Hans, Uncle Loftus. There are Raymond and +Reginald. Reginald is not fourteen." + +"Oh, well, Reginald must have a year or two more, I suppose. But Raymond +is well over sixteen; he must work for his living." + +"And there is Ada, Uncle Loftus,--she must go on with her lessons." + +"My dear, I am afraid _must_ is a word we shall have to leave alone now. +It is what you can afford out of your poor mother's income, not what you +_must_ have. Now I want you to ask her what she thinks of my plan. If +she approves it, I will look for a small furnished lodging, somewhere in +Roxburgh, and I will speak to your Aunt Anna--only you must get your +mother's mind about it first. I shall see her to-morrow before I leave, +and you can prepare her for my proposition. You must take heart, my +dear. Things may brighten." + +"Nothing can bring father back," said Salome passionately. "I could bear +anything if only I had him. To have worked so hard for us, and then to +die ruined and broken-hearted!" + +Dr. Wilton had nothing to say except, "My dear, don't fret--pray don't. +From what I have observed as a medical man, I think your poor father's +life would not have been a long one at the best. He had a slight attack, +you know, two years ago, when I advised him to go abroad for a few weeks +for entire rest. And this fearful blow was too much for him--brought on +the last attack of paralysis, which proved fatal. Your brothers ought +not to have gone off in that way." + +"I am here, Uncle Loftus," Reginald said. "I have heard every word; I am +ready to do anything to help my mother," he continued, drawing himself +upright from the long grass where he had been lying full length. + +"That's a brave little man," Dr. Wilton said. "I wish your brother may +show the same good feeling." And then he relighted his cigar, and went +over the bridge again. + +"How unfeeling he is!" were Reginald's first words. "Oh, dear Sal, +_don't_!" for Salome was sobbing bitterly. "Don't, Sal; and, for any +sake, don't let us go to Roxburgh to be patronized by that set of +heartless people. Let's stick together, and go and live near a big +school, where I can go as a day boy. Not at Rugby though; I shouldn't +like that. The fellows in Crawford's house might look down on me as a +day boy. It is hard to have to leave Rugby; but I don't mean to give up +because I have to do my work somewhere else. One's work doesn't +alter--that's one comfort; and I'll do my best. And I have got _you_, +Sal; that's more than most fellows can say, for sisters like you don't +grow like blackberries in the hedge." + +"O Reg! I am sure I have not been of much use to you, only I think I +understand you. And, Reg"--this was said very earnestly--"you must tell +me always when I am untidy, and wake me up when I am in a dream, and +remind me to put my books away, and not leave everything in a +higgledy-piggledy fashion." + +"Oh, bother it! clever girls like you, who are always thinking and +making up stories and verses, often are all of a heap." + +"But that does not make it right, Reg; and I am not a bit clever, +really. Think of Ada--how beautifully she works and plays and draws! and +I don't do one of those things. Sometimes I think I might make a very +little money by writing a story. You know I have written heaps, and torn +them up, but now I shall keep the next and read it to you. I have got it +all straight in my head, not a hitch anywhere. Reg, isn't it strange I +can make all things in my stories go so pit-pat and right, and yet I +never can keep my goods straight? Why--would you believe it?--I've +already lost one of my new black kid gloves with four buttons. I can't +find it _anywhere_. It just shows what I shall have to do to _make_ +myself orderly." + +"Ah!" said Reginald, "I see; if I were you, Sal, I would have some of my +hair cut off." + +"I have turned it up," Salome said; "I thought I had better try to do it +myself to-day." + +"Yes; but there is a great pin sticking out, and a long tail hanging +down, and"--Reginald hesitated--"it makes you _look_ as if you weren't +quite trim. Trim isn't prim, you know, Sal." + +"No; that's right, Reginald. Tell me just what you think, won't you, and +I will tell you. I suppose," she went on, "such a sorrow as ours makes +us think more of God. We are forced to think of Him; but, O Reg! I have +been thinking of Him before this trouble--His love and care for every +tiny creature, and giving us so many beautiful things. I feel as if no +loss of money could take _them_ away--the sky, the sunshine, the +flowers--all signs of God's love. And then even _this_ comes from Him; +and I know He is love, and so I try to bear it." + +"You are awfully good, Salome," Reginald said in a husky voice. "You +know that talk we had at Easter. I have done what you said ever since, +you know. Not that I always or ever get much good from it; but I always +read the verses you said you would, and try to say a real prayer in +chapel. The dear old chapel," Reginald said; "fancy if I never see it +again!" + +The brother and sister sat in silence for a few minutes, and then +Salome said, "I must go to mother now, and tell her what Uncle Loftus +wishes, and try to find Raymond. Poor Ray! it is worse for him than for +any of us somehow. Ray was made to be rich." + +"He'll have to get a lot of nonsense knocked out of him, I expect," +Reginald said, as he and Salome parted--Reginald turning off to the +stables to see poor Captain, who had been brought back comparatively +worthless. And Salome, going to her mother's room, met Raymond on the +stairs. To her surprise he said,-- + +"Come here, Sal; I want to speak with you." + +They went into the library together, now so full of memories to Salome +that she could hardly restrain her tears; but she was always saying to +herself, "I must keep up for mother's sake, and not be weak and +useless." + +"I say, Salome, don't you be taken in by Uncle Loftus; he is going to +ride over us, and I won't stand it. I shall not go to Roxburgh, and so I +shall tell him. I must try and get into--well, into the militia, and--" + +"Raymond, you cannot do it. There is only just enough money to keep +mother and all of us. You don't seem to take it in, Ray. Dear Ray! I am +dreadfully sorry for you, for you will feel it most; but you would do +anything for mother, and if you went into a bank or an office you might +soon get rich and--" + +"Rich! whoever heard such nonsense? I shall go and see Mr. Calvert the +first thing to-morrow, and tell him how Uncle Loftus tries to put us +down." + +Salome was really astonished at her brother's unreasonableness and +absolute childishness; and Ada coming in to say mother wanted Salome +directly, she left her with Raymond, despairing of making any impression +upon him. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +EDINBURGH CRESCENT. + + +Dr. Wilton was too busy all the day after his return to Roxburgh to +think much about his nieces and nephews at Maplestone. The incessant +calls on a medical man in the full swing of practice in a place like +Roxburgh are urgent and cannot be put aside. He came in to dinner at +half-past seven, and the scene of his home comfort and his elder +children seated round him brought back to him forcibly the condition of +his brother's widow and his family. + +When the servant had left the room, Dr. Wilton said,-- + +"I have advised these poor things to come here for the winter anyhow, +Anna. Can you look for lodgings for them to-morrow? I think there may be +some to be had cheap down by St. Luke's Church." + +"Come here, Loftus! You surely are not going to bring Emily and the +children here, the most expensive place to decide upon." + +"Well, I don't know what else to advise. You see we might show them some +attention, and help them on a little. The boys could go to the college, +and the girls get advantages which will fit them for teaching. Poor +things! it makes my heart ache when I think of them, I can tell you." + +"Papa!" exclaimed Louise Wilton, "I am sure we don't want them here. I +never could get on with Salome and Ada. I am sure I hated being at +Maplestone that summer; and Aunt Emily was so grand and stuck-up." + +"Nonsense, Louise!" said her father sharply. "Grand and stuck-up indeed! +Poor thing! she will only just be able to pull through with all those +children. Hans and Carl are quite little things." + +"Well, I must say," said Mrs. Loftus Wilton, "I do think it is a mistake +to bring them all here; and I don't believe for an instant you will get +lodgings for them at a low price." + +"I am not going to try," said Dr. Wilton. "I leave that to you; and +to-morrow morning you had better take the carriage and drive about till +you find some at thirty shillings or two pounds a week. Four bed-rooms +and two sitting-rooms will do." + +Mrs. Wilton leaned back in her chair and said, "I shall send Betha; she +is a far better judge than I am of lodgings. But I feel sure you will be +disappointed. It will be utterly impossible to get lodgings in Roxburgh +for two pounds a week to accommodate a family like poor Emily's." + +"I should have thought," said Dr. Wilton, "you might have troubled +yourself to help these poor people. It is not unlikely that you may find +yourself in the same position one day; and then I don't know how you +will manage. My poor brother had far less reason than I have to look +forward to leaving his wife and children unprovided for." + +With these words Dr. Wilton left the dining-room; and Louise said,-- + +"What shall we do with all the Maplestone people, mother? it will be so +awkward to have them in lodgings here. Just the last place for people to +come to who are poor." + +"Your father seems to be of a different opinion, my dear Louise, and we +must abide by his decision." + +"Really," exclaimed Kate, the second sister, "Roxburgh does not belong +to us. I suppose our cousins may come here if they like." + +"You have not practised to-day, Kate," Mrs. Wilton said sharply. "Go +into the school-room at once." + +Dr. Wilton had a large family, of whom Louise and Kate were the eldest +girls. Then came three boys, who were at the college; and then three +more little girls. A daily governess had educated Louise and Kate, who +at seventeen and eighteen were supposed to have finished with the +school-room except for music and a little German. The trio of little +girls--Edith, Maude, and Hilda--were under Miss Browne, as their sisters +had been. And in the nursery there was a little delicate, fragile boy of +four years old, who was the especial care of the kind aunt of Mrs. +Wilton, who lived in her house as a poor relation, and performed an +unlimited number of services small and great for the whole family. Her +presence in the doctor's household obviated the necessity of an +experienced nurse, an experienced cook, or an experienced housemaid. A +staff of young girls under Aunt Betha's management got through the +onerous duties of the doctor's household, and thus Mrs. Wilton practised +economy by her help. + +Like many people who love a showy outside of things and sacrifice much +to attain their object, Mrs. Wilton was very mean in small matters. An +extra quarter a pound of butter used in the house, or a shilling +expended on little Guy over and above the sum she thought right for his +beef tea and other nourishment, caused her real concern. She would fly +off to Aunt Betha to inquire into the matter, and would inveigh upon her +want of management with some asperity. But she did not grudge anything +in her drawing-room which kept it up with the fashion of the day, and +encouraged her eldest girl to dress, as she did herself, with excellent +taste and prettiness. + +Mrs. Wilton went up to the nursery after dinner, where Aunt Betha was +sitting by little Guy. He had been very feverish and ailing all day, and +his father had paid him several visits. Aunt Betha raised her head as +Mrs. Wilton rustled in. + +"He has just gone off to sleep," she whispered. + +His tall graceful mother went up to the little bed where Guy lay. + +"Loftus does not think there is much amiss," she said. "Poor little +man!" Then she sat down by the fire and said, "I want you, auntie, to go +out lodging-hunting to-morrow for me. It is for Emily Wilton and her +children. They are almost penniless, and it is necessary that they +should leave Maplestone at once, for the creditors are in possession of +the place. Shall I wake him?" Mrs. Wilton asked, as Aunt Betha turned +her head towards Guy's bed. + +"No, I think not; he is really sound now. But, oh, I am so sorry for +those poor children; I am indeed." + +"It is a pitiable case, and I don't see myself the wisdom of bringing +them to Roxburgh. However, as Loftus wishes it to be done, I must look +for the lodgings, or get you to look for them. I think down by St. +Luke's Church is the most likely locality, or behind Connaught Crescent. +They want four bed-rooms and two sitting-rooms for two pounds a week." + +"I fear we shall not succeed at that price; but I will go directly after +breakfast to-morrow,--if Susan can be trusted here. Guy must be kept +quiet till after his luncheon, and the children are so apt to rush in." + +"_Poor_ little man!" the mother repeated. "He has but small enjoyment in +his life; but we shall see him a strong man yet. Oh, those boys!" And +Mrs. Wilton hastily left the nursery as sounds of boisterous mirth +ascended from the boys' study, a small room on the ground floor where +they got through their evening preparations. Three vociferous young +voices were raised at their highest pitch, while Edith's shrill treble +was heard. + +Down went Mrs. Wilton, and at the sound of her footstep there was a +lull. + +"Edith, have I not forbidden you to interrupt your brothers at their +work? Go up to bed immediately." + +"Mamma," sobbed Edith,--"mamma, it is all Ralph's fault. He says--he +says that Uncle Arthur's children are all paupers, and that if +papa--if--" + +"She is such a baby," Ralph exclaimed; "she says pauper is a bad word." + +"Yes," laughed Cyril, "the silly baby. I believe she thinks _pauper_ is +swearing." + +"No, she does not," said Digby, the eldest of the three brothers. "No, +poor little thing. It is a shame to tease her as you have done. Come on +upstairs, Edith. I will take you," and Digby took his little sister by +the hand and was leading her away when his mother interposed. + +"Don't encourage her in naughtiness, Digby. She is very disobedient to +come here at all.--Now, Edith." + +Poor Edith obeyed at once, sobbing out, "I only said I was glad we were +not so poor as our cousins; and they all laughed at me--at least Ralph +and Cyril did--and said if papa died--" + +"That will do, Edith. You are _not_ to go down to disturb your brothers +again. The next time I find you in this room of an evening, I shall +punish you severely. Run away to bed. Aunt Betha ought to have called +you by this time; and what can Sarah be thinking of?" + +Then Mrs. Wilton kissed her little girl, and returned to the +drawing-room, where Louise was reading by the bright gaslight. + +"You have four burners lighted, Louise. It is quite unnecessary," and +Mrs. Wilton's height made it easy for her to turn down two of the +burners in the glass chandelier. + +"What a noise the boys have been making downstairs!" Louise said. "I am +sure I hope we shall not have them here all the holidays. Are we not +going to Torquay or Ilfracombe?" + +"Decidedly not _en masse_," Mrs. Wilton said. "Lodgings by the sea are +so fearfully expensive." + +"Well," said Louise, "I think it is very dull staying in Roxburgh all +the summer, and the boys are so tiresome. If we had only a proper +tennis-court; playing in the square is so disagreeable." + +"You are very discontented, Louise," said her mother. "Pray, do not +grumble any more." + +Mrs. Wilton sat down to write a letter, and no more was said till Kate +came in with Digby. They were great friends, and Digby was the generally +acknowledged good-temper of the family. I am afraid it was too much the +motto of each of the doctor's children, "Every one for himself." There +could not be said to be one really unselfish person of that household. +But Digby and Kate had more thought for others than the rest of the +brothers and sisters, and were naturally better tempered and contented. + +"Are you going to look for lodgings for Aunt Emily, mother?" Digby +asked. + +Mrs. Wilton looked up from her writing as if the idea were a new one to +her. + +"No, my dear, I shall not have time to do so. I am engaged to take +Louise and Kate to a tennis-party at Cawfield to-morrow." + +"Digby, I wish you would not sit on that sofa. Look what you have done +to the cover." + +Digby changed his seat from the sofa to a straw chair, one of those +half-circular ones with cushions which creak at every movement. + +"O Digby, do pray be quiet," said Louise irritably. "It does fidget me +to hear that noise." + +"You will be an old maid to a certainty, Louise," said her brother, "if +you are so cantankerous,--another Aunt Betha, only not half as +good.--Come on, Kate; let us have a game of backgammon." + +"Not in here!" exclaimed Louise. "I hate the rattling of the dice. Pray +go into the back drawing-room." + +"Yes, let us go there," said Kate, "in peace." + +"Peace! There is none in this house," said Digby as he followed Kate, +who jumped up on a chair to light the gas, and came down with a thud on +the floor, when she had achieved her object, which shook the glass-drops +of both chandeliers ominously. + +"I say, Kate, what a clumsy elephant you are. You'll bring down the +chandelier and a torrent of abuse from a certain person at the same +time." + +"Where are Ralph and Cyril?" Kate asked. + +"Downstairs. We have all been 'preparing a lesson,' doing a holiday +task. Such humbug, as if fellows of our age ought not to dine late." + +"Well, the Barrington boys always have school-room tea." + +"They are younger. Ned isn't fifteen, and I am sixteen." + +"No, not quite; not till next week," Kate said. "You are younger than +Raymond. Are you not sorry for them at Maplestone?" + +"Awfully," said Digby; "and I think every one so unfeeling. You girls +ought to be in mourning." + +"Mamma said it would be too expensive," said Kate; "but then she never +expected they would all come here and see us. I believe she is going to +get up something if they do come; but they may not get lodgings. Isn't +it odd, Digby, to think of our visit to Maplestone a year and a half +ago, when we felt them so much better off than we were, and envied the +house and the gardens, and the ponies and the carriages? And Raymond +talked so much of his swell Eton friends; and Reginald was at Rugby; and +you grumbled because you could not go to school, but had to be a day boy +at the college here." + +"Yes, I remember," said Digby. "And how pretty Ada looked when she went +to church on Sunday. And that quiet one, they say, is clever, with the +queer name." + +"Salome! ah, yes," said Kate. "She was odd--so dreamy, and unlike other +girls. Dear me, it is very sad for them all. I wish they were not coming +here all the same, for I know they will be disappointed; and Roxburgh is +not a place to be poor in. I am sick of all the talking about who this +person is, and where they come from, and what they wear; and that +'residents' can't know 'lodgers' for fear of getting mixed up with what +is not quite the thing. I do hate it," said Kate vehemently; "and yet +what is one to do?" + +"Play backgammon now," said Digby; "and go to bed and forget it. With +slow holidays like these, one had better lie there half the day." + +"_Pray_ don't be late to-morrow, Digby; it does make such a fuss. Now +then--sixes as a start. What luck for me!" + +So the cousins in Edinburgh Terrace talked of the cousins at Maplestone. +So small a part of the lives of others do griefs and sorrows make. That +evening, while Digby and Kate were so lightly discussing the coming of +Ada and Raymond, of Aunt Emily and Reginald, Salome was standing in the +fading light by her father's grave in the quiet churchyard of +Maplestone, with some freshly-gathered flowers in her hand, and crying +as if her heart would break! + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +LOOKING FOR LODGINGS. + + +Aunt Betha was not the person to do anything by halves. She had promised +to set forth early the next day to "hunt for lodgings," and she did not +shrink from her task. She was up earlier than usual, that everything +might be in order and her daily routine gone through in good time. First +there was Guy to be washed and dressed; and his breakfast, with his two +little sisters, Maude and Hilda,--Edith breakfasting in the dining-room +with her elders. Then came the visit to the kitchen, and Mrs. Wilton's +orders and counter-orders to convey to the young servant who cooked +under Aunt Betha's supervision. There were the daily accounts to +balance, and the daily arrangements to make; and last, not least, the +daily burden of others to be borne. How nobly and uncomplainingly Aunt +Betha bore this burden I have no words to tell you. She had gone through +deep trials in her young days, and had been the useful sister to Mrs. +Wilton's mother. Then when that sister died, and dying said, "You will +have a home with Anna; don't give her up, she will want help," Aunt +Betha transferred her faithful service from the mother to the daughter. +She was too poor to live without earning her own living, and she chose +to do this by the position in Dr. Wilton's house in which we find her. + +Dear Aunt Betha! She was plain, and short, and very old-fashioned in her +dress. "I hear too much about dress in this house," she would say, "to +care much about my own." And black silk for Sundays, and a black merino +or alpaca for week-days, made short and full, was her unvarying costume. +Aunt Betha was scrupulously neat and clean, and her caps, tied with +mauve ribbon under her chin, were always fresh and bright. So were the +large collar and cuffs which finished her "afternoon dress;" though when +she was busy about the house in the morning she dispensed with the +cuffs, and wore a large apron and holland sleeves over her gown. + +Mrs. Wilton had that dislike to trouble which can hardly be called +indolence; for she was active in her habits, and could go through a good +deal of fatigue without complaining. She would walk with Louise to a +house at some distance, if the carriage was not available, rather than +miss an afternoon party. She would give herself any amount of trouble +about one of her husband's patients who she thought belonged to a good +family. She would plan and contrive for Louise and Kate's dress and +amusement; and her own appearance was singularly youthful and her dress +faultless; and all this was not effected without much pain and trouble. +But all the daily routine of household duties which did not bring any +especial honour with them she disliked. Drudgery could be as well done +by Aunt Betha as by her. Why should she be a drudge? "Aunt Betha was +made to be useful, and she enjoys it. Dear old woman! We give her a +comfortable home, and she is happy. Nothing could fit in better." + +"I am not to exceed two pounds a week, Anna?" Aunt Betha asked, as she +put her head into the dining-room, where Mrs. Wilton and Louise were +lingering over breakfast and complaining that Digby was so late. + +"Oh, about the lodgings!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilton. "Are you going now, +dear?" (Mrs. Wilton often called Aunt Betha "dear.") "I will go up to +Guy, then." + +"Susan is with him. He is better this morning. Good-bye,--I have no time +to lose." + +"Very well. Take a cab if you are very tired. Certainly not more than +two pounds a week for the lodgings; but less will be better." + +Aunt Betha closed the door, and was soon on her way, her quick, light +footsteps growing faint and fainter as she went along the smooth +pavement of Edinburgh Crescent. She had a message at the green-grocer's +and an order at the butcher's to leave as she passed the shops which +supplied the wants of Roxburgh; and then she turned away from what might +be called the West End of Roxburgh to the neighbourhood of St. Luke's +Church. Here there was a substratum of small villas and long, narrow +streets, which were a long way from the crescents and terraces of the +gay town to which so many people resorted for health and pleasure. The +college at Roxburgh stood a little apart from crescents and small +streets, and a large number of well-built houses clustered around it, +where the families of boys who attended the college mostly lived. In +days gone by there had been a mineral spa at Roxburgh, which had proved +the starting-point of the large fashionable watering-place of these +later times. But "the spa" had declined in popularity, and the old +pump-room was in a forlorn state of decay and desolation. It had given +Roxburgh its fame; and now, being out of repute, was cast aside and +renounced. + +The part of the town towards which Aunt Betha directed her efforts lay +below the deserted spa, and was nearer the large, smoky town of +Harstone, which was scarcely two miles from Roxburgh, where a busy life +of trade and commerce went on in the valley, apart from the life of +pleasure on the hill above. A cloud of smoke lay in the valley above +Harstone, and the river fogs crept up on this side of Roxburgh, laden +with the smut and breath of the chimneys, in late autumn and winter; but +on this bright August morning, the towers and spires of the Harstone +churches looked picturesque in the soft, gray mist which lay over them +and the tall masts of the ships in the docks. + +Aunt Betha did not, however, turn her eyes to the valley. She was too +much intent on scanning the rows of small houses with "Apartments," +"Furnished Apartments," printed on boards in the windows. + +"Number 3 Lavender Place. That is a nice bow window, and white curtains. +I'll try there." Aunt Betha rang the bell, and did not fail to notice +"that you might see your face in the brass knob of the handle." A very +neat woman came to the door, and in answer to her inquiries said-- + +"Yes, I have apartments to let,--a drawing-room and four bed-rooms." + +Aunt Betha felt quite delighted at what seemed likely to be the speedy +end of her labours. Everything was so neat. Drawing-room back and +front. Could anything be better? Then came the question of terms. + +"Two guineas a week." + +"Would you, Mrs.--" Aunt Betha paused. + +"Parsons--my name is Parsons," said the landlady. + +"Could you, Mrs. Parsons, say less if the rooms were taken for some +time?" + +"Perhaps I might, ma'am. I _might_ say two pounds." + +"Very well. I don't think I shall do better. I will close at once, and +send you word as to the day the family will arrive." + +"Pray, ma'am," inquired Mrs. Parsons, "how many are there in the +family?" + +"A widow lady, and, let me see, a servant,--poor thing, she must keep +one servant; she has been used to more than you can count on your +fingers,--and six children." + +"I never take children, ma'am, _never_," said Mrs. Parsons. + +"Oh dear, that is unfortunate; but these are not young children. The +little boys are twins, and are--" + +"_Boys!_ that quite decides me, ma'am. I don't like other folk's +servants about my place; but I _might_ have got over that, had the +children been girls. But boys--" + +"Then I must wish you good-morning," said Aunt Betha. "Can you tell me +of any house where children would not be objected to? _I_ live in a +house full of children myself, and I find them, as a rule, a deal +pleasanter than grown-up people. But of course you must please +yourself." + +"I look at my furniture, ma'am, and my peace and comfort. I look to the +ruin of carpets and chairs, and--" + +But Aunt Betha stayed to hear no more, and trotted off on her arduous +errand. + +In and out of houses went poor Aunt Betha, with alternate hopes and +fears. Some were dirty and slovenly: the landladies of these called the +children "little dears," and said "they doted on children." Some rooms +were too dear; some too small; and as the sharp-sounding clock of St. +Luke's struck twelve, Aunt Betha felt tired out and ready to give up. +She was standing hopelessly at the corner of Lavender Place, when a +pleasant-looking woman, crossing the road, exclaimed with a smile, "Why, +if that's not Miss Cox! Dear me, Miss Cox, how are you, ma'am?" + +"I am pretty well, Ruth, thank you; but I am tired out. I am looking for +lodgings for poor Mr. Arthur Wilton's family, and I can't find any." + +"Mr. Arthur Wilton! Poor gentleman. I saw his death in the paper, and +thought it must be the doctor's brother. He has left a long family, +hasn't he?" + +"Yes; that is, shorter than my niece's; but six are enough to provide +for when there is nothing left but debts and difficulties." + +Ruth was an old married servant of Dr. Wilton's, one of the innumerable +young cooks who had been under Miss Cox, and had basely deserted her as +soon as she could _cook_--send up a dinner fit to be eaten--to dress the +dinner of the baker's boy who had served 6 Edinburgh Crescent with +bread. + +"Dear me! I thought Mr. Wilton was a very rich gentleman. I have heard +the young ladies talk of the fine country place. How was it?" + +"He had misfortunes and losses, Ruth; and his family are coming here to +live in furnished lodgings. But I can meet with none. Can you help me?" + +Ruth looked right and left, as if she expected to see some one coming up +or down the road with the news of lodgings in their hands, and was +silent. At last a light seemed to break over her rosy face. "If they +don't mind being next to our shop, I believe I do know the very place. +Will you come and see? The house belongs to my mother-in-law, and she +has got it nicely furnished. It is not far; will you come, Miss Cox?" + +"Is it quite near, Ruth? for I must be back for the children's dinner, +and I am so tired." + +"You can take a tram from the Three Stars, and that will get you home in +no time. It is not far, Miss Cox." + +"Well, I will come, Ruth; but I don't feel sure about engaging the +lodgings. Your mother-in-law won't mind my looking at them?" + +"Oh no, ma'am, not a bit. She was an old servant, you know, of some real +gentry at Whitelands, and the old lady died last fall twelvemonth, and +left mother--I always calls her mother--a nice little sum and some real +valuable furniture." + +"Oh! then she won't take children," said Miss Cox despairingly. "She +won't take boys?" + +"That she will, if you like the apartments; there won't be no +difficulties," said Ruth in a reassuring voice. "You see, my Frank's +father died when he was an infant, and mother went back to her old +place, where she lived till two years ago, when the mistress died. Then +she took this little business for Frank, and the house next. It is quite +a private house, and was built by a gentleman. She thought she should be +near us and help us on a bit, and so she has. And she put the furniture +in it, and has added a bit here and there; and she let it all last +winter to the curate and his mother; and here we are, Miss Cox. Look +straight before you." + +Miss Cox looked straight before her as she was told, and there, at the +end of the road, stood a neat white house with a pretty good-sized +baker's shop on the lower floor, and two windows above. There was a wing +with a bake-house, and then a tall elm tree, left of its brethren which +had once stood there in a stately group, either by accident or by +design, and given their name to the locality--Elm Fields. + +"There's my Frank at the door," Ruth said, nodding; "he wonders what I +am come back for." + +"I remember him," said Miss Cox; "he used to take an hour to deliver the +bread. Ah, Ruth, you should not have married such a boy." + +"Shouldn't I? Then, Miss Cox, you and I don't agree there. If I am a bit +older, Frank is the best husband that ever lived.--This way, ma'am." + +Ruth opened a wooden gate and went up a narrow path to the door of a +small house, built of old-fashioned brick, with a porch at the side, and +a trellis covered with clematis. + +"Quite like country, isn't it, ma'am?--Mother," Ruth called. And then +from the back of the house Mrs. Pryor emerged, a thin, pale, +respectable-looking woman, but with a sad expression on her face. +"Here's a lady, mother, come to look at your apartments, for a +family--Dr. Wilton's brother, you know, mother, where I lived when I +first saw Frank." + +"Ah! indeed; will you please to look round, ma'am? It is a tidy place; I +do all I can to keep it neat and clean; and there's some good furniture +in it, left me by my dear blessed mistress." And Mrs. Pryor raised her +apron to her eyes, and spoke in a low voice, like one on the brink of +tears. + +"Well then, mother, when ladies come to be in their eighty-sevens, one +can't wish or expect them to live. It is only natural; we can't all live +to be a hundred." + +"I don't like such flighty talk, Ruth," said Mrs. Pryor reprovingly. "It +hurts me.--This way, ma'am." + +Aunt Betha followed Mrs. Pryor into a sitting-room on the ground floor, +square and very neat,--the table in the middle of the room, a large +mahogany chiffonier, with a glass of wax flowers on it, and two old +china cups. Miss Cox went to the square window and looked out. The +ground sloped away from the strip of garden, and the hamlet of Elm +Fields, consisting of the cottages and small houses where Frank now +delivered his own bread, was seen from it. There was nothing offensive +to the eye, and beyond was a line of hills. Harstone lay to the right. +Another room of the same proportions, and four bed-rooms, all very neat, +and in one, the pride of Mrs. Pryor's heart, a large four-post bed with +carved posts and heavy curtains, the very chief of the dear mistress's +gifts and legacies. + +Aunt Betha felt it would do--that it must do; and there was a little +room for the servant which Mrs. Pryor would throw in, and all for the +prescribed two pounds a week. + +"I will tell Dr. Wilton about it, and you shall hear this evening, or +to-morrow morning at latest, and you will do your best to make them +comfortable. They have had great sorrows. One thing I forgot to +consider,--how far are we from the college?" + +"Not a quarter of an hour by the Whitelands road," said Ruth eagerly. "I +can walk it in that time; and young gentlemen, why they would do it in +five minutes." + +"How many young gentlemen are there?" Mrs. Pryor asked feebly, when they +were in the passage. + +"Two that will go to the college," said Ruth quickly. Then, with a +glance at Miss Cox, she said in a lower voice, "I will make it right. +Now, ma'am, you will catch the tram at the Three Stars if you make +haste." + +Poor Aunt Betha trudged off to the Three Stars, and stumbled into the +tram just as it was starting. + +She reached Edinburgh Crescent almost at the same moment as Dr. Wilton, +who was returning from his first round. + +"I have found a house which I think will answer for the poor people from +Maplestone," she said. "I did not absolutely engage the rooms till I had +consulted you and Anna." + +Dr. Wilton gave a rapid glance to the white slate in the hall, and then +said, "Come in here a minute, auntie," opening the door of his +consulting-room. "Where are the lodgings?" + +"In the neighbourhood you mentioned--by St. Luke's Church--in that new +part by Whitelands called the Elm Fields. They are kept by a respectable +woman, the mother of an old servant of ours--Ruth--and there is room for +them all. Four bed-rooms, two sitting-rooms, and a little room for the +servant." + +"I'll take a look at the place this afternoon. I expect it is the very +thing; and I have to see a patient in that direction. If I am satisfied, +I will engage them from this day week. Guy is better to-day." + +"Yes; he slept better," said Aunt Betha. + +She was very tired, for she carried the weight of sixty-five years about +with her on her errands of love and kindness. "I must go now and carve +for Anna," she said. "It is past one o'clock." + +Dr. Wilton always took his hasty luncheon in the consulting-room,--a +glass of milk and a few biscuits. He did not encounter that long array +of young faces in the dining-room in the middle of his hard day's work. +Aunt Betha departed with her news, which was received with some +satisfaction by Mrs. Wilton. At least, Elm Fields did not lie much in +the way of Edinburgh Crescent. There was safety in distance. And Aunt +Betha wisely forbore to make any reference to the baker's shop. + +That afternoon a telegram was handed in at Maplestone, which Salome +opened for her mother with trembling fingers:-- + +"Dr. Wilton, Roxburgh, to Mrs. Wilton, Maplestone Court, near +Fairchester. + +"I have taken comfortable lodgings here for you from the twenty-third. I +will write by post." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +A JOURNEY. + + +That last week at Maplestone was like a hurried dream to all the +children, who had known no other home. Their neighbours and friends were +very kind and full of sympathy, and Mrs. Wilton and the little boys were +invited to spend the last two days with the De Brettes, who lived near, +and it was arranged that they should stay there with Ada; and that +Salome, and Stevens, and the two elder boys should precede them to +Roxburgh. Miss Barnes had said she would come with them for a day or two +to help them to arrange the rooms, and prepare everything for Mrs. +Wilton; but she was called away to the sick-bed of her own mother, and +Stevens and Salome went with Raymond and Reginald alone. The beautiful +summer seemed over, and it was in a chill drizzling rain that Salome +looked her last at Maplestone. She did not cry as the fly, laden with +boxes, rumbled slowly down the drive. Stevens sobbed aloud, and Raymond +and Reginald kept their heads well out of each window; but Salome sat +pale and tearless. The coachman's wife at the lodge stood with her +children round her at the large gate, and curtseyed; but she hid her +face in her apron, and cried bitterly. The gardener had preceded them +with the cart to the station, and the boxes were all labelled before the +party in the fly arrived. + +[Illustration: "The coachman's wife hid her face in her apron, and cried +bitterly." _Page 66._] + +"Shall I take the tickets?" Raymond asked. + +"Yes; let Master Raymond take them," exclaimed Stevens. + +Salome had the purse intrusted to her by her mother to pay expenses. + +"It is better you should begin your responsibilities," her mother had +said sadly; "and Stevens will have so much to attend to." + +Salome opened the purse and gave Raymond a sovereign. + +"Another," he said, waiting. + +"That is enough. Four tickets, third class." + +"Third class. _I_ am not going to travel third class, I assure you." + +"We must, Raymond; we _must_," said Salome. "Raymond!" + +But Raymond was gone, and Salome stood laden with small parcels, while +poor Stevens was counting over the boxes. + +The gardener had a beautiful basket of flowers ready, and had filled a +hamper with the best fruit and vegetables from the Maplestone gardens. + +"I have put up a melon, Miss Wilton, and a lot of grapes. Mind how the +hamper is unpacked. You'll still have some more flowers soon, for I +shall be coming up to Roxburgh." + +"Perhaps we had better not, thank you, Thomas. They are not ours now, +you know--nothing is ours;" and, as often happens, the sound of her own +voice as she gave utterance to the sad truth was too much for her. She +put her little hand into Thomas's, and said in a broken voice, "Here +comes the train! Good-bye, Thomas; good-bye." + +At this moment Reginald, who had been doing his utmost to help poor +Stevens, came up. + +"Now, dear Salome, make haste. Here's an empty carriage." + +"Third class? Here you are. How many seats?" said a porter. + +"_This_ way, do you hear?" Raymond called. "This way. Stevens is to go +there, and you must come with me. I've got the tickets." + +"Hallo, Wilton!" said a pleasant voice, "where are you off to?" + +"I am going to Roxburgh with my sister," said Raymond. "My sister--Mr. +Henry St. Clair," said Raymond grandly. "Get in, Salome, or you will be +left behind." + +Raymond's friend took some parcels out of Salome's hand, and courteously +helped her into the carriage, putting the umbrellas and cloaks up in the +rack behind the seat, and settling the little parcels for her. + +As the guard came to shut the door with the usual words, "Any more going +on?" Raymond said, "Where's Reginald?" and, putting his head out, he +called, "Hallo, Reginald; you'll be left behind." + +"I am going with Stevens, third class," was the answer. + +Raymond's brow grew dark, and he muttered something between his teeth. +"What an idiot! I've got his ticket." + +Salome, who had great difficulty in repressing the tears which the +good-bye to Thomas had brought in a shower, said bravely, "We ought all +to have gone with Stevens, Raymond." + +Raymond turned away, hoping his friend would not hear, and then the two +boys began to talk about Eton matters, and Salome was left to her own +sad meditations. She could not help, however, hearing some of the +conversation, and her surprise was unbounded when she heard Raymond say +his return to Eton was uncertain, for since the "governor's" death +their plans were all unsettled. They might go abroad for the winter; at +present they had taken a house near Roxburgh! + +Oh, how could Raymond talk like that? and what would become of him? +Ashamed to go third class! ashamed to say they were poor! Oh, if only +Reginald had been the eldest brother, what a difference it would have +made. + +Raymond got out at the junction, where they had to wait for the +up-train, to smoke a cigar. His friend did not accompany him, and he and +Salome were left together. With ready tact he saw that she would prefer +silence to conversation, and he only asked her if she would like the +window quite closed, as it was so damp, picked up a flower which had +fallen from Thomas's basket, and then unfolded a newspaper. + +The next minute a young man looked in at the window and said, "I thought +I saw you at Fairchester. How are you, old fellow?" + +"All right. Where are you bound for?" + +"I am going down into Cornwall till term begins. I say, there's Wilton! +As much side on as ever, I suppose. Bragging as usual, eh?" + +Henry St. Clair tried to make it evident by a sign that remarks about +Raymond were to be stopped. + +"Never was such a fellow for brag. I have been staying near +Fairchester, and I heard the other day that the whole family were left +without a farthing and heaps of debts. Is it true?" + +"I don't know," said Henry St. Clair. "Have you seen Barnard lately?" + +"No. What makes you ask? I say, St. Clair, what's up?" + +"The _up_-train. Now we are off. Here comes Wilton." + +Raymond came sauntering up, and knocking the ashes from his cigar, threw +it away. + +"You extravagant fellow!" St. Clair exclaimed. + +"Well, I can't smoke here, can I?" + +"You ought not to smoke at all, according to Eton rules," exclaimed the +other boy, as he ran away to take his place in another part of the +train. + +"Where did Harrington come from?" + +"He has been staying near Fairchester, he says," St. Clair replied +carelessly, and then he began to read his paper. + +"Near Fairchester!" thought Raymond; "then he will have heard all about +us. Whom can he have been staying with, I wonder? How stupid Salome is +sitting there like a dummy when she might talk, as she can talk +sometimes, and be agreeable. One can't go about the world airing one's +pauperism; it's such nonsense." + +The rest of the journey passed without much conversation. The Wiltons +were to get out at a small station where there was a junction of two +miles to Roxburgh. Henry St. Clair was going on to Harstone. He helped +Salome, and even said to Raymond, "Here, take your sister's bag and +umbrella, Wilton." + +Reginald and Stevens were behind at the van watching the piles of boxes +turned out, and Stevens was nervously counting them. + +Henry St. Clair bid Salome a pleasant good-bye, and she felt his kind +attentions in contrast to Raymond's indifference. + +"What a nice little thing that sister of Wilton's is!" Henry St. Clair +thought, as the train moved off and he caught sight of Salome's slight +figure standing by Stevens and the luggage which was to be carried +across to another platform for the Roxburgh train. "A nice little thing! +And what a selfish brute Wilton is; such a cad, too, with his big +talk--while she is so different. I wonder whether it is true what +Harrington has heard. I will ask Barnard. He comes from those parts, and +is sure to know. I'll ask him." + +The drizzling rain had turned into a regular down-pour, when at last +Stevens and her boxes were safely stowed away in the omnibus, and Salome +and her brothers filled a cab, with small parcels, baskets, and rugs at +the Roxburgh station. + +"Where shall I drive, sir?" asked the cabman as he prepared to mount to +his seat. + +"What's the name of the house?" said Raymond. "Salome, where are we to +drive?" + +"I--I--don't quite know," said poor Salome. "How stupid of +me!--Reginald, can you remember?" + +"It's by a church, and the name is Friar, or Pryor, or--" + +"There's a lot of churches," said the cabman; "and this ain't exactly +the weather to stand here while you put on your considering cap, with +the water pouring off one's hat enough to blind one." + +"It's St. Luke's Church. Yes, I am sure it's close to St. Luke's," +Salome exclaimed. "But Stevens will know--our nurse, who is in the +omnibus." + +"You want a nurse, you do," said the cabman, "to guide you? Come now, I +can't wait here all night." + +And now a shout was heard from the omnibus. + +"The old lady wants to speak to you," said the conductor. And Salome, +looking out at the cab window, saw Stevens frantically making signals +and trying to make her voice reach the cab. + +"Oh, Stevens knows, Stevens knows the address," and before more could be +said, Reginald had jumped out and was soon climbing the steps of the +omnibus to hear what Stevens said. He was back in a minute drenched +with rain, and saying,-- + +"Close to St. Luke's Church--Elm Fields--Elm Cottage--Mrs. Pryor." + +"All right," said the cabman. "I know--Pryor the baker; I pass down by +there from Whitelands often enough." Then he climbed to his seat, the +rain still falling in one continuous rush, and they were off. + +"How idiotic of you, Salome, not to know the address," said Raymond; +"and I do wish you would keep your hair tight. Look here!" And he gave +one of the thick plaits a somewhat rough pull as it lay like a line of +light upon Salome's black jacket. "I saw St. Clair looking at it. You +didn't take in who he was." + +"Some Eton swell, I suppose," said Reginald. + +"I thought he was very nice and kind," said Salome. + +"Nice and kind! He is Lord Felthorpe's son, and in the same house as I +am at Eton. Old Birch always manages to get the right sort of fellows! +How could you be such an ass, Reginald, as to travel third class when I +had taken a first class ticket for you?" + +"We ought all to have travelled third class," said Reginald stoutly. +"Mother said second; but there is no second on the Midland Railway, so I +went third." + +"Well, just as you please," said Raymond. "I say, what a neighbourhood +this is! not a good house to be seen," and he wiped the window of the +cab with his coat-sleeve. + +Salome looked out from her window also. + +"I don't remember this part of Roxburgh. It cannot be near Uncle +Loftus's house, I think." + +"Oh no," said Reginald; "that is the swell part--Edinburgh Crescent and +Maniston Square and the Quadrant. This is more like a part of Harstone. +Hallo!" + +The cab had stopped at last. + +"What are we stopping for?" exclaimed Salome. + +"I expect this is the place," said Reginald, "for there is a baker's +shop, and Pryor over it." + +"Nonsense," said Raymond. But the cabman got down and tapped at the +blurred glass, signing to Raymond to let it down, and saying, "Now then, +sir, look sharp!" + +"This can't be the place,--it's impossible,--it's a mistake." + +But now a cheerful voice was heard, and, with a large cotton umbrella +held over her, Ruth appeared. + +"It's all right! This way, sir, round by the gate. I am sorry you have +such a day, that I am; it makes everything look so dismal. Frank will +come and help with the luggage." + +Salome followed Ruth to the trellised porch, where the clematis was +hanging limp and damp, with drops from every tendril. Just within the +porch stood Mrs. Pryor. Smiles were not in her way at all. She looked as +sad and melancholy as the day, and when the creaking omnibus was heard +coming up the road and stopping at the gate, she held up her hands. + +"All those boxes! it's ridic'lous to think of getting 'em in." + +"Nonsense, mother; Frank will manage that in no time. There's lots of +room, and a family must have things to use." + +"You walk in, miss," said Ruth to Salome; "tea is all set in the +parlour. We thought you would like to have one room kept for meals and +one for company." + +"Company! what company! Who would ever come near them in that obscure +quarter of Roxburgh," Salome thought. And now Raymond made it worse by +coming in to declare he should not allow his mother to stay in a hole +like this, and that he should go out and look for lodgings the very next +day. Whoever took them must be mad, and he should not put up with it. +Even Reginald's good temper was tried to the utmost, and he and Raymond +began a fierce wrangle about the cab and omnibus fare; while Stevens, +wet and tired and miserable, sat down on one of her big boxes, and +seemed as if all exertion were over for her. + +"I am wore out," she said. "I have not slept for three nights. I am wore +out." + +Of course, Mrs. Pryor was too much affronted at Raymond's remarks on her +house--the house, with all the highly-polished furniture, which was at +once her pride and joy--to volunteer any consolation; but quietly +addressing Salome, she said,-- + +"You have not seen the bed-rooms yet; will you walk up, Miss Wilton?" + +Salome followed, saying, as she passed Raymond and Reginald,-- + +"Please do not say any more. I daresay we shall be very +comfortable.--And do come up with me, Stevens, and see the rooms." + +The gentle, sweet voice softened Mrs. Pryor somewhat. Stevens was +pleased to see the bed-rooms neatly furnished, and that not a speck of +dust was to be seen; from these upper windows, too, there would be, on +clear days, a nice open view; and altogether her spirits rose, and she +said "with a few things put here and there she thought she might soon +get a bed-room fit for her mistress." + +"I am glad mother did not come with us," said Salome. "It will be all +settled before Monday. If only Raymond would make the best of it." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +LOSSES AND GAINS. + + +One really sunny, good-tempered person has a wonderful effect in a +household. Ruth Pryor was the sunny element in the two days of rain +outside, and discomforts of unpacking inside the house, which followed +the arrival of the first instalment of the party from Maplestone. She +smoothed down difficulties; she laughed at her mother-in-law's +melancholy forebodings that "the party was too grand for her," and that +she, who had lived for so many years with a lady of title--her dear, +departed mistress--was not going to put up with "airs" from a young man +like Mr. Raymond. + +"It takes a time to get used to everything," Ruth said; "they'll settle +down right enough, and so Mrs. Stevens thinks. She says her mistress, +poor thing, is too broken down to grumble; and I am sure Miss Wilton is +a little angel." + +"_Very_ untidy, very careless--dropping things here and there; and she +has spilled some ink on the tablecloth." + +"A mere speck," said Ruth; "you'd need to put on your spectacles to see +it; and a green and black cloth does not show spots." + +"Not to _your_ eyes, Ruth; you are far too easy. It's a good thing you +have no family." + +"There now, mother, don't say that," said Ruth, a shadow coming over her +round, rosy face. "You know how I fretted when I lost my baby; and +Frank, he fretted enough." + +"Well, well, you may have a baby yet, only you would find you'd have to +be more particular as to bits and pieces strewed everywhere," and Mrs. +Pryor stooped to pick up some leaves which Salome had dropped as she +filled the two stiff white vases with the Maplestone flowers. + +Mrs. Wilton and the boys were expected that evening. Raymond and +Reginald were to meet them at the station; and Salome had been following +Stevens about the house, giving finishing touches here and there, and +trying to hope her mother would be pleased. The "parlour," now called +the drawing-room, was wonderfully improved by pushing the table back +against the wall, and covering it with books and a little flower-basket +from the old home. Then there was a "nest" of small tables, which +Salome and Stevens separated, and covered two of them with some bits of +scarlet cloth, round which some lace was run by Stevens. On these tables +some photographs were set in little frames, and two brackets were nailed +up with a book-shelf. Salome looked round with some satisfaction as the +sun struggled through the clouds and seemed to smile on her efforts. +Reginald enjoyed all the wrenching of nails from boxes and running out +on messages; and altogether things assumed a brighter aspect. + +Raymond had been out the greater part of the two days, and only came in +to meals. He was moody and disagreeable: selfish and discontented in the +days of prosperity, he naturally made no effort to sweeten the days of +adversity. + +"Have you got any money, Salome?" he asked his sister, as she sat down +in the dining-room with ink and pens before her and a large +blotting-case, which had once been a music portfolio, and was now filled +with a great variety of scribbled paper, the beginnings of many stories +which had been read to her little brothers by the nursery fire at +Maplestone, and were considered, by them at least, the "jolliest tales +that were ever told--much jollier than printed books." + +Out of this chaotic heap Salome thought of forming a story for children, +of which visions floated before her, bound in olive green, and embossed +with gold, and illustrated with pictures, and advertised in the papers! +Only Reginald was to be in the secret. And then the joy of giving her +mother the money she should get for her book. The little heap of gold +was already rising from ten to twenty, nay, to thirty sovereigns, when +Raymond's question broke in on her dream,-- + +"I say, Salome, have you got any money?" + +[Illustration: "'I say, Salome, have you got any money?'" _Page 80._] + +"Money! No, Raymond, only a few shillings; but mother will have some +this afternoon." + +"Well, you see, I spent nearly a pound of my own for the tickets, and +the omnibus, and cab, and porters." + +"Not for the omnibus and cab. I gave Reginald seven shillings for them. +And as to the tickets, you ought not to have taken first class tickets. +One was a waste, because Reginald did not use it." + +"A lucky thing I had the sense to take first class tickets. Fancy St. +Clair finding _me_ in a third class carriage--and _you_, worse still! If +Reginald was such a fool, I can't help it, it was not my concern; but I +have a right to look after you, and I know my father would never have +allowed you or Ada to travel third class with a lot of half-tipsy +navvies, for all I could tell." + +Raymond said this with a grandly magnanimous air, as if he were to be +commended for brotherly attention. + +Salome bit the end of her pen-holder, and could scarcely repress a +smile, but she only said,-- + +"What do you want money for, Raymond?" + +"What do I want it for? That's my business. I am not going into Roxburgh +without a penny in my pocket. It's not likely." + +"Well," Salome said, "I hope you will not tease mother for money. I hope +you will spare her as much as you can. I believe I have some money of my +own,--ten or twelve shillings,--and I can let you have it, or some of +it." Salome put her hand in her pocket to get out her purse. Alas! no +purse was there. "I must have left it upstairs," she said. + +And Raymond exclaimed,-- + +"A nice hand you'll make of keeping money for the family." + +"Stevens," Salome said, rushing up to Stevens, "have you seen my purse?" + +"No; you've never lost it?" + +"I can't have lost it.--Reginald,--I say, Reginald, have you seen my +purse? I thought it was in my pocket." + +Reginald called out from his mother's bed-room, where he was fastening +up a bracket for her little clock,-- + +"What do you say you've lost?" + +"Oh, my purse, Reginald! what _shall_ I do?" and Salome wildly turned +out a drawer in the room which she was to share with Ada, and left it in +dire confusion. + +"Dear me, Miss Salome, pray don't make work like that," said Stevens. "I +do wish you would learn to take care of your own things at least. You +never was fit to look after money." + +Salome was in despair, when Reginald came out of his mother's room +holding the lost purse on high. + +"O Reginald, where did you find it? You might have told me before. It +was a shame. Where _did_ you find it?" + +"Under the table in the dining-room last evening," and he tossed the +purse to her, saying, "It's not very heavy. But you _should_ be careful, +Salome; you are awfully careless." + +"Don't be rude, Reginald; it's not for you to take me to task. Mind your +own business, please." + +"Hallo! there's a carriage. It's Uncle Loftus; yes, that it is," +exclaimed Reginald. "He has not hurried himself to look after us, I must +say." + +Salome felt a nervous fear of her uncle, and stood irresolute at the top +of the narrow stairs. + +"Come down with me, Reginald," she said; "do come." + +"Oh no, you'll get on better alone," Reginald said; "and Raymond is +downstairs." + +"The doctor, Miss Wilton," said Mrs. Pryor, in a tone which seemed to +imply that some one was very ill. "The doctor," she repeated, looking up +from the narrow hall at Salome. + +Salome went down slowly, and her heart beat so loud she could almost +hear it. Her Uncle Loftus brought back the memory of her father so +vividly. He resembled him, as brothers do often resemble each other--a +family likeness, which starts out always more forcibly when one of that +family is gone. + +"Well, my dear child," Dr. Wilton said, advancing to Salome when at last +she opened the door, "how are you getting on? You are quite comfortable +here, I hope. It really looks very nice and home-like. It was the best +we could do for you. I heard from your mother yesterday, and she says +she is coming this afternoon with the children and--and--" (Dr. Wilton +could not fit the sister with a name) "your sister. I will try to meet +your mother, and bring her up in the carriage. I have to be at the +hospital in Harstone at four o'clock, and I think I can just manage to +get to the Elm Fields Station at five. The boys must meet the train too, +and they and the children and the luggage can come up in the omnibus." + +"Thank you, Uncle Loftus," Salome said gently. "I am very glad mamma +should drive up in the carriage." + +"What a quiet, demure little thing she is," thought Dr. Wilton. "Where +are your brothers?" he asked. + +"I thought Raymond was here," Salome said, rising as if to call him. + +"No; do not call him now. I wanted to tell you that I have, I hope, +succeeded in getting him into a merchant's office in Harstone. It really +is a most difficult thing to provide for boys in these days, as I shall +find. All professions need so much outlay to begin with--articles for +the law, and so on. But Mr. Warde, out of respect to your poor father's +memory, says he will take your brother on, at a nominal salary of twenty +pounds, just to keep him in clothes; and considering the calamity at +Fairchester, I think it is better the boy should start clear here. +Reginald must have another year at school, I suppose, and I will speak +to Dr. Stracey about it. The term does not begin till the middle of +September. The little boys you and Ada can manage between you, I +daresay." + +"Oh yes," Salome said; "I can do their lessons at present." + +"That's right. You know your poor father's affairs are in such a fearful +mess that it is impossible to tell yet how things stand. The liquidation +of the Central Bank will go on for years. A heavy overdraft there is +the ugliest part of the matter." + +"An overdraft!" poor Salome exclaimed; "I don't understand!" + +"No, my dear, you can't understand, I daresay. But, as I told you, your +poor mother's income is secure, and on that you must all make up your +minds to live till better times. It is just three hundred a year." + +Three hundred a year conveyed a very hazy idea to Salome. + +"How much had we a year at Maplestone, Uncle Loftus?" + +"How much?--my dear, your father was living at the rate of four or five +thousand a year!" + +"Four _thousand_!" This at least was a help to a clear understanding. +Four thousand did stand out in sharp contrast to three hundred. Salome +was speechless. + +"Your Aunt Anna will be calling on your mother to-morrow, and she will +settle about your coming to see your cousins. You must be about Kate's +age--seventeen." + +"I am not quite sixteen," Salome said. "Ada is just fifteen, and Raymond +seventeen. Reginald is nearly fourteen." + +"Only a year between each of you, then!" + +"The little ones are much younger. Carl is nine, and Hans eight. They +were born on the same day of the month." + +Family records of births and ages were not in Dr. Wilton's line. He +looked at his watch, and said,-- + +"Well, I must be off. I will speak to your mother about the situation +for Raymond, and other matters, as we drive up from the station. +Good-bye, my dear." And Dr. Wilton was gone, leaving Salome standing in +the middle of the room. She would have liked to kiss him, to cry a +little, and be comforted. But there was something in her uncle's +professional manner, kind though it was, which threw her back. He would +do his duty, she felt; he would not give up his brother's children; but +he would do it as shortly as possible, and waste neither time nor words +over it. + +He had smiled, and looked kind; he had spoken pleasantly and cheerfully; +he had even put his arm round her when she first went into the room, and +there was real feeling in the words, "Well, my dear child," as he kissed +her forehead; but for all that, Salome felt like a sensitive plant, +touched by the gentlest hand, which draws in, and cannot unfold in +response. + +"If only father were here!" the girl exclaimed, covering her face with +her hands. "Oh, that he were here! Oh, that we had all thought more of +him when we had him! And what a life he must have had the last year; +never telling us, and yet in such trouble!" Vain regrets for our dead; +vain longings to be what we can never be again! Let us all take care, as +the daily life rolls swiftly on, that we lay up happy memories, or at +least pleasant memories, when that daily life has become _the +past_,--the past which, when it was the present, was, alas! so often +sown with the seeds of unkindness, harshness of word and judgment, +ill-temper, selfish disregard for the feelings of others, which yield +such a bitter harvest when those we love are hidden from our sight, and +we can never more lighten a burden, or help to make the way easy by +smiles and good-temper, by tenderness and forbearance, by the love which +covereth a multitude of faults. + +Salome was roused by Raymond's entrance. + +"Why did you not come and see Uncle Loftus?" + +"He did not ask for me." + +"Yes, he asked where you were; but he told me not to call you." + +"I did not want to see him. I hate his patronizing ways. Have you found +your purse?" + +"Yes, Reg had picked it up; but you are not going out before dinner, are +you, Ray?" + +"Oh, I don't know," said Raymond, stretching and yawning. "I should have +thought we had better have dined at seven, when mamma comes." + +"I--I don't think Mrs. Pryor would like a late dinner." + +"Well, I can get a little luncheon somewhere in Roxburgh. It is so fine, +and it is so slow being cooped up here." + +"You have to go with Reg to the Elm Fields Station to meet mamma--don't +forget that--at five o'clock." + +"All right." But Raymond lingered. "The money, Sal; I'll pay you back." +Salome opened the purse and took out two half-crowns. "Thanks!" said +Raymond; "it _is_ a come down to want a paltry five shillings." + +"O Raymond!" Salome said passionately,--"O Ray, do try to make the best +of things to mother! It will make her so dreadfully sad if you grumble. +Dear Raymond, I will do all I can, only please do try to make the best +of everything." + +"You are a kind little thing," said Raymond; "but I wish we were all at +the bottom of the Red Sea. There is nothing left to live for or care +about; no pleasure, and no fun; nothing but to be looked down upon!" + +"I believe Uncle Loftus has heard of something for you, and perhaps you +will make money and be a rich merchant." Raymond whistled and shrugged +his shoulders, and strolled off, lighting a cigar in the porch. + +Then Salome went to find Reginald, and make her peace with him. + +"Reg, let us go out. It is so fine; and I am so sorry I was so careless +about the purse. It was very good of you to pick it up, Reg; I was +horridly cross to you." + +"Never mind, Sal. Yes, let's go out and look about the place till +dinner." + +"I don't see that we want any dinner to-day, Reg. We can have the +cutlets at tea, when the others come; and Stevens won't mind--she can +have eggs and bacon. And we'll find a shop and have some buns and +ginger-beer. I'll get ready at once, and tell Stevens to tell Mrs. +Pryor. It will be fun, and save expense, you know." + +Poor child! she was soon ready; and Reginald and she set off in better +spirits than they had known since their troubles had fallen on them. + +When Salome was outside the gate, and had nodded to Ruth, who was behind +the counter of the shop, she discovered she had got both left-hand +gloves. "But it will spoil all if I tell Reg, and go back, and keep him +waiting while I hunt for the right-hand glove. He will say I am +incorrigible." So by a little skilful manoeuvring Salome persuaded her +right hand to accommodate itself to circumstances, and tripped almost +gaily by her brother's side. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +COUSINS. + + +The walk had an exhilarating effect on both brother and sister. There is +a charm in novelty to us all, and it is a charm which is more especially +felt by the young. The present moment bears with it its own importance, +and neither future nor past has the power with children that it has with +grown-up people. Reginald and Salome soon left behind them the lines of +small villas and long narrow streets intersecting each other which +stretched out from the district called Elm Fields, connecting it with +Roxburgh in one direction, and sloping down towards Harstone in the +other. + +Beyond all these signs of increasing population was a wide expanse of +common or down, skirted, it is true, by houses which year by year are +multiplied, but yet comprising an acre or two of broken ground with dips +and hollows, and, again, wide spaces of soft turf, freshened by the +breezes which come straight from the mouth of the river on which +Harstone stands, some ten miles away. + +"This is nice," Salome said. "I feel as if I could run and jump here. +And look at that line of blue mountains, Reg! Is it not lovely? Oh, we +can come here very often! I think I remember driving across these downs +when I came with dear father to stay at Uncle Loftus's three or four +years ago. We are nearer the downs than the fashionable part of the +place, I believe." + +"Yes," said Reginald; "I call this jolly. And there's the college over +there; we will go home that way, and find out a short cut back to Elm +Fields. I say, Sal, there is no one near, or no one who can watch us; +let's have a race to the big thorn bush right in front, and on to the +stumpy tree to the left." + +Salome gave a quick glance round, and then said, "Off!" Away she went, +fleet of foot, her plaits of hair falling over her shoulders, refusing +to be kept in place by the hair-pins, which were indeed not strong +enough to bear up that mass of tawny locks on ordinary occasions, +certainly not now when Salome was flying in the teeth of a brisk wind +over the open downs. + +"Well done," said Reginald, breathless with his exertions, "you were not +two yards behind me; but, I say, Sal, your hair!" + +"Oh, what shall I do? and no pins! I must go back and look for them." + +"Here's one caught in your jacket; but it would be like looking for a +needle in a bundle of hay to look for the others on the down. No one +will know you; let it all go." + +"I will go to a hairdresser and have it cut off. It's no use being +bothered like this. Now, let us walk quietly; I wish to consult you +about my story. Shall I make the children orphans, living with a cross +aunt? or shall they have a father and mother? And would you put in that +tale about the monkey which Hans is so fond of? That is a really true +tale, you know. It happened to Stevens's little niece." + +"Well, I think stories about monkeys pulling watches to pieces and +breaking tea-cups are rather stale. So are all stories, if you come to +that--the same things told hundreds of times, just the names of the +children changed." + +Salome was silent, feeling rather disappointed at this douche of cold +water over her schemes of authorship. + +"But, Reg, if stories are to be like life, they _must_ be the same +things told over and over again, just as things do go on happening over +and over again. For instance, all that is happening to us now has +happened to thousands and thousands of other families,--may be +happening at this very moment. The thing is," said Salome thoughtfully, +"it is the _way_ of telling a story which makes the difference. We see +things differently, and then we put the old thing in a new light. That +is why there is everything fresh every day, and nothing can be really +stale, as you call it. All this beautiful view never can look quite the +same, for there is certain to be a variety in the lights and shadows." + +"Oh, well, I daresay; but then I am not sentimental or romantic, though +I think you are awfully clever, and would beat Ada, or any of us, any +day. I wonder how I shall get on at the college? It will be very +different to Rugby. I must work hard and make the best of the year, for +I am only to have a year more at school. Did not Uncle Loftus say so?" + +"Yes; but perhaps it may turn out differently. You are sure to get on, +whatever happens. It is about Raymond I am so afraid. I cannot imagine +him in an office in Harstone.--How that girl is staring at me, Reginald, +and the boy too. Is it at my hair?" + +"Come along," said Reginald; "don't look at them." + +He turned towards the low wall which skirts the side of the down where +the high rocks, through which the river runs, rise to a considerable +height on the Roxburgh side. Reginald leaned with folded arms against +the wall, and Salome, uncomfortably conscious that her hair was floating +over her back in most dire confusion, stood by him, never turning her +head again. At last Salome heard a voice close to her say,-- + +"Yes, I am sure it is, Digby. Let me ask her." + +"Nonsense. You can't be sure." + +There was a moment's silence, and then Kate Wilton seized on her chance. +Salome's pocket-handkerchief, as she turned at a sign from Reginald to +walk away, fell from the pocket at the side of her dress. + +"I think this is yours," said Kate, "your pocket-handkerchief; and I +think you are my cousin. We--we came to see you at Maplestone two years +ago." + +The brightest colour rose to Salome's face, and she said, "Yes, I am +Salome Wilton. Reginald!"--for Reginald had walked on, resolutely +determined not to believe they had any kinship with the boy and girl who +had stared at them--"Reginald," Salome said, overtaking him, "do stop;" +adding in a lower voice, "It's so uncivil." + +Reginald, thus appealed to, was obliged to turn his head, and in the +very gruffest voice said, "How do you do?" to Digby, who advanced +towards him. + +"I am so glad we met you," Kate said. "I have been watching you for ever +so long. Something made me sure you were our cousin. I was not so sure +about your brother. I daresay he has very much grown in two years, but +you are so little altered, and"--Kate paused and laughed--"I knew your +hair; it is such wonderful hair. Don't you remember how you used to let +it down at Maplestone, and make me guess which was your face and which +was the back of your head? It was not so long then." + +Salome felt more and more uncomfortable about her hair, and said, "I am +quite ashamed of my untidiness; but I have lost all my pins, and my hair +is such a dreadful bother." + +"It is beautiful," said Kate. "I am sure I should not call it a bother. +I wish you could give me some; but we have all scraggy rats' tails. We +should like to walk with you, if we may," Kate continued. "Which way are +you going?" + +"Oh, no way in particular. Reginald and I came out for a walk. We have +had such dreadful weather since we have been here." + +"Yes; and Digby and I, like you and your brother, were tired of staying +at home. It is so dull for the boys when they have bad weather in the +holidays. I hope it is going to clear up now." + +Salome hoped so too, and then there was silence. But Kate soon broke it +with some trivial remark, and the girls made more rapid advances towards +friendship than the boys. Kate was pleasant and good-tempered, and was +easy to get on with. But Salome listened in vain for much conversation +between the boys. All the talk came from Digby, and she felt vexed with +her brother for his ungraciousness. But boys are generally more reticent +than girls, and have not so many small subjects to discuss with each +other on first acquaintance, till they get upon school life and games. + +"I hope you will come home with us," Kate said, after a pause, during +which she had been calculating the time of her mother and Louise's +departure to luncheon at a friend's house in the neighbourhood. A glance +at the clock of a church they passed reassured her. "They were certain +to have started," she thought. "Aunt Betha would not mind if I took home +half-a-dozen people to luncheon." + +"You are going out of your way, Salome," said Reginald. "We ought to +turn up this way to Elm Fields." + +"I want them to come home to luncheon, Digby. Do make them." + +"Oh yes, pray, come," said Digby, "unless you have anything better to +do." + +"Oh no," said Salome simply. "Reginald and I were going to get some buns +at a shop. We did not intend to go back till--" + +A warning, not to say angry, glance from Reginald stopped Salome, and +she added,-- + +"Perhaps we had better not come, thanks. Mamma and Ada and the children +are coming this afternoon, and Reginald has to be at the station at five +o'clock to meet them." + +"Well, as it's not one o'clock yet," said Digby, "there's time, I should +think, for both." He changed companions as he spoke, and, leaving Kate +to Reginald, walked briskly on with Salome towards Edinburgh Crescent. + +The bell was ringing for the "children's dinner" as the four cousins +were admitted by the "boy in buttons" who answered the doctor's bell, +and had in truth time for little else than swinging back that door on +the hinges and receiving patients' notes, telegrams, and messages. + +"You are late, Miss Kate," was Bean's greeting. By reason of his name +poor Bean had a variety of sobriquets in the family. Of these "Stalky +Jack" and "Vegetable" were amongst the most conspicuous. + +"Is mamma gone?" Kate asked anxiously. + +"Yes, miss, just turned the corner as you came up. Lady Monroe don't +lunch till one-thirty: _we_ lunch at one sharp." + +Another ring, before the door had well closed, took Bean to it again, +and Kate, saying, "It is all right, Salome, come upstairs," led the way +to the room she shared with Louise, while Digby took Reginald into the +dining-room. + +An evening dress of blue and white lay on one of the little beds, and +Kate dexterously covered it with a white shawl; for Salome's deep crape +reminded her that neither she nor Louise was really wearing the proper +mourning for her uncle. + +"Just take the daisies out of your hats," her mother had said, "and wear +your black cashmeres. It is really impossible to provide mourning for a +family like this; and besides, so few people here will know much about +it--so many are away; and by the time Roxburgh is full again, the six +weeks' mourning for an uncle will be over. Still, as you two elder girls +are seen with me, you must not be in colours; it is a fortunate thing I +had just had that black silk made up." + +The memory of her mother's words passed swiftly through Kate's mind, and +she hoped Salome would not notice the blue dress. She need not have been +afraid. Salome was fully occupied with plaiting up her hair and +possessing herself of two or three stray hair-pins she saw on the +dressing-table. + +The room was not particularly tidy or attractive; very different to the +bright sunny room at Maplestone, with its wreath of ivy round the +windows and its decorations within, in which Ada delighted. The back of +Edinburgh Crescent looked out on strips of dark gardens, shut in by red +brick walls; and beyond, the backs of another row of houses. + +"Louise and I are obliged to share a room," Kate said. "Though this +house looks large, we fill it from top to bottom--we are such an +enormous family. That's poor little Guy," she said, as a wailing, +fretful cry was heard. "The nursery is next our room. Guy is our baby: +he is very delicate, and I don't think papa has much hope that he will +live. Now we must come down to luncheon. I hope you don't mind barley +soup and treacle pudding. We are certain not to have anything better +to-day, because mamma and Louise are out." She said this laughing as she +ran down before Salome. + +The long table with its row of young faces bewildered Salome. She felt +shy and uncomfortable, and Aunt Betha, rising from her place at the head +of the table, advanced kindly toward her. + +"Come and sit next me, my dear. There are so many cousins; don't attempt +to speak to them all. Will you have some hashed mutton or cold +beef?--Go on with your dinners, Edith and Maude"--for the little girls +had stopped short in eating to gaze curiously at their cousin. "Do you +take beer, my dear? Only water! that is right. We are all better for +taking water.--Now, Digby, send down the potatoes.--We wait on ourselves +at luncheon. I hope you find your lodgings comfortable. Mrs. Pryor is a +very superior person, rather gloomy, but Ruth laughs enough for a dozen. +A giddy girl she was when she lived here.--You remember Ruth, Kate?" + +"No, I don't," said Kate; "we have a tide of girls passing through the +house. They are all alike." + +Aunt Betha's kindly chatter was a great help to Salome, and she began to +feel less oppressed by the presence of her cousins. Such an army of boys +and girls it seemed to her! and the home picture so widely different to +that which she had known at Maplestone. "Children's dinner," with +neither father nor mother present, at Dr. Wilton's was of the plainest, +and Mrs. Wilton expended her ornamental taste on her drawing-room, where +she had many afternoon teas and "at homes." Dinner parties or even +luncheon parties were rare, and the dining-room was therefore generally +bare and commonplace in its arrangements. A dusty fern, which looked +unhappy and gas-stricken, drooped rather than lived in a china pot in +the middle of the table; but beyond this there were no signs of flower +or of leaf. + +Yet it was _home_, and Salome felt by force of contrast homeless and +sad. The boys were going to see a cricket match, and Digby wanted +Reginald to come with them. + +"I shall not have time, thank you. We ought to be going back now, +Salome." + +But Kate overruled this, and Reginald was obliged to consent, and went +off with his cousins till four o'clock, when he was to return to pick up +his sister and take her to Elm Fields before going to the station. + +"We will have a cozy talk in the school-room, and I will get Aunt Betha +to let us have some tea. The children are all going out, and mamma and +Louise will not be back yet, so we shall have peace." Kate said this as, +with her arm in Salome's, she led the way to the school-room,--a very +bare, untidy room in the wing built out at the back of the house, and +over Dr. Wilton's consulting-room. Two battered leather chairs, which +had seen years of service, were on either side of the fireplace; and +there was a long bookcase, taking up the wall on one side, where school +books for every age and degree were arranged in brown paper covers. A +writing-desk standing on the table, with a cover over it, and an +inkstand with pen and pencil, all belonging to Miss Scott, the daily +governess, was the only really tidy spot in the whole room. The walls +were covered with maps and pictures cut from the _Illustrated News_--two +or three of these in frames--conspicuous amongst them the familiar child +in the big sun bonnet tying up her stocking on the way to school, and +another sitting on a snowy slope, apparently in a most uncomfortable +position, but smiling nevertheless serenely on the world generally. + +"This is our school-room, and I am glad I have nearly done with it. That +cracked piano is enough to drive one wild. It is good enough for the +'little ones' to drum on. Do you care for music?" + +"Yes, I care for it, but I don't play much. Ada plays beautifully." + +"Ada is very pretty, isn't she? I remember one of you was very pretty." + +"Yes, Ada is thought lovely. She is not in the least like me." + +"Well, I hope we shall be good friends. I am sorry you are out in that +poky part of Roxburgh; but Digby and I shall come very often, and you +must come here whenever you can." + +"It is so odd," Kate went on, "that only a year ago we used to call you +our grand relations, who were too stuck-up to care for us--" + +"Oh! please, don't talk so," said Salome, with a sudden earnestness of +appeal. "Pray don't talk so. I can't bear it." + +"I did not mean to hurt you, I am sure," said Kate eagerly. "Don't cry, +Salome." For Salome had covered her face with her hands to hide her +tears. "How stupid of me! Do forgive me," said Kate, really distressed. +"But I am always doing things of this kind--saying the wrong thing, or +the right thing at the wrong time." + +Salome made a great effort to recover herself, and soon was amused at +Kate's lively description of the ways and doings at Edinburgh Crescent. +Kate could describe things well, and delighted in having a listener, +especially one like Salome, who was sure not to break in with--"You told +me that before;" or, "I have heard that story a hundred times." + +But though Salome was amused, she was secretly surprised at Kate's free +discussion of the faults and failings of her brothers and sisters. +Salome would never have dreamed of talking of Raymond's selfishness and +arrogance to outside people, nor of Ada's serene contentment with +herself, which was passive rather than active, but was trying enough at +times. Salome's loyalty in this respect is worth considering; for the +inner circle of home ought to be sacred, and the veil should not be +lifted to curious eyes to make public faults, and troubles which too +often arise from those faults and darken with cold shadows the sky of +home. + +The boys did not return by four o'clock, and Salome, afraid that she +should not be at Elm Fields in time to receive her mother, set out to +walk there alone. Just as she was leaving the house, her aunt and Louise +arrived in a carriage, and were saying good-bye to two ladies, who had +evidently driven them back from the luncheon party. + +As the little black figure glided past, Kate, who was standing in the +hall, called out-- + +"Mamma! that is Salome. Mamma!--" + +Mrs. Wilton took no notice of the exclamation; and Louise said, "Pray, +do go back, Kate." + +But Lady Monroe had turned her head, and was looking earnestly after +Salome's retreating figure. + +"Is not that Salome Wilton, Eva," she asked of her daughter,--"poor Mr. +Arthur Wilton's child? I should so much like to speak with her. I was at +Maplestone last year.--Stop by that young lady," she said to the +footman, as he closed the carriage-door--"the young lady in black." + +"How very odd!" exclaimed Louise, as the carriage drove off. "Lady +Monroe never said she knew the Maplestone people. Why, Salome is getting +into the carriage. How absurd! Mamma, I do believe they will drive her +home--next door to the baker's shop. Just fancy!" + +"Do not stand on the pavement making such loud remarks, Louise," said +Mrs. Wilton. + +"I am glad," exclaimed Kate, "that Lady Monroe is so kind. And how could +you and mamma cut Salome like that?" + +"How should I know who she was?" said Louise sharply. "I did not go to +Maplestone with you." + +"Well, mamma _must_ have known her anyhow," said Kate. "She is the +nicest girl I have seen for a long time. I shall make a friend of her, I +can tell you." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +ARRIVALS. + + +"I shall be so glad to drive you home, my dear," Lady Monroe said, as +Salome seated herself in the carriage. "I have the pleasure of knowing +your mother; and Eva and I spent a very pleasant day at Maplestone last +year, when I renewed an old acquaintance. How long have you been in +Roxburgh? I wish Dr. Wilton had told me you were here." + +"We only came the other day," Salome said; "indeed, mother and the +children are not here yet. We expect them at five o'clock, and that is +why I am so anxious to get back. We have lodgings at Elm Fields." + +"You must direct us when we get nearer the place. Have you been spending +the day at your uncle's?" + +"Reginald and I met Kate and Digby on the down, and we went back to +dinner. I have not seen Aunt Anna yet. Uncle Loftus came to see me." + +Then fearing she might have left a wrong impression she added-- + +"Uncle Loftus is very kind to us." + +"He is kind to everybody," said Eva Monroe earnestly. "He is the best +doctor in the world--except for sending me to Cannes for the winter." + +"He has done that for the best, Eva;" and Lady Monroe sighed. "It only +shows how conscientious he is." + +Salome was becoming nervous about the right turn to Elm Cottage; and her +wrong glove began to worry her as she looked at Eva Monroe's slender +fingers in their neatly-shaped four-button black kid gloves. + +"It is up there, I think," Salome said. "Yes; I know it is." Then, as +the crimson rushed into her face, she said, "Elm Cottage is at the end +of this road, next to a baker's shop." + +"It is a pleasant, airy situation," Lady Monroe said. "You must tell +your mother I shall call upon her very soon; and perhaps she will let me +take her for a drive." + +"Oh! it is near St. Luke's Church, mamma--Mr. Atherton's church. Why, it +is the very house the Athertons lodged in till the vicarage was ready." + +"So it is. You will find the Athertons pleasant neighbours," Lady Monroe +said. "They will be nice friends for you, I hope; and the church is a +very nice one. I daresay Mr. Atherton will be glad of your help in the +Sunday school." + +The carriage drew up as she was speaking, and the footman looked down +from his seat doubtfully. + +"Yes; this is right," said Lady Monroe. "Good-bye, my dear. I am so glad +I met you." + +"A sweet, gentle girl," Lady Monroe said, as Salome, having expressed +her thanks, disappeared behind the little wooden gate. "It is very sad +for them all. What a change from that lovely place, Maplestone Court, +where I saw poor Emily Wilton last year!" + +"Yes," said Eva; "to lose their father and money and position." + +"Not position, Eva. A gentlewoman can never really lose position in the +eyes of right-thinking people. I feel a great interest in the Wiltons; +for their mother is, I should think, but little fitted to struggle with +adversity; she was never strong." + +"I wish we were not going to Cannes, mother, and then we could often go +and see them. Oh! I do _not_ want to go away; my cough is quite well. It +is so hard to go. Think how tired we were of the life there last year." +And a cloud of discontent came over the fair face of the delicately +nurtured girl, who had all that loving care could suggest to brighten +her life and soften the privations which delicate health brings with it +to the young. + +It must strike us all, old and young, when we look round upon the lives +of others, that there is a crook in every lot, and that God will have us +all learn the lesson of "patience,"--patience which can make the crooked +places straight and the rough places smooth. + +Salome found Stevens had set out tea on a little table in the +dining-room. The tea-pot had a cosy over it; and a plate of thin bread +and butter, cut from one of Ruth's fancy loaves, looked inviting. + +"This is the mistress's time for afternoon tea," Stevens said. "She +could not sit down to a table at this time, just off a journey too. I +have got some buns for the children. Now, Miss Salome, do go and get +yourself tidy, to look home-like. Where are the young gentlemen? Master +Reginald went out with you." + +"I expect they are both gone down to the station. Reg and I have been to +dinner at Uncle Loftus's. Oh! here is the carriage. Here are mother and +Ada!" + +Salome went swiftly out to meet her mother and sister, and tried to +greet them with a smile. "Mother," she exclaimed; "I am so glad you have +come." + +Mrs. Wilton made an effort to respond to Salome cheerfully; but Ada did +not even try to smile. + +"Now, then," said Dr. Wilton, "I must not stay. Reginald is walking up +with the little boys and my Digby. The luggage will follow in the +omnibus." + +"Won't you have a cup of tea, Uncle Loftus?" said Salome. "We have it +all ready." + +"No, thanks, my dear, I cannot stay. I have a consultation at half-past +five. Really you have made the best of this room; it looks quite pretty; +and it is quiet here. I hope you will be comfortable." + +While he was speaking, Mrs. Pryor appeared, with a courtesy so profound +that Dr. Wilton had to hurry away to hide a smile. + +"I hope I see you well, ma'am," said Mrs. Pryor; "and I hope, I am sure, +you will mention anything I can do for you, and I will try in my poor +way to do it. It's a world of trouble, ma'am, and you have had your +share, as I have had mine; and I know how hard it must be for you, +ma'am, in the evening of your days, to have a change like this--from +riches to--" + +"Here are the little ones," exclaimed Salome, as the sound of the +children's voices was heard in the porch. + +Hans and Carl were in the highest spirits. They had chattered all the +way from the station, and were ready to be pleased with everything. + +They brought with them a relic of the old home, in the person of a +little white fluffy dog, named Puck, which came bustling in at their +heels, flying up at every one in expectation of a welcome, and +regardless of Salome's-- + +"Mother, what will Mrs. Pryor say to a dog? I thought Puck was to be +given to the De Brettes." + +"The children begged so hard to bring him," Mrs. Wilton said. "Puck is a +dog no one can object to." + +Salome looked doubtful, and said-- + +"I am sure Mrs. Pryor won't let him get on the chairs," as Puck seated +himself on one of them. "Get down, Puck." + +"I thought it was a mistake to bring Puck," Ada said; "but the children +would have their own way." + +"He is a very well-behaved dog in general," said Stevens, anxious to +make peace and avoid discussion with Mrs. Pryor; "and if he forgets his +manners, we must teach him, that is all." + +"Where is the nursery?" Carl asked, "and the school-room? Are we to have +tea there?" + +"You shall all have tea together this evening," Stevens said; "but I +will show you your room, my dears. Come upstairs." + +"Where is Raymond?" Mrs. Wilton asked. + +"Raymond!" exclaimed Salome. "He said he would go to the station. Did +you not see him?" + +"No," Reginald said. "Digby Wilton and I walked down together from the +cricket match. Digby is not so bad after all." + +"I think him very nice, and I like Kate. I had quite an adventure, +mamma. Lady Monroe, who says she knew you years and years ago, brought +me from Edinburgh Crescent in her carriage, and was so kind. Do you +remember her, mother? She came to Maplestone last year." + +Poor Mrs. Wilton, who had been trying to keep back her tears, found the +very mention of her old home too much at this moment. A sob was the only +answer; and Ada said-- + +"Mamma had better go and take off her things and rest a little. Show us +the way, Salome." Reginald followed, and tried not to be disappointed +that his mother did not notice the book-shelves and several little +contrivances in her room. And Salome wished Ada would not say, "How +dreadfully small the house is; and how this huge ugly bed fills up the +room,"--the four-post bed which was Mrs. Pryor's glory. + +She had come up behind the party, and hearing her most valued possession +thus slighted, took her revenge forthwith. + +"I beg your pardon, ma'am; I don't wish to intrude; but I do not take +_dawgs_. No dawgs or cats are allowed in _my_ house. I don't take +_children_ as a rule--never; but a dawg I cannot put up with. It would +wear my spirits out. I hope," looking round, "you are _satisfied_, +ma'am!" + +"Oh, it is all very clean and neat, thank you," Mrs. Wilton faltered +out; "it will do very nicely, and--and I will see about Puck: if he is +troublesome, he must be sent away." + +Alas! the very spirit of mischief, whose name he bore, seemed to have +suddenly possessed Puck. A great bustling and low growling was heard on +the staircase, and Hans and Carl laughing and saying, "At it, Puck--good +Puck." In another moment Puck appeared shaking something soft +frantically, and tearing wildly about with it in his mouth, letting off +the spirits which had been pent up on his journey from Fairchester. + +"What has he got? Take it from him, children.--What is it, Salome?" + +"It's a bird, I think.--Puck, put it down," said Reginald sternly, +seizing Puck by his fluffy tail, and administering several hard slaps. + +[Illustration: "'It's a bird, I think.--Puck, put it down!'" _Page +113._] + +When at last Puck dropped his prey, Mrs. Pryor exclaimed, "My feather +brush--my dear, dear mistress's feather brush! I've seen her dust her +own chayny with it _times_. I wouldn't have taken a pound for it. Oh +dear! oh dear!" + +"It is not much injured, I hope," said Mrs. Wilton. "Only two feathers +have been loosened." + +"A nasty, mischievous little thing," said Mrs. Pryor in an injured tone, +making a thrust at Puck with the short handle of the feather brush. + +It was not in dog nature to take this patiently, and Puck stood at bay, +barking furiously, and growling as an interlude between every fresh +outburst. + +Mrs. Pryor put her hands to her ears, and saying something about calling +her son to protect her, she toddled away. After a storm comes a calm. +Puck stood apologetically on his hind legs when his enemy was gone; and +Carl, seizing him in his arms, carried him off to the little room he was +to occupy with Hans, saying, "That horrid old woman should not touch +him." + +Like the sun shining through a cloud was the appearance of Ruth's +good-natured face. + +"I will manage it all," she said to Stevens. "If mother makes a great +fuss, why, I'll take the little creature to live with us. _I_ am not so +particular or fidgety. Don't take any notice of what mother may say; she +means well." + +Alas! how many people "mean well," and how much better it would be if +they made their meaning clear. Their good intentions are often like a +riddle, hard to find out. If the intention is good, it is a pity that it +is not better fulfilled. People who say they mean well are, I am afraid, +often very disagreeable, and do not make the lives of others easier by +their "good meaning." + +The evening passed. Tea was over. The "little ones" were in bed. Stevens +was sitting at supper with Mrs. Pryor when Raymond rang the bell. + +"Where have you been, Raymond?" Salome said, going out to meet her +brother. "Why did you not go to the station to meet mamma?" + +"Why didn't I go?--there were plenty without me," he said crossly. "I +have been with Barington; I met him in Roxburgh, and I was thankful to +get out of this hole." + +"Raymond, don't say that to mamma," Salome entreated. + +"Well, my dear boy," Mrs. Wilton said, rising wearily from her chair as +Raymond went into the room, "I was getting quite anxious about you;" and +then she kissed him affectionately. + +"I met an old friend--Barington," Raymond said; "and I knew Reginald +would meet you.--Hallo, Ada, how are you? Barington wanted to come +to-morrow to see you. He admires your photograph so much; but I could +not let him see us here, so I put him off." + +Ada looked up with a placid smile from her work--for Ada was never idle +for a moment--and said, "Who is Barington?" + +"Oh, an awfully nice fellow!--I say, mother, you won't stay here, will +you? No decent people will call upon you. I can easily find you some +nice lodgings Barington told me of." + +"My dear boy, we must stay here for the present. It is quiet and better +than living in a street. Will you have any tea, Raymond?" she asked. + +"No, thanks; I have dined with Barington at the Queen's. He paid the +score." + +Raymond had a soft, caressing way with his mother, and she now sat with +her hand in his, looking at him with loving interest. + +"I can't bear you to live in a place like this," he began again, "you +dear mother. I am sure there are heaps of good lodgings in the better +part of Roxburgh, only our kind relatives did not wish to have us too +near them." + +"Nonsense, Raymond," Salome broke in. + +"Well, never mind about that, dear. Uncle Loftus has, he thinks, heard +of something for you in Harstone. You are to go and see Mr. Warde with +him to-morrow at ten o'clock punctually." + +"Uncle Loftus won't like to be kept waiting, so you must be up in good +time to be at Edinburgh Crescent by ten o'clock, Digby says." + +"Shut up, Reginald," said his brother; "I do not want your +interference." + +"What is to be done about old Birch, mother?" he asked turning again to +Mrs. Wilton; "he ought to have a term's notice. I thought I could go +back till Christmas." + +"Oh no, Raymond; I am afraid that is impossible. My dear boy, it is such +pain to me--to--to--" + +Mrs. Wilton was in tears again, and Salome murmured, "How can you be so +selfish, Raymond?" while Reginald, unable to control his indignation, +went out of the room, shutting the door with a sharp bang. + +"Oh, well, mother, I'll go to this Mr. Warde's, of course, and I daresay +they will give me a good salary, and then I will get you some other +lodgings the very first thing; see if I don't. I am not going to allow +you to be shelved off here; and Ada! I daresay these Edinburgh Crescent +people are jealous of her. There is not one of them half as +good-looking." + +"Oh, why did Ada smile and look pleased? Why did Raymond always get +undeserved praise?" Salome thought. For Mrs. Wilton said, "It is very +good and dear of you to think about us, Ray; I only hope you will be +happy. My children's happiness is now the only thing I have to live +for." + +Salome bit her lip, as she listened to her brother for the next ten +minutes, standing now with his back to the chimney-piece surveying the +room, and interspersing his remarks on it, which were anything but +complimentary, with stories of "Barington," and a fellow who had dined +with them at "The Queen's." + +"Shall we have prayers, mother?" Salome said at last. "You must be very +tired, and--" + +"Prayers! oh, not to-night, Sal; besides, who is to read them?" said +Raymond. + +Salome faltered a little as she said, "We can read a Psalm for the +Evening in turn, and perhaps mother will say a prayer." + +"Yes," Mrs. Wilton said; "you are quite right, dear. Call Reg and +Stevens, and bring me my large prayer-book, for my eyes are so weak. I +am in the evening of life, as Mrs. Pryor told me," she added with a sad +smile; "and the last month has added ten years to my age." + +"Why, mother, you look so young," said Ada. "I do dislike Mrs. Pryor +talking in that whiny-piny voice; and how disagreeable she was about +Puck." + +Salome, who had gone to fetch the books, now returned with Stevens and +Reginald, whom she had coaxed to come back. Then she found the places in +the books, and the young voices read together the Psalm for the Seventh +Evening. It seemed to bring its message of peace to the young, untried +heart of the eldest daughter of those fatherless children. + +"Fret not thyself because of the ungodly.... Put thou thy trust in the +Lord, and be doing good: dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be +fed. _Delight_ thou in the Lord: and he shall give thee thy heart's +desire." + +"I will try to delight myself--that means, be cheerful and patient," +Salome thought. "I must take care not to be too hard on Raymond, as if I +thought myself better than he. But I feel as if it would be a _fight_ +now, and as if I should never be able to forget the troubles quite. I +must set myself to be patient and cure my own faults, and be as happy as +I can, that mother may see we are all trying to help her, and that we +_like_ to help her. How far, far worse it is for her than for any of +us." + +Thoughts like these were in Salome's heart as she lay down to sleep that +night, and there was a shining as it were from the "delight in the Lord" +upon her young, sweet face, as her mother, weary, yet sleepless, took +her candle and went to look at her children as of old in the spacious +nurseries of Maplestone. The little boys lay in the profoundest +slumber, and the mother's heart yearned over them with unspeakable +tenderness. But as she left them and gently opened the door of the +girls' room, and stood by the bed where the sisters slept, she felt as +if the story of the last few weeks had left its trace on Salome's face. +The expression was changed, and though bright and sweet, it was the face +of the woman rather than of the child. Salome had entered the school +where God takes the text and preaches patience. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +"SETTLING DOWN." + + +It is wonderful how the wave of a great storm carries us unresisting on +its crest. We are, as it were, washed ashore; stunned and bewildered for +a time, but soon to find the necessity of struggling onward--to do our +best. Stripped of all we have held dear,--however desolate, however +bare, life must be faced and the burden must be borne. + +Children like the Wiltons have youth and the freshness of spring-time to +help them on; while women of Mrs. Wilton's age--in the autumn of her +days--naturally clinging for support to others, are more likely to +collapse, like the ivy when the prop on which it depended is removed. + +A man so widely respected as Mr. Wilton had been was not without +friends, and several of them came forward with valuable and substantial +help. Ready money to meet the current expenses which were absolutely +necessary was kindly offered; and Mr. De Brette wrote to Mrs. Wilton, +after the sale at Maplestone, to say he had bought in one or two +pictures, and some other little things, which she was to accept as a +small token of gratitude for services rendered to him by Mr. Wilton in +past years. The arrival of these things in the van from the railway +caused great excitement amongst the children, while the sight of them +seemed to open afresh the flood-gates of poor Mrs. Wilton's grief. They +were chosen with that sympathetic feeling of what she would care for +most, which doubled the value of the gifts. Her own and her husband's +portrait, painted by a good artist at the time of her marriage; a +beautiful copy of the San Sisto Madonna; her own devonport; a certain +chair which she had always used; and the table and chair from Mr. +Wilton's library; and a good many little odds and ends of familiar +things. And a box containing enough plate for everyday use was brought +by Mr. De Brette himself, and placed in Mrs. Wilton's hands. + +The settling in of all these things was an interest and delight to the +children, and Mrs. Wilton was glad for their sakes that it was so. + +Mrs. Pryor could not be brought to admire anything. She was incredulous +as to the identity of the fair, graceful, smiling girl in the picture +with the pale, careworn widow lady who sat beneath it. As to the poor +gentleman, he might have been good-looking, but he was not fit to hold a +candle to the doctor. But she had been used to such beautiful pictures +at her dear departed lady's house--nothing could look _much_ after them. +Her bitterest shafts were hurled against the devonport, to make room for +which an old mahogany what-not had to be removed: "A clumsy thing, and +yet all gim-cracky, with a lot of little drawers--no use to anybody. She +hoped she was not expected to dust all them things, for she just +honestly said she wasn't going to do it." + +But at last all was settled down, and except for the standing grievance +of Puck, peace was proclaimed. Puck had made a pretence of living at the +shop, but this stratagem did not avail for long. He was continually +rushing to and fro, and was oftener at Elm Cottage than at the baker's +shop; but Mrs. Pryor thought more highly of him than at first, for he +waged war against a large cat that Mrs. Pryor had convicted of killing a +canary, and still occasionally dared to haunt the back premises to look +for another victim! Puck's growls succeeded so well, that Mr. Tom +contented himself with sitting on the low red-brick wall, with his back +raised to a level with his head, and his tail swelled to the size of the +boa Mrs. Pryor wore round her throat in winter. + +Her son Frank, who left most of the conversation necessary to his wife, +was heard to say, at the end of the first week of the Wiltons taking up +their abode at Elm Cottage: "We live and learn. If any one had told me +my mother would take children as lodgers, and those children with a +little dog at their heels, I shouldn't have believed them. We shall see +her with a monkey from the 'Zoo' next." + +Lady Monroe was not slow to fulfil her promise of calling on her old +friend, bringing Eva with her; and it so happened that Mrs. Loftus +Wilton, Louise, and Kate arrived on the same day. The little square +drawing-room was filled; and Hans and Carl, rushing up to the room where +Salome sat with her old music portfolio and her manuscript, shouted +out,--"Two carriages full of people are come to see mother. Go down, +Salome." + +"Ada is there," Salome said, telling the children not to talk so loud; +and then she looked ruefully at her inked forefinger, and wished she had +mended the crape on the skirt of her dress before she put it on that +day. + +"Miss Wilton--Miss Salome--my dear, do make haste; your mamma will be so +pressed and worried. There's Mrs. Doctor Wilton, with a train of black +silk long enough to reach from here to the gate almost. Do make haste, +Miss Salome, my dear. If there isn't another knock! Dear me, I can't +abide answering the door; it has never been my business." And Stevens +bustled down, exhorting the children not to peep through the banisters, +and signing to Salome to follow her, she disappeared to answer the door +to Mr. and Mrs. Atherton. But happily Mrs. Atherton had seen the two +carriages at the gate, and was just giving the cards to Stevens, saying +she would come again, when Salome appeared. + +"We hear your mother has visitors," said Mrs. Atherton, in one of those +voices which ring with the clear sweetness of truth,--the voice which is +so different from the "put on" or company voice, or the voice which +regulates itself to the supposed requirements of the moment. "We will +come again very soon. I hope your mother is pretty well?" + +"Yes, thank you," said Salome. "Won't you come in?" + +"No; we are near neighbours at the vicarage," Mr. Atherton said. "We +were your predecessors here," he said with a smile; "so we know the +rooms will not hold large levees. I want to know your brothers. I saw +two elder ones at church with you on Sunday. If they care for cricket, +we have a game going on every Saturday in the field above the church." + +"Reginald is at the college now; but I will tell him, thank you." + +And then, as Mr. and Mrs. Atherton said good-bye, Lady Monroe and her +daughter came into the little passage with Ada. + +"We shall only tire your mamma if we stay now," she said; "but I have +made her promise to drive with me to-morrow if it is fine, and either +you or your sister must come also." + +Salome and Ada, after a few more words, went together to the little +sitting-room, where their mother sat, flushed and ill at ease, with +their Aunt Anna, Louise, and Kate. + +Kate sprang up when Salome came in and kissed her affectionately; while +her mother said, "How do you do?--is this Salome?" and then, with a very +light salute on her cheek, went on in the same even current of talk +which the entrance of the girls had checked, not stopped. + +"I want to see your little brothers," Kate said to Salome; "may I come +with you and find them? Louise can talk with Ada; they are certain to +get on." + +Salome glanced at her mother, who looked so worn-out and tired and sad, +and wondered at her Aunt Anna's conversation, which all concerned +herself and her friends, and her own interests and amusements. But it +seemed hopeless to help her, and she left the room with Kate. + +Hans and Carl were painting pictures in the dining-room, and Kate had +soon finished with them. + +"Why, they are twins, aren't they? Have you got to teach them? What a +bore for you! Now show me your room. It is not so bad, really; and I +like the look of your sitting-room--it has a home-like air. What a +smoke! Where does that come from?" she said, looking from the window of +Salome's room. + +"That is the bake-house," Salome said. "Mr. Pryor is our landlady's son; +and the garden is separated from ours by that wall." + +"I smell the bread," Kate exclaimed; "it's rather nice. And what is +this?" she said, pausing on the heap of foolscap paper lying on the +chest of drawers. "Essays--papers? 'Chapter I.' Why, I believe it is a +story. Have you actually written a story? You look like an authoress. +Digby says he never saw a cleverer face than yours, and he quite admires +you. Read me a bit of the story; tell me the names of the people." + +Poor Salome was suffering all this time the pangs which sensitive +natures like hers can only understand. To have her secret hopes and +fears thus ruthlessly dragged to light--to see her sheets, which, alas +for her wonted carelessness, ought to have been hidden in one of those +deep drawers, fingered by strange hands, was misery to her. She tried +to take them from her cousin's grasp; but she held them fast, and began +to read:-- + +"'Under the shadow of a spreading cedar-tree, two little--'" + +Salome was now really angry; her eyes flashed, and she said, "Give me +the manuscript directly, Kate. It is excessively rude; I hate it; I--" + +"Oh, I am only in fun. I don't see anything so wonderful in writing a +story. Hundreds of people write now-a-days. I hope you will get fifty +pounds for 'Under the shadow of the cedars.' Dear me, I did not think +you could 'flare up' like that." + +"I hope you won't tell any one about what you have seen," said poor +Salome in a trembling voice. "I hope--" + +"Not I. I forget everything directly. 'In at one ear, out at another,' +Digby says. But I want to be great friends with you, so do not let us +quarrel about that stupid old story." + +It was a relief to Salome to hear Stevens's voice calling her, and +announcing that "Mrs. Loftus" was going, and Miss Wilton was to come +down directly. + +It seemed delightful to be left alone; and Mrs. Wilton lay back in her +chair, and in the gathering twilight Salome saw she was quietly crying. +She stole up to her, and, sitting down on a low stool, said, "You were +glad to see Lady Monroe, mother. She is _so_ kind." + +"Yes, very kind; and I must make an effort to drive with her to-morrow, +as she has asked me; but--" + +"Oh yes, dear mother, you _must_ go. Aunt Anna was rather too much for +you. It was a pity that they all came at once, as you have seen no one +for so long." + +"Yes; and it brought the past back. But I will try to be patient." + +"You are patient, mother dear," Salome said. + +Ada now drew near the fire, and began: "I like Louise very much. She +wants me to go to Edinburgh Crescent to-morrow to play tennis in the +square. May I, mother? I can walk as far as the turn to the college with +Reginald." + +"I think we ought to begin with the children's lessons," Salome said, +"and settle down. They are getting very unruly, just because they miss +Miss Barnes's hand." + +"It is no use beginning in the middle of a week," Ada said; "and I +suppose I may have some lessons too--music lessons I do want." + +"We shall see our way in time, darling," Mrs. Wilton said; "and I must +try to manage about a piano. But I think Salome is right about the +children; they ought to begin regular lessons. Mrs. Pryor complains of +their running so much up and down stairs. She says it wears out the +carpet." + +"Mrs. Pryor is a most disagreeable woman," said Ada. "I certainly do +agree with Raymond that we ought to remove." + +"Nonsense, Ada. Think of all the trouble over again, and all our things +just settled in and unpacked." + +She was interrupted by Reginald rushing in from the college. He was full +of life and spirit; and had found Rugby boys were thought something of, +as the head-master himself and several of the assistant-masters were +Rugbians. He had taken an excellent place; and, altogether, the world +seemed to smile on Reginald. + +Raymond followed his brother in about ten minutes, and threw himself +into a chair and yawned. + +"Are you very tired, dear?" asked his mother. + +"I should think I was. The air of that hole in Harstone is enough to +choke a fellow. I don't believe you have any idea of the stuffy air; and +such dirty clerks at the desks--a set of cads!" + +"One isn't a cad anyhow," said Reginald. "His brother is in my form. His +name is Percival." + +"Oh, I know; his coat out at elbows, and his hair like a mop. I should +say he was the greatest cad of the lot." + +"That I know he isn't," said Reginald hotly. "He may be shabby--for his +people are poor, and there are heaps of children--but I am certain Ralph +Percival's brother isn't a cad." + +"You needn't put yourself out about it," Raymond said. "Not one of the +clerks is anything to me. I don't speak to them." + +"I daresay as you get higher in the office you will find the class +better. Mr. Warde's nephew and his two sons are in it. Uncle Loftus told +me so." + +"Any letters for me by the second post?" asked Raymond. + +"No, dear. Whom did you expect to hear from?" + +"Oh!--a friend--St. Clair. He may not have posted the letter in time." +Another yawn, and then Raymond stretched his legs out before the fire, +first giving it a vigorous stir with the tongs, which came more handy +than the poker, and drew a newspaper out of his pocket. + +"We have had a number of visitors to-day," Ada said. "Lady Monroe, for +one, with her daughter. Such a pretty, nice girl!" + +"Who is Lady Monroe? and how did she find you out?" + +Ada explained; and Raymond seemed interested. + +"I hope you will keep up with them," he said; "and mind mother drives +with Lady Monroe to-morrow." + +"They are going to the south of France for the winter very soon; that is +the worst of it," Ada said. "Lady Monroe went to school with mamma, and +seems so fond of her." + +"What a bore that they are going away! They might be useful, and ask a +fellow to dinner. Who came besides?" + +"Aunt Anna and the two elder girls. I like Louise very much; and Aunt +Anna is really very handsome, and she does look so young." + +"She patronized no end, didn't she? I am glad I was not here." + +"She was very pleasant, and said she hoped to see us often." + +"That 'often' means 'never,' when no day is fixed." + +"I am to go to tennis to-morrow." + +"Well, did anybody else come?" + +"Yes; Mr. and Mrs. Atherton, the vicar of St. Luke's." + +"Oh, they are certain to be slow. We didn't want them." + +Salome had escaped by this time, and was in her room re-arranging her +papers. Why had she been so cross to Kate? why should she be offended +with her? "I will work at it whenever I get the chance," she thought. "A +little at a time is better than nothing;" and taking the sheet that lay +upper-most to a large box in the window, pressed the spring of a little +leather ink-stand, and kneeling to catch the western light, was soon +engrossed in her tale. She forgot cold, and vexation, and Raymond's +conceit and selfishness, and wrote on with a smooth-nibbed "J" pen for a +quarter of an hour. + +Then Carl bounced in. + +"Ruth Pryor has sent us in some lovely hot cakes for tea; isn't that +kind?" + +"Go away, dear," Salome said. + +"What are you doing, Salome? Do come and read to us the life-boat story. +_Do._" + +Salome sighed, gathered up her sheets, put them in the drawer, and went +to her little brothers. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A PROPOSED FLIGHT FROM THE NEST. + + +Lady Monroe was right when she said the Athertons would prove true +friends; and it soon became one of Salome's greatest pleasures to get a +quiet talk with Mrs. Atherton. She possessed the power, rare but +beautiful, of influencing others by _herself_, not by her words. She had +remarkably quick insight into character; and she had not known the +Wiltons long before she had, as it were, mastered the situation, and +could enter into the difficulties and trials of each one. She saw that +Salome had the hardest task of all, and she felt for her, with her +dreamy, imaginative temperament, forced, as it were, to take up with the +practical side of daily life, and set herself to help her. + +Lady Monroe had postponed the departure to Cannes longer than Dr. Wilton +thought right, till the sudden change from a prolonged St. Luke's summer +to an early and sunless spell of winter brought on Eva's little short +cough, and made her hasten the arrangements for leaving England. + +Eva was a spoiled child--or, rather, would have been spoiled, had so +sweet and gentle a nature been capable of "spoiling," in the common +acceptation of the word. Her mother clung to her with the intense love +which springs from the thought that all love and care for our heart's +dearest ones may not be needed long. Eva had taken a sudden and real +liking for Ada Wilton. Her beauty and serenity had a charm for her. She +liked to hear her play and watch her white hands on the piano. She liked +to talk with her and to hear her voice. And so it had come to pass that +Ada was continually sent for to Lady Monroe's house; and when the time +for leaving Roxburgh was definitely arranged, Eva said that nothing +would please her so much or help to pass the winter cheerfully as to +have Ada with her. + +Lady Monroe herself had her misgivings. "Ada is so young, and ought to +be going on with education and lessons," she said. + +"But she can _have_ lessons, mamma; and think how she will learn to +speak French. And there are drawing-masters and music-masters at Cannes. +Oh, _do_ let us take her; she is so fond of me, mamma, and she is so +lovely and so ladylike." + +The feverish glow on Eva's face and the excited light in her eyes made +her mother hesitate before she refused. + +"I will consult Dr. Wilton," she said, "and her mother. I hardly know if +it would be right to take her away from her mother; and yet it might be +a relief in some ways. Still it would be an additional anxiety for me; +and you might get tired of her, Eva." + +"Tired of her, mamma! Oh no. Think of the many dull, lonely hours I have +to spend, while other girls are playing tennis, and going to picnics, +and dancing, and enjoying themselves. I know I have you, darling +mother," Eva said tenderly; "but if I had a young companion, you would +feel more free to leave me." + +"We will see about it, Eva. I must not do anything rashly." + +But Lady Monroe lost no time in consulting Dr. Wilton, who gave the plan +unqualified approbation; and then it only remained to get Mrs. Wilton's +leave. + +Her note with the proposition came one afternoon when the day had been a +troubled one--the children naughty, and Salome unable to manage them; +Ada still less so; Stevens put out by the inveterate smoking of the +chimney in the little boys' room, where she kept a fire and sat at her +needle-work, and made the room look like the ghost of her old nursery. +Then Mrs. Wilton had been vainly trying to look over accounts. Her head +and eyes ached. The weekly bills when multiplied by fifty-two would +amount to far more than her small income. Raymond had asked for a +sovereign, and how could she refuse him? Reginald had begged for his +football jersey and cap, for which the old Rugby colours were +inadmissible. Rain poured without, and a cold wind penetrated through +every crack and cranny of the house. In fact, the aspect of life was +dark and gloomy; and Mrs. Wilton, fairly exhausted, was just losing +herself in a day-dream by the fire when Ada tripped in with Lady +Monroe's note. + +"I expect I know what it is about, mamma; something very, very +delightful for _me_." + +"I can't see to read it till the lamp is brought in," Mrs. Wilton said. + +"Let me get the lamp, mamma--or ring for it--or poke up a blaze," said +Ada. + +It was quite unusual for Ada to exert herself like this; and so Salome +thought, who was reading to Hans and Carl in a low tone by the window, +where the daylight was stronger than by the fire. + +Mrs. Wilton yielded to Ada's impatience, and opened the envelope, +holding it towards the bright blaze Ada had brought to life, and +reading by it the large, clear handwriting. + +"You know what is in this note, Ada?" Mrs. Wilton said when she had +finished it, and turned back to the first sheet again to assure herself +of the contents. + +"I can guess, mother," Ada said, drawing nearer. "Do let me go." + +"Go where?" asked Salome, leaving her post by the window and coming +towards the fire,--"go where, Ada?" + +Mrs. Wilton gave Lady Monroe's note into Salome's hand. She bent down, +shading her forehead from the heat by her hand, and read:-- + + "DEAR MRS. WILTON,--I am writing to ask you a great favour. + Will you lend your dear Ada to me for the winter? Eva has so + set her heart on the plan, and has such a real affection for + your Ada, that I hope you will consent. I need not say that + she will be to me for the time as my own child, and that I am + of course answerable for every expense; and I will see that + she has advantages in the way of music lessons and any others + that may be available at Cannes. My Eva's life will be + brightened, and she will feel the privations of her delicate + health less with a young companion whom she loves. Do not + refuse me this request. I may add that Dr. Wilton encourages + me to make it. Our friendship is not a new thing; and when I + look at Ada, I see again the Emily Bruce of old times.--With + kindest love, I am ever affectionately yours, + + "KATHARINE MONROE." + +"Do you wish to go, Ada?" Salome asked. + +"Wish? Oh, I shall like it so much! I think it is delightful!" + +"To _you_, no doubt," said Salome; "but it will put a great deal more on +me. The children's lessons, and walking with them, and--But if mother +likes it, there is nothing to be said." + +"Well, it will be a great advantage to Ada," Mrs. Wilton sighed out; +"and Lady Monroe will be a substantial friend. If your uncle approves +it, I do not see how I can refuse." + +Ada sprang up. She was but a child, and the idea of a journey to the +south of France was full of untold delight. Then to escape from the +tiresome lessons, the dull way of life, the bother about money, the +fidgets about keeping two fires burning, looked most attractive. + +"Thank you, darling mother," she exclaimed with unusual enthusiasm, +throwing her arms round her mother. "I shall come back ever so much +brighter, and able to do heaps more things." + +"It is very easy to settle things in that way," said Salome. "You are +exactly like Raymond--_intensely_ selfish." + +"Don't be jealous, Salome," Ada exclaimed. "You knew the Monroes first, +and if Eva had taken a fancy to you, you would have been only too +pleased; but you see Eva happens to like _me_ best." + +"Oh, my dear children, do not let there be any uncomfortable feeling. +Though we are poor, let us be loving." + +Salome's heart was full, and rising hastily, she dropped Lady Monroe's +letter, and left the room. Poor child, it did seem to her, as to many +another, that effort for others was in vain; that those who keep self +and selfish interests well to the front are, after all, those who +succeed best, not only in getting what they wish, and escaping +disagreeables and worries, but in winning affection and admiration from +every one. + +"I have done my very best ever since dear father died. I _have_ tried to +do everything, and yet Ada is the most cared for. I believe mother does +really love her best. Father--father--_he_ cared for me, and now he is +gone." + +"Why, Sal, what is the matter?" It was Reginald's voice, as he came into +the dining-room, where, in an arm-chair, by the dying embers of the +fire, which was not allowed to burn up, Salome was sobbing out her +trouble. "Why, old Sal, what is it?" + +"Ada is going off to Cannes with Lady Monroe, and never thinks about me. +I shall have twice as much to do--the children always on my hand; and I +shall never be able to finish my story. I have not minded leaving mother +with Ada; but now--and she _is_ so selfish, Reginald." + +"So is half the world, it seems to me, Sal. Cheer up. _I_ am glad, for +one, _you_ are not going to the south of France. I tell you that. I +cannot get on without you, nor any one else either; so that is very +certain. Come, Sal, don't be down-hearted. It will make one less here, +and Ada is not cut out for our present life. You and I do very well; and +I know I have got the best of it at school, and have no time to sit and +mope." + +"I don't mope," said poor Salome, half-offended. "To-day, I have--" +Tears were just beginning to fall again, when Reginald caught sight of a +book on the floor. + +"Is not this Mrs. Atherton's paper you promised to send back this +morning, Salome? I say, she said she must have it to post to a friend. +Shall I run over with it to the vicarage?" + +"Oh dear, how careless I am," Salome sighed. "I should like to go with +it myself, Reginald. It is not quite dark, not nearly dark out of +doors. Will you come for me in half an hour? I do feel as if the run, +and seeing Mrs. Atherton, would do me good." + +"All right," said Reginald good-naturedly; "only, be quick, for I want +tea over early this evening. I have no end of work to get through." + +Salome raced upstairs, and snatching up her jacket and hat, and +thrusting her hands into a muff, with the newspaper crushed up +mercilessly, she was out of the house in no time, and was very soon at +the vicarage. + +If she could only find Mrs. Atherton at home, she thought, and alone. +She stood in awe of Mr. Atherton, the grave, dignified man, who looked +as much older for his years as his mother looked younger, and by reason +of this had led to much confusion in the parish when he and Mrs. +Atherton first came to St. Luke's. + +Yes, Susan thought Mrs. Atherton was at home. Would Miss Wilton walk in? + +Salome was shown into the drawing-room, which was empty; and Susan, +after throwing a log on the fire, and remarking that "it was quite +wintry weather," left her. + +That bright, cheerful room, full of the signs of the life of those +who inhabited it, always gave Salome a sense of home. Books on all +sides; a little picture on an easel in one corner; needle-work; a +carefully-arranged writing-table in one recess by the fire, a work-table +in the other. Nothing fine or grand, no aspirations after "high art," +though a few old china plates were hung against the wall, and the large +square of crimson carpet was surrounded by polished dark boards. A room +used and loved already, though the vicarage was a new house, and there +was not the charm of association with the past to make it dear. + +Salome had waited for a few minutes, lost in a day-dream by the fire, +and forgetting her vexation and trouble, when the door opened and Mr. +Atherton came in. + +"I have brought back this newspaper Mrs. Atherton lent me," she began +hurriedly, "to read a review. I hope it is not too late for the post." + +"My mother is gone to see a child who is ill; but sit down, and let me +have the benefit of a talk in her place." Mr. Atherton saw the look of +disappointment in Salome's face, and added, "If you can wait, my mother +will be home before long." + +Salome stood irresolute, and then, fearing to be ungracious, she said,-- + +"I can come again to-morrow, thank you. I daresay you are busy now." + +"No; I was only reading for half an hour's recreation. I may as well +take it by talking with you, unless you really would rather go away." + +In spite of her shyness, a bright smile flashed over Salome's face. + +"I could not say so," she said, "as you ask me to stay, without--" + +"Being uncivil," he said laughing. "Now I think we have had enough of +preliminaries. I was thinking of you just before you came. I have a +little class at the Sunday school ready for you, if you would like to +take it, and one for your sister also." + +"My sister is going away for the winter with Lady Monroe," Salome said. +"I wanted to tell Mrs. Atherton about it. It is not quite decided; that +is to say, mother had not written the answer to the note when I came +away; but I feel sure she will go, and as I shall be left alone with +mother and the children and the boys, I don't think I shall be able to +leave them on Sunday afternoons." + +"Then I would not urge you; our first duties lie at home." + +"I shall have to teach the children altogether now. Ada helped with +arithmetic and music. I am so stupid at both, especially arithmetic." + +Mr. Atherton saw that Salome was troubled, and yet he did not press her +for confidence, but quietly said,-- + +"Well, we are not all born to be mathematicians or musicians. God gives +us all different powers. It is wholesome, however, to grind a little at +what we dislike sometimes. The old story of the two roads, you know." + +"I don't know," said Salome, her eyes glistening with interest; "unless +you mean the narrow and the broad road," she added simply. + +"Yes; I was thinking of Lord Bacon's rendering of the same idea. If two +roads seem to lie before the Christian--one smooth and pleasant, the +other rough and thorny--let him choose the rough one, and in spite of +pricks and wounds he will gather flowers there, and fruit too, if he +perseveres. Those may not be the precise words, but it is the meaning." + +"I don't think I have _two_ roads before me to choose from," Salome +said. "When I look back on our dear, happy home at Maplestone, and +compare that time with this, it _does_ seem hard enough." + +"Do not look back, my dear child, nor onward too much; just take the +day, and live it, as far as you can, in the fear of God, taking +everything--joy and sorrow--from Him." + +"Oh, it's not so much the big things," said Salome. "Even the greatest +trouble of all--dear father's death--is not so hard in the way I mean; +though I would give--oh, I would give anything to get him back and to +see him happy. Still, I can think he is at rest, and that God took him +from what would have broken his heart. But I mean little +worries--crossness, ill-temper, fidgets about money, and, above all, +feeling that I am getting so disagreeable--worse every day." + +"You do not think you are alone in these feelings, do you? My dear +child, it is a very common experience. Take these little pricking +thorns, and the wounds they make, yes, and the poison they sometimes +leave behind, to the loving hand of the Great Healer. Would you not +think it strange if people only sent to your uncle, Dr. Loftus Wilton, +for great and dangerous ailments? His patients go to him with the small +ones also, and often by skill the small ones are prevented from growing +into large ones. Be patient, and watchful, and hopeful, and cheerful, +and leave the rest to God. There is a deep meaning in those words we +were using last Sunday: 'Cheerfully accomplish those things that thou +wouldest have done.'" + +Salome felt in much better spirits when she left the vicarage than when +she entered. She raced down the garden to the gate, where Reginald was +waiting for her, and then she saw Mrs. Atherton tripping lightly up the +road with a basket in her hand. + +It would have been dark by this time, except for the light of a bright +young moon which was hanging like a silver bow over the church spire; +Jupiter, a little in advance of the moon, in a clear blue sky. + +"I am sorry I missed you, my dear," Mrs. Atherton said. "Come to-morrow, +if you can, about four o'clock. I have been to see a dear little boy who +is suffering great pain from a burn. I have dressed it for him, and he +is better." + +"I brought back the paper you lent me," Salome said. + +"It is too late for the north post to-day; but never mind. Good-bye," +and Mrs. Atherton's alert steps were soon out of hearing as she walked +quickly up the garden to the house. + +"Reginald, let us go round by the upper road and down at the back of Elm +Cottage; it is so fine and bright, and I feel in a better temper." + +"Make haste then," said Reginald; "for Digby said something about coming +to tea. He had to go home first." + +The brother and sister walked fast; and Reginald told Salome a long and +rather involved history of a football match, and said he hoped soon to +work up into the first fifteen. The road at the back of Elm Cottage took +a sudden dip down towards an excavation from which stone for building +had been taken some years before; but the particular vein had been +exhausted, and the quarry was deserted, and made a circular outlet from +the road of some thirty feet, overhung with brambles and ivy. As +Reginald and Salome passed this quarry they heard voices. Something +familiar in the tone of one speaker made Salome slacken her pace. + +"Reginald, I am sure that was Raymond speaking. Look back. Who is it?" + +Reginald turned, and distinctly saw two figures at the entrance of the +quarry--two men or boys. + +"I don't think it is Raymond." + +"I am certain it is," Salome said. "Whom can he be talking with?" + +"I am sure I don't know," said Reginald. "I daresay it is not he." + +"I wish I knew how Raymond is really getting on," said Salome. "The +worst of it is, one never feels quite sure that he is telling the +truth." + +Reginald was silent. + +"Does Percival's brother ever say anything to you about Raymond?" + +"No; at least, not much." + +"Reg, if you _do_ know anything about Raymond, tell me. It's not like +telling tales. I think I ought to know, for there seems no one to look +after him, and, though I hate to say so, he does deceive mother." + +But Reginald was not to be drawn into the discussion further. Digby +Wilton arrived at Elm Cottage at the same moment as Reginald and Salome, +and he was always a cheerful and welcome visitor. The two families +seemed to leave any intimacy that existed between them to the two pairs +of brothers and sisters. + +Louise's affection for Ada was short-lived, and a certain jealousy +possessed her when she saw that Eva Monroe had taken an affection for +her. Louise would have liked very much to be the elected companion of +Eva to Cannes, and was lost in astonishment that a child of fifteen +should be preferred before her, when the plan was announced. + +"It is done as an act of charity, my dear Louise," her mother said. "Be +thankful that your education and social position and advantages have +been secured by me without the help of strangers. Poor Emily! it must be +hard for her to receive so much from her friends. My proud spirit could +never be brought to do so. And she is not an economical woman. I notice +she has had the crape on her dress renewed already. And I hear from Aunt +Betha that they deal with the tradesmen about Elm Fields and Whitelands +Road. It would be far cheaper if they sent down into Harstone, and +really Stevens might do this. It seems extravagant for poor people in +lodgings to keep a maid." + +"I don't believe Stevens would leave Aunt Emily if she begged and prayed +her to go," said Kate with indiscreet heat. "Really I do think it hard +to talk of Aunt Emily like that, mamma." + +"My dear Kate," said Mrs. Wilton, "will you ask Aunt Betha to come and +speak with me? I must send a note to the Quadrant this evening." + +These were Mrs. Wilton's favourite tactics. She seldom argued a point +with her children, and she was right in the principle. If the +differences of opinion were likely to be very decided, she would ignore +them by turning quietly to another subject. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +ADA'S DEPARTURE. + + +The household at Elm Cottage were engrossed for the next ten days with +preparations for Ada's departure. Mrs. Pryor's eyes filled with tears +whenever it was mentioned. + +"Going off to foreign parts, where my dear departed lady went years +agone, to find a grave for her husband; no good ever comes from going to +these outlandish places. However a widow lady can trust her child to go +off like this passes my comprehension." + +"These are old-fashioned notions in these days, mother," Ruth would +interpose. "These foreign places are just English all over. I know a +young person who went as maid to--to--not Cannes, but it's all the same; +the name begins with a saint." + +"Ah! I daresay," sighed Mrs. Pryor; "some Papist's place." + +"Well, this young person told me," said Ruth, taking no notice of the +interruption, "that at their hotel it was just like an English country +house; everything goes like clock-work. In your lady's days, I daresay, +sixty years ago, it might have been changed." + +"Yes, it _was_ different. And times are changed," said Mrs. Pryor. "The +young set themselves up, and think it fine to scoff at their elders. If +this pretty child--for she is _but_ a child--is laid in the +burying-ground out there, hundreds of miles from her widowed mother, +don't come to me to be _surprised_--that's all." + +Ruth nodded at Stevens to say no more. But Stevens's own heart was +heavy; and many were the sighs which were breathed over Ada's box, which +stood ready, strapped and addressed, in the dull haze of the November +morning. + +Ada herself had kept up bravely till now; but as the wheels of the fly +were heard which was to take her to the station, to meet Lady Monroe and +Eva and their maid, her sobs broke forth. + +"Oh, I wish I were not going!" she said. "O mother, mother!" + +"Don't upset mamma, Ada," Salome whispered. "Dear Ada, please don't." + +But Ada threw herself into her mother's arms, and could only sob out, +"Oh, I wish I were not going!" + +Mrs. Wilton strove to be calm; and Stevens wisely hastened box, and neat +little bundle of rugs, and ulster, and umbrella into the fly. Hans and +Carl, who, with Stevens, were to see Ada off, stood bewildered to see +their generally calm, self-possessed sister crying so bitterly. + +"I thought she wanted to go to France," Carl said, puckering up his +mouth. + +"Yes; I thought Stevens said Ada was crazy to go," echoed Hans. + +"She will be all right when she is once off, my dears," said Ruth. "You +run and get in. There's good little boys; get into the fly. Look! I +declare there is Puck, knowing as well as possible that Miss Ada is +going." + +At last Ada was gone, clinging to the last to her mother and to Salome, +and saying, "Give Raymond and Reg my love; don't forget." + +Ada was not the first to find that the longed-for pleasure is not all +that imagination pictured; and well might Ruth say, as she turned back +into her little shop,-- + +"There, I didn't think she had so much heart, that I didn't." + +"Everybody's heart ain't always in their mouths, Ruth," was Frank's +rejoinder. "Still waters run deep, my dear." + +"Then you are one of the deepest I ever saw, Frank; you never waste a +word. I do believe if I hadn't helped you, you never would have come to +the point with me." + +"That's an old story now, my dear," said Frank, rubbing his floury face +with his hand. "Don't be offended, my dear," he continued. "I don't say +it wasn't a good story, for _me_ anyhow, that I _did_ come to the +point." + +After Ada's departure Salome made a great effort to settle down into a +fixed routine. She wrote out a list of the lessons with her little +brothers, and with Reginald's help got over the formidable arithmetic +better than might have been expected. Irksome as this routine was to a +girl of her dreamy and imaginative temperament, she bravely struggled to +take each day as it came, and do the best with it. Stevens, who did all +the needle-work and small washing of the family, could not always walk +with her children, but she clung to this habit of a past life; and soon +after the one o'clock dinner in the short winter days Hans and Carl +would set off on a shopping expedition with Stevens, or for a walk over +the downs. And while Mrs. Wilton rested quietly for an hour, Salome +would sit down to her story, and forget the present in the society of +the imaginary children of whom she wrote. Unconsciously she reproduced +the dear old home of her happy childhood,--the stately trees, the +emerald turf, the little lake with the rustic bridge. Her children were +the idealized children of her own experience, and the circumstances in +which she placed them and the adventures which befell them were, like +the "monkey stories," for the most part reproductions of incidents +which lay treasured in the storehouse of her memory. Thanks to Miss +Barnes's admirable teaching, Salome was guiltless of slips of grammar, +and wrote a fair hand. This "thinking on paper" has a peculiar +fascination in it for the young; and no one could have grudged Salome +these hours she spent over her manuscript, full of hope and even belief +that by her hand the weight of care might be lifted from her mother. + +Christmas drew on, and Reginald was full of his examinations--so full, +that he sat up late at night with his papers, and had but little time to +give to the consideration of Salome's tale. + +It was one evening when Mrs. Wilton was occupied in answering a long +letter from Ada, filled with glowing descriptions of Cannes and the +happy life she was leading there, that Salome went into the dining-room +where Reginald was at work. The finished manuscript was in her hand, and +she said, "Reg, where do you advise me to send my story? I have finished +it, every word." + +Reginald was absorbed in his Euclid, and held up his hand, as if to beg +her to stop. + +"Are you very busy?" she said. "Then I won't trouble you." + +Still there was the thought in her heart, "How nice it would be if +somebody cared." But she waited patiently, and at last Reginald pushed +the books away, and giving a prolonged yawn, said,-- + +"It is awfully cold here with no fire. What do you want, Sal?" + +"Reg, do come and work in the drawing-room. The children are gone to +bed, and mother and I are as quiet as mice." + +"Raymond is not there, of course." + +"No," said Salome, "and I can't think what he does every evening. He +goes off directly after tea, and he is so late every night now. Reg, do +you know where he goes?" + +"I don't _know_," said Reginald, "but I don't think things are all +square with him. But, you see, Raymond and I have never had much to do +with each other, going to different schools, and he has always looked +down on me." + +"I hope he has not bad friends," Salome said; "but I am certain he was +with some one he did not care for you and me to see that evening when I +had been up to the vicarage, the day it was fixed for Ada to go to +Cannes." + +"Yes; I remember. However, I don't see that we can do any good. We must +just go on and leave it." + +"I am sorry mother gave him a latch-key. I know she lies awake till she +hears him come upstairs; and though I am glad to do anything for her, +still I think it is a pity she let him have our room when Ada went away. +When he slept in yours it was a check. I can't think where he gets money +from," Salome went on. "That is a new ulster he has, and a new +cigar-case, and I don't believe he has had any salary yet at Mr. +Warde's. Reg," said Salome in a low voice, "_do_ you think he is getting +into debt?" + +"You see, Sal," said Reginald, "I don't like to say anything I am not +sure about, so don't ask me, though of course a fellow like Percival is +to be trusted. Still, I don't think either you or I can do anything, so +it is better to hold our tongues. Is that your story?" touching the roll +of manuscript. + +"Yes," said Salome sadly. "I thought you wouldn't mind just looking at +my letter. I shall send it to Bardsley and Carrow. They have such a long +list of stories for the young. Look, this is what I have said. Will it +do, Reg?" + +"How should I know, Sal? You can write a letter fifty times better than +I can. It is a pity you cannot consult somebody else." + +"I don't know who, unless it is Mrs. Atherton." + +"Mr. Atherton," suggested Reg; "he is awfully clever." + +"Yes; and I should feel so stupid and shy, I know. I think I will just +try by myself; and if it is returned, I may pluck up courage to ask Mr. +Atherton then." + +"Yes; that will be the best way. And mind you put in the same number of +stamps in the envelope that you put on the parcel, or you will never see +the story again." + +"Then you think it is safe to be rejected, Reg? Well," said Salome with +a sigh, "never mind. I am going to begin another at once, so perhaps at +last I shall succeed." + +Reginald drew his chair to the table again, and opened a book, as if to +show he had no more to say on the subject; and Salome returned to her +mother, having first deposited her precious manuscript and the letter +addressed to Messrs. Bardsley and Carrow in the drawer, where she had +kept them since the day when Kate had so roughly handled the sheets. + +"Are you going to write to Ada, Salome?" Mrs. Wilton asked. + +"Not to-night, I think, mother." + +"Hers is a delightful letter--dear child! I am sure I am thankful she is +so happy; and Lady Monroe's little enclosure is so pleasant." + +"I did not see that," Salome said. "Give it to me, mother;" and Salome +read:-- + +"Your dear child is all, and more than all, I wished for a companion to +my Eva. They are so happy together, and lessons are not forgotten. Ada +is making rapid advances with her music. There are some very nice people +in the hotel, and we have pleasant little drives, and picnics, and +excursions in the sunshine and amongst the flowers." + +Salome made no comment as she returned the letter to her mother, and the +next minute Dr. Wilton's little short rap was heard, followed by Mrs. +Pryor's footstep in the passage, eager to have the honour of admitting +the doctor. "The only visitor she troubles herself about," Stevens +always said. + +"Uncle Loftus!" Salome exclaimed. "How late! It is past nine o'clock!" + +"He must have been on a late round," Mrs. Wilton said. And then Mrs. +Pryor, with her usual solemnity, announced,-- + +"Dr. Wilton." + +"Well, my dear Salome? And how are you, Emily? You look warm and +comfortable here. It _is_ a wretched night. Where are the boys?" + +"Reginald is working hard at the exams, and the little ones are in bed. +Raymond is out. He is so closely confined in the office all day that I +cannot keep him here all the evening. The change in our circumstances +falls more heavily on him than on any of them. Life at Eton and life +here are indeed two different things." + +Dr. Wilton gave an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, and +looking at Salome, whose face was turned up to his with its wistful +expression, he said,-- + +"I saw Mr. Warde to-day, and I am sorry to say that he did not give at +all a good account of Raymond. He is very unpunctual in his attendance +at the office, and very careless and idle when he is there. The senior +clerk complains of him continually; and not only of this, but he gives +himself such airs that he is most unpopular with the men in the same +office." + +Dr. Wilton had found great difficulty in beginning what he had to say, +but when once in for it he went straight through. He saw with pity and +compassion his sister-in-law's face grow whiter and whiter as he went +on, and he saw Salome quietly move and, going behind her mother's chair, +put her hand caressingly on her shoulder, bending down, and pressing her +cheek against her mother's in silent sympathy. + +"My dear Emily," Dr. Wilton said kindly, "I am extremely sorry to have +to say this. The boy is young, and has been--well, a good deal indulged. +Let us hope he will see the folly of throwing away his chance of +earning his living. His head is stuffed full of nonsense, and even my +own boys complain of his brag." + +Mrs. Wilton rallied now. That the clerks in the office should complain +of her son filled her with pain: but that his cousins (as she thought), +plain, uninteresting, heavy boys, should dare to disparage her handsome, +bright son, to whose faults she was blind, filled her with anger as well +as pain. + +"I do not think any of my children have seen much of yours in their own +home, Loftus," she replied; "and if _this_ is the way the one who is so +constantly here has repaid our kindness, I shall take care he is not +with us so much in future." + +"O mother, Digby would never be unkind," Salome said warmly. "He would +never speak evil of any one. Reg says--" + +"I know Reginald is your favourite brother, Salome. Perhaps you might +have done more for poor Raymond, if--" + +Mrs. Wilton's voice faltered. The best mothers have what may be called +"colour-blindness" as to their children's faults and failings. But there +are some who will suffer any amount of personal trouble and anxiety that +the children inflict, rather than that their faults should be canvassed +by others. The discussion of them by ordinary people is resented; how +much more when relations bring them roughly to light! It is not too much +to say that Mrs. Wilton could have better borne a complaint of her boy +coming direct from Mr. Warde to herself than to have that complaint +brought by his uncle. Worse still that Raymond's cousins should be +quoted. + +I cannot say that I think Mrs. Wilton had any reason to think kindly of +her husband's family. Although Dr. Wilton had been kind and attentive, +his wife had taken no trouble to brighten the life of her relatives at +Elm Cottage. This arose chiefly from her habit of never troubling +herself about outside matters. She "never puts herself out of the way +for any one. It is not _in_ Anna to do it," Aunt Betha would say +sometimes when even the maternal instinct was not strong enough to keep +Mrs. Wilton from an "afternoon" or a dinner party when little Guy was in +one of his worst fits of pain. + +"I can do no good. It only hurts me to see him suffer, dear little man," +she would say. "Auntie nurses him so much better than I can." + +Thus it is not likely that a woman who could be thus unconcerned about +her own children would be greatly interested in her husband's nieces and +nephews. Hans and Carl had been twice to Edinburgh Crescent to tea, and +had walked with Miss Scott, and Edith, and Maude. Salome had spent one +day with Kate and Louise. But this was about all the hospitality which +had been extended to them. Ada had been more sought after, because she +was so pretty; every one asked who she was and admired her. But Ada was +gone, and jealousy at Eva's preference for her was now the prominent +feeling with both Louise and her mother. + +"Well," Dr. Wilton said, "I think the boy ought to be seriously +remonstrated with. If he leaves Warde's office, I don't know what on +earth is to be done with him. If you can send him up to Edinburgh +Crescent to-morrow evening to dinner, I'll make an opportunity of +speaking to him. I am sorry to be the bearer of unpleasant news; but as +I recommended Warde to take him, even go out of his way to help +him,--for they don't, as a rule, take young men with any salary,--I can +but feel some responsibility about it.--Can you say anything to your +brother, Salome?" Dr. Wilton said in a gentle voice,--a voice which +always recalled her father. "You are the best of sisters and daughters," +he added, putting his arm kindly round Salome's slight figure. + +"I will try, Uncle Loftus," was the answer in a low voice. + +Then Dr. Wilton went away, saying,-- + +"Good-bye; we must hope for better things. Remember, tell Raymond seven +o'clock to-morrow evening." + +"The first time he has ever asked Raymond to dinner," said Mrs. Wilton. +"O Salome, it is very hard to be treated in this way!" + +"I think I am sure Uncle Loftus means to help us; he is very kind. And, +dear mother, Raymond must be told he cannot go on like this. He ought +not to stay out so late every night; and--" Salome stopped. Mrs. Wilton +broke completely down, and cried bitterly. + +"Don't speak sharply to him, Salome," she sobbed. "I will try what I can +do. He does love me. I shall wait up for him to-night, and you can go to +bed. Let us have prayers now." + +To the surprise of his mother and Salome, though scarcely more than +half-past nine, Raymond's key was heard in the door, and he came in, +throwing his ulster on a chair and his hat on it. + +"Is it raining, Raymond?" his mother asked. + +"No," was the short answer; and then there was silence till Stevens came +in with the Bible, and Reginald, with a rough, shaggy head of hair, and +ink on his fingers, followed her into the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +CONFIDENCES. + + +Salome did not know what passed between Raymond and her mother, but when +she came up to her room, she heard her speaking cheerfully to Stevens, +who always came to attend on her mistress, as in old days. Salome had +slept in a small iron bedstead in a corner of her mother's room since +Ada had left home, in order that Raymond might have the one she had +shared with her sister to himself. Salome, however, still kept her +property in her old room, and her manuscript and heaps of books and +scribbles were in the drawer there, so that she often went into it. + +The next morning Salome got up early, with the intention of posting her +roll and the letter at the nearest Elm Fields post-office before +breakfast. It seemed that Raymond had changed his habits, for Salome met +him ready dressed in the passage, as she softly left her mother's room. + +"Where are you off to, Salome?" he asked. + +"I was going to post a letter. O Ray, I am so glad you are up early; and +I will get the coffee made directly.--Be quiet, children," she said, as +two little figures came dancing down the passage in their nightgowns. +"Run back and be quiet, or you will wake mamma." + +Stevens was busy in the dining-room, where the fire was burning +cheerfully, and the light of the December morning struggling to gain +ascendency over the Harstone fogs. + +"Wonders never cease!" exclaimed Stevens. "Master Raymond will be in +time at the office for once!" Stevens spoke with the freedom of an old +servant, and to Salome's surprise her brother did not resent it. He was +quiet and subdued, but evidently absorbed in his own thoughts. + +"You are never going out in the cold and fog, Miss Salome? What are you +going for?" Stevens asked. + +Salome was all this time hoping the manuscript and letter, stuffed in +the pocket of her black ulster, would escape notice. + +"I like to warm my feet before breakfast, Stevens. Do go and call +Reginald. He will be late for school. He was so tired last night with +his work." + +Stevens was gone at last, and brother and sister were left together. +Salome's heart beat fast. She did so much wish to say the right thing, +and to avoid irritating her brother. She was apparently intent on +watching the boiling of the little "Hecla" which made the coffee, but in +reality she was thinking how she should begin what she longed to say. +She was spared the effort. Raymond suddenly said,-- + +"I am in a great bother, Salome. I wish you would help me. I--" + +"How can I help you, Ray? Oh, I am so sorry for you and for mother! I do +trust Mr. Warde will let you stay at the office." + +"Mr. Warde! the arrogant cad--it is not about him I am bothered. Sneak! +to complain of me to my uncle. Why did he not say it to me? It is only +that fellow Browne, the head clerk, has a spite at me!" This was an old +story. In days gone by, Raymond's bad school reports had always been +"the result of spite." "But, Salome," he went on, "you know I did not +like to be for ever begging of poor mother, so hard up as I know she is, +so I borrowed some money of a fellow, who said I need not think of +paying him for ever so long; and now he is turned rusty, and we have had +a blow-up, and he says if I don't pay him to-day, he shall come here to +my mother, or to my uncle, for he will have the money by hook or by +crook." + +"O Raymond!" Salome exclaimed; "how much is it?" + +"A mere trifle; only my term's allowance at Eton--five and twenty +pounds. Do you think, Salome, you could get it for me in any way? You +never wear that gold thing with emeralds mother gave you that belonged +to grandmamma. Could you let me have it to raise money on it?" + +"I don't know. I don't think it would be right. The necklet is in +mother's dressing-case. I never have kept it myself. Of course, it is +mine, as grannie left it to me, or it would have been sold. Still I +don't think it would be right. O Raymond, I wish I could ask some one +about it." + +"If you do that you will ruin me. If I can get the money quietly, I will +promise not to borrow again." + +"Did you use it for--for that ulster and pin, and--" Salome was alarmed +at her own boldness; and Raymond answered,-- + +"_No_; I did not." + +"And you are in debt for those things also?" + +"Yes; but that does not matter--tradesmen will wait. It's this fellow +Percival." + +"Oh, is it Percival, the brother of Reg's friend? Digby knows him; he is +very good and nice. I thought you despised him." + +"I said he wore a coat out of elbows in the office; but he is a +gentleman for all that, I find." + +"I should think so," said Salome indignantly; "as if a coat made any +difference. But I can't imagine how it was he had money to lend you." + +"He is a miser, you see," said Raymond. "He is saving up, and grinding +and pinching, that the brother at the college may get to Oxford. They +say he will get a scholarship; but that would not keep him, and so this +fellow is saving up. I'll tell you how it was I borrowed the money. I +told him a cram, and said it was to keep my mother and all of you." + +"O Raymond! how could you be so mean and deceitful?" + +Raymond took his sister's plain speaking very quietly, because he looked +upon her as his only hope. "Percival found out that I had spent the +money in billiards, and--well you know, in 'The Queen's,' with Barington +while he was here; and--" + +"I think it is dreadful," Salome interrupted. "I could not have believed +it of you." + +"Well, look here, Sal, will you save me from a frightful row with Uncle +Loftus by seeing Percival, and trying to make him wait for his money? I +expect he would believe you; and I really don't want to--to vex my poor +mother. It was bad enough last night about old Warde; and I promised to +do better at the office, and that I would go to Edinburgh Crescent +to-night just to please her, for I detest it. If there is a row with +Percival, it will make her ill." + +"You should have thought of that before," was on Salome's lips, but she +refrained from saying so. + +"Reg will be here directly; may I tell him?" + +"No; on no account. I will tell Percival to come up here this afternoon, +just at dusk, and you must manage to meet him." + +"O Raymond, I don't think that will do; you don't consider what people +might say if they saw me." + +"It is nearly dark at four; that is not late. That old quarry place +then." + +"Where I saw you with some one some time ago?" + +"Yes; that's it. I will be close at hand. Do pray let me tell Percival." + +Salome had only time to say "Yes," when Reginald came down. It was so +new to her to hear the grand, magnificent Raymond pleading for a favour +at her hands. It was a cowardly proceeding on his part; but such boys as +Raymond Wilton are cowards. It would have been better for him if he had +not so often been helped out of school scrapes by too indulgent parents. +His was one of those natures which need discipline and firmness as well +as love. He had not been taught that in self-denial there is nobleness +which brings peace after the pain. To choose the thorny path of which +Mr. Atherton had spoken to his sister, had never even occurred to him. +He had always looked for the smoothness and pleasantness of life as his +by right as well as choice, and thus of all the family who had suffered +these sharp reverses he was the least able to meet them. + +As Reginald came into the room Raymond left it; and Stevens and the +children next appeared--Stevens with a tray for her mistress's +breakfast, and two bowls of oatmeal porridge for Hans and Carl. + +"I am just going to walk a little way with Raymond," she said; "I shall +not be five minutes." + +Salome was off like lightning, and soon overtook her brother. + +"Raymond, may--may I tell Reginald? may he come with me this afternoon?" + +"No," said Raymond; "what made you race like that? Tell no one, and I am +certain Percival will listen to you. In the quarry at four o'clock, or +soon after." + +Salome fell back breathless behind her brother, and turned up the road +to the post-office. She dropped the precious manuscript into the box and +the letter addressed to Messrs. Bardsley and Carrow, and then ran home. + +"Good morning, miss," said Ruth, who was washing the step of the shop, +while Puck sat by watching the operation. "It is a fine winter's +morning, isn't it? just enough frost to make it pleasant. Puck is +looking his best, isn't he? the beauty! I washed him last evening." + +"It is very kind of you," said Salome; "he is beginning to like you, +Ruth, as well as he does us." + +"Oh no; he isn't one to forsake old friends," said Ruth. "See now--" for +Puck had darted towards Reginald with delight expressed in a series of +twists and twirls and low sounds of affection, as he ran hither and +thither round Reginald. + +Salome ran to her brother. "I have posted my story, Reg." How she longed +to say more; how perplexed was her loyal heart as to what was right and +best to do. + +She seemed suddenly drawn into a secret meeting with a stranger, and +with what shame she would have to beg him to wait for the debt her +brother had so dishonestly contracted. Salome watched Reginald's figure +as he ran with amazing speed down the road, and then turned slowly and +sadly into the house. + +Mrs. Wilton came down about eleven o'clock looking much brighter and +better. When the little boys had put away their books and slates, and +had gone out with their hoops, she said: "I feel so much happier about +dear Raymond, Salome. He was so affectionate to me last evening, and has +promised to do better. I have written a line to your Uncle Loftus, to +ask him to deal gently with him, and to remember how greatly indulged he +was in your dear father's lifetime. He has been little prepared for such +a life as the one he is now leading. But we must be patient with him, +poor dear fellow. I always think I am not half patient enough." + +"O mother, you are only too kind to Raymond, and, indeed, to us all. You +spoil us all." + +"Not you, Salome," her mother said tenderly; "I fear you have too much +on your young shoulders. If I were a strong woman, like your Aunt Anna +for instance, I could do more to help you; but I am so useless. No one +can feel that more than I do." + +"You are of great use, mother dear," Salome said, "and ornamental too. +You always remind me of somebody in a story as you sit by your +work-table. Quite as pretty a picture as that one of you when you were a +girl, whatever Mrs. Pryor may say. When shall we know about our affairs, +mother?" Salome asked after a pause. + +"I cannot tell; there is so much to settle. I believe the furniture +realized a great deal, and the wines, and--" + +"Don't let us talk of it, mother. I was only thinking of those jewels of +grannie's--the set of emeralds that she left me." + +"They are all secure, my dear; they are my personal property, which is +mine under settlement. But I often think I shall sell some of them. +Indeed, I shall have to do so, I expect." + +"It would not be wrong, would it, mother? I mean nothing that is yours +ought to go to the creditors?" + +"No, certainly not, my dear. It is sad to think you should have to talk +of such things at your age. Only a few months ago, and I was consulting +Miss Barnes about your going to Paris to finish, and now here is your +education stopped." + +"Oh no, mamma," said Salome cheerfully; "I learn a great deal by +teaching Hans and Carl. I am beginning Latin with Reginald, and you know +I read German and French for my own pleasure. I daresay I am finishing +my education just as well as if I had gone to Paris." + +Salome's words had more truth in them than she knew. She was indeed +under training in the school where the Lord gives His children many +lessons, learned, perhaps, more easily in youth than in after years. + +Many times in the course of that day Salome tried to recall all Mr. +Atherton had said in his sermon on the Sunday before. He had been +speaking of those who sought themselves and their own pleasure, and had +quoted the well-known words of Thomas à Kempis:--"My son, if thou +seekest thyself, thou shalt find thyself, but to thy own punishment." +The thing eagerly coveted and sought after, nay, even prayed for, is +granted; but it comes after all in the guise of a foe rather than of a +friend. + +"I am not seeking myself," Salome thought. "I am trying to serve +Raymond, and to save mother from pain; but, oh! I wish I could have had +Reginald with me when I go up the road. He knows already something, I am +certain, from the Percival who is at the college; but I could not break +my word to Raymond, I must go through with it now." + +Happily for Salome, Kate and one of her little sisters came to see them +soon after dinner on this bright winter day, and Salome and Hans and +Carl walked towards Roxburgh with them. Kate was as good-tempered and +kind as ever, and infected Salome with her bright spirits. + +Reginald was sure to stand marvellously well in the examination, Digby +said so. Ralph and Cyril were going to sing at the school concert. It +was such a pity Salome could not be there. Everybody always went, and it +was such fun. Kate wanted Salome to go round by the college ground, +where a football match was on; but as the sun set and the winter's fog +gathered, Salome knew her hour was drawing near, towards which she was +looking with nervous dread. + +The boys ran into the house, and clattered upstairs as soon as they +reached home. Salome lingered in the porch a moment irresolute; then +started off past the shop, where the gas was already lighted, up the +road towards the quarry. The hedges were higher as she advanced, and, +indeed, the road was cut out of the rock. + +It was dusk, almost dark, and Salome felt lonely and frightened. She had +not long to wait in suspense. A tall figure advanced towards her from +the overhanging rocks of the old quarry. + +[Illustration: "A tall figure advanced towards her." _Page 176._] + +"Miss Wilton?" asked a voice, so pleasant and gentleman-like in its +tones that Salome was reassured. "I was coming to call on Mrs. Wilton. I +am Philip Percival. At your brother's entreaty, and not wishing to press +too hardly on him, I consented to see you first, as he tells me his +mother is in such delicate health that excitement might hurt her. Is +that true?" + +"Yes, quite true," Salome said; but she was shivering with nervousness, +and her voice trembled. + +"We had better walk up or down the road," Philip Percival said; "you +will take cold. It is a most unpleasant business, Miss Wilton; but I +honestly think the only hope of saving your brother is to deal openly +with you. He has deceived me so grossly, and you cannot wonder that I am +indignant. He represented to me that his mother and sisters were in +great difficulty, and that if I lent him the money for a month he could +repay it with interest. It was foolish of me to be taken in. I _was_ +completely taken in. He has a winning, plausible manner; and he is +treated so roughly by some of the clerks who resent the airs he gives +himself, that I tried the more to befriend him. I have had a nice +reward!" + +"I am so sorry," Salome said. "I want to beg you to wait a little while, +and perhaps I shall be able to pay you. Mother has no money, I know, +just now; and it is not only on that account I do not like to ask her, +but because it will grieve her so much to hear of Raymond's deceit. She +loves him so dearly, and it would be such a shock to her. Do you think +you _could_ wait?" + +Philip Percival looked down on the little slight figure in its sombre +dress with very different feelings to what he had expected. "My eldest +sister will make it all right, if you will see her," had conveyed to his +mind the idea of a woman of mature years--not of a young girl, who ought +to have been sheltered by Raymond's care, not exposed by him to this +painful revelation. + +"Could you wait?" Salome repeated; and as she spoke two people coming +down the road passed her and Philip Percival. + +"Salome, is that you?" It was Mrs. Atherton's voice. "Good-night;" and +then, as Salome scarcely responded to the greeting, Mr. and Mrs. +Atherton passed on. + +"Whom could Salome Wilton be talking to so earnestly?" Mrs. Atherton +said as they walked away. "It was not one of her brothers." + +"No; I think not. You had better speak to her about it. It is far too +late for her to be walking here alone with a young man." + +"It is very strange. I cannot understand it," Mrs. Atherton said. "Yes; +I will speak to her to-morrow. She is such a quiet child, every day I +know her and watch her I love her better. I cannot understand it," Mrs. +Atherton repeated. + +"Yes; I will wait till Christmas for your sake," Philip said. "I see how +painful your position is, and I feel indignant with your brother for +placing you in it. He ought never to have sent me here. But lest you +should think I love money for its own sake, I want to tell you that we +are very poor. My father is paralyzed, and my mother gives lessons in +music. I have been working hard to save enough money to help my brother +to live on his scholarship at Oxford, if, as we hope, he takes one. +Also, I am able, by strict economy, to get a few things which brighten +my mother's life a little. I don't say this to make you think it is +wonderful or praiseworthy. I hope you will not misunderstand me." + +"No indeed," Salome said earnestly, looking up at the face she could but +dimly see,--"no indeed. I think you are brave and good; and, please, do +not give up poor Raymond. Perhaps he may get wiser and more used to this +great change in his life." + +"Let us hope so, for your sake as well as his own. And now, shall I see +you home?" + +"Oh no, no; it is quite near--at the end of the road. Good-bye, and +thank you very, very much." + +Philip Percival stood watching the retreating figure as it went swiftly +down the road and was soon lost to sight in the gathering darkness. + +"His sister, his eldest sister," he said--"a mere child; but what a +world of resolution in her face!" + +It would not have been Salome had she not dropped something in her +flight. Philip saw something white on the road, and picking it up, found +it was Salome's pocket-handkerchief. He was irresolute for a moment +whether to follow her with it or keep it. He decided on keeping it; and +putting it into his coat pocket, walked quickly away in the opposite +direction to Elm Cottage. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +HARD TIMES. + + +Raymond Wilton came back from dining with his uncle in a very amiable +mood; and when he could get a word with Salome, and found that he was +relieved from the immediate pressure of debt, he seemed as unconcerned +as if he had never been in debt at all. He did not ask many questions +about the interview with Philip Percival, catching at the most important +part as Salome said,-- + +"Yes; he promised to wait till Christmas. That is not long, Raymond." + +"Oh, well, something will turn up by then, and Uncle Loftus says it is +possible there may be a little money coming in. The creditors are going +to accept seven shillings in the pound; and if it were not for that +hateful bank and its cheating, we should do. Anyhow, I am easy for the +present, thanks to you, Sal; I shall not forget it, I can tell you." + +"Raymond," Salome said in a low voice, "I wish you would go to church +on Sunday mornings, and try to think more of what God wishes us to do." + +"All right, Salome; but you know I am not fond of preaching." + +"Dear Ray," said Salome earnestly, "I am sure I am not fit to preach to +you or any one, only I do feel sure that if we ask God to keep us safe, +He hears us, and will not forsake us, if we are _really_ sorry, and +determined to try to please Him." + +"These are old-fashioned notions, Sal," said Raymond carelessly; "but +you are a good little thing, and I daresay it would be better for me if +I were more like you." + +That was all Salome could get out of Raymond; and, chilled and +disappointed, she felt, as many of us have felt, that it was no use +trying to help people like Raymond, still less to expect anything from +them. + +But for the present there was a calm. Raymond went off in good time to +Harstone. He spent the evening at home; and his mother was quite cheered +about him, saying several times to Salome, "I thought, for my sake, +Raymond would turn over a new leaf." + +Meantime Reginald worked hard at his papers, and was steadfast in his +work, fighting his way in the form, step by step, always a hard matter +at a new school for the first term. + +Salome saw him going on diligently and steadily, and longed for a word +of praise for him. But it often happens that there is more joy in the +mother's heart over signs of amendment in one child who has given her +trouble and anxiety than in the persistent well-doing of those who never +cause her uneasiness. This is nothing new. Was it not so in the days +when divine lips told the story of the lost piece of silver and of the +wandering sheep? Will it not be so to the end of time? + +Salome lived for the next few days in constant excitement about the +postman. Every time his knock was heard her heart would give an +answering thump, and she would go out into the passage to take the +letters. But Messrs. Bardsley and Carrow made no sign. A week passed; +and one afternoon, when she went out to meet the postman, and eagerly +took the letters from his hand, she came suddenly on Mrs. Atherton. + +The rosy flush and the excitement of her manner were not lost on Mrs. +Atherton, nor that she hastily thrust one letter into her pocket, and +answered Mrs. Atherton's question as to whether she would like to see +the _Review_ she had brought in a confused manner, not even asking her +to come in, and standing with Ada's foreign letter in her hand, twisting +it nervously in her fingers. + +"Shall I come in and see Mrs. Wilton?" Mrs. Atherton asked. + +"Oh yes; please come in," was the reply; "but mamma is not downstairs +to-day, so we have no fire in the drawing-room. I sit in the dining-room +when mother is not well. She has a bad cold and head-ache. Please come +in, Mrs. Atherton." + +Salome preceded Mrs. Atherton into the dining-room, which Hans and Carl +had combined to make very untidy by cutting up newspapers for the tail +of a kite bigger than themselves, which Frank Pryor had in leisure +moments made for them, with the assurance that "he" would carry a tail +that would reach pretty near as far as Harstone Abbey Church. All these +untidy scraps were on the floor, and one end of the table was even in a +worse condition. Papers, books, pens, and ink were in a state of +confusion impossible to describe. By the papers, and engulfed by them as +they surged on every side, was a little work-basket, stuffed so full +that the lid refused to think of closing, and out of which peeped a +curious medley of articles too numerous and varied to mention. + +"I am sorry to bring you in here," Salome began. "The children have +nowhere else to play. They are gone now to help Ruth to make some +tea-cakes. Please sit down." + +Mrs. Atherton subsided into a chair, and then laughing, said,-- + +"I am sitting on some property, I think," and rising, she drew from +under her a box of tools, from which Hans had been using the hammer. + +"How dreadfully careless and naughty of the children!" Salome exclaimed. +"I am so sorry. I do wish I were neat and tidy like Ada, who never left +anything in the wrong place in her life." + +"It is never too late to mend," said Mrs. Atherton with a smile. "I have +not seen you for a week, except in church. I have been so busy; and +every week and every day we get nearer to Christmas, the pressure grows +greater. I wanted to ask you if you would come over to the vicarage and +help me with some work." + +"I work so badly," Salome said, "but I will do all I can." + +"It is very easy, humble sort of work," Mrs. Atherton said,--"sewing +strings on skirts, and buttons on aprons and pinafores, for Christmas +presents in the parish, you know. Will you come in to-morrow afternoon +for an hour or two?" + +Salome promised; and then conversation seemed to flag, as it always does +when something is on the mind of one of those who are trying to keep it +up without alluding to that "something." + +At last Mrs. Atherton rose to go away, when, taking Salome's hand in +hers, she held it for a moment, and said,-- + +"My dear child, I have not seen you since we met you on the Whitelands +Road. It was very late for you to be out alone, and with a stranger." + +Salome's colour rushed to her face, and was of course misunderstood. + +"You are so young, my dear," Mrs. Atherton said; "and I daresay, living +in the country, you have often been out late in your own grounds and +village. But here it is different. And you were talking and walking with +a gentleman. Was he an old friend?" + +"No," said Salome, "oh no; I had never seen him before. Oh, please do +not ask me any more questions." + +The look of distress on Salome's face touched Mrs. Atherton. + +"My dear child," she said tenderly, "if you were my own daughter, I +should say what I now say. Do not think that I interfere unduly, but let +me earnestly advise you not to place yourself in the same position +again. Will you promise?" + +Salome was silent. How could she promise, when once more she must meet +Philip Percival and tell him if she had succeeded in getting the money +or not? Perhaps she might write to him, but somehow she felt it would be +better to see him. + +Mrs. Atherton waited, as if for an answer; and as none came, she dropped +Salome's hand, and turned away. + +"Do kiss me again," Salome said. "And do trust me. I thought, and I +still think, I was doing right that evening." + +"Well, my dear child," said Mrs. Atherton, kissing her affectionately, +"I hope it will prove so. Give my love to your mother. I will come in +again very soon." + +Salome ran upstairs with Ada's letter, and hastily putting it on the +table by her mother's side, went down again to read her own letter. It +was from Bardsley and Carrow. Her hands trembled with excitement as she +tore open the envelope and read:-- + + "DEAR MADAM,--We return the manuscript of 'Under the Cedars,' + with thanks for allowing us to peruse it. We regret that it + is not suited for publication in our series of stories for + the young.--We remain your obedient servants, + + "J. A. BARDSLEY AND CARROW." + +"Everything is a disappointment! Everything fails!" exclaimed Salome. +"It is no use trying to do anything. Mrs. Atherton suspects me of I +don't know what; and I was only trying to save mother from pain. But +Raymond may go his own way now. I can do nothing for him. Why should my +life be so different to other girls? Ada is happy at Cannes, having all +she can wish for. Then there are the girls at Edinburgh Crescent going +out to-night to a fancy-dress dance, and to-morrow to some other party, +and next week to the school concert; and here am I, trying to be of use, +and yet I cannot even succeed in that, and everything is so wretched and +miserable. I saw Mrs. Atherton looking round on this untidy room. The +children are really the greatest bother;" and Salome snatched up the +tail of the kite, newspapers and all, with no gentle hand; and by so +doing, the string, which was twisted in one of the corners of her old +writing-folio, brought the whole down--cloth, work-basket, and all. + +"What a horrid fire! and _what_ a mess! Really this isn't very +inviting," said Reginald, as he came in from football, and, covered with +mud and scratches, threw himself into the chair Mrs. Atherton had +occupied. + +"Where's mother?" he asked. "Is her cold worse? I say, Salome, I was +chosen to play in the second fifteen instead of a fellow who is ill. I +have had a glorious run for once. Sal, what's the matter?" + +Salome was fairly crying now. + +"It is all so miserable and uncomfortable, Reg; and look here." + +She handed him the letter as she spoke. + +"What a jolly hand!" Reginald exclaimed. "Who is it from?" + +"It's about my story. Of course it is returned." + +"Oh, well, try somebody else. There's heaps of other publishers; or, if +that doesn't do, write another tale." + +"It's very easy to talk like that, Reg. You don't seem to care." + +"Yes; I do care very much. Where's the manuscript?" + +Then it flashed across Salome for the first time that the manuscript had +not arrived with the letter. + +"Why, the manuscript is not come after all. Perhaps it is lost. I +daresay it is lost. It does not matter." + +The entrance of Stevens settled this matter. "The postman came back with +this parcel, Miss Salome. He forgot to deliver it. What is it?" + +"Oh, it is mine. It is all right. Give it to me, Stevens." + +"What a state the room is in! Well, for your own comfort's sake, I +think you might keep it tidier, Miss Salome. You would be ever so much +more comfortable.--O Master Reg, what boots! Well, I don't know how the +mud is to be got off. You must remember there's no one but me to do +everything, except the old lady, who is not one to put herself out of +the way to help anybody--not she." + +"Well, I'll clean my own boots, if that's all," said Reginald. "I don't +care what I do. I'll clean the knives too, and learn to make you a gown, +if it will please you, Stevie." And Reginald sprang up, took Stevens +round the waist, made her pirouette round the table with him, and then, +having left dabs of clay and mud off his boots all over Mrs. Pryor's red +drugget, vanished. + +Stevens straightened her cap, and pulled down her white apron, and said +breathlessly,-- + +"What a boy it is! But I would sooner, fifty times over, have a bright +happy nature like his, than one that can only mope and look miserable." + +"I _am_ miserable," said poor Salome, "so I can't help looking +miserable." + +"Well, there's many that are worse off than you, my dear. Ruth Pryor has +been telling me of a family of little children left without father or +mother. The Pryors supply them with bread; and this morning, when Frank +went with the loaves, he found the eldest child, scarce twelve years +old, with the little ones all crying round her, and her mother only +buried a month ago; and now the father was taken in a fit, and went off +before the doctor could get to him." + +It was the reverse of the picture to that over which Salome had been +brooding,--her cousins' gaieties; Ada's happiness amongst flowers, and +music, and sunshine; the lives of her old neighbours at Maplestone--the +De Brettes, and the Fergusons, and many others--riding, dancing, and +enjoying themselves. Stevens's words were of use. The old message seemed +to be whispered to her soul: "Let patience have her perfect work." +"Trust in the Lord, and be doing good ... verily thou shalt be fed." + +It is not the perfect work of patience when trials are fretted at, and, +as it were, _resented_; not the perfect work of patience when we tell +ourselves we have borne a great deal, and are wonderfully brave, and +that no one half appreciates us or all we do and endure. Ah no! The +stuff of which the hidden saints of God are made is different to this. +Theirs is the patience of Christ's faithful ones who can smile under the +smart, and be tender and gentle to others even while the sword is +piercing their own souls. + +The child of whom I write was very young, and no wonder that she failed +at times. The burden laid on her was heavy; and I cannot be surprised +that Mrs. Atherton's misapprehension was hard to bear, and that the +honest and pure desire to save her mother and her brother should be the +cause of her kind friend thinking less highly of her than before made it +doubly bitter. Then the story, on which she had built so many hopes, +copied so carefully, kept free from blot or stain,--it was hard to see +it again, the familiar words looking up at her as she scanned them with +tear-dimmed eyes; the headings to the chapters, the little bits of verse +or hymn, so carefully chosen. All in vain all her trouble, all her +pains. And if no one took her story, and paid her for it, how should she +be able to satisfy Philip Percival at Christmas? + +The tangle of her life looked more bewildering than ever, and the +child-heart within her was sick and sore with disappointment--a form of +trial which the young find harder to meet than the old, because they +have not the experience of past disappointments to guide them, and do +not know how the sting is often taken away, as we live to say and to +feel, "It was far better as it was, though I could not see it at the +time." + +Mrs. Wilton's cold proved a severe one, and she had to keep her bed for +several days, and Salome did not find time to go over to the vicarage. +Mrs. Wilton needed a great deal of attention, and Dr. Wilton came every +day to see her. + +The holidays began. It was getting near Christmas, and there was an +ever-increasing dread in Salome's mind about the money. It seemed +strange to her that Raymond did not appear to concern himself about it. +He was in excellent spirits, and altogether more agreeable than before +the revelation about his debts. They hung like a fetter round his +sister. And there was no news of "Under the Cedars," which had gone +forth again to try its fate--this time with far different feelings, and +with very little hope of success, instead of a great deal. + +"Something must be said to Mr. Percival, Raymond, about the money. He +said he would wait till Christmas, but not longer. Shall I write to +him?" + +"Oh no; don't remind him of it. I see him every day, and he can ask me +if he chooses." + +But Salome was not to be satisfied. "As I promised to do something about +it by Christmas, I must tell him how it is." + +"How what is?" + +"Why, Raymond, I thought, I hoped I might get something for some work I +did, and then I could have paid Mr. Percival half perhaps." + +"Work! what sort of work?" + +"Oh, you must not ask. I will tell you some day perhaps." + +"Don't bother yourself, Sal. Percival can wait. He is all right now with +me, and I think he is a good fellow after all. I want awfully to get to +St. Clair's for Christmas. He has asked me, which is awfully kind of +him. You remember he was the fellow who travelled with us on that +wretched journey." + +"Yes, I remember; but I don't think you can go, Raymond. It is such a +long journey for two days." + +"I shall ask for an extra day. Old Warde is very civil to me now. It is +better to keep up with friends worth having, like St. Clair. Mother +thinks so." + +Salome was silent. She thought it wiser to say nothing. + +There was a bright service in St. Luke's Church every Wednesday evening; +and on the Wednesday before Christmas, as Salome was coming out of the +church, scarcely two hundred yards from Elm Cottage, she heard a voice +near her say,-- + +"Miss Wilton." + +She started, and turning quickly, said,-- + +"I wanted to see you, Mr. Percival. I cannot do what I promised, and +I--I hardly like to ask it, but _could_ you wait till Easter?" + +"Yes," was the reply. "I can and will wait. I came here on purpose to +say so." + +"How kind of you! Mr. Percival, is--do you think my brother is getting +on better at the office?" + +"I hope so," was the answer. + +"He is there in better time of a morning, isn't he?" asked Salome +anxiously. + +Again the answer came guardedly,-- + +"I think so." + +"Mother has been so ill lately, and quite confined to her room. Raymond +has been much more attentive to her lately." + +"I am very glad to hear it. I hope you will be at rest about the money. +Good-night." + +Then he was gone. And Salome ran quickly across the road to the gate of +Elm Cottage, saying to herself, "Surely Taylor and Darte will take my +story, they are so long in replying, and that is a good sign. Bardsley +and Carrow were only a week. Oh, perhaps by Easter it will be all right, +and I shall be able to repay Mr. Percival. How kind he is! I do like +him." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +DAFFODILS. + + +The Christmas season, so different to any the Wiltons had ever passed, +came and went. Raymond managed to attain his wish, as he generally did; +and instead of returning punctually to the office after the two days +above and beyond the bank holiday which Mr. Warde kindly and +considerately granted him, he sent an excuse to him, and a telegram to +his mother, which alarmed her very much, to say he had a severe cold, +and was not allowed to travel. + +It ought to be a warning to all those who are tempted to make false +excuses or deceive, that when once it is done, every one's faith is +weakened in their assertions. It takes years of truthfulness and +sincerity to restore the confidence which one falsehood has shaken. + +Reginald must be excused, therefore, if he said, as he read the +telegram,-- + +"Humbug!" + +Salome gave him a quick glance, for she saw her mother's distressed and +anxious face. + +"I do hope he is not very ill. What do you think, Salome?" + +"I hope not, mother. He only says, 'A severe cold;' and you see he sends +the telegram himself." + +"Would you advise me to send a telegram for a paid answer?" + +"Certainly not, mother," said Reginald. "Don't disturb yourself; he is +all right." + +Mrs. Wilton was silenced; but when Reginald left the room she said to +Salome, "I cannot understand how it is that Reginald is so unfeeling +about Ray. It is not like the love of brothers." + +All this anxiety at Elm Cottage might have been spared had it been +possible to show Mrs. Wilton the comfortable dining-room at Rose Court, +the St. Clairs' home, Raymond talking and laughing with one of Henry St. +Clair's sisters at a pleasant dinner-party, and quite forgetting the +sore throat and little cough which had seemed to Mrs. St. Clair in her +kindness a sufficient reason for Raymond to prolong his visit. Sympathy +for the boy's altered position had made her doubly kind to him, though +she secretly wished he would talk less of himself, his old Eton days and +friends, and would have liked it better if he had been quieter and less +self-asserting. + +"It was a kindness to invite him, poor boy," she said to her husband. +"They had a very pretty nice place, with every comfort, and Henry paid +them a visit during the Easter holidays. Think what a change it is! I am +glad to be kind to him; though he is not exactly the friend I would +choose for Henry." + +"A conceited, shallow-pated young fellow," was the reply. "Handsome +enough, no doubt; but I, for one, shall not be sorry to see him start +for Harstone." + +Poor Raymond! How little did he think that this was the impression left +upon his host at Rose Court. He went home with a fresh edition of +discontent at his lot, and relapsed a good deal into his former habits. + +So the winter passed, and the days lengthened, and the bright +spring-time drew on. + +One radiant March morning Salome set out early to spend a day at +Edinburgh Crescent. A holiday was proclaimed for the children, and an +expedition with Ruth Pryor to see a menagerie which was stationed in a +large field not far off. Mrs. Wilton had been unusually well of late, +and was quite happy to be left for the day, to write letters, and +perhaps walk over to the vicarage at three o'clock to see Mrs. Atherton. +Salome's step was light and elastic as she walked away towards +Edinburgh Crescent. She had the spring of youth in her, which responded +to the spring of nature; and something delightful had happened which was +to mark that day with a red letter, as she thought, to her. "Under the +Cedars," after three unsuccessful journeys, and three new title-pages, +had been accepted, and she had in her pocket a letter offering to +publish the story and give her ten guineas for it. If the proposal was +agreeable to her, the cheque would be sent at once. Only those who have +earned money that is needed for some express purpose can understand the +joy in Salome's heart. It was only ten guineas. Fifteen more would be +required to meet what was wanted. But another story was rapidly +approaching its conclusion, and very soon she might earn the rest. + +These few months had been times of steady progress with Salome. She had +set herself earnestly to learn the lesson of her life; and no one, old +or young will, if they seek God's help, do this in vain. Just as one who +sweeps a room from this cause makes it and the action fine, so did +Salome, by striving against her desultory, untidy habits and her dreamy +indolence, when what she had to do was uncongenial, and, above all, when +her effort to struggle against discontented repining for what was +denied her of luxury and pleasantness in everyday life, make the way +"finer" and brighter for others and for herself. Child as she was, her +influence was felt. Stevens acknowledged it, and her brothers could not +fail to be affected by it. All unconsciously to herself she was +fulfilling the command of One who lays no burden on us too heavy to +bear, who tells us to let our light _so_ shine that our Father in heaven +may be glorified. + +I think Salome's little light was shining, and I also think that had it +not been for the surrounding gloom of sorrow and loss which, as it were, +encompassed her, it would not have been so bright nor so steady in its +radiance. + +How she longed to tell Reginald the good news about "Under the Cedars." +How she wished the letter had come by the first instead of the second +delivery. It would be nice to meet Reginald, and hear him say, "How +jolly it is!" "I shall be obliged to let him know, when I have the +money, what I am going to do with it. But that time is not come yet. I +must take the days one by one. And oh, what a lovely day this is! Such a +sky; and how those horse-chestnut buds are shining in the sun. I +remember one day last spring how I was riding with father, and he told +me to look at the big chestnut tree by the lodge, how the buds were +glistening." + +The wakened memory of her father sent a thrill of pain through the young +heart, and a hungry longing for him, which is so well expressed by the +poetess of love and natural affection in her own especial strain without +a rival:-- + + "But what awakest thou in the heart, O Spring-- + The human heart with all its dreams and sighs, + Thou that bring'st back so many a buried thing, + Restorer of forgotten harmonies? + Sweet sounds and scents break forth where'er thou art; + What wakest thou in the heart? + + "Too much, ah! there too much, + We know not well wherefore it should be so; + But roused by thee, + What strange, fond yearnings from the soul's deep cell, + Gush for the faces we no more may see; + How are we haunted in thy wind's low tone + By voices that are gone! + + "Looks of familiar love, which never more, + Never on earth our aching eyes shall greet, + Sweet words of welcome to the household door, + And vanished smiles, and sounds of parted feet. + Spring, 'midst the wakening of thy flowers and bees + Why--why awakest thou these?" + +It seemed so long to her since the last spring, as if she had left +behind her childhood and its dreams and happiness and come into the +cares of womanhood. But youth was strong within her for all that; and +when her cousins, the trio of dear little sisters, came rushing out to +meet her as Bean threw open the door, and Kate danced downstairs to +give her a prolonged hug, Salome felt ready for anything her cousins +might propose. + +"The boys are going to be so condescending as to walk with us," Kate +said. "We are all going to Stoke Canon to get daffodils. I thought you +would like that, as you have an eye for beauty, as Aunt Betha says. +Digby is to bring Reginald home to luncheon, and we are to start at two +o'clock. But come upstairs now. I have got a new hat, and I want your +advice about it." + +"May we come and get daffodils, Katie?" pleaded Edith's little voice. + +"Certainly not; run away, children." + +"Let Edith come, Katie, Edith and Maude," Salome said. + +"Oh no, they will only be a bother; besides, we are going too far for +them." + +"You must come to tea with Hans and Carl next Saturday," Salome said, +"if Aunt Anna will allow you." + +"Oh, that will be nice!" exclaimed the children. "Now, do come and see +Guy and Aunt Betha." + +Poor little Guy lay extended on his sofa, while Aunt Betha was busy with +some new table-linen, which she was marking in the old-fashioned way +with red marking thread. + +Guy's pale face beamed with delight as Salome came into the room. Poor +suffering little one! he had not much variety in his life, and Salome's +visits were always hailed by him as a great event. She told him a story +sometimes, every detail of which he would drink in with hungry +eagerness. Salome was a favourite with Aunt Betha as well as with little +Guy, and she turned to her with a bright smile of welcome on her +pleasant old face, taking off her spectacles and rubbing her eyes. + +"I am getting past this fine marking," she said, "though I don't think +that dinner napkin is amiss," holding it up for admiration. + +"I wonder you take the trouble, auntie," Katie said. "Every one writes +on linen now-a-days. Mamma says it is quite old-fashioned. Do give it +up." + +"No, my dear," said Aunt Betha half sadly. "I am an old-fashioned +person, and I could never bear to see beautiful linen inked all over +with blotted scrawls. No new fashion would make me believe that this is +not the best plan. That mark will last long after I am in my grave. I am +not ashamed of my handiwork, I can tell you." + +Salome had taken up the table-napkin and was admiring the three +well-shaped letters L. E. W. and the neat figures beneath, the number +and the year, when Guy's little voice was raised in appeal. + +"Cousin 'Lome,"--his nearest approach to Salome's name--"_do_ come and +talk to Guy; tell about when you were a little girl, at your big +house--tell about the bridge." + +"A little girl!" thought Aunt Betha, as she saw Salome's slight, almost +child-like figure bending over Guy. "She is but a child now, so young +and delicate-looking, and not one to breast many of the storms of this +troublesome world." + +The boys came in to dinner in good time; and about two o'clock the happy +party of four cousins set off for the Stoke Canon Woods. + +Digby and Reginald were now fast friends; and Kate held to her first +affection for Salome. Salome enjoyed Kate for a time, her sharp speeches +and rippling fun were amusing at intervals; but she often thought that +she would not care always to live with Kate, or skim over the surface of +everything as she did. + +The daffodils were in their full glory in a field and orchard beyond +Stoke Canon Woods. Many poets of every age have sung their praises; but +who can really convey any idea of their loveliness as they bend their +beautiful heads to the crisp breeze as it passes over them, and catch +the sunlight on their pale golden cups? + +"Oh, take them gently!" Salome exclaimed, as the boys rushed upon them, +eager to fill the girls' baskets for them. "Take them gently; don't +break one off too short," she said, bending down and gathering the +flowers with a tender hand. "Look at the fringe on this one; and oh, +Kate, just see how deep it is, and how perfect the leaves are." + +"Oh yes; but I like primroses better when they are gathered, and +bluebells. The Stoke Woods are filled with bluebells in May." + +"Hallo!" exclaimed Digby, "there's Percival and his elder brother. When +he was at the college they used to be called--" + +"You shouldn't tell school nicknames; it is not fair," Reginald +exclaimed. "Come down here, Percival," he shouted, for the field and +orchard lay a little below the level of the road. "Come down and speak +to us, Percival." + +Percival obeyed, and his brother remained standing on the bank above. + +Salome gave him one quick glance, and all the bright colour left her +face. He saw and understood, and, following his younger brother, came +down and said,-- + +"Introduce me to your friends, Robert." + +"Oh, I forgot you did not know them, Phil. Miss Wilton and Miss Salome +Wilton." + +Philip Percival bowed with a pleasant smile, and stooped to gather some +of the flowers almost as gently as Salome herself. + +"I must take some to my father," he said. "They will please him; he has +a craving for bright colours, and daffodils more than any flower seem to +fill the house with light." + +"Yes," Salome said; "I do love them so much; they are like bits of +spring sunshine." + +Then, as the party all walked on together, Philip talked of many things; +and Kate seemed to amuse him as much as she did Salome, for he often +laughed merrily at her sharp sallies. + +The Percivals returned with the Wiltons, and they had what Aunt Betha +always liked to prepare for them--a school-room tea: a glass dish of +jam, a pile of hot cakes and--a departure from the usual order--of +Dorset butter. Fresh white butter was a luxury not known every day in +Mrs. Wilton's school-room or nursery. + +"This is jolly," said Kate, "if only there are chairs enough to hold us +all.--No, don't sit on that, Mr. Percival; it has long been shaky on one +leg.--Run, Edith, and get some more chairs. And you three little ones +may all come, only you must not make yourselves 'jammy,' or what will +Aunt Betha say?" + +"I think I shall go and have my tea with Guy, if you don't mind very +much," Salome said. "Poor little boy, he must wish he could come here." + +"Nonsense, Salome! Pray don't be so silly," Kate said. "Let Edith take +him some hot cake, and he will be content." + +But Salome went off, little Edith following her; and Guy's delighted +welcome was a sufficient reward. + +"Oh, Cousin 'Lome, if only you could live with me! Do tell me another +story." + +Aunt Betha took the opportunity of Salome's presence to slip downstairs +to watch some operations in the kitchen, and Salome and Guy were left +together. She fed him with little bits of cake, and repeated to him some +verses which fascinated the sick child, and he made her say them over +and over again;--the story of the two little birds told by Mrs. Fowler +in her beautiful book called "Our Children's Story,"--a story in its +sweet musical rhythm which has touched many hearts besides little Guy +Wilton's. + +Salome wished she could have one word with Philip Percival--one word to +say that the ten pounds would be so soon in her possession. But the +opportunity was not forthcoming. Salome tripped gaily home with Reginald +in the soft spring twilight, her basket of daffodils in her hand, and a +feeling of joy in her heart, which beamed in her sweet face as she went +into the drawing-room at Elm Cottage. + +"Look, mother! look, Hans and Carl--" + +But the joy faded out of her face and changed to anxious foreboding as +Mrs. Wilton said, brokenly,-- + +"I am so glad you are come. Send the children away; don't let Reginald +come. I want to speak to you alone." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +LOST! + + +"Send the children away!" The words recalled that first day of +sorrow--eight months before. + +"Salome, I have lost the necklet set with emeralds, which really belongs +to you. When we first settled in here, I looked over all my personal +jewels, and everything was right. This afternoon, when I came in from +the vicarage, I opened my large dressing-case to look for a ring I +thought I would sell, and the necklet was gone! Salome, do you, _can_ +you imagine the Pryors are dishonest?" Salome looked bewildered for a +moment, and then the terrible suspicion, which was almost a certainty, +flashed upon her. "Salome, do you think the Pryors can have been +dishonest? Do you think we are living in a den of thieves? There is no +one but Stevens and the Pryors who ever go about the house. It must lie +between them." + +[Illustration: "'Salome, I have lost the necklet set with emeralds.'" +_Page 208._] + +"Mother!" exclaimed Salome, "Stevens! How can you say so?" + +"What _am_ I to say or think, Salome? The necklet is old-fashioned, but +it is very valuable. They are fine emeralds, and, I daresay, worth sixty +or seventy pounds. I was very foolish to keep it here; I ought to have +sent it to your Uncle Loftus to put in his plate-chest, or to the bank. +Salome, have you nothing to advise or to say? Shall I question Stevens?" + +Salome was taking the daffodils one by one from the basket, and did not +speak for a moment. + +"No, mother; do not question anybody yet; let us wait. It is so dreadful +to suspect innocent people. Are you quite sure the necklet was in that +large dressing-case? Have you looked through the little one?" + +"Yes, over and over again. I know I am not mistaken. I was thinking of a +ring which belonged to an uncle of mine which I do not value; and I +thought if I sold it I might get a few pounds for the boys. Reginald +would like to go to Westmoreland this Easter, and it is so hard to have +no spare money. Raymond, too, wants five pounds,--so much, though I fear +he is very extravagant." + +Salome started as her mother was speaking, for Raymond came in. It was +Thursday, the day for the early closing of the offices in Harstone, and +Mrs. Wilton said,-- + +"This has been a lovely afternoon. Where have you been?" + +"I came in here about three o'clock and found everybody out, so I went +off again. I thought you might have liked a drive, mother, and I could +have hired a little trap for a trifle. Where had you flown to?" + +"Only to the vicarage. How kind of you to think of me. Look at Salome's +daffodils! But I have had a most unpleasant loss, Raymond,--do not +mention it to the little ones or to Reginald. I have missed something of +value out of my large jewel-box--that old gold necklet set with +emeralds." + +"I thought that was Salome's," Raymond said, taking up the newspaper, +and sitting down with it on the sofa, soon appeared to be absorbed in +it. + +Salome went on quietly arranging her daffodils, and then as quietly left +the room. She went upstairs to her mother's room, and then, after much +thought and prayer, determined to speak at once to Raymond. For how +could she doubt that he had taken the necklet? A shudder of pity and +deep pain at this deed of her brother's thrilled through her. But it +seemed all clear. The necklet was hers, and he had talked to her about +it; and she had said, when he asked if it could be sold, "I do not know +if it would be right." Then there arose before her the past six months, +and the pains she had taken to cover her brother's sin. Had she been +right to do this? Would it not have been better to have gone direct to +her Uncle Loftus and confided in him? + +Poor Salome! The same doubts and fears have at times beset us all; and +the question is a hard one to answer. Desire to shield those we love +from exposure may not be the truest kindness to them, and yet loving +hearts shrink from inflicting pain, especially when, as in Salome's +case, the frank avowal of Raymond's sin must bring sorrow on his mother, +already so heavily tried and burdened with grief and trouble. + +But Salome was now determined to be brave, as far as Raymond himself was +concerned; and that night, when her mother and Reginald had both gone to +their rooms, she tapped gently at Raymond's door, and said,-- + +"Please let me in. I want to speak to you." + +The door was opened at once, and Raymond, looking straight at his +sister, said,-- + +"Well, what is the matter?" + +"Raymond," Salome said, closing the door behind her and clasping her +little hands tightly together, "I am come to speak to you about my +necklet set with emeralds." + +"You had better have up Pryor, and--" + +He faltered, for Salome's clear, steadfast eyes were fixed on his face +as if she could read his thoughts. + +"Raymond, I believe you have taken my necklet out of mother's large +dressing-case! Why did you do so by stealth and like a thief?" + +"Come now, Salome--no insults. How dare you speak like that?" + +"Raymond," the brave girl went on, "I am certain you took the necklet; +and you must tell mother to-morrow morning, and not allow innocent +people to be accused. What have you done with the money? Have you paid +Mr. Percival? Raymond, I mean to be answered, and I shall wait here till +you speak." + +"You may wait all night, then; and"--putting on a great Inverness cape +over his coat and seating himself coolly in a chair--"you will find it +very cold here in this horrid little room." + +"I shall go to Uncle Loftus early to-morrow morning and tell him +everything from first to last. I have been wrong to conceal it all this +time, and I mean now to tell Uncle Loftus everything. If father were +alive, _he_ would be told; and Uncle Loftus is our guardian, and has +been very kind to you." + +"Kind! nonsense," Raymond said. "I don't see his kindness." + +"Well, Raymond, I shall tell him everything to-morrow--about your +debts, and all the trouble you have caused, and--" + +"That I stole your necklet, and made a fortune by it. Just like you, to +jump at conclusions." + +This was grateful, after all that she had done for him. But natures like +Raymond's are almost incapable of gratitude. + +"Where is my necklet? tell me that, Raymond." + +"Well, if you must know, I did take it to Moore's in St. Michael's Green +to-day to have it valued. I found mother's keys on her dressing-table, +and took a look into the box. You know I asked you about the necklet, +and so don't put on that surprised face." + +"I shall go to Moore's to-morrow and bring back the necklet," said +Salome decidedly; "and I shall tell mother about it. It is only fair and +right. Suspicion has fallen on the Pryors, and I must do it. I know I am +right," she said confidently. "I shall get up very early to-morrow and +go down into Harstone." + +"What stuff! I will bring the thing back. Moore won't give it up to you; +besides, the shops are not open till past eight. Don't be foolish, +Salome." + +"Raymond," she said, "please listen to me, and make a full confession of +everything to mother and Uncle Loftus. Make a new beginning. O Raymond! +think of our father--think of bringing dishonour on his name! Dear +Raymond," she said, breaking down into tears, "I am so miserable about +you; you might be such a comfort to mother and to me, and--" + +Raymond was touched at last. He put his arm round his sister and said,-- + +"Don't cry, Salome. You see a fellow has heaps of things to do with his +money that you know nothing of, and--still I will try to get out of +Harstone. I shall never do any good in that hateful office. Come, don't +cry. I will go down with you to-morrow and get that wretched necklet. I +wish I had never heard of it." + +She saw she could do no more that night, and left him, to creep into her +mother's room, stifling her sobs, after exacting from Raymond a promise +to be ready to go down to Harstone with her at half-past seven the next +morning. + +"I think Raymond's room is very cold," she said, as she lay down on her +little bed by her mother, who was sleeping quietly; "I am shivering so. +I hope I shall not wake mother." + +The shivering was followed by heat and restlessness, and then Salome +heard the clock of St. Luke's Church strike twelve, then +one--two--three. She could not sleep. About five o'clock the wind began +to rise and moan, then splashes of rain came against the window, and +the March morning broke in storm and flood. Salome got up noiselessly as +soon as it was light, and with eyes heavy from sleeplessness, and a +heart heavier with shame and anxiety, dressed, and went softly down the +passage to Raymond's room. She was anxious to avoid all observation, and +to her great relief Raymond appeared, in answer to her tap at his door, +in his ulster. + +"It's an awful morning, Salome; you had better let me go alone." + +"Oh no, no," she said eagerly. + +"Well, it is so early; and look how it is pouring cats and dogs! We had +better give up such a wild-goose chase. I'll bring back the thing all +right. Can't you trust me?" + +"No; I can't, I can't," said Salome. "Besides, mother will begin to +examine the Pryors and Stevens, and that will only make it worse for +every one. Make haste, Raymond. I hear Stevens. _Do_ come!" + +In another moment they were out in the wild, stormy morning. Could it be +the same world, Salome felt ready to ask herself--the smiling, sunny +world of yesterday, when she had set out so happily to Edinburgh +Crescent? Then her head ached dreadfully, and her back too, and her +cheeks were hot. It was almost a relief to feel the cold drops of rain +which came against them every time a great blast came and hurled her +umbrella on one side. + +"The trams will be running when we come back," Raymond said. "Had not +you better go back, Sal? It is making such a fuss; and you will get +cold." + +Salome only said, "I must come with you," and struggled on. + +It was past eight when they reached Mr. Moore's shop. The shutters were +taken down, and the shop was being dusted and swept. + +Mr. Moore was an old-fashioned tradesman, but of good repute; and though +his shop was small, he dealt only in the very best jewellery and plate. +A young man with light hair was behind the counter, and looked with +surprise at these early customers as Raymond advanced to the counter, +all dripping as he was, with the little shivering figure by his side. + +"I left a case here yesterday. I want to take it away again. Where is +Mr. Moore?" + +"Mr. Moore is not come into town yet," said the young man. "He will not +be here till ten o'clock." + +"You can let me have the necklet, I suppose? Old gold filigree, set in +emeralds. I left it here to be valued." + +The young man went to a book, and ran his finger down the last +page--"'Mr. Stephens--necklet, set with emeralds.'--Yes; here it is." + +"That is not right," said Salome. "That can't be yours." + +"Be quiet," said Raymond, in an angry whisper.--"Yes; that is it. I will +take it, if you please." + +There was still a little hesitation in the man's manner. "Mr. +Stephens--is that right?" There was a scarcely perceptible glance at +Salome as he spoke. + +He produced the case, and opening it, said, "They are very fine +emeralds. The value would be from sixty to eighty pounds." + +Raymond took the case up, closed the spring, and, saying "Good morning," +was leaving the shop; but the shopman followed him. + +"I think it would be more satisfactory, sir, if you signed your name in +this book, and address." + +Raymond was perplexed for a moment, but only for a moment. + +"The necklet is this young lady's property," he said.--"Sign your name, +Salome." + +The girl took the pen into her trembling fingers and wrote:--"Salome +Mary Wilton, Elm Cottage, Elm Fields, near Harstone." + +"A relation of Dr. Wilton's, I presume?" + +"Yes," said Salome. "Dr. Wilton is my uncle." + +The man's manner became instantly very respectful. + +"It is a very wet morning, Miss Wilton. Shall I call a cab?" + +"Oh no, no, thank you," Salome said, hurrying away. But Raymond was +frightened at her pale face; it haunted him for many and many a day. + +"Yes; we must take a cab. You can't possibly walk back." + +"The tram," Salome said,--"the tram; it will be cheaper." + +She was very wet, and shivering perceptibly. + +At last the corner was reached from whence the tram started. Raymond was +thankful to put his sister into the tram; and if ever he repented what +he had done, it was at that moment. + +"O Raymond, Raymond! how could you say your name was Stephens?" + +Raymond felt ashamed of himself as those pure, truthful eyes met his. + +"My name is Stephen, isn't it, Salome? Don't make me out worse than I +am. I am awfully sorry, and I shall go and see Uncle Loftus for your +sake. O Sal, I hope you have not got cold, you look so horridly white." + +Poor Salome struggled to keep calm; and was received by Stevens at the +door with exclamations of angry surprise,-- + +"Going out in a storm like this, getting your death of cold! I have no +sort of patience with you, that I haven't." + +"Oh! don't, don't scold me, Stevens. It is all right now;" and running +upstairs, she went into her mother's room, laid the case on the table, +and said, "There is the necklet; it was not stolen--it was not. Put it +back in the box; and, dear mother, will you please say no more till--" + +The sentence was unfinished, and poor Salome fell forward on the bed +where her mother was lying--fainting, for the first time in her life. +Her mother rang the bell, and Stevens came hurrying in, raised her head, +and took off her wet cloak, and her hat, which loosened all the thick +masses of hair falling over her like a cloud. + +"What is it? What can be the matter?" said Mrs. Wilton. "O Stevens, send +for Dr. Wilton. Call Reg." + +"She is faint with galloping off before breakfast, I don't know what +for, I am sure. She is a slave to other people, and that is the truth. +It was to please Master Raymond she went out in all the rain and storm, +you may depend." + +Salome soon recovered consciousness, and looking up at her mother's +anxious face, which was bending over her, she said,-- + +"I think it will all come right now, mother; I do indeed. Put the +necklet away, and Ray will tell you all about it. I wish--I wish I did +not feel so giddy," she said, as she tried to rise. + +"Don't try to get up, my darling--my dear child," her mother said. "O +Salome! what should I do without you? Stevens is gone for a cup of hot +coffee, and you must lie still." + +"Put the necklet back into the dressing-case, mother," Salome repeated. +"No one but you and I need ever know. Is it not odd I tremble so? I +suppose I must lie quiet to-day." + +They undressed her and put her to bed; and there, at twelve o'clock, her +uncle found her--with her temperature very high, her head aching, and +every sign of coming illness, of what nature Dr. Wilton could not then +determine. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE CONSEQUENCE. + + +Salome's illness proved to be rheumatic fever. She was in great pain, +and often delirious--wandering in thought to her old home and her +childhood, and talking incessantly of the emerald necklet and money and +debts, and the troubles which had by her brother's selfishness shadowed +her young life, and weighed her down prematurely with the sorrows of +older people. + +Her mother understood but little of these feverish wanderings. But there +was one in that house in whose ear his sister's voice rang with a pain +which he never felt before. + +Reginald was miserable and lonely. The little ones--whom in a bad day of +restlessness and fever Dr. Wilton had hurried off in his carriage to +Aunt Betha, who begged to be allowed to have them, saying she would be +answerable they were in nobody's way--were continually asking when +Salome would be well. Mrs. Wilton sat hour after hour in the sick room, +almost paralyzed with the fear of losing this precious child. Stevens, +dear faithful Stevens would go away to hide her grief when the moans of +pain were more grievous, or when Salome would talk as if she were in the +old nursery at Maplestone, and address Ada or her father as if present. +All these tender and loving hearts were wrung with sorrow and distress; +but Raymond's pain was far greater than any of these. Mrs. Atherton and +her son were unable to reach him with a word of comfort. He went +sullenly off to the office, and returned with a look of utter misery on +his face every afternoon, only to hear the same report--"She is no +better." + +One Sunday morning he was up and dressed in time, and Reginald walked +with him to church. The two brothers had been so much separated since +early childhood that there was little sympathy between them. But this +grief about Salome seemed to draw them together. + +"How is your sister? How is the young lady?" Ruth asked, as they passed +her door. + +"No better, thank you," Reginald replied. + +"What's the use of asking?" Frank Pryor said. "Mother says she is taken +for death, and you know it." + +"I don't know it," said Ruth impatiently. "I don't give up hope. It is +not my way. I leave that despairing about everybody and everything to +your mother and you. There, Frank, I don't mean to be cross, but I feel +as if I should break my heart if that child died;" and Ruth burst into +tears. Puck sprang to her, whining and crying, and showing by every +possible sign that he sympathized with the general sorrow for Salome. + +The two brothers walked on to church, and when their sister's name was +read in the list of those for whom their prayers were desired, it was +not lost on them that Mr. Atherton added, "who is dangerously ill." The +name, with the significant words, came as a sort of spoken declaration +of the fear in both boys' hearts, and a deep sob from Raymond was heard +by a man kneeling behind him, and understood. That man was Philip +Percival. He waited at the door of the church after service, and gave +the hand of both brothers a fervent pressure. + +To his surprise Raymond said, "I want to speak with you, Percival. Will +you come in?" + +The two young men were going into the desolate sitting-room, where the +daffodils, gathered ten days before, were hanging their pretty heads, +all shrivelled and forlorn. + +"The flower fadeth," thought Philip Percival, as he recalled the bright +afternoon and the sunshine glowing on the daffodils and on the plaits +of hair gathered round the small shapely head, as it bent over the +treasures in the basket. + +Reginald was following his brother and Philip Percival, when Raymond +turned quickly towards him. + +"Wait a few minutes, Reg, if you don't mind. I want to speak to Percival +alone." + +Reginald obeyed without a word, and sitting down on a stool in the +passage, buried his face in his hands, trying to shut out the sound of +the ringing voice above, as it called, "Yes, father; I am coming. Oh! +look at the chestnut tree, all in flower, not buds, as I thought." + +Then the door above was closed, and Stevens came down, in her hand a +large paper parcel. She was crying bitterly. + +"I have just cut it all off," she said. "Did you ever see such hair? Oh! +the pretty darling. I can remember it when she was three years old--how +the people would turn round to look at it when she walked down the +village. O Master Reg, my dear, my heart will break if we lose her! And +we _shall_ lose her, I believe." + +Reginald did not speak. After one look at the great mass of golden brown +hair, he turned almost impatiently away, and went upstairs to his own +room. + +I cannot write what passed between Philip Percival and Raymond; but when +Stevens came to call him to dinner, he seemed not to hear her. Philip +Percival was standing by the empty fire-place, and, rousing himself, +went up to Raymond, saying,-- + +"Good-bye; I am going now." + +"Wait and see Reginald. You must wait and dine with us." + +"You can tell Reginald alone; it will be less painful." + +"No," Raymond said; "I would rather you were present." + +Reginald, whom Stevens had summoned, now came down, and Raymond said,-- + +"Reginald, I have borrowed money from Percival I had no means of +repaying. I was so cowardly as to let her--Salome--bear the whole burden +of it. She met him and asked him to spare me exposure; and he did, for +her sake. It might have been better if he had come down on me then. But +it is no use looking back. I am going to see Uncle Loftus and tell him +the whole truth, and perhaps he will help me out of the difficulty. But, +Reginald, the worst part is yet to come. I caused Salome's illness by +dragging her down into Harstone to get a necklet of hers on which I was +trying to raise money. If she dies, it will lie at my door. Forgive me, +Reginald." + +Reginald turned away. He felt as if he could not look at his brother. +But Philip Percival said,-- + +"Your sister would be the first to say 'Forgive him.' You know it. Shake +hands with your brother, and let us, you and I, do our best to help him +to keep his good resolutions." + +Reginald came back and held out his hand. Neither he nor Raymond could +speak, but the brothers were friends at last. + +A roll lying on the table now attracted Reginald. It was addressed to +"Miss Wilton, Elm Cottage, Elm Fields, Harstone." + +"What is that?" Raymond asked. + +Reginald looked for a moment, and then exclaimed: + +"I think I know. Yes--oh! poor Salome! it is her story." + +"Her story?" + +"I forgot no one knew but me. I don't understand this, though. It has +come back, after all, and I thought she said it was accepted. But this +is her writing." + +Reginald unrolled the parcel, and the little kernel, so familiar to +authors, of the proof-sheets enclosed in the husk of the manuscript fell +out. + +Philip Percival picked them up. "Take care of them," he said; "it is all +right. These are the first proofs, sent for correction with the +manuscript. Take care of them; and you ought to write to the publisher +and tell him they are received, and will be corrected." + +"Corrected!" exclaimed Reginald. "I do not know how to correct them. +What do you mean?" + +"I have had some little experience in this way," said Philip Percival; +"and if you will trust me, I will go over them and do my best till--till +your sister is well enough to do it herself." + +"Thank you," said Reginald. "I don't think Salome would mind your having +them; indeed, I don't see what else is to be done." + +Philip rolled up the manuscript and sheets, and, putting them in his +pocket, said "Good-bye," and was gone. + +"He is the best fellow that ever lived," Reginald said; "and he is +awfully fond of her. Oh! how long is this to go on?" he exclaimed, as +the sound of Salome's voice reached them from the room above, in the +rapid, unnatural tones so full of painful foreboding to the ears of +those who have to listen to them hour after hour, with no respite but +the occasional lull of heavy, unrefreshing slumber. + +Dr. Wilton was surprised that same Sunday afternoon to see Raymond +ushered into his consulting-room. + +"Is there any change since the morning? I am coming in at seven o'clock. +What is it?" + +"No; Salome is just the same. I am come, Uncle Loftus, to tell you how +ashamed I am of myself. I daresay you will cut me for ever, but I am so +miserable that I hope you won't be hard on me." + +He did indeed look miserable; it was difficult to recognize him for the +self-sufficient, handsome young man whom Dr. Wilton had often felt too +provoked with to speak patiently to him. + +The whole sad story was told. It was a step in the right direction; it +was a hopeful sign; and Dr. Wilton felt it to be so. + +"I don't think I shall ever get straight in Harstone, Uncle Loftus. If I +could go away and begin fresh." + +"Your debts must be paid. I must consult the other guardians and +trustees. Perhaps there may be some arrangement. But, Raymond my boy, +change of place won't effect a cure in itself. Only yesterday Warde told +me he did not wish to keep you in the office; he did not care to treat +you harshly, for your father's sake, but he says you simply do nothing, +and it is a bad example to the other clerks. It is very sad, Raymond; +you ought to have been a comfort to your poor mother and sister." + +Raymond faltered out, "I will do anything you think best now, Uncle +Loftus. Do you think Salome will get well?" + +"I cannot say, my boy. Such cases do sometimes pull through; but the +poor child is very ill--dangerously ill. I am going to take Mr. Masters +to see her this evening. Still we must keep up heart and hope. Come and +see your brothers and your Aunt Anna and your cousins." + +"No, thanks, not now," Raymond said; "I must go back." + +As Raymond was going towards Elm Fields he met one of those idle young +men whose society had been so unwholesome for him. + +"Come and have a pipe and a glass of brandy and soda. You look awfully +down in the mouth, Wilton." + +But Raymond passed on, saying, "Not to-day, thanks." + +"Oh, I say, are you in a great scrape? Don't be sulky, old fellow. Come +along." + +"No," Raymond said more decidedly; "my sister is very ill, and I am +going home." + +"Sister--which sister? the pretty one at Cannes?" + +"No; my eldest sister. This is my way," he said, glad to escape from +what was, now at least, most uncongenial company. + +When he reached Elm Cottage, Stevens met him. + +"She is herself now, and she keeps asking for you." + +"I can't see her; it will kill me." + +"Don't talk like that, Master Raymond. Go to the dear lamb at once; she +is asking for you every minute." + +Ah, what a sore pain is remorse! Raymond Wilton will never forget the +sight of his sister as she lay before him, her hair--that beautiful, +luxuriant hair--all gone, her large, pathetic, wistful eyes turned to +him as he came in. + +"Raymond, dear Raymond," she whispered, "I wanted to tell you how I love +you." + +[Illustration: "'Raymond,' whispered Salome, 'I wanted to tell you how +much I love you.'" _Page 230._] + +He expected to hear something very different to this,--entreaty to be +good; to begin life afresh; to give up all his selfish indulgence. But +no; Salome had not strength for this; she could repeat only,-- + +"Dear Raymond, I love you; and the Lord Jesus loves you, and is quite +ready to forgive all. Please ask him. Kiss me, Raymond, and let me see +you kiss mother." + +He obeyed; and then, as he held his poor mother in a close embrace, +Salome whispered,-- + +"I am happy now. Good-bye, Raymond; I can't talk any more." + +Who shall say what this love of the stricken child did for the wayward, +sinning brother? It seemed to him the very reflection of the highest and +greatest love of the all-loving One who loved _all_ unto death. + +Raymond slowly left the room, walked as if in a dream to the silent, +deserted sitting-room, and with sobs and tears prayed for forgiveness to +Him who is ever pitiful and full of mercy--who welcomes back the +wanderer with the fulness of forgiveness, seeing him even while yet a +great way off, and _coming out to meet him_. I think He went forth to +meet the poor sinful boy in the quiet of the spring evening; and He will +lead him, blind as he is, by a way that he knows not. + +Patient continuance in well-doing: how sure is the reward. If it tarry, +wait for it. If the hope is deferred, and the heart sick, yet shall the +faithful and patient ones know at last that the granted desire is as the +tree of life. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +A DREAM. + + +Summer was in its first fresh beauty, and lilacs and hawthorns were +filling the air with their fragrance. Laburnums waved their golden +tassels in the soft breeze, and the blue skies of early June were like +those which Lady Monroe said they had left behind them in the Riviera. +She had returned with Eva and Ada; and Mrs. Wilton had the pleasure of +hearing from her that the plan had fully answered. Ada had been +everything that Eva wanted as a companion, and Lady Monroe begged to +keep her for the present till Salome was quite well again. + +Dear little Salome! She had struggled through fever and pain, and was +lying on this lovely afternoon by the open window of the little +sitting-room at Elm Cottage,--a pale, faint, shadow-like Salome indeed, +but with returning light in her beautiful eyes and a tinge of colour on +her cheeks. Her legs were as yet all but useless; the cruel rheumatism +had attacked them with terrible force; but it was easy for Stevens and +Ruth to carry that little light figure downstairs, and every day now she +came into the sitting-room, which was filled with flowers brought +continually from Lady Monroe's conservatory by Eva and Ada. + +On this particular June afternoon Salome was alone. Her mother had gone +for a drive with Lady Monroe and Eva, while Ada was spending the day +with Louise and Kate Wilton. Hans and Carl were now sent to a school for +little boys in the neighbourhood, and were on this afternoon gone to +watch the cricket at the college ground, where Reginald was +distinguishing himself and proving himself worthy of his Rugby training. +Salome was very happy; a sweet, peaceful calm seemed to surround her. +Everything was so lovely; that little piece of sky above the laburnum at +the gate, how beautiful she thought it was; and how kind of Ruth Pryor +to bring in such a dainty little afternoon tea. Even Mrs. Pryor tried to +look a little more cheerful to suit the summer radiance, and did not +shake her head and sigh as she came in to see if the sun was shining on +the carpet; but when Salome said, "I love the sunshine, Mrs. Pryor," she +forbore to shut it out, and only laid down a sheet of the _Daily News_ +on the particular place on the floor where the sun lay. + +Mrs. Pryor had just completed this arrangement when a knock at the door +made her toddle off to open it. In another minute she returned. + +"Here is a gentleman wishes to see you, Miss Wilton." + +"Mr. Atherton? oh! ask him to come in." + +"No, Miss Wilton, it's not Mr. Atherton. He has been here often enough, +I should have shown him in; but this is the gentleman who, regular as +clock-work, all the time you were so bad, came at half-past eight every +morning, and walked down to Harstone with Mr. Raymond, and always the +last thing at night would come to the shop and hear how you was." + +Salome in vain tried to stop Mrs. Pryor's long speech. Mrs. Pryor was, +when once unwound, like an alarum, obliged to run off. + +"It must be Mr. Percival. Yes; ask him to come in, Mrs. Pryor, please." + +Salome had another moment's suspense, and then Philip Percival came in, +quietly and to all appearance unconcerned, though his heart was beating +so that he could almost hear it, and his emotion at the sight of that +sweet pale face and large wistful eyes turned up to him was hard to +conceal. + +"I am so glad to see you downstairs, Miss Wilton," he began; "so very +glad." + +"I daresay you hardly know me," she said with a smile. "I have cut all +my hair, and Mrs. Pryor says I look like a starved robin. But I am +getting well now, and Uncle Loftus says I shall be able to walk soon, +though my legs are still very stiff." + +"I have brought you a book," Philip Percival said. "I thought I should +like to give it to you myself." And he unfastened a neat parcel, and +displayed a pretty book in a red and gilt cover. + +"Thank you," Salome said. "What is the title? 'Under the Cedars, by S. +M. W.' My book! Oh, I don't understand. How has it been done?" + +"When you were ill--very ill--last March, I happened to be here when the +first sheets came from the publishers. Your brothers could not correct +them, and as I have had a little experience with printers, I asked leave +to possess myself of them. I told Mr. Darte you were ill, and unable to +attend to them yourself, and that I was to act for you. I hope you do +not mind," he said half anxiously. + +"Mind! Oh, I am so grateful to you. It _is_ a pretty book outside!" she +exclaimed with almost childish delight. + +"It is prettier inside than outside," Philip Percival said. "I feel as +if all the children were my particular friends; and as to the cedars, I +have sat under them, and know the two ring-doves that come and sing +their song to little Pamela." + +"Oh, you can't think how glad I am you like my book; and--has Mr. Darte +sent the money? because you know it is _yours_, and I hope when I get +well to write another story better than this, and you shall have the +rest of the money then if you _can_ wait." + +Philip Percival felt a choking sensation in his throat, and he could not +speak. And Salome, her face flushing rosy red, went on,-- + +"I know it is a great deal to ask, and you have been so good and kind to +Raymond. He says, if ever he is worth anything it will be your doing." + +"_Yours_ rather, I should say," Philip murmured. + +"I feel as if I could never, never repay you for all you have done," +Salome went on; "but you know I am grateful. We are all of us so +grateful to you. Raymond is quite different since he had you for a +friend, and he will do well now, I think." + +"I had something to say about Raymond. I am not tiring you, am I?" he +asked anxiously, for the bright colour had left her face and she laid +her head back on the cushions. + +"No, oh no; only pleasure is somehow as hard to bear as pain, in a +different way. I have so longed for the day when I could show mother and +the boys my book, and here it is. Only Reginald knew about it, and since +I have been better I have asked him if he had heard anything of the +publisher, and he has always said it was all right, he thought, and the +book would come out one day. He did not tell me _you_ had done all this +for me." + +"Reginald can keep a secret," Philip said, "or he is not the boy I take +him for. Now, if you can listen without being too tired, I want to tell +you something about Raymond and me. Mr. Warde wishes to send me out to a +West India station in Barbadoes, to look after the business there and +superintend some change in the sugar-planting. He offers me a very good +salary, and I am to have a clerk, of course. Raymond thinks he should +like to go with me in that capacity, and I believe Dr. Wilton quite +approves the plan. Will Mrs. Wilton, and will you, approve also?" + +"I think it will be the very best thing for Raymond. I do not know what +poor mother will say about it, she is so fond of Raymond. Still, she +would bring herself in time to it. When would you go?" + +"The first week in July,--this day month." + +"Shall I tell mother about it when she comes in, or will you tell her?" + +"I think I shall ask you to tell Mrs. Wilton," he said, rising to leave +her. "Good-bye." + +"You will come and see me again very soon, won't you?" + +"If you wish it." + +"I do wish it very much," she said. "And then there is the money. Mr. +Darte will send it to me now, I suppose, if I write to him. Will you +come for it some day?" + +"No," he said, "I shall never come for that. If you wish to please me, +you will not mention that subject again; it hurts me and pains me. Let +us never speak of it again." He spoke vehemently, almost roughly, and +taking one of the little white thin hands in his, he said, "Give me one +of the books, and write my name in it; and do not forget me." + +The next minute he was gone, and Salome was left in a maze of delight, +surprise, and happiness, through which there seemed to run a golden +thread, bright and shining, as she repeated softly to herself, "So good, +so noble, so brave! And I think he cares for me, and I think--" + +What Salome thought I shall not write here, but leave her to her book +and her dream, while the sun, nearing the west, comes in at the open +window and touches the little short curls which cluster over her head +till they shine like the aureola round the foreheads of Fra Angelico's +maidens in the old pictures of a bygone time. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE LAST. + + +The surprise and delight which the sight of "Under the Cedars" caused in +Elm Cottage I cannot describe. However many thousands of books are +written year by year, however many thousands are launched on the stream +to win popular favour, there is always a special charm and interest in +the first book written by one we love. It raises the person for the time +to an important place in the family; and though the poor little book may +soon be engulfed in this stream of which I speak, and lost to sight, or +beaten down by the lash of reviewers, or, worse still, left to die the +natural death of utter indifference, the author's position amongst her +own immediate friends is not altered by it. + +"Under the Cedars" was fresh and bright, full of imagination and that +subtle power which touches the commonplace with interest. It had many +faults--faults of youthful exuberance of fancy--faults of construction; +but it deserved the praise of the local newspapers, which said it was +perfectly simple and pure in its style, and the descriptions of +child-life and nature alike true and unaffected. Then "Under the Cedars" +had the advantage of being well revised and corrected by an able hand. +It was well printed and well illustrated, and Hans and Carl danced about +with excited delight as they recognized their own portraits in two +knickerbockered boys of their own age. + +Ada laughed at this. "All little boys look alike," she said. "You don't +suppose the man who did the pictures knew anything about you or Salome." + +But Ada was none the less delighted to take back a copy to Eva Monroe on +the day when twelve presentation copies arrived from London. And Dr. +Wilton was pleased to show one to his wife. + +"That child has done something to be proud of though she is so +unpretending." + +All the cousins admired and applauded, and Digby was triumphant. + +"Did I not always tell you that Salome was awfully clever? Not one of us +could ever come up to her." + +Even Aunt Anna was pleased when a lady, of whom she thought a great +deal, said, "I have bought a charming story for children, called 'Under +the Cedars.' Have you seen it?" + +It was something to take it from her writing-table and to say, "It is +written by a niece of mine, a very clever girl of seventeen. So young, +and so full of talent." + +Thus did dear little Salome win praise, and in her simple heart this was +all as nothing to the joy of feeling that she had helped to lift the +burden of care from those she loved. + +Raymond sailed with Philip Percival, and was full of spirit and pleasure +at the change. It was grief to his mother to lose him, but when she saw +how happy he was in the prospect, she was comforted. + +Raymond was improved and daily improving, but naturally selfish people +do not suddenly become unselfish, and the whole complexion of a life is +not changed with one sudden impulse. But he had really awakened to some +sense of responsibility, and the continually good influence of Philip +Percival kept up the impression of the past which might have otherwise +died out. + +When the parting was over, and the letters from Barbadoes came +regularly, Mrs. Wilton began to feel the relief of knowing that Raymond +was out of temptation and happy in the change of scene and people. + +A bright prospect opened out to Philip Percival. He settled the affairs +on the sugar-plantation with great skill, and returned in the spring +with an account of what he had done so satisfactory to the partners in +the large concern, that he had a permanent appointment with a large +salary, and Raymond was to remain with him for another year. + +"Then I shall come back," Philip said to Salome, "and ask you a +question." + +They were walking together from Roxburgh one beautiful May evening. +Salome had been to spend the day with his mother, his last day in +England, at his special request. + +"The question has been on my lips many times," he said, "since the +night--so long ago now--when I picked up this, which a careless person +dropped in the road." He took out of his pocket a large case which held +his letters, and drew from it a handkerchief. "Look," he said, "whose +property is this?" + +"My handkerchief! I remember I dropped it that afternoon, and how +Stevens scolded me and said I should lose my head next." + +"Well," Philip said, "I lost my heart then, and kept the handkerchief as +a compensation. Do you understand?" + +"Yes," she said. + +"And if I asked the question now, could you answer it, Salome?" + +"I think I could," she replied. + +"I have loved you ever since that evening when you looked up at me, your +face so dimly seen in the twilight," he went on; "the little brave +sister coming out to meet a stranger to save her brother from disgrace +and her mother pain. Every month, nay, every day I have lived since +then, I have loved you more. Can you love me, and, when I come back next +time, be my wife?" + +"Yes," was the simple answer. Then, as if to strengthen it, she +repeated, "Oh yes; let us go home and tell mother." + +How happy they were as they walked to Elm Cottage together, and how +bright and joyous were all the inhabitants of the little home that +evening. The next morning, Puck, after an extra washing, had a piece of +red ribbon tied round his neck, which was a long established custom on +birthdays, and Salome said, as she tied it on between smiles and tears, +for she had just parted with Philip for a whole year,-- + +"Ah, Puck, this is a grand day, not a birthday, but such a happy day to +me; and, Puck, my new story is to be called 'Under the Quarry!'" + +"A very poor prospect for Salome," Aunt Anna said; "still, it is +something that the Percivals are a good old family." + +"A greater comfort still," rejoined Dr. Wilton, "is that Percival is one +of the best and noblest of men. May our daughters be equally fortunate." + +So we leave Salome standing on the threshold of her great happiness. +Patience has had her perfect work in the days of her girlhood. Will she +need it no more in the womanhood which is dawning upon her with the +soft, sweet radiance of a faithful heart on which she may rest? + +Yes; Patience, that fair and beautiful angel, with its calm, sedate +presence, will be needed for Salome as for us all through every stage of +the journey. When the gates of love open for us, and we enter into what +seems an Eden, we know that there are thorns amongst the flowers, rough +places to tread, sharp angles to meet. Salome will take Patience with +her, nor leave her gentle guidance till she comes to the Paradise of +God. For _there_ are no crosses to bear and no imperfect work to mourn, +no sin to be hid in secret places, no sorrow, nor any more pain. The +former things have passed away, and Patience, having had her perfect +work, is exchanged for the rest of those who have fought the good fight, +and bear the palms of victory in their hands through Him who has +redeemed us to God by His death, and given to His faithful ones the life +everlasting. + + + "Safe home! safe home in port! + Rent cordage, shattered deck, + Torn sails, provisions short, + And only not a wreck: + But oh! the joy upon the shore + To tell our voyage-perils o'er!" + + "The prize! the prize secure! + The athlete nearly fell; + Bore all he could endure, + And bore not always well: + But he may smile at troubles gone + Who sets the victor's garland on." + + + THE END. + + + * * * * * + + + Kingston's (W. H. G.) Books for Boys. + + Crown 8vo Volumes, gilt edges, price 5s. each. + Cloth extra, uniform binding, 3s. 6d. each. + +=In the Wilds of Africa.= With upwards of Seventy Illustrations. + + An interesting account of the adventures of a shipwrecked + party who are landed on the west coast of Africa, and make + their way to the south through many dangers. + +=In the Eastern Seas=; or, The Regions of the Bird of Paradise. A Tale +for Boys. With One Hundred and Eleven Illustrations. + + A tale of voyage and adventure among the islands of the Malay + Archipelago. + +=Old Jack.= A Sea Tale. With Sixty-six Illustrations. + + An old sailor's account of his own adventures, during times + of peace and of war, in many parts of the world. + +=The South Sea Whaler.= A Story of the Loss of the _Champion_, and the +Adventures of her Crew. With upwards of Thirty Illustrations. + + A tale of mutiny and shipwreck in the South Seas. + +=A Voyage Round the World.= With Forty-two Illustrations. + + A young sailor's account of his own adventures by sea and + land. + +=The Young Rajah.= A Story of Indian Life and Adventure. With upwards of +Forty Full-page Illustrations. + + A story of the Indian Mutiny; the hero a young Indian prince, + who had received an English education and become a Christian. + +=On the Banks of the Amazon=; or, A Boy's Journal of his Adventures in +the Tropical Wilds of South America. Profusely illustrated. + +=In the Wilds of Florida.= With Thirty-seven Illustrations. + + A tale of warfare and hunting. + +=My First Voyage to Southern Seas.= Fifty-two Illustrations. + + A young sailor's story, describing Cape Colony, Ceylon, Aden, + etc. + +=Saved from the Sea=; or, The Loss of the _Viper_, and the Adventures of +her Crew in the Great Sahara. With Thirty Full-page Illustrations. + + A young sailor's account of his adventures, along with three + shipwrecked comrades. + +=Twice Lost.= With Thirty-six Illustrations. + + A young sailor's story of shipwreck, and of perilous + adventures in the wilds of Australia. + +=The Wanderers=; or, Adventures in the Wilds of Trinidad and up the +Orinoco. With Thirty Full-page Illustrations. + +=The Young Llanero.= A Story of War and Wild Life in Venezuela. With +Forty-four Illustrations. + + A thrilling and fascinating narrative of adventures in South + America during the struggle for independence between the + state of Colombia and the Spaniards. + + * * * * * + + The Boys' Own Library. + + Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. each. + +THREE BOOKS BY M. DOUGLAS. + +=Across Greenland's Ice-Fields.= The Adventures of Nansen and Peary on +the Great Ice-Cap. + +=Breaking the Record.= The Story of Three Arctic Expeditions. + +=The White North.= With Nordenskiöld, De Long, and Nansen. With +Illustrations. + + +=After Years.= A Story of Trials and Triumphs. By J. W. BRADLEY. With +Illustrations. + +=Culm Rock=; or, Ready Work for Willing Hands. A Book for Boys. By J. W. +BRADLEY. With Illustrations. + +=Among the Turks.= By VERNEY LOVETT CAMERON, C.B., D.C.L., Commander +Royal Navy. With Illustrations. + +=Archie Digby=; or, An Eton Boy's Holidays. By G. E. WYATT. + +=As We Sweep Through the Deep.= A Story of the Stirring Times of Old. By +GORDON STABLES, M.D., R.N. With Illustrations. + +=At the Black Rocks.= A Story for Boys. By the Rev. EDWARD A. RAND. + +=The Battle of the Rafts.= And Other Stories of Boyhood in Norway. By H. +H. BOYESEN. + +=A Fortune from the Sky.= By SKELTON KUPPORD. Illustrated by ROBERT +HOPE. + +=Great Explorers.= An Account of Exploration and Travel in many Lands. +With Illustrations. + +=Gunpowder Treason and Plot=, and other Stories for Boys. By HAROLD +AVERY, FRED. WHISHAW, and R. B. TOWNSHEND. With Illustrations. + +=Lost in the Wilds of Canada.= By ELEANOR STREDDER. + +=The Lost Squire of Inglewood=; or, Adventures in the Caves of Robin +Hood. A Boy's Story of Adventure. By Dr. JACKSON. Illustrated by WALTER +G. GRIEVE. + +=The Romance of the South Pole.= Antarctic Voyages and Explorations. By +G. BARNETT SMITH. With Illustrations. + +=Soldiers of the Queen=; or, Jack Fenleigh's Luck. A Story of the Dash +to Khartoum. By HAROLD AVERY. + +=Vandrad the Viking=; or, The Feud and the Spell. A Tale of the +Norsemen. By J. STORER CLOUSTON. With Illustrations by HUBERT PATON. + +=The Willoughby Boys.= By EMILY C. HARTLEY. + + * * * * * + + Tales of Adventure. + + Crown 8vo. Price 5s. each. + +THREE BOOKS BY ELIZA F. POLLARD. + +=A Daughter of France.= A Tale of the Early Settlement of Acadia. With +Six Illustrations by W. RAINEY, R.I. + + An interesting story of the adventures of Charles de la Tour + and his companions in Acadia. + +=The Last of the Cliffords.= Illustrated by WAL PAGET. + +=My Lady Marcia.= A Story of the French Revolution. With Five +Illustrations by WAL PAGET. + + +=In Savage Africa=; or, The Adventures of Frank Baldwin from the Gold +Coast to Zanzibar. By VERNEY LOVETT CAMERON, C.B., D.C.L., Commander +Royal Navy; Author of "Jack Hooper," etc. With Thirty-two Illustrations. + + "From the deft and prolific pen of Commander Lovett + Cameron.... In the course of a stirring narrative, of the + kind in which boys most delight, he succeeds in conveying + much real knowledge about Africa, its features, and its + peoples."--_Scotsman._ + +=Jack Ralston.= A Tale of Life in the Far North-East of Canada. By +HAMPDEN BURNHAM, M.A., Author of "Canadians in the Imperial Service." +With Coloured Illustrations by WALTER GRIEVE. + +=Every Inch a Sailor.= By GORDON STABLES, M.D., R.N., Author of "As We +Sweep through the Deep," etc. Illustrated. + + "Between the reader, ourselves, and the binnacle, there isn't + a living writer--unless it be Clark Russell, and he appeals + more to the adult--who can hold a candle, or shall we say a + starboard light, to Gordon Stables as a narrator of sea + stories for boys. This one is worthy of the high traditions + of the author."--_Literary World._ + +=Held to Ransom.= A Story of Spanish Brigands. By F. B. FORESTER, Author +of "A Settler's Story," etc. Illustrated by ARCHIBALD WEBB. + +=Jack Hooper.= His Adventures at Sea and in South Africa. By VERNEY +LOVETT CAMERON, C.B., D.C.L. With Twenty-three Full-page Illustrations. + +=Kilgorman.= A Story of Ireland in 1798. By TALBOT BAINES REED, Author +of "The Fifth Form at St. Dominic's," etc. Illustrated by JOHN +WILLIAMSON. With Portrait, and an "In Memoriam" Sketch of the Author by +JOHN SIME. + +=With Pack and Rifle in the Far South-West.= Adventures in New Mexico, +Arizona, and Central America. By ACHILLES DAUNT, Author of "Frank +Redcliffe," "The Three Trappers," etc. With Thirty Illustrations. + + * * * * * + + Favourite Reward Books. + + Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 1s. each. + +=The Giants, and How to Fight Them.= By the Rev. RICHARD NEWTON, D.D. +With numerous Illustrations. + + Dr. Newton possesses in the highest degree the art of + interesting and instructing the young. + +=Glory.= By G. M. S. With Illustrations. + + A touching story of a poor dolls' dressmaker and the + sacrifice she made. + +=Godliness with Contentment is Great Gain.= + +=Grandma's Miracles=; or, Stories Told at Six o'Clock in the Evening. By +PANSY. + +=A Hedge Fence.= By PANSY. With Illustrations. + + A story of a boy whose purposes are good, but whose + impetuosity plunges him into all kinds of mischief, as the + boy himself expresses it, "before he knows it." + +=Side by Side.= And Other Tales. By PANSY. With Illustrations. + +=Striving to Help=; or, The Browning Boys. By PANSY. + +=Granny.= A Village Story. By the Author of "Great Englishmen." + +=Jem's Wife.= A Story of Life in London. By the Author of "Granny," etc. + +=The Harrington Girls=; or, Faith and Patience. By SOPHY WINTHROP. + +=Hope On=; or, The House that Jack Built. With Twenty-five +Illustrations. + +=Ilka: The Captive Maiden.= And Other Stories. By S. G., Author of +"Dickie Winton," etc. + +=It's His Way.= And Other Stories. By the Author of "Copsley Annals," +etc. + +=Jack's Visit.= By ELLEN VELVIN. With numerous Illustrations. + + A brightly-told story of Jack and his three cousins. + +=Johnnie Venture.= A Story of an Exciting Journey. By G. E. WYATT. + +=King Matthias and the Beggar Boy.= Adapted from the Hungarian of Baron +Nicholas Josika. By SELINA GAYE. + +=Kitty's Knitting Needles--The One Moss Rose.= By the Rev. P. B. POWER. + +=A Lad of Devon.= A Story for Boys. By Mrs. HENRY CLARKE, M.A. + + The story of a search for missing diamonds that had + disappeared from a house in Devonshire, and the adventures + that befell a boy in trying to discover them. + +=Laura's Impulses=; or, Principle a Safer Guide than Feeling. + +=Leaving the Manse.= A Disruption Tale. By KEZIA. Illustrated. Long +24mo. + + "A pretty story of the Scottish Disruption of 1843."--_The + Christian._ + +=A Little Candle.= And Other Stories. By LETITIA M'CLINTOCK. + + * * * * * + + Hayens's (Herbert) Books for Boys. + +Price 6s. each. + +=For the Colours.= A Historical Sketch of the British Army. With +Coloured Frontispiece and Thirty-two Illustrations by ARCHIBALD WEBB and +other well-known artists. Crown 8vo, bevelled boards, cloth extra, gilt +top. + +=Ye Mariners of England.= A Boys' Book of the Navy. Profusely +illustrated. Crown 8vo, bevelled boards, cloth extra, gilt top. + + +_Tales of Adventure._ + + Crown 8vo, bevelled boards, cloth extra, gilt top, price 5s. each. + +=At the Point of the Sword.= A New Story for Boys. Illustrated by R. +PAYTON REID, A.R.S.A. + +=A Captain of Irregulars.= A Stirring Tale of War and Adventure in +Chili. With Six Illustrations by SIDNEY PAGET. + +=Clevely Sahib.= A Tale of the Khyber Pass. With Eight Illustrations by +J. WILLIAMSON. + +=An Emperor's Doom=; or, The Patriots of Mexico. With Eight +Illustrations by A. J. B. SALMON. + +=A Fighter in Green.= A Tale of Algeria. With Nine Illustrations by R. +TALBOT KELLY, R.B.A. + +=In the Grip of the Spaniard.= With Nine Illustrations by WAL PAGET. + +=Red, White, and Green.= Illustrated by ARCH. WEBB. + +=Under the Lone Star.= With Eight Illustrations by W. S. STACEY. + +=A Vanished Nation.= A Tale of Fighting in Paraguay. With Six +Illustrations by W. B. WOLLEN, R.I. + + +Price 3s. 6d. each. + +=The British Legion.= A Tale of the Carlist War. With Six Illustrations +by W. H. MARGETSON. + +=Scouting for Buller.= A Story of the South African War. With Coloured +Illustrations. + + * * * * * + + Self-Effort Series. + + Price 3s. 6d. each. + +=Men Who Win=; or, Making Things Happen. By W. M. THAYER, Author of +"From Log Cabin to White House," etc. + +=Women Who Win=; or, Making Things Happen. By W. M. THAYER, Author of +"From Log Cabin to White House," etc. + +=The Achievements of Youth.= By the Rev. ROBERT STEEL, D.D., Ph.D., +Author of "Lives Made Sublime," etc. + +=Lives Made Sublime by Faith and Works.= By Rev. ROBERT STEEL, D.D., +Ph.D., Author of "Doing Good," etc. + +=Self-Effort=; or, The True Method of Attaining Success in Life. By +JOSEPH JOHNSON, Author of "Living in Earnest," etc. + +=The Secret of Achievement.= A Book designed to teach that the highest +Achievement is that which results in noble Manhood and Womanhood; that +there is something greater than wealth, grander than fame; that +character is the only success. By ORISON SWETT MARDEN, Author of +"Architects of Fate," etc. Illustrated with Portraits of eminent +Persons. + +=Noble Women of Our Time.= By JOSEPH JOHNSON, Author of "Living in +Earnest," etc. With Accounts of the Work of Misses De Broën, Whately, +Carpenter, F. R. Havergal, Sister Dora, etc. + +=Architects of Fate=; or, Steps to Success and Power. By ORISON SWETT +MARDEN, Author of "Pushing to the Front; or, Success under +Difficulties." With Eight Illustrations. + +=Earnest Men=: Their Life and Work. By the late Rev. W. K. TWEEDIE, D.D. + +=Famous Artists.= Michael Angelo--Leonardo da +Vinci--Raphael--Titian--Murillo--Rubens--Rembrandt. By SARAH K. BOLTON. + +=Fritz of Prussia.= Germany's Second Emperor. By LUCY TAYLOR, Author of +"Going on Pilgrimage," etc. + +=Heroes of the Desert.= The Story of the Lives of Moffat and +Livingstone. By the Author of "Mary Powell." New and Enlarged Edition, +with numerous Illustrations and Two Portraits. + + * * * * * + + Books for the School Library. + +_The World at the Fireside._ + + Small 4to, gilt edges. + Illustrated. Price 5s. each. + +=The Children's Tour=; or, Everyday Sights in a Sunny Land. By M. A. +PAULL. With numerous Illustrations. + +=The Sea and its Wonders.= By MARY and ELIZABETH KIRBY. One Hundred and +Seventy-four Illustrations. + +=The World at Home.= Pictures and Scenes from Far-off Lands. By M. and +E. KIRBY. One Hundred Illustrations. + +=Wonderland=; or, Curiosities of Nature and Art. By WOOD SMITH, Author +of "Oakville Manor," "Prince Rolo," etc. With numerous Illustrations. + +=Rambles Among the Wild Flowers.= A Book for the Young. By M. C. COOKE, +M.A., LL.D. (UNCLE MATT). The Five Parts in One Volume. With Ten +Coloured Plates, illustrating Forty-two Wild Flowers, and 296 other +Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + +=Round the Hearthstone=; or, Hints for Home-Builders. By W. M. THAYER, +Author of "Men Who Win," "Women Who Win," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, +gilt edges. + + +_Works of Travel and Research._ + + Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt top. + Price 5s. each. + +=The Bible in Spain=; or, The Journeys, Adventures, and Imprisonments of +an Englishman in an Attempt to Circulate the Scriptures in the +Peninsula. By GEORGE BORROW. With Illustrations. + +=Captain Cook's Voyages Round the World.= With a Memoir by M. B. SYNGE. + +=Journal of a Voyage Round the World of H.M.S. "Beagle."= By CHARLES +DARWIN, M.A., F.R.S. With Sixteen Full-page and Six Double-page +Illustrations. + +=Kane's Arctic Explorations=: The Second Grinnell Expedition in Search +of Sir John Franklin. With a Chart and numerous Illustrations. + +=The Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus.= By WASHINGTON IRVING. +_Author's Revised Edition._ With Illustrations. + +=Voyages and Travels of Captain Basil Hall.= With Illustrations. + +=Wanderings in South America, etc.= By CHARLES WATERTON. With Sixteen +Illustrations. + + * * * * * + + Classic Stories Simply Told. + + Uniform Binding. Price 3s. each. + +=Chaucer's Stories Simply Told.= By MARY SEYMOUR, Author of +"Shakespeare's Stories Simply Told," etc. With Eleven Illustrations from +Designs by E. M. SCANNELL. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + +=Shakespeare's Stories Simply Told.= TRAGEDIES AND HISTORICAL PLAYS. By +MARY SEYMOUR. With Eighty-three Illustrations by the late FRANK HOWARD, +R.A. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + +=Shakespeare's Stories Simply Told.= COMEDIES. By MARY SEYMOUR. With +numerous Illustrations by the late FRANK HOWARD, R.A. Post 8vo, cloth +extra, gilt edges. + +=The Wanderings of Æneas and the Founding of Rome.= By CHARLES HENRY +HANSON, Author of "The Siege of Troy, and the Wanderings of Ulysses," +etc. With Sixty-two Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + +=The Siege of Troy, and the Wanderings of Ulysses.= By CHARLES HENRY +HANSON. With Ninety-seven Illustrations from Designs by FLAXMAN and +other Artists. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + +=Stories of the Days of King Arthur.= By CHARLES H. HANSON. With +Illustrations by GUSTAVE DORÉ. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + + +_Uniform with Classic Stories._ + +=Coleridge's Ancient Mariner.= With Twenty-five Illustrations by DAVID +SCOTT, R.S.A., and Life of the Artist by the Rev. Dr. A. L. SIMPSON, +Derby. Square 16mo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + +=The Shipwreck.= A Poem. By WILLIAM FALCONER. Illustrated by BIRKET +FOSTER. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + +=The Courteous Knight=, and Other Tales from Spenser and Malory. By E. +EDWARDSON. _Edition de luxe_, on antique paper. Illustrated by ROBERT +HOPE. + +=Shakespeare's Dramatic Works.= With Explanatory Notes, Parallel +Passages, Historical and Critical Illustrations, Contemporary Allusions, +a Copious Glossary, Biographical Sketch, and Indexes, by W. H. DAVENPORT +ADAMS. With Three Hundred and Seventy Illustrations by the late FRANK +HOWARD, R.A., and Facsimile of Shakespeare's Will. Two Volumes. Crown +8vo, cloth. Price 3s. 6d. per vol.; or 7s. per set. + + * * * * * + + UNIFORM WITH + The "Little Hazel" Series. + + Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 1s. 6d. each. + +=Jock o' the Beach.= A Story for Boys. By MORICE GERARD. + + The hero is a nameless waif, sole survivor from the wreck of + the ship _Martin_. His discovery of his parents and his + meeting with them are touchingly described. + +=Little Lily's Travels.= A Book for the Young. With numerous +Illustrations. + + Travels of a little girl, with her parents and brother, + through France to Geneva. + +=The Little Swedish Baron.= By the Author of "The Swedish Twins," etc. + + A story of a young Swedish noble, illustrating the blessings + of discipline and trials. + +=Master Travers.= By FLORENCE M. STORY. + + The story of a young squire whose self-will leads him into + many troubles, and how these, and the well-timed counsels of + his guardians, help to subdue his besetting sin. + +=Mopsie.= The Story of a London Waif. By DOROTHY WALROND. + +=Nono=; or, The Golden House. A Tale of Swedish Life. By Mrs. WOODS +BAKER. + +=Princess Louise.= A Tale of the Stuarts. By CRONA TEMPLE. + +=Rollo and Tricksy.= The Story of a Little Boy and Girl. By FLORENCE E. +BURCH. + + A tale of the doings of a little boy and girl, the latter + part being very amusing. + +=Rich and Poor.= A Tale for Boys. How one Boy Climbed Up, and another +Slipped Down. By C. M. TROWBRIDGE. + + This pithy story recognizes the discouragements and + temptations peculiar to poverty and wealth, and seeks to show + that a sterling Christian character is that which can alone + make a truly noble man. + +=The Secret Cave=; or, The Story of Mistress Joan's Ring. By Miss EMILIE +SEARCHFIELD. + + "Mistress Joan" is a bright little girl, aged nine years, + daughter of Jonathan Blye, farmer in Somersetshire; and + "Mistress Joan's Ring" is an heirloom preserved in memory of + "The Secret Cave," and of what happened there in the year + 1685. The incidents, which are narrated in quaint, + old-fashioned language, are very exciting; and the book is + sure to be a great favourite, especially with girls. + +"=Sheltering Arms=;" or, The Entrance of God's Word gives Light. By M. +E. CLEMENTS. Floral Design. + + An interesting Irish story. The scene is a small fishing + hamlet on the west coast of Ireland, sheltered by two rocky + headlands from the Atlantic storms. + +=Story of the Beacon Fire=; or, Trust in God and Do the Right. By M. E. +CLEMENTS. + + "The story is well, indeed powerfully, written. It is a story + of Cornwall, and is full of genuine dramatic interest, + combined with an earnestness of purpose that no one can + mistake."--_Scotsman._ + + * * * * * + + Favourite Reward Books. + + Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 1s. each. + +=The Adopted Brothers=; or, Blessed are the Peacemakers. By M. E. +CLEMENTS. + +=Alda's Leap.= And Other Stories. By the Hon. Mrs. GREENE. + +=The Babe i' the Mill=, and =Zanina the Flower-Girl of Florence=. By the +Hon. Mrs. GREENE. + +=Annals of the Poor.= Complete Edition, with Memoir of LEGH RICHMOND. + +=The Babes in the Basket=; or, Daph and Her Charge. By the Author of +"Timid Lucy," etc. With Frontispiece and numerous Illustrations. + +=The Basket of Flowers=; or, Piety and Truth Triumphant. Illustrated. + +=The Boy Artist.= A Tale. By the Author of "Hope On." With numerous +Illustrations. + +=Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress.= + +=A Child of the Mews.= By M. B. SYNGE. + + The purpose of the story is to show the evils of betting--how + it leads to cheating, lying, stealing, and all kinds of + trickery, ending often in domestic misery and ruin. + +=The Children's Voyage to the Cape.= By SARAH L. FINDLATER. + +=The Cruise of the "Katherina."= A Story for Boys. By JOHN A. HIGGINSON, +Author of "A Secret of the Sea," etc. Illustrated. + + The story deals with the meeting of two friends in Australia, + and the many strange adventures subsequently experienced by + them when together they set out on board a small schooner in + search of gold known to lie hidden on a certain island in the + South Pacific. + +=Daffodil.= (A Brave Little Lady.) By MAUDE M. BUTLER. + + A sequel to "Waiting and Serving." + +=The Fairy Cobblers' Gold.= A Story for Boys. By ETHEL PENROSE. + +=The Ferryman's Boy.= And Other Stories. By CRONA TEMPLE. + +=Fireside Sketches from Swedish Life.= By Mrs. WOODS BAKER. + +=The Swedish Foster-Brothers.= By Mrs. WOODS BAKER. With Illustrations. + +=Truth and its Triumph=; or, The Story of the Jewish Twins. By Mrs. +WOODS BAKER. With Frontispiece. + +=The Fisherman's Boy=; or, "All have not the same Gifts." With coloured +Frontispiece. + +=Geordie Stuart.= A Story of Waterloo. By M. B. MANWELL. + + +T. NELSON AND SONS, London, Edinburgh, and New York. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + +Spelling and punctuation errors were corrected. + +Retained: devonport, ascendency, fire-place and fireplace, ink-stand and +inkstand, practice (for medical) and practise (for repeatedly do). + +Locations of illustrations have been moved to the action in text that +they illustrate. Most of these moves were slight changes, but the +illustration on p. 66 originally displayed as a frontispiece before the +title page illustration. + +On caption in illustration list, original "Dr. Wilson" changed to "Dr. +Wilton." + +P. 22, "any more if-- If you come upstairs"; space after em dash deleted. + +P. 42, "'I should have thought,' said Dr. Wilton", original read Mr. +Wilton. + +P. 100, "Edith and Maude", original read "Maud." + +P. 139, "walking with them, and-- But if mother"; space after em dash +deleted. + +P. 191, quotes added around "It was far better ... time." + +P. 245, Poem at the end, "Safe home!", inconsistent indentation is +faithful to the original as printed. + +The ten pages of ads at the end of the text each displayed "T. Nelson +and Sons, London, Edinburgh, and New York." at the bottom of the page. +These have been reduced to one occurrence, at the bottom of the last ad +page. + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SALOME*** + + +******* This file should be named 37126-8.txt or 37126-8.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/7/1/2/37126 + + + +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. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at <a href = "http://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a></pre> +<p>Title: Salome</p> +<p>Author: Emma Marshall</p> +<p>Release Date: August 19, 2011 [eBook #37126]</p> +<p>Language: English</p> +<p>Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1</p> +<p>***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SALOME***</p> +<p> </p> +<h3>E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, JoAnn Greenwood,<br /> + and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team<br /> + (http://www.pgdp.net)</h3> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p> </p> + +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 365px;"> +<img src="images/illus003.png" width="365" height="600" alt="" title="Title page" /> +</div> + +<div class="hugeskip"></div> + +<h1>SALOME</h1> + +<div class="hugeskip"></div> + +<h2>BY MRS. EMMA MARSHALL</h2> +<div class="hugeskip"></div> + +<h3>LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK</h3> +<h3>THOMAS NELSON AND SONS</h3> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><i>CONTENTS</i></h2> + + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="right"><i>I.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_I"><i>The Home and the Children</i></a></td><td align="right">9</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>II.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_II"><i>Sorrow and Sighing</i></a></td><td align="right">23</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>III.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_III"><i>Edinburgh Crescent</i></a></td><td align="right">40</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>IV.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IV"><i>Looking for Lodgings</i></a></td><td align="right">51</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>V.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_V"><i>A Journey</i></a></td><td align="right">65</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>VI.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VI"><i>Losses and Gains</i></a></td><td align="right">77</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>VII.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VII"><i>Cousins</i></a></td><td align="right">90</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>VIII.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_VIII"><i>Arrivals</i></a></td><td align="right">106</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>IX.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_IX"><i>"Settling Down"</i></a></td><td align="right">121</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>X.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_X"><i>A Proposed Flight from the Nest</i></a></td><td align="right">134</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>XI.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XI"><i>Ada's Departure</i></a></td><td align="right">151</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>XII.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XII"><i>Confidences</i></a></td><td align="right">165</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>XIII.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIII"><i>Hard Times</i></a></td><td align="right">180</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>XIV.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XIV"><i>Daffodils</i></a></td><td align="right">195</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>XV.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XV"><i>Lost!</i></a></td><td align="right">208</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>XVI.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVI"><i>The Consequence</i></a></td><td align="right">221</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>XVII.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVII"><i>A Dream</i></a></td><td align="right">232</td></tr> +<tr><td align="right"><i>XVIII.</i></td><td align="left"><a href="#CHAPTER_XVIII"><i>The Last</i></a></td><td align="right">239</td></tr> +</table></div> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><i>LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.</i></h2> + + +<div class="center"> +<table border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illus002">"<i>The coachman's wife hid her face in her apron, and cried bitterly</i>"</a></td><td align="right"><i>Frontispiece.</i></td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illus035">"'<i>Sit down, Salome,' and Dr. <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Wilson'">Wilton</ins> drew her toward him on the bench</i>"</a></td><td align="right">33</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illus085">"'<i>I say, Salome, have you got any money?</i>'"</a></td><td align="right">80</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illus119">"'<i>It's a bird, I think.—Puck, put it down!</i>'"</a></td><td align="right">113</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illus185">"<i>A tall figure advanced towards her</i>"</a></td><td align="right">176</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illus219">"'<i>Salome, I have lost the necklet set with emeralds</i>'"</a></td><td align="right">208</td></tr> +<tr><td align="left"><a href="#illus241">"'<i>Raymond,' whispered Salome, 'I wanted to tell you how much I love you</i>'"</a></td><td align="right">230</td></tr> +</table></div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[9]</a></span></p> + + +<h1>SALOME.</h1> + + + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_I" id="CHAPTER_I"></a>CHAPTER I.</h2> + +<h3>THE HOME AND THE CHILDREN.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcpm"><span class="dropcap">M</span></span>APLESTONE COURT +was a pretty, spacious, and comfortable English home. +The house was built of old red brick, which took a deep, rich colour in +the rays of the western sun as it shone upon the wide porch and the many +windows. Before the house there was a wide expanse of emerald turf, +skirted by stately trees; and this lawn was not cut up into flower-beds, +but rolled and shaven close, so that the dark shadows of the trees lay +upon it in unbroken masses morning and evening.</p> + +<p>To the right of the house the ground sloped gently down to what was +called by courtesy a river, though it was but a little rippling stream, +which had taken<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[10]</a></span> many curves and windings, and just below Maplestone had +made for itself a deep basin, called by the same courtesy a lake.</p> + +<p>Lake or pond, mere or tarn, this was a delightful refuge in sultry +noon-tide. Here the water-lilies rocked themselves to sleep; here the +plumy ferns hung over the crystal depths; and here the children of +Maplestone Court brought their small craft of every shape and size to +sail across from one side to the other of the lake, often to make +shipwreck amongst the reeds and lilies, sometimes to sink in the clear +water!</p> + +<p>A rude wooden bridge crossed the stream just above the lake; and several +seats, made of twisted boughs and ornamented with the large cones of the +firs which shut in Maplestone at the back, were to be found here and +there on the banks.</p> + +<p>On one of these seats, on a hot August day, Salome was half-sitting, +half-lying, looking dreamily down upon the water. Her wide straw hat was +lying at her feet, a book with the leaves much crumpled was in the +crown. One little foot hung down from the bench; the other was curled up +under her in a fashion known and abhorred by all governesses and those +who think the figure of a girl of fifteen is of greater importance than +careless ease of position like Salome's at this moment.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[11]</a></span></p> + +<p>The rounded cheek, which was pillowed by the little hand as Salome's +head rested against the rough arm of the seat, was not rosy. It was +pale, and all the colour about her was concentrated in the mass of tawny +hair which was hanging over her shoulders, and varied in its hue from +every shade of reddish brown to streaks of lighter gold colour.</p> + +<p>It was wonderful hair, people said; and that was, perhaps, all that any +one ever did see at all out of the common in Salome.</p> + +<p>Quiet and thoughtful, liking retirement better than society, she often +escaped out of the school-room to this favourite place, and dreamed her +day-dreams to her heart's content.</p> + +<p>Salome was the elder of two sisters, and she had one brother older than +herself and three younger. Sorrow or change had as yet never come near +Maplestone. The days went on in that serene happiness of which we are +none of us conscious till it is over. When we hear the rustle of the +angels' wings, then we know they are leaving us for ever, and when with +us we had not discerned their presence.</p> + +<p>Salome roused herself at last, picked up her hat and book, and uncurling +herself from her position, stood up and listened. "Carriage wheels in +the drive," she said to herself. "I suppose it is nearly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[12]</a></span> luncheon time. +I hope no stupid people are coming; that's all. I hate—"</p> + +<p>Salome's meditations were broken off here; for a boy of thirteen or +fourteen came clattering over the wooden bridge and took a flying leap +down into the hollow, and exclaimed, "The bell will ring directly. Make +haste, Sal; you are all in a tangle as usual. And won't Miss Barnes be +angry? There is the book she has been hunting all over the place for; +and the cover is in rags and tatters, and no mistake!"</p> + +<p>Salome looked ruefully at the book, a French story by Madame Pressensé +which has delighted many children in its day and generation.</p> + +<p>"'L'Institutrice' does not belong to Miss Barnes," Salome said; "it is +Ada's. Why should she be in such a fuss? and Ada won't mind."</p> + +<p>"Well, come on," Reginald said; "and don't put out every one by being +late."</p> + +<p>"Who is come?" Salome asked, as the brother and sister walked towards +the house together. "Who came in the carriage just now?"</p> + +<p>"It was only father. Mr. Stone brought him back from Fairchester in his +brougham."</p> + +<p>"Father!" Salome exclaimed. "How very odd! And why did Mr. Stone drive +him home?"</p> + +<p>The sound of the bell stopped any reply from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[13]</a></span> Reginald; and Salome, +being obliged to go up to her room to give her hair a superficial +combing, and her hands a hasty dip in water, entered the dining-room +just as the whole party were assembled.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton always lunched with the children at one o'clock, but to-day +her place at the head of the table was taken by Miss Barnes.</p> + +<p>"Where is mother?" was Salome's instant inquiry.</p> + +<p>"You are very late, as usual, Salome," was Miss Barnes's rejoinder; it +could not be called a reply.</p> + +<p>"I asked where mother was. Do you know, Ada?"</p> + +<p>Ada, a pretty, fair girl of fifteen, fresh as a rose, trim as a daisy, +without an imperfection of any kind in her looks or in her dress, said, +"Father wanted her, I believe;" while Salome, half satisfied, turned to +her eldest brother Raymond.</p> + +<p>"Is anything the matter, Ray?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure I don't know," he answered carelessly. "There's something the +matter with this soup—it's beastly."</p> + +<p>"Raymond!" Ada exclaimed reprovingly, "pray, don't be so rude," as +Raymond pushed away his plate, and, pulling another towards him, +attacked some cutlets with tomatoes.</p> + +<p>"The cooking is fifty times better at old Birch's,"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[14]</a></span> the young Etonian +growled. "I can't think how mother can put up with that lazy Mrs. +Porson."</p> + +<p>"I say," said Reginald, "don't grumble at your bread and butter because +it is not just to your mind."</p> + +<p>"Shut up, will you," said Raymond, "and don't be cheeky."</p> + +<p>And now the two little boys of eight and nine began to chime in with +eager inquiries as to whether Raymond would help them with their +tableaux, which were to be got up for their double birthday on the 1st +of August. For Carl and Hans were both born on the same day of the +month, Hans always affirming that he came to keep Carl's first birthday.</p> + +<p>"Tableaux at this time of year; what folly! I shall be gone off in +Strangway's yacht by then, you little duffer."</p> + +<p>"I'll help you," Reginald said. "We'll have the tableaux Black Prince, +Joan of Arc, and Mother Hubbard, if mother will lend us the finery, and +Sal will advise us what to do."</p> + +<p>"Oh, mother says we may have the tableaux. She says Shakespeare acted +out of doors. We want to have them in the house by the lake, as a +surprise, and bring in the lake," exclaimed Carl. "If Thursday is a day +like to-day, it will be jolly. And, Ada, you said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[15]</a></span> you'd write the +invitations, didn't you?—the Holmes, and the De Brettes, and the +Carruthers, Ada."</p> + +<p>Ada, thus appealed to, smiled, and said, "We'll see."</p> + +<p>"I have got some pink paper," Carl vociferated. "Nurse gave it to me. +She bought it at her nephew's shop in Fairchester. It is just fit for +invitations."</p> + +<p>"Oh no; that would be fearfully vulgar!" said Ada. "Pink paper!"</p> + +<p>Poor Carl was extinguished, and began to eat his rice-pudding in large +mouthfuls.</p> + +<p>All this time Miss Barnes had not spoken, and Salome watched her face +anxiously. Yet she dared not question her, though she felt convinced +Miss Barnes knew more than any of them about their mother's +non-appearance and their father's unusual return from Fairchester in Mr. +Stone's carriage. Mr. Stone was the doctor; and though Salome tried to +persuade herself Mr. Stone's carriage had probably been at her father's +office, and perhaps having a patient to see out in their direction, Mr. +Wilton had accepted the offer of a drive homewards, and that Mr. Stone +being a doctor had nothing to do with it, she was but half satisfied +with her own self-deception.</p> + +<p>The dining-room at Maplestone Court was like all the other rooms—a room +suggestive of <i>home</i> and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[16]</a></span> comfort. The three large windows, to-day +thrown wide open, looked out on the lawn, and beyond to quiet meadows +and copses skirted in the far distance by a range of hills, seen through +the haze of the summer day blue and indistinct. Within, there were some +fine pictures; and the wide dining-table was decorated with flowers—for +of flowers there were plenty at Maplestone. If banished from the front +of the house, they had their revenge in the dear old-fashioned +kitchen-garden—a garden where beds for cutting were filled with every +coloured geranium and verbena and calceolaria; a garden which seemed an +enclosure of sweets and perfumes, where the wall-fruit hung in peerless +beauty, and a large green-house, of the type of past days, was the +shelter of a vine so luxuriant in its growth and so marvellous in its +produce, that Maplestone grapes continually carried off the prize at the +flower and fruit shows of the neighbourhood.</p> + +<p>The children gathered round that pretty table—which, in spite of +Raymond's dissatisfaction, was always well supplied with all that could +please the taste—were singularly ignorant of whence all their good +things came. They had all been born at Maplestone. They took it and all +its comforts as a matter of course. Till Raymond went to Eton they had +none of them concerned themselves much<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[17]</a></span> about what others had or had +not. Raymond, the eldest son, had been the most indulged, the least +contradicted, and had an enormous idea of his own importance.</p> + +<p>He was very handsome, but by no means clever. He had no higher aim than +to lounge through life with as little trouble to himself as possible; +and now, at seventeen, when asked if he meant to turn his mind to any +profession, he would say, "Oh, I may scrape through the militia, and get +a commission; but I don't bother about it."</p> + +<p>A naturally selfish disposition, he was altogether unconscious of it. He +had spent a great deal of money at Eton; he had wasted a great deal of +time. He cared nothing about Latin and Greek, still less about Euclid. +If his clothes were well made, and he could get all Lord Clement Henshaw +got, and the Marquis of Stonyshire's nephew, he was content. But as to a +thought of his responsibility as his father's eldest son, or any idea +beyond the present moment, he had nothing of the kind. Of late he had +grown arrogant and self-asserting at home; and the holidays, when +Reginald came rushing in with joyous gladness from Rugby, were by no +means unmixed pleasures to the other children, by reason of Raymond's +return from Eton. Reginald was Salome's especial friend. Ada, in her +pretty completeness,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[18]</a></span> stood somewhat alone. She was so "provokingly +perfect," Reginald said. No one ever caught Ada out; and it was so dull.</p> + +<p>The little boys were under Miss Barnes's care; but Carl was to go to a +preparatory school at Christmas. The very idea of such a separation set +"Hans's water-works flowing," Reginald said; so the great event was only +generally understood, and not talked about.</p> + +<p>Just as Miss Barnes had risen from the table, saying, "Your grace, +Hans," and just as little Hans had lifted his voice in childish treble, +with the accustomed form used by all his predecessors in the Wilton +family, the door opened, and Mrs. Wilton came in.</p> + +<p>Salome went to her impetuously. "Have you had no luncheon, mother? Let +me ring for some hot soup."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton took the chair Miss Barnes vacated, and saying in a low +voice to her, "Take the children away," she declined anything but a +glass of wine and a biscuit, and scarcely seemed to notice the +children's eager—</p> + +<p>"We may have the tableaux, mother, mayn't we? and Ada may write the +notes for our birthday party?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, darlings, yes. Run away now."</p> + +<p>The two little boys scampered off, and Ada, stooping over her mother, +kissed her, and said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[19]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"You look so tired, mother!"</p> + +<p>Raymond and Reginald were still lingering at the bottom of the table, +when Raymond said,—</p> + +<p>"I suppose I can take out Captain this afternoon? I want to ride over to +St. John's."</p> + +<p>"Your father—" Mrs. Wilton got no further; and Salome said,—</p> + +<p>"Father does not like Captain to be ridden carelessly, Raymond. You had +better take old Bess."</p> + +<p>"<i>Thank</i> you!" was Raymond's retort; "I did not ask for your opinion, +Miss Sal."</p> + +<p>Then Raymond left the room, and Reginald, seeing his mother did not wish +to be troubled with questions, followed him.</p> + +<p>Ada with another kiss, as she leaned over the back of her mother's +chair, also went away, and Salome and her mother were left to +themselves.</p> + +<p>Salome knew something was wrong—very wrong, but her lips refused to +form the words she longed to utter. Mrs. Wilton, finding they were alone +together, covered her face with her hand, and then in a broken whisper +said,—</p> + +<p>"Your father is in great trouble, Salome."</p> + +<p>"Is he ill?" the girl asked quietly.</p> + +<p>"Ill, and most miserable. He thinks he is ruined."</p> + +<p>"I don't understand, mother. How is he ruined?"</p> + +<p>"The great Norwegian firm with which he traded<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[20]</a></span> has failed; and as if +that were not enough, rumours are floating to-day that the Central Bank +is likely to stop payment to-morrow."</p> + +<p>Salome's bewildered expression struck her mother as pathetic. "She is +only a child," she was saying to herself; "she does not take it in."</p> + +<p>Presently Salome said with a deep-drawn breath, "Has father all his +money in the bank, then?"</p> + +<p>"All his private fortune; and then, if he has to stop trading as a +timber merchant, the loss will be—simply ruin, Salome."</p> + +<p>"This house is ours, isn't it?" the girl asked.</p> + +<p>"My dear child, ours no longer if it has to be sold to meet the +debts—the liabilities, as they are called. But do not say a word to any +one to-day. There is just this chance, the rumours about the Central +Bank may be false. Your father's partners incline to the hope that it +may prove so; but I have no hope, no hope. Oh, your father's face of +misery is more than I can bear! At his age, to have everything taken +from him!"</p> + +<p>"Not everything, mother; he has got <i>you</i>."</p> + +<p>"What am I? A poor weak woman, never strong, never fitted for much +exertion. What will become of the children?"</p> + +<p>"I will do my best, mother," Salome said. "I will do all I can."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[21]</a></span></p> + +<p>"<i>You</i>, Salome! My dear," said her mother sadly, "what could you do?"</p> + +<p>"Take care of the boys; teach the little ones; save the expense of a +governess; help you to do without so many servants," Salome said +promptly.</p> + +<p>"Ah, Salome, we shall want no servants, for we shall have no home. +Maplestone must be sold, and all the dear old pictures;—but I must not +go over this part of it. Mr. Stone happened to meet your father in +Fairchester, and thought him looking so ill that he brought him home. He +told me he was very anxious about him, and I was by no means to allow +him to go back to Fairchester to-day. I heard him order the dog-cart +round at three o'clock, and he ought not to go; yet how can I stop him?"</p> + +<p>"May I go and see father?" Salome asked. "I will be very quiet, and not +worry him."</p> + +<p>"I hardly know. He said none of the children were to be told +to-day—that I was to keep the trouble from you; that is why I dared not +come in to luncheon. And the De Brettes and Fergusons dine here +to-night. They ought to be put off; but he won't hear of it. Miss Barnes +saw Mr. Stone leading your father across the hall. I was obliged to tell +her about it; but she said she would keep it from the children."</p> + +<p>"I am not a child now, mother," Salome said; "I am nearly sixteen. +Somehow," and her voice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[22]</a></span> faltered—"somehow I don't feel as if I should +ever be a child any more if—If you come upstairs and lie down in your +sitting-room, I will go and see father, and try to persuade him not to +go to Fairchester. Now, mother."</p> + +<p>For the first time in her life Salome felt that she must think for +others as well as for herself. It was a sudden awakening. Long years +after, she recalled that last dreamy noon-tide by the little lake, and +all her visions and illusions: the fairy web of youthful weaving, which +some of us remember, was so delicious and so sweet. Now, when she had +drawn down the venetian blinds and left her mother to rest, if rest were +possible, she paused before she could summon courage to turn to the +library and see the father she so dearly loved in his sore trouble.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[23]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_II" id="CHAPTER_II"></a>CHAPTER II.</h2> + +<h3>SORROW AND SIGHING.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcpt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>O Salome's great relief, she remembered there were no school-room +lessons that afternoon. Miss Barnes had to take Ada into Fairchester in +the pony-carriage for a music lesson. Carl and Hans were full of their +birthday party, and had possessed themselves of a heap of decayed +finery, which they were sorting in their spacious old nursery. Raymond +had taken Captain, and Salome saw him trotting quickly down the drive, +from the staircase window when she passed on her way to the library. She +saw Reginald, too, lingering about on the lawn, and at last stretch +himself full length under a spreading cedar, with his cap tilted over +his eyes, and Puck, a little white dog, lying near him. She wished she +could only tell Reginald. It was better Ada should not know; but +Reginald was so different. Reginald lying there so unconscious of coming +trouble; Raymond riding off on the very horse which had been forbidden; +the little pony-carriage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[24]</a></span> wheeling away to Fairchester, Ada whipping up +the fat gray pony, and turning out on the road with a grand flourish; +Carl and Hans singing over their wreaths of faded flowers, worn by their +mother in young, happy days; nurse's voice in occasional remonstrance; +and the loud singing of a canary,—all these sounds and sights told of +life at Maplestone going on as it had done for so long, and only +she—Salome—knew that all things were on the very brink of change. +There, as she stood thus thinking, some words came to her soul in that +strange, mysterious way which all of us, young and old, must have +recognized sometimes as coming from some One higher and holier than +ourselves—"With God is no variableness, neither shadow of turning;" and +then, as if in answer to all her day-dreams, there came the memory of +other words, left as a beacon pointing heavenward to all young hearts,—</p> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Be good, dear maid, and let who will be clever;<br /></span> +<span class="i2"><i>Do</i> noble deeds, nor dream them all day long;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">And so make life, death, and that vast for ever<br /></span> +<span class="i6">One grand sweet song."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>"I want to do what is right," she sighed. "I want to help them,—father, +and all of them,—but oh, I must pray God to help me and make me +patient!" Then, with a quiet, slow step she went to the library door and +tapped gently. There was no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[25]</a></span> answer. Then Salome opened the door and +went in.</p> + +<p>Her father was sitting in his arm-chair, with his back turned towards +her. Salome went up to him and touched his arm.</p> + +<p>"Papa."</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilton turned his face towards her at last, and said, almost +roughly,—</p> + +<p>"What do you want, Salome?"</p> + +<p>"Mother has told me all, and I am come to tell you how I love you, and I +will try to help you, if I can."</p> + +<p>"My dear—my dear child," Mr. Wilton said, "no one can help me now; I am +ruined! But your mother promised not to tell you. You might as well have +had another night of peace,—just as well. I told her to keep it from +the children."</p> + +<p>"But, dear father, I am not like a child now. I am the eldest girl, and +I ought to know what troubles you. Mother could not keep it from me; she +was obliged to tell some one. I want to ask you to be so very kind as +not to go into Fairchester again to-day, but stay quiet."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Mr. Wilton impatiently; "I must go. Why should I leave +the sinking ship like this? I am very well. It is all Stone's humbug, +frightening your poor mother out of her wits. Here, give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[26]</a></span> me another +glass of wine, and then ring for Curtis to come round with the +dog-cart."</p> + +<p>Mr. Wilton suddenly rose from his chair, and before Salome could prevent +it he had emptied the decanter into a tumbler, and was raising it to his +lips when he dropped it with a crash upon the ground, his hand fell +powerless at his side, and he sank back in the chair speechless and +unconscious of any outward thing.</p> + +<p>Instantly Salome's first thought was of her mother—to save her from the +sudden shock which had blanched her own lips with terror, and for a +moment left her as helpless as her poor father.</p> + +<p>Then, instead of ringing the bell frantically, or calling out aloud, as +so many girls would have done, she ran with the speed of lightning to +the nursery and called her faithful friend there.</p> + +<p>"Come to papa! quick, Stevens, quick!" Then as nurse threw down her work +and obeyed her she flew to the garden, where Reginald, all unconscious +of the impending sorrow, was lying under the cedar tree.</p> + +<p>"Reginald, Reginald, get up! father is much worse. Send to Fairchester +for Mr. Stone, or any doctor; <i>pray</i> make haste."</p> + +<p>"Father! what is the matter with him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know! His face is an awful gray<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[27]</a></span> colour, and his mouth—O +Reginald, don't ask me, only go and get some help; but don't let mother +be frightened."</p> + +<p>Reginald did as she told him without farther question; and Salome +returned to the library.</p> + +<p>The servants were gathered there now—the old butler, Greenwood; +Stevens, the nurse, who had seen Mr. Wilton bring home his bride; others +of the large household standing near in awe-struck silence. They made +way for the little figure that appeared at the door, and let Salome pass +to Stevens, who was supporting her master's head, while Greenwood was +loosing his collar.</p> + +<p>"You can do no good, my dear Miss Salome; no good."</p> + +<p>"What do you mean, Stevens? I have sent Reginald for Mr. Stone—" Here +she stopped, for Greenwood broke out into convulsive crying.</p> + +<p>"The dear master is struck for death, and no mortal power can help him +now!"</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>That evening about seven o'clock, Salome, sitting by her mother's side +in the hushed and darkened room where the master of Maplestone lay +breathing heavily, quite unconscious of any outward thing, heard the +sound of horses' feet. She rose quickly and went to the hall door.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[28]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is Raymond. I had better tell him," she said.</p> + +<p>On her way she met Ada, her pretty face washed with tears, like a rose +in a heavy shower, who said,—</p> + +<p>"Raymond has come back on one of Mr. St. John's horses, Salome. He has +broken Captain's knees; just think of that!"</p> + +<p>"Does he know?" Salome asked.</p> + +<p>"I daresay they have told him in the stables. Is there any change in +father?"</p> + +<p>Salome shook her head. "Will you go and sit with mother while I find +Raymond? Reginald is gone with the messages to the De Brettes and +Fergusons."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am afraid to see father," Ada said, shuddering. "I dare not go. I +wonder if Uncle Loftus will come; Miss Barnes says he is sure to start +when he gets the telegram. Here comes Raymond."</p> + +<p>Raymond came in with a would-be careless air, trying to whistle. Salome +went up to him.</p> + +<p>"Raymond, do you know what has happened?"</p> + +<p>"My father is ill, you mean. What is the matter with him? I shall be +spared a row about Captain. I have been and done for Captain, and for +myself pretty nearly. What do you both look so scared for?"</p> + +<p>"Come into the drawing-room and I will tell you, Raymond. O Raymond!" +Salome said, "father is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[29]</a></span> dying! Mr. Stone has telegraphed for Dr. Scott, +but he has no hope."</p> + +<p>Raymond's lip quivered, and the real boy-nature asserted itself. "I wish +I had not taken Captain," he said. "Where's mother?"</p> + +<p>"In the library. He was seized with this fit while I was with him there. +He could not bear the dreadful blow which has fallen on him."</p> + +<p>"Blow! What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I forgot," Salome said simply. "Father has lost all his money, and we +shall have nothing."</p> + +<p>"What nonsense! We shall have this house, and—"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, Raymond! The house and everything in it will have to be sold. +But oh! what is that—what is that to—losing father?" and Salome +covered her face with her hands and wept bitterly.</p> + +<p>"I say, Salome, don't take on like this," said Raymond in a strangely +husky and unnatural voice. "There is some mistake, depend upon it. +Things can't be as bad as that. Why, what am <i>I</i> to do, if I can't go +back to Eton?"</p> + +<p>Ah, there was the sting to the undisciplined, selfish nature,—"What am +<i>I</i> to do?"</p> + +<p>Salome turned away and went back to keep her sorrowful vigil by her +mother's side.</p> + +<p>The next week was like a terrible dream to Salome. The dreaded news of +the stoppage of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[30]</a></span> Central Bank came, as had been expected; but Mr. +Wilton died unknowing that his worst fears had been realized, and that +all was lost. He was laid to rest in the pretty churchyard of Maplestone +just one week after the blow had fallen, and his widow and children were +left desolate.</p> + +<p>Uncle Loftus had arrived, as Miss Barnes had expected. He had not +remained all through the sad week,—while the sunshine reigned without, +and darkness and dreariness within Maplestone Court,—but he returned +for the funeral; and the same evening he sat in consultation with Mr. +Calvert, the lawyer, and Mr. De Brette, with the partners of the great +timber concern which had collapsed in the general and widespread +pressure of the time. Mr. Wilton's case was rendered far worse by the +loss of a large private income derived from shares in the Central Bank. +There was literally nothing left to his children but his heavy +liabilities and his wife's small settlement.</p> + +<p>"Under three hundred a year," Dr. Loftus Wilton said; "and with all +their previous habits and way of life, this will be little enough. My +sister-in-law is not a strong woman, and has had her own way, poor +thing—I mean she has been blessed with a very indulgent husband."</p> + +<p>"I suppose the eldest boy can earn his living," Mr. De Brette said; "he +is over seventeen."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[31]</a></span></p> + +<p>"He ought to do so. We must get him into an office. Perhaps, when the +concern is wound up, Mr. Ferguson may find him a berth when a fresh +start is made."</p> + +<p>"A fresh start!" exclaimed Mr. Ferguson; "that will never be, as far as +I am concerned. I should think a clerkship in a bank would be better."</p> + +<p>"I think you ought to see Raymond," Dr. Loftus Wilton said; "he is his +father's representative, and everything should be laid before him. Then +there is the eldest girl, close on sixteen; a little creature, but full +of nerve and sense. Shall we call them?"</p> + +<p>The gentlemen seemed doubtful; and Mr. De Brette said,—</p> + +<p>"Poor things! I think we had better leave it to you to tell them what +must happen. The house will realize a good deal," he added, looking +round; "fine pictures, and everything in good order. The cellar, too, +must be valuable—poor Wilton's wine was always of the choicest."</p> + +<p>"Yes, poor fellow. My brother lived up to the mark, perhaps a little too +much so; but who was to foresee such a calamity as this?"</p> + +<p>After a little more discussion the party broke up,—the lawyer gathering +together the papers and Mr. Wilton's will with a half sigh, as he +said,—</p> + +<p>"This is so much waste paper now. It is a melancholy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[32]</a></span> story, and there +are hundreds like it. Nothing but losses all round."</p> + +<p>Dr. Loftus Wilton strolled out into the grounds when he was left alone. +He would put off talking to the children till the next day, he thought, +and there was no immediate necessity to do so. He was sorry for them; +but he had a large family, and a hard fight to provide for them out of a +professional income as a doctor in a fashionable watering-place, where +much was required in the way of appearance, and people were valued very +much by what they wore, and very little by what they were. The summer +was always a flat time at Roxburgh, and hence Dr. Loftus Wilton could +better afford the time away from his practice. "There are good schools +at Roxburgh for the small boys, and the two girls could get advantages," +he thought; "but then Anna will not trouble herself about poor Arthur's +family. In fact, she would not care to have them there. Still, I must do +my duty. She and Emily never did hit it off. Anna thought she patronized +her; and now it would be the other way, poor things." And then Dr. +Wilton lighted another cigar and paced up and down the garden, till at +last he found himself on the wooden bridge, and in the stillness of the +summer evening heard voices. He went on, and came upon the lake, on the +bank of which three black figures were sitting—Salome<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[33]</a></span> and her two +elder brothers. The opportunity was too good to be lost, and knocking +the ashes off his cigar end, Dr. Wilton descended, saying,—</p> + +<p>"The very people I wanted to see.—Here, Reginald, my boy, +stop—Raymond, I mean."</p> + +<p>But Raymond, at the sight of his uncle, had suddenly left his seat, and, +with his hands in his pockets, had disappeared in the tangled shrubbery +which led away from the lake on the other side.</p> + +<p>Reginald, however, stopped when his uncle called, and Salome, rising, +said,—</p> + +<p>"Did you want us, Uncle Loftus?" The pale, tear-stained face and little +slight figure, in its black, sombre dress, touched Dr. Wilton.</p> + +<p>"Yes, my dear; I came to talk with you and your eldest brother, +as—well, as reasonable people. Sit down, Salome," and he drew her +towards him on the bench.</p> + +<p><a name="illus035" id="illus035"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 384px;"> +<img src="images/illus035.png" width="384" height="600" alt="" title="'Sit down, Salome'" /> +</div> + +<p>"You know, my dear," he began, "you know you will have to leave +Maplestone at once,—the sooner for all of you the better, I think,—for +the place is in the possession of your poor father's creditors. Now, my +dear, listen to me."</p> + +<p>"I am listening, Uncle Loftus," Salome said.</p> + +<p>"I cannot do much for you, for I have a large family and many expenses; +but I have been thinking<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[34]</a></span> Roxburgh would be a good place for you all to +live in. The small boys could go to school, and—"</p> + +<p>"I mean to teach Carl and Hans, Uncle Loftus. There are Raymond and +Reginald. Reginald is not fourteen."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, Reginald must have a year or two more, I suppose. But Raymond +is well over sixteen; he must work for his living."</p> + +<p>"And there is Ada, Uncle Loftus,—she must go on with her lessons."</p> + +<p>"My dear, I am afraid <i>must</i> is a word we shall have to leave alone now. +It is what you can afford out of your poor mother's income, not what you +<i>must</i> have. Now I want you to ask her what she thinks of my plan. If +she approves it, I will look for a small furnished lodging, somewhere in +Roxburgh, and I will speak to your Aunt Anna—only you must get your +mother's mind about it first. I shall see her to-morrow before I leave, +and you can prepare her for my proposition. You must take heart, my +dear. Things may brighten."</p> + +<p>"Nothing can bring father back," said Salome passionately. "I could bear +anything if only I had him. To have worked so hard for us, and then to +die ruined and broken-hearted!"</p> + +<p>Dr. Wilton had nothing to say except, "My dear, don't fret—pray don't. +From what I have observed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[35]</a></span> as a medical man, I think your poor father's +life would not have been a long one at the best. He had a slight attack, +you know, two years ago, when I advised him to go abroad for a few weeks +for entire rest. And this fearful blow was too much for him—brought on +the last attack of paralysis, which proved fatal. Your brothers ought +not to have gone off in that way."</p> + +<p>"I am here, Uncle Loftus," Reginald said. "I have heard every word; I am +ready to do anything to help my mother," he continued, drawing himself +upright from the long grass where he had been lying full length.</p> + +<p>"That's a brave little man," Dr. Wilton said. "I wish your brother may +show the same good feeling." And then he relighted his cigar, and went +over the bridge again.</p> + +<p>"How unfeeling he is!" were Reginald's first words. "Oh, dear Sal, +<i>don't</i>!" for Salome was sobbing bitterly. "Don't, Sal; and, for any +sake, don't let us go to Roxburgh to be patronized by that set of +heartless people. Let's stick together, and go and live near a big +school, where I can go as a day boy. Not at Rugby though; I shouldn't +like that. The fellows in Crawford's house might look down on me as a +day boy. It is hard to have to leave Rugby; but I don't mean to give up +because I have to do my work somewhere<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[36]</a></span> else. One's work doesn't +alter—that's one comfort; and I'll do my best. And I have got <i>you</i>, +Sal; that's more than most fellows can say, for sisters like you don't +grow like blackberries in the hedge."</p> + +<p>"O Reg! I am sure I have not been of much use to you, only I think I +understand you. And, Reg"—this was said very earnestly—"you must tell +me always when I am untidy, and wake me up when I am in a dream, and +remind me to put my books away, and not leave everything in a +higgledy-piggledy fashion."</p> + +<p>"Oh, bother it! clever girls like you, who are always thinking and +making up stories and verses, often are all of a heap."</p> + +<p>"But that does not make it right, Reg; and I am not a bit clever, +really. Think of Ada—how beautifully she works and plays and draws! and +I don't do one of those things. Sometimes I think I might make a very +little money by writing a story. You know I have written heaps, and torn +them up, but now I shall keep the next and read it to you. I have got it +all straight in my head, not a hitch anywhere. Reg, isn't it strange I +can make all things in my stories go so pit-pat and right, and yet I +never can keep my goods straight? Why—would you believe it?—I've +already lost one of my new black kid gloves with four buttons. I can't +find it <i>anywhere</i>. It just shows what I shall have to do to <i>make</i> +myself orderly."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[37]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah!" said Reginald, "I see; if I were you, Sal, I would have some of my +hair cut off."</p> + +<p>"I have turned it up," Salome said; "I thought I had better try to do it +myself to-day."</p> + +<p>"Yes; but there is a great pin sticking out, and a long tail hanging +down, and"—Reginald hesitated—"it makes you <i>look</i> as if you weren't +quite trim. Trim isn't prim, you know, Sal."</p> + +<p>"No; that's right, Reginald. Tell me just what you think, won't you, and +I will tell you. I suppose," she went on, "such a sorrow as ours makes +us think more of God. We are forced to think of Him; but, O Reg! I have +been thinking of Him before this trouble—His love and care for every +tiny creature, and giving us so many beautiful things. I feel as if no +loss of money could take <i>them</i> away—the sky, the sunshine, the +flowers—all signs of God's love. And then even <i>this</i> comes from Him; +and I know He is love, and so I try to bear it."</p> + +<p>"You are awfully good, Salome," Reginald said in a husky voice. "You +know that talk we had at Easter. I have done what you said ever since, +you know. Not that I always or ever get much good from it; but I always +read the verses you said you would, and try to say a real prayer in +chapel. The dear old chapel," Reginald said; "fancy if I never see it +again!"</p> + +<p>The brother and sister sat in silence for a few minutes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[38]</a></span> and then +Salome said, "I must go to mother now, and tell her what Uncle Loftus +wishes, and try to find Raymond. Poor Ray! it is worse for him than for +any of us somehow. Ray was made to be rich."</p> + +<p>"He'll have to get a lot of nonsense knocked out of him, I expect," +Reginald said, as he and Salome parted—Reginald turning off to the +stables to see poor Captain, who had been brought back comparatively +worthless. And Salome, going to her mother's room, met Raymond on the +stairs. To her surprise he said,—</p> + +<p>"Come here, Sal; I want to speak with you."</p> + +<p>They went into the library together, now so full of memories to Salome +that she could hardly restrain her tears; but she was always saying to +herself, "I must keep up for mother's sake, and not be weak and +useless."</p> + +<p>"I say, Salome, don't you be taken in by Uncle Loftus; he is going to +ride over us, and I won't stand it. I shall not go to Roxburgh, and so I +shall tell him. I must try and get into—well, into the militia, and—"</p> + +<p>"Raymond, you cannot do it. There is only just enough money to keep +mother and all of us. You don't seem to take it in, Ray. Dear Ray! I am +dreadfully sorry for you, for you will feel it most; but you would do +anything for mother, and if you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[39]</a></span> went into a bank or an office you might +soon get rich and—"</p> + +<p>"Rich! whoever heard such nonsense? I shall go and see Mr. Calvert the +first thing to-morrow, and tell him how Uncle Loftus tries to put us +down."</p> + +<p>Salome was really astonished at her brother's unreasonableness and +absolute childishness; and Ada coming in to say mother wanted Salome +directly, she left her with Raymond, despairing of making any impression +upon him.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[40]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_III" id="CHAPTER_III"></a>CHAPTER III.</h2> + +<h3>EDINBURGH CRESCENT.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcpd"><span class="dropcap">D</span></span>R. WILTON was too busy all the day after his return to Roxburgh to +think much about his nieces and nephews at Maplestone. The incessant +calls on a medical man in the full swing of practice in a place like +Roxburgh are urgent and cannot be put aside. He came in to dinner at +half-past seven, and the scene of his home comfort and his elder +children seated round him brought back to him forcibly the condition of +his brother's widow and his family.</p> + +<p>When the servant had left the room, Dr. Wilton said,—</p> + +<p>"I have advised these poor things to come here for the winter anyhow, +Anna. Can you look for lodgings for them to-morrow? I think there may be +some to be had cheap down by St. Luke's Church."</p> + +<p>"Come here, Loftus! You surely are not going to bring Emily and the +children here, the most expensive place to decide upon."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[41]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, I don't know what else to advise. You see we might show them some +attention, and help them on a little. The boys could go to the college, +and the girls get advantages which will fit them for teaching. Poor +things! it makes my heart ache when I think of them, I can tell you."</p> + +<p>"Papa!" exclaimed Louise Wilton, "I am sure we don't want them here. I +never could get on with Salome and Ada. I am sure I hated being at +Maplestone that summer; and Aunt Emily was so grand and stuck-up."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Louise!" said her father sharply. "Grand and stuck-up indeed! +Poor thing! she will only just be able to pull through with all those +children. Hans and Carl are quite little things."</p> + +<p>"Well, I must say," said Mrs. Loftus Wilton, "I do think it is a mistake +to bring them all here; and I don't believe for an instant you will get +lodgings for them at a low price."</p> + +<p>"I am not going to try," said Dr. Wilton. "I leave that to you; and +to-morrow morning you had better take the carriage and drive about till +you find some at thirty shillings or two pounds a week. Four bed-rooms +and two sitting-rooms will do."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton leaned back in her chair and said, "I shall send Betha; she +is a far better judge than I am of lodgings. But I feel sure you will be +disappointed.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[42]</a></span> It will be utterly impossible to get lodgings in Roxburgh +for two pounds a week to accommodate a family like poor Emily's."</p> + +<p>"I should have thought," said <ins title="Transcriber's Note: original reads 'Mr.'">Dr.</ins> +Wilton, "you might have troubled +yourself to help these poor people. It is not unlikely that you may find +yourself in the same position one day; and then I don't know how you +will manage. My poor brother had far less reason than I have to look +forward to leaving his wife and children unprovided for."</p> + +<p>With these words Dr. Wilton left the dining-room; and Louise said,—</p> + +<p>"What shall we do with all the Maplestone people, mother? it will be so +awkward to have them in lodgings here. Just the last place for people to +come to who are poor."</p> + +<p>"Your father seems to be of a different opinion, my dear Louise, and we +must abide by his decision."</p> + +<p>"Really," exclaimed Kate, the second sister, "Roxburgh does not belong +to us. I suppose our cousins may come here if they like."</p> + +<p>"You have not practised to-day, Kate," Mrs. Wilton said sharply. "Go +into the school-room at once."</p> + +<p>Dr. Wilton had a large family, of whom Louise and Kate were the eldest +girls. Then came three boys, who were at the college; and then three +more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[43]</a></span> little girls. A daily governess had educated Louise and Kate, who +at seventeen and eighteen were supposed to have finished with the +school-room except for music and a little German. The trio of little +girls—Edith, Maude, and Hilda—were under Miss Browne, as their sisters +had been. And in the nursery there was a little delicate, fragile boy of +four years old, who was the especial care of the kind aunt of Mrs. +Wilton, who lived in her house as a poor relation, and performed an +unlimited number of services small and great for the whole family. Her +presence in the doctor's household obviated the necessity of an +experienced nurse, an experienced cook, or an experienced housemaid. A +staff of young girls under Aunt Betha's management got through the +onerous duties of the doctor's household, and thus Mrs. Wilton practised +economy by her help.</p> + +<p>Like many people who love a showy outside of things and sacrifice much +to attain their object, Mrs. Wilton was very mean in small matters. An +extra quarter a pound of butter used in the house, or a shilling +expended on little Guy over and above the sum she thought right for his +beef tea and other nourishment, caused her real concern. She would fly +off to Aunt Betha to inquire into the matter, and would inveigh upon her +want of management with some asperity. But she did not grudge anything +in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[44]</a></span> her drawing-room which kept it up with the fashion of the day, and +encouraged her eldest girl to dress, as she did herself, with excellent +taste and prettiness.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton went up to the nursery after dinner, where Aunt Betha was +sitting by little Guy. He had been very feverish and ailing all day, and +his father had paid him several visits. Aunt Betha raised her head as +Mrs. Wilton rustled in.</p> + +<p>"He has just gone off to sleep," she whispered.</p> + +<p>His tall graceful mother went up to the little bed where Guy lay.</p> + +<p>"Loftus does not think there is much amiss," she said. "Poor little +man!" Then she sat down by the fire and said, "I want you, auntie, to go +out lodging-hunting to-morrow for me. It is for Emily Wilton and her +children. They are almost penniless, and it is necessary that they +should leave Maplestone at once, for the creditors are in possession of +the place. Shall I wake him?" Mrs. Wilton asked, as Aunt Betha turned +her head towards Guy's bed.</p> + +<p>"No, I think not; he is really sound now. But, oh, I am so sorry for +those poor children; I am indeed."</p> + +<p>"It is a pitiable case, and I don't see myself the wisdom of bringing +them to Roxburgh. However, as Loftus wishes it to be done, I must look +for the lodgings, or get you to look for them. I think down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[45]</a></span> by St. +Luke's Church is the most likely locality, or behind Connaught Crescent. +They want four bed-rooms and two sitting-rooms for two pounds a week."</p> + +<p>"I fear we shall not succeed at that price; but I will go directly after +breakfast to-morrow,—if Susan can be trusted here. Guy must be kept +quiet till after his luncheon, and the children are so apt to rush in."</p> + +<p>"<i>Poor</i> little man!" the mother repeated. "He has but small enjoyment in +his life; but we shall see him a strong man yet. Oh, those boys!" And +Mrs. Wilton hastily left the nursery as sounds of boisterous mirth +ascended from the boys' study, a small room on the ground floor where +they got through their evening preparations. Three vociferous young +voices were raised at their highest pitch, while Edith's shrill treble +was heard.</p> + +<p>Down went Mrs. Wilton, and at the sound of her footstep there was a +lull.</p> + +<p>"Edith, have I not forbidden you to interrupt your brothers at their +work? Go up to bed immediately."</p> + +<p>"Mamma," sobbed Edith,—"mamma, it is all Ralph's fault. He says—he +says that Uncle Arthur's children are all paupers, and that if +papa—if—"</p> + +<p>"She is such a baby," Ralph exclaimed; "she says pauper is a bad word."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[46]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," laughed Cyril, "the silly baby. I believe she thinks <i>pauper</i> is +swearing."</p> + +<p>"No, she does not," said Digby, the eldest of the three brothers. "No, +poor little thing. It is a shame to tease her as you have done. Come on +upstairs, Edith. I will take you," and Digby took his little sister by +the hand and was leading her away when his mother interposed.</p> + +<p>"Don't encourage her in naughtiness, Digby. She is very disobedient to +come here at all.—Now, Edith."</p> + +<p>Poor Edith obeyed at once, sobbing out, "I only said I was glad we were +not so poor as our cousins; and they all laughed at me—at least Ralph +and Cyril did—and said if papa died—"</p> + +<p>"That will do, Edith. You are <i>not</i> to go down to disturb your brothers +again. The next time I find you in this room of an evening, I shall +punish you severely. Run away to bed. Aunt Betha ought to have called +you by this time; and what can Sarah be thinking of?"</p> + +<p>Then Mrs. Wilton kissed her little girl, and returned to the +drawing-room, where Louise was reading by the bright gaslight.</p> + +<p>"You have four burners lighted, Louise. It is quite unnecessary," and +Mrs. Wilton's height made it easy for her to turn down two of the +burners in the glass chandelier.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[47]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What a noise the boys have been making downstairs!" Louise said. "I am +sure I hope we shall not have them here all the holidays. Are we not +going to Torquay or Ilfracombe?"</p> + +<p>"Decidedly not <i>en masse</i>," Mrs. Wilton said. "Lodgings by the sea are +so fearfully expensive."</p> + +<p>"Well," said Louise, "I think it is very dull staying in Roxburgh all +the summer, and the boys are so tiresome. If we had only a proper +tennis-court; playing in the square is so disagreeable."</p> + +<p>"You are very discontented, Louise," said her mother. "Pray, do not +grumble any more."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton sat down to write a letter, and no more was said till Kate +came in with Digby. They were great friends, and Digby was the generally +acknowledged good-temper of the family. I am afraid it was too much the +motto of each of the doctor's children, "Every one for himself." There +could not be said to be one really unselfish person of that household. +But Digby and Kate had more thought for others than the rest of the +brothers and sisters, and were naturally better tempered and contented.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to look for lodgings for Aunt Emily, mother?" Digby +asked.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton looked up from her writing as if the idea were a new one to +her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[48]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No, my dear, I shall not have time to do so. I am engaged to take +Louise and Kate to a tennis-party at Cawfield to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Digby, I wish you would not sit on that sofa. Look what you have done +to the cover."</p> + +<p>Digby changed his seat from the sofa to a straw chair, one of those +half-circular ones with cushions which creak at every movement.</p> + +<p>"O Digby, do pray be quiet," said Louise irritably. "It does fidget me +to hear that noise."</p> + +<p>"You will be an old maid to a certainty, Louise," said her brother, "if +you are so cantankerous,—another Aunt Betha, only not half as +good.—Come on, Kate; let us have a game of backgammon."</p> + +<p>"Not in here!" exclaimed Louise. "I hate the rattling of the dice. Pray +go into the back drawing-room."</p> + +<p>"Yes, let us go there," said Kate, "in peace."</p> + +<p>"Peace! There is none in this house," said Digby as he followed Kate, +who jumped up on a chair to light the gas, and came down with a thud on +the floor, when she had achieved her object, which shook the glass-drops +of both chandeliers ominously.</p> + +<p>"I say, Kate, what a clumsy elephant you are. You'll bring down the +chandelier and a torrent of abuse from a certain person at the same +time."</p> + +<p>"Where are Ralph and Cyril?" Kate asked.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[49]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Downstairs. We have all been 'preparing a lesson,' doing a holiday +task. Such humbug, as if fellows of our age ought not to dine late."</p> + +<p>"Well, the Barrington boys always have school-room tea."</p> + +<p>"They are younger. Ned isn't fifteen, and I am sixteen."</p> + +<p>"No, not quite; not till next week," Kate said. "You are younger than +Raymond. Are you not sorry for them at Maplestone?"</p> + +<p>"Awfully," said Digby; "and I think every one so unfeeling. You girls +ought to be in mourning."</p> + +<p>"Mamma said it would be too expensive," said Kate; "but then she never +expected they would all come here and see us. I believe she is going to +get up something if they do come; but they may not get lodgings. Isn't +it odd, Digby, to think of our visit to Maplestone a year and a half +ago, when we felt them so much better off than we were, and envied the +house and the gardens, and the ponies and the carriages? And Raymond +talked so much of his swell Eton friends; and Reginald was at Rugby; and +you grumbled because you could not go to school, but had to be a day boy +at the college here."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I remember," said Digby. "And how pretty Ada looked when she went +to church on Sunday.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[50]</a></span> And that quiet one, they say, is clever, with the +queer name."</p> + +<p>"Salome! ah, yes," said Kate. "She was odd—so dreamy, and unlike other +girls. Dear me, it is very sad for them all. I wish they were not coming +here all the same, for I know they will be disappointed; and Roxburgh is +not a place to be poor in. I am sick of all the talking about who this +person is, and where they come from, and what they wear; and that +'residents' can't know 'lodgers' for fear of getting mixed up with what +is not quite the thing. I do hate it," said Kate vehemently; "and yet +what is one to do?"</p> + +<p>"Play backgammon now," said Digby; "and go to bed and forget it. With +slow holidays like these, one had better lie there half the day."</p> + +<p>"<i>Pray</i> don't be late to-morrow, Digby; it does make such a fuss. Now +then—sixes as a start. What luck for me!"</p> + +<p>So the cousins in Edinburgh Terrace talked of the cousins at Maplestone. +So small a part of the lives of others do griefs and sorrows make. That +evening, while Digby and Kate were so lightly discussing the coming of +Ada and Raymond, of Aunt Emily and Reginald, Salome was standing in the +fading light by her father's grave in the quiet churchyard of +Maplestone, with some freshly-gathered flowers in her hand, and crying +as if her heart would break!</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[51]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IV" id="CHAPTER_IV"></a>CHAPTER IV.</h2> + +<h3>LOOKING FOR LODGINGS.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcpa"><span class="dropcap">A</span></span>UNT BETHA was not the person to do anything by halves. She had promised +to set forth early the next day to "hunt for lodgings," and she did not +shrink from her task. She was up earlier than usual, that everything +might be in order and her daily routine gone through in good time. First +there was Guy to be washed and dressed; and his breakfast, with his two +little sisters, Maude and Hilda,—Edith breakfasting in the dining-room +with her elders. Then came the visit to the kitchen, and Mrs. Wilton's +orders and counter-orders to convey to the young servant who cooked +under Aunt Betha's supervision. There were the daily accounts to +balance, and the daily arrangements to make; and last, not least, the +daily burden of others to be borne. How nobly and uncomplainingly Aunt +Betha bore this burden I have no words to tell you. She had gone through +deep trials in her young days, and had been the useful<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[52]</a></span> sister to Mrs. +Wilton's mother. Then when that sister died, and dying said, "You will +have a home with Anna; don't give her up, she will want help," Aunt +Betha transferred her faithful service from the mother to the daughter. +She was too poor to live without earning her own living, and she chose +to do this by the position in Dr. Wilton's house in which we find her.</p> + +<p>Dear Aunt Betha! She was plain, and short, and very old-fashioned in her +dress. "I hear too much about dress in this house," she would say, "to +care much about my own." And black silk for Sundays, and a black merino +or alpaca for week-days, made short and full, was her unvarying costume. +Aunt Betha was scrupulously neat and clean, and her caps, tied with +mauve ribbon under her chin, were always fresh and bright. So were the +large collar and cuffs which finished her "afternoon dress;" though when +she was busy about the house in the morning she dispensed with the +cuffs, and wore a large apron and holland sleeves over her gown.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton had that dislike to trouble which can hardly be called +indolence; for she was active in her habits, and could go through a good +deal of fatigue without complaining. She would walk with Louise to a +house at some distance, if the carriage was not available, rather than +miss an afternoon party. She<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[53]</a></span> would give herself any amount of trouble +about one of her husband's patients who she thought belonged to a good +family. She would plan and contrive for Louise and Kate's dress and +amusement; and her own appearance was singularly youthful and her dress +faultless; and all this was not effected without much pain and trouble. +But all the daily routine of household duties which did not bring any +especial honour with them she disliked. Drudgery could be as well done +by Aunt Betha as by her. Why should she be a drudge? "Aunt Betha was +made to be useful, and she enjoys it. Dear old woman! We give her a +comfortable home, and she is happy. Nothing could fit in better."</p> + +<p>"I am not to exceed two pounds a week, Anna?" Aunt Betha asked, as she +put her head into the dining-room, where Mrs. Wilton and Louise were +lingering over breakfast and complaining that Digby was so late.</p> + +<p>"Oh, about the lodgings!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilton. "Are you going now, +dear?" (Mrs. Wilton often called Aunt Betha "dear.") "I will go up to +Guy, then."</p> + +<p>"Susan is with him. He is better this morning. Good-bye,—I have no time +to lose."</p> + +<p>"Very well. Take a cab if you are very tired. Certainly not more than +two pounds a week for the lodgings; but less will be better."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[54]</a></span></p> + +<p>Aunt Betha closed the door, and was soon on her way, her quick, light +footsteps growing faint and fainter as she went along the smooth +pavement of Edinburgh Crescent. She had a message at the green-grocer's +and an order at the butcher's to leave as she passed the shops which +supplied the wants of Roxburgh; and then she turned away from what might +be called the West End of Roxburgh to the neighbourhood of St. Luke's +Church. Here there was a substratum of small villas and long, narrow +streets, which were a long way from the crescents and terraces of the +gay town to which so many people resorted for health and pleasure. The +college at Roxburgh stood a little apart from crescents and small +streets, and a large number of well-built houses clustered around it, +where the families of boys who attended the college mostly lived. In +days gone by there had been a mineral spa at Roxburgh, which had proved +the starting-point of the large fashionable watering-place of these +later times. But "the spa" had declined in popularity, and the old +pump-room was in a forlorn state of decay and desolation. It had given +Roxburgh its fame; and now, being out of repute, was cast aside and +renounced.</p> + +<p>The part of the town towards which Aunt Betha directed her efforts lay +below the deserted spa, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[55]</a></span> was nearer the large, smoky town of +Harstone, which was scarcely two miles from Roxburgh, where a busy life +of trade and commerce went on in the valley, apart from the life of +pleasure on the hill above. A cloud of smoke lay in the valley above +Harstone, and the river fogs crept up on this side of Roxburgh, laden +with the smut and breath of the chimneys, in late autumn and winter; but +on this bright August morning, the towers and spires of the Harstone +churches looked picturesque in the soft, gray mist which lay over them +and the tall masts of the ships in the docks.</p> + +<p>Aunt Betha did not, however, turn her eyes to the valley. She was too +much intent on scanning the rows of small houses with "Apartments," +"Furnished Apartments," printed on boards in the windows.</p> + +<p>"Number 3 Lavender Place. That is a nice bow window, and white curtains. +I'll try there." Aunt Betha rang the bell, and did not fail to notice +"that you might see your face in the brass knob of the handle." A very +neat woman came to the door, and in answer to her inquiries said—</p> + +<p>"Yes, I have apartments to let,—a drawing-room and four bed-rooms."</p> + +<p>Aunt Betha felt quite delighted at what seemed likely to be the speedy +end of her labours. Everything was so neat. Drawing-room back and +front.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[56]</a></span> Could anything be better? Then came the question of terms.</p> + +<p>"Two guineas a week."</p> + +<p>"Would you, Mrs.—" Aunt Betha paused.</p> + +<p>"Parsons—my name is Parsons," said the landlady.</p> + +<p>"Could you, Mrs. Parsons, say less if the rooms were taken for some +time?"</p> + +<p>"Perhaps I might, ma'am. I <i>might</i> say two pounds."</p> + +<p>"Very well. I don't think I shall do better. I will close at once, and +send you word as to the day the family will arrive."</p> + +<p>"Pray, ma'am," inquired Mrs. Parsons, "how many are there in the +family?"</p> + +<p>"A widow lady, and, let me see, a servant,—poor thing, she must keep +one servant; she has been used to more than you can count on your +fingers,—and six children."</p> + +<p>"I never take children, ma'am, <i>never</i>," said Mrs. Parsons.</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, that is unfortunate; but these are not young children. The +little boys are twins, and are—"</p> + +<p>"<i>Boys!</i> that quite decides me, ma'am. I don't like other folk's +servants about my place; but I <i>might</i> have got over that, had the +children been girls. But boys—"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[57]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Then I must wish you good-morning," said Aunt Betha. "Can you tell me +of any house where children would not be objected to? <i>I</i> live in a +house full of children myself, and I find them, as a rule, a deal +pleasanter than grown-up people. But of course you must please +yourself."</p> + +<p>"I look at my furniture, ma'am, and my peace and comfort. I look to the +ruin of carpets and chairs, and—"</p> + +<p>But Aunt Betha stayed to hear no more, and trotted off on her arduous +errand.</p> + +<p>In and out of houses went poor Aunt Betha, with alternate hopes and +fears. Some were dirty and slovenly: the landladies of these called the +children "little dears," and said "they doted on children." Some rooms +were too dear; some too small; and as the sharp-sounding clock of St. +Luke's struck twelve, Aunt Betha felt tired out and ready to give up. +She was standing hopelessly at the corner of Lavender Place, when a +pleasant-looking woman, crossing the road, exclaimed with a smile, "Why, +if that's not Miss Cox! Dear me, Miss Cox, how are you, ma'am?"</p> + +<p>"I am pretty well, Ruth, thank you; but I am tired out. I am looking for +lodgings for poor Mr. Arthur Wilton's family, and I can't find any."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Arthur Wilton! Poor gentleman. I saw<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[58]</a></span> his death in the paper, and +thought it must be the doctor's brother. He has left a long family, +hasn't he?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; that is, shorter than my niece's; but six are enough to provide +for when there is nothing left but debts and difficulties."</p> + +<p>Ruth was an old married servant of Dr. Wilton's, one of the innumerable +young cooks who had been under Miss Cox, and had basely deserted her as +soon as she could <i>cook</i>—send up a dinner fit to be eaten—to dress the +dinner of the baker's boy who had served 6 Edinburgh Crescent with +bread.</p> + +<p>"Dear me! I thought Mr. Wilton was a very rich gentleman. I have heard +the young ladies talk of the fine country place. How was it?"</p> + +<p>"He had misfortunes and losses, Ruth; and his family are coming here to +live in furnished lodgings. But I can meet with none. Can you help me?"</p> + +<p>Ruth looked right and left, as if she expected to see some one coming up +or down the road with the news of lodgings in their hands, and was +silent. At last a light seemed to break over her rosy face. "If they +don't mind being next to our shop, I believe I do know the very place. +Will you come and see? The house belongs to my mother-in-law, and she +has got it nicely furnished. It is not far; will you come, Miss Cox?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[59]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Is it quite near, Ruth? for I must be back for the children's dinner, +and I am so tired."</p> + +<p>"You can take a tram from the Three Stars, and that will get you home in +no time. It is not far, Miss Cox."</p> + +<p>"Well, I will come, Ruth; but I don't feel sure about engaging the +lodgings. Your mother-in-law won't mind my looking at them?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, ma'am, not a bit. She was an old servant, you know, of some real +gentry at Whitelands, and the old lady died last fall twelvemonth, and +left mother—I always calls her mother—a nice little sum and some real +valuable furniture."</p> + +<p>"Oh! then she won't take children," said Miss Cox despairingly. "She +won't take boys?"</p> + +<p>"That she will, if you like the apartments; there won't be no +difficulties," said Ruth in a reassuring voice. "You see, my Frank's +father died when he was an infant, and mother went back to her old +place, where she lived till two years ago, when the mistress died. Then +she took this little business for Frank, and the house next. It is quite +a private house, and was built by a gentleman. She thought she should be +near us and help us on a bit, and so she has. And she put the furniture +in it, and has added a bit here and there; and she let it all last +winter to the curate and his mother; and here we are, Miss Cox. Look +straight before you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[60]</a></span></p> + +<p>Miss Cox looked straight before her as she was told, and there, at the +end of the road, stood a neat white house with a pretty good-sized +baker's shop on the lower floor, and two windows above. There was a wing +with a bake-house, and then a tall elm tree, left of its brethren which +had once stood there in a stately group, either by accident or by +design, and given their name to the locality—Elm Fields.</p> + +<p>"There's my Frank at the door," Ruth said, nodding; "he wonders what I +am come back for."</p> + +<p>"I remember him," said Miss Cox; "he used to take an hour to deliver the +bread. Ah, Ruth, you should not have married such a boy."</p> + +<p>"Shouldn't I? Then, Miss Cox, you and I don't agree there. If I am a bit +older, Frank is the best husband that ever lived.—This way, ma'am."</p> + +<p>Ruth opened a wooden gate and went up a narrow path to the door of a +small house, built of old-fashioned brick, with a porch at the side, and +a trellis covered with clematis.</p> + +<p>"Quite like country, isn't it, ma'am?—Mother," Ruth called. And then +from the back of the house Mrs. Pryor emerged, a thin, pale, +respectable-looking woman, but with a sad expression on her face. +"Here's a lady, mother, come to look at your apartments, for a +family—Dr. Wilton's brother, you know, mother, where I lived when I +first saw Frank."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[61]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Ah! indeed; will you please to look round, ma'am? It is a tidy place; I +do all I can to keep it neat and clean; and there's some good furniture +in it, left me by my dear blessed mistress." And Mrs. Pryor raised her +apron to her eyes, and spoke in a low voice, like one on the brink of +tears.</p> + +<p>"Well then, mother, when ladies come to be in their eighty-sevens, one +can't wish or expect them to live. It is only natural; we can't all live +to be a hundred."</p> + +<p>"I don't like such flighty talk, Ruth," said Mrs. Pryor reprovingly. "It +hurts me.—This way, ma'am."</p> + +<p>Aunt Betha followed Mrs. Pryor into a sitting-room on the ground floor, +square and very neat,—the table in the middle of the room, a large +mahogany chiffonier, with a glass of wax flowers on it, and two old +china cups. Miss Cox went to the square window and looked out. The +ground sloped away from the strip of garden, and the hamlet of Elm +Fields, consisting of the cottages and small houses where Frank now +delivered his own bread, was seen from it. There was nothing offensive +to the eye, and beyond was a line of hills. Harstone lay to the right. +Another room of the same proportions, and four bed-rooms, all very neat, +and in one, the pride of Mrs. Pryor's heart, a large four-post bed with +carved<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[62]</a></span> posts and heavy curtains, the very chief of the dear mistress's +gifts and legacies.</p> + +<p>Aunt Betha felt it would do—that it must do; and there was a little +room for the servant which Mrs. Pryor would throw in, and all for the +prescribed two pounds a week.</p> + +<p>"I will tell Dr. Wilton about it, and you shall hear this evening, or +to-morrow morning at latest, and you will do your best to make them +comfortable. They have had great sorrows. One thing I forgot to +consider,—how far are we from the college?"</p> + +<p>"Not a quarter of an hour by the Whitelands road," said Ruth eagerly. "I +can walk it in that time; and young gentlemen, why they would do it in +five minutes."</p> + +<p>"How many young gentlemen are there?" Mrs. Pryor asked feebly, when they +were in the passage.</p> + +<p>"Two that will go to the college," said Ruth quickly. Then, with a +glance at Miss Cox, she said in a lower voice, "I will make it right. +Now, ma'am, you will catch the tram at the Three Stars if you make +haste."</p> + +<p>Poor Aunt Betha trudged off to the Three Stars, and stumbled into the +tram just as it was starting.</p> + +<p>She reached Edinburgh Crescent almost at the same moment as Dr. Wilton, +who was returning from his first round.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[63]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I have found a house which I think will answer for the poor people from +Maplestone," she said. "I did not absolutely engage the rooms till I had +consulted you and Anna."</p> + +<p>Dr. Wilton gave a rapid glance to the white slate in the hall, and then +said, "Come in here a minute, auntie," opening the door of his +consulting-room. "Where are the lodgings?"</p> + +<p>"In the neighbourhood you mentioned—by St. Luke's Church—in that new +part by Whitelands called the Elm Fields. They are kept by a respectable +woman, the mother of an old servant of ours—Ruth—and there is room for +them all. Four bed-rooms, two sitting-rooms, and a little room for the +servant."</p> + +<p>"I'll take a look at the place this afternoon. I expect it is the very +thing; and I have to see a patient in that direction. If I am satisfied, +I will engage them from this day week. Guy is better to-day."</p> + +<p>"Yes; he slept better," said Aunt Betha.</p> + +<p>She was very tired, for she carried the weight of sixty-five years about +with her on her errands of love and kindness. "I must go now and carve +for Anna," she said. "It is past one o'clock."</p> + +<p>Dr. Wilton always took his hasty luncheon in the consulting-room,—a +glass of milk and a few biscuits. He did not encounter that long array +of young faces in the dining-room in the middle of his hard day's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[64]</a></span> work. +Aunt Betha departed with her news, which was received with some +satisfaction by Mrs. Wilton. At least, Elm Fields did not lie much in +the way of Edinburgh Crescent. There was safety in distance. And Aunt +Betha wisely forbore to make any reference to the baker's shop.</p> + +<p>That afternoon a telegram was handed in at Maplestone, which Salome +opened for her mother with trembling fingers:—</p> + +<p>"Dr. Wilton, Roxburgh, to Mrs. Wilton, Maplestone Court, near +Fairchester.</p> + +<p>"I have taken comfortable lodgings here for you from the twenty-third. I +will write by post."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[65]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_V" id="CHAPTER_V"></a>CHAPTER V.</h2> + +<h3>A JOURNEY.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcpt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>HAT last week at Maplestone was like a hurried dream to all the +children, who had known no other home. Their neighbours and friends were +very kind and full of sympathy, and Mrs. Wilton and the little boys were +invited to spend the last two days with the De Brettes, who lived near, +and it was arranged that they should stay there with Ada; and that +Salome, and Stevens, and the two elder boys should precede them to +Roxburgh. Miss Barnes had said she would come with them for a day or two +to help them to arrange the rooms, and prepare everything for Mrs. +Wilton; but she was called away to the sick-bed of her own mother, and +Stevens and Salome went with Raymond and Reginald alone. The beautiful +summer seemed over, and it was in a chill drizzling rain that Salome +looked her last at Maplestone. She did not cry as the fly, laden with +boxes, rumbled slowly down the drive. Stevens sobbed aloud, and Raymond<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[66]</a></span> +and Reginald kept their heads well out of each window; but Salome sat +pale and tearless. The coachman's wife at the lodge stood with her +children round her at the large gate, and curtseyed; but she hid her +face in her apron, and cried bitterly. The gardener had preceded them +with the cart to the station, and the boxes were all labelled before the +party in the fly arrived.</p> + +<p><a name="illus002" id="illus002"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 382px;"> +<img src="images/illus002.png" width="382" height="600" alt="" title="The coachman's wife hid her face" /> +</div> + +<p>"Shall I take the tickets?" Raymond asked.</p> + +<p>"Yes; let Master Raymond take them," exclaimed Stevens.</p> + +<p>Salome had the purse intrusted to her by her mother to pay expenses.</p> + +<p>"It is better you should begin your responsibilities," her mother had +said sadly; "and Stevens will have so much to attend to."</p> + +<p>Salome opened the purse and gave Raymond a sovereign.</p> + +<p>"Another," he said, waiting.</p> + +<p>"That is enough. Four tickets, third class."</p> + +<p>"Third class. <i>I</i> am not going to travel third class, I assure you."</p> + +<p>"We must, Raymond; we <i>must</i>," said Salome. "Raymond!"</p> + +<p>But Raymond was gone, and Salome stood laden with small parcels, while +poor Stevens was counting over the boxes.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[67]</a></span></p> + +<p>The gardener had a beautiful basket of flowers ready, and had filled a +hamper with the best fruit and vegetables from the Maplestone gardens.</p> + +<p>"I have put up a melon, Miss Wilton, and a lot of grapes. Mind how the +hamper is unpacked. You'll still have some more flowers soon, for I +shall be coming up to Roxburgh."</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we had better not, thank you, Thomas. They are not ours now, +you know—nothing is ours;" and, as often happens, the sound of her own +voice as she gave utterance to the sad truth was too much for her. She +put her little hand into Thomas's, and said in a broken voice, "Here +comes the train! Good-bye, Thomas; good-bye."</p> + +<p>At this moment Reginald, who had been doing his utmost to help poor +Stevens, came up.</p> + +<p>"Now, dear Salome, make haste. Here's an empty carriage."</p> + +<p>"Third class? Here you are. How many seats?" said a porter.</p> + +<p>"<i>This</i> way, do you hear?" Raymond called. "This way. Stevens is to go +there, and you must come with me. I've got the tickets."</p> + +<p>"Hallo, Wilton!" said a pleasant voice, "where are you off to?"</p> + +<p>"I am going to Roxburgh with my sister," said Raymond. "My sister—Mr. +Henry St. Clair," said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[68]</a></span> Raymond grandly. "Get in, Salome, or you will be +left behind."</p> + +<p>Raymond's friend took some parcels out of Salome's hand, and courteously +helped her into the carriage, putting the umbrellas and cloaks up in the +rack behind the seat, and settling the little parcels for her.</p> + +<p>As the guard came to shut the door with the usual words, "Any more going +on?" Raymond said, "Where's Reginald?" and, putting his head out, he +called, "Hallo, Reginald; you'll be left behind."</p> + +<p>"I am going with Stevens, third class," was the answer.</p> + +<p>Raymond's brow grew dark, and he muttered something between his teeth. +"What an idiot! I've got his ticket."</p> + +<p>Salome, who had great difficulty in repressing the tears which the +good-bye to Thomas had brought in a shower, said bravely, "We ought all +to have gone with Stevens, Raymond."</p> + +<p>Raymond turned away, hoping his friend would not hear, and then the two +boys began to talk about Eton matters, and Salome was left to her own +sad meditations. She could not help, however, hearing some of the +conversation, and her surprise was unbounded when she heard Raymond say +his return to Eton was uncertain, for since the "governor's"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[69]</a></span> death +their plans were all unsettled. They might go abroad for the winter; at +present they had taken a house near Roxburgh!</p> + +<p>Oh, how could Raymond talk like that? and what would become of him? +Ashamed to go third class! ashamed to say they were poor! Oh, if only +Reginald had been the eldest brother, what a difference it would have +made.</p> + +<p>Raymond got out at the junction, where they had to wait for the +up-train, to smoke a cigar. His friend did not accompany him, and he and +Salome were left together. With ready tact he saw that she would prefer +silence to conversation, and he only asked her if she would like the +window quite closed, as it was so damp, picked up a flower which had +fallen from Thomas's basket, and then unfolded a newspaper.</p> + +<p>The next minute a young man looked in at the window and said, "I thought +I saw you at Fairchester. How are you, old fellow?"</p> + +<p>"All right. Where are you bound for?"</p> + +<p>"I am going down into Cornwall till term begins. I say, there's Wilton! +As much side on as ever, I suppose. Bragging as usual, eh?"</p> + +<p>Henry St. Clair tried to make it evident by a sign that remarks about +Raymond were to be stopped.</p> + +<p>"Never was such a fellow for brag. I have been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[70]</a></span> staying near +Fairchester, and I heard the other day that the whole family were left +without a farthing and heaps of debts. Is it true?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Henry St. Clair. "Have you seen Barnard lately?"</p> + +<p>"No. What makes you ask? I say, St. Clair, what's up?"</p> + +<p>"The <i>up</i>-train. Now we are off. Here comes Wilton."</p> + +<p>Raymond came sauntering up, and knocking the ashes from his cigar, threw +it away.</p> + +<p>"You extravagant fellow!" St. Clair exclaimed.</p> + +<p>"Well, I can't smoke here, can I?"</p> + +<p>"You ought not to smoke at all, according to Eton rules," exclaimed the +other boy, as he ran away to take his place in another part of the +train.</p> + +<p>"Where did Harrington come from?"</p> + +<p>"He has been staying near Fairchester, he says," St. Clair replied +carelessly, and then he began to read his paper.</p> + +<p>"Near Fairchester!" thought Raymond; "then he will have heard all about +us. Whom can he have been staying with, I wonder? How stupid Salome is +sitting there like a dummy when she might talk, as she can talk +sometimes, and be agreeable. One can't go about the world airing one's +pauperism; it's such nonsense."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[71]</a></span></p> + +<p>The rest of the journey passed without much conversation. The Wiltons +were to get out at a small station where there was a junction of two +miles to Roxburgh. Henry St. Clair was going on to Harstone. He helped +Salome, and even said to Raymond, "Here, take your sister's bag and +umbrella, Wilton."</p> + +<p>Reginald and Stevens were behind at the van watching the piles of boxes +turned out, and Stevens was nervously counting them.</p> + +<p>Henry St. Clair bid Salome a pleasant good-bye, and she felt his kind +attentions in contrast to Raymond's indifference.</p> + +<p>"What a nice little thing that sister of Wilton's is!" Henry St. Clair +thought, as the train moved off and he caught sight of Salome's slight +figure standing by Stevens and the luggage which was to be carried +across to another platform for the Roxburgh train. "A nice little thing! +And what a selfish brute Wilton is; such a cad, too, with his big +talk—while she is so different. I wonder whether it is true what +Harrington has heard. I will ask Barnard. He comes from those parts, and +is sure to know. I'll ask him."</p> + +<p>The drizzling rain had turned into a regular down-pour, when at last +Stevens and her boxes were safely stowed away in the omnibus, and Salome +and her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[72]</a></span> brothers filled a cab, with small parcels, baskets, and rugs at +the Roxburgh station.</p> + +<p>"Where shall I drive, sir?" asked the cabman as he prepared to mount to +his seat.</p> + +<p>"What's the name of the house?" said Raymond. "Salome, where are we to +drive?"</p> + +<p>"I—I—don't quite know," said poor Salome. "How stupid of +me!—Reginald, can you remember?"</p> + +<p>"It's by a church, and the name is Friar, or Pryor, or—"</p> + +<p>"There's a lot of churches," said the cabman; "and this ain't exactly +the weather to stand here while you put on your considering cap, with +the water pouring off one's hat enough to blind one."</p> + +<p>"It's St. Luke's Church. Yes, I am sure it's close to St. Luke's," +Salome exclaimed. "But Stevens will know—our nurse, who is in the +omnibus."</p> + +<p>"You want a nurse, you do," said the cabman, "to guide you? Come now, I +can't wait here all night."</p> + +<p>And now a shout was heard from the omnibus.</p> + +<p>"The old lady wants to speak to you," said the conductor. And Salome, +looking out at the cab window, saw Stevens frantically making signals +and trying to make her voice reach the cab.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Stevens knows, Stevens knows the address," and before more could be +said, Reginald had jumped out and was soon climbing the steps of the +omnibus<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[73]</a></span> to hear what Stevens said. He was back in a minute drenched +with rain, and saying,—</p> + +<p>"Close to St. Luke's Church—Elm Fields—Elm Cottage—Mrs. Pryor."</p> + +<p>"All right," said the cabman. "I know—Pryor the baker; I pass down by +there from Whitelands often enough." Then he climbed to his seat, the +rain still falling in one continuous rush, and they were off.</p> + +<p>"How idiotic of you, Salome, not to know the address," said Raymond; +"and I do wish you would keep your hair tight. Look here!" And he gave +one of the thick plaits a somewhat rough pull as it lay like a line of +light upon Salome's black jacket. "I saw St. Clair looking at it. You +didn't take in who he was."</p> + +<p>"Some Eton swell, I suppose," said Reginald.</p> + +<p>"I thought he was very nice and kind," said Salome.</p> + +<p>"Nice and kind! He is Lord Felthorpe's son, and in the same house as I +am at Eton. Old Birch always manages to get the right sort of fellows! +How could you be such an ass, Reginald, as to travel third class when I +had taken a first class ticket for you?"</p> + +<p>"We ought all to have travelled third class," said Reginald stoutly. +"Mother said second; but there is no second on the Midland Railway, so I +went third."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[74]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Well, just as you please," said Raymond. "I say, what a neighbourhood +this is! not a good house to be seen," and he wiped the window of the +cab with his coat-sleeve.</p> + +<p>Salome looked out from her window also.</p> + +<p>"I don't remember this part of Roxburgh. It cannot be near Uncle +Loftus's house, I think."</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said Reginald; "that is the swell part—Edinburgh Crescent and +Maniston Square and the Quadrant. This is more like a part of Harstone. +Hallo!"</p> + +<p>The cab had stopped at last.</p> + +<p>"What are we stopping for?" exclaimed Salome.</p> + +<p>"I expect this is the place," said Reginald, "for there is a baker's +shop, and Pryor over it."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense," said Raymond. But the cabman got down and tapped at the +blurred glass, signing to Raymond to let it down, and saying, "Now then, +sir, look sharp!"</p> + +<p>"This can't be the place,—it's impossible,—it's a mistake."</p> + +<p>But now a cheerful voice was heard, and, with a large cotton umbrella +held over her, Ruth appeared.</p> + +<p>"It's all right! This way, sir, round by the gate. I am sorry you have +such a day, that I am; it makes everything look so dismal. Frank will +come and help with the luggage."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[75]</a></span></p> + +<p>Salome followed Ruth to the trellised porch, where the clematis was +hanging limp and damp, with drops from every tendril. Just within the +porch stood Mrs. Pryor. Smiles were not in her way at all. She looked as +sad and melancholy as the day, and when the creaking omnibus was heard +coming up the road and stopping at the gate, she held up her hands.</p> + +<p>"All those boxes! it's ridic'lous to think of getting 'em in."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, mother; Frank will manage that in no time. There's lots of +room, and a family must have things to use."</p> + +<p>"You walk in, miss," said Ruth to Salome; "tea is all set in the +parlour. We thought you would like to have one room kept for meals and +one for company."</p> + +<p>"Company! what company! Who would ever come near them in that obscure +quarter of Roxburgh," Salome thought. And now Raymond made it worse by +coming in to declare he should not allow his mother to stay in a hole +like this, and that he should go out and look for lodgings the very next +day. Whoever took them must be mad, and he should not put up with it. +Even Reginald's good temper was tried to the utmost, and he and Raymond +began a fierce wrangle about the cab and omnibus fare; while Stevens, +wet and tired and miserable, sat down on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[76]</a></span> one of her big boxes, and +seemed as if all exertion were over for her.</p> + +<p>"I am wore out," she said. "I have not slept for three nights. I am wore +out."</p> + +<p>Of course, Mrs. Pryor was too much affronted at Raymond's remarks on her +house—the house, with all the highly-polished furniture, which was at +once her pride and joy—to volunteer any consolation; but quietly +addressing Salome, she said,—</p> + +<p>"You have not seen the bed-rooms yet; will you walk up, Miss Wilton?"</p> + +<p>Salome followed, saying, as she passed Raymond and Reginald,—</p> + +<p>"Please do not say any more. I daresay we shall be very +comfortable.—And do come up with me, Stevens, and see the rooms."</p> + +<p>The gentle, sweet voice softened Mrs. Pryor somewhat. Stevens was +pleased to see the bed-rooms neatly furnished, and that not a speck of +dust was to be seen; from these upper windows, too, there would be, on +clear days, a nice open view; and altogether her spirits rose, and she +said "with a few things put here and there she thought she might soon +get a bed-room fit for her mistress."</p> + +<p>"I am glad mother did not come with us," said Salome. "It will be all +settled before Monday. If only Raymond would make the best of it."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[77]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VI" id="CHAPTER_VI"></a>CHAPTER VI.</h2> + +<h3>LOSSES AND GAINS.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcpo"><span class="dropcap">O</span></span>NE really sunny, good-tempered person has a wonderful effect in a +household. Ruth Pryor was the sunny element in the two days of rain +outside, and discomforts of unpacking inside the house, which followed +the arrival of the first instalment of the party from Maplestone. She +smoothed down difficulties; she laughed at her mother-in-law's +melancholy forebodings that "the party was too grand for her," and that +she, who had lived for so many years with a lady of title—her dear, +departed mistress—was not going to put up with "airs" from a young man +like Mr. Raymond.</p> + +<p>"It takes a time to get used to everything," Ruth said; "they'll settle +down right enough, and so Mrs. Stevens thinks. She says her mistress, +poor thing, is too broken down to grumble; and I am sure Miss Wilton is +a little angel."</p> + +<p>"<i>Very</i> untidy, very careless—dropping things here<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[78]</a></span> and there; and she +has spilled some ink on the tablecloth."</p> + +<p>"A mere speck," said Ruth; "you'd need to put on your spectacles to see +it; and a green and black cloth does not show spots."</p> + +<p>"Not to <i>your</i> eyes, Ruth; you are far too easy. It's a good thing you +have no family."</p> + +<p>"There now, mother, don't say that," said Ruth, a shadow coming over her +round, rosy face. "You know how I fretted when I lost my baby; and +Frank, he fretted enough."</p> + +<p>"Well, well, you may have a baby yet, only you would find you'd have to +be more particular as to bits and pieces strewed everywhere," and Mrs. +Pryor stooped to pick up some leaves which Salome had dropped as she +filled the two stiff white vases with the Maplestone flowers.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton and the boys were expected that evening. Raymond and +Reginald were to meet them at the station; and Salome had been following +Stevens about the house, giving finishing touches here and there, and +trying to hope her mother would be pleased. The "parlour," now called +the drawing-room, was wonderfully improved by pushing the table back +against the wall, and covering it with books and a little flower-basket +from the old home. Then there was a "nest" of small tables, which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[79]</a></span> +Salome and Stevens separated, and covered two of them with some bits of +scarlet cloth, round which some lace was run by Stevens. On these tables +some photographs were set in little frames, and two brackets were nailed +up with a book-shelf. Salome looked round with some satisfaction as the +sun struggled through the clouds and seemed to smile on her efforts. +Reginald enjoyed all the wrenching of nails from boxes and running out +on messages; and altogether things assumed a brighter aspect.</p> + +<p>Raymond had been out the greater part of the two days, and only came in +to meals. He was moody and disagreeable: selfish and discontented in the +days of prosperity, he naturally made no effort to sweeten the days of +adversity.</p> + +<p>"Have you got any money, Salome?" he asked his sister, as she sat down +in the dining-room with ink and pens before her and a large +blotting-case, which had once been a music portfolio, and was now filled +with a great variety of scribbled paper, the beginnings of many stories +which had been read to her little brothers by the nursery fire at +Maplestone, and were considered, by them at least, the "jolliest tales +that were ever told—much jollier than printed books."</p> + +<p>Out of this chaotic heap Salome thought of forming a story for children, +of which visions floated before her, bound in olive green, and embossed +with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[80]</a></span> gold, and illustrated with pictures, and advertised in the papers! +Only Reginald was to be in the secret. And then the joy of giving her +mother the money she should get for her book. The little heap of gold +was already rising from ten to twenty, nay, to thirty sovereigns, when +Raymond's question broke in on her dream,—</p> + +<p>"I say, Salome, have you got any money?"</p> + +<p><a name="illus085" id="illus085"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 391px;"> +<img src="images/illus085.png" width="391" height="600" alt="" title="'I say, Salome, have you got any money?'" /> +</div> + +<p>"Money! No, Raymond, only a few shillings; but mother will have some +this afternoon."</p> + +<p>"Well, you see, I spent nearly a pound of my own for the tickets, and +the omnibus, and cab, and porters."</p> + +<p>"Not for the omnibus and cab. I gave Reginald seven shillings for them. +And as to the tickets, you ought not to have taken first class tickets. +One was a waste, because Reginald did not use it."</p> + +<p>"A lucky thing I had the sense to take first class tickets. Fancy St. +Clair finding <i>me</i> in a third class carriage—and <i>you</i>, worse still! If +Reginald was such a fool, I can't help it, it was not my concern; but I +have a right to look after you, and I know my father would never have +allowed you or Ada to travel third class with a lot of half-tipsy +navvies, for all I could tell."</p> + +<p>Raymond said this with a grandly magnanimous air, as if he were to be +commended for brotherly attention.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[81]</a></span></p> + +<p>Salome bit the end of her pen-holder, and could scarcely repress a +smile, but she only said,—</p> + +<p>"What do you want money for, Raymond?"</p> + +<p>"What do I want it for? That's my business. I am not going into Roxburgh +without a penny in my pocket. It's not likely."</p> + +<p>"Well," Salome said, "I hope you will not tease mother for money. I hope +you will spare her as much as you can. I believe I have some money of my +own,—ten or twelve shillings,—and I can let you have it, or some of +it." Salome put her hand in her pocket to get out her purse. Alas! no +purse was there. "I must have left it upstairs," she said.</p> + +<p>And Raymond exclaimed,—</p> + +<p>"A nice hand you'll make of keeping money for the family."</p> + +<p>"Stevens," Salome said, rushing up to Stevens, "have you seen my purse?"</p> + +<p>"No; you've never lost it?"</p> + +<p>"I can't have lost it.—Reginald,—I say, Reginald, have you seen my +purse? I thought it was in my pocket."</p> + +<p>Reginald called out from his mother's bed-room, where he was fastening +up a bracket for her little clock,—</p> + +<p>"What do you say you've lost?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, my purse, Reginald! what <i>shall</i> I do?" and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[82]</a></span> Salome wildly turned +out a drawer in the room which she was to share with Ada, and left it in +dire confusion.</p> + +<p>"Dear me, Miss Salome, pray don't make work like that," said Stevens. "I +do wish you would learn to take care of your own things at least. You +never was fit to look after money."</p> + +<p>Salome was in despair, when Reginald came out of his mother's room +holding the lost purse on high.</p> + +<p>"O Reginald, where did you find it? You might have told me before. It +was a shame. Where <i>did</i> you find it?"</p> + +<p>"Under the table in the dining-room last evening," and he tossed the +purse to her, saying, "It's not very heavy. But you <i>should</i> be careful, +Salome; you are awfully careless."</p> + +<p>"Don't be rude, Reginald; it's not for you to take me to task. Mind your +own business, please."</p> + +<p>"Hallo! there's a carriage. It's Uncle Loftus; yes, that it is," +exclaimed Reginald. "He has not hurried himself to look after us, I must +say."</p> + +<p>Salome felt a nervous fear of her uncle, and stood irresolute at the top +of the narrow stairs.</p> + +<p>"Come down with me, Reginald," she said; "do come."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, you'll get on better alone," Reginald said; "and Raymond is +downstairs."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[83]</a></span></p> + +<p>"The doctor, Miss Wilton," said Mrs. Pryor, in a tone which seemed to +imply that some one was very ill. "The doctor," she repeated, looking up +from the narrow hall at Salome.</p> + +<p>Salome went down slowly, and her heart beat so loud she could almost +hear it. Her Uncle Loftus brought back the memory of her father so +vividly. He resembled him, as brothers do often resemble each other—a +family likeness, which starts out always more forcibly when one of that +family is gone.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear child," Dr. Wilton said, advancing to Salome when at last +she opened the door, "how are you getting on? You are quite comfortable +here, I hope. It really looks very nice and home-like. It was the best +we could do for you. I heard from your mother yesterday, and she says +she is coming this afternoon with the children and—and—" (Dr. Wilton +could not fit the sister with a name) "your sister. I will try to meet +your mother, and bring her up in the carriage. I have to be at the +hospital in Harstone at four o'clock, and I think I can just manage to +get to the Elm Fields Station at five. The boys must meet the train too, +and they and the children and the luggage can come up in the omnibus."</p> + +<p>"Thank you, Uncle Loftus," Salome said gently.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[84]</a></span> "I am very glad mamma +should drive up in the carriage."</p> + +<p>"What a quiet, demure little thing she is," thought Dr. Wilton. "Where +are your brothers?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"I thought Raymond was here," Salome said, rising as if to call him.</p> + +<p>"No; do not call him now. I wanted to tell you that I have, I hope, +succeeded in getting him into a merchant's office in Harstone. It really +is a most difficult thing to provide for boys in these days, as I shall +find. All professions need so much outlay to begin with—articles for +the law, and so on. But Mr. Warde, out of respect to your poor father's +memory, says he will take your brother on, at a nominal salary of twenty +pounds, just to keep him in clothes; and considering the calamity at +Fairchester, I think it is better the boy should start clear here. +Reginald must have another year at school, I suppose, and I will speak +to Dr. Stracey about it. The term does not begin till the middle of +September. The little boys you and Ada can manage between you, I +daresay."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes," Salome said; "I can do their lessons at present."</p> + +<p>"That's right. You know your poor father's affairs are in such a fearful +mess that it is impossible to tell yet how things stand. The liquidation +of the Central<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[85]</a></span> Bank will go on for years. A heavy overdraft there is +the ugliest part of the matter."</p> + +<p>"An overdraft!" poor Salome exclaimed; "I don't understand!"</p> + +<p>"No, my dear, you can't understand, I daresay. But, as I told you, your +poor mother's income is secure, and on that you must all make up your +minds to live till better times. It is just three hundred a year."</p> + +<p>Three hundred a year conveyed a very hazy idea to Salome.</p> + +<p>"How much had we a year at Maplestone, Uncle Loftus?"</p> + +<p>"How much?—my dear, your father was living at the rate of four or five +thousand a year!"</p> + +<p>"Four <i>thousand</i>!" This at least was a help to a clear understanding. +Four thousand did stand out in sharp contrast to three hundred. Salome +was speechless.</p> + +<p>"Your Aunt Anna will be calling on your mother to-morrow, and she will +settle about your coming to see your cousins. You must be about Kate's +age—seventeen."</p> + +<p>"I am not quite sixteen," Salome said. "Ada is just fifteen, and Raymond +seventeen. Reginald is nearly fourteen."</p> + +<p>"Only a year between each of you, then!"</p> + +<p>"The little ones are much younger. Carl is nine,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[86]</a></span> and Hans eight. They +were born on the same day of the month."</p> + +<p>Family records of births and ages were not in Dr. Wilton's line. He +looked at his watch, and said,—</p> + +<p>"Well, I must be off. I will speak to your mother about the situation +for Raymond, and other matters, as we drive up from the station. +Good-bye, my dear." And Dr. Wilton was gone, leaving Salome standing in +the middle of the room. She would have liked to kiss him, to cry a +little, and be comforted. But there was something in her uncle's +professional manner, kind though it was, which threw her back. He would +do his duty, she felt; he would not give up his brother's children; but +he would do it as shortly as possible, and waste neither time nor words +over it.</p> + +<p>He had smiled, and looked kind; he had spoken pleasantly and cheerfully; +he had even put his arm round her when she first went into the room, and +there was real feeling in the words, "Well, my dear child," as he kissed +her forehead; but for all that, Salome felt like a sensitive plant, +touched by the gentlest hand, which draws in, and cannot unfold in +response.</p> + +<p>"If only father were here!" the girl exclaimed, covering her face with +her hands. "Oh, that he were here! Oh, that we had all thought more of +him when we had him! And what a life he must have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[87]</a></span> had the last year; +never telling us, and yet in such trouble!" Vain regrets for our dead; +vain longings to be what we can never be again! Let us all take care, as +the daily life rolls swiftly on, that we lay up happy memories, or at +least pleasant memories, when that daily life has become <i>the +past</i>,—the past which, when it was the present, was, alas! so often +sown with the seeds of unkindness, harshness of word and judgment, +ill-temper, selfish disregard for the feelings of others, which yield +such a bitter harvest when those we love are hidden from our sight, and +we can never more lighten a burden, or help to make the way easy by +smiles and good-temper, by tenderness and forbearance, by the love which +covereth a multitude of faults.</p> + +<p>Salome was roused by Raymond's entrance.</p> + +<p>"Why did you not come and see Uncle Loftus?"</p> + +<p>"He did not ask for me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, he asked where you were; but he told me not to call you."</p> + +<p>"I did not want to see him. I hate his patronizing ways. Have you found +your purse?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, Reg had picked it up; but you are not going out before dinner, are +you, Ray?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I don't know," said Raymond, stretching and yawning. "I should have +thought we had better have dined at seven, when mamma comes."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[88]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I—I don't think Mrs. Pryor would like a late dinner."</p> + +<p>"Well, I can get a little luncheon somewhere in Roxburgh. It is so fine, +and it is so slow being cooped up here."</p> + +<p>"You have to go with Reg to the Elm Fields Station to meet mamma—don't +forget that—at five o'clock."</p> + +<p>"All right." But Raymond lingered. "The money, Sal; I'll pay you back." +Salome opened the purse and took out two half-crowns. "Thanks!" said +Raymond; "it <i>is</i> a come down to want a paltry five shillings."</p> + +<p>"O Raymond!" Salome said passionately,—"O Ray, do try to make the best +of things to mother! It will make her so dreadfully sad if you grumble. +Dear Raymond, I will do all I can, only please do try to make the best +of everything."</p> + +<p>"You are a kind little thing," said Raymond; "but I wish we were all at +the bottom of the Red Sea. There is nothing left to live for or care +about; no pleasure, and no fun; nothing but to be looked down upon!"</p> + +<p>"I believe Uncle Loftus has heard of something for you, and perhaps you +will make money and be a rich merchant." Raymond whistled and shrugged +his shoulders, and strolled off, lighting a cigar in the porch.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[89]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then Salome went to find Reginald, and make her peace with him.</p> + +<p>"Reg, let us go out. It is so fine; and I am so sorry I was so careless +about the purse. It was very good of you to pick it up, Reg; I was +horridly cross to you."</p> + +<p>"Never mind, Sal. Yes, let's go out and look about the place till +dinner."</p> + +<p>"I don't see that we want any dinner to-day, Reg. We can have the +cutlets at tea, when the others come; and Stevens won't mind—she can +have eggs and bacon. And we'll find a shop and have some buns and +ginger-beer. I'll get ready at once, and tell Stevens to tell Mrs. +Pryor. It will be fun, and save expense, you know."</p> + +<p>Poor child! she was soon ready; and Reginald and she set off in better +spirits than they had known since their troubles had fallen on them.</p> + +<p>When Salome was outside the gate, and had nodded to Ruth, who was behind +the counter of the shop, she discovered she had got both left-hand +gloves. "But it will spoil all if I tell Reg, and go back, and keep him +waiting while I hunt for the right-hand glove. He will say I am +incorrigible." So by a little skilful manœuvring Salome persuaded her +right hand to accommodate itself to circumstances, and tripped almost +gaily by her brother's side.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[90]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VII" id="CHAPTER_VII"></a>CHAPTER VII.</h2> + +<h3>COUSINS.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcpt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>HE walk had an exhilarating effect on both brother and sister. There is +a charm in novelty to us all, and it is a charm which is more especially +felt by the young. The present moment bears with it its own importance, +and neither future nor past has the power with children that it has with +grown-up people. Reginald and Salome soon left behind them the lines of +small villas and long narrow streets intersecting each other which +stretched out from the district called Elm Fields, connecting it with +Roxburgh in one direction, and sloping down towards Harstone in the +other.</p> + +<p>Beyond all these signs of increasing population was a wide expanse of +common or down, skirted, it is true, by houses which year by year are +multiplied, but yet comprising an acre or two of broken ground with dips +and hollows, and, again, wide spaces of soft turf, freshened by the +breezes which come straight<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[91]</a></span> from the mouth of the river on which +Harstone stands, some ten miles away.</p> + +<p>"This is nice," Salome said. "I feel as if I could run and jump here. +And look at that line of blue mountains, Reg! Is it not lovely? Oh, we +can come here very often! I think I remember driving across these downs +when I came with dear father to stay at Uncle Loftus's three or four +years ago. We are nearer the downs than the fashionable part of the +place, I believe."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Reginald; "I call this jolly. And there's the college over +there; we will go home that way, and find out a short cut back to Elm +Fields. I say, Sal, there is no one near, or no one who can watch us; +let's have a race to the big thorn bush right in front, and on to the +stumpy tree to the left."</p> + +<p>Salome gave a quick glance round, and then said, "Off!" Away she went, +fleet of foot, her plaits of hair falling over her shoulders, refusing +to be kept in place by the hair-pins, which were indeed not strong +enough to bear up that mass of tawny locks on ordinary occasions, +certainly not now when Salome was flying in the teeth of a brisk wind +over the open downs.</p> + +<p>"Well done," said Reginald, breathless with his exertions, "you were not +two yards behind me; but, I say, Sal, your hair!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[92]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, what shall I do? and no pins! I must go back and look for them."</p> + +<p>"Here's one caught in your jacket; but it would be like looking for a +needle in a bundle of hay to look for the others on the down. No one +will know you; let it all go."</p> + +<p>"I will go to a hairdresser and have it cut off. It's no use being +bothered like this. Now, let us walk quietly; I wish to consult you +about my story. Shall I make the children orphans, living with a cross +aunt? or shall they have a father and mother? And would you put in that +tale about the monkey which Hans is so fond of? That is a really true +tale, you know. It happened to Stevens's little niece."</p> + +<p>"Well, I think stories about monkeys pulling watches to pieces and +breaking tea-cups are rather stale. So are all stories, if you come to +that—the same things told hundreds of times, just the names of the +children changed."</p> + +<p>Salome was silent, feeling rather disappointed at this douche of cold +water over her schemes of authorship.</p> + +<p>"But, Reg, if stories are to be like life, they <i>must</i> be the same +things told over and over again, just as things do go on happening over +and over again. For instance, all that is happening to us now has +happened<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[93]</a></span> to thousands and thousands of other families,—may be +happening at this very moment. The thing is," said Salome thoughtfully, +"it is the <i>way</i> of telling a story which makes the difference. We see +things differently, and then we put the old thing in a new light. That +is why there is everything fresh every day, and nothing can be really +stale, as you call it. All this beautiful view never can look quite the +same, for there is certain to be a variety in the lights and shadows."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, I daresay; but then I am not sentimental or romantic, though +I think you are awfully clever, and would beat Ada, or any of us, any +day. I wonder how I shall get on at the college? It will be very +different to Rugby. I must work hard and make the best of the year, for +I am only to have a year more at school. Did not Uncle Loftus say so?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but perhaps it may turn out differently. You are sure to get on, +whatever happens. It is about Raymond I am so afraid. I cannot imagine +him in an office in Harstone.—How that girl is staring at me, Reginald, +and the boy too. Is it at my hair?"</p> + +<p>"Come along," said Reginald; "don't look at them."</p> + +<p>He turned towards the low wall which skirts the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[94]</a></span> side of the down where +the high rocks, through which the river runs, rise to a considerable +height on the Roxburgh side. Reginald leaned with folded arms against +the wall, and Salome, uncomfortably conscious that her hair was floating +over her back in most dire confusion, stood by him, never turning her +head again. At last Salome heard a voice close to her say,—</p> + +<p>"Yes, I am sure it is, Digby. Let me ask her."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense. You can't be sure."</p> + +<p>There was a moment's silence, and then Kate Wilton seized on her chance. +Salome's pocket-handkerchief, as she turned at a sign from Reginald to +walk away, fell from the pocket at the side of her dress.</p> + +<p>"I think this is yours," said Kate, "your pocket-handkerchief; and I +think you are my cousin. We—we came to see you at Maplestone two years +ago."</p> + +<p>The brightest colour rose to Salome's face, and she said, "Yes, I am +Salome Wilton. Reginald!"—for Reginald had walked on, resolutely +determined not to believe they had any kinship with the boy and girl who +had stared at them—"Reginald," Salome said, overtaking him, "do stop;" +adding in a lower voice, "It's so uncivil."</p> + +<p>Reginald, thus appealed to, was obliged to turn his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[95]</a></span> head, and in the +very gruffest voice said, "How do you do?" to Digby, who advanced +towards him.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad we met you," Kate said. "I have been watching you for ever +so long. Something made me sure you were our cousin. I was not so sure +about your brother. I daresay he has very much grown in two years, but +you are so little altered, and"—Kate paused and laughed—"I knew your +hair; it is such wonderful hair. Don't you remember how you used to let +it down at Maplestone, and make me guess which was your face and which +was the back of your head? It was not so long then."</p> + +<p>Salome felt more and more uncomfortable about her hair, and said, "I am +quite ashamed of my untidiness; but I have lost all my pins, and my hair +is such a dreadful bother."</p> + +<p>"It is beautiful," said Kate. "I am sure I should not call it a bother. +I wish you could give me some; but we have all scraggy rats' tails. We +should like to walk with you, if we may," Kate continued. "Which way are +you going?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no way in particular. Reginald and I came out for a walk. We have +had such dreadful weather since we have been here."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and Digby and I, like you and your brother, were tired of staying +at home. It is so dull for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[96]</a></span> the boys when they have bad weather in the +holidays. I hope it is going to clear up now."</p> + +<p>Salome hoped so too, and then there was silence. But Kate soon broke it +with some trivial remark, and the girls made more rapid advances towards +friendship than the boys. Kate was pleasant and good-tempered, and was +easy to get on with. But Salome listened in vain for much conversation +between the boys. All the talk came from Digby, and she felt vexed with +her brother for his ungraciousness. But boys are generally more reticent +than girls, and have not so many small subjects to discuss with each +other on first acquaintance, till they get upon school life and games.</p> + +<p>"I hope you will come home with us," Kate said, after a pause, during +which she had been calculating the time of her mother and Louise's +departure to luncheon at a friend's house in the neighbourhood. A glance +at the clock of a church they passed reassured her. "They were certain +to have started," she thought. "Aunt Betha would not mind if I took home +half-a-dozen people to luncheon."</p> + +<p>"You are going out of your way, Salome," said Reginald. "We ought to +turn up this way to Elm Fields."</p> + +<p>"I want them to come home to luncheon, Digby. Do make them."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[97]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh yes, pray, come," said Digby, "unless you have anything better to +do."</p> + +<p>"Oh no," said Salome simply. "Reginald and I were going to get some buns +at a shop. We did not intend to go back till—"</p> + +<p>A warning, not to say angry, glance from Reginald stopped Salome, and +she added,—</p> + +<p>"Perhaps we had better not come, thanks. Mamma and Ada and the children +are coming this afternoon, and Reginald has to be at the station at five +o'clock to meet them."</p> + +<p>"Well, as it's not one o'clock yet," said Digby, "there's time, I should +think, for both." He changed companions as he spoke, and, leaving Kate +to Reginald, walked briskly on with Salome towards Edinburgh Crescent.</p> + +<p>The bell was ringing for the "children's dinner" as the four cousins +were admitted by the "boy in buttons" who answered the doctor's bell, +and had in truth time for little else than swinging back that door on +the hinges and receiving patients' notes, telegrams, and messages.</p> + +<p>"You are late, Miss Kate," was Bean's greeting. By reason of his name +poor Bean had a variety of sobriquets in the family. Of these "Stalky +Jack" and "Vegetable" were amongst the most conspicuous.</p> + +<p>"Is mamma gone?" Kate asked anxiously.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[98]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes, miss, just turned the corner as you came up. Lady Monroe don't +lunch till one-thirty: <i>we</i> lunch at one sharp."</p> + +<p>Another ring, before the door had well closed, took Bean to it again, +and Kate, saying, "It is all right, Salome, come upstairs," led the way +to the room she shared with Louise, while Digby took Reginald into the +dining-room.</p> + +<p>An evening dress of blue and white lay on one of the little beds, and +Kate dexterously covered it with a white shawl; for Salome's deep crape +reminded her that neither she nor Louise was really wearing the proper +mourning for her uncle.</p> + +<p>"Just take the daisies out of your hats," her mother had said, "and wear +your black cashmeres. It is really impossible to provide mourning for a +family like this; and besides, so few people here will know much about +it—so many are away; and by the time Roxburgh is full again, the six +weeks' mourning for an uncle will be over. Still, as you two elder girls +are seen with me, you must not be in colours; it is a fortunate thing I +had just had that black silk made up."</p> + +<p>The memory of her mother's words passed swiftly through Kate's mind, and +she hoped Salome would not notice the blue dress. She need not have been +afraid. Salome was fully occupied with plaiting up<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[99]</a></span> her hair and +possessing herself of two or three stray hair-pins she saw on the +dressing-table.</p> + +<p>The room was not particularly tidy or attractive; very different to the +bright sunny room at Maplestone, with its wreath of ivy round the +windows and its decorations within, in which Ada delighted. The back of +Edinburgh Crescent looked out on strips of dark gardens, shut in by red +brick walls; and beyond, the backs of another row of houses.</p> + +<p>"Louise and I are obliged to share a room," Kate said. "Though this +house looks large, we fill it from top to bottom—we are such an +enormous family. That's poor little Guy," she said, as a wailing, +fretful cry was heard. "The nursery is next our room. Guy is our baby: +he is very delicate, and I don't think papa has much hope that he will +live. Now we must come down to luncheon. I hope you don't mind barley +soup and treacle pudding. We are certain not to have anything better +to-day, because mamma and Louise are out." She said this laughing as she +ran down before Salome.</p> + +<p>The long table with its row of young faces bewildered Salome. She felt +shy and uncomfortable, and Aunt Betha, rising from her place at the head +of the table, advanced kindly toward her.</p> + +<p>"Come and sit next me, my dear. There are so many cousins; don't attempt +to speak to them all.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[100]</a></span> Will you have some hashed mutton or cold +beef?—Go on with your dinners, Edith and <ins title="Transriber's Note: original reads 'Maud'">Maude</ins>"—for the little girls +had stopped short in eating to gaze curiously at their cousin. "Do you +take beer, my dear? Only water! that is right. We are all better for +taking water.—Now, Digby, send down the potatoes.—We wait on ourselves +at luncheon. I hope you find your lodgings comfortable. Mrs. Pryor is a +very superior person, rather gloomy, but Ruth laughs enough for a dozen. +A giddy girl she was when she lived here.—You remember Ruth, Kate?"</p> + +<p>"No, I don't," said Kate; "we have a tide of girls passing through the +house. They are all alike."</p> + +<p>Aunt Betha's kindly chatter was a great help to Salome, and she began to +feel less oppressed by the presence of her cousins. Such an army of boys +and girls it seemed to her! and the home picture so widely different to +that which she had known at Maplestone. "Children's dinner," with +neither father nor mother present, at Dr. Wilton's was of the plainest, +and Mrs. Wilton expended her ornamental taste on her drawing-room, where +she had many afternoon teas and "at homes." Dinner parties or even +luncheon parties were rare, and the dining-room was therefore generally +bare and commonplace in its arrangements. A dusty fern, which looked +unhappy and gas-stricken,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[101]</a></span> drooped rather than lived in a china pot in +the middle of the table; but beyond this there were no signs of flower +or of leaf.</p> + +<p>Yet it was <i>home</i>, and Salome felt by force of contrast homeless and +sad. The boys were going to see a cricket match, and Digby wanted +Reginald to come with them.</p> + +<p>"I shall not have time, thank you. We ought to be going back now, +Salome."</p> + +<p>But Kate overruled this, and Reginald was obliged to consent, and went +off with his cousins till four o'clock, when he was to return to pick up +his sister and take her to Elm Fields before going to the station.</p> + +<p>"We will have a cozy talk in the school-room, and I will get Aunt Betha +to let us have some tea. The children are all going out, and mamma and +Louise will not be back yet, so we shall have peace." Kate said this as, +with her arm in Salome's, she led the way to the school-room,—a very +bare, untidy room in the wing built out at the back of the house, and +over Dr. Wilton's consulting-room. Two battered leather chairs, which +had seen years of service, were on either side of the fireplace; and +there was a long bookcase, taking up the wall on one side, where school +books for every age and degree were arranged in brown paper covers. A +writing-desk standing on the table, with a cover over it, and an +inkstand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[102]</a></span> with pen and pencil, all belonging to Miss Scott, the daily +governess, was the only really tidy spot in the whole room. The walls +were covered with maps and pictures cut from the <i>Illustrated News</i>—two +or three of these in frames—conspicuous amongst them the familiar child +in the big sun bonnet tying up her stocking on the way to school, and +another sitting on a snowy slope, apparently in a most uncomfortable +position, but smiling nevertheless serenely on the world generally.</p> + +<p>"This is our school-room, and I am glad I have nearly done with it. That +cracked piano is enough to drive one wild. It is good enough for the +'little ones' to drum on. Do you care for music?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, I care for it, but I don't play much. Ada plays beautifully."</p> + +<p>"Ada is very pretty, isn't she? I remember one of you was very pretty."</p> + +<p>"Yes, Ada is thought lovely. She is not in the least like me."</p> + +<p>"Well, I hope we shall be good friends. I am sorry you are out in that +poky part of Roxburgh; but Digby and I shall come very often, and you +must come here whenever you can."</p> + +<p>"It is so odd," Kate went on, "that only a year ago we used to call you +our grand relations, who were too stuck-up to care for us—"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[103]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh! please, don't talk so," said Salome, with a sudden earnestness of +appeal. "Pray don't talk so. I can't bear it."</p> + +<p>"I did not mean to hurt you, I am sure," said Kate eagerly. "Don't cry, +Salome." For Salome had covered her face with her hands to hide her +tears. "How stupid of me! Do forgive me," said Kate, really distressed. +"But I am always doing things of this kind—saying the wrong thing, or +the right thing at the wrong time."</p> + +<p>Salome made a great effort to recover herself, and soon was amused at +Kate's lively description of the ways and doings at Edinburgh Crescent. +Kate could describe things well, and delighted in having a listener, +especially one like Salome, who was sure not to break in with—"You told +me that before;" or, "I have heard that story a hundred times."</p> + +<p>But though Salome was amused, she was secretly surprised at Kate's free +discussion of the faults and failings of her brothers and sisters. +Salome would never have dreamed of talking of Raymond's selfishness and +arrogance to outside people, nor of Ada's serene contentment with +herself, which was passive rather than active, but was trying enough at +times. Salome's loyalty in this respect is worth considering; for the +inner circle of home ought to be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[104]</a></span> sacred, and the veil should not be +lifted to curious eyes to make public faults, and troubles which too +often arise from those faults and darken with cold shadows the sky of +home.</p> + +<p>The boys did not return by four o'clock, and Salome, afraid that she +should not be at Elm Fields in time to receive her mother, set out to +walk there alone. Just as she was leaving the house, her aunt and Louise +arrived in a carriage, and were saying good-bye to two ladies, who had +evidently driven them back from the luncheon party.</p> + +<p>As the little black figure glided past, Kate, who was standing in the +hall, called out—</p> + +<p>"Mamma! that is Salome. Mamma!—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton took no notice of the exclamation; and Louise said, "Pray, +do go back, Kate."</p> + +<p>But Lady Monroe had turned her head, and was looking earnestly after +Salome's retreating figure.</p> + +<p>"Is not that Salome Wilton, Eva," she asked of her daughter,—"poor Mr. +Arthur Wilton's child? I should so much like to speak with her. I was at +Maplestone last year.—Stop by that young lady," she said to the +footman, as he closed the carriage-door—"the young lady in black."</p> + +<p>"How very odd!" exclaimed Louise, as the carriage drove off. "Lady +Monroe never said she knew the Maplestone people. Why, Salome is getting +into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[105]</a></span> the carriage. How absurd! Mamma, I do believe they will drive her +home—next door to the baker's shop. Just fancy!"</p> + +<p>"Do not stand on the pavement making such loud remarks, Louise," said +Mrs. Wilton.</p> + +<p>"I am glad," exclaimed Kate, "that Lady Monroe is so kind. And how could +you and mamma cut Salome like that?"</p> + +<p>"How should I know who she was?" said Louise sharply. "I did not go to +Maplestone with you."</p> + +<p>"Well, mamma <i>must</i> have known her anyhow," said Kate. "She is the +nicest girl I have seen for a long time. I shall make a friend of her, I +can tell you."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[106]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_VIII" id="CHAPTER_VIII"></a>CHAPTER VIII.</h2> + +<h3>ARRIVALS.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcpi">"<span class="dropcap">I</span></span> SHALL be so glad to drive you home, my dear," Lady Monroe said, as +Salome seated herself in the carriage. "I have the pleasure of knowing +your mother; and Eva and I spent a very pleasant day at Maplestone last +year, when I renewed an old acquaintance. How long have you been in +Roxburgh? I wish Dr. Wilton had told me you were here."</p> + +<p>"We only came the other day," Salome said; "indeed, mother and the +children are not here yet. We expect them at five o'clock, and that is +why I am so anxious to get back. We have lodgings at Elm Fields."</p> + +<p>"You must direct us when we get nearer the place. Have you been spending +the day at your uncle's?"</p> + +<p>"Reginald and I met Kate and Digby on the down, and we went back to +dinner. I have not seen Aunt Anna yet. Uncle Loftus came to see me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[107]</a></span></p> + +<p>Then fearing she might have left a wrong impression she added—</p> + +<p>"Uncle Loftus is very kind to us."</p> + +<p>"He is kind to everybody," said Eva Monroe earnestly. "He is the best +doctor in the world—except for sending me to Cannes for the winter."</p> + +<p>"He has done that for the best, Eva;" and Lady Monroe sighed. "It only +shows how conscientious he is."</p> + +<p>Salome was becoming nervous about the right turn to Elm Cottage; and her +wrong glove began to worry her as she looked at Eva Monroe's slender +fingers in their neatly-shaped four-button black kid gloves.</p> + +<p>"It is up there, I think," Salome said. "Yes; I know it is." Then, as +the crimson rushed into her face, she said, "Elm Cottage is at the end +of this road, next to a baker's shop."</p> + +<p>"It is a pleasant, airy situation," Lady Monroe said. "You must tell +your mother I shall call upon her very soon; and perhaps she will let me +take her for a drive."</p> + +<p>"Oh! it is near St. Luke's Church, mamma—Mr. Atherton's church. Why, it +is the very house the Athertons lodged in till the vicarage was ready."</p> + +<p>"So it is. You will find the Athertons pleasant neighbours," Lady Monroe +said. "They will be nice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[108]</a></span> friends for you, I hope; and the church is a +very nice one. I daresay Mr. Atherton will be glad of your help in the +Sunday school."</p> + +<p>The carriage drew up as she was speaking, and the footman looked down +from his seat doubtfully.</p> + +<p>"Yes; this is right," said Lady Monroe. "Good-bye, my dear. I am so glad +I met you."</p> + +<p>"A sweet, gentle girl," Lady Monroe said, as Salome, having expressed +her thanks, disappeared behind the little wooden gate. "It is very sad +for them all. What a change from that lovely place, Maplestone Court, +where I saw poor Emily Wilton last year!"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Eva; "to lose their father and money and position."</p> + +<p>"Not position, Eva. A gentlewoman can never really lose position in the +eyes of right-thinking people. I feel a great interest in the Wiltons; +for their mother is, I should think, but little fitted to struggle with +adversity; she was never strong."</p> + +<p>"I wish we were not going to Cannes, mother, and then we could often go +and see them. Oh! I do <i>not</i> want to go away; my cough is quite well. It +is so hard to go. Think how tired we were of the life there last year." +And a cloud of discontent came over the fair face of the delicately +nurtured girl, who had all that loving care could suggest to brighten +her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[109]</a></span> life and soften the privations which delicate health brings with it +to the young.</p> + +<p>It must strike us all, old and young, when we look round upon the lives +of others, that there is a crook in every lot, and that God will have us +all learn the lesson of "patience,"—patience which can make the crooked +places straight and the rough places smooth.</p> + +<p>Salome found Stevens had set out tea on a little table in the +dining-room. The tea-pot had a cosy over it; and a plate of thin bread +and butter, cut from one of Ruth's fancy loaves, looked inviting.</p> + +<p>"This is the mistress's time for afternoon tea," Stevens said. "She +could not sit down to a table at this time, just off a journey too. I +have got some buns for the children. Now, Miss Salome, do go and get +yourself tidy, to look home-like. Where are the young gentlemen? Master +Reginald went out with you."</p> + +<p>"I expect they are both gone down to the station. Reg and I have been to +dinner at Uncle Loftus's. Oh! here is the carriage. Here are mother and +Ada!"</p> + +<p>Salome went swiftly out to meet her mother and sister, and tried to +greet them with a smile. "Mother," she exclaimed; "I am so glad you have +come."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[110]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton made an effort to respond to Salome cheerfully; but Ada did +not even try to smile.</p> + +<p>"Now, then," said Dr. Wilton, "I must not stay. Reginald is walking up +with the little boys and my Digby. The luggage will follow in the +omnibus."</p> + +<p>"Won't you have a cup of tea, Uncle Loftus?" said Salome. "We have it +all ready."</p> + +<p>"No, thanks, my dear, I cannot stay. I have a consultation at half-past +five. Really you have made the best of this room; it looks quite pretty; +and it is quiet here. I hope you will be comfortable."</p> + +<p>While he was speaking, Mrs. Pryor appeared, with a courtesy so profound +that Dr. Wilton had to hurry away to hide a smile.</p> + +<p>"I hope I see you well, ma'am," said Mrs. Pryor; "and I hope, I am sure, +you will mention anything I can do for you, and I will try in my poor +way to do it. It's a world of trouble, ma'am, and you have had your +share, as I have had mine; and I know how hard it must be for you, +ma'am, in the evening of your days, to have a change like this—from +riches to—"</p> + +<p>"Here are the little ones," exclaimed Salome, as the sound of the +children's voices was heard in the porch.</p> + +<p>Hans and Carl were in the highest spirits. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[111]</a></span> had chattered all the +way from the station, and were ready to be pleased with everything.</p> + +<p>They brought with them a relic of the old home, in the person of a +little white fluffy dog, named Puck, which came bustling in at their +heels, flying up at every one in expectation of a welcome, and +regardless of Salome's—</p> + +<p>"Mother, what will Mrs. Pryor say to a dog? I thought Puck was to be +given to the De Brettes."</p> + +<p>"The children begged so hard to bring him," Mrs. Wilton said. "Puck is a +dog no one can object to."</p> + +<p>Salome looked doubtful, and said—</p> + +<p>"I am sure Mrs. Pryor won't let him get on the chairs," as Puck seated +himself on one of them. "Get down, Puck."</p> + +<p>"I thought it was a mistake to bring Puck," Ada said; "but the children +would have their own way."</p> + +<p>"He is a very well-behaved dog in general," said Stevens, anxious to +make peace and avoid discussion with Mrs. Pryor; "and if he forgets his +manners, we must teach him, that is all."</p> + +<p>"Where is the nursery?" Carl asked, "and the school-room? Are we to have +tea there?"</p> + +<p>"You shall all have tea together this evening," Stevens said; "but I +will show you your room, my dears. Come upstairs."</p> + +<p>"Where is Raymond?" Mrs. Wilton asked.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[112]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Raymond!" exclaimed Salome. "He said he would go to the station. Did +you not see him?"</p> + +<p>"No," Reginald said. "Digby Wilton and I walked down together from the +cricket match. Digby is not so bad after all."</p> + +<p>"I think him very nice, and I like Kate. I had quite an adventure, +mamma. Lady Monroe, who says she knew you years and years ago, brought +me from Edinburgh Crescent in her carriage, and was so kind. Do you +remember her, mother? She came to Maplestone last year."</p> + +<p>Poor Mrs. Wilton, who had been trying to keep back her tears, found the +very mention of her old home too much at this moment. A sob was the only +answer; and Ada said—</p> + +<p>"Mamma had better go and take off her things and rest a little. Show us +the way, Salome." Reginald followed, and tried not to be disappointed +that his mother did not notice the book-shelves and several little +contrivances in her room. And Salome wished Ada would not say, "How +dreadfully small the house is; and how this huge ugly bed fills up the +room,"—the four-post bed which was Mrs. Pryor's glory.</p> + +<p>She had come up behind the party, and hearing her most valued possession +thus slighted, took her revenge forthwith.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[113]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I beg your pardon, ma'am; I don't wish to intrude; but I do not take +<i>dawgs</i>. No dawgs or cats are allowed in <i>my</i> house. I don't take +<i>children</i> as a rule—never; but a dawg I cannot put up with. It would +wear my spirits out. I hope," looking round, "you are <i>satisfied</i>, +ma'am!"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is all very clean and neat, thank you," Mrs. Wilton faltered +out; "it will do very nicely, and—and I will see about Puck: if he is +troublesome, he must be sent away."</p> + +<p>Alas! the very spirit of mischief, whose name he bore, seemed to have +suddenly possessed Puck. A great bustling and low growling was heard on +the staircase, and Hans and Carl laughing and saying, "At it, Puck—good +Puck." In another moment Puck appeared shaking something soft +frantically, and tearing wildly about with it in his mouth, letting off +the spirits which had been pent up on his journey from Fairchester.</p> + +<p>"What has he got? Take it from him, children.—What is it, Salome?"</p> + +<p>"It's a bird, I think.—Puck, put it down," said Reginald sternly, +seizing Puck by his fluffy tail, and administering several hard slaps.</p> + +<p><a name="illus119" id="illus119"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 391px;"> +<img src="images/illus119.png" width="391" height="600" alt="" title="'It's a bird, I think'" /> +</div> + +<p>When at last Puck dropped his prey, Mrs. Pryor exclaimed, "My feather +brush—my dear, dear mistress's feather brush! I've seen her dust her +own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[114]</a></span> chayny with it <i>times</i>. I wouldn't have taken a pound for it. Oh +dear! oh dear!"</p> + +<p>"It is not much injured, I hope," said Mrs. Wilton. "Only two feathers +have been loosened."</p> + +<p>"A nasty, mischievous little thing," said Mrs. Pryor in an injured tone, +making a thrust at Puck with the short handle of the feather brush.</p> + +<p>It was not in dog nature to take this patiently, and Puck stood at bay, +barking furiously, and growling as an interlude between every fresh +outburst.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pryor put her hands to her ears, and saying something about calling +her son to protect her, she toddled away. After a storm comes a calm. +Puck stood apologetically on his hind legs when his enemy was gone; and +Carl, seizing him in his arms, carried him off to the little room he was +to occupy with Hans, saying, "That horrid old woman should not touch +him."</p> + +<p>Like the sun shining through a cloud was the appearance of Ruth's +good-natured face.</p> + +<p>"I will manage it all," she said to Stevens. "If mother makes a great +fuss, why, I'll take the little creature to live with us. <i>I</i> am not so +particular or fidgety. Don't take any notice of what mother may say; she +means well."</p> + +<p>Alas! how many people "mean well," and how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[115]</a></span> much better it would be if +they made their meaning clear. Their good intentions are often like a +riddle, hard to find out. If the intention is good, it is a pity that it +is not better fulfilled. People who say they mean well are, I am afraid, +often very disagreeable, and do not make the lives of others easier by +their "good meaning."</p> + +<p>The evening passed. Tea was over. The "little ones" were in bed. Stevens +was sitting at supper with Mrs. Pryor when Raymond rang the bell.</p> + +<p>"Where have you been, Raymond?" Salome said, going out to meet her +brother. "Why did you not go to the station to meet mamma?"</p> + +<p>"Why didn't I go?—there were plenty without me," he said crossly. "I +have been with Barington; I met him in Roxburgh, and I was thankful to +get out of this hole."</p> + +<p>"Raymond, don't say that to mamma," Salome entreated.</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear boy," Mrs. Wilton said, rising wearily from her chair as +Raymond went into the room, "I was getting quite anxious about you;" and +then she kissed him affectionately.</p> + +<p>"I met an old friend—Barington," Raymond said; "and I knew Reginald +would meet you.—Hallo, Ada, how are you? Barington wanted to come +to-morrow to see you. He admires your photograph so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[116]</a></span> much; but I could +not let him see us here, so I put him off."</p> + +<p>Ada looked up with a placid smile from her work—for Ada was never idle +for a moment—and said, "Who is Barington?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, an awfully nice fellow!—I say, mother, you won't stay here, will +you? No decent people will call upon you. I can easily find you some +nice lodgings Barington told me of."</p> + +<p>"My dear boy, we must stay here for the present. It is quiet and better +than living in a street. Will you have any tea, Raymond?" she asked.</p> + +<p>"No, thanks; I have dined with Barington at the Queen's. He paid the +score."</p> + +<p>Raymond had a soft, caressing way with his mother, and she now sat with +her hand in his, looking at him with loving interest.</p> + +<p>"I can't bear you to live in a place like this," he began again, "you +dear mother. I am sure there are heaps of good lodgings in the better +part of Roxburgh, only our kind relatives did not wish to have us too +near them."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Raymond," Salome broke in.</p> + +<p>"Well, never mind about that, dear. Uncle Loftus has, he thinks, heard +of something for you in Harstone. You are to go and see Mr. Warde with +him to-morrow at ten o'clock punctually."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[117]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Uncle Loftus won't like to be kept waiting, so you must be up in good +time to be at Edinburgh Crescent by ten o'clock, Digby says."</p> + +<p>"Shut up, Reginald," said his brother; "I do not want your +interference."</p> + +<p>"What is to be done about old Birch, mother?" he asked turning again to +Mrs. Wilton; "he ought to have a term's notice. I thought I could go +back till Christmas."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, Raymond; I am afraid that is impossible. My dear boy, it is such +pain to me—to—to—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton was in tears again, and Salome murmured, "How can you be so +selfish, Raymond?" while Reginald, unable to control his indignation, +went out of the room, shutting the door with a sharp bang.</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, mother, I'll go to this Mr. Warde's, of course, and I daresay +they will give me a good salary, and then I will get you some other +lodgings the very first thing; see if I don't. I am not going to allow +you to be shelved off here; and Ada! I daresay these Edinburgh Crescent +people are jealous of her. There is not one of them half as +good-looking."</p> + +<p>"Oh, why did Ada smile and look pleased? Why did Raymond always get +undeserved praise?" Salome thought. For Mrs. Wilton said, "It is very +good and dear of you to think about us, Ray; I only hope you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[118]</a></span> will be +happy. My children's happiness is now the only thing I have to live +for."</p> + +<p>Salome bit her lip, as she listened to her brother for the next ten +minutes, standing now with his back to the chimney-piece surveying the +room, and interspersing his remarks on it, which were anything but +complimentary, with stories of "Barington," and a fellow who had dined +with them at "The Queen's."</p> + +<p>"Shall we have prayers, mother?" Salome said at last. "You must be very +tired, and—"</p> + +<p>"Prayers! oh, not to-night, Sal; besides, who is to read them?" said +Raymond.</p> + +<p>Salome faltered a little as she said, "We can read a Psalm for the +Evening in turn, and perhaps mother will say a prayer."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Mrs. Wilton said; "you are quite right, dear. Call Reg and +Stevens, and bring me my large prayer-book, for my eyes are so weak. I +am in the evening of life, as Mrs. Pryor told me," she added with a sad +smile; "and the last month has added ten years to my age."</p> + +<p>"Why, mother, you look so young," said Ada. "I do dislike Mrs. Pryor +talking in that whiny-piny voice; and how disagreeable she was about +Puck."</p> + +<p>Salome, who had gone to fetch the books, now<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[119]</a></span> returned with Stevens and +Reginald, whom she had coaxed to come back. Then she found the places in +the books, and the young voices read together the Psalm for the Seventh +Evening. It seemed to bring its message of peace to the young, untried +heart of the eldest daughter of those fatherless children.</p> + +<p>"Fret not thyself because of the ungodly.... Put thou thy trust in the +Lord, and be doing good: dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be +fed. <i>Delight</i> thou in the Lord: and he shall give thee thy heart's +desire."</p> + +<p>"I will try to delight myself—that means, be cheerful and patient," +Salome thought. "I must take care not to be too hard on Raymond, as if I +thought myself better than he. But I feel as if it would be a <i>fight</i> +now, and as if I should never be able to forget the troubles quite. I +must set myself to be patient and cure my own faults, and be as happy as +I can, that mother may see we are all trying to help her, and that we +<i>like</i> to help her. How far, far worse it is for her than for any of +us."</p> + +<p>Thoughts like these were in Salome's heart as she lay down to sleep that +night, and there was a shining as it were from the "delight in the Lord" +upon her young, sweet face, as her mother, weary, yet sleepless, took +her candle and went to look at her children as of old in the spacious +nurseries of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[120]</a></span> Maplestone. The little boys lay in the profoundest +slumber, and the mother's heart yearned over them with unspeakable +tenderness. But as she left them and gently opened the door of the +girls' room, and stood by the bed where the sisters slept, she felt as +if the story of the last few weeks had left its trace on Salome's face. +The expression was changed, and though bright and sweet, it was the face +of the woman rather than of the child. Salome had entered the school +where God takes the text and preaches patience.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[121]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_IX" id="CHAPTER_IX"></a>CHAPTER IX.</h2> + +<h3>"SETTLING DOWN."</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcpi"><span class="dropcap">I</span></span>T is wonderful how the wave of a great storm carries us unresisting on +its crest. We are, as it were, washed ashore; stunned and bewildered for +a time, but soon to find the necessity of struggling onward—to do our +best. Stripped of all we have held dear,—however desolate, however +bare, life must be faced and the burden must be borne.</p> + +<p>Children like the Wiltons have youth and the freshness of spring-time to +help them on; while women of Mrs. Wilton's age—in the autumn of her +days—naturally clinging for support to others, are more likely to +collapse, like the ivy when the prop on which it depended is removed.</p> + +<p>A man so widely respected as Mr. Wilton had been was not without +friends, and several of them came forward with valuable and substantial +help. Ready money to meet the current expenses which were absolutely +necessary was kindly offered; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[122]</a></span> Mr. De Brette wrote to Mrs. Wilton, +after the sale at Maplestone, to say he had bought in one or two +pictures, and some other little things, which she was to accept as a +small token of gratitude for services rendered to him by Mr. Wilton in +past years. The arrival of these things in the van from the railway +caused great excitement amongst the children, while the sight of them +seemed to open afresh the flood-gates of poor Mrs. Wilton's grief. They +were chosen with that sympathetic feeling of what she would care for +most, which doubled the value of the gifts. Her own and her husband's +portrait, painted by a good artist at the time of her marriage; a +beautiful copy of the San Sisto Madonna; her own devonport; a certain +chair which she had always used; and the table and chair from Mr. +Wilton's library; and a good many little odds and ends of familiar +things. And a box containing enough plate for everyday use was brought +by Mr. De Brette himself, and placed in Mrs. Wilton's hands.</p> + +<p>The settling in of all these things was an interest and delight to the +children, and Mrs. Wilton was glad for their sakes that it was so.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pryor could not be brought to admire anything. She was incredulous +as to the identity of the fair, graceful, smiling girl in the picture +with the pale, careworn widow lady who sat beneath it. As<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[123]</a></span> to the poor +gentleman, he might have been good-looking, but he was not fit to hold a +candle to the doctor. But she had been used to such beautiful pictures +at her dear departed lady's house—nothing could look <i>much</i> after them. +Her bitterest shafts were hurled against the devonport, to make room for +which an old mahogany what-not had to be removed: "A clumsy thing, and +yet all gim-cracky, with a lot of little drawers—no use to anybody. She +hoped she was not expected to dust all them things, for she just +honestly said she wasn't going to do it."</p> + +<p>But at last all was settled down, and except for the standing grievance +of Puck, peace was proclaimed. Puck had made a pretence of living at the +shop, but this stratagem did not avail for long. He was continually +rushing to and fro, and was oftener at Elm Cottage than at the baker's +shop; but Mrs. Pryor thought more highly of him than at first, for he +waged war against a large cat that Mrs. Pryor had convicted of killing a +canary, and still occasionally dared to haunt the back premises to look +for another victim! Puck's growls succeeded so well, that Mr. Tom +contented himself with sitting on the low red-brick wall, with his back +raised to a level with his head, and his tail swelled to the size of the +boa Mrs. Pryor wore round her throat in winter.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[124]</a></span></p> + +<p>Her son Frank, who left most of the conversation necessary to his wife, +was heard to say, at the end of the first week of the Wiltons taking up +their abode at Elm Cottage: "We live and learn. If any one had told me +my mother would take children as lodgers, and those children with a +little dog at their heels, I shouldn't have believed them. We shall see +her with a monkey from the 'Zoo' next."</p> + +<p>Lady Monroe was not slow to fulfil her promise of calling on her old +friend, bringing Eva with her; and it so happened that Mrs. Loftus +Wilton, Louise, and Kate arrived on the same day. The little square +drawing-room was filled; and Hans and Carl, rushing up to the room where +Salome sat with her old music portfolio and her manuscript, shouted +out,—"Two carriages full of people are come to see mother. Go down, +Salome."</p> + +<p>"Ada is there," Salome said, telling the children not to talk so loud; +and then she looked ruefully at her inked forefinger, and wished she had +mended the crape on the skirt of her dress before she put it on that +day.</p> + +<p>"Miss Wilton—Miss Salome—my dear, do make haste; your mamma will be so +pressed and worried. There's Mrs. Doctor Wilton, with a train of black +silk long enough to reach from here to the gate almost. Do make haste, +Miss Salome, my dear. If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[125]</a></span> there isn't another knock! Dear me, I can't +abide answering the door; it has never been my business." And Stevens +bustled down, exhorting the children not to peep through the banisters, +and signing to Salome to follow her, she disappeared to answer the door +to Mr. and Mrs. Atherton. But happily Mrs. Atherton had seen the two +carriages at the gate, and was just giving the cards to Stevens, saying +she would come again, when Salome appeared.</p> + +<p>"We hear your mother has visitors," said Mrs. Atherton, in one of those +voices which ring with the clear sweetness of truth,—the voice which is +so different from the "put on" or company voice, or the voice which +regulates itself to the supposed requirements of the moment. "We will +come again very soon. I hope your mother is pretty well?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, thank you," said Salome. "Won't you come in?"</p> + +<p>"No; we are near neighbours at the vicarage," Mr. Atherton said. "We +were your predecessors here," he said with a smile; "so we know the +rooms will not hold large levees. I want to know your brothers. I saw +two elder ones at church with you on Sunday. If they care for cricket, +we have a game going on every Saturday in the field above the church."</p> + +<p>"Reginald is at the college now; but I will tell him, thank you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[126]</a></span></p> + +<p>And then, as Mr. and Mrs. Atherton said good-bye, Lady Monroe and her +daughter came into the little passage with Ada.</p> + +<p>"We shall only tire your mamma if we stay now," she said; "but I have +made her promise to drive with me to-morrow if it is fine, and either +you or your sister must come also."</p> + +<p>Salome and Ada, after a few more words, went together to the little +sitting-room, where their mother sat, flushed and ill at ease, with +their Aunt Anna, Louise, and Kate.</p> + +<p>Kate sprang up when Salome came in and kissed her affectionately; while +her mother said, "How do you do?—is this Salome?" and then, with a very +light salute on her cheek, went on in the same even current of talk +which the entrance of the girls had checked, not stopped.</p> + +<p>"I want to see your little brothers," Kate said to Salome; "may I come +with you and find them? Louise can talk with Ada; they are certain to +get on."</p> + +<p>Salome glanced at her mother, who looked so worn-out and tired and sad, +and wondered at her Aunt Anna's conversation, which all concerned +herself and her friends, and her own interests and amusements. But it +seemed hopeless to help her, and she left the room with Kate.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[127]</a></span></p> + +<p>Hans and Carl were painting pictures in the dining-room, and Kate had +soon finished with them.</p> + +<p>"Why, they are twins, aren't they? Have you got to teach them? What a +bore for you! Now show me your room. It is not so bad, really; and I +like the look of your sitting-room—it has a home-like air. What a +smoke! Where does that come from?" she said, looking from the window of +Salome's room.</p> + +<p>"That is the bake-house," Salome said. "Mr. Pryor is our landlady's son; +and the garden is separated from ours by that wall."</p> + +<p>"I smell the bread," Kate exclaimed; "it's rather nice. And what is +this?" she said, pausing on the heap of foolscap paper lying on the +chest of drawers. "Essays—papers? 'Chapter I.' Why, I believe it is a +story. Have you actually written a story? You look like an authoress. +Digby says he never saw a cleverer face than yours, and he quite admires +you. Read me a bit of the story; tell me the names of the people."</p> + +<p>Poor Salome was suffering all this time the pangs which sensitive +natures like hers can only understand. To have her secret hopes and +fears thus ruthlessly dragged to light—to see her sheets, which, alas +for her wonted carelessness, ought to have been hidden in one of those +deep drawers, fingered by strange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[128]</a></span> hands, was misery to her. She tried +to take them from her cousin's grasp; but she held them fast, and began +to read:—</p> + +<p>"'Under the shadow of a spreading cedar-tree, two little—'"</p> + +<p>Salome was now really angry; her eyes flashed, and she said, "Give me +the manuscript directly, Kate. It is excessively rude; I hate it; I—"</p> + +<p>"Oh, I am only in fun. I don't see anything so wonderful in writing a +story. Hundreds of people write now-a-days. I hope you will get fifty +pounds for 'Under the shadow of the cedars.' Dear me, I did not think +you could 'flare up' like that."</p> + +<p>"I hope you won't tell any one about what you have seen," said poor +Salome in a trembling voice. "I hope—"</p> + +<p>"Not I. I forget everything directly. 'In at one ear, out at another,' +Digby says. But I want to be great friends with you, so do not let us +quarrel about that stupid old story."</p> + +<p>It was a relief to Salome to hear Stevens's voice calling her, and +announcing that "Mrs. Loftus" was going, and Miss Wilton was to come +down directly.</p> + +<p>It seemed delightful to be left alone; and Mrs. Wilton lay back in her +chair, and in the gathering twilight Salome saw she was quietly crying. +She stole up to her, and, sitting down on a low stool,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[129]</a></span> said, "You were +glad to see Lady Monroe, mother. She is <i>so</i> kind."</p> + +<p>"Yes, very kind; and I must make an effort to drive with her to-morrow, +as she has asked me; but—"</p> + +<p>"Oh yes, dear mother, you <i>must</i> go. Aunt Anna was rather too much for +you. It was a pity that they all came at once, as you have seen no one +for so long."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and it brought the past back. But I will try to be patient."</p> + +<p>"You are patient, mother dear," Salome said.</p> + +<p>Ada now drew near the fire, and began: "I like Louise very much. She +wants me to go to Edinburgh Crescent to-morrow to play tennis in the +square. May I, mother? I can walk as far as the turn to the college with +Reginald."</p> + +<p>"I think we ought to begin with the children's lessons," Salome said, +"and settle down. They are getting very unruly, just because they miss +Miss Barnes's hand."</p> + +<p>"It is no use beginning in the middle of a week," Ada said; "and I +suppose I may have some lessons too—music lessons I do want."</p> + +<p>"We shall see our way in time, darling," Mrs. Wilton said; "and I must +try to manage about a piano. But I think Salome is right about the +children;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[130]</a></span> they ought to begin regular lessons. Mrs. Pryor complains of +their running so much up and down stairs. She says it wears out the +carpet."</p> + +<p>"Mrs. Pryor is a most disagreeable woman," said Ada. "I certainly do +agree with Raymond that we ought to remove."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Ada. Think of all the trouble over again, and all our things +just settled in and unpacked."</p> + +<p>She was interrupted by Reginald rushing in from the college. He was full +of life and spirit; and had found Rugby boys were thought something of, +as the head-master himself and several of the assistant-masters were +Rugbians. He had taken an excellent place; and, altogether, the world +seemed to smile on Reginald.</p> + +<p>Raymond followed his brother in about ten minutes, and threw himself +into a chair and yawned.</p> + +<p>"Are you very tired, dear?" asked his mother.</p> + +<p>"I should think I was. The air of that hole in Harstone is enough to +choke a fellow. I don't believe you have any idea of the stuffy air; and +such dirty clerks at the desks—a set of cads!"</p> + +<p>"One isn't a cad anyhow," said Reginald. "His brother is in my form. His +name is Percival."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I know; his coat out at elbows, and his hair<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[131]</a></span> like a mop. I should +say he was the greatest cad of the lot."</p> + +<p>"That I know he isn't," said Reginald hotly. "He may be shabby—for his +people are poor, and there are heaps of children—but I am certain Ralph +Percival's brother isn't a cad."</p> + +<p>"You needn't put yourself out about it," Raymond said. "Not one of the +clerks is anything to me. I don't speak to them."</p> + +<p>"I daresay as you get higher in the office you will find the class +better. Mr. Warde's nephew and his two sons are in it. Uncle Loftus told +me so."</p> + +<p>"Any letters for me by the second post?" asked Raymond.</p> + +<p>"No, dear. Whom did you expect to hear from?"</p> + +<p>"Oh!—a friend—St. Clair. He may not have posted the letter in time." +Another yawn, and then Raymond stretched his legs out before the fire, +first giving it a vigorous stir with the tongs, which came more handy +than the poker, and drew a newspaper out of his pocket.</p> + +<p>"We have had a number of visitors to-day," Ada said. "Lady Monroe, for +one, with her daughter. Such a pretty, nice girl!"</p> + +<p>"Who is Lady Monroe? and how did she find you out?"</p> + +<p>Ada explained; and Raymond seemed interested.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[132]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I hope you will keep up with them," he said; "and mind mother drives +with Lady Monroe to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"They are going to the south of France for the winter very soon; that is +the worst of it," Ada said. "Lady Monroe went to school with mamma, and +seems so fond of her."</p> + +<p>"What a bore that they are going away! They might be useful, and ask a +fellow to dinner. Who came besides?"</p> + +<p>"Aunt Anna and the two elder girls. I like Louise very much; and Aunt +Anna is really very handsome, and she does look so young."</p> + +<p>"She patronized no end, didn't she? I am glad I was not here."</p> + +<p>"She was very pleasant, and said she hoped to see us often."</p> + +<p>"That 'often' means 'never,' when no day is fixed."</p> + +<p>"I am to go to tennis to-morrow."</p> + +<p>"Well, did anybody else come?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; Mr. and Mrs. Atherton, the vicar of St. Luke's."</p> + +<p>"Oh, they are certain to be slow. We didn't want them."</p> + +<p>Salome had escaped by this time, and was in her room re-arranging her +papers. Why had she been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[133]</a></span> so cross to Kate? why should she be offended +with her? "I will work at it whenever I get the chance," she thought. "A +little at a time is better than nothing;" and taking the sheet that lay +upper-most to a large box in the window, pressed the spring of a little +leather ink-stand, and kneeling to catch the western light, was soon +engrossed in her tale. She forgot cold, and vexation, and Raymond's +conceit and selfishness, and wrote on with a smooth-nibbed "J" pen for a +quarter of an hour.</p> + +<p>Then Carl bounced in.</p> + +<p>"Ruth Pryor has sent us in some lovely hot cakes for tea; isn't that +kind?"</p> + +<p>"Go away, dear," Salome said.</p> + +<p>"What are you doing, Salome? Do come and read to us the life-boat story. +<i>Do.</i>"</p> + +<p>Salome sighed, gathered up her sheets, put them in the drawer, and went +to her little brothers.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[134]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_X" id="CHAPTER_X"></a>CHAPTER X.</h2> + +<h3>A PROPOSED FLIGHT FROM THE NEST.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcpl"><span class="dropcap">L</span></span>ADY MONROE was right when she said the Athertons would prove true +friends; and it soon became one of Salome's greatest pleasures to get a +quiet talk with Mrs. Atherton. She possessed the power, rare but +beautiful, of influencing others by <i>herself</i>, not by her words. She had +remarkably quick insight into character; and she had not known the +Wiltons long before she had, as it were, mastered the situation, and +could enter into the difficulties and trials of each one. She saw that +Salome had the hardest task of all, and she felt for her, with her +dreamy, imaginative temperament, forced, as it were, to take up with the +practical side of daily life, and set herself to help her.</p> + +<p>Lady Monroe had postponed the departure to Cannes longer than Dr. Wilton +thought right, till the sudden change from a prolonged St. Luke's summer +to an early and sunless spell of winter<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[135]</a></span> brought on Eva's little short +cough, and made her hasten the arrangements for leaving England.</p> + +<p>Eva was a spoiled child—or, rather, would have been spoiled, had so +sweet and gentle a nature been capable of "spoiling," in the common +acceptation of the word. Her mother clung to her with the intense love +which springs from the thought that all love and care for our heart's +dearest ones may not be needed long. Eva had taken a sudden and real +liking for Ada Wilton. Her beauty and serenity had a charm for her. She +liked to hear her play and watch her white hands on the piano. She liked +to talk with her and to hear her voice. And so it had come to pass that +Ada was continually sent for to Lady Monroe's house; and when the time +for leaving Roxburgh was definitely arranged, Eva said that nothing +would please her so much or help to pass the winter cheerfully as to +have Ada with her.</p> + +<p>Lady Monroe herself had her misgivings. "Ada is so young, and ought to +be going on with education and lessons," she said.</p> + +<p>"But she can <i>have</i> lessons, mamma; and think how she will learn to +speak French. And there are drawing-masters and music-masters at Cannes. +Oh, <i>do</i> let us take her; she is so fond of me, mamma, and she is so +lovely and so ladylike."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[136]</a></span></p> + +<p>The feverish glow on Eva's face and the excited light in her eyes made +her mother hesitate before she refused.</p> + +<p>"I will consult Dr. Wilton," she said, "and her mother. I hardly know if +it would be right to take her away from her mother; and yet it might be +a relief in some ways. Still it would be an additional anxiety for me; +and you might get tired of her, Eva."</p> + +<p>"Tired of her, mamma! Oh no. Think of the many dull, lonely hours I have +to spend, while other girls are playing tennis, and going to picnics, +and dancing, and enjoying themselves. I know I have you, darling +mother," Eva said tenderly; "but if I had a young companion, you would +feel more free to leave me."</p> + +<p>"We will see about it, Eva. I must not do anything rashly."</p> + +<p>But Lady Monroe lost no time in consulting Dr. Wilton, who gave the plan +unqualified approbation; and then it only remained to get Mrs. Wilton's +leave.</p> + +<p>Her note with the proposition came one afternoon when the day had been a +troubled one—the children naughty, and Salome unable to manage them; +Ada still less so; Stevens put out by the inveterate smoking of the +chimney in the little boys' room,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[137]</a></span> where she kept a fire and sat at her +needle-work, and made the room look like the ghost of her old nursery. +Then Mrs. Wilton had been vainly trying to look over accounts. Her head +and eyes ached. The weekly bills when multiplied by fifty-two would +amount to far more than her small income. Raymond had asked for a +sovereign, and how could she refuse him? Reginald had begged for his +football jersey and cap, for which the old Rugby colours were +inadmissible. Rain poured without, and a cold wind penetrated through +every crack and cranny of the house. In fact, the aspect of life was +dark and gloomy; and Mrs. Wilton, fairly exhausted, was just losing +herself in a day-dream by the fire when Ada tripped in with Lady +Monroe's note.</p> + +<p>"I expect I know what it is about, mamma; something very, very +delightful for <i>me</i>."</p> + +<p>"I can't see to read it till the lamp is brought in," Mrs. Wilton said.</p> + +<p>"Let me get the lamp, mamma—or ring for it—or poke up a blaze," said +Ada.</p> + +<p>It was quite unusual for Ada to exert herself like this; and so Salome +thought, who was reading to Hans and Carl in a low tone by the window, +where the daylight was stronger than by the fire.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton yielded to Ada's impatience, and opened the envelope, +holding it towards the bright<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[138]</a></span> blaze Ada had brought to life, and +reading by it the large, clear handwriting.</p> + +<p>"You know what is in this note, Ada?" Mrs. Wilton said when she had +finished it, and turned back to the first sheet again to assure herself +of the contents.</p> + +<p>"I can guess, mother," Ada said, drawing nearer. "Do let me go."</p> + +<p>"Go where?" asked Salome, leaving her post by the window and coming +towards the fire,—"go where, Ada?"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton gave Lady Monroe's note into Salome's hand. She bent down, +shading her forehead from the heat by her hand, and read:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Mrs. Wilton</span>,—I am writing to ask you a great favour. +Will you lend your dear Ada to me for the winter? Eva has so +set her heart on the plan, and has such a real affection for +your Ada, that I hope you will consent. I need not say that +she will be to me for the time as my own child, and that I am +of course answerable for every expense; and I will see that +she has advantages in the way of music lessons and any others +that may be available at Cannes. My Eva's life will be +brightened, and she will feel the privations of her delicate +health less with a young companion whom she loves. Do not +refuse me this request. I may add that Dr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[139]</a></span> Wilton encourages +me to make it. Our friendship is not a new thing; and when I +look at Ada, I see again the Emily Bruce of old times.—With +kindest love, I am ever affectionately yours,</p> + +<div class="signature">"<span class="smcap">Katharine Monroe</span>."</div> +</blockquote> + +<p>"Do you wish to go, Ada?" Salome asked.</p> + +<p>"Wish? Oh, I shall like it so much! I think it is delightful!"</p> + +<p>"To <i>you</i>, no doubt," said Salome; "but it will put a great deal more on +me. The children's lessons, and walking with them, and—But if mother +likes it, there is nothing to be said."</p> + +<p>"Well, it will be a great advantage to Ada," Mrs. Wilton sighed out; +"and Lady Monroe will be a substantial friend. If your uncle approves +it, I do not see how I can refuse."</p> + +<p>Ada sprang up. She was but a child, and the idea of a journey to the +south of France was full of untold delight. Then to escape from the +tiresome lessons, the dull way of life, the bother about money, the +fidgets about keeping two fires burning, looked most attractive.</p> + +<p>"Thank you, darling mother," she exclaimed with unusual enthusiasm, +throwing her arms round her mother. "I shall come back ever so much +brighter, and able to do heaps more things."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[140]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It is very easy to settle things in that way," said Salome. "You are +exactly like Raymond—<i>intensely</i> selfish."</p> + +<p>"Don't be jealous, Salome," Ada exclaimed. "You knew the Monroes first, +and if Eva had taken a fancy to you, you would have been only too +pleased; but you see Eva happens to like <i>me</i> best."</p> + +<p>"Oh, my dear children, do not let there be any uncomfortable feeling. +Though we are poor, let us be loving."</p> + +<p>Salome's heart was full, and rising hastily, she dropped Lady Monroe's +letter, and left the room. Poor child, it did seem to her, as to many +another, that effort for others was in vain; that those who keep self +and selfish interests well to the front are, after all, those who +succeed best, not only in getting what they wish, and escaping +disagreeables and worries, but in winning affection and admiration from +every one.</p> + +<p>"I have done my very best ever since dear father died. I <i>have</i> tried to +do everything, and yet Ada is the most cared for. I believe mother does +really love her best. Father—father—<i>he</i> cared for me, and now he is +gone."</p> + +<p>"Why, Sal, what is the matter?" It was Reginald's voice, as he came into +the dining-room, where, in an arm-chair, by the dying embers of the +fire,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[141]</a></span> which was not allowed to burn up, Salome was sobbing out her +trouble. "Why, old Sal, what is it?"</p> + +<p>"Ada is going off to Cannes with Lady Monroe, and never thinks about me. +I shall have twice as much to do—the children always on my hand; and I +shall never be able to finish my story. I have not minded leaving mother +with Ada; but now—and she <i>is</i> so selfish, Reginald."</p> + +<p>"So is half the world, it seems to me, Sal. Cheer up. <i>I</i> am glad, for +one, <i>you</i> are not going to the south of France. I tell you that. I +cannot get on without you, nor any one else either; so that is very +certain. Come, Sal, don't be down-hearted. It will make one less here, +and Ada is not cut out for our present life. You and I do very well; and +I know I have got the best of it at school, and have no time to sit and +mope."</p> + +<p>"I don't mope," said poor Salome, half-offended. "To-day, I have—" +Tears were just beginning to fall again, when Reginald caught sight of a +book on the floor.</p> + +<p>"Is not this Mrs. Atherton's paper you promised to send back this +morning, Salome? I say, she said she must have it to post to a friend. +Shall I run over with it to the vicarage?"</p> + +<p>"Oh dear, how careless I am," Salome sighed. "I should like to go with +it myself, Reginald. It is not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[142]</a></span> quite dark, not nearly dark out of +doors. Will you come for me in half an hour? I do feel as if the run, +and seeing Mrs. Atherton, would do me good."</p> + +<p>"All right," said Reginald good-naturedly; "only, be quick, for I want +tea over early this evening. I have no end of work to get through."</p> + +<p>Salome raced upstairs, and snatching up her jacket and hat, and +thrusting her hands into a muff, with the newspaper crushed up +mercilessly, she was out of the house in no time, and was very soon at +the vicarage.</p> + +<p>If she could only find Mrs. Atherton at home, she thought, and alone. +She stood in awe of Mr. Atherton, the grave, dignified man, who looked +as much older for his years as his mother looked younger, and by reason +of this had led to much confusion in the parish when he and Mrs. +Atherton first came to St. Luke's.</p> + +<p>Yes, Susan thought Mrs. Atherton was at home. Would Miss Wilton walk in?</p> + +<p>Salome was shown into the drawing-room, which was empty; and Susan, +after throwing a log on the fire, and remarking that "it was quite +wintry weather," left her.</p> + +<p>That bright, cheerful room, full of the signs of the life of those who +inhabited it, always gave Salome a sense of home. Books on all sides; a +little<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[143]</a></span> picture on an easel in one corner; needle-work; a +carefully-arranged writing-table in one recess by the fire, a work-table +in the other. Nothing fine or grand, no aspirations after "high art," +though a few old china plates were hung against the wall, and the large +square of crimson carpet was surrounded by polished dark boards. A room +used and loved already, though the vicarage was a new house, and there +was not the charm of association with the past to make it dear.</p> + +<p>Salome had waited for a few minutes, lost in a day-dream by the fire, +and forgetting her vexation and trouble, when the door opened and Mr. +Atherton came in.</p> + +<p>"I have brought back this newspaper Mrs. Atherton lent me," she began +hurriedly, "to read a review. I hope it is not too late for the post."</p> + +<p>"My mother is gone to see a child who is ill; but sit down, and let me +have the benefit of a talk in her place." Mr. Atherton saw the look of +disappointment in Salome's face, and added, "If you can wait, my mother +will be home before long."</p> + +<p>Salome stood irresolute, and then, fearing to be ungracious, she said,—</p> + +<p>"I can come again to-morrow, thank you. I daresay you are busy now."</p> + +<p>"No; I was only reading for half an hour's recreation.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[144]</a></span> I may as well +take it by talking with you, unless you really would rather go away."</p> + +<p>In spite of her shyness, a bright smile flashed over Salome's face.</p> + +<p>"I could not say so," she said, "as you ask me to stay, without—"</p> + +<p>"Being uncivil," he said laughing. "Now I think we have had enough of +preliminaries. I was thinking of you just before you came. I have a +little class at the Sunday school ready for you, if you would like to +take it, and one for your sister also."</p> + +<p>"My sister is going away for the winter with Lady Monroe," Salome said. +"I wanted to tell Mrs. Atherton about it. It is not quite decided; that +is to say, mother had not written the answer to the note when I came +away; but I feel sure she will go, and as I shall be left alone with +mother and the children and the boys, I don't think I shall be able to +leave them on Sunday afternoons."</p> + +<p>"Then I would not urge you; our first duties lie at home."</p> + +<p>"I shall have to teach the children altogether now. Ada helped with +arithmetic and music. I am so stupid at both, especially arithmetic."</p> + +<p>Mr. Atherton saw that Salome was troubled, and yet he did not press her +for confidence, but quietly said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[145]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"Well, we are not all born to be mathematicians or musicians. God gives +us all different powers. It is wholesome, however, to grind a little at +what we dislike sometimes. The old story of the two roads, you know."</p> + +<p>"I don't know," said Salome, her eyes glistening with interest; "unless +you mean the narrow and the broad road," she added simply.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I was thinking of Lord Bacon's rendering of the same idea. If two +roads seem to lie before the Christian—one smooth and pleasant, the +other rough and thorny—let him choose the rough one, and in spite of +pricks and wounds he will gather flowers there, and fruit too, if he +perseveres. Those may not be the precise words, but it is the meaning."</p> + +<p>"I don't think I have <i>two</i> roads before me to choose from," Salome +said. "When I look back on our dear, happy home at Maplestone, and +compare that time with this, it <i>does</i> seem hard enough."</p> + +<p>"Do not look back, my dear child, nor onward too much; just take the +day, and live it, as far as you can, in the fear of God, taking +everything—joy and sorrow—from Him."</p> + +<p>"Oh, it's not so much the big things," said Salome. "Even the greatest +trouble of all—dear father's death—is not so hard in the way I mean; +though I would give—oh, I would give anything to get him<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[146]</a></span> back and to +see him happy. Still, I can think he is at rest, and that God took him +from what would have broken his heart. But I mean little +worries—crossness, ill-temper, fidgets about money, and, above all, +feeling that I am getting so disagreeable—worse every day."</p> + +<p>"You do not think you are alone in these feelings, do you? My dear +child, it is a very common experience. Take these little pricking +thorns, and the wounds they make, yes, and the poison they sometimes +leave behind, to the loving hand of the Great Healer. Would you not +think it strange if people only sent to your uncle, Dr. Loftus Wilton, +for great and dangerous ailments? His patients go to him with the small +ones also, and often by skill the small ones are prevented from growing +into large ones. Be patient, and watchful, and hopeful, and cheerful, +and leave the rest to God. There is a deep meaning in those words we +were using last Sunday: 'Cheerfully accomplish those things that thou +wouldest have done.'"</p> + +<p>Salome felt in much better spirits when she left the vicarage than when +she entered. She raced down the garden to the gate, where Reginald was +waiting for her, and then she saw Mrs. Atherton tripping lightly up the +road with a basket in her hand.</p> + +<p>It would have been dark by this time, except for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[147]</a></span> the light of a bright +young moon which was hanging like a silver bow over the church spire; +Jupiter, a little in advance of the moon, in a clear blue sky.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry I missed you, my dear," Mrs. Atherton said. "Come to-morrow, +if you can, about four o'clock. I have been to see a dear little boy who +is suffering great pain from a burn. I have dressed it for him, and he +is better."</p> + +<p>"I brought back the paper you lent me," Salome said.</p> + +<p>"It is too late for the north post to-day; but never mind. Good-bye," +and Mrs. Atherton's alert steps were soon out of hearing as she walked +quickly up the garden to the house.</p> + +<p>"Reginald, let us go round by the upper road and down at the back of Elm +Cottage; it is so fine and bright, and I feel in a better temper."</p> + +<p>"Make haste then," said Reginald; "for Digby said something about coming +to tea. He had to go home first."</p> + +<p>The brother and sister walked fast; and Reginald told Salome a long and +rather involved history of a football match, and said he hoped soon to +work up into the first fifteen. The road at the back of Elm Cottage took +a sudden dip down towards an excavation from which stone for building +had been taken some years before; but the particular vein had been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[148]</a></span> +exhausted, and the quarry was deserted, and made a circular outlet from +the road of some thirty feet, overhung with brambles and ivy. As +Reginald and Salome passed this quarry they heard voices. Something +familiar in the tone of one speaker made Salome slacken her pace.</p> + +<p>"Reginald, I am sure that was Raymond speaking. Look back. Who is it?"</p> + +<p>Reginald turned, and distinctly saw two figures at the entrance of the +quarry—two men or boys.</p> + +<p>"I don't think it is Raymond."</p> + +<p>"I am certain it is," Salome said. "Whom can he be talking with?"</p> + +<p>"I am sure I don't know," said Reginald. "I daresay it is not he."</p> + +<p>"I wish I knew how Raymond is really getting on," said Salome. "The +worst of it is, one never feels quite sure that he is telling the +truth."</p> + +<p>Reginald was silent.</p> + +<p>"Does Percival's brother ever say anything to you about Raymond?"</p> + +<p>"No; at least, not much."</p> + +<p>"Reg, if you <i>do</i> know anything about Raymond, tell me. It's not like +telling tales. I think I ought to know, for there seems no one to look +after him, and, though I hate to say so, he does deceive mother."</p> + +<p>But Reginald was not to be drawn into the discussion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[149]</a></span> further. Digby +Wilton arrived at Elm Cottage at the same moment as Reginald and Salome, +and he was always a cheerful and welcome visitor. The two families +seemed to leave any intimacy that existed between them to the two pairs +of brothers and sisters.</p> + +<p>Louise's affection for Ada was short-lived, and a certain jealousy +possessed her when she saw that Eva Monroe had taken an affection for +her. Louise would have liked very much to be the elected companion of +Eva to Cannes, and was lost in astonishment that a child of fifteen +should be preferred before her, when the plan was announced.</p> + +<p>"It is done as an act of charity, my dear Louise," her mother said. "Be +thankful that your education and social position and advantages have +been secured by me without the help of strangers. Poor Emily! it must be +hard for her to receive so much from her friends. My proud spirit could +never be brought to do so. And she is not an economical woman. I notice +she has had the crape on her dress renewed already. And I hear from Aunt +Betha that they deal with the tradesmen about Elm Fields and Whitelands +Road. It would be far cheaper if they sent down into Harstone, and +really Stevens might do this. It seems extravagant for poor people in +lodgings to keep a maid."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[150]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I don't believe Stevens would leave Aunt Emily if she begged and prayed +her to go," said Kate with indiscreet heat. "Really I do think it hard +to talk of Aunt Emily like that, mamma."</p> + +<p>"My dear Kate," said Mrs. Wilton, "will you ask Aunt Betha to come and +speak with me? I must send a note to the Quadrant this evening."</p> + +<p>These were Mrs. Wilton's favourite tactics. She seldom argued a point +with her children, and she was right in the principle. If the +differences of opinion were likely to be very decided, she would ignore +them by turning quietly to another subject.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[151]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XI" id="CHAPTER_XI"></a>CHAPTER XI.</h2> + +<h3>ADA'S DEPARTURE.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcpt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>HE household at Elm Cottage were engrossed for the next ten days with +preparations for Ada's departure. Mrs. Pryor's eyes filled with tears +whenever it was mentioned.</p> + +<p>"Going off to foreign parts, where my dear departed lady went years +agone, to find a grave for her husband; no good ever comes from going to +these outlandish places. However a widow lady can trust her child to go +off like this passes my comprehension."</p> + +<p>"These are old-fashioned notions in these days, mother," Ruth would +interpose. "These foreign places are just English all over. I know a +young person who went as maid to—to—not Cannes, but it's all the same; +the name begins with a saint."</p> + +<p>"Ah! I daresay," sighed Mrs. Pryor; "some Papist's place."</p> + +<p>"Well, this young person told me," said Ruth, taking no notice of the +interruption, "that at their hotel it was just like an English country +house;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[152]</a></span> everything goes like clock-work. In your lady's days, I daresay, +sixty years ago, it might have been changed."</p> + +<p>"Yes, it <i>was</i> different. And times are changed," said Mrs. Pryor. "The +young set themselves up, and think it fine to scoff at their elders. If +this pretty child—for she is <i>but</i> a child—is laid in the +burying-ground out there, hundreds of miles from her widowed mother, +don't come to me to be <i>surprised</i>—that's all."</p> + +<p>Ruth nodded at Stevens to say no more. But Stevens's own heart was +heavy; and many were the sighs which were breathed over Ada's box, which +stood ready, strapped and addressed, in the dull haze of the November +morning.</p> + +<p>Ada herself had kept up bravely till now; but as the wheels of the fly +were heard which was to take her to the station, to meet Lady Monroe and +Eva and their maid, her sobs broke forth.</p> + +<p>"Oh, I wish I were not going!" she said. "O mother, mother!"</p> + +<p>"Don't upset mamma, Ada," Salome whispered. "Dear Ada, please don't."</p> + +<p>But Ada threw herself into her mother's arms, and could only sob out, +"Oh, I wish I were not going!"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton strove to be calm; and Stevens wisely hastened box, and neat +little bundle of rugs, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[153]</a></span> ulster, and umbrella into the fly. Hans and +Carl, who, with Stevens, were to see Ada off, stood bewildered to see +their generally calm, self-possessed sister crying so bitterly.</p> + +<p>"I thought she wanted to go to France," Carl said, puckering up his +mouth.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I thought Stevens said Ada was crazy to go," echoed Hans.</p> + +<p>"She will be all right when she is once off, my dears," said Ruth. "You +run and get in. There's good little boys; get into the fly. Look! I +declare there is Puck, knowing as well as possible that Miss Ada is +going."</p> + +<p>At last Ada was gone, clinging to the last to her mother and to Salome, +and saying, "Give Raymond and Reg my love; don't forget."</p> + +<p>Ada was not the first to find that the longed-for pleasure is not all +that imagination pictured; and well might Ruth say, as she turned back +into her little shop,—</p> + +<p>"There, I didn't think she had so much heart, that I didn't."</p> + +<p>"Everybody's heart ain't always in their mouths, Ruth," was Frank's +rejoinder. "Still waters run deep, my dear."</p> + +<p>"Then you are one of the deepest I ever saw, Frank; you never waste a +word. I do believe if I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[154]</a></span> hadn't helped you, you never would have come to +the point with me."</p> + +<p>"That's an old story now, my dear," said Frank, rubbing his floury face +with his hand. "Don't be offended, my dear," he continued. "I don't say +it wasn't a good story, for <i>me</i> anyhow, that I <i>did</i> come to the +point."</p> + +<p>After Ada's departure Salome made a great effort to settle down into a +fixed routine. She wrote out a list of the lessons with her little +brothers, and with Reginald's help got over the formidable arithmetic +better than might have been expected. Irksome as this routine was to a +girl of her dreamy and imaginative temperament, she bravely struggled to +take each day as it came, and do the best with it. Stevens, who did all +the needle-work and small washing of the family, could not always walk +with her children, but she clung to this habit of a past life; and soon +after the one o'clock dinner in the short winter days Hans and Carl +would set off on a shopping expedition with Stevens, or for a walk over +the downs. And while Mrs. Wilton rested quietly for an hour, Salome +would sit down to her story, and forget the present in the society of +the imaginary children of whom she wrote. Unconsciously she reproduced +the dear old home of her happy childhood,—the stately trees, the +emerald turf, the little lake<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[155]</a></span> with the rustic bridge. Her children were +the idealized children of her own experience, and the circumstances in +which she placed them and the adventures which befell them were, like +the "monkey stories," for the most part reproductions of incidents +which lay treasured in the storehouse of her memory. Thanks to Miss +Barnes's admirable teaching, Salome was guiltless of slips of grammar, +and wrote a fair hand. This "thinking on paper" has a peculiar +fascination in it for the young; and no one could have grudged Salome +these hours she spent over her manuscript, full of hope and even belief +that by her hand the weight of care might be lifted from her mother.</p> + +<p>Christmas drew on, and Reginald was full of his examinations—so full, +that he sat up late at night with his papers, and had but little time to +give to the consideration of Salome's tale.</p> + +<p>It was one evening when Mrs. Wilton was occupied in answering a long +letter from Ada, filled with glowing descriptions of Cannes and the +happy life she was leading there, that Salome went into the dining-room +where Reginald was at work. The finished manuscript was in her hand, and +she said, "Reg, where do you advise me to send my story? I have finished +it, every word."</p> + +<p>Reginald was absorbed in his Euclid, and held up his hand, as if to beg +her to stop.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[156]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Are you very busy?" she said. "Then I won't trouble you."</p> + +<p>Still there was the thought in her heart, "How nice it would be if +somebody cared." But she waited patiently, and at last Reginald pushed +the books away, and giving a prolonged yawn, said,—</p> + +<p>"It is awfully cold here with no fire. What do you want, Sal?"</p> + +<p>"Reg, do come and work in the drawing-room. The children are gone to +bed, and mother and I are as quiet as mice."</p> + +<p>"Raymond is not there, of course."</p> + +<p>"No," said Salome, "and I can't think what he does every evening. He +goes off directly after tea, and he is so late every night now. Reg, do +you know where he goes?"</p> + +<p>"I don't <i>know</i>," said Reginald, "but I don't think things are all +square with him. But, you see, Raymond and I have never had much to do +with each other, going to different schools, and he has always looked +down on me."</p> + +<p>"I hope he has not bad friends," Salome said; "but I am certain he was +with some one he did not care for you and me to see that evening when I +had been up to the vicarage, the day it was fixed for Ada to go to +Cannes."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I remember. However, I don't see that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[157]</a></span> we can do any good. We must +just go on and leave it."</p> + +<p>"I am sorry mother gave him a latch-key. I know she lies awake till she +hears him come upstairs; and though I am glad to do anything for her, +still I think it is a pity she let him have our room when Ada went away. +When he slept in yours it was a check. I can't think where he gets money +from," Salome went on. "That is a new ulster he has, and a new +cigar-case, and I don't believe he has had any salary yet at Mr. +Warde's. Reg," said Salome in a low voice, "<i>do</i> you think he is getting +into debt?"</p> + +<p>"You see, Sal," said Reginald, "I don't like to say anything I am not +sure about, so don't ask me, though of course a fellow like Percival is +to be trusted. Still, I don't think either you or I can do anything, so +it is better to hold our tongues. Is that your story?" touching the roll +of manuscript.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Salome sadly. "I thought you wouldn't mind just looking at +my letter. I shall send it to Bardsley and Carrow. They have such a long +list of stories for the young. Look, this is what I have said. Will it +do, Reg?"</p> + +<p>"How should I know, Sal? You can write a letter fifty times better than +I can. It is a pity you cannot consult somebody else."</p> + +<p>"I don't know who, unless it is Mrs. Atherton."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[158]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Mr. Atherton," suggested Reg; "he is awfully clever."</p> + +<p>"Yes; and I should feel so stupid and shy, I know. I think I will just +try by myself; and if it is returned, I may pluck up courage to ask Mr. +Atherton then."</p> + +<p>"Yes; that will be the best way. And mind you put in the same number of +stamps in the envelope that you put on the parcel, or you will never see +the story again."</p> + +<p>"Then you think it is safe to be rejected, Reg? Well," said Salome with +a sigh, "never mind. I am going to begin another at once, so perhaps at +last I shall succeed."</p> + +<p>Reginald drew his chair to the table again, and opened a book, as if to +show he had no more to say on the subject; and Salome returned to her +mother, having first deposited her precious manuscript and the letter +addressed to Messrs. Bardsley and Carrow in the drawer, where she had +kept them since the day when Kate had so roughly handled the sheets.</p> + +<p>"Are you going to write to Ada, Salome?" Mrs. Wilton asked.</p> + +<p>"Not to-night, I think, mother."</p> + +<p>"Hers is a delightful letter—dear child! I am sure I am thankful she is +so happy; and Lady Monroe's little enclosure is so pleasant."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[159]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I did not see that," Salome said. "Give it to me, mother;" and Salome +read:—</p> + +<p>"Your dear child is all, and more than all, I wished for a companion to +my Eva. They are so happy together, and lessons are not forgotten. Ada +is making rapid advances with her music. There are some very nice people +in the hotel, and we have pleasant little drives, and picnics, and +excursions in the sunshine and amongst the flowers."</p> + +<p>Salome made no comment as she returned the letter to her mother, and the +next minute Dr. Wilton's little short rap was heard, followed by Mrs. +Pryor's footstep in the passage, eager to have the honour of admitting +the doctor. "The only visitor she troubles herself about," Stevens +always said.</p> + +<p>"Uncle Loftus!" Salome exclaimed. "How late! It is past nine o'clock!"</p> + +<p>"He must have been on a late round," Mrs. Wilton said. And then Mrs. +Pryor, with her usual solemnity, announced,—</p> + +<p>"Dr. Wilton."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear Salome? And how are you, Emily? You look warm and +comfortable here. It <i>is</i> a wretched night. Where are the boys?"</p> + +<p>"Reginald is working hard at the exams, and the little ones are in bed. +Raymond is out. He is so closely confined in the office all day that I +cannot<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[160]</a></span> keep him here all the evening. The change in our circumstances +falls more heavily on him than on any of them. Life at Eton and life +here are indeed two different things."</p> + +<p>Dr. Wilton gave an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, and +looking at Salome, whose face was turned up to his with its wistful +expression, he said,—</p> + +<p>"I saw Mr. Warde to-day, and I am sorry to say that he did not give at +all a good account of Raymond. He is very unpunctual in his attendance +at the office, and very careless and idle when he is there. The senior +clerk complains of him continually; and not only of this, but he gives +himself such airs that he is most unpopular with the men in the same +office."</p> + +<p>Dr. Wilton had found great difficulty in beginning what he had to say, +but when once in for it he went straight through. He saw with pity and +compassion his sister-in-law's face grow whiter and whiter as he went +on, and he saw Salome quietly move and, going behind her mother's chair, +put her hand caressingly on her shoulder, bending down, and pressing her +cheek against her mother's in silent sympathy.</p> + +<p>"My dear Emily," Dr. Wilton said kindly, "I am extremely sorry to have +to say this. The boy is young, and has been—well, a good deal indulged. +Let us hope he will see the folly of throwing away<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[161]</a></span> his chance of +earning his living. His head is stuffed full of nonsense, and even my +own boys complain of his brag."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton rallied now. That the clerks in the office should complain +of her son filled her with pain: but that his cousins (as she thought), +plain, uninteresting, heavy boys, should dare to disparage her handsome, +bright son, to whose faults she was blind, filled her with anger as well +as pain.</p> + +<p>"I do not think any of my children have seen much of yours in their own +home, Loftus," she replied; "and if <i>this</i> is the way the one who is so +constantly here has repaid our kindness, I shall take care he is not +with us so much in future."</p> + +<p>"O mother, Digby would never be unkind," Salome said warmly. "He would +never speak evil of any one. Reg says—"</p> + +<p>"I know Reginald is your favourite brother, Salome. Perhaps you might +have done more for poor Raymond, if—"</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton's voice faltered. The best mothers have what may be called +"colour-blindness" as to their children's faults and failings. But there +are some who will suffer any amount of personal trouble and anxiety that +the children inflict, rather than that their faults should be canvassed +by others. The discussion of them by ordinary people is resented; how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[162]</a></span> +much more when relations bring them roughly to light! It is not too much +to say that Mrs. Wilton could have better borne a complaint of her boy +coming direct from Mr. Warde to herself than to have that complaint +brought by his uncle. Worse still that Raymond's cousins should be +quoted.</p> + +<p>I cannot say that I think Mrs. Wilton had any reason to think kindly of +her husband's family. Although Dr. Wilton had been kind and attentive, +his wife had taken no trouble to brighten the life of her relatives at +Elm Cottage. This arose chiefly from her habit of never troubling +herself about outside matters. She "never puts herself out of the way +for any one. It is not <i>in</i> Anna to do it," Aunt Betha would say sometimes +when even the maternal instinct was not strong enough to keep Mrs. +Wilton from an "afternoon" or a dinner party when little Guy was in one +of his worst fits of pain.</p> + +<p>"I can do no good. It only hurts me to see him suffer, dear little man," +she would say. "Auntie nurses him so much better than I can."</p> + +<p>Thus it is not likely that a woman who could be thus unconcerned about +her own children would be greatly interested in her husband's nieces and +nephews. Hans and Carl had been twice to Edinburgh Crescent to tea, and +had walked with Miss<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[163]</a></span> Scott, and Edith, and Maude. Salome had spent one +day with Kate and Louise. But this was about all the hospitality which +had been extended to them. Ada had been more sought after, because she +was so pretty; every one asked who she was and admired her. But Ada was +gone, and jealousy at Eva's preference for her was now the prominent +feeling with both Louise and her mother.</p> + +<p>"Well," Dr. Wilton said, "I think the boy ought to be seriously +remonstrated with. If he leaves Warde's office, I don't know what on +earth is to be done with him. If you can send him up to Edinburgh +Crescent to-morrow evening to dinner, I'll make an opportunity of +speaking to him. I am sorry to be the bearer of unpleasant news; but as +I recommended Warde to take him, even go out of his way to help +him,—for they don't, as a rule, take young men with any salary,—I can +but feel some responsibility about it.—Can you say anything to your +brother, Salome?" Dr. Wilton said in a gentle voice,—a voice which +always recalled her father. "You are the best of sisters and daughters," +he added, putting his arm kindly round Salome's slight figure.</p> + +<p>"I will try, Uncle Loftus," was the answer in a low voice.</p> + +<p>Then Dr. Wilton went away, saying,—</p> + +<p>"Good-bye; we must hope for better things. Remember,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[164]</a></span> tell Raymond seven +o'clock to-morrow evening."</p> + +<p>"The first time he has ever asked Raymond to dinner," said Mrs. Wilton. +"O Salome, it is very hard to be treated in this way!"</p> + +<p>"I think I am sure Uncle Loftus means to help us; he is very kind. And, +dear mother, Raymond must be told he cannot go on like this. He ought +not to stay out so late every night; and—" Salome stopped. Mrs. Wilton +broke completely down, and cried bitterly.</p> + +<p>"Don't speak sharply to him, Salome," she sobbed. "I will try what I can +do. He does love me. I shall wait up for him to-night, and you can go to +bed. Let us have prayers now."</p> + +<p>To the surprise of his mother and Salome, though scarcely more than +half-past nine, Raymond's key was heard in the door, and he came in, +throwing his ulster on a chair and his hat on it.</p> + +<p>"Is it raining, Raymond?" his mother asked.</p> + +<p>"No," was the short answer; and then there was silence till Stevens came +in with the Bible, and Reginald, with a rough, shaggy head of hair, and +ink on his fingers, followed her into the room.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[165]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XII" id="CHAPTER_XII"></a>CHAPTER XII.</h2> + +<h3>CONFIDENCES.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcps"><span class="dropcap">S</span></span>ALOME did not know what passed between Raymond and her mother, but when +she came up to her room, she heard her speaking cheerfully to Stevens, +who always came to attend on her mistress, as in old days. Salome had +slept in a small iron bedstead in a corner of her mother's room since +Ada had left home, in order that Raymond might have the one she had +shared with her sister to himself. Salome, however, still kept her +property in her old room, and her manuscript and heaps of books and +scribbles were in the drawer there, so that she often went into it.</p> + +<p>The next morning Salome got up early, with the intention of posting her +roll and the letter at the nearest Elm Fields post-office before +breakfast. It seemed that Raymond had changed his habits, for Salome met +him ready dressed in the passage, as she softly left her mother's room.</p> + +<p>"Where are you off to, Salome?" he asked.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[166]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I was going to post a letter. O Ray, I am so glad you are up early; and +I will get the coffee made directly.—Be quiet, children," she said, as +two little figures came dancing down the passage in their nightgowns. +"Run back and be quiet, or you will wake mamma."</p> + +<p>Stevens was busy in the dining-room, where the fire was burning +cheerfully, and the light of the December morning struggling to gain +ascendency over the Harstone fogs.</p> + +<p>"Wonders never cease!" exclaimed Stevens. "Master Raymond will be in +time at the office for once!" Stevens spoke with the freedom of an old +servant, and to Salome's surprise her brother did not resent it. He was +quiet and subdued, but evidently absorbed in his own thoughts.</p> + +<p>"You are never going out in the cold and fog, Miss Salome? What are you +going for?" Stevens asked.</p> + +<p>Salome was all this time hoping the manuscript and letter, stuffed in +the pocket of her black ulster, would escape notice.</p> + +<p>"I like to warm my feet before breakfast, Stevens. Do go and call +Reginald. He will be late for school. He was so tired last night with +his work."</p> + +<p>Stevens was gone at last, and brother and sister were left together. +Salome's heart beat fast. She did so much wish to say the right thing, +and to avoid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[167]</a></span> irritating her brother. She was apparently intent on +watching the boiling of the little "Hecla" which made the coffee, but in +reality she was thinking how she should begin what she longed to say. +She was spared the effort. Raymond suddenly said,—</p> + +<p>"I am in a great bother, Salome. I wish you would help me. I—"</p> + +<p>"How can I help you, Ray? Oh, I am so sorry for you and for mother! I do +trust Mr. Warde will let you stay at the office."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Warde! the arrogant cad—it is not about him I am bothered. Sneak! +to complain of me to my uncle. Why did he not say it to me? It is only +that fellow Browne, the head clerk, has a spite at me!" This was an old +story. In days gone by, Raymond's bad school reports had always been +"the result of spite." "But, Salome," he went on, "you know I did not +like to be for ever begging of poor mother, so hard up as I know she is, +so I borrowed some money of a fellow, who said I need not think of +paying him for ever so long; and now he is turned rusty, and we have had +a blow-up, and he says if I don't pay him to-day, he shall come here to +my mother, or to my uncle, for he will have the money by hook or by +crook."</p> + +<p>"O Raymond!" Salome exclaimed; "how much is it?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[168]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A mere trifle; only my term's allowance at Eton—five and twenty +pounds. Do you think, Salome, you could get it for me in any way? You +never wear that gold thing with emeralds mother gave you that belonged +to grandmamma. Could you let me have it to raise money on it?"</p> + +<p>"I don't know. I don't think it would be right. The necklet is in +mother's dressing-case. I never have kept it myself. Of course, it is +mine, as grannie left it to me, or it would have been sold. Still I +don't think it would be right. O Raymond, I wish I could ask some one +about it."</p> + +<p>"If you do that you will ruin me. If I can get the money quietly, I will +promise not to borrow again."</p> + +<p>"Did you use it for—for that ulster and pin, and—" Salome was alarmed +at her own boldness; and Raymond answered,—</p> + +<p>"<i>No</i>; I did not."</p> + +<p>"And you are in debt for those things also?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; but that does not matter—tradesmen will wait. It's this fellow +Percival."</p> + +<p>"Oh, is it Percival, the brother of Reg's friend? Digby knows him; he is +very good and nice. I thought you despised him."</p> + +<p>"I said he wore a coat out of elbows in the office; but he is a +gentleman for all that, I find."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[169]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I should think so," said Salome indignantly; "as if a coat made any +difference. But I can't imagine how it was he had money to lend you."</p> + +<p>"He is a miser, you see," said Raymond. "He is saving up, and grinding +and pinching, that the brother at the college may get to Oxford. They +say he will get a scholarship; but that would not keep him, and so this +fellow is saving up. I'll tell you how it was I borrowed the money. I +told him a cram, and said it was to keep my mother and all of you."</p> + +<p>"O Raymond! how could you be so mean and deceitful?"</p> + +<p>Raymond took his sister's plain speaking very quietly, because he looked +upon her as his only hope. "Percival found out that I had spent the +money in billiards, and—well you know, in 'The Queen's,' with Barington +while he was here; and—"</p> + +<p>"I think it is dreadful," Salome interrupted. "I could not have believed +it of you."</p> + +<p>"Well, look here, Sal, will you save me from a frightful row with Uncle +Loftus by seeing Percival, and trying to make him wait for his money? I +expect he would believe you; and I really don't want to—to vex my poor +mother. It was bad enough last night about old Warde; and I promised to +do better at the office, and that I would go to Edinburgh Crescent +to-night just to please her, for I detest it.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[170]</a></span> If there is a row with +Percival, it will make her ill."</p> + +<p>"You should have thought of that before," was on Salome's lips, but she +refrained from saying so.</p> + +<p>"Reg will be here directly; may I tell him?"</p> + +<p>"No; on no account. I will tell Percival to come up here this afternoon, +just at dusk, and you must manage to meet him."</p> + +<p>"O Raymond, I don't think that will do; you don't consider what people +might say if they saw me."</p> + +<p>"It is nearly dark at four; that is not late. That old quarry place +then."</p> + +<p>"Where I saw you with some one some time ago?"</p> + +<p>"Yes; that's it. I will be close at hand. Do pray let me tell Percival."</p> + +<p>Salome had only time to say "Yes," when Reginald came down. It was so +new to her to hear the grand, magnificent Raymond pleading for a favour +at her hands. It was a cowardly proceeding on his part; but such boys as +Raymond Wilton are cowards. It would have been better for him if he had +not so often been helped out of school scrapes by too indulgent parents. +His was one of those natures which need discipline and firmness as well +as love. He had not been taught that in self-denial there is nobleness +which brings peace after the pain. To choose the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[171]</a></span> thorny path of which +Mr. Atherton had spoken to his sister, had never even occurred to him. +He had always looked for the smoothness and pleasantness of life as his +by right as well as choice, and thus of all the family who had suffered +these sharp reverses he was the least able to meet them.</p> + +<p>As Reginald came into the room Raymond left it; and Stevens and the +children next appeared—Stevens with a tray for her mistress's +breakfast, and two bowls of oatmeal porridge for Hans and Carl.</p> + +<p>"I am just going to walk a little way with Raymond," she said; "I shall +not be five minutes."</p> + +<p>Salome was off like lightning, and soon overtook her brother.</p> + +<p>"Raymond, may—may I tell Reginald? may he come with me this afternoon?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Raymond; "what made you race like that? Tell no one, and I am +certain Percival will listen to you. In the quarry at four o'clock, or +soon after."</p> + +<p>Salome fell back breathless behind her brother, and turned up the road +to the post-office. She dropped the precious manuscript into the box and +the letter addressed to Messrs. Bardsley and Carrow, and then ran home.</p> + +<p>"Good morning, miss," said Ruth, who was washing the step of the shop, +while Puck sat by watching<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[172]</a></span> the operation. "It is a fine winter's +morning, isn't it? just enough frost to make it pleasant. Puck is looking +his best, isn't he? the beauty! I washed him last evening."</p> + +<p>"It is very kind of you," said Salome; "he is beginning to like you, +Ruth, as well as he does us."</p> + +<p>"Oh no; he isn't one to forsake old friends," said Ruth. "See now—" for +Puck had darted towards Reginald with delight expressed in a series of +twists and twirls and low sounds of affection, as he ran hither and +thither round Reginald.</p> + +<p>Salome ran to her brother. "I have posted my story, Reg." How she longed +to say more; how perplexed was her loyal heart as to what was right and +best to do.</p> + +<p>She seemed suddenly drawn into a secret meeting with a stranger, and +with what shame she would have to beg him to wait for the debt her +brother had so dishonestly contracted. Salome watched Reginald's figure +as he ran with amazing speed down the road, and then turned slowly and +sadly into the house.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton came down about eleven o'clock looking much brighter and +better. When the little boys had put away their books and slates, and +had gone out with their hoops, she said: "I feel so much happier about +dear Raymond, Salome. He was so affectionate to me last evening, and has +promised to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[173]</a></span> do better. I have written a line to your Uncle Loftus, to +ask him to deal gently with him, and to remember how greatly indulged he +was in your dear father's lifetime. He has been little prepared for such +a life as the one he is now leading. But we must be patient with him, +poor dear fellow. I always think I am not half patient enough."</p> + +<p>"O mother, you are only too kind to Raymond, and, indeed, to us all. You +spoil us all."</p> + +<p>"Not you, Salome," her mother said tenderly; "I fear you have too much +on your young shoulders. If I were a strong woman, like your Aunt Anna +for instance, I could do more to help you; but I am so useless. No one +can feel that more than I do."</p> + +<p>"You are of great use, mother dear," Salome said, "and ornamental too. +You always remind me of somebody in a story as you sit by your +work-table. Quite as pretty a picture as that one of you when you were a +girl, whatever Mrs. Pryor may say. When shall we know about our affairs, +mother?" Salome asked after a pause.</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell; there is so much to settle. I believe the furniture +realized a great deal, and the wines, and—"</p> + +<p>"Don't let us talk of it, mother. I was only thinking of those jewels of +grannie's—the set of emeralds that she left me."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[174]</a></span></p> + +<p>"They are all secure, my dear; they are my personal property, which is +mine under settlement. But I often think I shall sell some of them. +Indeed, I shall have to do so, I expect."</p> + +<p>"It would not be wrong, would it, mother? I mean nothing that is yours +ought to go to the creditors?"</p> + +<p>"No, certainly not, my dear. It is sad to think you should have to talk +of such things at your age. Only a few months ago, and I was consulting +Miss Barnes about your going to Paris to finish, and now here is your +education stopped."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, mamma," said Salome cheerfully; "I learn a great deal by +teaching Hans and Carl. I am beginning Latin with Reginald, and you know +I read German and French for my own pleasure. I daresay I am finishing +my education just as well as if I had gone to Paris."</p> + +<p>Salome's words had more truth in them than she knew. She was indeed +under training in the school where the Lord gives His children many +lessons, learned, perhaps, more easily in youth than in after years.</p> + +<p>Many times in the course of that day Salome tried to recall all Mr. +Atherton had said in his sermon on the Sunday before. He had been +speaking of those who sought themselves and their own pleasure, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[175]</a></span> had +quoted the well-known words of Thomas à Kempis:—"My son, if thou +seekest thyself, thou shalt find thyself, but to thy own punishment." +The thing eagerly coveted and sought after, nay, even prayed for, is +granted; but it comes after all in the guise of a foe rather than of a +friend.</p> + +<p>"I am not seeking myself," Salome thought. "I am trying to serve +Raymond, and to save mother from pain; but, oh! I wish I could have had +Reginald with me when I go up the road. He knows already something, I am +certain, from the Percival who is at the college; but I could not break +my word to Raymond, I must go through with it now."</p> + +<p>Happily for Salome, Kate and one of her little sisters came to see them +soon after dinner on this bright winter day, and Salome and Hans and +Carl walked towards Roxburgh with them. Kate was as good-tempered and +kind as ever, and infected Salome with her bright spirits.</p> + +<p>Reginald was sure to stand marvellously well in the examination, Digby +said so. Ralph and Cyril were going to sing at the school concert. It +was such a pity Salome could not be there. Everybody always went, and it +was such fun. Kate wanted Salome to go round by the college ground, +where a football match was on; but as the sun set and the winter's fog +gathered, Salome knew her hour was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[176]</a></span> drawing near, towards which she was +looking with nervous dread.</p> + +<p>The boys ran into the house, and clattered upstairs as soon as they +reached home. Salome lingered in the porch a moment irresolute; then +started off past the shop, where the gas was already lighted, up the +road towards the quarry. The hedges were higher as she advanced, and, +indeed, the road was cut out of the rock.</p> + +<p>It was dusk, almost dark, and Salome felt lonely and frightened. She had +not long to wait in suspense. A tall figure advanced towards her from +the overhanging rocks of the old quarry.</p> + +<p><a name="illus185" id="illus185"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 390px;"> +<img src="images/illus185.png" width="390" height="600" alt="" title="A tall figure advanced towards her" /> +</div> + +<p>"Miss Wilton?" asked a voice, so pleasant and gentleman-like in its +tones that Salome was reassured. "I was coming to call on Mrs. Wilton. I +am Philip Percival. At your brother's entreaty, and not wishing to press +too hardly on him, I consented to see you first, as he tells me his +mother is in such delicate health that excitement might hurt her. Is +that true?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, quite true," Salome said; but she was shivering with nervousness, +and her voice trembled.</p> + +<p>"We had better walk up or down the road," Philip Percival said; "you +will take cold. It is a most unpleasant business, Miss Wilton; but I +honestly think the only hope of saving your brother is to deal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[177]</a></span> openly +with you. He has deceived me so grossly, and you cannot wonder that I am +indignant. He represented to me that his mother and sisters were in +great difficulty, and that if I lent him the money for a month he could +repay it with interest. It was foolish of me to be taken in. I <i>was</i> +completely taken in. He has a winning, plausible manner; and he is +treated so roughly by some of the clerks who resent the airs he gives +himself, that I tried the more to befriend him. I have had a nice +reward!"</p> + +<p>"I am so sorry," Salome said. "I want to beg you to wait a little while, +and perhaps I shall be able to pay you. Mother has no money, I know, +just now; and it is not only on that account I do not like to ask her, +but because it will grieve her so much to hear of Raymond's deceit. She +loves him so dearly, and it would be such a shock to her. Do you think +you <i>could</i> wait?"</p> + +<p>Philip Percival looked down on the little slight figure in its sombre +dress with very different feelings to what he had expected. "My eldest +sister will make it all right, if you will see her," had conveyed to his +mind the idea of a woman of mature years—not of a young girl, who ought +to have been sheltered by Raymond's care, not exposed by him to this +painful revelation.</p> + +<p>"Could you wait?" Salome repeated; and as she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[178]</a></span> spoke two people coming +down the road passed her and Philip Percival.</p> + +<p>"Salome, is that you?" It was Mrs. Atherton's voice. "Good-night;" and +then, as Salome scarcely responded to the greeting, Mr. and Mrs. +Atherton passed on.</p> + +<p>"Whom could Salome Wilton be talking to so earnestly?" Mrs. Atherton +said as they walked away. "It was not one of her brothers."</p> + +<p>"No; I think not. You had better speak to her about it. It is far too +late for her to be walking here alone with a young man."</p> + +<p>"It is very strange. I cannot understand it," Mrs. Atherton said. "Yes; +I will speak to her to-morrow. She is such a quiet child, every day I +know her and watch her I love her better. I cannot understand it," Mrs. +Atherton repeated.</p> + +<p>"Yes; I will wait till Christmas for your sake," Philip said. "I see how +painful your position is, and I feel indignant with your brother for +placing you in it. He ought never to have sent me here. But lest you +should think I love money for its own sake, I want to tell you that we +are very poor. My father is paralyzed, and my mother gives lessons in +music. I have been working hard to save enough money to help my brother +to live on his scholarship at Oxford, if, as we hope, he takes one. +Also, I am<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[179]</a></span> able, by strict economy, to get a few things which brighten +my mother's life a little. I don't say this to make you think it is +wonderful or praiseworthy. I hope you will not misunderstand me."</p> + +<p>"No indeed," Salome said earnestly, looking up at the face she could but +dimly see,—"no indeed. I think you are brave and good; and, please, do +not give up poor Raymond. Perhaps he may get wiser and more used to this +great change in his life."</p> + +<p>"Let us hope so, for your sake as well as his own. And now, shall I see +you home?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no, no; it is quite near—at the end of the road. Good-bye, and +thank you very, very much."</p> + +<p>Philip Percival stood watching the retreating figure as it went swiftly +down the road and was soon lost to sight in the gathering darkness.</p> + +<p>"His sister, his eldest sister," he said—"a mere child; but what a +world of resolution in her face!"</p> + +<p>It would not have been Salome had she not dropped something in her +flight. Philip saw something white on the road, and picking it up, found +it was Salome's pocket-handkerchief. He was irresolute for a moment +whether to follow her with it or keep it. He decided on keeping it; and +putting it into his coat pocket, walked quickly away in the opposite +direction to Elm Cottage.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[180]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIII" id="CHAPTER_XIII"></a>CHAPTER XIII.</h2> + +<h3>HARD TIMES.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcpr"><span class="dropcap">R</span></span>AYMOND WILTON came back from dining with his uncle in a very amiable +mood; and when he could get a word with Salome, and found that he was +relieved from the immediate pressure of debt, he seemed as unconcerned +as if he had never been in debt at all. He did not ask many questions +about the interview with Philip Percival, catching at the most important +part as Salome said,—</p> + +<p>"Yes; he promised to wait till Christmas. That is not long, Raymond."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, something will turn up by then, and Uncle Loftus says it is +possible there may be a little money coming in. The creditors are going +to accept seven shillings in the pound; and if it were not for that +hateful bank and its cheating, we should do. Anyhow, I am easy for the +present, thanks to you, Sal; I shall not forget it, I can tell you."</p> + +<p>"Raymond," Salome said in a low voice, "I wish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[181]</a></span> you would go to church +on Sunday mornings, and try to think more of what God wishes us to do."</p> + +<p>"All right, Salome; but you know I am not fond of preaching."</p> + +<p>"Dear Ray," said Salome earnestly, "I am sure I am not fit to preach to +you or any one, only I do feel sure that if we ask God to keep us safe, +He hears us, and will not forsake us, if we are <i>really</i> sorry, and +determined to try to please Him."</p> + +<p>"These are old-fashioned notions, Sal," said Raymond carelessly; "but +you are a good little thing, and I daresay it would be better for me if +I were more like you."</p> + +<p>That was all Salome could get out of Raymond; and, chilled and +disappointed, she felt, as many of us have felt, that it was no use +trying to help people like Raymond, still less to expect anything from +them.</p> + +<p>But for the present there was a calm. Raymond went off in good time to +Harstone. He spent the evening at home; and his mother was quite cheered +about him, saying several times to Salome, "I thought, for my sake, +Raymond would turn over a new leaf."</p> + +<p>Meantime Reginald worked hard at his papers, and was steadfast in his +work, fighting his way in the form, step by step, always a hard matter +at a new school for the first term.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[182]</a></span></p> + +<p>Salome saw him going on diligently and steadily, and longed for a word +of praise for him. But it often happens that there is more joy in the +mother's heart over signs of amendment in one child who has given her +trouble and anxiety than in the persistent well-doing of those who never +cause her uneasiness. This is nothing new. Was it not so in the days +when divine lips told the story of the lost piece of silver and of the +wandering sheep? Will it not be so to the end of time?</p> + +<p>Salome lived for the next few days in constant excitement about the +postman. Every time his knock was heard her heart would give an +answering thump, and she would go out into the passage to take the +letters. But Messrs. Bardsley and Carrow made no sign. A week passed; +and one afternoon, when she went out to meet the postman, and eagerly +took the letters from his hand, she came suddenly on Mrs. Atherton.</p> + +<p>The rosy flush and the excitement of her manner were not lost on Mrs. +Atherton, nor that she hastily thrust one letter into her pocket, and +answered Mrs. Atherton's question as to whether she would like to see +the <i>Review</i> she had brought in a confused manner, not even asking her +to come in, and standing with Ada's foreign letter in her hand, twisting +it nervously in her fingers.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[183]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Shall I come in and see Mrs. Wilton?" Mrs. Atherton asked.</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; please come in," was the reply; "but mamma is not downstairs +to-day, so we have no fire in the drawing-room. I sit in the dining-room +when mother is not well. She has a bad cold and head-ache. Please come +in, Mrs. Atherton."</p> + +<p>Salome preceded Mrs. Atherton into the dining-room, which Hans and Carl +had combined to make very untidy by cutting up newspapers for the tail +of a kite bigger than themselves, which Frank Pryor had in leisure +moments made for them, with the assurance that "he" would carry a tail +that would reach pretty near as far as Harstone Abbey Church. All these +untidy scraps were on the floor, and one end of the table was even in a +worse condition. Papers, books, pens, and ink were in a state of +confusion impossible to describe. By the papers, and engulfed by them as +they surged on every side, was a little work-basket, stuffed so full +that the lid refused to think of closing, and out of which peeped a +curious medley of articles too numerous and varied to mention.</p> + +<p>"I am sorry to bring you in here," Salome began. "The children have +nowhere else to play. They are gone now to help Ruth to make some +tea-cakes. Please sit down."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[184]</a></span></p> + +<p>Mrs. Atherton subsided into a chair, and then laughing, said,—</p> + +<p>"I am sitting on some property, I think," and rising, she drew from +under her a box of tools, from which Hans had been using the hammer.</p> + +<p>"How dreadfully careless and naughty of the children!" Salome exclaimed. +"I am so sorry. I do wish I were neat and tidy like Ada, who never left +anything in the wrong place in her life."</p> + +<p>"It is never too late to mend," said Mrs. Atherton with a smile. "I have +not seen you for a week, except in church. I have been so busy; and +every week and every day we get nearer to Christmas, the pressure grows +greater. I wanted to ask you if you would come over to the vicarage and +help me with some work."</p> + +<p>"I work so badly," Salome said, "but I will do all I can."</p> + +<p>"It is very easy, humble sort of work," Mrs. Atherton said,—"sewing +strings on skirts, and buttons on aprons and pinafores, for Christmas +presents in the parish, you know. Will you come in to-morrow afternoon +for an hour or two?"</p> + +<p>Salome promised; and then conversation seemed to flag, as it always does +when something is on the mind of one of those who are trying to keep it +up without alluding to that "something."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[185]</a></span></p> + +<p>At last Mrs. Atherton rose to go away, when, taking Salome's hand in +hers, she held it for a moment, and said,—</p> + +<p>"My dear child, I have not seen you since we met you on the Whitelands +Road. It was very late for you to be out alone, and with a stranger."</p> + +<p>Salome's colour rushed to her face, and was of course misunderstood.</p> + +<p>"You are so young, my dear," Mrs. Atherton said; "and I daresay, living +in the country, you have often been out late in your own grounds and +village. But here it is different. And you were talking and walking with +a gentleman. Was he an old friend?"</p> + +<p>"No," said Salome, "oh no; I had never seen him before. Oh, please do +not ask me any more questions."</p> + +<p>The look of distress on Salome's face touched Mrs. Atherton.</p> + +<p>"My dear child," she said tenderly, "if you were my own daughter, I +should say what I now say. Do not think that I interfere unduly, but let +me earnestly advise you not to place yourself in the same position +again. Will you promise?"</p> + +<p>Salome was silent. How could she promise, when once more she must meet +Philip Percival and tell him if she had succeeded in getting the money<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[186]</a></span> +or not? Perhaps she might write to him, but somehow she felt it would be +better to see him.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Atherton waited, as if for an answer; and as none came, she dropped +Salome's hand, and turned away.</p> + +<p>"Do kiss me again," Salome said. "And do trust me. I thought, and I +still think, I was doing right that evening."</p> + +<p>"Well, my dear child," said Mrs. Atherton, kissing her affectionately, +"I hope it will prove so. Give my love to your mother. I will come in +again very soon."</p> + +<p>Salome ran upstairs with Ada's letter, and hastily putting it on the +table by her mother's side, went down again to read her own letter. It +was from Bardsley and Carrow. Her hands trembled with excitement as she +tore open the envelope and read:—</p> + +<blockquote><p>"<span class="smcap">Dear Madam</span>,—We return the manuscript of 'Under the Cedars,' +with thanks for allowing us to peruse it. We regret that it +is not suited for publication in our series of stories for +the young.—We remain your obedient servants,</p> + +<div class="signature">"<span class="smcap">J. A. Bardsley and Carrow</span>."</div> +</blockquote> + +<p>"Everything is a disappointment! Everything<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[187]</a></span> fails!" exclaimed Salome. +"It is no use trying to do anything. Mrs. Atherton suspects me of I +don't know what; and I was only trying to save mother from pain. But +Raymond may go his own way now. I can do nothing for him. Why should my +life be so different to other girls? Ada is happy at Cannes, having all +she can wish for. Then there are the girls at Edinburgh Crescent going +out to-night to a fancy-dress dance, and to-morrow to some other party, +and next week to the school concert; and here am I, trying to be of use, +and yet I cannot even succeed in that, and everything is so wretched and +miserable. I saw Mrs. Atherton looking round on this untidy room. The +children are really the greatest bother;" and Salome snatched up the +tail of the kite, newspapers and all, with no gentle hand; and by so +doing, the string, which was twisted in one of the corners of her old +writing-folio, brought the whole down—cloth, work-basket, and all.</p> + +<p>"What a horrid fire! and <i>what</i> a mess! Really this isn't very +inviting," said Reginald, as he came in from football, and, covered with +mud and scratches, threw himself into the chair Mrs. Atherton had +occupied.</p> + +<p>"Where's mother?" he asked. "Is her cold worse? I say, Salome, I was +chosen to play in the second fifteen instead of a fellow who is ill. I +have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[188]</a></span> had a glorious run for once. Sal, what's the matter?"</p> + +<p>Salome was fairly crying now.</p> + +<p>"It is all so miserable and uncomfortable, Reg; and look here."</p> + +<p>She handed him the letter as she spoke.</p> + +<p>"What a jolly hand!" Reginald exclaimed. "Who is it from?"</p> + +<p>"It's about my story. Of course it is returned."</p> + +<p>"Oh, well, try somebody else. There's heaps of other publishers; or, if +that doesn't do, write another tale."</p> + +<p>"It's very easy to talk like that, Reg. You don't seem to care."</p> + +<p>"Yes; I do care very much. Where's the manuscript?"</p> + +<p>Then it flashed across Salome for the first time that the manuscript had +not arrived with the letter.</p> + +<p>"Why, the manuscript is not come after all. Perhaps it is lost. I +daresay it is lost. It does not matter."</p> + +<p>The entrance of Stevens settled this matter. "The postman came back with +this parcel, Miss Salome. He forgot to deliver it. What is it?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, it is mine. It is all right. Give it to me, Stevens."</p> + +<p>"What a state the room is in! Well, for your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[189]</a></span> own comfort's sake, I +think you might keep it tidier, Miss Salome. You would be ever so much +more comfortable.—O Master Reg, what boots! Well, I don't know how the +mud is to be got off. You must remember there's no one but me to do +everything, except the old lady, who is not one to put herself out of +the way to help anybody—not she."</p> + +<p>"Well, I'll clean my own boots, if that's all," said Reginald. "I don't +care what I do. I'll clean the knives too, and learn to make you a gown, +if it will please you, Stevie." And Reginald sprang up, took Stevens +round the waist, made her pirouette round the table with him, and then, +having left dabs of clay and mud off his boots all over Mrs. Pryor's red +drugget, vanished.</p> + +<p>Stevens straightened her cap, and pulled down her white apron, and said +breathlessly,—</p> + +<p>"What a boy it is! But I would sooner, fifty times over, have a bright +happy nature like his, than one that can only mope and look miserable."</p> + +<p>"I <i>am</i> miserable," said poor Salome, "so I can't help looking +miserable."</p> + +<p>"Well, there's many that are worse off than you, my dear. Ruth Pryor has +been telling me of a family of little children left without father or +mother. The Pryors supply them with bread; and this morning, when Frank +went with the loaves, he found the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[190]</a></span> eldest child, scarce twelve years +old, with the little ones all crying round her, and her mother only +buried a month ago; and now the father was taken in a fit, and went off +before the doctor could get to him."</p> + +<p>It was the reverse of the picture to that over which Salome had been +brooding,—her cousins' gaieties; Ada's happiness amongst flowers, and +music, and sunshine; the lives of her old neighbours at Maplestone—the +De Brettes, and the Fergusons, and many others—riding, dancing, and +enjoying themselves. Stevens's words were of use. The old message seemed +to be whispered to her soul: "Let patience have her perfect work." +"Trust in the Lord, and be doing good ... verily thou shalt be fed."</p> + +<p>It is not the perfect work of patience when trials are fretted at, and, +as it were, <i>resented</i>; not the perfect work of patience when we tell +ourselves we have borne a great deal, and are wonderfully brave, and +that no one half appreciates us or all we do and endure. Ah no! The +stuff of which the hidden saints of God are made is different to this. +Theirs is the patience of Christ's faithful ones who can smile under the +smart, and be tender and gentle to others even while the sword is +piercing their own souls.</p> + +<p>The child of whom I write was very young, and no wonder that she failed +at times. The burden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[191]</a></span> laid on her was heavy; and I cannot be surprised +that Mrs. Atherton's misapprehension was hard to bear, and that the +honest and pure desire to save her mother and her brother should be the +cause of her kind friend thinking less highly of her than before made it +doubly bitter. Then the story, on which she had built so many hopes, +copied so carefully, kept free from blot or stain,—it was hard to see +it again, the familiar words looking up at her as she scanned them with +tear-dimmed eyes; the headings to the chapters, the little bits of verse +or hymn, so carefully chosen. All in vain all her trouble, all her +pains. And if no one took her story, and paid her for it, how should she +be able to satisfy Philip Percival at Christmas?</p> + +<p>The tangle of her life looked more bewildering than ever, and the +child-heart within her was sick and sore with disappointment—a form of +trial which the young find harder to meet than the old, because they +have not the experience of past disappointments to guide them, and do +not know how the sting is often taken away, as we live to say and to +feel, <ins title="Transcriber's Note: quotation marks not present in the original">"It +was far better as it was, though I could not see it at the +time."</ins></p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton's cold proved a severe one, and she had to keep her bed for +several days, and Salome did not find time to go over to the vicarage. +Mrs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[192]</a></span> Wilton needed a great deal of attention, and Dr. Wilton came every +day to see her.</p> + +<p>The holidays began. It was getting near Christmas, and there was an +ever-increasing dread in Salome's mind about the money. It seemed +strange to her that Raymond did not appear to concern himself about it. +He was in excellent spirits, and altogether more agreeable than before +the revelation about his debts. They hung like a fetter round his +sister. And there was no news of "Under the Cedars," which had gone +forth again to try its fate—this time with far different feelings, and +with very little hope of success, instead of a great deal.</p> + +<p>"Something must be said to Mr. Percival, Raymond, about the money. He +said he would wait till Christmas, but not longer. Shall I write to +him?"</p> + +<p>"Oh no; don't remind him of it. I see him every day, and he can ask me +if he chooses."</p> + +<p>But Salome was not to be satisfied. "As I promised to do something about +it by Christmas, I must tell him how it is."</p> + +<p>"How what is?"</p> + +<p>"Why, Raymond, I thought, I hoped I might get something for some work I +did, and then I could have paid Mr. Percival half perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Work! what sort of work?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[193]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh, you must not ask. I will tell you some day perhaps."</p> + +<p>"Don't bother yourself, Sal. Percival can wait. He is all right now with +me, and I think he is a good fellow after all. I want awfully to get to +St. Clair's for Christmas. He has asked me, which is awfully kind of +him. You remember he was the fellow who travelled with us on that +wretched journey."</p> + +<p>"Yes, I remember; but I don't think you can go, Raymond. It is such a +long journey for two days."</p> + +<p>"I shall ask for an extra day. Old Warde is very civil to me now. It is +better to keep up with friends worth having, like St. Clair. Mother +thinks so."</p> + +<p>Salome was silent. She thought it wiser to say nothing.</p> + +<p>There was a bright service in St. Luke's Church every Wednesday evening; +and on the Wednesday before Christmas, as Salome was coming out of the +church, scarcely two hundred yards from Elm Cottage, she heard a voice +near her say,—</p> + +<p>"Miss Wilton."</p> + +<p>She started, and turning quickly, said,—</p> + +<p>"I wanted to see you, Mr. Percival. I cannot do what I promised, and +I—I hardly like to ask it, but <i>could</i> you wait till Easter?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," was the reply. "I can and will wait. I came here on purpose to +say so."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[194]</a></span></p> + +<p>"How kind of you! Mr. Percival, is—do you think my brother is getting +on better at the office?"</p> + +<p>"I hope so," was the answer.</p> + +<p>"He is there in better time of a morning, isn't he?" asked Salome +anxiously.</p> + +<p>Again the answer came guardedly,—</p> + +<p>"I think so."</p> + +<p>"Mother has been so ill lately, and quite confined to her room. Raymond +has been much more attentive to her lately."</p> + +<p>"I am very glad to hear it. I hope you will be at rest about the money. +Good-night."</p> + +<p>Then he was gone. And Salome ran quickly across the road to the gate of +Elm Cottage, saying to herself, "Surely Taylor and Darte will take my +story, they are so long in replying, and that is a good sign. Bardsley +and Carrow were only a week. Oh, perhaps by Easter it will be all right, +and I shall be able to repay Mr. Percival. How kind he is! I do like +him."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[195]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XIV" id="CHAPTER_XIV"></a>CHAPTER XIV.</h2> + +<h3>DAFFODILS.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcpt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>HE Christmas season, so different to any the Wiltons had ever passed, +came and went. Raymond managed to attain his wish, as he generally did; +and instead of returning punctually to the office after the two days +above and beyond the bank holiday which Mr. Warde kindly and +considerately granted him, he sent an excuse to him, and a telegram to +his mother, which alarmed her very much, to say he had a severe cold, +and was not allowed to travel.</p> + +<p>It ought to be a warning to all those who are tempted to make false +excuses or deceive, that when once it is done, every one's faith is +weakened in their assertions. It takes years of truthfulness and +sincerity to restore the confidence which one falsehood has shaken.</p> + +<p>Reginald must be excused, therefore, if he said, as he read the +telegram,—</p> + +<p>"Humbug!"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[196]</a></span></p> + +<p>Salome gave him a quick glance, for she saw her mother's distressed and +anxious face.</p> + +<p>"I do hope he is not very ill. What do you think, Salome?"</p> + +<p>"I hope not, mother. He only says, 'A severe cold;' and you see he sends +the telegram himself."</p> + +<p>"Would you advise me to send a telegram for a paid answer?"</p> + +<p>"Certainly not, mother," said Reginald. "Don't disturb yourself; he is +all right."</p> + +<p>Mrs. Wilton was silenced; but when Reginald left the room she said to +Salome, "I cannot understand how it is that Reginald is so unfeeling +about Ray. It is not like the love of brothers."</p> + +<p>All this anxiety at Elm Cottage might have been spared had it been +possible to show Mrs. Wilton the comfortable dining-room at Rose Court, +the St. Clairs' home, Raymond talking and laughing with one of Henry St. +Clair's sisters at a pleasant dinner-party, and quite forgetting the +sore throat and little cough which had seemed to Mrs. St. Clair in her +kindness a sufficient reason for Raymond to prolong his visit. Sympathy +for the boy's altered position had made her doubly kind to him, though +she secretly wished he would talk less of himself, his old Eton days and +friends, and would have liked it better if he had been quieter and less +self-asserting.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[197]</a></span></p> + +<p>"It was a kindness to invite him, poor boy," she said to her husband. +"They had a very pretty nice place, with every comfort, and Henry paid +them a visit during the Easter holidays. Think what a change it is! I am +glad to be kind to him; though he is not exactly the friend I would +choose for Henry."</p> + +<p>"A conceited, shallow-pated young fellow," was the reply. "Handsome +enough, no doubt; but I, for one, shall not be sorry to see him start +for Harstone."</p> + +<p>Poor Raymond! How little did he think that this was the impression left +upon his host at Rose Court. He went home with a fresh edition of +discontent at his lot, and relapsed a good deal into his former habits.</p> + +<p>So the winter passed, and the days lengthened, and the bright +spring-time drew on.</p> + +<p>One radiant March morning Salome set out early to spend a day at +Edinburgh Crescent. A holiday was proclaimed for the children, and an +expedition with Ruth Pryor to see a menagerie which was stationed in a +large field not far off. Mrs. Wilton had been unusually well of late, +and was quite happy to be left for the day, to write letters, and +perhaps walk over to the vicarage at three o'clock to see Mrs. Atherton. +Salome's step was light and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[198]</a></span> elastic as she walked away towards +Edinburgh Crescent. She had the spring of youth in her, which responded +to the spring of nature; and something delightful had happened which was +to mark that day with a red letter, as she thought, to her. "Under the +Cedars," after three unsuccessful journeys, and three new title-pages, +had been accepted, and she had in her pocket a letter offering to +publish the story and give her ten guineas for it. If the proposal was +agreeable to her, the cheque would be sent at once. Only those who have +earned money that is needed for some express purpose can understand the +joy in Salome's heart. It was only ten guineas. Fifteen more would be +required to meet what was wanted. But another story was rapidly +approaching its conclusion, and very soon she might earn the rest.</p> + +<p>These few months had been times of steady progress with Salome. She had +set herself earnestly to learn the lesson of her life; and no one, old +or young will, if they seek God's help, do this in vain. Just as one who +sweeps a room from this cause makes it and the action fine, so did +Salome, by striving against her desultory, untidy habits and her dreamy +indolence, when what she had to do was uncongenial, and, above all, when +her effort to struggle against discontented repining for what was<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[199]</a></span> +denied her of luxury and pleasantness in everyday life, make the way +"finer" and brighter for others and for herself. Child as she was, her +influence was felt. Stevens acknowledged it, and her brothers could not +fail to be affected by it. All unconsciously to herself she was +fulfilling the command of One who lays no burden on us too heavy to +bear, who tells us to let our light <i>so</i> shine that our Father in heaven +may be glorified.</p> + +<p>I think Salome's little light was shining, and I also think that had it +not been for the surrounding gloom of sorrow and loss which, as it were, +encompassed her, it would not have been so bright nor so steady in its +radiance.</p> + +<p>How she longed to tell Reginald the good news about "Under the Cedars." +How she wished the letter had come by the first instead of the second +delivery. It would be nice to meet Reginald, and hear him say, "How +jolly it is!" "I shall be obliged to let him know, when I have the +money, what I am going to do with it. But that time is not come yet. I +must take the days one by one. And oh, what a lovely day this is! Such a +sky; and how those horse-chestnut buds are shining in the sun. I +remember one day last spring how I was riding with father, and he told +me to look at the big chestnut tree by the lodge, how the buds were +glistening."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[200]</a></span></p> + +<p>The wakened memory of her father sent a thrill of pain through the young +heart, and a hungry longing for him, which is so well expressed by the +poetess of love and natural affection in her own especial strain without +a rival:—</p> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"But what awakest thou in the heart, O Spring—<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The human heart with all its dreams and sighs,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Thou that bring'st back so many a buried thing,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Restorer of forgotten harmonies?<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet sounds and scents break forth where'er thou art;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What wakest thou in the heart?<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Too much, ah! there too much,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">We know not well wherefore it should be so;<br /></span> +<span class="i2">But roused by thee,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">What strange, fond yearnings from the soul's deep cell,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Gush for the faces we no more may see;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">How are we haunted in thy wind's low tone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">By voices that are gone!<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"Looks of familiar love, which never more,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Never on earth our aching eyes shall greet,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Sweet words of welcome to the household door,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And vanished smiles, and sounds of parted feet.<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Spring, 'midst the wakening of thy flowers and bees<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Why—why awakest thou these?"<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>It seemed so long to her since the last spring, as if she had left +behind her childhood and its dreams and happiness and come into the +cares of womanhood. But youth was strong within her for all that; and +when her cousins, the trio of dear little sisters, came rushing out to +meet her as Bean threw open the door, and Kate danced downstairs to +give<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[201]</a></span> her a prolonged hug, Salome felt ready for anything her cousins +might propose.</p> + +<p>"The boys are going to be so condescending as to walk with us," Kate +said. "We are all going to Stoke Canon to get daffodils. I thought you +would like that, as you have an eye for beauty, as Aunt Betha says. +Digby is to bring Reginald home to luncheon, and we are to start at two +o'clock. But come upstairs now. I have got a new hat, and I want your +advice about it."</p> + +<p>"May we come and get daffodils, Katie?" pleaded Edith's little voice.</p> + +<p>"Certainly not; run away, children."</p> + +<p>"Let Edith come, Katie, Edith and Maude," Salome said.</p> + +<p>"Oh no, they will only be a bother; besides, we are going too far for +them."</p> + +<p>"You must come to tea with Hans and Carl next Saturday," Salome said, +"if Aunt Anna will allow you."</p> + +<p>"Oh, that will be nice!" exclaimed the children. "Now, do come and see +Guy and Aunt Betha."</p> + +<p>Poor little Guy lay extended on his sofa, while Aunt Betha was busy with +some new table-linen, which she was marking in the old-fashioned way +with red marking thread.</p> + +<p>Guy's pale face beamed with delight as Salome<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[202]</a></span> came into the room. Poor +suffering little one! he had not much variety in his life, and Salome's +visits were always hailed by him as a great event. She told him a story +sometimes, every detail of which he would drink in with hungry +eagerness. Salome was a favourite with Aunt Betha as well as with little +Guy, and she turned to her with a bright smile of welcome on her +pleasant old face, taking off her spectacles and rubbing her eyes.</p> + +<p>"I am getting past this fine marking," she said, "though I don't think +that dinner napkin is amiss," holding it up for admiration.</p> + +<p>"I wonder you take the trouble, auntie," Katie said. "Every one writes +on linen now-a-days. Mamma says it is quite old-fashioned. Do give it +up."</p> + +<p>"No, my dear," said Aunt Betha half sadly. "I am an old-fashioned +person, and I could never bear to see beautiful linen inked all over +with blotted scrawls. No new fashion would make me believe that this is +not the best plan. That mark will last long after I am in my grave. I am +not ashamed of my handiwork, I can tell you."</p> + +<p>Salome had taken up the table-napkin and was admiring the three +well-shaped letters L. E. W. and the neat figures beneath, the number +and the year, when Guy's little voice was raised in appeal.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[203]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Cousin 'Lome,"—his nearest approach to Salome's name—"<i>do</i> come and +talk to Guy; tell about when you were a little girl, at your big +house—tell about the bridge."</p> + +<p>"A little girl!" thought Aunt Betha, as she saw Salome's slight, almost +child-like figure bending over Guy. "She is but a child now, so young +and delicate-looking, and not one to breast many of the storms of this +troublesome world."</p> + +<p>The boys came in to dinner in good time; and about two o'clock the happy +party of four cousins set off for the Stoke Canon Woods.</p> + +<p>Digby and Reginald were now fast friends; and Kate held to her first +affection for Salome. Salome enjoyed Kate for a time, her sharp speeches +and rippling fun were amusing at intervals; but she often thought that +she would not care always to live with Kate, or skim over the surface of +everything as she did.</p> + +<p>The daffodils were in their full glory in a field and orchard beyond +Stoke Canon Woods. Many poets of every age have sung their praises; but +who can really convey any idea of their loveliness as they bend their +beautiful heads to the crisp breeze as it passes over them, and catch +the sunlight on their pale golden cups?</p> + +<p>"Oh, take them gently!" Salome exclaimed, as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[204]</a></span> the boys rushed upon them, +eager to fill the girls' baskets for them. "Take them gently; don't +break one off too short," she said, bending down and gathering the +flowers with a tender hand. "Look at the fringe on this one; and oh, +Kate, just see how deep it is, and how perfect the leaves are."</p> + +<p>"Oh yes; but I like primroses better when they are gathered, and +bluebells. The Stoke Woods are filled with bluebells in May."</p> + +<p>"Hallo!" exclaimed Digby, "there's Percival and his elder brother. When +he was at the college they used to be called—"</p> + +<p>"You shouldn't tell school nicknames; it is not fair," Reginald +exclaimed. "Come down here, Percival," he shouted, for the field and +orchard lay a little below the level of the road. "Come down and speak +to us, Percival."</p> + +<p>Percival obeyed, and his brother remained standing on the bank above.</p> + +<p>Salome gave him one quick glance, and all the bright colour left her +face. He saw and understood, and, following his younger brother, came +down and said,—</p> + +<p>"Introduce me to your friends, Robert."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I forgot you did not know them, Phil. Miss Wilton and Miss Salome +Wilton."</p> + +<p>Philip Percival bowed with a pleasant smile, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[205]</a></span> stooped to gather some +of the flowers almost as gently as Salome herself.</p> + +<p>"I must take some to my father," he said. "They will please him; he has +a craving for bright colours, and daffodils more than any flower seem to +fill the house with light."</p> + +<p>"Yes," Salome said; "I do love them so much; they are like bits of +spring sunshine."</p> + +<p>Then, as the party all walked on together, Philip talked of many things; +and Kate seemed to amuse him as much as she did Salome, for he often +laughed merrily at her sharp sallies.</p> + +<p>The Percivals returned with the Wiltons, and they had what Aunt Betha +always liked to prepare for them—a school-room tea: a glass dish of +jam, a pile of hot cakes and—a departure from the usual order—of +Dorset butter. Fresh white butter was a luxury not known every day in +Mrs. Wilton's school-room or nursery.</p> + +<p>"This is jolly," said Kate, "if only there are chairs enough to hold us +all.—No, don't sit on that, Mr. Percival; it has long been shaky on one +leg.—Run, Edith, and get some more chairs. And you three little ones +may all come, only you must not make yourselves 'jammy,' or what will +Aunt Betha say?"</p> + +<p>"I think I shall go and have my tea with Guy, if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[206]</a></span> you don't mind very +much," Salome said. "Poor little boy, he must wish he could come here."</p> + +<p>"Nonsense, Salome! Pray don't be so silly," Kate said. "Let Edith take +him some hot cake, and he will be content."</p> + +<p>But Salome went off, little Edith following her; and Guy's delighted +welcome was a sufficient reward.</p> + +<p>"Oh, Cousin 'Lome, if only you could live with me! Do tell me another +story."</p> + +<p>Aunt Betha took the opportunity of Salome's presence to slip downstairs +to watch some operations in the kitchen, and Salome and Guy were left +together. She fed him with little bits of cake, and repeated to him some +verses which fascinated the sick child, and he made her say them over +and over again;—the story of the two little birds told by Mrs. Fowler +in her beautiful book called "Our Children's Story,"—a story in its +sweet musical rhythm which has touched many hearts besides little Guy +Wilton's.</p> + +<p>Salome wished she could have one word with Philip Percival—one word to +say that the ten pounds would be so soon in her possession. But the +opportunity was not forthcoming. Salome tripped gaily home with Reginald +in the soft spring twilight, her basket of daffodils in her hand, and a +feeling of joy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[207]</a></span> in her heart, which beamed in her sweet face as she went +into the drawing-room at Elm Cottage.</p> + +<p>"Look, mother! look, Hans and Carl—"</p> + +<p>But the joy faded out of her face and changed to anxious foreboding as +Mrs. Wilton said, brokenly,—</p> + +<p>"I am so glad you are come. Send the children away; don't let Reginald +come. I want to speak to you alone."</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[208]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XV" id="CHAPTER_XV"></a>CHAPTER XV.</h2> + +<h3>LOST!</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcps">"<span class="dropcap">S</span></span>END the children away!" The words recalled that first day of +sorrow—eight months before.</p> + +<p>"Salome, I have lost the necklet set with emeralds, which really belongs +to you. When we first settled in here, I looked over all my personal +jewels, and everything was right. This afternoon, when I came in from +the vicarage, I opened my large dressing-case to look for a ring I +thought I would sell, and the necklet was gone! Salome, do you, <i>can</i> you +imagine the Pryors are dishonest?" Salome looked bewildered for a +moment, and then the terrible suspicion, which was almost a certainty, +flashed upon her. "Salome, do you think the Pryors can have been +dishonest? Do you think we are living in a den of thieves? There is no +one but Stevens and the Pryors who ever go about the house. It must lie +between them."</p> + +<p><a name="illus219" id="illus219"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 391px;"> +<img src="images/illus219.png" width="391" height="600" alt="" title="'Salome, I have lost the necklet'" /> +</div> + +<p>"Mother!" exclaimed Salome, "Stevens! How can you say so?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[209]</a></span></p> + +<p>"What <i>am</i> I to say or think, Salome? The necklet is old-fashioned, but +it is very valuable. They are fine emeralds, and, I daresay, worth sixty +or seventy pounds. I was very foolish to keep it here; I ought to have +sent it to your Uncle Loftus to put in his plate-chest, or to the bank. +Salome, have you nothing to advise or to say? Shall I question Stevens?"</p> + +<p>Salome was taking the daffodils one by one from the basket, and did not +speak for a moment.</p> + +<p>"No, mother; do not question anybody yet; let us wait. It is so dreadful +to suspect innocent people. Are you quite sure the necklet was in that +large dressing-case? Have you looked through the little one?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, over and over again. I know I am not mistaken. I was thinking of a +ring which belonged to an uncle of mine which I do not value; and I +thought if I sold it I might get a few pounds for the boys. Reginald +would like to go to Westmoreland this Easter, and it is so hard to have +no spare money. Raymond, too, wants five pounds,—so much, though I fear +he is very extravagant."</p> + +<p>Salome started as her mother was speaking, for Raymond came in. It was +Thursday, the day for the early closing of the offices in Harstone, and +Mrs. Wilton said,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[210]</a></span>—</p> + +<p>"This has been a lovely afternoon. Where have you been?"</p> + +<p>"I came in here about three o'clock and found everybody out, so I went +off again. I thought you might have liked a drive, mother, and I could +have hired a little trap for a trifle. Where had you flown to?"</p> + +<p>"Only to the vicarage. How kind of you to think of me. Look at Salome's +daffodils! But I have had a most unpleasant loss, Raymond,—do not +mention it to the little ones or to Reginald. I have missed something of +value out of my large jewel-box—that old gold necklet set with +emeralds."</p> + +<p>"I thought that was Salome's," Raymond said, taking up the newspaper, +and sitting down with it on the sofa, soon appeared to be absorbed in +it.</p> + +<p>Salome went on quietly arranging her daffodils, and then as quietly left +the room. She went upstairs to her mother's room, and then, after much +thought and prayer, determined to speak at once to Raymond. For how +could she doubt that he had taken the necklet? A shudder of pity and +deep pain at this deed of her brother's thrilled through her. But it +seemed all clear. The necklet was hers, and he had talked to her about +it; and she had said, when he asked if it could be sold, "I do not know +if it would be right." Then there arose before her the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[211]</a></span> past six months, +and the pains she had taken to cover her brother's sin. Had she been +right to do this? Would it not have been better to have gone direct to +her Uncle Loftus and confided in him?</p> + +<p>Poor Salome! The same doubts and fears have at times beset us all; and +the question is a hard one to answer. Desire to shield those we love +from exposure may not be the truest kindness to them, and yet loving +hearts shrink from inflicting pain, especially when, as in Salome's +case, the frank avowal of Raymond's sin must bring sorrow on his mother, +already so heavily tried and burdened with grief and trouble.</p> + +<p>But Salome was now determined to be brave, as far as Raymond himself was +concerned; and that night, when her mother and Reginald had both gone to +their rooms, she tapped gently at Raymond's door, and said,—</p> + +<p>"Please let me in. I want to speak to you."</p> + +<p>The door was opened at once, and Raymond, looking straight at his +sister, said,—</p> + +<p>"Well, what is the matter?"</p> + +<p>"Raymond," Salome said, closing the door behind her and clasping her +little hands tightly together, "I am come to speak to you about my +necklet set with emeralds."</p> + +<p>"You had better have up Pryor, and—"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[212]</a></span></p> + +<p>He faltered, for Salome's clear, steadfast eyes were fixed on his face +as if she could read his thoughts.</p> + +<p>"Raymond, I believe you have taken my necklet out of mother's large +dressing-case! Why did you do so by stealth and like a thief?"</p> + +<p>"Come now, Salome—no insults. How dare you speak like that?"</p> + +<p>"Raymond," the brave girl went on, "I am certain you took the necklet; +and you must tell mother to-morrow morning, and not allow innocent +people to be accused. What have you done with the money? Have you paid +Mr. Percival? Raymond, I mean to be answered, and I shall wait here till +you speak."</p> + +<p>"You may wait all night, then; and"—putting on a great Inverness cape +over his coat and seating himself coolly in a chair—"you will find it +very cold here in this horrid little room."</p> + +<p>"I shall go to Uncle Loftus early to-morrow morning and tell him +everything from first to last. I have been wrong to conceal it all this +time, and I mean now to tell Uncle Loftus everything. If father were +alive, <i>he</i> would be told; and Uncle Loftus is our guardian, and has +been very kind to you."</p> + +<p>"Kind! nonsense," Raymond said. "I don't see his kindness."</p> + +<p>"Well, Raymond, I shall tell him everything to-morrow—about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[213]</a></span> your +debts, and all the trouble you have caused, and—"</p> + +<p>"That I stole your necklet, and made a fortune by it. Just like you, to +jump at conclusions."</p> + +<p>This was grateful, after all that she had done for him. But natures like +Raymond's are almost incapable of gratitude.</p> + +<p>"Where is my necklet? tell me that, Raymond."</p> + +<p>"Well, if you must know, I did take it to Moore's in St. Michael's Green +to-day to have it valued. I found mother's keys on her dressing-table, +and took a look into the box. You know I asked you about the necklet, +and so don't put on that surprised face."</p> + +<p>"I shall go to Moore's to-morrow and bring back the necklet," said +Salome decidedly; "and I shall tell mother about it. It is only fair and +right. Suspicion has fallen on the Pryors, and I must do it. I know I am +right," she said confidently. "I shall get up very early to-morrow and +go down into Harstone."</p> + +<p>"What stuff! I will bring the thing back. Moore won't give it up to you; +besides, the shops are not open till past eight. Don't be foolish, +Salome."</p> + +<p>"Raymond," she said, "please listen to me, and make a full confession of +everything to mother and Uncle Loftus. Make a new beginning. O Raymond!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[214]</a></span> +think of our father—think of bringing dishonour on his name! Dear +Raymond," she said, breaking down into tears, "I am so miserable about +you; you might be such a comfort to mother and to me, and—"</p> + +<p>Raymond was touched at last. He put his arm round his sister and said,—</p> + +<p>"Don't cry, Salome. You see a fellow has heaps of things to do with his +money that you know nothing of, and—still I will try to get out of +Harstone. I shall never do any good in that hateful office. Come, don't +cry. I will go down with you to-morrow and get that wretched necklet. I +wish I had never heard of it."</p> + +<p>She saw she could do no more that night, and left him, to creep into her +mother's room, stifling her sobs, after exacting from Raymond a promise +to be ready to go down to Harstone with her at half-past seven the next +morning.</p> + +<p>"I think Raymond's room is very cold," she said, as she lay down on her +little bed by her mother, who was sleeping quietly; "I am shivering so. +I hope I shall not wake mother."</p> + +<p>The shivering was followed by heat and restlessness, and then Salome +heard the clock of St. Luke's Church strike twelve, then +one—two—three. She could not sleep. About five o'clock the wind began +to rise and moan, then splashes of rain came against<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[215]</a></span> the window, and +the March morning broke in storm and flood. Salome got up noiselessly as +soon as it was light, and with eyes heavy from sleeplessness, and a +heart heavier with shame and anxiety, dressed, and went softly down the +passage to Raymond's room. She was anxious to avoid all observation, and +to her great relief Raymond appeared, in answer to her tap at his door, +in his ulster.</p> + +<p>"It's an awful morning, Salome; you had better let me go alone."</p> + +<p>"Oh no, no," she said eagerly.</p> + +<p>"Well, it is so early; and look how it is pouring cats and dogs! We had +better give up such a wild-goose chase. I'll bring back the thing all +right. Can't you trust me?"</p> + +<p>"No; I can't, I can't," said Salome. "Besides, mother will begin to +examine the Pryors and Stevens, and that will only make it worse for +every one. Make haste, Raymond. I hear Stevens. <i>Do</i> come!"</p> + +<p>In another moment they were out in the wild, stormy morning. Could it be +the same world, Salome felt ready to ask herself—the smiling, sunny +world of yesterday, when she had set out so happily to Edinburgh +Crescent? Then her head ached dreadfully, and her back too, and her +cheeks were hot. It was almost a relief to feel the cold drops of rain<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[216]</a></span> +which came against them every time a great blast came and hurled her +umbrella on one side.</p> + +<p>"The trams will be running when we come back," Raymond said. "Had not +you better go back, Sal? It is making such a fuss; and you will get +cold."</p> + +<p>Salome only said, "I must come with you," and struggled on.</p> + +<p>It was past eight when they reached Mr. Moore's shop. The shutters were +taken down, and the shop was being dusted and swept.</p> + +<p>Mr. Moore was an old-fashioned tradesman, but of good repute; and though +his shop was small, he dealt only in the very best jewellery and plate. +A young man with light hair was behind the counter, and looked with +surprise at these early customers as Raymond advanced to the counter, +all dripping as he was, with the little shivering figure by his side.</p> + +<p>"I left a case here yesterday. I want to take it away again. Where is +Mr. Moore?"</p> + +<p>"Mr. Moore is not come into town yet," said the young man. "He will not +be here till ten o'clock."</p> + +<p>"You can let me have the necklet, I suppose? Old gold filigree, set in +emeralds. I left it here to be valued."</p> + +<p>The young man went to a book, and ran his finger down the last +page—"'Mr. Stephens—necklet, set with emeralds.'—Yes; here it is."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[217]</a></span></p> + +<p>"That is not right," said Salome. "That can't be yours."</p> + +<p>"Be quiet," said Raymond, in an angry whisper.—"Yes; that is it. I will +take it, if you please."</p> + +<p>There was still a little hesitation in the man's manner. "Mr. +Stephens—is that right?" There was a scarcely perceptible glance at +Salome as he spoke.</p> + +<p>He produced the case, and opening it, said, "They are very fine +emeralds. The value would be from sixty to eighty pounds."</p> + +<p>Raymond took the case up, closed the spring, and, saying "Good morning," +was leaving the shop; but the shopman followed him.</p> + +<p>"I think it would be more satisfactory, sir, if you signed your name in +this book, and address."</p> + +<p>Raymond was perplexed for a moment, but only for a moment.</p> + +<p>"The necklet is this young lady's property," he said.—"Sign your name, +Salome."</p> + +<p>The girl took the pen into her trembling fingers and wrote:—"Salome +Mary Wilton, Elm Cottage, Elm Fields, near Harstone."</p> + +<p>"A relation of Dr. Wilton's, I presume?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," said Salome. "Dr. Wilton is my uncle."</p> + +<p>The man's manner became instantly very respectful.</p> + +<p>"It is a very wet morning, Miss Wilton. Shall I call a cab?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[218]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh no, no, thank you," Salome said, hurrying away. But Raymond was +frightened at her pale face; it haunted him for many and many a day.</p> + +<p>"Yes; we must take a cab. You can't possibly walk back."</p> + +<p>"The tram," Salome said,—"the tram; it will be cheaper."</p> + +<p>She was very wet, and shivering perceptibly.</p> + +<p>At last the corner was reached from whence the tram started. Raymond was +thankful to put his sister into the tram; and if ever he repented what +he had done, it was at that moment.</p> + +<p>"O Raymond, Raymond! how could you say your name was Stephens?"</p> + +<p>Raymond felt ashamed of himself as those pure, truthful eyes met his.</p> + +<p>"My name is Stephen, isn't it, Salome? Don't make me out worse than I +am. I am awfully sorry, and I shall go and see Uncle Loftus for your +sake. O Sal, I hope you have not got cold, you look so horridly white."</p> + +<p>Poor Salome struggled to keep calm; and was received by Stevens at the +door with exclamations of angry surprise,—</p> + +<p>"Going out in a storm like this, getting your death of cold! I have no +sort of patience with you, that I haven't."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[219]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Oh! don't, don't scold me, Stevens. It is all right now;" and running +upstairs, she went into her mother's room, laid the case on the table, +and said, "There is the necklet; it was not stolen—it was not. Put it +back in the box; and, dear mother, will you please say no more till—"</p> + +<p>The sentence was unfinished, and poor Salome fell forward on the bed +where her mother was lying—fainting, for the first time in her life. +Her mother rang the bell, and Stevens came hurrying in, raised her head, +and took off her wet cloak, and her hat, which loosened all the thick +masses of hair falling over her like a cloud.</p> + +<p>"What is it? What can be the matter?" said Mrs. Wilton. "O Stevens, send +for Dr. Wilton. Call Reg."</p> + +<p>"She is faint with galloping off before breakfast, I don't know what +for, I am sure. She is a slave to other people, and that is the truth. +It was to please Master Raymond she went out in all the rain and storm, +you may depend."</p> + +<p>Salome soon recovered consciousness, and looking up at her mother's +anxious face, which was bending over her, she said,—</p> + +<p>"I think it will all come right now, mother; I do indeed. Put the +necklet away, and Ray will tell you all about it. I wish—I wish I did +not feel so giddy," she said, as she tried to rise.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[220]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Don't try to get up, my darling—my dear child," her mother said. "O +Salome! what should I do without you? Stevens is gone for a cup of hot +coffee, and you must lie still."</p> + +<p>"Put the necklet back into the dressing-case, mother," Salome repeated. +"No one but you and I need ever know. Is it not odd I tremble so? I +suppose I must lie quiet to-day."</p> + +<p>They undressed her and put her to bed; and there, at twelve o'clock, her +uncle found her—with her temperature very high, her head aching, and +every sign of coming illness, of what nature Dr. Wilton could not then +determine.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[221]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVI" id="CHAPTER_XVI"></a>CHAPTER XVI.</h2> + +<h3>THE CONSEQUENCE.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcps"><span class="dropcap">S</span></span>ALOME'S illness proved to be rheumatic fever. She was in great pain, +and often delirious—wandering in thought to her old home and her +childhood, and talking incessantly of the emerald necklet and money and +debts, and the troubles which had by her brother's selfishness shadowed +her young life, and weighed her down prematurely with the sorrows of +older people.</p> + +<p>Her mother understood but little of these feverish wanderings. But there +was one in that house in whose ear his sister's voice rang with a pain +which he never felt before.</p> + +<p>Reginald was miserable and lonely. The little ones—whom in a bad day of +restlessness and fever Dr. Wilton had hurried off in his carriage to +Aunt Betha, who begged to be allowed to have them, saying she would be +answerable they were in nobody's way—were continually asking when +Salome would be well. Mrs. Wilton sat hour after hour in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[222]</a></span> the sick room, +almost paralyzed with the fear of losing this precious child. Stevens, +dear faithful Stevens would go away to hide her grief when the moans of +pain were more grievous, or when Salome would talk as if she were in the +old nursery at Maplestone, and address Ada or her father as if present. +All these tender and loving hearts were wrung with sorrow and distress; +but Raymond's pain was far greater than any of these. Mrs. Atherton and +her son were unable to reach him with a word of comfort. He went +sullenly off to the office, and returned with a look of utter misery on +his face every afternoon, only to hear the same report—"She is no +better."</p> + +<p>One Sunday morning he was up and dressed in time, and Reginald walked +with him to church. The two brothers had been so much separated since +early childhood that there was little sympathy between them. But this +grief about Salome seemed to draw them together.</p> + +<p>"How is your sister? How is the young lady?" Ruth asked, as they passed +her door.</p> + +<p>"No better, thank you," Reginald replied.</p> + +<p>"What's the use of asking?" Frank Pryor said. "Mother says she is taken +for death, and you know it."</p> + +<p>"I don't know it," said Ruth impatiently. "I don't<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[223]</a></span> give up hope. It is +not my way. I leave that despairing about everybody and everything to +your mother and you. There, Frank, I don't mean to be cross, but I feel +as if I should break my heart if that child died;" and Ruth burst into +tears. Puck sprang to her, whining and crying, and showing by every +possible sign that he sympathized with the general sorrow for Salome.</p> + +<p>The two brothers walked on to church, and when their sister's name was +read in the list of those for whom their prayers were desired, it was +not lost on them that Mr. Atherton added, "who is dangerously ill." The +name, with the significant words, came as a sort of spoken declaration +of the fear in both boys' hearts, and a deep sob from Raymond was heard +by a man kneeling behind him, and understood. That man was Philip +Percival. He waited at the door of the church after service, and gave +the hand of both brothers a fervent pressure.</p> + +<p>To his surprise Raymond said, "I want to speak with you, Percival. Will +you come in?"</p> + +<p>The two young men were going into the desolate sitting-room, where the +daffodils, gathered ten days before, were hanging their pretty heads, +all shrivelled and forlorn.</p> + +<p>"The flower fadeth," thought Philip Percival, as he recalled the bright +afternoon and the sunshine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[224]</a></span> glowing on the daffodils and on the plaits +of hair gathered round the small shapely head, as it bent over the +treasures in the basket.</p> + +<p>Reginald was following his brother and Philip Percival, when Raymond +turned quickly towards him.</p> + +<p>"Wait a few minutes, Reg, if you don't mind. I want to speak to Percival +alone."</p> + +<p>Reginald obeyed without a word, and sitting down on a stool in the +passage, buried his face in his hands, trying to shut out the sound of +the ringing voice above, as it called, "Yes, father; I am coming. Oh! +look at the chestnut tree, all in flower, not buds, as I thought."</p> + +<p>Then the door above was closed, and Stevens came down, in her hand a +large paper parcel. She was crying bitterly.</p> + +<p>"I have just cut it all off," she said. "Did you ever see such hair? Oh! +the pretty darling. I can remember it when she was three years old—how +the people would turn round to look at it when she walked down the +village. O Master Reg, my dear, my heart will break if we lose her! And +we <i>shall</i> lose her, I believe."</p> + +<p>Reginald did not speak. After one look at the great mass of golden brown +hair, he turned almost impatiently away, and went upstairs to his own +room.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[225]</a></span></p> + +<p>I cannot write what passed between Philip Percival and Raymond; but when +Stevens came to call him to dinner, he seemed not to hear her. Philip +Percival was standing by the empty fire-place, and, rousing himself, +went up to Raymond, saying,—</p> + +<p>"Good-bye; I am going now."</p> + +<p>"Wait and see Reginald. You must wait and dine with us."</p> + +<p>"You can tell Reginald alone; it will be less painful."</p> + +<p>"No," Raymond said; "I would rather you were present."</p> + +<p>Reginald, whom Stevens had summoned, now came down, and Raymond said,—</p> + +<p>"Reginald, I have borrowed money from Percival I had no means of +repaying. I was so cowardly as to let her—Salome—bear the whole burden +of it. She met him and asked him to spare me exposure; and he did, for +her sake. It might have been better if he had come down on me then. But +it is no use looking back. I am going to see Uncle Loftus and tell him +the whole truth, and perhaps he will help me out of the difficulty. But, +Reginald, the worst part is yet to come. I caused Salome's illness by +dragging her down into Harstone to get a necklet of hers on which I was +trying to raise money. If she dies, it will lie at my door. Forgive me, +Reginald."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[226]</a></span></p> + +<p>Reginald turned away. He felt as if he could not look at his brother. +But Philip Percival said,—</p> + +<p>"Your sister would be the first to say 'Forgive him.' You know it. Shake +hands with your brother, and let us, you and I, do our best to help him +to keep his good resolutions."</p> + +<p>Reginald came back and held out his hand. Neither he nor Raymond could +speak, but the brothers were friends at last.</p> + +<p>A roll lying on the table now attracted Reginald. It was addressed to +"Miss Wilton, Elm Cottage, Elm Fields, Harstone."</p> + +<p>"What is that?" Raymond asked.</p> + +<p>Reginald looked for a moment, and then exclaimed:</p> + +<p>"I think I know. Yes—oh! poor Salome! it is her story."</p> + +<p>"Her story?"</p> + +<p>"I forgot no one knew but me. I don't understand this, though. It has +come back, after all, and I thought she said it was accepted. But this +is her writing."</p> + +<p>Reginald unrolled the parcel, and the little kernel, so familiar to +authors, of the proof-sheets enclosed in the husk of the manuscript fell +out.</p> + +<p>Philip Percival picked them up. "Take care of them," he said; "it is all +right. These are the first proofs, sent for correction with the +manuscript.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[227]</a></span> Take care of them; and you ought to write to the publisher +and tell him they are received, and will be corrected."</p> + +<p>"Corrected!" exclaimed Reginald. "I do not know how to correct them. +What do you mean?"</p> + +<p>"I have had some little experience in this way," said Philip Percival; +"and if you will trust me, I will go over them and do my best till—till +your sister is well enough to do it herself."</p> + +<p>"Thank you," said Reginald. "I don't think Salome would mind your having +them; indeed, I don't see what else is to be done."</p> + +<p>Philip rolled up the manuscript and sheets, and, putting them in his +pocket, said "Good-bye," and was gone.</p> + +<p>"He is the best fellow that ever lived," Reginald said; "and he is +awfully fond of her. Oh! how long is this to go on?" he exclaimed, as +the sound of Salome's voice reached them from the room above, in the +rapid, unnatural tones so full of painful foreboding to the ears of +those who have to listen to them hour after hour, with no respite but +the occasional lull of heavy, unrefreshing slumber.</p> + +<p>Dr. Wilton was surprised that same Sunday afternoon to see Raymond +ushered into his consulting-room.</p> + +<p>"Is there any change since the morning? I am coming in at seven o'clock. +What is it?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[228]</a></span></p> + +<p>"No; Salome is just the same. I am come, Uncle Loftus, to tell you how +ashamed I am of myself. I daresay you will cut me for ever, but I am so +miserable that I hope you won't be hard on me."</p> + +<p>He did indeed look miserable; it was difficult to recognize him for the +self-sufficient, handsome young man whom Dr. Wilton had often felt too +provoked with to speak patiently to him.</p> + +<p>The whole sad story was told. It was a step in the right direction; it +was a hopeful sign; and Dr. Wilton felt it to be so.</p> + +<p>"I don't think I shall ever get straight in Harstone, Uncle Loftus. If I +could go away and begin fresh."</p> + +<p>"Your debts must be paid. I must consult the other guardians and +trustees. Perhaps there may be some arrangement. But, Raymond my boy, +change of place won't effect a cure in itself. Only yesterday Warde told +me he did not wish to keep you in the office; he did not care to treat +you harshly, for your father's sake, but he says you simply do nothing, +and it is a bad example to the other clerks. It is very sad, Raymond; +you ought to have been a comfort to your poor mother and sister."</p> + +<p>Raymond faltered out, "I will do anything you think best now, Uncle +Loftus. Do you think Salome will get well?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[229]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I cannot say, my boy. Such cases do sometimes pull through; but the +poor child is very ill—dangerously ill. I am going to take Mr. Masters +to see her this evening. Still we must keep up heart and hope. Come and +see your brothers and your Aunt Anna and your cousins."</p> + +<p>"No, thanks, not now," Raymond said; "I must go back."</p> + +<p>As Raymond was going towards Elm Fields he met one of those idle young +men whose society had been so unwholesome for him.</p> + +<p>"Come and have a pipe and a glass of brandy and soda. You look awfully +down in the mouth, Wilton."</p> + +<p>But Raymond passed on, saying, "Not to-day, thanks."</p> + +<p>"Oh, I say, are you in a great scrape? Don't be sulky, old fellow. Come +along."</p> + +<p>"No," Raymond said more decidedly; "my sister is very ill, and I am +going home."</p> + +<p>"Sister—which sister? the pretty one at Cannes?"</p> + +<p>"No; my eldest sister. This is my way," he said, glad to escape from +what was, now at least, most uncongenial company.</p> + +<p>When he reached Elm Cottage, Stevens met him.</p> + +<p>"She is herself now, and she keeps asking for you."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[230]</a></span></p> + +<p>"I can't see her; it will kill me."</p> + +<p>"Don't talk like that, Master Raymond. Go to the dear lamb at once; she +is asking for you every minute."</p> + +<p>Ah, what a sore pain is remorse! Raymond Wilton will never forget the +sight of his sister as she lay before him, her hair—that beautiful, +luxuriant hair—all gone, her large, pathetic, wistful eyes turned to +him as he came in.</p> + +<p>"Raymond, dear Raymond," she whispered, "I wanted to tell you how I love +you."</p> + +<p><a name="illus241" id="illus241"></a></p> +<div class="figcenter" style="width: 384px;"> +<img src="images/illus241.png" width="384" height="600" alt="" title="'Raymond,' whispered Salome" /> +</div> + +<p>He expected to hear something very different to this,—entreaty to be +good; to begin life afresh; to give up all his selfish indulgence. But +no; Salome had not strength for this; she could repeat only,—</p> + +<p>"Dear Raymond, I love you; and the Lord Jesus loves you, and is quite +ready to forgive all. Please ask him. Kiss me, Raymond, and let me see +you kiss mother."</p> + +<p>He obeyed; and then, as he held his poor mother in a close embrace, +Salome whispered,—</p> + +<p>"I am happy now. Good-bye, Raymond; I can't talk any more."</p> + +<p>Who shall say what this love of the stricken child did for the wayward, +sinning brother? It seemed to him the very reflection of the highest and +greatest love of the all-loving One who loved <i>all</i> unto death.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[231]</a></span></p> + +<p>Raymond slowly left the room, walked as if in a dream to the silent, +deserted sitting-room, and with sobs and tears prayed for forgiveness to +Him who is ever pitiful and full of mercy—who welcomes back the +wanderer with the fulness of forgiveness, seeing him even while yet a +great way off, and <i>coming out to meet him</i>. I think He went forth to +meet the poor sinful boy in the quiet of the spring evening; and He will +lead him, blind as he is, by a way that he knows not.</p> + +<p>Patient continuance in well-doing: how sure is the reward. If it tarry, +wait for it. If the hope is deferred, and the heart sick, yet shall the +faithful and patient ones know at last that the granted desire is as the +tree of life.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[232]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVII" id="CHAPTER_XVII"></a>CHAPTER XVII.</h2> + +<h3>A DREAM.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcps"><span class="dropcap">S</span></span>UMMER was in its first fresh beauty, and lilacs and hawthorns were +filling the air with their fragrance. Laburnums waved their golden +tassels in the soft breeze, and the blue skies of early June were like +those which Lady Monroe said they had left behind them in the Riviera. +She had returned with Eva and Ada; and Mrs. Wilton had the pleasure of +hearing from her that the plan had fully answered. Ada had been +everything that Eva wanted as a companion, and Lady Monroe begged to +keep her for the present till Salome was quite well again.</p> + +<p>Dear little Salome! She had struggled through fever and pain, and was +lying on this lovely afternoon by the open window of the little +sitting-room at Elm Cottage,—a pale, faint, shadow-like Salome indeed, +but with returning light in her beautiful eyes and a tinge of colour on +her cheeks. Her legs were as yet all but useless; the cruel rheumatism +had attacked<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[233]</a></span> them with terrible force; but it was easy for Stevens and +Ruth to carry that little light figure downstairs, and every day now she +came into the sitting-room, which was filled with flowers brought +continually from Lady Monroe's conservatory by Eva and Ada.</p> + +<p>On this particular June afternoon Salome was alone. Her mother had gone +for a drive with Lady Monroe and Eva, while Ada was spending the day +with Louise and Kate Wilton. Hans and Carl were now sent to a school for +little boys in the neighbourhood, and were on this afternoon gone to +watch the cricket at the college ground, where Reginald was +distinguishing himself and proving himself worthy of his Rugby training. +Salome was very happy; a sweet, peaceful calm seemed to surround her. +Everything was so lovely; that little piece of sky above the laburnum at +the gate, how beautiful she thought it was; and how kind of Ruth Pryor +to bring in such a dainty little afternoon tea. Even Mrs. Pryor tried to +look a little more cheerful to suit the summer radiance, and did not +shake her head and sigh as she came in to see if the sun was shining on +the carpet; but when Salome said, "I love the sunshine, Mrs. Pryor," she +forbore to shut it out, and only laid down a sheet of the <i>Daily News</i> +on the particular place on the floor where the sun lay.</p> + +<p>Mrs. Pryor had just completed this arrangement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[234]</a></span> when a knock at the door +made her toddle off to open it. In another minute she returned.</p> + +<p>"Here is a gentleman wishes to see you, Miss Wilton."</p> + +<p>"Mr. Atherton? oh! ask him to come in."</p> + +<p>"No, Miss Wilton, it's not Mr. Atherton. He has been here often enough, +I should have shown him in; but this is the gentleman who, regular as +clock-work, all the time you were so bad, came at half-past eight every +morning, and walked down to Harstone with Mr. Raymond, and always the +last thing at night would come to the shop and hear how you was."</p> + +<p>Salome in vain tried to stop Mrs. Pryor's long speech. Mrs. Pryor was, +when once unwound, like an alarum, obliged to run off.</p> + +<p>"It must be Mr. Percival. Yes; ask him to come in, Mrs. Pryor, please."</p> + +<p>Salome had another moment's suspense, and then Philip Percival came in, +quietly and to all appearance unconcerned, though his heart was beating +so that he could almost hear it, and his emotion at the sight of that +sweet pale face and large wistful eyes turned up to him was hard to +conceal.</p> + +<p>"I am so glad to see you downstairs, Miss Wilton," he began; "so very +glad."</p> + +<p>"I daresay you hardly know me," she said with a smile. "I have cut all +my hair, and Mrs. Pryor says<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[235]</a></span> I look like a starved robin. But I am +getting well now, and Uncle Loftus says I shall be able to walk soon, +though my legs are still very stiff."</p> + +<p>"I have brought you a book," Philip Percival said. "I thought I should +like to give it to you myself." And he unfastened a neat parcel, and +displayed a pretty book in a red and gilt cover.</p> + +<p>"Thank you," Salome said. "What is the title? 'Under the Cedars, by S. +M. W.' My book! Oh, I don't understand. How has it been done?"</p> + +<p>"When you were ill—very ill—last March, I happened to be here when the +first sheets came from the publishers. Your brothers could not correct +them, and as I have had a little experience with printers, I asked leave +to possess myself of them. I told Mr. Darte you were ill, and unable to +attend to them yourself, and that I was to act for you. I hope you do +not mind," he said half anxiously.</p> + +<p>"Mind! Oh, I am so grateful to you. It <i>is</i> a pretty book outside!" she +exclaimed with almost childish delight.</p> + +<p>"It is prettier inside than outside," Philip Percival said. "I feel as +if all the children were my particular friends; and as to the cedars, I +have sat under them, and know the two ring-doves that come and sing +their song to little Pamela."</p> + +<p>"Oh, you can't think how glad I am you like my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[236]</a></span> book; and—has Mr. Darte +sent the money? because you know it is <i>yours</i>, and I hope when I get +well to write another story better than this, and you shall have the +rest of the money then if you <i>can</i> wait."</p> + +<p>Philip Percival felt a choking sensation in his throat, and he could not +speak. And Salome, her face flushing rosy red, went on,—</p> + +<p>"I know it is a great deal to ask, and you have been so good and kind to +Raymond. He says, if ever he is worth anything it will be your doing."</p> + +<p>"<i>Yours</i> rather, I should say," Philip murmured.</p> + +<p>"I feel as if I could never, never repay you for all you have done," +Salome went on; "but you know I am grateful. We are all of us so +grateful to you. Raymond is quite different since he had you for a +friend, and he will do well now, I think."</p> + +<p>"I had something to say about Raymond. I am not tiring you, am I?" he +asked anxiously, for the bright colour had left her face and she laid +her head back on the cushions.</p> + +<p>"No, oh no; only pleasure is somehow as hard to bear as pain, in a +different way. I have so longed for the day when I could show mother and +the boys my book, and here it is. Only Reginald knew about it, and since +I have been better I have asked him if he had heard anything of the +publisher, and he has always said it was all right, he thought, and the +book<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[237]</a></span> would come out one day. He did not tell me <i>you</i> had done all this +for me."</p> + +<p>"Reginald can keep a secret," Philip said, "or he is not the boy I take +him for. Now, if you can listen without being too tired, I want to tell +you something about Raymond and me. Mr. Warde wishes to send me out to a +West India station in Barbadoes, to look after the business there and +superintend some change in the sugar-planting. He offers me a very good +salary, and I am to have a clerk, of course. Raymond thinks he should +like to go with me in that capacity, and I believe Dr. Wilton quite +approves the plan. Will Mrs. Wilton, and will you, approve also?"</p> + +<p>"I think it will be the very best thing for Raymond. I do not know what +poor mother will say about it, she is so fond of Raymond. Still, she +would bring herself in time to it. When would you go?"</p> + +<p>"The first week in July,—this day month."</p> + +<p>"Shall I tell mother about it when she comes in, or will you tell her?"</p> + +<p>"I think I shall ask you to tell Mrs. Wilton," he said, rising to leave +her. "Good-bye."</p> + +<p>"You will come and see me again very soon, won't you?"</p> + +<p>"If you wish it."</p> + +<p>"I do wish it very much," she said. "And then<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[238]</a></span> there is the money. Mr. +Darte will send it to me now, I suppose, if I write to him. Will you +come for it some day?"</p> + +<p>"No," he said, "I shall never come for that. If you wish to please me, +you will not mention that subject again; it hurts me and pains me. Let +us never speak of it again." He spoke vehemently, almost roughly, and +taking one of the little white thin hands in his, he said, "Give me one +of the books, and write my name in it; and do not forget me."</p> + +<p>The next minute he was gone, and Salome was left in a maze of delight, +surprise, and happiness, through which there seemed to run a golden +thread, bright and shining, as she repeated softly to herself, "So good, +so noble, so brave! And I think he cares for me, and I think—"</p> + +<p>What Salome thought I shall not write here, but leave her to her book +and her dream, while the sun, nearing the west, comes in at the open +window and touches the little short curls which cluster over her head +till they shine like the aureola round the foreheads of Fra Angelico's +maidens in the old pictures of a bygone time.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[239]</a></span></p> +<h2><a name="CHAPTER_XVIII" id="CHAPTER_XVIII"></a>CHAPTER XVIII.</h2> + +<h3>THE LAST.</h3> + + +<p class="txtidt"><span class="dcpt"><span class="dropcap">T</span></span>HE surprise and delight which the sight of "Under the Cedars" caused in +Elm Cottage I cannot describe. However many thousands of books are +written year by year, however many thousands are launched on the stream +to win popular favour, there is always a special charm and interest in +the first book written by one we love. It raises the person for the time +to an important place in the family; and though the poor little book may +soon be engulfed in this stream of which I speak, and lost to sight, or +beaten down by the lash of reviewers, or, worse still, left to die the +natural death of utter indifference, the author's position amongst her +own immediate friends is not altered by it.</p> + +<p>"Under the Cedars" was fresh and bright, full of imagination and that +subtle power which touches the commonplace with interest. It had many +faults—faults of youthful exuberance of fancy—faults of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[240]</a></span> construction; +but it deserved the praise of the local newspapers, which said it was +perfectly simple and pure in its style, and the descriptions of +child-life and nature alike true and unaffected. Then "Under the Cedars" +had the advantage of being well revised and corrected by an able hand. +It was well printed and well illustrated, and Hans and Carl danced about +with excited delight as they recognized their own portraits in two +knickerbockered boys of their own age.</p> + +<p>Ada laughed at this. "All little boys look alike," she said. "You don't +suppose the man who did the pictures knew anything about you or Salome."</p> + +<p>But Ada was none the less delighted to take back a copy to Eva Monroe on +the day when twelve presentation copies arrived from London. And Dr. +Wilton was pleased to show one to his wife.</p> + +<p>"That child has done something to be proud of though she is so +unpretending."</p> + +<p>All the cousins admired and applauded, and Digby was triumphant.</p> + +<p>"Did I not always tell you that Salome was awfully clever? Not one of us +could ever come up to her."</p> + +<p>Even Aunt Anna was pleased when a lady, of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[241]</a></span> whom she thought a great +deal, said, "I have bought a charming story for children, called 'Under +the Cedars.' Have you seen it?"</p> + +<p>It was something to take it from her writing-table and to say, "It is +written by a niece of mine, a very clever girl of seventeen. So young, +and so full of talent."</p> + +<p>Thus did dear little Salome win praise, and in her simple heart this was +all as nothing to the joy of feeling that she had helped to lift the +burden of care from those she loved.</p> + +<p>Raymond sailed with Philip Percival, and was full of spirit and pleasure +at the change. It was grief to his mother to lose him, but when she saw +how happy he was in the prospect, she was comforted.</p> + +<p>Raymond was improved and daily improving, but naturally selfish people +do not suddenly become unselfish, and the whole complexion of a life is +not changed with one sudden impulse. But he had really awakened to some +sense of responsibility, and the continually good influence of Philip +Percival kept up the impression of the past which might have otherwise +died out.</p> + +<p>When the parting was over, and the letters from Barbadoes came +regularly, Mrs. Wilton began to feel the relief of knowing that Raymond +was out of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[242]</a></span> temptation and happy in the change of scene and people.</p> + +<p>A bright prospect opened out to Philip Percival. He settled the affairs +on the sugar-plantation with great skill, and returned in the spring +with an account of what he had done so satisfactory to the partners in +the large concern, that he had a permanent appointment with a large +salary, and Raymond was to remain with him for another year.</p> + +<p>"Then I shall come back," Philip said to Salome, "and ask you a +question."</p> + +<p>They were walking together from Roxburgh one beautiful May evening. +Salome had been to spend the day with his mother, his last day in +England, at his special request.</p> + +<p>"The question has been on my lips many times," he said, "since the +night—so long ago now—when I picked up this, which a careless person +dropped in the road." He took out of his pocket a large case which held +his letters, and drew from it a handkerchief. "Look," he said, "whose +property is this?"</p> + +<p>"My handkerchief! I remember I dropped it that afternoon, and how +Stevens scolded me and said I should lose my head next."</p> + +<p>"Well," Philip said, "I lost my heart then, and kept the handkerchief as +a compensation. Do you understand?"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[243]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Yes," she said.</p> + +<p>"And if I asked the question now, could you answer it, Salome?"</p> + +<p>"I think I could," she replied.</p> + +<p>"I have loved you ever since that evening when you looked up at me, your +face so dimly seen in the twilight," he went on; "the little brave +sister coming out to meet a stranger to save her brother from disgrace +and her mother pain. Every month, nay, every day I have lived since +then, I have loved you more. Can you love me, and, when I come back next +time, be my wife?"</p> + +<p>"Yes," was the simple answer. Then, as if to strengthen it, she +repeated, "Oh yes; let us go home and tell mother."</p> + +<p>How happy they were as they walked to Elm Cottage together, and how +bright and joyous were all the inhabitants of the little home that +evening. The next morning, Puck, after an extra washing, had a piece of +red ribbon tied round his neck, which was a long established custom on +birthdays, and Salome said, as she tied it on between smiles and tears, +for she had just parted with Philip for a whole year,—</p> + +<p>"Ah, Puck, this is a grand day, not a birthday, but such a happy day to +me; and, Puck, my new story is to be called 'Under the Quarry!'"<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[244]</a></span></p> + +<p>"A very poor prospect for Salome," Aunt Anna said; "still, it is +something that the Percivals are a good old family."</p> + +<p>"A greater comfort still," rejoined Dr. Wilton, "is that Percival is one +of the best and noblest of men. May our daughters be equally fortunate."</p> + +<p>So we leave Salome standing on the threshold of her great happiness. +Patience has had her perfect work in the days of her girlhood. Will she +need it no more in the womanhood which is dawning upon her with the +soft, sweet radiance of a faithful heart on which she may rest?</p> + +<p>Yes; Patience, that fair and beautiful angel, with its calm, sedate +presence, will be needed for Salome as for us all through every stage of +the journey. When the gates of love open for us, and we enter into what +seems an Eden, we know that there are thorns amongst the flowers, rough +places to tread, sharp angles to meet. Salome will take Patience with +her, nor leave her gentle guidance till she comes to the Paradise of +God. For <i>there</i> are no crosses to bear and no imperfect work to mourn, +no sin to be hid in secret places, no sorrow, nor any more pain. The +former things have passed away, and Patience, having had her perfect +work, is exchanged for the rest of those who have fought the good fight, +and bear the palms of victory in their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[245]</a></span> hands through Him who has +redeemed us to God by His death, and given to His faithful ones the life +everlasting.</p> + +<hr style="width: 30%;" /> + +<div class="cpoem1"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">"Safe home! safe home in port!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Rent cordage, shattered deck,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">Torn sails, provisions short,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And only not a wreck:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But oh! the joy upon the shore<br /></span> +<span class="i0">To tell our voyage-perils o'er!"<br /></span> +</div><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The prize! the prize secure!<br /></span> +<span class="i2">The athlete nearly fell;<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Bore all he could endure,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">And bore not always well:<br /></span> +<span class="i0">But he may smile at troubles gone<br /></span> +<span class="i0">Who sets the victor's garland on."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<div class="bigskip"></div> +<h3>THE END.</h3> + + + +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> + + + +<h3>Kingston's (W. H. G.) Books for Boys.</h3> + +<div class="center"> +Crown 8vo Volumes, gilt edges, price 5s. each.<br /> +Cloth extra, uniform binding, 3s. 6d. each.<br /> +</div> + + +<p><b>In the Wilds of Africa.</b> With upwards of Seventy Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>An interesting account of the adventures of a shipwrecked +party who are landed on the west coast of Africa, and make +their way to the south through many dangers.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>In the Eastern Seas</b>; or, The Regions of the Bird of Paradise. A Tale for +Boys. With One Hundred and Eleven Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A tale of voyage and adventure among the islands of the Malay +Archipelago.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Old Jack.</b> A Sea Tale. With Sixty-six Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>An old sailor's account of his own adventures, during times +of peace and of war, in many parts of the world.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>The South Sea Whaler.</b> A Story of the Loss of the <i>Champion</i>, and the +Adventures of her Crew. With upwards of Thirty Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A tale of mutiny and shipwreck in the South Seas.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>A Voyage Round the World.</b> With Forty-two Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A young sailor's account of his own adventures by sea and +land.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>The Young Rajah.</b> A Story of Indian Life and Adventure. With upwards of +Forty Full-page Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A story of the Indian Mutiny; the hero a young Indian prince, +who had received an English education and become a Christian.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>On the Banks of the Amazon</b>; or, A Boy's Journal of his Adventures in the +Tropical Wilds of South America. Profusely illustrated.</p> + +<p><b>In the Wilds of Florida.</b> With Thirty-seven Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A tale of warfare and hunting.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>My First Voyage to Southern Seas.</b> Fifty-two Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A young sailor's story, describing Cape Colony, Ceylon, Aden, +etc.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Saved from the Sea</b>; or, The Loss of the <i>Viper</i>, and the Adventures of +her Crew in the Great Sahara. With Thirty Full-page Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A young sailor's account of his adventures, along with three +shipwrecked comrades.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Twice Lost.</b> With Thirty-six Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A young sailor's story of shipwreck, and of perilous +adventures in the wilds of Australia.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>The Wanderers</b>; or, Adventures in the Wilds of Trinidad and up the +Orinoco. With Thirty Full-page Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>The Young Llanero.</b> A Story of War and Wild Life in Venezuela. With +Forty-four Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A thrilling and fascinating narrative of adventures in South +America during the struggle for independence between the +state of Colombia and the Spaniards.</p></blockquote> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>The Boys' Own Library.</h3> + +<div class="center">Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. each.</div> + + +<p>THREE BOOKS BY M. DOUGLAS.</p> + +<p><b>Across Greenland's Ice-Fields.</b> The Adventures of Nansen and Peary on the +Great Ice-Cap.</p> + +<p><b>Breaking the Record.</b> The Story of Three Arctic Expeditions.</p> + +<p><b>The White North.</b> With Nordenskiöld, De Long, and Nansen. With +Illustrations.</p> +<div class="bigskip"></div> + +<p><b>After Years.</b> A Story of Trials and Triumphs. By <span class="smcap">J. W. Bradley</span>. With +Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Culm Rock</b>; or, Ready Work for Willing Hands. A Book for Boys. By <span class="smcap">J. W. +Bradley</span>. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Among the Turks.</b> By <span class="smcap">Verney Lovett Cameron</span>, C.B., D.C.L., Commander Royal +Navy. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Archie Digby</b>; or, An Eton Boy's Holidays. By <span class="smcap">G. E. Wyatt</span>.</p> + +<p><b>As We Sweep Through the Deep.</b> A Story of the Stirring Times of Old. By +<span class="smcap">Gordon Stables</span>, M.D., R.N. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>At the Black Rocks.</b> A Story for Boys. By the Rev. <span class="smcap">Edward A. Rand</span>.</p> + +<p><b>The Battle of the Rafts.</b> And Other Stories of Boyhood in Norway. By <span class="smcap">H. +H. Boyesen</span>.</p> + +<p><b>A Fortune from the Sky.</b> By <span class="smcap">Skelton Kuppord</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Robert Hope</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Great Explorers.</b> An Account of Exploration and Travel in many Lands. +With Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Gunpowder Treason and Plot</b>, and other Stories for Boys. By <span class="smcap">Harold Avery</span>, +<span class="smcap">Fred. Whishaw</span>, and <span class="smcap">R. B. Townshend</span>. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Lost in the Wilds of Canada.</b> By <span class="smcap">Eleanor Stredder</span>.</p> + +<p><b>The Lost Squire of Inglewood</b>; or, Adventures in the Caves of Robin Hood. +A Boy's Story of Adventure. By Dr. <span class="smcap">Jackson</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Walter G. +Grieve</span>.</p> + +<p><b>The Romance of the South Pole.</b> Antarctic Voyages and Explorations. By <span class="smcap">G. +Barnett Smith</span>. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Soldiers of the Queen</b>; or, Jack Fenleigh's Luck. A Story of the Dash to +Khartoum. By <span class="smcap">Harold Avery</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Vandrad the Viking</b>; or, The Feud and the Spell. A Tale of the Norsemen. +By <span class="smcap">J. Storer Clouston</span>. With Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Hubert Paton</span>.</p> + +<p><b>The Willoughby Boys.</b> By <span class="smcap">Emily C. Hartley</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>Tales of Adventure.</h3> + +<div class="center">Crown 8vo. Price 5s. each.</div> + + +<p>THREE BOOKS BY ELIZA F. POLLARD.</p> + +<p><b>A Daughter of France.</b> A Tale of the Early Settlement of Acadia. With Six +Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. Rainey</span>, R.I.</p> + +<blockquote><p>An interesting story of the adventures of Charles de la Tour +and his companions in Acadia.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>The Last of the Cliffords.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Wal Paget</span>.</p> + +<p><b>My Lady Marcia.</b> A Story of the French Revolution. With Five +Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Wal Paget</span>.</p> +<div class="bigskip"></div> + +<p><b>In Savage Africa</b>; or, The Adventures of Frank Baldwin from the Gold +Coast to Zanzibar. By <span class="smcap">Verney Lovett Cameron</span>, C.B., D.C.L., Commander +Royal Navy; Author of "Jack Hooper," etc. With Thirty-two Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"From the deft and prolific pen of Commander Lovett +Cameron.... In the course of a stirring narrative, of the +kind in which boys most delight, he succeeds in conveying +much real knowledge about Africa, its features, and its +peoples."—<i>Scotsman.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Jack Ralston.</b> A Tale of Life in the Far North-East of Canada. By <span class="smcap">Hampden +Burnham</span>, M.A., Author of "Canadians in the Imperial Service." With +Coloured Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Walter Grieve</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Every Inch a Sailor.</b> By <span class="smcap">Gordon Stables</span>, M.D., R.N., Author of "As We +Sweep through the Deep," etc. Illustrated.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Between the reader, ourselves, and the binnacle, there isn't +a living writer—unless it be Clark Russell, and he appeals +more to the adult—who can hold a candle, or shall we say a +starboard light, to Gordon Stables as a narrator of sea +stories for boys. This one is worthy of the high traditions +of the author."—<i>Literary World.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Held to Ransom.</b> A Story of Spanish Brigands. By <span class="smcap">F. B. Forester</span>, Author +of "A Settler's Story," etc. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Archibald Webb</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Jack Hooper.</b> His Adventures at Sea and in South Africa. By <span class="smcap">Verney Lovett +Cameron</span>, C.B., D.C.L. With Twenty-three Full-page Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Kilgorman.</b> A Story of Ireland in 1798. By <span class="smcap">Talbot Baines Reed</span>, Author of +"The Fifth Form at St. Dominic's," etc. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">John Williamson</span>. +With Portrait, and an "In Memoriam" Sketch of the Author by <span class="smcap">John Sime</span>.</p> + +<p><b>With Pack and Rifle in the Far South-West.</b> Adventures in New Mexico, +Arizona, and Central America. By <span class="smcap">Achilles Daunt</span>, Author of "Frank +Redcliffe," "The Three Trappers," etc. With Thirty Illustrations.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>Favourite Reward Books.</h3> + +<div class="center">Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 1s. each.</div> + + +<p><b>The Giants, and How to Fight Them.</b> By the Rev. <span class="smcap">Richard Newton</span>, D.D. With +numerous Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>Dr. Newton possesses in the highest degree the art of +interesting and instructing the young.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Glory.</b> By G. M. S. With Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A touching story of a poor dolls' dressmaker and the +sacrifice she made.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Godliness with Contentment is Great Gain.</b></p> + +<p><b>Grandma's Miracles</b>; or, Stories Told at Six o'Clock in the Evening. By +<span class="smcap">Pansy</span>.</p> + +<p><b>A Hedge Fence.</b> By <span class="smcap">Pansy</span>. With Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A story of a boy whose purposes are good, but whose +impetuosity plunges him into all kinds of mischief, as the +boy himself expresses it, "before he knows it."</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Side by Side.</b> And Other Tales. By <span class="smcap">Pansy</span>. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Striving to Help</b>; or, The Browning Boys. By <span class="smcap">Pansy</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Granny.</b> A Village Story. By the Author of "Great Englishmen."</p> + +<p><b>Jem's Wife.</b> A Story of Life in London. By the Author of "Granny," etc.</p> + +<p><b>The Harrington Girls</b>; or, Faith and Patience. By <span class="smcap">Sophy Winthrop</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Hope On</b>; or, The House that Jack Built. With Twenty-five Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Ilka: The Captive Maiden.</b> And Other Stories. By S. G., Author of "Dickie +Winton," etc.</p> + +<p><b>It's His Way.</b> And Other Stories. By the Author of "Copsley Annals," etc.</p> + +<p><b>Jack's Visit.</b> By <span class="smcap">Ellen Velvin</span>. With numerous Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A brightly-told story of Jack and his three cousins.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Johnnie Venture.</b> A Story of an Exciting Journey. By <span class="smcap">G. E. Wyatt</span>.</p> + +<p><b>King Matthias and the Beggar Boy.</b> Adapted from the Hungarian of Baron +Nicholas Josika. By <span class="smcap">Selina Gaye</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Kitty's Knitting Needles—The One Moss Rose.</b> By the Rev. <span class="smcap">P. B. Power</span>.</p> + +<p><b>A Lad of Devon.</b> A Story for Boys. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Henry Clarke</span>, M.A.</p> + +<blockquote><p>The story of a search for missing diamonds that had +disappeared from a house in Devonshire, and the adventures +that befell a boy in trying to discover them.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Laura's Impulses</b>; or, Principle a Safer Guide than Feeling.</p> + +<p><b>Leaving the Manse.</b> A Disruption Tale. By <span class="smcap">Kezia</span>. Illustrated. Long 24mo.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"A pretty story of the Scottish Disruption of 1843."—<i>The +Christian.</i></p></blockquote> + +<p><b>A Little Candle.</b> And Other Stories. By <span class="smcap">Letitia M'Clintock</span>.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>Hayens's (Herbert) Books for Boys.</h3> + + +<div class="center">Price 6s. each.</div> + +<p><b>For the Colours.</b> A Historical Sketch of the British Army. With Coloured +Frontispiece and Thirty-two Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Archibald Webb</span> and other +well-known artists. Crown 8vo, bevelled boards, cloth extra, gilt top.</p> + +<p><b>Ye Mariners of England.</b> A Boys' Book of the Navy. Profusely illustrated. +Crown 8vo, bevelled boards, cloth extra, gilt top.</p> + +<div class="bigskip"></div> +<div class="center"><i>Tales of Adventure.</i></div> +<div class="medskip"></div> +<div class="center">Crown 8vo, bevelled boards, cloth extra, gilt top, price 5s. each.</div> + +<p><b>At the Point of the Sword.</b> A New Story for Boys. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">R. +Payton Reid</span>, A.R.S.A.</p> + +<p><b>A Captain of Irregulars.</b> A Stirring Tale of War and Adventure in Chili. +With Six Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Sidney Paget</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Clevely Sahib.</b> A Tale of the Khyber Pass. With Eight Illustrations by <span class="smcap">J. +Williamson</span>.</p> + +<p><b>An Emperor's Doom</b>; or, The Patriots of Mexico. With Eight Illustrations +by <span class="smcap">A. J. B. Salmon</span>.</p> + +<p><b>A Fighter in Green.</b> A Tale of Algeria. With Nine Illustrations by <span class="smcap">R. +Talbot Kelly</span>, R.B.A.</p> + +<p><b>In the Grip of the Spaniard.</b> With Nine Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Wal Paget</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Red, White, and Green.</b> Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Arch. Webb</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Under the Lone Star.</b> With Eight Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. S. Stacey</span>.</p> + +<p><b>A Vanished Nation.</b> A Tale of Fighting in Paraguay. With Six +Illustrations by <span class="smcap">W. B. Wollen</span>, R.I.</p> + +<div class="bigskip"></div> +<div class="center">Price 3s. 6d. each.</div> + +<p><b>The British Legion.</b> A Tale of the Carlist War. With Six Illustrations by +<span class="smcap">W. H. Margetson</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Scouting for Buller.</b> A Story of the South African War. With Coloured +Illustrations.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>Self-Effort Series.</h3> + +<div class="center">Price 3s. 6d. each.</div> + + +<p><b>Men Who Win</b>; or, Making Things Happen. By <span class="smcap">W. M. Thayer</span>, Author of "From +Log Cabin to White House," etc.</p> + +<p><b>Women Who Win</b>; or, Making Things Happen. By <span class="smcap">W. M. Thayer</span>, Author of +"From Log Cabin to White House," etc.</p> + +<p><b>The Achievements of Youth.</b> By the Rev. <span class="smcap">Robert Steel</span>, D.D., Ph.D., Author +of "Lives Made Sublime," etc.</p> + +<p><b>Lives Made Sublime by Faith and Works.</b> By Rev. <span class="smcap">Robert Steel</span>, D.D., +Ph.D., Author of "Doing Good," etc.</p> + +<p><b>Self-Effort</b>; or, The True Method of Attaining Success in Life. By <span class="smcap">Joseph +Johnson</span>, Author of "Living in Earnest," etc.</p> + +<p><b>The Secret of Achievement.</b> A Book designed to teach that the highest +Achievement is that which results in noble Manhood and Womanhood; that +there is something greater than wealth, grander than fame; that +character is the only success. By <span class="smcap">Orison Swett Marden</span>, Author of +"Architects of Fate," etc. Illustrated with Portraits of eminent +Persons.</p> + +<p><b>Noble Women of Our Time.</b> By <span class="smcap">Joseph Johnson</span>, Author of "Living in +Earnest," etc. With Accounts of the Work of Misses De Broën, Whately, +Carpenter, F. R. Havergal, Sister Dora, etc.</p> + +<p><b>Architects of Fate</b>; or, Steps to Success and Power. By <span class="smcap">Orison Swett +Marden</span>, Author of "Pushing to the Front; or, Success under +Difficulties." With Eight Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Earnest Men</b>: Their Life and Work. By the late Rev. <span class="smcap">W. K. Tweedie</span>, D.D.</p> + +<p><b>Famous Artists.</b> Michael Angelo—Leonardo da +Vinci—Raphael—Titian—Murillo—Rubens—Rembrandt. By <span class="smcap">Sarah K. Bolton</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Fritz of Prussia.</b> Germany's Second Emperor. By <span class="smcap">Lucy Taylor</span>, Author of +"Going on Pilgrimage," etc.</p> + +<p><b>Heroes of the Desert.</b> The Story of the Lives of Moffat and Livingstone. +By the Author of "Mary Powell." New and Enlarged Edition, with numerous +Illustrations and Two Portraits.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>Books for the School Library.</h3> + + +<div class="center"><i>The World at the Fireside.</i></div> +<div class="medskip"></div> +<div class="center">Small 4to, gilt edges.<br /> +Illustrated. Price 5s. each.</div> + + +<p><b>The Children's Tour</b>; or, Everyday Sights in a Sunny Land. By <span class="smcap">M. A. +Paull</span>. With numerous Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>The Sea and its Wonders.</b> By <span class="smcap">Mary</span> and <span class="smcap">Elizabeth Kirby</span>. One Hundred and +Seventy-four Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>The World at Home.</b> Pictures and Scenes from Far-off Lands. By M. and <span class="smcap">E. +Kirby</span>. One Hundred Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Wonderland</b>; or, Curiosities of Nature and Art. By <span class="smcap">Wood Smith</span>, Author of +"Oakville Manor," "Prince Rolo," etc. With numerous Illustrations.</p> + +<div class="bigskip"></div> +<p><b>Rambles Among the Wild Flowers.</b> A Book for the Young. By <span class="smcap">M. C. Cooke</span>, +M.A., LL.D. (<span class="smcap">Uncle Matt</span>). The Five Parts in One Volume. With Ten +Coloured Plates, illustrating Forty-two Wild Flowers, and 296 other +Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges.</p> + +<p><b>Round the Hearthstone</b>; or, Hints for Home-Builders. By <span class="smcap">W. M. Thayer</span>, +Author of "Men Who Win," "Women Who Win," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, +gilt edges.</p> + +<div class="bigskip"></div> +<div class="center"><i>Works of Travel and Research.</i></div> +<div class="medskip"></div> + +<div class="center">Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt top.<br /> +Price 5s. each.</div> + +<p><b>The Bible in Spain</b>; or, The Journeys, Adventures, and Imprisonments of +an Englishman in an Attempt to Circulate the Scriptures in the +Peninsula. By <span class="smcap">George Borrow</span>. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Captain Cook's Voyages Round the World.</b> With a Memoir by <span class="smcap">M. B. Synge</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Journal of a Voyage Round the World of H.M.S. "Beagle."</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles +Darwin</span>, M.A., F.R.S. With Sixteen Full-page and Six Double-page +Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Kane's Arctic Explorations</b>: The Second Grinnell Expedition in Search of +Sir John Franklin. With a Chart and numerous Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>The Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus.</b> By <span class="smcap">Washington Irving</span>. +<i>Author's Revised Edition.</i> With Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Voyages and Travels of Captain Basil Hall.</b> With Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Wanderings in South America, etc.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Waterton</span>. With Sixteen +Illustrations.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>Classic Stories Simply Told.</h3> + +<div class="center">Uniform Binding. Price 3s. each.</div> + + +<p><b>Chaucer's Stories Simply Told.</b> By <span class="smcap">Mary Seymour</span>, Author of "Shakespeare's +Stories Simply Told," etc. With Eleven Illustrations from Designs by <span class="smcap">E. +M. Scannell</span>. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges.</p> + +<p><b>Shakespeare's Stories Simply Told.</b> <span class="smcap">Tragedies and Historical Plays.</span> By +<span class="smcap">Mary Seymour</span>. With Eighty-three Illustrations by the late <span class="smcap">Frank Howard</span>, +R.A. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges.</p> + +<p><b>Shakespeare's Stories Simply Told.</b> <span class="smcap">Comedies.</span> By <span class="smcap">Mary Seymour</span>. With +numerous Illustrations by the late <span class="smcap">Frank Howard</span>, R.A. Post 8vo, cloth +extra, gilt edges.</p> + +<p><b>The Wanderings of Æneas and the Founding of Rome.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Henry +Hanson</span>, Author of "The Siege of Troy, and the Wanderings of Ulysses," +etc. With Sixty-two Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges.</p> + +<p><b>The Siege of Troy, and the Wanderings of Ulysses.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles Henry +Hanson</span>. With Ninety-seven Illustrations from Designs by <span class="smcap">Flaxman</span> and +other Artists. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges.</p> + +<p><b>Stories of the Days of King Arthur.</b> By <span class="smcap">Charles H. Hanson</span>. With +Illustrations by <span class="smcap">Gustave Doré</span>. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges.</p> + + +<div class="center"><i>Uniform with Classic Stories.</i></div> + +<p><b>Coleridge's Ancient Mariner.</b> With Twenty-five Illustrations by <span class="smcap">David +Scott</span>, R.S.A., and Life of the Artist by the Rev. Dr. <span class="smcap">A. L. Simpson</span>, +Derby. Square 16mo, cloth extra, gilt edges.</p> + +<p><b>The Shipwreck.</b> A Poem. By <span class="smcap">William Falconer</span>. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Birket +Foster</span>. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges.</p> + +<p><b>The Courteous Knight</b>, and Other Tales from Spenser and Malory. By <span class="smcap">E. +Edwardson</span>. <i>Edition de luxe</i>, on antique paper. Illustrated by <span class="smcap">Robert +Hope</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Shakespeare's Dramatic Works.</b> With Explanatory Notes, Parallel Passages, +Historical and Critical Illustrations, Contemporary Allusions, a Copious +Glossary, Biographical Sketch, and Indexes, by <span class="smcap">W. H. Davenport Adams</span>. +With Three Hundred and Seventy Illustrations by the late <span class="smcap">Frank Howard</span>, +R.A., and Facsimile of Shakespeare's Will. Two Volumes. Crown 8vo, +cloth. Price 3s. 6d. per vol.; or 7s. per set.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<div class="center">UNIFORM WITH</div> + +<h3>The "Little Hazel" Series.</h3> + +<div class="center">Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 1s. 6d. each.</div> + + +<p><b>Jock o' the Beach.</b> A Story for Boys. By <span class="smcap">Morice Gerard</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>The hero is a nameless waif, sole survivor from the wreck of +the ship <i>Martin</i>. His discovery of his parents and his +meeting with them are touchingly described.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Little Lily's Travels.</b> A Book for the Young. With numerous +Illustrations.</p> + +<blockquote><p>Travels of a little girl, with her parents and brother, +through France to Geneva.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>The Little Swedish Baron.</b> By the Author of "The Swedish Twins," etc.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A story of a young Swedish noble, illustrating the blessings +of discipline and trials.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Master Travers.</b> By <span class="smcap">Florence M. Story</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>The story of a young squire whose self-will leads him into +many troubles, and how these, and the well-timed counsels of +his guardians, help to subdue his besetting sin.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Mopsie.</b> The Story of a London Waif. By <span class="smcap">Dorothy Walrond</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Nono</b>; or, The Golden House. A Tale of Swedish Life. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Woods Baker</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Princess Louise.</b> A Tale of the Stuarts. By <span class="smcap">Crona Temple</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Rollo and Tricksy.</b> The Story of a Little Boy and Girl. By <span class="smcap">Florence E. +Burch</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A tale of the doings of a little boy and girl, the latter +part being very amusing.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Rich and Poor.</b> A Tale for Boys. How one Boy Climbed Up, and another +Slipped Down. By <span class="smcap">C. M. Trowbridge</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>This pithy story recognizes the discouragements and +temptations peculiar to poverty and wealth, and seeks to show +that a sterling Christian character is that which can alone +make a truly noble man.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>The Secret Cave</b>; or, The Story of Mistress Joan's Ring. By Miss <span class="smcap">Emilie +Searchfield</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"Mistress Joan" is a bright little girl, aged nine years, +daughter of Jonathan Blye, farmer in Somersetshire; and +"Mistress Joan's Ring" is an heirloom preserved in memory of +"The Secret Cave," and of what happened there in the year +1685. The incidents, which are narrated in quaint, +old-fashioned language, are very exciting; and the book is +sure to be a great favourite, especially with girls.</p></blockquote> + +<p>"<b>Sheltering Arms</b>;" or, The Entrance of God's Word gives Light. By <span class="smcap">M. E. +Clements</span>. Floral Design.</p> + +<blockquote><p>An interesting Irish story. The scene is a small fishing +hamlet on the west coast of Ireland, sheltered by two rocky +headlands from the Atlantic storms.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Story of the Beacon Fire</b>; or, Trust in God and Do the Right. By <span class="smcap">M. E. +Clements</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>"The story is well, indeed powerfully, written. It is a story +of Cornwall, and is full of genuine dramatic interest, +combined with an earnestness of purpose that no one can +mistake."—<i>Scotsman.</i></p></blockquote> + + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h3>Favourite Reward Books.</h3> + +<div class="center">Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 1s. each.</div> + + +<p><b>The Adopted Brothers</b>; or, Blessed are the Peacemakers. By <span class="smcap">M. E. +Clements</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Alda's Leap.</b> And Other Stories. By the Hon. Mrs. <span class="smcap">Greene</span>.</p> + +<p><b>The Babe i' the Mill</b>, and <b>Zanina the Flower-Girl of Florence</b>. By the +Hon. Mrs. <span class="smcap">Greene</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Annals of the Poor.</b> Complete Edition, with Memoir of <span class="smcap">Legh Richmond</span>.</p> + +<p><b>The Babes in the Basket</b>; or, Daph and Her Charge. By the Author of +"Timid Lucy," etc. With Frontispiece and numerous Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>The Basket of Flowers</b>; or, Piety and Truth Triumphant. Illustrated.</p> + +<p><b>The Boy Artist.</b> A Tale. By the Author of "Hope On." With numerous +Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress.</b></p> + +<p><b>A Child of the Mews.</b> By <span class="smcap">M. B. Synge</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>The purpose of the story is to show the evils of betting—how +it leads to cheating, lying, stealing, and all kinds of +trickery, ending often in domestic misery and ruin.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>The Children's Voyage to the Cape.</b> By <span class="smcap">Sarah L. Findlater</span>.</p> + +<p><b>The Cruise of the "Katherina."</b> A Story for Boys. By <span class="smcap">John A. Higginson</span>, +Author of "A Secret of the Sea," etc. Illustrated.</p> + +<blockquote><p>The story deals with the meeting of two friends in Australia, +and the many strange adventures subsequently experienced by +them when together they set out on board a small schooner in +search of gold known to lie hidden on a certain island in the +South Pacific.</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>Daffodil.</b> (A Brave Little Lady.) By <span class="smcap">Maude M. Butler</span>.</p> + +<blockquote><p>A sequel to "Waiting and Serving."</p></blockquote> + +<p><b>The Fairy Cobblers' Gold.</b> A Story for Boys. By <span class="smcap">Ethel Penrose</span>.</p> + +<p><b>The Ferryman's Boy.</b> And Other Stories. By <span class="smcap">Crona Temple</span>.</p> + +<p><b>Fireside Sketches from Swedish Life.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Woods Baker</span>.</p> + +<p><b>The Swedish Foster-Brothers.</b> By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Woods Baker</span>. With Illustrations.</p> + +<p><b>Truth and its Triumph</b>; or, The Story of the Jewish Twins. By Mrs. <span class="smcap">Woods +Baker</span>. With Frontispiece.</p> + +<p><b>The Fisherman's Boy</b>; or, "All have not the same Gifts." With coloured +Frontispiece.</p> + +<p><b>Geordie Stuart.</b> A Story of Waterloo. By <span class="smcap">M. B. Manwell</span>.</p> + +<div class="bigskip"></div> +<h4><span class="smcap">T. Nelson and Sons</span>, London, Edinburgh, and New York.</h4> +<hr style="width: 85%;" /> + +<h4>Transcriber's Notes:</h4> + +<p>Spelling and punctuation errors were corrected.</p> + +<p>Retained: devonport, ascendency, +fire-place and fireplace, ink-stand and inkstand, practice (for medical) and +practise (for repeatedly do).</p> + +<p>Locations of illustrations have been moved to the action in text that they +illustrate. Most of these moves were slight changes, but the illustration on p. +66 originally displayed as a frontispiece before the title page illustration.</p> + +<p>On caption in illustration list, original "Dr. Wilson" changed to +"Dr. Wilton."</p> + +<p>P. 22, "any more if-- If you come upstairs"; space after em dash deleted.</p> + +<p>P. 42, "'I should have thought,' said Dr. Wilton", original read Mr. Wilton.</p> + +<p>P. 100, "Edith and Maude", original read "Maud."</p> + +<p>P. 139, "walking with them, and-- But if mother"; space after em dash deleted.</p> + +<p>P. 191, quotes were added around "It was far better ... time."</p> + +<p>P. 245, Poem at the end, "Safe home!", inconsistent indentation is faithful to the +original as printed.</p> + +<p>The ten pages of ads at the end of the text each displayed "T. Nelson +and Sons, London, Edinburgh, and New York." at the bottom of the page. +These have been reduced to one occurrence, at the bottom of the last ad +page.</p> + +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<hr class="full" /> +<p>***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SALOME***</p> +<p>******* This file should be named 37126-h.txt or 37126-h.zip *******</p> +<p>This and all associated files of various formats will be found in:<br /> +<a href="http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/7/1/2/37126">http://www.gutenberg.org/3/7/1/2/37126</a></p> +<p>Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed.</p> + +<p>Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Salome + + +Author: Emma Marshall + + + +Release Date: August 19, 2011 [eBook #37126] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SALOME*** + + +E-text prepared by Juliet Sutherland, JoAnn Greenwood, and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) + + + +Note: Project Gutenberg also has an HTML version of this + file which includes the original illustrations in color. + See 37126-h.htm or 37126-h.zip: + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37126/37126-h/37126-h.htm) + or + (http://www.gutenberg.org/files/37126/37126-h.zip) + + +Transcriber's note: + + Text enclosed by equal signs is in bold face (=bold=). + + + + + +SALOME + +by + +MRS. EMMA MARSHALL + + + + + + + +London, Edinburgh, and New York +Thomas Nelson and Sons + + + + +_CONTENTS_ + + + _I. The Home and the Children_ 9 + + _II. Sorrow and Sighing_ 23 + + _III. Edinburgh Crescent_ 40 + + _IV. Looking for Lodgings_ 51 + + _V. A Journey_ 65 + + _VI. Losses and Gains_ 77 + + _VII. Cousins_ 90 + + _VIII. Arrivals_ 106 + + _IX. "Settling Down"_ 121 + + _X. A Proposed Flight from the Nest_ 134 + + _XI. Ada's Departure_ 151 + + _XII. Confidences_ 165 + + _XIII. Hard Times_ 180 + + _XIV. Daffodils_ 195 + + _XV. Lost!_ 208 + + _XVI. The Consequence_ 221 + + _XVII. A Dream_ 232 + + _XVIII. The Last_ 239 + + + + +_LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS._ + + + "_The coachman's wife hid her face in her apron, and + cried bitterly_" _Frontispiece._ + + "'_Sit down, Salome,' and Dr. Wilton drew her + toward him on the bench_" 33 + + "'_I say, Salome, have you got any money?_'" 80 + + "'_It's a bird, I think.--Puck, put it down!_'" 113 + + "_A tall figure advanced towards her_" 176 + + "'_Salome, I have lost the necklet set with emeralds_'" 208 + + "'_Raymond,' whispered Salome, 'I wanted to tell + you how much I love you_'" 230 + + + + +SALOME. + + + + +CHAPTER I. + +THE HOME AND THE CHILDREN. + + +Maplestone Court was a pretty, spacious, and comfortable English home. +The house was built of old red brick, which took a deep, rich colour in +the rays of the western sun as it shone upon the wide porch and the many +windows. Before the house there was a wide expanse of emerald turf, +skirted by stately trees; and this lawn was not cut up into flower-beds, +but rolled and shaven close, so that the dark shadows of the trees lay +upon it in unbroken masses morning and evening. + +To the right of the house the ground sloped gently down to what was +called by courtesy a river, though it was but a little rippling stream, +which had taken many curves and windings, and just below Maplestone had +made for itself a deep basin, called by the same courtesy a lake. + +Lake or pond, mere or tarn, this was a delightful refuge in sultry +noon-tide. Here the water-lilies rocked themselves to sleep; here the +plumy ferns hung over the crystal depths; and here the children of +Maplestone Court brought their small craft of every shape and size to +sail across from one side to the other of the lake, often to make +shipwreck amongst the reeds and lilies, sometimes to sink in the clear +water! + +A rude wooden bridge crossed the stream just above the lake; and several +seats, made of twisted boughs and ornamented with the large cones of the +firs which shut in Maplestone at the back, were to be found here and +there on the banks. + +On one of these seats, on a hot August day, Salome was half-sitting, +half-lying, looking dreamily down upon the water. Her wide straw hat was +lying at her feet, a book with the leaves much crumpled was in the +crown. One little foot hung down from the bench; the other was curled up +under her in a fashion known and abhorred by all governesses and those +who think the figure of a girl of fifteen is of greater importance than +careless ease of position like Salome's at this moment. + +The rounded cheek, which was pillowed by the little hand as Salome's +head rested against the rough arm of the seat, was not rosy. It was +pale, and all the colour about her was concentrated in the mass of tawny +hair which was hanging over her shoulders, and varied in its hue from +every shade of reddish brown to streaks of lighter gold colour. + +It was wonderful hair, people said; and that was, perhaps, all that any +one ever did see at all out of the common in Salome. + +Quiet and thoughtful, liking retirement better than society, she often +escaped out of the school-room to this favourite place, and dreamed her +day-dreams to her heart's content. + +Salome was the elder of two sisters, and she had one brother older than +herself and three younger. Sorrow or change had as yet never come near +Maplestone. The days went on in that serene happiness of which we are +none of us conscious till it is over. When we hear the rustle of the +angels' wings, then we know they are leaving us for ever, and when with +us we had not discerned their presence. + +Salome roused herself at last, picked up her hat and book, and uncurling +herself from her position, stood up and listened. "Carriage wheels in +the drive," she said to herself. "I suppose it is nearly luncheon time. +I hope no stupid people are coming; that's all. I hate--" + +Salome's meditations were broken off here; for a boy of thirteen or +fourteen came clattering over the wooden bridge and took a flying leap +down into the hollow, and exclaimed, "The bell will ring directly. Make +haste, Sal; you are all in a tangle as usual. And won't Miss Barnes be +angry? There is the book she has been hunting all over the place for; +and the cover is in rags and tatters, and no mistake!" + +Salome looked ruefully at the book, a French story by Madame Pressense +which has delighted many children in its day and generation. + +"'L'Institutrice' does not belong to Miss Barnes," Salome said; "it is +Ada's. Why should she be in such a fuss? and Ada won't mind." + +"Well, come on," Reginald said; "and don't put out every one by being +late." + +"Who is come?" Salome asked, as the brother and sister walked towards +the house together. "Who came in the carriage just now?" + +"It was only father. Mr. Stone brought him back from Fairchester in his +brougham." + +"Father!" Salome exclaimed. "How very odd! And why did Mr. Stone drive +him home?" + +The sound of the bell stopped any reply from Reginald; and Salome, +being obliged to go up to her room to give her hair a superficial +combing, and her hands a hasty dip in water, entered the dining-room +just as the whole party were assembled. + +Mrs. Wilton always lunched with the children at one o'clock, but to-day +her place at the head of the table was taken by Miss Barnes. + +"Where is mother?" was Salome's instant inquiry. + +"You are very late, as usual, Salome," was Miss Barnes's rejoinder; it +could not be called a reply. + +"I asked where mother was. Do you know, Ada?" + +Ada, a pretty, fair girl of fifteen, fresh as a rose, trim as a daisy, +without an imperfection of any kind in her looks or in her dress, said, +"Father wanted her, I believe;" while Salome, half satisfied, turned to +her eldest brother Raymond. + +"Is anything the matter, Ray?" + +"I am sure I don't know," he answered carelessly. "There's something the +matter with this soup--it's beastly." + +"Raymond!" Ada exclaimed reprovingly, "pray, don't be so rude," as +Raymond pushed away his plate, and, pulling another towards him, +attacked some cutlets with tomatoes. + +"The cooking is fifty times better at old Birch's," the young Etonian +growled. "I can't think how mother can put up with that lazy Mrs. +Porson." + +"I say," said Reginald, "don't grumble at your bread and butter because +it is not just to your mind." + +"Shut up, will you," said Raymond, "and don't be cheeky." + +And now the two little boys of eight and nine began to chime in with +eager inquiries as to whether Raymond would help them with their +tableaux, which were to be got up for their double birthday on the 1st +of August. For Carl and Hans were both born on the same day of the +month, Hans always affirming that he came to keep Carl's first birthday. + +"Tableaux at this time of year; what folly! I shall be gone off in +Strangway's yacht by then, you little duffer." + +"I'll help you," Reginald said. "We'll have the tableaux Black Prince, +Joan of Arc, and Mother Hubbard, if mother will lend us the finery, and +Sal will advise us what to do." + +"Oh, mother says we may have the tableaux. She says Shakespeare acted +out of doors. We want to have them in the house by the lake, as a +surprise, and bring in the lake," exclaimed Carl. "If Thursday is a day +like to-day, it will be jolly. And, Ada, you said you'd write the +invitations, didn't you?--the Holmes, and the De Brettes, and the +Carruthers, Ada." + +Ada, thus appealed to, smiled, and said, "We'll see." + +"I have got some pink paper," Carl vociferated. "Nurse gave it to me. +She bought it at her nephew's shop in Fairchester. It is just fit for +invitations." + +"Oh no; that would be fearfully vulgar!" said Ada. "Pink paper!" + +Poor Carl was extinguished, and began to eat his rice-pudding in large +mouthfuls. + +All this time Miss Barnes had not spoken, and Salome watched her face +anxiously. Yet she dared not question her, though she felt convinced +Miss Barnes knew more than any of them about their mother's +non-appearance and their father's unusual return from Fairchester in Mr. +Stone's carriage. Mr. Stone was the doctor; and though Salome tried to +persuade herself Mr. Stone's carriage had probably been at her father's +office, and perhaps having a patient to see out in their direction, Mr. +Wilton had accepted the offer of a drive homewards, and that Mr. Stone +being a doctor had nothing to do with it, she was but half satisfied +with her own self-deception. + +The dining-room at Maplestone Court was like all the other rooms--a room +suggestive of _home_ and comfort. The three large windows, to-day +thrown wide open, looked out on the lawn, and beyond to quiet meadows +and copses skirted in the far distance by a range of hills, seen through +the haze of the summer day blue and indistinct. Within, there were some +fine pictures; and the wide dining-table was decorated with flowers--for +of flowers there were plenty at Maplestone. If banished from the front +of the house, they had their revenge in the dear old-fashioned +kitchen-garden--a garden where beds for cutting were filled with every +coloured geranium and verbena and calceolaria; a garden which seemed an +enclosure of sweets and perfumes, where the wall-fruit hung in peerless +beauty, and a large green-house, of the type of past days, was the +shelter of a vine so luxuriant in its growth and so marvellous in its +produce, that Maplestone grapes continually carried off the prize at the +flower and fruit shows of the neighbourhood. + +The children gathered round that pretty table--which, in spite of +Raymond's dissatisfaction, was always well supplied with all that could +please the taste--were singularly ignorant of whence all their good +things came. They had all been born at Maplestone. They took it and all +its comforts as a matter of course. Till Raymond went to Eton they had +none of them concerned themselves much about what others had or had +not. Raymond, the eldest son, had been the most indulged, the least +contradicted, and had an enormous idea of his own importance. + +He was very handsome, but by no means clever. He had no higher aim than +to lounge through life with as little trouble to himself as possible; +and now, at seventeen, when asked if he meant to turn his mind to any +profession, he would say, "Oh, I may scrape through the militia, and get +a commission; but I don't bother about it." + +A naturally selfish disposition, he was altogether unconscious of it. He +had spent a great deal of money at Eton; he had wasted a great deal of +time. He cared nothing about Latin and Greek, still less about Euclid. +If his clothes were well made, and he could get all Lord Clement Henshaw +got, and the Marquis of Stonyshire's nephew, he was content. But as to a +thought of his responsibility as his father's eldest son, or any idea +beyond the present moment, he had nothing of the kind. Of late he had +grown arrogant and self-asserting at home; and the holidays, when +Reginald came rushing in with joyous gladness from Rugby, were by no +means unmixed pleasures to the other children, by reason of Raymond's +return from Eton. Reginald was Salome's especial friend. Ada, in her +pretty completeness, stood somewhat alone. She was so "provokingly +perfect," Reginald said. No one ever caught Ada out; and it was so dull. + +The little boys were under Miss Barnes's care; but Carl was to go to a +preparatory school at Christmas. The very idea of such a separation set +"Hans's water-works flowing," Reginald said; so the great event was only +generally understood, and not talked about. + +Just as Miss Barnes had risen from the table, saying, "Your grace, +Hans," and just as little Hans had lifted his voice in childish treble, +with the accustomed form used by all his predecessors in the Wilton +family, the door opened, and Mrs. Wilton came in. + +Salome went to her impetuously. "Have you had no luncheon, mother? Let +me ring for some hot soup." + +Mrs. Wilton took the chair Miss Barnes vacated, and saying in a low +voice to her, "Take the children away," she declined anything but a +glass of wine and a biscuit, and scarcely seemed to notice the +children's eager-- + +"We may have the tableaux, mother, mayn't we? and Ada may write the +notes for our birthday party?" + +"Yes, darlings, yes. Run away now." + +The two little boys scampered off, and Ada, stooping over her mother, +kissed her, and said,-- + +"You look so tired, mother!" + +Raymond and Reginald were still lingering at the bottom of the table, +when Raymond said,-- + +"I suppose I can take out Captain this afternoon? I want to ride over to +St. John's." + +"Your father--" Mrs. Wilton got no further; and Salome said,-- + +"Father does not like Captain to be ridden carelessly, Raymond. You had +better take old Bess." + +"_Thank_ you!" was Raymond's retort; "I did not ask for your opinion, +Miss Sal." + +Then Raymond left the room, and Reginald, seeing his mother did not wish +to be troubled with questions, followed him. + +Ada with another kiss, as she leaned over the back of her mother's +chair, also went away, and Salome and her mother were left to +themselves. + +Salome knew something was wrong--very wrong, but her lips refused to +form the words she longed to utter. Mrs. Wilton, finding they were alone +together, covered her face with her hand, and then in a broken whisper +said,-- + +"Your father is in great trouble, Salome." + +"Is he ill?" the girl asked quietly. + +"Ill, and most miserable. He thinks he is ruined." + +"I don't understand, mother. How is he ruined?" + +"The great Norwegian firm with which he traded has failed; and as if +that were not enough, rumours are floating to-day that the Central Bank +is likely to stop payment to-morrow." + +Salome's bewildered expression struck her mother as pathetic. "She is +only a child," she was saying to herself; "she does not take it in." + +Presently Salome said with a deep-drawn breath, "Has father all his +money in the bank, then?" + +"All his private fortune; and then, if he has to stop trading as a +timber merchant, the loss will be--simply ruin, Salome." + +"This house is ours, isn't it?" the girl asked. + +"My dear child, ours no longer if it has to be sold to meet the +debts--the liabilities, as they are called. But do not say a word to any +one to-day. There is just this chance, the rumours about the Central +Bank may be false. Your father's partners incline to the hope that it +may prove so; but I have no hope, no hope. Oh, your father's face of +misery is more than I can bear! At his age, to have everything taken +from him!" + +"Not everything, mother; he has got _you_." + +"What am I? A poor weak woman, never strong, never fitted for much +exertion. What will become of the children?" + +"I will do my best, mother," Salome said. "I will do all I can." + +"_You_, Salome! My dear," said her mother sadly, "what could you do?" + +"Take care of the boys; teach the little ones; save the expense of a +governess; help you to do without so many servants," Salome said +promptly. + +"Ah, Salome, we shall want no servants, for we shall have no home. +Maplestone must be sold, and all the dear old pictures;--but I must not +go over this part of it. Mr. Stone happened to meet your father in +Fairchester, and thought him looking so ill that he brought him home. He +told me he was very anxious about him, and I was by no means to allow +him to go back to Fairchester to-day. I heard him order the dog-cart +round at three o'clock, and he ought not to go; yet how can I stop him?" + +"May I go and see father?" Salome asked. "I will be very quiet, and not +worry him." + +"I hardly know. He said none of the children were to be told +to-day--that I was to keep the trouble from you; that is why I dared not +come in to luncheon. And the De Brettes and Fergusons dine here +to-night. They ought to be put off; but he won't hear of it. Miss Barnes +saw Mr. Stone leading your father across the hall. I was obliged to tell +her about it; but she said she would keep it from the children." + +"I am not a child now, mother," Salome said; "I am nearly sixteen. +Somehow," and her voice faltered--"somehow I don't feel as if I should +ever be a child any more if--If you come upstairs and lie down in your +sitting-room, I will go and see father, and try to persuade him not to +go to Fairchester. Now, mother." + +For the first time in her life Salome felt that she must think for +others as well as for herself. It was a sudden awakening. Long years +after, she recalled that last dreamy noon-tide by the little lake, and +all her visions and illusions: the fairy web of youthful weaving, which +some of us remember, was so delicious and so sweet. Now, when she had +drawn down the venetian blinds and left her mother to rest, if rest were +possible, she paused before she could summon courage to turn to the +library and see the father she so dearly loved in his sore trouble. + + + + +CHAPTER II. + +SORROW AND SIGHING. + + +To Salome's great relief, she remembered there were no school-room +lessons that afternoon. Miss Barnes had to take Ada into Fairchester in +the pony-carriage for a music lesson. Carl and Hans were full of their +birthday party, and had possessed themselves of a heap of decayed +finery, which they were sorting in their spacious old nursery. Raymond +had taken Captain, and Salome saw him trotting quickly down the drive, +from the staircase window when she passed on her way to the library. She +saw Reginald, too, lingering about on the lawn, and at last stretch +himself full length under a spreading cedar, with his cap tilted over +his eyes, and Puck, a little white dog, lying near him. She wished she +could only tell Reginald. It was better Ada should not know; but +Reginald was so different. Reginald lying there so unconscious of coming +trouble; Raymond riding off on the very horse which had been forbidden; +the little pony-carriage wheeling away to Fairchester, Ada whipping up +the fat gray pony, and turning out on the road with a grand flourish; +Carl and Hans singing over their wreaths of faded flowers, worn by their +mother in young, happy days; nurse's voice in occasional remonstrance; +and the loud singing of a canary,--all these sounds and sights told of +life at Maplestone going on as it had done for so long, and only +she--Salome--knew that all things were on the very brink of change. +There, as she stood thus thinking, some words came to her soul in that +strange, mysterious way which all of us, young and old, must have +recognized sometimes as coming from some One higher and holier than +ourselves--"With God is no variableness, neither shadow of turning;" and +then, as if in answer to all her day-dreams, there came the memory of +other words, left as a beacon pointing heavenward to all young hearts,-- + + "Be good, dear maid, and let who will be clever; + _Do_ noble deeds, nor dream them all day long; + And so make life, death, and that vast for ever + One grand sweet song." + +"I want to do what is right," she sighed. "I want to help them,--father, +and all of them,--but oh, I must pray God to help me and make me +patient!" Then, with a quiet, slow step she went to the library door and +tapped gently. There was no answer. Then Salome opened the door and +went in. + +Her father was sitting in his arm-chair, with his back turned towards +her. Salome went up to him and touched his arm. + +"Papa." + +Mr. Wilton turned his face towards her at last, and said, almost +roughly,-- + +"What do you want, Salome?" + +"Mother has told me all, and I am come to tell you how I love you, and I +will try to help you, if I can." + +"My dear--my dear child," Mr. Wilton said, "no one can help me now; I am +ruined! But your mother promised not to tell you. You might as well have +had another night of peace,--just as well. I told her to keep it from +the children." + +"But, dear father, I am not like a child now. I am the eldest girl, and +I ought to know what troubles you. Mother could not keep it from me; she +was obliged to tell some one. I want to ask you to be so very kind as +not to go into Fairchester again to-day, but stay quiet." + +"Nonsense," said Mr. Wilton impatiently; "I must go. Why should I leave +the sinking ship like this? I am very well. It is all Stone's humbug, +frightening your poor mother out of her wits. Here, give me another +glass of wine, and then ring for Curtis to come round with the +dog-cart." + +Mr. Wilton suddenly rose from his chair, and before Salome could prevent +it he had emptied the decanter into a tumbler, and was raising it to his +lips when he dropped it with a crash upon the ground, his hand fell +powerless at his side, and he sank back in the chair speechless and +unconscious of any outward thing. + +Instantly Salome's first thought was of her mother--to save her from the +sudden shock which had blanched her own lips with terror, and for a +moment left her as helpless as her poor father. + +Then, instead of ringing the bell frantically, or calling out aloud, as +so many girls would have done, she ran with the speed of lightning to +the nursery and called her faithful friend there. + +"Come to papa! quick, Stevens, quick!" Then as nurse threw down her work +and obeyed her she flew to the garden, where Reginald, all unconscious +of the impending sorrow, was lying under the cedar tree. + +"Reginald, Reginald, get up! father is much worse. Send to Fairchester +for Mr. Stone, or any doctor; _pray_ make haste." + +"Father! what is the matter with him?" + +"Oh, I don't know! His face is an awful gray colour, and his mouth--O +Reginald, don't ask me, only go and get some help; but don't let mother +be frightened." + +Reginald did as she told him without farther question; and Salome +returned to the library. + +The servants were gathered there now--the old butler, Greenwood; +Stevens, the nurse, who had seen Mr. Wilton bring home his bride; others +of the large household standing near in awe-struck silence. They made +way for the little figure that appeared at the door, and let Salome pass +to Stevens, who was supporting her master's head, while Greenwood was +loosing his collar. + +"You can do no good, my dear Miss Salome; no good." + +"What do you mean, Stevens? I have sent Reginald for Mr. Stone--" Here +she stopped, for Greenwood broke out into convulsive crying. + +"The dear master is struck for death, and no mortal power can help him +now!" + + * * * * * + +That evening about seven o'clock, Salome, sitting by her mother's side +in the hushed and darkened room where the master of Maplestone lay +breathing heavily, quite unconscious of any outward thing, heard the +sound of horses' feet. She rose quickly and went to the hall door. + +"It is Raymond. I had better tell him," she said. + +On her way she met Ada, her pretty face washed with tears, like a rose +in a heavy shower, who said,-- + +"Raymond has come back on one of Mr. St. John's horses, Salome. He has +broken Captain's knees; just think of that!" + +"Does he know?" Salome asked. + +"I daresay they have told him in the stables. Is there any change in +father?" + +Salome shook her head. "Will you go and sit with mother while I find +Raymond? Reginald is gone with the messages to the De Brettes and +Fergusons." + +"Oh, I am afraid to see father," Ada said, shuddering. "I dare not go. I +wonder if Uncle Loftus will come; Miss Barnes says he is sure to start +when he gets the telegram. Here comes Raymond." + +Raymond came in with a would-be careless air, trying to whistle. Salome +went up to him. + +"Raymond, do you know what has happened?" + +"My father is ill, you mean. What is the matter with him? I shall be +spared a row about Captain. I have been and done for Captain, and for +myself pretty nearly. What do you both look so scared for?" + +"Come into the drawing-room and I will tell you, Raymond. O Raymond!" +Salome said, "father is dying! Mr. Stone has telegraphed for Dr. Scott, +but he has no hope." + +Raymond's lip quivered, and the real boy-nature asserted itself. "I wish +I had not taken Captain," he said. "Where's mother?" + +"In the library. He was seized with this fit while I was with him there. +He could not bear the dreadful blow which has fallen on him." + +"Blow! What do you mean?" + +"I forgot," Salome said simply. "Father has lost all his money, and we +shall have nothing." + +"What nonsense! We shall have this house, and--" + +"Oh no, Raymond! The house and everything in it will have to be sold. +But oh! what is that--what is that to--losing father?" and Salome +covered her face with her hands and wept bitterly. + +"I say, Salome, don't take on like this," said Raymond in a strangely +husky and unnatural voice. "There is some mistake, depend upon it. +Things can't be as bad as that. Why, what am _I_ to do, if I can't go +back to Eton?" + +Ah, there was the sting to the undisciplined, selfish nature,--"What am +_I_ to do?" + +Salome turned away and went back to keep her sorrowful vigil by her +mother's side. + +The next week was like a terrible dream to Salome. The dreaded news of +the stoppage of the Central Bank came, as had been expected; but Mr. +Wilton died unknowing that his worst fears had been realized, and that +all was lost. He was laid to rest in the pretty churchyard of Maplestone +just one week after the blow had fallen, and his widow and children were +left desolate. + +Uncle Loftus had arrived, as Miss Barnes had expected. He had not +remained all through the sad week,--while the sunshine reigned without, +and darkness and dreariness within Maplestone Court,--but he returned +for the funeral; and the same evening he sat in consultation with Mr. +Calvert, the lawyer, and Mr. De Brette, with the partners of the great +timber concern which had collapsed in the general and widespread +pressure of the time. Mr. Wilton's case was rendered far worse by the +loss of a large private income derived from shares in the Central Bank. +There was literally nothing left to his children but his heavy +liabilities and his wife's small settlement. + +"Under three hundred a year," Dr. Loftus Wilton said; "and with all +their previous habits and way of life, this will be little enough. My +sister-in-law is not a strong woman, and has had her own way, poor +thing--I mean she has been blessed with a very indulgent husband." + +"I suppose the eldest boy can earn his living," Mr. De Brette said; "he +is over seventeen." + +"He ought to do so. We must get him into an office. Perhaps, when the +concern is wound up, Mr. Ferguson may find him a berth when a fresh +start is made." + +"A fresh start!" exclaimed Mr. Ferguson; "that will never be, as far as +I am concerned. I should think a clerkship in a bank would be better." + +"I think you ought to see Raymond," Dr. Loftus Wilton said; "he is his +father's representative, and everything should be laid before him. Then +there is the eldest girl, close on sixteen; a little creature, but full +of nerve and sense. Shall we call them?" + +The gentlemen seemed doubtful; and Mr. De Brette said,-- + +"Poor things! I think we had better leave it to you to tell them what +must happen. The house will realize a good deal," he added, looking +round; "fine pictures, and everything in good order. The cellar, too, +must be valuable--poor Wilton's wine was always of the choicest." + +"Yes, poor fellow. My brother lived up to the mark, perhaps a little too +much so; but who was to foresee such a calamity as this?" + +After a little more discussion the party broke up,--the lawyer gathering +together the papers and Mr. Wilton's will with a half sigh, as he +said,-- + +"This is so much waste paper now. It is a melancholy story, and there +are hundreds like it. Nothing but losses all round." + +Dr. Loftus Wilton strolled out into the grounds when he was left alone. +He would put off talking to the children till the next day, he thought, +and there was no immediate necessity to do so. He was sorry for them; +but he had a large family, and a hard fight to provide for them out of a +professional income as a doctor in a fashionable watering-place, where +much was required in the way of appearance, and people were valued very +much by what they wore, and very little by what they were. The summer +was always a flat time at Roxburgh, and hence Dr. Loftus Wilton could +better afford the time away from his practice. "There are good schools +at Roxburgh for the small boys, and the two girls could get advantages," +he thought; "but then Anna will not trouble herself about poor Arthur's +family. In fact, she would not care to have them there. Still, I must do +my duty. She and Emily never did hit it off. Anna thought she patronized +her; and now it would be the other way, poor things." And then Dr. +Wilton lighted another cigar and paced up and down the garden, till at +last he found himself on the wooden bridge, and in the stillness of the +summer evening heard voices. He went on, and came upon the lake, on the +bank of which three black figures were sitting--Salome and her two +elder brothers. The opportunity was too good to be lost, and knocking +the ashes off his cigar end, Dr. Wilton descended, saying,-- + +"The very people I wanted to see.--Here, Reginald, my boy, +stop--Raymond, I mean." + +But Raymond, at the sight of his uncle, had suddenly left his seat, and, +with his hands in his pockets, had disappeared in the tangled shrubbery +which led away from the lake on the other side. + +Reginald, however, stopped when his uncle called, and Salome, rising, +said,-- + +"Did you want us, Uncle Loftus?" The pale, tear-stained face and little +slight figure, in its black, sombre dress, touched Dr. Wilton. + +"Yes, my dear; I came to talk with you and your eldest brother, +as--well, as reasonable people. Sit down, Salome," and he drew her +towards him on the bench. + +[Illustration: "'Sit down, Salome', and Dr. Wilton drew her toward him +on the bench." _Page 33._] + +"You know, my dear," he began, "you know you will have to leave +Maplestone at once,--the sooner for all of you the better, I think,--for +the place is in the possession of your poor father's creditors. Now, my +dear, listen to me." + +"I am listening, Uncle Loftus," Salome said. + +"I cannot do much for you, for I have a large family and many expenses; +but I have been thinking Roxburgh would be a good place for you all to +live in. The small boys could go to school, and--" + +"I mean to teach Carl and Hans, Uncle Loftus. There are Raymond and +Reginald. Reginald is not fourteen." + +"Oh, well, Reginald must have a year or two more, I suppose. But Raymond +is well over sixteen; he must work for his living." + +"And there is Ada, Uncle Loftus,--she must go on with her lessons." + +"My dear, I am afraid _must_ is a word we shall have to leave alone now. +It is what you can afford out of your poor mother's income, not what you +_must_ have. Now I want you to ask her what she thinks of my plan. If +she approves it, I will look for a small furnished lodging, somewhere in +Roxburgh, and I will speak to your Aunt Anna--only you must get your +mother's mind about it first. I shall see her to-morrow before I leave, +and you can prepare her for my proposition. You must take heart, my +dear. Things may brighten." + +"Nothing can bring father back," said Salome passionately. "I could bear +anything if only I had him. To have worked so hard for us, and then to +die ruined and broken-hearted!" + +Dr. Wilton had nothing to say except, "My dear, don't fret--pray don't. +From what I have observed as a medical man, I think your poor father's +life would not have been a long one at the best. He had a slight attack, +you know, two years ago, when I advised him to go abroad for a few weeks +for entire rest. And this fearful blow was too much for him--brought on +the last attack of paralysis, which proved fatal. Your brothers ought +not to have gone off in that way." + +"I am here, Uncle Loftus," Reginald said. "I have heard every word; I am +ready to do anything to help my mother," he continued, drawing himself +upright from the long grass where he had been lying full length. + +"That's a brave little man," Dr. Wilton said. "I wish your brother may +show the same good feeling." And then he relighted his cigar, and went +over the bridge again. + +"How unfeeling he is!" were Reginald's first words. "Oh, dear Sal, +_don't_!" for Salome was sobbing bitterly. "Don't, Sal; and, for any +sake, don't let us go to Roxburgh to be patronized by that set of +heartless people. Let's stick together, and go and live near a big +school, where I can go as a day boy. Not at Rugby though; I shouldn't +like that. The fellows in Crawford's house might look down on me as a +day boy. It is hard to have to leave Rugby; but I don't mean to give up +because I have to do my work somewhere else. One's work doesn't +alter--that's one comfort; and I'll do my best. And I have got _you_, +Sal; that's more than most fellows can say, for sisters like you don't +grow like blackberries in the hedge." + +"O Reg! I am sure I have not been of much use to you, only I think I +understand you. And, Reg"--this was said very earnestly--"you must tell +me always when I am untidy, and wake me up when I am in a dream, and +remind me to put my books away, and not leave everything in a +higgledy-piggledy fashion." + +"Oh, bother it! clever girls like you, who are always thinking and +making up stories and verses, often are all of a heap." + +"But that does not make it right, Reg; and I am not a bit clever, +really. Think of Ada--how beautifully she works and plays and draws! and +I don't do one of those things. Sometimes I think I might make a very +little money by writing a story. You know I have written heaps, and torn +them up, but now I shall keep the next and read it to you. I have got it +all straight in my head, not a hitch anywhere. Reg, isn't it strange I +can make all things in my stories go so pit-pat and right, and yet I +never can keep my goods straight? Why--would you believe it?--I've +already lost one of my new black kid gloves with four buttons. I can't +find it _anywhere_. It just shows what I shall have to do to _make_ +myself orderly." + +"Ah!" said Reginald, "I see; if I were you, Sal, I would have some of my +hair cut off." + +"I have turned it up," Salome said; "I thought I had better try to do it +myself to-day." + +"Yes; but there is a great pin sticking out, and a long tail hanging +down, and"--Reginald hesitated--"it makes you _look_ as if you weren't +quite trim. Trim isn't prim, you know, Sal." + +"No; that's right, Reginald. Tell me just what you think, won't you, and +I will tell you. I suppose," she went on, "such a sorrow as ours makes +us think more of God. We are forced to think of Him; but, O Reg! I have +been thinking of Him before this trouble--His love and care for every +tiny creature, and giving us so many beautiful things. I feel as if no +loss of money could take _them_ away--the sky, the sunshine, the +flowers--all signs of God's love. And then even _this_ comes from Him; +and I know He is love, and so I try to bear it." + +"You are awfully good, Salome," Reginald said in a husky voice. "You +know that talk we had at Easter. I have done what you said ever since, +you know. Not that I always or ever get much good from it; but I always +read the verses you said you would, and try to say a real prayer in +chapel. The dear old chapel," Reginald said; "fancy if I never see it +again!" + +The brother and sister sat in silence for a few minutes, and then +Salome said, "I must go to mother now, and tell her what Uncle Loftus +wishes, and try to find Raymond. Poor Ray! it is worse for him than for +any of us somehow. Ray was made to be rich." + +"He'll have to get a lot of nonsense knocked out of him, I expect," +Reginald said, as he and Salome parted--Reginald turning off to the +stables to see poor Captain, who had been brought back comparatively +worthless. And Salome, going to her mother's room, met Raymond on the +stairs. To her surprise he said,-- + +"Come here, Sal; I want to speak with you." + +They went into the library together, now so full of memories to Salome +that she could hardly restrain her tears; but she was always saying to +herself, "I must keep up for mother's sake, and not be weak and +useless." + +"I say, Salome, don't you be taken in by Uncle Loftus; he is going to +ride over us, and I won't stand it. I shall not go to Roxburgh, and so I +shall tell him. I must try and get into--well, into the militia, and--" + +"Raymond, you cannot do it. There is only just enough money to keep +mother and all of us. You don't seem to take it in, Ray. Dear Ray! I am +dreadfully sorry for you, for you will feel it most; but you would do +anything for mother, and if you went into a bank or an office you might +soon get rich and--" + +"Rich! whoever heard such nonsense? I shall go and see Mr. Calvert the +first thing to-morrow, and tell him how Uncle Loftus tries to put us +down." + +Salome was really astonished at her brother's unreasonableness and +absolute childishness; and Ada coming in to say mother wanted Salome +directly, she left her with Raymond, despairing of making any impression +upon him. + + + + +CHAPTER III. + +EDINBURGH CRESCENT. + + +Dr. Wilton was too busy all the day after his return to Roxburgh to +think much about his nieces and nephews at Maplestone. The incessant +calls on a medical man in the full swing of practice in a place like +Roxburgh are urgent and cannot be put aside. He came in to dinner at +half-past seven, and the scene of his home comfort and his elder +children seated round him brought back to him forcibly the condition of +his brother's widow and his family. + +When the servant had left the room, Dr. Wilton said,-- + +"I have advised these poor things to come here for the winter anyhow, +Anna. Can you look for lodgings for them to-morrow? I think there may be +some to be had cheap down by St. Luke's Church." + +"Come here, Loftus! You surely are not going to bring Emily and the +children here, the most expensive place to decide upon." + +"Well, I don't know what else to advise. You see we might show them some +attention, and help them on a little. The boys could go to the college, +and the girls get advantages which will fit them for teaching. Poor +things! it makes my heart ache when I think of them, I can tell you." + +"Papa!" exclaimed Louise Wilton, "I am sure we don't want them here. I +never could get on with Salome and Ada. I am sure I hated being at +Maplestone that summer; and Aunt Emily was so grand and stuck-up." + +"Nonsense, Louise!" said her father sharply. "Grand and stuck-up indeed! +Poor thing! she will only just be able to pull through with all those +children. Hans and Carl are quite little things." + +"Well, I must say," said Mrs. Loftus Wilton, "I do think it is a mistake +to bring them all here; and I don't believe for an instant you will get +lodgings for them at a low price." + +"I am not going to try," said Dr. Wilton. "I leave that to you; and +to-morrow morning you had better take the carriage and drive about till +you find some at thirty shillings or two pounds a week. Four bed-rooms +and two sitting-rooms will do." + +Mrs. Wilton leaned back in her chair and said, "I shall send Betha; she +is a far better judge than I am of lodgings. But I feel sure you will be +disappointed. It will be utterly impossible to get lodgings in Roxburgh +for two pounds a week to accommodate a family like poor Emily's." + +"I should have thought," said Dr. Wilton, "you might have troubled +yourself to help these poor people. It is not unlikely that you may find +yourself in the same position one day; and then I don't know how you +will manage. My poor brother had far less reason than I have to look +forward to leaving his wife and children unprovided for." + +With these words Dr. Wilton left the dining-room; and Louise said,-- + +"What shall we do with all the Maplestone people, mother? it will be so +awkward to have them in lodgings here. Just the last place for people to +come to who are poor." + +"Your father seems to be of a different opinion, my dear Louise, and we +must abide by his decision." + +"Really," exclaimed Kate, the second sister, "Roxburgh does not belong +to us. I suppose our cousins may come here if they like." + +"You have not practised to-day, Kate," Mrs. Wilton said sharply. "Go +into the school-room at once." + +Dr. Wilton had a large family, of whom Louise and Kate were the eldest +girls. Then came three boys, who were at the college; and then three +more little girls. A daily governess had educated Louise and Kate, who +at seventeen and eighteen were supposed to have finished with the +school-room except for music and a little German. The trio of little +girls--Edith, Maude, and Hilda--were under Miss Browne, as their sisters +had been. And in the nursery there was a little delicate, fragile boy of +four years old, who was the especial care of the kind aunt of Mrs. +Wilton, who lived in her house as a poor relation, and performed an +unlimited number of services small and great for the whole family. Her +presence in the doctor's household obviated the necessity of an +experienced nurse, an experienced cook, or an experienced housemaid. A +staff of young girls under Aunt Betha's management got through the +onerous duties of the doctor's household, and thus Mrs. Wilton practised +economy by her help. + +Like many people who love a showy outside of things and sacrifice much +to attain their object, Mrs. Wilton was very mean in small matters. An +extra quarter a pound of butter used in the house, or a shilling +expended on little Guy over and above the sum she thought right for his +beef tea and other nourishment, caused her real concern. She would fly +off to Aunt Betha to inquire into the matter, and would inveigh upon her +want of management with some asperity. But she did not grudge anything +in her drawing-room which kept it up with the fashion of the day, and +encouraged her eldest girl to dress, as she did herself, with excellent +taste and prettiness. + +Mrs. Wilton went up to the nursery after dinner, where Aunt Betha was +sitting by little Guy. He had been very feverish and ailing all day, and +his father had paid him several visits. Aunt Betha raised her head as +Mrs. Wilton rustled in. + +"He has just gone off to sleep," she whispered. + +His tall graceful mother went up to the little bed where Guy lay. + +"Loftus does not think there is much amiss," she said. "Poor little +man!" Then she sat down by the fire and said, "I want you, auntie, to go +out lodging-hunting to-morrow for me. It is for Emily Wilton and her +children. They are almost penniless, and it is necessary that they +should leave Maplestone at once, for the creditors are in possession of +the place. Shall I wake him?" Mrs. Wilton asked, as Aunt Betha turned +her head towards Guy's bed. + +"No, I think not; he is really sound now. But, oh, I am so sorry for +those poor children; I am indeed." + +"It is a pitiable case, and I don't see myself the wisdom of bringing +them to Roxburgh. However, as Loftus wishes it to be done, I must look +for the lodgings, or get you to look for them. I think down by St. +Luke's Church is the most likely locality, or behind Connaught Crescent. +They want four bed-rooms and two sitting-rooms for two pounds a week." + +"I fear we shall not succeed at that price; but I will go directly after +breakfast to-morrow,--if Susan can be trusted here. Guy must be kept +quiet till after his luncheon, and the children are so apt to rush in." + +"_Poor_ little man!" the mother repeated. "He has but small enjoyment in +his life; but we shall see him a strong man yet. Oh, those boys!" And +Mrs. Wilton hastily left the nursery as sounds of boisterous mirth +ascended from the boys' study, a small room on the ground floor where +they got through their evening preparations. Three vociferous young +voices were raised at their highest pitch, while Edith's shrill treble +was heard. + +Down went Mrs. Wilton, and at the sound of her footstep there was a +lull. + +"Edith, have I not forbidden you to interrupt your brothers at their +work? Go up to bed immediately." + +"Mamma," sobbed Edith,--"mamma, it is all Ralph's fault. He says--he +says that Uncle Arthur's children are all paupers, and that if +papa--if--" + +"She is such a baby," Ralph exclaimed; "she says pauper is a bad word." + +"Yes," laughed Cyril, "the silly baby. I believe she thinks _pauper_ is +swearing." + +"No, she does not," said Digby, the eldest of the three brothers. "No, +poor little thing. It is a shame to tease her as you have done. Come on +upstairs, Edith. I will take you," and Digby took his little sister by +the hand and was leading her away when his mother interposed. + +"Don't encourage her in naughtiness, Digby. She is very disobedient to +come here at all.--Now, Edith." + +Poor Edith obeyed at once, sobbing out, "I only said I was glad we were +not so poor as our cousins; and they all laughed at me--at least Ralph +and Cyril did--and said if papa died--" + +"That will do, Edith. You are _not_ to go down to disturb your brothers +again. The next time I find you in this room of an evening, I shall +punish you severely. Run away to bed. Aunt Betha ought to have called +you by this time; and what can Sarah be thinking of?" + +Then Mrs. Wilton kissed her little girl, and returned to the +drawing-room, where Louise was reading by the bright gaslight. + +"You have four burners lighted, Louise. It is quite unnecessary," and +Mrs. Wilton's height made it easy for her to turn down two of the +burners in the glass chandelier. + +"What a noise the boys have been making downstairs!" Louise said. "I am +sure I hope we shall not have them here all the holidays. Are we not +going to Torquay or Ilfracombe?" + +"Decidedly not _en masse_," Mrs. Wilton said. "Lodgings by the sea are +so fearfully expensive." + +"Well," said Louise, "I think it is very dull staying in Roxburgh all +the summer, and the boys are so tiresome. If we had only a proper +tennis-court; playing in the square is so disagreeable." + +"You are very discontented, Louise," said her mother. "Pray, do not +grumble any more." + +Mrs. Wilton sat down to write a letter, and no more was said till Kate +came in with Digby. They were great friends, and Digby was the generally +acknowledged good-temper of the family. I am afraid it was too much the +motto of each of the doctor's children, "Every one for himself." There +could not be said to be one really unselfish person of that household. +But Digby and Kate had more thought for others than the rest of the +brothers and sisters, and were naturally better tempered and contented. + +"Are you going to look for lodgings for Aunt Emily, mother?" Digby +asked. + +Mrs. Wilton looked up from her writing as if the idea were a new one to +her. + +"No, my dear, I shall not have time to do so. I am engaged to take +Louise and Kate to a tennis-party at Cawfield to-morrow." + +"Digby, I wish you would not sit on that sofa. Look what you have done +to the cover." + +Digby changed his seat from the sofa to a straw chair, one of those +half-circular ones with cushions which creak at every movement. + +"O Digby, do pray be quiet," said Louise irritably. "It does fidget me +to hear that noise." + +"You will be an old maid to a certainty, Louise," said her brother, "if +you are so cantankerous,--another Aunt Betha, only not half as +good.--Come on, Kate; let us have a game of backgammon." + +"Not in here!" exclaimed Louise. "I hate the rattling of the dice. Pray +go into the back drawing-room." + +"Yes, let us go there," said Kate, "in peace." + +"Peace! There is none in this house," said Digby as he followed Kate, +who jumped up on a chair to light the gas, and came down with a thud on +the floor, when she had achieved her object, which shook the glass-drops +of both chandeliers ominously. + +"I say, Kate, what a clumsy elephant you are. You'll bring down the +chandelier and a torrent of abuse from a certain person at the same +time." + +"Where are Ralph and Cyril?" Kate asked. + +"Downstairs. We have all been 'preparing a lesson,' doing a holiday +task. Such humbug, as if fellows of our age ought not to dine late." + +"Well, the Barrington boys always have school-room tea." + +"They are younger. Ned isn't fifteen, and I am sixteen." + +"No, not quite; not till next week," Kate said. "You are younger than +Raymond. Are you not sorry for them at Maplestone?" + +"Awfully," said Digby; "and I think every one so unfeeling. You girls +ought to be in mourning." + +"Mamma said it would be too expensive," said Kate; "but then she never +expected they would all come here and see us. I believe she is going to +get up something if they do come; but they may not get lodgings. Isn't +it odd, Digby, to think of our visit to Maplestone a year and a half +ago, when we felt them so much better off than we were, and envied the +house and the gardens, and the ponies and the carriages? And Raymond +talked so much of his swell Eton friends; and Reginald was at Rugby; and +you grumbled because you could not go to school, but had to be a day boy +at the college here." + +"Yes, I remember," said Digby. "And how pretty Ada looked when she went +to church on Sunday. And that quiet one, they say, is clever, with the +queer name." + +"Salome! ah, yes," said Kate. "She was odd--so dreamy, and unlike other +girls. Dear me, it is very sad for them all. I wish they were not coming +here all the same, for I know they will be disappointed; and Roxburgh is +not a place to be poor in. I am sick of all the talking about who this +person is, and where they come from, and what they wear; and that +'residents' can't know 'lodgers' for fear of getting mixed up with what +is not quite the thing. I do hate it," said Kate vehemently; "and yet +what is one to do?" + +"Play backgammon now," said Digby; "and go to bed and forget it. With +slow holidays like these, one had better lie there half the day." + +"_Pray_ don't be late to-morrow, Digby; it does make such a fuss. Now +then--sixes as a start. What luck for me!" + +So the cousins in Edinburgh Terrace talked of the cousins at Maplestone. +So small a part of the lives of others do griefs and sorrows make. That +evening, while Digby and Kate were so lightly discussing the coming of +Ada and Raymond, of Aunt Emily and Reginald, Salome was standing in the +fading light by her father's grave in the quiet churchyard of +Maplestone, with some freshly-gathered flowers in her hand, and crying +as if her heart would break! + + + + +CHAPTER IV. + +LOOKING FOR LODGINGS. + + +Aunt Betha was not the person to do anything by halves. She had promised +to set forth early the next day to "hunt for lodgings," and she did not +shrink from her task. She was up earlier than usual, that everything +might be in order and her daily routine gone through in good time. First +there was Guy to be washed and dressed; and his breakfast, with his two +little sisters, Maude and Hilda,--Edith breakfasting in the dining-room +with her elders. Then came the visit to the kitchen, and Mrs. Wilton's +orders and counter-orders to convey to the young servant who cooked +under Aunt Betha's supervision. There were the daily accounts to +balance, and the daily arrangements to make; and last, not least, the +daily burden of others to be borne. How nobly and uncomplainingly Aunt +Betha bore this burden I have no words to tell you. She had gone through +deep trials in her young days, and had been the useful sister to Mrs. +Wilton's mother. Then when that sister died, and dying said, "You will +have a home with Anna; don't give her up, she will want help," Aunt +Betha transferred her faithful service from the mother to the daughter. +She was too poor to live without earning her own living, and she chose +to do this by the position in Dr. Wilton's house in which we find her. + +Dear Aunt Betha! She was plain, and short, and very old-fashioned in her +dress. "I hear too much about dress in this house," she would say, "to +care much about my own." And black silk for Sundays, and a black merino +or alpaca for week-days, made short and full, was her unvarying costume. +Aunt Betha was scrupulously neat and clean, and her caps, tied with +mauve ribbon under her chin, were always fresh and bright. So were the +large collar and cuffs which finished her "afternoon dress;" though when +she was busy about the house in the morning she dispensed with the +cuffs, and wore a large apron and holland sleeves over her gown. + +Mrs. Wilton had that dislike to trouble which can hardly be called +indolence; for she was active in her habits, and could go through a good +deal of fatigue without complaining. She would walk with Louise to a +house at some distance, if the carriage was not available, rather than +miss an afternoon party. She would give herself any amount of trouble +about one of her husband's patients who she thought belonged to a good +family. She would plan and contrive for Louise and Kate's dress and +amusement; and her own appearance was singularly youthful and her dress +faultless; and all this was not effected without much pain and trouble. +But all the daily routine of household duties which did not bring any +especial honour with them she disliked. Drudgery could be as well done +by Aunt Betha as by her. Why should she be a drudge? "Aunt Betha was +made to be useful, and she enjoys it. Dear old woman! We give her a +comfortable home, and she is happy. Nothing could fit in better." + +"I am not to exceed two pounds a week, Anna?" Aunt Betha asked, as she +put her head into the dining-room, where Mrs. Wilton and Louise were +lingering over breakfast and complaining that Digby was so late. + +"Oh, about the lodgings!" exclaimed Mrs. Wilton. "Are you going now, +dear?" (Mrs. Wilton often called Aunt Betha "dear.") "I will go up to +Guy, then." + +"Susan is with him. He is better this morning. Good-bye,--I have no time +to lose." + +"Very well. Take a cab if you are very tired. Certainly not more than +two pounds a week for the lodgings; but less will be better." + +Aunt Betha closed the door, and was soon on her way, her quick, light +footsteps growing faint and fainter as she went along the smooth +pavement of Edinburgh Crescent. She had a message at the green-grocer's +and an order at the butcher's to leave as she passed the shops which +supplied the wants of Roxburgh; and then she turned away from what might +be called the West End of Roxburgh to the neighbourhood of St. Luke's +Church. Here there was a substratum of small villas and long, narrow +streets, which were a long way from the crescents and terraces of the +gay town to which so many people resorted for health and pleasure. The +college at Roxburgh stood a little apart from crescents and small +streets, and a large number of well-built houses clustered around it, +where the families of boys who attended the college mostly lived. In +days gone by there had been a mineral spa at Roxburgh, which had proved +the starting-point of the large fashionable watering-place of these +later times. But "the spa" had declined in popularity, and the old +pump-room was in a forlorn state of decay and desolation. It had given +Roxburgh its fame; and now, being out of repute, was cast aside and +renounced. + +The part of the town towards which Aunt Betha directed her efforts lay +below the deserted spa, and was nearer the large, smoky town of +Harstone, which was scarcely two miles from Roxburgh, where a busy life +of trade and commerce went on in the valley, apart from the life of +pleasure on the hill above. A cloud of smoke lay in the valley above +Harstone, and the river fogs crept up on this side of Roxburgh, laden +with the smut and breath of the chimneys, in late autumn and winter; but +on this bright August morning, the towers and spires of the Harstone +churches looked picturesque in the soft, gray mist which lay over them +and the tall masts of the ships in the docks. + +Aunt Betha did not, however, turn her eyes to the valley. She was too +much intent on scanning the rows of small houses with "Apartments," +"Furnished Apartments," printed on boards in the windows. + +"Number 3 Lavender Place. That is a nice bow window, and white curtains. +I'll try there." Aunt Betha rang the bell, and did not fail to notice +"that you might see your face in the brass knob of the handle." A very +neat woman came to the door, and in answer to her inquiries said-- + +"Yes, I have apartments to let,--a drawing-room and four bed-rooms." + +Aunt Betha felt quite delighted at what seemed likely to be the speedy +end of her labours. Everything was so neat. Drawing-room back and +front. Could anything be better? Then came the question of terms. + +"Two guineas a week." + +"Would you, Mrs.--" Aunt Betha paused. + +"Parsons--my name is Parsons," said the landlady. + +"Could you, Mrs. Parsons, say less if the rooms were taken for some +time?" + +"Perhaps I might, ma'am. I _might_ say two pounds." + +"Very well. I don't think I shall do better. I will close at once, and +send you word as to the day the family will arrive." + +"Pray, ma'am," inquired Mrs. Parsons, "how many are there in the +family?" + +"A widow lady, and, let me see, a servant,--poor thing, she must keep +one servant; she has been used to more than you can count on your +fingers,--and six children." + +"I never take children, ma'am, _never_," said Mrs. Parsons. + +"Oh dear, that is unfortunate; but these are not young children. The +little boys are twins, and are--" + +"_Boys!_ that quite decides me, ma'am. I don't like other folk's +servants about my place; but I _might_ have got over that, had the +children been girls. But boys--" + +"Then I must wish you good-morning," said Aunt Betha. "Can you tell me +of any house where children would not be objected to? _I_ live in a +house full of children myself, and I find them, as a rule, a deal +pleasanter than grown-up people. But of course you must please +yourself." + +"I look at my furniture, ma'am, and my peace and comfort. I look to the +ruin of carpets and chairs, and--" + +But Aunt Betha stayed to hear no more, and trotted off on her arduous +errand. + +In and out of houses went poor Aunt Betha, with alternate hopes and +fears. Some were dirty and slovenly: the landladies of these called the +children "little dears," and said "they doted on children." Some rooms +were too dear; some too small; and as the sharp-sounding clock of St. +Luke's struck twelve, Aunt Betha felt tired out and ready to give up. +She was standing hopelessly at the corner of Lavender Place, when a +pleasant-looking woman, crossing the road, exclaimed with a smile, "Why, +if that's not Miss Cox! Dear me, Miss Cox, how are you, ma'am?" + +"I am pretty well, Ruth, thank you; but I am tired out. I am looking for +lodgings for poor Mr. Arthur Wilton's family, and I can't find any." + +"Mr. Arthur Wilton! Poor gentleman. I saw his death in the paper, and +thought it must be the doctor's brother. He has left a long family, +hasn't he?" + +"Yes; that is, shorter than my niece's; but six are enough to provide +for when there is nothing left but debts and difficulties." + +Ruth was an old married servant of Dr. Wilton's, one of the innumerable +young cooks who had been under Miss Cox, and had basely deserted her as +soon as she could _cook_--send up a dinner fit to be eaten--to dress the +dinner of the baker's boy who had served 6 Edinburgh Crescent with +bread. + +"Dear me! I thought Mr. Wilton was a very rich gentleman. I have heard +the young ladies talk of the fine country place. How was it?" + +"He had misfortunes and losses, Ruth; and his family are coming here to +live in furnished lodgings. But I can meet with none. Can you help me?" + +Ruth looked right and left, as if she expected to see some one coming up +or down the road with the news of lodgings in their hands, and was +silent. At last a light seemed to break over her rosy face. "If they +don't mind being next to our shop, I believe I do know the very place. +Will you come and see? The house belongs to my mother-in-law, and she +has got it nicely furnished. It is not far; will you come, Miss Cox?" + +"Is it quite near, Ruth? for I must be back for the children's dinner, +and I am so tired." + +"You can take a tram from the Three Stars, and that will get you home in +no time. It is not far, Miss Cox." + +"Well, I will come, Ruth; but I don't feel sure about engaging the +lodgings. Your mother-in-law won't mind my looking at them?" + +"Oh no, ma'am, not a bit. She was an old servant, you know, of some real +gentry at Whitelands, and the old lady died last fall twelvemonth, and +left mother--I always calls her mother--a nice little sum and some real +valuable furniture." + +"Oh! then she won't take children," said Miss Cox despairingly. "She +won't take boys?" + +"That she will, if you like the apartments; there won't be no +difficulties," said Ruth in a reassuring voice. "You see, my Frank's +father died when he was an infant, and mother went back to her old +place, where she lived till two years ago, when the mistress died. Then +she took this little business for Frank, and the house next. It is quite +a private house, and was built by a gentleman. She thought she should be +near us and help us on a bit, and so she has. And she put the furniture +in it, and has added a bit here and there; and she let it all last +winter to the curate and his mother; and here we are, Miss Cox. Look +straight before you." + +Miss Cox looked straight before her as she was told, and there, at the +end of the road, stood a neat white house with a pretty good-sized +baker's shop on the lower floor, and two windows above. There was a wing +with a bake-house, and then a tall elm tree, left of its brethren which +had once stood there in a stately group, either by accident or by +design, and given their name to the locality--Elm Fields. + +"There's my Frank at the door," Ruth said, nodding; "he wonders what I +am come back for." + +"I remember him," said Miss Cox; "he used to take an hour to deliver the +bread. Ah, Ruth, you should not have married such a boy." + +"Shouldn't I? Then, Miss Cox, you and I don't agree there. If I am a bit +older, Frank is the best husband that ever lived.--This way, ma'am." + +Ruth opened a wooden gate and went up a narrow path to the door of a +small house, built of old-fashioned brick, with a porch at the side, and +a trellis covered with clematis. + +"Quite like country, isn't it, ma'am?--Mother," Ruth called. And then +from the back of the house Mrs. Pryor emerged, a thin, pale, +respectable-looking woman, but with a sad expression on her face. +"Here's a lady, mother, come to look at your apartments, for a +family--Dr. Wilton's brother, you know, mother, where I lived when I +first saw Frank." + +"Ah! indeed; will you please to look round, ma'am? It is a tidy place; I +do all I can to keep it neat and clean; and there's some good furniture +in it, left me by my dear blessed mistress." And Mrs. Pryor raised her +apron to her eyes, and spoke in a low voice, like one on the brink of +tears. + +"Well then, mother, when ladies come to be in their eighty-sevens, one +can't wish or expect them to live. It is only natural; we can't all live +to be a hundred." + +"I don't like such flighty talk, Ruth," said Mrs. Pryor reprovingly. "It +hurts me.--This way, ma'am." + +Aunt Betha followed Mrs. Pryor into a sitting-room on the ground floor, +square and very neat,--the table in the middle of the room, a large +mahogany chiffonier, with a glass of wax flowers on it, and two old +china cups. Miss Cox went to the square window and looked out. The +ground sloped away from the strip of garden, and the hamlet of Elm +Fields, consisting of the cottages and small houses where Frank now +delivered his own bread, was seen from it. There was nothing offensive +to the eye, and beyond was a line of hills. Harstone lay to the right. +Another room of the same proportions, and four bed-rooms, all very neat, +and in one, the pride of Mrs. Pryor's heart, a large four-post bed with +carved posts and heavy curtains, the very chief of the dear mistress's +gifts and legacies. + +Aunt Betha felt it would do--that it must do; and there was a little +room for the servant which Mrs. Pryor would throw in, and all for the +prescribed two pounds a week. + +"I will tell Dr. Wilton about it, and you shall hear this evening, or +to-morrow morning at latest, and you will do your best to make them +comfortable. They have had great sorrows. One thing I forgot to +consider,--how far are we from the college?" + +"Not a quarter of an hour by the Whitelands road," said Ruth eagerly. "I +can walk it in that time; and young gentlemen, why they would do it in +five minutes." + +"How many young gentlemen are there?" Mrs. Pryor asked feebly, when they +were in the passage. + +"Two that will go to the college," said Ruth quickly. Then, with a +glance at Miss Cox, she said in a lower voice, "I will make it right. +Now, ma'am, you will catch the tram at the Three Stars if you make +haste." + +Poor Aunt Betha trudged off to the Three Stars, and stumbled into the +tram just as it was starting. + +She reached Edinburgh Crescent almost at the same moment as Dr. Wilton, +who was returning from his first round. + +"I have found a house which I think will answer for the poor people from +Maplestone," she said. "I did not absolutely engage the rooms till I had +consulted you and Anna." + +Dr. Wilton gave a rapid glance to the white slate in the hall, and then +said, "Come in here a minute, auntie," opening the door of his +consulting-room. "Where are the lodgings?" + +"In the neighbourhood you mentioned--by St. Luke's Church--in that new +part by Whitelands called the Elm Fields. They are kept by a respectable +woman, the mother of an old servant of ours--Ruth--and there is room for +them all. Four bed-rooms, two sitting-rooms, and a little room for the +servant." + +"I'll take a look at the place this afternoon. I expect it is the very +thing; and I have to see a patient in that direction. If I am satisfied, +I will engage them from this day week. Guy is better to-day." + +"Yes; he slept better," said Aunt Betha. + +She was very tired, for she carried the weight of sixty-five years about +with her on her errands of love and kindness. "I must go now and carve +for Anna," she said. "It is past one o'clock." + +Dr. Wilton always took his hasty luncheon in the consulting-room,--a +glass of milk and a few biscuits. He did not encounter that long array +of young faces in the dining-room in the middle of his hard day's work. +Aunt Betha departed with her news, which was received with some +satisfaction by Mrs. Wilton. At least, Elm Fields did not lie much in +the way of Edinburgh Crescent. There was safety in distance. And Aunt +Betha wisely forbore to make any reference to the baker's shop. + +That afternoon a telegram was handed in at Maplestone, which Salome +opened for her mother with trembling fingers:-- + +"Dr. Wilton, Roxburgh, to Mrs. Wilton, Maplestone Court, near +Fairchester. + +"I have taken comfortable lodgings here for you from the twenty-third. I +will write by post." + + + + +CHAPTER V. + +A JOURNEY. + + +That last week at Maplestone was like a hurried dream to all the +children, who had known no other home. Their neighbours and friends were +very kind and full of sympathy, and Mrs. Wilton and the little boys were +invited to spend the last two days with the De Brettes, who lived near, +and it was arranged that they should stay there with Ada; and that +Salome, and Stevens, and the two elder boys should precede them to +Roxburgh. Miss Barnes had said she would come with them for a day or two +to help them to arrange the rooms, and prepare everything for Mrs. +Wilton; but she was called away to the sick-bed of her own mother, and +Stevens and Salome went with Raymond and Reginald alone. The beautiful +summer seemed over, and it was in a chill drizzling rain that Salome +looked her last at Maplestone. She did not cry as the fly, laden with +boxes, rumbled slowly down the drive. Stevens sobbed aloud, and Raymond +and Reginald kept their heads well out of each window; but Salome sat +pale and tearless. The coachman's wife at the lodge stood with her +children round her at the large gate, and curtseyed; but she hid her +face in her apron, and cried bitterly. The gardener had preceded them +with the cart to the station, and the boxes were all labelled before the +party in the fly arrived. + +[Illustration: "The coachman's wife hid her face in her apron, and cried +bitterly." _Page 66._] + +"Shall I take the tickets?" Raymond asked. + +"Yes; let Master Raymond take them," exclaimed Stevens. + +Salome had the purse intrusted to her by her mother to pay expenses. + +"It is better you should begin your responsibilities," her mother had +said sadly; "and Stevens will have so much to attend to." + +Salome opened the purse and gave Raymond a sovereign. + +"Another," he said, waiting. + +"That is enough. Four tickets, third class." + +"Third class. _I_ am not going to travel third class, I assure you." + +"We must, Raymond; we _must_," said Salome. "Raymond!" + +But Raymond was gone, and Salome stood laden with small parcels, while +poor Stevens was counting over the boxes. + +The gardener had a beautiful basket of flowers ready, and had filled a +hamper with the best fruit and vegetables from the Maplestone gardens. + +"I have put up a melon, Miss Wilton, and a lot of grapes. Mind how the +hamper is unpacked. You'll still have some more flowers soon, for I +shall be coming up to Roxburgh." + +"Perhaps we had better not, thank you, Thomas. They are not ours now, +you know--nothing is ours;" and, as often happens, the sound of her own +voice as she gave utterance to the sad truth was too much for her. She +put her little hand into Thomas's, and said in a broken voice, "Here +comes the train! Good-bye, Thomas; good-bye." + +At this moment Reginald, who had been doing his utmost to help poor +Stevens, came up. + +"Now, dear Salome, make haste. Here's an empty carriage." + +"Third class? Here you are. How many seats?" said a porter. + +"_This_ way, do you hear?" Raymond called. "This way. Stevens is to go +there, and you must come with me. I've got the tickets." + +"Hallo, Wilton!" said a pleasant voice, "where are you off to?" + +"I am going to Roxburgh with my sister," said Raymond. "My sister--Mr. +Henry St. Clair," said Raymond grandly. "Get in, Salome, or you will be +left behind." + +Raymond's friend took some parcels out of Salome's hand, and courteously +helped her into the carriage, putting the umbrellas and cloaks up in the +rack behind the seat, and settling the little parcels for her. + +As the guard came to shut the door with the usual words, "Any more going +on?" Raymond said, "Where's Reginald?" and, putting his head out, he +called, "Hallo, Reginald; you'll be left behind." + +"I am going with Stevens, third class," was the answer. + +Raymond's brow grew dark, and he muttered something between his teeth. +"What an idiot! I've got his ticket." + +Salome, who had great difficulty in repressing the tears which the +good-bye to Thomas had brought in a shower, said bravely, "We ought all +to have gone with Stevens, Raymond." + +Raymond turned away, hoping his friend would not hear, and then the two +boys began to talk about Eton matters, and Salome was left to her own +sad meditations. She could not help, however, hearing some of the +conversation, and her surprise was unbounded when she heard Raymond say +his return to Eton was uncertain, for since the "governor's" death +their plans were all unsettled. They might go abroad for the winter; at +present they had taken a house near Roxburgh! + +Oh, how could Raymond talk like that? and what would become of him? +Ashamed to go third class! ashamed to say they were poor! Oh, if only +Reginald had been the eldest brother, what a difference it would have +made. + +Raymond got out at the junction, where they had to wait for the +up-train, to smoke a cigar. His friend did not accompany him, and he and +Salome were left together. With ready tact he saw that she would prefer +silence to conversation, and he only asked her if she would like the +window quite closed, as it was so damp, picked up a flower which had +fallen from Thomas's basket, and then unfolded a newspaper. + +The next minute a young man looked in at the window and said, "I thought +I saw you at Fairchester. How are you, old fellow?" + +"All right. Where are you bound for?" + +"I am going down into Cornwall till term begins. I say, there's Wilton! +As much side on as ever, I suppose. Bragging as usual, eh?" + +Henry St. Clair tried to make it evident by a sign that remarks about +Raymond were to be stopped. + +"Never was such a fellow for brag. I have been staying near +Fairchester, and I heard the other day that the whole family were left +without a farthing and heaps of debts. Is it true?" + +"I don't know," said Henry St. Clair. "Have you seen Barnard lately?" + +"No. What makes you ask? I say, St. Clair, what's up?" + +"The _up_-train. Now we are off. Here comes Wilton." + +Raymond came sauntering up, and knocking the ashes from his cigar, threw +it away. + +"You extravagant fellow!" St. Clair exclaimed. + +"Well, I can't smoke here, can I?" + +"You ought not to smoke at all, according to Eton rules," exclaimed the +other boy, as he ran away to take his place in another part of the +train. + +"Where did Harrington come from?" + +"He has been staying near Fairchester, he says," St. Clair replied +carelessly, and then he began to read his paper. + +"Near Fairchester!" thought Raymond; "then he will have heard all about +us. Whom can he have been staying with, I wonder? How stupid Salome is +sitting there like a dummy when she might talk, as she can talk +sometimes, and be agreeable. One can't go about the world airing one's +pauperism; it's such nonsense." + +The rest of the journey passed without much conversation. The Wiltons +were to get out at a small station where there was a junction of two +miles to Roxburgh. Henry St. Clair was going on to Harstone. He helped +Salome, and even said to Raymond, "Here, take your sister's bag and +umbrella, Wilton." + +Reginald and Stevens were behind at the van watching the piles of boxes +turned out, and Stevens was nervously counting them. + +Henry St. Clair bid Salome a pleasant good-bye, and she felt his kind +attentions in contrast to Raymond's indifference. + +"What a nice little thing that sister of Wilton's is!" Henry St. Clair +thought, as the train moved off and he caught sight of Salome's slight +figure standing by Stevens and the luggage which was to be carried +across to another platform for the Roxburgh train. "A nice little thing! +And what a selfish brute Wilton is; such a cad, too, with his big +talk--while she is so different. I wonder whether it is true what +Harrington has heard. I will ask Barnard. He comes from those parts, and +is sure to know. I'll ask him." + +The drizzling rain had turned into a regular down-pour, when at last +Stevens and her boxes were safely stowed away in the omnibus, and Salome +and her brothers filled a cab, with small parcels, baskets, and rugs at +the Roxburgh station. + +"Where shall I drive, sir?" asked the cabman as he prepared to mount to +his seat. + +"What's the name of the house?" said Raymond. "Salome, where are we to +drive?" + +"I--I--don't quite know," said poor Salome. "How stupid of +me!--Reginald, can you remember?" + +"It's by a church, and the name is Friar, or Pryor, or--" + +"There's a lot of churches," said the cabman; "and this ain't exactly +the weather to stand here while you put on your considering cap, with +the water pouring off one's hat enough to blind one." + +"It's St. Luke's Church. Yes, I am sure it's close to St. Luke's," +Salome exclaimed. "But Stevens will know--our nurse, who is in the +omnibus." + +"You want a nurse, you do," said the cabman, "to guide you? Come now, I +can't wait here all night." + +And now a shout was heard from the omnibus. + +"The old lady wants to speak to you," said the conductor. And Salome, +looking out at the cab window, saw Stevens frantically making signals +and trying to make her voice reach the cab. + +"Oh, Stevens knows, Stevens knows the address," and before more could be +said, Reginald had jumped out and was soon climbing the steps of the +omnibus to hear what Stevens said. He was back in a minute drenched +with rain, and saying,-- + +"Close to St. Luke's Church--Elm Fields--Elm Cottage--Mrs. Pryor." + +"All right," said the cabman. "I know--Pryor the baker; I pass down by +there from Whitelands often enough." Then he climbed to his seat, the +rain still falling in one continuous rush, and they were off. + +"How idiotic of you, Salome, not to know the address," said Raymond; +"and I do wish you would keep your hair tight. Look here!" And he gave +one of the thick plaits a somewhat rough pull as it lay like a line of +light upon Salome's black jacket. "I saw St. Clair looking at it. You +didn't take in who he was." + +"Some Eton swell, I suppose," said Reginald. + +"I thought he was very nice and kind," said Salome. + +"Nice and kind! He is Lord Felthorpe's son, and in the same house as I +am at Eton. Old Birch always manages to get the right sort of fellows! +How could you be such an ass, Reginald, as to travel third class when I +had taken a first class ticket for you?" + +"We ought all to have travelled third class," said Reginald stoutly. +"Mother said second; but there is no second on the Midland Railway, so I +went third." + +"Well, just as you please," said Raymond. "I say, what a neighbourhood +this is! not a good house to be seen," and he wiped the window of the +cab with his coat-sleeve. + +Salome looked out from her window also. + +"I don't remember this part of Roxburgh. It cannot be near Uncle +Loftus's house, I think." + +"Oh no," said Reginald; "that is the swell part--Edinburgh Crescent and +Maniston Square and the Quadrant. This is more like a part of Harstone. +Hallo!" + +The cab had stopped at last. + +"What are we stopping for?" exclaimed Salome. + +"I expect this is the place," said Reginald, "for there is a baker's +shop, and Pryor over it." + +"Nonsense," said Raymond. But the cabman got down and tapped at the +blurred glass, signing to Raymond to let it down, and saying, "Now then, +sir, look sharp!" + +"This can't be the place,--it's impossible,--it's a mistake." + +But now a cheerful voice was heard, and, with a large cotton umbrella +held over her, Ruth appeared. + +"It's all right! This way, sir, round by the gate. I am sorry you have +such a day, that I am; it makes everything look so dismal. Frank will +come and help with the luggage." + +Salome followed Ruth to the trellised porch, where the clematis was +hanging limp and damp, with drops from every tendril. Just within the +porch stood Mrs. Pryor. Smiles were not in her way at all. She looked as +sad and melancholy as the day, and when the creaking omnibus was heard +coming up the road and stopping at the gate, she held up her hands. + +"All those boxes! it's ridic'lous to think of getting 'em in." + +"Nonsense, mother; Frank will manage that in no time. There's lots of +room, and a family must have things to use." + +"You walk in, miss," said Ruth to Salome; "tea is all set in the +parlour. We thought you would like to have one room kept for meals and +one for company." + +"Company! what company! Who would ever come near them in that obscure +quarter of Roxburgh," Salome thought. And now Raymond made it worse by +coming in to declare he should not allow his mother to stay in a hole +like this, and that he should go out and look for lodgings the very next +day. Whoever took them must be mad, and he should not put up with it. +Even Reginald's good temper was tried to the utmost, and he and Raymond +began a fierce wrangle about the cab and omnibus fare; while Stevens, +wet and tired and miserable, sat down on one of her big boxes, and +seemed as if all exertion were over for her. + +"I am wore out," she said. "I have not slept for three nights. I am wore +out." + +Of course, Mrs. Pryor was too much affronted at Raymond's remarks on her +house--the house, with all the highly-polished furniture, which was at +once her pride and joy--to volunteer any consolation; but quietly +addressing Salome, she said,-- + +"You have not seen the bed-rooms yet; will you walk up, Miss Wilton?" + +Salome followed, saying, as she passed Raymond and Reginald,-- + +"Please do not say any more. I daresay we shall be very +comfortable.--And do come up with me, Stevens, and see the rooms." + +The gentle, sweet voice softened Mrs. Pryor somewhat. Stevens was +pleased to see the bed-rooms neatly furnished, and that not a speck of +dust was to be seen; from these upper windows, too, there would be, on +clear days, a nice open view; and altogether her spirits rose, and she +said "with a few things put here and there she thought she might soon +get a bed-room fit for her mistress." + +"I am glad mother did not come with us," said Salome. "It will be all +settled before Monday. If only Raymond would make the best of it." + + + + +CHAPTER VI. + +LOSSES AND GAINS. + + +One really sunny, good-tempered person has a wonderful effect in a +household. Ruth Pryor was the sunny element in the two days of rain +outside, and discomforts of unpacking inside the house, which followed +the arrival of the first instalment of the party from Maplestone. She +smoothed down difficulties; she laughed at her mother-in-law's +melancholy forebodings that "the party was too grand for her," and that +she, who had lived for so many years with a lady of title--her dear, +departed mistress--was not going to put up with "airs" from a young man +like Mr. Raymond. + +"It takes a time to get used to everything," Ruth said; "they'll settle +down right enough, and so Mrs. Stevens thinks. She says her mistress, +poor thing, is too broken down to grumble; and I am sure Miss Wilton is +a little angel." + +"_Very_ untidy, very careless--dropping things here and there; and she +has spilled some ink on the tablecloth." + +"A mere speck," said Ruth; "you'd need to put on your spectacles to see +it; and a green and black cloth does not show spots." + +"Not to _your_ eyes, Ruth; you are far too easy. It's a good thing you +have no family." + +"There now, mother, don't say that," said Ruth, a shadow coming over her +round, rosy face. "You know how I fretted when I lost my baby; and +Frank, he fretted enough." + +"Well, well, you may have a baby yet, only you would find you'd have to +be more particular as to bits and pieces strewed everywhere," and Mrs. +Pryor stooped to pick up some leaves which Salome had dropped as she +filled the two stiff white vases with the Maplestone flowers. + +Mrs. Wilton and the boys were expected that evening. Raymond and +Reginald were to meet them at the station; and Salome had been following +Stevens about the house, giving finishing touches here and there, and +trying to hope her mother would be pleased. The "parlour," now called +the drawing-room, was wonderfully improved by pushing the table back +against the wall, and covering it with books and a little flower-basket +from the old home. Then there was a "nest" of small tables, which +Salome and Stevens separated, and covered two of them with some bits of +scarlet cloth, round which some lace was run by Stevens. On these tables +some photographs were set in little frames, and two brackets were nailed +up with a book-shelf. Salome looked round with some satisfaction as the +sun struggled through the clouds and seemed to smile on her efforts. +Reginald enjoyed all the wrenching of nails from boxes and running out +on messages; and altogether things assumed a brighter aspect. + +Raymond had been out the greater part of the two days, and only came in +to meals. He was moody and disagreeable: selfish and discontented in the +days of prosperity, he naturally made no effort to sweeten the days of +adversity. + +"Have you got any money, Salome?" he asked his sister, as she sat down +in the dining-room with ink and pens before her and a large +blotting-case, which had once been a music portfolio, and was now filled +with a great variety of scribbled paper, the beginnings of many stories +which had been read to her little brothers by the nursery fire at +Maplestone, and were considered, by them at least, the "jolliest tales +that were ever told--much jollier than printed books." + +Out of this chaotic heap Salome thought of forming a story for children, +of which visions floated before her, bound in olive green, and embossed +with gold, and illustrated with pictures, and advertised in the papers! +Only Reginald was to be in the secret. And then the joy of giving her +mother the money she should get for her book. The little heap of gold +was already rising from ten to twenty, nay, to thirty sovereigns, when +Raymond's question broke in on her dream,-- + +"I say, Salome, have you got any money?" + +[Illustration: "'I say, Salome, have you got any money?'" _Page 80._] + +"Money! No, Raymond, only a few shillings; but mother will have some +this afternoon." + +"Well, you see, I spent nearly a pound of my own for the tickets, and +the omnibus, and cab, and porters." + +"Not for the omnibus and cab. I gave Reginald seven shillings for them. +And as to the tickets, you ought not to have taken first class tickets. +One was a waste, because Reginald did not use it." + +"A lucky thing I had the sense to take first class tickets. Fancy St. +Clair finding _me_ in a third class carriage--and _you_, worse still! If +Reginald was such a fool, I can't help it, it was not my concern; but I +have a right to look after you, and I know my father would never have +allowed you or Ada to travel third class with a lot of half-tipsy +navvies, for all I could tell." + +Raymond said this with a grandly magnanimous air, as if he were to be +commended for brotherly attention. + +Salome bit the end of her pen-holder, and could scarcely repress a +smile, but she only said,-- + +"What do you want money for, Raymond?" + +"What do I want it for? That's my business. I am not going into Roxburgh +without a penny in my pocket. It's not likely." + +"Well," Salome said, "I hope you will not tease mother for money. I hope +you will spare her as much as you can. I believe I have some money of my +own,--ten or twelve shillings,--and I can let you have it, or some of +it." Salome put her hand in her pocket to get out her purse. Alas! no +purse was there. "I must have left it upstairs," she said. + +And Raymond exclaimed,-- + +"A nice hand you'll make of keeping money for the family." + +"Stevens," Salome said, rushing up to Stevens, "have you seen my purse?" + +"No; you've never lost it?" + +"I can't have lost it.--Reginald,--I say, Reginald, have you seen my +purse? I thought it was in my pocket." + +Reginald called out from his mother's bed-room, where he was fastening +up a bracket for her little clock,-- + +"What do you say you've lost?" + +"Oh, my purse, Reginald! what _shall_ I do?" and Salome wildly turned +out a drawer in the room which she was to share with Ada, and left it in +dire confusion. + +"Dear me, Miss Salome, pray don't make work like that," said Stevens. "I +do wish you would learn to take care of your own things at least. You +never was fit to look after money." + +Salome was in despair, when Reginald came out of his mother's room +holding the lost purse on high. + +"O Reginald, where did you find it? You might have told me before. It +was a shame. Where _did_ you find it?" + +"Under the table in the dining-room last evening," and he tossed the +purse to her, saying, "It's not very heavy. But you _should_ be careful, +Salome; you are awfully careless." + +"Don't be rude, Reginald; it's not for you to take me to task. Mind your +own business, please." + +"Hallo! there's a carriage. It's Uncle Loftus; yes, that it is," +exclaimed Reginald. "He has not hurried himself to look after us, I must +say." + +Salome felt a nervous fear of her uncle, and stood irresolute at the top +of the narrow stairs. + +"Come down with me, Reginald," she said; "do come." + +"Oh no, you'll get on better alone," Reginald said; "and Raymond is +downstairs." + +"The doctor, Miss Wilton," said Mrs. Pryor, in a tone which seemed to +imply that some one was very ill. "The doctor," she repeated, looking up +from the narrow hall at Salome. + +Salome went down slowly, and her heart beat so loud she could almost +hear it. Her Uncle Loftus brought back the memory of her father so +vividly. He resembled him, as brothers do often resemble each other--a +family likeness, which starts out always more forcibly when one of that +family is gone. + +"Well, my dear child," Dr. Wilton said, advancing to Salome when at last +she opened the door, "how are you getting on? You are quite comfortable +here, I hope. It really looks very nice and home-like. It was the best +we could do for you. I heard from your mother yesterday, and she says +she is coming this afternoon with the children and--and--" (Dr. Wilton +could not fit the sister with a name) "your sister. I will try to meet +your mother, and bring her up in the carriage. I have to be at the +hospital in Harstone at four o'clock, and I think I can just manage to +get to the Elm Fields Station at five. The boys must meet the train too, +and they and the children and the luggage can come up in the omnibus." + +"Thank you, Uncle Loftus," Salome said gently. "I am very glad mamma +should drive up in the carriage." + +"What a quiet, demure little thing she is," thought Dr. Wilton. "Where +are your brothers?" he asked. + +"I thought Raymond was here," Salome said, rising as if to call him. + +"No; do not call him now. I wanted to tell you that I have, I hope, +succeeded in getting him into a merchant's office in Harstone. It really +is a most difficult thing to provide for boys in these days, as I shall +find. All professions need so much outlay to begin with--articles for +the law, and so on. But Mr. Warde, out of respect to your poor father's +memory, says he will take your brother on, at a nominal salary of twenty +pounds, just to keep him in clothes; and considering the calamity at +Fairchester, I think it is better the boy should start clear here. +Reginald must have another year at school, I suppose, and I will speak +to Dr. Stracey about it. The term does not begin till the middle of +September. The little boys you and Ada can manage between you, I +daresay." + +"Oh yes," Salome said; "I can do their lessons at present." + +"That's right. You know your poor father's affairs are in such a fearful +mess that it is impossible to tell yet how things stand. The liquidation +of the Central Bank will go on for years. A heavy overdraft there is +the ugliest part of the matter." + +"An overdraft!" poor Salome exclaimed; "I don't understand!" + +"No, my dear, you can't understand, I daresay. But, as I told you, your +poor mother's income is secure, and on that you must all make up your +minds to live till better times. It is just three hundred a year." + +Three hundred a year conveyed a very hazy idea to Salome. + +"How much had we a year at Maplestone, Uncle Loftus?" + +"How much?--my dear, your father was living at the rate of four or five +thousand a year!" + +"Four _thousand_!" This at least was a help to a clear understanding. +Four thousand did stand out in sharp contrast to three hundred. Salome +was speechless. + +"Your Aunt Anna will be calling on your mother to-morrow, and she will +settle about your coming to see your cousins. You must be about Kate's +age--seventeen." + +"I am not quite sixteen," Salome said. "Ada is just fifteen, and Raymond +seventeen. Reginald is nearly fourteen." + +"Only a year between each of you, then!" + +"The little ones are much younger. Carl is nine, and Hans eight. They +were born on the same day of the month." + +Family records of births and ages were not in Dr. Wilton's line. He +looked at his watch, and said,-- + +"Well, I must be off. I will speak to your mother about the situation +for Raymond, and other matters, as we drive up from the station. +Good-bye, my dear." And Dr. Wilton was gone, leaving Salome standing in +the middle of the room. She would have liked to kiss him, to cry a +little, and be comforted. But there was something in her uncle's +professional manner, kind though it was, which threw her back. He would +do his duty, she felt; he would not give up his brother's children; but +he would do it as shortly as possible, and waste neither time nor words +over it. + +He had smiled, and looked kind; he had spoken pleasantly and cheerfully; +he had even put his arm round her when she first went into the room, and +there was real feeling in the words, "Well, my dear child," as he kissed +her forehead; but for all that, Salome felt like a sensitive plant, +touched by the gentlest hand, which draws in, and cannot unfold in +response. + +"If only father were here!" the girl exclaimed, covering her face with +her hands. "Oh, that he were here! Oh, that we had all thought more of +him when we had him! And what a life he must have had the last year; +never telling us, and yet in such trouble!" Vain regrets for our dead; +vain longings to be what we can never be again! Let us all take care, as +the daily life rolls swiftly on, that we lay up happy memories, or at +least pleasant memories, when that daily life has become _the +past_,--the past which, when it was the present, was, alas! so often +sown with the seeds of unkindness, harshness of word and judgment, +ill-temper, selfish disregard for the feelings of others, which yield +such a bitter harvest when those we love are hidden from our sight, and +we can never more lighten a burden, or help to make the way easy by +smiles and good-temper, by tenderness and forbearance, by the love which +covereth a multitude of faults. + +Salome was roused by Raymond's entrance. + +"Why did you not come and see Uncle Loftus?" + +"He did not ask for me." + +"Yes, he asked where you were; but he told me not to call you." + +"I did not want to see him. I hate his patronizing ways. Have you found +your purse?" + +"Yes, Reg had picked it up; but you are not going out before dinner, are +you, Ray?" + +"Oh, I don't know," said Raymond, stretching and yawning. "I should have +thought we had better have dined at seven, when mamma comes." + +"I--I don't think Mrs. Pryor would like a late dinner." + +"Well, I can get a little luncheon somewhere in Roxburgh. It is so fine, +and it is so slow being cooped up here." + +"You have to go with Reg to the Elm Fields Station to meet mamma--don't +forget that--at five o'clock." + +"All right." But Raymond lingered. "The money, Sal; I'll pay you back." +Salome opened the purse and took out two half-crowns. "Thanks!" said +Raymond; "it _is_ a come down to want a paltry five shillings." + +"O Raymond!" Salome said passionately,--"O Ray, do try to make the best +of things to mother! It will make her so dreadfully sad if you grumble. +Dear Raymond, I will do all I can, only please do try to make the best +of everything." + +"You are a kind little thing," said Raymond; "but I wish we were all at +the bottom of the Red Sea. There is nothing left to live for or care +about; no pleasure, and no fun; nothing but to be looked down upon!" + +"I believe Uncle Loftus has heard of something for you, and perhaps you +will make money and be a rich merchant." Raymond whistled and shrugged +his shoulders, and strolled off, lighting a cigar in the porch. + +Then Salome went to find Reginald, and make her peace with him. + +"Reg, let us go out. It is so fine; and I am so sorry I was so careless +about the purse. It was very good of you to pick it up, Reg; I was +horridly cross to you." + +"Never mind, Sal. Yes, let's go out and look about the place till +dinner." + +"I don't see that we want any dinner to-day, Reg. We can have the +cutlets at tea, when the others come; and Stevens won't mind--she can +have eggs and bacon. And we'll find a shop and have some buns and +ginger-beer. I'll get ready at once, and tell Stevens to tell Mrs. +Pryor. It will be fun, and save expense, you know." + +Poor child! she was soon ready; and Reginald and she set off in better +spirits than they had known since their troubles had fallen on them. + +When Salome was outside the gate, and had nodded to Ruth, who was behind +the counter of the shop, she discovered she had got both left-hand +gloves. "But it will spoil all if I tell Reg, and go back, and keep him +waiting while I hunt for the right-hand glove. He will say I am +incorrigible." So by a little skilful manoeuvring Salome persuaded her +right hand to accommodate itself to circumstances, and tripped almost +gaily by her brother's side. + + + + +CHAPTER VII. + +COUSINS. + + +The walk had an exhilarating effect on both brother and sister. There is +a charm in novelty to us all, and it is a charm which is more especially +felt by the young. The present moment bears with it its own importance, +and neither future nor past has the power with children that it has with +grown-up people. Reginald and Salome soon left behind them the lines of +small villas and long narrow streets intersecting each other which +stretched out from the district called Elm Fields, connecting it with +Roxburgh in one direction, and sloping down towards Harstone in the +other. + +Beyond all these signs of increasing population was a wide expanse of +common or down, skirted, it is true, by houses which year by year are +multiplied, but yet comprising an acre or two of broken ground with dips +and hollows, and, again, wide spaces of soft turf, freshened by the +breezes which come straight from the mouth of the river on which +Harstone stands, some ten miles away. + +"This is nice," Salome said. "I feel as if I could run and jump here. +And look at that line of blue mountains, Reg! Is it not lovely? Oh, we +can come here very often! I think I remember driving across these downs +when I came with dear father to stay at Uncle Loftus's three or four +years ago. We are nearer the downs than the fashionable part of the +place, I believe." + +"Yes," said Reginald; "I call this jolly. And there's the college over +there; we will go home that way, and find out a short cut back to Elm +Fields. I say, Sal, there is no one near, or no one who can watch us; +let's have a race to the big thorn bush right in front, and on to the +stumpy tree to the left." + +Salome gave a quick glance round, and then said, "Off!" Away she went, +fleet of foot, her plaits of hair falling over her shoulders, refusing +to be kept in place by the hair-pins, which were indeed not strong +enough to bear up that mass of tawny locks on ordinary occasions, +certainly not now when Salome was flying in the teeth of a brisk wind +over the open downs. + +"Well done," said Reginald, breathless with his exertions, "you were not +two yards behind me; but, I say, Sal, your hair!" + +"Oh, what shall I do? and no pins! I must go back and look for them." + +"Here's one caught in your jacket; but it would be like looking for a +needle in a bundle of hay to look for the others on the down. No one +will know you; let it all go." + +"I will go to a hairdresser and have it cut off. It's no use being +bothered like this. Now, let us walk quietly; I wish to consult you +about my story. Shall I make the children orphans, living with a cross +aunt? or shall they have a father and mother? And would you put in that +tale about the monkey which Hans is so fond of? That is a really true +tale, you know. It happened to Stevens's little niece." + +"Well, I think stories about monkeys pulling watches to pieces and +breaking tea-cups are rather stale. So are all stories, if you come to +that--the same things told hundreds of times, just the names of the +children changed." + +Salome was silent, feeling rather disappointed at this douche of cold +water over her schemes of authorship. + +"But, Reg, if stories are to be like life, they _must_ be the same +things told over and over again, just as things do go on happening over +and over again. For instance, all that is happening to us now has +happened to thousands and thousands of other families,--may be +happening at this very moment. The thing is," said Salome thoughtfully, +"it is the _way_ of telling a story which makes the difference. We see +things differently, and then we put the old thing in a new light. That +is why there is everything fresh every day, and nothing can be really +stale, as you call it. All this beautiful view never can look quite the +same, for there is certain to be a variety in the lights and shadows." + +"Oh, well, I daresay; but then I am not sentimental or romantic, though +I think you are awfully clever, and would beat Ada, or any of us, any +day. I wonder how I shall get on at the college? It will be very +different to Rugby. I must work hard and make the best of the year, for +I am only to have a year more at school. Did not Uncle Loftus say so?" + +"Yes; but perhaps it may turn out differently. You are sure to get on, +whatever happens. It is about Raymond I am so afraid. I cannot imagine +him in an office in Harstone.--How that girl is staring at me, Reginald, +and the boy too. Is it at my hair?" + +"Come along," said Reginald; "don't look at them." + +He turned towards the low wall which skirts the side of the down where +the high rocks, through which the river runs, rise to a considerable +height on the Roxburgh side. Reginald leaned with folded arms against +the wall, and Salome, uncomfortably conscious that her hair was floating +over her back in most dire confusion, stood by him, never turning her +head again. At last Salome heard a voice close to her say,-- + +"Yes, I am sure it is, Digby. Let me ask her." + +"Nonsense. You can't be sure." + +There was a moment's silence, and then Kate Wilton seized on her chance. +Salome's pocket-handkerchief, as she turned at a sign from Reginald to +walk away, fell from the pocket at the side of her dress. + +"I think this is yours," said Kate, "your pocket-handkerchief; and I +think you are my cousin. We--we came to see you at Maplestone two years +ago." + +The brightest colour rose to Salome's face, and she said, "Yes, I am +Salome Wilton. Reginald!"--for Reginald had walked on, resolutely +determined not to believe they had any kinship with the boy and girl who +had stared at them--"Reginald," Salome said, overtaking him, "do stop;" +adding in a lower voice, "It's so uncivil." + +Reginald, thus appealed to, was obliged to turn his head, and in the +very gruffest voice said, "How do you do?" to Digby, who advanced +towards him. + +"I am so glad we met you," Kate said. "I have been watching you for ever +so long. Something made me sure you were our cousin. I was not so sure +about your brother. I daresay he has very much grown in two years, but +you are so little altered, and"--Kate paused and laughed--"I knew your +hair; it is such wonderful hair. Don't you remember how you used to let +it down at Maplestone, and make me guess which was your face and which +was the back of your head? It was not so long then." + +Salome felt more and more uncomfortable about her hair, and said, "I am +quite ashamed of my untidiness; but I have lost all my pins, and my hair +is such a dreadful bother." + +"It is beautiful," said Kate. "I am sure I should not call it a bother. +I wish you could give me some; but we have all scraggy rats' tails. We +should like to walk with you, if we may," Kate continued. "Which way are +you going?" + +"Oh, no way in particular. Reginald and I came out for a walk. We have +had such dreadful weather since we have been here." + +"Yes; and Digby and I, like you and your brother, were tired of staying +at home. It is so dull for the boys when they have bad weather in the +holidays. I hope it is going to clear up now." + +Salome hoped so too, and then there was silence. But Kate soon broke it +with some trivial remark, and the girls made more rapid advances towards +friendship than the boys. Kate was pleasant and good-tempered, and was +easy to get on with. But Salome listened in vain for much conversation +between the boys. All the talk came from Digby, and she felt vexed with +her brother for his ungraciousness. But boys are generally more reticent +than girls, and have not so many small subjects to discuss with each +other on first acquaintance, till they get upon school life and games. + +"I hope you will come home with us," Kate said, after a pause, during +which she had been calculating the time of her mother and Louise's +departure to luncheon at a friend's house in the neighbourhood. A glance +at the clock of a church they passed reassured her. "They were certain +to have started," she thought. "Aunt Betha would not mind if I took home +half-a-dozen people to luncheon." + +"You are going out of your way, Salome," said Reginald. "We ought to +turn up this way to Elm Fields." + +"I want them to come home to luncheon, Digby. Do make them." + +"Oh yes, pray, come," said Digby, "unless you have anything better to +do." + +"Oh no," said Salome simply. "Reginald and I were going to get some buns +at a shop. We did not intend to go back till--" + +A warning, not to say angry, glance from Reginald stopped Salome, and +she added,-- + +"Perhaps we had better not come, thanks. Mamma and Ada and the children +are coming this afternoon, and Reginald has to be at the station at five +o'clock to meet them." + +"Well, as it's not one o'clock yet," said Digby, "there's time, I should +think, for both." He changed companions as he spoke, and, leaving Kate +to Reginald, walked briskly on with Salome towards Edinburgh Crescent. + +The bell was ringing for the "children's dinner" as the four cousins +were admitted by the "boy in buttons" who answered the doctor's bell, +and had in truth time for little else than swinging back that door on +the hinges and receiving patients' notes, telegrams, and messages. + +"You are late, Miss Kate," was Bean's greeting. By reason of his name +poor Bean had a variety of sobriquets in the family. Of these "Stalky +Jack" and "Vegetable" were amongst the most conspicuous. + +"Is mamma gone?" Kate asked anxiously. + +"Yes, miss, just turned the corner as you came up. Lady Monroe don't +lunch till one-thirty: _we_ lunch at one sharp." + +Another ring, before the door had well closed, took Bean to it again, +and Kate, saying, "It is all right, Salome, come upstairs," led the way +to the room she shared with Louise, while Digby took Reginald into the +dining-room. + +An evening dress of blue and white lay on one of the little beds, and +Kate dexterously covered it with a white shawl; for Salome's deep crape +reminded her that neither she nor Louise was really wearing the proper +mourning for her uncle. + +"Just take the daisies out of your hats," her mother had said, "and wear +your black cashmeres. It is really impossible to provide mourning for a +family like this; and besides, so few people here will know much about +it--so many are away; and by the time Roxburgh is full again, the six +weeks' mourning for an uncle will be over. Still, as you two elder girls +are seen with me, you must not be in colours; it is a fortunate thing I +had just had that black silk made up." + +The memory of her mother's words passed swiftly through Kate's mind, and +she hoped Salome would not notice the blue dress. She need not have been +afraid. Salome was fully occupied with plaiting up her hair and +possessing herself of two or three stray hair-pins she saw on the +dressing-table. + +The room was not particularly tidy or attractive; very different to the +bright sunny room at Maplestone, with its wreath of ivy round the +windows and its decorations within, in which Ada delighted. The back of +Edinburgh Crescent looked out on strips of dark gardens, shut in by red +brick walls; and beyond, the backs of another row of houses. + +"Louise and I are obliged to share a room," Kate said. "Though this +house looks large, we fill it from top to bottom--we are such an +enormous family. That's poor little Guy," she said, as a wailing, +fretful cry was heard. "The nursery is next our room. Guy is our baby: +he is very delicate, and I don't think papa has much hope that he will +live. Now we must come down to luncheon. I hope you don't mind barley +soup and treacle pudding. We are certain not to have anything better +to-day, because mamma and Louise are out." She said this laughing as she +ran down before Salome. + +The long table with its row of young faces bewildered Salome. She felt +shy and uncomfortable, and Aunt Betha, rising from her place at the head +of the table, advanced kindly toward her. + +"Come and sit next me, my dear. There are so many cousins; don't attempt +to speak to them all. Will you have some hashed mutton or cold +beef?--Go on with your dinners, Edith and Maude"--for the little girls +had stopped short in eating to gaze curiously at their cousin. "Do you +take beer, my dear? Only water! that is right. We are all better for +taking water.--Now, Digby, send down the potatoes.--We wait on ourselves +at luncheon. I hope you find your lodgings comfortable. Mrs. Pryor is a +very superior person, rather gloomy, but Ruth laughs enough for a dozen. +A giddy girl she was when she lived here.--You remember Ruth, Kate?" + +"No, I don't," said Kate; "we have a tide of girls passing through the +house. They are all alike." + +Aunt Betha's kindly chatter was a great help to Salome, and she began to +feel less oppressed by the presence of her cousins. Such an army of boys +and girls it seemed to her! and the home picture so widely different to +that which she had known at Maplestone. "Children's dinner," with +neither father nor mother present, at Dr. Wilton's was of the plainest, +and Mrs. Wilton expended her ornamental taste on her drawing-room, where +she had many afternoon teas and "at homes." Dinner parties or even +luncheon parties were rare, and the dining-room was therefore generally +bare and commonplace in its arrangements. A dusty fern, which looked +unhappy and gas-stricken, drooped rather than lived in a china pot in +the middle of the table; but beyond this there were no signs of flower +or of leaf. + +Yet it was _home_, and Salome felt by force of contrast homeless and +sad. The boys were going to see a cricket match, and Digby wanted +Reginald to come with them. + +"I shall not have time, thank you. We ought to be going back now, +Salome." + +But Kate overruled this, and Reginald was obliged to consent, and went +off with his cousins till four o'clock, when he was to return to pick up +his sister and take her to Elm Fields before going to the station. + +"We will have a cozy talk in the school-room, and I will get Aunt Betha +to let us have some tea. The children are all going out, and mamma and +Louise will not be back yet, so we shall have peace." Kate said this as, +with her arm in Salome's, she led the way to the school-room,--a very +bare, untidy room in the wing built out at the back of the house, and +over Dr. Wilton's consulting-room. Two battered leather chairs, which +had seen years of service, were on either side of the fireplace; and +there was a long bookcase, taking up the wall on one side, where school +books for every age and degree were arranged in brown paper covers. A +writing-desk standing on the table, with a cover over it, and an +inkstand with pen and pencil, all belonging to Miss Scott, the daily +governess, was the only really tidy spot in the whole room. The walls +were covered with maps and pictures cut from the _Illustrated News_--two +or three of these in frames--conspicuous amongst them the familiar child +in the big sun bonnet tying up her stocking on the way to school, and +another sitting on a snowy slope, apparently in a most uncomfortable +position, but smiling nevertheless serenely on the world generally. + +"This is our school-room, and I am glad I have nearly done with it. That +cracked piano is enough to drive one wild. It is good enough for the +'little ones' to drum on. Do you care for music?" + +"Yes, I care for it, but I don't play much. Ada plays beautifully." + +"Ada is very pretty, isn't she? I remember one of you was very pretty." + +"Yes, Ada is thought lovely. She is not in the least like me." + +"Well, I hope we shall be good friends. I am sorry you are out in that +poky part of Roxburgh; but Digby and I shall come very often, and you +must come here whenever you can." + +"It is so odd," Kate went on, "that only a year ago we used to call you +our grand relations, who were too stuck-up to care for us--" + +"Oh! please, don't talk so," said Salome, with a sudden earnestness of +appeal. "Pray don't talk so. I can't bear it." + +"I did not mean to hurt you, I am sure," said Kate eagerly. "Don't cry, +Salome." For Salome had covered her face with her hands to hide her +tears. "How stupid of me! Do forgive me," said Kate, really distressed. +"But I am always doing things of this kind--saying the wrong thing, or +the right thing at the wrong time." + +Salome made a great effort to recover herself, and soon was amused at +Kate's lively description of the ways and doings at Edinburgh Crescent. +Kate could describe things well, and delighted in having a listener, +especially one like Salome, who was sure not to break in with--"You told +me that before;" or, "I have heard that story a hundred times." + +But though Salome was amused, she was secretly surprised at Kate's free +discussion of the faults and failings of her brothers and sisters. +Salome would never have dreamed of talking of Raymond's selfishness and +arrogance to outside people, nor of Ada's serene contentment with +herself, which was passive rather than active, but was trying enough at +times. Salome's loyalty in this respect is worth considering; for the +inner circle of home ought to be sacred, and the veil should not be +lifted to curious eyes to make public faults, and troubles which too +often arise from those faults and darken with cold shadows the sky of +home. + +The boys did not return by four o'clock, and Salome, afraid that she +should not be at Elm Fields in time to receive her mother, set out to +walk there alone. Just as she was leaving the house, her aunt and Louise +arrived in a carriage, and were saying good-bye to two ladies, who had +evidently driven them back from the luncheon party. + +As the little black figure glided past, Kate, who was standing in the +hall, called out-- + +"Mamma! that is Salome. Mamma!--" + +Mrs. Wilton took no notice of the exclamation; and Louise said, "Pray, +do go back, Kate." + +But Lady Monroe had turned her head, and was looking earnestly after +Salome's retreating figure. + +"Is not that Salome Wilton, Eva," she asked of her daughter,--"poor Mr. +Arthur Wilton's child? I should so much like to speak with her. I was at +Maplestone last year.--Stop by that young lady," she said to the +footman, as he closed the carriage-door--"the young lady in black." + +"How very odd!" exclaimed Louise, as the carriage drove off. "Lady +Monroe never said she knew the Maplestone people. Why, Salome is getting +into the carriage. How absurd! Mamma, I do believe they will drive her +home--next door to the baker's shop. Just fancy!" + +"Do not stand on the pavement making such loud remarks, Louise," said +Mrs. Wilton. + +"I am glad," exclaimed Kate, "that Lady Monroe is so kind. And how could +you and mamma cut Salome like that?" + +"How should I know who she was?" said Louise sharply. "I did not go to +Maplestone with you." + +"Well, mamma _must_ have known her anyhow," said Kate. "She is the +nicest girl I have seen for a long time. I shall make a friend of her, I +can tell you." + + + + +CHAPTER VIII. + +ARRIVALS. + + +"I shall be so glad to drive you home, my dear," Lady Monroe said, as +Salome seated herself in the carriage. "I have the pleasure of knowing +your mother; and Eva and I spent a very pleasant day at Maplestone last +year, when I renewed an old acquaintance. How long have you been in +Roxburgh? I wish Dr. Wilton had told me you were here." + +"We only came the other day," Salome said; "indeed, mother and the +children are not here yet. We expect them at five o'clock, and that is +why I am so anxious to get back. We have lodgings at Elm Fields." + +"You must direct us when we get nearer the place. Have you been spending +the day at your uncle's?" + +"Reginald and I met Kate and Digby on the down, and we went back to +dinner. I have not seen Aunt Anna yet. Uncle Loftus came to see me." + +Then fearing she might have left a wrong impression she added-- + +"Uncle Loftus is very kind to us." + +"He is kind to everybody," said Eva Monroe earnestly. "He is the best +doctor in the world--except for sending me to Cannes for the winter." + +"He has done that for the best, Eva;" and Lady Monroe sighed. "It only +shows how conscientious he is." + +Salome was becoming nervous about the right turn to Elm Cottage; and her +wrong glove began to worry her as she looked at Eva Monroe's slender +fingers in their neatly-shaped four-button black kid gloves. + +"It is up there, I think," Salome said. "Yes; I know it is." Then, as +the crimson rushed into her face, she said, "Elm Cottage is at the end +of this road, next to a baker's shop." + +"It is a pleasant, airy situation," Lady Monroe said. "You must tell +your mother I shall call upon her very soon; and perhaps she will let me +take her for a drive." + +"Oh! it is near St. Luke's Church, mamma--Mr. Atherton's church. Why, it +is the very house the Athertons lodged in till the vicarage was ready." + +"So it is. You will find the Athertons pleasant neighbours," Lady Monroe +said. "They will be nice friends for you, I hope; and the church is a +very nice one. I daresay Mr. Atherton will be glad of your help in the +Sunday school." + +The carriage drew up as she was speaking, and the footman looked down +from his seat doubtfully. + +"Yes; this is right," said Lady Monroe. "Good-bye, my dear. I am so glad +I met you." + +"A sweet, gentle girl," Lady Monroe said, as Salome, having expressed +her thanks, disappeared behind the little wooden gate. "It is very sad +for them all. What a change from that lovely place, Maplestone Court, +where I saw poor Emily Wilton last year!" + +"Yes," said Eva; "to lose their father and money and position." + +"Not position, Eva. A gentlewoman can never really lose position in the +eyes of right-thinking people. I feel a great interest in the Wiltons; +for their mother is, I should think, but little fitted to struggle with +adversity; she was never strong." + +"I wish we were not going to Cannes, mother, and then we could often go +and see them. Oh! I do _not_ want to go away; my cough is quite well. It +is so hard to go. Think how tired we were of the life there last year." +And a cloud of discontent came over the fair face of the delicately +nurtured girl, who had all that loving care could suggest to brighten +her life and soften the privations which delicate health brings with it +to the young. + +It must strike us all, old and young, when we look round upon the lives +of others, that there is a crook in every lot, and that God will have us +all learn the lesson of "patience,"--patience which can make the crooked +places straight and the rough places smooth. + +Salome found Stevens had set out tea on a little table in the +dining-room. The tea-pot had a cosy over it; and a plate of thin bread +and butter, cut from one of Ruth's fancy loaves, looked inviting. + +"This is the mistress's time for afternoon tea," Stevens said. "She +could not sit down to a table at this time, just off a journey too. I +have got some buns for the children. Now, Miss Salome, do go and get +yourself tidy, to look home-like. Where are the young gentlemen? Master +Reginald went out with you." + +"I expect they are both gone down to the station. Reg and I have been to +dinner at Uncle Loftus's. Oh! here is the carriage. Here are mother and +Ada!" + +Salome went swiftly out to meet her mother and sister, and tried to +greet them with a smile. "Mother," she exclaimed; "I am so glad you have +come." + +Mrs. Wilton made an effort to respond to Salome cheerfully; but Ada did +not even try to smile. + +"Now, then," said Dr. Wilton, "I must not stay. Reginald is walking up +with the little boys and my Digby. The luggage will follow in the +omnibus." + +"Won't you have a cup of tea, Uncle Loftus?" said Salome. "We have it +all ready." + +"No, thanks, my dear, I cannot stay. I have a consultation at half-past +five. Really you have made the best of this room; it looks quite pretty; +and it is quiet here. I hope you will be comfortable." + +While he was speaking, Mrs. Pryor appeared, with a courtesy so profound +that Dr. Wilton had to hurry away to hide a smile. + +"I hope I see you well, ma'am," said Mrs. Pryor; "and I hope, I am sure, +you will mention anything I can do for you, and I will try in my poor +way to do it. It's a world of trouble, ma'am, and you have had your +share, as I have had mine; and I know how hard it must be for you, +ma'am, in the evening of your days, to have a change like this--from +riches to--" + +"Here are the little ones," exclaimed Salome, as the sound of the +children's voices was heard in the porch. + +Hans and Carl were in the highest spirits. They had chattered all the +way from the station, and were ready to be pleased with everything. + +They brought with them a relic of the old home, in the person of a +little white fluffy dog, named Puck, which came bustling in at their +heels, flying up at every one in expectation of a welcome, and +regardless of Salome's-- + +"Mother, what will Mrs. Pryor say to a dog? I thought Puck was to be +given to the De Brettes." + +"The children begged so hard to bring him," Mrs. Wilton said. "Puck is a +dog no one can object to." + +Salome looked doubtful, and said-- + +"I am sure Mrs. Pryor won't let him get on the chairs," as Puck seated +himself on one of them. "Get down, Puck." + +"I thought it was a mistake to bring Puck," Ada said; "but the children +would have their own way." + +"He is a very well-behaved dog in general," said Stevens, anxious to +make peace and avoid discussion with Mrs. Pryor; "and if he forgets his +manners, we must teach him, that is all." + +"Where is the nursery?" Carl asked, "and the school-room? Are we to have +tea there?" + +"You shall all have tea together this evening," Stevens said; "but I +will show you your room, my dears. Come upstairs." + +"Where is Raymond?" Mrs. Wilton asked. + +"Raymond!" exclaimed Salome. "He said he would go to the station. Did +you not see him?" + +"No," Reginald said. "Digby Wilton and I walked down together from the +cricket match. Digby is not so bad after all." + +"I think him very nice, and I like Kate. I had quite an adventure, +mamma. Lady Monroe, who says she knew you years and years ago, brought +me from Edinburgh Crescent in her carriage, and was so kind. Do you +remember her, mother? She came to Maplestone last year." + +Poor Mrs. Wilton, who had been trying to keep back her tears, found the +very mention of her old home too much at this moment. A sob was the only +answer; and Ada said-- + +"Mamma had better go and take off her things and rest a little. Show us +the way, Salome." Reginald followed, and tried not to be disappointed +that his mother did not notice the book-shelves and several little +contrivances in her room. And Salome wished Ada would not say, "How +dreadfully small the house is; and how this huge ugly bed fills up the +room,"--the four-post bed which was Mrs. Pryor's glory. + +She had come up behind the party, and hearing her most valued possession +thus slighted, took her revenge forthwith. + +"I beg your pardon, ma'am; I don't wish to intrude; but I do not take +_dawgs_. No dawgs or cats are allowed in _my_ house. I don't take +_children_ as a rule--never; but a dawg I cannot put up with. It would +wear my spirits out. I hope," looking round, "you are _satisfied_, +ma'am!" + +"Oh, it is all very clean and neat, thank you," Mrs. Wilton faltered +out; "it will do very nicely, and--and I will see about Puck: if he is +troublesome, he must be sent away." + +Alas! the very spirit of mischief, whose name he bore, seemed to have +suddenly possessed Puck. A great bustling and low growling was heard on +the staircase, and Hans and Carl laughing and saying, "At it, Puck--good +Puck." In another moment Puck appeared shaking something soft +frantically, and tearing wildly about with it in his mouth, letting off +the spirits which had been pent up on his journey from Fairchester. + +"What has he got? Take it from him, children.--What is it, Salome?" + +"It's a bird, I think.--Puck, put it down," said Reginald sternly, +seizing Puck by his fluffy tail, and administering several hard slaps. + +[Illustration: "'It's a bird, I think.--Puck, put it down!'" _Page +113._] + +When at last Puck dropped his prey, Mrs. Pryor exclaimed, "My feather +brush--my dear, dear mistress's feather brush! I've seen her dust her +own chayny with it _times_. I wouldn't have taken a pound for it. Oh +dear! oh dear!" + +"It is not much injured, I hope," said Mrs. Wilton. "Only two feathers +have been loosened." + +"A nasty, mischievous little thing," said Mrs. Pryor in an injured tone, +making a thrust at Puck with the short handle of the feather brush. + +It was not in dog nature to take this patiently, and Puck stood at bay, +barking furiously, and growling as an interlude between every fresh +outburst. + +Mrs. Pryor put her hands to her ears, and saying something about calling +her son to protect her, she toddled away. After a storm comes a calm. +Puck stood apologetically on his hind legs when his enemy was gone; and +Carl, seizing him in his arms, carried him off to the little room he was +to occupy with Hans, saying, "That horrid old woman should not touch +him." + +Like the sun shining through a cloud was the appearance of Ruth's +good-natured face. + +"I will manage it all," she said to Stevens. "If mother makes a great +fuss, why, I'll take the little creature to live with us. _I_ am not so +particular or fidgety. Don't take any notice of what mother may say; she +means well." + +Alas! how many people "mean well," and how much better it would be if +they made their meaning clear. Their good intentions are often like a +riddle, hard to find out. If the intention is good, it is a pity that it +is not better fulfilled. People who say they mean well are, I am afraid, +often very disagreeable, and do not make the lives of others easier by +their "good meaning." + +The evening passed. Tea was over. The "little ones" were in bed. Stevens +was sitting at supper with Mrs. Pryor when Raymond rang the bell. + +"Where have you been, Raymond?" Salome said, going out to meet her +brother. "Why did you not go to the station to meet mamma?" + +"Why didn't I go?--there were plenty without me," he said crossly. "I +have been with Barington; I met him in Roxburgh, and I was thankful to +get out of this hole." + +"Raymond, don't say that to mamma," Salome entreated. + +"Well, my dear boy," Mrs. Wilton said, rising wearily from her chair as +Raymond went into the room, "I was getting quite anxious about you;" and +then she kissed him affectionately. + +"I met an old friend--Barington," Raymond said; "and I knew Reginald +would meet you.--Hallo, Ada, how are you? Barington wanted to come +to-morrow to see you. He admires your photograph so much; but I could +not let him see us here, so I put him off." + +Ada looked up with a placid smile from her work--for Ada was never idle +for a moment--and said, "Who is Barington?" + +"Oh, an awfully nice fellow!--I say, mother, you won't stay here, will +you? No decent people will call upon you. I can easily find you some +nice lodgings Barington told me of." + +"My dear boy, we must stay here for the present. It is quiet and better +than living in a street. Will you have any tea, Raymond?" she asked. + +"No, thanks; I have dined with Barington at the Queen's. He paid the +score." + +Raymond had a soft, caressing way with his mother, and she now sat with +her hand in his, looking at him with loving interest. + +"I can't bear you to live in a place like this," he began again, "you +dear mother. I am sure there are heaps of good lodgings in the better +part of Roxburgh, only our kind relatives did not wish to have us too +near them." + +"Nonsense, Raymond," Salome broke in. + +"Well, never mind about that, dear. Uncle Loftus has, he thinks, heard +of something for you in Harstone. You are to go and see Mr. Warde with +him to-morrow at ten o'clock punctually." + +"Uncle Loftus won't like to be kept waiting, so you must be up in good +time to be at Edinburgh Crescent by ten o'clock, Digby says." + +"Shut up, Reginald," said his brother; "I do not want your +interference." + +"What is to be done about old Birch, mother?" he asked turning again to +Mrs. Wilton; "he ought to have a term's notice. I thought I could go +back till Christmas." + +"Oh no, Raymond; I am afraid that is impossible. My dear boy, it is such +pain to me--to--to--" + +Mrs. Wilton was in tears again, and Salome murmured, "How can you be so +selfish, Raymond?" while Reginald, unable to control his indignation, +went out of the room, shutting the door with a sharp bang. + +"Oh, well, mother, I'll go to this Mr. Warde's, of course, and I daresay +they will give me a good salary, and then I will get you some other +lodgings the very first thing; see if I don't. I am not going to allow +you to be shelved off here; and Ada! I daresay these Edinburgh Crescent +people are jealous of her. There is not one of them half as +good-looking." + +"Oh, why did Ada smile and look pleased? Why did Raymond always get +undeserved praise?" Salome thought. For Mrs. Wilton said, "It is very +good and dear of you to think about us, Ray; I only hope you will be +happy. My children's happiness is now the only thing I have to live +for." + +Salome bit her lip, as she listened to her brother for the next ten +minutes, standing now with his back to the chimney-piece surveying the +room, and interspersing his remarks on it, which were anything but +complimentary, with stories of "Barington," and a fellow who had dined +with them at "The Queen's." + +"Shall we have prayers, mother?" Salome said at last. "You must be very +tired, and--" + +"Prayers! oh, not to-night, Sal; besides, who is to read them?" said +Raymond. + +Salome faltered a little as she said, "We can read a Psalm for the +Evening in turn, and perhaps mother will say a prayer." + +"Yes," Mrs. Wilton said; "you are quite right, dear. Call Reg and +Stevens, and bring me my large prayer-book, for my eyes are so weak. I +am in the evening of life, as Mrs. Pryor told me," she added with a sad +smile; "and the last month has added ten years to my age." + +"Why, mother, you look so young," said Ada. "I do dislike Mrs. Pryor +talking in that whiny-piny voice; and how disagreeable she was about +Puck." + +Salome, who had gone to fetch the books, now returned with Stevens and +Reginald, whom she had coaxed to come back. Then she found the places in +the books, and the young voices read together the Psalm for the Seventh +Evening. It seemed to bring its message of peace to the young, untried +heart of the eldest daughter of those fatherless children. + +"Fret not thyself because of the ungodly.... Put thou thy trust in the +Lord, and be doing good: dwell in the land, and verily thou shalt be +fed. _Delight_ thou in the Lord: and he shall give thee thy heart's +desire." + +"I will try to delight myself--that means, be cheerful and patient," +Salome thought. "I must take care not to be too hard on Raymond, as if I +thought myself better than he. But I feel as if it would be a _fight_ +now, and as if I should never be able to forget the troubles quite. I +must set myself to be patient and cure my own faults, and be as happy as +I can, that mother may see we are all trying to help her, and that we +_like_ to help her. How far, far worse it is for her than for any of +us." + +Thoughts like these were in Salome's heart as she lay down to sleep that +night, and there was a shining as it were from the "delight in the Lord" +upon her young, sweet face, as her mother, weary, yet sleepless, took +her candle and went to look at her children as of old in the spacious +nurseries of Maplestone. The little boys lay in the profoundest +slumber, and the mother's heart yearned over them with unspeakable +tenderness. But as she left them and gently opened the door of the +girls' room, and stood by the bed where the sisters slept, she felt as +if the story of the last few weeks had left its trace on Salome's face. +The expression was changed, and though bright and sweet, it was the face +of the woman rather than of the child. Salome had entered the school +where God takes the text and preaches patience. + + + + +CHAPTER IX. + +"SETTLING DOWN." + + +It is wonderful how the wave of a great storm carries us unresisting on +its crest. We are, as it were, washed ashore; stunned and bewildered for +a time, but soon to find the necessity of struggling onward--to do our +best. Stripped of all we have held dear,--however desolate, however +bare, life must be faced and the burden must be borne. + +Children like the Wiltons have youth and the freshness of spring-time to +help them on; while women of Mrs. Wilton's age--in the autumn of her +days--naturally clinging for support to others, are more likely to +collapse, like the ivy when the prop on which it depended is removed. + +A man so widely respected as Mr. Wilton had been was not without +friends, and several of them came forward with valuable and substantial +help. Ready money to meet the current expenses which were absolutely +necessary was kindly offered; and Mr. De Brette wrote to Mrs. Wilton, +after the sale at Maplestone, to say he had bought in one or two +pictures, and some other little things, which she was to accept as a +small token of gratitude for services rendered to him by Mr. Wilton in +past years. The arrival of these things in the van from the railway +caused great excitement amongst the children, while the sight of them +seemed to open afresh the flood-gates of poor Mrs. Wilton's grief. They +were chosen with that sympathetic feeling of what she would care for +most, which doubled the value of the gifts. Her own and her husband's +portrait, painted by a good artist at the time of her marriage; a +beautiful copy of the San Sisto Madonna; her own devonport; a certain +chair which she had always used; and the table and chair from Mr. +Wilton's library; and a good many little odds and ends of familiar +things. And a box containing enough plate for everyday use was brought +by Mr. De Brette himself, and placed in Mrs. Wilton's hands. + +The settling in of all these things was an interest and delight to the +children, and Mrs. Wilton was glad for their sakes that it was so. + +Mrs. Pryor could not be brought to admire anything. She was incredulous +as to the identity of the fair, graceful, smiling girl in the picture +with the pale, careworn widow lady who sat beneath it. As to the poor +gentleman, he might have been good-looking, but he was not fit to hold a +candle to the doctor. But she had been used to such beautiful pictures +at her dear departed lady's house--nothing could look _much_ after them. +Her bitterest shafts were hurled against the devonport, to make room for +which an old mahogany what-not had to be removed: "A clumsy thing, and +yet all gim-cracky, with a lot of little drawers--no use to anybody. She +hoped she was not expected to dust all them things, for she just +honestly said she wasn't going to do it." + +But at last all was settled down, and except for the standing grievance +of Puck, peace was proclaimed. Puck had made a pretence of living at the +shop, but this stratagem did not avail for long. He was continually +rushing to and fro, and was oftener at Elm Cottage than at the baker's +shop; but Mrs. Pryor thought more highly of him than at first, for he +waged war against a large cat that Mrs. Pryor had convicted of killing a +canary, and still occasionally dared to haunt the back premises to look +for another victim! Puck's growls succeeded so well, that Mr. Tom +contented himself with sitting on the low red-brick wall, with his back +raised to a level with his head, and his tail swelled to the size of the +boa Mrs. Pryor wore round her throat in winter. + +Her son Frank, who left most of the conversation necessary to his wife, +was heard to say, at the end of the first week of the Wiltons taking up +their abode at Elm Cottage: "We live and learn. If any one had told me +my mother would take children as lodgers, and those children with a +little dog at their heels, I shouldn't have believed them. We shall see +her with a monkey from the 'Zoo' next." + +Lady Monroe was not slow to fulfil her promise of calling on her old +friend, bringing Eva with her; and it so happened that Mrs. Loftus +Wilton, Louise, and Kate arrived on the same day. The little square +drawing-room was filled; and Hans and Carl, rushing up to the room where +Salome sat with her old music portfolio and her manuscript, shouted +out,--"Two carriages full of people are come to see mother. Go down, +Salome." + +"Ada is there," Salome said, telling the children not to talk so loud; +and then she looked ruefully at her inked forefinger, and wished she had +mended the crape on the skirt of her dress before she put it on that +day. + +"Miss Wilton--Miss Salome--my dear, do make haste; your mamma will be so +pressed and worried. There's Mrs. Doctor Wilton, with a train of black +silk long enough to reach from here to the gate almost. Do make haste, +Miss Salome, my dear. If there isn't another knock! Dear me, I can't +abide answering the door; it has never been my business." And Stevens +bustled down, exhorting the children not to peep through the banisters, +and signing to Salome to follow her, she disappeared to answer the door +to Mr. and Mrs. Atherton. But happily Mrs. Atherton had seen the two +carriages at the gate, and was just giving the cards to Stevens, saying +she would come again, when Salome appeared. + +"We hear your mother has visitors," said Mrs. Atherton, in one of those +voices which ring with the clear sweetness of truth,--the voice which is +so different from the "put on" or company voice, or the voice which +regulates itself to the supposed requirements of the moment. "We will +come again very soon. I hope your mother is pretty well?" + +"Yes, thank you," said Salome. "Won't you come in?" + +"No; we are near neighbours at the vicarage," Mr. Atherton said. "We +were your predecessors here," he said with a smile; "so we know the +rooms will not hold large levees. I want to know your brothers. I saw +two elder ones at church with you on Sunday. If they care for cricket, +we have a game going on every Saturday in the field above the church." + +"Reginald is at the college now; but I will tell him, thank you." + +And then, as Mr. and Mrs. Atherton said good-bye, Lady Monroe and her +daughter came into the little passage with Ada. + +"We shall only tire your mamma if we stay now," she said; "but I have +made her promise to drive with me to-morrow if it is fine, and either +you or your sister must come also." + +Salome and Ada, after a few more words, went together to the little +sitting-room, where their mother sat, flushed and ill at ease, with +their Aunt Anna, Louise, and Kate. + +Kate sprang up when Salome came in and kissed her affectionately; while +her mother said, "How do you do?--is this Salome?" and then, with a very +light salute on her cheek, went on in the same even current of talk +which the entrance of the girls had checked, not stopped. + +"I want to see your little brothers," Kate said to Salome; "may I come +with you and find them? Louise can talk with Ada; they are certain to +get on." + +Salome glanced at her mother, who looked so worn-out and tired and sad, +and wondered at her Aunt Anna's conversation, which all concerned +herself and her friends, and her own interests and amusements. But it +seemed hopeless to help her, and she left the room with Kate. + +Hans and Carl were painting pictures in the dining-room, and Kate had +soon finished with them. + +"Why, they are twins, aren't they? Have you got to teach them? What a +bore for you! Now show me your room. It is not so bad, really; and I +like the look of your sitting-room--it has a home-like air. What a +smoke! Where does that come from?" she said, looking from the window of +Salome's room. + +"That is the bake-house," Salome said. "Mr. Pryor is our landlady's son; +and the garden is separated from ours by that wall." + +"I smell the bread," Kate exclaimed; "it's rather nice. And what is +this?" she said, pausing on the heap of foolscap paper lying on the +chest of drawers. "Essays--papers? 'Chapter I.' Why, I believe it is a +story. Have you actually written a story? You look like an authoress. +Digby says he never saw a cleverer face than yours, and he quite admires +you. Read me a bit of the story; tell me the names of the people." + +Poor Salome was suffering all this time the pangs which sensitive +natures like hers can only understand. To have her secret hopes and +fears thus ruthlessly dragged to light--to see her sheets, which, alas +for her wonted carelessness, ought to have been hidden in one of those +deep drawers, fingered by strange hands, was misery to her. She tried +to take them from her cousin's grasp; but she held them fast, and began +to read:-- + +"'Under the shadow of a spreading cedar-tree, two little--'" + +Salome was now really angry; her eyes flashed, and she said, "Give me +the manuscript directly, Kate. It is excessively rude; I hate it; I--" + +"Oh, I am only in fun. I don't see anything so wonderful in writing a +story. Hundreds of people write now-a-days. I hope you will get fifty +pounds for 'Under the shadow of the cedars.' Dear me, I did not think +you could 'flare up' like that." + +"I hope you won't tell any one about what you have seen," said poor +Salome in a trembling voice. "I hope--" + +"Not I. I forget everything directly. 'In at one ear, out at another,' +Digby says. But I want to be great friends with you, so do not let us +quarrel about that stupid old story." + +It was a relief to Salome to hear Stevens's voice calling her, and +announcing that "Mrs. Loftus" was going, and Miss Wilton was to come +down directly. + +It seemed delightful to be left alone; and Mrs. Wilton lay back in her +chair, and in the gathering twilight Salome saw she was quietly crying. +She stole up to her, and, sitting down on a low stool, said, "You were +glad to see Lady Monroe, mother. She is _so_ kind." + +"Yes, very kind; and I must make an effort to drive with her to-morrow, +as she has asked me; but--" + +"Oh yes, dear mother, you _must_ go. Aunt Anna was rather too much for +you. It was a pity that they all came at once, as you have seen no one +for so long." + +"Yes; and it brought the past back. But I will try to be patient." + +"You are patient, mother dear," Salome said. + +Ada now drew near the fire, and began: "I like Louise very much. She +wants me to go to Edinburgh Crescent to-morrow to play tennis in the +square. May I, mother? I can walk as far as the turn to the college with +Reginald." + +"I think we ought to begin with the children's lessons," Salome said, +"and settle down. They are getting very unruly, just because they miss +Miss Barnes's hand." + +"It is no use beginning in the middle of a week," Ada said; "and I +suppose I may have some lessons too--music lessons I do want." + +"We shall see our way in time, darling," Mrs. Wilton said; "and I must +try to manage about a piano. But I think Salome is right about the +children; they ought to begin regular lessons. Mrs. Pryor complains of +their running so much up and down stairs. She says it wears out the +carpet." + +"Mrs. Pryor is a most disagreeable woman," said Ada. "I certainly do +agree with Raymond that we ought to remove." + +"Nonsense, Ada. Think of all the trouble over again, and all our things +just settled in and unpacked." + +She was interrupted by Reginald rushing in from the college. He was full +of life and spirit; and had found Rugby boys were thought something of, +as the head-master himself and several of the assistant-masters were +Rugbians. He had taken an excellent place; and, altogether, the world +seemed to smile on Reginald. + +Raymond followed his brother in about ten minutes, and threw himself +into a chair and yawned. + +"Are you very tired, dear?" asked his mother. + +"I should think I was. The air of that hole in Harstone is enough to +choke a fellow. I don't believe you have any idea of the stuffy air; and +such dirty clerks at the desks--a set of cads!" + +"One isn't a cad anyhow," said Reginald. "His brother is in my form. His +name is Percival." + +"Oh, I know; his coat out at elbows, and his hair like a mop. I should +say he was the greatest cad of the lot." + +"That I know he isn't," said Reginald hotly. "He may be shabby--for his +people are poor, and there are heaps of children--but I am certain Ralph +Percival's brother isn't a cad." + +"You needn't put yourself out about it," Raymond said. "Not one of the +clerks is anything to me. I don't speak to them." + +"I daresay as you get higher in the office you will find the class +better. Mr. Warde's nephew and his two sons are in it. Uncle Loftus told +me so." + +"Any letters for me by the second post?" asked Raymond. + +"No, dear. Whom did you expect to hear from?" + +"Oh!--a friend--St. Clair. He may not have posted the letter in time." +Another yawn, and then Raymond stretched his legs out before the fire, +first giving it a vigorous stir with the tongs, which came more handy +than the poker, and drew a newspaper out of his pocket. + +"We have had a number of visitors to-day," Ada said. "Lady Monroe, for +one, with her daughter. Such a pretty, nice girl!" + +"Who is Lady Monroe? and how did she find you out?" + +Ada explained; and Raymond seemed interested. + +"I hope you will keep up with them," he said; "and mind mother drives +with Lady Monroe to-morrow." + +"They are going to the south of France for the winter very soon; that is +the worst of it," Ada said. "Lady Monroe went to school with mamma, and +seems so fond of her." + +"What a bore that they are going away! They might be useful, and ask a +fellow to dinner. Who came besides?" + +"Aunt Anna and the two elder girls. I like Louise very much; and Aunt +Anna is really very handsome, and she does look so young." + +"She patronized no end, didn't she? I am glad I was not here." + +"She was very pleasant, and said she hoped to see us often." + +"That 'often' means 'never,' when no day is fixed." + +"I am to go to tennis to-morrow." + +"Well, did anybody else come?" + +"Yes; Mr. and Mrs. Atherton, the vicar of St. Luke's." + +"Oh, they are certain to be slow. We didn't want them." + +Salome had escaped by this time, and was in her room re-arranging her +papers. Why had she been so cross to Kate? why should she be offended +with her? "I will work at it whenever I get the chance," she thought. "A +little at a time is better than nothing;" and taking the sheet that lay +upper-most to a large box in the window, pressed the spring of a little +leather ink-stand, and kneeling to catch the western light, was soon +engrossed in her tale. She forgot cold, and vexation, and Raymond's +conceit and selfishness, and wrote on with a smooth-nibbed "J" pen for a +quarter of an hour. + +Then Carl bounced in. + +"Ruth Pryor has sent us in some lovely hot cakes for tea; isn't that +kind?" + +"Go away, dear," Salome said. + +"What are you doing, Salome? Do come and read to us the life-boat story. +_Do._" + +Salome sighed, gathered up her sheets, put them in the drawer, and went +to her little brothers. + + + + +CHAPTER X. + +A PROPOSED FLIGHT FROM THE NEST. + + +Lady Monroe was right when she said the Athertons would prove true +friends; and it soon became one of Salome's greatest pleasures to get a +quiet talk with Mrs. Atherton. She possessed the power, rare but +beautiful, of influencing others by _herself_, not by her words. She had +remarkably quick insight into character; and she had not known the +Wiltons long before she had, as it were, mastered the situation, and +could enter into the difficulties and trials of each one. She saw that +Salome had the hardest task of all, and she felt for her, with her +dreamy, imaginative temperament, forced, as it were, to take up with the +practical side of daily life, and set herself to help her. + +Lady Monroe had postponed the departure to Cannes longer than Dr. Wilton +thought right, till the sudden change from a prolonged St. Luke's summer +to an early and sunless spell of winter brought on Eva's little short +cough, and made her hasten the arrangements for leaving England. + +Eva was a spoiled child--or, rather, would have been spoiled, had so +sweet and gentle a nature been capable of "spoiling," in the common +acceptation of the word. Her mother clung to her with the intense love +which springs from the thought that all love and care for our heart's +dearest ones may not be needed long. Eva had taken a sudden and real +liking for Ada Wilton. Her beauty and serenity had a charm for her. She +liked to hear her play and watch her white hands on the piano. She liked +to talk with her and to hear her voice. And so it had come to pass that +Ada was continually sent for to Lady Monroe's house; and when the time +for leaving Roxburgh was definitely arranged, Eva said that nothing +would please her so much or help to pass the winter cheerfully as to +have Ada with her. + +Lady Monroe herself had her misgivings. "Ada is so young, and ought to +be going on with education and lessons," she said. + +"But she can _have_ lessons, mamma; and think how she will learn to +speak French. And there are drawing-masters and music-masters at Cannes. +Oh, _do_ let us take her; she is so fond of me, mamma, and she is so +lovely and so ladylike." + +The feverish glow on Eva's face and the excited light in her eyes made +her mother hesitate before she refused. + +"I will consult Dr. Wilton," she said, "and her mother. I hardly know if +it would be right to take her away from her mother; and yet it might be +a relief in some ways. Still it would be an additional anxiety for me; +and you might get tired of her, Eva." + +"Tired of her, mamma! Oh no. Think of the many dull, lonely hours I have +to spend, while other girls are playing tennis, and going to picnics, +and dancing, and enjoying themselves. I know I have you, darling +mother," Eva said tenderly; "but if I had a young companion, you would +feel more free to leave me." + +"We will see about it, Eva. I must not do anything rashly." + +But Lady Monroe lost no time in consulting Dr. Wilton, who gave the plan +unqualified approbation; and then it only remained to get Mrs. Wilton's +leave. + +Her note with the proposition came one afternoon when the day had been a +troubled one--the children naughty, and Salome unable to manage them; +Ada still less so; Stevens put out by the inveterate smoking of the +chimney in the little boys' room, where she kept a fire and sat at her +needle-work, and made the room look like the ghost of her old nursery. +Then Mrs. Wilton had been vainly trying to look over accounts. Her head +and eyes ached. The weekly bills when multiplied by fifty-two would +amount to far more than her small income. Raymond had asked for a +sovereign, and how could she refuse him? Reginald had begged for his +football jersey and cap, for which the old Rugby colours were +inadmissible. Rain poured without, and a cold wind penetrated through +every crack and cranny of the house. In fact, the aspect of life was +dark and gloomy; and Mrs. Wilton, fairly exhausted, was just losing +herself in a day-dream by the fire when Ada tripped in with Lady +Monroe's note. + +"I expect I know what it is about, mamma; something very, very +delightful for _me_." + +"I can't see to read it till the lamp is brought in," Mrs. Wilton said. + +"Let me get the lamp, mamma--or ring for it--or poke up a blaze," said +Ada. + +It was quite unusual for Ada to exert herself like this; and so Salome +thought, who was reading to Hans and Carl in a low tone by the window, +where the daylight was stronger than by the fire. + +Mrs. Wilton yielded to Ada's impatience, and opened the envelope, +holding it towards the bright blaze Ada had brought to life, and +reading by it the large, clear handwriting. + +"You know what is in this note, Ada?" Mrs. Wilton said when she had +finished it, and turned back to the first sheet again to assure herself +of the contents. + +"I can guess, mother," Ada said, drawing nearer. "Do let me go." + +"Go where?" asked Salome, leaving her post by the window and coming +towards the fire,--"go where, Ada?" + +Mrs. Wilton gave Lady Monroe's note into Salome's hand. She bent down, +shading her forehead from the heat by her hand, and read:-- + + "DEAR MRS. WILTON,--I am writing to ask you a great favour. + Will you lend your dear Ada to me for the winter? Eva has so + set her heart on the plan, and has such a real affection for + your Ada, that I hope you will consent. I need not say that + she will be to me for the time as my own child, and that I am + of course answerable for every expense; and I will see that + she has advantages in the way of music lessons and any others + that may be available at Cannes. My Eva's life will be + brightened, and she will feel the privations of her delicate + health less with a young companion whom she loves. Do not + refuse me this request. I may add that Dr. Wilton encourages + me to make it. Our friendship is not a new thing; and when I + look at Ada, I see again the Emily Bruce of old times.--With + kindest love, I am ever affectionately yours, + + "KATHARINE MONROE." + +"Do you wish to go, Ada?" Salome asked. + +"Wish? Oh, I shall like it so much! I think it is delightful!" + +"To _you_, no doubt," said Salome; "but it will put a great deal more on +me. The children's lessons, and walking with them, and--But if mother +likes it, there is nothing to be said." + +"Well, it will be a great advantage to Ada," Mrs. Wilton sighed out; +"and Lady Monroe will be a substantial friend. If your uncle approves +it, I do not see how I can refuse." + +Ada sprang up. She was but a child, and the idea of a journey to the +south of France was full of untold delight. Then to escape from the +tiresome lessons, the dull way of life, the bother about money, the +fidgets about keeping two fires burning, looked most attractive. + +"Thank you, darling mother," she exclaimed with unusual enthusiasm, +throwing her arms round her mother. "I shall come back ever so much +brighter, and able to do heaps more things." + +"It is very easy to settle things in that way," said Salome. "You are +exactly like Raymond--_intensely_ selfish." + +"Don't be jealous, Salome," Ada exclaimed. "You knew the Monroes first, +and if Eva had taken a fancy to you, you would have been only too +pleased; but you see Eva happens to like _me_ best." + +"Oh, my dear children, do not let there be any uncomfortable feeling. +Though we are poor, let us be loving." + +Salome's heart was full, and rising hastily, she dropped Lady Monroe's +letter, and left the room. Poor child, it did seem to her, as to many +another, that effort for others was in vain; that those who keep self +and selfish interests well to the front are, after all, those who +succeed best, not only in getting what they wish, and escaping +disagreeables and worries, but in winning affection and admiration from +every one. + +"I have done my very best ever since dear father died. I _have_ tried to +do everything, and yet Ada is the most cared for. I believe mother does +really love her best. Father--father--_he_ cared for me, and now he is +gone." + +"Why, Sal, what is the matter?" It was Reginald's voice, as he came into +the dining-room, where, in an arm-chair, by the dying embers of the +fire, which was not allowed to burn up, Salome was sobbing out her +trouble. "Why, old Sal, what is it?" + +"Ada is going off to Cannes with Lady Monroe, and never thinks about me. +I shall have twice as much to do--the children always on my hand; and I +shall never be able to finish my story. I have not minded leaving mother +with Ada; but now--and she _is_ so selfish, Reginald." + +"So is half the world, it seems to me, Sal. Cheer up. _I_ am glad, for +one, _you_ are not going to the south of France. I tell you that. I +cannot get on without you, nor any one else either; so that is very +certain. Come, Sal, don't be down-hearted. It will make one less here, +and Ada is not cut out for our present life. You and I do very well; and +I know I have got the best of it at school, and have no time to sit and +mope." + +"I don't mope," said poor Salome, half-offended. "To-day, I have--" +Tears were just beginning to fall again, when Reginald caught sight of a +book on the floor. + +"Is not this Mrs. Atherton's paper you promised to send back this +morning, Salome? I say, she said she must have it to post to a friend. +Shall I run over with it to the vicarage?" + +"Oh dear, how careless I am," Salome sighed. "I should like to go with +it myself, Reginald. It is not quite dark, not nearly dark out of +doors. Will you come for me in half an hour? I do feel as if the run, +and seeing Mrs. Atherton, would do me good." + +"All right," said Reginald good-naturedly; "only, be quick, for I want +tea over early this evening. I have no end of work to get through." + +Salome raced upstairs, and snatching up her jacket and hat, and +thrusting her hands into a muff, with the newspaper crushed up +mercilessly, she was out of the house in no time, and was very soon at +the vicarage. + +If she could only find Mrs. Atherton at home, she thought, and alone. +She stood in awe of Mr. Atherton, the grave, dignified man, who looked +as much older for his years as his mother looked younger, and by reason +of this had led to much confusion in the parish when he and Mrs. +Atherton first came to St. Luke's. + +Yes, Susan thought Mrs. Atherton was at home. Would Miss Wilton walk in? + +Salome was shown into the drawing-room, which was empty; and Susan, +after throwing a log on the fire, and remarking that "it was quite +wintry weather," left her. + +That bright, cheerful room, full of the signs of the life of those +who inhabited it, always gave Salome a sense of home. Books on all +sides; a little picture on an easel in one corner; needle-work; a +carefully-arranged writing-table in one recess by the fire, a work-table +in the other. Nothing fine or grand, no aspirations after "high art," +though a few old china plates were hung against the wall, and the large +square of crimson carpet was surrounded by polished dark boards. A room +used and loved already, though the vicarage was a new house, and there +was not the charm of association with the past to make it dear. + +Salome had waited for a few minutes, lost in a day-dream by the fire, +and forgetting her vexation and trouble, when the door opened and Mr. +Atherton came in. + +"I have brought back this newspaper Mrs. Atherton lent me," she began +hurriedly, "to read a review. I hope it is not too late for the post." + +"My mother is gone to see a child who is ill; but sit down, and let me +have the benefit of a talk in her place." Mr. Atherton saw the look of +disappointment in Salome's face, and added, "If you can wait, my mother +will be home before long." + +Salome stood irresolute, and then, fearing to be ungracious, she said,-- + +"I can come again to-morrow, thank you. I daresay you are busy now." + +"No; I was only reading for half an hour's recreation. I may as well +take it by talking with you, unless you really would rather go away." + +In spite of her shyness, a bright smile flashed over Salome's face. + +"I could not say so," she said, "as you ask me to stay, without--" + +"Being uncivil," he said laughing. "Now I think we have had enough of +preliminaries. I was thinking of you just before you came. I have a +little class at the Sunday school ready for you, if you would like to +take it, and one for your sister also." + +"My sister is going away for the winter with Lady Monroe," Salome said. +"I wanted to tell Mrs. Atherton about it. It is not quite decided; that +is to say, mother had not written the answer to the note when I came +away; but I feel sure she will go, and as I shall be left alone with +mother and the children and the boys, I don't think I shall be able to +leave them on Sunday afternoons." + +"Then I would not urge you; our first duties lie at home." + +"I shall have to teach the children altogether now. Ada helped with +arithmetic and music. I am so stupid at both, especially arithmetic." + +Mr. Atherton saw that Salome was troubled, and yet he did not press her +for confidence, but quietly said,-- + +"Well, we are not all born to be mathematicians or musicians. God gives +us all different powers. It is wholesome, however, to grind a little at +what we dislike sometimes. The old story of the two roads, you know." + +"I don't know," said Salome, her eyes glistening with interest; "unless +you mean the narrow and the broad road," she added simply. + +"Yes; I was thinking of Lord Bacon's rendering of the same idea. If two +roads seem to lie before the Christian--one smooth and pleasant, the +other rough and thorny--let him choose the rough one, and in spite of +pricks and wounds he will gather flowers there, and fruit too, if he +perseveres. Those may not be the precise words, but it is the meaning." + +"I don't think I have _two_ roads before me to choose from," Salome +said. "When I look back on our dear, happy home at Maplestone, and +compare that time with this, it _does_ seem hard enough." + +"Do not look back, my dear child, nor onward too much; just take the +day, and live it, as far as you can, in the fear of God, taking +everything--joy and sorrow--from Him." + +"Oh, it's not so much the big things," said Salome. "Even the greatest +trouble of all--dear father's death--is not so hard in the way I mean; +though I would give--oh, I would give anything to get him back and to +see him happy. Still, I can think he is at rest, and that God took him +from what would have broken his heart. But I mean little +worries--crossness, ill-temper, fidgets about money, and, above all, +feeling that I am getting so disagreeable--worse every day." + +"You do not think you are alone in these feelings, do you? My dear +child, it is a very common experience. Take these little pricking +thorns, and the wounds they make, yes, and the poison they sometimes +leave behind, to the loving hand of the Great Healer. Would you not +think it strange if people only sent to your uncle, Dr. Loftus Wilton, +for great and dangerous ailments? His patients go to him with the small +ones also, and often by skill the small ones are prevented from growing +into large ones. Be patient, and watchful, and hopeful, and cheerful, +and leave the rest to God. There is a deep meaning in those words we +were using last Sunday: 'Cheerfully accomplish those things that thou +wouldest have done.'" + +Salome felt in much better spirits when she left the vicarage than when +she entered. She raced down the garden to the gate, where Reginald was +waiting for her, and then she saw Mrs. Atherton tripping lightly up the +road with a basket in her hand. + +It would have been dark by this time, except for the light of a bright +young moon which was hanging like a silver bow over the church spire; +Jupiter, a little in advance of the moon, in a clear blue sky. + +"I am sorry I missed you, my dear," Mrs. Atherton said. "Come to-morrow, +if you can, about four o'clock. I have been to see a dear little boy who +is suffering great pain from a burn. I have dressed it for him, and he +is better." + +"I brought back the paper you lent me," Salome said. + +"It is too late for the north post to-day; but never mind. Good-bye," +and Mrs. Atherton's alert steps were soon out of hearing as she walked +quickly up the garden to the house. + +"Reginald, let us go round by the upper road and down at the back of Elm +Cottage; it is so fine and bright, and I feel in a better temper." + +"Make haste then," said Reginald; "for Digby said something about coming +to tea. He had to go home first." + +The brother and sister walked fast; and Reginald told Salome a long and +rather involved history of a football match, and said he hoped soon to +work up into the first fifteen. The road at the back of Elm Cottage took +a sudden dip down towards an excavation from which stone for building +had been taken some years before; but the particular vein had been +exhausted, and the quarry was deserted, and made a circular outlet from +the road of some thirty feet, overhung with brambles and ivy. As +Reginald and Salome passed this quarry they heard voices. Something +familiar in the tone of one speaker made Salome slacken her pace. + +"Reginald, I am sure that was Raymond speaking. Look back. Who is it?" + +Reginald turned, and distinctly saw two figures at the entrance of the +quarry--two men or boys. + +"I don't think it is Raymond." + +"I am certain it is," Salome said. "Whom can he be talking with?" + +"I am sure I don't know," said Reginald. "I daresay it is not he." + +"I wish I knew how Raymond is really getting on," said Salome. "The +worst of it is, one never feels quite sure that he is telling the +truth." + +Reginald was silent. + +"Does Percival's brother ever say anything to you about Raymond?" + +"No; at least, not much." + +"Reg, if you _do_ know anything about Raymond, tell me. It's not like +telling tales. I think I ought to know, for there seems no one to look +after him, and, though I hate to say so, he does deceive mother." + +But Reginald was not to be drawn into the discussion further. Digby +Wilton arrived at Elm Cottage at the same moment as Reginald and Salome, +and he was always a cheerful and welcome visitor. The two families +seemed to leave any intimacy that existed between them to the two pairs +of brothers and sisters. + +Louise's affection for Ada was short-lived, and a certain jealousy +possessed her when she saw that Eva Monroe had taken an affection for +her. Louise would have liked very much to be the elected companion of +Eva to Cannes, and was lost in astonishment that a child of fifteen +should be preferred before her, when the plan was announced. + +"It is done as an act of charity, my dear Louise," her mother said. "Be +thankful that your education and social position and advantages have +been secured by me without the help of strangers. Poor Emily! it must be +hard for her to receive so much from her friends. My proud spirit could +never be brought to do so. And she is not an economical woman. I notice +she has had the crape on her dress renewed already. And I hear from Aunt +Betha that they deal with the tradesmen about Elm Fields and Whitelands +Road. It would be far cheaper if they sent down into Harstone, and +really Stevens might do this. It seems extravagant for poor people in +lodgings to keep a maid." + +"I don't believe Stevens would leave Aunt Emily if she begged and prayed +her to go," said Kate with indiscreet heat. "Really I do think it hard +to talk of Aunt Emily like that, mamma." + +"My dear Kate," said Mrs. Wilton, "will you ask Aunt Betha to come and +speak with me? I must send a note to the Quadrant this evening." + +These were Mrs. Wilton's favourite tactics. She seldom argued a point +with her children, and she was right in the principle. If the +differences of opinion were likely to be very decided, she would ignore +them by turning quietly to another subject. + + + + +CHAPTER XI. + +ADA'S DEPARTURE. + + +The household at Elm Cottage were engrossed for the next ten days with +preparations for Ada's departure. Mrs. Pryor's eyes filled with tears +whenever it was mentioned. + +"Going off to foreign parts, where my dear departed lady went years +agone, to find a grave for her husband; no good ever comes from going to +these outlandish places. However a widow lady can trust her child to go +off like this passes my comprehension." + +"These are old-fashioned notions in these days, mother," Ruth would +interpose. "These foreign places are just English all over. I know a +young person who went as maid to--to--not Cannes, but it's all the same; +the name begins with a saint." + +"Ah! I daresay," sighed Mrs. Pryor; "some Papist's place." + +"Well, this young person told me," said Ruth, taking no notice of the +interruption, "that at their hotel it was just like an English country +house; everything goes like clock-work. In your lady's days, I daresay, +sixty years ago, it might have been changed." + +"Yes, it _was_ different. And times are changed," said Mrs. Pryor. "The +young set themselves up, and think it fine to scoff at their elders. If +this pretty child--for she is _but_ a child--is laid in the +burying-ground out there, hundreds of miles from her widowed mother, +don't come to me to be _surprised_--that's all." + +Ruth nodded at Stevens to say no more. But Stevens's own heart was +heavy; and many were the sighs which were breathed over Ada's box, which +stood ready, strapped and addressed, in the dull haze of the November +morning. + +Ada herself had kept up bravely till now; but as the wheels of the fly +were heard which was to take her to the station, to meet Lady Monroe and +Eva and their maid, her sobs broke forth. + +"Oh, I wish I were not going!" she said. "O mother, mother!" + +"Don't upset mamma, Ada," Salome whispered. "Dear Ada, please don't." + +But Ada threw herself into her mother's arms, and could only sob out, +"Oh, I wish I were not going!" + +Mrs. Wilton strove to be calm; and Stevens wisely hastened box, and neat +little bundle of rugs, and ulster, and umbrella into the fly. Hans and +Carl, who, with Stevens, were to see Ada off, stood bewildered to see +their generally calm, self-possessed sister crying so bitterly. + +"I thought she wanted to go to France," Carl said, puckering up his +mouth. + +"Yes; I thought Stevens said Ada was crazy to go," echoed Hans. + +"She will be all right when she is once off, my dears," said Ruth. "You +run and get in. There's good little boys; get into the fly. Look! I +declare there is Puck, knowing as well as possible that Miss Ada is +going." + +At last Ada was gone, clinging to the last to her mother and to Salome, +and saying, "Give Raymond and Reg my love; don't forget." + +Ada was not the first to find that the longed-for pleasure is not all +that imagination pictured; and well might Ruth say, as she turned back +into her little shop,-- + +"There, I didn't think she had so much heart, that I didn't." + +"Everybody's heart ain't always in their mouths, Ruth," was Frank's +rejoinder. "Still waters run deep, my dear." + +"Then you are one of the deepest I ever saw, Frank; you never waste a +word. I do believe if I hadn't helped you, you never would have come to +the point with me." + +"That's an old story now, my dear," said Frank, rubbing his floury face +with his hand. "Don't be offended, my dear," he continued. "I don't say +it wasn't a good story, for _me_ anyhow, that I _did_ come to the +point." + +After Ada's departure Salome made a great effort to settle down into a +fixed routine. She wrote out a list of the lessons with her little +brothers, and with Reginald's help got over the formidable arithmetic +better than might have been expected. Irksome as this routine was to a +girl of her dreamy and imaginative temperament, she bravely struggled to +take each day as it came, and do the best with it. Stevens, who did all +the needle-work and small washing of the family, could not always walk +with her children, but she clung to this habit of a past life; and soon +after the one o'clock dinner in the short winter days Hans and Carl +would set off on a shopping expedition with Stevens, or for a walk over +the downs. And while Mrs. Wilton rested quietly for an hour, Salome +would sit down to her story, and forget the present in the society of +the imaginary children of whom she wrote. Unconsciously she reproduced +the dear old home of her happy childhood,--the stately trees, the +emerald turf, the little lake with the rustic bridge. Her children were +the idealized children of her own experience, and the circumstances in +which she placed them and the adventures which befell them were, like +the "monkey stories," for the most part reproductions of incidents +which lay treasured in the storehouse of her memory. Thanks to Miss +Barnes's admirable teaching, Salome was guiltless of slips of grammar, +and wrote a fair hand. This "thinking on paper" has a peculiar +fascination in it for the young; and no one could have grudged Salome +these hours she spent over her manuscript, full of hope and even belief +that by her hand the weight of care might be lifted from her mother. + +Christmas drew on, and Reginald was full of his examinations--so full, +that he sat up late at night with his papers, and had but little time to +give to the consideration of Salome's tale. + +It was one evening when Mrs. Wilton was occupied in answering a long +letter from Ada, filled with glowing descriptions of Cannes and the +happy life she was leading there, that Salome went into the dining-room +where Reginald was at work. The finished manuscript was in her hand, and +she said, "Reg, where do you advise me to send my story? I have finished +it, every word." + +Reginald was absorbed in his Euclid, and held up his hand, as if to beg +her to stop. + +"Are you very busy?" she said. "Then I won't trouble you." + +Still there was the thought in her heart, "How nice it would be if +somebody cared." But she waited patiently, and at last Reginald pushed +the books away, and giving a prolonged yawn, said,-- + +"It is awfully cold here with no fire. What do you want, Sal?" + +"Reg, do come and work in the drawing-room. The children are gone to +bed, and mother and I are as quiet as mice." + +"Raymond is not there, of course." + +"No," said Salome, "and I can't think what he does every evening. He +goes off directly after tea, and he is so late every night now. Reg, do +you know where he goes?" + +"I don't _know_," said Reginald, "but I don't think things are all +square with him. But, you see, Raymond and I have never had much to do +with each other, going to different schools, and he has always looked +down on me." + +"I hope he has not bad friends," Salome said; "but I am certain he was +with some one he did not care for you and me to see that evening when I +had been up to the vicarage, the day it was fixed for Ada to go to +Cannes." + +"Yes; I remember. However, I don't see that we can do any good. We must +just go on and leave it." + +"I am sorry mother gave him a latch-key. I know she lies awake till she +hears him come upstairs; and though I am glad to do anything for her, +still I think it is a pity she let him have our room when Ada went away. +When he slept in yours it was a check. I can't think where he gets money +from," Salome went on. "That is a new ulster he has, and a new +cigar-case, and I don't believe he has had any salary yet at Mr. +Warde's. Reg," said Salome in a low voice, "_do_ you think he is getting +into debt?" + +"You see, Sal," said Reginald, "I don't like to say anything I am not +sure about, so don't ask me, though of course a fellow like Percival is +to be trusted. Still, I don't think either you or I can do anything, so +it is better to hold our tongues. Is that your story?" touching the roll +of manuscript. + +"Yes," said Salome sadly. "I thought you wouldn't mind just looking at +my letter. I shall send it to Bardsley and Carrow. They have such a long +list of stories for the young. Look, this is what I have said. Will it +do, Reg?" + +"How should I know, Sal? You can write a letter fifty times better than +I can. It is a pity you cannot consult somebody else." + +"I don't know who, unless it is Mrs. Atherton." + +"Mr. Atherton," suggested Reg; "he is awfully clever." + +"Yes; and I should feel so stupid and shy, I know. I think I will just +try by myself; and if it is returned, I may pluck up courage to ask Mr. +Atherton then." + +"Yes; that will be the best way. And mind you put in the same number of +stamps in the envelope that you put on the parcel, or you will never see +the story again." + +"Then you think it is safe to be rejected, Reg? Well," said Salome with +a sigh, "never mind. I am going to begin another at once, so perhaps at +last I shall succeed." + +Reginald drew his chair to the table again, and opened a book, as if to +show he had no more to say on the subject; and Salome returned to her +mother, having first deposited her precious manuscript and the letter +addressed to Messrs. Bardsley and Carrow in the drawer, where she had +kept them since the day when Kate had so roughly handled the sheets. + +"Are you going to write to Ada, Salome?" Mrs. Wilton asked. + +"Not to-night, I think, mother." + +"Hers is a delightful letter--dear child! I am sure I am thankful she is +so happy; and Lady Monroe's little enclosure is so pleasant." + +"I did not see that," Salome said. "Give it to me, mother;" and Salome +read:-- + +"Your dear child is all, and more than all, I wished for a companion to +my Eva. They are so happy together, and lessons are not forgotten. Ada +is making rapid advances with her music. There are some very nice people +in the hotel, and we have pleasant little drives, and picnics, and +excursions in the sunshine and amongst the flowers." + +Salome made no comment as she returned the letter to her mother, and the +next minute Dr. Wilton's little short rap was heard, followed by Mrs. +Pryor's footstep in the passage, eager to have the honour of admitting +the doctor. "The only visitor she troubles herself about," Stevens +always said. + +"Uncle Loftus!" Salome exclaimed. "How late! It is past nine o'clock!" + +"He must have been on a late round," Mrs. Wilton said. And then Mrs. +Pryor, with her usual solemnity, announced,-- + +"Dr. Wilton." + +"Well, my dear Salome? And how are you, Emily? You look warm and +comfortable here. It _is_ a wretched night. Where are the boys?" + +"Reginald is working hard at the exams, and the little ones are in bed. +Raymond is out. He is so closely confined in the office all day that I +cannot keep him here all the evening. The change in our circumstances +falls more heavily on him than on any of them. Life at Eton and life +here are indeed two different things." + +Dr. Wilton gave an almost imperceptible shrug of his shoulders, and +looking at Salome, whose face was turned up to his with its wistful +expression, he said,-- + +"I saw Mr. Warde to-day, and I am sorry to say that he did not give at +all a good account of Raymond. He is very unpunctual in his attendance +at the office, and very careless and idle when he is there. The senior +clerk complains of him continually; and not only of this, but he gives +himself such airs that he is most unpopular with the men in the same +office." + +Dr. Wilton had found great difficulty in beginning what he had to say, +but when once in for it he went straight through. He saw with pity and +compassion his sister-in-law's face grow whiter and whiter as he went +on, and he saw Salome quietly move and, going behind her mother's chair, +put her hand caressingly on her shoulder, bending down, and pressing her +cheek against her mother's in silent sympathy. + +"My dear Emily," Dr. Wilton said kindly, "I am extremely sorry to have +to say this. The boy is young, and has been--well, a good deal indulged. +Let us hope he will see the folly of throwing away his chance of +earning his living. His head is stuffed full of nonsense, and even my +own boys complain of his brag." + +Mrs. Wilton rallied now. That the clerks in the office should complain +of her son filled her with pain: but that his cousins (as she thought), +plain, uninteresting, heavy boys, should dare to disparage her handsome, +bright son, to whose faults she was blind, filled her with anger as well +as pain. + +"I do not think any of my children have seen much of yours in their own +home, Loftus," she replied; "and if _this_ is the way the one who is so +constantly here has repaid our kindness, I shall take care he is not +with us so much in future." + +"O mother, Digby would never be unkind," Salome said warmly. "He would +never speak evil of any one. Reg says--" + +"I know Reginald is your favourite brother, Salome. Perhaps you might +have done more for poor Raymond, if--" + +Mrs. Wilton's voice faltered. The best mothers have what may be called +"colour-blindness" as to their children's faults and failings. But there +are some who will suffer any amount of personal trouble and anxiety that +the children inflict, rather than that their faults should be canvassed +by others. The discussion of them by ordinary people is resented; how +much more when relations bring them roughly to light! It is not too much +to say that Mrs. Wilton could have better borne a complaint of her boy +coming direct from Mr. Warde to herself than to have that complaint +brought by his uncle. Worse still that Raymond's cousins should be +quoted. + +I cannot say that I think Mrs. Wilton had any reason to think kindly of +her husband's family. Although Dr. Wilton had been kind and attentive, +his wife had taken no trouble to brighten the life of her relatives at +Elm Cottage. This arose chiefly from her habit of never troubling +herself about outside matters. She "never puts herself out of the way +for any one. It is not _in_ Anna to do it," Aunt Betha would say +sometimes when even the maternal instinct was not strong enough to keep +Mrs. Wilton from an "afternoon" or a dinner party when little Guy was in +one of his worst fits of pain. + +"I can do no good. It only hurts me to see him suffer, dear little man," +she would say. "Auntie nurses him so much better than I can." + +Thus it is not likely that a woman who could be thus unconcerned about +her own children would be greatly interested in her husband's nieces and +nephews. Hans and Carl had been twice to Edinburgh Crescent to tea, and +had walked with Miss Scott, and Edith, and Maude. Salome had spent one +day with Kate and Louise. But this was about all the hospitality which +had been extended to them. Ada had been more sought after, because she +was so pretty; every one asked who she was and admired her. But Ada was +gone, and jealousy at Eva's preference for her was now the prominent +feeling with both Louise and her mother. + +"Well," Dr. Wilton said, "I think the boy ought to be seriously +remonstrated with. If he leaves Warde's office, I don't know what on +earth is to be done with him. If you can send him up to Edinburgh +Crescent to-morrow evening to dinner, I'll make an opportunity of +speaking to him. I am sorry to be the bearer of unpleasant news; but as +I recommended Warde to take him, even go out of his way to help +him,--for they don't, as a rule, take young men with any salary,--I can +but feel some responsibility about it.--Can you say anything to your +brother, Salome?" Dr. Wilton said in a gentle voice,--a voice which +always recalled her father. "You are the best of sisters and daughters," +he added, putting his arm kindly round Salome's slight figure. + +"I will try, Uncle Loftus," was the answer in a low voice. + +Then Dr. Wilton went away, saying,-- + +"Good-bye; we must hope for better things. Remember, tell Raymond seven +o'clock to-morrow evening." + +"The first time he has ever asked Raymond to dinner," said Mrs. Wilton. +"O Salome, it is very hard to be treated in this way!" + +"I think I am sure Uncle Loftus means to help us; he is very kind. And, +dear mother, Raymond must be told he cannot go on like this. He ought +not to stay out so late every night; and--" Salome stopped. Mrs. Wilton +broke completely down, and cried bitterly. + +"Don't speak sharply to him, Salome," she sobbed. "I will try what I can +do. He does love me. I shall wait up for him to-night, and you can go to +bed. Let us have prayers now." + +To the surprise of his mother and Salome, though scarcely more than +half-past nine, Raymond's key was heard in the door, and he came in, +throwing his ulster on a chair and his hat on it. + +"Is it raining, Raymond?" his mother asked. + +"No," was the short answer; and then there was silence till Stevens came +in with the Bible, and Reginald, with a rough, shaggy head of hair, and +ink on his fingers, followed her into the room. + + + + +CHAPTER XII. + +CONFIDENCES. + + +Salome did not know what passed between Raymond and her mother, but when +she came up to her room, she heard her speaking cheerfully to Stevens, +who always came to attend on her mistress, as in old days. Salome had +slept in a small iron bedstead in a corner of her mother's room since +Ada had left home, in order that Raymond might have the one she had +shared with her sister to himself. Salome, however, still kept her +property in her old room, and her manuscript and heaps of books and +scribbles were in the drawer there, so that she often went into it. + +The next morning Salome got up early, with the intention of posting her +roll and the letter at the nearest Elm Fields post-office before +breakfast. It seemed that Raymond had changed his habits, for Salome met +him ready dressed in the passage, as she softly left her mother's room. + +"Where are you off to, Salome?" he asked. + +"I was going to post a letter. O Ray, I am so glad you are up early; and +I will get the coffee made directly.--Be quiet, children," she said, as +two little figures came dancing down the passage in their nightgowns. +"Run back and be quiet, or you will wake mamma." + +Stevens was busy in the dining-room, where the fire was burning +cheerfully, and the light of the December morning struggling to gain +ascendency over the Harstone fogs. + +"Wonders never cease!" exclaimed Stevens. "Master Raymond will be in +time at the office for once!" Stevens spoke with the freedom of an old +servant, and to Salome's surprise her brother did not resent it. He was +quiet and subdued, but evidently absorbed in his own thoughts. + +"You are never going out in the cold and fog, Miss Salome? What are you +going for?" Stevens asked. + +Salome was all this time hoping the manuscript and letter, stuffed in +the pocket of her black ulster, would escape notice. + +"I like to warm my feet before breakfast, Stevens. Do go and call +Reginald. He will be late for school. He was so tired last night with +his work." + +Stevens was gone at last, and brother and sister were left together. +Salome's heart beat fast. She did so much wish to say the right thing, +and to avoid irritating her brother. She was apparently intent on +watching the boiling of the little "Hecla" which made the coffee, but in +reality she was thinking how she should begin what she longed to say. +She was spared the effort. Raymond suddenly said,-- + +"I am in a great bother, Salome. I wish you would help me. I--" + +"How can I help you, Ray? Oh, I am so sorry for you and for mother! I do +trust Mr. Warde will let you stay at the office." + +"Mr. Warde! the arrogant cad--it is not about him I am bothered. Sneak! +to complain of me to my uncle. Why did he not say it to me? It is only +that fellow Browne, the head clerk, has a spite at me!" This was an old +story. In days gone by, Raymond's bad school reports had always been +"the result of spite." "But, Salome," he went on, "you know I did not +like to be for ever begging of poor mother, so hard up as I know she is, +so I borrowed some money of a fellow, who said I need not think of +paying him for ever so long; and now he is turned rusty, and we have had +a blow-up, and he says if I don't pay him to-day, he shall come here to +my mother, or to my uncle, for he will have the money by hook or by +crook." + +"O Raymond!" Salome exclaimed; "how much is it?" + +"A mere trifle; only my term's allowance at Eton--five and twenty +pounds. Do you think, Salome, you could get it for me in any way? You +never wear that gold thing with emeralds mother gave you that belonged +to grandmamma. Could you let me have it to raise money on it?" + +"I don't know. I don't think it would be right. The necklet is in +mother's dressing-case. I never have kept it myself. Of course, it is +mine, as grannie left it to me, or it would have been sold. Still I +don't think it would be right. O Raymond, I wish I could ask some one +about it." + +"If you do that you will ruin me. If I can get the money quietly, I will +promise not to borrow again." + +"Did you use it for--for that ulster and pin, and--" Salome was alarmed +at her own boldness; and Raymond answered,-- + +"_No_; I did not." + +"And you are in debt for those things also?" + +"Yes; but that does not matter--tradesmen will wait. It's this fellow +Percival." + +"Oh, is it Percival, the brother of Reg's friend? Digby knows him; he is +very good and nice. I thought you despised him." + +"I said he wore a coat out of elbows in the office; but he is a +gentleman for all that, I find." + +"I should think so," said Salome indignantly; "as if a coat made any +difference. But I can't imagine how it was he had money to lend you." + +"He is a miser, you see," said Raymond. "He is saving up, and grinding +and pinching, that the brother at the college may get to Oxford. They +say he will get a scholarship; but that would not keep him, and so this +fellow is saving up. I'll tell you how it was I borrowed the money. I +told him a cram, and said it was to keep my mother and all of you." + +"O Raymond! how could you be so mean and deceitful?" + +Raymond took his sister's plain speaking very quietly, because he looked +upon her as his only hope. "Percival found out that I had spent the +money in billiards, and--well you know, in 'The Queen's,' with Barington +while he was here; and--" + +"I think it is dreadful," Salome interrupted. "I could not have believed +it of you." + +"Well, look here, Sal, will you save me from a frightful row with Uncle +Loftus by seeing Percival, and trying to make him wait for his money? I +expect he would believe you; and I really don't want to--to vex my poor +mother. It was bad enough last night about old Warde; and I promised to +do better at the office, and that I would go to Edinburgh Crescent +to-night just to please her, for I detest it. If there is a row with +Percival, it will make her ill." + +"You should have thought of that before," was on Salome's lips, but she +refrained from saying so. + +"Reg will be here directly; may I tell him?" + +"No; on no account. I will tell Percival to come up here this afternoon, +just at dusk, and you must manage to meet him." + +"O Raymond, I don't think that will do; you don't consider what people +might say if they saw me." + +"It is nearly dark at four; that is not late. That old quarry place +then." + +"Where I saw you with some one some time ago?" + +"Yes; that's it. I will be close at hand. Do pray let me tell Percival." + +Salome had only time to say "Yes," when Reginald came down. It was so +new to her to hear the grand, magnificent Raymond pleading for a favour +at her hands. It was a cowardly proceeding on his part; but such boys as +Raymond Wilton are cowards. It would have been better for him if he had +not so often been helped out of school scrapes by too indulgent parents. +His was one of those natures which need discipline and firmness as well +as love. He had not been taught that in self-denial there is nobleness +which brings peace after the pain. To choose the thorny path of which +Mr. Atherton had spoken to his sister, had never even occurred to him. +He had always looked for the smoothness and pleasantness of life as his +by right as well as choice, and thus of all the family who had suffered +these sharp reverses he was the least able to meet them. + +As Reginald came into the room Raymond left it; and Stevens and the +children next appeared--Stevens with a tray for her mistress's +breakfast, and two bowls of oatmeal porridge for Hans and Carl. + +"I am just going to walk a little way with Raymond," she said; "I shall +not be five minutes." + +Salome was off like lightning, and soon overtook her brother. + +"Raymond, may--may I tell Reginald? may he come with me this afternoon?" + +"No," said Raymond; "what made you race like that? Tell no one, and I am +certain Percival will listen to you. In the quarry at four o'clock, or +soon after." + +Salome fell back breathless behind her brother, and turned up the road +to the post-office. She dropped the precious manuscript into the box and +the letter addressed to Messrs. Bardsley and Carrow, and then ran home. + +"Good morning, miss," said Ruth, who was washing the step of the shop, +while Puck sat by watching the operation. "It is a fine winter's +morning, isn't it? just enough frost to make it pleasant. Puck is +looking his best, isn't he? the beauty! I washed him last evening." + +"It is very kind of you," said Salome; "he is beginning to like you, +Ruth, as well as he does us." + +"Oh no; he isn't one to forsake old friends," said Ruth. "See now--" for +Puck had darted towards Reginald with delight expressed in a series of +twists and twirls and low sounds of affection, as he ran hither and +thither round Reginald. + +Salome ran to her brother. "I have posted my story, Reg." How she longed +to say more; how perplexed was her loyal heart as to what was right and +best to do. + +She seemed suddenly drawn into a secret meeting with a stranger, and +with what shame she would have to beg him to wait for the debt her +brother had so dishonestly contracted. Salome watched Reginald's figure +as he ran with amazing speed down the road, and then turned slowly and +sadly into the house. + +Mrs. Wilton came down about eleven o'clock looking much brighter and +better. When the little boys had put away their books and slates, and +had gone out with their hoops, she said: "I feel so much happier about +dear Raymond, Salome. He was so affectionate to me last evening, and has +promised to do better. I have written a line to your Uncle Loftus, to +ask him to deal gently with him, and to remember how greatly indulged he +was in your dear father's lifetime. He has been little prepared for such +a life as the one he is now leading. But we must be patient with him, +poor dear fellow. I always think I am not half patient enough." + +"O mother, you are only too kind to Raymond, and, indeed, to us all. You +spoil us all." + +"Not you, Salome," her mother said tenderly; "I fear you have too much +on your young shoulders. If I were a strong woman, like your Aunt Anna +for instance, I could do more to help you; but I am so useless. No one +can feel that more than I do." + +"You are of great use, mother dear," Salome said, "and ornamental too. +You always remind me of somebody in a story as you sit by your +work-table. Quite as pretty a picture as that one of you when you were a +girl, whatever Mrs. Pryor may say. When shall we know about our affairs, +mother?" Salome asked after a pause. + +"I cannot tell; there is so much to settle. I believe the furniture +realized a great deal, and the wines, and--" + +"Don't let us talk of it, mother. I was only thinking of those jewels of +grannie's--the set of emeralds that she left me." + +"They are all secure, my dear; they are my personal property, which is +mine under settlement. But I often think I shall sell some of them. +Indeed, I shall have to do so, I expect." + +"It would not be wrong, would it, mother? I mean nothing that is yours +ought to go to the creditors?" + +"No, certainly not, my dear. It is sad to think you should have to talk +of such things at your age. Only a few months ago, and I was consulting +Miss Barnes about your going to Paris to finish, and now here is your +education stopped." + +"Oh no, mamma," said Salome cheerfully; "I learn a great deal by +teaching Hans and Carl. I am beginning Latin with Reginald, and you know +I read German and French for my own pleasure. I daresay I am finishing +my education just as well as if I had gone to Paris." + +Salome's words had more truth in them than she knew. She was indeed +under training in the school where the Lord gives His children many +lessons, learned, perhaps, more easily in youth than in after years. + +Many times in the course of that day Salome tried to recall all Mr. +Atherton had said in his sermon on the Sunday before. He had been +speaking of those who sought themselves and their own pleasure, and had +quoted the well-known words of Thomas a Kempis:--"My son, if thou +seekest thyself, thou shalt find thyself, but to thy own punishment." +The thing eagerly coveted and sought after, nay, even prayed for, is +granted; but it comes after all in the guise of a foe rather than of a +friend. + +"I am not seeking myself," Salome thought. "I am trying to serve +Raymond, and to save mother from pain; but, oh! I wish I could have had +Reginald with me when I go up the road. He knows already something, I am +certain, from the Percival who is at the college; but I could not break +my word to Raymond, I must go through with it now." + +Happily for Salome, Kate and one of her little sisters came to see them +soon after dinner on this bright winter day, and Salome and Hans and +Carl walked towards Roxburgh with them. Kate was as good-tempered and +kind as ever, and infected Salome with her bright spirits. + +Reginald was sure to stand marvellously well in the examination, Digby +said so. Ralph and Cyril were going to sing at the school concert. It +was such a pity Salome could not be there. Everybody always went, and it +was such fun. Kate wanted Salome to go round by the college ground, +where a football match was on; but as the sun set and the winter's fog +gathered, Salome knew her hour was drawing near, towards which she was +looking with nervous dread. + +The boys ran into the house, and clattered upstairs as soon as they +reached home. Salome lingered in the porch a moment irresolute; then +started off past the shop, where the gas was already lighted, up the +road towards the quarry. The hedges were higher as she advanced, and, +indeed, the road was cut out of the rock. + +It was dusk, almost dark, and Salome felt lonely and frightened. She had +not long to wait in suspense. A tall figure advanced towards her from +the overhanging rocks of the old quarry. + +[Illustration: "A tall figure advanced towards her." _Page 176._] + +"Miss Wilton?" asked a voice, so pleasant and gentleman-like in its +tones that Salome was reassured. "I was coming to call on Mrs. Wilton. I +am Philip Percival. At your brother's entreaty, and not wishing to press +too hardly on him, I consented to see you first, as he tells me his +mother is in such delicate health that excitement might hurt her. Is +that true?" + +"Yes, quite true," Salome said; but she was shivering with nervousness, +and her voice trembled. + +"We had better walk up or down the road," Philip Percival said; "you +will take cold. It is a most unpleasant business, Miss Wilton; but I +honestly think the only hope of saving your brother is to deal openly +with you. He has deceived me so grossly, and you cannot wonder that I am +indignant. He represented to me that his mother and sisters were in +great difficulty, and that if I lent him the money for a month he could +repay it with interest. It was foolish of me to be taken in. I _was_ +completely taken in. He has a winning, plausible manner; and he is +treated so roughly by some of the clerks who resent the airs he gives +himself, that I tried the more to befriend him. I have had a nice +reward!" + +"I am so sorry," Salome said. "I want to beg you to wait a little while, +and perhaps I shall be able to pay you. Mother has no money, I know, +just now; and it is not only on that account I do not like to ask her, +but because it will grieve her so much to hear of Raymond's deceit. She +loves him so dearly, and it would be such a shock to her. Do you think +you _could_ wait?" + +Philip Percival looked down on the little slight figure in its sombre +dress with very different feelings to what he had expected. "My eldest +sister will make it all right, if you will see her," had conveyed to his +mind the idea of a woman of mature years--not of a young girl, who ought +to have been sheltered by Raymond's care, not exposed by him to this +painful revelation. + +"Could you wait?" Salome repeated; and as she spoke two people coming +down the road passed her and Philip Percival. + +"Salome, is that you?" It was Mrs. Atherton's voice. "Good-night;" and +then, as Salome scarcely responded to the greeting, Mr. and Mrs. +Atherton passed on. + +"Whom could Salome Wilton be talking to so earnestly?" Mrs. Atherton +said as they walked away. "It was not one of her brothers." + +"No; I think not. You had better speak to her about it. It is far too +late for her to be walking here alone with a young man." + +"It is very strange. I cannot understand it," Mrs. Atherton said. "Yes; +I will speak to her to-morrow. She is such a quiet child, every day I +know her and watch her I love her better. I cannot understand it," Mrs. +Atherton repeated. + +"Yes; I will wait till Christmas for your sake," Philip said. "I see how +painful your position is, and I feel indignant with your brother for +placing you in it. He ought never to have sent me here. But lest you +should think I love money for its own sake, I want to tell you that we +are very poor. My father is paralyzed, and my mother gives lessons in +music. I have been working hard to save enough money to help my brother +to live on his scholarship at Oxford, if, as we hope, he takes one. +Also, I am able, by strict economy, to get a few things which brighten +my mother's life a little. I don't say this to make you think it is +wonderful or praiseworthy. I hope you will not misunderstand me." + +"No indeed," Salome said earnestly, looking up at the face she could but +dimly see,--"no indeed. I think you are brave and good; and, please, do +not give up poor Raymond. Perhaps he may get wiser and more used to this +great change in his life." + +"Let us hope so, for your sake as well as his own. And now, shall I see +you home?" + +"Oh no, no; it is quite near--at the end of the road. Good-bye, and +thank you very, very much." + +Philip Percival stood watching the retreating figure as it went swiftly +down the road and was soon lost to sight in the gathering darkness. + +"His sister, his eldest sister," he said--"a mere child; but what a +world of resolution in her face!" + +It would not have been Salome had she not dropped something in her +flight. Philip saw something white on the road, and picking it up, found +it was Salome's pocket-handkerchief. He was irresolute for a moment +whether to follow her with it or keep it. He decided on keeping it; and +putting it into his coat pocket, walked quickly away in the opposite +direction to Elm Cottage. + + + + +CHAPTER XIII. + +HARD TIMES. + + +Raymond Wilton came back from dining with his uncle in a very amiable +mood; and when he could get a word with Salome, and found that he was +relieved from the immediate pressure of debt, he seemed as unconcerned +as if he had never been in debt at all. He did not ask many questions +about the interview with Philip Percival, catching at the most important +part as Salome said,-- + +"Yes; he promised to wait till Christmas. That is not long, Raymond." + +"Oh, well, something will turn up by then, and Uncle Loftus says it is +possible there may be a little money coming in. The creditors are going +to accept seven shillings in the pound; and if it were not for that +hateful bank and its cheating, we should do. Anyhow, I am easy for the +present, thanks to you, Sal; I shall not forget it, I can tell you." + +"Raymond," Salome said in a low voice, "I wish you would go to church +on Sunday mornings, and try to think more of what God wishes us to do." + +"All right, Salome; but you know I am not fond of preaching." + +"Dear Ray," said Salome earnestly, "I am sure I am not fit to preach to +you or any one, only I do feel sure that if we ask God to keep us safe, +He hears us, and will not forsake us, if we are _really_ sorry, and +determined to try to please Him." + +"These are old-fashioned notions, Sal," said Raymond carelessly; "but +you are a good little thing, and I daresay it would be better for me if +I were more like you." + +That was all Salome could get out of Raymond; and, chilled and +disappointed, she felt, as many of us have felt, that it was no use +trying to help people like Raymond, still less to expect anything from +them. + +But for the present there was a calm. Raymond went off in good time to +Harstone. He spent the evening at home; and his mother was quite cheered +about him, saying several times to Salome, "I thought, for my sake, +Raymond would turn over a new leaf." + +Meantime Reginald worked hard at his papers, and was steadfast in his +work, fighting his way in the form, step by step, always a hard matter +at a new school for the first term. + +Salome saw him going on diligently and steadily, and longed for a word +of praise for him. But it often happens that there is more joy in the +mother's heart over signs of amendment in one child who has given her +trouble and anxiety than in the persistent well-doing of those who never +cause her uneasiness. This is nothing new. Was it not so in the days +when divine lips told the story of the lost piece of silver and of the +wandering sheep? Will it not be so to the end of time? + +Salome lived for the next few days in constant excitement about the +postman. Every time his knock was heard her heart would give an +answering thump, and she would go out into the passage to take the +letters. But Messrs. Bardsley and Carrow made no sign. A week passed; +and one afternoon, when she went out to meet the postman, and eagerly +took the letters from his hand, she came suddenly on Mrs. Atherton. + +The rosy flush and the excitement of her manner were not lost on Mrs. +Atherton, nor that she hastily thrust one letter into her pocket, and +answered Mrs. Atherton's question as to whether she would like to see +the _Review_ she had brought in a confused manner, not even asking her +to come in, and standing with Ada's foreign letter in her hand, twisting +it nervously in her fingers. + +"Shall I come in and see Mrs. Wilton?" Mrs. Atherton asked. + +"Oh yes; please come in," was the reply; "but mamma is not downstairs +to-day, so we have no fire in the drawing-room. I sit in the dining-room +when mother is not well. She has a bad cold and head-ache. Please come +in, Mrs. Atherton." + +Salome preceded Mrs. Atherton into the dining-room, which Hans and Carl +had combined to make very untidy by cutting up newspapers for the tail +of a kite bigger than themselves, which Frank Pryor had in leisure +moments made for them, with the assurance that "he" would carry a tail +that would reach pretty near as far as Harstone Abbey Church. All these +untidy scraps were on the floor, and one end of the table was even in a +worse condition. Papers, books, pens, and ink were in a state of +confusion impossible to describe. By the papers, and engulfed by them as +they surged on every side, was a little work-basket, stuffed so full +that the lid refused to think of closing, and out of which peeped a +curious medley of articles too numerous and varied to mention. + +"I am sorry to bring you in here," Salome began. "The children have +nowhere else to play. They are gone now to help Ruth to make some +tea-cakes. Please sit down." + +Mrs. Atherton subsided into a chair, and then laughing, said,-- + +"I am sitting on some property, I think," and rising, she drew from +under her a box of tools, from which Hans had been using the hammer. + +"How dreadfully careless and naughty of the children!" Salome exclaimed. +"I am so sorry. I do wish I were neat and tidy like Ada, who never left +anything in the wrong place in her life." + +"It is never too late to mend," said Mrs. Atherton with a smile. "I have +not seen you for a week, except in church. I have been so busy; and +every week and every day we get nearer to Christmas, the pressure grows +greater. I wanted to ask you if you would come over to the vicarage and +help me with some work." + +"I work so badly," Salome said, "but I will do all I can." + +"It is very easy, humble sort of work," Mrs. Atherton said,--"sewing +strings on skirts, and buttons on aprons and pinafores, for Christmas +presents in the parish, you know. Will you come in to-morrow afternoon +for an hour or two?" + +Salome promised; and then conversation seemed to flag, as it always does +when something is on the mind of one of those who are trying to keep it +up without alluding to that "something." + +At last Mrs. Atherton rose to go away, when, taking Salome's hand in +hers, she held it for a moment, and said,-- + +"My dear child, I have not seen you since we met you on the Whitelands +Road. It was very late for you to be out alone, and with a stranger." + +Salome's colour rushed to her face, and was of course misunderstood. + +"You are so young, my dear," Mrs. Atherton said; "and I daresay, living +in the country, you have often been out late in your own grounds and +village. But here it is different. And you were talking and walking with +a gentleman. Was he an old friend?" + +"No," said Salome, "oh no; I had never seen him before. Oh, please do +not ask me any more questions." + +The look of distress on Salome's face touched Mrs. Atherton. + +"My dear child," she said tenderly, "if you were my own daughter, I +should say what I now say. Do not think that I interfere unduly, but let +me earnestly advise you not to place yourself in the same position +again. Will you promise?" + +Salome was silent. How could she promise, when once more she must meet +Philip Percival and tell him if she had succeeded in getting the money +or not? Perhaps she might write to him, but somehow she felt it would be +better to see him. + +Mrs. Atherton waited, as if for an answer; and as none came, she dropped +Salome's hand, and turned away. + +"Do kiss me again," Salome said. "And do trust me. I thought, and I +still think, I was doing right that evening." + +"Well, my dear child," said Mrs. Atherton, kissing her affectionately, +"I hope it will prove so. Give my love to your mother. I will come in +again very soon." + +Salome ran upstairs with Ada's letter, and hastily putting it on the +table by her mother's side, went down again to read her own letter. It +was from Bardsley and Carrow. Her hands trembled with excitement as she +tore open the envelope and read:-- + + "DEAR MADAM,--We return the manuscript of 'Under the Cedars,' + with thanks for allowing us to peruse it. We regret that it + is not suited for publication in our series of stories for + the young.--We remain your obedient servants, + + "J. A. BARDSLEY AND CARROW." + +"Everything is a disappointment! Everything fails!" exclaimed Salome. +"It is no use trying to do anything. Mrs. Atherton suspects me of I +don't know what; and I was only trying to save mother from pain. But +Raymond may go his own way now. I can do nothing for him. Why should my +life be so different to other girls? Ada is happy at Cannes, having all +she can wish for. Then there are the girls at Edinburgh Crescent going +out to-night to a fancy-dress dance, and to-morrow to some other party, +and next week to the school concert; and here am I, trying to be of use, +and yet I cannot even succeed in that, and everything is so wretched and +miserable. I saw Mrs. Atherton looking round on this untidy room. The +children are really the greatest bother;" and Salome snatched up the +tail of the kite, newspapers and all, with no gentle hand; and by so +doing, the string, which was twisted in one of the corners of her old +writing-folio, brought the whole down--cloth, work-basket, and all. + +"What a horrid fire! and _what_ a mess! Really this isn't very +inviting," said Reginald, as he came in from football, and, covered with +mud and scratches, threw himself into the chair Mrs. Atherton had +occupied. + +"Where's mother?" he asked. "Is her cold worse? I say, Salome, I was +chosen to play in the second fifteen instead of a fellow who is ill. I +have had a glorious run for once. Sal, what's the matter?" + +Salome was fairly crying now. + +"It is all so miserable and uncomfortable, Reg; and look here." + +She handed him the letter as she spoke. + +"What a jolly hand!" Reginald exclaimed. "Who is it from?" + +"It's about my story. Of course it is returned." + +"Oh, well, try somebody else. There's heaps of other publishers; or, if +that doesn't do, write another tale." + +"It's very easy to talk like that, Reg. You don't seem to care." + +"Yes; I do care very much. Where's the manuscript?" + +Then it flashed across Salome for the first time that the manuscript had +not arrived with the letter. + +"Why, the manuscript is not come after all. Perhaps it is lost. I +daresay it is lost. It does not matter." + +The entrance of Stevens settled this matter. "The postman came back with +this parcel, Miss Salome. He forgot to deliver it. What is it?" + +"Oh, it is mine. It is all right. Give it to me, Stevens." + +"What a state the room is in! Well, for your own comfort's sake, I +think you might keep it tidier, Miss Salome. You would be ever so much +more comfortable.--O Master Reg, what boots! Well, I don't know how the +mud is to be got off. You must remember there's no one but me to do +everything, except the old lady, who is not one to put herself out of +the way to help anybody--not she." + +"Well, I'll clean my own boots, if that's all," said Reginald. "I don't +care what I do. I'll clean the knives too, and learn to make you a gown, +if it will please you, Stevie." And Reginald sprang up, took Stevens +round the waist, made her pirouette round the table with him, and then, +having left dabs of clay and mud off his boots all over Mrs. Pryor's red +drugget, vanished. + +Stevens straightened her cap, and pulled down her white apron, and said +breathlessly,-- + +"What a boy it is! But I would sooner, fifty times over, have a bright +happy nature like his, than one that can only mope and look miserable." + +"I _am_ miserable," said poor Salome, "so I can't help looking +miserable." + +"Well, there's many that are worse off than you, my dear. Ruth Pryor has +been telling me of a family of little children left without father or +mother. The Pryors supply them with bread; and this morning, when Frank +went with the loaves, he found the eldest child, scarce twelve years +old, with the little ones all crying round her, and her mother only +buried a month ago; and now the father was taken in a fit, and went off +before the doctor could get to him." + +It was the reverse of the picture to that over which Salome had been +brooding,--her cousins' gaieties; Ada's happiness amongst flowers, and +music, and sunshine; the lives of her old neighbours at Maplestone--the +De Brettes, and the Fergusons, and many others--riding, dancing, and +enjoying themselves. Stevens's words were of use. The old message seemed +to be whispered to her soul: "Let patience have her perfect work." +"Trust in the Lord, and be doing good ... verily thou shalt be fed." + +It is not the perfect work of patience when trials are fretted at, and, +as it were, _resented_; not the perfect work of patience when we tell +ourselves we have borne a great deal, and are wonderfully brave, and +that no one half appreciates us or all we do and endure. Ah no! The +stuff of which the hidden saints of God are made is different to this. +Theirs is the patience of Christ's faithful ones who can smile under the +smart, and be tender and gentle to others even while the sword is +piercing their own souls. + +The child of whom I write was very young, and no wonder that she failed +at times. The burden laid on her was heavy; and I cannot be surprised +that Mrs. Atherton's misapprehension was hard to bear, and that the +honest and pure desire to save her mother and her brother should be the +cause of her kind friend thinking less highly of her than before made it +doubly bitter. Then the story, on which she had built so many hopes, +copied so carefully, kept free from blot or stain,--it was hard to see +it again, the familiar words looking up at her as she scanned them with +tear-dimmed eyes; the headings to the chapters, the little bits of verse +or hymn, so carefully chosen. All in vain all her trouble, all her +pains. And if no one took her story, and paid her for it, how should she +be able to satisfy Philip Percival at Christmas? + +The tangle of her life looked more bewildering than ever, and the +child-heart within her was sick and sore with disappointment--a form of +trial which the young find harder to meet than the old, because they +have not the experience of past disappointments to guide them, and do +not know how the sting is often taken away, as we live to say and to +feel, "It was far better as it was, though I could not see it at the +time." + +Mrs. Wilton's cold proved a severe one, and she had to keep her bed for +several days, and Salome did not find time to go over to the vicarage. +Mrs. Wilton needed a great deal of attention, and Dr. Wilton came every +day to see her. + +The holidays began. It was getting near Christmas, and there was an +ever-increasing dread in Salome's mind about the money. It seemed +strange to her that Raymond did not appear to concern himself about it. +He was in excellent spirits, and altogether more agreeable than before +the revelation about his debts. They hung like a fetter round his +sister. And there was no news of "Under the Cedars," which had gone +forth again to try its fate--this time with far different feelings, and +with very little hope of success, instead of a great deal. + +"Something must be said to Mr. Percival, Raymond, about the money. He +said he would wait till Christmas, but not longer. Shall I write to +him?" + +"Oh no; don't remind him of it. I see him every day, and he can ask me +if he chooses." + +But Salome was not to be satisfied. "As I promised to do something about +it by Christmas, I must tell him how it is." + +"How what is?" + +"Why, Raymond, I thought, I hoped I might get something for some work I +did, and then I could have paid Mr. Percival half perhaps." + +"Work! what sort of work?" + +"Oh, you must not ask. I will tell you some day perhaps." + +"Don't bother yourself, Sal. Percival can wait. He is all right now with +me, and I think he is a good fellow after all. I want awfully to get to +St. Clair's for Christmas. He has asked me, which is awfully kind of +him. You remember he was the fellow who travelled with us on that +wretched journey." + +"Yes, I remember; but I don't think you can go, Raymond. It is such a +long journey for two days." + +"I shall ask for an extra day. Old Warde is very civil to me now. It is +better to keep up with friends worth having, like St. Clair. Mother +thinks so." + +Salome was silent. She thought it wiser to say nothing. + +There was a bright service in St. Luke's Church every Wednesday evening; +and on the Wednesday before Christmas, as Salome was coming out of the +church, scarcely two hundred yards from Elm Cottage, she heard a voice +near her say,-- + +"Miss Wilton." + +She started, and turning quickly, said,-- + +"I wanted to see you, Mr. Percival. I cannot do what I promised, and +I--I hardly like to ask it, but _could_ you wait till Easter?" + +"Yes," was the reply. "I can and will wait. I came here on purpose to +say so." + +"How kind of you! Mr. Percival, is--do you think my brother is getting +on better at the office?" + +"I hope so," was the answer. + +"He is there in better time of a morning, isn't he?" asked Salome +anxiously. + +Again the answer came guardedly,-- + +"I think so." + +"Mother has been so ill lately, and quite confined to her room. Raymond +has been much more attentive to her lately." + +"I am very glad to hear it. I hope you will be at rest about the money. +Good-night." + +Then he was gone. And Salome ran quickly across the road to the gate of +Elm Cottage, saying to herself, "Surely Taylor and Darte will take my +story, they are so long in replying, and that is a good sign. Bardsley +and Carrow were only a week. Oh, perhaps by Easter it will be all right, +and I shall be able to repay Mr. Percival. How kind he is! I do like +him." + + + + +CHAPTER XIV. + +DAFFODILS. + + +The Christmas season, so different to any the Wiltons had ever passed, +came and went. Raymond managed to attain his wish, as he generally did; +and instead of returning punctually to the office after the two days +above and beyond the bank holiday which Mr. Warde kindly and +considerately granted him, he sent an excuse to him, and a telegram to +his mother, which alarmed her very much, to say he had a severe cold, +and was not allowed to travel. + +It ought to be a warning to all those who are tempted to make false +excuses or deceive, that when once it is done, every one's faith is +weakened in their assertions. It takes years of truthfulness and +sincerity to restore the confidence which one falsehood has shaken. + +Reginald must be excused, therefore, if he said, as he read the +telegram,-- + +"Humbug!" + +Salome gave him a quick glance, for she saw her mother's distressed and +anxious face. + +"I do hope he is not very ill. What do you think, Salome?" + +"I hope not, mother. He only says, 'A severe cold;' and you see he sends +the telegram himself." + +"Would you advise me to send a telegram for a paid answer?" + +"Certainly not, mother," said Reginald. "Don't disturb yourself; he is +all right." + +Mrs. Wilton was silenced; but when Reginald left the room she said to +Salome, "I cannot understand how it is that Reginald is so unfeeling +about Ray. It is not like the love of brothers." + +All this anxiety at Elm Cottage might have been spared had it been +possible to show Mrs. Wilton the comfortable dining-room at Rose Court, +the St. Clairs' home, Raymond talking and laughing with one of Henry St. +Clair's sisters at a pleasant dinner-party, and quite forgetting the +sore throat and little cough which had seemed to Mrs. St. Clair in her +kindness a sufficient reason for Raymond to prolong his visit. Sympathy +for the boy's altered position had made her doubly kind to him, though +she secretly wished he would talk less of himself, his old Eton days and +friends, and would have liked it better if he had been quieter and less +self-asserting. + +"It was a kindness to invite him, poor boy," she said to her husband. +"They had a very pretty nice place, with every comfort, and Henry paid +them a visit during the Easter holidays. Think what a change it is! I am +glad to be kind to him; though he is not exactly the friend I would +choose for Henry." + +"A conceited, shallow-pated young fellow," was the reply. "Handsome +enough, no doubt; but I, for one, shall not be sorry to see him start +for Harstone." + +Poor Raymond! How little did he think that this was the impression left +upon his host at Rose Court. He went home with a fresh edition of +discontent at his lot, and relapsed a good deal into his former habits. + +So the winter passed, and the days lengthened, and the bright +spring-time drew on. + +One radiant March morning Salome set out early to spend a day at +Edinburgh Crescent. A holiday was proclaimed for the children, and an +expedition with Ruth Pryor to see a menagerie which was stationed in a +large field not far off. Mrs. Wilton had been unusually well of late, +and was quite happy to be left for the day, to write letters, and +perhaps walk over to the vicarage at three o'clock to see Mrs. Atherton. +Salome's step was light and elastic as she walked away towards +Edinburgh Crescent. She had the spring of youth in her, which responded +to the spring of nature; and something delightful had happened which was +to mark that day with a red letter, as she thought, to her. "Under the +Cedars," after three unsuccessful journeys, and three new title-pages, +had been accepted, and she had in her pocket a letter offering to +publish the story and give her ten guineas for it. If the proposal was +agreeable to her, the cheque would be sent at once. Only those who have +earned money that is needed for some express purpose can understand the +joy in Salome's heart. It was only ten guineas. Fifteen more would be +required to meet what was wanted. But another story was rapidly +approaching its conclusion, and very soon she might earn the rest. + +These few months had been times of steady progress with Salome. She had +set herself earnestly to learn the lesson of her life; and no one, old +or young will, if they seek God's help, do this in vain. Just as one who +sweeps a room from this cause makes it and the action fine, so did +Salome, by striving against her desultory, untidy habits and her dreamy +indolence, when what she had to do was uncongenial, and, above all, when +her effort to struggle against discontented repining for what was +denied her of luxury and pleasantness in everyday life, make the way +"finer" and brighter for others and for herself. Child as she was, her +influence was felt. Stevens acknowledged it, and her brothers could not +fail to be affected by it. All unconsciously to herself she was +fulfilling the command of One who lays no burden on us too heavy to +bear, who tells us to let our light _so_ shine that our Father in heaven +may be glorified. + +I think Salome's little light was shining, and I also think that had it +not been for the surrounding gloom of sorrow and loss which, as it were, +encompassed her, it would not have been so bright nor so steady in its +radiance. + +How she longed to tell Reginald the good news about "Under the Cedars." +How she wished the letter had come by the first instead of the second +delivery. It would be nice to meet Reginald, and hear him say, "How +jolly it is!" "I shall be obliged to let him know, when I have the +money, what I am going to do with it. But that time is not come yet. I +must take the days one by one. And oh, what a lovely day this is! Such a +sky; and how those horse-chestnut buds are shining in the sun. I +remember one day last spring how I was riding with father, and he told +me to look at the big chestnut tree by the lodge, how the buds were +glistening." + +The wakened memory of her father sent a thrill of pain through the young +heart, and a hungry longing for him, which is so well expressed by the +poetess of love and natural affection in her own especial strain without +a rival:-- + + "But what awakest thou in the heart, O Spring-- + The human heart with all its dreams and sighs, + Thou that bring'st back so many a buried thing, + Restorer of forgotten harmonies? + Sweet sounds and scents break forth where'er thou art; + What wakest thou in the heart? + + "Too much, ah! there too much, + We know not well wherefore it should be so; + But roused by thee, + What strange, fond yearnings from the soul's deep cell, + Gush for the faces we no more may see; + How are we haunted in thy wind's low tone + By voices that are gone! + + "Looks of familiar love, which never more, + Never on earth our aching eyes shall greet, + Sweet words of welcome to the household door, + And vanished smiles, and sounds of parted feet. + Spring, 'midst the wakening of thy flowers and bees + Why--why awakest thou these?" + +It seemed so long to her since the last spring, as if she had left +behind her childhood and its dreams and happiness and come into the +cares of womanhood. But youth was strong within her for all that; and +when her cousins, the trio of dear little sisters, came rushing out to +meet her as Bean threw open the door, and Kate danced downstairs to +give her a prolonged hug, Salome felt ready for anything her cousins +might propose. + +"The boys are going to be so condescending as to walk with us," Kate +said. "We are all going to Stoke Canon to get daffodils. I thought you +would like that, as you have an eye for beauty, as Aunt Betha says. +Digby is to bring Reginald home to luncheon, and we are to start at two +o'clock. But come upstairs now. I have got a new hat, and I want your +advice about it." + +"May we come and get daffodils, Katie?" pleaded Edith's little voice. + +"Certainly not; run away, children." + +"Let Edith come, Katie, Edith and Maude," Salome said. + +"Oh no, they will only be a bother; besides, we are going too far for +them." + +"You must come to tea with Hans and Carl next Saturday," Salome said, +"if Aunt Anna will allow you." + +"Oh, that will be nice!" exclaimed the children. "Now, do come and see +Guy and Aunt Betha." + +Poor little Guy lay extended on his sofa, while Aunt Betha was busy with +some new table-linen, which she was marking in the old-fashioned way +with red marking thread. + +Guy's pale face beamed with delight as Salome came into the room. Poor +suffering little one! he had not much variety in his life, and Salome's +visits were always hailed by him as a great event. She told him a story +sometimes, every detail of which he would drink in with hungry +eagerness. Salome was a favourite with Aunt Betha as well as with little +Guy, and she turned to her with a bright smile of welcome on her +pleasant old face, taking off her spectacles and rubbing her eyes. + +"I am getting past this fine marking," she said, "though I don't think +that dinner napkin is amiss," holding it up for admiration. + +"I wonder you take the trouble, auntie," Katie said. "Every one writes +on linen now-a-days. Mamma says it is quite old-fashioned. Do give it +up." + +"No, my dear," said Aunt Betha half sadly. "I am an old-fashioned +person, and I could never bear to see beautiful linen inked all over +with blotted scrawls. No new fashion would make me believe that this is +not the best plan. That mark will last long after I am in my grave. I am +not ashamed of my handiwork, I can tell you." + +Salome had taken up the table-napkin and was admiring the three +well-shaped letters L. E. W. and the neat figures beneath, the number +and the year, when Guy's little voice was raised in appeal. + +"Cousin 'Lome,"--his nearest approach to Salome's name--"_do_ come and +talk to Guy; tell about when you were a little girl, at your big +house--tell about the bridge." + +"A little girl!" thought Aunt Betha, as she saw Salome's slight, almost +child-like figure bending over Guy. "She is but a child now, so young +and delicate-looking, and not one to breast many of the storms of this +troublesome world." + +The boys came in to dinner in good time; and about two o'clock the happy +party of four cousins set off for the Stoke Canon Woods. + +Digby and Reginald were now fast friends; and Kate held to her first +affection for Salome. Salome enjoyed Kate for a time, her sharp speeches +and rippling fun were amusing at intervals; but she often thought that +she would not care always to live with Kate, or skim over the surface of +everything as she did. + +The daffodils were in their full glory in a field and orchard beyond +Stoke Canon Woods. Many poets of every age have sung their praises; but +who can really convey any idea of their loveliness as they bend their +beautiful heads to the crisp breeze as it passes over them, and catch +the sunlight on their pale golden cups? + +"Oh, take them gently!" Salome exclaimed, as the boys rushed upon them, +eager to fill the girls' baskets for them. "Take them gently; don't +break one off too short," she said, bending down and gathering the +flowers with a tender hand. "Look at the fringe on this one; and oh, +Kate, just see how deep it is, and how perfect the leaves are." + +"Oh yes; but I like primroses better when they are gathered, and +bluebells. The Stoke Woods are filled with bluebells in May." + +"Hallo!" exclaimed Digby, "there's Percival and his elder brother. When +he was at the college they used to be called--" + +"You shouldn't tell school nicknames; it is not fair," Reginald +exclaimed. "Come down here, Percival," he shouted, for the field and +orchard lay a little below the level of the road. "Come down and speak +to us, Percival." + +Percival obeyed, and his brother remained standing on the bank above. + +Salome gave him one quick glance, and all the bright colour left her +face. He saw and understood, and, following his younger brother, came +down and said,-- + +"Introduce me to your friends, Robert." + +"Oh, I forgot you did not know them, Phil. Miss Wilton and Miss Salome +Wilton." + +Philip Percival bowed with a pleasant smile, and stooped to gather some +of the flowers almost as gently as Salome herself. + +"I must take some to my father," he said. "They will please him; he has +a craving for bright colours, and daffodils more than any flower seem to +fill the house with light." + +"Yes," Salome said; "I do love them so much; they are like bits of +spring sunshine." + +Then, as the party all walked on together, Philip talked of many things; +and Kate seemed to amuse him as much as she did Salome, for he often +laughed merrily at her sharp sallies. + +The Percivals returned with the Wiltons, and they had what Aunt Betha +always liked to prepare for them--a school-room tea: a glass dish of +jam, a pile of hot cakes and--a departure from the usual order--of +Dorset butter. Fresh white butter was a luxury not known every day in +Mrs. Wilton's school-room or nursery. + +"This is jolly," said Kate, "if only there are chairs enough to hold us +all.--No, don't sit on that, Mr. Percival; it has long been shaky on one +leg.--Run, Edith, and get some more chairs. And you three little ones +may all come, only you must not make yourselves 'jammy,' or what will +Aunt Betha say?" + +"I think I shall go and have my tea with Guy, if you don't mind very +much," Salome said. "Poor little boy, he must wish he could come here." + +"Nonsense, Salome! Pray don't be so silly," Kate said. "Let Edith take +him some hot cake, and he will be content." + +But Salome went off, little Edith following her; and Guy's delighted +welcome was a sufficient reward. + +"Oh, Cousin 'Lome, if only you could live with me! Do tell me another +story." + +Aunt Betha took the opportunity of Salome's presence to slip downstairs +to watch some operations in the kitchen, and Salome and Guy were left +together. She fed him with little bits of cake, and repeated to him some +verses which fascinated the sick child, and he made her say them over +and over again;--the story of the two little birds told by Mrs. Fowler +in her beautiful book called "Our Children's Story,"--a story in its +sweet musical rhythm which has touched many hearts besides little Guy +Wilton's. + +Salome wished she could have one word with Philip Percival--one word to +say that the ten pounds would be so soon in her possession. But the +opportunity was not forthcoming. Salome tripped gaily home with Reginald +in the soft spring twilight, her basket of daffodils in her hand, and a +feeling of joy in her heart, which beamed in her sweet face as she went +into the drawing-room at Elm Cottage. + +"Look, mother! look, Hans and Carl--" + +But the joy faded out of her face and changed to anxious foreboding as +Mrs. Wilton said, brokenly,-- + +"I am so glad you are come. Send the children away; don't let Reginald +come. I want to speak to you alone." + + + + +CHAPTER XV. + +LOST! + + +"Send the children away!" The words recalled that first day of +sorrow--eight months before. + +"Salome, I have lost the necklet set with emeralds, which really belongs +to you. When we first settled in here, I looked over all my personal +jewels, and everything was right. This afternoon, when I came in from +the vicarage, I opened my large dressing-case to look for a ring I +thought I would sell, and the necklet was gone! Salome, do you, _can_ +you imagine the Pryors are dishonest?" Salome looked bewildered for a +moment, and then the terrible suspicion, which was almost a certainty, +flashed upon her. "Salome, do you think the Pryors can have been +dishonest? Do you think we are living in a den of thieves? There is no +one but Stevens and the Pryors who ever go about the house. It must lie +between them." + +[Illustration: "'Salome, I have lost the necklet set with emeralds.'" +_Page 208._] + +"Mother!" exclaimed Salome, "Stevens! How can you say so?" + +"What _am_ I to say or think, Salome? The necklet is old-fashioned, but +it is very valuable. They are fine emeralds, and, I daresay, worth sixty +or seventy pounds. I was very foolish to keep it here; I ought to have +sent it to your Uncle Loftus to put in his plate-chest, or to the bank. +Salome, have you nothing to advise or to say? Shall I question Stevens?" + +Salome was taking the daffodils one by one from the basket, and did not +speak for a moment. + +"No, mother; do not question anybody yet; let us wait. It is so dreadful +to suspect innocent people. Are you quite sure the necklet was in that +large dressing-case? Have you looked through the little one?" + +"Yes, over and over again. I know I am not mistaken. I was thinking of a +ring which belonged to an uncle of mine which I do not value; and I +thought if I sold it I might get a few pounds for the boys. Reginald +would like to go to Westmoreland this Easter, and it is so hard to have +no spare money. Raymond, too, wants five pounds,--so much, though I fear +he is very extravagant." + +Salome started as her mother was speaking, for Raymond came in. It was +Thursday, the day for the early closing of the offices in Harstone, and +Mrs. Wilton said,-- + +"This has been a lovely afternoon. Where have you been?" + +"I came in here about three o'clock and found everybody out, so I went +off again. I thought you might have liked a drive, mother, and I could +have hired a little trap for a trifle. Where had you flown to?" + +"Only to the vicarage. How kind of you to think of me. Look at Salome's +daffodils! But I have had a most unpleasant loss, Raymond,--do not +mention it to the little ones or to Reginald. I have missed something of +value out of my large jewel-box--that old gold necklet set with +emeralds." + +"I thought that was Salome's," Raymond said, taking up the newspaper, +and sitting down with it on the sofa, soon appeared to be absorbed in +it. + +Salome went on quietly arranging her daffodils, and then as quietly left +the room. She went upstairs to her mother's room, and then, after much +thought and prayer, determined to speak at once to Raymond. For how +could she doubt that he had taken the necklet? A shudder of pity and +deep pain at this deed of her brother's thrilled through her. But it +seemed all clear. The necklet was hers, and he had talked to her about +it; and she had said, when he asked if it could be sold, "I do not know +if it would be right." Then there arose before her the past six months, +and the pains she had taken to cover her brother's sin. Had she been +right to do this? Would it not have been better to have gone direct to +her Uncle Loftus and confided in him? + +Poor Salome! The same doubts and fears have at times beset us all; and +the question is a hard one to answer. Desire to shield those we love +from exposure may not be the truest kindness to them, and yet loving +hearts shrink from inflicting pain, especially when, as in Salome's +case, the frank avowal of Raymond's sin must bring sorrow on his mother, +already so heavily tried and burdened with grief and trouble. + +But Salome was now determined to be brave, as far as Raymond himself was +concerned; and that night, when her mother and Reginald had both gone to +their rooms, she tapped gently at Raymond's door, and said,-- + +"Please let me in. I want to speak to you." + +The door was opened at once, and Raymond, looking straight at his +sister, said,-- + +"Well, what is the matter?" + +"Raymond," Salome said, closing the door behind her and clasping her +little hands tightly together, "I am come to speak to you about my +necklet set with emeralds." + +"You had better have up Pryor, and--" + +He faltered, for Salome's clear, steadfast eyes were fixed on his face +as if she could read his thoughts. + +"Raymond, I believe you have taken my necklet out of mother's large +dressing-case! Why did you do so by stealth and like a thief?" + +"Come now, Salome--no insults. How dare you speak like that?" + +"Raymond," the brave girl went on, "I am certain you took the necklet; +and you must tell mother to-morrow morning, and not allow innocent +people to be accused. What have you done with the money? Have you paid +Mr. Percival? Raymond, I mean to be answered, and I shall wait here till +you speak." + +"You may wait all night, then; and"--putting on a great Inverness cape +over his coat and seating himself coolly in a chair--"you will find it +very cold here in this horrid little room." + +"I shall go to Uncle Loftus early to-morrow morning and tell him +everything from first to last. I have been wrong to conceal it all this +time, and I mean now to tell Uncle Loftus everything. If father were +alive, _he_ would be told; and Uncle Loftus is our guardian, and has +been very kind to you." + +"Kind! nonsense," Raymond said. "I don't see his kindness." + +"Well, Raymond, I shall tell him everything to-morrow--about your +debts, and all the trouble you have caused, and--" + +"That I stole your necklet, and made a fortune by it. Just like you, to +jump at conclusions." + +This was grateful, after all that she had done for him. But natures like +Raymond's are almost incapable of gratitude. + +"Where is my necklet? tell me that, Raymond." + +"Well, if you must know, I did take it to Moore's in St. Michael's Green +to-day to have it valued. I found mother's keys on her dressing-table, +and took a look into the box. You know I asked you about the necklet, +and so don't put on that surprised face." + +"I shall go to Moore's to-morrow and bring back the necklet," said +Salome decidedly; "and I shall tell mother about it. It is only fair and +right. Suspicion has fallen on the Pryors, and I must do it. I know I am +right," she said confidently. "I shall get up very early to-morrow and +go down into Harstone." + +"What stuff! I will bring the thing back. Moore won't give it up to you; +besides, the shops are not open till past eight. Don't be foolish, +Salome." + +"Raymond," she said, "please listen to me, and make a full confession of +everything to mother and Uncle Loftus. Make a new beginning. O Raymond! +think of our father--think of bringing dishonour on his name! Dear +Raymond," she said, breaking down into tears, "I am so miserable about +you; you might be such a comfort to mother and to me, and--" + +Raymond was touched at last. He put his arm round his sister and said,-- + +"Don't cry, Salome. You see a fellow has heaps of things to do with his +money that you know nothing of, and--still I will try to get out of +Harstone. I shall never do any good in that hateful office. Come, don't +cry. I will go down with you to-morrow and get that wretched necklet. I +wish I had never heard of it." + +She saw she could do no more that night, and left him, to creep into her +mother's room, stifling her sobs, after exacting from Raymond a promise +to be ready to go down to Harstone with her at half-past seven the next +morning. + +"I think Raymond's room is very cold," she said, as she lay down on her +little bed by her mother, who was sleeping quietly; "I am shivering so. +I hope I shall not wake mother." + +The shivering was followed by heat and restlessness, and then Salome +heard the clock of St. Luke's Church strike twelve, then +one--two--three. She could not sleep. About five o'clock the wind began +to rise and moan, then splashes of rain came against the window, and +the March morning broke in storm and flood. Salome got up noiselessly as +soon as it was light, and with eyes heavy from sleeplessness, and a +heart heavier with shame and anxiety, dressed, and went softly down the +passage to Raymond's room. She was anxious to avoid all observation, and +to her great relief Raymond appeared, in answer to her tap at his door, +in his ulster. + +"It's an awful morning, Salome; you had better let me go alone." + +"Oh no, no," she said eagerly. + +"Well, it is so early; and look how it is pouring cats and dogs! We had +better give up such a wild-goose chase. I'll bring back the thing all +right. Can't you trust me?" + +"No; I can't, I can't," said Salome. "Besides, mother will begin to +examine the Pryors and Stevens, and that will only make it worse for +every one. Make haste, Raymond. I hear Stevens. _Do_ come!" + +In another moment they were out in the wild, stormy morning. Could it be +the same world, Salome felt ready to ask herself--the smiling, sunny +world of yesterday, when she had set out so happily to Edinburgh +Crescent? Then her head ached dreadfully, and her back too, and her +cheeks were hot. It was almost a relief to feel the cold drops of rain +which came against them every time a great blast came and hurled her +umbrella on one side. + +"The trams will be running when we come back," Raymond said. "Had not +you better go back, Sal? It is making such a fuss; and you will get +cold." + +Salome only said, "I must come with you," and struggled on. + +It was past eight when they reached Mr. Moore's shop. The shutters were +taken down, and the shop was being dusted and swept. + +Mr. Moore was an old-fashioned tradesman, but of good repute; and though +his shop was small, he dealt only in the very best jewellery and plate. +A young man with light hair was behind the counter, and looked with +surprise at these early customers as Raymond advanced to the counter, +all dripping as he was, with the little shivering figure by his side. + +"I left a case here yesterday. I want to take it away again. Where is +Mr. Moore?" + +"Mr. Moore is not come into town yet," said the young man. "He will not +be here till ten o'clock." + +"You can let me have the necklet, I suppose? Old gold filigree, set in +emeralds. I left it here to be valued." + +The young man went to a book, and ran his finger down the last +page--"'Mr. Stephens--necklet, set with emeralds.'--Yes; here it is." + +"That is not right," said Salome. "That can't be yours." + +"Be quiet," said Raymond, in an angry whisper.--"Yes; that is it. I will +take it, if you please." + +There was still a little hesitation in the man's manner. "Mr. +Stephens--is that right?" There was a scarcely perceptible glance at +Salome as he spoke. + +He produced the case, and opening it, said, "They are very fine +emeralds. The value would be from sixty to eighty pounds." + +Raymond took the case up, closed the spring, and, saying "Good morning," +was leaving the shop; but the shopman followed him. + +"I think it would be more satisfactory, sir, if you signed your name in +this book, and address." + +Raymond was perplexed for a moment, but only for a moment. + +"The necklet is this young lady's property," he said.--"Sign your name, +Salome." + +The girl took the pen into her trembling fingers and wrote:--"Salome +Mary Wilton, Elm Cottage, Elm Fields, near Harstone." + +"A relation of Dr. Wilton's, I presume?" + +"Yes," said Salome. "Dr. Wilton is my uncle." + +The man's manner became instantly very respectful. + +"It is a very wet morning, Miss Wilton. Shall I call a cab?" + +"Oh no, no, thank you," Salome said, hurrying away. But Raymond was +frightened at her pale face; it haunted him for many and many a day. + +"Yes; we must take a cab. You can't possibly walk back." + +"The tram," Salome said,--"the tram; it will be cheaper." + +She was very wet, and shivering perceptibly. + +At last the corner was reached from whence the tram started. Raymond was +thankful to put his sister into the tram; and if ever he repented what +he had done, it was at that moment. + +"O Raymond, Raymond! how could you say your name was Stephens?" + +Raymond felt ashamed of himself as those pure, truthful eyes met his. + +"My name is Stephen, isn't it, Salome? Don't make me out worse than I +am. I am awfully sorry, and I shall go and see Uncle Loftus for your +sake. O Sal, I hope you have not got cold, you look so horridly white." + +Poor Salome struggled to keep calm; and was received by Stevens at the +door with exclamations of angry surprise,-- + +"Going out in a storm like this, getting your death of cold! I have no +sort of patience with you, that I haven't." + +"Oh! don't, don't scold me, Stevens. It is all right now;" and running +upstairs, she went into her mother's room, laid the case on the table, +and said, "There is the necklet; it was not stolen--it was not. Put it +back in the box; and, dear mother, will you please say no more till--" + +The sentence was unfinished, and poor Salome fell forward on the bed +where her mother was lying--fainting, for the first time in her life. +Her mother rang the bell, and Stevens came hurrying in, raised her head, +and took off her wet cloak, and her hat, which loosened all the thick +masses of hair falling over her like a cloud. + +"What is it? What can be the matter?" said Mrs. Wilton. "O Stevens, send +for Dr. Wilton. Call Reg." + +"She is faint with galloping off before breakfast, I don't know what +for, I am sure. She is a slave to other people, and that is the truth. +It was to please Master Raymond she went out in all the rain and storm, +you may depend." + +Salome soon recovered consciousness, and looking up at her mother's +anxious face, which was bending over her, she said,-- + +"I think it will all come right now, mother; I do indeed. Put the +necklet away, and Ray will tell you all about it. I wish--I wish I did +not feel so giddy," she said, as she tried to rise. + +"Don't try to get up, my darling--my dear child," her mother said. "O +Salome! what should I do without you? Stevens is gone for a cup of hot +coffee, and you must lie still." + +"Put the necklet back into the dressing-case, mother," Salome repeated. +"No one but you and I need ever know. Is it not odd I tremble so? I +suppose I must lie quiet to-day." + +They undressed her and put her to bed; and there, at twelve o'clock, her +uncle found her--with her temperature very high, her head aching, and +every sign of coming illness, of what nature Dr. Wilton could not then +determine. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI. + +THE CONSEQUENCE. + + +Salome's illness proved to be rheumatic fever. She was in great pain, +and often delirious--wandering in thought to her old home and her +childhood, and talking incessantly of the emerald necklet and money and +debts, and the troubles which had by her brother's selfishness shadowed +her young life, and weighed her down prematurely with the sorrows of +older people. + +Her mother understood but little of these feverish wanderings. But there +was one in that house in whose ear his sister's voice rang with a pain +which he never felt before. + +Reginald was miserable and lonely. The little ones--whom in a bad day of +restlessness and fever Dr. Wilton had hurried off in his carriage to +Aunt Betha, who begged to be allowed to have them, saying she would be +answerable they were in nobody's way--were continually asking when +Salome would be well. Mrs. Wilton sat hour after hour in the sick room, +almost paralyzed with the fear of losing this precious child. Stevens, +dear faithful Stevens would go away to hide her grief when the moans of +pain were more grievous, or when Salome would talk as if she were in the +old nursery at Maplestone, and address Ada or her father as if present. +All these tender and loving hearts were wrung with sorrow and distress; +but Raymond's pain was far greater than any of these. Mrs. Atherton and +her son were unable to reach him with a word of comfort. He went +sullenly off to the office, and returned with a look of utter misery on +his face every afternoon, only to hear the same report--"She is no +better." + +One Sunday morning he was up and dressed in time, and Reginald walked +with him to church. The two brothers had been so much separated since +early childhood that there was little sympathy between them. But this +grief about Salome seemed to draw them together. + +"How is your sister? How is the young lady?" Ruth asked, as they passed +her door. + +"No better, thank you," Reginald replied. + +"What's the use of asking?" Frank Pryor said. "Mother says she is taken +for death, and you know it." + +"I don't know it," said Ruth impatiently. "I don't give up hope. It is +not my way. I leave that despairing about everybody and everything to +your mother and you. There, Frank, I don't mean to be cross, but I feel +as if I should break my heart if that child died;" and Ruth burst into +tears. Puck sprang to her, whining and crying, and showing by every +possible sign that he sympathized with the general sorrow for Salome. + +The two brothers walked on to church, and when their sister's name was +read in the list of those for whom their prayers were desired, it was +not lost on them that Mr. Atherton added, "who is dangerously ill." The +name, with the significant words, came as a sort of spoken declaration +of the fear in both boys' hearts, and a deep sob from Raymond was heard +by a man kneeling behind him, and understood. That man was Philip +Percival. He waited at the door of the church after service, and gave +the hand of both brothers a fervent pressure. + +To his surprise Raymond said, "I want to speak with you, Percival. Will +you come in?" + +The two young men were going into the desolate sitting-room, where the +daffodils, gathered ten days before, were hanging their pretty heads, +all shrivelled and forlorn. + +"The flower fadeth," thought Philip Percival, as he recalled the bright +afternoon and the sunshine glowing on the daffodils and on the plaits +of hair gathered round the small shapely head, as it bent over the +treasures in the basket. + +Reginald was following his brother and Philip Percival, when Raymond +turned quickly towards him. + +"Wait a few minutes, Reg, if you don't mind. I want to speak to Percival +alone." + +Reginald obeyed without a word, and sitting down on a stool in the +passage, buried his face in his hands, trying to shut out the sound of +the ringing voice above, as it called, "Yes, father; I am coming. Oh! +look at the chestnut tree, all in flower, not buds, as I thought." + +Then the door above was closed, and Stevens came down, in her hand a +large paper parcel. She was crying bitterly. + +"I have just cut it all off," she said. "Did you ever see such hair? Oh! +the pretty darling. I can remember it when she was three years old--how +the people would turn round to look at it when she walked down the +village. O Master Reg, my dear, my heart will break if we lose her! And +we _shall_ lose her, I believe." + +Reginald did not speak. After one look at the great mass of golden brown +hair, he turned almost impatiently away, and went upstairs to his own +room. + +I cannot write what passed between Philip Percival and Raymond; but when +Stevens came to call him to dinner, he seemed not to hear her. Philip +Percival was standing by the empty fire-place, and, rousing himself, +went up to Raymond, saying,-- + +"Good-bye; I am going now." + +"Wait and see Reginald. You must wait and dine with us." + +"You can tell Reginald alone; it will be less painful." + +"No," Raymond said; "I would rather you were present." + +Reginald, whom Stevens had summoned, now came down, and Raymond said,-- + +"Reginald, I have borrowed money from Percival I had no means of +repaying. I was so cowardly as to let her--Salome--bear the whole burden +of it. She met him and asked him to spare me exposure; and he did, for +her sake. It might have been better if he had come down on me then. But +it is no use looking back. I am going to see Uncle Loftus and tell him +the whole truth, and perhaps he will help me out of the difficulty. But, +Reginald, the worst part is yet to come. I caused Salome's illness by +dragging her down into Harstone to get a necklet of hers on which I was +trying to raise money. If she dies, it will lie at my door. Forgive me, +Reginald." + +Reginald turned away. He felt as if he could not look at his brother. +But Philip Percival said,-- + +"Your sister would be the first to say 'Forgive him.' You know it. Shake +hands with your brother, and let us, you and I, do our best to help him +to keep his good resolutions." + +Reginald came back and held out his hand. Neither he nor Raymond could +speak, but the brothers were friends at last. + +A roll lying on the table now attracted Reginald. It was addressed to +"Miss Wilton, Elm Cottage, Elm Fields, Harstone." + +"What is that?" Raymond asked. + +Reginald looked for a moment, and then exclaimed: + +"I think I know. Yes--oh! poor Salome! it is her story." + +"Her story?" + +"I forgot no one knew but me. I don't understand this, though. It has +come back, after all, and I thought she said it was accepted. But this +is her writing." + +Reginald unrolled the parcel, and the little kernel, so familiar to +authors, of the proof-sheets enclosed in the husk of the manuscript fell +out. + +Philip Percival picked them up. "Take care of them," he said; "it is all +right. These are the first proofs, sent for correction with the +manuscript. Take care of them; and you ought to write to the publisher +and tell him they are received, and will be corrected." + +"Corrected!" exclaimed Reginald. "I do not know how to correct them. +What do you mean?" + +"I have had some little experience in this way," said Philip Percival; +"and if you will trust me, I will go over them and do my best till--till +your sister is well enough to do it herself." + +"Thank you," said Reginald. "I don't think Salome would mind your having +them; indeed, I don't see what else is to be done." + +Philip rolled up the manuscript and sheets, and, putting them in his +pocket, said "Good-bye," and was gone. + +"He is the best fellow that ever lived," Reginald said; "and he is +awfully fond of her. Oh! how long is this to go on?" he exclaimed, as +the sound of Salome's voice reached them from the room above, in the +rapid, unnatural tones so full of painful foreboding to the ears of +those who have to listen to them hour after hour, with no respite but +the occasional lull of heavy, unrefreshing slumber. + +Dr. Wilton was surprised that same Sunday afternoon to see Raymond +ushered into his consulting-room. + +"Is there any change since the morning? I am coming in at seven o'clock. +What is it?" + +"No; Salome is just the same. I am come, Uncle Loftus, to tell you how +ashamed I am of myself. I daresay you will cut me for ever, but I am so +miserable that I hope you won't be hard on me." + +He did indeed look miserable; it was difficult to recognize him for the +self-sufficient, handsome young man whom Dr. Wilton had often felt too +provoked with to speak patiently to him. + +The whole sad story was told. It was a step in the right direction; it +was a hopeful sign; and Dr. Wilton felt it to be so. + +"I don't think I shall ever get straight in Harstone, Uncle Loftus. If I +could go away and begin fresh." + +"Your debts must be paid. I must consult the other guardians and +trustees. Perhaps there may be some arrangement. But, Raymond my boy, +change of place won't effect a cure in itself. Only yesterday Warde told +me he did not wish to keep you in the office; he did not care to treat +you harshly, for your father's sake, but he says you simply do nothing, +and it is a bad example to the other clerks. It is very sad, Raymond; +you ought to have been a comfort to your poor mother and sister." + +Raymond faltered out, "I will do anything you think best now, Uncle +Loftus. Do you think Salome will get well?" + +"I cannot say, my boy. Such cases do sometimes pull through; but the +poor child is very ill--dangerously ill. I am going to take Mr. Masters +to see her this evening. Still we must keep up heart and hope. Come and +see your brothers and your Aunt Anna and your cousins." + +"No, thanks, not now," Raymond said; "I must go back." + +As Raymond was going towards Elm Fields he met one of those idle young +men whose society had been so unwholesome for him. + +"Come and have a pipe and a glass of brandy and soda. You look awfully +down in the mouth, Wilton." + +But Raymond passed on, saying, "Not to-day, thanks." + +"Oh, I say, are you in a great scrape? Don't be sulky, old fellow. Come +along." + +"No," Raymond said more decidedly; "my sister is very ill, and I am +going home." + +"Sister--which sister? the pretty one at Cannes?" + +"No; my eldest sister. This is my way," he said, glad to escape from +what was, now at least, most uncongenial company. + +When he reached Elm Cottage, Stevens met him. + +"She is herself now, and she keeps asking for you." + +"I can't see her; it will kill me." + +"Don't talk like that, Master Raymond. Go to the dear lamb at once; she +is asking for you every minute." + +Ah, what a sore pain is remorse! Raymond Wilton will never forget the +sight of his sister as she lay before him, her hair--that beautiful, +luxuriant hair--all gone, her large, pathetic, wistful eyes turned to +him as he came in. + +"Raymond, dear Raymond," she whispered, "I wanted to tell you how I love +you." + +[Illustration: "'Raymond,' whispered Salome, 'I wanted to tell you how +much I love you.'" _Page 230._] + +He expected to hear something very different to this,--entreaty to be +good; to begin life afresh; to give up all his selfish indulgence. But +no; Salome had not strength for this; she could repeat only,-- + +"Dear Raymond, I love you; and the Lord Jesus loves you, and is quite +ready to forgive all. Please ask him. Kiss me, Raymond, and let me see +you kiss mother." + +He obeyed; and then, as he held his poor mother in a close embrace, +Salome whispered,-- + +"I am happy now. Good-bye, Raymond; I can't talk any more." + +Who shall say what this love of the stricken child did for the wayward, +sinning brother? It seemed to him the very reflection of the highest and +greatest love of the all-loving One who loved _all_ unto death. + +Raymond slowly left the room, walked as if in a dream to the silent, +deserted sitting-room, and with sobs and tears prayed for forgiveness to +Him who is ever pitiful and full of mercy--who welcomes back the +wanderer with the fulness of forgiveness, seeing him even while yet a +great way off, and _coming out to meet him_. I think He went forth to +meet the poor sinful boy in the quiet of the spring evening; and He will +lead him, blind as he is, by a way that he knows not. + +Patient continuance in well-doing: how sure is the reward. If it tarry, +wait for it. If the hope is deferred, and the heart sick, yet shall the +faithful and patient ones know at last that the granted desire is as the +tree of life. + + + + +CHAPTER XVII. + +A DREAM. + + +Summer was in its first fresh beauty, and lilacs and hawthorns were +filling the air with their fragrance. Laburnums waved their golden +tassels in the soft breeze, and the blue skies of early June were like +those which Lady Monroe said they had left behind them in the Riviera. +She had returned with Eva and Ada; and Mrs. Wilton had the pleasure of +hearing from her that the plan had fully answered. Ada had been +everything that Eva wanted as a companion, and Lady Monroe begged to +keep her for the present till Salome was quite well again. + +Dear little Salome! She had struggled through fever and pain, and was +lying on this lovely afternoon by the open window of the little +sitting-room at Elm Cottage,--a pale, faint, shadow-like Salome indeed, +but with returning light in her beautiful eyes and a tinge of colour on +her cheeks. Her legs were as yet all but useless; the cruel rheumatism +had attacked them with terrible force; but it was easy for Stevens and +Ruth to carry that little light figure downstairs, and every day now she +came into the sitting-room, which was filled with flowers brought +continually from Lady Monroe's conservatory by Eva and Ada. + +On this particular June afternoon Salome was alone. Her mother had gone +for a drive with Lady Monroe and Eva, while Ada was spending the day +with Louise and Kate Wilton. Hans and Carl were now sent to a school for +little boys in the neighbourhood, and were on this afternoon gone to +watch the cricket at the college ground, where Reginald was +distinguishing himself and proving himself worthy of his Rugby training. +Salome was very happy; a sweet, peaceful calm seemed to surround her. +Everything was so lovely; that little piece of sky above the laburnum at +the gate, how beautiful she thought it was; and how kind of Ruth Pryor +to bring in such a dainty little afternoon tea. Even Mrs. Pryor tried to +look a little more cheerful to suit the summer radiance, and did not +shake her head and sigh as she came in to see if the sun was shining on +the carpet; but when Salome said, "I love the sunshine, Mrs. Pryor," she +forbore to shut it out, and only laid down a sheet of the _Daily News_ +on the particular place on the floor where the sun lay. + +Mrs. Pryor had just completed this arrangement when a knock at the door +made her toddle off to open it. In another minute she returned. + +"Here is a gentleman wishes to see you, Miss Wilton." + +"Mr. Atherton? oh! ask him to come in." + +"No, Miss Wilton, it's not Mr. Atherton. He has been here often enough, +I should have shown him in; but this is the gentleman who, regular as +clock-work, all the time you were so bad, came at half-past eight every +morning, and walked down to Harstone with Mr. Raymond, and always the +last thing at night would come to the shop and hear how you was." + +Salome in vain tried to stop Mrs. Pryor's long speech. Mrs. Pryor was, +when once unwound, like an alarum, obliged to run off. + +"It must be Mr. Percival. Yes; ask him to come in, Mrs. Pryor, please." + +Salome had another moment's suspense, and then Philip Percival came in, +quietly and to all appearance unconcerned, though his heart was beating +so that he could almost hear it, and his emotion at the sight of that +sweet pale face and large wistful eyes turned up to him was hard to +conceal. + +"I am so glad to see you downstairs, Miss Wilton," he began; "so very +glad." + +"I daresay you hardly know me," she said with a smile. "I have cut all +my hair, and Mrs. Pryor says I look like a starved robin. But I am +getting well now, and Uncle Loftus says I shall be able to walk soon, +though my legs are still very stiff." + +"I have brought you a book," Philip Percival said. "I thought I should +like to give it to you myself." And he unfastened a neat parcel, and +displayed a pretty book in a red and gilt cover. + +"Thank you," Salome said. "What is the title? 'Under the Cedars, by S. +M. W.' My book! Oh, I don't understand. How has it been done?" + +"When you were ill--very ill--last March, I happened to be here when the +first sheets came from the publishers. Your brothers could not correct +them, and as I have had a little experience with printers, I asked leave +to possess myself of them. I told Mr. Darte you were ill, and unable to +attend to them yourself, and that I was to act for you. I hope you do +not mind," he said half anxiously. + +"Mind! Oh, I am so grateful to you. It _is_ a pretty book outside!" she +exclaimed with almost childish delight. + +"It is prettier inside than outside," Philip Percival said. "I feel as +if all the children were my particular friends; and as to the cedars, I +have sat under them, and know the two ring-doves that come and sing +their song to little Pamela." + +"Oh, you can't think how glad I am you like my book; and--has Mr. Darte +sent the money? because you know it is _yours_, and I hope when I get +well to write another story better than this, and you shall have the +rest of the money then if you _can_ wait." + +Philip Percival felt a choking sensation in his throat, and he could not +speak. And Salome, her face flushing rosy red, went on,-- + +"I know it is a great deal to ask, and you have been so good and kind to +Raymond. He says, if ever he is worth anything it will be your doing." + +"_Yours_ rather, I should say," Philip murmured. + +"I feel as if I could never, never repay you for all you have done," +Salome went on; "but you know I am grateful. We are all of us so +grateful to you. Raymond is quite different since he had you for a +friend, and he will do well now, I think." + +"I had something to say about Raymond. I am not tiring you, am I?" he +asked anxiously, for the bright colour had left her face and she laid +her head back on the cushions. + +"No, oh no; only pleasure is somehow as hard to bear as pain, in a +different way. I have so longed for the day when I could show mother and +the boys my book, and here it is. Only Reginald knew about it, and since +I have been better I have asked him if he had heard anything of the +publisher, and he has always said it was all right, he thought, and the +book would come out one day. He did not tell me _you_ had done all this +for me." + +"Reginald can keep a secret," Philip said, "or he is not the boy I take +him for. Now, if you can listen without being too tired, I want to tell +you something about Raymond and me. Mr. Warde wishes to send me out to a +West India station in Barbadoes, to look after the business there and +superintend some change in the sugar-planting. He offers me a very good +salary, and I am to have a clerk, of course. Raymond thinks he should +like to go with me in that capacity, and I believe Dr. Wilton quite +approves the plan. Will Mrs. Wilton, and will you, approve also?" + +"I think it will be the very best thing for Raymond. I do not know what +poor mother will say about it, she is so fond of Raymond. Still, she +would bring herself in time to it. When would you go?" + +"The first week in July,--this day month." + +"Shall I tell mother about it when she comes in, or will you tell her?" + +"I think I shall ask you to tell Mrs. Wilton," he said, rising to leave +her. "Good-bye." + +"You will come and see me again very soon, won't you?" + +"If you wish it." + +"I do wish it very much," she said. "And then there is the money. Mr. +Darte will send it to me now, I suppose, if I write to him. Will you +come for it some day?" + +"No," he said, "I shall never come for that. If you wish to please me, +you will not mention that subject again; it hurts me and pains me. Let +us never speak of it again." He spoke vehemently, almost roughly, and +taking one of the little white thin hands in his, he said, "Give me one +of the books, and write my name in it; and do not forget me." + +The next minute he was gone, and Salome was left in a maze of delight, +surprise, and happiness, through which there seemed to run a golden +thread, bright and shining, as she repeated softly to herself, "So good, +so noble, so brave! And I think he cares for me, and I think--" + +What Salome thought I shall not write here, but leave her to her book +and her dream, while the sun, nearing the west, comes in at the open +window and touches the little short curls which cluster over her head +till they shine like the aureola round the foreheads of Fra Angelico's +maidens in the old pictures of a bygone time. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII. + +THE LAST. + + +The surprise and delight which the sight of "Under the Cedars" caused in +Elm Cottage I cannot describe. However many thousands of books are +written year by year, however many thousands are launched on the stream +to win popular favour, there is always a special charm and interest in +the first book written by one we love. It raises the person for the time +to an important place in the family; and though the poor little book may +soon be engulfed in this stream of which I speak, and lost to sight, or +beaten down by the lash of reviewers, or, worse still, left to die the +natural death of utter indifference, the author's position amongst her +own immediate friends is not altered by it. + +"Under the Cedars" was fresh and bright, full of imagination and that +subtle power which touches the commonplace with interest. It had many +faults--faults of youthful exuberance of fancy--faults of construction; +but it deserved the praise of the local newspapers, which said it was +perfectly simple and pure in its style, and the descriptions of +child-life and nature alike true and unaffected. Then "Under the Cedars" +had the advantage of being well revised and corrected by an able hand. +It was well printed and well illustrated, and Hans and Carl danced about +with excited delight as they recognized their own portraits in two +knickerbockered boys of their own age. + +Ada laughed at this. "All little boys look alike," she said. "You don't +suppose the man who did the pictures knew anything about you or Salome." + +But Ada was none the less delighted to take back a copy to Eva Monroe on +the day when twelve presentation copies arrived from London. And Dr. +Wilton was pleased to show one to his wife. + +"That child has done something to be proud of though she is so +unpretending." + +All the cousins admired and applauded, and Digby was triumphant. + +"Did I not always tell you that Salome was awfully clever? Not one of us +could ever come up to her." + +Even Aunt Anna was pleased when a lady, of whom she thought a great +deal, said, "I have bought a charming story for children, called 'Under +the Cedars.' Have you seen it?" + +It was something to take it from her writing-table and to say, "It is +written by a niece of mine, a very clever girl of seventeen. So young, +and so full of talent." + +Thus did dear little Salome win praise, and in her simple heart this was +all as nothing to the joy of feeling that she had helped to lift the +burden of care from those she loved. + +Raymond sailed with Philip Percival, and was full of spirit and pleasure +at the change. It was grief to his mother to lose him, but when she saw +how happy he was in the prospect, she was comforted. + +Raymond was improved and daily improving, but naturally selfish people +do not suddenly become unselfish, and the whole complexion of a life is +not changed with one sudden impulse. But he had really awakened to some +sense of responsibility, and the continually good influence of Philip +Percival kept up the impression of the past which might have otherwise +died out. + +When the parting was over, and the letters from Barbadoes came +regularly, Mrs. Wilton began to feel the relief of knowing that Raymond +was out of temptation and happy in the change of scene and people. + +A bright prospect opened out to Philip Percival. He settled the affairs +on the sugar-plantation with great skill, and returned in the spring +with an account of what he had done so satisfactory to the partners in +the large concern, that he had a permanent appointment with a large +salary, and Raymond was to remain with him for another year. + +"Then I shall come back," Philip said to Salome, "and ask you a +question." + +They were walking together from Roxburgh one beautiful May evening. +Salome had been to spend the day with his mother, his last day in +England, at his special request. + +"The question has been on my lips many times," he said, "since the +night--so long ago now--when I picked up this, which a careless person +dropped in the road." He took out of his pocket a large case which held +his letters, and drew from it a handkerchief. "Look," he said, "whose +property is this?" + +"My handkerchief! I remember I dropped it that afternoon, and how +Stevens scolded me and said I should lose my head next." + +"Well," Philip said, "I lost my heart then, and kept the handkerchief as +a compensation. Do you understand?" + +"Yes," she said. + +"And if I asked the question now, could you answer it, Salome?" + +"I think I could," she replied. + +"I have loved you ever since that evening when you looked up at me, your +face so dimly seen in the twilight," he went on; "the little brave +sister coming out to meet a stranger to save her brother from disgrace +and her mother pain. Every month, nay, every day I have lived since +then, I have loved you more. Can you love me, and, when I come back next +time, be my wife?" + +"Yes," was the simple answer. Then, as if to strengthen it, she +repeated, "Oh yes; let us go home and tell mother." + +How happy they were as they walked to Elm Cottage together, and how +bright and joyous were all the inhabitants of the little home that +evening. The next morning, Puck, after an extra washing, had a piece of +red ribbon tied round his neck, which was a long established custom on +birthdays, and Salome said, as she tied it on between smiles and tears, +for she had just parted with Philip for a whole year,-- + +"Ah, Puck, this is a grand day, not a birthday, but such a happy day to +me; and, Puck, my new story is to be called 'Under the Quarry!'" + +"A very poor prospect for Salome," Aunt Anna said; "still, it is +something that the Percivals are a good old family." + +"A greater comfort still," rejoined Dr. Wilton, "is that Percival is one +of the best and noblest of men. May our daughters be equally fortunate." + +So we leave Salome standing on the threshold of her great happiness. +Patience has had her perfect work in the days of her girlhood. Will she +need it no more in the womanhood which is dawning upon her with the +soft, sweet radiance of a faithful heart on which she may rest? + +Yes; Patience, that fair and beautiful angel, with its calm, sedate +presence, will be needed for Salome as for us all through every stage of +the journey. When the gates of love open for us, and we enter into what +seems an Eden, we know that there are thorns amongst the flowers, rough +places to tread, sharp angles to meet. Salome will take Patience with +her, nor leave her gentle guidance till she comes to the Paradise of +God. For _there_ are no crosses to bear and no imperfect work to mourn, +no sin to be hid in secret places, no sorrow, nor any more pain. The +former things have passed away, and Patience, having had her perfect +work, is exchanged for the rest of those who have fought the good fight, +and bear the palms of victory in their hands through Him who has +redeemed us to God by His death, and given to His faithful ones the life +everlasting. + + + "Safe home! safe home in port! + Rent cordage, shattered deck, + Torn sails, provisions short, + And only not a wreck: + But oh! the joy upon the shore + To tell our voyage-perils o'er!" + + "The prize! the prize secure! + The athlete nearly fell; + Bore all he could endure, + And bore not always well: + But he may smile at troubles gone + Who sets the victor's garland on." + + + THE END. + + + * * * * * + + + Kingston's (W. H. G.) Books for Boys. + + Crown 8vo Volumes, gilt edges, price 5s. each. + Cloth extra, uniform binding, 3s. 6d. each. + +=In the Wilds of Africa.= With upwards of Seventy Illustrations. + + An interesting account of the adventures of a shipwrecked + party who are landed on the west coast of Africa, and make + their way to the south through many dangers. + +=In the Eastern Seas=; or, The Regions of the Bird of Paradise. A Tale +for Boys. With One Hundred and Eleven Illustrations. + + A tale of voyage and adventure among the islands of the Malay + Archipelago. + +=Old Jack.= A Sea Tale. With Sixty-six Illustrations. + + An old sailor's account of his own adventures, during times + of peace and of war, in many parts of the world. + +=The South Sea Whaler.= A Story of the Loss of the _Champion_, and the +Adventures of her Crew. With upwards of Thirty Illustrations. + + A tale of mutiny and shipwreck in the South Seas. + +=A Voyage Round the World.= With Forty-two Illustrations. + + A young sailor's account of his own adventures by sea and + land. + +=The Young Rajah.= A Story of Indian Life and Adventure. With upwards of +Forty Full-page Illustrations. + + A story of the Indian Mutiny; the hero a young Indian prince, + who had received an English education and become a Christian. + +=On the Banks of the Amazon=; or, A Boy's Journal of his Adventures in +the Tropical Wilds of South America. Profusely illustrated. + +=In the Wilds of Florida.= With Thirty-seven Illustrations. + + A tale of warfare and hunting. + +=My First Voyage to Southern Seas.= Fifty-two Illustrations. + + A young sailor's story, describing Cape Colony, Ceylon, Aden, + etc. + +=Saved from the Sea=; or, The Loss of the _Viper_, and the Adventures of +her Crew in the Great Sahara. With Thirty Full-page Illustrations. + + A young sailor's account of his adventures, along with three + shipwrecked comrades. + +=Twice Lost.= With Thirty-six Illustrations. + + A young sailor's story of shipwreck, and of perilous + adventures in the wilds of Australia. + +=The Wanderers=; or, Adventures in the Wilds of Trinidad and up the +Orinoco. With Thirty Full-page Illustrations. + +=The Young Llanero.= A Story of War and Wild Life in Venezuela. With +Forty-four Illustrations. + + A thrilling and fascinating narrative of adventures in South + America during the struggle for independence between the + state of Colombia and the Spaniards. + + * * * * * + + The Boys' Own Library. + + Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 2s. each. + +THREE BOOKS BY M. DOUGLAS. + +=Across Greenland's Ice-Fields.= The Adventures of Nansen and Peary on +the Great Ice-Cap. + +=Breaking the Record.= The Story of Three Arctic Expeditions. + +=The White North.= With Nordenskiold, De Long, and Nansen. With +Illustrations. + + +=After Years.= A Story of Trials and Triumphs. By J. W. BRADLEY. With +Illustrations. + +=Culm Rock=; or, Ready Work for Willing Hands. A Book for Boys. By J. W. +BRADLEY. With Illustrations. + +=Among the Turks.= By VERNEY LOVETT CAMERON, C.B., D.C.L., Commander +Royal Navy. With Illustrations. + +=Archie Digby=; or, An Eton Boy's Holidays. By G. E. WYATT. + +=As We Sweep Through the Deep.= A Story of the Stirring Times of Old. By +GORDON STABLES, M.D., R.N. With Illustrations. + +=At the Black Rocks.= A Story for Boys. By the Rev. EDWARD A. RAND. + +=The Battle of the Rafts.= And Other Stories of Boyhood in Norway. By H. +H. BOYESEN. + +=A Fortune from the Sky.= By SKELTON KUPPORD. Illustrated by ROBERT +HOPE. + +=Great Explorers.= An Account of Exploration and Travel in many Lands. +With Illustrations. + +=Gunpowder Treason and Plot=, and other Stories for Boys. By HAROLD +AVERY, FRED. WHISHAW, and R. B. TOWNSHEND. With Illustrations. + +=Lost in the Wilds of Canada.= By ELEANOR STREDDER. + +=The Lost Squire of Inglewood=; or, Adventures in the Caves of Robin +Hood. A Boy's Story of Adventure. By Dr. JACKSON. Illustrated by WALTER +G. GRIEVE. + +=The Romance of the South Pole.= Antarctic Voyages and Explorations. By +G. BARNETT SMITH. With Illustrations. + +=Soldiers of the Queen=; or, Jack Fenleigh's Luck. A Story of the Dash +to Khartoum. By HAROLD AVERY. + +=Vandrad the Viking=; or, The Feud and the Spell. A Tale of the +Norsemen. By J. STORER CLOUSTON. With Illustrations by HUBERT PATON. + +=The Willoughby Boys.= By EMILY C. HARTLEY. + + * * * * * + + Tales of Adventure. + + Crown 8vo. Price 5s. each. + +THREE BOOKS BY ELIZA F. POLLARD. + +=A Daughter of France.= A Tale of the Early Settlement of Acadia. With +Six Illustrations by W. RAINEY, R.I. + + An interesting story of the adventures of Charles de la Tour + and his companions in Acadia. + +=The Last of the Cliffords.= Illustrated by WAL PAGET. + +=My Lady Marcia.= A Story of the French Revolution. With Five +Illustrations by WAL PAGET. + + +=In Savage Africa=; or, The Adventures of Frank Baldwin from the Gold +Coast to Zanzibar. By VERNEY LOVETT CAMERON, C.B., D.C.L., Commander +Royal Navy; Author of "Jack Hooper," etc. With Thirty-two Illustrations. + + "From the deft and prolific pen of Commander Lovett + Cameron.... In the course of a stirring narrative, of the + kind in which boys most delight, he succeeds in conveying + much real knowledge about Africa, its features, and its + peoples."--_Scotsman._ + +=Jack Ralston.= A Tale of Life in the Far North-East of Canada. By +HAMPDEN BURNHAM, M.A., Author of "Canadians in the Imperial Service." +With Coloured Illustrations by WALTER GRIEVE. + +=Every Inch a Sailor.= By GORDON STABLES, M.D., R.N., Author of "As We +Sweep through the Deep," etc. Illustrated. + + "Between the reader, ourselves, and the binnacle, there isn't + a living writer--unless it be Clark Russell, and he appeals + more to the adult--who can hold a candle, or shall we say a + starboard light, to Gordon Stables as a narrator of sea + stories for boys. This one is worthy of the high traditions + of the author."--_Literary World._ + +=Held to Ransom.= A Story of Spanish Brigands. By F. B. FORESTER, Author +of "A Settler's Story," etc. Illustrated by ARCHIBALD WEBB. + +=Jack Hooper.= His Adventures at Sea and in South Africa. By VERNEY +LOVETT CAMERON, C.B., D.C.L. With Twenty-three Full-page Illustrations. + +=Kilgorman.= A Story of Ireland in 1798. By TALBOT BAINES REED, Author +of "The Fifth Form at St. Dominic's," etc. Illustrated by JOHN +WILLIAMSON. With Portrait, and an "In Memoriam" Sketch of the Author by +JOHN SIME. + +=With Pack and Rifle in the Far South-West.= Adventures in New Mexico, +Arizona, and Central America. By ACHILLES DAUNT, Author of "Frank +Redcliffe," "The Three Trappers," etc. With Thirty Illustrations. + + * * * * * + + Favourite Reward Books. + + Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 1s. each. + +=The Giants, and How to Fight Them.= By the Rev. RICHARD NEWTON, D.D. +With numerous Illustrations. + + Dr. Newton possesses in the highest degree the art of + interesting and instructing the young. + +=Glory.= By G. M. S. With Illustrations. + + A touching story of a poor dolls' dressmaker and the + sacrifice she made. + +=Godliness with Contentment is Great Gain.= + +=Grandma's Miracles=; or, Stories Told at Six o'Clock in the Evening. By +PANSY. + +=A Hedge Fence.= By PANSY. With Illustrations. + + A story of a boy whose purposes are good, but whose + impetuosity plunges him into all kinds of mischief, as the + boy himself expresses it, "before he knows it." + +=Side by Side.= And Other Tales. By PANSY. With Illustrations. + +=Striving to Help=; or, The Browning Boys. By PANSY. + +=Granny.= A Village Story. By the Author of "Great Englishmen." + +=Jem's Wife.= A Story of Life in London. By the Author of "Granny," etc. + +=The Harrington Girls=; or, Faith and Patience. By SOPHY WINTHROP. + +=Hope On=; or, The House that Jack Built. With Twenty-five +Illustrations. + +=Ilka: The Captive Maiden.= And Other Stories. By S. G., Author of +"Dickie Winton," etc. + +=It's His Way.= And Other Stories. By the Author of "Copsley Annals," +etc. + +=Jack's Visit.= By ELLEN VELVIN. With numerous Illustrations. + + A brightly-told story of Jack and his three cousins. + +=Johnnie Venture.= A Story of an Exciting Journey. By G. E. WYATT. + +=King Matthias and the Beggar Boy.= Adapted from the Hungarian of Baron +Nicholas Josika. By SELINA GAYE. + +=Kitty's Knitting Needles--The One Moss Rose.= By the Rev. P. B. POWER. + +=A Lad of Devon.= A Story for Boys. By Mrs. HENRY CLARKE, M.A. + + The story of a search for missing diamonds that had + disappeared from a house in Devonshire, and the adventures + that befell a boy in trying to discover them. + +=Laura's Impulses=; or, Principle a Safer Guide than Feeling. + +=Leaving the Manse.= A Disruption Tale. By KEZIA. Illustrated. Long +24mo. + + "A pretty story of the Scottish Disruption of 1843."--_The + Christian._ + +=A Little Candle.= And Other Stories. By LETITIA M'CLINTOCK. + + * * * * * + + Hayens's (Herbert) Books for Boys. + +Price 6s. each. + +=For the Colours.= A Historical Sketch of the British Army. With +Coloured Frontispiece and Thirty-two Illustrations by ARCHIBALD WEBB and +other well-known artists. Crown 8vo, bevelled boards, cloth extra, gilt +top. + +=Ye Mariners of England.= A Boys' Book of the Navy. Profusely +illustrated. Crown 8vo, bevelled boards, cloth extra, gilt top. + + +_Tales of Adventure._ + + Crown 8vo, bevelled boards, cloth extra, gilt top, price 5s. each. + +=At the Point of the Sword.= A New Story for Boys. Illustrated by R. +PAYTON REID, A.R.S.A. + +=A Captain of Irregulars.= A Stirring Tale of War and Adventure in +Chili. With Six Illustrations by SIDNEY PAGET. + +=Clevely Sahib.= A Tale of the Khyber Pass. With Eight Illustrations by +J. WILLIAMSON. + +=An Emperor's Doom=; or, The Patriots of Mexico. With Eight +Illustrations by A. J. B. SALMON. + +=A Fighter in Green.= A Tale of Algeria. With Nine Illustrations by R. +TALBOT KELLY, R.B.A. + +=In the Grip of the Spaniard.= With Nine Illustrations by WAL PAGET. + +=Red, White, and Green.= Illustrated by ARCH. WEBB. + +=Under the Lone Star.= With Eight Illustrations by W. S. STACEY. + +=A Vanished Nation.= A Tale of Fighting in Paraguay. With Six +Illustrations by W. B. WOLLEN, R.I. + + +Price 3s. 6d. each. + +=The British Legion.= A Tale of the Carlist War. With Six Illustrations +by W. H. MARGETSON. + +=Scouting for Buller.= A Story of the South African War. With Coloured +Illustrations. + + * * * * * + + Self-Effort Series. + + Price 3s. 6d. each. + +=Men Who Win=; or, Making Things Happen. By W. M. THAYER, Author of +"From Log Cabin to White House," etc. + +=Women Who Win=; or, Making Things Happen. By W. M. THAYER, Author of +"From Log Cabin to White House," etc. + +=The Achievements of Youth.= By the Rev. ROBERT STEEL, D.D., Ph.D., +Author of "Lives Made Sublime," etc. + +=Lives Made Sublime by Faith and Works.= By Rev. ROBERT STEEL, D.D., +Ph.D., Author of "Doing Good," etc. + +=Self-Effort=; or, The True Method of Attaining Success in Life. By +JOSEPH JOHNSON, Author of "Living in Earnest," etc. + +=The Secret of Achievement.= A Book designed to teach that the highest +Achievement is that which results in noble Manhood and Womanhood; that +there is something greater than wealth, grander than fame; that +character is the only success. By ORISON SWETT MARDEN, Author of +"Architects of Fate," etc. Illustrated with Portraits of eminent +Persons. + +=Noble Women of Our Time.= By JOSEPH JOHNSON, Author of "Living in +Earnest," etc. With Accounts of the Work of Misses De Broen, Whately, +Carpenter, F. R. Havergal, Sister Dora, etc. + +=Architects of Fate=; or, Steps to Success and Power. By ORISON SWETT +MARDEN, Author of "Pushing to the Front; or, Success under +Difficulties." With Eight Illustrations. + +=Earnest Men=: Their Life and Work. By the late Rev. W. K. TWEEDIE, D.D. + +=Famous Artists.= Michael Angelo--Leonardo da +Vinci--Raphael--Titian--Murillo--Rubens--Rembrandt. By SARAH K. BOLTON. + +=Fritz of Prussia.= Germany's Second Emperor. By LUCY TAYLOR, Author of +"Going on Pilgrimage," etc. + +=Heroes of the Desert.= The Story of the Lives of Moffat and +Livingstone. By the Author of "Mary Powell." New and Enlarged Edition, +with numerous Illustrations and Two Portraits. + + * * * * * + + Books for the School Library. + +_The World at the Fireside._ + + Small 4to, gilt edges. + Illustrated. Price 5s. each. + +=The Children's Tour=; or, Everyday Sights in a Sunny Land. By M. A. +PAULL. With numerous Illustrations. + +=The Sea and its Wonders.= By MARY and ELIZABETH KIRBY. One Hundred and +Seventy-four Illustrations. + +=The World at Home.= Pictures and Scenes from Far-off Lands. By M. and +E. KIRBY. One Hundred Illustrations. + +=Wonderland=; or, Curiosities of Nature and Art. By WOOD SMITH, Author +of "Oakville Manor," "Prince Rolo," etc. With numerous Illustrations. + +=Rambles Among the Wild Flowers.= A Book for the Young. By M. C. COOKE, +M.A., LL.D. (UNCLE MATT). The Five Parts in One Volume. With Ten +Coloured Plates, illustrating Forty-two Wild Flowers, and 296 other +Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + +=Round the Hearthstone=; or, Hints for Home-Builders. By W. M. THAYER, +Author of "Men Who Win," "Women Who Win," etc. Crown 8vo, cloth extra, +gilt edges. + + +_Works of Travel and Research._ + + Crown 8vo, cloth extra, gilt top. + Price 5s. each. + +=The Bible in Spain=; or, The Journeys, Adventures, and Imprisonments of +an Englishman in an Attempt to Circulate the Scriptures in the +Peninsula. By GEORGE BORROW. With Illustrations. + +=Captain Cook's Voyages Round the World.= With a Memoir by M. B. SYNGE. + +=Journal of a Voyage Round the World of H.M.S. "Beagle."= By CHARLES +DARWIN, M.A., F.R.S. With Sixteen Full-page and Six Double-page +Illustrations. + +=Kane's Arctic Explorations=: The Second Grinnell Expedition in Search +of Sir John Franklin. With a Chart and numerous Illustrations. + +=The Life and Voyages of Christopher Columbus.= By WASHINGTON IRVING. +_Author's Revised Edition._ With Illustrations. + +=Voyages and Travels of Captain Basil Hall.= With Illustrations. + +=Wanderings in South America, etc.= By CHARLES WATERTON. With Sixteen +Illustrations. + + * * * * * + + Classic Stories Simply Told. + + Uniform Binding. Price 3s. each. + +=Chaucer's Stories Simply Told.= By MARY SEYMOUR, Author of +"Shakespeare's Stories Simply Told," etc. With Eleven Illustrations from +Designs by E. M. SCANNELL. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + +=Shakespeare's Stories Simply Told.= TRAGEDIES AND HISTORICAL PLAYS. By +MARY SEYMOUR. With Eighty-three Illustrations by the late FRANK HOWARD, +R.A. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + +=Shakespeare's Stories Simply Told.= COMEDIES. By MARY SEYMOUR. With +numerous Illustrations by the late FRANK HOWARD, R.A. Post 8vo, cloth +extra, gilt edges. + +=The Wanderings of Aeneas and the Founding of Rome.= By CHARLES HENRY +HANSON, Author of "The Siege of Troy, and the Wanderings of Ulysses," +etc. With Sixty-two Illustrations. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + +=The Siege of Troy, and the Wanderings of Ulysses.= By CHARLES HENRY +HANSON. With Ninety-seven Illustrations from Designs by FLAXMAN and +other Artists. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + +=Stories of the Days of King Arthur.= By CHARLES H. HANSON. With +Illustrations by GUSTAVE DORE. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + + +_Uniform with Classic Stories._ + +=Coleridge's Ancient Mariner.= With Twenty-five Illustrations by DAVID +SCOTT, R.S.A., and Life of the Artist by the Rev. Dr. A. L. SIMPSON, +Derby. Square 16mo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + +=The Shipwreck.= A Poem. By WILLIAM FALCONER. Illustrated by BIRKET +FOSTER. Post 8vo, cloth extra, gilt edges. + +=The Courteous Knight=, and Other Tales from Spenser and Malory. By E. +EDWARDSON. _Edition de luxe_, on antique paper. Illustrated by ROBERT +HOPE. + +=Shakespeare's Dramatic Works.= With Explanatory Notes, Parallel +Passages, Historical and Critical Illustrations, Contemporary Allusions, +a Copious Glossary, Biographical Sketch, and Indexes, by W. H. DAVENPORT +ADAMS. With Three Hundred and Seventy Illustrations by the late FRANK +HOWARD, R.A., and Facsimile of Shakespeare's Will. Two Volumes. Crown +8vo, cloth. Price 3s. 6d. per vol.; or 7s. per set. + + * * * * * + + UNIFORM WITH + The "Little Hazel" Series. + + Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 1s. 6d. each. + +=Jock o' the Beach.= A Story for Boys. By MORICE GERARD. + + The hero is a nameless waif, sole survivor from the wreck of + the ship _Martin_. His discovery of his parents and his + meeting with them are touchingly described. + +=Little Lily's Travels.= A Book for the Young. With numerous +Illustrations. + + Travels of a little girl, with her parents and brother, + through France to Geneva. + +=The Little Swedish Baron.= By the Author of "The Swedish Twins," etc. + + A story of a young Swedish noble, illustrating the blessings + of discipline and trials. + +=Master Travers.= By FLORENCE M. STORY. + + The story of a young squire whose self-will leads him into + many troubles, and how these, and the well-timed counsels of + his guardians, help to subdue his besetting sin. + +=Mopsie.= The Story of a London Waif. By DOROTHY WALROND. + +=Nono=; or, The Golden House. A Tale of Swedish Life. By Mrs. WOODS +BAKER. + +=Princess Louise.= A Tale of the Stuarts. By CRONA TEMPLE. + +=Rollo and Tricksy.= The Story of a Little Boy and Girl. By FLORENCE E. +BURCH. + + A tale of the doings of a little boy and girl, the latter + part being very amusing. + +=Rich and Poor.= A Tale for Boys. How one Boy Climbed Up, and another +Slipped Down. By C. M. TROWBRIDGE. + + This pithy story recognizes the discouragements and + temptations peculiar to poverty and wealth, and seeks to show + that a sterling Christian character is that which can alone + make a truly noble man. + +=The Secret Cave=; or, The Story of Mistress Joan's Ring. By Miss EMILIE +SEARCHFIELD. + + "Mistress Joan" is a bright little girl, aged nine years, + daughter of Jonathan Blye, farmer in Somersetshire; and + "Mistress Joan's Ring" is an heirloom preserved in memory of + "The Secret Cave," and of what happened there in the year + 1685. The incidents, which are narrated in quaint, + old-fashioned language, are very exciting; and the book is + sure to be a great favourite, especially with girls. + +"=Sheltering Arms=;" or, The Entrance of God's Word gives Light. By M. +E. CLEMENTS. Floral Design. + + An interesting Irish story. The scene is a small fishing + hamlet on the west coast of Ireland, sheltered by two rocky + headlands from the Atlantic storms. + +=Story of the Beacon Fire=; or, Trust in God and Do the Right. By M. E. +CLEMENTS. + + "The story is well, indeed powerfully, written. It is a story + of Cornwall, and is full of genuine dramatic interest, + combined with an earnestness of purpose that no one can + mistake."--_Scotsman._ + + * * * * * + + Favourite Reward Books. + + Post 8vo, cloth extra. Price 1s. each. + +=The Adopted Brothers=; or, Blessed are the Peacemakers. By M. E. +CLEMENTS. + +=Alda's Leap.= And Other Stories. By the Hon. Mrs. GREENE. + +=The Babe i' the Mill=, and =Zanina the Flower-Girl of Florence=. By the +Hon. Mrs. GREENE. + +=Annals of the Poor.= Complete Edition, with Memoir of LEGH RICHMOND. + +=The Babes in the Basket=; or, Daph and Her Charge. By the Author of +"Timid Lucy," etc. With Frontispiece and numerous Illustrations. + +=The Basket of Flowers=; or, Piety and Truth Triumphant. Illustrated. + +=The Boy Artist.= A Tale. By the Author of "Hope On." With numerous +Illustrations. + +=Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress.= + +=A Child of the Mews.= By M. B. SYNGE. + + The purpose of the story is to show the evils of betting--how + it leads to cheating, lying, stealing, and all kinds of + trickery, ending often in domestic misery and ruin. + +=The Children's Voyage to the Cape.= By SARAH L. FINDLATER. + +=The Cruise of the "Katherina."= A Story for Boys. By JOHN A. HIGGINSON, +Author of "A Secret of the Sea," etc. Illustrated. + + The story deals with the meeting of two friends in Australia, + and the many strange adventures subsequently experienced by + them when together they set out on board a small schooner in + search of gold known to lie hidden on a certain island in the + South Pacific. + +=Daffodil.= (A Brave Little Lady.) By MAUDE M. BUTLER. + + A sequel to "Waiting and Serving." + +=The Fairy Cobblers' Gold.= A Story for Boys. By ETHEL PENROSE. + +=The Ferryman's Boy.= And Other Stories. By CRONA TEMPLE. + +=Fireside Sketches from Swedish Life.= By Mrs. WOODS BAKER. + +=The Swedish Foster-Brothers.= By Mrs. WOODS BAKER. With Illustrations. + +=Truth and its Triumph=; or, The Story of the Jewish Twins. By Mrs. +WOODS BAKER. With Frontispiece. + +=The Fisherman's Boy=; or, "All have not the same Gifts." With coloured +Frontispiece. + +=Geordie Stuart.= A Story of Waterloo. By M. B. MANWELL. + + +T. NELSON AND SONS, London, Edinburgh, and New York. + + + + + * * * * * + + + + +Transcriber's note: + +Spelling and punctuation errors were corrected. + +Retained: devonport, ascendency, fire-place and fireplace, ink-stand and +inkstand, practice (for medical) and practise (for repeatedly do). + +Locations of illustrations have been moved to the action in text that +they illustrate. Most of these moves were slight changes, but the +illustration on p. 66 originally displayed as a frontispiece before the +title page illustration. + +On caption in illustration list, original "Dr. Wilson" changed to "Dr. +Wilton." + +P. 22, "any more if-- If you come upstairs"; space after em dash deleted. + +P. 42, "'I should have thought,' said Dr. Wilton", original read Mr. +Wilton. + +P. 100, "Edith and Maude", original read "Maud." + +P. 139, "walking with them, and-- But if mother"; space after em dash +deleted. + +P. 191, quotes added around "It was far better ... time." + +P. 245, Poem at the end, "Safe home!", inconsistent indentation is +faithful to the original as printed. + +The ten pages of ads at the end of the text each displayed "T. 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